Servicing the Undead

by Isabelle Drake

  Matthew jerked his hips, sliding his dick in and out of Rachelle’s willing, capable mouth. Her lips were rounded over his shaft, diligently sucking.

  “I seem to have forgotten my manners, Hayden,” Matthew said, dropping his gaze to move it slowly over Rachelle’s naked body. “I’m going to blame that on the fact that things have been fucked up around her lately. I don’t think I’ve thanked you yet for bringing this one to us.”

  “I brought her.”

  Hayden had been so consumed with the sight before him and the new, powerful rage simmering in his veins, he’d almost forgotten Mattie.

  “Is that right, Hayden?” Matthew cocked an eyebrow but didn’t look up. “My mistake. I thought she belonged to you.” Matthew shifted forward and shoved his cock still deeper into Rachelle’s mouth. She gagged, a slick trail of saliva rolled down from the corner of her mouth. Matthew tilted her head back to adjust it better to his aggressive thrusts. Hayden watched, as the other man’s enormous cock slid in and out of Rachelle’s gaping mouth. Hayden’s own dick stiffened and lifted, increasing in size until it jutted forward, hard and ready.

  Hayden rolled forward, feeling the weight of the chain across his back as he knelt between Rachelle’s legs. Even though her muscles were still visible beneath her pale skin, her legs sagged. There was none of the hungry urgency that had turned him on the night before. Now she was nothing more than a willing vessel for his lust, a place to shove his cock.

  “It’s what’s good for you, Hayden. Trust me, I know. Do it.”

  Hayden’s own world hung on the fringes of his consciousness, that place where right and wrong existed. But in this new world, it blurred together. Hayden reeled back and soaked in the corruption of this new place. Once the last of his consciousness faded into the wretched haze of his mind, he placed his cock before Rachelle’s slick opening and impaled her. She bucked, the movement of her hips acknowledging him, urging him to fuck her.

  And he did.

  He fell into the simmering anger, newly churning within him, giving freedom to his emotions and his mind, and he drove into her. The chain swung out from behind him, he grabbed it, but Matthew was quick. He’d grabbed the end. It swayed between them, the metallic sound of the jerking links filling the air. Hayden threw his body back, trying to break the other man’s grip. Again, the other man was ready, tugging back. The sharp edge of the neck ring cut into Hayden’s already deeply scratched flesh, a warm stream of blood ran down his chest. The red line hit the hair of his lower abdomen, snaking a path to where his body connected to Rachelle’s.

  Matthew’s gaze followed the red trail gleaming down Hayden’s chest. His mouth was open, and he continued to pull back on the chain, the swing of his hips becoming sharper, wilder. His face contorted into a mask of sexual tension and fierce pleasure. But there was no humanity in his eyes, only bottomless carnal hunger. A shiver ran down Hayden’s back, setting off a ring of release that started at the base of his cock. The rings of tension circled his shaft and gripped his sac, squeezing harder, tighter, pulling on the last threads of his humanity.

  He didn’t choose to fall into the black bliss of his release. The hooks of darkness came to him and pulled him in, guiding him into the empty place of his soul where only he existed, him and his physical desires. He clung there, on the edge of awareness, then tumbled in. The fall was sweet torture, and he knew as he fell that he’d hit hard. And the scars would be with him forever, marking the moment in time when he took the damage and became a different man.

  Across from him, Matthew was also on the verge of an explosive release. The other man’s groans filled the air, the vibrations of the sound creating a wave of shivers than ran across Hayden’s skin.

  After the last spasm of his ejaculation, Hayden withdrew quickly and then dropped back onto his heels. Already his memories of the experience were haunting him. He swiped the trail of blood off his torso, rubbing until it disappeared. His dick, finally completely limp, hung down, glistening from Rachelle’s pussy. Rachelle had faded into complete unconsciousness.

  “Good work, Hayden.” Matthew was lovingly rubbing his softened cock as he stood. The only change in his face was the absence of green glimmer in his eyes. Other than that, the straight lines of his face remained firm and unmoving.

