Bluebeard

They ceased not to extol and envy my happiness, but I was filled with astrange impatience. I could not bear even to look upon any more of he riches that now were mine, so consumed was I with this odd sense of unease.

Finally, I led my guests to the great central gallery, filled with a countless number of paintings, weavings, sculptures, and other magnificent works of art. The guests flitted from one piece to the next, asking me to explain each as we went. I, of course, was at a complete loss, knowing nothing of the histories of any of the objects in the hall.

"What is this door here?" asked Tintagel when we had at last come to the end of the hall and stood before the forbidden closet which I had, until just that moment, entirely forgotten.

"I don't know," I replied truthfully. "I have never been within."

Tintagel then stared at me strangely, scowling. I noted that his right hand nervously fingered the long silver dagger that hung at his hip.

At last the long party came to an end. I bade farewell to my guests and was left alone, alone in the silent fortress atop the Cold Mountain.

I returned to my chambers, and though weary I should have been after my long labors, I still found myself unable to sleep. The thought of the little key and the dark closet door at the end of the great gallery would not leave my mind. I tossed and turned the entire night upon the silken bed. I must have eventually found elusive slumber, though it was surely fitful. I had a nightmare in which my new husband at last returned, but as soon as he laid eyes upon me, he flew into a mad rage, and loosing his hunting knife, helunged at me. I felt the cold the cold bite of the steel stabbing deep into my belly. I screamed, staring down. but then I saw that it was not a knife, but my husband's bloody penis that had plunged into my vitals.

I awoke with a scream upon my lips.

V.

It was still long before dawn, yet I rose swiftly and made my way down to the great gallery.

All was silent within. The marble statues, the eyes depicted so skill- fully within the paintings; all seemed to be watching me intently, but they spoke not. The little closet door, though, beckoned me on, and I could no longer deny the urge to decipher its mystery. I had to know what lay beyond it.

I stood before this door for some time, thinking on my husband's warnings, and considering what unhappiness might await me if he discovered my disobedience.

But the temptation of my own curiosity was far too strong. I took the ring of keys in my hand, and selecting that one which had been specifically forbidden, that least of keys, I placed it into the lock. My heart beat madly in my breast as I turned the key and entered.

I had come into a circular chamber, one whose entire rim was girded by a porch which was guarded by an ornate iron railing all about. Below, on a lower level than the porch, and enclosed entirely by it, was a sleeping chamber. A huge circular bed dominated most of the floor. Ornate lamps stood on glass tables, upon which also stood carved crystal goblets filled with exotically-hued liqueurs.

But it was who lay upon that bed that my attention was entirely centered. Two women were there, completely nude, entwined in each other's arms. One I recognized as a rather voluptuous prostitute from my village. The other was a thin, waif-like girl I did not recognize.

As I watched, the younger woman stirred and awoke, her eyes fluttering open. I stepped back hastily from the parapet, but I was sure she could not see me there amongst the shadows. She smiled a curious smile and began to lightly caress the older woman's voluptuous breasts, her cool palms sliding softly across the large pink areola of the woman's nipples. Slipping the silken sheets down to expose more of her companion's body, she began to

kiss her way down the flat expanse of her bedmate's loins.

It is difficult to describe my feelings at this moment. I was shocked, to be certain, yet there was a strange sense of cloudy unreality in the whole proceedings, as if I were a participant in a dream. For moments uncounted I watched impassively as if I were attending a drama at a theatre.

The blonde whore was fully awakened now. She sighed and moaned with delight as the brunette's lips buried themselves in the triangle of her golden mound. The girl feasted upon the woman then, and the sounds of her tasting of the blonde in that strange way filled the chamber. I was appalled, of course, but strangely curious and excited. I wondered what it felt like to have a mouth and slippery tongue caressing one's private's in so inti­mate a manner. It is to my shame that somehow such a thought aroused me.

The lewd scene continued to play out before me. The dark girl kneeled down between the blonde's thighs, nibbling greedily at her sex, her own arse lifted high in the air like a bitch in heat, exposing the black­-fringed mound and the dark ruby lips of her swollen vagina. The blonde gyrated wildly beneath her kisses, moaning softly and thrusting her hips to meet the intimate oral assault of her bed mate.

