tagErotic HorrorStep Into My Parlor

Step Into My Parlor


He’d told me that it was to rain, soon. Although I do not know the man, I still remember his face well. The old timer obviously hadn’t aged well, as his beard was shaggy and knotted in places. His face had been slightly distraught, when he’d told me this, as well.

My first thought was simply that he was mad. It wasn’t uncommon in this day and age to find someone who was so.

T’was the year of our Lord, 1695. I was currently taking up residence in the Massachusetts Bay Colony, who had just grown in size after the absorption of the Plymouth Colony, some four years prior. The New World was in a state of loss, left in shambles by a number of madmen who’d allowed their own prejudices and paranoia to destroy their sense of self-reason. They’d hung and burnt many in what had come to be known as the Salem Witch Trials.

My name is Richard LeBair, and I was but little more than a weary traveler, although a well-known skeptic, in those hard times.

Word of witches and devils had traveled the countryside like the plague, reaching even back to Mother England, herself. I’d not traveled to a single village that prostitutes and whores had not found themselves accused of the black arts, or some other damned thing.

On the date in question, October 30th, I’d found myself in a small pub, enjoying a fine ale for the eve. I’d just returned from a long journey to Old Hampshire, and was now merely interested in my ale and a good night’s sleep. I’d drank until my eyes watered, paid the barkeep, and stumbled onto the streets, where the Harvest Festival preparations were being made.

"Good Eve, Richard! How is my favorite bar patron?" A man’s voice rang out. It had only taken a wink before I’d recognized the voice, and groaned in disgust. T’was Jonathon Paisley, a man that I’d detested for years, out to oversee the preparations of the Harvest Festival.

I watched as he trotted up, as pompous as ever, followed, like usual, by Father Kimbell.

"Good Eve, Jonathon. Father. I see the decorations are almost complete. I would’ve thought that with all the talk of witches and goblins, that the festival would’ve surely been cancelled, this season." I smirked, quite snobbishly.

Father Kimbell frowned at my skepticism, but remained silent. I could feel Paisley smiling down at me. That hypocrite. How smug.

"Now, now, Mr. LeBair. You should show more respect in sight of recent events. Who are we to decide whether or not witches or spooks exist in this world? A hasty decision can often become a costly one." He teased, obviously amused by my drunken state.

"Yeah, right. Witches and Werewolves are little more than poppycock. Stories that are told to little boys and girls to make them behave. The day you find a real witch is the same day Father Kimbell, here, takes confession from a savage." I sneered, fighting the urge to vomit. Father Kimbell didn’t seem to share my amusement with the conversation.

"Well, whatever, whatever. You will be joining us for tomorrow’s festivities, will you not?" The old fart asked me, before throwing an arm over my shoulder. He knew I couldn’t stand when he touched me.

"I’m afraid not. I’ll be needing my rest after the sail back from England." I growled, pushing his arm from my shoulder. "Perhaps next year. Now, if you will, I must be heading back to my home for the eve."

"Be weary, Mr. LeBair." Father Kimbell called to me, as I staggered away from the two. "God knows you."

Ha! Right! God knows me? Was that meant as a threat, or a pleasure? Bah, I chose to forget it and move on. I still had to find a prostitute for the night, but was damn well not going to say that in front of them.


I’d entered an alleyway, where the colony’s best whores could always be found. Hidden amongst the darkened stone of the buildings, I walked down the line of whores, looking for the one lucky enough to spend the night with me.

"Why, hello, love. How about this fine-quality merchandise?" A slightly overweight and grotesque excuse for a whore asked, from a nearby corner of the alley.

"Oh, dear God, no. Get away from me, you sow." I cringed, the sight not doing a thing for my upset stomach.

"Fine, then, limp dick. You wouldn’t know class if you saw it." She wretched, and returned to her nest.

"The only class you need is in beauty school, you old harpy." I muttered, pressing on.

As I rounded the corner, I thought I’d seen everything that the alley had to offer me. Where there had been a number of whores, there were now none. This was when she’d caught my eye. She was far too beautiful to be a whore, which is why at first, I thought her to be a lost noblewoman. Her clothing was not that of a noblewoman, though. Her eyes met mine, and the pain in my stomach seemed to fade.

