Don't Lose Your Head

When Cathy woke up, her arms tied, her fear had been palpable. She had begged me not to hurt her, and I didn't want to hurt her. I mean who was she? Cathy had never hurt me in any way, it wasn't like she was Glenda.

But Alphonse was adamant that this had to be done or I would never get my revenge. That my mother's ghost would forever walk in the night, a lost shade, unavenged. So I did it.

Mostly.

I couldn't make myself finish the job. Even with the old bone deriding me, with my head splitting with the pain of his scorn, her screams, and my own cries of twisted lust. I could not do what he was telling me to do. I could not take that last step. Not with her. Not with Cathy, she was not my step-mother. She was not responsible for my mother's murder. She was far from anything like innocence but then who in this world is nowadays. But she wasn't deserving of the belly of an alligator for a grave either. I could not do it.

Alphonse made me do something far worse.

** ** ** ** ** **

"How long will she stay this way?" I asked looking at the woman huddled by my feet. She looked up at my face when I spoke, her eyes distant and glazed.

~Forever. It powerful magic I do to her mind. Hee, hee, hee. ~

"Yeah ...?"

Unable to help myself, I ran a hand through her hair. She nuzzled her head into my hand like a pet then laid her face against my thigh. Her lips placed kisses on the pale white skin.

~ Tell her what to do. Anything you want. She will do it now. Anything. ~

Alphonse's dry, snake laughter bounced around in my head. But oh how I hated him then. I hated my best friend almost more than I hated my whore of a step-mother and my cheating bastard of a father. Those two had betrayed my mother, but at this moment, I felt as if my friend had betrayed me. He had not told me what he planned, only to force her mouth open, to pour into her screamed-raw-throat the vile mixtures he said to pour. And now this.

Cathy, lovely tourist Cathy, was this ... mindless puppet. Forever.

I hated him. And as I pulled her by her hair till her face brushed my cock, I hated myself more. Hated myself because I knew, even as I told her to open her mouth and suck on me, that I would do this to another woman. To another, and another, and another. To however many guiltless women it took to master my own coward's heart. I watched her bruised face as her lips parted and I slipped between them into the warm heat of her mouth.

With my eyes closed, I enjoyed the feel of a woman's mouth on my length for the first time. Willingly her mouth worked, if mindlessly. Cathy licked, sucked and nibbled with a skill that told of previous cocks in her mouth, but she did it with no passion. She simply used her mouth on me because I told her to do it.

~Hee,hee,hee. This may be even better come to think of it. ~

"Quiet, Old Bone. I'm not happy with you at the moment," I warned him. I had to ignore his laughter, but he grew silent. But even that silence was not enough. I knew he was watching and that made me angry.

Standing up, I seized Cathy by her head and fucked her mouth, and then when I pushed harder, her throat. She gurgled on the length of my cock but made no other protest to the violent ravishment of her face. At my prompting, she sucked harder. Then licked what I told her to lick; when I told her to lick. For as long as I told her to do it.

Looking over at Alphonse sitting on a table nearby, I returned his grin. He knew that despite my protests, I had fun earlier. The fear, both Cathy's and my own, those painful screams when I bit her and my fangs drew blood. That hot copper taste. Then this, now. This defilement of her throat by my cock and her willing, mindless submission to it. I was having fun.

Even as I hated myself for doing it. Hated him for making me. Hated my father for bringing me to this with his marital infidelity, and more than all the others, I still hated that fucking murdering whore, Glenda. Glenda!

Pulling Cathy to her feet by her hair, I pushed her over to the old mattress on the floor. Alphonse's laughter followed me as I pushed her face down onto the stained cloth and straddled her plump hips. She lay where I put her, her mind awash in the things I made her swallow; she did not care what was being done to her. She did not care when I pushed her belt-marked ass cheeks open and lined my cock up on her rosebud of an asshole. She didn't even do more than give up a guttural moan at being penetrated there. No protest, no other sign of pain. Just a moan.

And as I fucked her ass faster, deeper, wanting to hear more moans from her, I looked over at the old skull that was watching all of this.

"Yeah. This is better," I finally said, accepting my role to play.

