Lust Lurks at Dark Lair Read online

  Katarina, Karel’s wife, had the honor of leading the parade of long, shapely legs to the very edge of the stage. One man, his lust well oiled with ale, reached out and caressed her silky thigh.

  “Pig!” she spat out, leaning forward and slapping his face.

  The rest of the audience roared with laughter as the man jerked back, touching his stinging face in disbelief.

  Sonja danced on Katarina’s right. At one end Varina stood, at the other, beaming Addy. They winked at each other,

  Let the contest begin!

  Karel set the mood with his violin, leading Stasio’s guitar and Zivon’s concertina along a sinuous, carefree melody. The gypsy girls swayed in place, the quick, exaggerated jerking of their hips timed by the insistent, primitive rhythm of cymbals and tambourine. Their lifted arms became weaving serpents overhead, threading a cunning weave in love’s loom of lust.

  A wordless susurration worked the throats of the men, a moaning surf of desire, reaching out froth-tipped waves of supplication, falling prostrate on tawny sand, caressing its yielding softness, receding again into a churning sea inside the men’s bellies.

  Zivon’s concertina now took the lead as he stepped in front of the other two men. He coaxed a reedy wheeze of the panting chase from its flexing lung, painting in the air a scene of attempted abduction. The girls danced out the pantomime of pretty girls being hunted, chased, and singled out for rape by the male animals that were always lurking in the dark shadows nearby.

  Karel’s violin bow transmuted into a symbol of a penis, thrusting, searching, coaxing and threatening pretty virgins, pantomiming penetration as his quick boots danced among the pretended terror of the girls. They lifted their skirts, bit by bit, until four powder-puff pussies peered out from flexing thighs. Stasio’s busy fingers plucked at the guitar strings, an allegory of five manic penises straining to penetrate the orifice under the strings.

  Finally the music slowed sinking to a whisper. The girl’s movements were sleepy, languid, as if in a dreamy afterglow while bodies luxuriate in the aura of after fucking fatigue. Torsos bent as arms and shoulders hung limp, fingertips brushing against their legs.

  The music flared up in a momentary climax and stopped. The girls stretched their skirts forward into shallow basins, snaring the surge of coins tossed at them.

  Addy now pushed Katarina and Sonja down the steps, off the stage while Varina whispered into Karel’s ear. He glanced at her, raising one eyebrow. She responded by pinching his trouser fly and winking. With a shake of his head, he lifted his violin and made a great sweep of his bow.

  A shriek of rabid passion leaped out into the air. A musical madness, unchecked, a heart-hammering lust, gripped the room. This mood was beyond the rational human mind. It reached back into the ultimate darkness and gripped the ruff of some prehistoric, pre-human beast skulking in the subconscious. Snarling and writhing, resenting the cage that evolution and social censure had imprisoned it in, the beast named carnal lust was dragged out and set free for unchecked looting of human souls.

  Addy and Varina spun into the incubus dance, mimicking the beautiful and diabolical female creature that came to men in their beds at midnight and drained their paralyzed, helpless bodies of cum. Not satisfied with merely lifting their skirts, first Addy, then Varina, ripped them off, tossing the ragged shreds of silk into the sea of men before them. Shouts and scuffles broke out as losers tried to snatch away a fragment of cloth from the possessors.

  “Here’s more,” Addy shouted, ripping away strips of her blouse, rubbing them firmly against her exposed breasts before she launched them toward men who had not caught any souvenirs of skirt fragments. Varina also made short work of her blouse, adding it to the blizzard of female-scented tatters. Now both girls danced utterly naked while the gypsy men struggled to concentrate on playing their music. Never before had they performed with such eager girls.

  Each girl strove to outdo the other in arousing the audience. Nothing was too wild, too shameful, and too taboo for them to do. Addy smirked at Varina, gloating that she was the only girl here with a golden blond pussy thatch.

  Just see if you can compete with my gold silk muff!

  But Varina was more experienced. Seduction is an honored art-form in Voldavia, and girls are raised to lure bashful men away from protecting mothers. Varina’s dance hinted, then boasted of new paths to sensual ecstasy, new positions of sexual coupling that amplified the joyous sensations of cumming. More and more men’s eyes shifted toward Varina, prisoners of her bounding breasts and squirming pussy.

