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Subject: {ASSM} Tom Bombadil - The Masks - A Horror Story  [ F/M, F/F, nc, snuff, vampire, magic ]
Date: Wed, 29 Oct 2003 00:10:06 -0500
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Reposted with permission

Goldberry
Goldberry12spam@hotmail.spamcom (you can figure this out :)

Emails to me or posts to assd will also be read by Tom.

Enjoy!



The Masks - A Horror Story  [ F/M, F/F, nc, snuff, vampire, magic ]

Short Story #3
by Tom Bombadil  (c) Oct 1996
Rewritten Oct 2003

Disclaimer:  All the standard rules apply.  If you are offended by 
explicit descriptions of sex or the human body, if it is illegal to 
possess such materials at your location, if you are under-age by law in 
your location, or if somebody else thinks you might have too much fun 
reading it, stop right now and remove this text from your computer.

This is purely a work of fiction, with all characters and actions 
described by me coming straight out of my imagination.  As a work of 
fiction, it does not condone or condemn any of the activities or actions 
described, nor does it relate to any type of real events in my life, or 
known to me in the lives of any of my friends or relatives.

You've been warned.

Author's note:  Squeamish?  Prone to nightmares?  Afraid of strange 
noises in the night?  Maybe you'd better try a different story.  This 
one is for those who like cold chills, shivers, and goosebumps, as well 
as other things that rise up and get hard.  It is not for the faint of 
heart.

********************************************************************

John sat naked on the earthen floor, nervously playing with his 
manacles.  There were twelve links of steel chain joining his iron wrist 
cuffs together, and forty-four links securing that chain to a u-shaped 
bolt driven deep into the brick wall.  He had counted them over and over 
again, and tested the strength of every link more times than he could 
possibly remember.  Other than stare at the masks lining this room, his 
prison, there was very little else to do.  A year had gone by since he 
had been brought here.  "Only a year?" he thought.  "It feels like a 
lifetime."  He knew that tonight was the night because they had brought 
back the altar.  Tonight they would kill him.  Tonight he would be set 
free from the torments.  He was dreading what would happen, dreading the 
agony he knew he would have to endure, but at the same time craving the 
only release from his torments that he could expect from his captors.  
He prayed again, fervently hoping that they would keep their promise.  
He believed that another night or two of their fun would drive him 
completely insane, if he wasn't there already.

---------------

Wally took another sip of his beer.  It was hard to hear what his 
girlfriend Jennifer was yelling over the noise of the music and the 
party.  After turning his head a little and covering his other ear, he 
could just make out her words.

"THERE'S SOMEONE AT THE DOOR!" she yelled into his ear.

"OKAY!" he shouted back.

Making his way out of the party room, he escaped into the relatively 
quiet entrance hall, where the front door stood open.  Eerie purple and 
orange lights flickered on and off, accompanied by cackles and moans 
from a speaker on the veranda.  Two pumpkins, one grinning, one 
frowning, faced outwards from the window ledge.

All that was caught in the periphery of his vision, and he ignored it 
since he had seen it all at least a hundred times that day.  As the 
'official' doorman, he had already greeted several dozen party goers, 
and handed out treats to a long stream of little witches, goblins, power 
rangers, morphing something-or-others, kitty cats, and lord-only-knows-
what-else.  What made him stop and stare were the two girls - ladies, 
actually - who stood at the door.

"Beautiful" was the word he thought of first.  Then "gorgeous, stacked, 
hot, killer, awesome," and then "If Jenny knew what I was thinking, she 
would kill me!"  However, he didn't know either of them, so he was 
supposed to turn them away.  Officially, he wasn't allowed to let gate 
crashers in.

"Hi," said the smaller of the two, the blonde bombshell, the vixen.  He 
thought maybe five-one, five two in her heels, maybe a hundred pounds 
soaking wet with half of that in the knockers she showed up front.  
Black eye shadow around huge blue eyes, a makeup mole on her chin, black 
peaked hat, small black mask pushed up to her forehead, a low cut black 
dress who's ragged bottom edge didn't completely hide the tops of her 
seamed black thigh-high stockings, and black patent stiletto pumps 
dressed up the witch.  "Like, I hope you don't mind us coming.  Dave, 
like, kinda mentioned the party to us?"  

"Valley girl," he thought to himself.  "Excellent imitation valley 
girl."

"Yes," said the taller of the two.  At six one, Wally wasn't used to 
looking up at a woman, and it made him a little nervous, especially with 
that hungry look deep in her dark brown eyes.  She wasn't stacked like 
the blonde, but from what he could see peeking out over the top of her 
strapless purple gown, she was definitely not lacking, and what she had 
matched perfectly with her long, lean frame.

He stared at her mouth as she spoke.  "He said it would be all right as 
long as we brought some treats."  Blood-red lips set off by powder-white 
skin framed vampire teeth with upper canines and matching lower fangs.  
She made a good imitation of the Bela Lugosi vampire accent.  Wally 
still stared, trying to figure out where she got choppers that looked so 
good and so natural.  

He mentally shook himself back to awareness.  Those brown eyes 
frightened him a little, and he chided himself for getting faked out by 
her excellent costume and makeup.

"If Mike or Pat ever found out I turned away a pair of gate crashers 
like this," he thought to himself, still staring at the vampire, "they'd 
use me for a tackling dummy!"

"Uh, treats?" he found himself mumbling out loud.  Then a little voice 
inside of him yelled "Get a hold of yourself!  Jenny's probably watching 
right now!"

"Of course.  Treats!"  With a flourish, the tall, black-haired white-
skinned woman brought both hands out from the depths of her black cloak.  
One held a bottle of Smirnoff's, and from the other dangled a two-four 
of Heineken.  Her slender arms didn't look like they were straining at 
all, offering him the two dozen beers and the forty-pounder.  He took 
the box and, yes, it was full.  He had doubted that for a second.  The 
vodka bottle was also full and still sealed.

Putting the beer and vodka on the floor, he glanced nervously over his 
shoulder, then back at the women.  "Don't," he squeaked.  After clearing 
his throat he tried again.  "Don't go anywhere.  Stay right there.  I'll 
be right back!"  There was nobody named Dave at the party, and nobody 
named Dave had been invited, either.  He knew that for sure, because he 
had handled all the invitations and R.S.V.P.'s himself.  That they were 
lying didn't particularly surprise or bother him.  

