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Subject: {Bombadil}JDR"The Masks A"( caution )[1/2]
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JOHN DARK REPOST
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=====================
The Masks - A Horror Story ( F/M F/F )
Short Story #3
by Tom Bombadil (c) Oct 1996
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.
********************************************************************
=====================
The Masks
A Horror Story
by Tom Bombadil
Via: stbush@iglou.com
Section A:
John sat on the floor, nervously playing with his manacles. Other
than stare at the masks lining this room, his prison, there was
nothing else to do. A year had gone by since he'd been brought
here. (Only a year?) he thought. (It's been like forever!) He
knew that tonight was the night. Tonight they'd kill him. Tonight
he'd be set free from the torments. He was looking forward to
tonight, despite the pain he knew he'd have to endure. He prayed
again that they would keep their promise. He believed that another
night or two of their 'fun' would surely drive him 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. Turning a little, he could just make out her words.
"THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!"
"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 the 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 was ignored,
since he'd seen it all a hundred times already. As the 'official'
doorman, he'd already greeted several dozen party goers, and handed
out treats to dozens 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'd kill me!) He didn't know either of them, though, 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 five-one, maybe five two, all of a hundred pounds, and
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 stockings, and black patent stiletto heels dressed up
the witch. "Hope you don't mind us coming. Dave mentioned the
party to us." (Valley girl, he thought. 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 in her big brown eyes. She wasn't
stacked like the blonde, but from what he could see peeking out over
the top of her strapless gown, she was definitely not lacking.
He stared at her mouth as she spoke. Blood-red lips, set off by
powder white skin, framed vampire teeth with both upper canines
and matching lower fangs. "He said it would be all right as long
as we brought some treats." She spoke in an excellent Bela Lugosi
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. (Get hold of yourself!)
a little voice inside screamed. (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
cape. One held out a forty pounder of Smirnoff's, and from the
other dangled a two-four of Heineken. Her slender arm didn't look
like it was straining at all, holding out the two dozen beers. He
took the box and, yes, it was full. He'd 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,
because he'd handled all the invitations and R.S.V.P.'s himself.
That they were lying didn't particularly bother him.
Wally dashed back into the party room, frantically searching for
one of his football buddies. If he could get either of them to
invite the girls in, he'd be off the hook and they'd owe him a big
favour. Picturing the women in his mind again, he figured they'd
owe him several favours!
Spotting Pat trying to talk with Little Missy Prissy, the class
prude, he knew the guy was desperate. Bouncing a piece of candy off
his friend's forehead to get his attention, Wally waved frantically
to get the quarterback to come over. Frowning, Pat did.
"THIS BETTER BE GOOD, WALLY! I JUST ABOUT HAD HER COMING HOME TO
MY PLACE!"
(In your dreams) thought the wide receiver. "FOLLOW ME!" he yelled
back.
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 ..."
"Babs" said the blonde. "Short for Babba Yagga."
"And I am Contessa Vladmira." 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 coldly at him, waiting for something else. He soon got the
idea. Bending at the waist, he turned her hand and pressed his lips
to her palm. She smiled, rather toothily, in pleasure.
"There's a small problem, Pat." Wally had to repeat himself, after
jabbing the quarterback in the ribs. "The girls don't seem to be on
the guest list. I can't just let them in without them being
invited, can I. Maybe you can think of something?"
"I, uh, ah, well ..." The six foot three inch two hundred and
twenty pound all-conference star 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 just picture a
stream of drool trailing down from the corner of his mouth. That
would make the scene perfect.
"Uh, Pat." Another elbow in the ribs got his attention, this time
for a little longer. "I don't remember you bringing a guest. Maybe
if I pencil one in as your date, and the other one in as Mike's
date, it would be all right? Or would that be bending the rules
just a bit too much?"
"Oh, no. No. I mean yes! No! Oh, put them into the guest book
already!" His eyes never moved from the bottomless brown pools he
was staring 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'd
seen.
"Come in, come in!" Pat held out his hand, and the black-clad
vampire woman flowed into the hallway. Flowed was the only way
Wally could describe it. Her black gown reached down to within an
inch of the ground, hiding all sight 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 magnificent. There was no hint of
movement down there, 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 looked pointedly
at Wally. He stared stupidly back 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 at 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 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 had ever managed to do in their three
years together. She was standing there, staring daggers, having
been a witness to their 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."
"Magnificent" 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 shook slightly after
that kiss, seeming to come out of a light trance.
"Uh, hi?"
"I'll see you inside" the Contessa said, still staring into the
redhead's eyes. Looking back over her shoulder, she spoke to Pat.
"Come, come. The night is waiting. There is 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
experiencing. Jennifer didn't seem to notice, 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 to herself, 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 body 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 embarrassment, before following
her.
********************************************************************
John couldn't help staring at the empty picture frame. Soon, he
knew, in fact later that night, 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 one wall, forty nine on the other.
