A Halloween Tale free porn video

A Halloween Tale by J Lewis

A few harsh intertwined tales thrown together last year too late to submit for Halloween in ‘09? Forgotten about, then dusted off, they’re a group of far reaching tales involving debauchery, sadism, masochism, death and pestilence, all in one mansion? All with different victims.  Just about everything to present a Halloween story where anything’s possible? Darker, eviler, they’re based on the supernatural, unlike anything I’ve yet presented.  (That may be another reason I was hesitant to submit it last year)  In four parts, the forth the harshest and tying the rest together, it should be offered the week of Halloween.

Part One

Chapter One? The subterranean level

The turn of the century Hollywood hills mansion sitting back off Mulholland Drive on the spacious rolling grounds of the private estate’s imposing.  Situated for its soaring view of the distant lights already beginning to sparkle in the sprawling City of Angels spreading out in the valley below from high on the cavernous hillside, it’s obviously well kept even with its many decades of colorful, yet also more secretive unsavory existence.  The early fallen leave’s amassing in wet bunches not yet raked from the usually manicured lawn, just tire tracks forming a couple barely noticeable ruts across the cobblestone driveway leave any signs of recent activity.  The mid October wind of the unusually mild fall season occasionally whips around the house’s veranda in the shadows of early dusk, the low level clouds accumulating with thick raindrops randomly splashing the roof with the onset of a fall thunderstorm rapidly approaching from the west.

       The gated entrance standing unattended at the guard shack, one of the twin wrought iron gates garishly ornamented with the founder’s initials swaying partially open in the brisk breeze, the Silver Cloud Rolls Royce carefully slows with its trio of occupants, navigates the twisting drive to wind around to the front of the veranda.  Rolling to a measured stop in front of the garish grand entry, in moments an attractive blond slowly steps out of the passenger side rear door being held open for her by the chauffer’s gloved hand.  Giving a quick glimpse toward the threatening sky, she glances back toward the intimidating facade with the imposing columns standing tall beneath the dark swirling clouds collecting overhead.

The daunting overall view obviously even more then she anticipated, the wooden and brick exterior of the mansion brilliant white with dark green contrasting doors and window sills highlighted with what appears to be copper and brass trim, the house seems unattended for the moment, maybe even recently vacated with the exception of the large wrought iron chandelier creaking in the breeze, its four corners supported by black chain links swaying above the entrance with just a couple bulbs still glowing from what’s normally a set of six.

       A couple faint flashes of distant lightning illuminating through the accruing clouds, the two, three second interval before the distant thunder rumbling ominously past in a low roar, the rear driver side door clicks shut by the same white glove as an equally attractive brunette steps out.  Dabbling in real estate to support herself while being an aspiring actress, she leaves the vintage motor car with papers in hand, her high heels clicking across the driveway as her rounded breasts jaunt outward, jiggle in unison beneath her overflowing bra partially exposed by the top couple buttons popping open on her white satin blouse tucked neatly inside her thigh high black skirt.

The pair scurrying toward the entrance, the raindrops becoming denser, chillier, the sound of initial bits of ice tapping across the car’s roof mixes with the rain flicking across the cobblestones.  Turning beneath the copper roofed canopy just as its being plummeted by a sheath of hail, the women watch as the glistening Rolls slowly pulls away; circles back out toward the gate leaving them alone for a couple hours, which should be sufficient to browse the estate before they’re picked up again, giving plenty of time to get a good grip on if the house and grounds are right to lease when it’s vacated after its annual Halloween event in the approaching days.

       ?He says that Rolls has been part of the estate since sometime in the fifties.?  The brunette offers as the silver limo’s brake lights flash on, off as it passes through the open gate, disappearing into the cloudburst, out of sight.  Smiling, glancing down toward her shimmering breasts beneath the freshly damp blouse, casually fastening a button across her glistening flesh, she nods.  ?Can’t you just imagine who all it’s brought up here over the years, huh??

       ?Yea.?  The blonde nods, her slightly more conservative clothing still dry.  ?And looks like he’s been its chauffeur from day one, too? And probably in that same suit? More likely from the twenties if you ask me!?

Reflexively lowering their heads to a clap of deafening thunder, ascending the trio of granite steps to the grand entrance as the sky continues to darken, one holds the sheets of paper in her hands as the other’s slipping the key inside the lock.  A slight shove, the right side door swinging slowly inward, they realize the key’s not necessary.  The grand foyer every bit as daunting as the exterior, but somewhat, somehow more foreboding as the dim late afternoon shadows spread across its spacious surfaces from the opening doors, the dark swirls find their way upwards across the original proprietor’s gaudy portrait up on the wall facing the entrance, the shadows ominously weaving across the intricate coffered ceiling in sequence to the movement of the low spiraling clouds.

The free swinging door tapping against an empty coat rack with a gust of wind, the sudden sound of the heavier raindrops mixing with the relenting hail pelting across the beveled windowpanes to either side of the entrance just adds to the uneasy atmosphere.  Glancing around, flicking a light switch, the hall leading to the right from the foyer illuminates the entrance of that wing, several sturdy, oak doors closed to either side separated by framed photos, portraits evenly spaced, leading to what appears to be a residential elevator at the extreme end.  Another quick survey of the immediate interior, white throw sheets seem to be everywhere, covering what’s obviously the mansion’s furniture circling the paneled walls.

       ?That must be it? Suppose to be an elevator for each wing.?  Nodding toward the end of the hallway, the brunette’s crisp voice leaves the slightest of an echo in the corridor.  ?We’ll start with the lower area and work our way up? The workout, the recreational area? And I believe the full service bar are on the lower level? That’s if this diagram’s still up to date.?

Following the directions on the folded spread sheet as they enter the corridor, glancing toward the array of framed snapshots forming a sort of pictorial arcade along the walls, overwhelmingly old, an occasional autographed photo, even of a recognizable star of the movie industry, some leading back to the early days, some even before talkies, the long lines of photos fills the galleries on both sides.  Initially pleased with the pictorial of the film history laid out in front of them, their high heels tap leisurely across the marble floor toward the elevator.

The blonde’s grin slowly becoming obviously perplexed after a couple minutes, uneasy at best as they continue toward the end of the collection, the eerie expressions of some of those fixed faces seeming to be starring back at them appear more and more unsettling in the obviously more recent photos as the sound of the steady rain rattling against the house’s facade reverberates throughout the hallways.

The turn of the century dated elevator standing open, small with a wrought iron retractable scissors gate, another glance toward one another, the expression on the blonde like what the hell were those last pictures all about; they step in with not much room to spare.  The brunette smiling gratuitously while pressing the button to the lower level, a gentle jerk as the gate slides shut, the sense of downward movement, the already dim, reddish shaded light flickers above them as they slowly transcend from semi-light to a shadowy darkness.

