Transylvanian Roulette
by Aussiescribbler
Smashwords Edition published by
Aussiescribbler
Copyright
2011 Aussiescribbler
Cover image from http://www.123rf.com/
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"Before you kill me," said the old man, "let me tell you how I got this way."
Funny how vampires suddenly want to stop for a chat when you have a sharpened stake jabbed into their ribcage. What the hell, I thought, I might as well humour him.
The story he told me made me realise that this was going to be a case that Nicole would be interested in. Nicole is the supernatural affairs editor for World's Most Dangerous Sex Acts Magazine, and we have worked together many a time.
Let me introduce myself. My name is Van Helsing, David Van Helsing. All right, so you've never heard of me, unless maybe you're a reader of the previously mentioned magazine, but I bet you've heard of my old great grand-daddy, the famous Professor Van Helsing. Well, I'm in the same line of work, killing vampires, and other supernatural creepy-crawlies. The only difference is I sometimes like to fuck them first. Call it a penchant, call it an eccentricity... All right, call it down right perverted if you like, but I like to get me a little monster pussy from time to time. Once I even sucked a Fuckubus, er, I mean, fucked a Succubus. Doesn't mean I'm soft on the critters. Hell, no. I always kill them afterwards. Not only does that rid the world of some mighty dangerous creatures, but it makes sure no monster kids turn up on my doorstep in ten years time calling me Daddy.
Many a time Nicole has come along with me on one of these adventures to record the event for posterity. I could write the story myself but who'd believe me. Nicole is my expert witness, and she takes photos. And, all right, sometimes she saves my ass when I get myself in too deep.
You could say she plays Dr. Watson to my Sherlock Holmes.
Of course Sherlock Holmes and Watson never fucked. Or at least, if they did, Watson never wrote about it in the stories. Nicole and I, on the other hand, fuck like bunny rabbits whenever we are on a mission together. Danger will do that to you. Either that, or it'll make you piss your pants. It can go either way.
"It all happened about six months ago, when I was making my way home from the pub in the early hours of the morning," the old man explained. Of course he was speaking in Romanian, this being Transylvania and all, but I'm translating it here for your benefit. "I was making my way through the pass in the mountains when thunderclouds started piling up in the sky and I could tell that the downpour would occur any moment. I had to find shelter. The only place nearby was the old castle. I knew that some folks held it to be haunted, but not being the superstitious kind, I went up to the front door. I found it ajar. I knocked but there was no answer, so I entered hoping to at least keep the rain off, even if I couldn't find a bed for the night. I found the place deserted. Wherever I looked, upstairs and down, I saw not a soul. Eventually I decided that if the castle was not occupied there would be no harm in me sleeping in one of the beds. The linen smelt a little stale, but it would at least be warm. I found a small servant's bedroom under the stairs and decided to use it. In case the owner of the castle should turn up unexpectedly I thought it would be best to be found in the servant's quarters.
"Getting undressed I crawled into the small bed. I slept only fitfully in this strange environment, and at some time after midnight I was awoken by the sound of footsteps in the corridor outside. They seemed to be coming closer.
"I pulled my head under the bedclothes and tried to pretend to be a lump in the mattress.
"'Greetings, traveller," came a smooth seductive female voice from the doorway, indicating that my attempts at concealment had been unsuccessful. 'I thought that I would just come up and see if there was anything I could do to make your stay a little more comfortable.'
"Something about the way that she said 'come up' instead of 'come down' made me a little uneasy. The main bedrooms were upstairs. All that was downstairs was the cellar.
"When I finally got up the courage to stick my head out from under the blankets, I found that I was being addressed by one of the most beautiful women I had ever seen. She was tall and slim with snow white skin and ebony hair that fell freely to her waist. Her eyes were emerald green and held me with a look that made me want only to do her bidding, whatever that might be. She was dressed only in a gossamer thin night gown of antique design which being nearly transparent did nothing to conceal the rosy red nipples that tipped her milky breasts or the wild growth of jet-black pubic hair that decorated the area between her defiantly spread legs.
"As my eyes ran up and down her gorgeous body my cock stiffened and stood up beneath the bedclothes. She noticed this and her eyes focussed on the place where the blankets were rising circus-tent-style.
"'Show me your cock,' she ordered, letting me know that I was to be her love-slave.
"I threw back the covers and unveiled my manhood. I liked the way she smiled as she looked at it. What I didn't like was the thin trails of drool that were seeping from the edges of her mouth. There was something unnatural about this woman. But her hypnotic eyes and the snake-grace with which she moved her hips entranced me. As she strode towards me I could almost feel in advance the rough caress that her forest of pubes would give my upper thigh. Sure enough she lifted a long white gossamer-shrouded leg and straddled my left leg. I could feel her wetness trickling over my thigh and dampening the sheet below. A pale, deathly cold hand wrapped itself gently around the hot hardness of my stiff cock, and she bent slowly to take it in her mouth. It was when I felt her long wet tongue encircle my prick that I realised that she was not human. By then I didn't care.
"I have a rather large cock," the old man explained, starting to pull down his pants.
"That's O.K." I reassured him. "I'll believe you."
"Anyway, no woman could ever fit the whole of it in her mouth," he told me. "But this woman, or thing, made love to the whole of my cock. Not just that, but my balls as well. She didn't take it into her mouth. Her mouth came to it. She had a tongue like a snake's tongue, only thicker and wetter. It slithered out of her mouth and down in circles around my cock, dripping saliva as it went. When the whole of my cock was wrapped in her wet tongue and the tip of it was tickling my balls, she started to wank me off with it. It was the best blow-job I'd ever had. No human could give a blow-job like that.
