tagErotic HorrorHeading For Trouble

Heading For Trouble


Hello and welcome to my readers; Happy Halloween to everyone. Thanks for the votes and feedback on my previous stories. I extend my warmest appreciation to Sweet Witch for her editorial and technical assistance. Enjoy.


Barton groaned and slowly opened his eyes; the morning sun made his head ache so he shut them.

Ughhhh…how much did I drink last night anyway…where am I?

He cautiously opened his eyes again. The walls of the cavernous room were draped in dark red cloth. Pictures of stern faced women dressed in styles of long ago gazed down at him. He suddenly realized he was naked and in a huge four poster canopied bed. He attempted to sit up and his hand brushed a warm body.

What the hell…?

A naked woman lay next to him; skin like alabaster, nipples rosy pink, long tresses a midnight black. Her full breasts rose and fell as she breathed in sound sleep. Barton was fascinated, but could not remember meeting or fucking her, yet his limp cock was sore and crusted with love juices

Damn…we must have been at it all night…she's beautiful…why can't I remember…?

He arose carefully from the bed and began searching for the bathroom. The first door was a huge closet; the second was a spacious bathroom with nineteenth century fixtures and dark red walls. He relieved himself and then splashed water on his face.

When Barton lifted his head from the sink and looked in the mirror he practically jumped out of his skin; she was standing behind him, a half grin on her face. He thought he saw a glint of red in her eyes, which were stark white with obsidian pupils.

"You sure know how to show a girl a good time," she chuckled, her contralto voice sending a thrill through him. "I don't think we slept until six this morning."

He turned to face her, his sore cock swelling as he looked at her voluptuous body.

"How many times did we…?"

"At least eight as I recall, of course I'm multi-orgasmic so it seemed like more."

She pushed him gently onto the toilet, straddling him and sighing as she sank onto his rigid flesh. He gripped her ass and sucked a stiff nipple in his mouth as she rocked back and forth, moaning in pleasure.


"What's this book about? It looks really old."

Barton lifted the volume from the sofa table, the musty smell of the pages filling his nostrils, the scarred leather cover soft and pliable. There was an odd symbol on the cover which he did not recognize. Its pages were all handwritten in an unknown language, accompanied by more peculiar symbols and designs.

"That was my four times great grandmother's book of grammarie," the woman answered from the kitchen. "She was a witch in Salem and used her magicks to escape the trials."

"What's this grammarie stuff anyway?"

"Ancient knowledge passed down through the ages by witches."

The book was suddenly warm in Barton's hands and he set it down hastily.

The woman emerged carrying a tray laden with plates of fried eggs, bacon, sausage and toast. The aroma made Barton's stomach growl. She motioned him to the sofa, set the tray on the coffee table and returned to the kitchen. She returned carrying a carafe and two cups and sat beside him, their bare thighs touching.

"Go ahead, eat something. I'm not through with you yet and you'll need your strength."

He tore into the food like a hungry wolf as she sipped her coffee and watched with barely concealed amusement. He swallowed a mouthful of egg and asked "Aren't you eating?"

"I'm not hungry," she said, her perfect white teeth flashing in a smile. "This is for you."

Barton devoured every scrap of food and drank several cups of coffee, yet he didn't feel full. He was puzzling over that when the woman pulled him to his feet and led him back to the bedroom.


Slumped on the sofa in his apartment, Barton was suddenly exhausted. During the entire sexual marathon with…what did she say her name was…oh yes, Marlia…he felt no fatigue, now he could barely move. Damn, she was insatiable. What was all that she said about his being her intended one anyway. He barely knew her and she acted like she owned him. His final thought was I'm nobody's lap dog then he fell asleep.


"Hiya Charlie," Barton hollered to the bartender, "How's about a cold one?"

"Comin' right up." The frosty mug slid along the bar into Barton's palm as Charlie ambled up smiling.

Barton took a swig and said "You see me with anyone on Tuesday night? I mean any women?"

"Which one do you mean?" Charlie responded. "There's so many…hey wait a minnit…there was this woman in a black dress that you were sittin' with. A real looker. She was kinda spooky with that white skin and black hair…but boy was she built."

"When was that?"

"Around ten, ten thirty. You two were having quite a conversation, and then you got up and left. No goodbyes, nothin'. That was weird."

Barton finished his beer and motioned for a refill.

"So tell me," Charlie said tugging on the beer tap, "Didja fuck her?"

"More like she fucked me," Barton muttered. "I never met a woman like that before. She wore me out."

"That's gotta be some chick to wear you out. I remember that time you and the Carson twins…"

They reminisced about Barton's many conquests for an hour until other customers shuffled in and Charlie went off to serve them. He felt a sudden compulsion to see Marlia again and left the tavern nodding goodbye to Charlie.


"Are you a for real witch?" Barton asked as they lay together in Marlia's huge bed.

"Of course I am silly. Like my ancestors before me. When one of us dies, the power shifts to the next female in the family. Suddenly, you're aware of your powers and abilities, and gran's book of spells becomes yours."

Barton shivered as a sudden chill passed through him. "How did we meet anyway? I don't remember."

"That's because I chose you for my lover," Marlia chuckled, hugging him with a strength that belied her slender frame. "Already your seed has engendered a female in my womb. She will be my successor when I join my ancestors on the Other Side."

