Bloody Friday the 13^th

 

Andy didn’t believe in Friday the 13^th, in fact he rather despised those who do and thought of them as ‘superstitious fools’. This Friday the 13^th, however, was definitely living up, or should that be down, to its reputation; it had just been one damn thing after another. For a start he’d traipsed halfway across the country for a sales meeting only to find it had been cancelled at the last minute, then the Sat-Nav had gone on the blink forcing him to dig out his old road atlas from the boot. And now he was lost, well and truly lost. He’d tried a rather clever shortcut across the moors and it had gone badly wrong; he must have taken a wrong turning somewhere and now, with the atlas balanced across his lap and not a road-sign in sight, he was desperately trying to find out where he was. The detour, instead of being quicker, had cost him hours; it was getting late, night was fast drawing in and the gathering gloom had brought with it lashing rain driven by a north easterly gale.

 

Slowly, cautiously, peering through the windows, he picked his way along the narrow twisty lane that dropped down from the tops. Under better circumstances this would be the North Yorkshire moors at their best but, as the windscreen wipers fought the incessant rain and headlights picked out the jagged outline of the dry stone walls that hemmed him in, right now Andy would give anything to be back on a main road.

 

Fate had kept her cruellest twist to last. A sudden turn in the road concealed  the flooding where the beck had burst its banks and, before he could even think about stopping, Andy found the bonnet of the car awash, the engine stalled, the lights dead and the car sliding to a halt in two feet of swirling water.

 

“Damn, damn, damn, damn, damn!” Andy hammered his fists on the steering wheel in impotent fury. He got a grip and forced himself to calm down; anger and bad temper were not going to fix his current predicament and he needed to get somewhere, anywhere, to sort out the mess. He dug in his pocket for his mobile phone but, as he suspected, he could not get a connection; there was no chance of getting a signal out here in the middle of nowhere. He put his phone back in his pocket and reviewed his options: he could either sit there until someone came along and rescued him or he could get out and walk. He hadn’t seen another car for quite a while, nor would anyone in their right mind be driving a road like this in the current weather. Anyway, Andy was never one to sit quietly and wait, he always seen himself as forceful, a go-getter, so there was nothing for it but to brave the elements and walk. He opened the door and looked out and his resolve nearly weakened; he was going to have to step out of the car directly into the water but, with the way the rain was lashing down, he was going to get soaked to the skin anyway so it wouldn’t make that much difference. He got out of the car, pushed it the best he could to the side of the road, locked the doors and set of in search of a phone, preferably one in a pub.

 

What was left of the daylight was fading fast and Andy was beginning to wonder if he wouldn’t be better off sitting out the night in the car after all when, thank heavens, he spotted the light. It wasn’t that far, a hundred yards or so at the most and not far from the road either. It must be a farmhouse, please let it be a farmhouse, though, quite frankly, Andy would have settled for a barn at that point. Pulling up his collar and wrapping his jacket around him as best he could he pushed on through the wind and the rain. As he got to the gate he could see it was indeed a house; the light was showing from an upstairs window and there were signs of life from downstairs. He opened the gate and, stumbling in the potholes; he made his way up the drive and reached the relative shelter of the front porch. He groped for a bell but he couldn’t find any; rather there was an old fashioned door knocker in the shape of a ram's head. He pulled it back and slammed it onto the door. At first there was silence so he hammered again and this time he could see a light moving inside. The door opened a crack and an unseen person peered out at him.

 

“Please, please help me.” Andy asked. The cold, the wet, the struggle against the wind had left him quite exhausted and his words came in clumps, almost incoherently. “My car… it’s back in the lane… broken down… need to call the AA…”

 

Immediately the door opened fully revealing a tall, thin woman of indeterminate age. She had long, jet black hair and dark eyes. She was dressed in some sort of long flowing robe which made her look a bit like some sort of nun or something but, as far as Andy was concerned, she could be dressed any way she wanted as long as she gave him shelter. She held up a candle which flickered in the wind and looked down at him.

