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When I open my eyes, we’re in an abandoned farmhouse, far across the tangled cornfields and chaff that separates the cultivated land from the wilds. Dust sits like a fine silt upon everything, but it’s warmer in here than out in the misty damp of the woods. Jack sets me down on the floorboards, and with his claws, he delicately begins removing my jacket before tearing my stained dress from my body. I feel exposed, standing there in just my boots, lacy bra, and well … not much else.
Jack throws my dress into the fireplace before poking a piece of kindling into his carved eye socket and tossing it in. With the supernatural flames of Hellfire, the hearth is burning merrily in an instant, and my dress—as well as the evidence of Cooper Mackie’s glorious demise—burns to cinders. I step closer to the hearth and hold out my hands, allowing the warmth to infuse my flesh and drive away the night’s chill.
“Thank you, Jack, for this, and what you did back there. You’re my very own Halloween knight.”
Jack stares at me with his hollow, blazing eyes and nods.
“I’m glad we understand each other,” I say. Turning from him, I lower myself provocatively to the floor and lean back with my knees up, legs spread wide. “Should we get started on that pumpkin patch?”
My monster gets down onto his knees between my legs, his spectacular green cock stiffening before my very eyes. Like magic it begins oozing that delicious candy pre-cum, and I lick my lips at the memory of its taste. I’m almost tempted to rise and clean him up, but I’m going to need that lubrication down there… Reclining to my elbows on the old floral rug, I bite my lip in anticipation as Jack strokes his head up and down my throbbing slit.
Just feeling his warm monster touch me drives my yearning through the roof, and I reach down with one hand to spread my lips, allowing him easier access. He pushes the head in and I gasp aloud. “Oh, God,” I breathe. “You’re so fucking huge!”
Jack lowers himself onto his elbows, and his flickering orange gaze finds mine; his trench coat of shadows blocks out all else. There’s just us. Me and my ghoulish monster fucking in a derelict farmhouse by a warm Hellfire hearth on All Hallows’ Eve. His cock sinks in, slow and steady, one agonizing inch after another. He stretches me like I’ve never been stretched before. A prolonged moan escapes me, and I adjust my hips as he continues to bury himself inside me.
God, it hurts!Just as badly, if not more than my first time. And then, just when I don’t think I can bear to be stretched anymore, his forward momentum stops, and I remember to breathe. I glance down and realize that he’s balls deep, all the way in; and I fit him like a fucking glove, albeit an exceptionally tight one. “Oh, Jack,” I whisper, reaching up to trail a tentative hand down his smooth pumpkin face. “I’m as ready as I’m ever going to be. Fuck me like the beautifully vicious monster you are. Fill me with your seed like your redemption depends on it.”
I don’t need to say more. Jack fucks me like a beast, his thick, veined cock plowing my fertile fields with the fury of a jackhammer. The irony is not lost on me. My body vibrates, and I feel like a sock puppet—like something’s crawled up inside of me, filling every conceivable part of me—but that only turns me on more. Vines snake out from under Jack’s coat, feeling their way over me, their soft but firm and pliant tendrils finding all the places that drive me nearer to ecstasy.
Tendrils tweak my tender nipples, while delicate, swirling vines find their way between our hot bodies to rub my clit as my monster fucks me into oblivion. Other tendrils slip carefully up my ass, massaging me from behind, before entwining within me to form a twisted, gnarly cock of vines that stretches my ass from the inside, bypassing the uncomfortable ring burn I’ve experienced with anal sex in the past.
I’ve never been so thoroughly used and pleasured before! I can hardly stand it. I writhe, sandwiched between Jack and the floor. I want more, and yet, a part of me wants to begno more! God, no more!But I won’t beg. I refuse. I found my way to this monster and this moment for a reason, and I will not only withstand whatever pleasures he can draw out of me, but I’ll enjoy it.I’ll be strong. Like a vine, I will not break. I’ll bend. I’ll be pliant, and I’ll mold myself into the Woman Who Fucks Monsters.I am her, and no mere mortal will ever satisfy me again. I know that without a shadow of a doubt. Jack the Trickster has ruined me for all men.
Jack’s beautiful green muscular form flexes over me, his supernatural muscles rippling in the dancing shadows of the firelight as he breaks down every wall I have, assaulting every sense I possess. My toes curl, and my thighs clench, my teeth sinking into my lip as I approach the apex of the most intense, soul-destroying orgasm I’ve ever felt. A scream tears forth from my lips, and I buck like a frantic, broken, desperate animal. Waves of pleasure crash over me, relentless and merciless. I lose feeling in my legs as brutal shudders take hold of me, wracking me from my core, until I’m no longer in control of my own traitorous body.
Incoherent sounds burst out of me as Jack continues to thunder, thrusting like a tireless beast. Then, before I realize what’s happening, I find myself flipped over like a bloody pancake, man-handled by his vines so that I now lie prostrate on my belly, my face resting against the old rug. I close my eyes as he re-enters me, and his tendrils adjust position to raise my ass, slipping under once more like sinister fingers to torment my poor, strung-out clit.
