Chapter 1 - Annabel

The stiletto heels clacked on the bare stones of the basement floor. The sounds sharp and cold had an air of lethal finality to them as if with each harsh step lives were cut short and innocents were corrupted. The red shoes held a pair of feet, the skin white and porcelain pure, though currently partially obfuscated by sheer, black stockings that traced the outlines of two shapely legs. Above those milky, scented limbs the stockings were held in place by a garter belt, that embraced the delicate waist just below the navel. There were no pants; the soft, neat red hair framed the naked femininity as the legs below walked rhythmically forwards.

 

Beyond the garter belt the milky skin as again bared. The firm abdomen gleamed in the half light of flaming torches, the shadows and gleams form the flames playing over the skin and it's perfect contours. Further up the swell of breasts nestled in a brassier that barely covered the erect nipples. A dull red stain flowed sluggishly down the shimmering slopes of the cleavage, tracking inexorably towards the silken skin below. A pair of arms, with black, silk fingerless gloves that ran to the elbow, flowed through the air around the moving figure. They gestured in the space, each movement made with infinite grace and poise. Counting.

 

The neck was slight and defined, the blood flowed down that too, thicker and darker. The face was canny and sharp, sharp as the clacking of the heels. Pale skin embraced the chiselled bones, angular but beautiful. Fiery red hair cascaded down the back, ending by the garter belt. The eyes glowed golden yellow under soft eyelids. The blood clung and dribbled from the mouth. Full lips painted red by the vital fluid, preternaturally sharp teeth shone with pearly flawlessness from within. A crimson tongue licked idly at the drops.

 

Mistress Annabel owned the room. Her confident strides and statuesque figure exuded control and power. The deep satin black of her scant clothes, the deathly pale skin contrasting sharply. The shining blonde hair waved and billowed behind her. The hunched chained figures scuttled  away from her, clinging to the crusted subterranean walls. Her glowing eyes passed imperiously over them as her long, dexterous fingers pointed them out in turn. Counting.

 

The pitiful creatures mewled and wailed softly as she passed. Gasps and sobs followed her. They were each chained securely in place, but even without bars they stayed apart. The attentions of their Mistress had taught them to fear contact with anything. Annabel glared down with bright, cold eyes at the procession of pathetic things. They huddled and cringed and pawed at themselves. Deplorable.

 

Mistress Annabel reached the end of the long dungeon. Two dozen. Her stately body swing again into action as she started marching back up the narrow space between the chained things. She paid more attention to each this time; the quantity was good, how was the quality' The twisted figures were deliciously defiled. On her left a tiny figure squirmed, the scabbed stumps of its thighs scraped on the rough stones as it tried to retreat from her. The young, soft skin of its neck was red and scaly where the heavy iron of the manacles rubbed and strained.

 

On the right another larger body was chained. It had its legs, but one hand had been taken. The twisted ruin of its wrist was black with gangrene. It rubbed and stroked the hideous wound, sightless eyes. Blood crusted around the empty sockets and around the bare tissue of its breasts where the skin had been expertly flayed off. Next to its hunched and despairing form another flayed body squirmed. The whole head this time had been carefully peeled of its skin, leaving twitching grotesque muscle and bone free to breath the rank, underground air.

 

Opposite this one, lying unmoving on the floor another youthful body was prostrate. The scarred mass of its chest showed where the budding breasts had been amputated swiftly, if not cleanly. Between its spread legs a bloody hole loomed; puss and excrement lingered around it and clung to the unmoving thighs. Next to it a moaning creature was on its knees. Once it had had long brown hair but this now hung matted and patchy from a scarred scalp. One eye swivelled rapidly while the other dangled on a sinewy cord of nerve tissue. The upper lip twitched, causing obscene movements in the dark red torn muscle that extended on both sides from it as far round as the ears. Beneath the twitching lip an upper jaw missing most of its teeth leered out. The lower jaw had been ripped out. Lose muscle attachments trailed from the fresh wound, weeping blood onto its shoulders and chest. The tongue was missing, gone along with the jaw. The neck was open, revealing the twitching and spasming throat that gurgled as breath was drawn.

