Nightwalkers

by Kirstin South

  "Why don't you join me for a drink?"

  Jacynthe smiled in return and rose. She was wearing a man's plaid shirt, tied up under her breasts to bare her flat stomach and to raise her braless breasts and emphasize the dark cleavage between them. Moreover, the ultra-short jeans shorts left little to the imagination about her legs and shapely butt. Targus, however, undressed her the rest of the way with his eyes as she crossed the lounge.

  "Well, hello. Please have a seat."

  His voice was the colour of the drink in front of him, neat dark rum, no ice.

  "Do you have a name, little one?"

  "Jacynthe. Do you?"

  "Targus. Targus Stoddard. And what do you do, Jacynthe?"

  "Meet men."

  "Not difficult, I guess, for one who looks like you. But as a living?"

  "That keeps me busy enough," Jacynthe smiled. "And what do you do?"

  "Make love to lovely girls."

  "For a living?" Jacynthe laughed deep in her throat.

  "No, for a living I'm a bounty bunter."

  "How many bounties is the legal limit?" Jacynthe asked.

  "The term means people hire me to hunt and often kill things. Sometimes animals, like wolves that are attacking their herds. Sometimes humans, such as wanted criminals. Sometimes…well, sometimes, something else."

  "What kind of Something Else?"

  "Well, right now, I'm hired to kill a Nightwalker."

  "What's a Nightwalker?"

  "A piece of someone's wild imagination, if you ask me," Targus laughed and downed his rum. "What can I get you, Jacynthe?"

  "Something the colour of blood," Jacynthe answered. "Sounds like you're leading me on about Nightwalkers."

  "Maybe I am. Waitress, another rum for me and a Bloody Caesar for the lady."

  "So?"

  "So what?"

  "Tell me about Nightwalkers."

  "If I were to describe a creature that has fur like a wolf, but which moves more like a cat. A creature with horrible fangs like a cat, but with black or dark-green, instead of yellow cat's eyes. A creature who attacked, killed and ate humans, but then took on the shape of a human being…in a rather attractive human being, in fact. What would you say?"

  "That you'd been watching too many re-runs of Kolchak – the Night Stalker on digital TV."

  "So would I," Targus laughed. "But that's exactly what this town's hiring me to kill."

  "But why'd you take such a ridiculous job?" Jacynthe chuckled.

  "It's what I do…for money. And I call three hundred thousand money."

  "Dollars?"

  "Not eggshells, honey."

  "The town's buggy."

  "That's their problem. So I'll go and shoot some mutant black-eyed stray dog and take my pay and move on. Say, that went down fast."

  He indicated her empty glass.

  "I like V-8. The colour fascinates me."

  "Another, then?"

  "Only if you will."

  "We'll get plastered," Targus chuckled.

  "So?" Jacynthe smiled. "Who's stopping us?"

  About an hour later, Jacynthe was fiddling with the last button on her shirt as if she wanted to open it, and she had run her fingers through her long jet-black hair, so often that several long locks of it were hanging over her dark green eyes. That was when Targus made the suggestion she'd been waiting for.

  "Why don't we drop up to my room for a nightcap?" he said. "We can buy a bottle of vodka at the bar; there's V-8 in the dispenser by the ice-machine; and I already have dark rum."

  "A Bloody Caesar's too much trouble. Dark rum is fine with me," Jacynthe said agreeably. "It's red enough."

  Then she smiled seductively, lowering her eyelids…just enough.

  "Besides, I don't think a nightcap is foremost on our minds anyway."

  * * *

  Targus' room was a typical small town Central Hotel room: double bed, washstand with attached mirror, bathroom down the hall—shared with the whole floor, Jacynthe imagined. But, since comfort—or even a place to sit—was really not pertinent at this point, they merely tore each other's clothes off and leapt on top of the bedspread, Jasmine instinctively flopping on her back and spreading her long legs.

  "God, you've got nice legs!" Targus breathed. "Firm and lithe-looking without being muscular."

  "Some people have said they're like a cat's hind legs," Jacynthe purred. "Except the same people always seem to want to crawl between them."

  "I know I do," Targus admitted hoarsely.

  "First, this pussy needs to be played with." Jacynthe playfully fingered her clean-shaven vulva.