       The few seconds of descent bringing them to a halting stop at the lower level shown on the floor plans, the gate remaining closed, a push, a tug by the blond, another harsher shove by the brunette as she gives a quiet grunt, shakes her head slowly back and forth, the gate remains firmly stuck while the dimly lit area appears to be just as described to their slowly adjusting eyes.  Some type of recreational area, a kinda’ bar, maybe a partying space for the type owners of such a piece of property in such an affluent area, for the matinee idols of the past, the shakers and movies of the movie industry in the days gone by, it seems that the darkened walls would have their share of tales to tell if they could speak.  Tapping on the buttons to go back up, the elevator jerking, again slowly moving at first, the brief relief on their faces becomes almost instant confusion, concern as they’re jolted on a brisk downward trek, to an area not shown on the plans as they reflexively glance toward both sides of the dimly lit diagrams on the wrinkling papers even as they’re dropping them to the floor, grabbing the side rails of the booth as they reflexively crouch with the elevator picking up unnerving momentum.

Plunging into the depths of pitch darkness as the sound of some sort of a cover rattles across the top of the cage, a metal lid flipping shut above them, the red light dimming to what can’t be more then a couple watts as their uncomfortably confining transporter finally slows, shudders to a jarring halt.  The gate now sliding open seemingly on its own to the damp darkness, they reflexively grip each other’s hand as they cautiously rise, straighten their knees; the brunette retrieving the papers.  Quiet, dark, their eyes not yet adjusting to the faintest glow of the flickering red bulb above them, the sound of the blonde’s fingers pressing the elevator’s sticking buttons echo outward above their nervous breathing.

?We’ve? Been? Expecting????? The two of you.?

       The deliberate voice firm, deep, that of what must be a man, yet a hulking man at that, it’s hard to focus on him in the near blackness as he stands directly in line with the elevator a few feet back.  His loose clothing dark, just a huge shadow in the pool of ominous darkness, only a faint outline of his left arm reaching out, slowly drawing back, beckons the wide eyed, huddling women.

       ?Step out.?

       Another voice, that of a female, yet definitely not feminine and even more ominous, both women’s faces hesitantly turn, their widening eyes peering into the same darkness as a closer figure steps forward from the side.

       ?Out? Now!?

       Yet another seemingly female voice, even harsher if possible, and eerier coming from their other side, even closer, her silhouette becoming frightening visible, the eyes gleaming abnormally, a reddish reflection to them.  The scenario seeming surreal, some sort of ghoulish prank being played on the pair, they reflexively squeeze each others hands even tighter with a nervous giggle, the papers to the multi million dollar mansion again dropping to the floor as they stiffen, wait for the lights to come on, the laughter at the sick joke to commence at their expense.

       The light momentarily brightening as they hoped, but then starting to blink, the rhythmic flashes reveal no prank but abject terror as it becomes a hideous strobe reflecting off even more shadowy red eyed occupants of this unstated sub-basement lined by stone walls, not normal, but malicious, vile creatures, hunching in the coves of arched doorways, then lurching forward in mass.  Terrified, the women’s hearts pounding as they frantically jam their manicured fingernails repeatedly across the buttons on the pad, the back of the elevator creaking, somehow thumping open, the brunette’s back buckles by a ramming force against her kidneys, her bowing, curling body thrust out from the elevator like a rag doll, breathless from the incredible pain shooting up her spine as her flailing high heels skip across the floor from her bare feet.

Uncountable silhouettes of the dark clothed creatures pouncing, circling her, rip at her clothing from her spiraling body as she’s jerked, pushed, stretched by the gripping, clawing fangs mauling at her quickly baring flesh as she’s harshly raised, tossed about in mid air.  The sound’s raw; curling above the brunette’s breathless screeches even as she gasps for breath, struggles to plead.  ?No? Not? Not me!... Not me!!... Noooooooo!?

The blonds’ knees buckling as she drops, her tensing body sliding down against the side of the elevator, her arms defensively cross above her pounding chest, her eyes riveted through the crimson light flashing, reflecting off the brunette’s contorting body as she’s being slammed downward, bounced across the floor, swarmed over, lifted partially up and tautly stretched outward by her arms and legs, already half naked, appearing to be bleeding.

More inhuman hands grabbing, groping her tattered bra, shredding it, revealing her flailing breasts, more claws scraping between her twisted thighs, tearing, shredding what miniscule underclothing remains, she gasps, still tries to scream, insidious red welts instantly rising from the clawing fingernails crisscrossing her tortured flesh as she bucks, arched higher above the pack of ghoulish figures continuously ripping at her as each rasping breath, now finally, brings hysterical screams.

       ?Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!... Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhh!... Aaaaaaaggggghhhhhhhhhh!!!?

       The multitude of hellish screeches, the spread-eagled brunette’s pitiful guttural pleadings intermingling with the whaling echoing from the dark chamber, the blond recoils, kicks her feet against the elevator wall, also losing a high heel.  Huddling further back, her head banging against the cage, she feels her arms suddenly gripped, jerked upwards from behind.  A thick dark sack stuffed across her head, covering her face, smothering her, blocks the sight of her contorting companion being ravaged just a few feet in front of her, now being lifted even higher, twisted to face forward toward the elevator, now stark naked out in the shadows.

Manipulated, raised high above the floor, the brunette’s limp body’s hideously positioned spread-eagled in front of the large mutant by her twisted breasts, clawed thighs as he positions himself behind her, spreads his muscular thighs, awaits his offering.  Her arms and legs hoisted, stretched wider, her glassy eyes bulging, blood oozing from her bitten lips by her own teeth, the pain between her thighs sears through her womb as she’s sadistically mounted by being rammed forcefully downward, her stretching vaginal walls tearing, impaled from behind on an impossibly huge, vein encircled shaft, gleaming, throbbing with seemingly a life of its own as it’s thrust upwards between her spasm laden thighs from that inhumanly muscular body from hell crouching behind her.

?Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaaggggggggggggggggghhhhhhhhhhhhhhhh!!!?

Another whaling scream as her naked body spasms, her head flailing back and forth across her shoulders as her contorted arms are griped by her wrists, stretched outward above her.  Bowed severely back in the huge mutant’s grips while she’s released from the other’s claws, harshly hoisted up and down only by his pumping ham hock sized fists, her backside grinding against his muscular torso, blood oozes down her thighs as the rampage continues with mounting chants echoing off the walls surrounding her.

Grunting from each ripping thrust, breasts flailing, the pain excruciating, almost blinding as she’s jerked upwards, dropped back onto the impaling, throbbing meat time and again, her bleeding thighs forced apart by the monstrous shaft burrowing deeper and deeper with each thrust, the thick, twitching crown painfully jamming repeatedly against her womb, her feet dangles like a convulsing puppet’s above the floor while she’s forcefully raped from behind, her screams becoming rasping, garbled grunts that turn to wheezing snivels beneath the hideous chants.  Her face slumping forward, her chin grinding across her arched sternum as she’s continuously bucked, her hazed eyes roll unseeingly upwards in her head.

Frantically struggling herself, the terrorized blond drops further down on her knees, her eyes mercifully blinded to the melee in front of her, but the hideous sounds ringing in her ears as the brunette’s fade away.  Bowed into a tight fetal position with her arms being stretched sadistically upwards behind her back in a vice like grip as she coughs, rasps through the acrid cloth for breathable air that isn’t there, the screams above the insidious chants now belong to her as the unconscious brunette’s naked body’s dismounted, tossed into the encircling group to be tugged, twisted, torn at by the mad pack.

