0 comments/ 3997 views/ 1 favorites Bluebeard By: KoreGoddess I. Twas never my wish to be wedded to such a creature, to marry such a beast of a man. But he was in truth a devious trickster who made himself to seem a fair and honest lord. There seems little doubt that my mother and father were blinded by his great riches and refined manners, and of course, so was I. Yet there must have been something more. Call it sorcery, mesmerism, whatever you will, but surely there was some awful power in the man. I remember well when I first beheld him bargaining for my life. I was both fascinated and repelled by his distant majesty. When his fierce eyes met mine, it was as if I had locked gazes with a god, or perhaps, in truth, a daemon. He had seen me in the marketplace, it seemed. He spoke eloquently of my charms, and now would make bid to take me for his wife. He offered a handsome dowry, far more than had ever been offered before for any girl from the villages, at least in my short memory. I remember trying to imagine being the wife of this man I knew not at all. He named himself the Count De Martin. His manor was well known to most of the villagers, for it overlooked the valley on one of the high­est bluffs in the region, the Tor Alluc, or Cold Mountain, as it is now called. His clothes were the finest I had ever seen; a blue satin waistcoat with solid gold epaulets, silk embroidered tunic, calfskin leather riding breeches and boots. A great crimson ruby suspended on a heavy silver chain shone like living fire upon his breast. It was difficult to decide whether he was old or young, handsome or grotesque, for his face was dominated by a great thick beard and moustache, whose color was so raven a hue that it seemed to shimmer almost blue in the lamplight. His hair too, was long and ebon black, his eyes half­ hidden beneath great shadowed brows. Their color was as deep as his hair, deep pools of midnight, like a night sky without stars. I dared not meet his gaze directly for fear that I would lose my soul and be lost forever­more in those cavernous depths. I was both fascinated and repelled. There was a hypnotic quality in those burning eyes that could not be ignored. I could not help but fear him, but there was also within me, it is my shame to admit, a dark, erotic attraction. The danger, the threat that seemed inherent in his every movement, even in the deep inflections of his voice, provided some shadowed form of excitement beyond my understanding. Still, in the end it would have mattered little if I had desired him or was repulsed by him. My mother and father made the bargain for me and there seems little doubt they thought I should be delighted to make such a match. I went about business of preparing for my wedding as any young woman might who was betrothed to so great a lord. I was fitted for an exquisite satin and lace bridal gown. I supervised the guest list and the cooking of a sumptuous feast. In truth, I knew little about such matters to start, but I quickly learned from Lord de Martin's servants how to attend to the many details which surround such an elaborate event. Yet, every moment, I felt the rising of a black and awful terror twisting in my heart like the bite of cold iron. I had not so much as briefly glimpsed his face by the light of a fading cook-fire. Many questions were in my mind. Would he be a gentle or cruel man? Would he lust after me greatly and hurt me when he took upon our wedding bed? I had a deep longing for the tender caresses of a man, but I had no way of knowing what sort of man this Bluebeard was. At last the day of the wedding came. I stood and walked in the procession beside him, but protocol demanded that I keep my eyes forward until after we were wed, so once more I caught only glimpses of the man whose bed I soon would share. He was clothed regally, was this lord. A black tunic embroidered with delicate golden thread, an eagle before a fiery shield, and a forest green cape was fastened by a jeweled brooch and floated about his broad shoulders. His black hair and beard had been washed, combed, and curled to utmost perfection. Pearls and gold rings adorned those ebon locks. Silver bracelets and armlets glittered on his hairy arms. If I, in the long, white cloud of my silken dress, was the soul of innocence and grace, he indeed wore the visage of dark majesty and power. And so, in my fifteenth year of living by the grace of god, I became a woman, no longer a child, by the act of my marriage to the Count de Martin. I remember gazing at myself in the mirror on the eve before my wedding, looking at the girl who had so recently budded into womanhood. My small, brown-tipped breasts were no more than hillocks, my hips flaring only slightly wider. The mound of my sex was only sparsely covered with the silky down of womanhood. I couldn't see myself as beautiful in that moment, nor could I understand the count's desire to make me his wife. I was a frail, thin-limbed waif, often mistaken for a boy in the market place. Hardly a promising prospect for a virile young count to bed. I remember thinking that I should be thanking God for such an opportunity, a chance to escape the dreariness of my peasant life. But some dark foreboding was on me even then, and I was to remember those shadows of doubt that hovered about me in the long days to come. II. Our ride to my new home in the count's great black coach was a mad affair. Bluebeard