Goddess Marquesa glanced down at the invitation once again. Yes, this was the right address. The grim Gothic mansion looked quite out of place among the pastel-hued condominiums of her West Florida beach neighborhood. She pressed the button next to the door. As an echoing metallic bell sounded from deep within the mansion, the Goddess thought she saw a bat circle quickly around the mansard roofed tower looming over the shallow portico. This place has just the right ambience for Halloween, she thought to herself.

The great oak door opened slowly, and a horribly disfigured giant greeted her arrival.

“Gwarrgh!” the creature moaned. He stood seven feet tall, with pale green skin and stringy black hair. Grey rheumy eyes looked out from an oddly shaped skull, studded with iron electrodes and cross-hatched with scars. Coarse rows of thread marked the points where his hands had been sewn to his arms.

“Great costume!” Goddess Marquesa remarked.

“Aahwrh!” the creature replied, gesturing for the Goddess to follow him down the corridor.

He led her down twisting hallways to the rear of the mansion, through a pair of large doors that opened into a spacious, high-ceilinged, wood-paneled ballroom. The expansive space was filled with naked men, all of them tall, muscular, and oiled to a shiny gleam. Their heads were all shaven in the manner of Buddhist monks, but they were busy at work, not prayer. Some of them plied large feather pole-fans. Others carried trays of drink or food. Four were seated toward the back of the space with musical instruments, and were playing Mozart’s String Quartet Number 14. Some of the glistening men stood at attention, seemingly awaiting orders. All of this activity was centered on a low raised platform in the center of the room, where a single woman reclined on silk cushions atop a large oriental carpet.

As Goddess Marquesa entered, the woman stood and held out her hands in a gesture of greeting. She was strikingly beautiful: tall, lithe, with long raven hair and ghostly pale skin. Obsidian-black eyes peered from a classically lovely face that might have been sculpted from alabaster. She wore a skimpy green beaded dress, reminiscent of jazz-era flappers; that afforded ample vistas of her ivory flesh. On her brow she wore a thin gold tiara adorned with mysterious Runic symbols, which was paired with a matching armlet just below her left shoulder. Here delicate high-heeled shoes were coated with bright green gemstones.

“Welcome, Goddess Marquesa! Hypnodomme extraordinaire!” she said in a lilting European accent. “I am so glad you could accept my invitation. I am the Countess Mircalla.”

“Pleased to meet you,” the Goddess replied. “But I thought this was a Halloween party.” She had come dressed in a tightly-fitted man’s tuxedo reminiscent of Marlene Dietrich’s famous scene in Morocco, offset by sheer black stilettos.

“Yes it is,” Mircalla agreed. “Your costume is splendid!”

“Thank you,” Goddess Marquesa said. Gesturing to the circling naked men, she continued, “But I feel a bit overdressed next to these other guests.”

Mircalla laughed. “Those things are not guests. They belong to me.”

“Why is he wearing a costume, then?” Goddess Marquesa asked, pointing to the lumbering giant that had greeted her at the portico.

“That is just Gregor,” Mircalla answered. “I slapped him together in my dungeon laboratory. He is useful for heavy lifting.” Addressing herself to the giant, Mircalla barked, “Heel, Gregor!”

The creature moaned compliantly and shuffled off to the far side of the ballroom, where he stood motionless by one of the curtain-shrouded windows.

“Ah, I see,” the Goddess noted, stepping onto the platform where Mircalla stood. As she did, Mircalla lay back down among the silken pillows where she had originally reclined, and gestured toward a nearby group of pillows where the Goddess could join her. As the Goddess did so, a group of three naked men scurried forward to ease her to the floor and fuss over her comfort. Before she could even ask, she had been furnished with a glass of wine and a small plate of fresh fruit.

“Happy Halloween!” the Goddess said, raising her glass to her host.

“A good Dziady,” Mircalla reciprocated with a nod of her head, though she had no glass and made no move to request one.

Goddess Marquesa sipped her wine and set down her glass. “So tell me, Countess,” she began, fixing her hostess with a hard stare, “what is on tonight’s menu? Or should I say whom?”

Mircalla laughed. “You do not disappoint me, Marquesa,” she replied. “I knew, from observing you in the neighborhood and researching you on the internet these past weeks, that you would recognize my trap immediately. Perhaps you even sensed it when you first received my invitation? But you could not resist the excitement. The danger. Your absurd self-confidence is one of the things that makes you so especially alluring among your fellow puny mortals.”

