A Samhainn Tale


Despite my nervousness there is something magical about it. The smell of the coal maybe? The steam? Or maybe just the beauty of the old train and I fleetingly wonder how these amazing feats of engineering ever gave way to the monstrosities of today?

I try to look out of the window but a thick fog has descended. I get only the occasional glimpse of dark, deserted countryside. Once, high up, a glimpse of a huge steel bridge spanning a deep, rocky gorge. There is nothing looks familiar and I realise have no idea where we are or in which direction we are travelling.


Finally the train begins to slow, gradually drawing to a standstill. My door clicks and swings open, seemingly of it's own accord and I step out onto another deserted, wind swept platform. I should be afraid. I could be anywhere. There could be anyone watching me but for some reason I feel no fear.

There is only one way to go; a single, narrow, scrub filled path that I follow out of the station and onto a narrow track that winds snake like up the hill. It seems lighter here. More like dusk than night but when I go to check my watch I realise I have left it behind.

At the top of the track is what appears to be a man made cave, cut straight out of the rock of the hillside. There is no other way to go. No other path I can take. So, steeling myself, I step into the darkness.

Thankfully it doesn't last long and when I emerge, the view before me takes my breath away. The track continues upward, a few small outbuildings and then in the distance, the biggest, blackest, most foreboding castle I have ever seen! As though it has been lifted straight from a fairytale.


As I walk on I realise that what I had taken for an outbuilding is in fact an Inn. The door swings open as I draw near and a woman steps out to greet me. She is older than me. Kind faced and matronly with strong arms. The stereotypical image of a fairytale innkeepers wife.

"You must be Miss Walsh. I've been expecting you."

"Yes," I reply.

"Good. If you would care to follow me, I will show you to your room."

I follow her through a solid looking wooden door and into the bar area. There is an open fire in the grate, surrounded by a number of empty, old oak tables. There is only one other patron, an old man, who nods to me in greeting as we pass.

She shows me up some stairs and into a small, comfortable looking room, dominated by a huge, dark, four poster bed. At the foot of the bed is a large, empty brass bath.

I turn to ask where I am, what I am supposed to do now, but I am too late and she is already bustling her way back down the narrow staircase.

The bed is enormous. Enough room for four let alone one. I clamber on to it, only intending to relax for a moment, but all of a sudden I feel a wave of exhaustion wash over me and before I know it my eyes flutter closed as drowsiness creeps over me.


I am in a hall of some sort. Everywhere I look are lights. There are many, many others there. Most are in Halloween costumes but my eye is drawn to a single figure.

She is unquestionably the most exotic woman I have ever seen. She is perched in a huge, throne like chair, a drink in her hand. In conversation with what appears to be someone dressed as a dwarf.

Her features are almost oriental. Glossy black hair and high cheek bones with slanted feline eyes. Unlike the other revellers she wears no costume or mask or jewellery. Even her feet are bare. The only thing she has on is a black catsuit, so tight that it could have been painted on to her.

Her body is incredible. Her figure petite yet well muscled. Like a gymnast, or professional athlete. High, full breasts on an otherwise boyish frame.

There is something odd about her mannerisms though. They are slightly off, jerky. Something almost reptilian about her movements. Yet for all that she is easily the most beautiful woman I have ever seen.

She turns to look at me, her eyes locking on mine, tongue flickering briefly across her lips.

I recoil in shock. Her tongue is black and long. Forked like that of a lizard. I see her smirk at my reaction before she turns her attention back to the dwarf and my vision fades.


I don't know what happens but when my senses return the location has changed again and I am at the end of a long, narrow room. Mirrors line the walls from floor to ceiling. He is there. Watching me. In front of him, the same woman from the hall.

I stand facing the mirror. Watching their reflections behind me. Slowly she begins to pad toward me, the slightest sway to her hips. Again, my breath catches in my throat at her beauty.

She doesn't speak at all and I watch her draw closer and closer in the mirror until she is standing directly behind me. Up close her eyes are black. It takes me a second to realise that she has no iris, just huge, inky pupils. The effect is creepy. Unnerving.

I jump a little as she reaches up and eases the brown curtain of my hair aside, bearing the porcelain white flesh of my neck. Her nails are long. Talon like. She sees me looking and smiles, her teeth small and white and pointed.