I found I could watch no more. A mad, tumultuous heat was rising in my breast, and my throat and cheeks were hot as if I stood before a roaring fire. A thousand conflicting emotions welled up within me, and my heart was beating like a mad beast. I turned and raced back thru the closet door, remembering only in the last moment to silently shut it behind me.

I went back to my room and lay there, numb, yet shaking with terror.

When Lila came later to rouse me, I told her I was ill and would remain abed the entire day. She brought me soup that afternoon, but otherwise did not intrude upon me, for which I was grateful.

I tried to make sense of the events I had seen take place that early morn. Were the two women concubines kept in the house for my husband's illicit pleasures? If so, were the rest of the servants in the house even aware of their presence?

These and many other questions plagued my soul until I knew I would have no peace until I had the answers. I resolved then that with the coming of night, I would return to the secret chamber and learn what more I could of its two mysterious inhabitants.

VI.

Thus, when night had at last fallen, I found myself once more in the great gallery, standing at the door of the forbidden chamber. Extracting the little key, I placed it into the lock and crept silently within.

Cautiously, I peered over the parapet. I was not in the least prepared for the scene which now greeted me.

There was now a third occupant within the forbidden chamber, a man, who stood crouching over the blonde, his thick dark penis held stiff in one hand as he forced it deep into the confines of her pink mouth. The blonde smiled and licked it as it sank into her throat.

The man was my husband, the lecher known as Bluebeard.

I nearly fainted in shock, dismay, and utter shame. I had been lied to, deceived from the start! My husband had not departed the castle at all as he had said, but had remained here in the forbidden chamber, debauching these brazen sluts while I must perforce spend the nights after my wedding sleeping alone. The slim, young brunette was kissing my husband while his hands mauled her tiny breasts. They were all laughing and drinking a dark wine from the glittering crystal goblets. While I watched, he poured a volume of the heady liquid down the golden girl's throat, upon which she returned her attentions to his rampant penis.

As I have said, as a country girl, I was of course not entirely ignorant, yet never had I heard of such an act as that which the blonde performed on my husband in that forbidden chamber. She was sucking at the thick root of my husband's manhood as if she were a beggar child chewing candy. Bluebeard laughed, pouring the dark wine over his cock and watching as the young girl greedily licked it off.

It was all too much for me. I wanted to cover my eyes, to run forever and ever to the end of the world, away from the terrible Cold Mountain and it's despicable inhabitants. Yet somehow, I couldn't bring myself to turn away. There was something else besides disgust that welled up within me unbidden, a dark and troublesome excitement, an untoward racing of my heart that I couldn't explain. The room felt unbearably hot. The lusty scene

swam before my gaze. My breasts ached strangely beneath the bodice of my gown.

My husband had now placed his thick staff between the blonde's writhing legs. From where I stood, I could clearly observe the massive purple head pushing aside the wet folds of her sex, surging deep into the pit of her body as she heaved and moaned as though it was the greatest delight to have this monster stabbing deep into her vital organs in such a manner.

The young brunette kissed the blonde's breasts as they bounced from the weight of my husband's body heaving against hers. I could see clearly my husband's great hairy balls, drawn tight in their sac against the root of his manhood, slapping heavily against the blonde's fleshy arse.

I felt myself growing faint even as I became aware of a new sen­sation, a strange, unhealthy arousal. My own sex felt molten beneath my gown and I felt my thighs grow wet with my own juices. I was mad, I know. My senses had left me and I couldn't stop myself. My hand dipped down into the slippery heat of my vulva's crevasse. I gasped as I discovered just how wet I really was. My fingers unconsciously massaged the swollen lips of my pleasure.

I began to feel jealous of the sluts who thus entertained my husband, and hate also began to bloom in me for my husband, this Bluebeard who ignored his newly wed wife for the affections of two village whores.

The slim brunette was kissing my husband's swollen balls as they flopped wetly against the blonde's arse. The blonde whore moaned wildly, mindless in her lust as the huge thing hammered deep into her guts, her big breasts bouncing furiously from the rhythmic impact of my husband's body against hers.