 

“You poor man, look at the state of you!” the woman exclaimed. “Come in, come in immediately. We must get you dried out. Here, this way.”

 

The woman stood back to let him in and motioned with the candle to a half open door further down the gloom of the hallway. Grateful to be out of the rain Andy pushed past her and stood apologetically dripping on the doormat.

 

“Oh, don’t worry about that. Go on through; I’ll fetch you a towel.”

 

Squelching gently Andy went down the hall and on through the door. It opened into a large, well proportioned room which was mostly lit by a roaring log fire at the other end. The only other lighting was from candles and Andy presumed that they must have had a power cut or something, heaven knows they couldn't be that uncommon out here in the middle of nowhere. Grouped round the fire were three high-backed armchairs and, as he approached, two women got up to greet him. They were dressed in the same sort of robe as the woman he had first met. Indeed, they might almost have been her as they were both similarly tall and thin with long black hair. Andy guessed that they must be sisters or something.

 

“Come in, come in. Get yourself next to the fire.” One of the women urged. “You must be soaked to the skin on a night like this. Let’s get you out of those damp clothes.”

 

She reached out and led Andy to the hearthrug. Then she came round behind him and started to help him out of his jacket. Andy was a little concerned, after all his wallet with all his credit cards was still in the pocket, but it would have been churlish to have refused such warm hospitality and, there was no doubt about it, he was soaked to the skin. He'd hardly got his jacket off when the first woman reappeared carrying a towel and a dressing gown.

 

“Ah, that’s better. Now let’s get you out of those damp clothes. You’ll catch your death and that would never do.” She handed Andy the towel, laid the dressing gown over the arm of a chair, and, as Andy towelled his hair, knelt down in front of him and started to take of his shoes. And had no problem with this but, as he continued to dry his hair, the woman finished taking off his shoes and socks and reached for his belt.

 

“Err…” Andy stammered. He wasn’t at all sure about this.

 

“Don’t be silly, man.” The woman replied crossly. “You’ve nothing we’ve not seen before and your trousers will never dry unless we hang them up properly. Now don’t be shy. Get that shirt off and put on the dressing gown.”

 

Again, despite his concerns, it would have been churlish to have refused such hospitality and, anyway, the woman’s voice had an edge to it, like a primary school teacher from his childhood, an edge that stood no nonsense, an edge that demanded obedience. He took of his shirt as fast as the damp material would allow so as to put on the dressing gown and preserve his modestly. The woman gathered up his clothes and headed for the door.

 

“Now, I’ll hang these up to dry. Alice, why don’t you fetch our visitor a drink? I’m sure he’d like one.”

 

One of the women, presumably Alice, went over to the side of the room and, without asking Andy what he wanted, fixed him a drink. When she returned she handed him a cut glass tumbler with a couple of fingers of dark amber liquid at the bottom.

 

“Here, drink this. It will warm you.” She said.

 

Andy took the drink from her and sipped it gently. He guessed it was some sort of whiskey, certainly not one he’d met before, but it slipped down easily and he could feel the warmth of the alcohol flowing into his veins. The door opened again and the woman returned and stood next to him.

 

“That’s better, now we can relax. Good heavens! We haven’t even introduced ourselves. I’m Lilith and these are my sisters, Alice and Jane. Welcome to our home.” The three women smiled at Andy. So his guess was right, they were sisters.

 

“Hi.” Andy replied. “I’m Andy and I can’t say how grateful I am for your hospitality. If I could just use the phone…”

 

“But we don’t have a phone.” Lilith replied. “Anyway, you won’t be needing a phone, not tonight.”

 

“You don’t have a phone!” Andy groaned. And then exactly what Lilith had said sunk in. “What do you mean? I won’t be needing a phone tonight?”

