The log cabin looked like a Thomas Kinkade painting brought to life. It was clad in a cloak of sparkling snow and sat nestled amongst some frosted pines. For Ben and Amelia, it was the picture perfect setting for their honeymoon. It was far away from the distractions of their hectic lives. The only thing that spoiled the picture perfect setting was the little old man dressed in a blazing orange parka and his beat-up old International Harvester Scout four-by-four in that sported the same bright orange.

The man hobbled over as Ben opened the door of their rented Escalade. A toothy grin was fixed on the old mans grizzled face.

“Trouble finding it?” the old man asked as he held a gloved hand out.

Ben took the man’s hand. At over six foot, Ben towered over the elder, making him almost look dwarfish.

“Thanks to your directions and our trusty GPS, we made it just fine,” Ben replied, “You’re Aloysius Finn, right?

The old man nodded, “Just call me Al. Got things all comfy cozy inside there for ya. Frigerator’s full and there’s enough wood to keep you warm all winter long if need be.”

“Thank you,” Ben said, pulling his leather coat around himself. He could see the ghosts of his breath in the cold October mountain air.

“Let’s give you a quick tour while your lady enjoys the car heater just a wee bit more, then I’ll help you folks unpack.”

Ben grinned tightly, “No need to do that. I can handle. . .”

The old man looked up into Ben’s dark eyes, “All part of the package deal, young man, all part of the package.”

Ben glanced back at his new wife and smiled. He was so damn lucky. Amelia had been his sweetheart since high school. He had been attracted to her slender figure and her long, light brown hair. Her cat-like blue eyes always seemed to shyly smile behind her wire-frame glasses. When first meeting her, people often thought she was very bookish and timid, but that was further from the truth. Once alone and in the bedroom, Amelia transformed into a tigress. Her needs often wore Ben out. College transformed her a bit, but not much. Professionally, she was a no-nonsense business woman that exuded a puma’s confidence. However, it was really a façade for the quiet and shy girl he had fallen in love with a decade earlier.

Ben trekked behind old Al, stomping his feet on the covered porch before going inside. A fire was already spitting and popping in the huge stone fireplace that dominated one of the walls. It was just as the website portrayed. The kitchen opposite the fire was small but functional and to the rear of the one room cabin was a grand brass bed billowing with a down-filled patchwork comforter. A small pinewood table sat in the center with four matching chairs. In the corner was the door that led to small bathroom complete with an old-fashioned copper tub and pedestal sink.

“Everything you’ll need is up right here,” Al said, “but I wanted to show you a few things in the basement in case of an emergency, you know. You know, you’re pretty much by your little lonesomes out here; no cell service an’ all. Want ‘cha to be prepared an all. You know, for emergencies.”

Pulling back a rug, the old man revealed a small trapdoor in the wooden floor. He pulled up the recessed rung and flipped a switch underneath the floors lip. The basement below suddenly glowed and revealed a stout wooden ladder leading down.

The old man went first and again Ben followed. The basement was lined with time worn river rock and the floor was paved in stone. There was a single bulb dangling in the center of the basement over an old flowered bed sheet covering some piece of furniture. There was a light drone of the generator as it pumped electricity into the small cabin as well a tired-looking water heater that must have been there since the eighties.

“The generator’s all filled up and should take you through the weekend. There’s a can o gas in the back shed and the instruction book is right over there hangin’ on a nail. Heater runs off of the propane jus’ like the stove. Tank’s outside and is pretty much full so it’s shouldn’t be an issue. Also, if you needin’ it, the faerie chair is over there.”

The old man pointed to the thing covered by the sheet.

“What is that?” Ben asked; a much more reserved question than the ‘What the fuck is that?’ question he wanted to ask.

Al smiled a toothy smile, “Let me show you.”

With a flourish, Al pulled the old sheet off and revealed a rustic old chair. The wood was dark and polished with age and the seat was in the shape of a ‘V’. Upon closer look, Ben noticed that there was several thick leather straps fastened upon the legs and arms of the chair, not unlike those found on an electric chair. The back was tall and narrow with thick straps dangling from it as well.

“This chair is over 300 hundred years old. Brought over here by my great grandparents from Holland to protect my family’s brides from the elfin folk huntin’ on our women folk’s honeymoonin’.”

Ben wondered about the lucidity of old Al.

“It looks pretty darn kinky to me.”

The old man shook his head. “The elfin folk followed us here from the old country, you have t’ understand. Too much of the old forests were being cut down. The faerie folk were always keen on us; wanted to take our women for their owns. They wanted them before the sun rose after the night’s nuptials when a man and a woman were truly one in the eyes of the Almighty.”