  Addy tried harder, desperate to escape the agreed penalty for losing the contest. Finally, in a wild leap, she jumped up on the bartender’s counter. Dancing along its length, her golden-haloed pussy was fully exposed to the leering faces. The bartender unbuttoned his fly behind the shield of the counter, fondling himself as he gaped up under Addy’s flaring thighs at her whirling chamber of love.

  Not content to just let them look, Addy kicked up her heels, letting her ass fall to the counter surface, the impact softened by her splayed hands. Grabbing the hair of the nearest man, she jerked his head into her crotch, mashing his mouth against her hot pussy. With the frantic rhythm of the music, she squirmed it against his face. Her head flew back, her mouth gaped open and she shrieked and screamed. The man struggled for breath, gulping and choking as the pungent flow of Addy’s cum-juice flooded across his tongue. A downpour of coins cascaded around Addy, many of them yellow gold.

  Every male face was turned toward her. Every male eye, wide with surprise and delight, drank in this supernatural vision of ultimate female essence. Every throat went dry as breathing halted.

  Varina stopped dancing, rooted to the stage in wide-eyed disbelief. Even in Voldavia a girl does not force men to perform oral sex on her naked body in front of a public gathering. But this blonde sex-animal is doing just that. Surely these men know who she is. And what will they say among this community, and what will her family hear of this night? She has destroyed her future.

  But Addy had won the contest. For whatever it would cost her, she had proved herself the sexual champion of the village, the Shire, and probably all of this nation. Whether they burned her at the stake, or erected a golden statue in her image, Addy would live in memories and imaginations for a thousand years.

  The gypsy wagon threaded wheel-ruts in the soil of the road as a sleepy Tabor swished his tail and plodded homeward through a darkness far past midnight. All but Karel, who handled Tabor’s reins, were clustered inside. Behind the curtain that partitioned off the bed, Addy watched each gypsy man take his turn fucking a spread-eagled and tied Varina lying on the bed. When he was finished, a grinning Stasio took over the driving, while Karel went inside and crawled on top of Varina.

  When all had their turn with her, Addy untied her and shooed her out. Dragging the one chair in the wagon behind the curtain, she invited all the men to enter one at a time. Once inside, she tugged down the man’s pants and shoved him into the chair. With a wicked smile, she climbed on top of him, doing a wild lap-dance on his cock. It was a weary and very satisfied band of gypsies that finally arrived back at the campsite a scant hour before dawn.

  Chapter Five

  Crimes Of Lust

  The Pokehollow village bell whipped on its pivot, the iron tongue smashing against the inside of its trumpet mouth. The heartbeat clanging roused the people to a midnight horror. Screams of a maiden, someone’s captured daughter being carried off, echoed down the street. Her terrified shrieks drew every eye to the dark hulk of some careening creature. His body and the terrified girl disappeared into Darklair Forest at the south-western edge of town.

  Slung over the creature’s ponderous, unsymmetrical back, the girl thrashed, waving her arms and screaming for help. The golden cloud of her silken hair flailed across her pretty face, a forecast of the fate soon to torment the rest of her body.

  Some of the village men carried torches, some guns. More than twenty stormed down the street, ye
lling and cursing as they pursued the thing. They lost sight of it as they dashed among the trees, but still heard the cries of the beautiful young girl.

  A short, thickset man crouched behind a shaggy clump of hazel bushes leaped up and cried out in a hoarse whisper. “My friend, my dearest friend, quick! Into these bushes. We must gag the girl so she cannot give away our hiding place!”

  The hulk stumbled into the brush, still thick with leaves in late October, and pressed the girl to the ground. The man shoved a rolled rag into her mouth and tied the ends behind her head.

  “Yes, my friend,” the man whispered. “It is me, Dagan, your brother. Quick, we must tie her arms and legs so the village men won’t hear her thrashing about.”

  They finished just as the villagers rushed past on either side. Dagan sat on the girl’s torso to hold her still until the pursuers were far beyond, hooting and calling out the girl’s name. “Luvina! Luvina! Where are you?”