 

“Oh, you’re going to be far too busy.” Lilith replied. Suddenly she seemed to be standing very close and her voice, previously so welcoming, so seductive, had taken a much harder edge. Andy tried to back away but he was nearly against the fireplace and the heat from the logs was already uncomfortable against his bare legs. Andy glanced over Lilith’s shoulders looking for a way out but instead he saw Alice and Jane standing either side of her. He realised he was hemmed in. With a rising sense of panic he glanced at the door and decided, dressing gown or no, to make a dash for it. He flung the glass into the fireplace and dropped his shoulder to push between Lilith and Alice but, no sooner had he started, than six hands gripped him. There was a brief, very brief, struggle and he was down on the floor, his face pushed into the hearthrug with the weight of the women holding him down.

 

Andy was no stranger to the gym and he fought hard to try and regain control but the three women were too much for him. Hands gripped his arms behind his back and the dressing gown was forced down. His arms were no sooner free from the sleeves of the dressing gown when some sort of cuffs were fastened round his wrists. He tugged hard but they were far too strong. Next he felt a similar pair of cuffs being fastened round his ankles. In vain he squirmed and wriggled but he was now hogtied and unable to make any real moves. He felt one of the women get off him and there was the rattle of chains. A stiff leather collar was put round his neck and he began to find himself pulled upwards. Even when the other women got off him, bound as he was, it was still a desperate struggle to get to his feet fast enough; the collar tugged at his throat, half choking him. Finally, when almost on tiptoe, the chain was fastened off and he hung from the collar dangling in front of the fireplace.

 

Lilith came up in front of him, a large and vicious pair of scissors in her hand. She clicked them in font of his face menacingly.

 

“Tonight you're ours; our plaything, or toy, our slave. You're going to pleasure each and every one of us, you're going to obey our every order and you're going to do it willingly. Now what shall I do with these?” Again she clicked the scissors in front of his face. “Shall I cut your worthless member off?

 

“Please, please let me go...” Andy knew real fear. It had all happened so fast; one moment he was enjoying a drink in front of the fire and the next he was strung up, half naked, dangling by his neck. The scissors were just in front of his face and he had no idea just how far the women would go. He could well believe that Lilith would make good her threat. Lilith reached down and he felt the cold steel of the scissors against his hip, sliding beneath his boxer shorts. SNIP! The side of his shorts were sliced through. Another snip and the other side had gone. Lilith grabbed the material, tugged the remnants of his boxers from between his thighs and threw them on to the fire where they sizzled briefly.

 

“Look at this! How pathetic! What a useless little specimen you are.” Lilith flicked the end of his penis with the scissors. “You’re like a little shrivelled up worm. Are you a pathetic little worm?”

 

“Please, let me go.” Andy repeated, struggling against his anger and fear and trying to be calm and reasonable. “Look, let me go and we'll forget all about it.”

 

“Oh, no. That's not right at all. A proper slave begs to serve his mistress. It looks like we need to teach you exactly what happens to slaves who haven't got the right attitude.” Lilith stood back and put down the scissors. She unfastened her belt and let her robe hang lose to reveal her naked body beneath. But she wasn't quite naked. She wore a thick black leather belt and from it hung a riding crop.

 

“Come sisters.” She said as she unfastened the crop from her belt. “Let's show this worm what happens to those who disobey.”

 

Alice and Jane came and stood either side of Lilith and unfastened their robes. Alice had a cat-of-nine-tails hanging from her belt and Jane had a firm leather tawse. Slowly, steadily the three women circled round him and, each with her different implement, struck at his body. At first Andy clamped his teeth together and tried his best not to show the pain but the relentless lashes were far too much for him. It seemed no part of him were to be spared even if his buttocks and the backs of his thighs bore the brunt of it. No sooner had the crop laid its ribbon of fire than the tawse would strike a counterpoint. The cat, although not as vicious as the crop or the tawse, could get in places they could not reach, the tips of the lashes stinging harshly on the soft flesh between his thighs.

