The Trap Ch. 01

I'd been riding forever it seemed. Ten days on the road, with all the necessary stops, and I was stuck on the dullest road in the dullest state in the U.S.---Oklahoma. If boredom earned me money I'd be a fucking trillionaire by now. Flat and only broken by the occasional oil rig, I rode on working my way to my ultimate goal--my brother's house in New Mexico.

It started simply because I needed a change. So I did what anyone else would do, I bought a bike, supplies for it, clothing and food and decided to ride across the country. Ok, so sue me, I'm not everybody, but then I never was to begin with. Heck, the day I was born, at least according to family rumor, I slapped the doc and told him to touch me again at his peril.

So, even for me, this trip was nothing out of the ordinary. At least it wasn't until I got a flat in the middle of the ass end of nowhere. Suddenly, out of the ether it seemed, showed up a Rolls-Royce Corniche. It was blacker than the night on the dark side of the moon, rolled across the ground both soundlessly and seemingly effortlessly, looked like it belonged to some Saudi oil sheik and was definitely the one thing I never expected to see here let alone offer some help.

As the lone passengers in the care stepped out of it I was amazed as they moved like they were cats and predatory ones at that. These predatory cats, 1 male, 1 female, also gave the impression that I had disturbed them. The funny thing is I could see for mile after mile yet I never knew they were there. There was no inkling of other life until my tire blew out.

Had I stepped one step too far and crossed over into the Twilight Zone? Certainly men and women such as these two were were rarities. The woman had a figure that seemed from another timeframe. Her waist was waspish, as if she had been born with a corset on and never lived without it, and she carried herself with an air of civility that seemed a throwback as compared to our more "modern" times. Her auburn hair was in a tight bun that flowed into a cascading waterfall that went all the way to her ankles. I doubt she'd ever cut her hair. If I were a child I'd swear she was a strict looking schoolmarm. One could almost feel her presence as a palpable force constricting their airways and leaving them gasping for air in her orbit.

Her husband, for surely such a woman as this could not be single, was a rather rugged looking individual yet he somehow seemed as if some geneticist had crossed the Marlboro man with Sir Arthur Conan Doyle. To say the least he was an odd fellow. You'd think he was going to say something and then he just said nothing instead. He seemed to connect with his wife on some sort of non-verbal level. Telepathy maybe. Maybe simple body language instead.

I wasn't sure who, if either, was in charge until, at last, the woman spoke.

"I am Dame Elizabeth," she began, "and this lowly worm is my husband Sir Basil."

"Well," I thought to myself sarcastically, "a right proper English couple."

"I know what you are thinking sir and you are right we are English. How proper though depends on your definition of proper."

I passed out!

How long I was out, or where I was, I do not know. Nor do I recall how exactly I got here in some Victorian age dungeon strapped to a stockade, naked and gagged. Somehow I suspected the two I met I mean it wasn't exactly a bustling metropolis I was in when it happened.

Dame Elizabeth passed into the room as silent as a shadow and as foreboding as a blood moon. And I'll be damned if that wasn't an awfully authentic whalebone corset she was wearing above the black, thigh high, 6" stiletto heeled boots she was wearing that were polished to a high, and flawless, gloss. I expected such boots would make a rather distinctive sound when worn but she moved completely soundlessly until she decided to break the silence herself.

"As I told you my name is Dame Elizabeth and I am English, I am also a rather strict disciplinarian and you have broken the rules," she intoned.

"Rules, what rules?" I stuttered.

"Why, young man," she addressed me, "trespassing of course."

"I don't recall going off the main road so how did I manage to trespass?" I thought.

"You were trespassing when you pulled your bike off the road and on to our private property," she continued.

My eyes went wide in my head but could not recall any signs.

"Don't worry abou not seeing the signs now," she said seemingly reading my mind yet again, "I assure you that they are there."

"Or they will be by morning," she thought.

"Now," she spoke firmly, "let us get to the matter of your punishment. Luckily for you I have certain needs my husband cannot accomodate."

"What is she talking about?" I thought.

"You see I am very much into cuckholding him and making him serve me and the real men I take to my bed," she said.

I felt myself getting lightheaded at this point but said nothing.

