A Done Deal

Firstly, this is the first time I've used an editor to review my work -- and I'm so glad I did. Heartfelt thanks to SyleusSnow for the suggestions in rewording, editing and corrections. If there are any mistakes they've occurred post editing where I've made some minor tweaks so they will be on my head.

With the story, I've found it difficult on how to classify it but have stuck with erotic horror as it's loosely tied to Halloween. It does introduce some mind control and non-consensual sex but I believe it blends into the story line sufficiently not to align to those classifications.

It is dark tale; it's would you expect from a Halloween tale. May not be everyone's cup of tea and it's simply fiction so read away at your peril!

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

I felt great. Better than great: I felt like the king of the fucking world. I'd spent $15,000,000 acquiring a Ferrari collection that included a special new toy: a 1950 Ferrari 166 MM Berlinetta Le Mans, of which only six were ever made.

A Swiss industrialist had owned and loved the collection. It turned out there was something he loved more: pounding his 25-year-old leggy secretary over his office desk. A few days before, he'd died of a heart attack caused by an excess of Viagra and a dodgy heart he didn't know he had.

Using my contacts, I found and called the deceased's widow two days after he died. She had inherited the collection, but I suspected she hated it more than she hated her now dead husband.

I knew I could make them mine as soon as the opportunity arose and it was here and now.

I let on that a little birdy in the business had hinted to me that the late husband expected the whole collection to pass on to the Monaco Top Car Museum, to be displayed in a small hall dedicated to him. If she wanted a way to torture his soul, breaking up his beloved automobile collection was a way to do it and I'd happily give her $15,000,000 for the privilege to help. This was all that was required to fan the anger she held towards her dead husband so, agreeing to fly to Geneva the next day, we arranged to meet to finalise the deal. This meant I could fly back home to be there for our annual Halloween party.

So who am I? My name is Randy De Groot with an American dad and a Dutch mom. My dad was often over from the US in Holland on business, where he met my mom who was the senior accountant at the firm he did business with. They had a few liaisons during his visits, then she suddenly wound up pregnant with me. My dad wanted me terminated, but I thank my mom for letting nature take its course. She moved to the US before I was born and I was named Randy, same as my dad and his dad before him. My parents didn't marry--I think they realised they were not meant for each other in the long run. So at two years of age I moved with my mom to Antwerp where I live today.

To be fair to my dad, he never abandoned me. He paid his way, even though my mom was fully able to support us both. By five years old I was spending weeks at a time in the US with my dad and by the time I was school age, I would spend the longer holidays out with him. I knew he was into automobiles; his business at the time was centred around importing & exporting automotive parts as a wholesaler. He saw an opportunity when online retail came about and set up a worldwide business. Three years later, he sold that business for enough money that he never needed to work again if he chose. He kept working as a hobby and that's how I became a chip off the old block.

My dad collected automobiles. Not the shit that people drive around in, but the special ones: the ground breaking, the rare, the fastest things on the planet or other reasons that made them special. He said they were his toys, once he made his mind up to obtain something no-one was going to get in his way to stop him. I went with him to look at a first-generation Firebird Convertible that was for sale, actually one of only eight produced. It was being sold by the family of the previous owner who had died--but there was a catch: the previous owner had a giant airbrushed picture of his wife sprayed on the bonnet of the car, to show off his two most precious things at once. His wife died several years before him, so the car became a shrine and sat inside his garage with no more than 5k miles recorded. The catch was that whoever brought the car had to sign an agreement that the mural would never be painted over--in memory of his wife.

My dad looked at the car and surprised me when he acted sad. He told the family it's so important to remember loved ones and cherish their memories. Thirty minutes later, the sale was finalised and he happily signed the agreement before calling to a shipping agent to come get the car. As soon as we left, his mood changed and he was ecstatic.

He told me he loved his toys and would do whatever he needed to do to get them, short of stealing or killing someone--although, to be honest, he did say he had stolen the car at the price he had paid.

Dad, why did you suddenly become sad at the house?" I asked, I'd never seen my dad change like this.