urged his driver to the greatest possible speed. And so we went flying and bumping along the old dirt road, dust cascading in our wake. The count's boomed out with great roaring laughter, his black eyes meet­ing mine. Somehow his gaiety was infectious and I found myself joining in his laughter as the wind tore through our hair and the trees and the meadows of the countryside flashed by as a great blur outside our carriage window. The Tor Alluc towered above us for most of the latter part of our journey. It dominated the landscape, it's great stone ramparts rising to dizzying heights to meet the storm ravaged skies above. The black towers of the castle built upon its crown seemed perpetually wreathed in wisps of wind-­torn cloud. The climb to the top, up a narrow, winding trail that skirted the mountain's edge in a great spiral, was necessarily a perilous one. A gaping chasm yawned to the right. A sheer wall of granite rose to our left. The coachman was forced more than once to dismount and lead the horses by hand across some treacherous span. I began to wonder why a man with so many riches would live in such an inaccessible place. The sun fell, the land vanished below us, and we climbed on into the black night on a trail that appeared to be threaded amongst the stars. After what seemed an eternity, the driver at last halted the carriage. I saw that we had come into a small courtyard enclosed on all sides by high, ivy-covered granite walls. The driver held open the door for me, bowing low. The count led me by the hand under an arched gate and thru a vine-trellised walkway. We came before an immense door constructed of large panels of dark oak. Milord produced an iron ring of keys from which he extracted one of gleaming silver and fitted it to the great iron lock in the door. Slowly, the door swung open wide. Yet I was hardly prepared for that which awaited beyond. Splendor incarnate greeted my sight. A vast chamber opened before me, larger than three of my father's houses together. Rich, intricately woven tapestries hung upon the walls and thick luxurious rugs adorned the tiled floors. A black marble fireplace was set into the north­ern wall. Its stanchions were solid gold. I took all this grandeur in, my breath catching, my heart pounding in my breast. There were more riches in this single room than ever could be gathered from all of the villages below. A maid servant, a wispy waif of a girl barely past puberty, appeared to take my riding cloak. She seemed nervous in my presence, con­tinually glancing over at my lord as if to judge his approval of her actions. "Elizabeth," he said, turning and speaking directly to me for the first time since the wild carriage ride. Lila here will show you to your chambers. There is some business that I must attend to this evening and I fear it cannot wait." "Very well, milord," I agreed. "I'll use the time to freshen myself from the road." I followed the maid-servant, Lila, thru a long shadowed passageway, and thence up a long winding stair. The single fluttering candle she held ensconced in one hand provided our only light. What glimpses I had then of those parts of the house were not reassuring. A grim and somber at­mosphere, an air of ancient silence lay over those shadowed corridors. There was no sound except for the clicking of the maid-servant's heels upon the flagstones. The air was icy cold. Lila opened a door at last into a room which was, by contrast, ablaze with light and warmth. A roaring fire crackled in the hearth. Countless candles flickered in gleaming brass, free-standing candelabras and sconces affixed to the walls. Rich tapestries of beauteous forest scenes covered the cold marble. Silken draperies were hung, seemingly haphazardly, about the chamber, providing a sea of wild color. Deep wine-hued woolen rugs covered the floor, and there, in the center of the room, a great feather bed, like a dream of the goddess of sleep, awaited me. It was so huge that all the whores of the village could have sported there at once. A silken canopy like a market tent hung over this vast terrain of satin and goose-down strewn about with pillows of softest silk. The maid-servant left me alone in this grand boudoir. I lay down full length upon the great bed, still fully clothed, staring into space, trying to accept what had happened to me. But it was impossible. I was lost in a dream from which I would most certainly awake any moment. Surrendering to fate, I rose at last to prepare myself for my husband. There was a small chamber adjoining my own which contained a large bath. A fire had been struck and water had been drawn. I stripped off my outer clothing and my petticoats and stood in the warm water. I used a wetted towel to lave the flesh of my body. As I did so, I gazed into the tall mirror of polished silver in the corner and the ethereal image of the woman portrayed therein. As I gazed upon myself, my naked form wet and shimmering in the red glare of the fire, I wondered how it was that men found women's bodies so exciting. I was a peasant girl, and thus was not ignorant to the ways of a man and woman. I was unusual for the fact that I was one of those few at my age who still retained my virginity. This didn't mean that men hadn't attempt­ed more than once to "trip my heels", as it were, but I had never expressed an interest in the rude and vulgar boys that populated my village. I held my small breasts