"And she wasn't a human. She was a vampire. Once she had me in her spell, she made no attempt to hide her fangs. I could see the razor sharp ivory caressing the purple veins of my cock lovingly.
"It is blood, under high pressure, that makes a man's cock stiff. Female vampires don't bite a guy in the neck. The funny thing is when it gets to that moment, you know what they're going to do, but you wouldn't stop them for the world. They say the female preying mantis bites her mate's head off a the moment of ejaculation so that his whole attention is on what he is doing. The brain only gets in the way of pleasure. As I ejaculated in a spray of one part cum to 99 parts blood into the vampire's mouth, death took my mind long before it came for my body, which floated away on an all-encompassing tide of ecstasy.
"A week after my death, I arose from my coffin and began to feast on the blood of the village maidens."
His story was at an end, and I added the full stop with a swift hammer blow, which drove the sharp stake deep into his heart.
"You don't really expect me to believe that, do you?" asked Nicole when I told her the old man's story.
"But you've seen plenty of vampires before," I replied, "why should you start getting sceptical now?"
"Oh, I believe she's a vampire," Nicole assured me. "But are you really trying to tell me that there's a better cocksucker in the world than me."
"That's what I'd like to find out," I told her. "But first I'd better sample your technique once more, just to allow for a fair comparison."
Out of respect for the delicacy and good taste of my readers I will draw a discreet veil over the scenes of licentious carnal activity which followed this remark.
What? You're not delicate, and you don't have good taste, and you want to hear all the juicy details?
Well, all right. But don't expect this scene to develop the plot any. It's just a gratuitous sex scene.
Nicole, keen as ever to demonstrate her truly prodigious cock-sucking talents, dived head first beneath the sheets. As her soft warm hands grasped my rampant stiffy, she cocked a long, sexy leg over my head and settled her soft pale bottom cheeks gently on my face.
I sighed in ecstasy as she slipped my hard cock between her soft wet lips and lapped the sensitive head with her hyper-active tongue. Meanwhile, I relished the feel of her dark pubic hair roughly massaging my face. I began lapping up her free-flowing pussy-juice, and sucked her stiff little clit into my mouth, where I teased it unmercifully with my tongue. Nicole slurped away happily on my cock, while a steady stream of saliva and pre-cum ran tantalisingly over my balls. Eventually, after what seemed an eternity, I felt the tremor of orgasm ripple through her creamy thighs as they gripped my face in a loving embrace. At the same moment, I pushed my cock hard against the roof of her mouth and unloaded a geyser of boiling jism down her tender young throat.
Nicole was quite a cock-sucker. I had to hand it to her. Since it was so dark under the blankets she never would have found it if I hadn't.
Once she had wriggled back up from beneath the blankets so that we were facing each other I gave her a tender little kiss on the tip of her nose while I gently fondled her soft warm bottom with one hand and teased the stiff little nipples on her small but luscious breasts with the other.
All right, now are you satisfied? Can I get on with the plot? O.K.
Some time around midnight, Nicole and I were sleeping, our nude bodies cosily entwined, a cool summer breeze blowing in the open window, when I was awoken by a loud squeaking noise.
No sooner had I opened my eyes than something wet and smelly splattered on my forehead and ran into my right eye.
A large vampire bat was flapping around over our bed.
Only when I had managed to chase it out of the window did I notice that it had left something else besides the mess of runny excrement that I was in the process of removing from my face with a corner of the bedspread. There on the bedside table was a note.
Opening it, I read the following message:
If you think your plans are hidden from me Van Helsing, think again. This village is my territory. My eyes are everywhere, they see all. You do not frighten me. No man can resist me, not even the great Van Helsing. You, like all the others, will succumb. I invite you to join me in my bed tomorrow evening. I know that your cock is swelling even now at the prospect. Swelling with the blood on which I will shortly feast. You have not long to wait, Van Helsing, to see what it is to be part of the night brigade, the midnight feasters...the blood-drinkers... Ha, ha, ha...
You've really got to despise someone who writes their laugh down in a letter. But I have to admit, she was right about the state of my cock.
When I woke Nicole to tell her about the note she took one look at my stiffy and came to the conclusion that I had just woken her up for a midnight quickie. Not wanting to disappoint her, I decided that telling her about the note could wait.
Nicole whispered sweet nothings in my ear as I bounced her up and down on my cock, one of her luscious bum cheeks clasped lovingly in either hand. Her stiff nipples rubbed deliciously around my bare chest like a pair of pencil erasers. It wasn't long before she came, screamingly delirious obscenities in my ear.
Then she wanted to see me cum, so I pulled out of her and let her jerk me off. She licked her lips with delight as she saw the tide of creamy cum spurt from the eye of my cock and run down over her hand, which she continued to slide up and down my slippery, spunk-coated prick.
Once we had had a chance to catch our breath, I showed her the note.
"This means that we are going to have to be extra careful," I explained. "If we are going to sneak you into the castle, we are going to have to use supernatural means to do it. That means a visit to our old friend Griselda."
Griselda was a witch whose talents I had had reason to make use of several times before.
As we were approaching Griselda's house in the dark woods near the village the following morning a disgusting sight met our eyes.
Griselda, a not unattractive woman with long red hair, large breasts and hips that, if she were a truck would require a Wide Load sign, was sitting at a small table in her front yard. A cat was standing on the table, and Griselda, holding its tail up, was engaged in kissing its anus. Nicole and I both gagged at this revolting sight.
"Be't not true, my dearest Crowley,
"As't been said so oft to me,
"That the future I can spy,
"When i do kiss your nether eye," she recited.
