Message-ID: <45037asstr$1067404206@assm.asstr-mirror.org> Return-Path: X-Original-Path: 53ab2750!not-for-mail From: Goldberry X-Original-Message-ID: Content-transfer-encoding: 7BIT NNTP-posting-date: Mon, 27 Oct 2003 21:36:25 MST User-Agent: Xnews/5.04.25 X-ASSTR-Original-Date: Tue, 28 Oct 2003 04:36:25 +0000 (GMT) Subject: {ASSM} Tom Bombadil - The Masks - A Horror Story [ F/M, F/F, nc, snuff, vampire, magic ] Date: Wed, 29 Oct 2003 00:10:06 -0500 Path: assm.asstr-mirror.org!not-for-mail Approved: Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d X-Archived-At: X-Moderator-Contact: ASSTR ASSM moderation X-Story-Submission: X-Moderator-ID: dennyw, gill-bates Reposted with permission Goldberry Goldberry12spam@hotmail.spamcom (you can figure this out :) Emails to me or posts to assd will also be read by Tom. Enjoy! The Masks - A Horror Story [ F/M, F/F, nc, snuff, vampire, magic ] Short Story #3 by Tom Bombadil (c) Oct 1996 Rewritten Oct 2003 Disclaimer: All the standard rules apply. If you are offended by explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer. This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions described by me coming straight out of my imagination. As a work of fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives. You've been warned. Author's note: Squeamish? Prone to nightmares? Afraid of strange noises in the night? Maybe you'd better try a different story. This one is for those who like cold chills, shivers, and goosebumps, as well as other things that rise up and get hard. It is not for the faint of heart. ******************************************************************** John sat naked on the earthen floor, nervously playing with his manacles. There were twelve links of steel chain joining his iron wrist cuffs together, and forty-four links securing that chain to a u-shaped bolt driven deep into the brick wall. He had counted them over and over again, and tested the strength of every link more times than he could possibly remember. Other than stare at the masks lining this room, his prison, there was very little else to do. A year had gone by since he had been brought here. "Only a year?" he thought. "It feels like a lifetime." He knew that tonight was the night because they had brought back the altar. Tonight they would kill him. Tonight he would be set free from the torments. He was dreading what would happen, dreading the agony he knew he would have to endure, but at the same time craving the only release from his torments that he could expect from his captors. He prayed again, fervently hoping that they would keep their promise. He believed that another night or two of their fun would drive him completely insane, if he wasn't there already. --------------- Wally took another sip of his beer. It was hard to hear what his girlfriend Jennifer was yelling over the noise of the music and the party. After turning his head a little and covering his other ear, he could just make out her words. "THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!" she yelled into his ear. "OKAY!" he shouted back. Making his way out of the party room, he escaped into the relatively quiet entrance hall, where the front door stood open. Eerie purple and orange lights flickered on and off, accompanied by cackles and moans from a speaker on the veranda. Two pumpkins, one grinning, one frowning, faced outwards from the window ledge. All that was caught in the periphery of his vision, and he ignored it since he had seen it all at least a hundred times that day. As the 'official' doorman, he had already greeted several dozen party goers, and handed out treats to a long stream of little witches, goblins, power rangers, morphing something-or-others, kitty cats, and lord-only-knows- what-else. What made him stop and stare were the two girls - ladies, actually - who stood at the door. "Beautiful" was the word he thought of first. Then "gorgeous, stacked, hot, killer, awesome," and then "If Jenny knew what I was thinking, she would kill me!" However, he didn't know either of them, so he was supposed to turn them away. Officially, he wasn't allowed to let gate crashers in. "Hi," said the smaller of the two, the blonde bombshell, the vixen. He thought maybe five-one, five two in her heels, maybe a hundred pounds soaking wet with half of that in the knockers she showed up front. Black eye shadow around huge blue eyes, a makeup mole on her chin, black peaked hat, small black mask pushed up to her forehead, a low cut black dress who's ragged bottom edge didn't completely hide the tops of her seamed black thigh-high stockings, and black patent stiletto pumps dressed up the witch. "Like, I hope you don't mind us coming. Dave, like, kinda mentioned the party to us?" "Valley girl," he thought to himself. "Excellent imitation valley girl." "Yes," said the taller of the two. At six one, Wally wasn't used to looking up at a woman, and it made him a little nervous, especially with that hungry look deep in her dark brown eyes. She wasn't stacked like the blonde, but from what he could see peeking out over the top of her strapless purple gown, she was definitely not lacking, and what she had matched perfectly with her long, lean frame. He stared at her mouth as she spoke. "He said it would be all right as long as we brought some treats." Blood-red lips set off by powder-white skin framed vampire teeth with upper canines and matching lower fangs. She made a good imitation of the Bela Lugosi vampire accent. Wally still stared, trying to figure out where she got choppers that looked so good and so natural. He mentally shook himself back to awareness. Those brown eyes frightened him a little, and he chided himself for getting faked out by her excellent costume and makeup. "If Mike or Pat ever found out I turned away a pair of gate crashers like this," he thought to himself, still staring at the vampire, "they'd use me for a tackling dummy!" "Uh, treats?" he found himself mumbling out loud. Then a little voice inside of him yelled "Get a hold of yourself! Jenny's probably watching right now!" "Of course. Treats!" With a flourish, the tall, black-haired white- skinned woman brought both hands out from the depths of her black cloak. One held a bottle of Smirnoff's, and from the other dangled a two-four of Heineken. Her slender arms didn't look like they were straining at all, offering him the two dozen beers and the forty-pounder. He took the box and, yes, it was full. He had doubted that for a second. The vodka bottle was also full and still sealed. Putting the beer and vodka on the floor, he glanced nervously over his shoulder, then back at the women. "Don't," he squeaked. After clearing his throat he tried again. "Don't go anywhere. Stay right there. I'll be right back!" There was nobody named Dave at the party, and nobody named