Wally dashed back into the party room, frantically searching for one of 
his football teammates.  If he could get either of them to invite the 
girls in, he would be off the hook and they would owe him a big favour.  
Picturing the two women in his mind again, he figured they would owe him 
several favours!

Spotting Pat trying to talk with Little Missy Stacey, the school prude, 
he knew the guy was desperate.  Bouncing a piece of candy off his 
friend's forehead to get his attention, Wally waved frantically, 
motioning that Pat should come over right away.  Frowning, Pat did.

"THIS BETTER BE GOOD, WALLY!  I JUST ABOUT HAD HER COMING HOME TO MY 
PLACE!" shouted Pat with a hint of anger.

"In your dreams," thought Wally.  Instead of voicing that thought, he 
yelled "FOLLOW ME!"

They made it out to the foyer as fast as Wally could drag the bigger 
man.  To his relief, both women were still standing in the doorway.  
"Pat, this is, uh ..." Wally faltered, suddenly realizing he didn't have 
a clue what their names were.

"Babs" giggled the diminutive blonde.  "Short for Babba Yagga."

"And I am Contessa Vladmira," purred the taller one.  The black-haired 
beauty held out her hand to Pat, palm down, wrist bent.  He stared at it 
for a second, then took it in his own.  When he attempted to shake 
hands, she just stared at him, not hiding her amused smile in the least, 
waiting for something else.  He soon got the idea.  Bending at the 
waist, he pressed his lips to the back of her hand.  She smiled, rather 
toothily, in pleasure.

"There's a small problem, Pat."  Wally had to repeat himself after 
jabbing the quarterback in the ribs.  "These girls don't seem to be on 
the guest list.  I can't just let them in without them being invited.  
Maybe you can think of something?"

"I, uh, ah, well ..."  The six foot three inch two hundred and twenty 
pound all-conference quarterback just stood there with his mouth open.  
He was staring mindlessly, held in the gaze of the taller woman, eye to 
eye with her.  Wally could imagine a stream of drool trailing down from 
the corner of Pat's mouth.  He figured a little mindless slobber would 
make the scene a perfect Kodak moment.

"Uh, Pat?"  Wally put another elbow into Pat's ribs and actually got his 
attention this time.  "I don't remember you bringing a guest.  Maybe if 
I pencil one of them in as your date, and the other one as Mike's date, 
it would be all right?  Or would that be bending the rules a bit too 
much?"

"Oh, no.  No.  I mean yes!  No!  Oh, put them in the freakin' guest book 
already!"  His eyes never moved from the hypnotic, bottomless pools he 
was falling into.  "It's all settled, ladies."

After a few more seconds of staring, the Contessa spoke to Pat.  "Will 
you not invite us across the threshold?"

Wally thought that a very odd expression, but shrugged it off as being 
in character.  "Vampires need an invitation before entering someone's 
home", he thought to himself, remembering one of the old horror flicks 
he had seen.

"Come in, come in!"  Pat held out his hand, and the vampire woman flowed 
into the hallway.  Flowed was the only way Wally could describe it.  Her 
purple gown and black cloak both reached down to within an inch of the 
floor, hiding all traces of her legs and feet.  If they were anywhere 
near as good as the rest of her, he thought, she would be nothing short 
of gorgeous.  There was no hint of movement, no sense of her walking as 
she travelled.  Morticia Addams would have been proud of that walk.

There was another brief silence as the Contessa gazed pointedly at 
Wally.  He stared stupidly back, his mind suddenly gone numb, until a 
quick shifting of her eyes made him look towards the doorway.  Babs was 
standing there, holding out her hand, looking at him and waiting.  He 
gulped, took her hand in his, and invited her inside.  

For a moment, her eyes got huge as he stared into them, causing him to 
forget where he was and what he was doing.  She stood on tiptoe, sliding 
one hand behind his neck to pull him down for a kiss, a lingering peck 
on the cheek that was only interrupted by an ahem from behind him.  It 
was with red-faced guilt that he turned around.  Babs' look, her touch, 
and her chaste kiss had him more aroused than his girlfriend Jennifer 
had managed to do in their three years together.  Jennifer was standing 
there, staring daggers, having been a witness to Babs' and John's 
intimacy.

"And who might you be?" asked the Contessa, as she glided past both men 
to stand in front of the unmasked catwoman.

"Jennifer," blurted Wally, suddenly ashamed for what had happened.  He 
didn't really remember doing anything to be ashamed of, but he was.  "My 
girlfriend."

"Beautiful," was the Contessa's reply, looking at the sleek form of the 
redhead.  Jennifer was proud of her body, and worked hard to keep it 
tight and trim.  The leather outfit she wore showed off everything to 
perfection.  Even the little cat-ears she wore looked good.  Her hazel 
eyes seemed to lose focus as she met the stare of the Contessa.  The 
tall woman leaned forward and planted a kiss in the centre of Jennifer's 
forehead.  A perfect lipstick print marked the site of the smooch, the 
blood-red colour contrasting well against her pale, freckled skin.  
Jennifer shuddered slightly after that kiss, seeming to come out of a 
light trance.

"Uh, hi?" she mumbled rather uncertainly.

"I'll see you inside" the Contessa said with a hint of a smile, still 
holding Jennifer's gaze.  Looking back over her shoulder, she spoke to 
Pat.  "Come, come.  The night is waiting!  There is much to see, much to 
do."  It seemed that only her grip on his hand managed to get him to 
move.  That brought him back to life, and he grinned and winked at Wally 
as he passed.

"I'll see you inside too," whispered the blonde, as she walked by Wally, 
trailing her hand across his stomach.  Despite himself, he had the 
hardest lump in his pants he could ever remember having.  It was verging 
on being painful.  Jennifer didn't seem to notice his discomfort, just 
moving to one side to let Babs into the party room.  She and Wally 
stared at each other for a few seconds, then Jennifer blushed a deep, 
red colour.  "Oh my god!" she whispered, her hand covering her mouth.