Neither realizes the terror’s just barely begun for both, adding to the house’s sordid chapters of its history.

Chapter Two

       Awakening to the reddish dimness, the light’s barely brighter.  Painfully sore, disoriented, she notices the crumpled burlap bag at her feet, while outside the elevator the terrifying sight of the ripped, stained remnants of what was the brunette’s clothing spewed across the floor.  Blinking, staring through glazed eyes, crimson tinges glisten across what’s now tattered rags scattered into the darkness.  Maybe a faint drip from what must be some sort of faucet in the distance, the sound of her heart thumping in her chest pulsing through her ears, otherwise only  deathly silence.  Aching, sitting forward still curled, she senses the unnatural weight, hears the rattles, feels the chains cuffed to her wrists, ankles.  Glancing down into the semi-darkness, her bare flesh glistens in what light there is, her clothing gone.  Trying to stand, the weight of a chain stretches down in front of her naked body, connected to an iron collar around her throat and leading down between her bare breasts, to her hands and bare feet.

       Dazed, kneeling back in numbing disbelief, silent for an immeasurable time, finally kneeling to her feet, squatting, staggering just a step or so out past the open gate, hunching forward as she painfully rises, she finds herself under the lone red globe swaying from the ceiling, glances down toward her dangling breasts, glistening, shadows forming across the aching mounds.  Dark outlines, markings, black ink or something of the sort appearing to tattoo her naked flesh, trying to reach up, her hands barely able to rise above her belly button from the chains secured to her wrists, she stretches out her fingers, claws at her nipples with her manicured nails as she hunches further forward, sees her blackened areolas embellished with crude markings also.

       Falling back to her knees, glancing between her aching breasts swaying free, staring further down toward her stomach, staring past her spreading hips, there’s more designs, similar dark markings stretching out of eyesight between her inner thighs, circling her always shaven pubic area, her moist, sore vagina.  Still the sound of water dripping, still her heart thumping, still disoriented, she again forces herself to stand until the chains stretch taut, to hunch forward as her bare feet scrape across the dark damp stone floor in  miniscule steps, somehow drawn toward the constant drip? Drip? Drip in the darkness.

       Shuffling along in the short halting steps allowed by the ankle chains, occasionally stumbling with the wrist chains dangling, clanking, their weight draws her arms down toward her sides, the tugged collar chafing into her bowed neck as she feels the pounding rhythm  of her heart beating in her chest as she feels somehow drawn into the darkness.  Bumping into the harsh stone walls, cold and damp, past what seems to be dark arching entrances to what must be cells of some sort; the dripping irregular sound becomes even more pronounced, seemingly just around the faint outline of a sharp, soot covered brick corner illuminated by a flickering torch still out of sight.  Dragging along while struggling to breathe, reaching the corner, the shadowy scene swirling in front of her, illuminated by not one but two torches mounted in iron brackets on either wall, she drops to her knees in shock, stares disbelievingly up at the horrendous sight just a few feet in front of her.  The excruciatingly taut form of a woman glistening as she’s stretched obscenely above the floor, the hollowed eyes glaring straight forward into the darkness.

The brunette mounted naked at the end of the corridor as if she’s part of a ‘B’ grade horror flick, her nude silhouette appears to hazily flutter in the swirling hot air expanding from the flickering torches mounted in the walls to either side of her tortured body that’s also covered with black markings.  The constant drip’s also not a faucet, but crimson drops of blood into a bucket on the stone floor beneath her spread thighs, her body contortedly affixed on some sort of wooden apparatus mounted on a pair of large spoke wheels.  Strands of barbwire glisten, their pointed barbs digging into her bare flesh securing her to the crude ‘X’ frame.  Wrists, elbows, thighs, calves all tightly bound with the long woven strands of wire crisscrossing the wooden posts, another single stand’s wrapped across her crimson stained forehead, holding her face forward in its fixed position.

       Mouth tightly shut, eyes wide, round and unblinking, a closer look through the flickering light reveals what appears to be short twigs that could even be wooden toothpicks embedded upright from cheek to eyebrow forcing her eyelids to part without the ability to blink.  Ever more grotesque, thin black lines drawing her lips together are unbelievingly, sutures, completing her normally attractive face being drawn into its surreal expression.  The light flickering across her bare flesh, her stomach in rippling spasms, both rock hard breasts imprinted with crude designs unnaturally bulging straight outward beneath their engorged nipples, again light reflects off the circling barb’s harsh tips burrowing into the bases of both globular mounds from the embedded strands looped tight into her titflesh.

       Hearing a muffled moan, seeing the brunette’s reddening eyes appearing to somehow rotate, glance pleadingly downward past the vertical twigs, still the occasional dripping resonates as the blonde’s own eyes are drawn toward that sound, toward the bright crimson drops collecting into the wooden bucket from the end of yet another piece of barbwire, its twisted upper end dangling from the brunette’s entangled clit being stretched impossibly downward, the lower end of the wire curling and encircling what appears to be a swaying stone.

       Stomach churning, heart practically pounding out of her chest, she realizes the sheer hopelessness for both of them as she freezes, stares unbelievably toward the battered brunette.  Her own eyes flooding with tears, dripping across her cheeks, splashes against her breasts as she moans, slowly shakes her head back and forth in disbelief.  Feeling faint, slumping forward, her blonde hair brushes across the stone floor as she’s suddenly gripped from behind, a powerful arm ramming down between her thighs lifting her upwards, a huge hand jamming against her mouth, fingers digging between her lips as she’s curled backwards, hoisted upwards toward the suspended brunette.  Her eyes closing away from the hideous, terrifying sight, grunting, the confining chains rattling as her spreading buttocks rides the inhumanly thick forearm, she grunts, blinks, stares into the bloodshot eyes pinned open in front of her as she dangles in the mutant’s clutches.

       ?There??? That? Is? What? You????? Come? To? See??  The deep voice is slow, foreboding in her ears as her face is practically pressed flat against the brunette’s.

Seeing the hollowed eyes in front of her unable to blink, discolored bruises surrounding the eye sockets, blood trickling from the puffy sutured lips tightly sealed shut, the thick fingers pressing inside her own mouth stretching her jaws open muffling her scream, her wrists dig at her shackles as she tries to reach forward, unable too as the chains tautly stretch.

       ?Take? A? Good? Long? Look.?  The voice continues in the harsh, mocking tone as she’s harshly lowered by the guiding hulk of the forearm she’s straddling.

       Terrified as she senses herself being lowered, held eye level with the brunette’s bulging breasts just inches from the nearly translucent flesh of the taut areolas and flattened nipples, she sees, smells the fresh trickle of blood oozing from the encircling barbs buried deep against the arching chest beneath the swollen tit flesh.  Her face pressed forward between the discolored grapefruit sized mounds, the huge fingers gripping her chin slipping outward, still forcing the bottom of her mouth open, her face presses against a pulsing breast.