Dave had been invited, either. He knew that for sure, because he had handled all the invitations and R.S.V.P.'s himself. That they were lying didn't particularly surprise or bother him. Wally dashed back into the party room, frantically searching for one of his football teammates. If he could get either of them to invite the girls in, he would be off the hook and they would owe him a big favour. Picturing the two women in his mind again, he figured they would owe him several favours! Spotting Pat trying to talk with Little Missy Stacey, the school prude, he knew the guy was desperate. Bouncing a piece of candy off his friend's forehead to get his attention, Wally waved frantically, motioning that Pat should come over right away. Frowning, Pat did. "THIS BETTER BE GOOD, WALLY! I JUST ABOUT HAD HER COMING HOME TO MY PLACE!" shouted Pat with a hint of anger. "In your dreams," thought Wally. Instead of voicing that thought, he yelled "FOLLOW ME!" They made it out to the foyer as fast as Wally could drag the bigger man. To his relief, both women were still standing in the doorway. "Pat, this is, uh ..." Wally faltered, suddenly realizing he didn't have a clue what their names were. "Babs" giggled the diminutive blonde. "Short for Babba Yagga." "And I am Contessa Vladmira," purred the taller one. The black-haired beauty held out her hand to Pat, palm down, wrist bent. He stared at it for a second, then took it in his own. When he attempted to shake hands, she just stared at him, not hiding her amused smile in the least, waiting for something else. He soon got the idea. Bending at the waist, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand. She smiled, rather toothily, in pleasure. "There's a small problem, Pat." Wally had to repeat himself after jabbing the quarterback in the ribs. "These girls don't seem to be on the guest list. I can't just let them in without them being invited. Maybe you can think of something?" "I, uh, ah, well ..." The six foot three inch two hundred and twenty pound all-conference quarterback just stood there with his mouth open. He was staring mindlessly, held in the gaze of the taller woman, eye to eye with her. Wally could imagine a stream of drool trailing down from the corner of Pat's mouth. He figured a little mindless slobber would make the scene a perfect Kodak moment. "Uh, Pat?" Wally put another elbow into Pat's ribs and actually got his attention this time. "I don't remember you bringing a guest. Maybe if I pencil one of them in as your date, and the other one as Mike's date, it would be all right? Or would that be bending the rules a bit too much?" "Oh, no. No. I mean yes! No! Oh, put them in the freakin' guest book already!" His eyes never moved from the hypnotic, bottomless pools he was falling into. "It's all settled, ladies." After a few more seconds of staring, the Contessa spoke to Pat. "Will you not invite us across the threshold?" Wally thought that a very odd expression, but shrugged it off as being in character. "Vampires need an invitation before entering someone's home", he thought to himself, remembering one of the old horror flicks he had seen. "Come in, come in!" Pat held out his hand, and the vampire woman flowed into the hallway. Flowed was the only way Wally could describe it. Her purple gown and black cloak both reached down to within an inch of the floor, hiding all traces of her legs and feet. If they were anywhere near as good as the rest of her, he thought, she would be nothing short of gorgeous. There was no hint of movement, no sense of her walking as she travelled. Morticia Addams would have been proud of that walk. There was another brief silence as the Contessa gazed pointedly at Wally. He stared stupidly back, his mind suddenly gone numb, until a quick shifting of her eyes made him look towards the doorway. Babs was standing there, holding out her hand, looking at him and waiting. He gulped, took her hand in his, and invited her inside. For a moment, her eyes got huge as he stared into them, causing him to forget where he was and what he was doing. She stood on tiptoe, sliding one hand behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss, a lingering peck on the cheek that was only interrupted by an ahem from behind him. It was with red-faced guilt that he turned around. Babs' look, her touch, and her chaste kiss had him more aroused than his girlfriend Jennifer had managed to do in their three years together. Jennifer was standing there, staring daggers, having been a witness to Babs' and John's intimacy. "And who might you be?" asked the Contessa, as she glided past both men to stand in front of the unmasked catwoman. "Jennifer," blurted Wally, suddenly ashamed for what had happened. He didn't really remember doing anything to be ashamed of, but he was. "My girlfriend." "Beautiful," was the Contessa's reply, looking at the sleek form of the redhead. Jennifer was proud of her body, and worked hard to keep it tight and trim. The leather outfit she wore showed off everything to perfection. Even the little cat-ears she wore looked good. Her hazel eyes seemed to lose focus as she met the stare of the Contessa. The tall woman leaned forward and planted a kiss in the centre of Jennifer's forehead. A perfect lipstick print marked the site of the smooch, the blood-red colour contrasting well against her pale, freckled skin. Jennifer shuddered slightly after that kiss, seeming to come out of a light trance. "Uh, hi?" she mumbled rather uncertainly. "I'll see you inside" the Contessa said with a hint of a smile, still holding Jennifer's gaze. Looking back over her shoulder, she spoke to Pat. "Come, come. The night is waiting! There is much to see, much to do." It seemed that only her grip on his hand managed to get him to move. That brought him back to life, and he grinned and winked at Wally as he passed. "I'll see you inside too," whispered the blonde, as she walked by Wally, trailing her hand across his stomach. Despite himself, he had the hardest lump in his pants he could ever remember having. It was verging on being painful. Jennifer didn't seem to notice his discomfort, just moving to one side to let Babs into the party room. She and Wally stared at each other for a few seconds, then Jennifer blushed a deep, red colour. "Oh my god!" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth. Wally walked over, put his arms around her neck, and kissed her. She melted into him, her tongue attacking his and her hips grinding into his crotch. Only after they broke apart again, both needing to breathe, did he use a handy napkin to wipe the lipstick from her forehead. "Let's get back to the party," she whispered. He adjusted himself, trying to avoid further embarrassment, before following her. --------------- John couldn't help staring at the empty shadow box hanging there on the wall. Soon, he knew, it would hold his mask. It would join all the others on the walls. One hundred and forty nine masks stared at him. One hundred on the wall to his left; forty nine on the wall to his right. His was to be number one hundred and fifty. "An honour", they had told him. "You should be proud of such a place of distinction," they said. "It's been a half-century since we finished off one wall and had the big celebration. Tonight's party will be just as big." "I can hardly wait," he thought to himself, almost crying when he realized it was the truth. The masks stared at him, glared at him, pleaded with him, silently screamed at him. He knew them all. Every one had a name, every one had a story. His name, in gilt-clad bronze script, was already attached to the frame for his mask. They told him it would be his home for eternity. Or until they needed to clean house. They laughed, as though that was supposed to be a joke. He could feel the gazes from all those empty eyes, could almost sense the intelligence behind them, the people they had been. He shook his head. He knew his imagination was working overtime again. He knew that they were only lifeless objects, the images of the people who had died here. That was all they could be. The last mask victim, the one he had seen in the flesh, was Steven. He was an artiste, they had told him. He painted, and carved rock, and jogged and cycled. His body was like a Greek statue when they found him, they had said. What John remembered was a thin, frail young man, shaking with fear, eyes sunk deep in his head, looking more like a war refugee than the healthy young man the women had described. That was just before they placed his mask on his face and killed him. Him, and Heather ... --------------- Wally didn't notice much of the rest of the party. His mind seemed to be wandering around in strange places all by itself, without him really being there. One of the few things that stood out was the tall woman's rejection of Pat and Mike. "They're the wrong blood type," was her laughing comment. Neither of the guys seemed much amused, though they were drinking the women's beer quickly enough. He had spotted them spiking a couple of beers with vodka which they then handed to the ladies, apparently hoping to get them drunk in a hurry. He also watched the women switch bottles with the guys when they weren't looking. He couldn't remember seeing either of the women actually drink anything. Then there was the lack of attention from the rest of the crowd. It was a school party, a frat party with lots of unattached hormone-laden, egotistical men hanging around, waiting for opportunity to knock. Opportunity was knocking, but no one was answering the door. Waly could not imagine any circumstances, short of the dean's wife standing behind them with a shotgun, that would have staved off the rush to get to know these two new bombshells. Yet, they were being ignored by almost everyone. Another of the things that really struck him as weird and unusual was Jennifer's actions around the taller woman. He knew Jennifer was not a lesbian, or bisexual, or anything like that. After three years of a very adventurous relationship, they'd explored just about everything either was interested in. Despite several safe opportunities, his girlfriend had never shown any inclinations towards same-sex sex. Tonight was a different story. Jennifer was acting like a teenager on a first date, blushing and stammering any time the Contessa whispered anything in her ear. The Contessa's constant flirting with his girlfriend was making him quite jealous. The last thing bothering him was Jennifer's attention to Babs. Or rather, her lack of attention to what Babs was doing. Despite the fact that the petite blonde was playing up to him in a very obvious manner, Jennifer paid no attention to him or to her. That she saw it was undeniable. Wally simply didn't know what to do. The worst part was that he was finding it so hard to think coherently, as every time he looked into those bewitching blue eyes, he found himself falling into them again, his thoughts derailed, his concerns fading into insignificance. Finally, as he was returning from a bathroom break, Jennifer grabbed him and dragged him out to the foyer. "It's time to go," she stated rather urgently. She looked drugged, with a flushed face, dilated and glassy eyes, and a hurried, almost frantic tone to her voice. While under other circumstances he would have been quite happy to leave with an obviously highly aroused Jennifer, he was nervous. He tried the excuse that he still had a job to perform. "What about my duties as the door man?" "Do not worry," said a voice behind him. "Pat will cover for you." He turned and stared at the Contessa, then at a rather cowed, sheepish looking Pat. "Er, ah, yeah. You go ahead. I'll look after things here." "C'mon guys, I'm double parked out here!" Wally turned and looked out the front door when he heard that laughing, teasing voice. Babs was there, waiting for them. "The Contessa's invited us to her house for a private party," Jennifer whispered in his ear. "Isn't that great?" Words could not express how that statement made Wally feel. Anticipation, lust, jealousy, all tainted with fear, fought for dominance. A tiny alarm bell sounded in the back of his head though, because of the way Jennifer was acting. It was silenced as Babs came inside, put her arms around his neck, and gazed coyly into his eyes. "Don't you want to come home with me?" Those blue eyes were bigger and brighter than ever, and they once again captured him. Wally could feel his fears dissipating, his will being drained away. He nodded. Babs then took his left arm, Jennifer his right, and as they both nibbled on his ears they walked him out the door. When they were all outside, the Contessa threw him his jacket, then helped Jennifer into hers. They climbed into the Contessa's Pathfinder, she and Jennifer in the front seat, Babs and him in the back. It was a puzzle to him how they had managed to separate himself and Jennifer so quickly. The vampire woman drove off in a rush of fallen leaves. A gibbous moon peeked in and out of the clouds, making the almost-bare trees look like spectres as their branches waved in the gusting winds. It was a perfect night for Halloween. --------------- John wondered if he would go the same way as the last guy. That look of agony and ecstasy on the man's face, preserved forever in his mask, was frightening enough, but it also made him morbidly curious about what it felt like right at that peak instant. All of the masks held some sort of terror, or agony, or tortured bliss in their visages. The amount of pain and horror contained within all those blank, staring eyes, had given him nightmares beyond counting. His own torments, those