Esha - The
Haunting of Crowley Manor
Chapter 1 - The
Devil's Eye Pendant
by Soul in Shadow
(soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
The Delta City
National History Museum was one of the largest of its kind on the West Coast,
rivaling the vaunted establishment in New York City, particularly thanks to the
ongoing efforts of Delta City's wealthy socialite class, and some generous
contributions from the city's hero population. Boasting some of the most
complete collections of the strange and outre, the museum was a hub of academic
study into the truly obscure and esoteric. Artifacts from the terrifying
Kike-Nyoka tribe of deep Congo, the actual remains of the pirate ship of
Eleanor the Red, and many other tokens of mystifying origin called the Museum
their home.
To protect its
contents, the Museum also boasted one of the most sophisticated security
systems in the country. Closed-circuit cameras, motion sensors, proximity
alarms and lockdown panels helped insure against the unusually dense crime rate
of the erstwhile idyllic metropolis. Any attempt at forceful breach would alert
every police station in a ten mile radius, and several heroes had agreed to be
on-call to help out as well.
such security
measures would have deterred any normal thief. But Barbara Cummings, or Esha,
as her villainous alter ego was called, was not by any means a normal thief.
Crouched atop the
roof of one of the museums extreme annexes, the blonde bombshell seemed to
eschew every traditional concept of what a catburglar should look like. Tall,
gorgeous, and incredibly well-endowed, the shapely villainess could have made a
killing as a supermodel or centerfold pinup girl. Heaven knows she'd received
countless offers over the years. But that kind of life held absolutely no
attraction to Barbara, who grew up cusioned by the wealth of her family. As
sole heiress of the Cummings fortune, Barbara could afford almost anything she
wanted, could travel wherever she wished to go, and could live however
ostentaciously she could imagine.
But all that
certainty and security, which most normal people crave, only served to bleach
the world of its excitement. Normal life held no challenge to Barbara, no
thrill. Money allowed her to live an extemely comfortable...and
boring...existence.
Barbara Cummings
lived for thrills, for excitement, and Esha was her ticket to a world that held
everything she craved.
Perched atop the
museum rooftop, peering cautiously down through an expansive glass skylight,
she couldn't suppress a smile of pure adulation as she felt the familiar race
of her pulse. The cool night breeze brushed against her scantiliy clad form
like a lover's familiar caress. She felt totally in her element, totally alive;
nothing else in her normal life could possibly compare.
Tonight was going
to be fun.
She glanced
around the rooftop, taking note of the camera positioned over a roof access
door on the other side of the platform. It was a simple device, with a field of
vision restricted to a short cone around the door itself. As far away as she
was, she was in no danger of being spotted. Her entry plan was well
thought-out, and meticulously researched, thanks in large part to the diagrams
of the security system she was made privy to since becoming a member of the
Museum's board of trustees.
Money could get
you anywhere, Barbara had learned long ago, and though no one on that stuffy
board thought her anything more than a wealthy, uncultured bimbo, their shallow
opinion of her provided tremendous amounts of cover. After all, what threat could
she possibly be? She was just a stupid heiress looking for ways to burn her
money.
The chief of
security was old, balding, and a certifiable lech. Barbara barely had to flash
any skin before he'd been eating out of her hand. She'd made copies of his keys
weeks ago. Getting the diagrams was childsplay after that.
Every one of the
museum's windows was fitted with an alarm, every door restricted by magnetic
keycard readers. The central museum itself even had motion detectors in its air
vents, but the older sections, like this annex, did not.
As silent as a
cat, Esha made her way to one of the curved exhaust hoods, and after a moment's
effort, dislodged the protective vent cover and peered inside. A steady stream
of warm air buffeted around her, ruffling her thick blonde tresses, and
providing some respite from the evening chill. The circulation fans would be
interspersed along the channel's length, but she wouldn't need to get that far
in. She only had to make it as far as the first return port, which opened into
the annex offices, after which the copy of the security chief's keycard, tucked
safely between the buxom thief's generous clevage, would provide her all the
access she needed.
It was almost too
easy, Esha lamented to herself, as she slipped deftly through the small portal
and disappeared into darkness.
-------------------
Less than ten
minutes later, Esha silently stalked through the museum corridors, moving
quickly but not hurriedly so. She had all the time in the world. She knew where
every camera was positioned, knew where to stand to avoid them, and thus passed
swiftly through the annex towards her prize. Security teams would be on their
routine patrols, but at this hour, no one was scheduled anywhere close to where
she was going. Despite the initial adrenaline surge, Esha's outlook for the
evening was growing increasingly dim. Breaking and entering was becoming almost
routine, and the amount of prep she'd invested had made this job a little too
smooth. She almost wished Miss Americana would come crashing down through one
of the skylights above the corridor, dramatically demanding Esha turn herself
in, just to liven up the night.
