That Old Swamp (erotic, non-fatal, sentient mud)

[ChaosGlassSpider]

Heyyyy folks! Hope everyone’s doing well. Haven’t posted in a hot minute, college has been kicking my ass. Anyway, here’s a new story I’ve been working on for a while. As always, constructive criticism is very appreciated!

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It has been so long. Sleep escapes us, even now. Stuck in such a contemptible condition, we are forced to watch and wait. These swamps, teaming with life they may be, are devoid of worship, of faith. It is a cruel, chaotic world here, where even deities fear to tread.

Or, we suppose, former deities.

We were worshiped once. The humans, before they left for only The Creator knows where, once prayed to us. They would bring their maidens, naked and bare for the world to see, and offer them to us. Their priests would tie them in ropes, and recite their ancient prayers. Those beautiful maidens, full of reverie and zealotry, leaped into our mass, our very being. Where some deities accepted blood as a sacrifice, we worked with worship and faith alone.

And bodily pleasure, of course.

Those maidens would writhe and squirm in our muddy grasp. As their priests turned to leave, we would gift those maidens with earthly pleasures beyond imagining. They would scream with lust as their bodies disappeared beneath our dark surface. Their pristine, nubile bodies would become stained with mud and clay. This was their sacrifice to us. We would pleasure them, dragging them deeper into our muddy body, until all that was left were faces alit with lust.

And even then, we’d drag them completely under the surface, and present a final gift. A kiss on their soft lips, the taste of honey imparted on their tongues.

With that, our grasp would cease. Some would scramble to escape us. Most wallowed in our mass, settling to their chins in muck. A lucky few stirred us for a second round, only to tire and return to wallowing. It was no offense to us. Their worship was plentiful as is.

But times arrow marches forever forward, and those maidens, those humans, left. We do not know the reason why, but they are long gone now. All that remains are scattered artifacts and our endless memories. The centuries alone have weakened us, and what once spanned these entire woods, now has been reduced to a single mud pit. A frog hops onto our shore, our only companion. A lone doe comes by every fortnight or some, to drink from the water that accumulates on our surface.

And not another human for miles.

We believed tonight would be no different.

That is, until we saw her. A maiden. Like an angel sent by the heavens, the moonlight seemed to stream from her. She was unlike any maiden we had ever seen, with pale skin and blonde hair. She draws near now, her footsteps growing ever closer, until she stands right above us.

By The Creator, she is gorgeous. She’s clothed, but it does little to hide her figure from us. Her ample cleavage and short pants leave little to our imagination. She’s smiling at us, but it’s a worrisome one. She’s thinking about something. About what, we haven’t a clue. Excitement overwhelms us though, and our surface bubbles. Her eyes widen, and we panic. She turns and walks away.

No please, we silently beg, don’t go.

But she doesn’t leave, thank the heavens. She drops a bag to the ground, and with slight trepidation, removes her shoes and socks as well. She takes a small breath, before shaking her head.

In the silence of these woods, we hear, “You can do this Lucy.”

Yes, Lucy, you can do it.

She pads barefoot to us, and without a second thought, brings her foot down on us. We have to fight the urge to grab for it, as she sinks halfway up to her knees. We feel her toes wriggle, before pointing downwards, causing her to sink to her knees. She wobbles, arms flailing. Down below, we tighten our grip just a hair, so that the maiden does not fall. She’s looking down at us, and in the moonlight, we see her brown eyes and blushing cheeks. There’s a growing warmth to her, a warmth we haven’t felt in centuries.

She’s moving her feet again, digging her toes into us. We oblige, and her legs dip suddenly, mud climbing up her thighs. She releases a moan, and we know we have her. Her legs quiver, the heat rising within her. But then, with unsteady arms, she wrenches herself from our grip.

No, how could this be? The signs were there! Did we scare her off? Did we-

She reaches for something in her bag. A rope? Yes, a rope! Does she intend to reenact those old rituals? Our body bubbles in excitement, only for the maiden to wrap the rope around a nearby tree.

Of course! How could we be so blind? The maiden does not know us. She does not know we mean her no harm. She only wishes to ensure her safety, that is all. We’re relieved by this, if a little hurt. Has humanity really forgotten us? To think they need things like rope to save them.

Stuck in our musings, we almost miss the sound of fabric rustling. Our gaze turns and sees our maiden removing her clothing. She’s shrouded in darkness now, providing only the vibrations of the ground to give us sight. There’s a series of light vibrations before we watch our maiden emerge from the darkness.

And it is a sight to behold. Her breasts are larger than any maidens before her, and her golden hair flows in the wind, tickling her hardening nipples. She crosses her arms over her chest for a brief moment, before shaking her head, and dropping them to her sides. Her cheeks are red, and even from here, we can see glistening between her legs. Oh, she is gorgeous.