inflicted on him on an irregular basis, were bad enough. They were echoed and amplified by the silent screams of the unmoving witnesses to his suffering. In the centre of the room, the altar waited. It was waiting for him, waiting for his blood. He could feel the hunger emanating from it. It had fed many times, judging by the stains covering its once-pristine marble surface. More stain than white, with stains covering stains, which covered yet other stains. Stone rings waited for ropes at each bottom corner, and again at each top corner. Carved panels on the near sides showed men hunting boars and bears, while other less-defined creatures hunted the men. The end of the ritual he witnessed when he was captured was still fresh in his mind -- the blood flowing again, gushing from that fatal wound, running down the victim's sides in dark rivulets, covering the altar and splashing onto the dirt floor. And afterwards, the ritual knife being tossed casually onto the dirt floor. The cut bindings being tossed casually onto the dirt floor. The soulless husk that was once a man being toppled casually onto the dirt floor. His fiancee ... With a shake of his head, John tried to escape from that path, forcing his thoughts to go elsewhere, not wanting to revisit those horrifying scenes any more. Once again he pulled at the chains holding his wrists, though he knew it was futile. Back when he was captured, he was able to bench press three hundred pounds. Back then he had worked feverishly trying to rip the chains from the wall, or to snap one of the links, or to tear the shackles from his wrists. He doubted whether he could still press an empty weight bar now. The chains and fetters that kept him from freedom weighed heavily. He knew another kind of freedom was coming. He waited impatiently. He had been waiting for it for some time. --------------- There was a feverish intensity within the vehicle, something that touched a chord deep in the animal part of Wally's brain. The woman who called herself Babba Yagga was openly kissing him and fondling his cock through his pants, while Jennifer sat calmly in the front seat. Pulling himself together for a few seconds, ignoring her attentions, he pushed her aside and called to his girlfriend. "Jenny, I don't think this is a good idea. I think we should go home instead. Please?" It was then he noticed Jennifer's white knuckles, her hand grasping the fabric of the back of the seat. She turned to him, her eyes open wide yet hardly noticing that he was there, a look of flushed intensity on her face he had never seen before. She was biting her lip, and watched without complaint or comment as Babs reached over and grabbed his cock through his pants. Finding his cock wasn't difficult, since he was still as stiff as he could ever remember being. Babs' face moved to block off his view, and he heard a gasp. "No!" came a shout, followed by a whispered "no." Jennifer continued in a faint voice, "I'm going with them." Another groan filled the vehicle. Wally wasn't sure if it came from her or from him. Summoning the last of his willpower, willpower which was being sucked out of him by the intense gaze of a pair of blue eyes and the feel of those soft lips on his, he undid his seat belt and stood to see what was happening in the front of the vehicle. His face went blank with surprise when he saw what was really going on. His girlfriend's pants were undone, and the Contessa's hand was inside them, buried deep in the crotch, moving around. Jennifer's panting breath gave her tacit approval, and her low moan when she noticed him staring let him know she would be allowing the vampire lady to do things to her that went well beyond what he thought she would ever willingly consent to. A pair of slender arms, eerily strong, pulled him back into his seat, back into the corner, back into the grasp of the blonde woman, back into an open-mouthed kiss that drove the last bit of rationality from his head. Finally succumbing, he grabbed her and started kissing back. Within moments, his zipper was undone and his cock was waving around in the cool air. It seemed to draw the witch like a moth to a flame. He felt her touch and it burned so nice. He felt her lips, and they were cool and soft. He felt her breath, and it was warm and moist. He felt the inside of her mouth, and lost himself in the incredible heat. Her tongue moved incessantly. She sucked and blew and moved up and down and moaned and slobbered and slurped, and the tiny part of his mind that could still think couldn't remember ever feeling anything like that before. All the while her eyes were locked on his, drawing him deeper into her seductive spell, making him want her more than anything else in the world. Jennifer's cry of completion beat his by seconds. He felt something grab his insides and squeeze, and each pulse drove more of his seed out of him and into her waiting mouth. It squeezed, and squeezed again, as she continued to suck. Another squeeze, almost painful in its intensity, forced a groan out of him. A final pulse had him curling up around his stomach in pain, as she seemed to be drawing his soul out through his dick. Only when he was completely limp did she let his member slide from her mouth. With her finger she scooped up the few drips that had escaped and teasingly swallowed them down as well. Some deep-throated groans from the front seat penetrated his mental fog, and told him Jennifer was far from spent. He knew the noise she was making. Only in their most passionate moments had he heard it, and those were the few times she had fucked him into a stupor. To hear it now was unthinkable. It was her hunger cry, the hunger of her need -- she would now keep going until there was no more strength left in her body. Her rational self had given way to her animal desires. The blonde finished undoing his pants and pulled them and his shorts down to his ankles. Wally was barely aware of what she had done, and didn't notice much of anything until she climbed into his lap. When she pulled up her dress, he wasn't surprised at all to see she wasn't wearing panties. A bare, hairless, wet crotch hovered over top of his limp cock, and the moist heat radiating down started a revival. Seemingly detached from the events unfolding before his eyes, he watched as his cock stiffened and rose. It lifted up to touch the wetness waiting above. A hand reached in at the appropriate moment and slid the tip through a hot, wet valley, pushing aside all the folds and wrinkles, and bouncing over top of an upside down hillock several times. Finally a well was reached, and the valley sank down, burying him deep within the welcoming heat. His conscious mind finally took note of the fact that he was buried to the hilt inside this beautiful blonde creature, and she was fucking him, slowly lifting