C7 Serendipity Pass Paths of Sickle and Scythe The End Final Edit
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Orgy At The End Of The World free porn video
[Re-titled version of a previous horror-based erotica. 2nd ever story, still progressing.]
It had been 3 long weeks since it all kicked off. The end of the world as we know it. Martha had fallen victim, so had all the rest of the family, the neighbours, friends, co-workers. He'd heard that there were survivors dotted around the country but didn't hold out much hope. He just wasn't that lucky. Still he plodded on, the car was still going - just - but he knew before long the petrol would just be no more. Most garages, in fact most buildings, had gone up in flames more than a fortnight ago, save a few big places in remote locations where the infected hadn't been able to get to. That's where he was headed. There was a massive stately home in the middle of nowhere, he'd visited it when he was a k** and if he had to die anywhere that would be where he'd choose. He couldn't choose much any more, but he was damned sure he could at least choose where he breathed for the last time.
It should be coming up around the corner any time now, he thought, as he steered the Landrover into a tight country lane. It was eerily deserted in this part of the country, it made him uneasy after starting his journey in the carnage and rioting of London. He took a bite of the last chocolate bar he had. The last food he could grab on departure. It was a welcome burst of sugar for his aching body. It had taken no small effort to escape the city over the course of a couple of days. Just surviving was bad enough but as soon as the infected saw a moving car they descended. Nights on the road had been cold and sleepless too. Nowhere was truly safe.
Then he saw it. Candle Hall. He had no idea why they called it that, but he liked it. It towered above the surrounding landscape like a beacon of hope, still intact it seemed. There were a few infected lying prone on the ground as he drove up the driveway, shot, it looked like. Huge holes from what looked like shotguns. You have to love the English upper class, they know how to defend their heritage. And they had done so marvellously. He pulled up as near to the grand entrance as he could, the less he was out in the open the better. He had a sword as defence, he had collected them once upon a time, before marriage and c***dren had eaten his money. Thank God he'd had one left.
Slowly, he got out the car, grabbing the backpack he had with some meagre medical supplies and water, and the sword. He inched closer to the door. Although the building looked intact you could never make assumptions about what lay inside. He pushed the door open. It had been slightly ajar which did worry him. Why was there no better security? He creeped into the entrance hallway. It took his breath away. As with the outside, it was intact and stunning. Still boasting the ornate, decadent features of the 18th Century grand staircase he had remembered, the hall was a testament to English architecture and design. The Tennant family portraits still hung on the walls, each portraying the most handsome selection of male and female nobility he'd ever came across. It was perfect. Definitely where he wanted to die.
Putting the backpack down in the hall, he went for broke. Still clutching the sword he swaggered up the stairs. Upon reaching the centre landing he turned and looked down and bowed extravagantly. "My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen of this beautiful ancestral home I salute you!" He declared. "A fitting place for me to die!"
As his head was bowed almost to his knees, he heard giggling. He stood up sharply and braced himself, sword in hand. "Who's there?" He asked loudly. He heard a shuffle. It had come from the top of the stairs to the left of him. He tentatively moved forward. There were giggles again. It was definitely one or more females, he thought, though that didn't allay his fears any. The infected women were worse than the men in London. They'd tear your face off in a heartbeat. He went closer. There was a long passageway at the top of the stairs, one side looking down over the gigantic library downstairs, and a plethora of massive oak doors on the other. He stepped towards the first one and opened it slowly. A bathroom. No-one in there. The second was a c***d's nursery, again deserted. The third a bedroom. No sign of life. He began to wonder if he had imagined the noises. He opened the fourth door. The shuffle again. This was a huge bedroom. It must have been one of the grandest he'd seen. Gigantic oak four poster bed, beautiful handcrafted furniture - and was that a Vermeer on the wall? He thought it was. No time to admire the art though, he had to make sure he was safe. He entered the room. He could see there were two off-shoot doors to the left. He opened the first one and sighed with relief. An en-suite. No-one there. Then he opened the second. A dressing room. It was filled with gorgeous ballgowns and evening wear and if his eyes did not deceive him, extravagant corsetry and Victorian fetishwear. He had not expected to see that. He doubted it had been on the tour when he was a c***d.