Fastening the rope to her wrist, the maiden walks over to us. We can barely hold it in any longer. Our surface bubbles at her approach. At our shore, she looks down and bites her quaking lip.

Oh please, we beg, come and worship us.

She obliges, stepping into us once again. We do not grasp her, not yet. Instead, the indent she left in our body remains, and she quickly sinks to her thighs. She gasps, breath shaking. She’s nervous and lustful, judging by her hammering heart. It reverberates around us, like a wave. We wonder which will win, caution or lust?

She takes a large, shaky step toward our center. Lust has won. Her leg breaks through the surface, and in that instant, her lower lips make contact with us. She yelps, and we have to fight ourselves to not touch her. Just a bit more. She’s panting now, but not out of fear or exertion. We watch as one shaky hand lowers to her clitoris, briefly touching it. She gasps, and before even she seems to notice, she takes another step to join her other deeper leg.

And just like that, she’s stuck in our center. With that step, she sinks deeper, and now her pussy is firmly inside us.

“O-oh,” she gasps, sweat pouring down her brow, “t-this is a lot.”

Oh, my maiden, you have not seen anything yet. Before her hand can join her nether regions, we strike. We’ve grown far too weak to summon tendrils, but our tongue should suffice. We drive it into her folds, paying special attention to her clitoris. The reaction is immediate. The maiden screams, writhing in pleasure. Her struggles drive her ample ass into the mud, and we take no time in squirming inside there as well. She screams in pleasure, bucking and writhing in our grasp.

“Oh fuck, I’m gon-gonna-” she’s cut off by her moaning and screaming.

It’s music to our ears.

She’s humping into us now, grinding her nether regions against our muddy form. It’s delicious, the bodily worship. It’s been so long since we’ve been wanted, we’re almost too excited. The mud ripples and bubbles around her, and our combined excitement has driven her up her ribs. The maiden doesn’t mind though, not in the least. With grasping hands, she grabs at our body, taking muddy clumps in her hands. She closes her eyes as she rubs them onto her chest, spreading our mire onto her pure, untarnished skin. We feel ourselves on those amazing breasts, feeling her hands squeeze her needy nipples.

“Someone save me!” she screams, arching her back, “I’m sinking in quicksand!”

We pause for a brief moment. Oh dear, did we overdo it? Is she scared of us?

She’s continuing to grind against us, moaning and whimpering all the same. Oh, we understand, perhaps. She likes to be in distress. The idea of being trapped excites her and brings her pleasure.

We can work with that.

The tips of her blonde hair tickle our surface, as we redouble our efforts at pleasuring the maiden. We tighten our grip on her, whilst hastening her descent. The maiden is in the throes of another orgasm now. She’s taking deeper breaths now, as we begin to kiss the bottom of her bosom.

And what a bosom it is. It takes all of our collective control not to grasp them outright. But that would scare the maiden off, and we’ve come so far. No, we bide our time. The maiden’s struggles are getting hectic now, off-kilter even. She’s struggling against us harder now, as her pleasure blooms.

“Fuck,” she whimpers, “someone please help me!”

She’s amazing at this. If we were unaware of her attraction, and mortal, we would have believed her. But her continued pleasure and racing heartbeat speak otherwise. She’s having the time of her life. Another sharp scream breaks her pleas, and in her excitement, she brings both her arms down into us. We seize the opportunity and grab them, preventing her from lifting them again.

We lower our stimulation now. She’s slick with sweat, her golden hair is stained with mud and moisture. Perspiration drips from her cheek and falls into us. We drink it up. It tastes amazing.

We feel her attempt to lift her arms, to no avail. She struggles, twisting her body. She looks down at her ample bosom, her breasts rising a bit due to her depth. We grasp at their edges, waiting for her passionate struggle to resume.

She looks around, and we can see a bit of worry crest her face. She looks back at the rope and tries to lift her arm again. No luck. Another heave and the worry grows. She needs not worry, we won’t let harm befall her. Now, how do we tell her that without raising suspicion?

“Crap,” she whimpers, “I think I’m really stuck.”

She squirms her legs underneath, and a realization seems to hit her.

Oh no, can’t let her start being scared now.

For a brief moment, we let go of her arm, and as she squirms, she pulls out her rope hand. She breathes a soft sigh.

“What a relief.”

We don’t waste a second, and dive back inside her. The maiden’s eyes widen, and she squeaks in surprise. In her haste, she drops her arm back into the muck, and we grab it again. We up her pleasure now, as her lustful struggle resumes.