in my hands, lifting them closer to the mirror. My hands ran down the flat of my stomach and about the flare of my hips, idly running thru the fringe of silken hairs that guarded the gateway to my womanhood, that place from which all men arrive in this world and seem to strive so desperately to return to. Again I wondered over the mystery of its allure. I draped my naked form in a long satin robe that had been provided for me. It was soft as a cloud and very beautiful, the color of the morning sky. Its edges were embroidered with tiny roses and violets. I went to my bed to await the coming of my lord. Presently there came a soft rap upon my chamber door. I rose to answer. It was the maid-servant Lila returning. In one hand she carried a fresh box of thin wax tapers. "You shall need these come the morn," she said, "For little light from the outside world reaches these rooms no matter what the hour." "I see not why I need so many candles alight at once," I complained. "The room is bright as day already, nor is there a shadow to be seen!" "You'll be glad of the light later," she said mysteriously. "I'll disturb you no more this night. I leave you now to your rest." "And when can I expect the Lord de Martin to attend me?" I inquired. She looked at me strangely. "The count is a very important and busy man," she said, as if she were explaining something to an ignorant child. "There are many matters which must concern him now that he has finally returned to the castle. I cannot say that you will see him this night, or even with the coming of the morn." For a moment I could think of naught to reply, so stunned was I by her words. "Very well," I said at last. "I will ring for you if I need anything further this evening." "Ring as you will. We do not sleep in this part of the castle, and as I'm sure you have guessed, this is a vast abode. There are none to serve you when evening proper comes upon us, so that you must perforce make all of your needs known to me now." I could do naught else but dismiss her then, and so was left confused and alone in that grim place, alone on my wedding night with naught but the ghosts of the silent castle to keep me company. III. The next morning, I dressed when I arose in the bejeweled black satin dress which had been laid out for me the night before. Lila then appeared, and she led me once more thru a bewildering series of stairs and corridors until we at last came into a dark-paneled dining chamber where a feast of breads, jams and fruit had been laid out for me to break my fast. Milord husband also awaited me there. He was clothed in leather riding gear, which again surprised me. He waited at the head of the table, watching me in silence, his dark brooding eyes never leaving me for a moment. The count himself partook of no food, and in truth, I felt ill-at-ease beneath his unwavering gaze, and ate less than I might have. Yet, I dared not speak out, so uncertain of his temper was I. As I began to timidly sip my tea, he spoke at last. "I must humbly beg your pardon for my absence from our chambers yester­day eve. There are a great many matters that I, as lord of these surrounding lands, must attend to. I am obliged now and then to take a journey into the countryside. Affairs of great consequence are at hand or I would delay them. I explain all this to you so that you might know that I wouldn't normally neglect my duties as your husband, as you shall know well when I do return." He flashed a wicked smile, half-hidden beneath that curling blue beard, that somehow repulsed me. "It is my desire that you divert yourself in my absence. If you will, send for your friends and relations, so that they may partake of my hospi­tality, and make good cheer with you here in your new home." I was much obliged to him, and said as much. "Here," said he, "Are the keys of the two great wardrobes wherein I have my best furniture; these are of my gold and silver plate, which is not in everyday use; these open my money chests, both gold and silver; these my caskets of jewels; and this is the master-key to all my apartments. But for this little one here, the key to the closet at the end of the gallery on the ground floor. Open them all; go into all and everyone of them, except that little closet, which I forbid you, and forbid it in such a manner that if you happen to open it, there's nothing but what you may expect from my just anger and resentment." "I understand," I said. "I will obey in this, my husband, as in all things." Upon hearing these words, he smiled his terrible smile, and coming to me, embraced me savagely in his iron arms. Then, having left me half-crushed and breathless, he made his departure. IV. I sent invitations out that very morning to nearly everyone in my village. The grand celebration was to take place the following evening, so for the rest of the day, I made busy directing the servants to com­plete the multitude of tasks that such a fete entailed. I had the guest furniture duly arranged. I bade the cooks to prepare their greatest del­icacies. I set the maid-servants to polishing the magnificent gold plates and the sparkling crystal goblets and cups, while I myself supervised the polishing of the silver. These tasks kept me extremely busy that entire day and most of the next. But at last the hour had come, and I clothed myself in the garb of a queen, a white satin dress set with great sparkling diadems that Lila had