http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories Free Sex Stories, Erotic Stories And Erotica For Adults Tue, 16 Jul 2019 16:23:16 UTC en http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/dominion-chapter-1-king-of-the-dead/
One hundred years ago, the war against the undead began. No one knows where it originated from, but a virus blossomed somewhere in the USA, spreading so fast that even trying to identify Ground Zero was a fruitless endeavor. The infected would lose all sense of sanity, their memories and feelings eclipsed by madness and a hunger for flesh. The disease took hold through access to the bloodstream, most often through bite wounds, completely corrupting the host in a matter of seconds and robbing them of their humanity. From there, they would have one single mission: spread, spread sickness and death. They ignored all injuries, their absent heartbeat, even their own rotting flesh. While the human race tried to protect their egos by calling it a war, really, it was assimilation.

“Zombies”, pop culture had jokingly anticipated their arrival for decades. Countless movies, books, and videogames gave generations a glimpse into the horror that could be set loose if the dead walked. But contrary to cinema, the true undead could not be dispatched with something so simple as a bullet to the brain. Even after decapitation, the body moved in search of life, severed limbs crawling like insects. Dismemberment was the only option, followed by incineration for good measure.

Cities became bloodbaths, the threat bursting into people’s homes and feeding on their flesh. Highways turned into graveyards of abandoned cars, left behind during the panic. The steel boxes served as tombs for the stubborn and the fearful, those who had hoped that the undead clawing at their windows would grow bored and leave, only to succumb to infection or death. One by one, governments fell, the lights following suit and leaving everyone immersed in the darkness of night.

Twenty years and more than half of the world population later, the zombies died out, taking the last vestiges of stability and unity with them. Without the threat of the undead to unite mankind, the next thirty years were utter chaos, people fighting over the bloody and ashen remains of the old world. Warlords and religious sects ruled and madness infected the survival instinct. The old religions were either replaced or reinforced, faith both lost and given to those who had survived the nightmare of the undead. On altars made of junked cars, animals and humans were sacrificed in the hope of preventing another catastrophe, the rituals presided over by 21st century kings wearing broken Rolex watches and crowns made of CD shards. Sources of food and clean water became the subject of wars, with gasoline and ammunition worth more than their weight in gold.

But despite the bloodshed and madness, the human race could begin recovering and repopulating, and despite fifty years of chaos, the rebuilding process began. Drawing upon the knowledge of the old world from stories and records, humanity made the journey back towards the modern era, with former nations resurrecting one after another. Now, in America, mankind is walking the very same paths as in the 20th century, with people having to relearn and rediscover the knowledge and tools needed to establish basic commodities and infrastructure, while the rebuilt government works to settle the lands that remain without law and order.

A century after the occultation, human society is finally on an upswing. Cities are being reclaimed, ‘surviving’ being replaced with ‘living’, the future becoming a little less uncertain every day. But despite the fragile calm, the world is still engrossed in fear and confusion, and it is when chaos and order are in an equilibrium that evil evolves and a new nightmare takes the scene.



King of the Dead



There is no light of Heaven
Nor the raging flames of Hell
Only eternal darkness
In which the Old Gods dwell
=============
The man looked into his glass, watching the surface of the liquid shimmer from his breath. Through it, he could see all of the lines and scratches in the wooden counter. It was old, definitely prewar. A lot of the tavern had been renovated with the reclaiming of the town, but the new owner appeared to have taken a liking to the old counter, probably trying to give his bar some “character” that would draw customers. Despite a century of neglect, it had aged very well. There were several other people in the bar, all of them armed, a remnant of the apocalypse that humanity had survived. The last zombie died around eighty years ago, yet it was common in rural areas to carry a blade large enough to hack off a limb, as well as a gun to defend against any remnants of the chaotic years that followed.

There was music playing from an old stereo, classic rock. Though in this era, it was technically “antique” rock. In the corner, above the bar, a TV was showing the evening news. The news anchor was wearing a nice suit but missing a tie. Some things from the old world weren’t brought back to the new one. The man wasn’t watching the news, nor listening to the music. He didn’t seem to even notice or mind the stench of cigarettes and the taste of bathtub liquor. His attention was focused on a large silver coin he was flipping back and forth across his knuckles.

The man was in his mid-twenties with long, dark hair. He had a large build from a lifetime of brutal training, but a handsome face, a fitting canvas for the smirk he wore as he stared at the coin. It was a smug grin, the kind that would anger some, unnerve others, and attract a few. It worked, drawing a cute little number to the seat next to his. Short blonde hair, blue eyes, an inviting cleavage, she drew the attention of every man in the room.

“I don’t think I’ve ever seen you around here before,” she said. She then ordered a drink from the bartender.

Seeing her, the man’s gaze sharpened with desire burning within. “I’m just passing through, heading north.”

“But there is nothing up north. You’ll only find backwoods savages up there.”

“Oh, there is plenty up there. It just depends on what you’re looking for.”
The bartender handed her a glass half-filled with an opaque liquid. She took a drink, leaving behind a smear of lipstick on the glass. “You might want to be careful flashing that silver here. The police won’t be able to help you if it gets taken.”

“I know how to keep it safe, but it’s not just the silver that gives it value.” He held it up, showing her the two sides. The coin had a glass lens pressed to its back. One side was a glistening mirror and the other was pure silver, engraved with a skull and incantations in a language that even before the war, few people knew about. “Without the glass, it’s just a piece of metal. Do you know how mirrors are made? A glass membrane is backed with a layer of a reflective substance, originally a mixture of mercury and tin. This is called silvering. Later, they were made using actual silver. In the modern age, the silver was replaced with aluminum.” The man eyed the mirror behind the bar. “That mirror is definitely aluminum.”

“I’m pretty sure the silver is the only reason anyone would steal it.”

“Only because they don’t know the true value of the mirror.” He then glanced up at the TV. It was a relic from the old world, but it still worked just fine. The news anchor was speaking with some government scientist about the possibility of the zombie plague returning. “Look at them, a hundred years since the undead rose and they still know nothing about them. They can’t even scratch the surface.”

The woman gave him an inviting look, knowing that there was more he wanted to say. She wanted to see if he had the courage to say it without needing to be asked and hoped it would be interesting.

The man smiled and held up the silver coin. “I know secrets about the dead. It was not a virus that allowed the dead to rise, it was the dead themselves. There is no light of Heaven, no flames of Hell, only the darkness of Purgatory, and when a hole is torn in that membrane, the dead pour back into our world. The “disease” that spread from person to person was really an ocean of spirits pouring into hosts. The darkness strips away all humanity. Once death has claimed you, your memories and feelings vanish, and you become an embodiment of hunger for that which you do not have: life.”

The woman rolled her eyes in disappointment. She had hoped he would be worth her attention, but he was just another religious nut. She looked back at him and she saw his gaze focused on her. The gleam in his eyes, that smirk on his face; they sent a shiver down her spine. The way he had spoken, it was not due to delusional beliefs or arrogant fanaticism; it was spoken in condescension, like he was explaining a fact to a child. He was indifferent to her reaction, or rather, it amused him.

“Relax, I’m just kidding.” He gave a hearty laugh, brushing aside her suspicions. “I love the different reactions people give when I start talking like that. It scares them, annoys them, or bores the hell out of him. Either way, it’s always funny.”

She laughed with him, and in her mind, laughed at herself for seeing things that weren’t there. He had just been smiling, that was all, and his sense of humor heightened her attraction. They began to chat, with more and more drinks being poured and consumed. The more she spoke, the more she drank, and the more obvious her intentions became.

“What do you say about getting out of here?” the man asked as the hands on his watch reached ever higher.

“You read my mind,” she purred. “I’ll call us a cab.”

“No need, I’m fine to drive.”

The man paid for their drinks and she followed him out to the parking lot, where light came only from the few lamps in the adjacent street. He led her to his pickup truck, built after the start of the reconstruction movement.

“I know of a nice motel nearby,” the woman said as she climbed into the truck.

“That won’t be necessary.”

Like a lunging snake, the man reached out and struck her in the side of the head with a solid punch. The force knocked her skull against the passenger door frame with enough force to draw blood. Her body became limp and the man bound and gagged her with a roll of duct tape. He then leaned out of the truck and jammed his fingers down his throat, forcing himself to vomit the alcohol he had consumed in the bar. He had only gone in there for a single drink, but in order to avoid her getting suspicious, he had to keep up with her. Of course, he had plenty of tricks to minimize the alcohol consumed—pretending to drink, throwing up in the bathroom, and even pouring his drink into her glass when she was distracted. It was necessary, as he needed to keep a clear head for what would happen next.

=============

As the man drove further and further into the wilds of northern Maine, signs of civilization faded. Even before the war against the undead, the upper half of the state was an untamed sea of wilderness, crisscrossed by some silent roads. After fifty miles from the coast, a state line, or the Canadian border, civilization all but vanished. That had changed when the war began. People fleeing the undead, and later, the warlords and their armies, headed into seclusion, hiding in the darkness of the trees. In the labyrinths of rolling hills and smothering forests of New England, humanity regressed into a Lovecraftian nightmare. Violent religious sects were born, inbreeding became common, and the line separating humans from animals blurred. These days, the towns were islands of civilization in an ocean of savagery, the forests filled with people who didn’t want to be found.

The man was still smiling, excitement keeping him wired as the hours passed. Frequently, he would stop to consult maps, but nothing else deterred him from his goal. After a while, the woman began to stir, slightly concussed from the blow she had received. Her wrists bound and her mouth covered, panic filled her and she gave a muffled scream. Without taking his eyes off the road, the ran reached over and grabbed her throat with a crushing grip. He never lost his smirk.

“Now, now, if you’re going to make a fuss, I can just toss you into the back and let the cold quiet you down. Sitting in the cab is a privilege that you should appreciate more.” Desperate for air, she gave in and became still. “Good girl. Now, how about you keep me company while I drive?” He pulled the duct tape off her mouth, and immediately she began to cry out in terror. The man again grabbed her throat, forcing her into submission. “There will be plenty of time for screaming later, but not in this confined space.”

He finally let go and she took some deep breaths. When she spoke, her voice was trembling. “What do you want from me?”

“I stopped off at that bar for a drink and you presented yourself on a silver platter. I decided that it might be a good idea to have some warm blood with me for where I’m going.”

“Where’s that?”

The man chuckled. “Do you remember what I said before? About the spirits of the dead? Heaven and Hell do not exist, there is only the darkness of Purgatory, and in that darkness, souls are stripped of their humanity and become wrathful specters. Your grandparents, your mother and father, your siblings, your friends, and even you yourself are eventually transformed into the wretched dead. The dead do not feel joy, they do not feel love, they do not feel hope. They are embodiments only of hunger and hatred, those feelings directed towards that which they are no longer: life. I could end your life right now, and in seconds, your soul, the very essence that made you who you are, would be trapped in a realm of eternal night, being twisted by madness and horror into an entity even less than a demon in all but maliciousness. You would be but a drop in an ocean of insanity, an eternal sea that expands beyond the parameters of human understanding.

One hundred years ago, an incident occurred, in which that sea leaked into our world. An arcane ritual was performed, several failed necromancers trying to resurrect one of the dead. Through a doorway they opened, that sea, that liquid horror, poured into their bodies and turned them into the undead. Chaos incarnate, a formless mix of the gluttonous rage of all the dead, it robbed them of their sanity and even basic thought and turned them into walking abominations. From there, they spread the disease, infecting others with that evil ichor.”

“How the fuck could you possibly know that?”

“I have my sources. Years ago, I learned of a cult that existed here in Maine. They believed that protection would come through appeasing the dead and that the only way to save themselves was to give the infected a proper burial. They hunted down the undead, dismembering them and transporting them back to a site they believed was sacred. In a mass grave, hundreds and perhaps even thousands of zombies were buried, their severed limbs still twitching, their teeth still gnashing. That is my destination.”

“What for?”

“You’ll see. Oh, would you look at that?”

The woman looked ahead. They passed by a burned-down house, one wall still remaining. A body was nailed to that wall, crucified. From the level of decay, the man or woman had been hanging there for years. Sightings like the corpse became more and more frequent the longer they drove. Cars, either burned or abandoned, were left on the sides of the road, many still caked with blood. Their sides were plastered with graffiti, either nihilistic or religious in nature, telling those who passed that they had to save themselves, or that it was already too late. Crosses and other religious symbols were plastered everywhere, many adorned with skulls and various body parts. When the dead started to rise, people realized there was no such thing as a merciful God.

There were traces of battles from the last hundred years, houses with their paint scraped off by the peeling fingernails of the dead, riddled with bullets, and marked with the emblem of whatever warlord ruled the territory at the time. Remnants of barricades were on every road, built to stop, and likewise destroyed, by both the living and the dead.

Then something changed. Traces of the fight against the undead could be seen, but no signs of the human conflicts afterward. No one had tried to stake claim over the area, no warlords or outlaws expanding their territory, even after the zombies died out. The land had simply been abandoned. Summer was just ending, but not a single leaf could be seen on any of the trees. They stood gaunt and lifeless, bare fingers reaching up to the stars. From above, one would see only a vast circle of gray and brown, like a cigarette burn on the flesh of Mother Nature.

Once the truck passed that perimeter, something stirred in the woman, piercing and cold. It was a fear that human words couldn’t properly describe, the sharpest fear she had ever felt, an icy razor slowly severing the muscle threads of her heart. Until now, she had been utterly terrified of the man next to her, afraid of what he would do to her, but she now felt safer in that truck with him than tossed out into this dead zone. Her most primeval instincts were telling her that she was in a danger like no other.

She looked to the man, her captor, and yet somehow the closest thing she had to a Guardian. She hoped to see that fear in him, to prove that she was not alone in feeling this oppression, but also hoped she wouldn’t, that he would be completely calm, showing that he still remained the thing that she should be most afraid of. She shuddered at the sight, a bloodthirsty grin on his face, eyes gleaming with ambition. He did feel what she felt, but he did not register it as fear.

Finally, the man pulled onto a dirt road. After a hundred years, it should have been overgrown, but nothing lived here. Life itself had left this place behind. He drove through the woods, coming out the other side into a clearing a mile in diameter. The women felt her sweat freeze, her lungs shriveling up. The land was cloaked in fog, but the moon above shone unhindered, and its light revealed a circular hill with a structure at the top. It was a ring of stone pillars, each one the size of a car, with huge arches, forming a perfect Stonehenge.

“This is the mass grave I spoke of. That hill is manmade, a thin layer of soil covering a mountain of corpses. Those pillars are the grave marker.” The woman wasn’t listening. She had her face pressed to the window, eyes trembling. She could see movement in the fog, invisible forms darting in and out of the darkness, leaving the vapor curling in their wake. “They are made of the spirits of the dead,” said the man. The woman looked at him. “But do not mistake that for a sign of humanity. I told you before, death strips souls of all that makes them human and twists them with darkness, leaving them as only malicious wraiths that feed on life itself.

What possessed all those people one hundred years ago, it was the collective will of the Sea of the Dead, a chaotic nebula of horror and madness without a single solid thought, save for the desire to eclipse life. What you are looking at are the resulting forms of that collection, demons made of the blended existences of the dead and formed within their human hosts. They are drawn to us because they sense our living bodies, our fresh souls.

Because so many of their vessels have gathered together and come undone, they are able to partially manifest themselves. I imagine they’ve killed everyone and everything within five miles of this grave.”

The man then opened the door beside him, showing no fear in forsaking the small security of the truck. He grabbed a large duffle bag from the back and slung it over this shoulder, then went around to the other side and dragged out the woman. She kicked and screamed, fear running through her veins like ice water. The figures in the mist were beginning to close in, their meal in sight. His lips curling into a smile, the man raised the silver coin, flashing them with the mirror side. Inhuman screeches were heard and the figures vanished, receding into the fog.

“Silver, their greatest weakness. As a universal conductor, it disrupts their flow of energy and causes them to lose shape, but that is just the start. Silver mirrors are capable of becoming doorways to the other side, their power depending on their age. For a mirror like this, any demon so much as caught in its reflection will be immediately cast back into the void from whence they came.”

He solidified his hold on the woman and dragged her towards the monument. She could see them still in the mist, shapeless, colorless, invisible specters watching from the shadows. With that coin in the man’s hand, they dared not come close. The man and woman passed under one of the archways of the monument, where a stone table had been placed in the center as an altar for sacrifice. Shackles and chains were secured in the four corners, binds for whatever poor soul was offered to appease the dead. They had rusted in the decades since the monument’s construction, but remained strong.

The man threw her onto the altar and drew a knife. It was coated with a layer of silver. First, he locked her ankles in the shackles at one end, then severed the duct tape binding her wrists so that she could secure them in the chains at the other. “Did you know that when the Bubonic Plague was ravaging Europe, people would have orgies in cemeteries? They did it to spit in the face of death. How better for me to get these beasts riled up?”

He then cut away her clothes, the knife slashing both fabric and flesh. The woman screamed in pain from the lacerations, thrashing and pulling at the chains that locked her to the cold stone. As her blood streamed freely, a noticeable tremor moved through the fog surrounding the altar. Every demon that had been slumbering was now awake, stirred by the scent of blood and spirit. They converged on the monument, but the man flashed the coin, scaring them back. They formed a perimeter behind the pillars, staring at the humans and waiting for the chance to strike. The woman lay on the altar, the moonlight shining on her naked body, her hot blood catching its radiance. She cried, the only thing she could do was cry, and wait for the sound of a zipper being lowered.

“Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you feel pleasure. After all, death is the climax of life.”

He then lowered his head and kissed her, first a gentle peck, his lips merely brushing against hers, then joining for a longer bond. She tried to resist him, but he grabbed her chin and forced her to remain still, to receive his cruel affection. His tongue infiltrated her mouth, probing every corner like a serpent following the scent of its wounded prey. While one might think his attention was focused on her, his arm darted in all directions, pointing the coin at any approaching demons like it was a loaded gun. The mirror repeatedly reflected the moonlight, and that flash, no matter how small, bisected any dark wraith that it shined upon. Despite their fury and hunger, no demon dared enter the monument while he had that coin.

The woman soon gave in, letting the man have his way with her. No longer needing to hold her head still, he was able to send his free hand south and cup a warm breast. Had the night gone as she had originally expected, the two of them writhing in the twisted sheets of a motel bed, she would have welcomed the touch. His undulating grip, kneading her supple flesh, would have made her gasp, and his fingertips, coaxing her nipples to full erection and pulling them towards the sky, would have made her whimper from the blissful sting. Now, all they did was fill her with revulsion. This act of foreplay, was he doing it for his own amusement, to rile up the ghostly spectators, or simply to humiliate her with deceitful kindness? She knew she was helpless against him, he knew that she knew it, she knew that he knew that she knew it, and any pleasure he gave her was just a reminder of the power he held over her.

His hand moved farther south, slipping between her thighs. She again tried to fight him off, pulling at the chains and closing her legs, but she could still feel his fingers brush against her womanhood. They slid down, stroking the plump lips of the outer labia, then rose back up, tickling the exposed inner petals. His lips left hers and instead found her breasts. He pulled on her nipples with his lips and cleaned the blood off her flesh with his tongue. The cuts from his knife, his tongue stayed near them like a lion at a waterhole. She could hear them rumbling, the undead, growling and snarling in rage and envy as he gluttonously licked up her blood.

Against her will, a small moan escaped her lips. The man’s efforts were beginning to wear down her defenses. Between his fingertips, he was rubbing the very edge of one of her labia minora, and the kiss of both his lips and the brisk night air on her naked body was sending bolts of electricity up her spine. Her clitoris had become firm and now fallen prey to the strokes of his thumb. His fingers at last penetrated her, and try as she might, she could not contain her voice. It was little more than a soft squeak, but to her, it sounded louder than the trumpets of Armageddon. His fingers stirred inside her with dexterity she didn’t know was possible, like the tendrils of a lecherous demon.

Fresh tears fell from her eyes from the pain and disgust of this man inside her, violating both her flesh and her soul. The worst part was not the agony, but the lack of it. Her body was reacting to his touch, his fingers slick with her building arousal. Her mind knew and feared what would come next, but her body was beginning to crave it, these simple touches just appetizers to inflame her sexual hunger.

Finally, he pulled his fingers free and licked them clean. “My original plan didn’t include a victim, and I need to keep this coin raised to hold them back, but I suppose it would be rude of me to ravish you with the handicap of one of my hands occupied.”

She looked through her tears, seeing him retrieve the silver knife, but rather than bringing it towards her, he raised it to his own face. She began to scream, praying that this was just a bad dream, for the sight before her was cutting through her soul the way the knife had cut through her flesh. Without losing his smile, he dug the tip of the blade under his right eyeball. It was an effortless movement, the man prying his eye right of its socket and severing the nerve. She could see him shivering, his body surely reacting to the wound he had just inflicted, but his soft laughter told her that any pain he felt was nothing short of euphoric. He cast the eyeball aside, and in its place, he wedged the coin into the socket, the mirror side facing out. He looked down on her and she could see her own tear-streaked face reflected in the glass.

“There, now my hands are free and I can keep one eye on you and one eye on them—a figure of speech, of course.”

“You’re insane,” she hissed.

“On the contrary. Those who live in fear, those who break in the face of pain, they are the insane, as their minds are too weak to understand true control, true willpower. The gods bow to the power of fate, but fate bends to the will of man, and by my will, all of creation will be eclipsed. Besides, the loss of an eye is nothing compared to what I will soon gain.”

He then removed his clothes, and seeing him in the nude, the woman gasped. He was even more muscular than she first thought, chiseled, even, but from head to toe, he was covered in scars, burns, and permanent bruises. He climbed onto the altar, kneeling between her spread legs. The moonlight shined on his back, while she was kept in his shadow. He brushed his thumb along one of her cuts and then across her lips, reddening them with her blood like lipstick.

“Tell me, do you feel alive? Do you feel the power of your soul surging through you, the warmth of your blood permeating every cell? Do you feel the hardness of the stone, the bite of the rusty chains, the chill of the night air lapping at your skin? Savor those sensations, the bliss and the pain, for they are more precious than you realize.”

He then forced himself inside her, offering her no warning or mercy. She cried out from the brutal penetration, feeling like his manhood was poisoning her. The sanctum of her body had been violated, her will and freedom ripped away. Hours ago, she had hoped, desired, to feel his cock subjugate her, for him to take her as he would, but that was back when she just thought he was an interesting man. Now she couldn’t tell who the true monster was; the undead abominations circling around them, or the man with a soul blacker than she ever thought possible.

Once the man entered her, the demons around them gave shrieks that chilled her blood and gripped her heart, shrieks not meant for mortal ears. The arrogance of this human, it enraged them beyond measure, to fornicate before the incarnations of death and upon the bones of their broken vessels. They wished to strike, to extinguish the spark of life within him and teach him the meaning of despair, but a single glance into the mirror of that coin would mean banishment to Purgatory.

The man wasted no time in initiating a rhythm, thrusting into her with machine-like movements. She tried to stay silent, to maintain what little pride she had, but his impacts were stronger than she had anticipated. The force alone was crushing her, every thrust like the strike of a battering ram, and the speed left her no room to recuperate, but more than that, it was the precision in which he attacked her. His strikes were precise, hitting all the walls in perfect order like he was jabbing pressure points.

The man leaned down to steal a kiss, and this time the woman didn’t bother trying to resist him, even when his tongue again violated her. If anything, she hoped to trap him there, to bite his tongue off and let him bleed to death. It was agony, not just the humiliation, but the sight of her face reflected in the mirror. The face she was making, the way she blushed, was that really what she looked like? They could both see it, what he was doing to her. Her will was beginning to crumble, her body giving in and reacting to the physical sensations. She wasn’t sure how long she could resist him if he kept this up. Any more stimulation would break her.

It seemed that the man knew this. He sat up, not even pausing his strokes while he looked in all directions, forcing back the demons with the coin in his eye socket. His head then lowered once again as his lips returned to her breasts, striking her from two fronts. Like before, he focused on her cuts, licking away the blood like it was maple syrup. The feel of his mouth on her areolas, his tongue bullying her nipples, it was the last stimulus needed for her body to fully submit to him. She moaned at the top of her lungs as she climaxed, with tears streaming down her face from the shame.

“I promised I would give you pleasure, didn’t I? I only suppose it’s fair that you do the same.”

He got off her and unfastened the shackles on her ankles, then spun her around and flipped her over, leaving her bent over the altar with her wrists still bound and crossed in front of her. The feel of the cold stone against her nipples made her whimper. He mounted her like an animal, slamming against her cervix with a single stroke. She cried out, no longer able to contain her voice. He grabbed her by the hips and began brutalizing her with strength she had never experienced before. Every impact of his lap against her rear sent ripples moving through her flesh. Her body, now violated, looked so pale and weak, lacking the sexual energy it radiated before and becoming nothing more than a piece of meat for him to use as he saw fit. Was he trying to hurt her? Did he simply enjoy inflicting pain on her?

He raped her in various positions, having her stand up against the altar and let the moonlight shine on her exposed breasts, bend over and raise her leg so he could get better access, or pull her back so she would be bent over all the way, arms stretched out and clinging to the edge of the altar for balance. She would watch as her breasts swung like chandeliers from his thrusts, almost eagerly absorbing the force. One thing that was constant was the abuse. If he could afford it, if he could maintain his rhythm after partially giving up his hold on her, he’d release one hand and use it to smack her. The skin on her rear turned red from his cruel slaps, and she wanted to scream when he whipped her breasts, striking them as if they had somehow enraged him.

She didn’t know how long it continued, she simply closed her eyes and tried to block it out. Eventually, he came to a stop and she shuddered from the feeling of his hot semen being dumped in her body like toxic waste. He pulled out of her and she crumbled, leaning against the altar in the fetal position with his seed dripping out of her pussy. She might have climaxed a second time when he took her from behind. She couldn’t be sure, as her mind simply shut down at the time, but the humiliation was still overwhelming.

The man returned to his clothes and put them on, then took a deep breath and an insidious grin crossed his face. He covered up the coin in his eye socket with his hand, and in his other hand, drew his silver knife. He strode over to the woman and put it to her neck.

“Now for the real reason why I came here. I call upon the legions of the dead! Hear my voice! Take this girl’s life and answer my challenge!”

She gave one desperate plea for mercy before he slit her throat. A howling gale whipped around the altar, the army of darkness merging with the fog and forming a twisting pillar of unholy light with the man and woman in the center like it was the eye of a tornado. With her hands still bound, the woman could do nothing to stop the bleeding of her throat. Her terror was all that was keeping her conscious. Instead of falling to the ground, the blood was being pulled into the air, but this was not due to the movement of the air.

They were feeding on her, her blood acting as the medium through which they ripped the soul from her body. She gave a garbled shriek as her flesh began to deteriorate, every drop of blood pulled from her veins, taking her vitality with it. Her blonde hair turned to wire, her smooth skin wrinkled and grayed, and her muscles and organs shriveled up and dissolved. At last, her flesh was peeled away and her skeleton crumbled to ash. Her soul had been consumed and joined the ranks of the undead now swarming around the man.

They tried to close in, but he revealed the coin, keeping them at bay. They were raging like piranhas, their appetite burning after feeding on the sacrificed woman. They wanted him, they wanted him so badly that words could not describe their bloodlust.

“Join us!” they howled, their voices utterly inhuman.

The man began to laugh and pulled the coin out of his eye socket, instead holding it in his closed fist. “I have a better idea. How about you all join me?”

A tremor rippled through the spectral tempest, brought forth by confusion. Since the dead enveloped the earth, countless pathetic whelps had begged to be spared, endless cults and sects had formed in worship of the spirits in order to escape the horror they wrought, but those were all done out of fear. There was no fear in this man.

“Serve without question! Obey without resistance! Give me your powers and become my slaves!”

The twisting storm collapsed in on itself, the enraged ghouls swarming in, getting as close as possible with the silver just barely keeping them at bay. Despite the enraged and anguished faces and reaching hands surging around him, the man maintained his grin.

“You will suffer for your arrogance! We are slaves to no one!”

“Then I challenge you over the right to rule. If I am still in control of myself when the sun rises in one hour, then everything you are belongs to me. All of your power and knowledge will become mine. You will be my slaves until the end of time! But if my willpower breaks, then I will become your living subordinate. My body and soul will be your tools for you to do whatever you wish, such as bring you more sacrifices or unleash you again upon humanity. However, should I die or lose consciousness due to an injury you inflict and are unable to continue, the game ends without a victor. Do we have a deal?” There was no response. The sea of the dead continued to churn around him. “I’ll even give you a handicap. I won’t use the coin.”

Whether the idea of a handicap had enticed or enraged them, they gave in. On the altar, carved into the stone, were listed the rules of the challenge and the name of every demon participating. The man smeared some blood from his cheek and wiped it onto the stone in place of a signature. He then held the coin above his head and threw it aside.

“Then let the game begin!”

Immediately, the legions of dead closed in on him from all sides, slamming into his body like a tsunami. They were attacking all of his pain receptors like an electric shock, doing everything they could to torture him, to wear down his mental defenses with physical anguish. Normally, they would rip him to shreds, but his living body was a precious commodity and they couldn’t allow it to be damaged more than necessary. However, the man didn’t lose his smile, despite their efforts.

He could feel them, their power wiggling through his flesh like carnivorous worms, their voices whispering and shrieking in the back of his mind. They worked to infiltrate his consciousness, to infect his thoughts and memories with their own will, but despite their power, they could not get in. There were no cracks in his mind to slip through, nothing on the surface for them to use. Without any weaknesses to exploit, they couldn’t even get a foothold in his consciousness, let alone try to possess him. All they could do is read his thoughts and feelings, but he felt no fear. There was no hesitation in any of his thoughts.

Even with his body being tortured and his mind under assault, the man began to laugh. “Is this it? Is this all the might you can conjure? I’ve trained my whole life for this, don’t disappoint me! If you can’t win with your spectral forms, then fight me with your own flesh and blood! I give you permission to enter this world at full power, to raise your armies once more!”

They immediately scattered, the fog vacating the monument and sinking into the hill. He could feel it, movement beneath the earth. They were… collecting themselves. Fifty feet away, a skeletal fist burst from the soil with black tissue beginning to grow from between the joints like bubbling tar. The ghoul clawed its way free of the soil with its body generating flesh that was both alive and dead, a sort of unholy quasi-life. When the Sea of the Dead spilled into the world, the humans were infected with a liquefied mixture of different souls and energies without any real consciousness, but like molten metal cooling in a mold and solidifying, that raw power had taken shape and gained sentience, becoming demons. These demons, granted permission by the man to fully manifest themselves, could now reform their host bodies and act with their full power.

The entire hill was beginning to shake, the undead clawing their way up to the surface. Their forms were no longer human, their physical bodies changing to reflect their true appearance. Claws, tails, horns, wings, tentacles, the demons cried out to the moon as they were reborn. The man watched them from atop the altar, seeing the hill turn into a shifting mass of black forms, each one hungry for his soul. In his hand, he held his duffle bag, and from it, he drew a six-cylinder grenade launcher.

“Do try to put up a decent fight.”

He pointed it through one of the archways of the monument and fired, sending the first shell flying into the heart of the mass. It detonated upon impact with a demon with the head of a bull, but instead of simple fire and shrapnel, the bomb released a cloud of powdered silver. Shrieks of agony cut through the night as the silver burned the unholy beasts like white phosphorus. This much silver wasn’t nearly enough to actually destroy the demons, but it could disturb the flow of their power and cause their host bodies to deteriorate without the possibility of regeneration or even maintaining control. They were like robots hit with an electrical charge.

He kept firing, lobbing bombs into the crowds surrounding the monument. Each explosion wounded several demons, even crippling a few. After the six shells were fired, he reloaded and resumed fighting. A new shriek drew his attention, as from above, a winged demon swooped in to attack. He jumped off the altar to avoid its claws and discarded his empty grenade launcher. He drew an assault rifle from his duffle bag and opened fire on the demon. Silver bullets ripped through its flesh, causing it to shriek in pain and fall out of the sky. By now, the horde of demons had just about reached the monument. He fired at them with everything he had, aiming at whatever beast seemed the closest. As soon as he had used up all of his magazines, he tossed the weapon aside and pulled out a drum-fed shotgun. Several more demons attacked from the sky, but he easily downed them with a few rounds of silver buckshot.

The first demon had reached one of the archways. It had a human shape but was garbed in a black cloak that looked to be made of pure shadow. In place of hands, it had crooked lengths of bone growing from its wrists like bundles of wood. The man put a round into its chest and it fell back with smoke wafting from its flesh. Behind him, the second demon crossed the threshold. This one had a humanoid appearance, but with a mat of quills growing from its chin and three horns sticking out of its forehead. It lunged for him with clawed fingers, but he blasted its head off and then shot it in the kneecap for good measure.

He fired off every round he had and then threw the shotgun away. They were closing in from all sides, the horde passing under the archway. The man drew his last two weapons, a sword from the undead war, now coated in silver, and a pistol with extended magazines. He turned his gaze to an oncoming demon, humanoid but with all of its joints bending in the opposite way. He severed one of its arms with a swing of his sword while putting five rounds in its chest and head. Three closed in on him and he slashed them all across the chest while shooting back over his shoulder. He moved around the altar, slashing and shooting at any demon that got close, but every second, his circle of open space got smaller.

As he fired his last bullet, a demon with a bladed tail managed to whip him across the back and draw blood. He didn’t seem to mind the pain, but it threw him off balance. He fell to his knees and dropped his empty pistol, then drew his silver knife and hurled it at the demon, planting the blade deep in his enemy’s chest. Now with only his sword in hand, he resumed fighting the demons, hacking and slashing them with all of his strength. Limbs and heads fell and the specters howled in frustration as the strings of their puppets were severed, but inevitably, a black hand grabbed his shoulder and pulled him back. There was no more room to fight, hands were closing in all around him, but still the man smiled, and when they threw him onto the altar and pinned him down, he laughed.

The demons thrust their talons into his flesh and injected him with the zombie virus, carrying their collected will. Now they could extend their influence physically for a more potent attack. The man could feel their venom running through his veins, turning his cells into undead tissue. It flowed into his brain, and at last, the demons managed to break into his consciousness, but still, the man laughed.

“Congratulations, you managed to get in, but now the real fight starts.”

They searched his memories, looking for something from his past to exploit, some fear to use against him. Even if they infiltrated this mind, they couldn’t take control as long as his will remained intact. In his memories, they found only disdain for all those around him, even from a young age. There was no love for anyone, not for family members or for friends, indifference given to all but those who had something to offer. They could not find any bad memories, no childhood traumas or the birth of any fears. Wait, something happened when he was a child, something that intrigued them. They sensed… darkness.