       ?Taste it? Suck on it? Bite it?

       Feeling her lips spreading across the flattened areola, the taste of the remnants of blood that’s dripped across the taut flesh as the paw like grip slides around to the back of her neck, presses forward, she harshly grunts as the nub of the nipple presses between her teeth.  Her head forced forward, the swollen breast hard yet elastic as it melds with her face, she senses the thick nub flattening against her curling tongue.

       ?Bite it? Chew it? Or you won’t breathe again.?  The orders baritone but not as drawn out, her face presses even deeper into the flattening breast by the force of the controlling hand gripping, twisting her hair in a knot.

       Fists clenching, toes curling, chains rattling in mid air as she’s already gasping for breath, feeling the thickness of the nipple between her spreading teeth, terrified of suffocating, she reflexively responds, compresses her lips down onto the firm tit flesh.  A twinge, a response from the brunette’s torso arching outward, feeling the pulsing of the erratic, thumping heartbeat deep in the swollen mound of flesh pressing against her face, she feels the fist between her legs gripping at her vagina.  Clamping her mouth down tighter, the indentation of her teeth burrowing into the base of the thick nipple, grinding back and forth, she senses the puckered flesh rolling between her lips.

       ?Yes? Yes? Taste her? Taste her blood? Bite down harder? Drink? Or suffocate!?

       His booming command as forceful as his huge palm shoving her neck forward, pressing her face into the bulging breast while feeling his thick fingers scratching across her own stretching vagina, clamping down with her teeth, feeling the flesh flattening, tearing, sensing the warmth filling her mouth, she gurgles, sucks, swallows while gasping for breath even as she senses the thick, pulsing head of the monstrous shaft jamming upwards between her spreading thighs, the hot,  moist meat jamming upward, spreading her labium, ramming inwards while tearing at her vaginal walls as she convulses in pain, grips the barbwire binding the stone between the brunette’s bleeding thighs, reflexively jerks at it, hangs on.

The fleeting memory of the brunette initially being spread apart, assaulted out from the elevator, the sounds of her horrendous screams as she must have been being impaled, realizing the same thing’s happening to her, the unimaginable pain of her splitting vagina reverberating through her naked body with each hideous thrust, she can only envision what its girth, the pulsing vein encircled shaft is doing to her innards while burrowing past her navel, the throbbing head pressing against her womb with the darkness closing in as she reflexively bites down, her head swirling, her mind going blank into unconsciousness.  

Chapter Three

The dreaded crimson shadowed darkness surrounds her as her hazed eyes slowly focus.  The shackles still in place across her chaffed wrists, ankles, her chin rests across the collar encircling her throat, the black iron ring being loosely chained to a hook in the wall above her.  Propped back against the uneven stones of the cell as the chains rattle, the ominous wooden dungeon doors barely recognizable in the shadows as she senses the damp straw beneath her sore, naked buttocks, the harsh stone floor stagnate beneath her aching flesh, the stench stifling.

       Thoughts scrambled as she awakens, recalling bits and pieces of the insidious sight of the brunette being horribly crucified, her naked body being mutilated with barbwire, then her own insidious rape, it’s almost that nothing happening can possibly be real; it must be a delusion, a nightmare, something other then what it appears.  Then again, trying to raise her arms, the chains stretching, pinching the nub of a nipple, she jerks back to reality, groans, shakes the rattling links off her aching, blood stained breasts.  Again tears welling in her swollen eyes as her tongue curls across her crusted lips, her hurting body throbbing from her brutal treatment, from the weight of the pinching chains, whatever else that’s been done to her in her unconsciousness state, she tries not to think of what’s coating her lips but to try to comprehend how long she’s been down here in the bowels of hell, and how to somehow get out alive even as she glances down at the crimson stains coating her inner thighs, the soaked straw beneath her buttocks from her fresh blood and urine oozing from her wounds.

Recalling more hideous images, physically shaking at the thoughts of what she was forced to do to the brunette, what was done to her, what could possibly be next?  Trying to block the throbbing pain, thinking back to just a few hours, maybe a day ago, then again, maybe even longer then that before the elevator ride down into this black pit, collecting her thoughts, trying not to dwell on being forced to gnaw at the brunette’s breasts, to reflexively yank at the barbwire between the brunette’s stretched thighs with her cuffed hands while biting at the soft flesh, tasting the blood, she tries to block out being forced to swallow the warm liquid as her own orifices were being stretched, torn by the mutants cock in those nightmarish moments before mercifully blacking out.

Slumping, letting the chains rattle yet again, in her relative silence she struggles to block out what’s happening, to the constant pain, her thoughts returning to meeting the brunette, being picked up at the airport by her and their ancient driver in his dull gray suit and cap.  Jovial, stunningly beautiful, another of god knows how many looking to make their mark in Hollywood; she recalls how the brunette had introduced herself as a part time real estate broker but really with acting aspirations.  Her friendliness more then likely part of her sales pitch, her more then casual compliments, the over an hour, mostly freeway ride to the estate in the supple leather back seat of the luxurious Rolls was exhilarating discussing the mansion’s possibilities, its somewhat sordid but intriguing history.

Thinking back to the bits and pieces of the gossiping that entailed, even as the ghostly pale driver silently chauffeured them, listening to how the brunette spoke of having roles in a few local commercials for some zany car dealership, about her obligatory trips to the auditioning couch to find real work, a couple practically nude shots for a car magazine and a full frontal in a gentleman’s magazine for her portfolio, how now pushing mid twenties considering her first boob job to help her keep her hopes alive in the business, again the thought momentarily jars back to what her breasts must look like now.  Again trying to blank that image from her mind, now thinking back to her own story of being an aspiring actress herself, sent to look over the ostentatious estate by the gentleman’s club’s executives she works for, report back about the possibilities of even using its sordid history as a marketing tool, so it could be used to fulfill fantasies of the company’s overly wealthy, and overly kinky type clients into the in-depth erotic ‘specialty’ events and even possibly flicks not available to the average public.

Her eyes blinking, closing shut, she slumps further down, the collar tightening with the tensing chain clamped to the wall above her as she listens into the silence, the deathly quite outside her dark cell.  Exhausted as much as terrified, a final shuffle to brace herself against the harsh stone wall, her thoughts drift off as her chin flattens across the iron collar.

Chapter Four

       Commotion outside the shadowed cell door, light flickering, again the crimson cast, she once again awakens to the seemingly endless routine, feels the chains painfully clattering across her naked body.  The lock to the door clanking, the hinges creaking, she defensively huddles back against the stone wall.  A couple dark, loosely clothed aberrations approaching, pouncing, a ruffled sack jammed across her head as she’s hoisted up to her feet, she feels the chain being disconnected from the wall as she’s spun about, this time the routine’s different.

