The Renfield Syndrome Ch. 12

The Renfield Syndrome (Bisexual horror) - David is an ordinary man thrown into a nightmarish world of bloodlust and passion with his own humanity at stake. This is an ongoing work in progress of psychosexual horror.

Content Warning: Bloody horror violence and gore

CHAPTER 12

Gradually the crowd of reverential thralls that surrounded Angelique each received their personal blessing and returned to their seats. All except Lucas, who took up position beside the curtained stage with his arms crossed, and Roach who lingered near, exchanging some quiet words with Angelique with a meaningful glance at Lori. Whatever was said, Roach looked less than pleased with it, but she nodded and left the dining room in the direction of the kitchen. David also spotted the cop, Doyle, apparently freed from door duty and milling about the room trying to get close to Angelique.

Sandra ushered David back to the table but stopped along the way to waylay a tall handsome man who was standing by himself. "Fabian!" Sandra exclaimed, kissing him on the mouth with great affection. He was a dark-haired man younger than David, wearing an open-throated silk shirt and skintight leather pants that displayed both his ass and package beautifully. "This is Fabian," Sandra said as the man offered David his hand. His eyes were dark and had long lashes that were touched with mascara. "Fabian, this is David, this is his first party."

"It's a pleasure to meet you, David," the man said in a lush voice with a hint of an accent. "Welcome to the family."

"You must come sit with us! I won't take no for an answer, you beautiful man." She took both David and Fabian by the hands and led them back to their table. David tried to catch Lori's eyes again as he was drawn away, but Angelique had an arm about her, and her back was turned. Of all the chosen, Angelique had taken special interest in Lori tonight and seemed determined to keep her to herself, like a prize dog on a leash.

Their tall, raven-haired mistress stepped easily onto the stage, drawing Lori up behind her, and faced them to bask in their awe. Even though David was no longer meeting her eyes, he could feel himself drawn to her, his eyes glued to her flawless face and body, his ears ready for every precious word that dropped from her lips. He suddenly felt a strange sense of kinship with this roomful of affluent strangers. They were all drawn together by the love of one woman, even the wealthy and powerful bowing their heads in her presence. The way both Sandra and Fabian were smiling from ear to ear was contagious, and David found himself responding in kind. They kept calling him 'family', and in this moment it almost felt true. If David's lot was to serve, at least he wasn't serving alone. David was going to live forever, and he'd never be alone again. Angelique had made herself a part of him. A part of them all.

"My chosen," Angelique said, not raising her voice in the slightest, yet being heard by every eager ear in the room. "It gladdens my heart to have you all together. I have prepared a marvelous evening for you all, a very special surprise. Though you should need no proof of my benevolence."

"You are good to us, Mistress," Doyle called out and the assembled thralls murmured their agreement. They all appeared to be hanging on her every word, and she held every eye in the room. Angelique allowed them a moment to praise her and then spoke again.

"Each of you, I have chosen for a special purpose. I have given each of you the blessed gift of life itself, and to me you owe your very being. You belong to me, and I to you."

"We belong to you, Mistress," cried Sandra happily, and it was again echoed around the room. David found himself opening his mouth to affirm his loyalty as well, and then shut it again without saying anything.

"We are joined together by blood," Angelique said. "We can never betray each other, not you I, or I you. Our love is absolute..."

"I love you, Mistress," called Fabian and this was echoed loudly. David got through "I love..." before shutting his mouth with a snap of his teeth.

"I care for each of you like my own child. Tonight, I have provided you with a feast, something sure to sate your hunger. I do this out of my own generosity, as always. A gift for my chosen ones as a reward for your love and your loyalty."

"Thank you, Mistress!" The cry went up all over the room and David found it very easy to join in. It felt like brotherhood, to echo the others, and his heart filled with unexpected joy. For his entire life, 'family' to David had never been anything but a source of trauma. Here, however, in the presence of his Mistress he realized that he had been accepted into a very exclusive club. Everyone in this room had been blessed by Angelique with gifts that ordinary people could only dream of, and all she really wanted was company as the endless years rolled by. Angelique was what she was, and she did what she did out of loneliness. How could David fault her?

