by Bryan Smith
He sniffled and said nothing.
I’m not. I want to die. I deserve to die.
But even as he thought these things he knew he didn’t mean them. He was deeply ashamed of what he had done, yes, but he wanted to live. And he wanted to get away from these people and back to some kind of normal life, even if that meant he had to split town and disappear for a long time, maybe forever. Start over somewhere new and try like hell to avoid ever associating with Satanists again.
“She’s right, Mike. You should be proud of what you’ve done.”
Nadia. Right behind him.
He took a deep breath, slowly let it out, and turned to face her. He kept his face as blank as possible as she studied him, recalling her eerily accurate powers of intuition. He swallowed with some difficulty and made himself say, “Thank you. I…am.”
She snorted. “I doubt that. I’m sure some part of you is thinking you’ll just keep playing the part of the willing new initiate until you can get clear of us and then you’ll head for the hinterlands.”
Mike managed to avoid a dramatic visual reaction, but he felt like shitting himself. Goddammit, what’s the deal with this chick, how does she do that?
Nadia smirked. “Just remember you are now as culpable as the rest of us. You have taken a life. Which means you can’t expose us without sealing your own fate. And I have a hunch you’d prefer not to spend a big chunk of your life behind bars. So you’re not a threat to us. You’ll be safe from us as long as that remains the case. Understand?”
Mike nodded, but he didn’t say anything.
Nadia stepped closer to him and he had to resist an impulse to shrink back against the wall. She was almost close enough to touch. Had he thought she was intimidating before? She had been, of course, but at this range the effect was infinitely more intense. He had never been this close to anyone so mind-bendingly gorgeous. The feelings her proximity caused were nearly powerful enough to entirely blot out any memory of the horror that had just transpired. His throat felt dry, constricted. He was shaking and felt like he might fall over if she came even one inch closer. She reached out and calmly flicked a speck of dust off the front of his shirt, making him flinch.
Then she touched his arm and said, “But I’m confident that won’t be an issue. In fact, I’ll make a prediction. By the time you leave here much later tonight, you’ll be a genuinely eager convert.” She stroked his arm and said, “And you’ll be counting down the days until our next meeting.”
Mike nodded again and forced out a sound meant to indicate a certain level of open-mindedness, if not actual agreement. But his throat was so tight it came out as a caveman-like grunt. Speaking was still not even a possibility.
Nadia laughed softly and touched his cheek. “You belong to us now, mind and soul. Never doubt it.” She glanced at Marnie, who was still standing off to the side. Mike had almost forgotten she was there, he was so overwhelmed by Nadia. “I’ll see you both inside. Hail Satan.”
Marnie smiled. “Hail Satan.”
Nadia walked away then. Mike kept his eyes on her until she disappeared through the door to the house. Only then did the rest of the world snap back into focus. The rest of the women had disappeared, too, except for Marnie. The men were busy with cleanup. Mike wondered vaguely whether he was expected to help, but the thought slipped away as Marnie insinuated herself against him and thrust a hand between his legs, making him gulp.
She rested her head on his shoulder and laughed. “My, hard again already. No surprise, really. Nadia has that effect on everyone.” She made a purring sound. “Hmm, even on me. So what do you say, are you ready for the orgy?”
He at last managed to recover his voice. “The what now?”
She giggled. “The orgy, silly. Are you ready for it?”
All Mike could think about was that plentitude of buxom, beautiful women now lounging about somewhere inside the house. Including Nadia, of course. It was obviously ridiculous to suppose he might at some point become physically intimate with her during this so-called “orgy” that was supposedly about to occur, but he couldn’t help picturing it anyway.
It was a singularly powerful image.
He shivered.
He looked at Marnie. “Yes. I think I’m ready for it.”
7.