  Both the grotesque shape and Dagan held their breath until they were sure the villagers weren’t returning to search the bushes more carefully.

  “Now, let’s have a look at your captive, my friend.” Dagan gripped the girl’s hair and lifted her head into a beam of pale moonlight. Both male throats gasped with a lusty breath.

  Luvina’s wide, tear-vexed blue eyes stared at the leering faces of her captors. The petite nose above her gag flared as she panted, her lungs expanding to intensify the surging motion of her abundant breasts. The hulk dragged his callused fingers over the filmy nightgown barely concealing Luvina’s breasts and torso. He toyed with the loose bow knot of her gown’s cloth belt.

  “Not yet, my friend. Not here. We will take her back to your chamber in the castle cellar, where we will be safe. Then we can play with her until she no longer amuses us. No one will know where she is, or what we are doing to her.”

  A soft, half-rumble, half-bellow gurgled in the thing’s throat. If it sounded more human, it would be wicked laughter.

  They picked up the girl, her bound and struggling body once again doubled over the form’s crooked shoulder. They were only dark shadows against the black horizon, shuffling along the edge of the forest, heading west toward the distant, sinister silhouette of Baron Reznik’s castle.

  The only sounds were the panting of their breath, the muffled sobs of the girl, and the swish of coarse grass against their hurrying legs, and the gurgling splashes as they waded across the Nephron River. The male sex hormones mixed a thick broth in their veins, pressing Dagan’s cock hard against his trouser fly, and the creature’s long, thick erection lifting his loincloth. The virulent fire in their groins gave wings to their feet.

  The village men milled about the heart of the woods, defeated by the darkness and the thickset tree trunks of Lairwood forest. The fallen October leaves carpeted the ground, concealing any footpaths that might guide them. Not one of them was familiar with this forest. No one dared enter, even in the safety of the noonday sun. In every Pokehollow cottage, evil tales of Lairwood had been whispered around the cozy fireplace while outside, the blackness of night scrubbed against frail windowpanes. The abducted girl’s father fell to his knees, lifting his arms, rage burning in his eyes, cursing the diabolical spirits that roamed the dark places like specters, haunting the farms and villages as the end of October neared, hunting for the sweetness of young female flesh.

  Long before even a hint of dawn stained the eastern hills, Dagan and his friend reached the comforting sanctuary of Machival Castle, the Darklair. The girl opened her eyes and stared up at the frowning walls and sneering bulk of the soaring stone towers. Her mouth struggled to scream through the coarse gag. The feeble whines that escaped were smothered by the grunting glee from Dagan and his monstrous friend.

  Dagan’s key glittered in his hand, and the cellar door yawned open into a darkness more ghastly than the blackest of nights. It was a mouth, swallowing the two males and their helpless captive, sucking a female prisoner into the castle’s dank stone belly to be sexually digested.

  ***

  “All right! Stop shouting! Only one of you speaks at a time!” Inspector Gall strode over to his desk in his Lympwick Village police station. He nodded to his police sergeant and sat down. “Now, who will speak first?” He glared at the crowd of faces clustered in front of his desk.

  “I am the girl’s father.” A thin, gray-haired man scooted forward, dipping his head in respect, making him appear even shorter than his 5 foot 3 inch height. “My Luvina, me poor, dear daughter; you must find her and punish that thing that carried her off.”

  “What do you mean, ‘thing’?” Gall asked. “Wasn’t it a man?”

  “None of us could say that for sure, yer honor,” another man said. “We were all in our beds, you know, when this terrified shriek woke the whole village. By the time we was out our doors, the thing was galloping away at the end of the street, and the poor girl screaming for help.”

  “We couldn’t see him much, you see, yer honor,” another man said from the back of the group. “He was more a shadow than a body, and moving fast-like.”

  “Yes, yer honor,” the second man continued. “If’n it weren’t for the girl’s white nightgown, we couldn’t ‘a seen anything at all.”