His was to be number one hundred and fifty. An honour, they told
him. He should be proud of such a place of distinction. It had
been a half-century since they'd finished off one wall and had the
big celebration, they'd said. Tonight's party would be just as
big, they'd told him. (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, 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 gaze from all those empty
eyes, could almost sense the intelligence behind them, the people
they'd been. He shook his head. He knew his imagination was
playing tricks again. They were only lifeless masks, the images
of the people who'd died here.
The last one, the one he'd seen in the flesh, was Steven. He'd
been an artiste, they'd said. He'd painted, and carved rock, and
jogged and cycled. His body was like a Greek statue when they found
him, they'd said. What he remembered was a thin, frail young man,
shaking with fear, eyes sunk deep in his head, looking more like
a long-time refugee than the healthy young man they'd described.
That was not long before they placed his mask on his face and
killed him. Along with Heather.
********************************************************************
Wally didn't remember much of that party. His mind seemed to be
wandering around in strange places, all by itself, without any
guidance. One of the few things that stood out were the tall
woman's rejections 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 booze quickly enough. He'd
seen them spike a couple of beers with vodka and hand them to the
ladies, hoping to get them drunk in a hurry. He also watched the
women switch bottles with the guys when they weren't looking. He
didn't remember ever actually seeing either woman drink anything.
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. That night 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 was making him quite jealous.
The last thing was his girlfriend's attention to Babs. Or rather,
her lack of attention. Despite the fact that the blonde was
playing up to him in a very obvious manner, Jennifer paid no
attention to him or her. That she saw it was undeniable. Wally
simply didn't know what to do.
Finally, Jennifer grabbed him and dragged him out to the foyer.
"It's time to go" she stated. She looked almost drugged. Her
face was flushed, her eyes were dilated and glassy, and her voice
had an almost frantic tone to it.
While he was quite happy to be leaving, he still had a duty to
perform. He thought he'd better make a token protest before running
away. "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 those
words. Babs was there, looking like she was waiting for them.
"The Contessa's invited us to her house for a private party.
Isn't that great?" He couldn't express how that statement made him
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 in
a rush of lust and hormones as first Babs, then Jennifer, slid an
arm around his waist and kissed him, and together 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. He couldn't figure out how they'd 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.
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 over three hundred pounds. Back then he had worked
feverishly to try and tear the chains from the wall, or to snap the
links, or to tear the shackles from his wrists and ankles. He
doubted he could still press the empty weight bar now. The chains
and fetters that kept him from freedom felt quite heavy.
He knew another kind of freedom waited for him. He waited
patiently. He'd 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, he pushed the
blonde 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 her white knuckles. The ones on her hand.
The hand in front of his face. The one attached to the arm which
was stretched out across the back of the seat. She turned to him,
her eyes open wide and almost unseeing, a look of flushed intensity
on her face. She was biting her lip, and watched as Babs reached
over and grabbed his cock through his pants. That wasn't difficult,
since he was 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 with a faint "I'm going with them." Another groan filled
the vehicle.
Summoning the last of his willpower, willpower which was being
sucked out of him by the intense gaze of a pair of blue eyes, he
undid his seat belt and stood to see what was happening in the
front seat. His face went blank with surprise when he saw what was
going on. His girlfriend's pants were undone, and the Contessa's
hand was inside them, buried deep in the crotch, moving around and
doing things. Jennifer's panting breath gave her tacit approval,
and her low moan when she saw him staring let him know she would be
taking things well beyond what she considered normal.
A pair of strong slender arms pulled him back into his seat, back
into the corner, back into the grasp of the blonde woman, back into
a kiss that drove all thought from his head. Finally giving in, he
grabbed her and started kissing back.
Within moments, his pants were undone and his cock was waving
around in the cool air. He felt her touch, and it burned so nice.
He felt her lips, and they were cool and soft. He felt the inside
of her mouth, and lost himself in the incredible sensation. Her
tongue moved incessantly, and 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 having feelings
like that before.
Jennifer's cry of completion beat his by only a few seconds. He
felt something grab his insides and squeeze, as each pulse drove out
of him and into her waiting mouth. Squeeze, and squeeze 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, as she seemed to be sucking him inside out.
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 sucked them down as well.
Some whimpers from the front seat penetrated his haze, and told him
Jennifer was far from spent. He knew from the noise she was making
she would now keep going until exhaustion caught up with her.
The blonde undid his pants and pulled them and his shorts down to
his ankles. Wally was barely aware of what she'd done, and didn't
notice anything else 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 began 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, 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 flesh.
His conscious mind finally realized that he was buried to the hilt
inside the beautiful blonde creature in front of him, and she was
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 and
silkier than his imagination had said it would.
He was lost. There was nothing left of him except lips and tongue,
roaming hands, and a cock being massaged by a wonderfully warm,
tight, velvety smooth sleeve of flesh. 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.
When he finally gained some semblance of self again, he realized
that they'd stopped. They were in a garage, one lit only by a dim
night light on the wall. 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
door and ushering her inside. Babs opened his door from the other
side and pulled him out of the vehicle. A cold draft, sliding in
from under the aluminum door slithered and snaked its way around
the floor, tickling him several times. He shivered, and allowed
himself to be led through the door.
********************************************************************
=====================
The Masks
A Horror Story
by Tom Bombadil
Section A
-30-
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