 

Mistress Annabel prowled down the line, inspecting them closely. She stopped infrequently. Leaning close to sightless, hollow eyes to lick at their crusting ruin. Running a finger over a mangled hand or foot. And once plunging a hand into the open belly wound of a heavy figure with a distended abdomen and gorged breasts. She pulled gently  on the gory innards and tiny legs slipped out of the festering gash. They were dead and black, lolling hideously from the open womb.

 

She reached the other end again, stopping by the stone steps that lead up to the heavy door. On those steps another woman waited. She was shorter, and more curvaceous. Her ample chest was clearly visible under a fishnet blouse, the golden nipple rings caught the flickering light. Around her waist several belts hung nonchalantly, with cruel barbed, bladed things attached. They shone in the dim light, resting softly on the naked skin of her legs. Her hair was dirty blonde, short and framed a face that glowed with maniac glee. The petite mouth was bent upwards in an innocent, yet oh-so-knowing smile. A delicate tongue darted out now and again to catch fragments of the blood that spattered the mouth and her chest. The eyes glowed like the Mistress'; their miss-matched colour heightening the air of insane pleasure. One red one green. Both were fixed on Annabel.

 

Mistress Annabel nodded at her. Her own full lips curling with a cruel smile.

"Very good, Arachne." She said, leaning forward to stroke the younger woman's face with a bloody hand. The Mistress savoured the feel of the young one's cold skin. She drew her close, their breasts pressing together and their lips meeting in deep kisses. The Mistress' hands slid slowly over the childe's back and bare buttocks. Arachne held her mistress, hands running through the red hair, leaving deeper stains of blood. Her tools chimed gently off each other as their bodies rubbed together. Where they caught skin they drew blood, eliciting soft moans of pleasure from the pair as the blood welled up from the fast healing wounds.

 

They revelled in each other and the miasma of pain and fear that filled the dungeon. They sank together slowly into the stone steps. Annabel sat daintily on one of the higher ones. Her long legs made sensuous arcs from her body to the sharpened stilettos on her feet. She spread them now, pulling Arachne to her body and arching her back. Arachne leaned forward, supporting herself on her hands, her tongue came out and she teased Anabel's erect nipples from the thin lacy brassier with her sharp teeth. The nipples bled slightly where they cut her. Annabel sighed and held the head of her Childe, squeezing her thighs into the pointed and biting things that still clung to Arachne's waist.

 

The young one slowly moved down her sires body, teeth and tongue dancing busily to the tune of pain from the chained things behind her. She reached the haired crux and delicately pressed her tongue onto the hard clitoris. Annabel moaned, one hand still on Arachne's head, the other on her breast. Blood dripped onto the steps where Arachne's teeth and nails bit into the flesh of her sire's femininity.

 

"Now." Annabel breathed, bucking her hips against Arachne's face and her own nailed fingers drawing more blood from both her own breasts and her Childe's scalp. Slowly, carefully dragging her fingers from her mistress' body so that a fresh stream of blood came with them, Arachne pulled away from the object of her desire and turned on the nearest chained form.

 

It saw her coming, and tried fruitlessly to move away. It's tongue-less mouth worked furiously and wide terror stricken eyes watched Arachne draw a serrated blade from her belt. The vampire reached out slowly to catch hold of a twitching arm. She raised the knife.

"Wait." Annabel had spoken softly, but the sound filled the room with its sonorous power. "Bring it here." Arachne nodded and drew out the keys.

 

The wasted and scarred figure was dragged to the steps on which the Mistress was reclining. Her bloody hands worked industriously on her nipple and crux. The blood oozed from the wounds her sharp fingers left as the pinched tight on nipple and clitoris. Arachne deposited the bleating thing on the stones, still holding her blade excitedly, on hand on the things head, fixing its eyes on her Mistress. "Now. Make it slow."