Again the darkness, the stench of the damp burlap, the near impossibility to breathe, she feels her arms dragged forward, the chains tautly stretching between her ankles as she hobbles barefoot between the pair.  Into the corridor, led blindly by the stretching chain, by the claws pressing across her hips, her waist, she stumbles, trips, catches herself as the metal shackles chafe into her raw flesh.  Almost numb with terror, struggling not to even imagine where she’s being led, to what’s in store for her, she senses the tears, the mucus mixing, soaking the already damp burlap pressing tightly against her face as the material sucks in between her parting lips with each forced breathe.

Shoved harshly across the stone floor, sprawling face first, the past images of the brunette being ravaged races through her tortured mind.  The chains rattling, pinching, biting into her naked flesh, she huddles, twists into a defensive fetal position against the stone floor, anticipating the worst, gasping for breath as she feels herself being grabbed, gripped by her extremities, stretched out and hoisted as the shackles are uncuffed, the chains dropped.  Her back pressed against damp, harsh wood, the multiple sensations of sharp barbs pricking her flesh, wires wrapping around her arms, legs, she screams through the burlap, visualizes what’s happening.  The burlap dragged up off her face, her eyes blinking, blurred in the torchlight to either side, her head’s jerked back, the searing pain digging into her forehead, the same pain biting into her bare breasts, swelling, burning as they’re tightly wrapped, and wrapped around their base, compressing against her sternum.

Still trying to scream as her stretched body spread-eagles the still blood stained crossties, feeling her eyelids spread apart, toothpick like twigs jammed against her cheeks, beneath her eyebrows, her eyes burn, the pointed wood spears searing into her flesh.  Mouth pressed tightly shut by gripping fingers, glaring down through her unblinking eyes, seeing the dark hooked needle being jammed into her upper lip, rammed through her lower, a black tread weaving up and down as the needle’s maneuvered, she twists, squirms as her mouth’s being sewn shut, shrieks over and over until the terrified screams become muffled grunts.

Heart pounding, practically hyperventilating, wheezing through her flaring nostrils, she senses her labium being gripped, stretched, then painfully spread apart in unrelenting claw like fingers, her clit pricked, jammed by the barbs of a stiff wire, a hideous stone dangling from the curling strand’s other end.  Barely remaining conscious, the realization she’s taken the brunette’s place, the searing pain overwhelming; her mind barley comprehends her torment as the stone’s dropped.  A flash of insidious agony, the dim corridor grows hazily darker between the flickering torches as her eyes curl upward into her unclosing eyelids, urine spurting across the barbwire mixing with her trickling blood into the bucket slid down between her spread thighs as she drifts into a brief unconscious reprieve.

Left alone suspended in the looping barbwire fastening her to the wooden posts in the dark cubbyhole, the torches flickering, hour on hour passing, she’s awakened to the sounds of screaming women mixed with unearthly shrieks from around the corner.  The hideous sounds coming from the elevator area, she can only imagine the vile happenings as the ripping pain overwhelms her own naked body.  Unable to move without tearing her bruised flesh, grunting, barely twitching her fingers, toes, she feels the barbs digging ever deeper into her swollen, bloody flesh as the terrifying screams continue to echo off the dark stone walls.  Barely coherent, eyes swollen, bloodshot, unable to even blink behind the narrow wooden sticks jammed in front of her eyelids, again the torch’s smoke in the dark chamber flitters, the horrendous sounds echo, distort in the distance as she again passes into semi-consciousness.

Awakening in spurts of responsiveness, barely coherent in what’s become a deafening silence except for the drips of her own bodily fluids staining the splashing bucket beneath her, her lifeblood slowly dripping away from her nearly desiccated body, she continues to drift in and out in her macabre world, the hours, maybe even days surreally passing as the wooden bucket fills.  The tightening strands of barbwire seeming to disappear as they shrink into her swollen flesh, reality; hallucinations become one and the same, all insidious one way or the other.  Time no longer matters, except for being filled with pain when conscious, nightmares when not.

Her tongue swollen behind her sewn parched lips, nearly blind with her puffy eyes inflamed while still forced open, an awakening moment, she somehow senses a blurry vision of a shackled naked woman in the shadows working her way around the corridor in chains and cuffs.  Could this be another hallucination?  Or, recalling the terror of finding the brunette crucified with barbwire herself, could this be reality?  Her mind hardly functioning rationally, she tautly hangs entangled in the barbed bindings as the scene plays out in front of her, a terrified young woman staggering around the dark corner in rattling restraints.

Forced to stare unblinkingly forward with what blurry eyesight she still possesses, she watches as within moments the huge outline of the hulk of a man also turns the corner, approaching behind the unknowing, frantic girl.  Unable to scream, to warn her, her own tortured body hanging, twisting in the barbwire, watching him lurching behind the girl, jamming his forearm between her thighs from behind, twisting, lifting her up and carrying her screaming and kicking, she feels the young terrified face being forced against her aching wired breasts, the girl’s spreading lips flattening across her taut nipple.  Barbs digging deeper into her jerking forehead, painfully glancing down toward the veins standing out, crisscrossing beneath her purplish, translucent titflesh swollen to more then twice their normal size, she feels the teeth sinking in, gnawing.

The pain excruciating, barely comprehending the echoing harsh threats of the deep voice being directed toward the girl, she feels the gnawing teeth scraping back and forth, tearing at her breast.  The shock of the dangling barbwire suddenly being tugged that’s binding her ripping clit, the pain overwhelming, her eyes rolling upward, the chamber swirling in darkness, again the oncoming reprieve of unconsciousness overwhelms her, blanks out the girl’s shrieks, her own pain, the last of her muffled grunts.

End Part One

A Halloween Tale by J Lewis

Part Two? Shaken or stirred

Chapter One

Halloween eve, the mansion celebrating its very special anniversary occasion sparkles on its meticulously manicured grounds freshly prepared just for the annual event, not only an annual gathering this year, but the seventy-fifth in a long unbroken line.   The gathering exclusive, well overseen for privacy, the guard shack fully manned, the gate patrolled with a line of visible uniforms to handle the large event, the steady stream of limos and exotic cars make their way through.  Driving up out of the dark, slowing down behind the couple stretch limos in front of his Aston Martin V12 Vantage, the Cobalt black finish glistening, the engine purring with its factory stock 510 horsepower as he downshifts into first gear, hand casually working the gearshift, he glances toward his evening’s companion through his black silk eye mask, more toward her ample breasts barely concealed in her only clothing, besides her black stilettos and matching eye mask, just a revealing one piece gown of black lace.

Silent, his dark hair brushing back against the headrest, waiting a few moments to announce himself while the last limo in front of him winds up the driveway momentarily out of sight, handing the gilded VIP invitation out the driver window to the guard occupying the shack’s entrance, observing the guard’s eyebrow, the subtle glance toward the guards inside sitting in front of the monitors surveying the estate’s perimeters, he revs the engine ever so slightly while nonchalantly nodding, pointing to the gold and silver pins on his lapel.  Slightly agitated with the undo delay with the guard still silently glancing at the invite, a voice just above a growling whisper, he looks past the guard, stares directly into the shack, toward the guard Captain.  ?Hey? Wanna’ get your ass out here and read this card to this asshole??