"I could have just paid the money they wanted for it but it's a game son, I look for avenues of weakness to exploit, in this case it was the sentimental value. As you'll get older you'll understand that everybody has a weakness in some way. Find that chink to exploit and once you hone that craft you'll get what you want, every time." He turned and smiled and I nodded my head accepting his pearl of wisdom.

The car went straight to a paint shop and the mural was painted over, restoring the car to its original state. The family that sold the car took my dad to court a few months later and he took me along as he thought I'd enjoy it. Turns out the agreement was signed by "M Mouse." No one realised until the court hearing. My dad burst into laughter as we walked away.

When I went home, I thought about what I'd seen and how my dad got his toys. One of my friends had a cool pushbike I wanted. I didn't need it, but wanted to mimic what my dad had done. As ten-year-olds playing, there was plenty of rough and tumble off the back of the popular WWF wrestling we watched on television. I started to offer up bets using a few stupid toys to wager with him as we played out the wrestling bouts over a couple days. I then suggested we bet our bikes and the winner gets the other one's bike. Consumed by his current winning streak, my friend took the bet. I was stronger than him and usually let him win a bout or two so as not to ruin our friendship, by letting him win a larger proportion of bouts during the last couple of days I'd given him a false sense of superiority over me. Of course I won the bout to claim his pushbike. He threw his bike at me and stormed off, ending our friendship.

Over time I evolved to become a facsimile of my dad regarding attitude to life. He set me up with some cash, so I began buying and selling classic & collective automobiles, using the knowledge my dad had shared over the years. By the age of fifty I didn't need to work, though I did for the joy of the chase, finding and collecting my toys. I always look for the deal that becomes my number one toy acquisition and I think this deal was my best ever toy purchase. Even better, once the other automobiles were sold, my latest toy didn't cost me much at all.

I boarded the EuroAir plane at Geneva going back to Schipol Airport and messaged my wife Eva to tell her I was on the way back, not that she was fussed as to where I was. We basically had our own lives which, to be honest, suited us both. Initially she was a trophy wife--another toy I'd collected--but she wasn't stupid and knew that from the start. Our arrangement had worked for twenty years and there was no reason for it to change it. Like any toy, she lost some of her shine over time, so I'd had little indulgences throughout our married life. If she knew about them, she wasn't going to make a fuss and ruin what she had.

One passion we did share though was hosting good parties. Our favourite was an annual Halloween party. I'd had a devil costume made which made me smirk--it summed me up pretty well. I was looking forward to once I got home.

On short haul flights, I always sit at the back as it's more likely for the seats to be sparsely occupied. As I settled in for departure, I looked up the aisle at one of the air hostesses. Fuck she was hot: mid-twenties, about five foot five, and with blonde hair tied in a ponytail. Her uniform hugged her well-proportioned curves almost like it was designed to flaunt all her assets. Her tits were encased in her blouse with a small hint of cleavage visible and the form-fitting jacket cinched her waist perfectly. The skirt clung to her hips with her arse cheeks moving hypnotically as she walked up and down the aisle. She was breathtakingly beautiful--almost angelic in her features.

Once in the air, the air hostesses served food and drinks. The one I had seen served me. Up close she was flawless in every way with the classic features from some strands of her Nordic DNA with her blonde hair and piercing blue eyes. Her make-up was spartan, but she really didn't need any and her thin lips were painted in a nice glossy red lipstick. Oh fuck, I'd love to slide my cock between them, I thought.

I listened to the conversation between her and her colleague and caught her name: Angel. It seemed her boyfriend was going to propose to her that night. I caught a whisper that with that she was prepared to give him the part of her she had kept sacred until then, but with his commitment and being so in love, she felt the time was right. I thought, "what a lucky fucker."

Every so often I looked up at her as she made her way up and down the plane, attending to passengers. At one point, she was a couple rows ahead of me and bent to pick up some rubbish from the floor. The skirt gripped those hips and rode up showing stunning legs.

"Divine isn't she, worth selling your soul to spend a night with her wouldn't you say?" Randy noticed out the corner of his eye the refreshment trolley next to him in the aisle but he remained focused on the exquisite creature in front of him.