Ben looked down at the old man. There was a fire of belief in his eyes, almost an urgency in them.

“If you hear them coming for your wife make sure and lock the door and shutter the windows and feed the fire. That’s important. Keeps ‘em from coming down the flue. If they get close, take your lady down here. Remove anything worldly. . .jewelry. . .clothes. . . everything. They can sniff her out by her personal stuff. Then fasten her in this here chair and make sure she doesn’t say a peep. The chair will protect her as long as you do as I say.”

Ben looked at the old man with disbelief.

“And make sure you complete your honeymoonin’ duties, son, if you want to keep the faerie folk from forever followin’ after your missus.”

It was hard to ignore the old man and his intense blue-eyed stare. Ben pulled his eyes away and toward the ancient chair. He noticed it was bolted into the stone floor by thick iron bolts. There were carvings carved into it’s wood as well; old, gnarled gnomes with thin branch-like noses and shadowed stares.

“Or you could just ignore this old fool and have a wonderful weddin’ night. Come, let’s get your pretty wife in here and so I can leave you two all to your lonesomes.”

With that, the dwarfish Al climbed back up the ladder with Ben close behind.

The late afternoon sun blazed brilliantly on the fresh snow as Ben opened the door to get Amelia.

“What took you so long?” she smiled, “I almost thought you might have forgotten me.”

“Just checking into some of the cabin’s features. I’ll tell you about it when we’re settled. For now, let’s get out of the cold.”

Ben helped his wife out. Ben was always a gentleman. It was one of the many reasons she said yes when he first asked her out. Ben was tall but with a sturdy frame. He had a head lush with dark blonde hair and green hazel eyes that seemed to know your every mood and need. Living together had been good and she knew taking his last name would be even better.

Old Al helped with a couple of the suitcases as all three made it into the cabin. Amelia went straight to the refrigerator and smiled seeing the full array of what Al had stocked it with. There was even a bottle of sparkling wine chilling.

“This is so wonderful, Ben, don’t you think?”

Ben smiled and gave his wife a peck on her forehead as he embraced her, “I do.”

They lingered a bit, looking into each other’s eyes as their embrace began to be a little more intimate. . .

Al cleared his throat.

“Well, got to be going,” Al said, bowing his head down and making his way to the door.

“Thank you, Mr. Finn,” Amelia called.

The old man just chuckled and raised his hand goodbye before shutting the door behind him. A few minutes later, the Scout coughed to life and crunched down the roadway into silence.

Ben felt the familiar embrace as his new wife hugged him from behind, “All alone at last, Mr. Browning.”

“Mmmmmm, indeed Mrs. Browning.”

Ben turned around and looked down into her mischievous blue eyes. Her hands began to unbutton his long leather winter jacket as he leaned down and kissed her gently. Amelia pressed herself against him, her tongue hungrily finding his. After slipping off his jacket, Ben scooped up his bride and carried her to the bed.

The duck-down patchwork quilt almost devoured Amelia as new husband laid her in bed before lying down beside her. His arms eagerly enwrapped as they nestled kissing and touching. Amelia could sense his eagerness as his hands reached under her sweater in a not-so-subtle quest for her bra strap.

“Hold on,” she smiled, giving Ben a quick peck on his cheek, “let me get into something special...”

“You know anything you put on will be coming right back off” Ben teased.

“We’ll see about that, lover,” she replied as she slipped out of bed, nabbing her small tote bag and heading to the bathroom. She turned and gave him a wink before shutting the door.

Ben grinned and began to pull off his sweater. Both Amelia and he had changed out of their wedding apparel after their raucous reception knowing they had drive they ahead of them and needed to be more comfortable. The wedding was wonderful but tiring at the same time. The long drive to the cabin gave Amelia and he a chance to unwind enough to enjoy their wedding night up here.

Stripped down to his boxers, Ben lay back down and admired the open beamed ceiling of the cabin. The waning evening light coupled with the flickering glow of the fire made, to him, beautiful geometric patterns of light and shadow above him.

Ben then noticed a small hanging leather-wrapped ornament in the corner of the ceiling. He pondered it briefly before the door to the bathroom opened up and out stepped a true angel.

Amelia had adorned herself all in white lace. A tight corset hugged her lithe figure and wedding white lace stockings embraced her legs. Lace opera gloves graced her arms and a matching lace choker was around her throat. Her stiletto heels clicked on the floor in a paced manor as she slinked towards him in bed.