~ Hee, hee, hee. ~

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Cathy. Tina. Mary. Latoya, dark-skinned, luscious Latoya. By the end of six months, my little cabin in the swamp was getting crowded with naked, mindless women. At times, my bed even more so. I would often simply lie down and order them to lick the whole of my body. Four women, their mouths roaming every inch of my flesh with velvet tongues, greedily sucking mouths working endlessly till I grew tired of their doing it. Or bored with them.

Then I would fetch another.

Melody. Oh yes, Melody Avetante. No tourist this one. Local, creole, native born to the area and exotically beautiful in her mixed heritage. She was to be the last before I went after my father's whore. And she was more easily taken than all of the others before her. See, I had plenty of help. The other women fetched her to me. My control of them so great now all I had to do was command them and they would do my bidding in perfect harmony of motion. They would tend to me, fetch for me, wash me, bathe me, feed me, and certain see to my sexual needs till I no longer had such needs.

They brought me Melody.

Lovely, sweet Melody--the creole song-- who was to be the example for Glenda to see. Alphonse explained it to me. Glenda would have to suffer before she suffered or my vengeance would not be complete. My mother had suffered, suffered fear, pain, terror and finally she had to endure the endless death that was her last days. Glenda was going to have to feel all of those things and to do that, I had to do more to her than a simple whipping and a few love bites. I was going to have to terrorize her mind, then break her body, then ravage her soul. Taking all and everything before I was finished with her. Before I took her mind from her and made her like the others. That was the plan now. She was not simply to die, but to be forever a slave to her victim's son. A murderess turned into the mindless slave of her victim's child. Yes, that would be justice served on all fronts.

And Melody was the key. A powerful key. Alphonse would not tell me why or how she was powerful. But only that she was the last scion of an old family from this area, the heiress to a vast fortune in old lands deeds if they could be claimed. Her family had once owned almost all the area to the north where Slidell now sprawled.

When the women brought to her to me, she had been tied within a white burlap sack. Cloth stuffed into her mouth and taped into place. Her arms may have been taped to her sides but she was fighting the combined strengths of four women. She fought them and myself till I had her in place on the railroad cross tie "X" I built to hold even a man my size should I decide to go after my father and punish him as well. I had made two of them, and when she was at last secured in place, I looked over at the empty one. When I closed my eyes, I could easily picture my step-mother hanging there, awaiting my attention. Yes, it was time to go for Glenda.

Seeing the coffee-colored skin of Melody when we removed her clothing, sealed my step-mother, that murderess's, fate. I would have kidnapped Glenda joyfully for the chance to ravage Melody.

She looked at me, not with fear as the other had, but with the madness of hate. It was such a familiar look. She hated me as I hated my father, as I hated Glenda. I knew even as I cupped her breast and pinched the nipple hard enough to make her scream in her gag, that she would never serve me as mindlessly as the others. Melody would not be that compliant, not even to Alphonse's hoodoo drugs. That saddened me. When I slipped a finger into her tight body and enjoyed her wet warmth, I knew I would have to one day soon lower this woman's delightful body into the surrounding swamp and watch the water turn crimson as the gators fed.

Her eyes were on my face the whole time I fingered her. Through one finger, then two, then three she made no sign of distress, just hate. It took all four to make her give me the desired moan. Then finally as my thumb slid in, she whimpered so very sweetly, that I left her to hang panting in her shackles.

It was time for Glenda. Time for my mother's killer to meet her fate. Time for her to kneel at my feet like all these others.

Looking at Melody, I absently brushed Cathy's hair from her face, as I fantasized over what was to transpire. She--Cathy, my first zombis disciple--smiled up at me, her gaze no longer as mindless as it had once been, but far more loyal now, and she nuzzled my cock with her cheek.

It was time.

Alphonse agreed with me.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

My mother's roses were all dead ... why?

As I looked at the house where I had once played, opened Christmas gifts, laughed in joy at birthday parties and complained of having to do homework, that was the first thing I noticed. Those once glorious rose bushes were all dead sticks. Twisted with old growth canes, rotten, forgotten, and abandoned to sit in the cold and wilt away, nothing now but thorns.

My mom's roses were dead. And it was her killer's fault.

Too busy being a slut to my father to even see to the flowers!