“And aren’t you overconfident?” the Goddess asked. “Setting a trap for me in front of so many witnesses seems rather rash.”

“Witnesses!” Mircalla jeered. “These things aren’t witnesses.” Pointing to one of the standing men, she barked, “You, come over here.”

The man walked briskly over to Mircalla and stood in front of her at attention. “What are you, maggot?” Mircalla asked.

“I am food for Countess Mircalla,” the man answered in a monotone.

“You see,” Mircalla explained, addressing the Goddess, “modern society has made it impossible for me to hunt freely as my kind once did. So I have used my seductive beauty and powers of mesmerism to work around the problem.”

As she spoke Mircalla reached up with one slender hand and gently cradled the man’s cock, stroking it lightly with agile fingers. It stiffened immediately, and the man began to tremble with pleasure, though he remained frozen in place. When it appeared as if he might orgasm, Mircalla opened her shapely mouth to reveal a pair of razor-sharp fangs. With serpent-like speed she sank her teeth into the engorged cock of her slave. He spasmed in agony but did not cry out or resist in any way as she sucked, allowing a few drops of blood to fall on the ornate rug.

After a few deep sucks Mircalla withdrew. The man fell to his hands and knees and knocked his forehead to the floor repeatedly, gasping, “Thank you, Countess. Thank you for feeding on me. Thank you for allowing me to nurture you…”

“Yes, yes maggot,” Mircalla grunted, wiping a drop of blood from the corner of her mouth with her index finger, “shut up and go away.” The slave stood and withdrew again into silence. As he did Goddess Marquesa noticed dried puncture wounds to match the fresh ones on his cock at several points near major blood vessels on his body. Looking at the men nearest her she could see similar marks on them.

“You see,” Mircalla explained, addressing herself to the Goddess once again, “these creatures all worship and adore me. I have made them my loves-slaves so that I may have food close at hand whenever I crave it. And pleasure too, of course. I make them stay fit so that I can use their bodies for my carnal amusement.”

“Good for you,” the Goddess quipped drily. “But what is my part in this little game?”

Mircalla sneered and laughed. “I should have thought that was obvious. Though it is not safe to murder mortals whenever I need sustenance, I do miss the satisfying feeling of taking a human life. I allow myself a treat once a year, a piece of ‘Halloween candy,’ if you will. This year I have chosen you to be my candy.”

“I’m flattered,” the Goddess said, raising her wine glass again.

“You should be,” Mircalla replied. “I don’t choose any ordinary human. I tire of the taste of these weaklings I possess. I crave the blood of a person of real power.”

“But how can you be sure I will satisfy you?” the Goddess asked.

“What do you mean?”

“I might be just as easy to seduce as your other playthings,” Goddess Marquesa explained. “How can you know unless you try?”

“Are you challenging me?” Mircalla asked, incredulous.

“Why not? What have I got to lose? And you as well. Wouldn’t you like to taste your candy before you consume it?”

“Very well,” Mircalla announced with a smile, rising to her feet. “Let us see which of us can seduce the other.”

The Goddess stood to face her deadly hostess. Both women, living and undead, held out their arms wordlessly, locking eyes with one-another as male slaves scuttled forward to undress them. When both were naked, Mircalla spoke first.

“You are quite beautiful,” she said, “but your mortal body shows the marks of time. Though I am over four hundred years old, my body is as taut and supple as it was on my twentieth birthday, when I was first transformed. Even if I did not have the iron will and magical powers of an immortal, this would not be a contest.”

So saying, Mircalla stepped forward, holding the Goddess’s green eyes in her inky-black gaze, and placed a cold hand gently on the Goddess’s shoulder. The Goddess yielded to this touch, sinking to the floor cushions and allowing Mircalla to cover her with her ivory body. Goddess Marquesa shuddered and gasped with pleasure as Mircalla’s mouth descended upon the human woman’s left nipple.

The surrounding men shuffled in agitation, their cocks stiffening in unison, as the two gorgeous females coupled. Goddess Marquesa moaned long and loud as Mircalla’s nimble fingers, lips, and tongue danced across her sensitive flesh. After fifteen minutes the Goddess’s moans became a keening scream of ecstasy as she came, trembling in Mircalla’s arms.

“That was quite easy,” Mircalla jeered. “Come, Marquesa. Tell me how much you adore me. Beg me to drink your life away.”