I heard my husband gasp incoherently, then he pulled his manhood free from the blonde's gaping cunt, holding his dripping cock by its base, its massive length gleaming wetly in the candlelight. It was crimson with lust, and veins like steel wires stood out along its length. The head shone like a fresh-picked plum. A clear, thick fluid like tree sap flowed from the tiny slit in its center.

The brunette then knelt before him, licking along the entire length of his mighty organ. The first awesome blast took her off guard, splashing across her eyelashes and forehead. Then it was running over her lips and cheeks as she lapped greedily at the thick white fluid that continued to pump from the end of my husband's throbbing cock. It streamed in creamy rivulets across

her face, dripping onto the blonde's soft rounded belly in heavy splatters. A change seemed to transform my husband then. The glazed lust in his eyes was replaced by a look of disgust and revulsion. From the pocket of his silken robe, I saw him extract something that gleamed silver in the candlelight. His hand swept out across the blonde's breasts, as if he were lightly

caressing her there. The next moment, the blonde's throat opened in a gout of crimson. I could easily observe the gaping wound that had been produced by the long razor-edged dagger in Bluebeard's hand.

The brunette stared aghast as the blood fountained across her belly and thighs, then she began to scream with the sickening terror of one who had been awakened from a horrifying nightmare only to discover that the nightmare was a grisly reality.

The crimson blade plunged deep into the young girl's soft white flesh, slashing her stomach wide and ripping upward so that her bowels and vital organs came slithering out of her belly to splatter wetly crimson upon the breasts of her already dead companion. Her scream turned into an awful gurgle, then she too died, fallen into the mess of blood and entrails that had once been her body.

I stifled an urge to scream myself, to cry out bloody murder, but I knew that I too would die on that terrible blade if I made but a single sound. Slowly, ever so silently, I crept back in utmost terror from that bloody chamber and raced back to my own room, whereupon I collapsed onto the bed and wept. I knew now that there was no safety for me anywhere in the whole wide world from the beast whom I called my husband. The man I had sworn to honour and obey was revealed as a bloody rapist and murderer. The

horror descended upon me all at once. I swooned, and for a time, knew no more.

VII.

Lila came to awaken me very early that next morn.

"Milord requests your presence in the main gallery," she informed me. As a woman going to meet her doom I arose and dressed unhurriedly. I couldn't free my mind from the fatalistic thought that I was preparing myself for my executioner. At last I arose to meet my fate. Of course, I had resolved to attempt to deceive my husband, and I purposely left those keys he had entrusted to me on the little table at my bedside, and descend­ing the stairs, I made an immense effort to calm the mad beating of my heart within my breast.

Yet, the moment I beheld his grim, scowling face, the shadowed blaze of his fierce dark eyes, I was once more all a tremble.

"Bring to me those keys which I have given thee guardianship over," he commanded.

"I must certainly," I exclaimed innocently, have left them above on the bedroom table."

"Fail not to bring them to me presently."

I went back upstairs, and seeing nothing else for it, returned with the keys in my hand.

The count spent several long moments inspecting every aspect of those keys most minutely.

Finally he turned to me. His eyes were filled with a dangerous gleam. "How comes it that this little key is stained with a speck of blood?" he inquired.

"I know not!" I cried. My heart had turned to ice.

"You do not know?!" roared the beast. You very well do know! You were resolved to peer into the secret closet, were you not? Very well, madam, since your curiosity so overwhelms you, you shall go in and join the ladies already there!

Upon this, I threw myself at my husband's feet, begging for mercy, vowing that nevermore would I be disobedient to him. But Bluebeard's heart was as cold as ice.

"No, madam, you must die," he said, "And that quite presently."

He dragged me brutally by my hair as I kicked and screamed, to little avail against his great strength. He dragged me nearer and nearer to that dread chamber. Throwing his weight against the ebony door, he broke it down, smashing the lock.

The women were still there, still strewn in the awful poses of their gruesome deaths, their bodies stiff and putrefying. I nearly fell faint in the monster Bluebeard's arms.

It was in that moment of half-consciousness that Bluebeard poured down my throat a thick, viscous fluid that tasted most foul and burned where it touched my lips. I gagged and strove to spit it out. His huge hand clamped around my jaw so that I was forced to swallow it or drown.