In a rage that was breathtaking, I lifted my hands and my women surged forwards. Like a pack of hounds on the hunt they sprang into action, crossed the unmowed yard of dead brown grass and slammed into the back door of the place I once called home. Their weight, together thrown against the wood in mindless abandonment, tore the panel of cheap pressboard and plastic from the frame, sending it crashing into the kitchen. The four women, their bodies sporting new bruises, rushed room-by-room through the house as I calmly walked across the yard to where my old swing set still stood. Rusted and as abandoned as the roses, I absently pushed on the once-bright seesaw making it swing like a pendulum.

I grinned when I heard Glenda scream.

The smile grew when minutes later, following the silencing of those screams, I saw my ladies drag her out the broken door, her plump form wrapped in a sheet, taped up like she was being made ready for the mailman. As they carried her to my van, I absently whistled to myself and followed. Hell, I was even daring enough to waste the time it took to wave to Old Man Fredricks across the street when he stepped out his door to walk his mangy poodle. He gave me a confused half wave, clearly recognizing me but unsure at the same time. At seventy-one, he was now a shell of the man, whose only claim was to have once been something special. Now he mindlessly puttered in his weed-filled garden, planting crooked rows of seeds that the crows ate up.

I drove away from him, not really caring that he had seen me.

No one would believe the fool anyway. And even if they did, let them come into my swamp after me! My good friend Alphonse had been showing me things of late. Dark things. These women, my deadly ladies were not the only thing that would answer to my call if I needed to be protected. There were eternal twilight places in that swamp, hidden bayous that no light reached and that none but escaped slaves and old poachers had ever seen. And me, I had been into them. Been there and spoken to those shadowy things that dwell in the muck in such places. Old powers, left to sleep in the cold, dead mire since the first mambo priestess had walked on the frozen waters in winters long past. They had not been happy to be awakened, but they accepted my offerings and would answer.

If I ever had the need.

So let them believe the old fool. The police. My father. I cared not. Let them come at me. Looking back over my shoulder at the squirming form of my enwrapped step-mother, I grinned. It would be too late by then anyway. By far too late for this murderess, her fate was already in motion towards its ending. I chuckled at her attempts to scream. Soon there would be no gag to keep those silent, and I could and would enjoy them fully. I looked at the eyes of my four ladies, and they looked back. As I had enjoyed theirs. I smiled at them.

They smiled back.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

Glenda screamed, struggled, and even fought. Her body, as plump and luscious as memory recalled, was a wonderful thing to struggle with, but not even her strength could fight that of my four women and myself. While they lashed her to the cross, I began to strip the loose, faded blue shirt and pants from her.

~ Yes, my Tomas. Let's see what she has hidden, what charms she used to lure your father into her web. ~

Agreeing with the old skull, I worked faster, cutting away cloth, pulling at thin panties to reveal a thick bush of dark hair. To set free full breasts with nipples already hard as eraser points, the slut was turned on by this! I knew she was. She squirmed in the ropes. Then, with a malicious thought, I stepped back and set my women to licking her. I enjoyed the look of disgust that appeared on her face, enjoyed, even more, when it vanished into her mindless lust under four tongues. Seeing that loss of control, taken from her by her often denounced homophobia, was an added relish to the vengeance I was securing.

~Now, Tomas. Start with Melody. Let your mother's butcher see her fate even before it happens. Let her know what is to come. Let her see the tortures that are hers to suffer, just as your mother did. ~

I laughed at the old skull's eagerness. He had been positively giggly ever since I walked into the door with my step-mother in tow. When I moved over to the young, dark, and sensually wild girl hanging opposite from Glenda's moaning self, I saw again the hate in her eyes. Hatred of me, and what I was going to do to her certainly, but there was more than that. There was hate in her eyes for even Glenda, victim-to-be that she was, simply because this girl knew she was only here to be an example. A sexual hors d'oeuvre to the main course, and that made her furious.

Enjoying her anger, I smiled at Melody. A conqueror's grin of pleasure to be had in the gluttony of a victory feast that was to be the final fate of my mother's killer. Not lessened in the least by the time it was going to take to sample this girl first.

I walked to the wall of whips and other fun toys. I took my time selecting the proper one. There were several, some simple, some heinously complex. Things of metal and barbs and glass, but those would be for later. Once my step-mother had tasted the leather of all the others first. For now, for Melody, I chose a simple one. Something Alphonse had shown me how to make one night when we were bored with the endless orgy that was the norm.

