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Authors: Gillian Zane, Skeleton Key
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on her side and he was at her back and pushing into her again and again. She raised her leg so he could have better access and he took her as she watched the sexual escapades of the people around her.
There were more people. It had only been the Sultan and the dancers before, but now there were people on every available surface. They were all engaged in different sexual acts. Two, three and four people grouped together. Men with men, women with women, all lost in passion. They were all very different. Their styles. Their dress, even though most were undressed. Sierra noticed a woman with long light hair that curled in tight ringlets down her back. She was nude, but wore very distinct plastic bangles on her wrists and her hair was teased in a style out of the 80s, not the 1880s…the 1980s. There was also a young couple, vigorously engaged in oral sex on one large man that stood over their kneeling forms. The girl’s hair was done in pin curls, the man’s hair was short and slicked back with gel.
They were people out of time. People who shouldn’t be here. A woman cried out and Sierra’s attention went to her. The woman was leaning back on a mound of pillows with another woman between her legs. The woman still wore her shirt, it was a local team’s jersey. The New Orleans football team. A very modern shirt that didn’t belong in this vintage environment.
Sierra’s ears popped. She screamed. This time not in pleasure. This time in horror.
The sumptuous room was replaced with a den of horrors. Blood was everywhere. Splatters of it were all over the walls and on every available surface. Sierra was even laying in it. She lifted her hand from the pillow and it came away slick with blood. And the corpses. There were dead bodies everywhere. The woman in the jersey, she lay dead, motionless, her jersey soaked with blood.
Sierra shot away from Owen, slipping in the blood and accidentally slapping her hand against a woman that was lying on the floor. She too was dead. A moment ago she had watched as that woman was taken by the two men with the thick brown ponytails, now all three of them were missing their heads. They were in pieces. Their body parts strewn over the floor. The head of the woman was on the other side of a pile of pillows, frozen in shock, her mouth open as if to scream.
The guard who had watched impassively at the door was on the floor too. His head also missing, his hand still gripping the curved blade of his scimitar.
“Oh shit.” Sierra jerked away. Owen came up behind her, his hands on her. His bloody hands. She tried to pull away.
“Sierra,” he murmured. His hands stroked her, they slipped between her legs, rubbing her. He held her strong. The pleasure was too intense. The way he made her feel. The blood faded. She sighed. But the blood, it was everywhere.
Owen kissed her. There was no blood.
Chapter 10
O wen was drowning in the sensations. Falling under a spell that he couldn’t come back from. He was lost in this woman. Nothing like this before. Nothing like this again. They had fucked so many times he had lost count. He never went soft. His dick was as hard as a rock.
The intensity of another orgasm whipped through him and he was seeing double. Double vision. Two worlds. One space. Horror. So much horror. But so much pleasure. He couldn’t bring together what he was seeing. His brain felt so heavy. So full.
He shook his head and he forced himself to retreat from Sierra. She whined in protest. She was covered in blood.
Blood. There was blood everywhere.
Oh fuck, he hurt her. She was dead. What had he done to her? But she still moved. She beckoned him with her hands. She tried to pull him down, she wanted everything from him. He wanted to give her more of him.
There was a bloody handprint on her leg. There was more on her stomach. It looked like it was from him. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. She was writhing in it. He was buried inside of her, his dick in her
There were more people. It had only been the Sultan and the dancers before, but now there were people on every available surface. They were all engaged in different sexual acts. Two, three and four people grouped together. Men with men, women with women, all lost in passion. They were all very different. Their styles. Their dress, even though most were undressed. Sierra noticed a woman with long light hair that curled in tight ringlets down her back. She was nude, but wore very distinct plastic bangles on her wrists and her hair was teased in a style out of the 80s, not the 1880s…the 1980s. There was also a young couple, vigorously engaged in oral sex on one large man that stood over their kneeling forms. The girl’s hair was done in pin curls, the man’s hair was short and slicked back with gel.
They were people out of time. People who shouldn’t be here. A woman cried out and Sierra’s attention went to her. The woman was leaning back on a mound of pillows with another woman between her legs. The woman still wore her shirt, it was a local team’s jersey. The New Orleans football team. A very modern shirt that didn’t belong in this vintage environment.
Sierra’s ears popped. She screamed. This time not in pleasure. This time in horror.
The sumptuous room was replaced with a den of horrors. Blood was everywhere. Splatters of it were all over the walls and on every available surface. Sierra was even laying in it. She lifted her hand from the pillow and it came away slick with blood. And the corpses. There were dead bodies everywhere. The woman in the jersey, she lay dead, motionless, her jersey soaked with blood.
Sierra shot away from Owen, slipping in the blood and accidentally slapping her hand against a woman that was lying on the floor. She too was dead. A moment ago she had watched as that woman was taken by the two men with the thick brown ponytails, now all three of them were missing their heads. They were in pieces. Their body parts strewn over the floor. The head of the woman was on the other side of a pile of pillows, frozen in shock, her mouth open as if to scream.
The guard who had watched impassively at the door was on the floor too. His head also missing, his hand still gripping the curved blade of his scimitar.
“Oh shit.” Sierra jerked away. Owen came up behind her, his hands on her. His bloody hands. She tried to pull away.
“Sierra,” he murmured. His hands stroked her, they slipped between her legs, rubbing her. He held her strong. The pleasure was too intense. The way he made her feel. The blood faded. She sighed. But the blood, it was everywhere.
Owen kissed her. There was no blood.
Chapter 10
O wen was drowning in the sensations. Falling under a spell that he couldn’t come back from. He was lost in this woman. Nothing like this before. Nothing like this again. They had fucked so many times he had lost count. He never went soft. His dick was as hard as a rock.
The intensity of another orgasm whipped through him and he was seeing double. Double vision. Two worlds. One space. Horror. So much horror. But so much pleasure. He couldn’t bring together what he was seeing. His brain felt so heavy. So full.
He shook his head and he forced himself to retreat from Sierra. She whined in protest. She was covered in blood.
Blood. There was blood everywhere.
Oh fuck, he hurt her. She was dead. What had he done to her? But she still moved. She beckoned him with her hands. She tried to pull him down, she wanted everything from him. He wanted to give her more of him.
There was a bloody handprint on her leg. There was more on her stomach. It looked like it was from him. He looked down at his hands. They were covered in blood. She was writhing in it. He was buried inside of her, his dick in her
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