“Ah, I suppose it’s my turn again.”

A pulse of willpower erupted from the depths of his soul, thrusting the demons back to the edges of his mind. His willpower, they still could not find a way around it. He lay still on the altar, simply staring up at the sky with a smirk on his face, showing no fear of the unholy spawn around him. He was afraid of nothing, his confidence was resolute, forming an impenetrable wall. They forced their way back in, now desperate. Time was running out, the sky beginning to lighten. They once again searched his memories. That one memory that he had barred them from, they tried to read it, but to no avail. They looked ahead, trying to understand.

In the years since the “accident”, they saw the man preparing his body and soul, torturing himself in the most horrific ways. The scars on his body were remnants of his training to twist pain into pleasure, so that injuries would only make him stronger. He had prepared himself for this day, spent his whole life training to face these demons. Ambition, that was the force repelling them. A hunger that surpassed their own, a hunger that not even the world could satisfy, it was the essence of his being.

“I suppose I should clarify something. I didn’t come here with any belief that I might possibly lose. That simply was not an option. For pathetic beasts like you to defeat me is simply impossible. Did you really think I would hand over my body, my soul, to you? No, you misunderstand. Every single part of me, every single thought and cell, they belong to me and me alone.”

The tips of his fingers, having become black with undeath, were regaining their original color. The demons searching his mind were losing their grip on him and being forced out.

“My will is my existence; my resolve is law. I am either myself or I am nonexistent, there is no scenario in which I will compromise, which I give even an inch. I have no weaknesses, I have no fears. You are the incarnations of your hunger and hatred, but I am in the incarnation of my ambition, and my ambitions can never be overpowered!” His whole body was returning to normal, the demons’ venom being forcefully expelled as he retook control. “You are all nothing more than a means to an end, and I will use you however I see fit to reach my goals, no matter what lines I must cross to do so.”

A flash shined from the horizon, the sun breaking through the darkness. The demons shrieked as they saw it, felt its light on their bodies. “You should have killed me when you had the chance, because now, you are all mine!”

The carvings in the altar, the contract of their agreement, began to glow. A crimson light enveloped the man and the demons jumped back, experiencing true terror for the first time. They turned around and tried to flee, either on foot or taking to the air, many even abandoning their physical bodies and trying to escape in their spectral form.

“I’m not going to let you weasel out of our agreement. A demon must obey its contract.”

The man snapped his fingers and threads of light reached out from his body in all directions. They shot out like striking snakes, seizing the fleeing demons and dragging them back. The unholy beasts howled and tried to resist, but their power was no longer theirs to use. The demon that was closest to him swung its claws at his neck, trying to kill him before it could be assimilated, but the hand that touched the man simply vanished like a mirage.

“Like I said, now, you’re all mine.”

The demon gave one final shriek before it was pulled against the man, disappearing into his body. One by one, the rest of the legion were likewise absorbed. At last, the hill became silent. The man stood alone, watching the sunrise. His vision sharpened, as in its empty socket, a new eyeball spontaneously formed. Likewise, all of the man’s injuries were healing as he felt power rush through him. This sensation, it was like he had gained a million new muscles both inside and outside his body. In the back of his mind, he could hear the army of the undead crying out in anguish from their imprisonment, but with just a thought, he silenced them.

“Now, now, there’s no need to get fussy. I’ll put your powers to good use.”

Deep in the confines of his mind, a demonic voice begrudgingly asked, ‘what do we call you… Master?’

The man walked over to his discarded silver coin and picked it up. “From this point forward, my name… is Dominion, for in time, all of creation will belong to me!”
]]> Tue, 16 Jul 2019 16:23:16 UTC SageOfTheForlornPath Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/dominion-chapter-1-king-of-the-dead/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/evil-blessing/
EVIL BLESSING

By

Johnarthurpayette



Within a mansion where George Hearn was recently hired, a girl not quite living drifted toward him in the form of a mist. Lovely was her voice as she spoke to him and soon he followed her wispy though shapely form to the upper floor of the great house, pausing at the door which she said was her room, the very room where the tough old lady who was his boss place slept.

Come to me, she said.

He didn’t realize her words registered in his mind, not in the fabric of the air. “Where did you go,” he asked, “why can’t I see you anymore?”

The real me is on the other side of the door, and I am oh so lonely.

“But this is Ruth’s bedroom. Do you want to get me fired?”

Oh no, not for anything in the world. Don’t worry. She sleeps with Prince Valium. You’d have to shake her to wake her up.

“Are you sure?”

Absolutely, it’s perfectly safe.

“Can’t you at least come out?”

If only I could. Come to me, dear George.

That’s it, either he answers her summons or he doesn’t. He turned the knob, opening the door which was light enough, wondering if he was out of his mind. George saw two things on the quick: the first was a nude girl with her back to him, the second was the slack face of Ruth Kempter. Kempter had precedence. He shrank from the very idea of invading her bedroom, sticking out his neck as though for the headsman. He didn’t even want to think what would happen if she awakened. That thought was signed, sealed, and deep-sixed. Ruth lay on an enormous fourposter bed, the pink curtains fastened by tiebacks. Ornate lilies were carved into the dark wood. Her face was smooth for her advanced age and yet somehow forlorn, a lean trickle of saliva made a path from the corner of her loose mouth, wetting her weathered arm which supported her head on the pillow. She didn’t snore but the bedding over her stomach moved regular and slow. He exhaled not realizing that he’d been holding his breath.

George closed the entrance quietly; the latch, oiled and in sound condition, slid into place.

Now he could afford to devour the girl. Lord have mercy she was beautiful. Her hair had a resplendence that was very close to glistening gold, a cascade of curls offset by other streams cut in a seemingly random pattern, though no hair was out of place. She stood very still in her splendor. Three gallery lights, angled from above in their tracks, illuminated her so attentively that the rest of the room appeared dead by comparison. He ignored all but her, and although she was not completely washed by the light, where the lamps chose to bathe her, her skin had the shine of milky satin under the sun.

George dearest, this is me.

She posed before the sleeping woman, still not moving, posed so that one graceful arm was lifted forward to begin a gentle stroll, the other slightly to the rear as if to complete the motion. He looked down at her feet. She was raised six inches by a pedestal.

A woman can live and yet not live, my George. She can damn herself out of her vanity and weep where there is not comfort. The sculptor did not flatter me. This is my image at the age of nineteen. This has been my vessel for thirty-four years. I used to shatter hearts. I would date a man, only to dump him when I thought there was someone better. I didn’t care. I’d do it again and again, but none was ever good enough. They adored me and I gave them wreckage. But who was to salvage me?

She was playing a joke; there were minuscule hairs on her back, her arms, and the lights reflected off them as effervescent little prisms. No statue was ever this alive. She would move in a minute. He was willing to wait, examining her magnificent curves, her ankles rising to well-proportioned calves, the calves melding to knees which were not gapped, fitting together perfectly.

May God forgive me, but I am still vain. Even as I am, I adore the thrill when a man looks at me longer than he should, the way he sneaks glances to make sure we are alone, the way he touches me. I can feel the faintest touch and it’s maddening. Am I horrible?

If she had been ardent about his physique, her comely derriere sent him past the gates of heaven. A preacher might gag but he would much rather revere her firm cheeks, which were rounded like honeydew melons, a deep cleft between them to emphasize their firmness. He would rather worship this than an unseen deity. Perhaps one day he’d burn for that one. Perhaps. But for sure he would burn without it. He began to walk around her, waiting for her to break her pose, noting long thighs that begged to be kissed. He barely heard her words.

We all have our silly dreams, I think. Mine is to be whole again, to live freely. I’d welcome my birthdays until my vanity had gone, along with my looks. Maybe a man would love me and, with his years, wouldn’t mind my ruin. We could rest on a park bench. We could talk about funny little things that only we knew. He could look at the pretty girls. I wouldn’t care for I’d do the same with the boys, and we’d pretend they passed, unnoticed.

And so that’s me, George. I’m pretty and I’m horrible. I tell truths and the opposite and I connive like a bitch. I have room for lust but none for pride. What have I done to be proud of? I don’t pretend to have shame. I can talk like this because tomorrow you won’t remember a thing.

He gazed at the tuft between her legs, noting that unlike the current fashion she didn’t trim the edges. There was no requirement anyway. She had a natural, pleasing diamond shape. She was also a natural blond.

My silly man, are you listening?

No, he was not. Her words skipped like a flat rock hydroplaning over an idle lake, leaving negligible ripples behind. He drank her in while she continued this silly game of standing still, his eyes drifting from her pubis to her navel, rising to the perfected beauty of her breasts, the very ones guaranteed to drive him mad.

George!

In a moment he would cup them, in a moment but why hurry? It was so hot for her to remain as she was while he took her in. Surely she saw the look in his eyes. Her neck resembled that of a model, thin and a bit high, and was straight with the delicacy of youth.

Stop it right now, you idiot!

Was she blabbering something? Did it matter? He’d kiss her neck first. See how long she could stand that! Make it nice and lingering. Let his tongue trace its way down her throat, feeling the sharp intake of her breath. He could hardly wait. His eyes continued looking up and she made some kind of screeching noise but he wasn’t about to stop. He passed chin and killer lips and then her scream did get through just before the slam of the most scintillating green eyes he had ever seen. Like incandescence they burst into him and he had to break away as his heart betrayed him with a hard, single thump that threatened to be his last. But it wasn’t. An after-image of her sensuous mouth had simultaneously seared itself into his memory, and the resultant strike gave him no choice but to snap his eyes shut as if cracked by a whip.

And yet part of him yearned for more.

Until now, girls had come easily to George and he thought he’d seen every shape and size. It never occurred to him that some women were best avoided on account of their sheer potency, that their clothing did not conceal an error nor flatter their figures, that their garments were not instruments of enticement but rather of protection, protection so that the poor man could keep his wits. Such women have a private grief unknown to their normal sisters--excess of any kind has an attendant cost--but devastating women also have a very real danger. This one was lethal and had him mounted as surely as a butterfly in a collection. George knew it and didn’t give a damn. He’d give anything for her, anything.

He never considered the pin.

‘Young, dumb, and full of cum.’ She sounded tired, worn, resigned. Come, my George.

He was reeling on his feet and didn’t see the air above wisp into a cloud and begin drifting down to settle about him, and nowhere else. He was not aware of her enveloping need as such, but he did know a shiver when she whispered toward the auricles and ventricles of his heart. She murmured sweet nothings from his ear to his brain, which couldn’t compare to the love she had for the contact of his body. She lied with great sincerity when his lids moistened, as his eyes glazed over, and promised the delight of refulgent pleasures, both spoken and unspoken, normal and forbidden. Pleasures to crave but wise to shun, for never once did she mention the price of the ticket. Her offer was a bouquet, slow-acting but oh so good.

Come and breathe me.

No, said the remnant of a flicker.

His reply changed nothing. He would lose tonight, like the night before, and before, and before.

The wisp gathered in the direction of his resting mouth and clear nose, gathered as it collected into a denser form. It abandoned the balance of his person as unimportant. It condensed and where it came to rest, it remained patiently to be drawn. His breathing was not affected when he inhaled the essence of Belladonna, pretty lady, perfume of nightshade. She was sweet in the humidity of his lungs, kind to the tissues that welcomed her, and gentle to every cell she hushed into a comfortable sleep. Pliant he was as she permeated him more effectively than the presence of oxygen, huntress of the night diffused into delectable George.

And in the moment when she awakened him, George knew he would someday come to her, consumed with desire as much as she, and hold the mounds of her backside while he sealed his mouth over her lips and greedily sucked her. A handsome man, a solid man lowered his head like a marionette, and his fingers writhed as if inhabited by snakes. The belt of his robe began to loosen by itself and he knew what he wanted her to do.

Touch me, my dear George.

His hands were her hands; his lust was her lust; they rode a crest together, rising as strong pectorals and hills, well swollen, were combined into standing waves.

His hands lifted from his sides, hands with calluses and masculine strength, strength pulled to her nipples that were as sensitive as the cap of his penis. Whether he rubbed her or himself, it felt the same, was the same. He stayed with her and knew she was but wood, could be pinched very hard as there was not flesh to deform or bend. And she felt pleasure instead of pain, her nipples begging for more, and the more he pinched, the closer she came, they came.

She was already groaning. Give it to me; give it to me now.

His robe parted wide and something yanked his briefs down, and then writhed over the fuzz of his abdomen. He could take anything now, see anything now, he couldn’t wait to come into her and merge.

Look at me, my George; look and have what you want.

He opened his eyes and was lost to sumptuous red, focused yet drowsy upon parted lips. He wanted to feel the kiss, share the kiss of connection, but all his mouth could do was open to the air. Her elegant cheeks, flaring exquisitely, ached to be stroked by his willing hand. It was not to be.

My eyes, my eyes, look into my eyes. Don’t stop; hurry!

They were almost out of time. His eyes which would not obey him locked into the unending gaze of the most beautiful woman he had ever seen. Her eyes were preternaturally lit from within, shimmering greenly with a touch of emerald fire, caring deeply for him and yet not, captivating far beyond the point of endurance. There was a fathomless depth here, drawing from him as though she could not possibly get enough but must get enough--a soul pulling from his core life and breath, not caring. In his mind he saw her head suddenly twitch like a woman under the influence of an electric current, and her eyes widened in surprise as if she had quite forgotten the phenomenal power of a man.

Like a wrap she clung to him, her perfect lower teeth becoming more visible, an utterance forming from deep within her throat. Her hands released him from above in order to grab him below, and her voice dropped two octaves into a most unusual sound, a guttural moan which shook to the cadence of her hands. She took one long blink to savor the beauty of her pleasure, alive to how good it was and how bad it was; what she was doing and what she would soon be feeling, very soon now, the feeling of a conduit connected directly to his groin. Her voice rose as she sensed him quivering and the corners of her pretty lips flared into little peaks of victory, eyes fastened to eyes. Her dark pupils were enlarged with her craving, smoky embers of glory and ice. She heard a distant sound, up and off to an impossible scale, a voice too high for a man but too frenzied for a woman, the wailing of an animal in awful heat.

His throat felt stuffed as though by the medium of cotton; he found it impossible to cry although he wanted to, ramming his penis forward to leave it there, a mindless organ spitting into her churning hands. Upon his shove an ancient spasm convulsed her so hard that her head snapped back and the whites of her eyes rocked up to be passed by her heavy lids coming down, and her red lips contorted like the pain of the gored. The shudder of pulsed rapture struck as waves from the very pit of her, and in that instant forced the cry of her unendurable pleasure to the four walls which were deaf to the sound of her ecstasy, the room only hearing the calm blanket of night.

And through it all, past it all, there was a promise unkept. She had lied. All of this they knew as they imploded into a single fusion--her lies and meager good, his zest and attitude of a slut--they knew each other completely.

And kept shuddering in place.

#

The room did not quell nor did the surface of the earth touch them in the long moments that followed. Her still form remained as it was, as it always was. A beautiful young woman about to take a walk, her chin high and body firm with the suggestion of toned muscle, perfect posture. Her nipples were as fresh as the day the sculptor had carved them, her figure clean as though painted yesterday. No sign of ejaculate was on her. In her heart there was a peace. She said nothing to George who now lodged within a special place she had fashioned for him, a dwelling of raven black which was brightened by her occasional aftershocks. They were few in number, but when they quaked it was like the roll of wicked thunder. She floated high and was far too filled with her pleasure to notice that the atmosphere of the bedroom had subtly altered. The older woman lying on the Lilium bed wasn’t breathing deeply anymore.

Ruth Kempter’s eyes weren’t focusing all that well, but she was alert enough to barely part her lashes. She studied the male who was breathing strangely, his robe still open.


More Evil Blessing at Amazon

]]> Sun, 23 Apr 2017 03:36:08 UTC johnarthurpayette Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/evil-blessing/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/working-in-a-red-room/
On a Saturday evening, in a bar in the centre of the city, some unknown guy came to me and said : 'Hi , my name is Adam , are you interested in a job where you can earn a lot of money ? ' . He was wearing a nice suit , dark glasses, but his voice was soft : the first impression was confidence.
'Of course' I said, and my name is Dimitri . We sat down , he paid me a cocktail and asked : 'if I would say 'no ' if the job is not completely legal. I joked and said , 'if I don't have to rob a bank and if it pays good, no problem'. He laughed . Then he asked if I Like girls or boys, ‘girls, of course’. I replied. He talked like 'a funny guy ' and suddenly he said : - ' if you want, you can earn € 5000 for a few hours’ work - '. The only important thing you must do is 'to forget what you did after ' and to be happy with your € 5000. So when you work a few days a week you will soon have € 50.000 a month or more. He looked at me straight in the eyes with his dark glasses and said : ‘so tell me now : will we continue with this conversation or do you want to go home ' ?
I could not answer directly, but after one minute I answered : ' For this kind of money I want to do a lot so tell me more details '. 'Fine ', he said while he reached out his hand , ' but do we have a deal that everything we say now stays between us and do you want to confirm this with your life '? Now I got the feeling it was some kind of gangster, I became a little bit scared , but why not , it was only words. So I agreed.
'Listen Dimitri ', you know that if you don't want to do this job, many others guys will so the result is the same : 'it will happen ' so if your answer is no,' it does not make a difference only that another guy become rich and you will stay a poor rat'. Somewhere he had a point : no matter what the job is, somebody will do it and become rich. Of course he made me very curious, I agreed with this private conversation and asked Adam to go on. He asked : ' do you know that many rich people pay a lot of money just to look at a webcam-site ' ? I laughed and replied 'yes of course , but I'm not good enough to play in porn-movies '.