herself up and settling back down, time and time again. He pulled her into another kiss, letting his hands wander around under her dress. The flesh under there felt even softer, silkier and hotter than his imagination had said it would. He was lost. There was nothing left of him except lips and tongue, roaming hands, and a prick being massaged by a wonderfully warm, tight, velvety smooth sleeve of flesh. And blue eyes. Her eyes, surrounding him, enveloping him, wanting him. He didn't know how long it took, and he didn't care. All he knew was that the end came too soon, and he exploded in a final burst of pleasure. Her eyes grew even larger, filling his world and his mind. There was little left of his will, nothing left of his resistance. With each surge and pulse, he fell deeper through those blue circles, deeper into the black centres. When he finally groaned the end of his completion, there was nothing left except darkness. He passed out. When he finally gained some semblance of self again, slowly regaining consciousness, he realized that they had stopped. They were in a two- car garage, one lit only by a dim light. Another vehicle stood beside theirs. His pants and shorts were off, along with his shoes and socks. Out in the garage, he could see Jennifer and the Contessa heading for a doorway. Jennifer was also naked from the waist down. The taller woman was fondling the redhead's bottom while unlocking the inner door and ushering her through. Babs opened his door from the other side and pulled him out of the vehicle. A cold draft, sliding in from somewhere outdoors, slithered and snaked its way around the floor, tickling him several times. He shivered, and allowed himself to be led through the open door into a welcoming warmth. --------------- John heard noises, the sounds of a door slamming, voices from above. "It's gonna happen. They've got someone else." He felt guilty about being happy, but still, the knowledge that his time was almost done brought out a few tears of relief. He knew what was in store for the next guy, and the girl they probably had as well, but he no longer had enough emotion left to really care all that much. He knew that even if he shouted as loud as he could, it would make no difference. He had shouted enough in the past when there were noises, when those two women had brought home other toys to play with. It had taken him quite a while to realize that several hidden microphones were piping in the sounds from elsewhere in that house. His prison was quite soundproof. The sounds of sex were becoming plain to hear, so he bent his head in silent prayer, both for himself and for the unsuspecting. --------------- Wally was in heaven. He was laying flat out on the carpet on his back, a cushion under his head, a mouth suckling on his member, and the taste of ambrosia in his mouth. His tongue was buried inside Baba Yaga's crack as far as it could reach, and he was licking up everything it found. He had no concerns about what he had deposited deep in there so recently, since it seemed to have disappeared. Only the sweet juices oozing from her womanhood crossed his lips. He wanted to stay like that forever. Both of them were naked. She had removed his shirt, the only bit of clothing had left, then allowed him to strip her bare. He couldn't help but become aroused again while fondling all her abundant charms, especially those exuberant ones topped by strawberry coloured nubbins. He had fondled and caressed and squeezed and licked and tasted them until her increasing moans, and the signals from below, told him something else was in order. She had taken control at that point, sliding him down to the floor, then mounting his face. After her third climax, but before she finished him off again, she got up, leaving his shaft wet and hard and waving in the breeze. "I've got to go and get things set up in the playroom. You stay here and watch for a while. I'll be back soon." She left him with a kiss of promise, licking the inside of his mouth, stealing a little more of his soul with her eyes. Too tired and mind-deadened to really do much else, he looked to see what the other two were doing. His girlfriend was on her knees in front of the Contessa, who was standing with her legs spread wide, head thrown back, mouth open, and a wild look on her face. The light glinted off those fangs of hers. A crazy thought ran through his head - "I wonder if she bites while kissing? Or while giving head?" Her teeth looked sharp enough and real enough that he winced. Both women were naked, and Jennifer was very busy in between the tall brunette's legs. He watched in awe as his girlfriend's actions drove the other woman to her knees, then onto her back. He stopped thinking again and just let the images flow into his brain when the vampire lady pulled Jennifer up from where she was kneeling, into an embrace and some full-mouthed French kissing. The sight of their bodies, one on top of the other, kept him near his peak. Jennifer's skin was mostly pale, except for her face and arms, but it was the normal light pink colour of healthy, untanned skin. That colour was dark compared to the pasty paleness of the Contessa. She was a powdered white everywhere, except for the tips of her breasts and the edges of her labia. The former was a pale pink and the latter a pale tan. She had no hair below her neck to provide any relief for the glaring whiteness. His girlfriend's carrot-tinted hair, both above and below, provided the only real splashes of colour on either of the women. --------------- A noise at the door caught John's attention. It was the witch woman, Baba Yaga, the one who had trapped him a year ago. She was carrying a number of items that he guessed were going to be used later in a sacrifice. His sacrifice and, he presumed, another's. The large flat box he recognized. It was the box that had held the last guy's mask before she used it on him. Presumably it now held his. John also recognized the long wave-bladed dagger with its black handle, and the vice-like implement used to immobilize the victim's head. He didn't know why she needed the gloves or the bucket full of wet rags, but he knew from experience he would learn and wish he could have stayed ignorant. Her small leather pouch, currently hanging around her neck, always contained something sinister. She was naked and basically unarmed, although that hadn't make any difference when he was fresh and strong, and certainly wouldn't make any difference in his current debilitated, drained condition. Leaving everything by the altar, she walked around and lit the four candelabra, one in each corner of the room, each one holding five black candles. Once they were all burning to her satisfaction, she turned off the overhead neon lights. Finally, she walked up to him. "How's my little pet doing