Heading into the darkness as midnight approached, Alice Tunrida slipped a photograph, a piece of paper and a handwritten map of a cemetery into her white rabbit purse. It was Halloween, the night every year that Rolf Pfluger’s death metal band played in her hometown of Detroit.
The taxi driver resembled a cartoon character, his head swiveling wildly, as he spotted Alice waiting on the sidewalk outside her apartment. Alice rarely wore a costume on All Hallow’s Eve and never had worn a sexy one until now.
The two-piece Alice in Wonderland outfit featured a lace-up powder blue velvet bodice with sequined hearts and spades on the hem’s trim. The dress also had a built-in petticoat and attached apron with black ric-rac.
Alice wore a sequined heart headband in her long dark brown hair, which she had dyed blonde for this occasion; black and white striped thigh-high stockings with red bows and matching fingerless gloves; and black platform pumps with red bows on the toes.
“Heading for a party, Miss?” the taxi driver asked.
“No, a concert actually,” replied Alice, giving him the address of the venue. The driver dropped her off in the alley adjacent to the concert hall. Alice flashed her backstage pass to the mountain of a man guarding the stage door. He waved her through with a gruff nod.
Rolf’s band, Lucifer’s Leviathan, was deep into its encore. From the wings, she watched Rolf churn out a repetitious bass line as the lead singer shrieked. Roadies scurried to prepare the green room. Scanning the other side of the stage for familiar faces, Alice spotted several she had met over the years.
The only person who interested her was a young woman in her mid to late 20s. She wore a black tank top with “I Fuck For Satan” in large white letters.
Alice walked behind the stage and approached the woman. Before Alice could address her, the woman said in a matter-of-fact voice: “You were the lead guitarist for The Plague.”
“Did you see us play?”
“Yes, several times, from the front row.” The woman added with a smirk: “Love your costume, Alice.”
“Thanks. That’s my real name. I don’t know you.”
The woman didn’t respond. She had ebony eyes and thick, wavy jet black hair that hung down her back. Like Alice, she was Latinx. Alice noted that her skin was a similar light shade of brown.
“What’s your name?” Alice asked.
“The Egyptian goddess of pleasure, represented by the cat.”
Bast nodded, the hint of a smile forming. Her tank top was cut off to reveal her midriff, covered by the black fishnet body suit that also adorned her long legs. She wore skintight black leather shorts, with multiple silver chains attached to rings on each side. Her black leather spike bracelets matched her collar with the D ring. The lace-up high-heel black leather platform boots stopped a few inches short of her knees.
“Is this a costume?” Alice asked.
“Don’t be a fucking bitch. You know it’s not.” Bast’s eyes reflected her anger.
“Why are you here?”
Bast considered walking away, then stopped herself. Walking away in anger meant she’d never know the answers to her questions about Alice. Among them was why a beautiful goth would wear slutwear, even if it was Halloween.
Alice pointed to the reference to Satan on Bast’s shirt and quoted the Al-Jiwah, believed to be the word of Satan to His people: “Do not mention my name nor my attributes, lest ye regret it; for ye do not know what those who are without may do.”
Bast looked at Alice with shimmering dark eyes. The hint of a smile had faded, but she was not angry. Alice wanted to make sure that she understood. She gestured for Bast to follow her. There were several small dressing rooms at the rear of the stage used by actors to quickly change costumes between scenes.
Closing the door, Alice asked: “Do you understand what I said from the Al-Jiwah?”
“Yes, I have read it. I’m a Satanist. I presume you are too,” Bast replied.
“Yes, I have worshipped the Devil for ten years. He has warned us to not mention his name or attributes, unless we are prepared to face the consequences from those who are bent on persecuting us.”
Bast slipped the tank top off. “Then I won’t wear it, Alice.”
She wore a black leather bra, with a pentagram halter neck. Her breasts were ample. The outline of pierced nipples showed through the buttery leather.
Alice was impressed by Bast’s decisiveness.
“Have I known you?” Bast asked.
“Yes, Bast, on the north shore of Lake Geneva a long time past,” Alice said, running a finger over the tattoos on Bast’s arms. “We were ladies-in-waiting and I was your Mistress.”
Alice kissed Bast in an embrace; it began to resurrect the almost-forgotten past to Bast. She suddenly felt a hunger, urging Alice on with a whisper.
“Please touch me more.”
Their tongues twined, Alice’s hands caressed the leather that held Bast’s large breasts, her thumbs kneading her nipples. Alice didn’t want to stop, but she told Bast that the encore was almost over. They should return to the wings of the stage.