Wally walked over, put his arms around her neck, and kissed her.  She 
melted into him, her tongue attacking his and her hips grinding into his 
crotch.  Only after they broke apart again, both needing to breathe, did 
he use a handy napkin to wipe the lipstick from her forehead.

"Let's get back to the party," she whispered.

He adjusted himself, trying to avoid further embarrassment, before 
following her.

---------------

John couldn't help staring at the empty shadow box hanging there on the 
wall.  Soon, he knew, it would hold his mask.  It would join all the 
others on the walls.  One hundred and forty nine masks stared at him.  
One hundred on the wall to his left; forty nine on the wall to his 
right.  His was to be number one hundred and fifty.  "An honour", they 
had told him.  "You should be proud of such a place of distinction," 
they said.  "It's been a half-century since we finished off one wall and 
had the big celebration.  Tonight's party will be just as big."

"I can hardly wait," he thought to himself, almost crying when he 
realized it was the truth.

The masks stared at him, glared at him, pleaded with him, silently 
screamed at him.  He knew them all.  Every one had a name, every one had 
a story.  His name, in gilt-clad bronze script, was already attached to 
the frame for his mask.  They told him it would be his home for 
eternity.  Or until they needed to clean house.  They laughed, as though 
that was supposed to be a joke.  He could feel the gazes from all those 
empty eyes, could almost sense the intelligence behind them, the people 
they had been.  He shook his head.  He knew his imagination was working 
overtime again.  He knew that they were only lifeless objects, the 
images of the people who had died here.  That was all they could be.

The last mask victim, the one he had seen in the flesh, was Steven.  He 
was an artiste, they had told him.  He painted, and carved rock, and 
jogged and cycled.  His body was like a Greek statue when they found 
him, they had said.  What John remembered was a thin, frail young man, 
shaking with fear, eyes sunk deep in his head, looking more like a war 
refugee than the healthy young man the women had described.  That was 
just before they placed his mask on his face and killed him.  

Him, and Heather ...

---------------

Wally didn't notice much of the rest of the party.  His mind seemed to 
be wandering around in strange places all by itself, without him really 
being there.  One of the few things that stood out was the tall woman's 
rejection of Pat and Mike.  "They're the wrong blood type," was her 
laughing comment.  Neither of the guys seemed much amused, though they 
were drinking the women's beer quickly enough.  He had spotted them 
spiking a couple of beers with vodka which they then handed to the 
ladies, apparently hoping to get them drunk in a hurry.  He also watched 
the women switch bottles with the guys when they weren't looking.  He 
couldn't remember seeing either of the women actually drink anything.

Then there was the lack of attention from the rest of the crowd.  It was 
a school party, a frat party with lots of unattached hormone-laden, 
egotistical men hanging around, waiting for opportunity to knock.  
Opportunity was knocking, but no one was answering the door.  Waly could 
not imagine any circumstances, short of the dean's wife standing behind 
them with a shotgun, that would have staved off the rush to get to know 
these two new bombshells.  Yet, they were being ignored by almost 
everyone.

Another of the things that really struck him as weird and unusual was 
Jennifer's actions around the taller woman.  He knew Jennifer was not a 
lesbian, or bisexual, or anything like that.  After three years of a 
very adventurous relationship, they'd explored just about everything 
either was interested in.  Despite several safe opportunities, his 
girlfriend had never shown any inclinations towards same-sex sex.  
Tonight was a different story.  Jennifer was acting like a teenager on a 
first date, blushing and stammering any time the Contessa whispered 
anything in her ear.  The Contessa's constant flirting with his 
girlfriend was making him quite jealous.

The last thing bothering him was Jennifer's attention to Babs.  Or 
rather, her lack of attention to what Babs was doing.  Despite the fact 
that the petite blonde was playing up to him in a very obvious manner, 
Jennifer paid no attention to him or to her.  That she saw it was 
undeniable.  Wally simply didn't know what to do.  The worst part was 
that he was finding it so hard to think coherently, as every time he 
looked into those bewitching blue eyes, he found himself falling into 
them again, his thoughts derailed, his concerns fading into 
insignificance.

Finally, as he was returning from a bathroom break, Jennifer grabbed him 
and dragged him out to the foyer.  "It's time to go," she stated rather 
urgently.  She looked drugged, with a flushed face, dilated and glassy 
eyes, and a hurried, almost frantic tone to her voice.

While under other circumstances he would have been quite happy to leave 
with an obviously highly aroused Jennifer, he was nervous.  He tried the 
excuse that he still had a job to perform.  "What about my duties as the 
door man?"

"Do not worry," said a voice behind him.  "Pat will cover for you."  He 
turned and stared at the Contessa, then at a rather cowed, sheepish 
looking Pat.

"Er, ah, yeah.  You go ahead.  I'll look after things here."

"C'mon guys, I'm double parked out here!"

Wally turned and looked out the front door when he heard that laughing, 
teasing voice.  Babs was there, waiting for them.  

"The Contessa's invited us to her house for a private party," Jennifer 
whispered in his ear.  "Isn't that great?"  

Words could not express how that statement made Wally feel.  
Anticipation, lust, jealousy, all tainted with fear, fought for 
dominance.  A tiny alarm bell sounded in the back of his head though, 
because of the way Jennifer was acting.  It was silenced as  Babs came 
inside, put her arms around his neck, and gazed coyly into his eyes.  
"Don't you want to come home with me?"

Those blue eyes were bigger and brighter than ever, and they once again 
captured him.  Wally could feel his fears dissipating, his will being 
drained away.  He nodded.  Babs then took his left arm, Jennifer his 
right, and as they both nibbled on his ears they walked him out the 
door.

When they were all outside, the Contessa threw him his jacket, then 
helped Jennifer into hers.  They climbed into the Contessa's Pathfinder, 
she and Jennifer in the front seat, Babs and him in the back.  It was a 
puzzle to him how they had managed to separate himself and Jennifer so 
quickly.  

The vampire woman drove off in a rush of fallen leaves.  A gibbous moon 
peeked in and out of the clouds, making the almost-bare trees look like 
spectres as their branches waved in the gusting winds.