tonight? Are you excited? Are you thrilled to death?" She laughed at her own joke. "You soon will be, and it'll be so much fun! We don't have much time left, so let's get a move on. I have to get you prepared." With inhuman strength she prised open the bands holding him prisoner, using nothing but her hands. He didn't try to run or resist, as he knew she was much faster and stronger than him, even back when he was first brought here. She had proven that with her fun and games many times. Rechained to the altar, face up and unable to move, with his head held still between the two sides of the clamp, he was pronounced ready for their ritual. His head rested on one end of the alter, his bottom on the other. Both legs were pulled wide and his feet forced to the floor by the tension of his bonds. Satisfied with her work, she reached down and picked up her leather pouch. From it she pulled a small wad of leaves coated in a greyish powder. "Open wide. Chew on this for a while. After all, we wouldn't want you to miss any of the fun. It'll keep you wide awake right to the end. Oh, and it'll keep you up 'til the end too, since tonight you'll need to perform like never before. It'll be your greatest and, sadly, last performance. After this, you'll be nothing but a voyeur." John ignored her words for the most part. He remembered the last ritual as vividly as if it had taken place an hour ago, so he didn't need her reminders. That he would die he considered a given. He welcomed that. Anything else he could bear, knowing that the end was finally coming. Even the pain. After donning the rubber gloves, she began to wrap him in wet rags, pulling them carefully from the bucket so as not to accidentally get any of the liquid on herself. His hands, arms, lower legs, feet, chest, and neck were mummified. She pulled up his torso to slide some under his back and bottom. His upper legs, crotch, lower torso and face were left bare. "These'll start to tickle after a while. Don't worry, the tickling won't last long. No, it'll change to something a little more intense instead!" She laughed again, then picked up the bucket and left. It wasn't long before John found that she had spoken the truth, as a slight tingling/itching sensation broke out on his neck, echoed by a similar feeling on his chest. He involuntarily let out a whimpering moan as he anticipated what was to come. --------------- A hand snaking around his middle brought Wally's mind back into focus, or at least some of it. With red lips attacking his face, two fleshy cushions letting his hands wander freely, and a hot crotch pressing into his manhood, his brain quickly got sidetracked again. It took only a few moments for that beautiful witch, and his overheated libido, to bring him back to life. This time, Babs turned him around and pulled him on top of her in the classic missionary position. She was still sopping wet he noticed. He slid home, bringing out a gasp from each of them. When he looked up from their kiss, he saw that the other two had moved onto a couch only a few feet from where he and she were coupling on the floor. The Contessa was sitting facing him, legs spread wide, smiling slightly and staring a challenge at him. Jennifer was kneeling breast to breast with her, straddling the brunette's lap, knees on the couch on either side of the taller woman's hips. Her head was resting on the woman's shoulder, and Wally could sometimes see her tongue licking at the woman's neck. Both of Jennifer's arms were laying over the back of the sofa, out of the way. When a pair of hands grabbed his buttocks and began a rhythmic pulling and pushing motion, he got the message and began stroking. In his imagination, his tongue was also lapping at the two slits positioned no more than a yard away. He watched the Contessa's hands roam all over the body he knew so well, over the rounded bottom, across the soft, muscular back, down the ribbed sides and around the narrow waist. They roamed freely over territory that was once his exclusively. The vampire woman's gaze met his, her eyes shining hungrily and daring him to interfere. Wally found that he couldn't respond, that he had no will left to respond, so he pumped faster. Amid the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, his grunts, and the squeals coming out from under him, he heard the familiar moans and sighs of his girlfriend. She was ready for more, he knew, and knew she would be getting it, if the look in the brunette's eye was what he thought it was. As he watched, one of her hands snaked down between their bodies, down to the redhead's slot. With one, then two, and eventually three fingers, she stuffed Jennifer's crotch. By then her hand was holding still and his girlfriend's hips were moving up and down. Jennifer's head and shoulders stayed quite still, almost disconnected from the activity lower down. The Contessa stared at him, still challenging him to do something -- anything. He still couldn't, so he pumped harder. With squeals and whimpers, Babs and Jennifer both approached climax. The Contessa smiled at him, then opened her mouth wide to bare her fangs. Moving very slowly, keeping her eyes trained on his, she lowered her head towards Jennifer's neck. Jennifer groaned and let her head roll to the side, leaving herself completely exposed and vulnerable. The Contessa's eyes were intent on his, her expression haughty, revelling in his helplessness, while his attention was focused on her mouth. He watched in an almost hypnotic trance as one fang touched the pale skin of his girlfriend, then with a slight push, broke through and sank a mere fraction of an inch into her tender flesh. There was a brief pause in two sets of hips, then both he and Jennifer resumed their movements at a more fevered pace. Groans and moans from two women filled the room, accompanied by the slap of flesh on flesh, and the liquid sounds of fingers plunging in and out of a wet vagina. A trickle of blood, no more than a few drops, almost black in the dim light, oozed down the redhead's neck. A tongue snaked out and lapped up the thick, slippery liquid, and when those few drops were gone, a pair of blood-red lips began to suck at the wound. Seconds later, a sound of groaning, shrieking fulfillment erupted as blooded lips pulled away from the open wound. Three women squealed in climax. He also lost it and began to shoot, pushing himself as hard and as deep as possible, expending himself like he had never done before, like he never believed himself capable of, with such strength and urgency that the bliss was threaded throughout with a gossamer web of pain. Soft lips sealed themselves to his, sucking his tongue, sucking the breath from his lungs, sucking the strength from his body, seemingly draining his very life force, stopping only when he collapsed. Completely