“Are you here to see Rolf?” Alice asked.
Bast said they had met a year ago. She told Alice she had a package for him – a key of heroin. In exchange, he had promised her a toe-curling fuck.
I did not conjure her. It is Satan’s will.
As Lucifer’s Leviathan finished its final song, Alice studied Rolf with a mixture of dread and anticipation. The band was long past its prime. It was pathetic, but inevitable, she thought. Some of the original members were gone, dead from drug overdoses or alcohol abuse. Time had taken its toll on those who remained. The band’s recent albums hadn’t sold well, mainly because they were rehashes of the early ones that had enjoyed commercial success.
Alice had met Rolf ten years ago, when he was 32 and she was 22. She never had met a rock star or a German guy. Alice was the lead guitarist in an up-and-coming goth metal band called The Plague. It was Alice’s entrée to her first backstage pass with Lucifer’s Leviathan.
A friend known for her discretion had told Alice that Rolf needed enough smack to last the North American tour. After Alice sold it to him, delivering it backstage in a compact disc case, Rolf had also given her some connections in the occult world. It was her first step toward Satanism.
Ten years later, Alice had long ago severed her ties to the drug trade, but Rolf still was a user, which contributed heavily to his decline. Alice did not see him when she entered the green room. She bided her time by listening to an annoying music critic. Ten minutes later, Rolf arrived with Bast. When he spotted Alice, he walked across the room to greet her.
“Alice, it’s so great to see you again. I hope you enjoyed the show.”
Alice didn’t respond. She noticed that Bast stood a few feet behind him, half of her face obscured by his shoulder. She held a beer. Alice wondered if it was Rolf’s.
“Have you met Bast?”
Alice nodded. Rolf had showered. His long, stringy black hair still was damp. Cultivating the image of a metal outlaw with his mustache and beard, he wore a black leather jacket and pants, and motorcycle boots.
Alice had heard he spent most of his time in Germany in isolation, tinkering with motorcycles on his farm and target shooting. If true, it did not surprise Alice. He had always lacked social skills. But he had amassed wealth in the early days of the band through Satanic symbolism and the desire for more kept him on the road. He was infected with money lust.
“I brought a picture of the first time we met,” Alice said, fishing it out of her purse and handing it to Rolf.
“Fucking hell, Alice, look at you.”
The picture was snapped by a roadie. Rolf’s left arm was around her waist, skull rings on his index and middle fingers. She was entirely in black – a patent leather bustier with lace trim and garters; panties, silk hose, and pumps with a high stiletto heel. The blonde on Rolf’s right arm wore the same outfit, except her bustier was a zebra print.
“Your blonde roommate, Mindy,” Rolf said.
“You have a great memory,” Alice said. “But do you remember how that night ended?”
Rolf said he didn’t.
“You tightly held Mindy’s head with both of your hands as she sucked you off. You came all over her face and then walked away. You began hitting on other women and wouldn’t talk to Mindy again. It hurt her deeply.”
“Sounds plausible,” he replied with a laugh.
Rolf took a swig of vodka from a bottle and asked Alice if she was feeling nostalgic. She smiled bitterly, reminding herself to control her temper.
“No, but you are going through the motions these days. You’re a caricature of your younger self.”
Rolf recoiled. “Why would you say that?”
“Your music no longer glorifies Satan.”
He broke eye contact with her. He saw her once a year, like most of the women he knew and she always seemed to have a surprise for him. Like many rock stars, he always believed there was a great fuck at the end of the rainbow. He had tried with Alice, but she never had succumbed. What’s the point of a conquest without a challenge, he told himself.
“I never believed in that Satan shit,” Rolf told Alice, finishing the bottle of vodka and grabbing another off a table. “The Devil has always been about business and I don’t think he minds. It’s aimed at rebellious teenage boys and dictated by marketing. Now I’m too old and the internet has fucked up the old cash flow. Might be time to try something different.”
Alice wasn’t surprised by what he said. She removed the piece of paper from her purse and handed it to him, asking if he remembered signing it a year or so after they met.
My lord and master Lucifer, I acknowledge you as my god and prince, and promise to serve and obey you while I live. I renounce the other God and Jesus Christ, the saints, the church of Rome and all its sacraments, and all prayers that the faithful may offer me; and I promise to do as much evil as I can and to draw all others to evil; and I renounce chrism, baptism, and all the merits of Jesus Christ and his saints; and if I fail to serve and adore you, paying you homage three times a day, I give you my life as your own. Made this year and day. Signed, Rolf Pfluger
Alice repeated her question about whether he remembered signing it. Rolf ignored her and lit a cigarette. He had signed it after an hours-long, unsuccessful attempt to seduce her.