' No ! ' . replied Adam short and loud . His voice became silent again and whispered in my ear : 'they pay for life performances to see how victims are raped and more. This is the only business for our company : customers pay and we do what they want for their money. When they pay an amount, they can send a scenario they want to see. Then our K-team (kidnap-team ) looks if it’s possible to find the subject and we make a price. If they agree, they must pay the rest and then we make an appointment to come online to start the show. This customer is the 'director ‘, He controls what must happen life on line. There are also 'lurkers ', they pay less but can only watch , not control. Sometimes a few hundred lurkers are online during the show. Your job : - to assist in the – redroom - .
He looked at me very straight in the eyes again and said : 'remember your promise with your life to keep this between us ; should I go on, or do you want to leave '? I did not know what to say first, but realized I was so far in it that I could not just leave so I said : 'no ok , go on '.
Adam became more relaxed now and he continued: ' we do everything, girls, boys or whatever, but of course, most clients want girls and because the motivation is good for the show, you will assist the girl performances. Don't worry: it’s weird in the beginning, but after a few shows you get used to it and may even like it! Imagine what you can do with all that money! Now serious: there is only one director who pays a lot and he decides life during the show what must be done. Of course he writes first some kind of scenario so that we can prepare everything but during the show he is the boss. The lurkers pay less, but they can only watch. The director gives a description of the victim, our 'search team ' looks in another environment for the appropriate profile. then our 'kidnap-team ' kidnaps the object from the street, transport it directly to our company here and tie the subject on a toilet with a bag over the head. Finally, we give the signal 'subject ready ' to the director and make the appointment to start the show. This must happen fast because almost every 'director ' wants to see a 'fresh ' victim in the clothes they wear before the kidnap so: ‘we do not tolerate that someone damage the object before the show’! Once an appointment is made , the lurkers get informed when the show comes on line, if they have paid of course. Don't think the 'director ' is always a man, sometimes it is a rich woman and they are the most difficult customers! Now I want your reply : to go home, forget this and stay a poor rat or enjoy us : became rich and perhaps it will amuse you. If you don't want to decide now, agree, but anyway : we must meet each other again . And Dimitri , I know where you live of course !' . I stood perplex , frozen , this information was dangerous . Adam ordered another drink , smile relaxed and said : 'don't worry, I know the feeling, but now I live in a nice villa with pool , drive a Porsche 95 , can fuck any girl I want and pay the cops to let me without questions. I live like a king !
Suddenly some weird energy came in me ; I reached out my hand to him and said - 'deal'- ! I want to try it, tell me where and when'. Adam looked surprised about my swift decision, shacked my hand firmly and said - 'deal ' - !, You will not regret it! There is a show on Saturday, 3pm. Give me your gsm-number. You will receive a text message around 1pm with the address where one of our drivers will pick you up and bring you to the playroom. Your guide is 'Sergei' . It’s your first time so you must look and learn what the 2 assistants must do because next time you will be one of the 2 assistants.. . The first time you get € 3000, next if you succeed and if you are a full assistant its € 5000. How long the show takes depends from the scenario of the director and also how strong the object is. We had had customers who just wants to see a swift, hard action from only a few minutes just to see them die, others want to see torturing during hours but also some want to see just a rape. So it depends. Of course you understand: even if the director is soft and asks to let the object go we confirm this but in reality we cannot let it go for security-reasons. In this case when we are off-line and if some guys of our ‘staff’ wants to play they can do what they want, but you know how it must end for the object, always… Now: go home , dream about the money you will get and welcome to the company' ; I have to go now. 'Oh yeah , before I forget he smiled: take a bag with you with spare clothes because sometimes it’s a mess there'. Adam left , I would never see him again. He left me with a fearful heart, I could not realize what I did, but still, all that money...

Saturday I did not sleep a lot, was nervous as hell. At 1 : 00 pm exactly my phone gave a receiving signal. The message was : wait at 1:20pm at the corner of a-street and b-and street. A black Mercedes will pick you up. Be there . Success, - Adam. I was shaking as a leaf, answered , 'ok ', pulled on my jeans vest, took my bag with extra pants and shirt and was on my way to the to the place of appointment . 12:20 pm At the corner of a- and b-street : I saw a black Mercedes coming who was flashing with his lights. He stopped in front of me ; I could not see inside because all the windows were dark . I opened a back door and heard a voice 'in front '. I opened the front door and got in. The driver was around 60 years, completely bold, glasses, dressed in a black suit and was smoking. He did not look at me, did not say anything : I felt myself not comfortable and yes, afraid .

He drove toward an abandoned industrial area. I knew the place ; a lot of people worked there during communist time. Now it’s one abandoned, sad place where only rats are live. The car stopped in front of an old paint-factory. The driver said nothing, just continued smoking. Suddenly the door went open, a big guy reached out his hand and said : 'Hi , I'm Sergei, welcome to the company '.
I shacked his hand , got out of the car, took my bag but did not know how to behave myself . Sergei noticed this and calmed me by saying : 'don't worry ' , my job is to introduce you and to guide you into your new job. Before we go into the room I will tell you what you can expect, follow me '.

We went into the old factory, he opened a big steel door, I followed him. We went along with old, rusty stairs going down the basement. He opened another door, behind it was a whole complex of corridors and doors. I saw camera's everywhere. It was not a dark place, on the contrary ; fresh painted in light colors ! In the half of a corridor, Serge opened a green door and said : 'welcome to my office'. It had nothing specials : just an old metal office; probably a remnant from the time that the factory was still producing paint. But then I saw under his suite a holster with a gun in it. I realized now I could not stop this or go back, I must put my way of thinking about zero, go on with it and see what happens .

'So Dimitri ' , He said with a relaxed voice : 'I will tell you clearly and directly what happens here , what we expect from you and of course : when you leave this place with your money this never happened ' . What else could I say then 'ok, I understand '… . I thought by myself : now it’s the time to say nothing , listen carefully, try to be relaxed and not to show any fear '.
Sergei started his conversation : ' we are professional businessmen, we don't ask questions and just do what the customer wants’. Our customer, the 'director ' sends a basic scenario so that we know what kind of things he wants to see, if we should buy some extra tools, if he wants also girls to assists or whatever he wants. Funny: some of them asks to piss on the object so drink some water before… You have luck : you have the department of - young girls - ; children, we don’t do, but such customers we refer to colleagues, but still: your objects can be 12 or younger if for example the customer wants an object with budding tits. Age as number is not important, but the look must be as the director described. He grinned: ‘Once a client wanted a girl around 14 but the k-team came with a 25 year-old. But she looked so small and skinny and had such small tits so that the client never knew the real age, but sill paid for a 14 which is much more expensive’…
So the objects are the 'movie-stars ' and must give a show for the customers who pay a lot of money to see it. The director is the boss, not us ! What he commands must happen, no matter what, understand? What else could I do then nod yes… So your task is to do things that the director wants; you must do it as good as possible because the lurkers also pay a lot and if they like the show, they will pay us again to come back, so more money… . For your first time: I suppose the session can take a few hours because the director wants a session where the subject must fall unconscious as much as possible, it must make a lot of noise and by the time it cannot wake up anymore there may be not much left of it. This means that the assistants (like you soon ) may not let her bleed a lot, not damage her eyes and tongue. They must do the things the director wants to see her react, but not too hard because she must stay a life as long as possible. So: let's hope we have luck that’s it’s a strong-one. It can happen sometimes that the director is not satisfied because the object dies too soon, but it’s not mostly our fault: we do what he wants and cannot know how strong the object is. We never give money in return! So you must learn to know the limits to let them react, but not go too far so they die fast! But don’t worry: Yvan, the redroom-boss , will constantly look on his tablet what the director wants and show it to the assistants what they must do. Very important : Yvan communicates with the assistants out of the camera view so the director and lurkers can concentrate and enjoy themselves on the object. The clients can choose between many cameras and there are also 2 mobile cameramen to make closeups : one always zooms in on the face, the other on - the place of action. - Always try to stay out of the image! About the victim: consider it as an object just to make money. So , are you shocked? '

Indeed, I was but I realized there was no return. I ensured him that I was ok , of course nervous but ready to go into the room. 'Fine ', he said , let's go to the red room. But first I’ll show you how we keep the object in anticipation of the show. Oh yeah, bad luck for you : you as assistant may not rape. For this we hire 'strong big men with experience ‘. The guys from the rape-team are selected on their ugliness , brutality , big dig and their talent to come always with a lot of sperm , most customers want to see this. Like animals; the more brutal and ugly the better and I don't think you have this profile . I saw a big smile on his mouth….
Sometimes a customer wants that we do a 'preparation ' to the victim like one week ago a customer wanted that we bring in a raped, beaten girl and he just wanted to see how she get hanged . So in this case we had to prepare her among us and then you can help. Or a soft-client can ask just to see the object strip and to have forced sex and after we let her go home. Of course, this is not possible, but we assure the client, we will return her to her home safely. After the show you and the men can do with the object what they want, but as you suppose it may not survive, no witness.

‘Now let’s go’ he said and I followed Sergei ; he closed his green door and continued walking through the corridor. He hit right into another hallway that literally ended at a red door. Before the end of the corridor, on the right site there was a blue door. He opened it and said: ‘look, here is the object of the show’. I was astonished… I saw a girl in black dress, sitting on a toilet with her panties over her shoes, her arms tied around her back and a bag over her head. She had some bib around her neck. The body was trembling like a leaf. ‘Look’, Sergeï said: the k-team tied her to a toilet because of the stress she will shit and piss a lot and the client wanted a fresh object like it came just from the street with normal clean clothes. Because they captured it 2 days ago, the k-team gave her bib to keep the clothes clean when they are pushing down food and water into her throat. And also to avoid saliva on her clothes because she has a rag in her mouth. 5 Minutes before the show starts the k-team must clean her ass, pull-up her pants, remove the bag and the rag and bring her in. Of course, it’s not always like this: it can happen a client wants to bring an object that is left for a few days without anything. So it’s a mess if we remove the clothes, but like I said: client is king…
Ok, now let’s go into the red room’. We left the toilet and went through the red door: I saw a 'white room'; the walls and floor were made of white smooth stones, like in a swimming pool and the floor had drains .


OOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOO


There were a few men working: one had a tablet, another was sitting on a computer desk, I guess this was the 'IT-man' and 2 others were laughing like they were telling jokes. They looked at me while saying, 'hi, the new guy' and shook my hand friendly. Weird... just like the first day in a normal job. Then 2 young guys came to say hello to me and introduced themselves as 'the assistants'. They had the same profile as me: around 20 years, just normal guys who want to do a job to earn money.

The room had camera's everywhere and to every wall a big flat screen was mounted. There was also a wheel with a garden-hose, probably to 'clean easy' after a show. In the middle of the room was a bed: an old model, entirely in metal but without mattress. The bottom of the bed was simply consisted of a metal grid. It was old and rusty with belts everywhere, I suppose, to tie the victim to the bed. Next to the bed was an electric tacle. 'look', he said: the tackle is easy to use: one button with arrow up, one with arrow down and our special 'red button.' if you press this, the hook opens automatically so it’s easy to connect handcuff chains or whatever. To disconnect the subject is easy with this button: just push it and the subject falls down, you don't have to lift it up. In the corner was some kind of large grey plastic bin on wheels.
On the other side of the room was another door.
'Come', said Serge¨, let me show you around and give you some explanation. Here on this tackle the show usually begins. Mostly the object is tied with the arms up and a bag over the head before the start. If customer wants we can easily lift the subject up. The bed has no mattress because, like this it’s easy to clean: just use the garden-hose to clean it. This is also a part of your job: to clean the room for the next victim. The customers also like the impression of the old, rusty model.

The big bin here we use for the 'garbage-container' like the clothes and shoes we take off, handbags or whatever they carried with them. And yeah: sometimes also hair, teeth or things we must cut off. And of course at the end you must help to throw what is left of the object in the bin. But it's the 'clean-team' that takes care of what is in the bin: they will burn everything what's in it, so lucky for you this is not your job.'

Now he asked me to follow him into the 'storage', this was behind the other door in the red room. When I came into this room, I got a very unpleasant feeling. I saw things like whips, clamps, wire, metal bars, needles, ropes, chains, a few hundred 'little fishhooks with wire', all kinds of knives, a terrible collection of dildo's even with sharp nails in it, a gas fire, buckets, nippers, electrical wires, even a shelf, underpants and bra with sharp nails in it. Also a lot of Dettol: ‘nobody wants to get ill so the hygiene is very important. After the session the assistants must clean and disinfect all the toys here, after every session, we don't want to see blood, nothing!'
I told him that I understand it and I will respect the rules. 'Super', now for your first session, let’s talk to Yvan what it will be this time'. I followed him to Yvan who was 'working' on his tablet. 'Hi new-one' he said: 'listen: look good what will happen, don't think and just do what I say. Never, but never refuse, run away or vomit in front of the camera! I know first time can be hard, but if necessary : run to the outdoor and relax in the corridor! Never talk during the session, only if you must give a command to the victim what it must do. Understood?' What else could I do as saying 'clear!'..

Suddenly a big bald guy came in and gave a handbag to Yvan. 'Here new-one' he said; 'your first job. Before they bring in the victim, they handle over the personal things to the assistants. They must see if there are some valuable things, the rest you put into the container to be destroyed. Put the value-things on the desk. Don't look for cellphones, the K-team destroys them directly after the kidnap.' If the subject wears jewelry, earrings or whatever: remove them after the session'.

Yvan went to the 'IT-man and left me with the handbag of the subject they will bring in. Sergeî nodded - ok - to me for my first mission. It was a soft-brown leather female handbag. I opened it and find the usual things like make-up, mirror, tampons, wallet. I opened the wallet, took the money out and put in on the desk. I took her passport and saw the picture of a very nice girl with long, curly black hair. Her name was 'Anoushka', 19 years old. ' This must absolutely be destroyed' said SergeÎ. 'Never try to take it with you such as any other thing from the subject'! I nodded yes and went to the plastic bin to throw all the personal things of Anoushka in it. I saw her passport with her beautiful picture laying down in the bin, it was a terrible feeling. But I had to be strong, brain on zero: no way return.

Now the door has gone open and 2 men came in with a professional camera. One had the profile of 'an accountant' : a frail man with glasses and weird haircut, the other looked more like Beethoven. They were testing their stuff while the IT-man was working on his computer .

I saw the 4 big flat screens activated : changing the images from one camera-view to a diagram with more images . 'Look ' , said Sergei : 'the customer can switch to the image that he wants. Once paid, the customer receives soft with a special browser. It works very well : its high-quality image and clear sound '.

One of the assistants came out of the store-room and threw a pile of balaclavas on the desk . 'Look Dimitri ' , Sergei said : 'never , never forget to put on a cap before we go online or we have to kill you. ' He smiled, I did not know whether he meant or not. 'Serious ' , He said : not only for security reasons, but also because the customers like this, it fits well in the scenario . This was a clear message .

Suddenly Yvan clapped his hand and shouted : '5 minutes to go ' , everybody takes your cab and into positions'. Like Everybody did, I went to the desk and took a cap to pull it over the head , even the IT-man did this ! He concentrated himself on his control panel and there I saw : '876 users on-line ', the assistants closed the red entrance door and took place against the wall next to the entrance door , the cameramen are funny with their cabs . They were pointing their cameras to the closed red entrance door, Yvan was concentrated on his tablet. Sergei said : 'remember always to stay as much as possible out of the camera view and never, never speak ! This rule is for everybody who comes here, no voices ! The customers only want to enjoy the sounds of the victim , not our voices in a strange language for them ! And of course also for security reason. And if it gets too rough for you this first time and you need to vomit, run outside! I replied : ‘ok , understood clearly'. And now it became eerily quiet in the room . Only a sound came from the IT-man's keyboard . Everybody was just waiting in silence until Yvan gave the sign. …

Now Yvan clapped his hands and counted down with his fingers: 5-4-3-2-1; completely silence… On the control-panel was a red banner ‘on-line’.
Now I heard big steps in the corridor and also a crying female voice. These sounds became louder and louder. Suddenly the red entrance door flew open and I recognized - the bold driver which brought me to here. Over his shoulder he had the 'subject' : the girl I saw who was tied to the toilet. - a slim body in a black dress with a dirty burlap sack over her head - .
She was wearing white open shoes, her ankles and wrists were bound together . On the big screens I saw how the cameramen made professional zooms of the body over his shoulder . What I heard was crying , begging words, nothing more. The bold driver threw the subject on the ground, turned around and went away. Because I remember how I emptied the handbag and saw her passport, I knew her name was Anoushka . But I could not think like this anymore, I must see her as a subject because I realize terrible things would happen to her now so it was better to replace Anoushka by a subject without feelings, to put my brains on zero now ! The cameramen begin to film the crying victim on the ground from every angle. On the screens you saw her laying down on the floor, shaking and full of fear. Her shocking sounds were terrible. Sergei gestured to look at Yvan's tablet just like the assistants did . I could read clearly the instructions of the director : 'I want to see her standing up on the tackle, brutal removing of bag , hair pulling , faces labs and one good punch in the belly' . Yvan gave a sign to an assistant to do it . To me he gave a sign to look very good .
An assistant went to the tackle-control panel and let it down. Without a word the other assistant went to 'the object ' and puts the chain from the handcuffs around her wrists into the hook on the tackle and removes the rope from her ankles. The other one pushed the 'up'-button. Now I saw the tackle coming up and dragged her body with it. First her hands, arms, her full body wrapped in a beautiful black dress and her moving legs until she was standing outstretched .
The IT-man activated the floor- , ceiling camera’s and wall camera’s around the tackle; the 2 cameramen slowly walked around her and made extra shots of her trembling , shaking body. On the screen I saw every detail of her body, filmed from every corner. The floor cameras showed her nice legs that ended to the view of her light-blue panties.
What goes to my mind are 2 things : first is ' I don't want to see a horrible murder, just want to go home and forget this' but the other site : the dark site, the site from a young man who loves woman says ' wow, no : I want to see more' . What I'm I ; a victim, a sadist, a bad guy? Soon I will know myself better. Anyway : technically this was the good professional work ; high-quality-level for the - customers - . In my head, I try to forget the name 'Anoushka ' but it keeps on spinning in my head .