  “It’s them damn gypsies!” the girl’s father shouted. His gaunt body shook with rage and tears streamed down his face. “They took my poor darling to their wagons, I’m certain, and sported with her all night. When me and these others went to their camp this morning, they denied everything. We searched their wagons, but poor Luvina wasn’t there. She’s being kept in that Blackthorne forest, most likely. There’s strange goings-on and unholy creatures roamin’ in that cursed place, and more’s the likely this time in October.”

  “We want you to give us permission to trespass on the Cailean’s estate,” the first man said, “and search the forest for Luvina before it’s too late.”

  “Probably already too late.” A sour-faced farmer stood next to the man. He turned and scowled at him. “Well, sure, you’re not thinking they’d let her loose to testify against them?”

  The girl’s father broke into sobs, his friends on each side patting his shoulders and speaking softly to him.

  “I’ll question the gypsies myself,” Inspector Gall said. “And I’ll have my four constables search the Cailean’s forest. Now all of you go back to your village and put away your guns. One foolish mistake, and the whole shire will be in an uproar.” He glared at their sullen faces. “I said go home!”

  The grumbling men shuffled out the door into the streets of Lympwick.

  “Sergeant Riley,” Gall said, “have the constables round up the usual suspects. I’m going to call on the Cailean family, and ask them about the gypsies camped on their moor, then ride out to the camp and find out if the gypsies saw or heard anything last night.”

  “Yes, sir,” the tall, flame-haired sergeant replied.

  ***

  “Take off your clothes,” Dagan said, “all of them.”

  “No!” The girl gasped. “No, never!” She shrank back into the dark corner of the tiny cell. The damp, cold stone wall pressed against the frail fabric of her gown.

  Dagan sighed impatiently, his face side-lit by the sputtering flame in the hanging lantern. “I’ve told you all this before. A girl with your pretty face and beautiful body should be forbidden to wear any covering that hides your female charms. You should be forced to go naked in public, and yield your body to any man who wants to fuck you.” Dagan’s smile vanished. “Now, until you undress and shove your clothing through the bars of the door, you will get nothing to eat or drink; not even a sip of water.”

  “You’re horrible, cruel, and crazy! You will hang for this!”

  “You’re the one who will be hanging if you don’t obey us, my dear; by your wrists, from those chains above your head. My friend, here, will be delighted to undress you himself.”

  “Keep that monster away from me. That’s not a human. His body is like some deformed
giant. Look at his lumpy face; it’s all hideous scars, and one eye is in the wrong place.”

  The creature exhaled a rumbling snarl and inched closer to the steel bars of the door. He reached through the bars and grasped at her, his stubby fingers just a few scant inches from her surging breasts. Luvina’s blue eyes widened and she pressed her body tighter into the corner. Her breath came in terrified gasps.

  “Easy, my friend. Let her be. The more she talks, the more terrified she becomes. That will make our toy even more fun to play with.” He turned back to Luvina. “How can you stop us? My ‘deformed’ friend here could rip those steel bars right out of the stone doorway. Think what he could do to your arms and legs, if you anger him.”

  Luvina turned her face away and hid her streaming eyes behind her trembling hands.

  “My dear child,” Dagan said with a wink to his hulking friend, “I didn’t mean to frighten you so. My friend won’t maim you. We have much more delightful uses for your body, don’t we, my friend?”

  Luvina uncovered her eyes just in time to see Dagan turn and lift the hulk’s loincloth, exposing the throbbing monstrosity of male sexual power; huge, erect and expanded, yearning to slide inside the moist sheath of Luvina’s virgin pussy. A viscid drop of lust-serum dangled from the dark, vertical slit in its tip. Luvina’s eyes bulged with horror and unbelief. “Oh my God!” she gasped, and fainted.

  ***

  “Welcome, Inspector Gall,” Selby, the butler said, “What can we do for you today?”

  “I’ve come here to Blackthorne House to speak with Sir Richard. Is he in today?”

  “Yes, sir. Please come this way.” Selby led the inspector down the hall and into the parlor. “Inspector Gall to see you, Sir.”

  “Hello, Gall.” Richard extended his hand in greeting. “This is a pleasant surprise. I hope you haven’t come to file a protest about our Annual Ball last month?”