Suddenly, there was movement. Not just a little movement, but all around the dressing room the clothes seemed to be coming alive. He stepped back towards the main room. But there was someone blocking his path there. He stumbled. Turning round, he saw the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She looked familiar, and he realised her portrait was on the wall outside.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I've intruded on your privacy here, Lady Tennant. Frankly, I did not expect anyone to have survived the outbreak here. I came here to die."
The woman smiled. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Or my friends." She looked behind him. The movement had not been ghosts, or infected, but a number of females, 5 he counted, who had emerged from the clothing like angels. Angels in corsets. Angels in thigh high boots. Angels brandishing riding crops. That was new. But very exciting. He felt aroused just looking at them.
"Please," said the Lady. "Come and sit down, you look very tired from the journey. You need sustenance and comfort."
"Yes. Yes I do," he replied. Putting the sword down finally, the sword which had never even made the Lady blink, he sat on the exquisite armchair by the window.
He slouched back in the chair and let out a deep breath. The women emerged entirely now from the dressing room, and he could see they were looking at him like a piece of meat. He shifted uneasily. "You don't mind that I'm here? I could be infected for all you know."
The Lady laughed. "That's not a problem we care about here."
The women moved ever closer, and one of the kneeled by his feet. She began to unzip his jeans and he noticed for the first time that he was more than a little hard. It surprised him, he'd not even thought about sex for a week or more. Not since survival became top priority. Her hand began to move slowly up and down his penis. Closing his eyes, he sighed and lay his head back a little. It was so relaxing after all the devastation and horror of the past few weeks. She moved faster and faster. Then he felt a mouth kissing his from above. She was towering over him, alternating between passionate kissing, thrusting her tongue rapidly into his mouth and gently pulling on his lip and planting soft butterfly kisses on him. This was a dream, he thought. Surely. Then the woman who had been rubbing his cock put her mouth over it and he whimpered in pleasure. She was skilled, no doubt about it. She teased and licked him and then took his full length in her mouth, sucking harder and harder. It had been so long since he'd been touched, he came in her mouth within a few minutes. His initial embarrassment at being so quick soon subsided as he realised they were in no way going to give up on this, whatever this was.
Within a moment, they had blindfolded him. He started to protest a first, but the tongue in his ear as they tied it and the one licking his cum from around his cock told him not to. Hands grabbed his arms and pulled him upright. He was led to the four poster and pushed down. They stripped him expertly. This was one of the best things that had happened in his life, let alone the last 20 days, and he could not believe his luck. He had come here to hole up for a few days, maybe a few weeks, then eventually wither and die, or be eaten by the infected - but he had not expected to be devoured like this. His hands and feet were tied tightly to the bedposts, and he was acutely aware that he was frailer than he used to be through lack of food, and his six pack of which he had been so proud was nowhere to been found. He was self conscious of his pale, white flesh and what he knew to be a now rock hard member rising from it. Not for long as there were soon lips everywhere. They kissed his mouth and his neck, they bit his nipples and sucked his cock. Hands explored his balls, and massaged his thighs. Soon he felt breasts, breasts which were still partially encased in the bones of a corset, thrusting into his face. Nipples were in his mouth and he could feel the delicious sensation of his cock being smothered between two large tits. One woman was still pulling on his nipples with her teeth and yet another teasing his belly with her tongue. He could not see any of them, and this sight deprivation heightened every other sense he had.