  Matthew pulled the cloak out from under Rachelle, and she tumbled across the straw and then opened her eyes. He wrapped the coat around himself and then braced his palms in the open cage doorway. “Got to get going sooner than later, Mattie. Meeting in an hour. Be there. Alone.” He leaned forward, stretching his sinewy shoulders and then came out.

  Rachelle was still silent, barely conscious.

  Mattie had put on her cloak and was waiting by the door.

  The weight of the chain pulled on the neck ring. Hayden lifted the links to release some of the pain.

  The first bright rays of the morning sun came in through the window, illuminating the dust rising up from the straw. Rachelle stirred, moaning softly, then curled up, tucking her legs tightly to her chest.

  How long would she be out?

  How many hours would Hayden get before he had to perform again?

  “Come. Get your cloak.”

  Hayden avoided looking at Rachelle as he exited the cage and handed the chain to Mattie. She took it, he put his boots on, and then she led him from the room, back down the hall, through the small room lit with square lanterns and back through the front door. The two guards were still outside, one on each side, but the third, who’d been pacing the yard, was gone.

  Despite his weariness and disgust with himself for actions, Hayden did his best to store details away in his memory. Since the creatures could easily overpower him, information and an understanding of them, their lifestyle, and their physical needs was the only way he was going to best them.

  In the streaks of early morning sun, the camp was quiet. Mattie’s tracks were small and close together, but Hayden stepped into them anyway, using her footprints to guide him across the snow. They crossed through the opening in the shrubs but went a different route than they’d come.

  After rounding a corner, Hayden spotted soft gray rings of smoke rising from a longhouse. The structure reminded him of the type of building scout camps used for meals—longer than wide, probably with a huge stone fireplace. Hayden trudged on, his feet rising and falling in the snow, the faint scent of smoke filling his nostrils. No one was visible, but voices floated on the wind.

  Hayden stopped short, trying to catch anything that might be useful to know, and was rewarded with a sharp tug on the chain. The metal tugged on his skin, pinching his neck.

  “What?” Mattie asked, holding the chain taut.

  Hayden turned from the sound and pretended to look at the yard. Fresh tracks ran in every direction, circling the longhouse and also, he noticed, an extremely large tree. It was probably a maple, judging by the arch of the branches and the overall shape. But it wasn’t the type of tree he was most interested in, it was the trunk. It was scarred by a circle of tattered bark about three feet from the base.

  “What are you looking at?” she asked, pausing and loosening her grip on the chain.

  “I don’t know,” he replied, scanning his memory, trying to recall what was triggering the interest in the tree. Then it came to him, the tree used in the sex ritual he’d read about in the book written by the zombie tracker. The same book he’d been copying on the photocopier when she’d come in through the library window.

  He continued to stare at the tree, tracing the trunk with his gaze. The circle of torn and broken bark was fresh. “Did you bring me this way to see if I’d notice the tree?”

  She stayed silent, watching him. Her silence was his answer. He asked another. “They do the rituals outside, even in the winter?”

  Mattie pointed to the branches, some weighted with snow, others blown bare by the wind. “They think the tree adds power, energy, to the ritual.”

  “They?” Hayden repeated the word, forcing her
to recognize that she hadn’t included herself with them. “You don’t think that too?”

  She turned her back on him and spoke over her shoulder. “I could’ve brought you here last night instead. Is that what you wanted?”

  She didn’t want the others to know how she felt. Good to know. Hayden took one last look at the scarred tree. “This isn’t about what I wanted. It hasn’t been ever since the start.”

  She shoved aside the edge of her cloak, exposing her firm thigh. A stream of melted snow ran down the inside of her leg and rolled down the curve of her calf. The trail of moisture disappeared, and he looked up, connecting with her gaze. She lifted an eyebrow. The memory of her perched on the library table and him shoving his cock into her tight pussy exploded in his mind.

  But had he really wanted that? Really?

  “Not everything’s about sex.”

