Disclaimer: This is a work of amatory fantasy. Any resemblance to people living or dead is purely coincidental. If you are under the age of 18, please stop reading here. If you are a bit squeamish about graphic depictions of sex and bondage, please stop reading here. The author takes no responsibility for those who wish to reenact anything written below. Permission is granted for private use. The author wishes any agencies that wish to publish this work, to please contact him at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit his weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any comments are gladly accepted and encouraged.

Brandy shouldn’t have gone there alone. Now she was struggling in a tight hogtie trying to find any kind of slack in the rope but not finding any. She hoped her boyfriend would start wondering where she was and track her down. But she knew he was at home in their apartment snoring away tonight’s beer and pizza binge.

Brandy loved getting scared and every Halloween she dressed up and tried to visit as many haunted houses as possible. Tonight was no exception. This year she dressed up as a devil. The costume was a very tight-fitting number in bright red with a plunging neckline, fishnet stockings, opera gloves, pointy tail and a pair of little horns to pop out of her short blonde hair. Looking at the mirror, she thought she should have been the one modeling the costume on front of the package.

She had always had an exceptional figure, thanks to her mom’s side of the family. Brandy was nearly six-foot and had large breasts and a beautiful ass. And what was really cool is that she really didn’t have to work out to maintain her shape. Her metabolism did all the hard work for her.

Her boyfriend, Rick, had dressed as a zombie and she had planned to hit all the haunted houses together. Rick reluctantly agreed and they both headed out in her old VW Golf to get scared out of their wits. They had fun for the first couple of places and she reluctantly agreed to stop off and getting a pizza before heading to the last few. It would have been okay but Rick had one beer after another until she had to half carry him out of the joint and back to their apartment where she dumped him on the bed.

Looking at the clock, she figured she could hit one last house. There was a new one this year and located on an old abandon farm on the outskirts of town. It had the uncreative title of ‘The Body Farm’ but it promised to be different from the others she’d been to.

The house and barn were lit up with red spotlights, giving them an eerie glow in the crisp autumn night. A bloodied, headless farmer greeted guests slumped over on top of his rusted-out tractor by the front gate. A slight breeze scattered dead leafs around as she pulled into the nearly empty dirt parking lot. Good, it wasn’t going to be crowded like all the other ones; crowds tended to lessen the scare effect.

The dirt parking lot was not very easy to walk on in high heels, but she managed to make it to the old, cracked sidewalk and up the worn porch stairs. There was an old mailbox with the word ‘TICKETS’ painted in red, dripping letters. She had already purchased her ticket online several days ago along with one for her boyfriend. She stuffed the two tickets into the slot and went to the door. She thought it was a bit odd not to have a greeter to direct customers, but, again, the ad in the paper promised a very different kind of scare.

The front door was one of the old-fashioned kind with a brass doorknob and oval glass window. The curtained window had a pair of bloody handprints streaking down it. The door creaked loudly as she stepped inside.

A single electric candle flickering on the peeling wallpapered wall lit the entryway. There was a stairway ahead of her and what looked like a parlor room to her right. A dark hallway stretched down past the stairs and to the left was a beaded entryway to a darkened room. Everything was eerily quiet. It was definitely different from the other houses where everyone was channeled into room after scary room. This was much more like being in a slasher film where you didn’t know where the maniac was.

Slowly Brandy made her way into the parlor. The heavy curtains blocked out most of the outside light and the room was lit only by a single television set that sounded like it was playing static. As her eyes adjusted, she saw two headless corpses, a man and a woman, sitting on the sofa, their clothes drenched in glistening blood. Something moved on the old consol television set and she turned to look.

On the screen were two severed heads, a man’s and a woman’s, floating. The television had been turned into a grotesque fishbowl and the heads were its sole occupants, their open eyes staring back at Brandy.

Icy shivers raced through her.

There was an open entryway past the parlor, spilling its amber-tinted light out into the room. A strange, muffled sound was coming from the room as Brandy cautiously made her way over.

The dining room was dominated by a huge oak table and in the center of it was a young brunette, scantily clad in a tattered Dorothyesque dress, hogtied and gagged with duct tape. She was struggling quite wildly and her eyes caught Brandy’s. She screamed and struggled, her eyes wide and pleading for Brandy to untie her.

