Halloween Town Tales No 10 – Through the Looking Glass


Halloween 2016

Perching on the window sill opposite my bed, I stared at my Halloween costume. I’d always wanted to dress up as a saucy Cheshire Cat, and the cute little skirt and knee high socks were sexy with an edge of adorable. But the puss filled stick on boils with their clumps of matted fur? Not so much.

The Chillington Cemetery Halloween Haunt was losing its appeal for me. Maybe it was because I’d landed on the wrong side of twenty five earlier in the year. Don’t get me wrong, though. The Haunt was fun, and some of the things that went on in between the gravestones and behind the mausoleums in the dark could shock a priest right out of his confessional box.

But there was so much kid’s stuff too. Adults chasing each other with plastic worms and spiders, clowns jumping out of bushes, people covering each other in silly string and playing drinking games until they were sick… there was even karaoke this year. That was Megan Walker’s idea. She thought singing to the ‘ghosts’ was a nice touch. Between her and her insane brother, Joey, they’d turned the Haunt into a circus.

I sighed, dropping my damp towel on the floor. I’d showered and dried my hair, so I was already half way ready. As much as I’d rather attend a grown-up Halloween masquerade ball or a ghoulish sit down meal, I’d put my sickly green and pink make-up on and I’d join my friends at the Macabre Hatter’s Tea Party.

But when I sat at my dresser and tried to flick on the mirror lights, I found they weren’t working. The main light in the room was bright, but positioned behind me so I couldn’t see a damned thing. There was only one thing for it.

Grabbing the mirror I’d bought from an old gypsy woman outside of the cemetery, I sat crossed legged by my bed, make-up scattered on the floor around me. The light was perfect, better than my dresser even, but a huge greasy streak covered a section of the glass, blocking my view.

“Damn that fucking gypsy,” I sighed.

It was looking like the grease stain was deliberate. Every bit I wiped away with a facial cleansing wipe revealed a little bit more of a hairline crack that made up a pointed, jagged shard. She’d sold me a useless piece of junk.

Leaning forward with a groan, I tapped my head off the glass… and kept going.

Tumbling in circles, I covered my mouth,  wondering what the hell was happening to me and trying not to puke. Was I having a seizure? A panic attack? Did I have some kind of weird assed vertigo that was making me feel like I was moving? That was probably it. I was probably sitting on my carpet with my head on a broken mirror, mooing like a confused cow.

But the bump I felt when my descent was abruptly halted by something hard put paid to that idea.

I was lying face first in dirt. I could see little bugs, worms, spiders… and I could see dead blades of grass and bent, dried out dandelions too. The raucous sounds of a party reached my ears, and I sat bolt upright.

All around me there was dirt. Except for above me, that is. Above me there was an inky dark blue sky, peppered with bright white stars. One of them started to twinkle as though it was winking at me.

Once I was on my feet, it didn’t take me long to realise what was going on. I was at the Haunt in Chillington Cemetery. Or rather, I was buck naked in the bottom of a freshly dug grave at the Haunt in Chillington Cemetery.

How the fuck had I ended up in this mess? I didn’t feel drunk, I didn’t feel like I’d been spiked, though that wasn’t something you could ever rule out at an event like this. It wouldn’t have taken a creep like Scott Denon much effort to slip something into my drink when I wasn’t looking.

“Hello?! Can anybody hear me? It’s me, Helen, and I’m stuck in a fucking hole. Somebody help me!”

I was wasting my breath, nobody could hear me over the racket of that party. If I was going to get out of this, I’d be doing it on my own. Luckily, I was one of the taller girls in my group, and pretty fit too, so it didn’t take me all that long to hoist myself out of the grave.

Looking around, I realised that I must have stumbled into a part of the cemetery I’d never been in before. It did look familiar, but the path was the wrong way around. The part I knew well curved off to the right after the big oak tree, but this path curved to the left. And the root that rose in a small arch was on the left of the oak, not on the right like this was.

