Sunday, October 29, 2017

Halloween Fantasy

Note: this is fantasy.  I like to start out with that lest people be mislead. 

Master told me at 7:00 pm that we were going out to a Halloween party and I should get dressed.   I put on my Dolores dress and he wore his black suit.   With a stern, foreboding look he disallowed the wearing of any under garments for me.  He also told me to wear the leather collar.

We stepped outside into a brisk, damp chill of late October Wisconsin night.  It was already dark and the coyotes were having a fit about something in the distance.  I shivered as I opened the gate and got in the passenger seat.  Master had me lift my long skirt up so I was entirely visible to him from the waist down, but he didn't touch me.  I saw him glance over now and then, which alone made me feel lustfully heated.

After an hour and a half of travel we turned in to the gravel drive of a country house I'd never been to before.  The driveway was long and overhung with grim trees.    As we bumped along slowly, I saw in front of us a black shape ease out of the darkness and then slide across to vanish on the other side.  "Cat", I thought.  Or perhaps a fox.  Maybe somewhat large for a fox, but the movement wasn't casual enough to be dog-like.

Master parked the car to the side of the drive under a huge oak tree, still with many dry leaves clinging, although the maples and birches of the forest had already dropped their clothing for the winter.  

He took out of his black bag a blindfold and tied it around my eyes.  

"Wait here", he told me.   

I became apprehensive, but I didn't protest.  I waited in the car for perhaps five or ten minutes, listening intently, not moving.  I heard the sounds of him leaving, the car door being shut, gravel crunching.  A quick knock and the sounds of muffled voices.

Minutes of silence.  An owl called out "Who cooks for you. Who cooks for you" into the night.  I felt chilled.

More minutes of silence, then footsteps on the gravel, as of several approaching persons.  They didn't speak.

My car door was opened and someone silently helped me out of the car.  The hands did not feel familiar.  They were rough and sure.  I inhaled deeply the scent of unfamiliar men, trying for any clues about my situation.  It had to be men; I can tell. My arms were bent firmly behind my back and tied at the wrists.  Another hand stroked my neck gently before gripping my collar tightly.  I was lead this way, one hand on my collar from the front and another on my hands in the back, over the rough gravel.  I concentrated on keeping my balance in boots not made for roads this rustic.  

"Step up" a strange, hoarse voice commanded from the man holding my collar.  "Three steps".  

I carefully felt my way up the stairs and across a porch before hearing the door creak open and the sound of a slamming old farmhouse style screen behind.   The interior was warm and smelled lightly of cinnamon.  I was lead, still by at least two men, down several hallways until I heard a door close behind us.   This room did not smell of cinnamon, but of a heavy musty scent tinged with a strange metallic flavor.  The house was much larger than it had looked from the front. 

The men pushed me to my knees and I heard the click of a knife opening.  

"Dolores."  It was my Master speaking.  "It's time you and I became reaquainted".   He gripped the neck of my dress tightly and I felt the knife point on my skin.  I held very still, despite my quaking inside.  

He ripped into the fabric with the knife, shredding the dress.  The knife move down to a spot just below my ribs and pressed in.  Fear gripped me.  He wasn't letting up, but cut just into my skin until I felt a trickle going down my side.  I sobbed and began to beg "Please no" very faintly.  No one took notice.

"Slave" he said, "Stand up".   I stood and the top half of the dress was ripped away.  The knife was placed against my lips now.  The metallic scent in the air was redoubled.  "Kiss it".  I pressed trembling lips against the metal, repelled and excited by my own blood. 

He led me forward a few steps and pulled my neck down until I was resting the top half of my body on a bench of some sort.  My hands were released from behind my back only to be chained with cuffs to the bench over my head, both restrained at once by two separate sets of hands.   

My skirt was hiked up to my waist by yet a third person, and a cold metal sharpness placed against my inner thigh.   My legs were being chained apart by the hands that had just secured my wrists.  A gentle hand replaced the metal between my legs, probing for wetness.  I felt a weight on my back as the man leaned over me.  I could feel him fumbling between touching me and undoing his own pants.   I felt his cock rubbing me, teasing me, not fucking me.   For long minutes this went on as I grew wetter and more desperate to be taken.  I wasn't even sure which of the men was my Master now, or even if he was still in the room.  My cunt seemed to have a mind of its own, not caring about that, only wanting to be filled by something long and hard.  

The man stepped back.  "Oh no" said my Master, his voice coming from in front and to the right of me, "We need to fix this little slut up more before fucking her." 

I felt the knife again, this time sliding down the back of my leg.  Sliding hard, pricking me painfully.  I knew there was going to be blood.   Across my ass, cutting sharply, I could feel the wetness and I cried out in fear more than pain, although the pain was bright and clear.  Two sets of hands were on my ass then, rubbing around the wetness, rubbing it down lower into my asshole and into my cunt. 

I heard my Master again.  "These men have given me a decent amount of money for you slave, for your use.  I will be back when they are done with you."  

Fear gripped me.  I tried to protest, to call out my pleas for him not to leave me with strangers; wanting the man I trust to watch out for me to stay.   My pleas were cut short by a sharp slap to my upturned face. 

"Hush, slave, and be obedient to them, like you would be for me."  

I heard his footsteps retreating across the wood plank floor and I despaired.



  1. Whoo thats very intense - I am not into knife play but found the fantasy in general rather arousing!

  2. Oh, that is a very intense fantasy story. A very hot read.

    1. Thank you! I'm glad you enjoyed it. I had fun writing.

  3. This is so fucking hot to me!



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