Turning, I gasped as a cold metal blade sank hilt-deep into my chest!

Not once but thrice it struck me, with a viper's speed, before I could move back from the descending blade. Stumbling over empty beer bottles and old trash, I fell to the floor at the foot of Glenda's cross, looking in horror at Melody. The supposedly helpless woman was free of her bonds, armed, and to my growing, shaking agony, had already taken first blood. Crimson red drops fell from her blade to the floor as she stood looking down at me. She smiled a lunatic's grin at me and then lifted Alphonse's skull from the table next to her.

The old skull, I noticed then, was laughing manically.

~ Hee, hee, hee! Excellent, excellent! Just as I told you to do. Oh, you are such a good girl. ~

"Thank you, Grandfather. What now?" her voice a sweet purr. I shook in pain and nausea from the pain as she looked at my blood on her knife. "Shall I stab him to death?"

~ No! Oh, silly child what have your parents been teaching you? Did they learn nothing from your grandmother after I was gone? There is no power to be had in such a simple fate. His heart must be cut from his living chest, and then, when his last breaths escape, you much catch his soul. A true zombie will he be for you then. ~

"Of course. How silly I am being, you're right." Melody made a gesture with the bloody knife. "Latoya, Cathy, Tina, Mary ... ladies, dear sweet ladies ... fetch him for me please."

"No. No." I scrambled across the filthy floor trying to move away from the suddenly vengeful eyes of the women I had made mine ... but no longer were. "Alphonse! You bastard! Why?"

~Oh, don't be that way, my Tomas. You got to have your pleasure for long enough. Nothing that enjoyable comes cheap. Besides, did you seriously think I would let you fuck the last of my bloodline? Murder her? I told you my family name when we first spoke. Do you not remember, or did you simply dismiss my family? ~ He laughed with mindless glee. ~ Too bad, little fool ... Remembering the name Aventante ... it might have given you enough time to plan your escape. Not that you would have gotten far. The things in the swamp can never be escaped now that you gave them your blood and semen. Your body is theirs to claim, just as your soul is mine. Melody, dear? He's about to try and run. ~

"Oh, no. That won't do. Girls?" Melody said in a singsong sweetness. "Fetch."

I screamed and pushed myself to my feet as the quartet of naked women descended on me. Fingernails, strong, delicate hands curved now more like talons, and teeth as sharp as any dogs all tore into my bloody skin as I scrambled for the doorway.

~No, no Tomas. My Tomas, you are going nowhere. Granddaughter, his mind is on the boat. ~

With a scream of rage, pain and madness at the betrayal of one I had thought my friend; I fell out the doorway and down the few steps onto the small dock by my boat. All four ladies came down on top of me, but I fought at them. Fought with a madness that was rage driven. Betrayal driven. But madness can only withstand so much and four women, mindless but with memories of my torturing them awakened, held me, and then caught at me again and again when I broke free.

I heard a scream then. A woman's scream. Glenda's!

She was screaming, begging for me to save her. In my mind I saw through the eyes of the old bone as Melody moved over to pet my step-mother's breasts, running, seeking fingers over pale, blue-veined skin hunting for the right spot. I saw the knife point brought to touch that skin, pressed into it. A so very red rivulet erupted from that point. Then there was shriek of such agonized pain it sent me stumbling.

"MOTHER!" I screamed as I fell and the cold murky water closed in over me. Then I was being dragged down, even as vicious, clawing fingers tried to grip at me from above. I was a human rope, pulled between the things in the swamp that wanted my body and the old skull's minions who claimed my soul.

** ** ** ** ** ** ** ** **

The night was old.

I was shivering with the damp chill of the coming morning as I stumbled barefoot through the deserted streets of New Orleans. Hunting, seeking, but not finding any refuge from the shadows that I knew hunted me. My tongue refused to obey and continued to painfully probe at the bloody holes where I had once had golden fangs. The voice of Alphonse had followed me across the muddy bayou, into town, down familiar and unfamiliar streets till; at last in madness at his continued insults and laughter, I tore those cursed golden teeth from my own mouth.