It didn’t take me long to discover that my costume was nowhere to be seen. That was probably Joey’s doing. He was a maniac, mostly, and he’d probably have thought finding me drugged and naked in an empty grave was hilarious. A joke that could only be made funnier by the thought of me having to walk back to the party with it all hanging out.

Assholes, the lot of them. I set off, heading in the direction of the noisy celebrations. I had a great body, so I’d have the last laugh when I owned every step of this damned walk. I’d strut through the crowds, left foot forward…

I stopped dead. Left foot forward? My right side was dominant, so why would I have thought left foot forward? I took a few steps. I was leading with my left. Raising an arm to point, I couldn’t understand why it was my left I used to do it, or why following the path in the wrong direction seemed so natural to me. It was like everything was its mirror opposite.

“What the hell did they give me?” I pondered, picking up my pace again.

The music was getting louder, and I could see lights now. I had to admit, the thought of walking among my peers, completely naked, was quite a turn on. What would they think of me? I knew Scott had a picture of me touching myself for a guy at a party, but he was the only one around here who’d seen me do anything sexual.

I’d had a handful of boyfriends, but they’d all been from out of town. I’d never had sex with anyone from Chillington, and hadn’t even considered doing it with anyone from Crow Street.

So when they saw me now, they’d all be seeing something new. My boobs weren’t as big as Tracey Larkin or Debbie Day’s, and my belly wasn’t as flat as Meg Walker or Emma Heatherington’s, but I looked good. My hips were wide, my waist narrow, and even though my boobs were smaller than I’d have liked, they were high and super perky. My nipples were perpetually hard too, much to Raven Robinson’s delight.

I wondered for a second if she’d be around. She thought I found it strange that my sister, Samantha, was having sex with her, but I didn’t. That was perfectly normal to me, as was the threeway thing they had going on with Jake Beesley. What I found hard to swallow was Raven’s proclivity for public sex. The number of times I’d had to chew Sam out because someone had seen Raven either sucking her nipples or Jake’s dick in a carpark was shocking.

They probably wouldn’t be here, though. This was all too acceptable for Raven, she’d probably have whisked Sam and Jake off to somewhere crazy like the mayor’s office, or the x–ray department at Chillington Memorial Hospital, if I knew her.

I was almost there now. In just a few seconds I’d be walking into a massive group of my friends, and they’d all get to see me naked.

But then I passed between a gargoyle gravestone and an angel one – which should have been on the opposite sides to the ones they were on – and discovered that I wasn’t as unique in my costume as I’d believed, though I was unique in something else.

My gender.

The cemetery was packed with men. Just men, of all different shapes, sizes, and colours, each of them as bare naked as I was. They stopped what they were doing, all of them zeroing in on me at the same time. I shivered, quite visibly, and the man standing closest to me smiled.

Not one of them looked surprised to find me standing there. Some were nudging each other, motioning excitedly in my direction, while others just folded their arms over their chests and nodded appreciatively. It was almost like they’d been waiting for me and were pleased that I’d finally arrived.

A small group of them caught my eye. All of them black skinned, all of them the same height, and all of their cocks standing to attention in front of them. That wasn’t what had made me look, of course, though it was certainly keeping my eyes pointed in their direction now. It was the way they were moving that had caught my notice.

They were separating slowly, making up two rows that faced each other. A blonde woman appeared at the far end, dressed in what looked like black patent leather, or maybe latex. The men didn’t even move as she walked down the aisle they’d made, running her hands over each cock and letting them spring back as she went.

When she reached the last two men, she stopped. Stroking their cocks in a lazy, twisting motion, she smiled at me. “You have a choice to make, Helen,” she said.

I had no idea how she knew my name, nor did I understand why I wasn’t running around screaming fire. The woman shrugged as though she knew what I was thinking.

“It could be curiosity. Or courage. Or maybe…just maybe…it could be the sense of adventure you didn’t even know you possessed.”