The officer in charge giving an immediate, startled response as he looks away from a monitor, glances out toward the sleek Aston Martin, an obvious silent ‘O Fuck’ forms across his lips in recognition.  Quickly stepping out, grabbing the invitation, he gives an apologetic nod with a slight stutter.  ?Sor? Sorry for the delay, he’s new? And? And didn’t recognize you with your disguise this year? Who? Who are you portraying this?

  ?Bond? James fucking Bond? And this is my significant other for the evening.?  He butts in.  ?Invited VIP for the evening, just like it’s printed on the fucking card... And here, see the pins?... Doesn’t he know shit?... Why’s he at the gate anyway??

The sound of the tuned exhaust, the chirp of the soft, performance compound nineteen inch Pirelli tires on the cobblestone, leaving the invite card in the Captains tremulous fingertips without awaiting an answer, he glances through the narrow slits in his own mask, up toward the partial view of the familiar mansion along the hillside as his wrist flicks a couple, three times, expertly, his fingers softly on the knob as his foot works the clutch pedal in perfectly delivered synchronized sequence.

The irritation behind him, thinking back to his very first trip here as the ultra performance car responds like its on a rail to his demands, he recalls missing the initial extravaganza all that time ago, but making it the next year in his then new 1937 Bugatti Type 57S Atalante, a more then stylish motor car of that era that wound up being only one of just seventeen ever produced, all by hand of course, and today worth more then four million US bucks to collectors.  Another chirp of the tires, appreciating the advanced technology of his recent Thoroughbred of automotive genius as he nonchalantly shifts a couple more times, power drifts across the damp pavement while wondering just what this latest toy of his will be worth to him in another seventy five years, he also wonders where all the time has gone.

Glancing toward his own still youthful image in the rear view mirror, thinking of just the handful of his ilk of ‘associates’ still attending the event, he recalls some of the multitude of disguises he’s worn over nearly eight decades, some of the personas he’s taken on throughout the three quarters of a century of attending the better part of these gatherings, roles he’s played at these masked balls throughout the years.  It’s a second time around to portray a Bond? James Bond of course, the first being Sir Connery’s original character from nearly a half century ago.  And that brings back the thought of that first Bond girl back then, Ursula Andress.  Really hot, most people didn’t even know her voice was dubbed over in the movie ‘Dr. No’, the very first movie of the iconic spy series.  Hell, she couldn’t even understand, much less speak fluent English at the time, but still was made a star.  Amazing what looks can do, especially with a great rack.

Tossing that tidbit in while thinking of his portraying Errol Flynn’s Robin Hood to Schwarzenegger’s Terminator, even a recent Crowe character, all portrayed by him at one of these events during the height of their initial popularity, he again glances over at his latest prot?g?, smiles at her resemblance of a bond girl or two herself.  The end of the driveway just around the next curve, rows of limousines lining up, the festive lighting illuminating the grand event fast approaching, he again power shifts down, rolls to a stop, awaits the valets mingling throughout the arriving participants, but turning toward the unique sound of the cackling exhaust, obviously eager to service his most recent exotic motorcar.

Another glance over toward her, a soft slip of the back of his fingertips across her cheek, tracing a fingertip downward, across the substantial tanned flesh of her thrust out breast, to beneath the gown’s strap, onto the smooth areola now practically exposed, he reaches into the nearly empty water cup in the console between the seats with his other hand.  Flicking a piece of ice out and gently rubbing it back and forth across the bare flesh of her breasts, between the sloping mounds from one nipple to the other, he feels the rhythm of her heartbeat in his fingertips as her nipples swell to the touch of the melting ice flicking across them while she continues to stare straight ahead while arching her shoulders further back.  Glancing out the windshield, the stirring of the arriving guests exiting their limos, he gives both hardening nipples a final brush over, covers the puckering nubs with the narrow straps of the dampening gown, reaches up and presses the sliver of dripping ice between her parting lips.

In just moments the passenger door opening, her long legs exiting, and exiting the crafted interior, her bare thighs exposed up to her hips, and then some, she seductively maneuvers her way out of the cockpit’s contoured seat, her evenly tanned body obviously nude beneath the lighting filtering through the micro thin lace, three buttons spaced widely down the front the only support holding the scanty material together across her rock hard nipples.  The valets stopping in their tracks, stare at the nearly five foot ten inches of curves and legs, not counting the fashionable, at least on her, four inch stilettos, of course also matching black.  Her incredibly firm breasts glistening from the melted ice, the symmetrical mounds revealed from either side as she bows her back are barely held in check beneath the plunging spaghetti straps stretching down across her arching chest.

Eyes piercing, dark behind the pair of oval slits in the narrow contoured black silk mask, her lipstick bright red covering her slightly parted moist lips matching her manicured fingers, toenails, her dark raven hair stretches severely back, high off her forehead above her simple disguise.  Instantly drawing more then her share of stares with her statuesque posture as she unabashedly displays herself, she arches her shoulders even further back, palms of her hands brushing gently across the sides of her sleek thighs as she silently stares forward.

Stepping out himself, tux perfect with the special pair of pins on its lapel sparkling, his jaw rock hard, shoulders broad, he hands the key to the valet, probably a college fullback or something by his size.  Cupping the outthrust hand with a powerful grip of his own as he glances down through his eye mask at the kid’s name tag, he warns.  ?Do anything stupid and fuck this car up, I’ll jam this big paw of yours clear up through your mouth via your asshole? Now I know you wouldn’t want that!? Now would you???? Is? Is it? Jake??

The wide eyes of the valet staring back obviously a sign of understanding as his huge knuckles are crunched together like the way he usually likes to deliver his own handshake, with a hesitant and painful nod, he grunts.  ?Yea? Yes sir? I? I understand!? Okay!... Okay!... Yes!?

?And you know something?... I want you to remember this now????? Listen up real good? I mean what I said, Jake!... I really do!?  Turning as he releases the cupped hand, hesitating, he turns back with a half smile.  ?Oh? Bond? James Bond.?  Turning again, stepping around the front of the Aston Martin, glancing toward the other three valets now practically surrounding his prized attention grabbing pair of companions for the evening, and obviously awestruck by either, the woman or machine, he takes her hand, nods toward the gawking trio.  ?You young punks couldn’t handle either of them even if you wanted too? And I know, you all do? Want too try, that is.?

The obligatory red carpet under the tent awning, escorting her past the onlookers, the mounting of the three granite steps in her stilettos causing her ample breasts to jiggle, spread the plunging neckline of her dress even wider revealing the dark dimensions of her shimmering areolas, ignoring, allowing the exposure, she maintains her seductive posture as they step through the pre-opened double doors, past the nodding doormen acknowledging their arrival.

Chapter Two

The Halloween ball’s well underway throughout the mansion as he glances around, surveys what he’s been accustomed too for so many years.  The portrait of his old friend staring down brings a slight grin as he nods back up in appreciation, after all, without him, there wouldn’t be any of these occurrences to attend.  Glancing toward the same old Napoleonic circa grandfather clock tucked in a corner, the golden pendulum swaying back and forth beneath the glistening glass, seeing the gilded hands pointing at half past ten; it’s just less than two hours before midnight, the time the evening really kicks off for him each year he attends.