  "That will be my pleasure," Targus groaned and his mouth closed over her vagina.

  For a hunter, he was a marvellous pussy-eater. Within minutes, his tongue, lips, cheeks and teeth had Jacynthe gasping for breath and bucking wildly up against him.

  "Please, please, I want your cock in me," she cried. "God, I need your goddam cock in me!"

  "First, my little dog needs playing with," Targus answered coolly. "It's only fair."

  "All right, dammit!" Jacynthe snarled as she rolled him off her so that her voracious maw could engulf his shaft.

  And she gave him as good as he had given her, chewing at his testicles, licking his penis from base to tip, sucking its whole length down her throat where even her swallowing muscles could massage it.

  "Gahwwwhhh…:" he gasped. "Oh, shit! You're going to make me cum down your throat."

  Abruptly, Jacynthe's mouth broke contact with his penis.

  "No, you don't!" she growled. "If I want you to come in my snatch, that's where you'll goddam come!"

  And she leapt astride him, thrust his cock full up her vagina and rode him like a bucking horse, until she screamed,

  "Now! Now! Now! I'm coming now!"

  and convulsed violently…

  …just as he shot spurt after spurt of his cum into her.

  However, the instant he jerked for the last time, Jacynthe was off him and flipping herself on her back.

  Raising her hips slightly, she slipped one hand under her buttocks, palm upwards, and tensed her pussy muscles until she felt his cum ooze forth into her hand. And, as Targus watched in awe, she kept squeezing until her pussy was empty and her palm was full.

  Then she slipped her hand out from under her, sat up and calmly lapped up all his cum from her hand.

  "Pussy likes her cream," she smiled at him, wiping a last drop off her chin with a finger and licking it clean with her cum-coated tongue.

  "Now that's the wildest thing I'll ever hope to see," Targus gasped wonderingly.

  "Not likely," Jacynthe smiled. "The wildest is usually the last."

  Then she calmly bared her fangs and tore his throat out.

  "You know those Nightwalkers you've been hunting, Targus?" she asked his corpse rhetorically as she wiped his blood from her chin. "Well, you found one."

  * * *

  "That was a hopeful sign," Magda's voice cut through the mists of Jackie's dream.

  "What was?" the voice of Theo asked.

  "Why, she was obviously dreaming about the Jacynthe," Magda said. "But she never once mentioned Conor."

  "True."

  "Now we must merely eliminate her identification of herself with the Jacynthe. Perhaps, then, both sleeping and waking, she will be truly no one."

  "How soon will that be?" Theo's voice asked.

  "Hard to say," Magda's voice replied. "The only sure thing is that this final step will be a long and painful process."

  "Look, Miz Magda. Is she crying?"

  "Yes, Theo. Some memories are sad to remember, but some are even sadder—and harder—to forget." Abruptly Magda's tone changed. "But I am allowing myself the luxury of my emotions. Come. It's time to carry her up to the Studio and begin our day."

  "Shouldn't she eat first?"

  "But, of course, you are right. A person who is weak from hunger faints a lot with pain. And she's going to feel a lot of that today. There's a dish of
food left over from last night. Make her eat that. I'll be waiting in the Studio."

  The moment the door had clanged shut behind Magda, Theo grabbed Jackie by the wrist with his rough hand and dragged her out of bed and onto the floor. Then he cut the ropes that bound her wrists behind her back.

  "Get on all fours," he ordered the hooded girl.

  Stiffly, Jackie did as she was told.

  "Now, find your food. It's on the floor where a dog's food should be."

  Jackie sniffed around until her nostrils caught the smell of slightly rancid meat.

  "What is it?" she croaked.

  "Dog food. Beef and liver chunks and gravy. It's sure to become one of your favorites."

  "Not likely," Jackie gagged.

  "Too bad. It's all we have," Theo laughed. "But it's better when you don't let it go bad."

  "But I didn't know it was here," Jackie protested.

  "Tough. You'll have to sharpen your sense of smell."

  "Is it bad enough to make me sick?" Jackie asked.

  "Probably."

  "Then I won't eat it."

  "Suit yourself. Have a slurp of water from your trough and let's go up, then. Miz Magda is waiting for us.