But alas, no one
knew where the pretty Miss Americana was these days. It was all over the news.
Hell, maybe the
stuck-up do-gooder had simply found herself a man, Esha chuckled wickedly. God
only knew repression like that needed serious venting.
The thought of
Miss Americana laid up in bed with some stud between her legs, pounding the
hero right out of her, provided the sulty thief with a pleasant distraction as
she sauntered the rest of the way through the museum. Esha made a mental note
that, after she was done with this heist, she would have to find herself some
hunky manmeat to finish off the evening with. Nothing like breaking the law to
get a girl's juices flowing.
Moments later,
she found herself standing at the entrance of a long, windowless gallery.
Interspersed down the length of the corridor were display pedestals, capped by
cubes of perfectly clear glass, each one illuminated by a cone of warm white
light.
The contents of
those displays made Esha's breath catch.
Jewels. Some of
the most fabulous examples of fancy colored gems in the world. On loan from the
New York museum, the collection boasted stones of unusual size, color, and
clarity. Sparkling yellow, brown, red and purple stones glittered in the dim
lighting, making her almost squeel with barely contained glee. Oh how she loved
jewelry. It was a predictable vice for a girl with her background, but she
didn't care. They were such lovely little trinkets, she never tired of them.
She would have loved to add any number of these particular beauties to her
personal collection, and still she might, but tonight she was here for a very
specific item.
Careful to avoid
the cameras, Esha moved silently from case to case, glancing at the perfectly
printed name plates, searching until....aha! She stopped suddenly in front of
one of the display cases, peering in at the black velvet bed and the pretty
little baubles resting atop it.
There at the
center was her quarry. A fancy diamond of the deepest red she could imagine,
like a ruby only darker, somehow...deeper, lay seated in an ornate silver
setting, a long, delicate strand of white gold coiled around it like the length
of a sleeping serpent.
The Devil's Eye,
Esha sighed in admiration. No wonder that crazy old bat wanted it so bad. The
way the spotlight seemed to bounce around endlessly in its multifaceted depths
made it almost glow. She could almost imagine it pusling, almost beating, a
bloody red heart of clear stone. The beatuful blonde was just beside herself,
she'd never seen a stone like it before. Her crimson lips parted in an
appreciative coo, her wide green eyes soaking in the almost agonizing glory of
the pendant. God, she could stare at that thing forever...
As the fascinated
blonde continued to stare at the bloody diamond, little by little, a dull,
blank sheen creeped over her eyes. Her breathing began to slow, to deepen. It
was so pretty to look at, so...relaxing. The way the light endlessly reflected
in its crimson depths was drawing her in, always in, ever deeper...so pretty...
A sudden, muffled
sound came from the chamber she'd just entered from, and she snapped up, her
heart skipping a beat. Dammit, she'd gotten so fixated on the jewel that she'd
lost focus for a minute. That wasn't like her. The smoothness of the job was
making her complacent.
She slipped
backwards, disappearing into the shadows, listening intently. Her heart was
hammering. In the long seconds she stood there, holding her breath, she became
aware of other things...like how her nipples stood rigidly at attention beneath
the thin black material of her bikini top, and how her face felt too warm,
flushed. Worse still, a steady, pleasant throb from her suddenly all-too
sensitive pussy threatened to break her already tenuous concentration. God what
had come over her? If she hadn't heard that noise, what might have happened...?
The noise. Had she
imagined it? Esha forced herself to utter stillness, listening until her ears
burned. A moment later she heard it again: faint footfalls, accompanied by the
musical jingling of a key ring.
A guard? Now?
That was impossible, she'd had at least thirty minutes before the next sentry
was due to pass by. How long had she been fixated on the stone?
Silent and still,
coiled on a bed of night-black velvet, the Devil's Eye gleamed
almost...maliciously.
Esha put the
strangeness of it out of her mind right then, and forced herself to concentrate
on the issue at hand. She'd clearly messed up somehow, and now she had a guard
to deal with. There wasn't anywhere for her to hide in the jewel gallery, and
the only real exit was back into the room from whence she came. She was cut
off. The only other door in the corridor led to a utility room, but the door
looked old, the hinges rusty. There was no way she'd be able to open it without
attracting attention.
Moving with
perfect silence along the dark gallery wall back to the gallery entrance, Esha
risked a quick glance down the adjoining hallway, and instantly caught sight of
the night guard slowly moving towards the jewel collection. As soon as she saw
the guard though, Esha's trepidation and uncertaintly instantly evaporated, and
as she noted the guard's pretty young face, and the way her starched uniform
failed to obscure what was clearly a very shapely body, the villainous
burglar's lips curled into a sinister smile.
A warm glow of
anticipation began churning in her belly as she slipped back into the gallery,
vanishing into the dim.
This was going to
be fun.