Brandy then noticed the bloody chainsaw beside her.

As the woman screamed and struggled, Brandy noticed the plate settings around the woman. Each had a bloody portion set in the center: a human heart, a severed hand, a part of a thigh and several piles of flesh that Brandy didn’t recognize. An inhuman feast had been set out and the bound girl was obviously the main course.

“Bye-bye,” Brandy laughed, waving to the captive woman as she continued on past the table.

Two entry ways beckoned her. One was a closed wooden door at the end of the room and another to her left. The one to the left probably led to the hallway. She decided to go to doorway.

The door opened up into a small pantry. The shelves were filled with glass jars with homemade labels. A single dim light bulb lit the narrow space as she peered at the contents, almost afraid of seeing what was inside. The first jar first looked like preserved carrots but were really severed fingers. Another held a variety of eyes, a staring blankly out of their glass prison.

“This is better than ‘Silence Of The Lambs,” Brandy said out loud to herself. She really wished Rick was here. He was a fan of slasher films and he would have really gotten a kick out of this house.

Brandy opened the door on the other side of the pantry and walked into a brightly lit kitchen. It was one of the old-fashioned kind tiled, painted and applianced all in white. It was sparkling clean save for the dripping red blood splatters everywhere. The sink was filled with bloody, torn clothes and costumes and several latex masks littered the floor. The kitchen table was littered with bloody knives and rusty iron manacles and half-filled glasses of blood sat on the counter. Carefully stepping over the pools of blood, she made her way over to the humming refrigerator.

Brandy was filled with a morbid curiosity more than anything. She wanted to see how much detail these people went to. So far, they had gotten everything soooo right. Even she was on edge. But deep down inside she knew it was all just props and red-dyed Karo syrup.

Brandy opened the fridge.

Inside was a collection of Mountain Dew and Pepsi cans, a few bottles of water and body parts neatly packaged in Saran wrap. There were more glass jars and a half-eaten sandwich with a cold cut that she didn’t want to know what of.

Then she heard footsteps above her.

In a real slasher film, she would almost be screaming for the next victim to get out of there. But she was here to get scared and up stairs seemed like the best place for that.

A door in the kitchen led back to the dark hallway. The only light was that spilling out of the dining room entry. She could still hear the girl moaning as she passed. God what she wouldn’t give to be a cast member here. On occasion she loved being tied up and to do it in public would be a thrill that would last a lifetime. At the end of the house, she would ask about being part of it next year.

Brandy climbed the creaking stairway to darkened hallway. All the doors were shut save one opened a crack at the end, its light forming a knife’s edge on the dark carpet. Slowly she made her way down the corridor, trying not to make a sound.

Gently, she eased the door open wider. The bedroom looked like a normal bedroom, with a big brass bed and a old oak dresser. However, piled on the bed were several coils of rope and some leather straps as well as something that looked like a whip.

“There you are!” a male voiced yelled as Brandy was grabbed.

Brandy was still in shock as he threw her onto the bed. She screamed and kicked as the stranger pinned her to the bed and pulled her arms in back of her. Quickly, he tied her wrists tightly, cinching them together. He then did the same to her elbows, pulling them as tightly together as he could.

Brandy kicked and bucked as the man continued to bind her. Grabbing her flailing legs, he wrapped her ankles with rope and tied them as well as her knees.

“We can’t have you screaming like that,” the man said and Brandy heard the ripping of duct tape off the roll.

“NO, PLEASE. . . .Uggghhhmmmph!” Brandi yelled as a swatch of tape sealed her lips shut.

The man continued to tape her mouth with several more pieces of tape, turning her screams into muted mewls. In the back of her mind she kept chanting ‘This can’t be happening’ but it was. Maybe this was a slaughterhouse and she was going to be some gruesome entrée at some unholy banquet. She continued to struggle but the stranger’s bindings held fast.

Brandy felt him force her legs towards her wrists. Quickly, the man lashed them together. She was tied just like the woman downstairs on the table.

“Damn, I forgot something in the barn. Hold on while I go get it. I didn’t think there were any left.”

The bound blonde got a glance at her captor as he left the room. He was a tall, well-built man with close- cropped blonde hair and dark eyes. He was wearing a pair of blood-stained bib overalls and a plaid shirt. He was very good looking for a homicidal maniac.