Nothing covered her heart-shaped nest between her legs.

“Like,” she asked as she stood before her husband.

“Yes, Mrs. Browning, I like,” he said reaching out to her.

“Uh-uh,” Amelia said taking a step back and wagged her finger, “You touch only when I say you can touch.”

Ben grinned, “You’re the boss.”

“You’re right there,” She said as she stepped forward and gently pushed him down onto the bed.

The scent of roses mixed with her incense as she hooked her fingers into his waistband and slowly pulled his boxers off. Amelia was very glad to see his soldier was standing at full attention. She licked around his purplish head before taking it fully into her mouth.

His smooth hardness tasted sweet with his saltiness as she began to suckle his cock in slow, measured strokes. He reached out to her but she slapped his hands back and gave him an arsenic-laced frown. He put his hand behind his head and just let her do her thing.

Amelia slowly quickened her pace, taking his cock deeper into her throat. She tried to pace herself so that she wouldn’t gag. His hips began to move up to her to match her rhythm. His low moans and panting cued Amelia that Ben was about to cum.

She pulled away, smiling, and pushed him back further on the bed. Amelia then straddled him, holding his hot manhood and guiding it into herself.

Her husband filled her completely. Vibrators and dildos were fun toys but nothing matched the feel of a real cock inside you. Amelia thrust herself down around him, her velvet muscles milking at him as she humped him faster and faster. She pulled his hands to her so they cupped her breasts. Ben began to knead them through the lace of her corset sending little jabs of pleasure through her.

Her own embers of an orgasm were building within Amelia with every stroke; burning stabs of pure bliss that plunged deeper and deeper into her soul until she erupted into a fit of blinding hot ecstasy. The feel of his seed shooting inside her made her orgasm crest yet again. She continued to ride her husband until she felt him softening inside her.

Amelia collapsed on top of her husband, grinning and panting. She soon rolled off and curled up beside him, closing her legs to keep as much of his warmth inside of her as she could. They both lay in silence as she gently nuzzled at his neck with little kisses. He felt fingers trace over the flat of his stomach until she reached down, gently cradling his balls, gently massaged them.

“Sweetheart, this soldier needs a little rest before he can stand at attention again,” Ben said quietly.

“Maybe old man Al’s magic potion may help,” she teased.

“Potion?” Ben questioned, “What are you talking about?”

“Oh, I thought he showed you when he was giving you the grand tour. He left us both a little of his home-brewed love potions in the bathroom. They’re right there on the shelf above the sink.”

“You’re joking.”

“Nope, uh-huh,” She said as she uncurled herself from him and slipped out of bed, “I’ll go get them.”

His wife pranced over to the bathroom and came back bearing 2 small vials: one magenta pink and the other cobalt blue. Each had a little note tied around its neck.

“Here is yours. I read both of them,” she grinned, “Yours is supposed to make you an ironman.”

Ben took the blue vial that was handed to him and looked at it dubiously.

“You can read the note for yourself. Mine is supposed to make me, how did he put it, ‘In a loving mood.’”

Ben read the note on his bottle: ‘A salve if you need to be a husband all night.’

A pop of a stopper made Ben look up. His wife had opened her bottle and was tricking a little of the lotion onto her fingertips.

“You aren’t really going to try that stuff are you?” he asked concerned.

“Why not,” she smiled as she began to massage the oil between her pleasure-puffed lips still glistening with their coupling, “I think it’s sweet of that cute old man to think of us.”

“You don’t know . . .”

Ben’s words were cut short a loud thump on the roof. They both looked at the roof before looking at each other.

“Ghosts,” she said in a spooky tone.

Ben grinned back,” . . . of honeymooner’s past.”

He glanced towards the frost-rimmed windows. The sun had set, sinking the valley into shadows both stark and sharp against the snow. The old man’s word echoed in his mind like a whisper of a ghost.

“It’s getting dark out,” Ben said climbing out of bed, “Better close the shutters before it starts getting cold in here.”

“I think I can keep you warm enough, lover,” she patted the quilt,” come back to bed.”

“You don’t want anyone spying on us, do you, Mrs. Browning?”

“Who,” she asked, “the squirrels?”

He latched the first set of shutters tightly, “You don’t want to corrupt the local wildlife do you?”

“I am pretty sure they have the birds and the bees down pat,” Amelia replied.

A coyote’s distant howl drifted through the valley. The couple looked at each other in silence for a second or two.