  Hayden laughed, a rough, dry bark. “Tell that to Matthew.”

  She winced, stepped back, and tugged the chain.

  He jogged forward to release the sharp tension on his neck. “What’s going on with you two?”

  “It wasn’t always like this. We were close, I guess, but things changed. He changed.”

  “What about Rachelle?”

  “What about her?” Mattie quickened her pace, speeding up to a jog and pulling him across the snow and toward her cabin.

  * * * * *

  The fire had burned down and the cabin was cold. After locking the chain to the ring embedded in the bed, Mattie crossed to the cabinet beside the wood stove. Her shoulders jerked as she pulled out two cans of corned beef hash and set them on the table. She set the teakettle on the corner of the stove and then stood with her back to him, arms crossed across her chest. “Are you satisfied that Rachelle is okay?”

  That was a ridiculous question. Rachelle was a long way from being okay. So was he, but Hayden was quickly deciding not to be afraid of Mattie. She needed him so she wasn’t going to kill him. He was willing to take whatever punishment she had to dish out. As long as she didn’t pass him over to Matthew. “That’s not why we went over there,” he said.

  She spun on her heels and had to grab the edge of the table to keep from falling, the telling green gaze in eyes flashing bright. “You see, Hayden, that’s why I need you. You’re smart. You think.”

  “Fine, I get it. I think. What is it you want me to think about? It’s not Rachelle, I get that. It’s not Matthew, either.”

  Still holding the table, she laughed, the sound sharp and humorless. “So far, so good.”

  She swayed, the green glimmer lingering in the depths of her gaze. “How often do you need it?” he asked, leaning back on both hands. The fur cloak, still wrapped around him, fell open. He ignored the chill in the air.

  “It varies.” She leaned heavily on the table and stared at him, the glimmer shining in her eyes, the morning sun coming in from the window behind her streaking across her shoulders. “We don’t have any way to regulate. It can be hours, minutes, sometimes days.”

  “Come here, I’ll take care of it,” Hayden said, ready to find a way to take advantage of her weakness.

  She disregarded his offer, moving around the cabin uneasily to start a fire in the wood stove, and then put the cans of hash in a pot and set it on the stove. She set a bucket next to the bed and told him he could use it when he needed it. She put extra blankets on the other side of the bed. She kept moving around the cabin, tidying, arranging, but Hayden lost the desire to watch. Her movements were automatic, practiced. She looked like a hotel housekeeper who knew exactly how to arrange the room and always set it up exactly the same way, no matter who the guest. For now, that was all he needed to know. He was one of many and if he didn’t figure something out he too would be dead or around somewhere like the others before him.

  The room continued to brighten with morning light and the wood caught quickly. The temperature in the room rose rapidly. Weariness found Hayden, and his eyes grew heavy. Sleep would be a release, a relief from the terror of his mind and the abuse of his body. He lay back and started to pull the cloak over him, but Mattie stopped him as she climbed onto the bed and straddled him.

  She grabbed his dick and began stroking, not in her usual rough, demanding way, but slowly, carefully. “After I fuck you, you need to eat first and then sleep.”

  Hayden closed his eyes and pretended to give in to the sensation of her cold hand, gliding up and down his shaft, making him hard despite the icy touch of her fingers.

  “Do you like this?” she asked, stroking him gently, squeezing his shaft lightly.

  He nodded, pretending to be thinking about nothing but her, the careful touch of her hand and how good it was going to feel when she finally climbed on top of him.

  “Don’t try to play me, Hayden. I don’t really care if you like it or not.”

  He opened one eye. She was staring at his cock, her face soft.

  Still stroking him, she continued speaking, softly, the rhythm of her words seeming to match the even stroke of her hand.

  “I could have made you drink the tea. You know that, right?”

  He nodded, remembering the cup he’d thrown and the second one that Rachelle had so willingly drank. Matthew’s words came quickly after the image of his girlfriend downing the tea. If you ever wondered what she’s really like, wonder no more. Here’s the real girl under the mask.