"Oh," she said, when she saw us approaching, "I was just in the middle of casting a spell. Let me introduce you to Crowley, my familiar," she added, gesturing towards the cat.
"It looked like you two were getting a little too familiar for my liking," I put in.
"You can talk, Van Helsing," she scolded me. "If I catch you one more time, jerking off in the bushes while me and my sisters are trying to dance skyclad 'neath the full moon, I'll turn you into a piece of slime mould."
"I don't know what she's talking about," I pleaded, when Nicole shook her head and gave me one of her 'disappointed' looks.
"All right," said Griselda, finally warming to my infinite charm, as we shared a pot of herbal tea, "what can I do for you this time?"
"It's that vampiress who lives in the castle on the hill," I explained. "I've come to kill her, but in order to do so, I need an invisibility potion for my friend here."
"Normally I wouldn't help you," Griselda admitted. "But that bitch is muscling in too much on the local virgin market. Her converts have been draining the local maidens so fast that we are having to import virgins from Saudia Arabia for our sacrifices. In this instance I can help you out."
* * *
In my line of work, a person gets used to the site of torn, bloodless flesh, with exposed tendons and arteries.
"I don't know how you can eat that stuff!" Nicole exclaimed as she looked at the tongue sandwich with extra horse-radish over which I was currently salivating. "How can you eat something that comes out of a cow's mouth?"
"Yeah, right," I said, feeling it unnecessary to draw attention to the original source of the scrambled eggs she was wolfing down hungrily.
"Do you really think this invisibility potion will work?" she asked examining the small vial full of disgusting green liquid that Griselda had given us.
"There's only one way to tell," I said.
Nicole unscrewed the cap and lifted it up to her nose gingerly. "Doesn't smell as bad as I thought. A bit like licorice," she commented, pouring a few drops on her scrambled eggs.
When she had finished eating her eggs, she stared down at her hands and waited for herself to disappear.
"You'll have to take all of your clothes off," I explained. "It won't make them disappear."
"You mean the whole time I am invisible I'll have to be naked as well? Isn't it a bit cold here for that sort of thing?" she asked.
"Don't worry," I reassured her, "Griselda told me the formula also makes a person immune to the cold. Anyway, its not cold here by the fire (we were in our room at the inn), so you can take your clothes off now."
"I don't see why I can't wait until I actually turn invisible," she replied.
"But then I won't be able to see your boobs, and pubes, and cute naked little butt!" I exclaimed, eyes wide and tongue hanging out. My own that is, not the one I was eating.
"Oh, all right," Nicole agreed, cool as ever in the face of my unabashed lust. "But you have to strip off, too."
"Not a problem," I replied, bending down to remove my shoes and socks.
A few minutes later and we were both starkers. I had forgotten just how gorgeous Nicole's nude body looked in daylight. The sunlight streaming in the window highlighted the paleness of her skin and lent an aura of tarnished gold to her dark auburn pubes. Even while basking in the heat of the roaring fire, her rosy nipples were erect. As was my cock.
"You really are a hopeless perve," Nicole complained as I gave her an idiot grin.
"Hey, look," I said, "you're starting to disappear."
It was true. I was beginning to see the pattern on the chair Nicole was sitting on through what had a moment ago been the solid glory of her nude body.
"I am, too!" she cried in astonishment as she looked down at herself.
A moment later the only sign of her existence was the indentation of her lovely bottom in the chair. Then that too disappeared. She must have stood up.
"Where are you now?" I asked. "Oh, there you are," I answered myself, as I felt her warm hand gently caressing my stiff cock. A moment later it was engulfed by the invisible wetness of her mouth. It was so strange to look down and see a tide of slick wetness gradually run down my cock from the tip to the base as she took me in all the way to the back of her throat. I was only in paradise for a moment before she released my saliva wet cock to swing back and forth in front of me.
"Imagine the fun I could have at a nudist camp," Nicole giggled, beginning to make the ominous "Dah-dah, dah-dah" sounds from the Jaws soundtrack. "All of those dangly, unprotected cocks, none of them suspecting that I was about to give them an invisible suck-off. Heh, heh, heh."
"I think the recreational uses of the potion will have to wait until later," I replied, somewhat pissed off that her enthusiasm for a nudist cock smorgasbord had left my own cock only half-sucked.
"Now where are you? Oh, shit, you're behind me," I cried, stepping on what I thought was Nicole's toe, but which turned out to be my own discarded shoe.
"Oh, dear," I cried, falling sideways onto the bed. "Wow, that invisibility formula must be an aphrodisiac as well. You've never licked me there before!"
"I think," said Nicole coolly from the other side of the room, "you'll find that you just sat on your tongue sandwich."
* * *
"If you let Countess Dracula up there take your cock in her mouth," Nicole asked as we made our way under cover of night up the long and winding road to the castle, "how do you know you'll ever get it back out again?"
"Ah, but that's the fun of it, my little cupcake," I informed her, giving her invisible nude bottom an affectionate fondle. "Of all the games of chance a man can play, in none are the stakes as high as they are in the game I call Transylvanian Roulette. Get it? 'Stakes'," I added, handing her a bag of the same.
"Yeah, right," muttered Nicole, unimpressed by my little verbal jest. "And do you have to call me your little cupcake?"
"Well, you know how much I like eating cupcakes," I replied, turning to give her invisible cheek a kiss and finding that I had missed and inserted my tongue in her ear by mistake.
"Urggh," I grimaced, "you really must learn to clean the wax out of your ears. It tastes terrible."
"I bet you can't catch me," Nicole cried playfully slipping from my embrace. "I'm over here. No, not over there, over here."
