Angel of Halloween

by Akiyama Senju

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© Copyright 2020 - Akiyama Senju - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/f; collar; chastity; costume; pain; magick; toys; horror; church; nc; XX

She wakes up to the earliest morning rays lighting up the renaissance art stained glasses and a cross-network of beams supporting them. While welcomed anywhere in town she is strongly drawn to spend the night in this Church and has been doing this for as far as she can remember. Without wasting another moment she gets up from the cold hard floor and runs. The heels click on the marble floor and then the pavement before being muffled by dirt. None of which delayed her from reaching her destination.

“Well, don’t just stand there and stare. Help her for goodness sake” a middle aged man shouts at a younger one.

“I... errr. Sorry.” He is visibly distressed.

She nods with a smile and opens up her arms. He peers down and the sight of her cleavage another part of his brain takes control and he loses grip on the crate.

“Sorry, sorry. I was... Wow.”

“You idiot. If you damage the crate I will send you back to town. I don’t care if there is an outbreak in the city and there are no jobs I will send you back packing” The middle-aged man shouts.

“How did? How did she? How did she just catch that? And then move like that?”

Without breaking a sweat she hauls the crate to the destination. Turning back she frowns at the young man with her smooth white eyes and it drains the blood from him.

“Uncle, I am scared.”

“That’s it, boy. You are fired. Apologise before I make it worse for you.”

“Sorry.” He is shaking with fear.

“Now get out of my sight. You don’t deserve to stand before the Angel of this town.”

“What kind of Angel dresses in black and looks like a demon,” he murmurs and goes away but “weirdo” could be heard

“I am so sorry,” the older man says to her.

She only nods and leaves her alone to take care of other things. She ponders if she can ever feel normal.

What is normal, even? She tugs at her black dress, knowing that it would not budge from her skin at just below the elbow, all along the sweetheart neckline which turns into a collarless high back, and at the waistline below which the skirt flares out.

She takes a deep breath and avoids sighing knowing that any sound will be punished by the black choker, studded with beautiful jewels.

“Good job,” the older man says to her.

This brings a soothing indiscernible music from her drop earrings and a movement in her nether regions.

“I hope you can make it to tonight’s Halloween party. We want to celebrate this anniversary. You have given us so much since you came last year.”

Seeing her raise her eyebrow he says, “Well, the local outbreak is finally contained. So, all the more reasons to celebrate.”

The plugs in her vagina stop as anger descends upon her. Her deathly pale face against the deep red lips and smudged dark eyeshadow around eyes scares the man even more than the first time he saw her. Shaking he says, “We are having the public trial for Sarah. I know you have been especially close to her parents after treating them for long term symptoms of the disease. So, I am sure you will want to be there to see justice done.”

Indeed she had been taking care of the older Crawfords and really the whole town. On this mission she spent every waking minute of her day.

“Can I give you your payment?” the man asks her, afraid.

She nods. He calls his wife. In front of the love of his life he holds her hands. She feels the rod embedded within her nether region slowly move to caress her. When it first happened she instinctively tried to kiss or make out. However, she soon learnt that such force results in painful shock to her breasts, anus, and vagina. She rubs his hands and feels a longing. Unexpectedly his wife jumps in with a hug.

“You have been amazing to my husband, our business, and our town. In the midst of this horrible pandemic you have been a light to our community through your tireless essential work. I know you can’t talk but I do hope that you know that we appreciate you,” the wife says and the lady in black has never been closer to an orgasm in the last year.

She makes the most appreciative face and leaves to the next person on the list. She cannot say if this is happiness or the sexual high from the first time she has felt vibrations in her vagina and ‘non-shocking’ touch in her anus and breasts as far as she can remember. Thinking of the latter she touches herself and is stopped by the chastity belt. She cannot remember a time without it. For that matter she cannot remember ever being out of the dress, heels, stockings, jewellery, or without the makeup. She can’t even remember ever reaching orgasm though she is distinctly aware of the concept. No solid memory exists that goes beyond a year ago.