  Jackie found the trough and plunged her face in it, lapping water greedily. It too tasted rancid but she decided she'd rather be a little nauseous than die of dehydration.

  * * *

  As they arrived in the Studio, Magda said to Theo,

  "Remove her hood for a moment. I want Miss N to have a look at what's on her menu for today."

  Theo yanked the leather hood from Jackie's head and she blinked at the brightness of the unaccustomed light. Then, as her eyes began to focus she saw first that there was a heavy metal hook —like in an old-fashioned butcher shop—hanging from a rope that led up to a pulley near the ceiling.

  "Down here, Miss N.," Magda instructed her. "That's for later."

  She was standing behind a small table on which several articles had been laid out. Two lengths of shiny rope were closest to her and her eyes saw them first.

  "Silk," Magda nodded, following Jackie's gaze. "Wouldn't do to have our star attraction scarred for my party."

  "Wh…what party?" Jackie spluttered.

  "You will see. In fact, if you like being front and centre, you will find it thoroughly enjoyable. However, that is not the business at hand. Tie the ropes around her breasts, Theo."

  Theo was obviously experienced at this task. Within moments, he had the two pieces wound around each of Jackie's breasts and tightened down, so that the return blood supply was partially restricted. This caused her breasts to begin to swell and her nipples to become almost instantly erect and tender.

  "Now the dildos, Theo," Magda nodded.

  "Yes, Miz Magda."

  As Theo took a dildo from the table, Jackie noticed it for the first time and gasped.

  "God, it's even larger than that damned horse's was! This one'll never fit!"

  "Oh, but it will," Magda assured her. "It may hurt at first, but it will fit. We'll…make…it…fit!"

  And Theo crammed it up her pussy in one swift jab.

  "Aaaaaaaiiiiiiieeeeyahhh!" Jackie screamed in pain.

  "Such noises!" Magda said disparagingly. "And we've just begun. Did you happen to notice that wire leading out of that dildo, Miss N?"

  "N…no…" Jackie mewled pitifully through her pain."G…good God, it's not a vibrator?"

  "No."

  "Oh, thank God!" Jackie sighed.

  "It's a heating element. It'll keep your pussy nice and warm. Not quite to the point where it burns, but quite uncomfortable, I can assure you. And the same holds true for this one."

  Magda held up a second dildo, only slightly smaller than the first, with another long wire trailing from it.

  "F…for my a…asshole?" Jackie stammered.

  "Bright girl! Right first time," Magda sneered. "Stuff her, Theo."

  "Aaaaaaaaaaeeeeiiaaaaaghh!" Jackie screamed again as the second dildo strained her anus to the limit.

  "Then, to make sure they stay in place, we'll put this leather harness through your legs and belt it around your waist. Must keep your pussy and your rectum nice and warm. Now, Theo, take the loose ends of the ropes around her boobs and run them under her armpits. That's it. No, tie them at the back.

  "Now, I want you to guess what happens next. It involves that meat hook. That's all I'll tell you."

  Jackie did not hazard an answer.

  "Very well," Magda smiled. "You will just have to guess what's happening behind your back by what you hear…and feel. Theo?"

  Immediately, she felt Theo's callused hands tying her wrists behind her back and then she felt the cold steel of the meat hook being inserted under the ropes that ran under her armpits and around her still-swelling breasts.

  Then there was the squeak of the pulley above her and Jackie felt her knees being lifted off the floor until her whole body swung gently back and forth, her weight tugging at her armpits and pulling her blood-engorged breasts sideways and upwards.

  "Ahhhhhnnnn…" she moaned.

  "Don't waste your breath on minor pain," Magda snapped at her impatiently. "Wait till your pussy and ass become so hot you can't keep your legs together. Oh, but you mustn't move your legs or the shift in weight could tear your tits off. So you must just hang there, perfectly still, until your breasts have become nearly twice their normal size and your nipples have begun to ooze blood. Then you may cry out and I will listen. That should be about two hours, I would think. Till then, farewell. I'm going to have my breakfast."

  * * *

  It was two hours of mounting agony.