Music was playing as they came back into the house. Some kind of haunting, dirge-y doom metal with sludgy, neo-psychedelic guitars and an echoing female lead vocal that lent the music an even gloomier depth and edge. Mike didn’t know what the music was, but it was something he would download if he happened across it online. It had a very rich and interesting sonic texture. But in this context--in a house full of demented Satanists--the vibe the music projected was more than a little creepy. As they neared the archway that led into the living room, he detected the flicker of a red strobe light. The pulsing light bled into the hallway and described strange, capering patterns on the walls.
It was all a little weird. Mike felt like he was about to enter the lounge of a downtown goth club rather than a suburban living room. That impression changed somewhat as he followed Marnie through the archway. Only somewhat because the vibe was essentially what he expected, with the flashing red strobe eerily complementing the hypnotic rhythms of the music. And an early 70’s horror film was playing on a large flat-screen television. Mike recognized it as Twins Of Evil, a Hammer Films production starring horror legend Peter Cushing. The movie was playing with the sound off and was only on, presumably, to heighten the carefully cultivated spooky atmosphere.
But the resemblance to a downtown club ended right about there, unless the club in question was one of those private, invite-only things. The female cult members were all present and most of them glanced their way as they came into the living room. These were only fleeting glances, but a few of the women smirked as they made brief eye contact with Mike. The smirks were probably a result of his look of wide-eyed, slack-jawed astonishment. But Mike simply couldn’t help it. These were all exceptionally lovely women--and every one of them was completely nude.
Including Nadia.
The cult’s leader sat in a leather recliner with her eyes closed and her chin tilted toward the ceiling. She sat with her butt on the edge of the recliner’s cushion and her legs spread wide. The blonde woman who had held the gun on him earlier was on her knees between Nadia’s legs, her head moving rhythmically as she performed an act of very enthusiastic oral sex. The emphatic jut of Nadia’s pink-tipped breasts was an equally entrancing sight. He couldn’t tear his eyes away from her for many long moments. He felt hypnotized. And dizzy, as if his head might explode any second. Or as if something might explode anyway.
Mike was beyond flabbergasted. The other women were smiling and swaying to the music, elegant heads rotating slowly on slender necks, the eyes of some fluttering as if they were in a trance. Or on drugs. Which maybe they were. Mike’s gaze roved over each of the sleek, shapely bodies as he wondered whether he might be on drugs, too. Maybe Marnie had dosed the soda he’d had upon arriving with acid. Or X. Or whatever it was people were taking these days. Because he definitely felt like he was tripping. How else to explain finding himself in a room full of beautiful, naked women who weren’t demanding payment for the privilege?
His attention inevitably returned to Nadia, who was rocking in the recliner and clutching hard at the armrests as her head whipped side to side. The blonde between her legs was moving her head much faster now, her oral ministrations causing Nadia to cry out loud enough to be heard over the roar of the music.
Mike flinched when he felt a hand tugging at his jeans. He glanced down, saw that it was Marnie opening his pants. Again. Only days ago he’d resigned himself to never being physically intimate with her and now it was happening for the second time in the same evening. She had already shed her own clothes while his attention had been elsewhere. It was his first time seeing her nude and the sight was everything he’d ever imagined and more. Okay, so maybe she wasn’t quite Nadia’s equal in t
he overall beauty department--who was?--but her unclothed body was a goddamn work of art.
He looked her up and down, shaking his head as he drank in all those lush curves. “You are so fucking beautiful.”
She smiled. “I know.”
He started to say something in response, but then her soft hand was gripping his hardness and he could only gasp.
She nuzzled his neck and groaned softly. “You like that?”
“Uh…”
It was answer enough.
