Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32

Bdsm

GRIGORI’S KITCHEN

A six-wheeled, government-surplus transporter rolled along the driveway of the convent and drew up at the rear of the building. Pierre climbed out of the cab and went to open the door at the rear. One by one Zora, Maria, Eva and Kristina jumped down and lined up in the twilight. While he searched for the key, a woman’s shrill scream broke from somewhere inside the building, and Kristina started in alarm. Pierre turned to her and spoke calmly in his cultured voice.

“Do not be afraid, little one. Your death is assured, and you will scream when it is time”. He put a gentle hand to her face. “You are meat. Meat need never be afraid”. She kissed his palm and blushed prettily. He opened the cellar door and led them down a narrow flight of steps to a small room where the furnace made the air oppressive and it was a welcome relief to be ordered to strip. The women pulled off their clothes and shoes.

“Everything goes in here,” Pierre told them, swinging open the furnace door “belts and boots as well. Yes, and watches. You won’t need any of them”. They tossed rings and necklaces onto the glowing coals, delicate wisps of French and Italian lingerie bought especially for the occasion. Maria wore only two hoops in her ears and a wedding ring, so she was the first to turn to help Kristina; by the end, all three were working at the defrocked nun’s multiple piercings with trembling fingers while she stood passive under their ministrations. When her skin was utterly denuded of steel and silver Pierre slammed the heavy door closed again. He guided them up a wooden staircase and held the door at the top with old-fashioned courtesy. It led to the kitchen.

As they trooped in, they saw a nude girl barely out of her teens hanging by a steel hook from the rafters. She was freshly killed, and streaks of blood still ran over her round belly from deep gashes in her full breasts. Pierre paused to gather some on his fingertip and tasted it absently.

“Good evening, Pierre” said Grigori from behind the hanging corpse. He was naked save for an apron and boots as he worked on the pale torso of a butchered woman, hacking off the one remaining arm before rolling the carcass into a huge steel dish. Surrounded by cuts of meat, with female hands and feet placed to one side and bowls of livers and kidneys brimming with blood ranged about him, he licked juices from his fingers and grinned. “Tonight” he told them, “you will find out how good a woman tastes”. And he turned back to his preparations.

“They should see this” Pierre said, signalling his charges to wait. The women stared, fascinated, while Grigori rubbed a thick sauce into the flesh of the body and deftly sewed up the great gash where the innards had been pulled out. Gleefully he took a long roasting spit from the side and, with a grunt of exertion, drove it right through the corpse from cunt to neck. None of them could take her eyes from the glossy, white flesh of the slaughtered victim. Maria’s eyes were drawn to the little tattoo of a butterfly on the corpse’s hip. Grigori wiped his hands down his apron and then, laughing, pulled it off to use as a hand towel. His cock stood as hard as wood against his round belly. His eyes met Maria’s and he reached out to squeeze her breast. She howled her excitement and almost buckled at the knees but he moved past her to where the new girl-corpse hung. He took the warm body in his brawny arms and lifted it from the hook over to his butcher’s block. Laying his victim next to the skewered torso he spread the limp legs and aimed his pulsing prick into the dead cunt, still glistening wetly. As he fed it easily inside, he looked over his shoulder at Maria.

“I will have you here, like this” he promised and began to thrust maniacally, flushed and sweating. The dead woman’s head rolled from side to side and her legs flapped loosely. Maria cried out, gripped by an intense orgasm, and Kristina put out an arm to steady her as she fell sideways against the wall in a spasm. They all watched entranced until at last Grigori threw back his head, his face frozen in a fierce snarl, and spurted from the crotch to the breasts. He snorted and shook his greying curls from his face.

“You!” he commanded, eyeing Maria knowingly where she lay slumped in a corner with her hands balled into fists and clenched between her thighs. Rising obediently, she looked from the pools of warm spunk on the dead girl’s stomach to Grigori’s face then, at his nod, fell on the corpse like a starved bitch – licking and sucking ravenously until no drop remained.

He hoisted the prepared torso over to a roasting-jack in the open fireplace and positioned the meat to be slowly roasted. Casually, Grigori slapped Eva’s arse then turned to Maria and pressed his fingers briefly but roughly into her dripping cunt. He returned to his cooking and Pierre led them further into the building, towards the sound of music and screams.