“On second thought,” Amelia said, “I’ll, help you.”

The couple made quick work of closing and latching the wooden shutters. The cabin seemed cozier and more intimate somehow. The clear salve Amelia had caressed into her sex was also starting to tingle a bit. With the wolves now held a bay outside the shuttered windows, it was now time to settle in with Ben to try and avoid the long winter’s nap.

Her husband also seemed more at ease as he poked at the fire and put another couple of logs into it. To Amelia, he looked like bronzed Greek god in the firelight. His weekly workouts at the gym were highlighted and shadowed by the flickering the fire in a most wanton way.

Amelia lay back and spread her legs in an open invitation and said seductively, “Come here, big boy.”

She smiled as she saw that her come hither ways were starting to have their desired effect. The warmth between her legs was beginning to be a prickling need.

Thud.

They both looked up at the ceiling again. The thud was followed by a skittering noise as something scurried over the snow-covered roof.

“It’s just a raccoon,” he said but there was no conviction in his voice.

She smiled as nervous smile, ‘I heard they hunt at night.”

Ben nodded his head, “They do.”

Two more thuds came in rapid succession, followed by more scrambling over the wooden shingles of the roof.

Then came a scratching at the door.

“What the fuck is that?” Amelia nearly shouted.

“I don’t know, sweetheart,” Ben said, trying to remain calm. However, the old man’s words clawed at him, tearing at his reason.

“Did you lock the door?” she asked, looking at him with a trickle of fear etched into her words.

Ben went to the door and made sure the deadbolt was firmly in place. He noticed a thick wooden shaft leaning against the doorframe. A pair of iron brackets were bolted on either side of the. Ben slammed the wooden bar into place a little harder than he meant.

The scratching on the other side became more frantic as a screech of little claws raked across one of the side windows. Three more thuds on the roof signaled more had come. Ben figured they were climbing the pines next to the cabin and hopping down. He looked back at his wife and saw that she had armed herself with the fireplace poker and was holding it like a baseball bat and looking wide-eyed all around the cabin.
Every nightmare was flashing through his mind, engulfing it. The worst ones involving the old man’s warnings and his Amelia. . .

“Ben!” Amelia shouted, tearing him out of his freeze.

Ben rushed over to the rug and pulled it off of the trapdoor. There was more and more scratching coming from all sides of the cabin now from the windows and door.

“Here,” Ben said, “Down here. There is a place where you’ll be safe.”

Ben pulled open the trap door.

“Down there? Like this?” she shouted unbelievingly.

His Amelia was still dressed for their wedding night in white lace corset and stockings which was more than what he was wearing.

“Trust me, sweetheart,” he said as calmly as he could muster.

Ben flicked on the light and held the door open.

Still holding the poker, she cautiously stepped down the ladder into the river stone lined cellar. It was cool but not uncomfortably so. Ben followed her after bolting the hatch with the 2 solid deadbolts.

Ben held his new wife by the shoulders and looked into her blue-eyes.

“Now listen to me,” he said, “Old Al told me a story and I thought the old guy was nuts but now I think he was telling me is real . . .”

“What the hell are you talking about?” she interrupted.

“Listen! Al told me about some goblins or something that comes out and preys on women on their wedding night. Came from Europe, he said. I think that’s what’s out there.”

“That’s fucking insane.” She said.

“What’s happening is fucking insane! What’s out there isn’t some raccoons or gophers or rabid squirrels. What’s out there wants us . . .you.”

Amelia pondered this for a second, “So what the fuck are we supposed to do? That is, if you believe the old man is the truth.”

Ben paused before going on, “Al told me these goblins want to kidnap women on their wedding night to take them for their own. He said that if they came for us I could protect you by putting you in this ancient chair he has down here. . .”

He went over to the sheet that covered the chair and whipped it off the chair.

“He said that you needed to sit in this chair strapped in so they could take you away.”

The timeworn chair looked very uncomfortable with its stout wooden arms and no real seat. The leather straps were positively medieval in a sadistically kinky way.

“If this is some elaborate perverse way of getting me tied up, I have a couple of sets of cuffs I brought with me from the bridal shower that Amy gave me.”

“I am not that sick,” Ben said flatly, “Now get undressed . . .”

“Look at me! I am undressed.”

“No, Al said that you can’t have any clothing on you; something about smelling you out by your clothes.”

Amelia gave Ben another one of those looks that could wither a forest as she kicked her heels off and began to peeling her stockings down her legs. Even in the cellar she could hear the manic scratching. It sounded like they were trying to tear the building apart. Ben helped her unfasten the hooks in her corset as she took off her lace gloves.