It was a perfect night for Halloween.  

---------------

John wondered if he would go the same way as the last guy.  That look of 
agony and ecstasy on the man's face, preserved forever in his mask, was 
frightening enough, but it also made him morbidly curious about what it 
felt like right at that peak instant.

All of the masks held some sort of terror, or agony, or tortured bliss 
in their visages.  The amount of pain and horror contained within all 
those blank, staring eyes, had given him nightmares beyond counting.  
His own torments, those inflicted on him on an irregular basis, were bad 
enough.  They were echoed and amplified by the silent screams of the 
unmoving witnesses to his suffering.

In the centre of the room, the altar waited.  It was waiting for him, 
waiting for his blood.  He could feel the hunger emanating from it.  It 
had fed many times, judging by the stains covering its once-pristine 
marble surface.  More stain than white, with stains covering stains, 
which covered yet other stains.  Stone rings waited for ropes at each 
bottom corner, and again at each top corner.  Carved panels on the near 
sides showed men hunting boars and bears, while other less-defined 
creatures hunted the men.

The end of the ritual he witnessed when he was captured was still fresh 
in his mind -- the blood flowing again, gushing from that fatal wound, 
running down the victim's sides in dark rivulets, covering the altar and 
splashing onto the dirt floor.  And afterwards, the ritual knife being 
tossed casually onto the dirt floor.  The cut bindings being tossed 
casually onto the dirt floor.  The soulless husk that was once a man 
being toppled casually onto the dirt floor.  His fiancee ... 

With a shake of his head, John tried to escape from that path, forcing 
his thoughts to go elsewhere, not wanting to revisit those horrifying 
scenes any more.

Once again he pulled at the chains holding his wrists, though he knew it 
was futile.  Back when he was captured, he was able to bench press three 
hundred pounds.  Back then he had worked feverishly trying to rip the 
chains from the wall, or to snap one of the links, or to tear the 
shackles from his wrists.  He doubted whether he could still press an 
empty weight bar now.  The chains and fetters that kept him from freedom 
weighed heavily.

He knew another kind of freedom was coming.  He waited impatiently.  He 
had been waiting for it for some time.

---------------

There was a feverish intensity within the vehicle, something that 
touched a chord deep in the animal part of Wally's brain.  The woman who 
called herself Babba Yagga was openly kissing him and fondling his cock 
through his pants, while Jennifer sat calmly in the front seat.  Pulling 
himself together for a few seconds, ignoring her attentions, he pushed 
her aside and called to his girlfriend.

"Jenny, I don't think this is a good idea.  I think we should go home 
instead.  Please?"

It was then he noticed Jennifer's white knuckles, her hand grasping the 
fabric of the back of the seat.  She turned to him, her eyes open wide 
yet hardly noticing that he was there, a look of flushed intensity on 
her face he had never seen before.  She was biting her lip, and watched 
without complaint or comment as Babs reached over and grabbed his cock 
through his pants.  Finding his cock wasn't difficult, since he was 
still as stiff as he could ever remember being.  Babs' face moved to 
block off his view, and he heard a gasp.

"No!" came a shout, followed by a whispered "no."  Jennifer continued in 
a faint voice, "I'm going with them."  Another groan filled the vehicle.  
Wally wasn't sure if it came from her or from him.

Summoning the last of his willpower, willpower which was being sucked 
out of him by the intense gaze of a pair of blue eyes and the feel of 
those soft lips on his, he undid his seat belt and stood to see what was 
happening in the front of the vehicle.  His face went blank with 
surprise when he saw what was really going on.  His girlfriend's pants 
were undone, and the Contessa's hand was inside them, buried deep in the 
crotch, moving around.  Jennifer's panting breath gave her tacit 
approval, and her low moan when she noticed him staring let him know she 
would be allowing the vampire lady to do things to her that went well 
beyond what he thought she would ever willingly consent to.

A pair of slender arms, eerily strong, pulled him back into his seat, 
back into the corner, back into the grasp of the blonde woman, back into 
an open-mouthed kiss that drove the last bit of rationality from his 
head.  Finally succumbing, he grabbed her and started kissing back.

Within moments, his zipper was undone and his cock was waving around in 
the cool air.  It seemed to draw the witch like a moth to a flame.  He 
felt her touch and it burned so nice.  He felt her lips, and they were 
cool and soft.  He felt her breath, and it was warm and moist.  He felt 
the inside of her mouth, and lost himself in the incredible heat.  Her 
tongue moved incessantly.  She sucked and blew and moved up and down and 
moaned and slobbered and slurped, and the tiny part of his mind that 
could still think couldn't remember ever feeling anything like that 
before.  All the while her eyes were locked on his, drawing him deeper 
into her seductive spell, making him want her more than anything else in 
the world.

Jennifer's cry of completion beat his by seconds.  He felt something 
grab his insides and squeeze, and each pulse drove more of his seed out 
of him and into her waiting mouth.  It squeezed, and squeezed again, as 
she continued to suck.  Another squeeze, almost painful in its 
intensity, forced a groan out of him.  A final pulse had him curling up 
around his stomach in pain, as she seemed to be drawing his soul out 
through his dick.  Only when he was completely limp did she let his 
member slide from her mouth.  With her finger she scooped up the few 
drips that had escaped and teasingly swallowed them down as well.

Some deep-throated groans from the front seat penetrated his mental fog, 
and told him Jennifer was far from spent.  He knew the noise she was 
making.  Only in their most passionate moments had he heard it, and 
those were the few times she had fucked him into a stupor.  To hear it 
now was unthinkable.  It was her hunger cry, the hunger of her need -- 
she would now keep going until there was no more strength left in her 
body.  Her rational self had given way to her animal desires.

The blonde finished undoing his pants and pulled them and his shorts 
down to his ankles.  Wally was barely aware of what she had done, and 
didn't notice much of anything until she climbed into his lap.  When she 
pulled up her dress, he wasn't surprised at all to see she wasn't 
wearing panties.  A bare, hairless, wet crotch hovered over top of his 
limp cock, and the moist heat radiating down started a revival.