"Hello, there, Sir." Her soft melodic voice pierced through the silence, followed by a sweet smile that could melt any man’s heart. "Can I interest you in my services?"

Dear, Lord. I knew that with this heavenly creature, I wouldn’t be able to speak to her for stuttering. I hadn’t a thing to say.

"Well? Cat got your tongue, love?" She giggled, before approaching me.

"Y-Yes. I mean, no. How much?" I asked, lost in her dark locks of hair and fair blue eyes.

Silent, she closed the gap between us, and pursed her lips together, in a pout. Her hand rested upon my chest, then slowly moved to straighten my collar. I felt as though her eyes were going to pierce through me.

"For a strong, handsome gentleman like yourself?" She smiled, again, and I felt weak. "Cheap." She whispered in my ear, before kissing my neck, softly.


I’d followed her to a place she’d already obtained. It was a finely dressed room, of clearly wealthy design. Why a woman this beautiful, and obviously this rich, would be selling her body on the streets was beyond me, but I’d learned long ago not to question things that were in my favor.

Slowly, and full of grace, she almost hovered in her stroll to the second-story window, overlooking the busy street of the colony. I watched her from the middle of the room.

"Hallow’s Eve. They’re preparing for the Harvest Festival, you know?" She said, as she opened the window and looked down at the streets, below. "Too bad it’s going to rain."

I can’t say that I completely focused on her words, as much as I did the beauty and elegance of her voice. I’d never seen a whore with such grace and passion before, and if you asked me now, I’d bet that she sensed that.

"Come here." She called to me, without looking in my direction. Slowly, I approached her.

Silently, her hands lifted to her head, undoing the carefully-made bun that her hair was in. Her long, dark hair fell to her shoulders, and I caught a whiff of something that smelt both intoxicating and slightly foul. To my surprise, she never turned to me, but simply began to undress. Within moments, the silken fabrics that made her dress had fallen from her body, leaving her nude and petite figure exposed, before me.

"Many of the people are still in fear, believing that tomorrow night will bring real witches and ghosts to roam our countryside. The witch trials have stirred up a terror from deep within these people." She whispered. Slowly, she turned to me, and once again, I felt her eyes peering into mine. "Do you believe that, Sir?"

It took me a moment, to answer.

"No, love, I do not."

This seemed to amuse her, slightly, which confused me. Carefully, her hands moved about my body, loosening my clothes. Her smile remained, as she freed me from my bindings, allowing my erect manhood to spring forth. Her hands rested upon my naked chest, and she smiled up at me.

"What if I said I was a witch?" She grinned, grazing the tips of her nails across my flesh. I couldn’t help but smile at her words. "And what if I told you…" Her hands trailed down my stomach before wrapping around the shaft of my swollen sex. "…that this was my magic wand?"

Her warm hands tightened their grip around it’s shaft, as she sank to her knees. I gasped for air, as her mouth opened and took the full length of my cock into it. Her eyes stared up at me with the hunger of an animal, as her head slowly moved back and forth, swallowing it whole.

I extended my arms, to catch my balance, using the window seal to hold me up. This beautiful young thing was working miracles on me, using her left hand to force my throbbing prick into her mouth, and her right hand to cup my balls. Her moans became apparent, and I quite literally lost myself.

As she sucked me off, I couldn’t help but stare out the window, watching the busy people on the street, below. Time almost seemed to slow down as her head bobbed up and down my length. Within moments, I felt myself preparing to explode in her mouth. I snapped back to reality and pulled my cock from her mouth.

"Stop. Not yet." I said, between my gasps for air. I pulled her up to me, until she was standing before me. Carefully, I sat her on the window ledge, and entered her.

"Yes. Fuck your little witch." She hissed at me, her tone almost furious. Her cunny was tight and unbelievably warm, as I sank into her. Her arms and legs wrapped around me, locked behind my body, and I began pumping into her with the fury of my lust. Her lips fell to my neck, kissing and tasting me like a crazed animal. "Pound me out. Tear up my innards!" She said, taunting me.

I was now giving her full force, the momentum threatening to send us both falling out the window, to the street below. Her moans grew louder, and I almost expected the people below to look up and catch us. Her hands were now gripping my flesh, her nails clawing at me while her legs squeezed, forcing me deeper into her tight twat. Suddenly, she let go of me, and fell backwards.