 

“Please, please. I'll – aargh – I'll do anything. Please - aargh - I can't take this.” Andy gasped but they ignored him. His cries became incoherent, tears filled his eyes, he sobbed continuously and, all strength gone hung against his collar with no option but to take whatever he had coming to him. Finally, at a word from Lilith, the blows finished, the chain was released and he slumped to the floor.

 

“Now to the choosing. Jane, fetch the dice.”

 

Jane disappeared for a moment and returned with a pair of dice. The three women knelt down in a circle in front of Andy. Jane tossed the dice in front of her.

 

“Five and three – eight.” She announced.

 

Alice picked up the dice and threw.

 

“Four and six – ten.” She announced triumphantly.

 

Lilith then threw the dice.

 

“Double six – I win.”

 

“You always get double six!” Alice said petulantly. “When are you going to let us win for a change?”

 

“When you rule the sisterhood then you can control the dice.” Was the sharp reply. “Now, Jane scored lowest so she goes first.”

 

Jane disappeared to the side of the room and reappeared with a long thin chain dangling from her hand. At one end was what looked like a small dog collar in black leather. She bent down and fastened the collar tightly around the base of Andy’s genitals forcing his prick and balls to jut out in front of him. She stood up and tugged on the chain.

 

“Come, worm, come here and worship.”

 

As best he could Andy struggled to his knees and shuffled across the floor. Jane kept the chain tight, the collar round his balls digging into him, forcing him to move as fast as he could or face the agony. She settled in one of the armchairs, her robe wide open, and slipped off her shoes.

 

“Let’s see if this slave knows how to worship a woman.” Jane lifted up a foot and held it in front of Andy. He bent forward and kissed the tips of her toes.

 

You can do better than that!” Jane snarled jerking the chain to reinforce her point. ”Now worship properly or you’ll feel my anger.”

 

Andy realised that he wasn’t going to get away with just kissing her feet if he were to avoid further blows from her tawse, the collar yanking at his balls was bad enough and, if he were to survive without too much further pain, he was going to have to convince Jane that he was really the subservient worm she demanded of him. He kissed her feet again, this time just brushing them gently with his lips, playing along, trying to convince her that he was what she wanted.

 

“That’s better.” Jane mocked. “Good little slaves love to honour their Mistress’s feet, don’t they? Are you a good little slave?”

 

“Yes.” Andy replied, still playing along. Again he felt a vicious tug on the leash around his balls. “Yes, Mistress.” He quickly added.

 

“Well, if you’re good, if you’re very good, then I’ll let you honour me properly. You’d like that, wouldn’t you?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Andy replied.

 

“Well, get on with it.”

 

Andy threw himself into the role. He liked to think of himself as an accomplished lover and he’d realised that, as long as he was satisfying Jane, as long as he was indeed a ‘good little slave’, then at least they weren’t beating him any more. The humiliation of being forced to act as their sex toy was bad, but is was nothing compared to the pain of being whipped. Furthermore, and he hardly dare admit this to himself, although Andy thought of himself as an alpha male, and although he would never in a million years submit willingly to being tied up and humiliated like this, there was a strange erotic thrill in being at the feet of a beautiful woman and there was no doubt, as the open robes had shown, that all three of the sisters were beautiful women.

 

Urged on by tugs at the leash around his balls Andy kissed his way up Jane’s calves, caressing them as sensuously as he could with his lips. He was so intent on giving the best performance possible that he almost lost himself in what he was doing; there was even a certain sense of pride in being sufficiently skilful so as to avoid further punishment. Once past the knees he ran lines of butterfly kisses along the inside of her thighs and was gratified by the sighs of pleasure this elicited. Each time he moved towards her groin he could smell the wonderful warm, dark, smell, the smell of an aroused woman.

 

Emboldened by his success Andy moved further up, kissing the very tops of her thighs, and then her lower belly, his lips tingling as they brushed through the neat, well trimmed fur of her pubic bush. His lips flickered around her mons, teasing, tugging gently, kissing here, there, everywhere except for the lips of her vagina.

