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Archive name: hallow08.txt (MF, FF, fant)
Authors name: Tom Bombadil (stbush@iglou1.iglou.com)
Story title : Masks - A Horror Story

--------------------------------------------------------
This work is copyrighted to the author © 1996.  Please
don't remove the author information or make any changes
to this story.  You may post freely to non-commercial
"free" sites, or in the "free" area of commercial sites.
Thank you for your consideration.
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Masks - A Horror Story (MF, FF, fant) 
by Tom Bombadil (stbush@iglou1.iglou.com)


***

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 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 traveled. 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 center 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 that 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.
 
*

John heard noises, the sounds of a door, voices from 
above. (It's gonna happen. They've got someone else.) He 
felt guilty about being happy, but still the relief of 
knowing his time was almost done brought out a few tears 
of joy. He knew what was in store for the next guy, and 
the girl they probably had as well, but 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'd shouted enough in the past 
when there were noises, or voices, to be heard. It had 
taken him quite a while to realize several hidden 
microphones were piping in the sounds from elsewhere. His 
room was quite soundproof.
 
The sounds of sex were plain now, and he bent his head in 
silent prayer.
 
*

Wally was in heaven. He was laying flat out on the 
carpet, a cushion under his head, a mouth suckling on his 
member, and the taste of ambrosia in his mouth. His 
tongue was buried as far as he could get it inside the 
crack of the blonde woman, and he was licking up 
everything it could reach. There was no concern about 
what he'd left there so recently, since it seemed to have 
disappeared. Only the sweet juices oozing from her 
womanhood crossed his lips. He was in heaven.
 
Both were now naked. She'd removed his shirt, the only 
bit of real costume he'd worn, then allowed him to strip 
her bare. He couldn't help but become aroused again while 
fondling all her abundant charms, especially those ones 
topped by strawberry coloured little nubbins. He'd 
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'd taken 
control at that point, sliding him onto the floor, then 
mounting his face.
 
After her third climax, but before she finished him off 
again, she got up.
 
"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."
 
Too tired 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?) The teeth looked sharp enough 
and real enough to make him wince.
 
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 the redhead up from where she was kneeling, 
into an embrace, and into 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 pale, all over, 
except for her face and arms, but it was the normal pale 
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 either. His girlfriend's carrot tinted hair, 
both above and below, provided the only real expanses of 
colour for either of the women.
 
*

A noise at the door brought John back into his present. 
It was the witch woman, the one who'd trapped him there a 
year ago. She was carrying a number of items that he 
guessed were going to be used in their sacrifice later. 
His sacrifice. And another's. The large flat box he 
recognized. It was the same one she'd taken the last 
guy's mask from. The long wave-bladed dagger with the 
black handle he recognized.

He didn't know why the gloves or the bucket full of wet 
rags, but knew from experience he would learn and wish 
he'd stayed ignorant. The pouch always contained 
something sinister. She was naked, as usual, and unarmed, 
as usual, although that had never made any difference in 
the past.
 
Leaving everything at the altar, she walked around and 
lit the candelabra, one in each corner of the room, each 
holding five blood red candles. 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 supposed 
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 pried 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 still fresh. 
She'd proven that with her fun and games many times. 
Rechained to the altar and unable to move, with his head 
held still between two clamps, he was 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 the leather 
sack. From the pouch came a 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 then too, since tonight you'll need to perform like 
never before. It'll be your greatest, and last, 
performance. After this, you'll be nothing but a voyeur, 
just like all the rest of my pets."
 
He ignored her words for the most part. He remembered the 
last ritual vividly, so he didn't need her reminders. 
That he would die he considered a given. He welcomed 
that. Anything else he could bear, knowing what was 
coming. Even the pain.
 
After putting on the rubber gloves, she began to wrap him 
up in the wet rags. His hands, arms, lower legs, feet, 
chest, and neck. 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, it 
won't last long. No, it'll change to pain!" She laughed 
again, then picked up the bucket and left. He soon found 
that she'd spoken the truth, as a slight tingling/itching 
sensation broke out on his neck, echoed by a similar 
feeling on his chest. A moan broke out as he anticipated 
what was to come.
 