emptied and exhausted, he lay there, breathing hard, waiting for life, and maybe sanity, to return. A strong pair of arms rolled him over onto his back, then pulled him to his feet, long before he felt able to stand. The blonde held him up and he vaguely wondered where she found the energy. "Time to go to the playroom, my pet." Out into the hall they went, her half carrying him, through a door, past some shelves, through another door and down some stairs. What he saw down there looked like a normal basement. Leading him over to a brick wall, she stopped and let him sag down to the floor. Wally lay there like a collapsed mannikin. He watched her reach behind a shelf and pull something. With a slight squeak, a section of the brick wall opened. What he saw through the doorway was something dredged up from his worst nightmares. Babs grabbed his arm and dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the altar room. He fought with all his strength, with muscles hard from exercise and training, with joints toughened by running, tackling and being tackled, with the adrenaline-boosted power of sudden terror. She took no notice of any of his struggles, nor of his attempted punches or kicks. She almost pulled his arm off when he grabbed the doorframe, but the only result was him losing skin from his palm and fingertips when he lost his grip. With a fanatical gleam in her eye, and calm, deliberate movements, she soon had him shackled to the far wall. After she pulled all the chains tight, she stepped back and admired her prize. He was standing spread-eagled, iron cuffs circling his wrists and ankles, with strong chains securely fastened to them, and each of those chains snubbed up as tight as possible to metal rings anchored in the brick wall. She stood still and stared at him for a while, watching his useless struggles. "Oh, I'm going to like having you here. A brand new pet to play with. There's so much for you to learn, so many things for us to try. You'll love every second of it, I promise!" It was hard for him to grasp the fact that this naked little woman in front of him, one who still had his semen dribbling down her thigh, had just dragged him here like a rag doll and chained him up like an animal. Her strength was inhuman. His screaming, his yelling, his arguing and pleading, were having no effect whatsoever. She reached over and rubbed his testicles for a few seconds, unveiling a hard, nasty smile as she did. "Yes, we will certainly have a lot of fun." Looking around for something, anything, that could help, he finally took a good look at the man on the altar. He was certain it was a man, though he had his doubts at first. That something so wasted, so skinny and so miserable looking was human was hard for him to believe. The pitiful whimpers of pain made by that man brought home the reality of what was happening. He began to shout and struggle again. A few moments later, Vladmira came in with Jennifer. The shorter woman now had several small trickles of blood running down from her neck, flowing over her shoulders and chest. She was led in by the hand and positioned at the foot of the alter, in between the bound man's legs. Vladmira then stood behind Jennifer and took her in her arms. She bent her head down, and soon a new trickle of blood joined the others. The redhead moaned in pleasure, reaching up to caress the taller woman's cheek. Wally was screaming at the top of his lungs, but with no noticeable effect. He was being pointedly ignored. All he could do was watch in horror at tableau that was unfolding in front of him. --------------- John's world was little more than pain. Everywhere those rags touched, everywhere the liquid flowed, burned like a terrible fire. Whatever it was she had fed him kept him right on the edge, alert and receptive to even the least sensation from his body, multiplying the effect of her torture by not allowing his nerves to go numb. Despite the pain, he couldn't help but watch what was happening. He remembered, from a different perspective, the events that would soon be unfolding. He couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop remembering, no matter how much he wanted to. Soon, he believed, the ecstasy would start, a terrible counterpoint to the agony he was in. It happened almost exactly as his nightmares foretold, with the tall woman fondling and bringing into heat the other sacrifice, then helping her step up onto the alter and down onto his painfully engorged manhood. It had to be something the witch gave him that caused him to rise, since he knew his body was in no shape to perform normally. Soon John felt her heat, then her moisture, then the velvety smooth softness of her interior. Whatever drugs he was on made it seem far more intense than he could ever remember. It was fantastically wonderful, and when she began to slide up and down, aided by the vampire-woman behind her, he almost passed out from the sensations. There was a balance of pain and pleasure, but at a level that exceeded anything he had ever felt before. He knew the mask would come soon, and then the knife. He ached for the knife, prayed for the knife, wanted nothing more fervently than to feel the knife inside him, knowing that it would finally bring an end his torments. --------------- Wally had yelled himself hoarse, and could now only whimper. He had seen a knife lying in the dirt beside the altar. He had seen the expressions of agony on the other man. He was watching his girlfriend being slowly bled to death by the nips on her neck. Jennifer was completely oblivious to everything except the cock she was riding and the woman behind her. There was no awareness in his girlfriend's eyes, no recognition -- not even when she looked right at him. Vladmira passed some sort of signal to the blonde witch, who in turn reached down and pulled something out of a low box beside her. When he got a good look at it, he wondered why they would use such a thing. It looked like a facial mask, maybe made of wax or a similar material, but highly stylized. He watched the woman place it on the whimpering man's face. It seemed to mould itself to his features, taking on his visage and expression almost immediately. A loud whine erupted from the man as soon as he realized the mask was being placed on him, and then nothing. Wally could see the man breathing, but he was now silent. Jennifer was becoming more and more active, bouncing up and down, tossing her head, groaning and whimpering her pleasure for anyone to hear. Babs placed the long, wave-edged dagger in her hands, with the blade angled down towards the man's stomach, pointing under his breastbone. The redhead didn't actually seem to notice, but she did hold on to the deadly weapon. The final few actions happened very quickly. Later, Wally could recall them in slow