-----------------------------
Carrie Stokes
stopped in mid-step, forcibly stiffling a yawn. She glanced around the deserted
museum, her eyes moving from display to display, and sighed wearily. First week
on the job, and whatever excitement she'd felt at her new responsibilities was
rapidly fading in the face of the grueling tedium of the actual work. Being a
night guard at the Delta City Museum seemed like such an awesome, somehow
romantic proposition, but for the most part all they'd asked her to do was to
walk the same beat, night after night. It wasn't quite what she'd imagined, but
it paid the bills, and God only knew she needed the money.
"Fucking
college loans," she grumbled under her breath. She had five or six more
galleries to check, then she'd be on desk duty for a while. It would give her
time to catch up on her reading. She had a doosy of a midterm coming up.
When she glanced up
and recognized where she was, her pace slowed considerably. She hesitated. She
was coming up to the Patterson Fancy Diamond exhibit. She'd have to check on
the displays before proceeding on to the anthropology department.
Carrie's stomach
gave an involuntary, nervous flip.
She didn't like
the Patterson exhibit. Her third night on the job, she'd taken a minute to
indulge in some unauthorized gallery viewing during her pass through. How could
she not? Those gems were gorgeous! Bigger and more beautiful than anything her
English degree was likely ever going to afford her, at any rate. What harm was
there in looking around a little?
That was when
she'd seen the stone...and then her recollection started to get foggy...and
warm.
Even now if she
closed her eyes, she could still envision the brilliant crimson diamond.
Countless facets, so many that the stone almost appeared rounded, smooth, and
always shining with that weird, inner light. Carrie had never seen anything
like it before...
She had been
jarred to her senses sometime later by an irrate shake of her shoulder. Carl,
one of the other guards, had come all the way over from his wing of the museum
when she hadn't checked in, and was seriously annoyed that she was wasting time
lollygagging at some stupid colored stones. She had been humiliated, and
totally befuddled. How much time had she wasted in that gallery? Far too long,
clearly, and Carl had made it pretty clear that any more unprofessional
behavior would get her fired.
He'd stormed off,
leaving Carrie dazed and utterly confused...and even stranger, ridiculously
aroused. God, even the thought of it made her shudder! Her panties had been
soaked, her clit throbbing. Thank God her uniform had black pants, no one had
noticed the dark, wet stain between her thighs.
That night, in
the solitude of her room, she had masturbated uncontrollably to some of the
strongest orgasms she could remember having. She couldn't stop herself, she
just kept coming and coming...
The memory of all
of that made Carrie hesitate. She really didn't want to go in there again. She
was afraid of what might happen.
"Just walk
on by, Carrie," she murmured, "Just get on with your routine and walk
on by--"
Suddenly, she
heard a rusty whine, followed almost immediately by the sound of a door pulling
open. Her heart started hammering, and she snapped on her torch, casting the
beam through the dimly lit gallery's entrance.
"Hello?"
Carrie called out, steeling her voice, "Is someone here? Museum's
closed....hello?"
Carefully ducking
through the door, she let her beam sweep the room, finding to her relief that
it was utterly empty. The pedesals remained undisturbed. The gems shimmered on
their display pillows. Nothing seemed out of place...wait. She stopped her
beam, fixing it on a dull, old metal door far to the back of the corridor. The
utility room, she reminded herself.
The door was
cracked open. Ajar.
Carrie swallowed
hard.
She began to
reach for her radio, but stopped. That was all she needed after her last
incident, calling back to the desk because she got spooked. They'd think she
was anxious, flakey. They'd fire her for sure.
Well crap.
Casting a furtive
glance behind her, the young co-ed trained her torchbeam on the slightly open
door, and taking a breath, forced herself to walk towards it.
She'd glance
inside, just one look, then she'd shut the door and get the heck out of there.
By the time she
reached the gray metal door, her heart was hammering, and her beam wavered
nervously. Maybe she wasn't cut out for this job. The place gave her the
creeps. Maybe her roomate could get her hooked up at the pizza place; dealing
with all the local jocks had to be preferable to chasing imaginary spooks in a
dusty old museum.
She reached the
door. Pausing a moment to steady her nerves, she reached out with her free
hand, and pushed into the utility room. The room beyond was barely a 10' by 10'
storage room, one side dominated by a five-tier metal shelving unit, and the
others stacked rather haphazardly with boxes. Her beam swept the room, found it
mercifully empty...before it settled on a shiny, white rectangle laying in the
middle of the room.
She stared at it
suspiciously. What the hell, that looked like a...key card?
Carrie blinked in
confusion, but also in relief. She had gotten all worked up over nothing. The
place was really old, maybe the door just had a habit of coming open. She'd
mention it to maintenance, let them deal with it. She reached down to her belt,
flicked on her radio, and waited for her boss to acknowledge her. "This is
Carrie, just finishing up at the Patterson Gallery. I'm heading to anthro next.