set out for me. Gazing at myself in front of one of my full-length mirrors, I felt that I had been blessed by riches beyond my wildest dreams. The woman who stared back at me from the mirror was no longer anyone I knew. I had become a stranger in my own body. The first guests began to arrive. I was obliged to make haste so that I might be present to greet them. There was no more time for contemplation. A solemn hush fell over my guests as I descended the great stair. The precious gems of my gown shimmered ablaze in the flickering light of the amber-glassed paraffin lamps. I felt embarrassed by all of their attention. Once I had been no more than another village urchin amongst these people. Now they were making me feel like some kind of queen. When at last most of the guests had arrived and I had greeted them all, each and every one, we sat down in the immense, oak-paneled dining room. The candles were all alight in the crystal chandeliers. The silver and crystal sparkled like the fire of the stars on the great polished ebony tables, thereupon which was laid a feast that might have made the gods ravenous. There was no end of praise for me and my generous (though absent) husband. I was told again and again how lucky I was. I could see the envy in the women's eyes, and I knew well now that they would not mind so much my husband's blue beard, if only all these treasures could be their own. But I was somehow ill-at-ease with such conversation. I ordered din­ner be served and we feasted. There was a young man who sat near me that eve who was the sole of attentiveness and who was most courteous of manners. I could not help but contrast him with my new husband, for he was young and fresh of limb, and his blue eyes shone with the fullness of life. He seemed strangely out of place amongst the rest of my guests, and in truth, I knew him not. He wore the leather breeches and hauberk of a mercenary, and his lean features had the cast of a man from the far North. His name was Tintagel, and he engaged me in long conversation, mostly concerning the surrounding countryside and places he'd visited in his various travels. "There is a place near here," he told me, "Along the banks of the Nu­enna river, where a towering cascade of water falls into a shimmering pool in the canyon below. There is a long beach of white sand, along which grow thick ferns and great, drooping blossoms of bellflower amongst the stones. Have you ever swam there?" I knew not what to say. I had never had time as a young peasant girl to explore the surrounding countryside. My time was taken up always by the daily chores of survival. There had been little time for leisure in my life. "No," I admitted. "I've never been there, but it sounds very beautiful." "Perhaps, then, I will pay you a visit, you and your husband one day, and I can show you that place. It is well worth sharing." Finally, the sumptuous feast came to an end. I led my guests on a tour of the castle. I showed them each of the countless rooms, closets and wardrobes, which, even to mine eyes, which had not yet grown accustomed to such wealth, were all so fine and rich that each seemed to surpass the last in elegance and grandeur. After that, we went up into the two great rooms where were kept the richest furniture. My guests could not sufficiently admire the number and beauty of the tapestries, beds, couches, cabinets, stands, tables, lamps, and polished crystal looking glasses, some so large that several people could stand before them and behold their images all at once. Bluebeard They ceased not to extol and envy my happiness, but I was filled with astrange impatience. I could not bear even to look upon any more of he riches that now were mine, so consumed was I with this odd sense of unease. Finally, I led my guests to the great central gallery, filled with a countless number of paintings, weavings, sculptures, and other magnificent works of art. The guests flitted from one piece to the next, asking me to explain each as we went. I, of course, was at a complete loss, knowing nothing of the histories of any of the objects in the hall. "What is this door here?" asked Tintagel when we had at last come to the end of the hall and stood before the forbidden closet which I had, until just that moment, entirely forgotten. "I don't know," I replied truthfully. "I have never been within." Tintagel then stared at me strangely, scowling. I noted that his right hand nervously fingered the long silver dagger that hung at his hip. At last the long party came to an end. I bade farewell to my guests and was left alone, alone in the silent fortress atop the Cold Mountain. I returned to my chambers, and though weary I should have been after my long labors, I still found myself unable to sleep. The thought of the little key and the dark closet door at the end of the great gallery would not leave my mind. I tossed and turned the entire night upon the silken bed. I must have eventually found elusive slumber, though it was surely fitful. I had a nightmare in which my new husband at last returned, but as soon as he laid eyes upon me, he flew into a mad rage, and loosing his hunting knife, helunged at me. I felt the cold the cold bite of the steel stabbing deep into my belly. I screamed, staring down. but then I saw that it was not a knife, but my husband's bloody penis that had plunged into my vitals. I awoke with a scream upon my lips. V. It was still