motion, reliving every second in great detail, but at the time it all seemed more of a blur. The man on the altar suddenly moved, slamming his hips up into Jennifer several times. At the first sign of semen escaping from Jennifer's cleft, the Contessa leaned forward, pressing her captive forward as well, and putting their full weight onto the handle of the ritual blade. It slid slowly into the man's stomach, angling up under his ribs and into his heart, just as it had been positioned to do. Blood at first oozed from the wound, then spurted as the murderous implement found its ultimate target. That blood then flowed freely over his stomach and chest, spilling over on to the altar, pooling in places before trickling off the edges and splashing as it hit the hard-packed dirt floor. As soon as the man was rattling his last breath, Babs ripped the mask from his face. The mask now looked exactly like he had at the instant of death, capturing a perfect image of his primal horror and rapture. Wally stared, unable to look away as she brought the mask up and kissed it tenderly on the lips, masturbating as she did. With one hand in her crotch, she was making love to that inanimate object. He could hear her whispers, her words interspersed with sighs and whines. "Oh, my precious pet, my wonderful pet. You taste so delicious. Soooo much held inside. Wonderful pleasures; divine raptures; decadent joys. You're perfect, simply perfect! We will feast together for many, many years." It was then he heard Jennifer begin her peak. Her high pitched scream tore through him like a bullet, jerking his attention away from the witch. His girlfriend was still bouncing up and down on the dead man, his member still somehow hard, and she was in the throes of a climax the likes of which he had never even imagined. With her spine straight and her head thrown back, he had a perfect view of her neck, and watched in horrified fascination as those needle-sharp vampire teeth sank deep into her unresisting flesh. Blood erupted, gushing everywhere before the woman could close her mouth over the wounds. He could see her swallowing, and watched the overflow spill from her lips, running in streams down the body of his beloved. Jennifer was still climaxing, whimpering in pleasure, even as her motions got slower and weaker and her breathing became shallower and more erratic. All the while the vampire-woman appeared to grow stronger. Her limbs became sleeker and more defined, her breasts grew heavier, the nipples standing taller and growing darker as he watched, her powder-white skin flushing pink with stolen life. Wally could feel the energy building in that evil body. He could only watch helplessly, numbed with horror, as Jennifer gave one final gasp, shuddered, shuddered again, and at last fell still. The vampire woman continued to suck for a while, growing more vibrant each second, gorging herself on the lifeblood of her victim, feeding her insatiable hunger. Finally she finished, threw her head back, and shrieked out her own completion. Wally could see the woman's whole body shaking, her breasts and nipples swelling even larger, her arm a blur as she slowly came down from her murderous high. It was her eyes that caught him again, red-rimmed and bloodshot, their expression changing from one of satiation to one of utter contempt as the vampire raised her head and glared at him. Despite himself, he couldn't look away. There was nothing left in him that could put up a struggle. His will was beaten, his resistance gone, his mind almost broken. A low laugh, full of venom, came from deep in her chest as she held his gaze. Then, with a sneer, she gave his girlfriend's pallid body a light push. It toppled over and fell onto the slaughtered man, splattering the pooled blood and trapping the killing blade between them. The two corpses were still joined, and semen still slowly trickled out from around the dead man's cock. With a last whimper of denial, Wally's mind finally gave up. He fainted. --------------- John slowly gained awareness. First came the pain, the awful pain, surrounding him, enveloping him, suffusing him, reddening his world, but not seeming to be centred on anything he could identify. Then came the pleasure. Not quite as powerful as the pain, but just as nebulous and diffuse in it's origin. He didn't know where he was, but he thought he should be dead. After all, he reasoned, hadn't he watched and felt the knife pierce his heart? "Yet still," he thought again, "I hurt, I feel, I think, so I must still be alive. Unless this is hell?" The pain didn't grow worse, but it didn't subside either. It just was, and he slowly grew accustomed to it, and to the pleasure. He became aware of sound, a sobbing, a terrible heart rending crying from some tortured soul. He could hear it, and knew it was somewhere close. With that knowledge, he realized he could also see. It wasn't like opening his eyes or turning on a light, it was more like suddenly realizing that your eyes were open. The room was still there, but it looked different; it was flatter, sharper, and all the angles were wrong. His sight, or his awareness, shifted over to where the sobbing was coming from. There was a man in shackles, fastened to the wall. He recognized the man. It was the one who had been dragged into the altar room shortly before he himself ... "died?" he wondered. With another shock, John realized why the perspective of the room seemed all wrong. He was looking at it from somewhere other than his accustomed spot in chains. He was looking at the room from about four feet up on the right wall. Directly across from him, on the other wall, one hundred tortured, ghastly, hopeless expressions, so eloquently captured by the death masks, stared back. He knew then what the masks were. One hundred and forty nine other tormented souls, entombed with their pain, with their nightmares, with their senses intact, hanging there for years, for decades. Now this was his existence as well -- his pain, his nightmares, his helplessness. He would hang forever, watching the torments that were to come, hearing the screams and whimpers, the begging and pleading, the heartless laughter, the death rattles. He finally realized that there would be no escape for him, no hope, no relief from his agonies. Not even in death. He tried to scream ... -- Pursuant to the Berne Convention, this work is copyright with all rights reserved by its author unless explicitly indicated. +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ | alt.sex.stories.moderated ------ send stories to: | | FAQ: Moderators: | +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+ |ASSM Archive at Hosted by | |Discuss this story and others in alt.sex.stories.d; look for subject {ASSD}| +---------------------------------------------------------------------------+