The Empty Chairs

Barbra felt Carlo's cock gently press against her body, in exactly the right spot, and move back and forth, gently. Her breathing changed and she spread her legs widely, opening herself to him, not quite knowing why. The woman bent down and licked more blood off her chest, following the dark lines cut in her skin with the very tip of her tongue.

Barbra gasped as Carlo entered her. The woman thing cupped both of Barbra's breasts, digging in slightly and squeezing; out of the very bottom of her vision Barbra could see more droplets of blood emerge. Carlo bent forward, forcing his throbbing cock deeper inside of her body, and extended his tongue to lick up the dark liquid, forcefully flicking her nipples with the very tip of that muscle.

Barbra didn't, couldn't, move. She kept her arms above her head and her legs spread, and despite, or maybe because of, her intense fear, she found herself getting very wet. Carlo retreated, lifted her legs slightly with clutching, immensely powerful hands, and slammed into her pussy. Barbra gasped in a forming shriek, and opened her mouth wide, suddenly having a weird image of having teeth just like the pale woman thing. The image morphed in her mind, changing her own perception of herself, of what she was and what she could possibly become, what she could possibly be.

Carlo slammed into her body again, and the rough impact on her pelvis shoved her up the bed. Her mind undulated, and her body image melted into an unstructured oblivion.

She felt a tingling on her breasts again, and when she glanced down the woman thing was drawing on her skin again, this time extending a magical line down to her navel in a long string of wiggling yet diagrammatic lines. Barbra had a sudden shock of the kinds of lines she'd seen on instructions for butchering animals, and started to panic again despite her sexual arousal. She struggled and arched her back, forcing blood out of her skin to smear on her belly, and the sight scared her even more. These things, the woman thing and the Carlo thing, were going to kill her.

She fought, and when she did, the woman thing stopped cutting her to instead hold her down. Carlo did the same, somehow putting her lower body in an immobile sort of hammer lock hold, at the same time fucking her roughly. The woman shouted something in a completely unfamiliar language, something utterly unrelated to any sound Barbra had ever heard in her life, and bent over to lick her belly and breasts. As she sucked the blood off her body Barbra felt the woman thing grow stronger. They were using her for their own energy, and every time they drank of her they got more and more powerful.

Barbra struggled until the woman and Carlo forced her body into immobility. The woman bent close to her face, her entire mouth and lips coated in blood, and said, in heavily accented English, "STOP IT." The blood was smeared on her cheeks and and chin, shining in the reddish glow and gleaming almost black. When Barbra obeyed, both fascinated and frightened, the woman blinked her reptilian eyes, and reached to her body again to resume her art. Barbra felt a throbbing inside her body, and Carlo drew back and fucked her, hard, holding her lower body immobile while the woman cut her skin.

Carlo fucked Barbra, not pausing, forcing her apart and spreading her body. His cock wasn't terribly long, probably not more than average, but he was thick and veined, and the sensation of being filled and beyond, and the sharp, delicate pain of the woman decorating her made her shake and vibrate. The woman removed her hand several times, and every time she did Carlo bent down and sucked and licked the blood off Barbra's body. Each time he did the shaft in her body throbbed more strongly: the blood from her body was making his cock larger. He fucked her, and she found herself responding in animal kind.

Barbra fucked him back as best she could; she had fear, but it was no longer terror, and the feeling of Carlo fucking her was overwhelming her other thoughts and emotions. The fear dissipated, and Barbra felt instead a sense of intense excitement. She felt Carlo's cock thrusting in her, felt the alternating sensations of being ever so delicately drawn upon and being licked in sensitive places. She closed her eyes and tilted her head back, clutching the bed clothes, letting herself be fucked and consumed. She had a flash of being fucked to death when she came.

She involuntarily groaned out, "Oh God!" and shuddered in orgasm as Carlo's thick, throbbing, blood-filled cock pounded her body. She heard the woman laugh, a deep, mocking laugh, and through the climax haze Barbra realized the absurdity of shouting it out to reputedly damned things. She came again, her legs trying to flip in Carlo's powerful hands. He laughed and fucked her, then slipped out, making Barbra suck in a huge breath in shock.

Carlo said something in the mysterious language, and the woman responded. The pale female thing stood up, her face smeared with blood, with small trickles running down her chest to rest and dry on her perfect breasts. She turned, displaying a similarly perfect ass in the black, skimpy panties, and walked away. Barbra looked at Carlo, and studied him. She felt light-headed, and had to try to guess how much blood she may already have lost to these people things.

Carlo was flushed a deep, brownish-red complexion, very unlike the paleness he'd had when she first saw him, and now he had an intent expression on his face, looking in her eyes. Barbra raised her eyebrows, questioning her now-lover, her unknown lover, the man or thing that had just made her come, and tried to ask a question, but couldn't. Instead she reached her hands to Carlo's cock and took him in both palms, clasping around his cock, shining with her own wetness, and stroked the tip with the other. She moved her hands on his cock, trying to torment him as he gently thrust against her hands. He moved his muscular body, allowing her to pleasure him, and bent down to lick up more of her trickling blood, until the woman came back. She was holding a palm-sized disc.