Over."
The radio barked
in confirmation, and she shut it off. Sighing, feeling more than a little
embarassed at her nerves, Carrie stepped into the room to retrieve the fallen
keycard. As soon as she was past the door, there was a sudden blur of
movement...behind her! Faster than she could even turn around, she felt a
strong arm loop hers behind her back, pulling her tightly against the lithe,
shapely form of her aggressor, while a second hand swept up in front of her
face to clamp a cool, soft cloth over her mouth, stifling her cry.
Her torch fell to
the ground with a clatter, shutting off, leaving her to struggle in total
blackness against the calm, firm grip that held her fast. Suddenly there was a
hot, throaty voice whispering in her ear.
"Going
somewhere sweetie? Stay a while. I insist."
It was then that
Carrie became aware of the smell coming from the cloth pressed over her gasping
mouth. Sweet, cloying, a wave of dizziness came over her as reflexively sucked
in breath. Her pulse pounded in her ears, but her limbs suddenly felt numb,
heavy. With each poisoned gasp her struggles slowly began to fade, her body
sagging back against her attacker. She strugged vainly to keep her drooping
eyes open.
"That's a
good girl," came the lusty whisper in her ear making her body erupt in
goosebumps, "Close those pretty eyes for me. They're so, so heavy
now...just rest a moment, baby...sleep for me...sleeeeeep..."
Carrie let out a
helpless groan, her eyes rolling back, her eyelids fluttering shut, as Esha's
chloroform did its wicked work. The blonde dominitrix smiled as she felt the
woman swoon in her arms, and continued to hold the soft cloth over her nose and
mouth as she eased the slumping security guard to the carpeted floor. Only then
did she pull it away, and gave her unconscious prey an appreciative whistle as
she surveyed her young, pretty face.
"My, aren't you
a cutie!" Esha said with a grin, tracing the fingers of her black gloved
hand down the woman's pale cheek, down her smooth neck, to brush appraisingly
down the soft, ample curves of her prone body. The blonde thief chewed her lip,
a thrill of heat blossoming on her cheeks. She'd snared a real hot one this
time!
With some
difficulty, Esha pulled away from the overwhelmed security guard. As quietly as
she could, she pushed the door shut, then slid the deadbolt over with a final,
resolute click.
------------------------
When Carrie came
to, it took a few seconds for her to realize where she was.
An unfamiliar
ceiling hung above her. She realized that she was lying on the floor, her body
sinking slightly on the thick, plush carpet. The room was dark, the only
illumination coming from a small utility lamp that glowed with a low, pallid
light, casting long shadows about the room.
God, where was
she. What happened? What--
Suddenly,
recollection came flooding back, and her eyes went wide. She tried to sit up,
only then realizing that her hands were tied above her head, bound to one of
the shelf legs against the wall. Her stomach somersaulted in terror. A strip of
cloth was tied over her mouth in a makeshift gag. She whimpered, tossing her
head, looking around with wide, frightened eyes.
"Over here,
sweetie."
A voice, a
woman's voice, suddenly cut through the darkness, instantly commanding her
attention. Carrie craned her neck, looking over to see a shadowy form leaning
against the far wall, just outside the small circle of light cast by the lamp.
With smooth, catlike grace, the lithe figure swayed toward her. As she stepped
into the light, Carrie's eyes went wide.
Before her stood
a tall, fantasically proportioned woman wearing nothing by a skimpy black
bikini set, long, elbow length black gloves, and thigh-high black stockings
that clung scandalously to her shapely figure. Her face was obscured by a
simple black domino mask, her deep crimson lips curled in a predatory smirk.
Her wild blonde hair spilled over her shoulders in a messy, bed-head mane.
Carrie couldn't
believe what she was seeing. This woman looked like walking wet dream, like
some kind of nightmarish, vampiric lingerie model. What the fuck was going on?
Then Carrie noticed
her clothes. Or rather, her utter lack of them. Apart from her bra and slim,
lace panties, she'd been totally stripped! Her curvy hips, smooth, toned
stomach, and the generous swells of her tits were all helplessly exposed. She stammered incoherently through the gag,
writhing ineffectually on the ground, a blush of embarassment and anger
blossoming on her cheeks.
The woman eased
herself down next to Carrie's thrashing body, casually deflecting a wild kick.
She propped herself up on her side, ignoring Carrie's angry cries, content to
just let her hungry stare slowly drink in the bound girl's soft curves. Esha
found herself particularl drawn to the girl's barely covered chest. Big and
perky, just how she liked them.
"I'm sorry
about the gag, honey," the blonde sighed, lightly tracing her fingers over
Carrie's smooth thigh. "I needed to be sure you could hear me out before
you went and did something...stupid."
