A Horror Story
Short Story #3

© Oct 1996
Rewritten Oct 2003

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.