"I love you, Mistress!" David suddenly called, and his heart filled to overflowing as he realized it was true.

*****

Lori stood on stage a few steps behind Angelique with her eyes locked on the tall woman. She could feel the power rolling off her in nearly visible waves, but as Angelique was facing out toward the crowd, Lori herself was spared the very worst of her hypnotic aura.

She could see David in a table up front between a blonde woman and a dark-haired man, grinning like a buffoon and calling out to Angelique along with the rest of this bizarre cult. A cult she had unwillingly been recruited into, as she'd had explained to her as she was washed and redressed and fussed over like a doll by Angelique and a few servants. However, Lori had already seen what was behind the curtain, and this was a cult she had no interest in being a part of. Its promises of eternal deathless life be damned.

She was still groggy from whatever drugs had been put into her system, and royally pissed at the violation. She remembered the previous evening up to a point. She remembered fucking David, and then getting fucked by Angelique, whatever the hell she even was. Then a long dreaming state where everything was confused and all she knew was hunger. She'd been given the rudest of awakenings and was brought here to meet the woman who was now supposedly her new Mistress. Fuck that noise, Lori wasn't the submissive type. But she knew Angelique was dangerous and something beyond human, and so she bowed her head and played along to the best of her ability until she could locate the quickest way the hell out of here.

More than seventy floors above street level, Lori's options were limited. She could go down the elevator which she knew to be guarded, or down the fire stairs which might be guarded. It was that or go out a window, so she focused her thoughts on the glowing exit sign at the farthest end of the club space, pointing toward the bank of elevators. It was close, but not close enough, and the crowd of slavering cultists was between her and it. The only other way out of the club was through the kitchen, and she'd already seen what was in there. However horrified Lori had been, she'd kept her wits about her enough to notice a red illustration of a fire painted on the rear wall, with an arrow pointing down a hallway. That seemed the likelier escape route, and after what she had seen already, she felt more than capable of handling seventy-three flights of stairs at a dead run.

Lori looked back at David. He had a faraway, almost zombielike look in his eyes as he called out his adorations to Angelique along with the rest of the crowd. Lori had no idea how mixed up he was in all of this, but she was more than prepared to leave him behind if she had to. She loved him dearly, but not that much.

*****

Angelique looked out at the room full of her faithful chosen and smiled in satisfaction. The playthings she created had many advantages, but best of all they were single-minded in their devotion. In a world filled with enemies, her thralls were always there to serve her, to entertain her, to worship the ground she walked on. The essence she fed each of them ensured their submission, and the more she gave them, the more profound the effect was. After a few feedings, the most willful thrall would eagerly die for her amusement and consider himself grateful for the opportunity. Certainly, the chosen offered little to no challenge at all, but Angelique didn't care to be challenged unless it was a contest of her own choosing.

The new girl was the one Angelique would have to watch the closest. She had a fire of will in her eyes that most of her thralls didn't share, and ironically, the newest and least experienced of her creations were the hardest to control. Angelique wasn't the least bit concerned about Lori's boyfriend, she could see from here that David was completely under her power, chanting his devotion right along with the rest of the chosen with her essence flowing strong in his veins. Lori too appeared to be cowed into submission, but her surface thoughts gave her away. She was calculating an escape route, the willful girl. Angelique was almost impressed but felt no concern at her new toy's plotting and planning. Lori would be delightful to play with for the short while before she broke like all the others.

"My beloved chosen," Angelique addressed the room with an inward smirk. "Before the appetizers are served, I have a special treat for all of you. I have completed several new works that I have seen fit to allow you to view. Each one represents countless hours of artistic endeavor, and I dare say this may be my finest work." Angelique swelled with pride at the truth of these words, for the artworks she had labored over so diligently were each a masterwork. She prided herself on being an immaculate artist in many mediums and had practiced them all down through the centuries. But her favorite canvas, as always, was flesh.

"Let us see," Fabian begged aloud. "Please, Mistress, let us see!"