"Wait a minnit, you're pregnant? I'm the father? I sure didn't mean to…"

"Of course you didn't. I chose you to father my child. You had nothing to do with it."

"Hey, I ain't no stud for goofy wimmin who think they're witches," Barton began indignantly. "I got my pride yannow…" He stopped suddenly when he felt Marlia's body suddenly become icy cold against his. For a second her snapping black eyes became a glowing red, fixing him with a withering glare.

"I am not a goofy woman," she replied, her voice deep and menacing. "I am a witch and you are my lover. So it was chosen and so it shall be."

Barton gasped as she lifted him easily, placing him between her open thighs. His body reacted even as his mind did not as they began lovemaking again.


The next five weeks passed quickly as Barton became more involved with Marlia. The sex was incredible, her devotion to him astonishing, yet he grew restless being with only one woman. Try as he might he could not resist her. In the sanctuary of his apartment Barton rehearsed ending their affair, but in her presence he lost the will to confront her. Marlia called him her mate, her companion, lavishing attention on him, referring to the life growing inside her as their child and what a fine father he would make. The more Marlia adored him, the more he chafed under the attention. He decided to return to his old haunts and seek out other women to validate his independence. No woman owned Barton Mead.


"Gee, Barton, I never thought you'd notice me and all. I almost died when you asked me out. Like, this is so cool," Amber gushed, looking about the restaurant.

Barton smiled and took her hand. Amber was a regular at the Tricorner Tavern, her long blonde hair and curvy body always kept her well supplied with drinks and getting laid, especially on weekends when guys were spending their paychecks. He didn't normally go for the pushovers, but she was available and he wanted to prove to himself that Marlia didn't have a claim to him.

She's crazy as a shithouse rat with all that witchcraft talk…if she's a witch I'm the heavyweight champion.

He ordered another bottle of wine as Amber chattered on, her full breasts almost spilling out of her strapless gown.


Barton and Amber lay entwined in his bed, breathing heavily from their exertions. They had wasted no time after finishing their meal to return to his apartment and engage in wild fucking. She had come three times before he erupted inside her and they stopped to rest. Then the doorbell rang and continued to ring. Muttering under his breath Barton tried to ignore it, finally putting on a robe and answering the door.

Marlia stood in the doorway, clad in a form fitting red dress. Her skin seemed to pulse with an inner glow, her hair black as night, her eyes glowing red.

"Who is in there with you?" she said in a low growl. "No one else will have you. You are mine."

"The hell," said Barton angrily. "You don't own me. You're fuckin' crazy with all that witch talk. I'll fuck whoever and whenever I please. Now get out of here."

"I offered you my heart," Marlia replied sadly. "We can choose one mate in our lives and I chose you. Now you're rejecting me in favor of that woman in there?"

"Not just her, but plenty of other women. I'm not gettin' tied down with anyone, much less some spooky lookin' bitch who's lost her marbles. Leave me the hell alone."

"Who is it Barton?" Amber called from the bedroom. "What's all the yelling about?"

"Nosy neighbor, cutie, I'll be right there."

Barton shoved Marlia from the doorway, slamming and locking the door. He thought he heard her crying. Cry all you want you nutty broad.

Dropping his robe, he returned to his bed mate.


The buzzing of the bedside alarm woke Barton from a deep slumber. He had sent Amber away at three in the morning, promising to call her soon. He was fucked out and needed to rest.

He opened his eyes; the bedroom was black as pitch. The strong smell of sweat assailed his nostrils.

Why is it so dark? It's at least nine, maybe ten. I can't see a damn thing.

Barton attempted to get out of bed, but had difficulty standing. He couldn't get his balance.

What's wrong with me? Am I having a stroke or something?

He staggered into the bathroom, felt about for the toilet, dropped his sleep shorts and winced as a blaze of light pierced his eyes.

What the hell?

He sat heavily on the toilet seat and found himself looking inside the toilet at the blue water. Before he could react, a peal of throaty laughter made him jump. He stood unsteadily, looking up at Marlia standing before him.

She was naked except for a flowing red cape. Her opalescent skin glowed, seemingly from within; her lips, nipples, shaved pussy, finger and toenails were the color of blood; her hair dark as a thundercloud.

"What…how did you get in here? I locked the door," he babbled in sudden fear.

He suddenly realized he was looking up at her, yet he was standing. Why couldn't he get his balance? Marlia laughed again, perfect white teeth gleaming.

"You rejected me. I gave you my heart. I offered you a world beyond your wildest imaginings as my mate, yet you rejected me to pursue and bed other women. Turn and look at yourself Barton."

Before he could move she spun him about, lifting him so he could see his entire body in the bathroom mirror. A frantic scream burst forth from his lips as he dangled helplessly in her iron grip.

Atop his shoulders rested the head of a gigantic penis, while his tiny head was now on his erect shaft.

"Since you insist on thinking with that head," Marlia chuckled, "I thought it should be where it belongs."

Barton's mind exploded into fragments as he realized what a hideous freak she had made of him. He was a thing, a curiosity, a laboratory experiment, a monster.

Writhing in Marlia's grasp, he began gibbering insanely, begging forgiveness in an increasingly shrill voice as she laughed and laughed.

Tiring of her sport, Marlia let him crumple to the floor, screaming and crying. She watched with amusement as Barton descended into madness, convinced by her spell of illusion that he had become a grotesque creature. Then, with a final peal of triumphant laughter, she disappeared.


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