Now, she knew he had violated his pact, having heard it from his own mouth.
“Why are you in that costume from ‘Alice in Wonderland’?” he asked.
“Because tonight I’m taking you down the rabbit hole.”
He peered into her eyes, which gave off a glint of light. She gave him a rare smile and she curtsied, which made him laugh. He took her hand when she offered it. She looked stunning in the costume, the short hem of her dress and the come-fuck-me platform pumps accentuating her long legs.
“You shall join us, Bast,” Alice said.
Bast didn’t see anything in Rolf’s eyes other than his blasé rockstar bullshit. She kissed him and then slid her hand over the crotch of his black leather pants, feeling his erection. She grabbed his other hand.
“Follow me,” Alice told them.
A night of Indian summer bathed Halloween in warmth. Behind the concert hall, Alice led Rolf and Bast down a long set of concrete stairs that ended in a large cemetery. Alice removed the hand-written map she had made a week before. A full moon offered enough light to read it. Rolf asked Alice where they were going. She ignored his question, so he chatted with Bast about the concert.
“Satan, I invoke thee,” Alice said silently as she began to pray. She knew it would take about ten minutes to reach the destination, roughly the amount of time she needed for her nightly ritual. She focused on visualizing Satan. Her thoughts did not stray. She felt an immediate connection to Satan and his Demons.
They walked in silence until Alice stopped at a mausoleum nestled deep in the cemetery. Around it, there had been extensive vandalism, headstones overturned and graffiti sprayed on several graves, but the mausoleum had remained untouched.
There was a set of six stairs leading to the mausoleum, which was on a bluff. The first entrance was an iron gate, secured by a heavy padlock. Above it was a row of Roman numerals. There was a space on the front of the structure for a last name to be engraved.
Alice removed a key from her purse and opened the gate. Off in the distance, a bolt of lightning streaked across the sky, followed by a clap of thunder. Rolf said he needed to relieve himself and walked away, a moment of levity which Alice and Bast enjoyed. He returned after a few minutes, joking he had watered the tombstone of a man who had died two centuries ago.
The next entrance to the crypt was a heavy stone door. Rolf watched as Alice found a lever and opened it. The mausoleum was empty, as it had been for almost 200 years. Alice lit a candle. The three visitors walked through layers of dust to the rear of the structure, where Alice located a hidden door. It led to a decrepit staircase that ended four stories below the ground.
“This is our destination, the rabbit hole,” Alice told Rolf.
After descending the staircase, careful to avoid the steps broken or missing from hungry rats and years of neglect, they arrived at a small crypt. A coffin was set in the center of a red pentagram on the white marble floor. Alice lit torches and placed them in the wall fixtures. A large bat unaccustomed to the light shot up a ventilation shaft and several others followed. Rolf screamed. Bast clutched Alice’s hand.
“They are a symbol of rebirth and death,” Alice said.
Alice walked over to Bast and told her to get up on the stone slab of the coffin. Alice placed four skulls holding candles to warm the surface and scrawled “666” on the surface.
“Rebirth for us,” Alice said as she stroked Bast’s arms. Her skin was soft, the tattoos a roadmap for her dedication to the occult. As Bast faced Rolf, Alice reached around and removed her black leather shorts. Rolf watched as Alice caressed the black fishnet stockings that covered Bast’s shapely but tight ass. Alice was marking her as her own.
Bast felt an energy begin to circulate in the crypt, something she had felt only when she was in the presence of a witch practicing black magick.
“Are you trembling?” Alice asked.
Bast replied that she had never been with another woman.
“I knew who I was this morning, but I’ve changed a few times since then,” is a quote from ‘Alice’s Adventures in Wonderland,’” Alice told Bast.
She kissed Bast, running her hand softly over the side of her face. Alice controlled the pace, slow and measured to intensify Bast’s pleasure. Alice did not stop kissing Bast as she got on top of her, straddling her legs on the coffin.
Bast reclined on the stone slab after Alice unhooked her bra and dropped it on the floor. Bast’s dark brown nipples were pierced and she wore 14 carat yellow gold bars. She sighed as Alice teasingly licked around them – and finally over them, making her points harder than they’d ever been. The scent of Bast’s hot pussy pleased Alice, proof that she was travelling the right path. Both women felt the energy grow in the crypt.
Kissing her way down Bast’s waist, Alice listened to her breath, the rise and fall of her chest, the slight movement of her arms and the sighs that grew louder from Alice’s kisses. Removing her fishnet body suit, Alice positioned her head between Bast’s legs and spread them wider. Bast wore a thong; the front with an image of Baphomet, the deity which the Knights Templars were accused of worshipping. The image was wet from Bast’s pussy.