Goddess Marquesa made no answer, but simply bent her head and pressed her own mouth over Mircalla’s breast. As the swirling and sucking of the Goddess’s tongue sent waves of delight through Mircalla’s sensitive nipple, the Goddess’s slender fingers slipped down the undead woman’s torso and into her slick pussy, vibrating teasingly. Mircalla sighed and allowed herself to be turned onto her back, where she surrendered to the allure of Goddess Marquesa’s touch. In a few minutes she had begun moaning violently, and a few minutes after that she screamed in cathartic release.

“Oh, that was delicious,” Mircalla gasped, “but now I will show you what real pleasure is.”

The lovemaking went on, each woman taking turns bringing the other to climax, pausing only long enough for Mircalla to suck some refreshment from a slave’s veins or for the Goddess to sip a glass of water. The two explored every inch of one-another’s bodies, licking, kissing and stroking every erogenous spot that anatomy affords. Mircalla enlisted the bodies of her slaves, using them as human dildos, suction machines, and rubbing posts. At times the pulsating tangle of bodies at the center of the platform became five or six deep, at others the Goddess and Mircalla were alone, locked so tightly that they seemed like one body, silent and quivering, as the surrounding men stared, transfixed.

Finally the Goddess screamed so shrilly that a window pane rattled on one side of the immense ballroom. She collapsed back into a pile of cushions, sweat pouring from her gorgeous breasts, her lungs heaving for air. Mircalla smiled triumphantly. After bending down to place a wet kiss on the Goddess’s open mouth, the undead woman rose.

“That was the moment your will broke,” Mircalla declared. “Your moans give you away. Come. Let me hear you beg for me to feast.”

Rising to a sitting position as she caught her breath, Goddess Marquesa looked at her captor. “I have only one wish,” she said.

“Yes?” asked Mircalla expectantly.

“Seize her!” the Goddess shouted, with a gesture of command to the surrounding men.

Eight of the nearest slaves leapt toward Mircalla and grabbed her limbs and torso. Though she was incredibly strong, the scrum of men was able to wrestle her to her knees and hold her down.

“What?!” Mircalla screamed. “How dare you, maggots! I am your owner! The one you love!”

“Not anymore,” Goddess Marquesa said, standing so that she looked down on Mircalla.

“How? You could not have hypnotized them! I would have seen!”

“There was no need to hypnotize them,” the Goddess explained. “Most men can’t resist falling hopelessly in love with Me after a few minutes in My company. You let Me trick you into forcing them to watch Me fuck wildly for eight hours.”

“Impossible! Lies! A puny mortal like you could never seduce men away from Mircalla!”

“Oh, please,” jeered the Goddess, rolling her eyes. “You are cute, Vampira, but there is only one Goddess Marquesa.”

This enraged the vampire again, and she struggled to throw off the men restraining her. As more slaves stepped forward to hold her down, she desisted, and looked up once again at Goddess Marquesa.

“You have been very clever,” Mircalla hissed, “but you have forgotten one thing. Gregor!” she shouted, directing her gaze at the giant on the other side of the ballroom, “Kill them all!”

A silent pause ensued. The giant remained stock still, as if he were carved from granite.

“Gregor!” Mircalla shrieked. “As your Creator I command you! Kill them all!”

More silence, broken only by the sound of Goddess Marquesa’s foot tapping against the rug.

“He is the one person I hypnotized,” the Goddess explained in a didactic tone. “All of the moaning I did was pitched to rewire his cerebral cortex. He belongs to me now.”

“Impossible!” Mircalla screamed. “Liar! Bitch!”

Goddess Marquesa looked down at the seething immortal with a taunting smile. “Suit yourself,” the Goddess teased. “Thanks anyway, you know…for the harem.”

This said, Goddess Marquesa nodded at Gregor. With a low growl the hulking creature turned and pulled back the curtain covering the large window before which he stood.

“NOOO!!!” Mircalla screamed, just before the morning sunlight made her explode into a cloud of ash.

“Wow. That was one crazy night,” Goddess Marquesa sighed, waving floating debris away from Her face as Mircalla’s dust settled. Looking around Her at the throng of naked men, all turned to Her expectantly, She announced, “All right, pets. New plan. You boys would look better with some hair.”

The End

Happy Halloween!  (For Another Bewitching Halloween story Click Here, or Here)