"But first you need to prove you are worthy of my bed," she said and I felt her desire in the air when she said it. "I test all of my toys to make sure they are in perfect working order. While you were out we drew blood for several tests and my personal physician checked you out for hernias and the rest. By the by, she says your cock is longer than most and your balls carry an inordinate amount of seed."

Suddenly, she sprayed something in my face and out I went like someone had tripped a light switch.

"A heck of a type of hospitality they offer down South," I thought sarcasticly when I awoke in a different room strapped naked and spread-eagle to a California king-size, four poster bed made out of mahogany.

"Well," Dame Elizabeth said, "it took 4 days for the results to come back from the lab but you got a clean bill of health."

"Great," I said, "and that means?"

"Why that I can use you however I wish without fear of disease silly boy," she laughed and her laugh sounded like broken glass falling on a concrete floor. Although, I had the feeling I was the one about to be broken.

"It wasn't me who trespassed on private property Vlad," she said.

"God Lord, she knows my name and other information from my wallet," I thought.

"Yes, I know who you are Mr. Tepes," she intoned. "Interesting name there was a very famous person of the same name and because of what he'd done the villagers tooks to calling him Vlad Dracula, Vlad the Impaler and few much less flattering names. Of course Dracula is a myth, no such creature exists, but a heck of a coincidence nonetheless."

As she pulled me from the bed I followed her to her bedroom and whereas what I was in was outrageously expensive looking hers was right off the charts. I even saw the supposedly "lost" nude Picasso over the bed--easily worth $50,000,000 or more. I was pulled down on top of her so perfectly that my rampant member, though I don't remember getting hard in the first place, sank straight into her already soaking weet Delta of Venus.

There were skilled courtesans who did not know half of the sexual acts that we performed that night. And the whole time Mr Marlboro man was stroking his cock while watching his wife ravage mine. I could see that they were a perfect match for each other right down to the way her exhibitionistic tendencies mirrored his voyeuristic streak, their orgasms both came simultaneously and the lust in their eyes was reflected each in the others.

I was but a little surprised when Dame Elizabeth decided to roll me over on my stomach, stick my ass in the air and tie me firmly to her bed.

"You are a great lover Vlad, but I can make you a better one," she simply stated. "When I am done with you, however far in the future that may be, you will have any woman you want, however you want, upon command."

"And what is the catch? The cost?" I asked.

"Nothing you really need," she said, "just your soul. It is not like you'll want it by then anyway. I guarantee it."

I was stunned. Was she Mephistopheles to my Faust?

"And how long is this deal good for?" I inquired.

"Eternity," she said casually as if she knew once I asked that question that I was hers.

"And what if I have some stipulations?" I asked furter thinking maybe I could outmanuever her.

"Such as," she hissed quietly at me.

"Well," and I drew out the word ad nauseum, "to begin with I need to know that I will never grow older, I will never die, I will be so handsome, smart and wealthy that noone can resist my lure ever. And when I say wealthy I mean the money flows endlessly forever. Also, I need to know that this deal can never be undone except by me. Have we a deal?"

"Done," she said with a snap of her fingers.

Unfortunately she was too late in realizing that with what she had just given me she gave herself freely to me, forever, with no way out. "I had given most of my soul away hundreds of years ago, so who cared about the little piece that may have been left?" I thought.

"Now, Dame Elizabeth, I want you to suck the priapus that is now you lord and Master. Show me what skills a devil has that a human does not," I said.

I watched, fascinated as the devil, now my own personal sex slave, dropped to her knees and took my cock in her mouth and went to work on it. Her snakelike forked tongue wrapped around my member and teased it to heights of orgasmic bliss that were so intense it was as if my body was an orgasm factory and the workers were on triple overtime to fill the order.

I came and my new toy swallowed every drop of my cream and there were gallons of the stuff after what she had done to me. Next I would have to make sure that I truly was irresistible, but how to test this?

Then it came to me. The answer was right in front of me. Since I can no longer die there is no need to worry about disease and death and since I will be handsome forever disfigurement is out of the question. The only question was who to get to prove it and, since, I can never get a disease, I just told Dame Elizabeth's husband to bend over and I fucked his ass raw until I came in it. I then had her eat my large load out of her hubby's ass and suck my cock clean.

The slut fucking loved it as did his wife. Her eyes glazed over and I knew she was mine forever. The trapper was now the trapped.