"The potion will take effect in a few moments," he informed me. "You cannot imagine the years it took and the sacrifices to demons most foul that I made to avail myself of the secret of its mixture. It is an elixirof darkest passions. It excites in its imbiber a most savage, irrepressible lust. It consists partly of the blood of the two young ladies I entertained yesterday evening, together with a large volume of my own seed, for I spent myself into the cup as part of the final preparation. Soon, you will be writhing on the flagstones, ripping your clothes off, begging me to rape you, to take your cunt, your mouth, even your arse-hole, to fill every hole in your body with my manhood."

I stared at him aghast. I did not doubt the truth of his claim. Already I felt a strange tingling in my loins and breasts, as if I were drunk and a little giddy.

Then the first jolt of heat struck me. I felt the juices of my sex running down my thighs, staining my underthings. I understood now why the ladies had been so willing to participate in Bluebeard's orgies. I, who had truly been a virgin up until that time, found myself contemplating and even desiring the most disgusting scenes of debauchery that could have ever be imagined. Bluebeard had removed his pantaloons, revealing the thick iron of

his manhood. It was a monstrous staff, its blunt head oozing with a sticky, clear fluid, its girth pulsing with lust as thick, blue veins stood out along its length.

And I wanted it. God help me, how I wanted it! I had no control over the fever that had overcome my body. I wanted him to stab me with that giant thing again and again until I at last expired in his arms. I wanted to be taken, and taken fiercely, with all the violence and rage that man has inflicted upon woman since the dawn of time. I wanted, nay, I needed to be raped, to be fucked savagely until I cried out for mercy. I felt that I would surely die if I were not penetrated in that moment.

He brought his sex near to my face. Involuntarily, my lips opened. My head leaned forward. I wanted to lick it, to suck its end as I had seen other women do. He brought the bulbous head closer. I felt the hot silken flesh brush against my cheek.

Then there came a fateful interruption. Thru the remnants of the shat­tered closet door, a warrior burst thru. Strangely, I recognized him, even through the haze of my delirium.

It was Tintagel, a gleaming battle-axe clenched in his brawny fist.

For the briefest of moments, I resented his intrusion, so enwrapt was I in the throes of that demonic lust. But when I glimpsed his silver-blue eyes, blazing fiercely beneath darkened brows, the spell of Bluebeard was miraculously broken. I scrambled away into the corner, away from the ghastly demon I had once called my husband.

Tintagel took in the scene in a moment; the two slaughtered women, Bluebeard standing half-naked above me. It must have been obvious that I was intended to be his next victim.

With a wordless howl, he leapt over the parapet at Bluebeard, his axe glittering like a steel whirlwind above his head.

Yet somehow, Bluebeard managed to evade every deadly stroke. Rolling to the side, he produced a black-stained long knife. I realized with hor­ror that it was the very same blade which he had use to slay the two helpless young women.

He lunged at Tintagel, the point stabbing forward like the strike of a viper. Tintagel twisted aside with the litheness of a cat, but the blade cut a deep slash in his shoulder as he turned, and once more the tiles of the forbidden chamber were stained crimson with blood.

"Thrice-cursed mercenary!" Bluebeard snarled. "You have journeyed far to meet your death!"

Tintagel cast the axe aside and freed his own long knife from its leather scabbard. His eyes were sparks of lambent fire as he advanced nimbly on the balls of his feet, his yard-long blade held erect before him, pointed straight at Bluebeard's black heart.

Bluebeard did not await his attack. Pressing his advantage, he bore down on the warrior, using the bulk of his weight to propel the bloody blade forward with the force of his entire body behind the thrust.

With a deft movement that my eyes found nearly impossible to follow, Tintagel parried Bluebeard's nearly unstoppable charge with the edge of his knife, flicking it aside so that it passed perilously close to his ribs. His left fist lashed out at the same moment, smashing directly into the monster's blue-bearded face. I distinctly heard bones snap beneath the blow. Blood streamed down my former husband's face, staining the blue of his beard a deep, ugly violet.

Tintagel again lashed out, this time with his boot to Bluebeard's stomach. He fell down to the floor gasping. But he still retained his grip on his knife.