long before dawn, yet I rose swiftly and made my way down to the great gallery. All was silent within. The marble statues, the eyes depicted so skill- fully within the paintings; all seemed to be watching me intently, but they spoke not. The little closet door, though, beckoned me on, and I could no longer deny the urge to decipher its mystery. I had to know what lay beyond it. I stood before this door for some time, thinking on my husband's warnings, and considering what unhappiness might await me if he discovered my disobedience. But the temptation of my own curiosity was far too strong. I took the ring of keys in my hand, and selecting that one which had been specifically forbidden, that least of keys, I placed it into the lock. My heart beat madly in my breast as I turned the key and entered. I had come into a circular chamber, one whose entire rim was girded by a porch which was guarded by an ornate iron railing all about. Below, on a lower level than the porch, and enclosed entirely by it, was a sleeping chamber. A huge circular bed dominated most of the floor. Ornate lamps stood on glass tables, upon which also stood carved crystal goblets filled with exotically-hued liqueurs. But it was who lay upon that bed that my attention was entirely centered. Two women were there, completely nude, entwined in each other's arms. One I recognized as a rather voluptuous prostitute from my village. The other was a thin, waif-like girl I did not recognize. As I watched, the younger woman stirred and awoke, her eyes fluttering open. I stepped back hastily from the parapet, but I was sure she could not see me there amongst the shadows. She smiled a curious smile and began to lightly caress the older woman's voluptuous breasts, her cool palms sliding softly across the large pink areola of the woman's nipples. Slipping the silken sheets down to expose more of her companion's body, she began to kiss her way down the flat expanse of her bedmate's loins. It is difficult to describe my feelings at this moment. I was shocked, to be certain, yet there was a strange sense of cloudy unreality in the whole proceedings, as if I were a participant in a dream. For moments uncounted I watched impassively as if I were attending a drama at a theatre. The blonde whore was fully awakened now. She sighed and moaned with delight as the brunette's lips buried themselves in the triangle of her golden mound. The girl feasted upon the woman then, and the sounds of her tasting of the blonde in that strange way filled the chamber. I was appalled, of course, but strangely curious and excited. I wondered what it felt like to have a mouth and slippery tongue caressing one's private's in so inti­mate a manner. It is to my shame that somehow such a thought aroused me. The lewd scene continued to play out before me. The dark girl kneeled down between the blonde's thighs, nibbling greedily at her sex, her own arse lifted high in the air like a bitch in heat, exposing the black­-fringed mound and the dark ruby lips of her swollen vagina. The blonde gyrated wildly beneath her kisses, moaning softly and thrusting her hips to meet the intimate oral assault of her bed mate. I found I could watch no more. A mad, tumultuous heat was rising in my breast, and my throat and cheeks were hot as if I stood before a roaring fire. A thousand conflicting emotions welled up within me, and my heart was beating like a mad beast. I turned and raced back thru the closet door, remembering only in the last moment to silently shut it behind me. I went back to my room and lay there, numb, yet shaking with terror. When Lila came later to rouse me, I told her I was ill and would remain abed the entire day. She brought me soup that afternoon, but otherwise did not intrude upon me, for which I was grateful. I tried to make sense of the events I had seen take place that early morn. Were the two women concubines kept in the house for my husband's illicit pleasures? If so, were the rest of the servants in the house even aware of their presence? These and many other questions plagued my soul until I knew I would have no peace until I had the answers. I resolved then that with the coming of night, I would return to the secret chamber and learn what more I could of its two mysterious inhabitants. VI. Thus, when night had at last fallen, I found myself once more in the great gallery, standing at the door of the forbidden chamber. Extracting the little key, I placed it into the lock and crept silently within. Cautiously, I peered over the parapet. I was not in the least prepared for the scene which now greeted me. There was now a third occupant within the forbidden chamber, a man, who stood crouching over the blonde, his thick dark penis held stiff in one hand as he forced it deep into the confines of her pink mouth. The blonde smiled and licked it as it sank into her throat. The man was my husband, the lecher known as Bluebeard. I nearly fainted in shock, dismay, and utter shame. I had been lied to, deceived from the start! My husband had not departed the castle at all as he had said, but had remained here in the forbidden chamber, debauching these brazen sluts while I must perforce spend the nights after my wedding sleeping alone. The slim, young brunette was kissing my husband while his hands mauled her tiny breasts. They were all laughing and drinking a dark wine from the glittering crystal goblets. While I watched, he