On his knees, Jack seizes my hips and just like that, we’re going at it doggie style—only I can’t hold myself up for the life of me. I have no strength left, and I feel like goo. I don’t know where one part of me begins and the next ends. My entire body is slayed by merciless, persistent pleasure. I’ve never known anything like it.I don’t know that I’m going to survive this! Will I even be able to walk again? It doesn’t feel like it.
The pounding goes on for what seems like an eternity, and I slip into a place of soothing darkness, lulled by Jack’s low moans. I feel suspended in time, as if I’m floating. This is what they must mean when they talk about sub-space in BDSM, I realize. When you give yourself over so entirely that the mind takes a backseat and just allows the body to feel, without fear or doubt. You submit to your Dom, giving him complete control and trust.
What am I now? Iwonder.What will I be? The Mother of Monsters? What will I give birth to?I can’t possibly guess. And then a more pertinent thought slithers into my mind, insidious and dark. What will become of Jack? Is he always around, just lurking in the woods, or does he vanish into the ether at the end of All Hallows’ Eve? I don’t want to be without him. And that’s when I know. Amongst our debauchery, and the beautiful spectacle that was the slaughter of Cooper Mackie, I’ve fallen for Jack the Trickster.I love my monster.
As if Jack has heard my thoughts, he growls, and the sound is so thunderous and terrifying that it breaks through the darkness of my mind, slamming me back into my body, back into the present. Jack is thrusting like a demon, his curved claws digging into my flesh as he rides the precipice of his release. Everything is on fire, every nerve, every cell. His tender and cruel tendrils whip my clit, over and over, and the clean sting mixed with the ecstasy that ravages my body pushes me over the edge.
Hands on the floor, my ample breasts wobbling with each violent thrust, I scream until I feel my throat tear. My voice echoes through the abandoned farmhouse as my orgasm pummels me, beating my already brutalized senses like a drum of war. I feel butchered. Absolutely drained. Spent. I have nothing left.
Jack roars, and a part of me is relieved, while the rest of me shrinks at the skin-crawling, horrifying sound that fills the air. It’s the song of nightmares breathed into life.
His hot seed pours inside of me as he bucks, and it’s an almost comforting feeling in the blissful silence of my mind. The fire in my murdered cunt is extinguished by the massive load of his veined, rock-hard monster cock. And then all I know is fatigue, and a merciful, sweet warmth. It descends upon me like a blanket of peace, prickling through me, melting me, and reducing what remains into a gooey, sticky mess of Halloween honey.
Chapter Five
I roll over and yawn, stretching like a cat. Lazily opening my eyes, I’m greeted by a dim glow—a single candle silently burning in the darkness. I’m in a bed. It smells musty, but at least it’s soft. “Jack?” I call out.He must have carried me here.I sigh.Who knew a monster could be so sweet?“Jack?” I don’t know what kind of answer I’m expecting, being that he can’t seem to communicate in a traditional sense, but I need to know if he’s still here.
Pushing back the covers, I slip from the bed. My boots are still on, and I grin.Kinky. Knowing that my dress is nothing but ash, I wander to the old cupboards in the room and open them wide. It smells like mothballs, but there are women’s clothes here, and they seem undamaged by time. Grateful, I pull a calf-length white dress down and give it a shake. It’s simple, shapeless, and made of cotton, but it will do. Slipping it over my head, I adjust it, then fetch the candle, heading downstairs.
The stairs creak underfoot, giving away my descent. “Jack?” The old house is silent, and a chill manifests at the base of my spine before shivering its way up my back. I shake the feeling away, pursing my lips as I reach the landing. Swallowing the urge to call out again, I wander through the house and find myself back by the hearth. Its flames are bright and fill the room with warmth, which means the fire has been maintained throughout the night; that, or Hellfire doesn’t ever burn out…
Panic flutters in my belly.Where is he? What time is it?I find my phone on the floral rug, almost lost under the couch. Scooping it up, I swipe the screen and tease my lip through my teeth. It’s 4 AM. Pulling on my leather jacket, I slip my phone into my pocket. “Jack?” Opening the front door, I breathe a sigh of relief. He’s right there, standing at the front of the house, just beyond the porch. Skipping down the steps, I come to stand beside him.
“Are you all right, Jack?” I ask, glancing up at him.
His fire-filled eyes stare straight ahead.
“Jack?” I move to stand in front of him, but he remains unmoving. His vines are hidden away beneath his black trench coat, and for all intents and purposes he seems just like a very tall, broad-shouldered man with a jack-O-lantern for a head. Unsure of what to do, or what more to say, I take a deep breath, then throw myself at him. Wrapping my arms around him, I rest my head against his green chest. “Please, come back to me,” I whisper. “You can’t just change my life and go.” Strong arms embrace me in return, and I sigh—my fear forgotten.
“Tell me. Show me,” I plead, stepping back gently from his arms. “What’s wrong?”