The woman with her breasts in his mouth removed them, and kissed his lips again. She moved. He could feel what was happening, her legs straddling him now, and he could almost taste her already. He waited in anticipation. He was not disappointed. Her trimmed pussy found its way onto his mouth and he gladly licked at at. She thrust back and forth, mewling in pleasure as he sucked on her clit and explored her inside with his tongue. He felt a very wet, very feminine digit play with his arse. He bristled a little, then relented. The finger moved inwards and massaged him. He had never felt that before, and with everything else they were doing it felt like he would explode again. As the finger was still massaging, he felt the weight of a woman on top of him. She lowered her very wet pussy onto him and he would have moaned in ecstacy if he could have, She started moving slowly at first, mimicking the finger's movements, then both got faster. The opening on his face was writhing harder, his nipples were being pulled harder, someone his anus was being passionately fingered and to top it off he was being fucked hard, fast and expertly. He roared in joy as he burst inside the woman astride him, his arse tightened round the finger as he came, the two women on top of him were rapidly being brought to orgasm by his tongue and his dick. It was almost a religious experience for him, he would definitely die a happy man now.
Gradually all the hands, pussies and mouths left his body and he crumpled. His malnourished and weak body had given much more than he thought it ever could. The blindfold and the ties were still in place, but that didn't bother him. He wasn't running for his life or driving or hiding, so anything else was a plus. He heard lots of scuffling, The minxes must be be getting dressed again, he thought. He pondered who they all were for a moment. But he didn't care. Why care? He had taken a LOT of pleasure from them, and he assumed he'd pleased them in return.
The blindfold was removed. Her Ladyship sat next to him. Somehow he thought she did not partake of his body. She still looked flawless and unruffled. He thought she wanted to watch. A lot of the upper classes have fetishes, a taste for the slightly unusual. He supposed she was no different.
"I take it you had a little fun with my girls?" she asked. "A little? Maybe more than a little. Who are you all? Why did you choose me to have such an experience?"
Her Ladyship smiled and looked over to the group of women who were by now all clothed and standing to attention at the foot of the bed. There was something military in their appearance he mused. An army of sluts. He grinned at this thought.
"You were here," she said. "In our home. That's all."
"That's all?" He wondered if every guest was treated this way. "So what do we do now? Are there more survivors here? Are we the only ones?"
"Survivors? No. You were the only one." The group of women surrounded the bed. She leaned over and kissed his lips sweetly. "Were." Her long nails grazed gently across his neck, then slashed swiftly across his throat.
It had been 3 long weeks since it all kicked off. The end of the world as we know it. Martha had fallen victim, so had all the rest of the family, the neighbours, friends, co-workers. He'd heard that there were survivors dotted around the country but didn't hold out much hope. He just wasn't that lucky. Still he plodded on, the car was still going - just - but he knew before long the petrol would just be no more. Most garages, in fact most buildings, had gone up in flames more than a fortnight ago, save a few big places in remote locations where the infected hadn't been able to get to. That's where he was headed. There was a massive stately home in the middle of nowhere, he'd visited it when he was a k** and if he had to die anywhere that would be where he'd choose. He couldn't choose much any more, but he was damned sure he could at least choose where he breathed for the last time.
It should be coming up around the corner any time now, he thought, as he steered the Landrover into a tight country lane. It was eerily deserted in this part of the country, it made him uneasy after starting his journey in the carnage and rioting of London. He took a bite of the last chocolate bar he had. The last food he could grab on departure. It was a welcome burst of sugar for his aching body. It had taken no small effort to escape the city over the course of a couple of days. Just surviving was bad enough but as soon as the infected saw a moving car they descended. Nights on the road had been cold and sleepless too. Nowhere was truly safe.
Then he saw it. Candle Hall. He had no idea why they called it that, but he liked it. It towered above the surrounding landscape like a beacon of hope, still intact it seemed. There were a few infected lying prone on the ground as he drove up the driveway, shot, it looked like. Huge holes from what looked like shotguns. You have to love the English upper class, they know how to defend their heritage. And they had done so marvellously. He pulled up as near to the grand entrance as he could, the less he was out in the open the better. He had a sword as defence, he had collected them once upon a time, before marriage and c***dren had eaten his money. Thank God he'd had one left.