poured a volume of the heady liquid down the golden girl's throat, upon which she returned her attentions to his rampant penis. As I have said, as a country girl, I was of course not entirely ignorant, yet never had I heard of such an act as that which the blonde performed on my husband in that forbidden chamber. She was sucking at the thick root of my husband's manhood as if she were a beggar child chewing candy. Bluebeard laughed, pouring the dark wine over his cock and watching as the young girl greedily licked it off. It was all too much for me. I wanted to cover my eyes, to run forever and ever to the end of the world, away from the terrible Cold Mountain and it's despicable inhabitants. Yet somehow, I couldn't bring myself to turn away. There was something else besides disgust that welled up within me unbidden, a dark and troublesome excitement, an untoward racing of my heart that I couldn't explain. The room felt unbearably hot. The lusty scene swam before my gaze. My breasts ached strangely beneath the bodice of my gown. My husband had now placed his thick staff between the blonde's writhing legs. From where I stood, I could clearly observe the massive purple head pushing aside the wet folds of her sex, surging deep into the pit of her body as she heaved and moaned as though it was the greatest delight to have this monster stabbing deep into her vital organs in such a manner. The young brunette kissed the blonde's breasts as they bounced from the weight of my husband's body heaving against hers. I could see clearly my husband's great hairy balls, drawn tight in their sac against the root of his manhood, slapping heavily against the blonde's fleshy arse. I felt myself growing faint even as I became aware of a new sen­sation, a strange, unhealthy arousal. My own sex felt molten beneath my gown and I felt my thighs grow wet with my own juices. I was mad, I know. My senses had left me and I couldn't stop myself. My hand dipped down into the slippery heat of my vulva's crevasse. I gasped as I discovered just how wet I really was. My fingers unconsciously massaged the swollen lips of my pleasure. I began to feel jealous of the sluts who thus entertained my husband, and hate also began to bloom in me for my husband, this Bluebeard who ignored his newly wed wife for the affections of two village whores. The slim brunette was kissing my husband's swollen balls as they flopped wetly against the blonde's arse. The blonde whore moaned wildly, mindless in her lust as the huge thing hammered deep into her guts, her big breasts bouncing furiously from the rhythmic impact of my husband's body against hers. I heard my husband gasp incoherently, then he pulled his manhood free from the blonde's gaping cunt, holding his dripping cock by its base, its massive length gleaming wetly in the candlelight. It was crimson with lust, and veins like steel wires stood out along its length. The head shone like a fresh-picked plum. A clear, thick fluid like tree sap flowed from the tiny slit in its center. The brunette then knelt before him, licking along the entire length of his mighty organ. The first awesome blast took her off guard, splashing across her eyelashes and forehead. Then it was running over her lips and cheeks as she lapped greedily at the thick white fluid that continued to pump from the end of my husband's throbbing cock. It streamed in creamy rivulets across her face, dripping onto the blonde's soft rounded belly in heavy splatters. A change seemed to transform my husband then. The glazed lust in his eyes was replaced by a look of disgust and revulsion. From the pocket of his silken robe, I saw him extract something that gleamed silver in the candlelight. His hand swept out across the blonde's breasts, as if he were lightly caressing her there. The next moment, the blonde's throat opened in a gout of crimson. I could easily observe the gaping wound that had been produced by the long razor-edged dagger in Bluebeard's hand. The brunette stared aghast as the blood fountained across her belly and thighs, then she began to scream with the sickening terror of one who had been awakened from a horrifying nightmare only to discover that the nightmare was a grisly reality. The crimson blade plunged deep into the young girl's soft white flesh, slashing her stomach wide and ripping upward so that her bowels and vital organs came slithering out of her belly to splatter wetly crimson upon the breasts of her already dead companion. Her scream turned into an awful gurgle, then she too died, fallen into the mess of blood and entrails that had once been her body. I stifled an urge to scream myself, to cry out bloody murder, but I knew that I too would die on that terrible blade if I made but a single sound. Slowly, ever so silently, I crept back in utmost terror from that bloody chamber and raced back to my own room, whereupon I collapsed onto the bed and wept. I knew now that there was no safety for me anywhere in the whole wide world from the beast whom I called my husband. The man I had sworn to honour and obey was revealed as a bloody rapist and murderer. The horror descended upon me all at once. I swooned, and for a time, knew no more. VII. Lila came to awaken me very early that next morn. "Milord requests your presence in the main gallery," she informed me. As a woman going to meet her doom I arose and dressed unhurriedly. I couldn't free my mind from the