BHM An Inn near Odessa

Discussion in 'Recent Additions' started by Shh! Don’t tell!, Jul 8, 2019.

  1. Jul 8, 2019 #1

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

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    Author's Note: Alexei, a nobleman in Tsarist Russia, falls into the hands of a witch. What will she do with him?

    Horny nonsense that’s a pastiche of Russian lit from the 19th century/supernatural non-consensual feeding/garbage. I’m ashamed.


    ——

    An Inn near Odessa
    by Shh! Don't tell!




    Although it was only four in the afternoon, night had fallen, the long midwinter night that starts in the early afternoon and continues until late in the morning. Despite the extreme cold, Alexei had begun to sweat under his sheepskin coat. He looked out the window of the carriage at the snowy, open steppe, gripped by anxiety that was dangerously close to becoming fear.


    “Aren’t we near Odessa?” He called to the driver.


    “What?” Called back the hard-of-hearing driver.


    “Aren’t we near Odessa? I thought that we were supposed to get there an hour ago.”


    “My apologies, my lord,” said the driver. “The fresh snow makes the roads hard to drive on. We’ll get there in time.”


    “Will we be there soon? Night’s falling and I don’t like the idea of riding in the dark for hours” said Alexei. He had a rational, but unusually intense fear of the things that come out at night, wolves and bandits and other such things.


    “We might not be there for some time,” said the driver. “I see smoke across that field. Would you like to see if there’s an inn there, my lord?”


    “Yes, please,” said Alexei, feeling relieved that they wouldn’t have to drive the rest of the way to Odessa in the dark. He was also quite hungry and, although he had some bread and cheese with him in a basket, he’d love to get a hot meal at an inn to warm him up on this winter’s evening.


    They approached the smoke, which was rising from the chimney of a little house with a warm light coming from it’s windows. Overhead hung a waning cresent moon.


    Alexei walked with the driver to the door and knocked. The door opened almost immediately.


    “Pardon me-“ said Alexei, and then stopped as he saw the girl who’d opened the door.


    Most of the women he’d encountered during his time on this trip away from Moscow had been utterly unappealing to him. What a country-ish, peasant look they have to them, he’d thought. Mannish and maternal and plain. The inn-keeper’s wives had been the worst of the bunch, shrieking in some unknown tongue at their husbands. Dreadful.


    This girl was another breed altogether. She was slender and slight, with narrow shoulders, narrow hips. Her hair, which was as dark and as soft as smoke, fell past the small of her back. And her eyes, her eyes-wide and wild and strange and blue.


    “Pardon me,” said the driver to the girl. “Does your husband rent rooms here?”


    “No, my father does,” said the girl. “He’s away on a trip, but I can show you both rooms.” Her voice was like many bells all ringing together and it chilled Alexei worse then the brutal cold. He was fixated by the cat-like lines of her face, by her soft, full lips.


    Alexei came into the inn and removed his hat, feeling a little embarrassed to show the balding top of his head in front of the pretty inn-keeper’s daughter. He’d once been proud of his pale blond locks in his youth, but now he was a man of forty and his looks were fading. He touched the slightly rounded, soft belly he’d developed over the past several years thoughtfully as he took off his coat. Time! Time conquers all.


    The driver took the horses to the barn to put them inside. The inn was a lovely little place, with a crackling fire and a pot of something which smelled delicious boiling on it.


    “Would you like some stew?” said the girl.


    “Please,” said Alexei, sitting down. “And some beer, if you have it.”


    The girl gave him a tall mug of beer, which she’d seemed to conjure from nowhere.


    “There’s no one else here, is there?” said Alexei. He had a fantasy of creeping into the girl’s room tonight and crawling into her bed. “No one else staying at this inn?”


    “No,” said the girl, making him a rather large bowl of stew. Alexei took it gratefully. The meat was fatty and tender and there were chunks of onion and cabbage. Wonderful. He scarfed it down, occasionally glancing at the girl, her lovely slender form.


    “What’s your name?” He asked the girl.


    “Morgen,” said the girl.


    “I’m Alexei Nikolayevich,” Alexei said. Then felt compelled to add-“I’ve met the Tsar.”


    Morgen raised a dark eyebrow. “Have you?”


    “Yes. At a ball.”


    “What was he like?” She didn’t seem as impressed as he’d hoped she’d be by his glance with greatness.


    “Very nice. Polite. Mmm.” Alexei slurped up the last of the stew. It had been so delicious that he’d eaten that large bowl like it was nothing. “This is very good. You’re a wonderful cook.”


    “Have some more,” said the girl, already refilling his bowl. Alexei tucked into his second helping happily. “I’ll make you some pierogi, too.”


    She fried up a large pan of the little potato dumplings as Alexei scarfed down the second bowl of stew, then a third. After the third bowl, his stomach felt tightly full, but the pierogi smelled irresistibly delicious. As he gobbled them down and Morgen refilled his beer, he briefly wondered where the driver had gone but was distracted by how unbelievably good the food tasted and how intoxicatingly beautiful Morgen was as she served him his-fourth? Fifth? bowl of stew. He ate that and the last of the pierogi and belched so enormously he thought he felt the house rattle.


    “Excuse me,” Alexei grunted.
     
    Last edited by a moderator: Jul 9, 2019
  2. Jul 8, 2019 #2

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

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    He was full. Full, full, full and yet he felt compelled to dig in as Morgen served him yet another bowl of stew, each bite inducing worse and worse pain. He looked down. His stomach was bulging out onto his lap. I must stop eating, he thought, and yet found that he could not. Morgen smiled at him and touched his arm. Her fingers were as cold as ice.