Slowly, he got out the car, grabbing the backpack he had with some meagre medical supplies and water, and the sword. He inched closer to the door. Although the building looked intact you could never make assumptions about what lay inside. He pushed the door open. It had been slightly ajar which did worry him. Why was there no better security? He creeped into the entrance hallway. It took his breath away. As with the outside, it was intact and stunning. Still boasting the ornate, decadent features of the 18th Century grand staircase he had remembered, the hall was a testament to English architecture and design. The Tennant family portraits still hung on the walls, each portraying the most handsome selection of male and female nobility he'd ever came across. It was perfect. Definitely where he wanted to die.
Putting the backpack down in the hall, he went for broke. Still clutching the sword he swaggered up the stairs. Upon reaching the centre landing he turned and looked down and bowed extravagantly. "My Lords, Ladies and Gentlemen of this beautiful ancestral home I salute you!" He declared. "A fitting place for me to die!"
As his head was bowed almost to his knees, he heard giggling. He stood up sharply and braced himself, sword in hand. "Who's there?" He asked loudly. He heard a shuffle. It had come from the top of the stairs to the left of him. He tentatively moved forward. There were giggles again. It was definitely one or more females, he thought, though that didn't allay his fears any. The infected women were worse than the men in London. They'd tear your face off in a heartbeat. He went closer. There was a long passageway at the top of the stairs, one side looking down over the gigantic library downstairs, and a plethora of massive oak doors on the other. He stepped towards the first one and opened it slowly. A bathroom. No-one in there. The second was a c***d's nursery, again deserted. The third a bedroom. No sign of life. He began to wonder if he had imagined the noises. He opened the fourth door. The shuffle again. This was a huge bedroom. It must have been one of the grandest he'd seen. Gigantic oak four poster bed, beautiful handcrafted furniture - and was that a Vermeer on the wall? He thought it was. No time to admire the art though, he had to make sure he was safe. He entered the room. He could see there were two off-shoot doors to the left. He opened the first one and sighed with relief. An en-suite. No-one there. Then he opened the second. A dressing room. It was filled with gorgeous ballgowns and evening wear and if his eyes did not deceive him, extravagant corsetry and Victorian fetishwear. He had not expected to see that. He doubted it had been on the tour when he was a c***d.
Suddenly, there was movement. Not just a little movement, but all around the dressing room the clothes seemed to be coming alive. He stepped back towards the main room. But there was someone blocking his path there. He stumbled. Turning round, he saw the most beautiful woman he'd ever seen. She looked familiar, and he realised her portrait was on the wall outside.
"I'm sorry," he mumbled. "I've intruded on your privacy here, Lady Tennant. Frankly, I did not expect anyone to have survived the outbreak here. I came here to die."
The woman smiled. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. Or my friends." She looked behind him. The movement had not been ghosts, or infected, but a number of females, 5 he counted, who had emerged from the clothing like angels. Angels in corsets. Angels in thigh high boots. Angels brandishing riding crops. That was new. But very exciting. He felt aroused just looking at them.
"Please," said the Lady. "Come and sit down, you look very tired from the journey. You need sustenance and comfort."
"Yes. Yes I do," he replied. Putting the sword down finally, the sword which had never even made the Lady blink, he sat on the exquisite armchair by the window.
He slouched back in the chair and let out a deep breath. The women emerged entirely now from the dressing room, and he could see they were looking at him like a piece of meat. He shifted uneasily. "You don't mind that I'm here? I could be infected for all you know."
The Lady laughed. "That's not a problem we care about here."
The women moved ever closer, and one of the kneeled by his feet. She began to unzip his jeans and he noticed for the first time that he was more than a little hard. It surprised him, he'd not even thought about sex for a week or more. Not since survival became top priority. Her hand began to move slowly up and down his penis. Closing his eyes, he sighed and lay his head back a little. It was so relaxing after all the devastation and horror of the past few weeks. She moved faster and faster. Then he felt a mouth kissing his from above. She was towering over him, alternating between passionate kissing, thrusting her tongue rapidly into his mouth and gently pulling on his lip and planting soft butterfly kisses on him. This was a dream, he thought. Surely. Then the woman who had been rubbing his cock put her mouth over it and he whimpered in pleasure. She was skilled, no doubt about it. She teased and licked him and then took his full length in her mouth, sucking harder and harder. It had been so long since he'd been touched, he came in her mouth within a few minutes. His initial embarrassment at being so quick soon subsided as he realised they were in no way going to give up on this, whatever this was.