The sudden
iciness in her voice made Carrie's struggles abruptly cease. She eyed the woman
warily, but found herself shrinking back from the emerald, serpent stare that
she fixed her with. Carrie panted through her nose, trembling. Esha nodded
towards the shelf a few feet away, urging Carrie to follow her gaze. The bound
brunette hesitated, then turned her head. In a moment, she recognized the
small, rectagular tool sitting haphazardly on a low shelf.
A box cutter. Oh
god, what did she mean?
When her eyes
darted back to Esha, the anger and hostility was suddenly laced with something new--white
hot, almost unbearable, panic. Seeing this, the blonde shushed her, resting a
firm hand on her belly to steady her jumpy prey.
"There there
sweetie, just relax. I'm not planning on cutting you up or anything crazy like
that." Then, her tone went icy again, "Just as long as you agree to
do as I say. Simple enough, right?"
Carrie struggled
to control her out of control panting, to quell the sudden panic in her chest.
She desperately wanted to get out of this place alive. She was willing to do
whatever this crazy woman wanted, oh god she just wanted to go home.
After a moment,
carrie gave a slow, deliberate nod. Esha smiled.
"That's a
good girl. So for starters, no screaming, got it?"
At least, not
yet, she thought to herself with a wry chuckle.
When Carrie
nodded her assent a second time, Esha reached over and pulled the gag loose.
The bound girl flexed her jaw, gratefully intaking great swallows of air. When
her breathing had steadied, she hazarded a quiet, tremulous question, "W-who
are you? What do you want from me?"
The blonde vixen
gave an exaggerated gasp, feigning indignation, "What? You mean you have
no idea who I am? I'm offended!" She pouted at Carrie, her crimson lips
pursing, "You college girls don't pay much attention to the news, do
you?"
Terrified that
she might set her off, Carrie gave a very hesitant shake of the head.
Esha sighed.
"Well, don't worry about it sweetie. I'm sure you'll figure it out. It'll
be all over the headlines once I'm out of here with that stone."
"S-stone?"
Carrie stammered, "You're a thief?" She looked Esha up and down a
second time, incredulously. She had to be joking.
Esha shrugged.
"Some say the best. But you don't need to worry about that. You see, you
have much...bigger problems to worry about."
And swift as a
cat, Esha swung her leg over Carrie's prone body, straddling the helpless woman
across her upper thighs, pinning down her legs. Carrie gave a startled gasp,
flinching at the sudden movement. Esha settled herself in, luxuriating in the
firm softness of the young woman's upper legs. A runner maybe, she mused; it
would explain her exquisite figure.
"What do you
mean?" Carrie whimpered, watching with mounting dread as Esha's long,
gloved fingers began to absentmindedly weave nonsense trails over the girl's
flat, tensing stomach. "D-don't touch me! Please, let me go!"
But the gorgeous
thief ignored her, letting her dancing fingers slowly walk their way up
Carrie's smooth stomach, along her sensitive sides, and slowly, oh so slowly,
towards her luscious, bra-covered breasts. She grinned as the bound girl tried
ineffectually to struggle beneath her weight. "I confess," she
whispered to Carrie, her voice low and intimate, "Stealing money and
trinkets, that's really just my second favorite thing to do. What I really
love, what I positively live for, is stealing hearts...particularly from pretty
little things like you..."
Carrie was about
to snap a retort when Esha's long, sensuous fingers suddenly grabbed hold of
her taut breasts. The bound brunette gasped in shock, and she reflexively tried
to heave the mad woman off her, but she had no leverage, and Esha merely had to
adjust her balance a moment before Carrie's bucking hips came crashing back to
the carpet uselessly. "Let go of me! Let me go!"
Esha cocked her
head slyly, watching her with bright, green eyes, as her grasping hands
suddenly eased up on her breasts, then began to slowly, methodically, massage
them through Carrie's thin, lace bra. The pinned girl grimaced at the
violation, but something...something was wrong. The woman's hands moved with
such purpose, with such familiarity. The way she was manipulating her boobs,
gently, but with a knowing firmness, was so different from the wild groping she
usually endured from the few random dates at college that had gone that far.
Soon, in spite of everything, a tingling, pleasant warmth began to grow in her
heavy tits. Carrie could only stare in mute shock, watching Esha's deft hands
roll and caress her tightening breasts, the inky black of her gloves
contrasting sharply with her lavender bra and flushed, pale skin. When Esha
suddenly sank her fingers into her sensitive tits and gently began pulling them
up and away from her chest, Carrie let out a wholly involutary gasp.
"Feels nice,
doesn't it sweetie?" Esha smirked, "No need to be shy about it. It's
just us girls here."