 

“Don’t tease!” Jane tugged on his leash and he got the message; he moved to the centre of her passion, his tongue easing her lips apart, probing for her clitoris. Andy was no stranger to cunnilingus, it was often the best way to persuade girlfriends to go down on him in return, and now, still in his worshipping slave role, he put his experience to work. However, as soon as his tongue found her clitoris it was as if he’d flicked a switch. Jane grabbed the back of his head with her hand, pulling him into her groin, and Andy felt the collar round his balls tighten as she pulled firmly on the chain. He responded by increasing the pressure of his tongue, flicking harder and harder from side to side.

 

Jane lifted her legs over Andy’s shoulders and rested her ankles on his back, locking her ankles together. Her hand on his head, the chain and collar around his balls and her thighs locked together all held him trapped in her groin. Andy was having difficulty keeping up with her unspoken demands; he was being gripped harder and harder but he couldn’t match this by upping the strength of his licking, he was at full stretch, giving as much as he could. He was having trouble breathing, his mouth and nose were crushed into her and when he tried to twist away to snatch a quick breath a swift slap round the ear told him not to try it again.

 

He could feel Jane nearing her climax; at least he hoped she was. He was near to passing out from suffocation and his head felt like it was about to burst, crushed as it was, between her thighs. He knew he just had to keep going, had to keep his tongue flicking away; he dare not stop for fear of the reprisals he knew Jane would mete out to him but he was feeling feint, almost passing out and right on the edge of his endurance.

 

And then every muscle in Jane’s body seemed to tense and her legs were forced together even harder, Andy felt as if his brain was coming out of his ears, his head was exploding, his mouth filled with her juices and the pull on the chain increased. For maybe thirty seconds her whole body was rigid until, finally, she collapsed and relaxed back into the chair. Andy was gasping for breath, panting with exhaustion still kneeling before her until Jane lifted her leg off his shoulder and placing her foot firmly in his face, kicked him away. He sprawled across the floor, landing in a heap and lay still for a few moments.

 

When he looked up from the floor it was to see another pair of feet in front of his face.

 

“Did you enjoy that, worm?” He was sprawled at the feet of Alice and it was apparent that he was not going to have time to get his breath back before she took her turn with him. “Well, did you?”

 

“Yes, yes Mistress.” Andy thought it best to answer positively.

 

“Well, you’re not going to enjoy what I’m going to do to you. Look up. Look at me.” Alice’s voice was full of menace.

 

Andy looked up. She towered over him and stood with her hands on her hips holding her robe open. Jutting from her groin was an enormous dildo. In the flickering firelight he could make out the leather straps which held it in place. His heart sunk as he realised what she was going to do with it.

 

Roughly Alice bent down and grabbed the wrist cuffs. She then attached them to the chain which still hung from the ceiling, and started to pull. Once again Andy was forced to move as swiftly as possible to minimise the pain as his arms were tugged in directions they were never meant to go. He ended up knelt on the floor, his arms pulled upwards, forcing his head down and his bottom up. Alice removed the cuffs that bound his ankles only to replace them with a bar that held his legs stretched a far apart as they would go. There was no mirror but it didn’t take much imagination for Andy to picture in his mind how he must be, upended, presenting his open arse to the world.

 

Then he felt something cold and slimy slapped into the crack of his buttocks.

 

“Chicken fat: I thought it appropriate.” Alice laughed.

 

Busy fingers worked the fat into his anus, pushing deep inside. Andy had thought that when he had had his prostrate examined it had been bad but, by comparison, his doctor had been gentle and considerate. Alice, on the other hand was forcing her finger, and the chicken fat, deep inside him whether he wanted it or not and, if her finger was uncomfortable…

 

Alice wiped her hand on his buttocks and knelt down behind him.

 

“I’m going to make you scream.” She snarled. “The more you scream, the more it turns me on. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Andy whimpered.

