Witch Hunter (20 page)

She was so surprised to see the familiar face she almost shouted his name. Dominic was so surprised he immediately shut the door on her again. He gave himself a few moments, presumably to gather his thoughts, before opening it again and demanding to know in hushed tones what the hell she was doing there. She was shocked by his terseness, but she put it down to shock.

‘I’ve come for you!’ she said. ‘To save you!’

He looked stumped and flustered, possibly even annoyed. It probably didn’t help his confused state that she was still clutching the dildo, nor perhaps that for some reason he was dressed in a toga. She could see he was thinking, weighing up how best for them to make their escape. In the end, fearing more unwelcome passers-by, he told her to hang on and wait for him. She stood back in the darkness but there was a sense of joy now. She knew he would have to save her as much as she him, but together they would get out and the story would be told. Shady would be done for at last. She waited five minutes, then ten. It would need precise timing, she knew that. After fifteen minutes she was starting to think something was wrong. Perhaps he had been seen, or been caught trying to make another exit from the room. At least he wouldn’t tell on her. That was one thing she could be sure of: her ex-boyfriend, no matter what the circumstances, would never, ever betray her, because, well, he just
wouldn’t
.

He would. The door sprang open again and there he was, looking stern. Behind him was a giant of a man dressed in a purple toga, the colour worn by the Emperors of Rome. He had jet-black hair to his shoulders and the coldest, scariest blue eyes she had ever seen on anyone outside the movies. The eyes told her all she needed to know and she felt her knees shaking and beginning to buckle. Before she could collapse the man’s hand shot out and grabbed her by the neck. She was pulled clear of the cupboard and propelled towards the noise of the main room.

Shady did not speak to her. He dragged her through the mêlée and shouted instructions to a couple of lads also dressed in togas, who immediately went to the cage, released the captive and carried her clear so that Mimi could take her place. She couldn’t fight. Candles were kicked aside as she was bundled in but essentially she had already given up. Her hands were easily secured in the cuffs above her head and she waited to have her clothes ripped off her, to be left as nude as the last captive. It didn’t happen. She felt a pang in her belly and she couldn’t quite tell if it was relief or disappointment.

Her arrival had caused a ruckus. Most of the girls were still on the dancefloor, but they were now static. All eyes were on Mimi, and those eyes were fiery-bright, glaring at her through strips of thick makeup. The dancers had wild rock-chick hair, damp at the sides and temples. They all had scarlet painted lips, a couple with red spill marks at the edges, like vampires who had been drinking blood, although perhaps it was from wine or maybe just makeup to look like blood. Those girls who were not yet topless wore cropped plain T-shirts, cut jagged below their breasts, all dampened by heavy perspiration that told of their exertions. All were barefoot and barelegged. They had thick, firm calves and thighs, all looking identically smooth and pale. The legs went up to very short, tight miniskirts in some kind of dark brown hide, which were barely long enough to cover their decency. Four or five of the girls had false cocks secured by harnesses at their crotch; a couple long and smooth, a couple thick and venous. All were pointing towards the new captive.

The sensory overload had stopped Mimi from taking it all in during the first flurry of being brought amongst them. Now in these few quiet seconds her brain was able to process more and give her glimpses of memory. There was danger here, that was for sure. She had felt it even as she was propelled past them, before they knew she was in their midst. Their dancing had been frantic, a weird high-energy fusion of club and tribal. She had seen their eyes wide and flashing, their snarls and bared teeth. She had witnessed some contact between them which, although they all looked like sisters, had not seemed particularly tender. It was grasping contact, gripping nails into bare flesh, pulling at tops, all somehow desperate. It felt like she had gone in just as things were building to a crescendo, where something huge was about to give. The air was full of it.

Those who had not been dancing had been feasting from the tables. From the corner of her eye she now remembered seeing them filling their mouths with meat, ripping it from drumsticks so that the grease glistened on their pale cheeks. Even the eating was done with animated fervour, like they just couldn’t wait to stuff the food in. She could see now that none of the girls were skinny, all had meat on their thighs and bottoms. Some had little belly paunches though none were
fat
, none had a bum to match Mimi’s. Yet they ate like fat people, like greedy bitches, like time was running out on them. She could see smears around mouths, the remnants of flesh and tendon hanging off bones still being clutched. Mimi had a sudden shiver-inducing image of ending up like one of those drumsticks at the hands of these savages.