fatalistic thought that I was preparing myself for my executioner. At last I arose to meet my fate. Of course, I had resolved to attempt to deceive my husband, and I purposely left those keys he had entrusted to me on the little table at my bedside, and descend­ing the stairs, I made an immense effort to calm the mad beating of my heart within my breast. Yet, the moment I beheld his grim, scowling face, the shadowed blaze of his fierce dark eyes, I was once more all a tremble. "Bring to me those keys which I have given thee guardianship over," he commanded. "I must certainly," I exclaimed innocently, have left them above on the bedroom table." "Fail not to bring them to me presently." I went back upstairs, and seeing nothing else for it, returned with the keys in my hand. The count spent several long moments inspecting every aspect of those keys most minutely. Finally he turned to me. His eyes were filled with a dangerous gleam. "How comes it that this little key is stained with a speck of blood?" he inquired. "I know not!" I cried. My heart had turned to ice. "You do not know?!" roared the beast. You very well do know! You were resolved to peer into the secret closet, were you not? Very well, madam, since your curiosity so overwhelms you, you shall go in and join the ladies already there! Upon this, I threw myself at my husband's feet, begging for mercy, vowing that nevermore would I be disobedient to him. But Bluebeard's heart was as cold as ice. "No, madam, you must die," he said, "And that quite presently." He dragged me brutally by my hair as I kicked and screamed, to little avail against his great strength. He dragged me nearer and nearer to that dread chamber. Throwing his weight against the ebony door, he broke it down, smashing the lock. The women were still there, still strewn in the awful poses of their gruesome deaths, their bodies stiff and putrefying. I nearly fell faint in the monster Bluebeard's arms. It was in that moment of half-consciousness that Bluebeard poured down my throat a thick, viscous fluid that tasted most foul and burned where it touched my lips. I gagged and strove to spit it out. His huge hand clamped around my jaw so that I was forced to swallow it or drown. "The potion will take effect in a few moments," he informed me. "You cannot imagine the years it took and the sacrifices to demons most foul that I made to avail myself of the secret of its mixture. It is an elixirof darkest passions. It excites in its imbiber a most savage, irrepressible lust. It consists partly of the blood of the two young ladies I entertained yesterday evening, together with a large volume of my own seed, for I spent myself into the cup as part of the final preparation. Soon, you will be writhing on the flagstones, ripping your clothes off, begging me to rape you, to take your cunt, your mouth, even your arse-hole, to fill every hole in your body with my manhood." I stared at him aghast. I did not doubt the truth of his claim. Already I felt a strange tingling in my loins and breasts, as if I were drunk and a little giddy. Then the first jolt of heat struck me. I felt the juices of my sex running down my thighs, staining my underthings. I understood now why the ladies had been so willing to participate in Bluebeard's orgies. I, who had truly been a virgin up until that time, found myself contemplating and even desiring the most disgusting scenes of debauchery that could have ever be imagined. Bluebeard had removed his pantaloons, revealing the thick iron of his manhood. It was a monstrous staff, its blunt head oozing with a sticky, clear fluid, its girth pulsing with lust as thick, blue veins stood out along its length. And I wanted it. God help me, how I wanted it! I had no control over the fever that had overcome my body. I wanted him to stab me with that giant thing again and again until I at last expired in his arms. I wanted to be taken, and taken fiercely, with all the violence and rage that man has inflicted upon woman since the dawn of time. I wanted, nay, I needed to be raped, to be fucked savagely until I cried out for mercy. I felt that I would surely die if I were not penetrated in that moment. He brought his sex near to my face. Involuntarily, my lips opened. My head leaned forward. I wanted to lick it, to suck its end as I had seen other women do. He brought the bulbous head closer. I felt the hot silken flesh brush against my cheek. Then there came a fateful interruption. Thru the remnants of the shat­tered closet door, a warrior burst thru. Strangely, I recognized him, even through the haze of my delirium. It was Tintagel, a gleaming battle-axe clenched in his brawny fist. For the briefest of moments, I resented his intrusion, so enwrapt was I in the throes of that demonic lust. But when I glimpsed his silver-blue eyes, blazing fiercely beneath darkened brows, the spell of Bluebeard was miraculously broken. I scrambled away into the corner, away from the ghastly demon I had once called my husband. Tintagel took in the scene in a moment; the two slaughtered women, Bluebeard standing half-naked above me. It must have been obvious that I was intended to be his next victim. With a wordless howl, he leapt over the parapet at Bluebeard, his axe glittering like a steel whirlwind above his head. Yet somehow, Bluebeard managed to evade every deadly stroke. Rolling to the side, he produced a black-stained long knife. I realized