The Leopard’s Spots
Millie Dynamite
The Leopard’s Spots
By Millie Dynamite
Description: Scary, sexy story for your Halloween inspiration. A tale of Erotic Horror, for your consumption. Meet Shenzi, an African goddess, a cat slinking into your heart, your loins, and your mind, with all-consuming love. You can find her, in all her feline glory, in our first tale, The Leopard’s Spots. Sexy and seductive, with a ferocious appetite. Can you satisfy her hunger?
Tags: erotic dangerous liaison, non-human fatal, relationship outlandish, sensual fucking paranormal, supernatural huntress, sensual all-consuming, sexual supernatural beast, erotic Were-creatures
Published: 2022-10-03
Size: ≈ 4,434 Words
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The Leopard’s Spots
An erotic tale of eternal yearning and hunger.
Millie Dynamite
© Copyright 2022 by Millie Dynamite
NOTE: This work contains material not suitable for anyone under eighteen (18) or those of a delicate nature. This is a story and contains descriptive scenes of a graphic sexual nature. This book is purely a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously-any resemblance to actual persons, whether living, deceased, actual events, or locales, are entirely coincidental.
The Leopard’s Spots
This story is based on African superstitions, some of which traveled with them to the new world.
This wonderful creature has existed for millennia. So long, in fact, she cannot remember her beginning.
One vivid memory she clings to was the rough, rocky voyage from Africa to America. The terrible deaths of the captain and first officer, the blood they forced her to clean after the fatalities of the two highest-ranking sailors on the ship. How easily she slipped from the chains intended to bind her. The other Africans and how their fear, thick and sweet, filled the air. The slaves reeked of terror, more of the horror of her than a fear of their slavery.
This dread of the slaves engendered a spirit of mirth in her. They had no reason to fear her on their trek to America. For the voyage, she fed on the whites, so two more Englander sailors died, torn limb from limb in the dark of night without uttering a word, a screech, or a whimper. The Limey seafarers’ immeasurable, papabile terrors sweetened their soul’s flavor.
The sailors reported seeing a black leopard, with spots of a darker shade, roaming free on the Guineamen cargo vessel when the ship made port. Finding no cat, the officials thought the sailors mad.
Of course, Shenzi never spotted the leopard. How could she?
While the whites didn’t know what had happened on the voyage, the Nigerian slaves realized what she was, a kubadilisha umbo, a shapeshifter. A powerful witch who’d transcended to something more than human or mortal.
More centuries passed.
This Nubian goddess cherished her former lovers, remembering them often through the centuries. The sweet lovemaking, the long, languorous kisses as passion built, the frantic, rough fucking as each participant neared the brink. The taking of everything a lover might possibly give to her. Every last drop of semen, every sigh and moan, all the way until they gave her their last breath, to her, in lovemaking.
In early October 1988, Shenzi roamed through the streets of the southern town. After twenty-five years in this community, she grew anxious and hungered for more. The night’s air chilled after sunset, and she strutted down one street after another avenue. The need took root, and Shenzi prowled for the perfect lover. Hiding in a tree near a house far from the road, she saw him.
A stout, hard-bodied, ruggedly handsome white man, a tasty morsel indeed.
Driving down the wooded road, moving into town, Eric Banner kept catching sight of something hulking and cat-like, moving from one tree to another. This cat creature seemed to follow him. Stalking the unnerved driver, leaping from the branches on one side of the highway to those on the other.
Pulling into the bar’s graveled parking lot, he thought the cat thing hid in the tall grass of the field next to the lot.
“I ain’t scared of you,” he shouted into the darkness.
Making his way into the bar, Eric planted his ass on his favorite stool. Gazing around at the other patrons, nodding to friends, and saying hello to a few new women. And so Eric began his Saturday night ritual. Expecting to leave before inebriation prevented his safe driving.