Scanning the corridors both directions, up the circling staircase to another set of closed six panel doors, the countless costumes, or lack of, the typical array of invited ‘B’ type personalities already rivals in sheer numbers some of the more memorable occasions of the past.  He knows by tradition that the second floor, where the real selection of some of the ‘A’ list collects, didn’t become accessible until ten o’clock.  Still gripping the hand of his virtually silent partner, passing a couple overly large man servants positioned at the bottom of the stairs to allow only the selected, only the VIP guests with the gold stick pins past, leading her up the grand stairs, to what’s been known to previous participants as to where ‘anything goes’, with less then a couple hours to spare he’ll take in the sights, the kinky fantasies acted out, maybe even forced on some of the more recent crop of celebrities, wanabees, and pretenders.  Again thinking back to the earlier days, the decadent era of the industry, it’s interesting to compare the ever evolving crop of celebrities, and whores of both sexes.

The closed entrance at the top of the landing also monitored, swung momentarily open for him and his guest, its corridor’s not as crowded as the first floor, again several rooms to ether side, all with open doors.  The first couple rooms as usual are drawing the most attention, where the most punishment is traditionally dealt out each year.  Accepting one of the drinks of several offered off the silver tray being handled by the nearly nude woman-child, one of many servicing the guests, her revealing outfit’s no different then from the very first he’d seen so many years ago, even her mannerisms the same as her substantial and basically bare breasts jaunt firmly out across the rim of the server as she stares straight ahead, gripping the tray from either side.  Slowly twirling the vodka martini in his grasp, he smiles to himself wondering if he should ask her if it’s been shaken and not stirred.

Watching her quietly step away to service others as he sips the drink, her boyish buttocks barely covered by the outfit as scanty as a thong bikini, her hair in a tight braid swaying behind her back, the knotted tip snapping back and forth across the hollow of her narrow waistline, he files her face away in his memory, certain he’ll be seeing much more of her before the event’s over, after all, that’s what she’s here for, and others like her.

Approaching the sound of snapping leather striking flesh, the whimper of a sobbing feminine voice in sequence above the rest of the random moans, groans from the other rooms, stopping and glancing in toward the spread-eagled bleached blond inside the first doorway, he takes in the erotic view of the nude young woman receiving a lashing.  A black silk eye mask, a bright red ball gag, otherwise naked with her wrist and ankles bound to the pair of ornate columns, a heavy, perspiring dark skinned woman in an obligatory maid’s outfit stands off to the side beside a column as she welds a glistening riding crop.  Red welts crisscrossing the blonde’s milky flesh, the welts centered mostly across her bare breasts, her shaven pubic area, one or two across her flattened stomach, at least a couple dozen lashings already been applied.

A closer look, the flogging recipient obviously more then resembles a well known pop star, and with good reason.  Even her whimpers duplicate the star’s voice range as her crimson striped body tenses, her stomach hollows beneath the streaks of perspiration dripping down across her taut thighs with each whistling flick of the crop.  Her wide brown eyes hazy through the mask’s oval slots, her fists alternately spreading, stiffly clenching with each taste of the leather across her bare flesh, she twists, curls her naked body, the tremors of her tensing muscles, tendons standing out beneath her glistening skin.  Watching a few more well placed strokes, a couple directed directly between her quivering thighs, flattening her swelling cuntlips, forcing her to reflexively dance on her tiptoes between screeches, while feeling his companion’s hand squeezing his, he wonders how much Rolling Stone would pay for a photo of this for their cover.

The maid stepping to the other side, flicking the crop back into a looping circle in both hands, letting the end spring free from her fingertips, the split ends burrow into the already bruised nipple, flattening the nub into the glistening flesh.  The grunt suppressed by the ball gag, the red welt brighter then the rest, the whip’s quickly bowed back, flicked across the other nipple being offered out from the twisting body.  Again the grunt, another bright crimson welt, tears streak down from the eye slots, drip across the naked breasts.  A third flexing snap from the bowed crop, the tip whipping upwards, digging into her vaginal area, disappearing between her discolored  and swollen labia lips, her naked body contorts, her toes skipping off the floor as she arches back, gurgles through the drenched red ball being gnawed between her sparkling white teeth.

Another lashing across the left tit, yet another across the right, the perspiring maid again steps toward the other column, positions herself behind the quivering blond.  The ‘swish’ of leather through air, the slender crop curling up and outward from between her spread thighs, the tip burrows into her bellybutton, again her naked body tiptoeing in a sadistic jig as her entire body tenses, contorts as she twists and bows in agonizing pain.

Pleasured but getting somewhat bored by the sight of the lashing, feeling his companion’s fingers continuing to firmly grasp his with each snap of the crop, he slowly steps back past the room’s group of enthusiastic onlookers, glances into the next room.  Another naked woman, another narrow black silk mask and bright red ball gag her only clothing as her glistening body bows outward as she straddles, tiptoes in short steps across a knotted rope stretching between her trembling legs.  Being followed off to the side by a hooded, muscular and shirtless male flicking a crop back and forth, he’s randomly smacking her buttocks occasionally to keep her moving.

An even larger group surrounding her watches intently as she’s being worked over.  Her breasts not overly large but complimentary to her slim frame, just nice firm mounds barely swaying above her curling stomach, the puckered nipples, dark and puckered are tightly clenched between tautly fixed clover clamps standing outright from her heaving chest.  The straddled rope stretching, the harsh strand springing taut as she’s painfully coached to haltingly maneuver from one knot to the next in the series of more then a dozen with her wrists bound behind her back, she obediently takes her measured steps as the tinged knots disappear beneath her flattening clit, reappear between her reddening butt cheeks.

The ends of her dark hair already matting across her glistening shoulders, her signature puffy lips drooling around the glistening ball, but still bright red with lipstick as her sternly expressional face tilts forward, the well known tattoos shine across her back, shoulders, she too obviously a celebrity willing to sacrifice pain for fame as lead weights dangle down from the chrome clamps each time a knot slips between her swelling labium.  Her grunts almost defiant with each crisp snap of the crop across her thrust out buttocks, her fingers interlocking across the dimples in her back, unable to reach down and block the blows highlighting her butt cheeks with crimson welts, the chaffing between her thighs shows this isn’t her first trip.

Waiting until she finally reaches the far wall, physically shudders for what seems at least a couple minutes while her chaffed labium’s roughly spread, stretched wider across the flexing rope flattening up against her engorged clit; she’s forced to begin another trek backwards over the noticeable crimson tint of the dampening knots after having another set of heavier weights added to her dangling nipple clamps.  Harsher groans, her famously recognizable naked body twisting as the crop’s being snapped across the chaffing lips of her labium to keep her moving now, her dark, swollen eyes piercing as she glares toward the doorway, then locks directly onto his eyes momentarily before glancing knowingly at his companion as she staggers back, a tinge of blood dripping from the rope.