She helped him strip off his clothes and guided him down to the carpeted living room floor. He slipped between her spread legs a moment later and entered her, gasping at that first plunge inside her exquisitely moist center. His face contorted and his nails dug into the carpet as he thrust against her again and again. He only belatedly realized he was fucking for an audience for the first time in his life. This moment of recognition happened less than a minute into the coupling with Marnie, occurring as he grimaced and twisted his head far to the right and saw a couple of the women staring down at him. One of them--a leggy brunette--had a hand between her legs and licked her lips as she made eye contact with Mike. Mike paused in mid-thrust, momentarily paralyzed by the attention. Marnie clutched at his back and thrust her hips at him, urging him to start moving again. For a terrible second or two he thought he would wilt inside her. He was as turned on as he had ever been, but during those seconds he also experienced an intense attack of performance anxiety. He was basically a shy guy and was way out of his depth here. The situation was exacerbated as the hideous memories of what he’d done in the garage only minutes earlier came rushing back in. What was wrong with him? What kind of monster could have sex so soon after doing something so awful to another human being?
Then he stretched his head a little further to the right and saw Nadia watching him with obvious interest. She was still in the recliner, but the blonde was no longer going down on her. Instead she was sitting at Nadia’s feet like an obedient pet and watching the show along with everyone else. Nadia was sliding her fingers through the woman’s hair, heightening the impression of a mistress-pet relationship.
Mike felt a charge go through him as he locked eyes with Nadia. Her gaze was as intense and intimidating as ever. Then she smiled and her mouth was moving. Her lips opened, shifted, and opened again in the same pattern a few times before he realized she was repeatedly mouthing the same two words: “Fuck her.”
Mike’s heart seemed to skip a beat.
And from that point forward there were no more issues with performance anxiety. His cock felt like steel inside Marnie as he gave her a pounding that was at least as energetic as anything he’d ever managed before. By the end of it, Marnie was screaming so shrilly it sounded as if her vocal cords would surely snap from the strain. Her nails scratched groove after groove in his back and drew forth trickles of blood. It hurt like hell, but Mike didn’t care at all in that last ecstatic moment of exploding orgasm.
Then he fell against Marnie and she clutched at him again and laughed and kissed and nuzzled his neck. After a few moments, he was surprised to find he was laughing, too. He felt so good, better than he had in longer than he could remember. He could blissfully, happily spend the rest of forever right here on this floor with Marnie. All of his self-consciousness was gone. He didn’t care that he was nude or that they could all see every inch of his somewhat less than buff physique. He felt freer than ever.
Liberated, even.
The memory of the heavy axe blade biting into the back of Donnie Wilkerson’s head tried to invade his consciousness a time or two, but pushing it away was easy. He knew it was another thing he would have to contend with sometime after the glow of this experience had passed, but he could worry about it later.
All he cared about right now was Marnie.
Marnie, Marnie, Marnie…
As he stroked her luxuriant blonde locks, he stared into her wide blue eyes and felt as if he could get permanently lost in them. He held her and kissed her and stayed there on the floor with her for a time longer than he could guess--but not nearly long enough. The spell was only broken when a stray thought drifted into his head and instantly commanded his attention--Oh, shit…no condom!
He listened to his heart thud heavily for a few moments before relaxing again.
Oh well…too late now.
He met Marnie’s gaze again and smiled…and then he felt someone’s toe nudging him. He twisted his head to get a look at the interloper and saw Blake staring down at him.
Blake smiled and waved. “Hey.”
Mike didn’t say anything.
Blake laughed and tilted his chin. “Come on, dude. My turn.”
Mike still didn’t respond. Not because he didn’t want to respond, but because he was temporarily incapable of coherent thought. For one thing, Blake had shed his clothes. He dangling junk was a little too close for comfort. But the bigger thing was that he was having great difficulty wrapping his head around what the guy had said.
Then he was frowning as he snapped out of it. “Turn? What do you mean your turn? The fuck are you talking about, man?”
“I mean I want to bang Marnie.”
Mike’s frown deepened as a surge of anger made his muscles tense.
So much for the fucking afterglow.
He started to rise, the urge to do violence overcoming him so swiftly he felt powerless to stop it. Not that he wanted to stop it. No, what he wanted to do was beat the living hell out of Blake, to pound that smiling face to a bloody fucking pulp.
But then Marnie gripped him by his shoulders and said, “Hey, look at me.”
Still seething, he looked at her.