"Let us see!" The entreaty went across the room like a wave and Angelique smiled. She truly loved the opportunity to unveil new artwork to her adoring thralls. It was always such a treat for them. She raised her hand and made a small gesture, signaling for the curtain that surrounded the stage to be drawn. Instantly there was a soft whirring sound as the velvet drapery rolled smoothly to the side to unveil her latest projects to the 'oohs' and 'aahs' of the faithful.

*****

"Oh my God, aren't they amazing?" Sandra gushed at David as one by one Angelique's subjects were revealed. David looked and felt the bottom drop out of his stomach.

"Truly magnificent," said Fabian on the other side. "A miracle!"

There were four figures behind the curtain, each suspended from the ceiling by numerous hooks pierced strategically through their flesh, dangling six feet above the wooden stage. But what made David's bile rise wasn't the staggering mutilations that each subject bore, but the fact that they were all still alive.

Angelique clearly took advantage of her thralls' supernatural endurance and healing factor in designing her creations, because each figure on the stage was slashed, peeled, pricked, and slit from head to toe. The first was a male figure, the flayed skin of his back and ass stretched out over a wire framework in a hideous parody of wings. Countless designs had been deeply etched into his skin and allowed to heal until his entire body was an intricate mosaic of scar tissue. Encircling his head was a halo of nails, pounded deeply into the bone, and his ribcage was denuded of flesh, the ribs pried apart and his fluttering heart teased forth to complete the angelic tableau.

The second was a woman, nude and suspended in a cross-legged lotus position as if levitating off the ground. Her body was pierced through dozens of times by long spikes jammed clean through her flesh and bone. Any one of them looked as if it could be a fatal wound, but still the woman swayed and moaned from her chains, the arrangement of wicked, bloody spikes glistening in the stage lights. Two pierced her from the hollows of her shoulders to low on her hips, crossing inside her torso and emerging on the opposite side of her body. She was run through twice more from front to back, the sharp silver rods piercing her breasts dead center, poking between her ribs once on the way in and again on the way out. Another great spike invaded her body at the waist, running straight through her abdomen from right to left. Her sedately crossed legs and folded arms were similarly pierced by countless smaller spikes jammed cruelly through her limbs, pinning her into position.

The last two suspended figures were part of the same exhibit. They hung from their bloody chains locked in coitus, the woman's legs wrapped around the man's waist and her arms clutching tightly to his chest. Everywhere their bodies touched had been flayed, stretched, and grafted together, their open wounds stitched into one and urged to heal. They had been turned into sexual Siamese twins, joined at the head, chest, stomach, and loins. Wherever their limbs crossed, they were sewn together, locked forever in a tight embrace, the ultimate lovers. Their faces were pressed mouth to mouth, their lips cut and crossed over, stitched tightly until the supernatural healing processes of their bodies caused their wounds to knit and merge into one mass of scar tissue. Even as they dangled from their chains, the two still ground together in furious copulation, undeterred by their own mangling.

"Oh my God," breathed Sandra upon seeing the bloody displays. She laid a hand on David's thigh and squeezed, then brazenly ran it up to his crotch. "They're so lucky!"

*****

The displays were something out of the horror movies Lori loved, but entirely too real. "Please," Angelique said proudly in response to the applause. "Approach and look closely. Talk amongst yourselves. Appetizers will be served presently." Lori shuddered as an excited murmur went up from the seated diners and many stepped forward to obey her orders, eyeing the human displays as if critiquing the finest art.

"The lines of this one are astounding, Mistress," gushed a heavyset woman in a pink dress, indicating the impaled woman. "Your artistic eye puts to shame anything in my gallery. If only I were able to display your work publicly for all to enjoy."

"I think we agree the proletariat is unprepared for the depth of my work," Angelique said haughtily.

"Of course, of course," the woman simpered. "We are so grateful you choose to share your work with us, Mistress."

Sick, thought Lori, the word directed more at the admirer than the horrifying displays themselves. Angelique had already given Lori the grand tour and bragged her ear off about her visual skills and her ability to keep her ever-regenerating servants alive and conscious throughout the whole gory process. Lori had swallowed her horror and pretended to be fascinated, acutely aware that arguing with Angelique might result in Lori herself being the next art project.