Thus followed a delightful game of Blind Man's Bluff in which the reward for me was to "cop a feel" occasionally of Nicole's firm young bottom or boobs. At last I managed to throw my arms around her invisible body and hold her close to me, while I ran my hands down over her sweet soft breasts with their little stiff nipple buds. She was breathing hard from her exertion and the feel of her tender breasts and belly rising and falling under my hands as they swept down her body caused my cock to become rock hard in my pants. At last I reached the soft forest of curly hair that covered her region of pleasure. Delving into this delicious forest, the fingers of my right hand slid between the slippery warm lips of her sex.
"Feeling a little horny, Nicole?" I whispered in her ear.
"You know how the prospect of a good staking gets me hot," she answered. She thrust her wet crotch hard against my fingers and I masturbated her to a quick climax. Then before I knew it she thrust her bum back hard against my stiff cock, shook herself free of my grasp and, judging from the ever-receding sound of her giggling, ran off through the trees.
I tried to follow her but I was a little uncertain about which direction she had taken. Then just when I thought that I was going to have to give up and beg for her to come back to me, my questing hands made contact with invisible naked flesh once more.
Something is wrong here, I told myself, as I ran my hands over what felt like a fat, hairy, very masculine backside.
"Nicole, that's not you, is it?" I asked.
"Shhhh," came a masculine voice out of thin air, as I noticed for the first time a shotgun that hovered in mid-air in front of me, thankfully pointing in the opposite direction, "be vewy, vewy quiet. I'm hunting wabbits...with the help of Bwunhilda's invisibiwity formuwa. Heh, heh, heh."
"This way, silly," Nicole's voice whispered in my left ear, as her hand grasped my wrist and dragged me back to the road. "So what's our modus operandi when we get to the castle," she asked, deciding that the time for frivolity was over.
"Our what?" I asked.
"Our plan!" she exclaimed, sounding as if she thought I was stupid or something.
"Well the main thing is not to let on that I have company," I explained. "You're invisible but your camera, not to mention the stakes and hammer are not. That's why I've put them all in a black bag here. In the poor light of the castle the black bag will be hard to see, but the important thing is to not take anything out of it unless Fang Face is looking the other way. Getting your action shots won't be easy, but we've done this sort of thing before. You know what you're dealing with."
"How are you going to get her in a position were we can stake her?" she asked.
"I have a plan. You leave that up to me. The main thing is that you be ready to jump into action when I call for you," I warned her. "No last minute camera shots. Even if you do think they're good enough to make the cover of the magazine. That cover photo of me and the Abominable Snow Woman nearly cost me my life. Even as it is I ended up in hospital for six weeks with frost-bite of the dick."
"Don't worry," Nicole assured me, "I want you to live through this. Even if only to make you follow through on that 'eating cupcake' gag."
"All right," I said, as we came in sight of the castle, "no more talking. From now on, I have to make it look like I'm alone."
When I reached the huge door of the castle, I found it ajar just like the old man had. Like him I knocked and then entered. I didn't look back to see if the hovering black bag of vampire-killing tools was following me. I just had to trust that Nicole would do the right thing.
I searched the castle for Miss Bloodsucker. I looked in all the rooms downstairs. The torches along the walls and in the bedrooms had been lit. It was obvious that I was expected, but where was my hostess?
Maybe it was a little too early. It was not quite midnight yet, and I knew that vampires could rise as soon as the sun went down. But maybe the lady in question had an overdeveloped sense of the dramatic and would make her appearance right on the witching hour.
I made my way upstairs and entered the master bedroom. The old man may have chosen the servant's quarters, but I was an invited guest. I took off my shoes and socks and threw myself down on the bed, and adopted a casual hands-behind-the-head posture which spoke of a nonchalance that I hoped I would be able to continue with once I was confronted with the evil cocksucker herself. Beneath this heroic front my heart was pounding and my bowels were gripped with an icy fear. I was glad they were gripped with something. Losing control of one's bowels in a situation like this might be perfectly natural, but it doesn't photograph well. At this thought, as if by synchronicity, a flashbulb went off from the corner of the room. Nicole was taking an establishing shot. I hoped she would remember to switch to the infrared function on her camera when we had company.
I was right about Little Miss Queen of Darkness. She was one for the dramatic entrances and made one just as the clock struck twelve.
With her floor-length black cape and the high collar that stood up around the back of her neck, she looked for all the world like the evil queen in Walt Disney's Snow White and the Seven Dwarves. She lost her G rating though when she spread the cloak in a dramatic gesture to reveal that she was totally naked beneath. With her round full breasts, flat stomach and profuse jet-black pubes, set off as they were by the deathly pale colour of her skin, she was a Siren who could lure any red-blooded man to his death.
"Is that a sharpened stake in your pocket or are you just glad to see me?" she enquired with a seductive smile. She must have had cable. How else does a vampire woman living in the Carpathian mountains get to see Mae West movies?
"Now would I try that kind of trick?" I asked her, unzipping my pants and pulling both them and my underpants down around my knees, so that she could see that the long hard object that had been hidden within was all my own. I pulled them off my legs and threw them down on the floor.
"Nice cock you have there, Van Helsing," she complimented me. "I told you that you would not be able to resist the ultimate pleasure."
Moving with superhuman speed and athleticism she leapt up onto the end of the bed and crouched there like an eagle contemplating it's helpless rodent dinner. Her legs were spread wide and she moved her right hand down to caress the dripping wet gash between them. The drops that hit the bedclothes hissed and sent up a cloud of vapour. During her time of the month the pussy-juice of a vampire is pure acid.