Her entire upper body hung, almost upside down, out the window. Her breasts bounced furiously, as she convulsed. The only thing that kept her from falling was her legs, tightened around me waist, and my hands on hers. She was lost in orgasm and was enjoying the danger of almost falling. I could feel the muscles of her womanhood tightening and milking me for everything I was worth. Without warning, I exploded inside her cunt, sending blast after blast into her, so hard that I grew dizzy. I stumbled forward, and almost fell through the window with her.

Just in time, I caught myself, and pulled backward, pulling us both inside. My balls were now convulsing, still sending streams of my seed into her tight womb. With each blast, she squirmed, enduring numerous orgasms.

I continued backing up, until the two of us fell back onto the bed, behind us. Her hands pushed against her breasts, and she pinched her nipples, hard, as her squeals filled the room, only to be drowned out by the cuckoo clock, ringing midnight.

Without warning, and as her climax subsided, her hands slapped down onto my chest. Her nails dug in, and she began riding me. It felt incredibly good, but I couldn’t take anymore. I’d already cum, and was still tender.

I put my hands on her, trying to force her off of me. "No, love, stop. I can’t." I said, but my hands were slapped away. Her face was no longer one of passion, but one of hate.

"You will, you little prick. You’ll fuck until I’m through." She hissed at me, as her ride hastened and her thrusts picked up. Her head sank to my neck, and she bit me hard, not drawing blood, but definitely hurting me. The sound of her pussy slapping against me echoed through the room, as she bounced atop me. Her fingernails slid down my chest, leaving light cuts, as she galloped on, thrusting my cock into her so hard that it now hurt.

I was lost in my own fear, now. If earlier suggestions hadn’t warned me enough, I now knew that something was definitely not right with this girl. Maybe she really was a witch. As she rode on, every lamp in the room lit, simultaneously, their flames lighting the room brightly.

"Yes! Yes! Stake the witch! Hang her! Hang her and burn her! Fuck her! Rape that slut!" The girl screamed, over and over again. She was in a frenzy, continually picking up speed and strength. Her words frightened me, beyond belief. I’ll even admit to tears, on my part. Finally, with one last slam into me, enough to knock the breath from me, she climaxed.

Her cunt muscles tightened around my cock and for a moment, I thought she was going to rip it off. Her eyes were closed, as she let out a blood-curdling scream that I knew the people outside could hear. I tried to use this to my advantage and get up, but she still had me pinned down. Her orgasm must’ve been otherworldly, as it seemed it lasted forever.

Finally, she collapsed atop me. Her muscles were now limp and soft, and I was no longer in pain. After a moment, she lifted her head and grinned at me. She kissed me, softly, and pulled the mussed bedsheets to cover her legs. I was lost, once again. I didn’t know quite what to say.

Our attention was broke when the door to the room slammed open. We both looked and found a number of people standing there, with Jonathon Paisley and Father Kimbell leading them.

"Dear, Lord! Jennifer!" Father Kimbell exclaimed at what he saw. His hands moved criss-cross around his chest, and he whispered a silent prayer.

"Richard? You’re sleeping with my daughter?" Jonathon bellowed from the doorway. "How dare you?!"

"What, Daddy? What’s happening? Mr. LeBair said he wanted to show me a magic trick, and now I’m naked. I don’t know what happened, Daddy!" She said, after pushing away from me with feigned disgust. How dare that slag.

"A Magic trick, eh? No wonder you appear to be such a skeptic! You’re a warlock!" He screamed, as he and his mob entered the room. I was pulled from the bed, and dragged from the room.

I was immediately locked up, awaiting my own witch trial. It took me a couple of days before I began piecing it all together, and still, I don’t understand how the lamps lit by themselves. This was how I spent my Hallow’s Eve. She did visit me, briefly, only to gloat, and I did ask her about the strange perfume. She wouldn’t give me it’s name, but did say that it smelt like Autumn.

Jennifer Paisley had succeeded in making a fool out of me, and it looks as though I’ll lose my life because of it. Oh, and before I forget to tell you… it rained.

[The End]

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