Or maybe I was just high as a kite and hallucinating a blonde dominatrix with a harem of buff naked dudes at her disposal. Meg had hallucinated a full on sex session last Halloween, right here in this cemetery, so I didn’t have to suspend my belief very far for that to ring true. Maybe there was a fungus on the gravestones that was getting us all high.

“Your choices are, you can step off the path and join in our celebrations, of which you would be the focal point, or you can turn around and go back the way you came, no harm done.”

“And if I stay,” I ventured to ask. “What happens then?”

The woman’s answer was simple. “Anything they desire. Don’t fear them, though. They only want what’s best for you, I promise you that.”

What should I do? If I was hallucinating, this could be bad. I could be wandering around on roads, or having a conversation with a rabid dog. I could also still be having a fit on my bedroom floor. And if I said no? Well, I could still be doing any one of those things, but I’d also be letting my mind down. If it was going to the trouble of thinking all this up for me, I should probably do it the courtesy of seeing it through.

So, decision made, I took the three steps that led me off the path.

The next few seconds were a blur of activity, and when everything stilled again I was horrified by what they’d done to me. I was on my tip toes in the wide doorway of a mausoleum with my arms stretched over my head. Around my wrists were two metal shackles, the chain attached to them wrapped around a metal beam in the ceiling.

Men lined the walls, and sitting cross legged on top of the single bier at the far end of the room, was the woman. Her spiked heel was tapping on the stone, drawing my eyes down. The light wasn’t fabulous, but I could just about make out a name.

Lucretia Cleveland.

My eyes snapped up to her face, and the vision of an old crone with grey hair superimposed itself over her. The shape of their jaws matched, their noses, cheekbones and eyebrows all lined up…the length of their necks and the curve of their shoulders did too. It was her! This woman was the gypsy, and that gypsy had been Chillington’s most infamous native witch, Lucretia Cleveland.

“Oh shit,” I said quietly. I was in plenty of that and no mistake.

Lucretia pointed at a blonde haired man. He pushed off the wall, moving in my direction. If there was ever a guy I would call beautiful, he would be it. Broad chest, broader shoulders, with a tiny waist and a ripped stomach. His face looked younger than his body suggested he was, and his curly hair was the cutest thing I’d ever seen.

“I have a date in my old house with a charitable young man,” she said with a chuckle. “But I’ll be back before all the fun is over. Don’t be afraid, Helen. All they want to do is please you…and themselves.”

The blonde guy stepped in front of me, blocking her from my view. His chest was a mere inch from mine, and I could feel him breathing on my face. I expected words. Something like, can I, or would you mind, or even do you want me to. But all I got was an infinitesimal lift of an inquiring eyebrow.

So all he got in response was a noncommittal, awkward shrug. But it was all he needed.

His fingers shot out, parting my labia like he’d been doing it all his life. It was such a weird feeling! Not having someone rubbing my clit, I’d been there dozens of times. What was strange about it was, his fingers were the only part of him that touched me. I could feel the heat coming off his body, feel the energy around him stroking against my own and making it crackle with mild static, but his fingers were the only real contact.

And it was so hot!

I couldn’t believe this was even me. I wasn’t this type of girl, I never had meaningless sexual encounters. But here I was, eye to eye with a complete stranger, parting my legs just a little to let him reach the right spot.

“She’s ready,” he said, winking at me.

I was forlorn when he turned around and walked away. Why would he wake me up like that, just to leave me literally hanging? It soon became apparent when a pair of hands took hold of my hips.

Two shallow thrusts then one sharp and deep. The cock that had just pushed its way into my vagina was thick and long. My poor toes dragged back and forth over the rough concrete floor as the guy used my own body weight to swing me toward and away from his body.

It felt so impersonal, so much like I was being used, that I considered telling him to stop. But then he was fucking me faster, stepping closer, burying his face in my hair and whimpering as he came. He pulled out, and I opened my mouth to ask if he was okay, but another man – this one dark haired and olive skinned – was lifting my legs, wrapping them around his hips, sliding his slim, long dick straight inside of me.