The cage door could barely be swung shut before the girls were at her. Mimi could hear their shrieks and war cries above the thudding music. They smacked into the iron bars and reached through to try and grab her. Fortunately she was only just in fingertip reach from all sides, but she felt contact on her hair as they tried to snatch a handful, and their long black-painted nails snagged at her clothes. Mimi had to wriggle to ensure no grip was maintained. One girl was pinching her own bare nipples in exasperation at being unable to get to Mimi, stretching them towards the captive as if hoping they could grow long enough to stab her. Two had jammed their thighs hard to the cage to thrust their dildos into gaps between the bars, and were humping empty air, showing Mimi exactly what she would get when she came into reach. One or two spat at her; all of them cursed or bared their white teeth. Above her wide-eyed panic Mimi saw Morgana beyond them, relaxed and smiling upon a throne as she went through the contents of Mimi’s snatched satchel. She had a feeling that only the witch could save her now, but she wasn’t even looking her way.

More spittle landed on her cheek and Mimi’s looked again at her would-be assailants in time to see them peeling themselves from the bars, their attention drawn to easier prey. The original captive had been thrown still blindfold and naked beside a low padded dais, where she simply sat and made no attempt to escape. The bacchantes leapt at her, dragged her by her hair up onto the platform, clutching her breasts as they did so, slapping her naked flesh with their open palms. She was laid on her back and those savages already wearing dildos were grabbing small pewter jugs off side tables and hurriedly pouring thick oil from them over their false pricks.

The girl’s fate seemed terrible. Eight seething bitches were gathered around her, pinching and slapping and squeezing her, some readying their dildos with oil to give them some ease of entry when they slammed inside her. Her arms were held; she couldn’t fight. How would Mimi stop them when it was her turn? What would this girl do to thwart them now? The answer sent a jolt of excitement through Mimi’s body, since it proved to be so simple. As one savage fought her way into position, clutching her thick false prick, a smile of glee spread across the captive’s face and she bent her knees up and spread them apart, raising her hips from the platform so that she was wide open and ready. She gave herself up completely, exalting in her ordeal rather than shrinking from it. The savage brought the plastic tip to the wet and willing sex, then jammed her hips forward and thrust it in, causing the captive to scream her pleasure.

Mimi could feel the tingle at her own groin, the contraction of the muscles inside as they begged to have the same. Shady was there again, his face also set in a snarl; their Master. He had both arms raised, his fists were clenched and he was bellowing into the noise.

‘Fuck!’ he was shouting at everyone. ‘Fuck!
FUCK!
’

It was not an angry expletive. It was an order.

The bacchante girls began shrieking even louder than before, the sound cacophonous along with the music. They suddenly scattered, most of them leaving the one still slapping hard into the body of the blindfold captive, who was now crying with bliss and gripping her fucker’s bottom to make sure the thrusts retained their weight and tempo. Tops and skirts were coming off and targets were being sought. An orgy was to erupt, like the one in the book.

One savage had run down and flattened another, and, taking advantage of the already fastened dildo, had sunk upon it and was riding it cowgirl-style. Mimi briefly watched the pale, gorgeous rump juddering as it was slapped down hard and fast, then her attention was wrenched elsewhere. Another had caught her ally and pushed her over a raised table. The skirt was up over her ample rump and fingers were going into her from behind whilst the other hand covered the squeals from her open mouth. One of the feasting girls was just wailing, standing where she had been before but now with her legs open and her skirt held up to reveal a pristine, shaved quim. She had shoved a meaty drumstick up into it, and was busily using it on herself.

The male slaves stood no chance. They were instantly targeted, some girls leaping over couches and fuck machines to get to them. Togas were immediately off to reveal already oiled athletic bodies and bare erections. Two of the lads had paired off and were kissing and grasping each other’s pricks. They were granted no privacy. Three girls were soon at them, prising hands away to replace them with their own, sinking mouths down onto the hot cocks, engulfing ball sacks. The treacherous Dominic was having his prick swallowed almost to the hilt whilst another girl slapped his bare arse. Mimi was silently glad that he was being treated so roughly, until it dawned on her that her ex seemed actually to be enjoying it immensely.