Within a moment, they had blindfolded him. He started to protest a first, but the tongue in his ear as they tied it and the one licking his cum from around his cock told him not to. Hands grabbed his arms and pulled him upright. He was led to the four poster and pushed down. They stripped him expertly. This was one of the best things that had happened in his life, let alone the last 20 days, and he could not believe his luck. He had come here to hole up for a few days, maybe a few weeks, then eventually wither and die, or be eaten by the infected - but he had not expected to be devoured like this. His hands and feet were tied tightly to the bedposts, and he was acutely aware that he was frailer than he used to be through lack of food, and his six pack of which he had been so proud was nowhere to been found. He was self conscious of his pale, white flesh and what he knew to be a now rock hard member rising from it. Not for long as there were soon lips everywhere. They kissed his mouth and his neck, they bit his nipples and sucked his cock. Hands explored his balls, and massaged his thighs. Soon he felt breasts, breasts which were still partially encased in the bones of a corset, thrusting into his face. Nipples were in his mouth and he could feel the delicious sensation of his cock being smothered between two large tits. One woman was still pulling on his nipples with her teeth and yet another teasing his belly with her tongue. He could not see any of them, and this sight deprivation heightened every other sense he had.
The woman with her breasts in his mouth removed them, and kissed his lips again. She moved. He could feel what was happening, her legs straddling him now, and he could almost taste her already. He waited in anticipation. He was not disappointed. Her trimmed pussy found its way onto his mouth and he gladly licked at at. She thrust back and forth, mewling in pleasure as he sucked on her clit and explored her inside with his tongue. He felt a very wet, very feminine digit play with his arse. He bristled a little, then relented. The finger moved inwards and massaged him. He had never felt that before, and with everything else they were doing it felt like he would explode again. As the finger was still massaging, he felt the weight of a woman on top of him. She lowered her very wet pussy onto him and he would have moaned in ecstacy if he could have, She started moving slowly at first, mimicking the finger's movements, then both got faster. The opening on his face was writhing harder, his nipples were being pulled harder, someone his anus was being passionately fingered and to top it off he was being fucked hard, fast and expertly. He roared in joy as he burst inside the woman astride him, his arse tightened round the finger as he came, the two women on top of him were rapidly being brought to orgasm by his tongue and his dick. It was almost a religious experience for him, he would definitely die a happy man now.
Gradually all the hands, pussies and mouths left his body and he crumpled. His malnourished and weak body had given much more than he thought it ever could. The blindfold and the ties were still in place, but that didn't bother him. He wasn't running for his life or driving or hiding, so anything else was a plus. He heard lots of scuffling, The minxes must be be getting dressed again, he thought. He pondered who they all were for a moment. But he didn't care. Why care? He had taken a LOT of pleasure from them, and he assumed he'd pleased them in return.
The blindfold was removed. Her Ladyship sat next to him. Somehow he thought she did not partake of his body. She still looked flawless and unruffled. He thought she wanted to watch. A lot of the upper classes have fetishes, a taste for the slightly unusual. He supposed she was no different.
"I take it you had a little fun with my girls?" she asked. "A little? Maybe more than a little. Who are you all? Why did you choose me to have such an experience?"
Her Ladyship smiled and looked over to the group of women who were by now all clothed and standing to attention at the foot of the bed. There was something military in their appearance he mused. An army of sluts. He grinned at this thought.
"You were here," she said. "In our home. That's all."
"That's all?" He wondered if every guest was treated this way. "So what do we do now? Are there more survivors here? Are we the only ones?"
"Survivors? No. You were the only one." The group of women surrounded the bed. She leaned over and kissed his lips sweetly. "Were." Her long nails grazed gently across his neck, then slashed swiftly across his throat.
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