Now an assistant comes in front of her, I see on the screen the burlap sack . Suddenly the assistant beats a few times with left- and right hand against the back, in a very fast, brutal move he removes the sack from her head, grabs her hair, moves her head in every direction very brutal , gives her a few hard face slabs, a big punch in this nice , flat belly and steps away from her.
The sound was one sobbing , begging, weeping mess with words like 'why , let me, help , I just want to go home , please don't do this ' etc... But nobody of the men made any sound , we could only hear 'it ', the 'subject ' as I must see her. I realized that also the 876 users could see this, get a kick from this while playing with themselves etc ... Terrible feeling, but my dark site founded it somewhere exciting.



They filmed her about 5 minutes, then Yvan gave us a sign and showed us the 'director's new message : 'lift her up , use 2 whips to rip this dress but never remove the nice open shoes until the fall !'. He gave a sign to the assistants , they went into the 'storage room ' and came back with two long black whips . When she saw this, she became in terrible panic and started to scream 'no please ' but suddenly the other assistant pushed the up-button from the tackle until her feet were lifted from the floor. Now she was hanging only by her wrists, which must be very painful . On every screen we saw all the images from the camera's which the - lurkers- could shoos . The 2 cameramen were zooming in to her - what once was beautiful - crying face, the other to her trembling legs and feet. They went away by the assistant that stood behind her gave his first lash . I never hear such terrible cry in my life; it was heartbreaking; her whole body was shaking like a reed. The whip went all the way around her body. Now the other assistant who stood in front of her used his whip : a heavy cry echoed in the room .
When her shaking body turned around, I saw that the whip around her body damaged the zipper from her dress and gave a first glimpse of her naked body. Now the 2 assistants, each in turn started to whip her. It was one entirely sound of heavy cries mixed with a flapping , shrill sound .

I saw her body turning , shaking , trembling and tried to avoid the latches. Her dress became more damaged now: I saw parts of her legs, belly, back. But now Yvan raised his hand to stop and to come to the tablet. The cameraman zoomed in to her destroyed dress, her naked skin, which had also a bit damaged with red lines and her face which was one crying mess full of tears. Yvan let us show next commando on his tablet : ' remove this dress with a big knife , let het hang a few minutes, then whips only above her underpants.

So be it : one assistant went into the store-room and came back with a big knife which made her very afraid , I had the impression she began to realize that it is finished…. The assistant grabbed her robe with one hand, with the other hand, he cut it into pieces and removed it completely so now she was hanging on her wrists in underwear, her body had some red lines everywhere. He kicked away the parts of her dress to give the floor-camera's a view and went away . .
It was quiet in the room , the only sound was a soft crying sound . The cameramen were busy to zoom in on her body: every curve , every red line of her body. When they zoomed in to her light-blue underpants we could clearly see she had sanitary napkins under it: so she was in her period . The 2 feelings came up again : one of horror and disgust, one small dark ' exiting ', somewhere sexually provocative .

Now the assistants took their whips again, I heard and saw terrible reactions on her face and they began to whip her again, from both sides, each in turn on her and bra and belly. After a few whips I saw a lot of red lines on her belly, her bra was damaged and her right-tit came out of it and was bleeding . Yvan made a sign to stop , the assistants went away .

The cameramen did their job again : On the big screen the results : her back full and belly full of red lines and some blood , a bit on her belly , one tit was hanging out of bra bar and many bloodlines on belly and back . Yvan whispered to the assistants to pull of her bra now and to give 10 more whips on the region of her tits. The assistants were approaching the object again; one brutally pulled off what was left of her bra.
Now they started to whip her from both sides on her back and tits: the sound was one mass of latches and horrible cries. When they stopped her back and tits were full of bloodlines. Like always the cameramen zoomed in on the damaged places: her back was so red, her tits half destroyed, even the nipple of her left tit was completely torn off and was bleeding heavy.
Yvan showed us the next command: to pull out her under pant whip her on the legs, pussy and ass. So it started again: one assistant pulled out her under pant, , her sanitary napkins fell out. I saw her black hair with some blood on her legs from her period and another that came from her belly. Now the assistants started to whip again, but only on legs, ass and pussy. The terrible sounds started again, but her moves were less; I think her resistance was broken. When they stopped, now also her legs were full of red bloodlines. The cameramen were zooming in: we could see in close up the damage on her body: many flesh wounds, almost her whole body was full of red lines. We saw and hear her fast breaths … .
The floor-cameras were showing the view from under ; you could see her once-nice-shaped legs now full of bloodlines , her bleeding pussy and her shaking belly and half-destroyed tits . Yvan made another gesture to see the next command from the director .


He whispered to one of the assistants to go into the store-room and to warm up an iron : the director wanted to see her feet full of burned spots. The assistant went to the store-room while on the screen we saw 'the subject ' hanging , trembling , full of fear and pain but she was still at consciousness . I guess my - colleague - will activate the gas-fire in the storage-room and warm up an iron . After a few minutes he came back with a red-glowing iron ; the cameramen took the position : one on feet and legs ; one to her face which was really getting in panic when she saw the hot iron .

The assistant came closer to her feet and touched briefly a tone with it . I heard a terrible cry , and tried to avoid the iron, but it was no , use . I saw how constantly he touched her feet and tones everywhere with the iron so they became full of black burned spots . This was not my style , we even could smell the burned flesh but this did not turn me on. What else could I do then keep still and watch . Her feet became full of burned black spots everywhere , her body was shaking like hell , her sounds were atrocious . Suddenly he stopped because it seems she did not move anymore : she lost consciousness . They stepped away , from the floor camera we could also see that she lost her urine . I saw it expiry of her legs and also the camera lens was wet . The cameramen did their job again and started to zoom in on her. Yvan stuck up his thumb, it seems the director gave compliments .
Yvan whispered to us to start with the second position . First, we must tackle her body high from the ground and then let her fall. Then she must be tied outstretched on the bed with open legs. And so one assistant pushed the button from the tackle to lift her up, now she was hanging about 2m above the ground. The cameramen took their position: one on her body, the second on the floor. The assistant pushed the ‘open hook’ button, now with a big smash we saw and heard her body falling on the ground. Because of the smash, she started to move again, but on the screen we could see how her right-foot was in a broken position because of the blow on the floor.

Now Yvan came to me and whispered that if he gives the sign, I must go out in the corridor to give the instructions to the rape-team: to come in each on turn with a light up a cigarette, to open her mouth, to piss in it, make their dig hard on it and extinguish the cigarette against her pussy. Then to come in her pussy as brutal as possible. I was a bit confused, but said 'ok ', what else could I do.
Now I saw how the 2 assistants taking her wrists and dragged her across the floor to the old, sharp rusty bed . On the floor were traces of blood and urine . Now the other assistant came to help and took her feet, I saw terrible reactions of pain when he grabbed her right-foot because it was broken and burned everywhere. She began to cry again and to try to struggle a bit, which was no use of course . They threw her on the iron bed, removed the handcuffs , opened her arms and tie a strong rope around her wrists . Then each assistant took an ankle , put her legs over the trailing edge of the bed and tie her ankles firmly to the bed . Then they pulled the ropes around her wrists and attached them to the bed . She cried it out because this had to be very painful ; the old bed was rusty and full of sharp edges .
There was even a floor camera under the bed : on the screen I could see her damaged back full of lines but now with much more blood . The cameraman started to zoom her from everywhere in close-up. Her body became more and more damaged with bloodlines everywhere: one tit without a nipple, feet were full of burning marks and one was seriously broken. Her face was almost intact, but I fear they will change it now.
Now one of the assistants went behind the bed, took her by her hair and lifted her head up. I remember the wish of the 'director ' that she must see everything . Now yvan gave me the sign to go outside and tell the instructions to the rape-men in the corridor. When I opened the door, I saw a bunch of very ugly , fat old stinking man full of tattoos . Almost everybody was smoking so there was no need to give them cigarettes. I told them the instructions and they started to laugh and joke telling 'don't worry new-one , we know our job’. So the first one came in, surrounded by the cameramen. He took place next to the bed , the eyes of 'the object ' looked terrible . She tried to say 'no please ' but nobody was listening… The fat , old stinking guy pulled his pants down and came on the bed over her .
It was terrible to see this dirty , smelling dick in front of her face. Now he gave her a face slap , brutally opened her mouth and put his thing in it while he began to piss. It was disgusting! Then he took over the hair from the assistant and started to move her head brutally over his dick until it disappeared completely into her mouth . It looked like she was choking on it. After a minute he pulled out his dick out and indeed : it was large and stiff now .
The assistant took her hair over and upright, her face. It looked really terrible : I bit blood was coming , also full of urine, mucus and some vomit . The stinking fat rapist took place in front of her open legs and extinguish the cigarette between her legs. She tried to scream, but her face was so distorted that it was not a scream anymore . One cameramen now constantly zoomed in on her face , the other to her pussy. Suddenly, the fat old stinking guy putted his dick in front of her pussy and in one big punch his big dick disappeared completely into her pussy.
I saw on the screen how her face got terrible expressions . The man ejaculated a few times, pulled out his thing and went out of the room. The cameraman hurried him to film between her legs: one big mess of sperm and blood . Her face looked terrible, but the sounds was more moans now , I think she realized everything and hoped it will soon be over. For the first time in my life I saw a girl getting raped and tortured , soon murdered . I'm not like this and will never be like this . I must see this pure as a job ,which is terrible, but 'brains on zero ' is all I can do.

Suddenly yvan whispered to an assistant that director is not happy that her tits and belly are still in a good shape , we must do something about it . 'Get some barbed wire and whip her a bit’. This sounded so terrible , but it seems they do everything what is necessary to please the director. So the assistant went to the store-room again with 2 pieces of barbed wire . They took place on each site of the bed and started to whip softly but deep on tits and belly. The effect was terrible: her tits and belly was now one destroyed surface. Her body was so terrible shaking , her head moved around with her eyes closed , moaning and crying like hell , I have no words of it .
The cameraman took some shots to film her belly and tits, completely destroyed. But she dit not pass out yet : she was still moving and moaning.
Yvan put his thumb up and gave me a sign to let the second raper-guy come in . The assistant took place behind the bed , and lifted her head up by her hair . I opened the door and the next rape-guy came in . It was also a bold , fat stinking, guy full of tattoos . He took out his pants , gave her a few faces labs, came over and took place with his fat ass on her destroyed tits. He pulled her mouth open and putted his ugly stinking dig in it, begins to piss and then to move it like crazy . He pulled out his ugly dick , came to stand in front of her, pushed out his cigarette between her legs and in one big movement he planted his dick in her; he begins to ejaculate so very fast and hard that the whole bed was moving.
Yvan told me now to let the 4 other men in telling them to work quickly. This was a terrible view ; while one was taking out his pants , another was filling her mouth with piss and his dick an another was raping very brutal her pussy . When the last raper-guy left the room , cameramen zoomed in on every spot of her body and we saw she was passed out. Her body was Full of sperm , urine, blood , destroyed skin. One assistant gave her a few face slabs to see if she was still alive and yes: moaning but no more tears and energy for crying .
Yvan put up his thumb and said: ‘we have luck, it’s a strong bitch to carry on with!’. These words I would never forget.
He gave a sign to the 2 assistants to her turn around because now the director wanted to see her get raped in the ass . So they went to 'the subject ' to make her loose to turn . She offered no resistance, just like she had no more energy and just wanted to die soon . So now she was tied to the bed in another position : bending over , legs over the iron bed edge with arms outstretched . Yvan said that the next raper-guys must push their cigarette out into her ass before they go in it and , may not use any lube, and they must do it deep and fast .
So I opened the door again and gave the instructions to the raper-men. 'Ok, they said with a smile, a bit shitty but we can do it . The first same guy came in, ' went behind her, opened her buttocks and he pushed out his cigarette against her tiny asshole . The cameraman zoomed in on it. So we all could all see this . She was clearly awake again because we heard a terrible scream . Now he pulled down his pants and made his dick hard with his hands. When it was big enough, he opened her buttock maximum, lay the top from his dick to her burned asshole and in one big movement he entered it completely. She made a very loud scream but the guy began to ejaculate fast and deep. The view was disgusting when he came out: on the screen we saw his dig full of sperm , shit , blood . Between her buttocks there was a creek of blood . Yvan made movements with his hands to let next and the next guy in to do the same . So I did my job and let the men in, they all sodomised her in the same brutal way, and next guy and next but then she did not move anymore . Yvan said to send the rape-guys at home except the 2 best ones and he hoped she is not dead yet because the director now wanted to begin with the last phase. I went to the rape-guys to send them home except one while Yvan whispered the final instructions who were: to turn her around and tie her on her back with spread open arms and legs over the edge of the bed. The assistants made her loose and tied her into her last position. I realized now they will finish her in a horrible way, but I hope it will be faster for her so the suffering is finished. Once tied, the assistants throw a bucket of water over her head by miracle: we saw her head moving and heard her moaning.
‘Great’, said yvan: now the final faze while she is still alive. He said to an assistant that the director regrets that her face is still intact so go to her and give her a few hard punches up her mouth until we see some teeth..
I could not realize what I heard but knew it would happen and yes: the cameramen came in position while an assistant took her face and punched hard on her mouth, again and again. I saw blood squirting. Her lips destroyed and some teeth on her cheeks. The cameramen filmed everything, this time it was a horrible, ugly view, but still she moved a bit and made sound.
He gave me the instruction to let one raper-guy and he had to come into her destroyed mouth. I went to the corridor and asked one of the guys and he said: nor problem man, I can come in everything.!’ The cameramen took their positions, the rape-guy came in, took a seat on her destroyed body, brutally grape her head and pulled her destroyed mouth over his dick. After a few minutes shaking we saw on the screen how he pulled out his dick, followed by sperm and blood. But it seems she was not moving anymore.. ‘Shit’, whispered Yvan and made a sign to the assistants to throw again some water over her. And yes, she moved a bit. ‘We have luck’ he said, the bitch is still alive…
'Super ', whispered yvan to the assistants : 'now go to the store-room , bring 2 iron dildo's with pins , 2 clamps and electric wire . I could get an idea what they would do now . The assistants went into the store-room and came back with two terrible iron dildo's ; they had nails in it and on the end was a metal ring . They came next to the bed and showed the things to her : she could not cry anymore , but could still shake her head with no ; that was everything . 'Don’t ' worry , yvan said to me : even if they are death , the muscles still move a bit because of the electricity . Now the assistants first putted a pin-dildo into her pussy. Blood was streaming out , her moans were terrible . Now he putted the other pin-dildo into her ass . Terrible view, blood was streaming from her legs, but she was still at consciousness . Now they took 2 big iron clamps , like you put on a car-battery to reload , and putted them on what was left from her tits .
Now they connected the dildos's and clamps with electrical wire which ended on some device on the IT-man's desk and was connected with his computer . 'Look ' , whispered yvan: the director can control this now. On his screen he has a button switch to activate the shocks’. Everybody went away from the bed because it was full of water and blood around . The cameramen were zooming in from more distance. We still could see how she was breathing. Yvan communicated with his tablet to the director that everything as ready . The camera's in the ceiling and under the bed gave us a view of every detail of her destroyed body. which was covered with blood and dirty stuff , her face was one mess, but her eyes were still open .
Suddenly we saw her body, making an extreme curve , her belly came so hard up that her arms and legs were stretched out. It stopped, but out of her ass and vagina came a lot of blood . Suddenly her body curled up again , so hard that I saw the points of the pin-dildo’s coming through the skin of her belly. When it went down again, it was squirting blood from everywhere. A few minutes pause, again curling , shaking, more blood etc . 'Look ' , said Yvan with a smile: 'now the director sends us smileys to let us know he likes this..
The most terrible views was the close-up on the dildo's :every time her body curled up ; a big creek of blood came out because of the nails in it. But now we saw the reactions were as good as nothing anymore, it seems her life was gone… The weird feeling is that I had no compassion, maybe because I considered also as a game and the shock would come later.
Yvan whispered I must let the one raper –guy in and to tell him that he must pull out brutally the pin-dildos and rape her again. So I did it again; opened the door, tell the rape-guy what to do with the same answer: no problem.
So the guy came in, removed in one movement the dildo’s out of her pussy and ass and the result was one bloody mess; nothing to realize this once was a nice girl. But still, he pulled down his pants , made his dick ready and came again, but this time in a dead body. He stood up, pulled out his dick full of blood and sperm and went away; the cameramen made their shots. It was horrible.
When he left, it was complete silence in the room, all you could hear were the moves of the cameramen. On the screens we could see ‘the object’ from everywhere; the cameras on the ceiling, in the floor, from the cameramen: we could see every spot on her body and like the ‘client’ wanted: it was destroyed, completely unrecognizable.

