The Flight to Lucifer by Harold Bloom

Half an hour later, he lay bruised and bleeding, bound to the bed of Achamoth.

He had found a curious house only a few hundred yards into the wood. Built of black stone, short and oval, the structure was ominous and prison-like, and so overgrown with moss as to be hardly recognizable amid the trees that overhung it. Pushing the door open, he had confronted a majestic titaness of a woman, as tall as himself, with shoulders nearly as broad as his own. She had seemed to him then, as she did now, powerfully ugly but sexually compelling nevertheless. Her robe was black, and evidently was the skin of some wild beast. Her eyes were astonishingly large and almost colorless. The expression with which she awaited him was hungry at best, and perhaps even murderous. He had stood in the doorway, urgently drawn to her, but also very much moved to depart immediately.