tagMind ControlI Hate Halloween!

I Hate Halloween!

bySweet_tits2©

"I hate Halloween," repeating it louder the second time hoping it will shut Diana up.

Walking next to me she replies in a sarcastic voice, "You are hopeless. Your parents named you Rhiannon, after a Celtic fairy. The fairies are supposed to come out of their world and into ours, to do all that fairy stuff during their one night on earth, Halloween night." She waves her hands in the air with a look of disgust on her face. "So come out of your world little fairy, it is the night of goblins, vampires, elves, ghosts, and magic. I just don't get it. How can you not like Halloween? Everybody loves Halloween." I stop in the middle of the sidewalk and turn to face her. "This is a night full of mischief and trouble, perpetuated by groups of wandering, misplaced teenagers, not goblins, ghosts or vampires."

Diana places her hands on her hips, glaring at me.

Shifting the grocery bags in my arms, I launch into a theoretical rant. "I believe it has to do with the pack mentality and the frontal cortex. The frontal cortex is responsible for planning, strategies, and judgement. It is not fully developed in the brain of a teenager. To make up for that lack of development they must band together to form one big master brain in order to function effectively, and that goes hand in hand with their pack mentality."

"Whoa girl, stop right there with the attitude. You have been spending way too much time out at the college." Diana replies with her arms crossed, and her chin jutting out.

Based on her body language I believe she means business this time. I decide to take the direct approach, before giving her a chance to bitch at me anymore.

"I will say it again. I hate Halloween. No, I am not going to the party with you; end of discussion and if you even hint about me in a fairy costume, I swear Diana, I will drop this chocolate devil's food cake right on the top of your curly blond hair."

I watch the emotions play out across her face, surprise at my firmness, then wariness because she knows I am the type of person to back up my words.

Her boyfriend, Jimmy, has been wise enough to keep his mouth shut throughout our entire discussion. He now grabs Diana by the waist just below her breasts. I can tell by the look on his face and the sharp intake of his breath, he enjoys the sensation of her soft breasts resting on the top of his forearms as he wraps his arms around her body. I watch his tongue come out and lick the side of her neck, at the same time pressing his body in tight.

"Don't worry baby girl. I will gladly lick it off every inch of your sweet tasty body." He winks at me, "Rhiannon quick, while I'm holding her," and he starts to tickle her until she can't take it any longer, she slaps his hands away, grinning.

"All right Rhiannon, I give up. But if you change your mind, don't forget the party is at Mark's."

She gives me a quick hug, picks up Jimmy's hand in hers, and the two love birds walk down the sidewalk. I just shake my head at the sight of them joined at the hip, and watch them disappear around the corner.

It is getting late. All of the young children have stopped trick or treating for the night, and are in their homes probably coming down from a mean sugar high. The street on my block is empty, except for the pools of dim light glowing softly from the old metal street lamps. I can hear faint sounds of animals scavenging for food in the dumpers hidden at the end of the alley. I watch a metal can trip across the ground as a small gust of wind kicks it down the street. It is followed by some loose dirty pages of an old newspaper, which twirl around on the ground for a second before the wind pushes them upwards, making them disappear into the inky sky above.

I walk up the stairs to my apartment building, with my keys jingling, when suddenly I am grabbed from behind. Emotions of shock, fear, and flight rush into my brain all at once. I fight back wildly, kicking and scratching at anything I can reach, trying desperately to free myself from the attacker. The grocery bags drop from my hands onto the cement where the chocolate cake smashes into one big blob. The rest of my groceries bounce down the steps, scattering among the trash on the sidewalk below.

During the struggle I vaguely register the sound of my shirt ripping away from my body, exposing my skin. I take a deep breath to yell at the top of my lungs when a large beefy hand is pressed firmly against my mouth cutting me off. Instinct takes over as the adrenaline surge hits my blood stream. I sink my teeth deeply into his palm, biting down hard, the metallic taste of blood filling my mouth.

"Bitch!" he yells.

He captures me by the throat in a vice-grip tight strangle hold, an effective way to keep me from screaming out for help; the blood from his hand drips down the side of my neck. The next thing I feel is a sledge hammer pounding me, as he slams his other fist repeatedly into my side knocking the wind, and the fight, out of me. It is a teenager in the pack mentality, big for his age; he drags me easily down the steps into the recess of the dark alley in between the old apartment buildings. The stench of rotten garbage and decay permeates the night air as a second teenager follows closely behind us.

"Trick or treat, bitch," the first one says, "Did you get the purse?" he asks his friend.

"I got it here."

"Then lets go!"

The second teenager is staring intently at my body, not moving. During the struggle my shirt was ripped open, exposing my full breasts. His eyes glaze over and he begins to stroke himself through his pants as his eyes roam up and down my body. Staring at my breasts, with the soft creamy mounds, the dark areolas and big nipples he quickly unzips his blue jeans and grins at me, his teeth shining through the darkness.

"Hold her," he tells his buddy. He walks in closer, and I smell the beer on his breath, and the rank sweat from his body.

When the asshole drops his baggy pants to his ankles, I bring my right foot up and kick him with all the strength I have left. The kick rams the sharp heel of my boot directly into the middle of his budding erection. Score one for the bitch. He drops instantly to the ground making small mewing sounds, and then curls up on his side into a small tight fetal position moaning in pain. The big oaf holding me, slams me up against the wall, and the lights go out.