I continue to observe her as she reaches forward, her forefinger going to the nape of my neck. My breathing becomes shallow and rapid. Slowly she draws it all the way down the length of my body and down and my dress and underwear are pared from me, parting as if she had used a knife. Falling to pool at my feet.

I stiffen as her hand slides around my ribcage and up to my breast. Remembering the way the talon had sliced my clothing. But the touch of her finger on my nipple is gentle and I shudder in surprised pleasure as it becomes erect.

I have never felt an attraction to another woman before and the feeling is alien, unsettling. She watches my eyes in the mirror as though sensing my indecision. I know that she wants me and despite my nervousness I am curious enough to let her continue.

I allow her to ease me forward, bracing my hands against the cool glass. My eyes still on her in the mirror as she drops to her knees behind me.

She hesitates, allowing me to dwell for a moment before her hands go to my bottom and spread me a little. I arch my back to give her better access, anticipating her intention. Willing her to continue.

The touch of her mouth, when it comes, is not what what I expect. Higher. Unfamiliar. Probing. My eyes widen with shock.

"Oh...that way. No one has...I've never..," I stutter.

There is the briefest moment of slick, viscous pressure between my buttocks as her tongue licks slowly across my anus, the unfamiliar sensation making me gasp.

There is something undeniably erotic and taboo about it. We have not spoken a word. Have not even kissed, yet I can feel the heat of her breath back there against me. Her mouth right up against that forbidden place and I squirm a little. Knowing what is coming.

She does it slowly. Almost leisurely. Pushing her tongue impossibly far into me and then back out before repeating the process. I am shocked at how good it feels.

My reflection in the mirror is staggeringly erotic. I barely even recognise it as being me. My nipples jut out, hard and erect, my entire front flushed with arousal from neck to belly. I can see her in the mirror too, kneeling between my wide spread legs.

My hips rock slowly back and forth in time with the movement of her tongue. Each time it goes into me it is deeper than the time before, soon every inward motion driving me up onto the balls of my feet.

Her hands come up to squeeze my breasts, tugging sharply down on my nipples, elongating them as I whimper with pleasure, pressing myself back onto her mouth. Her nails drag down my rib cage, making me shiver, her fingers finally coming to rest between my legs. As she strokes me I notice that her skin has just the slightest roughness, the friction thrilling me almost beyond toleration.

I can feel that long black tongue churning around high up inside my belly somewhere. Can even see the movement in the mirror. I let out a long groan. Completely lost in the waves of pleasure that are beginning to wash over me.

I wonder fleetingly if she is going to kill me. I am positive she could if she chose to. Is this how I am going to die? Her claws piercing my flesh. That hideous black tongue pushing all the way up through me?

Either way I am going to come. Can feel it building in every muscle in my body.

However, this time it is different. They do not give me my release. Instead I hear only the faint strains of her melodic laughter as I wake on my front in the strange bed, still at the brink of orgasm.

I know I should be appalled. Should run from this place. Back to Tom. Anywhere. Instead my hand goes down between my legs and finds my clit. I moan out loud. So close, but not quite the same. Why did I have to wake up?

I reach back with my free hand easing first one finger, then another into my body. Trying to replicate the feeling of her tongue. Touching myself there. It tips me over and I come but my orgasm is weak, empty by comparison and I moan in frustration, quickly frigging myself to another orgasm, then another. Still not satisfied.

The only thing that stops me carrying on is a sharp rap at the door.


When I open it there is nothing but a note and a costume on a hanger. It is a simple, black silk dress and a silver mask. There are also shoes. Delicate black high heeled sandles.

The note is simple: "The Festivities will commence at midnight. Now bathe, dress."

I turn toward the bath, noting how it is now filled with hot, steaming water. How? When? My skin feels sweaty and clammy from my recent exertions and I remember that I didn't have a chance to shower this morning. I quickly I strip off my remaining clothes and step into the hot water, luxuriating in it's warmth.

After bathing I look again at the outfit that is laid out before me. Taking a deep breath to calm myself, I set about trying it on.