 

And then he felt it. Alice leaned forward and the tip of the dildo pushed against his sphincter. He tried desperately to relax, not to fight it, but his nervousness was working against him. Harder and harder the blunt, rounded end of the dildo pushed against him until finally he was open and it was forced inside him. Alice pushed until it was about an inch deep. Andy felt as if he were about to spilt in two; an involuntary groan of pain escaped.

 

“Is it too big for you?” Alice asked sweetly.

 

“Please, please, I don’t think I can take any more.” Andy replied between clenched teeth.

 

Oh yes you can, and you will!” Alice thrust forward and it felt as if his backside were being raped by a rod of fire. Andy’s scream was all that Alice could desire. His whole world was now a ball of pain and he couldn’t help but try to pull away but this only meant that the upward tug on his arms increased threatening to dislocate a shoulder. Again and again she thrust into him. Time ceased to have any meaning for Andy, nor was he aware of what he was babbling, pleading, begging. If only she would stop, even for a moment, let him get his breath back and he’d give anything, anything at all if only, if only, if only the agony would cease. The thrusts built up, harder and faster, blurring into one. Alice grasped his hips, digging her long nails in like talons, pulling his buttocks back to meet her.

 

And then, at last, it was over. The thrusting reached a crescendo; Alice screeched and, with one final deep, deep push, collapsed over the back of him. For a moment she just lay there and then Andy felt her withdraw, the chain was released from his wrists and he collapsed, battered, beaten, and totally broken in a heap on the floor.

 

For a while the room was silent except for Andy’s sobbing. He lay there, in the middle of the floor, bound, beaten and broken, waiting for the next part of the nightmare.

 

He didn’t have to wait long; he felt his wrists being freed, he was rolled onto his back and his wrists were refastened and attached at floor level leaving him stretched full-length in front of the fire. At no point did Andy put up any resistance, all the fight was gone from him, he was theirs to play with; he would do anything, anything at as long as they didn’t hurt him any more.

 

This time it was Lilith who stood astride him. She slipped off her robe and towered over him, statuesque and completely naked apart from the belt around her waist. The flickering light from the fire made her skin appear to glow and Andy knew he had never, ever, seen a woman as beautiful as this before.

 

“Well, worm. Are you ready for your Goddess?”

 

“Please, Mistress, I’ll do anything you want, anything at all, just please don’t hurt me any more.”

 

“Anything at all.” Lilith echoed. “Jane took your servitude, Alice took your pain, I’m going to take your manhood. When I’ve finished you will be mine, you will love only me. I will own you, own your body and your soul.”

 

Lilith knelt down. She unfastened the collar around his balls and took his penis in her long, slender fingers. Andy felt too exhausted, too wracked by pain to be able to achieve an erection but the play of Lilith’s fingers was skilful and delicious and soon had him stiffening in response. As soon as he was hard enough she shifted forward and slid him deep inside her.

 

Andy had never felt more conflicted. Every inch of his body was in pain: his shoulders had been twisted this way and that by the various contortions they had been put through, his body, and especially his buttocks, were covered in wheals from the flogging he had endured and his backside felt like it would never recover from the brutality that Alice had inflicted upon it but, and it was a huge but, he had never felt anything as erotic as the feelings he was getting as Lilith eased her way backwards and forwards with his penis deep, deep inside her.

 

At first her movements were small, she rocked her hips in small movements, one hand playing with her clitoris as the other massaged her breasts. Gradually she increased the tempo, pushing harder and firmer down on him. Andy, almost without thinking, started to return her thrusts but immediately she leant forward and her hands rested on his chest.

 

“If you move again” her fingernails dug into his nipples “just the slightest movement and I'll cause you so much pain you’ll think Alice was being easy on you. Do you understand?”

 

“Yes, Mistress.”

 

“And don’t you dream of coming before I’m ready; this is for my pleasure, not yours.”

 

Lilith, her fingernails still gripping his nipples, started to move up and down. Andy had never felt anything so sensuous, her vagina muscles seemed to grip his penis and he had never felt so large, so engorged. His balls, his poor tortured balls, seemed to swell. He could feel the pressure rising within him; it felt so good, so very, very good. The sheer intensity of the contrasting feelings within him, the pains that wracked his tortured frame and the sexual tension within his prick and balls, was an experience far, far beyond anything he had ever felt before.