KATYA’S SACRIFICE

After looking at her watch for the tenth time Katya finally allowed herself to check the street outside. She went to the window just as a blue van drove around the corner and parked outside the high security unit. The passenger door opened and bursa escort closed again – the arranged signal. She drew deeply on a cigarette, from her first packet in six years, and hurriedly stripped off her dress. Wearing only a pair of yellow fishnet stockings and the white marks of faded welts she grabbed her set of master keys, put her head around the door to be sure the corridor was empty, and hurried out of the room.

The chief warder had only briefly demurred when she requested that Dmitri be kept in restraints after her scheduled interview and left “to sweat” in a holding cell. She had built a good relationship with the staff of the unit and they were all slightly awed by the control she appeared to exert over their most dangerous prisoner – and Katya had never asked them to depart from established protocols before. So, Dmitri was alone in a padded cell in a corridor which also had an exit to the rear of the building. Katya unlocked both doors and went to him. He was lying on the floor in straitjacket and plastic muzzle and looked up at Katya’s entrance, smiling when she quietly closed the soundproofed door behind her and stood nude before him.

“When they find me, they will know I came to you like this” she said in a low voice that turned into a wordless moan. Seized by a passion she ran both hands through her hair and then down her face and neck to claw at her firm breasts, mauling the flesh and pinching at her nipples, before throwing herself on top of him. She pulled his loose prison trousers and pants down to his knees and took his rampant cock in both hands, sucking hungrily at the head, running her tongue up and down its length and pumping at it with her hands. Dmitri lay helpless and could only throw his head back and join in her moans as she writhed on the floor between his thighs, her head bobbing over his groin.

She straddled his muscular thigh and rubbed her wet pubes to and fro, massaging her clit with one hand and pulling at his cock with the other. She threw her head back and wailed, then fell onto her belly again, sucking hard at his prick and running her hands inside the straitjacket, over his muscled abdomen and chest. From time to time she raised her head to howl at the ceiling like an animal. When she could stand it no longer she squatted over his cock and impaled her cunt on it. Dmitri’s thrusts met hers and she clutched his jacket in both fists to pull herself onto him harder and faster, falling forward so that they were face to face.

“Kill me” Katya panted, licking at his face mask and running her fingers through his coarse hair, “Kill me”! She pulled the muzzle from his face and stretched her throat over his mouth, still heaving her hips onto his pumping cock. Dmitri licked at her skin and she turned her face to kiss him passionately and deeply then leant back again. She rose unsteadily to her feet and stood over him for a moment, squeezing her breast brutally and driving her fingers onto her clit, then turned her back and sank down over his erection again, fucking him all the harder. She fell forward to lick at his boots while her hips rolled and their groins slammed together wetly.

“Please!” Katya groaned “Now, my love” and she rolled Dmitri over to grapple frantically with the buckles securing his straitjacket. He struggled to his knees as she pulled at the stiff fabric and together they freed his arms. She stood back while he kicked off his trousers, then he pinned her to the wall, taking her head in his huge hands to plunder her mouth with his tongue while pressing the length of their naked bodies together. Her hand pumped at his cock. In time he broke their kiss and lifted her up to stab his prick into her and fuck her up against the wall. She wrapped her leg around him and clung to his broad shoulders, crying out incoherently. A trickle of blood started where his fierce grip cut the flesh of her arse. “Kill me” she begged, sobbing in the grip of another climax, but he buried his fist in her soft curls and pulled her down to her knees to fuck her mouth with long strokes. When he finally pulled out Dmitri allowed her to lick and suck at his balls and stroke his prick with fluttering fingers.

“Enough” he groaned and pushed her face down on the padded floor. She raised her hips to welcome him, and he pushed the head of his prick into her tight arsehole, wrenching a long wail from her quivering lips when he slammed his whole length inside her. Katya’s breasts swayed under the pounding assault and her mouth worked silently; she gnawed at her knuckles and bit into the foam matting. Dmitri drove into her arse roughly and relentlessly, leaning over her and resting his weight on the back of her neck, grinding her face into the floor. When she reached between her legs to caress her dripping cunt he stopped, lifted her by the hair, and had her suck and lick at his cock again. Eyes closed in a transport of bliss she lapped hungrily all around the head and down the shaft, kissing and tasting before swallowing him deep into her mouth. He smiled down at her slavish attentions and utter debasement then lay down on the floor beside her, turning her unresisting body to ravish her arse again. This time he placed her own hand over her clit. bursa escort bayan Shamelessly she drove her fingers into her cunt, moaning her pleasure breathlessly at his every thrust. He turned her face to his to lick at the tears streaming down her cheeks.