Whoever has picked out these clothes for me has impeccable taste. They fit perfectly. The thin silk of the dress hugs my petite figure, covering me but leaving little to the imagination. There is no underwear with the costume so I surmise that I am not intended to wear any.

The heels really are very high but they make me look taller than my normal 5'5". My legs look long and shapely. The height of the heels forcing me to pull my shoulders back, improving my posture and jutting my breasts out so that they look fuller than their normal B Cup.

I take a deep breath, trying to calm myself down. I am still hugely and obviously turned on. Chest flushed. The shape of my nipples clearly visible beneath the dress. I feel a frisson of excitement at the prospect of going out like this in public.

Thank god for the mask. The only thing that may preserve my dignity. At least no one will know who I am and I can hide my face.

I try not to think about Him. What he will say. Those dark, knowing eyes. Whatever happens, I must maintain my composure. I am only here to find out what is happening to me. How I can stop it. I am not here for Him. Above all, I must not let him touch me. Or kiss me. Or fuck me...


My bright red lipstick is the only addition I make to the ensemble. I pause to pout in the mirror one final time before descending the stairs and striding through the door. Determined this time to get some answers.

The woman behind the bar looks up as I enter. Pouring something into a glass and placing it before me.

"Here, my dear. Drink this. It will help to calm your nerves."

"Thank you," I respond, taking the proffered drink. "My nerves are fine though. I was hoping you could tell me where I am? What I am supposed to do next?"

She only looks blankly back at me. I re-state my question but still she doesn't respond other than to smile benignly at me.

"She can't," rasps the old man from his spot across the bar where he is nursing a pint of deep, red ale, "That isn't the way of things here."

"Where is here? Where are we?"

"Here?" he says, with a rueful chuckle. "This is an in between place."

"An in between place?"

"Yes. Samhainn. The night that the "veil" between the seen and the unseen is at its thinnest."


"Or All Hallows Eve, Hallow e'en."

"What's that got to do with anything?"

"It is the night that they are able to cross between. Him, and the rest of his ilk. It is also the time that people such as you can cross the other way.

"Such as me?"

"The lost. The confused. Those that are in that liminal space. Neither one thing or another. Ripe for him. Like you. I can see how ripe you are for him. Can almost smell you," he chuckles.

I flush at his words.

"I don't know what you mean. I am only here because I want to be. I'm not 'ripe' for anyone!"

He lets out another lewd chuckle at my indignation.

"No? Do you really think you can resist him if he wants you? Really think that he wont have every hole of you and still have you begging for more?"

"That's disgusting" I stutter, turning my back on him.

"Maybe," he says "But you are in a great deal of danger. Open your eyes little girl, before it is too late."

"Oh shut up. I'm not listening to another word of this nonsense" I hiss, downing my drink and storming out through the door. Flustered by the bizarre conversation.


The walk to the castle passes as though I am dreaming. One minute I am stepping out of the Inn, the next I am there. Standing before a huge pair of wooden doors. A single attendant waiting for me.

It is only then that I realise that I am completely dry even though the rain is driving down so hard that I can barely hear anything else. But then there is the sound of bells ringing for midnight and the thought is forgotten as the doors swing wide and I step over the threshold and into a wonder.


November 1st

The room is enormous. Spectacular. Every last surface shimmers with light from a thousand lanterns. The air itself is cool and crisp and perfect. Permeated with scents and sounds to entice and enchant.

And the costumes! I have never seen anything like it. Everywhere are goblins and witches and giants and all manner of incredible creatures. It is like a fairytale. As though they are not costumes at all. My own attire feels shabby by comparison.

At least I am not alone though. There are almost as many people with masks as there are in costume.

Someone presses a drink into my hand as I enter. Despite its size, the room feels intimate. The guests are few enough that they remain individual people rather than a vast crowd. Everywhere there are smiles and the sounds of laughter.

Then there is the music. Beautiful and bewitching, like nothing I have ever heard. The sounds blending perfectly. By turns euphonious, rhythmic, melancholy. There is dancing too.

I lose track of the number of partners and remember none. But all move with a rare grace and flow and I struggle to keep up. Whirling me around. A hand on my hip. A gentle caress on my neck. A hand high on my bare thigh. Never has dancing been so sensual, so carnal. Almost like foreplay. I dance until my head is spinning.