Turning away from the forced grunts, the sight of the mesmerizing treatment of the mega star beauty, he smiles at the thought that she’s actually one he’s quite familiar with, even still seeing her occasionally.  After all, he was her initial sponsor just a few years ago, allowing her to be the star she is today by bringing her here for her initiation and induction into the alliance.  Stepping back toward the hallway, leaving another of his prot?g?s behind, he recalls the mansion’s history, of all the years of seeing so many so much like her, of the powerful, the idolized, the stars of the past several decades in these very rooms, willingly humiliated, tortured in front of even more stars, celebrities, just to be guaranteed their celebrity status.  And, afterwards, the gossip rags reporting their short disappearances to recuperate as jauntlets to exclusive spas, health clubs, to get in shape for upcoming projects, all a bunch of bullshit of course, as they were actually licking their wounds from these Halloween galas, from paying their dues.

Slowly shaking his head, wondering what the general public would think if they really knew, or better yet, if they did know, what they would give to be here, he leads his latest prot?g? on.  The rest of the open doors, inside their rooms not the brutal physical punishment but mostly raw, animalistic sex, group, interracial, lesbian, you name it, and all still being done with both the established and hanger on inhabitants of this powerful community as they’re submitting to being humiliated, and more.

One catching his eye, a dark haired reality channel celebrity’s surrounded, being drilled repeatedly in all three orifices simultaneously as she’s sprawled back, contorting naked on a workout bench for all comers.  Obviously a non talented slut along with her almost as popular sisters, he again grins to himself, at least knowing the answer that so many normal people wonder about, just what the fuck makes their dysfunctional family so special to have their own air time.  Well, besides a family that must reside at a plastic surgeon’s office, her willing to suck the right cocks and taking it in the ass seems to be high on that list.  Her legs spread, her substantial buttocks bouncing up and down as her drenched store bought tits stand practically straight up as the mounds of silicon resists swaying from side to side while both her gripping fists stroke other cocks almost simultaneously, her naked body glistens from the copius amounts of semen already ejaculated across her dark tanning booth complexion.

Not much of a show by his account, if it had been up to him she would be getting that big ass of hers flogged raw.  Stepping on down the hall to take in the other sites, passing the time nearing the witching hour watching the unrestrained indulgence, thinking how this particular event in this house every year never fails to bring out the voluntary sadistic treatment of so many of the famous to maintain their status, he glances toward his own companion’s daunting breasts jaunting outward virtually exposed beneath the shimmering lace, then up toward the silent, almost stoic expression on her perfectly made up face as she’s rapidly learning what it takes to be guaranteed stardom.

Quarter till midnight, till Halloween proper, trekking down the staircase with her in tow, through some of the beautiful, yet mundane portion of the crowd just lucky enough to even be allowed to mingle throughout the first floor, where the more ‘normal’ gala’s taking place, stepping past those countless celebrity photos covering both walls, he approaches the ancient elevator, another pair of man servants to either side of its scissors gate.  Flashing his silver pin, the black wrought iron gate swinging open, he steps onto the springing surface, turns to his companion, glances into her eyes behind the oval slits.  Her choice to continue still being her own up till now, she returns his silent nod, steps beside him, accepts the consequences of knowing the elevator’s her point of no return as it begins its decent.  The jerking motion, the real reason for this weekend’s Halloween extravaganza for him awaits them below as the minutes continue to tick down till he witching hour.

Facing her, unbuttoning her trio of shimmering black buttons, slipping the clinging micro fabric back off her arching shoulders revealing her incredibly gorgeous body, the smooth, flat areolas with inverted nubs perfectly centered on her symmetrical mounds standing upright, he folds the material, stuffs it in his pocket as she remains stoic.  The slow decline of the elevator, his fingers begin manipulating her bare flesh while he presses a button with his free hand.  The lift quivering to a halt between levels, pressing her back against the cage, he lifts her right leg, arches it up across his shoulder with her ankle resting against his neck, the heel of her stiletto pressing against the far wall.

Pinning her shoulders back against the side of the cage with one hand, her vagina spread into a gapping slit between her taut thighs as her legs scissors, she remains silently obedient, willingly accepting his maneuvering while continuing to stare straight ahead.  Unzipping his trousers, slipping the crown of his thickening shaft between her legs, gliding inward inside her moist slit, he feels her naked body quivering as her nipples harden into puckered cones, barely jiggling as her firm mounds gently sway toward her armpits.  Gentle thrusts at first, then a little firmer, then harsher, finally impaling thrusts, her lips part, the tip of her tongue flicking back and forth, curling as her quiet moans become controlled grunts in sequence with his burrowing cock.  Face to face, her eyes still staring past his, her fists clench at the cage behind her as he thrusts one last time, holds firm.

?When the elevator reaches the lower level, you’ll be greeted by some more of my friends.?  He speaks in his authoritative tone as he cups her breasts, firmly squeezes the full mounds, forcing the nipples to swell between his fingertips.  ?Obey? And accept what’s expected of you ? Your treatment will be harsh? Extremely harsh? But remember? There are no second chances? Are you willing??  He continues as his cock remains firm, pulsing against her stretching vaginal walls, her naked body shuddering as she barely nods she understands, biting at her lower lip as she tiptoes ever higher in her singular heel rising on the floor, her other leg taut, her foot still hoisted above his shoulder.

Slipping his hands from her breasts, sliding a fingertip gently across her still parted lips, he arches back, allows his cock to slip from between her spread thighs while almost gently lowering her leg.  Zipping his trousers shut, pressing the button on the panel, the jerk of the elevator and it’s in motion, in moments reaching the lower level.  Aggressively turning her toward the room hand in hand, not as brightly lit, the area actually in a shadowy dimness, the atmosphere if anything seems more serious, even more sinister.  The select group mingling about in hooded robes also virtually silent, a few stares turning toward the elevator acknowledges his presence, turns to his splendidly naked companion who’s convinced herself she’s willing to do almost anything to become a star, even accept whatever tonight’s initiation enthralls.

His piercing eyes following the silhouette of her glistening form stepping off from the elevator, he releases her hand, the first few of the dozen chimes echoing down the shaft from above.  Watching the latest wannabee star he’s sponsoring being surrounded, her naked body methodically groped, explored as she’s being led to a singular device mounted in the center of the floor where her initiation will commence, the hint of a smile’s on his face as he thinks to himself, yes, its good being a king maker, and being immortal, or in a mere human’s mind, the equivalent of what they would believe to be a Warlock.   Only he’s much more powerful, and dangerous.  Yes much more as his dark glaring eyes take on a reddish glow behind the mask’s slits while the clock from above chimes for the twelfth time.

Stepping from the elevator, slowly striping himself, he watches her being manipulated, being bound on her backside spread-eagled.  Stepping between her taut thighs with her naked body now as vulnerable as perfect, she’s no longer in control of her fate.  The next few hours will be excruciatingly, even unimaginably painful for her.  Then, she’ll finally get his promise to her, her wish fulfilled, that’s if she’s lucky enough to survive, physically or mentally.

End Part Two