She smiled. “It’s okay. Really. It’s an orgy, remember? This is how these things work.”
He didn’t say anything, just stared at her in open-mouthed disbelief.
Her smile melted slowly away. “Mike. Seriously. Come on. Get up now.”
Mike made no move to do as she asked. He just kept staring at her and trying hard to understand what was happening here. This was special, what had happened between them. It was. Didn’t she feel it, too? She had to, right?
Or…had he just been used yet again?
His head was spinning.
The world was off its axis, off-kilter. Everything was wrong, wrong--
“Mike.”
Nadia’s voice, rising effortlessly above the music and piercing his consciousness with the precision of a razor. He felt helplessly impelled to drag his gaze away from Marnie, even though it hurt to do so. He looked at Nadia, locked eyes with her, and waited for her to say something.
She crooked a finger at him and bent it toward her. “Come.”
“But--”
“Now.”
No question of disobeying that tone. With tremendous reluctance, he disengaged himself from Marnie and got slowly to his feet. He started in Nadia’s direction, sparing a murderous glance for Blake on the way. Blake was maddeningly unperturbed. He just smiled and dropped to his knees next to Marnie. Mike forced his gaze away from them. He had to, lest his rage turn volcanic, impossible to contain.
He stopped a few feet from the recliner in which Nadia still sat and said, “Yeah?”
She beckoned him to sit with a wave of her hand. He glanced at the leather sofa to his right and took a shuffling step in that direction before she said, “No. At my feet. With Carolyn.”
Carolyn being the apparently multi-talented blonde, skilled of tongue and willing to use a gun. She smiled at Mike as he sighed and dropped to his knees at Nadia’s feet. “Hi, Mike.”
He had no desire to exchange phony pleasantries with this woman, but Nadia’s frosty expression made it clear he’d better do just that. “Hi, Carolyn.”
“You swing a mean axe.”
“Um…thanks.”
Nadia patted Carolyn’s head. “Carrie, dear, go fetch us some drinks. And a bit of that special something. If you don’t mind.”
Carolyn shifted around on her haunc
hes and kissed the back of Nadia’s extended hand. The gesture was just another in an endless series of things that struck Mike as strange about this group. Nadia was more than just the leader of a weird little club to these people. They treated her like actual royalty. He supposed he’d better make an effort to do the same as long as he was involved in this Diabolical Conspiracy thing, regardless of how ridiculous it felt.
When Carolyn had departed, Nadia beckoned him closer still and he obliged, shifting around and pressing himself against one of her legs. She slid her fingers through his hair and then patted his head, just as he’d seen her do to Carolyn. He wanted to be mad about that. There was something fundamentally demeaning about it. But that wasn’t possible. Her incredible beauty negated any such resentment, just burned it away entirely. And the feel of her flesh against his was as electrifying as he imagined. Indeed, if he hadn’t come so recently, he would hardly have been able to stand it.
He looked up at her. “Nadia--”
“Hush.” She smiled. “Just relax and enjoy yourself. Let it all happen. Be happy in the knowledge that Satan loves you for what you’ve done in his honor tonight.”
Mike didn’t have anything to say to that.
Partly because it was fucking crazy. But mostly because what she had said also contained an element of wisdom. The only way through this was just to let it happen. To just sit back and wait for the end of the ride.
So that’s what he did.
His gaze went to the big flat-screen television as Nadia continued to absently stroke his hair. Twins Of Evil was still on. A bosomy vampire chick was flashing her fangs. He stared at the movie for a minute before letting his gaze flit about the rest of the room. Marnie and Blake were intertwined on the floor. Mike felt another twinge of anger, but made himself look away before it could spiral out of control. Nearly everyone else was also engaged in sexual acts. As he watched, people would disengage from each other and switch partners. The bodies met and connected in a wide variety of positions. Rather than being turned on, Mike experienced a disconnected kind of curiosity as he observed this carnal activity. He imagined it was like being on-set at a pornographic movie shoot.