I was full of another man’s cum and he didn’t even care! He just held my eyes, looking at me like I was the centre of his world as he fucked his way to orgasm. This one came noisily, and with a big smile.

On and on it went, man after man, not one of them speaking even one word to me. Their cocks were long, short, thick, thin, and a couple of them were so big I fucked back wildly, trying to make their orgasms come quicker.

Not one of them seemed to have a goal that involved me having an orgasm, and while that was strange, what really struck me as odd was that I didn’t care. They were using me. Using my body like a masturbator, using me as something to wank into. The more they came, the more cum the next guy forced out of me, and I loved it. I loved the way it felt dripping down my thighs, tickling my knees, chilling on my feet. They wanted me, and I realised that this was exactly what I needed. I needed to be wanted.

I’d spent so much time watching the guys in Chillington chasing Debbie or Megan or Emma, I’d slowly but surely grown accustomed to being the friend nobody wanted. I was always around, in the background, being there but not noticed. In their stories but not part of them.

But here? Here I was the story. I was the centre of everything, and these men wanted what my body had to give.

After they’d all fucked me until they’d come, the first blonde was back. His cheeky smile came with him, and so did his skillful fingers. This time he rolled my nipples, slapping them, squeezing then rolling again.

He walked around me, doing the same thing from behind, raising my breasts in is palms as though displaying them for the gathering before me, deliberately breathing heavily in my ear and laughing under his breath when I shuddered.

Then his deft fingers were massaging my anus, penetrating, making me squeeze my cheeks together in half-hearted protest.

“Shall I stop?” he whispered.

That was an unfair question. He wasn’t just sneaking fingers into my ass now, he was stroking my clit too. I ended up bow legged, nodding quickly, moaning deeply when two of his fingers stretched my ass, making way for a third.

And then he was gone, blowing me a kiss over his shoulder as a massive guy with long hair swept me off my feet. When he brought me down, his cock pushed straight into my ass, drawing a pained screech from deep inside me. He lifted me, quicker and quicker, until orgasm tore through us both.

My first anal sex experience, and an orgasm to boot! Who would have guessed that was on the cards for me today?

The chain of men followed, each of them taking turns to hammer my ass until either they or I came. My hole was stinging like crazy by the time the last one emptied his balls in me, but it was worth it. I’d had half a dozen orgasms, the one from the guy with the smallest cock being the runaway favourite. He mightn’t have had much length, but he certainly knew where to put what he did have, and that was the moment I’d let go of the last of my reservations.

The blonde was back, grinning openly at me as he dropped to his knees. Watching him crawl toward me like a prowling animal made my pussy throb. I prayed to God oral sex was next. The guy snaked his tongue out, just for a second, and if I could have punched the air in triumph I would have.

One lazy, long drawn out lick, then he devoured me. The others were getting impatient with how long he took, but he was giving no fucks. My thighs were over his shoulders, my feet on his back, and he dug his nails into my butt cheeks while his mouth worked my pussy.

Training, I thought wildly, fighting the bonds at my wrists, desperate to have my hands in that mass of floppy blonde curls. He’s had training, some woman has taught him how to eat pussy properly. Only a woman could make a man understand how to do this as well as he can.

“I’m gonna come!” I wheezed.

It was as much a warning as a declaration. The other men were glaring at him, making me think he wasn’t supposed to bring me off. His role seemed to be getting my body prepared for them. My pleasure – and indeed his own – didn’t appear to enter the equation for him.

So I tightened my legs around his neck when he tried to pull away. His face was soft against my hot folds, his lips pressed tightly together, but when I cried out in frustration his mouth opened and he lunged. I’d never felt anything like it. He was kissing my pussy like it was a beautiful woman who just happened to be the love of his life. Heat exploded in me, and I came all over his face.

When I stopped laughing like I’d lost my mind, they were all coming for me. Stepping over the shocked blonde on the floor, they lifted me, twisted me in all directions until I had a cock in my ass, one in my pussy, and two heads latched on to my nipples.

