A Halloween Tale

byDaisyMontoya©

The figure walks up to the wall in front of me and pulls a shaft-like object I can only see in the shadows. He walks around passed me. He is holding a leather belt. I watch as he goes to my left hip. He takes the belt back behind him and swings it squarely onto my butt. I scream through the gag but he will not notice. He continues to slap my ass with the belt. I writhe in pain.

I look back. It is not the figure that had pulled me here. I see a man dressed in 17th century style. He is talking to himself, "This cannot be happening. Why are they all dying before my eyes?" I cannot understand what he means. He slaps me again with the belt. I am sure he has drawn blood with some of the blows. I look down then hold my head up and look back once again. It is the figure again. He slaps me with the belt two more times. The beating finally stops. I am groaning through the gag and I am breathing heavily. He walks back around me and hangs the belt back onto the wall. I sob but I wonder who the man was I saw, and what was he talking about?

The figure comes back holding two wooden objects in one hand and a long wooden pole in the other. Apparently, one of the objects is a butt plug as I feel him stretch my hole and pop it inside me. The other object turns out to be a dildo which he pushes deep inside me. I watch him as he picks up the pole; I cringe because I think he is going to beat me with it. However, he lifts it up and slides down over the object. They both must have either a bracket or a loop that the pole slides through. He pushes the pole down and sticks it into a box on the wagon frame.

The figure walks around to the front of the wagon and picks up a heavy rope attached to the two front corners. He begins to pull the wagon and steers me out of the room back into the corridor. The wheels creak and snap as we move. I can hear an echo as we move. My butt is still sore and my shoulder and elbows are numb. I try to wiggle around to a comfortable position, but I can barely move at all. Slowly, it starts very faintly then begins to get stronger. As the wagon moves, the shaft holding the plug and dildo into me vibrates and produces an incredibly erotic sensation that permeates my body. I cannot hold it back. I must keep my senses about me but it is difficult. The vibrations are intense.

The figure turns into another corridor to the right. There are rows with shelves along either wall. I look closely and see shrunken heads, all with long hair and all with a shriveled look of terror. I begin to scream through the gag. I try to move, but it is useless. Are these the victims of the Kuddvik Wizards? They had searched the castle. There was no evidence that these heads even existed. How did I get here? Am I going to an execution? I continue to try and work the restraints loose. And the vibrating plug and dildo continue to compromise my will. I find myself sliding further and further into delirium. I have got to be strong. I am shaking.

***

The corridor opens out into a large room with a fire burning in a hearth in the middle of the room. The vibration stops when we get onto the wooden floor of this large room. The figure rotates me around and backs me into a small well. From this spot I look directly into the fire. However, I notice that there are two other wagons in the room holding women bound in the same manner as me. There are figures in black robes and hoods standing by each of them, just as me. We are arranged in a triangle with the fire in the center of the room. My head is beginning to clear from the vibrations of the plug and the dildo; I begin to fidget and, again, try to work myself loose. I begin to talk to myself. I am crying. This cannot be real. I have got to get out of this nightmare.

The figures each walk around their women and position themselves behind them. I feel the wooden pole being pulled out of the loops. Then I feel the butt plug and dildo being pulled out. The figure drops them all on the ground. Then I feel a real cock being pushed inside me. I look up. The other women are being taken by their figures. I feel mine pumping me. My ass is still sore from the whipping I had had. The figure continues to pump me methodically. I am slipping again into the same delirium that caught me up as I was being wheeled here. The pumping was steady and rhythmic. My body subconsciously begins to rock back and forth. I must snap out of this. Everything that has happened is going down the road to an execution. I wonder if the other two women know what is going to happen to them. I slip back more into the delirium.