Seemingly detached from the events unfolding before his eyes, he watched 
as his cock stiffened and rose.  It lifted up to touch the wetness 
waiting above.  A hand reached in at the appropriate moment and slid the 
tip through a hot, wet valley, pushing aside all the folds and wrinkles, 
and bouncing over top of an upside down hillock several times.  Finally 
a well was reached, and the valley sank down, burying him deep within 
the welcoming heat.

His conscious mind finally took note of the fact that he was buried to 
the hilt inside this beautiful blonde creature, and she was fucking him, 
slowly lifting herself up and settling back down, time and time again.  
He pulled her into another kiss, letting his hands wander around under 
her dress.  The flesh under there felt even softer, silkier and hotter 
than his imagination had said it would.

He was lost.  There was nothing left of him except lips and tongue, 
roaming hands, and a prick being massaged by a wonderfully warm, tight, 
velvety smooth sleeve of flesh.  And blue eyes.  Her eyes, surrounding 
him, enveloping him, wanting him.  He didn't know how long it took, and 
he didn't care.  All he knew was that the end came too soon, and he 
exploded in a final burst of pleasure.  Her eyes grew even larger, 
filling his world and his mind.  There was little left of his will, 
nothing left of his resistance.  With each surge and pulse, he fell 
deeper through those blue circles, deeper into the black centres.  When 
he finally groaned the end of his completion, there was nothing left 
except darkness.  He passed out.

When he finally gained some semblance of self again, slowly regaining 
consciousness, he realized that they had stopped.  They were in a two-
car garage, one lit only by a dim light.  Another vehicle stood beside 
theirs.  His pants and shorts were off, along with his shoes and socks.

Out in the garage, he could see Jennifer and the Contessa heading for a 
doorway.  Jennifer was also naked from the waist down.  The taller woman 
was fondling the redhead's bottom while unlocking the inner door and 
ushering her through.  Babs opened his door from the other side and 
pulled him out of the vehicle.  A cold draft, sliding in from somewhere 
outdoors, slithered and snaked its way around the floor, tickling him 
several times.  He shivered, and allowed himself to be led through the 
open door into a welcoming warmth.

---------------

John heard noises, the sounds of a door slamming, voices from above.  
"It's gonna happen.  They've got someone else."  He felt guilty about 
being happy, but still, the knowledge that his time was almost done 
brought out a few tears of relief.  He knew what was in store for the 
next guy, and the girl they probably had as well, but he no longer had 
enough emotion left to really care all that much.

He knew that even if he shouted as loud as he could, it would make no 
difference.  He had shouted enough in the past when there were noises, 
when those two women had brought home other toys to play with.  It had 
taken him quite a while to realize that several hidden microphones were 
piping in the sounds from elsewhere in that house.  His prison was quite 
soundproof.

The sounds of sex were becoming plain to hear, so he bent his head in 
silent prayer, both for himself and for the unsuspecting.

---------------

Wally was in heaven.  He was laying flat out on the carpet on his back, 
a cushion under his head, a mouth suckling on his member, and the taste 
of ambrosia in his mouth.  His tongue was buried inside Baba Yaga's 
crack as far as it could reach, and he was licking up everything it 
found.  He had no concerns about what he had deposited deep in there so 
recently, since it seemed to have disappeared.  Only the sweet juices 
oozing from her womanhood crossed his lips.  He wanted to stay like that 
forever.

Both of them were naked.  She had removed his shirt, the only bit of 
clothing had left, then allowed him to strip her bare.  He couldn't help 
but become aroused again while fondling all her abundant charms, 
especially those exuberant ones topped by strawberry coloured nubbins.  
He had fondled and caressed and squeezed and licked and tasted them 
until her increasing moans, and the signals from below, told him 
something else was in order.  She had taken control at that point, 
sliding him down to the floor, then mounting his face.

After her third climax, but before she finished him off again, she got 
up, leaving his shaft wet and hard and waving in the breeze.  "I've got 
to go and get things set up in the playroom.  You stay here and watch 
for a while.  I'll be back soon."  She left him with a kiss of promise, 
licking the inside of his mouth, stealing a little more of his soul with 
her eyes.

Too tired and mind-deadened to really do much else, he looked to see 
what the other two were doing.  His girlfriend was on her knees in front 
of the Contessa, who was standing with her legs spread wide, head thrown 
back, mouth open, and a wild look on her face.  The light glinted off 
those fangs of hers.  A crazy thought ran through his head - "I wonder 
if she bites while kissing?  Or while giving head?"  Her teeth looked 
sharp enough and real enough that he winced.

Both women were naked, and Jennifer was very busy in between the tall 
brunette's legs.  He watched in awe as his girlfriend's actions drove 
the other woman to her knees, then onto her back.  He stopped thinking 
again and just let the images flow into his brain when the vampire lady 
pulled Jennifer up from where she was kneeling, into an embrace and some 
full-mouthed French kissing.  

The sight of their bodies, one on top of the other, kept him near his 
peak.  Jennifer's skin was mostly pale, except for her face and arms, 
but it was the normal light pink colour of healthy, untanned skin.  That 
colour was dark compared to the pasty paleness of the Contessa.  She was 
a powdered white everywhere, except for the tips of her breasts and the 
edges of her labia.  The former was a pale pink and the latter a pale 
tan.  She had no hair below her neck to provide any relief for the 
glaring whiteness.  His girlfriend's carrot-tinted hair, both above and 
below, provided the only real splashes of colour on either of the women.

---------------

A noise at the door caught John's attention.  It was the witch woman, 
Baba Yaga, the one who had trapped him a year ago.  She was carrying a 
number of items that he guessed were going to be used later in a 
sacrifice.  His sacrifice and, he presumed, another's.  The large flat 
box he recognized.  It was the box that had held the last guy's mask 
before she used it on him.  Presumably it now held his.  John also 
recognized the long wave-bladed dagger with its black handle, and the 
vice-like implement used to immobilize the victim's head.  He didn't 
know why she needed the gloves or the bucket full of wet rags, but he 
knew from experience he would learn and wish he could have stayed 
ignorant.  Her small leather pouch, currently hanging around her neck, 
always contained something sinister.  She was naked and basically 
unarmed, although that hadn't make any difference when he was fresh and 
strong, and certainly wouldn't make any difference in his current 
debilitated, drained condition.