"Yeah your right I'd give my soul to get to know her up close and personal" Matt replied softly chuckling at the thought.

"Is there anything else you'd like sir?"

The steward broke my thoughts offering me a drink. Shit! I was so into the blonde, I hadn't even clocked that I must have asked the steward for a drink. Oddly, I didn't recall seeing a male flight attendant on board. Damn, that blonde had certainly thrown my concentration out!

"Is that all sir?" he asked again, so I requested some nuts. He checked the trolley, apologized and said he'd bring me some shortly. I couldn't place his odd accent, and I was pretty damn good at determining people's nationality from the way they spoke. He had me foxed.

As he walked away, the plane hit turbulence, which isn't uncommon crossing the mountains. A few minutes later it became rougher as the plane bounced about violently. Some of the overhead lockers opened, spilling contents into the aisle. The seat belt sign came on and for once in my life I felt apprehensive about flying. I'd just about fastened my seat belt when utter chaos erupted: the fuselage in front and around me disintegrated and I was suddenly spinning upside down before it all went black.

I came to and it was cold. I felt...I felt.. snow falling on my face. I tried to move, but was still in my seat. However, it was laying on its side so I was laying parallel to the ground. The row of three seats were still intact, but were sitting on what appeared to be rocks and snow. I heard wind blowing and a faint crackle of what sounded like a fire. There might also have been screaming but it was faint, so very faint. I couldn't be sure it was real.

Opening my eyes as wide as I could, I felt nauseous with my head banging like nothing I'd ever felt before. I managed to fumble to undo my seat belt and fell onto the cold ground. I knew I had to move, so I gingerly sat up and looked myself over feeling for anything unusual that would indicate serious trauma. My clothes were torn in places with some minor superficial cuts, but other than my thumping head and fuzzy vision in my left eye, I didn't seem too bad. I looked around and saw... devastation.

I could only assume something had gone badly wrong and we had crashed into the mountainside, god knows how or why. It was misty and snowy with smoke billowing with the mist. Littered around me were bits of aeroplane and peoples' clothes and cases. What I didn't see--fore which I was thankful--were bodies or body parts. As I started to come to my senses, there was a rocky surface around fifty feet away, extending vertically until it disappears in the mist. A large piece of fuselage rested against it. I looked like it could offer shelter, so I hobbled over to it.

To my surprise and joy, the wreckage covered a large opening extending a fair way into the rock. The wreckage sat at an angle that kept the elements and wind out, but maintained an unhindered access. If I hadn't known we had crashed, I would have assumed it was placed there. From outside I gathered anything likely to be combustible such as clothes and made a pile between the fuselage section and the rocky cave opening. With a piece of burning debris I lit it, providing heat without smoking myself to death from the fumes.

Next, went to look around to see if anyone else had survived and what else could be scavenged for survival. Keeping the rock side visible to my right, I walked away from the cave collecting food and combustible material and returning it to the cave. Oddly, I still hadn't seen anything that indicated a person or their remains. On my third trip, around a hundred feet from the cave I saw something astonishing through the snow and mist. Hovering in the air was Angel, the flight attendant spread out as though she was on a cross. When I called out, she raised her head to look at me as I hastened towards her.

Once close, I realized she wasn't actually hovering. A part of the airframe had punctured her body through her left midsection, leaving her skewered. It jutted about a foot through her body, suspending her in the air. I knew it was bad and doubted she would make it unless help came very soon.

"Dieter, Dieter thank god you've found me" she called out bringing her arms up to reach towards me.

"Hey, relax sorry I'm not Dieter my name's Randy, I was a passenger, do you remember me?"

I' knew you'd come for me please, just hold me, I need to feel you in my arms". Her voice was feeble and I assume the shock had scrambled her mind somewhat. My only though was that Dieter was probably the lucky fucker of a boyfriend she was supposed to be meeting. It actually made me chuckle to myself scratch lucky, he was now firmly in the unlucky camp.