She held it to Barbra's face: it was a mirror. Then she placed her head right next to Barbra's, looking in Carlo's direction, and positioned the mirror to frame them both. The effect was bizarre: Barbra could feel the woman's now-warm skin and sticky blood on her cheek, but the woman did not appear in the mirror. She could only see her own face. The woman laughed next to her, the same mocking, deep laugh from before, and Carlo joined her. The woman raised the mirror and touched Barbra' cheek to direct her eyes, and for the first time Barbra could see the design the woman had been making.

It was exquisite, a writhing, diametric and hypnotic pattern, so expertly done it appeared to have three dimensions. It made Barbra widen her eyes in fascination and hypnosis; the art was literally hypnotizing. As she breathed the design undulated and became a living thing, not on her body but living within it. She stared at her reflection, and as she did she thought her reflection became just ever so less clear, slightly translucent. She stared until the woman removed the mirror and prodded her to turn over.

Barbra let go of Carlo's cock and obeyed. She allowed herself to be positioned on her elbows and knees,hips spread wide to open her body to Carlo, her arms extended to brace herself for the anticipated onslaught. Carlo didn't disappoint her: he placed his cock to her lips, gripped her waist, and shoved hard. He did it again, then again, and again.

While he slammed into her Barbra shouted out blunt, blasphemous obscenities, and was richly rewarded with a laugh from both the things, this time not mocking, but somehow understanding and accepting. The woman resumed her art, holding Barbra by the neck. She understood the woman wasn't restraining her in malice, but was holding her in place to perfect the artwork she was now carving in Barbra's back.

She completely lost track of time. The woman cut, drew, licked, sucked, and caressed her back, extending to the globes of her ass, making a fine series of lines to the rising of her pelvis. Carlo licked her back, also sucking and touching, and the warmth, stickiness, wetness, and pain forced Barbra into another existence. At one point Barbra felt the woman slowly and gently press a finger into her ass and rotate the digit while Carlo fucked her, and the sensation made her gasp and squirm.

The woman placed herself along Barbra's body and smeared blood on herself, kissing her neck and back. Carlo fucked her the entire time, throbbing and fucking and pounding her pussy with an intensity she'd never experienced. She came several times, at the beginning a series of waves that made her cry out loud in panting gasps, then, after a while, at regular intervals, one of which made her briefly lose consciousness into a gray dimension, in which she had a different, malevolent identity.

She was feeling almost fucked to a point of intolerance when she came, one more time, in a shuddering, spasming orgasm that forced her face into the blood-spattered bed clothes, and she felt, with terrible sensitivity, Carlo's cock also spasm. He was going to come. He slammed into her body with superhuman strength, and Barbra knew the only reason she could take his attack on her pussy was because the woman thing was holding her in place, hands on her neck and spine. Carlo pounded, desperately, fucking Barbra, his cock flipping and spasming, building. She tried to hold her breath and couldn't, finally giving up completely, accepting whatever he was going to do to her.

Carlo pulled out of her pussy.

The woman thing rapidly flipped Barbra over on her back, slapping her thighs wide to expose her body to Carlo's, and Barbra though he might fuck into her again; she knew she couldn't take it and tried to cover her pussy, but the woman smacked her hands away. Barbra moaned, knowing if Carlo fucked her again she couldn't live through it. Her body was exhausted, on fire, spent. She clamped her eyes shut, but the hands of the things vanished, and she had to open them again in frantic inquiry.

Carlo had his hands behind his head, elbows bent, his powerful body, deep with blood, throbbing intently. His cock was huge. The cock flipped and pulsated, preparing to explode with its contents of... what? Barbra had to ask in her own mind, fascinated all over again with the revealed mystery.

Carlo's face distorted into a pain-filled, struggling mask, and he groaned out a series of incomprehensible exclamations in a lost language. The woman thing turned away from Barbra and bent her face to Carlo's cock. Barbra, knowing she was now ignored, rolled her lower body away from the two, folding her knees up. She watched.

The woman thing enveloped Carlo's cock with her mouth.

Carlo fucked her mouth, and came. Barbra could see it. His cock spurted deep into the woman thing's throat, pounding, as his body, or shell, emptied partial contents into the woman thing's form. The woman sucked noisily and hungrily, violently and desperately accepting the vicious pounding on her face as Carlo went out of control, fucking her face and coming. It was incredible and primal, terrifying and perverted. Barbra watched in fear and fascination as the contents of Carlo's balls revealed itself: a trickle of dark liquid drooled from the woman thing's lips.