I wake up slowly. My head feels like bass drum, my neck is sore and the left side of my body feels like a cement truck drove over it, and then backed up parking on it. The lights are dim, the bed is soft, and the sheets have a faint scent of flowers and vanilla. I must not be in a hospital. As my brain kick starts, pulling together coherent thoughts, I realize I am completely naked, covered only by one sheet. The room is lit by a fireplace, where a huge roaring fire crackles and snaps as the wood is consumed. There is a movement from the corner of the room and a dark figure emerges into the firelight. He is tall, at least six feet, with thick red hair, pale skin and piercingly dark blue eyes.

"How are you feeling?" he asks me.

"Sore," I tell him and I think to myself now that's a stupid question.

He smiles "but that was a stupid question, wasn't it? Of course you are sore." He walks over to the bed holding an ornate goblet in his hand.

"You need to drink this. It will make you feel better."

"Where am I, what happened, and who are you?" Even my eyelids are in pain probably in sympathy with the rest of my body, and I close them, resting, as I wait for his reply.

He sits on the edge of the bed and puts his arm behind my head pulling me up gently and tells me "drink first, then I will answer your questions."

His deep voice flows across my body like a sensual caress, and I open my eyes when he presses the goblet to my soft lips. I am too weak and sore to argue. The liquid flows down my throat and instantly I feel it coursing throughout my body. It has a smell of a spice my befuddled mind can't place, and the taste is sweet as pure honey. The throbbing pain and soreness are soon replaced by a warm glow, heating me to the core. I feel more alive than I ever have been before, each nerve ending tingles with new sensations. When I take a deep breath, I don't notice the pain anymore. I only feel the sheet rubbing against my sensitive breasts.

My nipples harden and poke through the thin material of the sheet, making it slide off to one side. He pulls the sheet back over my body, and his hand brushes across my chest making me arch my back upwards, willing my flesh to meet the touch of his hand. I can feel moisture gathering between my legs and unconsciously I spread them apart under the sheet. He smiles at the movements of my body, and quietly urges me to drink more from the goblet. As I drain the last drop of the amber liquid from the cup, I feel very drowsy. My eyelids get heavy, fluttering, I can't seem to keep them open much longer, and my head falls from his arm back onto the pillow. Quietly the man places the goblet on the table next to the bed, staring intently at me as my eyes slowly close and my body relaxes.

I am instantly transported into a deep sleep, to the place where all of our dreams are born. I find myself lying in the middle of a thick meadow surrounded by a dark forest. The meadow is covered with fragrant wild flowers, each one seems to be illuminated by small white moonbeams breaking through the forest canopy above my head. The air is warm against my naked body as I stare into the night sky watching the stars. It's a dream of course, a very pleasant dream.

I hear the sound of a creek in the background winding it's way through forest as I stretch my body over the soft grass. It feels luxurious to be naked in the woods. Every inch of my body feels alive, sparkling like the flowers in the moonlight, and yearning for something more. I close my eyes so I can smell, hear and feel everything on a deeper level. I am instantly rewarded by the light feathery touches of the gentle wind blowing across my body. I bring my hands up to my breasts, squeezing and kneading them, it feels erotic and free to be touching myself like this, in the darkness of the night.

My nipples harden instantly as my body responds to the soft caress of my own hands. I can hear the creek murmuring quietly beyond the trees, and it reminds me of the sound of voices coming from a crowd of people softly whispering among themselves. My hands touch every inch of my body starting at my head, moving through my thick hair, then down the sides of my face to my lips. The sensation of my fingers rubbing lightly across my lips makes me shudder in delight and my mouth opens slightly. The bubbling creek sighs in the background.

When my hands leave my lips trailing over my chin, and neck, ending back at my full breasts, the sound of the talking creek gets louder. Each touch, each caress of my hands makes my breathing deepen, my ample breasts rise and fall. I enjoy the gathering wetness between my legs, feeling it melt away from my heat. Then a single drop of my sweet nectar trails down my body falling to the grass below me, and I hear the murmuring creek growing in intensity, much more powerful than it was before. It seems to urge me on. I slide my hand between my legs and feel the wetness against my palm. I hear a voice moaning on the wind and realize it is coming from me.

My touches and strokes become harder, and more earnest as I roll my nipples between my fingers of one hand, while the other one continues to evoke more wetness from my body. My hips push against my hand as my fingers stroke, and rub, exploring the swollen folds at the center of my heat. Faster and faster the strokes continue until my entire body is covered in a fine gleam of sweat. For a brief instant my brain registers the creek again. It carries the sounds of many voices, all trying to be heard at the same time. At this point though, I don't care, for it is only a dream after all. I find wave after wave of sweet release as I press my fingers deep within my body, feeling muscles tighten and quiver. I can hear the creek echoing the sensations I feel in my body as it flows loudly over the pebbles and rocks. My muscles tighten again, until my body arches upwards one last time.

Slowly my breathing returns to normal. The creek is now quiet, just water flowing over rock in gentle calming sounds. My entire body, relaxed and sated, I close my eyes and drift away with the sounds of the creek.

I wake up the next day to blinding rays of sunlight glaring down at me. Squinting, I slowly open my eyes to discover I am lying in a hospital bed with Diana and Jimmy sleeping across the room, draped awkwardly over uncomfortable looking hospital chairs. What a dream that was, I think to myself, the painkillers must really work because I don't register any pain in my body. I only feel a welcome throbbing of fulfillment from my nipples and body. So I close my eyes again, hoping to find that meadow in the night once more, before Diana and Jimmy wake up.

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