    “I love to see a man enjoy my cooking,” Morgen purred. “Eat as much as you like. No need to be shy. Enjoy yourself.”


    Alexei moaned as his spoon grazed the bottom of the bowl. Morgen served him more. He ate. He belched. Morgen served him more.


    “You must be very important,” said Morgen. “To have met the Tsar at a ball.”


    “I am,” said Alexei, between moans and belches and gulps of stew. “I was an officer in the military. I am a baron of a hundred and fifty souls-“


    “-But out here, in the middle of nowhere, no one’s really important,” Morgen interrupted him. She smiled an awful, wolfy smile. “I’ve met a lot of men who think they’re important. Men who think they’re important because they’ve killed people, men who think they’re important because they have money, men who think they’re important because they have a title or land. They’re all the same. Even the Tsar, out here, would only be another man who thinks he’s important. Here, eat some more.”


    Against his will, Alexei ate more stew, another bowl and then another. He looked down at his belly, distended, round, heavy and tight with so, so, so much food.


    “It hurts,” Alexei moaned as he ate. “My stomach! It hurts!”


    “Poor thing,” Morgen crooned, serving him more stew. “You’re delirious with hunger.”


    “No, I’m full! I’m too full! Why can’t I stop eating? Help! Help me!”


    “There’s no use in getting upset,” Morgen lightly caressed Alexei’s painfully distended belly. Every hair on his body stood up at her icy touch and still he continued to eat, try as he might to stop.


    “Where’s the driver?” Alexei cried between bites of stew.


    “The driver has driven off to Odessa,” sighed Morgen, gently prodding his massively distended belly, pinching his fat. “He thinks you’re in the carriage and won’t realize otherwise until tomorrow morning. Eat. Eat.”


    Alexei ate. Bowl after bowl. He spilled stew and beer down his skin tight shirt and soiled his mustache and beard with grease and bits of food. His belly was swelling to an alarming size. He noticed with embarrassment that his penis was tenting his pants in an irrational reaction to the situation.


    “Poor thing,” whispered Morgen as she caressed his belly, massaging loose a painful gas bubble. “You must be famished.” She unbuttoned his pants, freeing his swollen gut. Alexei belched and passed gas, too overwhelmed with fullness to feel ashamed. “I’ll make sure you’re well fed, not just tonight, but every night you stay with me. And you will stay with me, won’t you, Alexei Nikolayevich? I hope you’ll stay with me a long time.” Her cold hands felt soothing on his tortured belly. She served him yet another bowl of stew from the huge pot and he ate as she massaged his belly. A feeling of resignation had overtaken him, and a deep, lethargic sleepiness, a feeling of helplessness.


    “Here,” she said. “Ice cream.” She poked a spoonful of the creamy treat into his mouth. “I love making it outside on cold days like today. Isn’t it delicious?” It was. It was so intensely delicious that Alexei felt warm and trembly all over. A little ice cream dribbled from his mouth down into his beard and he stared at Morgen’s pink lips as she fed him more.


    “It’s delicious,” Alexei groaned. His shirt, he realized, was riding up his belly and the pink, downy, stretched tight skin of his gut was exposed. “Thank you. Thank you.”


    “It’s my pleasure,” said Morgen. Alexei felt he would go mad from a combination of pain, fear, and arousal. He ate the ice cream, bite after bite, for a long time, until the fire had burnt out to embers.


    “It’s gotten late,” said Morgen. “Let’s get you to bed. I think you’ll have a good night’s sleep after a good dinner like that. Follow me. I’ll show you to your room.”


    “I can’t walk,” whispered Alexei, clutching his enormous belly protectively. “I can’t walk. Have mercy on me, don’t make me walk.”


    “I have infinite patience and mercy,” murmured Morgen. “If you can’t walk, lie down on the floor.”


    Tenderly, Alexei slide from the chair and lay down. His stomach rose high in the air, a huge, round mound of taunt flesh. Morgen leaned over him, holding a knife and for a moment Alexei thought that would be the end of him, but she simple cut away his soiled, too tight shirt.


    “Here,” she said. “You’ll be much more comfortable out of that shirt.”


    Morgen left the room and returned with a soft blanket, a plump pillow.


    “There,” she said, propping up his head with the pillow and tucking him in . “Oh.” She laughed. She’d noticed his erect penis. “Someone’s excited. Would you like me to take care of this for you?”


    “Please,” begged Alexei. “Please, oh please.” He’d never felt so desperate for release. He humped the air weakly.


    “Actually, on second thought, I’m not in the mood right now. Maybe later, after we’ve had more time to get to know each other,” Morgen put a hand on his belly, grinning like the cat that ate the canary. “We can discuss it tomorrow. Over breakfast.”
     
    Last edited: Jul 8, 2019
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  3. Jul 8, 2019 #3

    Clandy Caine

    Clandy Caine

    Clandy Caine

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    Don’t be ashamed! Sometimes you just have to indulge yourself and enjoy those silly erotic fantasies. I certainly appreciate getting to read them. Plus I think that your attention to detail goes a long way toward elevating an other wise silly premise. I look forward to reading where this story goes next (and hope you plan to continue Isaiah and Liam’s story at some point too)
     
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  4. Jul 8, 2019 #4

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

    Shh! Don’t tell!

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    Thanks. I’ve sort of lost a lot of fetish writing inspiration lately, but I traded it for non-fetish writing inspiration. Which is great, for my other writing that I don’t post on here, but not great for finishing my stuff on here. I think I’ll get it wrapped up soon, but I’ve just been very preoccupied.
     
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