“Please – kill me” Katya gasped, squeezing her breast cruelly as his cock stabbed into her. His hand closed around her throat and his mouth found hers again. They rolled together so that he was on top of her and she grabbed at her cheeks to spread her arse wide open to his violent grinding. He put both hands to her throat and she threw her head back. “The Pallid Mask” she gasped as his shoulders tensed and his powerful hands closed tighter around her slender neck, throttling her. Dmitri’s knuckles whitened with effort; Katya’s eyes bulged and then rolled back in her head. Her tongue lolled from her mouth and there was a loud crack. Dmitri sat back on his heels; he uttered a long moan of satisfaction and his spunk arced across Katya’s bosom. His chest swelled as he quickly regained his breath, then shook his head and hurried into his trousers again. At the door he turned to look back to where Katya’s broken and defiled body lay in a pool of her own piss and on a sudden impulse bent over to kiss her forehead tenderly before stepping briskly out to where the van awaited him.

Grigori and Dmitri pulled up outside the old convent in the grey hatchback.

“Katya was special” said Dmitri as they climbed the steps to the entrance. “I am glad that we were able to rob her grave”.

“And she has left you much richer” Grigori remarked.

“I didn’t think they were so well paid” said Dmitri.

“Her family were landowners in imperial times, but that’s not what I meant.” he turned to Dmitri as he worked the great handle of the main door “She has created a whole new circle of victims”.

CASSILDA’S SONG

The afternoon sun poured through high, barred windows into the Spartan cell where four naked women waited to die. Eva and Maria sat together on the cot’s bare mattress. Zora straddled a wooden stool. Kristina was cross-legged on the floor, her head cocked, listening intently. Through the open doorway came the muffled sound of female voices, somewhere in the building, singing Cassilda’s Song to an eerie and haunting melody.

Along the shore the cloud waves break,

The twin suns sink behind the lake,

The shadows lengthen

In Carcosa.

The singing stopped.

“I wonder if Katya is somewhere here” Eva asked, at last “or if she is still helping our sisters to find their way”. Maria stroked the girl’s hair.

“She will find the Yellow Sign for herself” she said. “Yesterday or tomorrow – it doesn’t matter. Her fate is ours”. She could not disguise the catch in her voice and Eva leant in closer to her. Zora half closed her eyes and sighed, a strange smile playing around the corners of her full mouth.

“Just meat” she mused aloud. “Surrendered to necrophiles and cannibals”. They shared a look of intimate understanding.

“I’ve only felt alive since I’ve been sure I’m to be eaten” said Eva and there was a period of peaceful and companionable silence until Kristina suddenly spoke.

“The singing!” she exclaimed. “Have you noticed how it changes”? They turned to her. “I thought they were becoming more distant or more quiet” she explained, “but that’s not it. Every time the chorus begins, there are fewer voices”. She clasped her hands before her and swayed gently from the hips in time to the rhythm of the music, lost in her own thoughts.

Maria drew a deep breath neither knowing nor caring whether the heavy scent of arousal in her nostrils was coming from her own cunt or from the fresh-faced beauty whose head rested on her shoulder. The light was just beginning to fail when they all turned expectantly to a dark, broad-hipped woman who appeared in the corridor outside their room. She turned her face to Maria but seemed to stare into a great void behind her as she spoke.

“Next time the choir stops, go to them”, the woman said, “you are the last”. Maria nodded and rose to her feet.

They lined up outside the doorway to the chapel, breathless with excited anticipation. The stillness was broken by one loud gasp before silence fell again. Eva opened her mouth to speak but just then the heavy doors creaked open.

The sanctuary was brilliantly lit by a host of candles and their flames were reflected in the great pool of blood that had formed on the altar and spilled across the floor. Dmitri, also awash with blood, stood behind it. His naked skin gleamed bronze and crimson as he gnawed at a fresh human heart, his face tilted to the ceiling so that the blood poured down his chin and over his body. Before the altar was a great mound of slaughtered women, each with a gaping wound under her left breast. As the doors opened, Pierre and Andrei were swinging a fresh corpse from the altar onto the top of the pile; it was the brown-skinned woman who had summoned them a short while earlier. Maria took a step forward and the others naturally followed her to kneel at the chancel rail.

“Drink” commanded Grigori and he handed a chalice to Eva. Smiling, escort bursa she took it, drank and passed it to her right. When the cup came to Maria she found that it contained blood, as she had expected, and she drained what was left. Now, she thought, we are all cannibals.