 

Faster and faster she rode him. Her eyes locked on his; her stare locking him down as surely as her body or the chains were. Andy could feel himself starting to come. In desperation he tried to distract himself, to think of anything, anything that would stop him climaxing to early. He thought of the quarterly results for the North West region and how the team weren’t going to make much of a bonus this year, he thought of the disastrous match when United had lost by two goals to City, but despite his best efforts he was distracted by the amazing sensations emanating from his groin, how his prick felt as this wonderful woman worked her magic, how the pace, the intensity was increasing, how he couldn’t hold out much longer, how he felt as if his whole being was going to explode, how he could feel the muscles of her vagina getting tighter and tighter around him, how…

 

“Now, worm, now!” Lilith forced herself down on him and simultaneously twisted his nipples. He screamed in a mixture of ecstasy and agony as time after time he ejaculated within her. His whole world centred around his prick, and the joyous release as, still moving firmly, her body pumped him dry, draining him, exhausting him.

 

Sated at last Lilith leaned forward, her hands moved to his shoulders and her long hair fell forward, touching his face.

 

“Now you are mine, mine forever. You’ll come back, time after time, crawling on your hands and knees, begging to serve; you’ll be back when the moon is full.”

 

“Yes, Mistress.” Andy replied. His body felt empty; he was washed by waves of fatigue. He had given, no, Lilith had taken, everything he had and he was but a shell. He looked into her eyes, her deep dark eyes and her irises seemed to spin, the room seemed to spin, his world seemed to spin.

 

“Yes, Mistress.” His voice was just a whisper and the world went dark.

 

 

 

It was cold, bitterly cold, and Andy felt frozen to the bone. He reached out for the covers and, finding none, opened his eyes and looked around. He was lying on the floor of a ruined house; by the amount of charred timber around it must have been destroyed in a fire. A cool breeze blew in through the holes where the windows had been and the sunlight streaming through the many holes in the walls and roof heralded a bright spring morning. Dazed and confused, his eyes darted here and there, trying to reconcile the ruin he’d woken to with the house he remembered from last night. It must have been some sort of dream but, if it were a dream, why was his body covered with bruises and why did his arse hurt so much. He stumbled to his feet, every muscle complaining. Swaying slightly he looked around; the burnt remains of three armchairs stood around a stone fireplace and, neatly folded across the arm of one of them were his clothes.

 

He checked the pockets of his jacket; his wallet, complete with cash and cards, was still there as were his phone and car keys. In fact everything seemed to be there, neatly folded and mercifully bone dry. The only thing missing were his boxer shorts. In their place was a pair of feminine red lacy panties. He picked them up and looked at them. He desperately needed to get dressed, he was freezing and he didn’t fancy trying to explain himself if anyone were to see him like this. For a moment he considered going ‘commando’ but his backside, as well as being sore as hell, felt slimy and sticky and he didn’t fancy getting whatever it was that was oozing out of him on his good suit so he slipped the panties on. After all, no one was going to see them.

 

As he dressed he was made more and more aware of the state of his body. His shoulders ached from the contortions he had been put through; his nipples were so sore that the lightest touch was agony and his body was covered with wheals and bruises.

 

Once he had finished he stumbled his way back to the car. The conflict between his vivid memories and what he saw continued. The car was neatly parked and bone dry; there was no sign of last night’s flooding. He got inside and turned the key in the ignition. It started first time and he wasn’t that surprised when the Sat-Nav burst into life as well. He checked himself out in the rear view mirror; he was unshaven and his neck showed signs where the collar had bit into him. Still, there was nothing he could do about it; he fastened his seat belt, wincing as it brushed against his battered nipple, and drove on down the hill.