I look up. To my left I notice two more figures standing. One is holding a large Arabian sabre. I scream and then begin to sob. "Let me go, let me out of here," I say muffled by the gag. No one pays attention. The other women are writhing and talking behind their gags. The figure with the sabre walks to the woman to my left and stands by her head, the second figure follows him. The one with the sabre begins to chant words I cannot make out. The three figures that are behind the each of us begin chanting also. The echoes in this large room magnify the sound. The second figure takes the woman's hair, pulls her face around to look at the man with the sabre and holds her head down on the plank. She is struggling and screaming. The sabre is held level over the back of her neck. She struggles more. I can see her eyes; they are huge with fear. The figure raises the sabre high. The figure behind her grabs her butt cheeks and begins to pump her ever more vigorously. She bounces back and forth as he pumps her and as she screams and struggles. The sabre comes down swiftly; he cleanly cuts off her head. It bounces onto the wagon. I hear the sound: bong. The woman to my right and I begin to scream all the more, and we writhe and thrash to break free of the restraints.

The two figures walk over to the woman on my right. The one holds her head down just as he had done with the first. The other figure chants. The sabre is held over the back of her neck then raised. The figure behind her grabs her butt and begins to pump her more vigorously. The sabre is brought down swiftly and her head falls into the wagon. I hear the sound: bong. It echoes throughout the large room. I am drooling through my gag as I scream at the indifferent figures and the executioner.

Now they make their way to me. The one grabs my hair and rolls my head over and flat on the plank. I am looking at the figure that is holding the sabre. He chants and looks at me. I recognize him; he is the same man who I saw briefly as I was beaten by the figure. Suddenly, I can understand him; he says, "Matilda, I am so sorry. I must put you out of your misery. I cannot stand to see you suffer with this disease. I cry every night because the pain does not end for you. I am going to end it today." Is this Morsesle? Does he think that I am his Matilda? I am not! I am not his Matilda! I struggle more but I am bound securely.

I reply muffled as it is, "No, this is not what you want to do. This is your insanity. Your Matilda is dead! I am not her! You must escape from this inner torture! You must release yourself! Please do not do this!" But he cannot understand. He is not even listening. He lifts the sabre. The figure taking me puts his hands on my hips and pushes into me even harder. I can feel his member tighten and he shoots juice into me. The echoes of the chants grow louder. The sounds are deafening. Morsesle holds the sabre high and begins to bring it down onto the back of my neck. I close my eyes tightly. I hear the sound: bong.

All goes silent...

The chants are gone...

The echoes are gone...

***

It is dark. I do not know where I am. I hear the sound again: bong. I am wet. I have been sweating. I am breathing deeply but steadily. I am afraid.

The fog begins to leave my mind. I open my eyes. It is the hallway of my condo. I look up at the door and the walls. I hear the sound of kids outside the door. I jump up and run to the door; I quickly throw it open. "TRICK OR TREAT," is the lovely sound that I hear. They look at me funny. One of the parents smiles slightly and says, "Are you okay?"

"Yes, oh, yes. I am sorry. I just dozed off and had an awful nightmare. I am so sorry." I pick up the candy bowl. "Here kids, let's have some candy. Yes, I am just fine. I am okay."

I drop a few pieces of candy into each bag. I hear several thank yous from the kids as they walk off. The mom walks slowly away and looks back at me and repeats, "Are you sure you're okay?"

"Yes, I'm okay. It was just a terrible nightmare. I'll be fine. Thank you and have a good night. Be careful." I close the door and lean my back on it; I let out a huge sigh of relief.

I walk over to the recliner, pick up the traditions and folklore book and set it back onto the bookshelf. I think about the conversation I had had with Grandpa. All this talk about wizards and sacrifices was silly. He should not have done that to me. I am still shaking. It was a horrible nightmare. I walk back into the kitchen and turn the water on at the sink. I brush some on my face and rinse it off. I look up at the window. I can see a couple of kids walking on the sidewalk toward the driveway. I glance at the clock on the stove; it says 8:58. This will be it; the last trick-or-treaters for tonight. There is just enough candy left for these two. Then I can shower and go on to bed. I am ready for a good night's sleep. It has been a long couple of weeks but we got the job done. There will probably be all sorts of additional tweaks we will have to do to get the new accounting program running smoothly. I will put my mind to it in the morning. I grab a towel and dry my face off.

The door rings: bong. I walk to the door throwing the towel on the table by the candy bowl; I open the door. There is a tall figure dressed in a long black robe with a hood.

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byDaisyMontoya© 0 comments/ 11053 views/ 1 favorites

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