“I’m not even-” a moan breaks her thought, before she tries again, “I’m not even using my hands. How is it-”

She doesn’t finish. She screams as we cram inside her needy vagina and ass, stimulating her clitoris at the same time. She doesn’t even notice us grab at her breasts and bring them inside us. Up until we touch her nipples that is.

“Oh fuck!” she screams, bucking and squirming in rapture. The motion drives her breasts completely under, as we climb up her shoulders. Her golden hair is fanning out around her now, streaked with mud and grime. It’s akin to a halo. A bit poetic.

“Someone please,” she’s whimpering again, lust edging around her words, “I’m so deep.”

“The mud,” she continues, breathless in pleasure, “it’s too deep. I don’t want to drown here.”

Her voice cracks near the end, as we can feel her thighs tighten in anticipation of another orgasm.
She’s so close now, as we lick past her shoulder and up her collarbone. We’re so close to the good days, of breathless maidens in pleasure. Of faces framed with mud, screaming in lustful passion. She’s humping the mud now, harder than before. She knows she is close to going under too, we think.

She closes her eyes as we assault her body. Her senses must be so overwhelmed right now. She’s shaking like a leaf in a storm. A whimper escapes her, she must be struggling to breathe now. Our tight grasp surrounds her chest, and now, it’s beginning to surround her delicate throat.

Her eyes shoot open as we reach her neck. She opens her mouth, taking a deep breath. We feel her chest expand against us, struggling against our grip. And yet, despite us choking her, the maiden is still alight with lust. She smiles, and bucks her legs once again. We oblige and drag her down to her chin. She smiling now, and between breaths, we can hear a whimper of pleasure.

Even now, chin-deep in morass, covered in muck and sweat, she is the most beautiful creature we have ever seen. Overcome by sudden affection perhaps, or perhaps we’re getting impatient, we kiss her on the neck. Her breath hitches, but it doesn’t stop her pleasure. She instead tilts her head back, and we oblige, dragging her to her ears. She squeaks, before moaning again.

“I’m… so deep,” she whimpers, “I’m gonna… gonna-”

We stop her short. Throwing everything we have, we stimulate every pleasure center we can find. Her eyes widen, and we feel her body writhe against our grip. Her toes curl. Her back arches. Her thighs quiver. She doesn’t scream this time. She releases a soft whimper, followed by a few pleading words. Her pale, blushing face is framed by mud, by our very form. She takes shaky breaths now. She’s tired, exhausted even. But we feel ourselves inside of her. Our body pulsates with newly found power. Her lustful worship has strengthened us, and for a moment, we think about exercising our strength.

But not tonight. Our maiden is exhausted. Her naked body is shaking in our grip as she takes deep, shaky breaths. We loosen our grip on her body, and she rewards us with a soft moan. She rolls her shoulders in our grip, whilst releasing another breath. She stretches out her lithe limbs under the surface, feeling us slip between her fingers and folds. She blushes again at our touch.

We feel her heart quicken again. A hand moves toward her breast, but she hesitates. She stops herself and settles to float inside us. Her nude body remains embroiled in our mass, her face the only thing above our surface. Her blush slowly fades, as she takes long, shaky breaths. Her eyes open, and we see a spark alight in them. Like she had discovered some beautiful new truth of life. A dark secret that only she knew, that only she could indulge in.

We savored the look in those eyes. It was the same look our past maidens had, once they presented themselves to us.

Worship.

For the first time in centuries, we have a worshiper. In that moment, adoration fills us, and we cannot hold it in any longer. Our surface bubbles, and our maiden, trapped in our bottomless mass, laughs and giggles among our bubbling form. Mud plasters her pale face and golden hair, but she pays no mind. She enjoys it.

We do not know how long she floated there, nubile and naked. But before we knew it, she was extracting herself from us. We wanted to hold on to her, to hug her until the stars fell from the sky.

But we knew we had to let her go. That is not how worship is practiced.

We watched her, as she wrenched herself from our muddy grasp. She was beautiful, cast in pale moonlight, covered head to toe in our divine form. And as she tiredly dressed herself, her form slumped against a tree, she cast one last smile towards us.

“Goodbye lover,” she said, with the voice of an angel, “I’ll be seeing you again soon.”

[ghostofmyeyes]

There was tension in my mind between the quicksand possibly having become feral, centuries of hunger driving it to now crave to swallow worshipers for keeps, and the actual outcome, the mire turning out to be like an inspired rope dom who, due to other circumstances, has been out of the action for a while, but has still got it.

Typically I'm into grim stories, but your more subtle strokes of fear, danger, and tension somehow hit my angles, and I'm always excited to see that you've posted.

[Solrex]

Holy crap, please let me go sink in this bog! If only it were real! Very good story!