*

A hand snaking around his middle brought his mind back, 
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 
this beautiful woman, and his overheated thoughts, to 
bring him back to life.
 
This time, the blonde turned him around and pulled him on 
top of her in the classic position. She was still sopping 
wet, he noticed as 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 the couch, only a few 
feet from where he and she were coupling on the floor.

The Contessa was sitting facing him, legs spread wide, 
staring him in the eye. Jennifer was straddling her 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 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 the territory 
that was once his exclusively. Her eyes stared at him, 
challenging, and 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 held still, and his girlfriend's 
hips moved up and down, seemingly independent of the rest 
of her body. Her head and shoulders stayed quite still, 
regardless of the activity lower down. The Contessa's 
eyes stared at him, challenging, and he pumped harder.
 
With squeals and whimpers, both women approached climax. 
The Contessa smiled at him, then opened her mouth wide to 
bare her fangs. Moving very slowly, keeping her eyes on 
his, she lowered her head to Jennifer's neck. With a 
twitch of her muscles, she rolled the woman's head 
slightly, opening her completely to what could happen. 
Her eyes were intent on his, and his were intent on her 
fangs. He watched as one touched the skin, then broke 
through. There was a brief pause in two sets of hips, 
then both resumed at a more fevered pace.
 
Groans and moans from two women filled the room. A 
trickle of blood, no more than a few drops, dark against 
the pale skin, slid down her neck. A tongue snaked out 
and lapped up the thick, sticky liquid. A pair of 
similarly coloured lips began to suck at the wound. Three 
women squealed in climax. He lost it and began to shoot, 
pushing himself as hard and as deep as possible. 
 
Completely spent, he lay there, breathing hard, waiting 
for strength, and maybe sanity, to return. A strong pair 
of arms rolled him over onto his back, then to his feet, 
long before he felt strong enough to stand. The blonde 
held him up and he wondered where she found the energy.
 
"Time to go to the playroom, my pet."
 
Out into the hall, through a door, past some shelves, 
through another door, and down some stairs she led him. 
What he saw looked like a normal basement. Leading him 
over to a brick wall, she stopped and let him sag down to 
the ground. He watched her reach behind a shelf and pull 
something. With a slight squeak, a section of the wall 
opened and he stared into a scene from his 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 and tackling, with the 
adrenaline-driven surge of power of his terror.

She took no notice of any of it, nor of his punches or 
kicks. She almost pulled his arm off when he grabbed the 
doorframe, and he lost skin from his palm and fingertips 
as well as his grip. With a fanatical gleam in her eye, 
and calm, deliberate movements, she soon had him shackled 
to the wall. After she pulled all the chains tight, she 
stepped back and admired her prize.
 
He was spread-eagled against the wall, all the chains 
being snubbed up tight to the staples there. She stood 
still and stared at him for a while, watching him 
struggle helplessly.
 
"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. "Yes, we'll 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 
thought 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, the Contessa came in with Jennifer. 
The shorter woman now had several small trickles of blood 
running from her neck and down over her shoulders and 
chest. She was led in by the hand and positioned at the 
foot of the alter, before the tall woman, standing behind 
Jennifer, 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 
other woman's neck.
 
Wally was screaming at the top of his lungs but with no 
noticeable effect. He was being ignored by all four of 
them. All he could do was watch in horror at what was 
unfolding before 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'd fed him kept him 
right on the edge, alert and sensitive to every 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, 
everything that was happening, and anticipated everything 
that would be happening. He couldn't stop thinking, no 
matter how much he wanted to. Soon, he knew, the ecstasy 
would start, counterpointing the agony he was in.
 