Suddenly Yvan clapped his hands and said : 'good work guys , we are off-line : let's clean this shit here'. Now everybody took off his forage cap, me also . The assistants removed her earrings, removed the 'the body ' from the bed and thruway it into the big plastic bin. Yvan gave me a sign to help so I started to collect things from the floor like pieces of clothes which I also had to throw in the bin. I saw the pin-dildo and hesitatingly I picked it up. It was a terrible object: a rubber dildo in which nails were inserted. It was full of blood and even pieces of meat and skin. One of the assistants saw this and showed me a green plastic box and said: ‘throw the toys in this, we disinfect them in this’. After a while, 2 ugly guys came in and disappeared with the big, so also ‘the object. Now the assistants gave me the garden hose and asked me to spray everything with water . It was easy to clean because it was like in a swimming-pool and the bed & tackle were from metal . When it was finished , they sprinkled everything with - Dettol - .
Now I understand why I would need spare-clothes . Now Sergei came in and said : 'this was an introduction , here is your reward but next time you will be one of the assistants ' and gave me an envelope . I opened it and , as promised there was € 3000 in it . I never had so much cash money cash in my hand . They told me he would lead me outside where the driver would bring me home . He will contact me for the next show when they know the date . I took my bag and changed my clothes in the corridor. Together we went upstairs , outside , got in the black Mercedes and the driver which could not speak brought me to the same address where he picked me up .

And so my story ends here . If people want to know how my first mission ended, I can write a follow-up. Or maybe a professional author can improve my English language and to publish it in professional story's . Anyway; if possible I hope to get donations because I’m a poor rat again so I need it; leave a message if you want to support. Thank you.
Yvantheterrible at protonmail dot com


]]> Tue, 18 Apr 2017 16:21:55 UTC yvantheterrible Erotic Horror 2 2 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/working-in-a-red-room/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/ovi-surrogate/
These were women who bore the young of some mysterious creatures that lurked in the forest. Oddly enough, despite the apparent horror of what they went through, these women were held in high regard – as if they were a chosen few. She thought it was all just legend and folklore nonsense, of course – until they came to visit her.

And Shelley remembered that first time when she could not understand nor fight the strange, exciting urge that beckoned her to strip and venture into the jungle. She remembered her stark shock when she first saw them. She had surprised herself at how little fear or loathing she felt – there again, during the telling of the stories it was apparent that none of the ‘Bearers’ had ever suffered or come to harm. Curiously, she just submitted to them and was rewarded with a delightful experience.

They came to her since then once every four weeks or so, which made her wonder whether they knew of or at least sensed the female menstrual cycle. It was mid-afternoon now, hot and humid as she gradually divested herself or her clothes. They were summoning her again. The heavy pheromones they were releasing were again seducing Shelley’s inhibitions and luring her into her lust delirium that drove her to the monthly impregnation ritual. She inhaled deeply and let the delicious opiate fill her head. Looking down at herself, she could admit that her body was still firm, her breasts jutting out proudly, and her belly still relatively flat. She ran her hands slowly over her body and delighted in the sensuous glow overcoming her.

She realized that her nipples were beginning to stand out as if her body anticipated the coming events. How perverse, she thought, here she was a seemingly respectable city girl about to experience something the strange horror of which would send most right-minded women to slash their wrists to avoid. She was about to be sexually ravaged by strange forest creatures and she would come back impregnated with their child!

Stepping out onto the porch, she felt a slight warm breeze caress her body. Walking away from her shack, she plodded into the forest ready to fulfil her responsibilities.

Arriving at the clearing she maintained for their rendezvous, where the procedure would take place, she noticed that they had already arrived and were waiting for her. As usual, there were four of them – the two ‘guardians’ whose purpose was to restrain her, and the male and female of the species who would perform the implanting and impregnation.

Had she been asked to describe them, she would have been at a loss, as she (and, she suspected, precious few others) had ever seen them. Around 18 inches high they resembled, as best, a cross between and octopus and a scorpion. The main bulk of the body was leathery in appearance, but with large black doleful eyes perched on the top – a bit like those of a crab. But it was the tendrils (or tentacles whatever they were) that made them quite unlike anything she could have imagined. Six of these were obviously for traction or grasping, but she knew that the male and female differed in that they each had a seventh special-purpose tendril.

She felt something brush against her ankle and, looking down, realized that the male was wrapping one of its tendrils around her leg, as if urging her on. ‘Horny little devil’ she smiled to herself before lowering herself down and lying on the vegetation on the floor of the clearing.

The two guardians had taken position either side of her and she felt their tentacles reach out and grab an arm and leg each. Her arms were pulled outwards while the others pulled her legs open and upwards to allow easy access to her sexual organs.

Bound and pinned thus, she was as firmly restrained and held down as if by ropes and staves. Even without the restraints, however, she knew that she would gladly have lain there and submitted to them. These were welcome and well-accustomed friends, she felt safe and comfortable with them.

She felt the movement between her legs as the female moved forward and, wrapping her coils around Shelley’s body, pulled herself up onto her belly. The female settled herself there and then wound her two hind most tendrils gently but firmly around each of Shelley’s upper thighs as the centre tendrils embraced Shelley’s waist. Almost perceptively, the foremost tendrils stroked her sides in a soothing caress.

The female had a special protrusion to her rear, much like the tail of a scorpion, which could be turned upward or downward. But Shelley knew that there, the similarity ended. This was a highly unusual and versatile tool which would play a vital part in the first stage of the breeding.

Once in position, the female brought down her tail until it nestled against the outer lips of Shelley’s vulva. The ‘stinger’ began a slow caress up and down between Shelley’s labia, groping for her vagina, stimulating her erogenous zone, prompting Shelley’s genitals for the impending sexual congress. As the stinger caressed her, the opening at its tip secreted its slick, gooey coital fluid, preparing the passage for ease of entry and with the fluid came more of those heady pheromones. Shelley inhaled them deeply into her lungs and then let out a soft moan as the rush overwhelmed her and touched off a light, satisfying orgasm. From the tip of the stinger, the probe began to emerge and carefully felt for Shelley’s vagina. Gently, the female began to push the probe into her body, slowly inching into and up her vagina. The stinger planted itself over the vaginal opening and its mouth flared outward to cover Shelley’s labia, making a secure, shielding seal.

Shelley gasped with pleasure at the intrusion and closed her eyes, trying to relax as the female pushed ever deeper into her body. Inside her, she could feel the tendril snake its way gently up her vagina. She could hear a feint gurgling sound as the invading appendage surged and swirled within her. The stinger’s mouth-like opening slurped and smacked against Shelley’s mons as it plied its probe within her. Copious secretions seeped past their united organs and streamed lugubriously down her crotch. It always tickled her in an erotic way as it crept its way into her, urging on her arousal. Shelley’s hips rocked gently as she enjoyed the delicate incursion. The tendril curled and spun within her wet clingy confines, stimulating her uterus to lift and poise itself for sexual union while relaxing her for the upcoming procedure. Shelley surrendered herself to the creature’s attentions, rising with the seductive sensations until they peaked and she was rewarded with another, deeper climax.

Eventually, Shelley felt the tip of the probe nudge against her cervix. It groped around there, determining its whereabouts, centring itself, pushing hard now to ensure a good connection. The probe was, in fact, a tube and inside was another, specially adapted tendril. Within the tube also, were the ova, which Shelley would carry. Now she could feel something push against the opening of her cervix. The egg would be not much bigger than the end-joint of her little finger, and soft and pliant in its makeup. The female, having positioned the ovum at the opening now began to push upwards.

Shelley let out a small gasp as it began its journey up that narrow tube. Despite the narrowness of her cervix and the size of the intrusion, she was surprised that she felt no pain – just an odd, pleasurable sensation as the ovum was pushed deeper and deeper into her body.

The female’s probe continued to push upwards into her cervix until, at last, Shelley could feel a presence in her womb – the egg was in! Now, the female had extended her probe right into Shelley’s womb and she could feel it move about inside her, presumably making sure that the egg was secure and comfortable in the inviting warmth of its host.

Apparently satisfied, Shelley could feel the tendril being withdrawn from her womb, down her cervix and, finally, the female began to extract the tube from her vagina. It made a slurpy sound as it pulled free of her vagina and the stinger broke its kiss with her vulva.

Its purpose fulfilled, Shelley could feel the female relax. Her tendrils slowly unwound their clutch of Shelley’s body and weakly lifted her body above Shelley’s belly, dragging her limp stinger behind her like a wounded arm. The female paused for a moment to gather strength and then slithered off her belly, lifted her stinger over her body and scuttled gingerly off to the side. Shelley looked after her with the concern of an intimate friend. Now she could feel the two guardians tighten their grip on her legs and thighs, pulling them further outwards while pulling her knees upwards so that her back arched slightly off the ground, exposing her orifices fully.

She felt the movement between her thighs, the tendrils reaching upwards across her belly, the bulk of the male drawing itself up between her outstretched legs and rubbing across her exposed nether regions. She let out a gasp of anticipation as he moved upwards and inwards, wrapping his body around her and enveloping all of her crotch from her pubis to her buttocks. His fore-tendrils reached upwards and wrapped around her slim waist to hold him against her pubis, his centre tendrils wrapped around her up-turned thighs in order to secure his position and pull himself closer, his hind tendrils reached under her butt, crossed her back and gripped her hips to pull his body around her crotch.

She could feel a nudging to her rear, pushing between the cheeks of her buttocks as his seventh tendril began its journey to anchor him to her body. Pushing inwards between her yielding cheeks, it lightly touched the tight little ring of her anus, gently teasing and lubricating it with more pheromone rich coital fluid. The intoxicating aroma reached Shelley’s head and again she succumbed to another sweet, fulfilling climax. As it swept over her, Shelley could feel her sphincter muscles relax and contract in anticipated rhythm until eventually, she relaxed completely and opened up to him.

The probe pushed up against the now unresisting entrance, about the thickness of a man’s little finger tip at first, it pushed easily into her receptive anus. She let out another groan of pleasure as it continued its journey inwards, thickening now to the width of a thumb until she could feel the larger bulb pressing against the entrance. Willing herself to relax, she opened herself up even more to allow the large protrusion to push its way inwards, stretching her anal opening until it almost hurt then, with an inaudible pop, it was inside her.

Waves of delirium began to engulf her as she could feel the tendril in her rectal passage moving, turning, with the creature using it to pull himself even closer to her exposed body.

Now she could feel the second probe, gently working around the front of her vagina. This thin, deft tendril would have a different and unique purpose. She could detect it now feeling around at the entrance to her urethra. This had been entirely new to her that first time but now she waited with eager anticipation as the thin tendril gently pushed against the opening and into her pee-tube. She could feel it slithering steadily inwards and upwards until, finally, she sensed it deep inside her bladder.

The male now began to drink; she could feel it, as the liquid drained out of her bladder. The process (or taste) seemed to excite him as he grasped her more urgently and the anchor tendril coiled stronger inside her rectum, pulling him tighter.

Having drained her, he now began to inject his own fluid into her body. Again, she only had her senses to guide her, but she estimated that the males pumped quite a bit of the nutrient into her bladder as she could discernibly feel it begin to expand under the pressure.

Against the lips of her vagina, she could feel him begin to grow the third tendril. Unlike a human penis that dwelt external from the body, his was retractable and literally extended out of his body directly into hers. The emerging organ now pushed against the lips of her vagina, the secretions and his mate’s prior enticements helping its smooth penetration. Shelley felt the lips urged apart as the member began to enter her, moving on into the damp warmth of her vagina. Her head lolled back against the vegetation beneath her, she cried out with pleasure at the new intrusion.

She could feel the anchor probe in her anus and the tendril, still deep within her bladder, pulling at her to ensure his even penetration. The inseminating appendage continued to grow outwards from the creature, pushing deeper and deeper into Shelley’s insides. Again she heard the obscene gurgling sound as the delving penile implant crept into the intimate reaches that a woman reserves for lovers only. She had no idea of its width, but she surmised that it was thicker than a human phallus though, with its gradual growth and the mucous it secreted she accepted his intrusion easily and with delight.

He was filling her now, conforming to her inner contours, pushing deeper until she could feel him nudge against the base of her cervix. There, the end of his organ pushed firmly against the entrance and she could feel what must have been like lips closing around the opening, effectively sealing himself to her. He was now prepared for insemination.

He began an action, which always drove her over the edge towards a transportation of delight. His whole organ began to pulsate, undulate and throb deep within her and against the lips of her vagina sending waves of ecstasy through her body. Sensing his time was fast approaching, he began to distend his anal anchor probe. Shelley felt it thicken and the bulb, which nestled within her anal muscles, began to throb and swell rhythmically, pulling them even closer until she felt that, under other circumstances, she would have cried out with pain. As his small body worked fervently against her crotch their contact began to make a slight, telltale sexual smacking sound. Unconsciously, her hips began to roll in time to his rhythmic pulling as if pushing up to meet a lover’s welcome thrust. Within her vagina, his main probe began to swell, exaggerating the sensations she felt within her whole passage. On and on he surged in her. The billowing, throbbing, undulating organ worked against the walls of her vagina, tugging and pushing, slipping and sliding against her delicate intimate flesh. Shelley’s pampered senses were propelling her to an impending, inevitable crescendo.

She could tell by his clasping, along with the increased grip of the guardians, that the moment was close. The creature seemed to give one last lunge before beginning its convulsions. Human sex had never been like this event, where the male pumped his sperm into her vagina. The human penises she had known did not come close to establishing such a presence in her as this organ; it was so large and so lively. A man’s penis issued its seed in a brief, barely discernable squirt issued haplessly into her vagina, not at all like the tremendous flow this vessel was about to deliver. As he began to ejaculate, she could feel the semen jet and gush up the narrow tube of her cervix, directly into her womb. On and on he pumped until she could feel her stomach swell with that precious, impregnating liquid.

Shelley threw back her head and screamed and cried in orgasm – her whole body wracked with the most intense, almost unbearable pleasure. Combined with the overpowering effect of the pheromones, her climax lingered and extended into what amounted to a fit of pleasure that always left her weak and powerless as the mating party withdrew.

Slowly, she subsided and could feel her alien lover begin to loosen his grip on her. She could have cried with frustration as he slowly began to withdraw his tendrils first from her bladder, then the impregnating organ and, finally and slowly, she felt the bulb being drawn from her ravaged rectum.

The guardians slowly slackened their pull on her legs until her butt gently rested back on the ground. Now it was the male’s turn to wearily lift his body from her and make his exit. He untied his coils from her legs and waist and braced them on the ground. With a sticky slurp he broke his contact with Shelley’s crotch and hovered over her waist.

Glancing up at his underside, Shelley quickly inspected the weapons just used on her. She saw the hole from which his urethra probe emerged, she saw the still swollen anal anchor toward the back of his body and she marvelled that she had taken it. What grabbed her attention most was his penile tube. Still too bloated to retract all the way back into his body, the fat, tender looking appendage hung below him about the length of Shelley’s thumb and continued to drip the last remnants of his seminal solution. He shakily rose as high as he could over her, stepped to her side, lowered himself a little and then slithered off on his tentacles in an undulating motion. As he parted, another dose of his pheromones wafted up from his underside and her exposed crotch, lapsing her back into a nice climactic repose.

The guardians released her and withdrew. Oblivious to them, she languished on the soft ground in the now still clearing and enjoyed her post-coital recuperation without concern. Shelley knew she was now being watched and she would be looked after and protected from harm. She lazily drew an arm over her chest and hugged her breasts to her as she traced small circles in her matted pubic hair with her other hand. She rested for a few minutes before rising and walking slowly back towards her shack, the excess sperm trickling down the inside of her leg.

At the edge of her porch she drew a pail of water from the cistern and squatted with her back against a post. She splashed water over her sex and then scrubbed the slick residue from her hair and skin with her wet hands. After a brisk rinse, she cupped her palm over her vulva and contemplated her role. Life grew in her, left there not by a lover but by mysterious forest creatures. Her womanhood was vital in this place. Rising to her feet, she kept her hand over her sex and stared out into the forest, ‘Are they watching me?’ She was feeling weary from her ordeal. Now she went to her bunk, drew the netting and lay in a grateful sleep. The gestation period was around 24 hours, but the first stage would begin within about twelve.

She had awoken a couple of times as she could feel the movement of the new life within her. Then, she was awake, as she could feel that the time was near. Deep within her, she could feel her body prepare itself – it seemed that something inside her was opening up, and she knew that her cervix was preparing for the passage.