with hor­ror that it was the very same blade which he had use to slay the two helpless young women. He lunged at Tintagel, the point stabbing forward like the strike of a viper. Tintagel twisted aside with the litheness of a cat, but the blade cut a deep slash in his shoulder as he turned, and once more the tiles of the forbidden chamber were stained crimson with blood. "Thrice-cursed mercenary!" Bluebeard snarled. "You have journeyed far to meet your death!" Tintagel cast the axe aside and freed his own long knife from its leather scabbard. His eyes were sparks of lambent fire as he advanced nimbly on the balls of his feet, his yard-long blade held erect before him, pointed straight at Bluebeard's black heart. Bluebeard did not await his attack. Pressing his advantage, he bore down on the warrior, using the bulk of his weight to propel the bloody blade forward with the force of his entire body behind the thrust. With a deft movement that my eyes found nearly impossible to follow, Tintagel parried Bluebeard's nearly unstoppable charge with the edge of his knife, flicking it aside so that it passed perilously close to his ribs. His left fist lashed out at the same moment, smashing directly into the monster's blue-bearded face. I distinctly heard bones snap beneath the blow. Blood streamed down my former husband's face, staining the blue of his beard a deep, ugly violet. Tintagel again lashed out, this time with his boot to Bluebeard's stomach. He fell down to the floor gasping. But he still retained his grip on his knife. Bluebeard Tintagel stood glaring down at him. "You call me a mercenary!" he cried. "But I am no mercenary. You slew my own sister in just such a manner as those yonder, slaughtered in the most terrible manner that can be conceived! Slain by you, monster count! How many other innocents have died by your hand? Five wives have you had. This I know, and none of them ever left these walls. God only knows how many others have fallen victim to your cruel depravity. May he have mercy on your wicked soul, but I doubt not that you shall surely burn in Hell as you well deserve! Now, prepare yourself to die!" Bluebeard only laughed and rolled once more to his feet. His great bulk seemed to dwarf the slim warrior who stood defiantly before him. His black eyes blazed with a fierce and primitive hate. He had now lost all sem­blance of humanity. He had become a beast primordial, a creature of death incarnate. As I watched in my drugged state, it seemed to me that I beheld a battle older than time itself, the beast versus the man. Bluebeard came on, slashing and stabbing like a madman. Tintagel agilely leapt back and almost casually lashed out with his own blade. Bluebeard's left hand fell to the floor. He howled like a bear, clutch­ing the spurting stump of his arm. Blood drenched his silken robes. Bluebeard's eyes were filled with terror now. "I beg of you, do not slay me," he pleaded. "I have gold, silver, great power. I will pay you......." "Aye, you will pay, great lord!" cried Tintagel. "You will pat in blood and you will pay in pain!" Another thrust and Bluebeard fell with a great crash. His right leg had been nearly severed from his body at the thigh. "You will die slowly and terribly, as you well deserve," stated Tin­tagel, strangely calm now. "Prepare yourself, monster, for what you have sown you shall now surely reap!" Then he flayed Bluebeard alive, piece by piece. The quivering heap of gory flesh that remained must have died long before the deed was wholly done. I can only believe that it was for the best, for I could see that even Tintagel had at last sickened of the task of his vengeance. I raced to my benefactor's side, embracing him and bruising his face with the fierceness of my breathless kisses. "Calm yourself, my lady," said he, "The danger is past. You are safe now." But I could not calm myself. The fires of lust that had been awakened by Bluebeard's drug still raged within me. I tore open my bodice, exposing my white breasts to his view. My hands clawed at him, grasping at the crotch of his breeches. I saw his eyes widen. I felt the bulk of his manly flesh beneath my frantic hands begin to lengthen and harden. "Take me now, warrior," I gasped. "As is your right for freeing me from a fate too horrible to contemplate. Take me warrior, for I will love thee and no other!" There's no need to relate what further took place in that terrible chamber beside the bloody corpses of my former husband and his victims. I blush even now to think of it, but I knew no such shame or chagrin then, so overpowering was the lust that was instilled by the potion I had been forced to imbibe. The walls of the bloody chamber resounded again and again with my gasps and incoherent cries as Tintagel brought me to my pleasure so many times that I lost count. Tintagel and I were wed soon thereafter. I have borne him many children since that day, and every year at the Midwinter Festival, I have told this tale, and no doubt I shall tell it again every year for as long as I still live. For I would not let the world forget that a monster such as Bluebeard once existed. And I have little doubt that others have existed and will exist again. It is well that we all should be wary, for there will always be men who will prey upon women, and who is to say what dark and secret thoughts reside in the hearts of any man, even the man you call your own husband. THE END