"Do you really think you can go on forever preying on the innocent peasants of this region?" I asked her.
"The death of my innocent victims makes me cum," she growled, sliding two fingers in and out of her gaping cunt. "Just because mine is a minority form of sexuality, doesn't make it any the less legitimate."
At this moment I heard a strange sound from the corner of the room, like that of a small vessel being filled with water. Looking over briefly I saw a chamberpot miraculously filling with a clear yellowish liquid which seemed to appear out of nowhere and which steamed in the cold air. Nicole always did have a weak bladder in tense situations.
"What was that?" my hostess enquired, turning her head.
"Look, bitch," I challenged her, desperate to keep her attention away from Nicole, whose camera was once more floating around in mid-air as she looked for a good shot, "are you going to suck my cock or what?"
"Impatient for your own death?" she enquired. "Don't worry, you'll enjoy it. Not to mention the eternal life that it will lead you to. Have you ever wondered what it is like to feel your mouth fill with the warm, salty blood of a virgin. Believe me, you won't half get a kick out of it."
Her evil laugh filled the room and kept her from noticing the click and whirr of Nicole's camera. Sinking onto all fours she began crawling down the bed towards me. As she grinned the torch light reflected off her ivory fangs.
As she bent down over my erection her tongue slithered out of her mouth like a venomous snake. I gasped with pleasure as it wrapped its deathly cool wetness around the length of my hot, hard cock. Death might be only seconds away I realised as the points of her fangs scratched along its sensitive surface. What would it feel like, I wondered. Was any pleasure worth dying for. Only those who had, could tell you. Dead men might tell no tales, but that old undead guy who had led me to this castle had spun quite a yarn. I couldn't help being curious about whether his description of the joys of the final moment had been exaggerated.
It would be just at the moment of ejaculation that her fangs would sink into the veins of my cock. But I had a surprise for her.
I felt my balls tighten and the sperm begin its journey up the shaft of my cock and I knew the moment of truth was at hand. My cock spurted a stream of hot jism down the vampire's throat, but before she could sink her teeth into me, she grabbed her throat and threw her head back gasping for air. A horrible wheezing sound filled the room and her pale face turned a sickly shade of blue.
"Pardon me if I don't employ the Heimlich Maneuver," I said, as I kicked her in the chest and sent her sprawling against the opposite wall. "All right, Nicole. It's staking time. Nicole...? Nicole...?"
I looked around for Nicole and then realised there was not much point if she was invisible. But I couldn't see the hammer and stakes either. Or the camera.
I turned back to the Queen of the Undead and found her coughing up sperm and looking mighty unfriendly.
"Prepare to die, Van Helsing!" she screamed as she lunged at me and I retreated to the other side of the bed.
She was almost upon me when a hand grasped her long hair and pulled her backwards onto the bed. It was Nicole, now visible - stark naked and stake in hand. She drove the stake into the vampire's heart with her right fist and then grabbed the hammer from the bag over her shoulder and drove it all the way in. The vampire shrieked in agony and her body jumped as if 30,000 volts of electricity were passing through it. Then gradually the convulsions ceased and it lay there only giving the occasional twitch. When all movement had ceased we watched in fascination as her body dried and shrivelled back to a skeleton which then collapsed into a pile of ashes and disappeared. We had won.
"Where were you?" I cried, when I had caught my breath. "What happened to split-second timing?"
"The potion wore off," Nicole explained. "If I hadn't snuck out of the room she would have seen me. I came as soon as I could, but its fucking freezing now that I'm visible and I was hoping to find something in the next room to wrap around myself."
I noticed that Nicole was now turning blue herself and shivering uncontrollably.
"Well," I said, "you better climb into bed and I'll see if I can find some way to warm you up."
"I thought you'd never ask," she said, crawling beneath the bedsheets. I stripped off my jacket, waist-coat, shirt, skivvy and thermal singlet, and joined her. She was covered in goosebumps and still shivering uncontrollably. I rubbed my hands firmly all over her nude body working up a bit of friction and causing my cock to stiffen and start generating a little heat of its own.
"I'm still cold," she whimpered. There was only one thing to do. I crawled down under the blankets and began stoking her fire with my tongue.
The next day I carried her back down to the village all wrapped in bedclothes like a cocoon to keep her warm.
Laying her down on the bed in our room at the inn, I lit the fire. Once it had had a chance to fill the room with heat, Nicole unwrapped herself and came to stand naked by my side.
"So what's the secret?" she asked me. "How did you make her choke like that?"
"It wasn't easy," I told her. "Have you ever tried holding an odourless garlic tablet in the eye of your dick for six whole hours?"
"In case you've forgotten," Nicole pointed out, "I'm a girl. I haven't got a dick."
"How could I forget something like that?" I asked her, dropping my hand to fondle the area where her dick would have been if she'd had one. "It's one of the things I like best about you."
Just as things were starting to get interesting, Nicole's mobile phone went off.
"Yes, I think we could manage that," she told the person on the other end. "We're pretty much finished up here."
"What's that all about?" I asked her when she had put down the phone.
"Another case, if you feel up to it," she replied. "A female werewolf is on the rampage down in Barcelona."
"Could have possibilities," I admitted.
"Seems she got bitten by a mad dog while in wolf form," Nicole added. "Oh, and it's the mating season."
"Hmmmm, fucking a rabid werewolf in heat," I mused, scratching my chin. "There could be a story for you in that one. And a few photo opportunities."
"I thought you'd be tempted," she smiled. "But you'll have to fuck her before she completes her transformation. Our magazine doesn't do bestiality."