"Ugh! N-no,
no stop, please," Carrie stammered, aghast that her body would feel
anything, much less pleasure, from being groped against her will. But Esha's
hands just kept working her over, and soon the warmth in her breasts had
changed to a steady throb, the all-too pleasant glow beginning to spread across
her chest, down her belly, which now fluttered with almost nervous
anticipation. Carrie kept shaking her head no, but her breathing was getting
heavier, and a blush of color had blossomed on her cheeks. Esha smiled to
herself. Time to take things up a notch.
"I really
like this bra of yours. It's a lovely color, very flattering. Big tits like
yours probably need quite a bit of support. And this center clasp..."
"W-wait!
Don't!" Carrie cried.
But in a flash,
Esha's knowing fingers had closed in on the plastic clasp between her heaving
breasts, and with a casual snap the two bra cups were instantly loose, letting
Carrie's large, conical breasts spill obediently into Esha's expectant hands.
The helpless co-ed let out a groan of shame, but she couldn't look away as
those black gloved hands took possession of her milky white tits.
The sensation
was...it was just so...
"N-no..nn....ooh!"
Carrie gasped helplessly, her breath catching. The feeling of Esha's hands over
her bra had been bad enough, but now her blonde assailant had unfettered access
to her charms. Masterfully she resumed her deft manipulation of Carrie's
breasts, kneading, caressing, and rolling their exquisite softness with devious
intent. Carrie's nipples immediately sprang to trecherous attention beneath
Esha's coaxing fingers, and the blonde wasted no time in rolling them against
her silky, gloved palms, and spiraling around her swollen areola with her
fingertips. Carrie's mouth had fallen open in mute denial, but when Esha took
her engorged nipples between finger and thumb and slowly began to twist...
"AH!"
the bound co-ed let out a sharp gasp as bolts of unwanted pleasure began to
flicker from her tormented nipples. "Oh, oh please stop, let go of
my...let go of...my..." But as Esha's fingers continued their relentless
assault, Carrie's protests began stutter, to weaken. Her breathing was growing
ragged, her eyes drooped, and more and more frequently, a moan of helpless,
irresistable pleasure would slip from her parted lips.
When Esha used
her nipples to slowly pull her heavy tits away from her chest, Carrie's eyes
fluttered wildly. "OOOH! Oh...God...!"
The blonde
temptress chuckled at her panting victim. "As you can tell, I have quite a
bit of experience with nice fat tits like yours. I know how sensitive they can
be. And I know just...what they....like..."
With that, Esha
wrapped her fingers around the base of Carrie's left breast, steadying the
quivering mound of flesh, before leaning forward with slow, menacing intent.
Then, her green eyes piercing into Carrie's faraway gaze, Esha extended her
long, wet tongue, and traced a slow, meandering path up the slope of that
captured tit, trailing a thin stream of shimmering saliva as she slowly, oh so
slowly, approached its turrid peak. Carrie gasped raggedly as that tongue made
contact with her engorged nipple, circling it, flicking across it, lashing it
mercilessly with light, wet strokes. Carrie's breathing was stilted, her belly
fluttered, and her back unconsciously arched off the plush carpet to press up
and into Esha's hot, wet mouth. The master seductress didn't disappoint.
Opening her mouth widely, she planted her succulent lips against Carrie's
feverish breast, and sucked it into sweet, liquid ecstasy.
Carrie's head
fell backwards limply, a strangled moan her only protest, as the evil Esha
nursed on her swollen tit. Oh God, why did it have to feel so good? The part of
her that recognized this as wrong, that chaffed against the sexual assault,
desperately wanted to struggle, to fight off the vile attentions of this wicked
woman, but her breasts felt like heavy, delicious mounds of throbbing
sensation. No one had ever made her feel this way before. More and more, that
part of her still trying to resist was being drowned out by relentless,
horrible, unwanted pleasure, both from her tormented breasts, and increasingly,
from the hot, wet mess that was growing in her panties.
Esha moaned
appreciatively around the swollen nipple in her mouth, looking up into Carrie's
desperate, flushed face. Her free arm swept underneath the prone girl's arching
back, her fingers caressing, forcing her to offer up her breasts as she slowly
licked from one to the other. Carrie whimpered as she swept into the deep
valley of her clevage with her hot tongue, before once again climbing her other
breast to claim her positively aching nipple between white, sharp teeth, and
lashing it with mind-numbing pleasure.
So consumed was
Carrie by Esha's assault on her tits that she didn't realize her seductress had
eased a leg back, and had slipped her knee between Carrie's trembling legs, poised,
waiting. The moment came swiftly. Drifting further and further into the sexual
daze Esha's mouth and hands were weaving, Carrie's legs began to slowly,
unconsciously, fall open. As soon as she felt the girl shift, Esha's knee
pushed in, forcing her legs apart fully, and allowing the villainess to slide
right down into her suddenly defenseless saddle. Carrie groaned in dismay, and
tried, far too late, to close her legs, but by then Esha was laying between
them, her firm stomach pressing against Carrie's heated, panty-covered mound,
and her massive breasts resting heavily on Carrie's own spasming belly.