Now the cultists in their fancy dress were appraising the 'artwork' like they were at any black-tie gala, each one trying to butter Angelique up more than the others. They bowed and scraped and made utter fools of themselves praising the woman's genius, which Angelique seemed to bask in. She likes to be praised, Lori thought to herself. She's totally vain and that can be appealed to. It wasn't much of a weapon, but Lori would grasp at any straws she could right now.

Lori turned her eyes up to Angelique and braced herself for the force of the woman's direct gaze. "They're terrifying, but they're beautiful, Mistress," she said in an awestruck voice worthy of an Oscar. "I've never seen anything like them."

*****

The calculating little bitch, Angelique thought. She had heard Lori's interior comment about her vanity loud and clear. Perhaps this girl had more will about her than Angelique had expected, but it didn't matter. Every thrall Angelique created all had to learn the same painful lesson, usually sooner rather than later. And now was as good a time as any for this rebellious little creation of hers.

"Really, dear?" Angelique said, turning her gaze on Lori. The girl immediately recoiled, but Angelique reached out to take her by the chin and turned her head until she was looking into her eyes. "And what did you call me? Vain?" Lori's eyes widened and she swallowed hard, shaking her head in the negative, but Angelique would not release her. "And now you're lying. There is something that you must know, Lori," she said staring deeply through the windows to the girl's soul and seeing it laid bare before her. It was a delightful mess in there, with no end to the trauma and repressed fears just waiting to be unleashed. Humans with their little monkey brains were painfully simplistic to Angelique, and the tiniest bit of mental probing uncovered a good old case of unrealized nosophobia brought on by a parent dying of breast cancer. It would do just fine for her purposes.

"Know, Lori, that for as long as you live, for as long as we are together, you must never... ever... lie to me." With the power of her mind, she sent out a tendril of thought, penetrating Lori right between the eyes and burying itself in the soft folds of her brain. Lori looked at her questioningly for a second, and then suddenly her eyes widened in shock and fear. A look of abject horror twisted Lori's face as she raised her hands before her with her eyes bugging from their sockets. She opened her mouth, but no scream came forth at first, just a long low gasp of utmost dread. Lori fell to her knees staring at her hands, her mouth wrenched open in a silent howl of terror.

*****

Before her eyes, Lori was rotting.

It began as a flash of sudden pain in her hands. She looked and saw splotches of dark red flesh on her palms, but in an eyeblink it began to reach out toward her fingers and back toward her wrists. As she watched, the skin of her hands darkened from an angry infected red to necrotic black, and the flesh began to swell and bloat. As painful blisters formed on her knuckles, the same infection had passed Lori's wrists and was making rapid pace up her arms, the skin blackening all the way.

Lori gagged at the sight of her own flesh corrupting like a rapid time-lapse video. In seconds, her bare arms had turned a foul greenish black all the way to her shoulders and the rotting flesh of her hands had ruptured to expose the bones. The gaping ulcers that the disease left behind bled horrid yellow gray pus, and they rapidly traveled up her arms as the infection spread. She could feel it moving across her skin like a living thing, defiling everything it touched as it traveled through the pathways of her body. It reached her heart in seconds, spreading the crawling rot in all directions at once.

Lori's legs betrayed her, and she staggered to her knees, watching as the flesh on her thighs blackened, putrefied, and broke open, erupting with a foul, malodorous discharge that nearly made her vomit. It was gangrene, it was leprosy, it was cancer, it was every disease at once racing down her legs until it reached her feet. The skin blackened and split open where it was the thinnest first, but rapidly spread until not an inch of her was uncontaminated. In seconds, her toes had rotted off.

When the festering disease began to crawl its way up Lori's throat, she finally found the breath to scream. It started high and wailing but quickly turned to a gurgle as her tongue blackened, swelled, and ruptured inside her mouth and suddenly Lori was drowning in a fetid soup. Her mouth gaped as her gums blackened and her teeth fell out, and her pert nose collapsed in on itself. Her vision suddenly blurred, objects around her becoming less and less distinct by the second until she was blind as her eyeballs collapsed and rotted out of her head. Lori pitched forward and from her mouth spewed forth a rancid stew that was what was left of her internal organs.