“I hope Al isn’t some pervert with a camera hidden away down here somewhere,” she said as she unhooked her lace choker and dropped it on the ground.

She stepped up on the small stone dais and gingerly sat herself down in the stair. The narrow ‘V’ shape of the chair meant that she had to spread her legs open in order to sit. Amelia was very conscious of exposing her sex-swollen vagina now; especially since the lotion was now making her itch with need.

The back of the chair went above Amelia’s head and in order to sit at all her back had to be pressed against it. She felt Ben quickly tighten the straps around her ankles to the front legs of the chair. There were straps fastened both above and below her knees and around her thighs until she felt welded to the chair. If it wasn’t for the frantic scrapings upstairs and Ben’s story about goblins, there would be no way she would be sitting here.

Ben gave her a concerned smile as he continued to fasten more restraints. Her arms were buckled to the arms of the chair until she was truly helpless. There was additional straps that went around her waist and chest and neck. She wriggled as she tested her bindings.

“One last strap, sweetheart,” he said apologetically.

“Well get on with it.”

The last strap was a narrow one with a padded leather ball at its center. He started to draw it across her mouth.

“No fucking way, Benjamin!”

“Sweetheart . . .”

“NO!”

Her husband let go of it, “You have to be quiet. That is what Al said.”

“I can do that.”

“Even if you cum? I know how noisy you can be. . .”

“What?” she interrupted.

“He said that I need to do was to, and I quote, ‘continue my honeymooning duties.’”

Amelia knew how loud she could be. She caused many a wall and floor to be pounded upon in her college years. The scratching above was scaring her more than she cared to admit to Ben. Amelia could see he was on an edge that was crumbling fast.

“Gag me,” she said, “before I change my mind.”

She opened her mouth and Ben pushed the leather ball in and strapped it tightly in.

Despite her fears, Amelia’s libido was fighting to take control. Her sex was now burning with a need she could not scratch and being restrained was not helping. In fact, being bound was probably helping fan her flames.

She watched her husband close his eyes masturbate himself as he stood between her open legs. She wanted to reach out and help him but bound as she was, she was helpless to help him. She could feel miasma of his frustration as it engulfed both of them.

A thought flashed through her and she tried to speak through her gag.

“Be quiet, sweetheart,” he said as he but a finger to his lips.

She moaned even louder, enough so that he took the gag out.

“The salve!” she exclaimed.

“What?” he said with a puzzled look on his face.

“Al’s magic potion, remember.”

The blue bottle, yes, that’s the answer.

Ben’s heart froze when he remembered where it was.

“It’s upstairs,” he said

“I know that.”

“I am not leaving you alone, sweetheart.”

Amelia shook her head, “No, listen. You said Al told you that I would be safe in this chair, right? Well, just make a quick dash up and back. I’ll be fine.”

“I’ll just unstrap you. . .”he began.

“No time. They could break into here at any moment. Take the poker. Just gag me so I’m ready when you get back down here, lover.”

“Are you sure?”

“Just do it, dammit!”

Ben placed the gagged back into her open mouth and refastened it tightly. He grabbed the poker and cautiously climbed up the ladder. He pulled the bolts open and opened the trapdoor.

The sounds of the clawing became even more frenzied as if they creatures outside were digging through the log walls and glass panes. Amelia listened as her husband rushed across to the bed where he had left his vial.

The light bulb dimmed and went out as with the lights upstairs. Only the flickering glow of the fire saved Amelia from total darkness.
In the shadows of the cellar, she thought she saw something move.

She stifled a scream.

With a slam, everything went black. Amelia screamed into her gag as she heard the trapdoor bolts being rammed home.

An odd greenish glow began to emanate from the stone walls around her as a slender, gnarled man separated himself from the shadows. His skin was charcoal grey and the only clothes he wore were a dried leaf here and there. His cock was long and ready to take his prize.

“Huldrekall am I,” he hissed as he eased himself closer to Amelia, “you listen not to words.”

The thing’s face was hideously gnarled around a stick-thin nose. His tiny black eyes drilled into Amelia’s.

“Found you yes,” its talon fingers touched the tipoff its long nose before caressing the wedding band on Amelia’s finger.

Amelia felt the cold tip of the creature’s cock against her sex. She screamed and shuddered and fought against the straps pinning her to the chair.

“Complete wedding now, I will,” it grinned with tombstone teeth as his cold, clawed hands gripped her hips.

30.10.17