  The heat in Jackie's pussy was terrible, causing rivulets of perspiration to course down her legs to the knees where it dripped onto the floor—for her ankles were still bound to her thighs. However, the heat in her rectum was worse, bringing on terrible cramps that forced her to fight against soiling herself for much of the time. But worst of all was the sheer agony in her bloating breasts, which became purple almost to the point of turning black.

  Then, just as Magda re-entered the Studio, Jackie's right nipple opened its little slit to release the first small drop of blood.

  "Excellent!" Magda crowed. "Let her down, Theo, and stand her up against the wall. Hold her tight so she doesn't fall down and make sure you're out of harm's way behind her."

  God, Jackie thought as she felt Theo inch in between her and the wall, what did Magda mean by 'out of harm's way'?

  And then a whistling on the air answered her.

  "Aaaaaaaaaghh!" she cried as the horrible flat strop caressed her still-swollen breasts with its kiss of fire.

  "Aiiiiiieeeeaaaaaghh!" she screamed as it struck them a second time.

  "Aaaaaaiiiiiiaaaaaaggguuggguhhh!…." she wailed as the third blow struck.

  If there was a fourth, Jackie never knew it.

  * * *

  For several days thereafter— Jackie lost count of just how many —life took on an almost predictable pattern. Jackie would drag herself out of bed at Theo's command, sniff around until she found her plate of dried-out dog food, lap as much water from the trough as Theo would let her and then be led upstairs, on all fours, to the Studio. The pads on her knees had long since worn away, so she was forced to crawl on her kneecaps without any protection whatsoever, with the result that her knees were always scraped and bleeding.

  Then, in the Studio, she would have her breasts bound with silk cord and be hung by the meat hook for periods of time that became steadily longer before her nipples began to ooze blood. Then she would receive three or more blows with the horrible wide strap and be carried, unconscious, back to her cell. Only to awake the next morning and go through it all again.

  The dildos were never removed and she soon came to ignore them as her tolerance to even the beatings increased.

  Finally, Miss Magda said disgustedly.

  "Miss N. seems to have reached a sort of threshold. I'm afraid she demands more than we
have right at hand. Hang her up in the Strappado for the night and send for Gonzago…oh, yes, and the Twins from Hell. We might well need them, too."

  * * *

  The Strappado turned out to be an ingenious conglomeration of ropes and leather straps and Jackie was permitted to watch Magda and Theo as they put it on her.

  First her knees were re-tied so that her feet almost touched her bottom and ropes were tied tight around her lower thighs above the knee and attached to her shins, keeping her legs bent almost double. Then her ankles were roped together and her hands tied back to them, so that her whole body was arched backwards. Next, a leather strap was put in her mouth and its ends were laced back to the rope between her ankles, pulling her head up and backward at a most painful angle. And finally, two stout ropes were looped under her buttocks and back, and slipped over the meat hook hanging from the ceiling.

  All that done, the hood was placed back over Jackie's eyes and she was hoisted up until her toes touched the ceiling.

  "Try to sleep," Magda said unnecessarily. "You're going to need it."

  Chapter Twelve

  In her awkward position, sleep would probably have been impossible anyway, Jackie thought, but Magda and Theo certainly didn't help.

  All night long, she could hear them hammering and sawing and mumbling as they built something apparently for the mysterious Gonzago's use.

  And, in the morning, Magda reached up and tugged Jackie's hood off to show her what it was.

  It was a wooden frame, stranding about two feet high and roughly the dimensions of a double bed. However, instead of a mattress, all this had was a number of padded cross-pieces, each of which had leather straps with buckles at the ends. Then, as she looked more closely, Jackie could see that the frame with the cross-pieces was supported inside a slightly larger frame by a crank at each end. The entire inner frame could, therefore, be turned completely over almost instantaneously.

  But to what end?

  Jackie didn't bother asking. She was pretty sure she'd find out soon enough.

  Then in response to a hand signal from Miss Magda, Theo slowly let Jackie down until she was lying across four of the padded cross-pieces. With practiced hands, he quickly undid her from the mass of ropes and straps that formed what Magda called the Strappado only to strap her wrists tight in the belts at either end of one cross-piece and, splaying her legs wide, affix her ankles to another one. The collar around her neck was now tied to the middle of a third strut.