Everywhere flesh was on flesh. It was a raging explosion of passion. There was no subtlety and little tenderness, but there was an understanding of each other’s need, and that need was for huge, instant pleasure. Mimi could feel it. She knew that despite her perilous position her body was responding only to the rudeness of all she witnessed. She was so hot and ready that if she could only be penetrated now she would yell her glee, just like so many of the savages were doing. Orgies were obviously not meant for tenderness. The word that kept coming to mind was
abandonment
. It was like being set free, and not being afraid of that freedom. It was an exhilarating expression of your sexual being, with no limits and no judgements. One bacchante, for instance, was now hunched over a machine, her crotch squashed against a rubber pad that was vibrating with blurring speed. Behind her another savage crouched, thrusting a
very
long slim dildo in and out of her body, possibly in her bottom. The girl had her eyes screwed shut and was completely lost to lust, her noise audible beyond the music as she
screamed,
‘Fuck me!’

Imagine being her, right now, Mimi thought, and another shiver swept her body. Then Morgana was suddenly in front of her, blocking the view. She was stripped and sporting a beautiful shining chrome dildo at her waist. Her breasts looked ripe and beautiful, so firm. Mimi felt herself instinctively pulling at her chains. She wanted so much to be naked too, to be seen and heard screaming by all these people, to be used and abused before their eyes as the Priestess took her. She was ready to fuck with the same abandon. She was dying for it.

‘Thank you for the return of my book,’ the witch was saying, her voice magically audible over the booming bass even though she did not seem to be speaking any louder than usual. ‘I hope you are ready to come to me now because I am your last remaining hope.’

Mimi was going to say that she was, even though she knew it was only lust making her decisions, not logic. She had no chance to answer. Morgana turned away again, pulled one bacchante off another by her hair, bent her over a table and pierced her from behind with the chrome dildo. Mimi almost cried with longing as she watched the Priestess’s beautiful bottom thrusting back and forth against the girl. Anything – her life, her soul, anything at all – Mimi would have given at that moment to take the place of that girl, or be behind her Priestess giving her the same treatment, reaching round to squeeze those breasts, taking turns to indiscriminately fuck and be fucked as was allowed at such brilliant gatherings.

Mimi’s vision was beginning to cloud because of the desire raging through her. She heard herself crying out to be untied, so she could at the very least masturbate. But what was her voice amongst all the rest? The orgy just kept on going, ever dynamic as bodies slithered from one to another. It became an almost surreal collage of pricks and dildos and tongues and fingers in succulent, ever-willing holes. Nothing was too rude, everything left her breathless and yearning to be a part of it. The smell of it was intoxicating too, the heady waves of citrus and spice and sex. The sound of slapping flesh was everywhere, some in time with the music, so that each new song brought a new tempo to the fucking. It was hypnotising. The bodies were glowing with sweat and oil, the tanned light brown of the males and the snow white of the females. She realised suddenly how
perfect
everyone was, how perfect all bodies were when fucking.

Drinks of various kinds were being consumed even while the bodies were in motion, poured from jugs into each other’s mouths to prevent their passion and endurance from waning. The tearing, scratching assaults of the initial stages had calmed somewhat, but there was still urgency and roughness, and plain, shocking debauchery. It became like a dream, like a sequence of abstract filthy scenes. Mimi scanned around, wanting to absorb it all, unable to spend too long on one thing for fear of missing another. ‘Please help me – my pussy is so wet!’ she was shouting, but no one heard her.

Everything was a montage of rudeness that she was desperate to commit to memory in individual episodes that she could later recall. She saw all these things: a girl bent over the feasting table shoving handfuls of creamy cake into her mouth whilst a slave rammed her hard from the rear; a slave standing, being sucked by a girl, whilst another girl was up with her legs hooked over his shoulders, riding his face. She was pulling his hair as she ground into him and he was doing his utmost to keep her held up to be lapped at like she wished. A bacchante passionately kissing another and having her bottom squeezed and held apart by her, whilst a third very lovingly licked her bottom; this was perhaps the only properly tender episode Mimi witnessed. The same bacchante, now sandwiched between the other two, being fucked by both at once with strapped-on dildos.