Kristina led their singing – she possessed a voice of piercing sweetness and clarity.

Strange is the night where black stars rise,

And strange moons circle through the skies,

But stranger still is

Lost Carcosa.

Dmitri reached out a bloody hand and beckoned to Eva; she walked to him reverently, her hands hanging loose at her sides and her head held high. Without taking her eyes from his she sat on the edge of the holy table, swung her legs up, and gracefully lay back on the warm, wet surface. She reached back to spread her hair out behind her head, and the tawny tresses were stained black where they fell into the pool of blood. Dmitri stared down at her, chest heaving and nostrils flared, and brandished a wickedly sharp black blade over her young body. Eva’s lashes fluttered and she let her arms fall either side of the altar, parting her legs and stretching her head back to offer herself completely to the knife.

“The Pallid Mask!” she moaned, trembling from head to toe and in a sudden explosion of energy Dmitri raised the obsidian blade above his head and brought it down again with all his might, driving it surely through her ribs and rending her chest open. His left hand plunged down after it and delved deep into the wound to tear her beating heart from her in a great spray of blood that gushed over both of them. All eyes were on him as he feasted again; gore streamed over his lips and beard. Eva’s body was flung onto the mound of corpses and rolled down the pile to rest at the front, her hazel eyes staring up at them. They sang.

Songs that the Hyades shall sing,

Where flap the tatters of the King,

Must die unheard in

Dim Carcosa.

Zora’s breathing had become laboured and she stifled a groan. Maria glanced across and saw that she had rammed three fingers into her cunt while staring, transported, at the spectacle unfolding before her. Dmitri smiled an intense, vulpine smile and gestured to Zora to come forward. She sighed and moved slowly and unsteadily, like a sleepwalker. Reaching the altar, she fell to her knees and kissed it, licked the blood from her lips, and crawled atop on all fours. Dmitri made a pass through the air with his dripping knife as Zora rolled onto her back and gazed up at him hungrily. Her round breasts and belly were smeared with the ichor of previous victims and Dmitri looked on indulgently as she rubbed the blood into her soft flesh, her hands ranging down her generous curves as her fingers were irresistibly drawn back to her erect clit. Zora’s head fell back over the edge of the altar, exposing her throat to the knife, and Dmitri reached down to smooth her hair out of her face, laying a gentle hand on her jaw to steady her head and neck. Her eyes sought out Pierre – Maria saw a look pass between them.

“The Pallid Mask!” she cried. The black knife sliced effortlessly through her arteries and great crimson jets erupted into the air. Her hands clenched above her and then fell limply aside. Blood welled thickly from between her soft lips as Dmitri went to extract her heart.

Song of my soul, my voice is dead,

Die thou, unsung, as tears unshed

Shall dry and die in

Lost Carcosa.

Maria stole a glance at Kristina as she sang joyously. In her mind’s eye she saw her as she was before the hair was grown out and bleached, before the skin was inked and pierced, singing in convent chapels like this one in the expectation of eternal life. Now she could expect only death – death for the gratification of cannibal necrophiles – yet her eyes blazed with a sacred ecstasy. At Dmitri’s signal Kristina glided into the sanctuary and spread her slim form across the dripping altar. Maria gasped and her knuckles whitened on the rail. She was acutely aware of her own cunt dripping and her nipples throbbing but she knew that she must welcome the torment of waiting and told herself she should contemplate the others’ sacrifices not with envy, but with humility.

Dmitri pressed the sharp obsidian to Kristina’s lips and she lapped at Zora’s lifeblood with a lascivious tongue. He passed the knife to his left hand and described slow figures of eight over her proffered body. Kristina undulated sensuously on the wet stone, panting and tossing her head from side to side in a frenzy of submission. Her hips bucked and her legs fell open, her cunt gaping wetly. When Dmitri took the knife in both hands she strained upwards to him, mutely imploring, her face transfigured.

“The Pallid Mask!” The cry left her lips just as the point drove down into her groin and tore swiftly up through her ribs, opening her pulsing heart to Dmitri’s grasping hand. The young body thrashed up from the marble in one final spasm and fell back again.

A delicious, tingling warmth spread through Maria as the King in Yellow beckoned, His face aglow with love. This was the fulfilment of her every dream, she thought, her wedding day. The nuptial bed awaited and she trembled with longing for Him to open her like a flower blossoming – and to let her gaze upon the face behind the Pallid Mask.

Ben Esra telefonda seni boşaltmamı ister misin?
Telefon Numaram: 00237 8000 92 32