The End
You were made by God, dear reader, but I was not. I am the handiwork of one Frau Baroness Von Frankenstein, P.M.S.*
One day they will say of me that I had the hands of a surgeon, the body of an athlete and the face of an artist's model. This is quite literally the case. My hands once belonged to Dr. Seymour Kuntz, the famous Austrian gynaecologist. The bulk of my body belonged to the Scottish amateur rugby player and professional thief, Rob Banks. And my face was that of German artist's model, turned stage actor, turned strangler of pretty women, Hart Throb. Throb had really lost his head while on tour in Paris. The guillotine will do that to you. My brain is that of the Baroness's late hunchbacked assistant, Ygor. And my cock belonged to... Well, I don't know. Some guy who had an enormous cock.
The Baroness claims to be a benefactor of mankind, but one has to ask, if that is the case, why she has kept me a secret to the rest of the world. The answer, it seems to me, is obvious. Sex slaves are hard to come by in Bavaria at the moment, especially sex slaves with ten inch cocks.
So that is how I came to be lying chained and naked on a pile of animals skins in the dungeon. Each night I would hear the key turn in the lock, then the bolt would slide back and the Baroness would open the door. She was always stark naked. She would stand over me for a while with her legs spread defiantly. She would look down at me and play with herself. I could tell that she loved the anticipation of impaling herself on my mighty cock, which always rose to the occasion with great alacrity.
I had mixed feelings about being fucked by the Baroness. She took me for granted. She treated me like a piece of meat. And she clearly had no fondness for me as an individual. In the body of Ygor she had beaten me mercilessly. Why did I put up with it? Well, jobs for hunchbacks were not plentiful, and there was no union for mad scientist's lab assistants.
But I had my own physical needs. When your mother is the grave and your father is a lightning bolt it tends to make you kind of horny. And death has a way of removing one's inhibitions. So I fucked her and sucked her and filled her with cum. But it always left me feeling dirty. So, on this particular night, it was with the usual combination of stiff cock and heavy heart that I heard the key turn in the lock and the bolt slide back on the door. But when the door opened I saw that it was not the Baroness, but a very pretty servant girl with whom I was not acquainted.
"The Baroness was very careless to go out and leave her keys in the door," said the rosy-cheeked raven-haired beauty.
"And you are a very brave girl to enter the monster's cage," I pointed out.
"Monster?" she queried, and then looked down at my erect penis. "Oh, my, you're right. You do have a monster!"
"Sadly, I myself, am a monster," I explained. "Your mistress made me out of a pile of corpses."
"Yes," said the maid. "She always has been into recycling."
"You mean that I do not disgust you?" I asked.
"Nah," she replied. "I've seen stiffs before."
"You clean in the Baroness's laboratory perhaps?" I queried.
"Yeah, I've seen it all. Brains in tanks. Two-headed cats. You name it. And loads of stiffs. Although," she added, giggling, "never a stiff with a stiff."
She came over and sat down beside me. Then she looked me in the eye with a cheeky smile and began stroking my stiff cock.
"What's your name, my sweet?" I asked her.
"Dora Bull," she replied.
"Not the Dora Bull, toast of the London dance halls?" I queried.
"No, I'm not the Dora Bull, but I'm a Dora Bull," she told me.
"You certainly are," I agreed, kissing her on the nose. "You wouldn't happen to have the keys to these shackles?"
"I do," she said, hesitantly, "but how do I know that, if I unlock you, you won't rip off all of my clothes, throw me down on the floor and ravish my tender maidenhood with your enormous cock."
"I promise that I will act towards you as a perfect gentleman," I assured her.
"Oh, well," she said, sounding disappointed. "I suppose I better set you free anyway."
So saying, she grabbed the set of keys out of the door and set about unlocking my ankle bracelets. In no time at all I was free.
"Guess what?" I smiled.
"What?" she asked.
"I lied," I informed her, grabbing the neck of her servant's dress with both hands and rending it down the middle, thus setting free her soft, pale breasts.
"Oh, goodie!" she cried, as I ripped off her bloomers, and threw her, now completely naked, onto the pile of animals skins. I was made for making love. My athlete's body knew how to hold a woman. My actor's eyes knew how to gaze adoringly into hers while my actor's lips kissed passionately. My gynaecologist's hands knew their way around a woman's pussy. And my cock... Well, my cock knew how to be enormous.
"Ouch!" cried Dora, as I slid my battering ram deep into her furry fortress.
"You'll get used to it," I assured her, rolling over so that she could be on top.
"Mind if I hang onto your bolts?" she asked, grasping the metal protrusions that adorned each side of my neck.
"Actually, they're not bolts," I explained. "They're electrodes."
"Oh," she replied. "They sure look like bolts."
"Well, they're not. O.K.?" I told her, testily.
"No need to get snarky about it," she whined.
So I spanked her hard on the bottom for being so impertinent. She seemed to like it and rode up and down on my throbbing cock all the more vigorously.
"It's certainly a delight to be able to fuck someone as charming as yourself," I informed her, as I pulled her down so that her soft breasts squashed against my barrel of a chest, and played gently around her bottomhole with the index finger of my right hand. "The Baroness is such a cunt. She likes to come on all Godlike in the sack, which is a real drag."
"Oh, the Baroness is nuts," agreed Dora. "Hey, I made a funny. Nuts. Nuts and bolts."
"They're not fucking bolts, O.K.!" I shouted, grabbing her by the throat.
"Ooooooh! Ooooooh! Choke me!" she cried. "I love that!"