 

Arachne grinned broadly, the knife moved with terrible deliberateness to the left ear. The tongue-less creature wailed and moaned as the flesh was cut free. The ear flopped wetly to the stones, but even as it landed the knife moved again. The point dug deeply into the darting left eye, piercing it easily and dragging its ruins out as it was withdrawn. The liquid slipped and slopped down its cheek, the fragments dangling free held on to by the bits of muscle still attached to the rest of the head.

 

Mistress Annabel groaned and wriggled on her step, her fingers probing herself deeply as the creature struggled and wailed in Arachne's grip. She giggled with maniac joy at the sight of her Mistress and the sight of her ruined body she held. The knife moved again. This time it worked lower, slicing an amble breast in two; bisecting it vertically letting more blood and parts slide and slip free to decorate the spasming creature.

 

"Bring it here." Annabel said again. She hung, half blind face was thrust forward to meet the Mistress' heel. The sharpened stiletto punctured the other eye. She felt the shock vibrate her led as it lodged in the skull. She shivered and dug her fingers in deeper. Arachne's knife was at work again; it moved slowly and deliberately over the hunched back. Tracing the spaces between the ribs, letting the sliced skin split gradually; from spine to side.

 

The Mistress pulled gently against Arachne's grip on the creature's head until the heel slipped free. A spurt of blood followed it and spattered her. She squeaked as Arachne let the kneeling figure fall forward and there was the crunch of a breaking nose. She reach forward with her leg again, this time tracing gently the wide slashes across its back. Slowly widening and deepening them as the other foot pressed down on the back of its head.

 

Arachne took up station behind the lying figure, he reached forwards, a new tool in her hand now. The long pointed and twisted thing was inserted into the exposed nethers of the twitching creature. It was twisted slowly, the point dragging a wide circle deep in the bowels of the now silent thing. Annabel watched as Arachne's muscles tensed and worked when the pointed thing caught on a bit of bone or tough tissue and dug her heels into the soft flesh of its back and the hard bone of its head. Their eyes were locked  together, their looks hungry and loquacious as the life slowly leaked from the thing between them.

 

The end was slow. Annabel nodded and Arachne rolled the dying thing over. Its ruined face streamed blood and fluid and its slashed breast flapped grossly over its body. The knife came out again. This time cutting a deep cross in the as yet untouched belly of their victim. That done the flaps were opened and the bloody mess of entrails left by the pointy, twisted tool had made of its innards.

 

Arachne buried her face in the hole. Sounds of tearing and chewing sent Annabel into a screaming orgasm, her body contorted to the point that her whole hand had been forced into herself. Her legs flailed wildly in the air, once catching Arachne a savage blow on her head. A sinful moan of ecstasy bubbled up from the gory feaster, still munching happily. Annabel's long fingernails had dug so deeply into her breast that it was all but pulled free as her entire body tensed and spasmed with one long continuous wave of sensation until, as the wave began to recede she stamped down with brutal accuracy into the forehead of the so-very-nearly-dead creature. The skull cracked and the six inched of metal heel was fully buried in the head. The lips went limp, the limbs moved their last and from within its belly Arachne screamed and balled as she reached her climax, still feasting greedily on the now dead organs.

 

Afterwards they lay together, the emptied corpse as their pillow, at the foot of the stone steps. They had feasted on it as they pulled it all forth. Arachne had cracked the skull open and they had eaten the brain. Now their heads rested on the torn and bloody back amid the gory remnants. Their hands played lazily over each other the cuts and wounds already healed. "We shall need a new one." Mistress Annabel said slowly, her face very close to Archane's, who nodded.

 

Unhurriedly they rose and leaving the empty thing to lie turned their backs on the rest of the piteous things and, blood stained arms around each other mounted the steps. With a click of her long, pale fingers the torches died, leaving the rows of mewling, terrified creatures in charnel darkness as the heavy wooden door closed and iron bolts were driven home.