Esha released her
captive nipple with a satisfied sigh, and flashed Carrie a confident smirk.
"You've got a pair of seriously knock out tits here, sweetie. I'll be I
could even make you come just by playing with them a little more, but there are
other--wetter--places I think I'd rather see..."
The girl's eyes
went wide, "Oh no, please don't, I'll do anything, just...please...!"
Esha's eyes
glittered in the dim light, "You've got that right, beautiful. By the time
I'm through with you, you'll happily do anything I say..."
And to Carrie's
horror, Esha slowly began kissing her way down the girl's tortured body. Every
few inches, her tongue would slip out, tasting her, taunting her, dipping into
her belly button and making her squirm.
But even as she inched lower, even as Carrie begged her to stop, she could feel
her pussy starting to drool in anticipation. Her clit was aching. If what she
could do to her breasts was any indication, there was no telling what would
happen if she reached her sex.
But Carrie did
know what would happen, and the thought of it both filled her with dread...and
unwelcome desire.
As Esha slipped
her way lower, she hooked her hands behind Carrie's knees, and with predatory
insistence, began to push the struggling brunette's legs up...and back...
Carrie tried to
resist her, tried to fight back, but her muscles felt like jelly, her legs were
weak. Esha had no trouble spreading her wide open, and soon, the wicked woman's
mouth hung inches away from her panty-covered mound. Between her legs, Esha let
out a low chuckle.
"You keep
saying no, but it looks like your pussy has other ideas," she said,
"Here, let me help you make up your mind..."
Carrie flushed
with shame, embarassed by her body's betrayal, but the feeling only lasted a
second. In the very next breath, Esha's long tongue snaked out and pressed hard
against her panty-covered sex. Carrie's hips bucked, and a strangled gasp was
torn from her throat, as the wicked sensation rocked her already battered will.
Esha's tongue began to languidly trace over the thin, wet material of her
panties as they outlined the swollen lips of her pussy. In seconds, the mix of
Esha's saliva and her own trecherously flowing wetness had reduced the front of
her panties to a clinging, translucent panel of fabric, barely concealing her
spasming labia beneath. Esha watched as her tongue worked its evil magic over
the helpless young woman. Her wet, shining nipples stood at rigid attention
atop her panting breasts, and with every passing moment her vocal protests grew
more and more incoherent, punctuated increasingly by melodious moans of
unwanted, but undeniable, arousal. All too soon, Esha no longer needed to hold
her trembling knees apart; they lay open, inviting with their unspoken
submission more and more of the conquering pleasure from Esha's devilish
tongue. The blonde seductress slowly began to slide her hands down the backs of
the co-ed's soft thighs, massaging, caressing the supple flesh, until she was
cupping and kneading the firm globes of her ass. Carrie's face was flushed, her
wet lips parted, her eyes distant, dreamy, as Esha's tongue wove tantilizing
patterns through her useless panties. Enticing. Seductive. Irresistable. Seeing
her prey spiraling into total sexual submission, Esha gave her pantied mound
one last long lick before she opened her mouth wide, covering her swollen pussy
with a sloppy, sucking kiss that made Carrie moan hopelessly, her hips rising
up off the carpet, letting Esha's slender fingers slip under the thin waistband
of her panties. She groaned raggedly as she felt the gentle tugs as Esha began
slipping them off.
"No...no....oh
no..." she could only moan, tossing her head, as the vile vixen pulled
away the last bit of her clothing, easing it up and over her unresisting legs,
and deftly flinging it into the darkness.
"I think
I'll keep those," Esha smiled, "As a souvenir."
Esha took a
moment to absorb the loveliness of her now naked victim, her eyes following the
gentle curves of her legs and thighs, the enticing curve of her hips, and the
hot, glistening mound of her defenseless sex. The villainess groaned hungrily,
letting her fingers pass through the small trimmed triangle of fur at the crest
of Carrie's mons, her eyes glinting in predatory anticipation. "And
now," she whispered, "You're all mine."
Then, before
Carrie could put up any further resistance, Esha moved in, and plunged her
tongue into the girl's sopping pussy.
Carrie cried out,
he hips heaving, as that long, sinuous tongue delved between her soaked
netherlips, tracing along their length. The flat of her tongue lavished her
sex, stroking it from back to front in long, dominating slurps. Her pussy lips
spread obediently for Esha's invading tongue as it began sliding in deeper. She
pressed insistently against the opening of Carrie's spasming vagina, caressing
her, slipping in just deep enough to inspire unwanted thoughts of pure, submissive
need in the bound security guard. "NOOO!!" she gasped,
"N..no...s-stop...Oooh, oh god, it feels...so...n-no...I
can't...I...can't..."