Time seemed to stand still while they swapped me around, one slapping me, one pushing his hand past the belly of another so he could rub my clit. I was coming, and coming, and screaming for them to fuck me harder.

All of a sudden I was alone in a circle of men, on my knees with the chain in a coil beside me. Lucretia was back. She was standing a few feet away, running her hands through the beautiful blonde curls of the man kneeling opposite me. Her red lipstick was smudged, her exposed nipples were red raw, and her hair was a mess.

“He’s a very naughty boy,” she said, sounding quite amused. “But you clearly needed what he gave you, and that’s all I wanted for you. And yes, I have taught him well.”

“What happens now?” I whispered. I didn’t want him to get in to trouble because of me.

Lucretia nudged him forward. “He gave you what you wanted, now it’s only fair you give him what he wants.”

“What’s their theme this year?” he asked her in a soft voice.

She laughed, pointing at the beam above us. Hanging there was my bloody, holey Cheshire Cat costume. “Malice in Wonderland, by the looks of it.”

Oh my God, he was back on his knees, crawling toward me like the only two legged sexy spider on earth. When he reached me, he turned away, bending over until I could see his anus.

He peeked over his shoulder and whispered, “Eat me.”

My eyebrows nearly met my hairline. Was he asking me to…did he really want me to…? Jesus, that was a new one on me. I really did want to tell him no, and that I didn’t know what I was supposed to do, but then Lucretia piped up.

“He made your kitty purr for you, Cheshire Cat,” she reminded me.

I closed in on him, trying not to giggle in amused horror at his little butt wiggle. His skin was warm, clean and smooth, but I held my breath, too afraid to breathe in case I smelled him. But I wasn’t a spook, I needed air, and when I finally had to inhale the only thing I could smell was dry earth.

The tip of my tongue touched his anus and he shuddered. I licked a little more, flattening my tongue, moving in closer still so I could part his cheeks with my hands. It only took me a minute or two to find my courage, and once I did I was delighted to hear him moaning and gasping for me.

Recklessness overcame me and I stiffened my tongue, feeling the tight opening resisting me as I pushed. No sooner had I managed to penetrate him was he scurrying away. He didn’t go far though. He just turned on to his knees, guiding my already moving head to exactly where it was already going.

“Drink me,” he said harshly.

His hands were in my hair, raking down my back. My spine arched deeper, making sure he could reach what he was grasping for. His fingers pummelled away at my pussy, and I sucked his cock until we were both spiralling into the bliss of orgasm. Together. Both of us crying out for the other as a clock struck twelve.

Then there was just Lucretia and me, and I was heartbroken.

She pulled me to my feet, keeping my hand in hers as she led me out of her mausoleum and into the night.

“I won’t ever see him again, will I?” I sniffled.

“What makes you say that?”

I looked up at her, eyes widening in despair. “It’s November the first. Halloween is over, he’s gone.”

“Oh, don’t be too sure of that, sweet Helen,” she said. “Halloween may be done for twenty sixteen, but I’m not. There’s so much I didn’t get to do tonight, and I’m not going anywhere until I’ve had my fill of the new Chillington.”

Hope bloomed in me as we stopped by the grave I’d crawled out of. “Does that mean I’ll see…him, again?”

“If by him you mean the cherubic Martin, the answer is most certainly yes. But he wasn’t the only one to fall for your loveliness tonight, so you may find you have less free time than you’re used to. But for now, you must go.”

With that she shoved me into the grave, and with a clap of her hands, she buried me alive. I knew it wasn’t the end, though. Not for me, and certainly not for Lucretia. No, her time was just beginning anew, and I couldn’t wait to see what she had in store for the rest of Chillington Town.

Thank you for reading my Halloween Town Tales. If you’d like to know when Lucretia’s own story is published, enter your email address in the box in the side bar and subscribe to Scandarella.

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