Well, it was only a couple more minutes before I came so hard that Dora flew about a foot up in the air, her pussy surrendering my exploding cock with an all-mighty "Plop!" and her already tender bottom landed painfully on the cold hard floor. Lightning, I tell ya, it does strange things to the human reproductive system.
"I will forever be indebted to you, my darling Dora, for freeing me from my piteous state of bondage," I proclaimed, bowing graciously.
"Don't mention it, tall, dark and gruesome," she laughed, as she waved goodbye. And with that I bounded down the corridor, up the stairs, and out into the blinding light of a sunny afternoon.
I wandered off through the woods, having no idea what to do next.
About mid-afternoon I came upon an open glade on the shore of a placid lake. There I discovered a little girl with freckles and red hair woven into plaits. She was picking flowers.
As I walked closer, my mighty shadow fell across her and she turned her innocent, trusting gaze my way. First she looked at my feet, and then her gaze went up and up and up until it reached my face. And she smiled, the warm smile of a child who has not yet learned that all in this world do not mean her well.
"Nice bolts!" she said.
So I picked her up and threw her in the lake and went on my way.
It was only about a half-hour later that I came upon a stone cottage. Clearly it was inhabited as a thin plume of smoke drifted up from its chimney.
Before knocking on the door, I thought I had better get some idea of who lived there. Not everyone takes kindly to a naked monster with a ten-inch cock knocking on their door in the middle of the afternoon.
When I went around the side and looked in the window I was surprised to see that the sole inhabitant was a beautiful blonde girl who was, like me, completely naked. I soon came to suspect that she was also blind, as she put her hands out in front of her as she walked around, patting the furniture.
This was a piece of luck. She needn't know that I was a monster, or that I was naked. And she might be persuaded to provide me with some sustenance.
So I knocked on the front door and soon the blind girl opened it, though only far enough to poke her head around it.
"Can I help you?" she asked. "I am blind so I'm afraid I cannot see who you are."
"I am but a wayfaring stranger, looking for a place to rest his weary feet and perhaps partake of a cup of tea," I replied.
"O.K.," she said. "But I had better put something on. I never wear any clothes in this sort of weather. It seems kind of pointless since I never have company and I myself cannot see what I am wearing."
"Please do not trouble yourself," I replied. "For I too am a nudist out on a clothes-free ramble."
"Oh, you are?" she cried, happily. "Then come right in."
"Henrietta is my name," she informed me, reaching out to shake my hand. But she was a good deal shorter than me and what she grabbed was my semi-erect cock. "Oh, my!" she exclaimed. "You didn't tell me you were a salami salesman."
"I am not a merchant of small goods," I assured her.
"No, it's certainly not small, and it is getting bigger in my hand," she pointed out. "It's your cock, isn't it?"
"Yes, it is," I admitted. "And this is your bottom and these are your boobs..."
"It's not nice of you take advantage of a poor girl's disability," she informed me, but the way that she was happily wanking on my cock told me she really didn't mind.
And so, as she prepared us each a cup of tea, we enjoyed a game of Blind Girl in the Buff. I would come up and lick one of her nipples and run away before she could reach out and grab me. And next it might be a finger her in pussy, or I would smack her bottom with my stiff cock. And each time I would manage to slip away from between her questing hands.
Eventually, the tea was ready and she placed the two cups on the table. I sat down on one of the wooden chairs. And then, much to my surprise, Henrietta sat on my lap.
"Oh!" she cried. "I thought you sat in the other chair."
By some miraculous coincidence, as she sat down her suspiciously wet pussy slid right down over my upstanding prick.
"That's O.K.," I replied. "You can stay there if you are comfortable."
"Oh, I'm very comfortable," she sighed.
Thus did it come to pass that I sat with my tea cup in my right hand and my left hand under Henrietta's left thigh so that my super strong left biceps could bounce her up and down on my rigid member as we drank our tea.
"This sure beats cucumber sandwiches!" she exclaimed.
Then she turned to kiss me and her hand fell upon one of my electrodes.
"Why do you have a bolt in your neck?" she asked.
"It's not a bolt. It's an electrode," I sighed.
"Oh, O.K.," she replied.
I reached down and gently stroked her stiff clit as I continued to bounce her up and down on my cock. Soon she was quivering in ecstasy as I spurted a quart of jism up her pussy. I made sure to hold her tight as I didn't want a repeat of what had happened to Dora.
Just at this moment I noticed a distant sound of yelling. It was coming closer. When I looked out the window I could see a procession of women carrying torches approaching through the forest.
"Monster! Monster!" they were crying.
Dora must have been gossiping I thought to myself. There was no other way these women could have known of my existence.
"Normally I wouldn't mind the idea of a woman carrying a torch for me," I muttered, "but this is ridiculous."
"We've heard that there is a monster on the rampage ravishing women with his enormous cock," cried the leader of the mob. "And we are determined to protect the village even if it means sacrificing our own vaginas!"
"They sound like they mean business," said Henrietta. "You'd better bolt!"
The End
Hypochondria is a complex problem at the best of times, but especially so when the sufferer is a member of the medical profession.
Montague Periwinkle was a successful Harley Street physician, but his practice took a serious toll on his emotional wellbeing as he had a tendency to become persuaded that he suffered from the same conditions he found in his patients. A large portion of the fees he collected were spent on consultations with his fellow practitioners. This could often be quite embarrassing, especially on the occasion when he believed himself to be suffering from an infection of the ovaries.
If he had lived in our day he could have simply chilled out on a self-proscribed dosage of Valium. But our story takes place in 1926.