It happened as he remembered, with the tall woman 
fondling and bringing into heat the other sacrifice, then 
helping her step up onto the alter and down onto his 
fully engorged manhood. Something the witch had given him 
caused that as well, since he was certain he was in no 
shape to perform normally. He felt her heat, then her 
moisture, then the velvety smooth softness of her 
interior.

Whatever 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 woman 
behind her, he almost passed out from the sensations. The 
pain and pleasure were balanced, but at a level that 
exceeded anything he'd ever felt before. He knew the mask 
would come soon, and then the knife. He prayed for the 
knife.
 
*

Wally had yelled himself hoarse, and could now only 
whimper. He'd seen the knife sitting beside the altar. 
He'd seen the looks of agony and ecstasy on the other 
man. He was watching his girlfriend being slowly bled to 
death by the nips on her neck. She was completely 
oblivious to everything except the cock she was riding 
and the woman behind her. There was no awareness in her 
eyes even when she looked right at him.
 
There was a signal passed from the brunette to the 
blonde, who 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 blank 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 looks 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 all to hear. Babs placed the dagger in her 
hands with the blade angled down towards the man's 
stomach. The redhead didn't seem to notice, but she held 
onto the weapon anyway.
 
The final few events happened very quickly. Later, Wally 
could recall them in slow motion, reliving every second 
in great detail, but at the time it all seemed a blur.
 
The man on the altar grunted, slamming his hips up into 
Jennifer several times, as though climaxing. At the first 
sign of semen escaping from the woman's cleft, the 
Contessa leaned forward, pressing Jennifer forward as 
well, and putting their full weight onto the back of the 
knife. It slid slowly into the man's stomach, angling up 
under his ribs into his heart, just as it had been 
positioned to do. Right in the middle of his climax, he 
was sacrificed in terrible pain.
 
As soon as he stiffened and rattled his last breath, Babs 
ripped off the mask. It now looked exactly like the man 
did at the instant of death. Wally watched as she brought 
the mask up and kissed it tenderly on the lips while she 
started to masturbate. With one hand in her crotch, she 
was making love to that inanimate object. He could hear 
her whispers, words interspersed with sighs and whines.
 
"Oh, my precious pet"

"My wonderful pet"

"You taste so delicious" 

"Soooo much held inside"

"You're perfect, just perfect" 
 
It was then he heard Jennifer begin her peak. Her high 
pitched scream tore through him, jerking his awareness 
back from the blonde woman. She was still bouncing up and 
down on the dead man, his member still somehow hard, and 
was in the throes of a climax the likes of which he'd 
never seen before. With her spine straight and her head 
thrown back, he had a perfect view of her neck, and 
watched in morbid fascination as those vampire teeth sank 
deep into her tender flesh. Blood squirted everywhere 
before the woman's mouth closed over the wounds.

He could see her swallowing, and watched the overflow 
shoot from her lips and all over the body of his beloved. 
Jennifer was still climaxing, whimpering in pleasure, 
even while her motions got slower and weaker, and her 
breathing became shallower and more erratic.
 
He could only watch, horrified, as she gave one final 
gasp, shuddered, and fell still. The vampire woman 
continued to suck for a while. When she finally finished, 
she looked up at him, smiled a very bloody smile, and 
laughed. A slight shove, and Jennifer's body fell on top 
of the man she'd killed, both completely lifeless. 
 
With a last whimper of denial, his mind finally gave up 
trying to handle what was happening. Wally fainted.
 
*

John slowly gained awareness. First came the pain, the 
awful pain, surrounding him, 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 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, so I must be 
alive. Unless this is hell?
 
The pain never grew stronger, but it never grew weaker 
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 the 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 looked different, 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'd come into the altar room shortly before he 
himself ... died?
 
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 one 
wall. Directly across from him, on the other wall, one 
hundred groaning, crying, agonized faces stared back.
 
He tried to scream ...
 
<fin>

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Please keep this story, and all erotic stories out of the
hands of children. They should be outside playing in the 
sunshine, not thinking about adult situations.

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Kristen's collection - Directory 16