When finally I excuse myself I am flushed with arousal. My nipples standing up hard and erect beneath my dress once more.

Somehow there is always a drink in my hand. A delicious, pungent, spiced wine that coats my palate. Thick and sweet on my tongue.

Then I see him. He is standing talking to a woman. Deep in conversation. I experience a moment of deja vu before I realise that I know her. When that realisation comes I gasp and take an involuntary step back. She is the woman from my dream.

It is at this exact moment that both of them look up. I feel like a rabbit caught in the headlights under their combined gaze. The woman lets out a knowing smirk as her eyes meet mine and I find myself blushing furiously, still remembering what she was doing when last I saw her.

She turns and whispers something to Him before taking a sip of her drink. To my considerable relief I note that when she licks her lips her tongue is pink and normal rather than black and lizard like. But then he smiles and moves toward me and the rest of the room is forgotten.


Up close he is even more beautiful. He is tall. Slim hipped and broad shouldered. Even the way he moves sends a tight rush of arousal straight through me. Graceful, like a dancer. He smiles knowingly as he takes my hand, his eyes on mine the entire time as he raises it to his lips.

"Miss Walsh. It is a pleasure to finally make your acquaintance in person. Please, come. You must have many questions."

"Yes" I stammer in response. Allowing him to lead me by the hand away from the party, through an archway, down another corridor that opens out into another room.

I belatedly realise that he has led me to a bedroom. All red silk, cinnamon and candles.

"What's happening to me? Where are we?" I ask as he steps closer. His hand reaching out, peeling the mask from my eyes, tilting my chin up toward him.

"Shh. All in good time," he says, leaning in, planting a light kiss on my mouth. Then another.

"No. Stop," I stutter. A hand on his chest. It feels hot against my palm. The muscles hard beneath his shirt.

"You don't want it?" he says, walking me back across the room until I feel the bed against the backs of my legs.

"No. I... you promised me answers..." my voice doesn't even sound convincing to me.

"Which you will get..."

He steps closer. His body pressing against me. I have nowhere to go other than on to the bed. He really does have the most beautiful eyes. Brown. Or blue. Maybe grey? Then he kisses me again and I am lost. I kiss him back hungrily.

I can't help but moan into his mouth with desire. My skin is burning hot. Tingling. The slightest touch from his fingertips on my neck, the brush of his lips against my ear sends hot little pulses of excitement straight to my groin.

When finally he eases me back, onto the bed, the only sound I make is a very soft, very acquiescent moan. He lifts my dress. Pushes my legs back and apart. I let him.

"What are you going to do to me?" I whisper.

"I think you know," he replies, dipping down. The slow swirl of his tongue across my clit making me cry out before he raises his head again.

"I want you to tell me."

He smiles, amused.

"First I'm going to have you here," he says, his fingertips tracing over my mouth and then down, over my collarbone. Slowly dragging down the length of my body.

"Then here..," as they reach my sex, dipping briefly into me. I spread my legs wider as his fingers continue their downward journey.

"Then finally, here," smearing my moisture over the tight star of my anus. Circling.

I can only groan in response. His slightest touch has me burning up and by the time he straightens up to remove his clothes I am almost panting with lust.

His body is flawless. Smooth sculpted muscle. I draw a sharp intake of breath as his cock swings upright. Hard, erect and perfect. He is big too. Considerably bigger than any of my previous lovers and I fleetingly wonder whether he is too large?

It is only a momentary thought though as he moves in between my legs. There is no fumbling. No need to guide him with my hand. He finds me with ease and slides in, deep.

I come immediately. No build up, just instant orgasm ripping straight through me. Stretched so wide that I can barely clamp down on him but it doesn't matter.

He leans forward and sucks my hard nipples up into his mouth. One and then the other. I buck my hips up at him almost uncontrollably as he fucks me with unequalled skill. Occasionally leaning in to kiss me. Occasionally pulling out to feed his wet prick into my willing mouth or to change my position.

But never does he let my excitement drop. He is an artist. A magician. The way he plays my body, slowly ratcheting up my excitement. I beg, I moan, sometimes I scream yet still it goes on.

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