One of his colleagues suggested that he take up a quiet practice far from the stress of the big city and Montague agreed. So when he was offered a position as private physician to the family of Francis Stryker, owner of a Haitian sugar plantation, he accepted. He would have only six patients to attend to so the number of imaginary illnesses to which he might fall victim would be limited, and the time spent lazing on the tropical beaches would ease his hypertension and resulting angina. He was pretty sure that he did actually suffer from angina as his attacks of chest pains were a regular occurrence which seemed to have no correlation with the treatment of patients with heart problems.
His wife Gertrude was rather less enthusiastic about the move as Haiti was, as she put it, "full of darkies."
"We won't have to mix with them socially," he assured her, "and I hear that they make very good servants if beaten regularly."
However, once he actually arrived on the island, he found that he came to share his wife's distrust of its dark-skinned inhabitants. Their warm smiles and unfailing friendliness could only be a sign of sinister intent, he told himself.
And when, on the morning of his third Wednesday on the island, he returned from a walk on the beach to find a crudely made palm fibre doll laying on his bed with a pin stuck in its chest, his suspicions were confirmed. He clutched at his own chest, the angina burning like a red hot spike through his heart.
Even leaving aside the unscientific nature of such a belief, there was a logical inconsistency in the idea that the voodoo doll was the cause of the pain in his chest. He'd been suffering from angina for a full year before his arrival in Haiti. But logic had never been much of a defence against Montague's psychosomatic ailments.
"You'd better go see Mama Loa," Stryker advised. "Of course it is all just superstitious nonsense, but if one of my servants has a grudge against you you want to find out who it is, and only Mama Loa has the connections to find that out."
"Who's Mama Loa?" asked Montague.
"She's the local Voodoo Queen," Stryker explained. "Toby will take you to her."
A full moon shone in the tropical night as he followed the gaunt old black man through the cane fields to the small shed in which Mama Loa saw her constituents.
He wasn't prepared for what he saw when he arrived at the clearing in front of Mama Loa's shed. There she stood, her wild raven hair piled up like storm clouds around a face of breathtaking beauty. A raging fire burned behind her dark eyes and in her sinewy limbs and proud stance Montague could tell that she embodied the wild majesty of the untamed island in a way which made her position as Queen something inevitable. She was dressed only in two strips of cloth, one tied across her swelling bosom, the other acting as a make-shift skirt, tied above one coffee-coloured hip and hanging down halfway to her knee on the other.
"What brings you to me?" she asked, her eyes searing into his soul.
"I... that is... Stryker... He said you could help me," he stuttered.
"In what way?" she wanted to know.
"I found this in my room," Montague told her, holding up the doll.
"Poor workmanship," she commented, taking the doll from him, "but sufficient to do the job for which it was intended."
"Do you know who might have... put it there?" he asked.
"Someone who wants power over you," she informed him.
"You couldn't give me a name?" he queried.
"What I can do is to make you invulnerable to this kind of spell," she told him. "If you trust me enough to put yourself into my hands."
He didn't feel he had any choice.
So it was that he found himself lying on his back, arms and legs stretched out on the ground, while three drummers, huge muscular men stripped to the waist, beat out a savage rhythm that seemed to invade his very being, causing his heart to race and his mind to spin as if in the grip of some powerful drug. He couldn't have moved if he wanted to. He felt like a butterfly mounted on a display board, a pin stuck through its thorax.
And out into the moon-bathed clearing came Mama Loa, now completely naked, dancing like a thing possessed, sweat pouring down her body as she shook and twitched like a convict in the electric chair, her breasts swinging, her pelvis thrusting, her buttocks gyrating wildly. Montague had never witnessed anything so insane, so intoxicating, so cock-stiffening.
The next thing he knew, she was on top of him, her slippery wet breasts slapping his face, the musky smell of her armpits intoxicating him, her hair-covered pubic bone rubbing insistently against the swollen length of his engorged member. She reached for something behind his head and then he saw the light of the moon reflected in the blade of a massive knife which she lifted high above his face.
When the knife came down it was to cut away his shirt. Mama Loa seemed possessed of inhuman strength. Flash, flash went the knife and his bare flesh was exposed to the light of the moon. She undid his belt and pulled it off, and then began cutting away his trousers.
His cock throbbed with the same electricity that shook her naked body, the head slippery with pre-cum slipping out from inside his shorts. She threw away the knife and tore his remaining garment down over his legs. He was naked.
She continued to dance, but now it was with a quiet intensity that she twisted her body like a limbo dancer, deliberately swaying back and forth over his body, never touching but sometimes as close as a millimetre from his aching cock. It was unbearably tantalising. How he longed for her touch. How, even more, he longed to plant his prick deep inside her warm body steaming with sweat. All he could feel were the drops of perspiration that fell from her dark flesh and splashed like a soothing rain on the burning skin of his cock, running down its length and dripping over his balls.
Then her face was between his thighs, her pink tongue was running wetly up the underside of his prick as he strained his neck to look directly into her hypnotic eyes. And she swallowed it, her lips pulling back, her pearly white teeth glistening in the moonlight, making his heart thunder as, for a moment, I feared he would be a victim of cannibalism. But he had nothing to worry about. The wet furnace of her mouth made tender love to his stiffness as her hands massaged the flesh of his thighs.
His ears numb from the thunder of drums, Montague watched as Mama Loa surrendered his cock and stood over him once more, swaying and slapping her thighs. Then she spread her legs and squatted over his belly letting him see the creamy juices that poured from the pink pussy that was framed by the darkness of her thighs, labia and pubes. He felt her pussy juice drip onto his belly as she brought her firm sweaty buttocks down onto his stomach. She wiped up some of her essence on her slim fingers and pushed them forcefully between his lips. He tasted her and it was good.
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