Leaving everything by the altar, she walked around and lit the four 
candelabra, one in each corner of the room, each one holding five black 
candles.  Once they were all burning to her satisfaction, she turned off 
the overhead neon lights.  Finally, she walked up to him.

"How's my little pet doing tonight?  Are you excited?  Are you thrilled 
to death?"  She laughed at her own joke.  "You soon will be, and it'll 
be so much fun!  We don't have much time left, so let's get a move on.  
I have to get you prepared."

With inhuman strength she prised open the bands holding him prisoner, 
using nothing but her hands.  He didn't try to run or resist, as he knew 
she was much faster and stronger than him, even back when he was  first 
brought here.  She had proven that with her fun and games many times.  
Rechained to the altar, face up and unable to move, with his head held 
still between the two sides of the clamp, he was pronounced ready for 
their ritual.  His head rested on one end of the alter, his bottom on 
the other.  Both legs were pulled wide and his feet forced to the floor 
by the tension of his bonds.  Satisfied with her work, she reached down 
and picked up her leather pouch.  From it she pulled a small wad of 
leaves coated in a greyish powder.

"Open wide.  Chew on this for a while.  After all, we wouldn't want you 
to miss any of the fun.  It'll keep you wide awake right to the end.  
Oh, and it'll keep you up 'til the end too, since tonight you'll need to 
perform like never before.  It'll be your greatest and, sadly, last 
performance.  After this, you'll be nothing but a voyeur."

John ignored her words for the most part.  He remembered the last ritual 
as vividly as if it had taken place an hour ago, so he didn't need her 
reminders.  That he would die he considered a given.  He welcomed that.  
Anything else he could bear, knowing that the end was finally coming.  
Even the pain.

After donning the rubber gloves, she began to wrap him in wet rags, 
pulling them carefully from the bucket so as not to accidentally get any 
of the liquid on herself.  His hands, arms, lower legs, feet, chest, and 
neck were mummified.  She pulled up his torso to slide some under his 
back and bottom.  His upper legs, crotch, lower torso and face were left 
bare.

"These'll start to tickle after a while.  Don't worry, the tickling 
won't last long.  No, it'll change to something a little more intense 
instead!"  She laughed again, then picked up the bucket and left.  It 
wasn't long before John found that she had spoken the truth, as a slight 
tingling/itching sensation broke out on his neck, echoed by a similar 
feeling on his chest.  He involuntarily let out a whimpering moan as he 
anticipated what was to come.

---------------

A hand snaking around his middle brought Wally's mind back into focus, 
or at least some of it.  With red lips attacking his face, two fleshy 
cushions letting his hands wander freely, and a hot crotch pressing into 
his manhood, his brain quickly got sidetracked again.  It took only a 
few moments for that beautiful witch, and his overheated libido, to 
bring him back to life.

This time, Babs turned him around and pulled him on top of her in the 
classic missionary position.  She was still sopping wet he noticed.  He 
slid home, bringing out a gasp from each of them.  When he looked up 
from their kiss, he saw that the other two had moved onto a couch only a 
few feet from where he and she were coupling on the floor.  The Contessa 
was sitting facing him, legs spread wide, smiling slightly and staring a 
challenge at him.  Jennifer was kneeling breast to breast with her, 
straddling the brunette's lap, knees on the couch on either side of the 
taller woman's hips.  Her head was resting on the woman's shoulder, and 
Wally could sometimes see her tongue licking at the woman's neck.  Both 
of Jennifer's arms were laying over the back of the sofa, out of the 
way.

When a pair of hands grabbed his buttocks and began a rhythmic pulling 
and pushing motion, he got the message and began stroking.  In his 
imagination, his tongue was also lapping at the two slits positioned no 
more than a yard away.  He watched the Contessa's hands roam all over 
the body he knew so well, over the rounded bottom, across the soft, 
muscular back, down the ribbed sides and around the narrow waist.  They 
roamed freely over territory that was once his exclusively.  The vampire 
woman's gaze met his, her eyes shining hungrily and daring him to 
interfere.  Wally found that he couldn't respond, that he had no will 
left to respond, so he pumped faster.

Amid the sounds of flesh slapping on flesh, his grunts, and the squeals 
coming out from under him, he heard the familiar moans and sighs of his 
girlfriend.  She was ready for more, he knew, and knew she would be 
getting it, if the look in the brunette's eye was what he thought it 
was.  As he watched, one of her hands snaked down between their bodies, 
down to the redhead's slot.  With one, then two, and eventually three 
fingers, she stuffed Jennifer's crotch.  By then her hand was holding 
still and his girlfriend's hips were moving up and down.  Jennifer's 
head and shoulders stayed quite still, almost disconnected from the 
activity lower down.  The Contessa stared at him, still challenging him 
to do something -- anything.  He still couldn't, so he pumped harder.

With squeals and whimpers, Babs and Jennifer both approached climax.  
The Contessa smiled at him, then opened her mouth wide to bare her 
fangs.  Moving very slowly, keeping her eyes trained on his, she lowered 
her head towards Jennifer's neck.  Jennifer groaned and let her head 
roll to the side, leaving herself completely exposed and vulnerable.  
The Contessa's eyes were intent on his, her expression haughty, 
revelling in his helplessness, while his attention was focused on her 
mouth.  He watched in an almost hypnotic trance as one fang touched the 
pale skin of his girlfriend, then with a slight push, broke through and 
sank a mere fraction of an inch into her tender flesh.  There was a 
brief pause in two sets of hips, then both he and Jennifer resumed their 
movements at a more fevered pace.

Groans and moans from two women filled the room, accompanied by the slap 
of flesh on flesh, and the liquid sounds of fingers plunging in and out 
of a wet vagina.  A trickle of blood, no more than a few drops, almost 
black in the dim light, oozed down the redhead's neck.  A tongue snaked 
out and lapped up the thick, slippery liquid, and when those few drops 
were gone, a pair of blood-red lips began to suck at the wound.  Seconds 
later, a sound of groaning, shrieking fulfillment erupted as blooded 
lips pulled away from the open wound.  Three women squealed in climax.  
He also lost it and began to shoot, pushing himself as hard and as deep 
as possible, expending himself like he had never done before, like he 
never believed himself capable of, with such strength and urgency that 
the bliss was threaded throughout with a gossamer web of pain.  Soft 
lips sealed themselves to his, sucking his tongue, sucking the breath 
from his lungs, sucking the strength from his body, seemingly draining 
his very life force, stopping only when he collapsed.