He was ejaculating blood into her mouth.

Carlo's body became paler; the woman's body darkened. They were sharing Barbra's blood, drinking her essence for their own survival and pleasure. Barbra suddenly felt the sharp pains of the cuts all over her skin, the sticky, drying blood, the pleasurable pain in her, in her, her cunt. She thought, "What are they going to do to me?"

She was still thinking it when Carlo brutally gripped the woman's hair and threw her off his cock. She landed on the floor next the bed on her knees, her eyes half closed, blood trickling down both corners of her mouth, moaning softly and wavering. She had blood, Barbra's blood, smeared now all over her body.

Carlo leaped on his knees, positioned himself above Barbra, and put his still-hard cock over her face. He glanced at the swaying, moaning woman thing, then took his cock in a hand and motioned it at Barbra. He locked eyes with her, meaningfully, and she took his visual guidance and looked at the cock before her face. On the very tip, the eye, was a single, remaining, exquisite drop of blood.

Barbra thought for a very brief second, then extended her tongue to Carlo's huge cock and licked the tip.

The effect was staggering. The single drop of blood hit the roof of her mouth and slammed into her brain: her perceptions flew to different dimensions in a psychedelic life. She saw ancient buildings, mysterious forms, and walls of dripping blood. The blood took on forms of life, writhed, became human in form, then changed again. They melded, split, parted, duplicated and mutated. She was watching life begin and end, a kind of life previously unknown and unsuspected. A crimson, bleeding screen came over her eyes and she screamed out loud, not in terror but from the impact of knowledge. The blood would have frightened her even a brief time earlier, but now it drew her to it, making her cry out with hunger and want and desire.

She saw, with her physical eyes, Carlo draw closer to her face, and the last thing she saw before she lost consciousness was his eyes, burrowing deep into her mind. Then it was over.

Barbra woke up in darkness.

She looked around, trying to make out where she was, and after a while realized she was back in her rented apartment. She tried to move her body, and this time she actually had control of her limbs and was able to do it. As soon as she did she regretted it; her skin was on fire, all over her belly, breasts and back, all the way down to her buttocks. She was naked and wrapped up in a sheet.

After a while she managed to sit up, wincing in pain. It wasn't a sharp pain, or stabbing, but more of a burning on the surface of her skin. The sheet was stuck to her body and she could feel dried blood all over herself.

She walked to the tiny little bathroom and turned on the odd light switch; when she saw herself in the mirror she gasped in shock. She was completely covered in dried blood; it was in her hair, on her face, weeping through the sheet. She stood, shaking, for several minutes, almost fainting, and in her vision she firmly believed her reflection was getting steadily less focused.

She took a deep breath and turned on the water for the shower, waited for it to get hot, and got to work removing the stiff, blood soaked sheet. It took forever, the pain making her wince and gasp, and she was desperately grateful for the instant-on water heaters so common in this place. She finally finished, dropping the sheet in a bloody heap, and stepped out of the shower. She felt better, less sticky and crusty. Her wounds were clean.

When she stepped naked in front of the mirror, she had to simply stare and study herself. The designs were, incredibly, seemingly healing already; and she was transformed, different. Even her facial expression was different. The cut designs didn't confuse her anymore: rather, they were beautiful, meaningful things that revealed her inner soul. Barbra studied herself, fascinated by her new found beauty. She finally came to herself and for whatever reason, carefully and rapidly trimmed all her lower hair and saved her legs, letting the cream drop right on the floor. She groomed herself, but let the hair on her head go; it was fine. She had a weird, unexplainable feeling that she didn't have much time to fix her body the way she wanted it.

She looked herself in the mirror, and it was real; she was fading. She looked over the new beauty, the frightful seductiveness of her body, and while watching she put her hands to herself. Barbra quickly and easily got herself off, trembling and shuddering, admiring the stunning woman in the mirror. She watched the woman in the refection bite her lip and tilt her head back in orgasm.

When she was done, she knew she was incredibly hungry, hungry like she'd never felt before, and she had to... eat, she guessed. She went to the bags of food in the other room, and poured them out on the bed. None of it appealed at all. It disgusted her. It stunk, it was vile. She wondered how she could ever have eaten any of it in her life.

She opened the curtains; it was dark outside. Barbra quickly started dressing, putting on another set of unattractive traveling clothes. This time, she didn't bother putting anything in her pockets, and left the copy of her passport on the bed; she didn't need it. Everything had changed, changed completely. She didn't need any of it, any more.

When she was fully dressed, she paused and looked around the room, finally locating a single, tapered candle in a simple holder on a shelf. She picked it up, found matches next to it, and lit it. She placed it on a window sill, cupping the flame, knowing this candle wasn't for any spirit or passed relative; it was for herself, now. When the candle had burned about halfway down, she blew it out. She went out the door, stepped down the stairs to the street, and walked out into her new existence.