 

He’d gone less than a mile or so when he reached a village and, mercifully, an open service station. He pulled onto the forecourt and went inside. To his immense relief they had a coffee machine so he found the necessary change and purchased a cup. The coffee was ghastly but it was hot and sweet and he was beginning to feel alive again.

 

“Good morning.” A teenage girl appeared behind the counter. “Can I get you anything?”

 

“No thanks. Just the coffee.” He replied.

 

“That’s a nice car.” She gestured to the forecourt. “Did I see you parked up in Gallows Lane this morning?”

 

“Err… Yes.” Andy thought fast. He didn’t want to get caught up in a web of lies but he had to give some explanation. “I got a puncture last night and got stuck. Ended up sleeping in the car.”

 

“Yes, Gallows Lane can be tricky at night, especially that corner by the old manse.”

 

“The old manse?” Andy queried.

 

“Yes.” She replied. “The ruin just before the village. It burnt down ages ago and now there’s all sort of stories about it.”

 

“Stories? What kind of stories?”

 

“Oh, you know what these villages are like.” She continued, laughing. “It’s supposed to be haunted. Strange lights in the windows at night; that sort of thing.”

 

“Haunted?” Andy echoed.

 

“Yeah, silly, isn’t it. I mean, who believes in ghosts nowadays?” She gave him a long hard stare. Andy suddenly wondered if she knew exactly what being parked up by the manse all night meant; were the marks on his neck obvious? She relaxed and smiled. “If you’re interested, there’s a bit about it in the village guide book. It’s only five pounds and the profits go to the kiddies’ hospital.”

 

She reached for a slim booklet and held it out to him. Intrigued Andy found a fiver and handed it over. Another customer came into the shop distracting the girl, so he had time to flick through it as he sipped his coffee. Mostly it was blurry photographs of local beauty spots and suggested walks across the fells but there were a couple of paragraphs about the manse. Apparently it had burnt down in 1987 killing Lady Lily Woolthorpe and her sisters, Alice and Jane. There was an accompanying photo showing three middle aged ladies in fifties clothes standing on the front steps. The quality was not good and it was difficult to see the details but it was obvious that the women were tall, thin and dark. Andy stared at the photo; if the women had been middle aged in the fifties they must have been quite elderly in the eighties. The women he had met last night, although he wouldn’t dare guess their age, had been anything but elderly. It was just another contradiction to add to the list.

 

Andy finished his coffee and, waving goodbye to the girl, went back outside to his car. For a moment or two he sat in the driver’s seat, looking again at the photo. Was last night real or a dream? Common sense told him it was a dream but the aches and bruises all over his battered body told him otherwise. Shrugging off his thoughts he opened the glove compartment to put the booklet away but as he did so he noticed a black leather strap inside; one that had certainly not been there before. He pulled it out and looked at it. If it wasn’t the collar he’d worn last night it was certainly very like it. There was a label attached to it and on the label, in fine copper plate handwriting

 

You’re mine now, worm.

Come back when the moon is full.

 

Thoughtfully he turned the collar over in his hands. He remembered the feeling of suffocation as Jane had crushed his head between her thighs; the sheer agony as Alice had analy raped him with her strap-on, but most of all he remembered Lilith (Lily?) and how good it had felt as she had used his body. In comparison to her all the girls he had ever had had been just that, girls, but Lilith was all woman and deep down he knew he would never, ever, desire another woman the way he desired her. Last night may have hurt; indeed most of him still hurt, but it had still been the most intensely erotic experience of his life.

 

He rummaged in the glove compartment where he knew there was a cheap diary which he had been given as a freebie by one of his clients. Sure enough it showed the phases of the moon and, as he was beginning to suspect, last night had not only been Friday the 13^th but a full moon as well. He flicked through the pages; in four weeks time it would be full again. An image formed in his mind; he was kneeling before the three women wearing nothing but the collar and the red panties, ready to serve, ready to be used.

 

Would he be back? He looked at the collar lying on the passenger seat, his collar, the one he knew he had to wear again. But really, who believes in ghosts nowadays?