Completely emptied and exhausted, he lay there, breathing hard, waiting 
for life, and maybe sanity, to return.  A strong pair of arms rolled him 
over onto his back, then pulled him to his feet, long before he felt 
able to stand.  The blonde held him up and he vaguely wondered where she 
found the energy.

"Time to go to the playroom, my pet."

Out into the hall they went, her half carrying him, through a door, past 
some shelves, through another door and down some stairs.  What he saw 
down there looked like a normal basement.  Leading him over to a brick 
wall, she stopped and let him sag down to the floor.  Wally lay there 
like a collapsed mannikin.  He watched her reach behind a shelf and pull 
something.  With a slight squeak, a section of the brick wall opened.  
What he saw through the doorway was something dredged up from his worst 
nightmares.  

Babs grabbed his arm and dragged him, kicking and screaming, into the 
altar room.  He fought with all his strength, with muscles hard from 
exercise and training, with joints toughened by running, tackling and 
being tackled, with the adrenaline-boosted power of sudden terror.  She 
took no notice of any of his struggles, nor of his attempted punches or 
kicks.  She almost pulled his arm off when he grabbed the doorframe, but 
the only result was him losing skin from his palm and fingertips when he 
lost his grip.  With a fanatical gleam in her eye, and calm, deliberate 
movements, she soon had him shackled to the far wall.  After she pulled 
all the chains tight, she stepped back and admired her prize.

He was standing spread-eagled, iron cuffs circling his wrists and 
ankles, with strong chains securely fastened to them, and each of those 
chains snubbed up as tight as possible to metal rings anchored in the 
brick wall.  She stood still and stared at him for a while, watching his 
useless struggles.

"Oh, I'm going to like having you here.  A brand new pet to play with.  
There's so much for you to learn, so many things for us to try.  You'll 
love every second of it, I promise!"

It was hard for him to grasp the fact that this naked little woman in 
front of him, one who still had his semen dribbling down her thigh, had 
just dragged him here like a rag doll and chained him up like an animal.  
Her strength was inhuman.  His screaming, his yelling, his arguing and 
pleading, were having no effect whatsoever.  She reached over and rubbed 
his testicles for a few seconds, unveiling a hard, nasty smile as she 
did.  "Yes, we will certainly have a lot of fun."

Looking around for something, anything, that could help, he finally took 
a good look at the man on the altar.  He was certain it was a man, 
though he had his doubts at first.  That something so wasted, so skinny 
and so miserable looking was human was hard for him to believe.  The 
pitiful whimpers of pain made by that man brought home the reality of 
what was happening.  He began to shout and struggle again.

A few moments later, Vladmira came in with Jennifer.  The shorter woman 
now had several small trickles of blood running down from her neck, 
flowing over her shoulders and chest.  She was led in by the hand and 
positioned at the foot of the alter, in between the bound man's legs.  
Vladmira then stood behind Jennifer and took her in her arms.  She bent 
her head down, and soon a new trickle of blood joined the others.  The 
redhead moaned in pleasure, reaching up to caress the taller woman's 
cheek.

Wally was screaming at the top of his lungs, but with no noticeable 
effect.  He was being pointedly ignored.  All he could do was watch in 
horror at tableau that was unfolding in front of him.

---------------

John's world was little more than pain.  Everywhere those rags touched, 
everywhere the liquid flowed, burned like a terrible fire.  Whatever it 
was she had fed him kept him right on the edge, alert and receptive to 
even the least sensation from his body, multiplying the effect of her 
torture by not allowing his nerves to go numb.  Despite the pain, he 
couldn't help but watch what was happening.  He remembered, from a 
different perspective, the events that would soon be unfolding.  He 
couldn't stop thinking, couldn't stop remembering, no matter how much he 
wanted to.  Soon, he believed, the ecstasy would start, a terrible 
counterpoint to the agony he was in.

It happened almost exactly as his nightmares foretold, with the tall 
woman fondling and bringing into heat the other sacrifice, then helping 
her step up onto the alter and down onto his painfully engorged manhood.  
It had to be something the witch gave him that caused him to rise, since 
he knew his body was in no shape to perform normally.  Soon John felt 
her heat, then her moisture, then the velvety smooth softness of her 
interior.  Whatever drugs he was on made it seem far more intense than 
he could ever remember.  It was fantastically wonderful, and when she 
began to slide up and down, aided by the vampire-woman behind her, he 
almost passed out from the sensations.  There was a balance of pain and 
pleasure, but at a level that exceeded anything he had ever felt before.  
He knew the mask would come soon, and then the knife.  He ached for the 
knife, prayed for the knife, wanted nothing more fervently than to feel 
the knife inside him, knowing that it would finally bring an end his 
torments.

---------------

Wally had yelled himself hoarse, and could now only whimper.  He had 
seen a knife lying in the dirt beside the altar.  He had seen the 
expressions of agony on the other man.  He was watching his girlfriend 
being slowly bled to death by the nips on her neck.  Jennifer was 
completely oblivious to everything except the cock she was riding and 
the woman behind her.  There was no awareness in his girlfriend's eyes, 
no recognition -- not even when she looked right at him.

Vladmira passed some sort of signal to the blonde witch, who in turn 
reached down and pulled something out of a low box beside her.  When he 
got a good look at it, he wondered why they would use such a thing.  It 
looked like a facial mask, maybe made of wax or a similar material, but 
highly stylized.  He watched the woman place it on the whimpering man's 
face.  It seemed to mould itself to his features, taking on his visage 
and expression almost immediately.  A loud whine erupted from the man as 
soon as he realized the mask was being placed on him, and then nothing.  
Wally could see the man breathing, but he was now silent.