Carrie moaned,
sincerely, her eyes drifting shut. Her hands tugged uselessly at their bonds,
unable to stop the woman between her legs. Her willpower was fading. Her pussy
had come alive beneath Esha's talented tongue, and her hips were rocking
uncontrollably against her seductress' hot, lapping mouth. It was too good. She
had never been eaten out like this before. Every touch of that soft, supple
tongue stoked her desire into roaring furnace of undeniable lust. Esha
seemingly knew her every weak spot, seemed to know just how hard, or soft, she
liked to be touched.
She was on fire.
Her body melted under Esha's tongue, her mind, her convictions, leaking out of
her sopping pussy in rivulets of sweet, sticky nectar. Her wide, brown eyes
looked down past her mountainous breasts at the woman forcing this wild,
forbidden pleasure upon her, her gaze finding the blonde temptress's
glimmering, emerald eyes, and falling deep into their mesmerizing stare. Her
heart thudded with a strange roil of emotions...fear, submission...and
infatuation.
"You like
how I make you feel, don't you, beautiful?" Esha murmured, her voice low,
intimate, nuzzling her rigid clit with her pursed lips and making Carrie swoon.
Esha's piercing
stare fascinated her, made butterflies dance in her belly. Her mind lay open,
unresisting, her will totally undermined by the relentless, evil pleasure that
flowed from her captive pussy. Esha gloated inwardly, having seen it all many
times before. Far beyond her athleticism and resourcefulness as a thief, her
greatest weapon, indeed her most dangerous weapon, was her skill at snaring and
seducing unwilling females into beguiling, sex-drugged submission. Hopelessly
entranced, as much by Esha's compelling, dominating stare as by the unwanted
pleasure coursing through her body, the bound co-ed could not help but respond.
"I...I...y-yes...I
like...it..." she repeated, her face blushing.
"You don't
want me to stop, do you?"
"Oh!
Oh...I...no...please don't...don't s...stop..." she gasped, as Esha's
tongue began to slowly circle her engorged clitoris with her slick, firm
tongue. With each spiraling revolution, the liquid heat in her pussy ascended
irresistably towards brilliant, tantric release.
"You want to
cum so badly, don't you?" Esha sighed, now sliding one, then two, slender
fingers into Carrie's gushing sex, spreading her wide, pistoning in and out in
a toe-curling rhythm that took her breath away.
"AAH!
Please...I'm so hot...please...!" she cried, her hips thrusting back
against Esha's hand, needing to feel her fingers deeper, deeper. She was
getting so close, so dangerously close...!
"Be
mine," Esha hissed, her eyes flashing, "Submit to me. Call me
Mistress...and come!"
"Oh...oh
yes...yours...I'm yours...m-mistress...Oh Mistress! OH!! Oh I'm coming! I'm
coming!! I'm....AAAAAAHH!"
Carrie screamed,
her body heaving, as Esha's thrusting fingers and spiraling tongue pushed her
into an abyss of ecstacy. She seized, her hips rising off the carpet, her
juices exploding onto her Mistress's silky gloves and hungry, sucking mouth.
Esha groaned in her own ecstacy, devouring every twitch and tremble, every drop
of delicious cum. Carrie's pleasure crested like a wave, drowning her in its
erotic current, just as a second wave swelled behind it. Esha only had to brush
her thumb across the sensitive opening of her ass to send the second orgasm crashing
right behind the first.
She rode Carrie
masterfully, prolonging the pleasure as long as she could, until finally the
poor girl collapsed back to the ground, her chest heaving, her pussy spasming.
Esha sat back on her haunches, lording over the fallen girl. Her wet, crimson
lips spread in an evil, satisfied smile as she reached forward, and tugged at
the knot restraining the girl's hands. Carrie felt them come loose, opened her
groggy eyes to see Esha pulling her up and into a tight, dominating embrace.
Their breasts mashed together, and Carrie could feel the engorged stiffness of
Esha's own nipples pressing into her through the black bikini top she wore. The
blonde thief grabbed hold of the hair behind her head and bent her back for a
deep, plundering kiss. Carrie moan submissively as Esha's tongue drove into
her, bringing with it the sweet, heady musk of her own sex. After a brief,
overwhelmed moment, Carrie's tongue began to dance, eagerly, with her
Mistress'.
When at last Esha
broke their kiss, Carrie was panting, and staring up at her conqueror with
wide, awestruck eyes.
"Now then,
darling," her Mistress whispered thickly, stroking Carrie's hair and
possessively squeezing her soft ass. "It's your turn."
Confusion
flickered across Carrie's features...followed by dawning understanding. She
blushed furiously, her eyes fluttering closed, and she moaned eagerly as Esha
began gently urging her head down...down...
Soon the dim room
was filled with fresh moans, and the sound of wet, willing submission, as the
master thief added a gem of another kind to her trove of female conquests.
The pendant, Esha
resolved, could wait just a little longer.