I'm not great when it comes to injuries, but had seen enough in film and on television to know I had to stem her bleeding. Rummaging through some suitcases I found a clean white cotton shirt and carefully as I could, gently pulled her from the spar and plugged the gaping wound with the shirt. Angel moaned out but did not scream, maybe due to shock. I carefully took her back to the cave and lay her on some coats including a full-length fur coat which I placed on the top of the pile and gently lay her on top of it.

I then realized something I hadn't earlier--her clothing. Not one single shred of her uniform covered her body, she was wearing a white basque, white stockings, g-string and white heeled shoes. For the life of me I hadn't picked up on her attire before the crash, somehow I'd missed it...

Angel called out for Dieter, crying softly about how that day was supposed to be their special day. To comfort her, I went along with it, pretending to be Dieter. She lay quietly, breathing slow and deliberate then asked if I had the ring, and if so she wanted to see it, pleading to see it. I took a ring off one of my fingers and handed it to her. She held it up to look at it although I don't think she was lucid and realized it was a man's ring. She passed it back to me and asked me to slide it onto her finger. I could see no harm in that, so slid it onto the second finger of her left hand. It was a little loose, but at least it went on. She started sobbing and beaming at me, thanking me for making the day come true, the one she had been patiently waiting for.

The next thing came as a surprise. She put an arm up and pulled me in for a soft kiss. Her lips were soft, warm and inviting. Her tongue gently snaked from her mouth and became entwined with mine as the kiss became more passionate. Her heavenly scent invaded my nostrils and my heart rate began to soar. Her other hand found my hand and placed it on one of her tits. Breaking the kiss, she told me it was time and I was hers. I couldn't believe it, but as sure as eggs are eggs my true inner form seeped through to the surface. I'm not sure if I was going to make it out of there alive, here but other than the pulsating headache I felt my chances were good, unlike this beautiful creature laying with me.

With my true colors shining through, I asked, "Angel, I want you to be my toy, my favorite toy that nobody else will ever get to play with. Are you happy to be my toy?"

"Yes," she said in a whisper.

My lust for this divine creature consumed me.

I said, "As my toy I can play with you in any way I want to and you'll willingly submit to me and do whatever I ask, yes?"

She said that was all she ever wanted. Fuck, even with my banging head, my cock began to stiffen. I couldn't believe my luck. She became my current favorite toy and I was going to make full use of the extraordinary opportunity.

We kissed again as my hand slid inside her basque, pushing it down to free her tits. They were the best pair of tits I'd ever seen or touched, irrespective of real life, in a magazine or film. They sat firm on her body with pebble-like nipples pointing up because of her arousal and the cold air. I moved them around, pushing and squeezing, pinching gently at her nipples and pulling them up from her body then releasing them so they sprang back as the fleshy orb jiggled like a blancmange that had been disturbed. I began kissing in a trail down her body, kissing each mass of creamy flesh and using my teeth to nip each nipple or gently tug it up to a point where it probably induced a small amount of pain. Her hands gripped my head, pulling my hair whilst she sexily murmured her approval. Avoiding the wound, I let a hand gently slide down her body and ran my fingers up and down her slit through the silky material of her g-string. It rapidly became damp as this new sensation ramped up the sexual arousal that filled her lucid mind. She slightly arched her back and pushed her pussy into my hand, but that could wait a little longer.

I re-positioned myself with my crotch level with her head. I had undone my belt and trousers, so I was able to pull my cock out which sat horizontally rigid, dripping precum and aching with the prospect of playing with my new toy. I gazed down at her and was amazed at her sheer beauty. Angel by name with angelic looks more breath-taking and pure each time I looked at her. Her striking blue eyes looked up at me before she smiled and turned her head sideways towards my cock. I moved forward and she put her tongue out tentatively until it touched the eye of my cock then slowly ran her tongue back and forth, dipping the tip into the weeping eye until the tip of her tongue was coated in my precum. She then pulled her tongue back into her mouth and ran it around her lips. I shifted forward and she opened her mouth willingly, taking the head of my cock into her mouth slathering it with her tongue as those perfect red lips formed a seal around the head of my cock. The feeling was absolutely fucking divine.