  Should he thank Mattie for not forcing him to drink the tea?

  Did she not force him to drink it because she wanted him to remember every repulsive detail of what he’d done? Or was she trying to protect him from himself, keep him from uncovering whatever ugly secrets lay hidden deep within the darkness of his mind?

  Something inside Hayden stirred. Whatever it was, it wasn’t anger, hate, or even fear. It was something much scarier than any of those, something he shouldn’t be feeling for a creature who’d seduced him, manipulated his girlfriend, drugged them both and forced the two of them to perform as a source of entertainment. He looked at Mattie, once again unable to believe his own thoughts.

  Mattie caught him looking her. She stared back, the green glimmer in her gaze glowing bright, and smiled.

  Chapter Eight

  “Don’t try to play me.”

  Hayden knew he was asleep, that he was dreaming, and struggled to wake up. The exhaustion of the night was too much, and the dream held him down, squeezed him tightly in its shadowy arms.

  He was back by the huge maple tree outside the longhouse, but it was a late summer evening and the air was warm and humid. Instead of icy and dotted by the last snowflakes of a blizzard, the night was the perfect kind when a person could stay outside until morning, cradled by the lingering heat of the day.

  In front of Hayden was a fire, with logs stacked upright up in a way that always reminded him of a teepee. The flames roared high, skipping up into the black air, embers floating up toward the stars. The fire, like the night, was perfect.

  The yellow and orange flames lit up dozens of faces. Seated in the grass, Hayden was part of a circle. Actually there were two circles. The circle he was part of was made up of people seated in the grass. Because of the fire in the center, he couldn’t see them all. But he could see enough of them to know there was no common trait among these people, just that they were seated. Young, old, male, female, attractive, ugly, there was nothing about them that was similar. Except that they were alive.

  Those who stood behind them were not.

  Each of those standing held the end of a chain, a rope, or a leash.

  Mattie was there, standing behind Hayden, holding the end of his chain.

  He turned around. “Where’s Rachelle?”

  “She’s there. Can’t you see her?”

  Hayden leaned forward and searched the crowd. Maybe she was seated behind the fire?

  Mattie pointed to a cluster about twenty feet away, but Hayden still didn’t see his girlfriend.

  Again Mattie pointed. Again Hayden looked.

 
“No, not across from you. Across from me. Look up.”

  Hayden lifted his chin, saw Rachelle standing beside another woman twice her age. The other woman held a brown clay jug and two large brown mugs.

  A thin line of dread worked up Hayden’s spine as he watched the other woman fill the cups and hand one to the man at the end of her leash and one to the man at the end of Rachelle’s. The men drank, handed the cups back.

  Rachelle patted the top of her sex servant’s head. He lowered his shoulders and looked down, letting her stroke him like an obedient dog.

  Mattie leaned down and spoke into Hayden’s ear. “She’s not the girl you think she is.”

  One of the standing women came forward. In the shadows of the flames, she strolled around the circle, touching some of the seated ones as she passed.

  Hayden knew what was coming next, the ritual, the one he’d read about in the book.

  He didn’t want to see it, but still he couldn’t wake and so he was forced to watch as the newly turned woman stripped off her clothes as she walked, twisting and turning, reaching behind her to run her fingers down the fresh tattoo along the base of her spine.

  She neared Hayden, and he recoiled to avoid her touch. The red polish on her toes visible as she came nearer.

  Hayden fought to wake himself, twisting her head and trying to shake his arms, but sleep wrapped itself tightly around him, holding his body stiff.

  Finally Hayden forced himself awake.

  What made a person make the choice to become undead? To live this way in the shadowy world of sex. How did that happen? And was there any hope for these creatures? A way to return to their lives and the people they must’ve left behind?

  ~ ~ ~ ~ ~

  Judging by the slant of the sun, it was late afternoon. A pot of cold corned beef hash sat on top of the cabinet next to the bed. It didn’t smell very good, but he grabbed the plastic spoon beside the pot and ate. She’d also left a mug with what smelled like water, but he left that alone.