Now she felt her body begin to spasm, and the sensation of the young life beginning to push its way out. It had found its way to her cervix, and was now pushing downwards and into the narrow tube. Taking deep breaths, Shelley forced herself to relax as it forced its way into the cervical passage, and downwards. This was the only time she would really feel any kind of pain but somehow, even the pain was pleasant as her tube was stretched to accommodate its passage. Eventually, she could feel him emerge from her uterus into the cavity of her vagina, could feel its tendrils in there exploring and anchoring himself.

She now relaxed, with the youngster nestled in the warmth of her vagina and could feel its feeding tendril begin to push outwards. She reached down, and pulled open the lips of her vagina to help it and, looking down there, could see the thin tendril emerge and curl round until it found what it wanted.

She could see the tendril move towards her urethra, gently but urgently push against the entrance until, with a gasp from Shelley, it penetrated her. She lay back and let the tendril make its journey upwards until she could feel it enter her bladder and the creature begin to drink greedily from the nutrient fluid deposited there earlier by its father.

Odd, she thought, she almost felt maternal towards the little critter. More odd still that this intricate relationship could have evolved and carry on unknown to the outside world for centuries. And completely baffling, that this quite natural understanding could emerge between them without any communication at all. Satisfied that the youngster was safe, secure and feeding, she fell into deep sleep.

The following morning, she arose and went about her usual morning chores – tidying up and making herself some breakfast. She found it relatively easy to move around, even with the growing life within her vagina.

Her chores done, she sat in one of the reclining chairs on the porch. The youngster within her was growing rapidly, helped by the nutrient it fed on within her body, and she could feel her vagina begin to distend. It would now be about the size of a woman’s fist but would grow a bit more, before emerging into the world.

Eventually, she could feel the time was near, and began a slow walk towards the clearing. Due to the size of the creature within her, walking was now a more delicate affair as she tried to keep her legs apart.

Reaching the clearing, she could see the male and female awaiting her – the expectant nervous parents, she thought.

Pulling up her skirt, she lay down on the vegetation, pulled up and opened her legs wide for the final stage. Propped up on her elbows she stared down at her sex to witness the miracle of life with her mating partners.

Suddenly, she felt the movement within her increase as the youngster prepared for its birth. The tendril slowly pulled out from her urethra, and the creature began to push outwards. She could feel its main tendrils emerge from within her and these curled back and pressed against her skin to help it pull itself out. Now the size of a man’s hand, the creature was stretching her almost to the point of pain. Shelley gritted her teeth and pushed downwards to help it until, suddenly, she felt it emerge with something approaching a slurping sound. She felt the trust and acceptance of the parents, as they required no guardians to restrain her now. They both approached until they were between her knees, the male cupped his tendrils before her vagina to catch his offspring.

Looking down, she could see it now – the creature which had found life within her womb, she had carried and, her body at least, had nurtured. It clung to his coils and he bore it off into the undergrowth.

The female approached cautiously and tentatively extended a tentacle under Shelley’s thigh and around her hip. Shelley responded to the prompt and being careful not to bump the female, threw her leg over, rolled onto her stomach and then rose to her hands and knees. The creature wrapped a strong tendril around Shelley’s waist and deftly pulled herself up and perched upon Shelley’s rump. The female’s tentacles braced herself on Shelley’s hips and thighs in a supportive manner, not at all like the tenuous, restraining way during implantation. Shelley lowered her head to watch the coming event.

Arching her stinger beneath her, the female curled it behind Shelley’s butt and brought the appendage upward in contact once again with Shelley’s open, swollen vagina. Shelley watched intently as the end of the stinger opened up in a vertical slit and broad lips spread out and enveloped her outer labia. The strange, mouth-like orifice mounted, clasped and sucked at Shelley’s sex. Once a firm connection was made with her pubic mound Shelley felt the inner tendril gently part her labia, opening a passage and then the female began to secrete a fluid down into Shelley’s birth canal.

This was obviously some sort of postpartum procedure, an anaesthetic/antiseptic to heal her, prevent infection and prepare her for next month’s cycle. Shelley never refused it, it felt like a soothing, warm douche and she saw it as a special bonding moment. The fluid filled her vagina and then started to seep into her uterus. Once a goodly amount of fluid was injected, the creature slowly drew it out and then slowly pushed it back in making a steady, gentle current. Shelley watched transfixed as the coupled organs passed the fluid back and forth between their bodies, like two mouths kissing. The fluid sloshed and gurgled as it flowed between them. Some of it drooled out at small gaps in their contact. The stinger’s mouth adjusted its purchase and made distinctive kissing and smacking sounds as it worked on Shelley. With two free tentacles, the female began to gently stroke and caress Shelley. They rolled along her sides and belly and slid up and down her back. They delicately curled and twisted over her thighs.

Shelley remembered how the female always tenderly stroked her during implant and wondered about this strange procreative dependence as this creature tended to her sex organs that she had just lent it. There seemed to be such care and concern in this creature. Shelley wondered if they really cared or if they only needed her for her womb. Were they intelligent or just highly organized? Did they enjoy this contact or was it just instinct? Shelley reached back with her hand and placed it over the tentacle on her thigh. She was thrilled as the tip of the tendril curled up in the palm of her hand and then lightly caressed her wrist. She didn’t know how long their therapy session lasted; it seemed it was always over too soon. With one final smack and a slurp the female pulled away the stinger from her vulva and the medicinal fluid gushed out and splattered on the ground between Shelley’s knees. She slowly eased herself down the back of Shelley’s thighs. She hovered there a bit, examining Shelley’s sex with a swipe of a tendril, and then slowly backed into the forest.

Shelley wearily stood up and paused for a moment to let the remains of the juices run out of her vagina and down her leg. Opening her legs in a semi-crouch, she peed, relieving herself of what was left within her and watched the remains of the deep blue liquid stream onto the forest floor. She smoothed down her skirt and parted for home.

Her mind went back to what she had asked herself before. She couldn’t stay here forever. Some day, her reproductive years would come to an end. Some day, she would have to go back home, to live in the city. But what about her duty to these creatures, who relied on her and her body to bring forward new life – or was she perhaps thinking that, after what she had experienced, ‘normal’ sex would never be quite the same again.

]]> Sun, 12 Feb 2017 00:59:04 UTC Sailbad Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/ovi-surrogate/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/adventures-in-horticulture-4/
Adventures in Horticulture

It was not too much to ask, a simple chore, really. Her neighbor, Prof. Masterson, a kind elderly woman who had always been a good friend, had asked Emily to tend to her house while she was away at a botanical exposition. The professor had fallen all over Emily with praise but there really was no reason. Emily was happy to do it and the chores involved were quite simple. She was asked to collect the mail and water the plants inside the house and the adjoining arboretum. It could hardly take more than 20 minutes and Emily had always been fond of the old lady, she was more than happy to oblige when she was asked.

The instructions were to water the plants only and to not dwell in the greenhouse too long. She had even reemphasized that last point just before she left for the airport. “Just water the plants in the arboretum and leave as quickly as possible, dear,” the professor had told her. “I’ll explain it all to you some day, but for now, remaining too long in there might prove… disruptive to your constitution.”

Emily had no idea exactly what that implied but she was sure it was only some precaution about allergies or skin rashes and paid no more mind to it. She saw it as a mere detour from her daily routine, something she could polish off quickly when she got home from work.

Emily was a single, professional woman in her late 30s. Physically fit with an attractive figure, she was a brunette, more attractive than most, but she kept her looks concealed behind thick glasses and a toned-down wardrobe. She had no qualms about men in her life and in fact had always enjoyed a vigorous sex life. But, being a bit of a bookworm, she simply enjoyed being alone and had consequently devoted her life more to her career than to romantic pursuits.

The people in the cul-de-sac enjoyed her as a respectable and dependable neighbor who kept her property neat and attractive and caused no disturbances or detractions. She was the perfect go-to person for house sitting or monitoring and she was called upon often for this kind of favor. It made her proud to be so respected.

It was Saturday afternoon and in spite of Prof. Masterson’s concise warnings, Emily had her heart set on curling up with a good book in the warm sunlight of that arboretum. She had noticed a chaise lounge-chair right by the door into the house so she knew it could not be dangerous in there. She would finish up the chores, roll the lounge chair into the sunlight and enjoy her book all afternoon.

As she unlocked the front door and entered her neighbor’s house she could hardly wait to finish up the work and settle down for her relaxing read. She set down the book she was reading, a thoroughly smutty romance novel, on the kitchen counter and then filled the water can at the sink. She attacked all the plants upstairs first and then worked her way through the ground floor. There were a wide variety of exotic plants which Emily figured was probably typical for a plant biology professor. She tried to remember all the specific instructions she was given for each plant and was careful not to make a mess but she was anxious to get this out of the way and get into her book. She finished faster than usual and returned the can to the sink.

That taken care of, Emily collected her book from the counter and made her way through the study to tend to the plants in the greenhouse. Opening the sliding door she stepped into the humid warmth and felt it close around her before she shut the door into the house. She shut her eyes and tilted back her head to enjoy the sun on her face. She inhaled the fresh earthy scents of the ferns, vines and trees about her and knew this would be the perfect place to curl up with a good book and heal her senses with full effects of nature.

First, she had to tend to her chores. She set her book on the lounge chair and picked up the water can from where she left it by the door. Emily put the can under the spigot and turned it on while her eyes scanned the enclosed garden and took note of the circuit she needed to take to finish this job. She was anxious to finish and filled the can to the top so she could get all the watering done in one trip. The can was heavy so she applied it to the big trees first to get the bulk of the load emptied fast. Next came the vines around the edges and last but not least, the big, odd-looking plant in the sunny corner of the room. She got close to the center stalk and dumped the can to flow around the plant’s base the way the professor had shown her. She emptied the can and then stood back to look at the thing in its whole.

She figured it had to be some kind of tropical plant because of its lush foliage; some deep jungle because she had never seen anything like it. It had big, broad leaves in a thick clump around its base. Arrayed within this clump were five 6-inch long buds with purple petals closed tight around them. The most dominating feature of the plant was a long pinkish-purple stalk that grew up out of its center that was about 3 to 4 inches thick and rose to about 7 feet tall. At the top of the stalk was a huge pink bulb about the size of a large cantaloupe with thick, shiny, pink petals.

Emily imagined the thing to be absolutely beautiful when in bloom and made a mental note to ask Dr. Masterson to show her the blossom when it was time. She knelt down to look more closely at the five tightly wrapped buds around the base. Examining them, they appeared to be wrapped too tightly to be anywhere near blossoming. She was about to stand up when she heard a slight crackle and pop. She heard more and then she noticed the leaves opening up around the stamens. She thought it must be the afternoon sunlight and she watched all five of them spread apart to reveal bright, deep-purple flowers with 6-inch, dark yellow, cone-shaped anthers sticking out of the centers. It was a stunning display and she stood up to take in the entire scene. She inhaled deeply and it was then that she notices the enticingly sweet aroma of the blossoms.

She looked up to see if the big bloom was opening, but no, it seemed to be waiting for some other event. She stroked the stalk and found it sturdy and strong. She lightly touched the big bulb and felt its softness. The petals encompassing the bud were voluptuous and full with a kind of tough, leathery feel. Emily wondered what intricately beautiful and large blossom such a bud concealed. Her hand played down the stalk and stroked its length to test its sturdiness and texture. She would have to ask Dr. Masterson about the nature of this odd plant and its unique configuration.

At last, her job was done, time to relax and get into her book. Returning the water can to its place by the spigot, she scooped up the book and dragged the lush lounge chair over to the sunny spot beside the big, pretty plant, plopped down, kicked off her sandals, and started to read. It felt cozy enough to take a nap on and she thought she just might but she was eager to continue into her story where she had left off.

She quickly lost herself in the imaginative distraction. As the story evolved Emily relaxed in the warm rays of the sun. She felt a weariness she did not know she had slowly melting from her. This being one of her usual tawdry romance novels, it was not too long before Emily tripped upon an elaborate love scene. She relished these lurid trips into explicit lust, specifically crafted to tease a woman’s libido into her conscious mind. As she read along, this one promised to be exquisitely sensuous and, subconsciously unaware, she raised her hand to her mouth and began tracing the outlines of her lips.

Further she read and her mind sank into the lavishly detailed encounter of the two characters in her book. Her fingers strayed, lightly stroking her cheek and then caressing the lobe of her ear. It fueled her intense passion, her flesh hungered for stimulation to match that being fed her mind. The wanton fingers slowly drug across her neck and lightly lingered on her throat before plunging downward to the opened collar of her blouse; threatening and teasing her cleavage. Her flame burned hotter and with no overt awareness on her part, Emily’s finger tips began following the laced edge of her bra. Up and down they surreptitiously crept. Her pulse climbed precipitously and her chest heaved with each breath. Her fingers boldly crept lower until finding the nipple of her breast. The nipple was hard beneath the fabric of her brazier and tip of her middle finger began circling it round and round.

Emily stopped her reading and lifted her head from her book. Her trashy romance novels always got her worked up but this time she was feeling especially horny. She bit her lip and looked anxiously out through the glass walls of the greenhouse; suddenly nervous that some one might have witnessed her fondling herself. About her, Dr. Masterson’s garden was peaceful and serene. None of the surrounding houses were tall enough to look down into the greenhouse from and the high hedge protruding above the cedar fence encircling the yard was far too dense to see through. Emily could not be seen in here. She took a deep breath, sniffing in that wonderful smell of the big purple flowers, and stretched in the warm sunlight. It began to feel stuffy to her and she was getting a little overheated. She was feeling just so wicked and erotically charged.

She decided to take off her blouse, the notion just popped into her head. She stood up and swayed from the dizzying rush in her head. She looked about the garden again and then started unbuttoning her blouse. It felt odd to expose herself to the raw sunlight and even more so to be doing it in somebody else’s home but the notion just seemed to fit in with her erotic mood. After she tossed her blouse of the chair she continued to strip off her bra. She arched back and lifted her nude breasts to the sun and felt the delicious warmth on her skin. She cupped her fair-sized boobies in her hands and gently squeezed them. The sensation only drove her sensuous mood higher and she knew her pants would have to come off too.

She was feeling carefree and dangerously depraved but nothing would stop her now. She unhitched her pants and dug her thumbs under the waistband of her panties and pushed both garments down her legs in one swift motion. She stepped out of them, took a wide stance in the bright sunlight and let her hands wander over her body like an impassioned lover.

This behavior was so unlike her and she was a little shocked at her own actions but it all felt so delicious and delightful. She stretched again, shook her short brown hair loose and then settled back down in the lounge chair to get back into that book. She sat cross-legged on the chair with the book on her lap. The action continued hot and heavy as she read. Her hands began to roam once again over her skin. One hand cupped her tit and she lightly brushed her thumb back and forth over her nipple. The other hand crept to her crotch.

Quite subconsciously, her fingers encroached on the dense hair at the border of her pussy. Teasingly, her hand approached her moist slit, looking for the little button that drove her wild. Her finger had parted the wet folds and was lightly stroking her lubricating juices up over her clit. Round and round Emily worked her little bud and her nipple as she read. She was climbing close to orgasm when she caught herself well in to her self-pleasuring and realized it was not even an especially erotic part of the story. She was too close to interrupt herself now, though. She pushed the book off her lap, laid back in the chair and went to work in an all out dash for orgasm. As one hand continued to busily twitch her clitoris from side to side, two fingers of her other hand sank deep into her cunt and began churning her hungry depths.

Emily could not believe how worked up she was getting and could tell that the quick pace of her passion was leading her to an epic climax. She doubled her speed and intensity as both of her hands began stroking and plunging on her pussy in a frantic race for relief. She dug her heals into the chair cushion and began to rock her hips in an opposing rhythm to her busy hands. She worked as if she were under the body of an impassioned lover driving to fuck her brains out. She grunted and moaned wantonly, letting herself go to the moment, she felt wild and free. Her nipples were hardened to dense nubs that sent thrills throughout her body as they jiggled on her heaving chest. A chill titillated her flesh and she was covered goose bumps and at the same time a heavy blush of sweat. She wanted this so much and it was coming so big and so fast. In an all out fury to lapse her joy she heaved her hips violently into the air as her finger dug and pinched against her inflamed cunt.

She drew in a big breath and then it hit her. She screamed in triumph as an enormous orgasm seized her. The wave of ecstatic delight and release burst through her like a bolt of lightening. Every muscle in her tender body clenched as pleasure touched upon her in a magnitude she had seldom known. She shook and twitched in the throes of joy that she thought would nearly drive her insane. She rode it well and tried to make it endure. The onslaught slowly passed and she released her straining muscles, threw her arms to her sides and let her body drop limply onto the lounge chair.

Devastated by the bliss, she lay stunned and let her blood spread slowly back out to her exhausted limbs. As her mind started to recover, she tried to piece together what had provoked that sudden and incredibly out-of-proportion lust-frenzy. She lazily turned her head to the side, toward the odd plant, and inhaled deeply to enjoy its sweet aroma.

Almost instantly, a wave of intense pleasure surged through her. To her absolute dismay, Emily was cumming again. As quickly and every bit as intense as the climax she just had, her body was lost in the effects of an entirely new jolt of physical joy. Her muscles clenched and she drew herself into a ball as the orgasm ripped through her. Her vision went dark and she rolled onto her side. She let herself go again and was soon giggling from the rewarding delight.

As this second climax finished its course, Emily slid over the side of the chair and onto her hands and knees on the tile floor. Never one to look a gift horse in the mouth, Emily was none-the-less enough of a pragmatist to wonder how two of the most intense orgasms of her life had struck her so suddenly, and the second one with no stimulation to prompt it at all. She shook her head to clear away some of the fog.