Alice said: “I believe in the Serpent and the Lion, Mystery of Mysteries, in his name Baphomet.”
Bast never had felt the softness of a woman’s tongue, the attentiveness of a female lover. Alice thought the time was overdue. From Bast’s responsiveness, she knew she would never turn back from sapphism. Bast moaned and arched her back as Alice licked and kissed her pussy, inching toward her clitoris. Bast ran her fingers over her breasts as Alice slowly moved her right hand to Bast’s hip, raising herself up.
Alice slipped two fingers into Bast’s pussy and moved them in circles around her clit. She kissed her way up Bast’s waist, stopping to suck on her breasts before sharing her honey in a long French kiss. Alice returned to Bast’s pussy, licking a line up and down her lips as Bast reached out with a hand to softly hold Alice’s head steady.
Sliding two fingers again into Bast’s pussy, Alice finger-fucked her as her tongue lowered to Bast’s clit. It remained there until Bast’s body roiled from the mind-blowing orgasm, her moans loudly echoing off the crypt’s centuries-old walls.
As Bast and Alice embraced, they noticed that Rolf had lowered his leather pants and was stroking his hard cock. He sat on the corner of the coffin. Both women had to stifle a laugh. He was pitiful. His pathos fit Alice’s plan.
“I want you to suck it,” she told Bast.
Bast knelt before him, removing his motorcycle boots, his bullet belt, and his pants. The vein that ran the length of his white cock was more pronounced than others Bast she had seen. She licked it from the base to the spot right before his cockhead.
Alice walked behind Rolf and removed his leather jacket. Once he was nude, Alice swiftly pulled his hands behind his back and snapped metal handcuffs on him.
He grunted. “Is this really necessary?”
Alice sat on a small chair near the center of the pentagram.
“Are you happy, Rolf?” she asked as Bast inhaled his musk. “Lewis Carroll wrote: ‘I love my love with an H,’ Alice couldn’t help beginning, ‘because he is Happy. I hate him with an H because he is Hideous.’”
Bast joined her laughter. In the flickering light from the candles, Rolf was hideous. He had a slight paunch and there were needle marks on his arms. His skin was splotchy and he looked considerably older than his age.
At Alice’s direction, Bast wrapped her lips around Rolf’s mushroom-shaped cockhead and took his cock into her mouth.
Alice removed the titanium blade knife from its sheath and walked slowly to the coffin.
“What the fuck, Alice?” said Bast. She stopped her cock-sucking when she saw the knife.
Alice leaned down and firmly told Bast to resume performing fellatio and to not stop until he came.
“He likes to bleed,” Alice told her.
Alice cut a small line above his nipple and watched the trickle of blood.
Rolf looked down at Bast. Their eyes met, which was his favorite part about oral sex.
“Alice drinks my blood once a year,” he said.
Alice licked the blood off Rolf’s chest as Bast sucked Rolf’s cock harder, bobbing her head to take him deeper and then moving in a circle as she swirled her pierced tongue around his shaft.
“Satan, Satan, Our Lord and Master,” Alice began to chant loudly. “I acknowledge thee as my God and Prince. I promise to serve and obey thee as long as I shall live.”
Rolf shouted in pain as Alice cut four lines above his wrist. The blood smeared her face as she drank it.
“Satan, Satan, Our Lord and Master. I acknowledge thee as my God and Prince. I promise to serve and obey thee as long as I shall live.”
“Oh fuck,” Rolf said, as Bast took his entire cock in her mouth and down the top of her throat. She felt his cum flood her mouth, salty and warm as she swallowed.
“Satan, Satan, Our Lord and Master. I acknowledge thee as my God and Prince. I promise to serve and obey thee as long as I shall live.”
Alice ended it in a second, the knife at his throat. She knew that Rolf, like an animal, would resist and summon enormous strength to fight death. She had chosen the sharpest knife.
Bast and Alice lifted his body into the coffin.
Leaving the cemetery with Bast, Alice recited the poem “The Walrus and the Carpenter’’ from Through the Looking-Glass.
“I weep for you,” the Walrus said:
“I deeply sympathize.”
With sobs and tears he sorted out
Those of the largest size
Holding his pocket-handkerchief
Before his streaming eyes
“O oysters,” said the Carpenter,
“You’ve had a pleasant run!
Shall we be trotting home again?”
But answer came there none --
And this was scarcely odd, because
They’d eaten every one.