Jennifer was becoming more and more active, bouncing up and down, 
tossing her head, groaning and whimpering her pleasure for anyone to 
hear.  Babs placed the long, wave-edged dagger in her hands, with the 
blade angled down towards the man's stomach, pointing under his 
breastbone.  The redhead didn't actually seem to notice, but she did 
hold on to the deadly weapon.

The final few actions happened very quickly.  Later, Wally could recall 
them in slow motion, reliving every second in great detail, but at the 
time it all seemed more of a blur.  

The man on the altar suddenly moved, slamming his hips up into Jennifer 
several times.  At the first sign of semen escaping from Jennifer's 
cleft, the Contessa leaned forward, pressing her captive forward as 
well, and putting their full weight onto the handle of the ritual blade.  
It slid slowly into the man's stomach, angling up under his ribs and 
into his heart, just as it had been positioned to do.  Blood at first 
oozed from the wound, then spurted as the murderous implement found its 
ultimate target.  That blood then flowed freely over his stomach and 
chest, spilling over on to the altar, pooling in places before trickling 
off the edges and splashing as it hit the hard-packed dirt floor.

As soon as the man was rattling his last breath, Babs ripped the mask 
from his face.  The mask now looked exactly like he had at the instant 
of death, capturing a perfect image of his primal horror and rapture.  
Wally stared, unable to look away as she brought the mask up and kissed 
it tenderly on the lips, masturbating as she did.  With one hand in her 
crotch, she was making love to that inanimate object.  He could hear her 
whispers, her words interspersed with sighs and whines.

"Oh, my precious pet, my wonderful pet.  You taste so delicious.  Soooo 
much held inside.  Wonderful pleasures; divine raptures; decadent joys.  
You're perfect, simply perfect!  We will feast together for many, many 
years."

It was then he heard Jennifer begin her peak.  Her high pitched scream 
tore through him like a bullet, jerking his attention away from the 
witch.  His girlfriend was still bouncing up and down on the dead man, 
his member still somehow hard, and she was in the throes of a climax the 
likes of which he had never even imagined.  With her spine straight and 
her head thrown back, he had a perfect view of her neck, and watched in 
horrified fascination as those needle-sharp vampire teeth sank deep into 
her unresisting flesh.  Blood erupted, gushing everywhere before the 
woman could close her mouth over the wounds.  He could see her 
swallowing, and watched the overflow spill from her lips, running in 
streams down the body of his beloved.  Jennifer was still climaxing, 
whimpering in pleasure, even as her motions got slower and weaker and 
her breathing became shallower and more erratic.  All the while the 
vampire-woman appeared to grow stronger.  Her limbs became sleeker and 
more defined, her breasts grew heavier, the nipples standing taller and 
growing darker as he watched, her powder-white skin flushing pink with 
stolen life.  Wally could feel the energy building in that evil body.

He could only watch helplessly, numbed with horror, as Jennifer gave one 
final gasp, shuddered, shuddered again, and at last fell still.  The 
vampire woman continued to suck for a while, growing more vibrant each 
second, gorging herself on the lifeblood of her victim, feeding her 
insatiable hunger.  Finally she finished, threw her head back, and 
shrieked out her own completion.  Wally could see the woman's whole body 
shaking, her breasts and nipples swelling even larger, her arm a blur as 
she slowly came down from her murderous high.

It was her eyes that caught him again, red-rimmed and bloodshot, their 
expression changing from one of satiation to one of utter contempt as 
the vampire raised her head and glared at him.  Despite himself, he 
couldn't look away.  There was nothing left in him that could put up a 
struggle.  His will was beaten, his resistance gone, his mind almost 
broken.

A low laugh, full of venom, came from deep in her chest as she held his 
gaze.  Then, with a sneer, she gave his girlfriend's pallid body a light 
push.  It toppled over and fell onto the slaughtered man, splattering 
the pooled blood and trapping the killing blade between them.  The two 
corpses were still joined, and semen still slowly trickled out from 
around the dead man's cock.

With a last whimper of denial, Wally's mind finally gave up.  He 
fainted.

---------------

John slowly gained awareness.  First came the pain, the awful pain, 
surrounding him, enveloping him, suffusing him, reddening his world, but 
not seeming to be centred on anything he could identify.  Then came the 
pleasure.  Not quite as powerful as the pain, but just as nebulous and 
diffuse in it's origin.  He didn't know where he was, but he thought he 
should be dead.  After all, he reasoned, hadn't he watched and felt the 
knife pierce his heart?  "Yet still," he thought again, "I hurt, I feel, 
I think, so I must still be alive.  Unless this is hell?"

The pain didn't grow worse, but it didn't subside either.  It just was, 
and he slowly grew accustomed to it, and to the pleasure.  He became 
aware of sound, a sobbing, a terrible heart rending crying from some 
tortured soul.  He could hear it, and knew it was somewhere close.  With 
that knowledge, he realized he could also see.  It wasn't like opening 
his eyes or turning on a light, it was more like suddenly realizing that 
your eyes were open.  The room was still there, but it looked different; 
it was flatter, sharper, and all the angles were wrong.

His sight, or his awareness, shifted over to where the sobbing was 
coming from.  There was a man in shackles, fastened to the wall.  He 
recognized the man.  It was the one who had been dragged into the altar 
room shortly before he himself ... "died?" he wondered.

With another shock, John realized why the perspective of the room seemed 
all wrong.  He was looking at it from somewhere other than his 
accustomed spot in chains.  He was looking at the room from about four 
feet up on the right wall.  Directly across from him, on the other wall, 
one hundred tortured, ghastly, hopeless expressions, so eloquently 
captured by the death masks, stared back.  He knew then what the masks 
were.  One hundred and forty nine other tormented souls, entombed with 
their pain, with their nightmares, with their senses intact, hanging 
there for years, for decades.  Now this was his existence as well -- his 
pain, his nightmares, his helplessness.  He would hang forever, watching 
the torments that were to come, hearing the screams and whimpers, the 
begging and pleading, the heartless laughter, the death rattles.  He 
finally realized that there would be no escape for him, no hope, no 
relief from his agonies.

Not even in death.

He tried to scream ...

<fin>

-- 
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