As the last of her tremors subsided and she gradually regained full control of her body she pieced together in her mind how this masturbatory session was different than all her others. It was neither her book nor her mood, it had to be her environment and in particular something in it that had changed just recently. She lifted her head and saw before her the wide open blossoms around the base of that big, odd, tropical plant and her inquisitive mind reasoned it had to be some narcotic effect of those big yellow anthers protruding up so daring from the center of those blossoms. She had to test her theory. She took off her glasses and laid them on the chair and then crawled from the hard tiles up on to the lush moss bed that surrounded the tantalizing plant.

Her inviting round hips swayed and her ample tits swung beneath her as her soft form approached the curious plant. She could feel the effects her two mighty orgasms had on her; her inner thighs were wet with the slick dew weeping from her overcharged cunt; her skin was on fire with amplified awareness; her nipples ached with the hardness of arousal. When she had crawled up to the thick foliage at the base of the plant she sank to her elbows and in a very unscientific manner, tested her assumption with a much too forward approach and inhaled the heady fragrance of the blooms at point-blank range.

All too quickly Emily confirmed her hypothesis with devastating effect. Her previous orgasms were completely eclipsed by an onslaught of physical pleasure she thought might be the death of her. An intense climax tore through her and in an instant robbed her of her body’s control. The kind of stimulation she usually felt with only her clitoris was magnified and felt throughout her entire being. Waves of pure ecstasy emanating from her pussy spread out ward and washed her in absolute bliss. The inside of her cunt clutched at its emptiness and the churning muscles within filled her with a want for penetration like she had never known. She gasped for her next breath and with it came another quaking spasm of climax. Emily was lost in it all like some cocaine/LSD trip she could not shrug off. She longed to thrust her fingers into her voided pussy and fill her need but to her dismay her arms would not respond. She was bound in place, not at all against her will, with her face buried in the intoxicating foliage, and her body wracked with almost unendurable delight.

Unnoticed by Emily, the big plant was going through some changes of its own. As Emily had approached the base of the plant, the large bulb at the top of the long stalk had slowly opened. Three thick rubbery petals had spread apart to reveal a long slender pistil at their center. It was a vivid pink, about 8 inches in length, an inch and a half in diameter, with 3 fat stigma at its tip. As the petals separated the pistil at the center began to twist and undulate around in the air, bending and reaching as though searching for something near the bloom.

If she had kept enough of her senses, Emily would have witnessed the stalk bend to one side and then it too began twisting round and round as if groping for something it sensed nearby. She did not see the stalk bend lower nor did she notice that it had stopped waving around in a circles to stoop over her back. She did feel the cool, wet droplets of thick goo that drooled from the spread petals and fell upon her back, but she was too lost in her ceaseless rapture to pay them any mind. Regardless of her stupor, the odd plant’s stalk was now crouched over her upturned butt in what might have startled her as a very sinister if not suggestive position.

Emily reveled in her organic sex trip as the thick arm of the strange plant arched over her back and the big, three-petal flower was poised directly over her soft round ass. Lower the flower dropped, the pistil reached down to her, its three stout stigma undulated and rubbed against each other as if tasting the air for a yearned target. Thick drops of slippery excretions oozed from the pistil on to her butt and ran down over her crotch. She did not even flinch when the petals first touched her ass-cheeks. However, when the hovering plant bulb encountered her flesh it moved much more quickly.

The three broad, thick petals opened widely and then the whole grotesquely huge flower dropped onto Emily’s upturned butt. A copious flow of thick, slippery sap oozed out from the petals and the long pink pistil at their junction. The coating flowed over her, up her back, around her hips and down her legs. The goo flooded over her crotch and drenched her pubic hair into a glaze of slime. She was almost completely oblivious to it but powerless to do anything about it anyway. It was, in her mind, simply a soothing warmth.

The petals took on life of their own. They groped over her skin, feeling her contours and exploring her position. Two of the big, probing flaps felt their way around the soft globes of her ass while the third extended itself behind her tender upper thighs.

The long pistil became even more active. Under the protective tent of the surrounding petals it slithered and probed over her butt. Lead by the three fat stigma at its tip, it searched over her skin until finding the cleft of her ass. It gently groped the tight groove, extended itself, ever reaching for something it sensed further down.

With the advance of the pistil toward Emily’s sex, the broad petal over the back of her thighs pressed its way between them and gently forced her knees apart. Gaining access, it wrapped itself over her mound and up beyond her waist. The other two petals accommodated the advance by releasing her hips and reacquiring a firm clasp around her butt cheeks.

With her entire crotch in the plant’s embrace, the pistil was in position to engage her. More of its slippery sap was applied within its almost water-tight clench around her muff. She was aware of only a slight clumsy fumbling around her soggy, imprisoned gash but once the relentlessly groping fingers of the stigma had found the opening to her snug crevice there was no doubt in Emily’s mind she was being entered and her heart thrilled at the promise. The pistil penetrated her slowly, but steadily. Its firm but pliant phallus moved into her, following her contours and expanding outward to contact every untouched pore of her vagina. Her yearning to be filled was at last satisfied and her fluttering cooze finally had something to clench against.

Pushing in all the way to the back of her canal, the busy fingers at the tip began feeling around in the cramped limits of Emily’s pussy. They finally settled around the rounded bulge of her uterus. They spread out until the membrane between them formed a cup centered over her cervix.

She was quite delirious with the constant pleasure of her fragrance induced orgasms, but with the sturdy stem of plant pressed firmly up her quim and the snug embrace around her butt Emily might have thought her rapture to be complete. That was when the petals wrapped around her mounted a steady pull and release action that sent the entire encounter to a new level. As the petals pulled inward, they drove the pistil into her. As they released the pistil drew back out slightly with a light suck on her uterus. She was getting a nice rhythmical humping motion to go along with her penetration and with that she lost all control. With her face buried among the lush leaves she began moaning her delight every bit like a woman being passionately ravaged.

On and on the big flower pumped and sucked at Emily’s pussy, fueling in her the psychedelic mind trip of extreme gratification. The huge petals gripped her fiercely and the pool of gooey sap sloshed around her crotch as the pistil impelled into her. Her moans of delight gradually got weaker until they were merely a fickle coo and whimper. She was becoming oblivious to everything but the intense pleasure and whatever use the plant made of her sex was a happily discarded mystery. With her body surrendered, Emily’s mind drifted deeper into an opiate delirium of sexual delights, until at last, she reached her absolute limit of endurance and lapsed into unconsciousness. Her arms crumpled beneath her and her knees slid out behind her. Her torso dropped onto the soft moss and her head pulled free of the stamen’s perfume. Unrelenting in its embrace, the big flower still worked on her captured sex. In the firm grasp of the thick petals, her hips were still held aloft and a sickening gurgle accompanied the slow draw and thrust of the flower against her helpless body.

--------

The first thing Emily noticed was a chill. She instinctively searched about her for the covers. Failing to find any, her eyes blinked open as her mind tried to piece together what was wrong. All she could make out was that it was dark and whatever was underneath her did not feel like her bed linen. With a shriek she bolted upright when she realized she was lying nude on the mossy ground inside Prof. Masterson’s greenhouse. She sprang to her feet and groped around herself looking for her glasses and something to cover up with. Wild notions spun through her confused mind but nothing fit as to how she had lost her clothes or her consciousness. Her fingers sporadically found scattered articles of clothing and some fragment of her scattered memory told her to look for her glasses on the lounge chair.

She put them on and then climbed up weakly to sit in the chair. Images were coming to her; recollections of sensations; bizarre notions began to trouble her. At the base of all these thoughts the conclusion began to form that she had been in something sexual and it somehow involved that big, weird plant. Oh, such scandalous shame!

Trembling and filled with a sudden embarrassment and panic she snatched up her clothes from the floor as if she had found herself sitting before a hundred shocked witnesses. Clutching them tight to her nakedness she bolted to the sliding glass door, threw it open and hopped into the study. She spun around and looked into the greenhouse gloom as the full realization of her afternoon exploits bloomed within her mind.

“Emily,” she hailed herself? “You fucked a plant.” She bit her lip as she stared out at the strange bulb-thing in the corner of the arboretum which appeared quite innocent-looking, like it had when she first saw it. She scolded herself in her mind for her depravity, though, she had to admit it was not her fault; the professor’s shrubbery had quite honestly seduced her. Professor Masterson! What would she say when she found out Emily had sexually abused her foliage! No wonder she had been warned not to stay in there so long. How embarrassing it would be for the professor to find her out.

Emily had to fix this. She had to erase the evidence and make it look like nothing had happened. Her hands trembled as she quickly pulled her clothes back on. Her mind went over all the details she needed to check to disguise her shameful rut with the amorous blossom. She found that the more she thought about it the more details of what transpired became clear. Memories of the intense pleasure and the erotic delights awoke in her. She pushed those thoughts aside and steeled herself for the task at hand.

She took a deep breath and forged back into the greenhouse. She needed to work fast before she succumbed to the plant’s chemistry again. She tossed the book onto the lounger and then fell to her knees to comb the moss to where it did not look like someone had been lying on it. She was astounded to see that the plant’s huge blossom and the stamens around its base had all closed themselves and were looking ironically non-sexual. She quickly swept the tiles with her hands to erase any tell-tale prints and felt confident she had done a fair job. Fair enough until she could check it over in the daylight. She wheeled the chair back to its place by the door, snatched back her book and slipped inside.

That would have to do, she thought. She stood in the doorway watching the plant. She felt safe back indoors, where she could think about the utterly stupefying joy she had felt with that incredible aromatic flower. She doubted if she had ever experienced such erotic pleasure in her life. Then questions began to form. Was she an unwitting agent in the plant’s reproductive process? In its nutritional needs? Where did old Dr. Masterson get such a thing? What was she doing with it in her home? How did she know it was ‘disruptive to your constitution’? Why did she keep a lounge chair in her greenhouse? Maybe Emily did not have as much to be ashamed of as she thought.

Feeling a little braver, she ventured back into the arboretum and strolled slowly up to the odd plant in the corner. She stood at its base just underneath the big bulb folded her arms and stared at it with a thoughtful frown. She wondered what her life would be like if she had one of these. For that matter, what would life be like if every woman had one of these? She thought of the ridiculousness of being afraid of a horny houseplant. She almost had to laugh at herself. With one arm akimbo, Emily raised a finger up to the big bulb in a scolding manner and said, “Naughty, naughty!”

The carbon dioxide she emitted must have triggered something in the plant again. She heard a feint cracking sound and looked down to see one of the stamens at the base opening up. She gasped and scrambled back to the safety of the door. Pausing in thought, she stood in the doorway and looked back at her ravager. A smile slowly spread across her face and she spoke in a somewhat sexy voice, “You be good ‘till I come back.” She blew it a kiss and closed the door.


Sailbad@storiesonline.org


]]> Fri, 27 Jan 2017 00:53:35 UTC Sailbad Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/adventures-in-horticulture-4/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/forced-to-change/
I was new to area I moved to. someone at my work tell me bout a nice young people club no alcohol. Friday nite came, and I went to club. ooked nice outside. inside was too. a pretty american girl behind bar, very tall very nice body, she smile at me and ask what I would like, i order ice tea. we talk a bit, pretty much bout nothing important. she ask where I from, I tell her I am Thai. She remark that they have alot of very pretty ady boys there. i ask how she knew and she say internet, she like to watch them and look at them. I smile, and whisper, I am one. She go and take care of another person and come back. big smile says she will like to get to know me better. me smiling and say, I would also. She ask me name and I tell her most call me Pixie cus i am so small.

She look at me and ask if I am functional, I smile nod my head, blushed a bit.

She take care of customers and in between talk to me. then she go in back room. 2 guys teens come up ssay hi, tell me i am pretty. next thing I know 1 has me by neck, other pulling out his cock, shuv my mouth over it, and tell me suck it or his friend strangle me. I giv him head. before I knew it, was picked up hand over me mouth and carried outside, there was another building. they took me in, loooked like a dungeon. all kinds of weird things. a large chest of drawers, metal painted red and had black drawers.

They rip of my dress, 1 smiled and said hope u r not too attch to u cock cause when we done u not going to have it, i started to scream. a ball was stuck in my mouth and strapped behind my head. they wrapped small rope round my cock and tie behind my back. One of them pick up small hammer, my eues wides wonderring what he was doing, he smack my balls 5 maybe 6 times, i try screaming. another tell me to shut up. they put needles in me tits 1 each, had rubber tibe that went to a bag of liquid. they open a lil valve, I cud feel liquid going into my breast.. another wrap white fat nylon around base of my sack made it pretty tight and he put meedle in sack, also connected to bag of liquid. he smile and said, will make nice coin purse. I try hard to scream

they then tie me to bench on hands and knees, I am wondering why there r 6 of them now. they take turns doing me anal and making me suck them off.My breasts getting bigger and bigger, and me sack was to.. My legs so weak cud not stand I tried many times.

they sit me on knees in front of small wood table and lay ny now largish breast on it. One came over with a hammer, he had something in other hand. he showed me other hand, had nails in it, I start to scream and my jaw was grabbed mouth forced closed and lips gglue together. he took nail pressed hard into my nips, and hit it with hammer, I almost passsed out, wish I would have. then he do it to other nip.

they pull table out so me on knees again. I feel cock in ass again. crying so hard. they pull nails out, it hurt more than when they went in. Blood trickled down. a few more fucked me. then 1 say, well time for him to lose his sack. i try to scream. did no good

they put me on bench, my sack was very big now along with me breasts.. another white strap was put around sack towards top. Both tightenned alot. the girl tending bar came in and asked if it was time. they all smiled and said yeah. she was carrig something hiding it. turn out to be a knofe. she smiled said, I wud ove to of let u fuck me. she place knife over my balls ran the flat part of blade back n fourth i crying so bad, shaking my head, trying to beg her not to. she place knife between the 2 white tie straps. I closed my eyes, I knew what she was about to do. I felt someone kissing me, I oen eyes to look it was her. she say u r so dam pretty, prettier than most girls. tears rolling down my cheeks. she said, so ur gonna be a girl. then she smie and said, I am realy sorry Pixie, u r beautiful. I froze. felt the blade cut a tiny bbit. then she said, she cudnt do it. a guy said u cut them off clean or he wud rip them off. and then torture her too. she on her knees infront of me. smiled and said, looks like I am next. dropped knofe, and said, Do with me what u will, i wont do it. a gut came over pick up knife and my balls, smiled at me and said, u r really pretty for a guy. my eyes big, i felt the blade slice thru my sack, didnt really hurt. He stood there holding it.

The girl from behind the bar had tears running down her cheeks, she said, I am so sorry she kept saying it over and over. One of the guys said, ur turn bitch. she tried to run, they grabbed her. ripped her clothes off. I exspected her to have a cock, but she didnt.

i watched them fuck her for a good 2 hours, one after another, and put needles and nails in her breast and nipples. She passed out. someone hit me. her and I woke in emergency room. found is both on roadside.

all 6 went to prison, I lied told them she was just another victim had nothing else to do with it.

She is my best friend now, and I am now a woman, I had SRS, she never left my side. This happen almost 2 years ago.
]]> Wed, 08 Apr 2015 23:17:44 UTC petite_ana Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/forced-to-change/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/evil-john-birth-day-/ Mon, 23 Jul 2012 20:35:28 UTC darkart1000 Erotic Horror -8 -3 5 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/evil-john-birth-day-/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/demon-surrogates/ Thu, 19 Jan 2012 05:36:02 UTC silent_one__ Erotic Horror 5 6 1 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/demon-surrogates/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/the-hitch-hiker/ Sun, 26 Jun 2011 16:00:24 UTC Abinadi Erotic Horror 4 4 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/the-hitch-hiker/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/the-vampire-next-door/ Tue, 01 Mar 2011 02:11:57 UTC darkdrone Erotic Horror 2 3 1 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/the-vampire-next-door/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/nothing-left/ Fri, 24 Sep 2010 21:04:41 UTC JClarity Erotic Horror 2 2 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/nothing-left/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/nightmare-lust-part-1/ Wed, 18 Aug 2010 10:58:39 UTC Jeddy Erotic Horror -1 1 2 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/nightmare-lust-part-1/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/perryn-and-chris-part-1/ Thu, 22 Apr 2010 14:05:32 UTC Perryn Erotic Horror 1 1 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/perryn-and-chris-part-1/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/vampire-in-the-alley/ Mon, 05 Apr 2010 11:41:44 UTC vixylix Erotic Horror 2 2 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/vampire-in-the-alley/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/brother-and-sister/ Tue, 19 Jan 2010 18:04:39 UTC erj210 Erotic Horror 3 3 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/brother-and-sister/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/called-in-sick/ Tue, 12 Jan 2010 21:37:36 UTC erj210 Erotic Horror 4 4 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/called-in-sick/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/hot-day-for-hot-sex/ Tue, 01 Dec 2009 15:36:08 UTC hotwetsuds Erotic Horror 17 17 0 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/hot-day-for-hot-sex/ http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/man-kills-hooker-with-his-huge-penis/ Tue, 17 Nov 2009 22:43:52 UTC CMatthews Erotic Horror 3 5 2 http://www.sexstoriespost.com/stories/erotic-horror/man-kills-hooker-with-his-huge-penis/