After doing the dishes at the local diner she makes a detour to check on the Crawfords. She has a soft heart for the couple as they always make her feel special despite her or their state. Whenever she feels down they sing ‘Come Little Children’ and her heart just snaps back. “I wish we could still cheer up our daughter so easily,” they would say, “poor girl.” She, though, feels anger towards their daughter Sarah. It turned into outright rage when she had recklessly gone to a rave party and became patient zero for the local outbreak. Her mom and dad had been the worst affected with serious illness even months later. She nearly breaks the Thermos flask in her hands.

A socially distant Halloween party. However, she is trying to break it. She wants to forget that the Crawfords were admitted to the intensive care unit in the afternoon. She sees a bunch of the younger folks peel off. She follows the horde of slutty nurses and zombies to a backyard where a party, with no care for the pandemic, is raging. Moving through the drunks she is able to rub against many people but the movement in her vagina is erratic and just builds frustration. It ends when the police arrive.

She wonders why she didn’t just go directly to the Church after she finished her list for the day. As she approaches the town centre on the way to the Church she sees another, much older crowd. They are surrounding a young lady and their mood is very grim.

“You killed Irene and Charles.”

“Yeah, you killed your parents, Sarah.”

“Community service is not even close to fair.”

Something trips within her and in an uncontrollable rage she dashes and pins Sarah to the ground.

“AAAkh. Please someone help me!” Sarah shouts.

A few people approach but one look from her is enough to send everyone many steps back.

“You killed them!” the pale lady shouts, her white hair flowing menacingly.

“No. No. No...” Sarah cries.

“You monster!” From her choker blood starts leaking.

A few bystanders brave to restrain her but with one push are thrown. She takes Sarah to the Church and barricades inside. Then throwing her at the altar starts accusing her.

“I am sorry. I am sorry.” Sarah pleads and the sound reverberates within the sanctuary.

“You killed the Crawfords, and hurt so many in this town, you monster.” Blood is now freely gushing from her neck. Sarah becomes incoherent and curls up.

“What do you have to say for yourself?” she shouts at Sarah, as she ignores the pounding at the door.

“Please forgive me. Please forgive me.”

“You pathetic waste of semen. Oxygen is wasted on you.”

“I am sorry. I so am sorry. I am so very sorry.”


She punches the floor next to Sarah and easily breaks through many layers of rock. Pulling up her unscathed hands she points to the sobbing Sarah with her impeccable black nails.

“COME ON. Defend yourself.”

“I... I don’t know.”

“I know what to do with you.”

She pulls at her dress. It shreds and pain engulfs her body unlike any she can remember.

“Suffer.” Her voice is colder than the night air.

The dress fabric slowly re-forms around Sarah’s body, eliciting cries of pain.

“Do you repent?”

“*Sobbing* Sorry.”

“How many people have you hurt?”

“I, I don’t know. I am sorry.”

“You didn’t listen to mom.”

“*Sobbing* Sorry.”

“You were obnoxious to Dad.”

“*Sobbing* I am terrible.”

“You are a bad person.”

“*Sobbing* I am the worst.”

“Have you done even one good thing in life?”

“Aaah!” The electric shock is finally too much to ignore.

“You slut. You love sex more than your parents you whore.”


“YOU killed mom and dad. Why did you go to that stupid party? Was the sex worth it, you horrible HORRIBLE slut? What did mom and dad deserve to have an ungrateful child who can’t stay home and respect quarantines. Gaaaaa...” the electric shock is causing her hands to shake involuntarily.

The cries have become uncontrollable. Lost in pain and despair a melody is forming in her head. She vocalises and it comes out as ‘Come Little Children...’

“Mom, Dad is that you? I am sorry. I shouldn’t have gone to that party. Definitely not for sex. I am so so... so very sorry please forgive me.” Suddenly the vibrators are running and so is the thrusting in her vagina.

“...Do you forgive yourself?” The vibrations and thrusting have reached a tempo she can only describe as ideal.

“Can I forgive myself?” She knows she is one step away from an orgasm and freedom.


Her vagina goes numb and she blacks out.

‘Come Little Children’ is softly being sung by a middle-aged couple and can barely be heard amidst the Halloween party. It is enough, though, to wake her up and she sees a network of beams partially obstructing the renaissance art stained glass.


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