Brandy struggled and bucked within her bonds, but nothing gave. Tears began to flow as she wondered what was going to happen to her. This was far beyond being frightened. She was terrified and there was no one to rescue her.

The stranger came back with a few things in his hand: A black leather collar with leash and a bright red vibrator.

Brandy’s eyes went wide and began to struggle anew.

“Damn girl, you’re a feisty one. You aren’t getting away so consider yourself caught. Now let’s see what we really have here.”

The man sat down on the bed beside Brandy and rolled her over on her side. She could tell as his eyes roved her body that he was undressing her, imagining what she was like underneath her tight red costume.

“You are one hot babe,” the stranger said.

Despite what was happening to her, Brandy blushed and tried to hide her face.

“I really mean it. You are absolutely beautiful. I am glad I was the one who caught you.”

Gently, he began to caress her breasts, pinching at her nipples until they stiffened with pleasure. Brandi found herself closing her eyes and enjoying the feeling. The stranger wasn’t brusque rather, his touch was more like a trusted lover. Soon the little jolts of pleasure shooting through her spread and she found herself rocking her hips slightly.

Brandy’s eyes shot open as she felt the top of her costume being pulled down, exposing her large breasts. He leaned over her and took one of her large, pale nipples into his mouth. His tongue licked around them and he gently pulled at them with his teeth, send more floods of pleasure through Brandy. He switched from one breast to another, causing her to moan loudly through her taped lips.

The stranger pushed her over some more and began to feel between her legs, finding that her costume snapped at the crotch. Brandy had gotten the costume online at an adult costume/lingerie website because Rick had a costume fetish and she was sure they would end up humping each other silly after their haunted house tour. As she felt him unsnap her costume, she wondered if she had made the wrong choice.

His fingers began to caress her through her stockings and Brandy found herself thrusting towards him. The desire was building inside of her, a torrent of pleasure that she couldn’t stem.

Brandy watched helplessly as he pulled her stockings down to reveal her soft nest of dark blonde curls. She kept herself neatly trimmed for Rick and now the stranger was running his fingers through it, petting her.

Gently, he began caressing her sex again, running his fingers up and down her moistened slit and tickling at her swollen clit. Brandy began to thrust again, trying to get herself off. However, the stranger spread her lips and eased the large gel vibrator inside of her and turned it on, sending a rush of pure bliss flooding through her.

“Remember, no cumming until we get to the barn,” he said as he lifted her head and fastened the collar around her neck, “I need to get the other two and bring them back here so I can bring you all in together. I’ll be right back.”

Then the stranger left.

Brandy’s mind was in a whirl of confusion as she struggled against her ropes. The vibrator was doing its magic, however, and her struggles against her ropes were more for pleasure than escape. The torrent within her was growing and growing as she bucked on the bed until her orgasm engulfed her in pure rapture. Again and again it swept through her until she was spent from the effort.

“I am soooooo sorry,” a woman’s voice said, “Grant didn’t know.”

Standing beside the bed was the brunette from down stairs and the stranger holding onto the lead to her collar. Her hands were still tied behind her back and part of her tape gag was dangling beside her mouth.

The strange man began to untie Brandy as the woman sat beside her.

“We closed down at Midnight so we could have our play party in the barn. Tonight we had a slave hunt and Grant thought you were one of the guests.”

“I didn’t know,” Grant said as he undid Brandy’s ankles.

“You see, this is a fund raiser for our B&D group. We are turning this old farm into a dungeon and this is one of the ways we fund it. God, you must think we are such a bunch of screw heads.”

Carefully, Grant peeled the tape from off of Brandy’s lips.

“I am so sorry,” the brunette apologized again.

Brandy was silent for a bit.

“I am sorry too. I didn’t know you were closed. If I had known. . .”

“I isn’t your fault. GRANT should have locked the door and closed the gate to the driveway. I guess he had other things on his mind,” the brunette said, “how can we make this up to you?”

Brandy was silent for a moment then smiled a slim smile, “For starters, why don’t you tie me up again and take me to the barn. I would like to finish the tour, if you don’t mind. This has been the best haunted house yet.”

If you enjoyed this story and would like to see more of my writings, please e-mail me at FESSELN1@aol.com. Or visit my weblog at http://fesselnsfiction.blogspot.com/ . Any and all comments are welcomed and appreciated.