The heart of corruption

It was just a few meters away from Eleanor: a colossal structure, sort of a conglomerate of black blobs of goo, forming a gigantic monolith, standing as high as the mist allowed one to see, and probably much higher. “This was not something that anyone could have missed, so it must have appeared out of thin air while I was… focused on the tree”, thought the young woman, not surprised anymore by the tricks of this place.

She started running toward the monolith. It was the only notable thing around, but there was another reason for her haste. Her little play with the tree barely satisfied her lust, and this thing was calling her like she knew all about it. She was hearing things in her head, moans and whispers commanding her to come forward to the monolith. This was the root of her ever-growing lust, and she needed to find the truth about it, or she couldn’t finish her quest.

This last step was the hardest. she was now more aroused than ever, and walked the last meters with one hand on her breast and one on her pussy, caressing furiously her clit to try to cool down, even a little, the heat inside her.

Finally, she reached her destination. She was now close enough to the monolith to touch it and try to make sens of it. Its surface seemed to be made of a curious black ooze, constantly moving, but keeping a relatively constant shape. It was like she was standing in front of a liquid wall, but remaining solid thanks to some strange magic. As she approached, the swirls intensified and started to form a human figure. The young woman couldn’t believe her eyes at first but, once the movements stopped, she was certain: it was indeed Agnes who was standing there, behind the dark barrier of the monolith.

She brought her hand closer to the monolith to reach her friend, but changed her mind at the last minute. Who knew what would happen if she made contact with the strange structure? This could be another trick. As if she felt Eleanor’s mental dilemma, Agnes started speaking, or at least what could be considered as speaking. Eleanor saw her friend’s mouth opening and, despite no sound traversing the wall of the monolith, she heard the voice in her head. It was her, no doubt. She even called her “sunflower”, like she used to when they were younger and rummaging through the grape’s fields of farmer Daggot. These were memories from not so long ago, but it was like an eternity to Eleanor. With the little sanity she still had, she clung to this reminder of her old life, like an anchor to keep her head out of this sea of madness.

“Come closer Eleanor. I’m right here. Join me.” A small part of the girl knew that it was a trap, that she should never listen, but the voice was filling her head, shutting down every rational thought, and further increasing her excitement. The desire to give in grew stronger and stronger and, at some point, the limit was crossed. She got her hand closer, and touched the monolith.

An outside observer would have seen her get absorbed by the colossal structure, leaving nothing behind, almost as if she was never here. All of that, however, happened way too fast for Eleanor to register it. The only thing she understood was that at one moment she was in front of the monolith and the next she was… somewhere else. She couldn’t really grasp where she was. Was she even somewhere? She lowered her head to look at her feet and noticed she couldn’t see her body. In fact, she couldn’t even feel it. All that remained of her was her consciousness, floating in a black void, lost and directionless. Panic overwhelmed what was left of her as she realized it. "What is this sorcery?", she wondered, "What can I do? I can’t end like this!". She tried to scream, to get the attention of whoever might hear here in this place, but she had nothing left to scream with.

Suddenly, Agnes appeared. She had no body either, and Elanor could not really see her, nor hear her, but she felt her presence all around her, even inside her. She could hear her lamentations, look into her memories, feel her lustful and decadent thoughts, a grotesque parody of Agnes. However, Eleanor knew, deep down, that it was her friend, trapped in this forsaken place for barely a few hours, and already lost in a turmoil of arousal and anguish.

Time had no real meaning in this place, but what remained of Eleanor guessed that it was a few minutes after which more presences started to appear. Just like with Agnes, she felt their memories and their thoughts. Some were from the same village as the young woman, but most came from far away places, or from a time long forgotten. Thousands of souls, prisoners of the monolith for even more lifespans, **** and suffering, fused together in an amalgam of arousal and sorrow.

After so many eons trapped here, any distraction was welcomed, and all of those souls got excited at the sight of a newcomer. They penetrated the remnants of Eleanor, stimulating her nerves, sharing their lustful thoughts, imprinting in her mind pictures of her getting used by them all.

And the young woman felt all of that, and even more. In this place where time and space had no meaning, where people were mere points of consciousness in an ocean of nothingness, sensations were all that remained and, as such, they were multiplied tenfold. Every hand caressing her imaginary skin was like thousands of tentacles rummaging each part of her body, every kiss a painful bite, every little burst of pleasure a bliss like she had never known. At last, Eleanor had reached the end of her journey. She was now part of a whole, trapped forever in an endless orgasmic agony.