Copyright (c) 2013,   madvlad.  ALL Rights Reserved

Date of first publication in Mr Double's Palisade :
Tuesday, October 22, 2013

This story may be downloaded by Palisade members uniquely for their private use, and 
may not be distributed for profit or posted to newsgroups or other websites.  Mr Double 
may be contacted by emailing mrdouble@mrdouble.com.


A Palisade Author story from MrDouble's archive, 
Filename: blackth1.txt
http://www.mrdouble.com





story_codes: M/g(7), supernatural, first, nc, semi-cons

story_intro: (First in a series of Halloween stories.) Welcome to the Blackthorne Arms, an old luxury hotel now converted to apartments. The unnaturally long-term residents are looking for some new neighbors, especially those with delectably young children brimming with innocence. And seven year-old Rebecca is about to become the latest in a long line who learn about the true nature of those who live at Blackthorne.

story_language: English




Blackthorne Arms, part 1

Written by madvlad


Some Time Ago

	Despite the misery the late autumn winds could bring to members of his social circle, Samuel was in high spirits. His run of luck began with horseshoe. Not his, but the one a deliveryman's horse threw. On the cobbles and bricks of the city streets, it was risky to test a horse's unprotected hooves, so the man hollered to a boy to fetch a nearby blacksmith, promising payment of a silver dime only when the boy returned with said smith.

	Once the re-shoeing efforts began, the deliveryman was sufficiently distracted enough for Samuel to investigate his cargo. As Samuel had suspected from the exposed casks, there were also bottles of better grade liquor in crates. After deftly liberating a bottle of good rye, Samuel was on his way, not wanting to risk discovery by being greedy.

	Some fellow denizens of the streets were not so fortunate in their attempts, letting their thirst override common sense. Angry shouts from the delivery man brought the constables in the long blue coats with shiny copper buttons that gave them their nickname. The batons rose and descended with lawful cracks over the wrists and skulls of several would-be celebrants. The ragged men dispersed, holding injured body parts and with no liquid relief gained. Samuel thought he saw at least two policemen slipping a bottle beneath their woolen coats, but he was not about to shout his discovery and subject himself to closer examination.

	Samuel retired to his new quarters of late, an alley next to a brand new hotel. The Blackthorne Arms did not advertise, choosing instead to rent rooms only to its exclusive clientele. Samuel didn't recognize the finely dressed ladies and gentlemen who came in and out as they were indeed very exclusive and he was one of the widely excluded. 

	According to stories, one of the Astors had been politely declined a room and left in a fuming cloud of indignation. If it was true, Samuel was humorously pleased to also be in the same social circle as the hoity-toity Astors.

	One the other hand, Samuel might have been closer to residing at the Blackthorne than any Astor, Vanderbilt, or Morgan ever was. He had discovered a grate in the alley grounds, right next to the hotel. Piling some discarded crates and a hidden Army blanket reportedly liberated during the draft riots of the Civil War some decades ago, Samuel had made himself a suitable refuge.

	In his investigations and conversation, he had learned that the hotel had a furnace in the basement. Fancy that, he thought, digging a hole to put a stove into. But the grate was somehow connected to the basement and in these colder months provided Samuel with a quite comfortable abode at night. 

	The building itself was quite impressive, thirteen stories high (no superstitious folks were these) built of gray stone and trimmed with polished dark marble. Connected on each corner were rounded towers peaking above the main portion with conical turrets. A tiered set of six wide steps led to the front doors which were guarded day and night by rather fearsome looking men wearing fine coats with epaulets and braid.

	Word on the streets had it that there were also hidden accesses in other parts of the building where people could enter and leave in secret. The mere idea of something like this led to wild stories of sinister intents and left Samuel's alley vacant of every other street person. Samuel himself had carefully inspected the wall that comprised one side of his alley and never say any sign of some demonic portal.

	Arranging the crates to settle down for the night, Samuel had just taken his first swig of rye when he saw the girl. She was a little thing of perhaps seven or eight, wearing only a threadbare dress and cracking shoes. Samuel pulled the bottle more tightly to his body; the automatic reaction of one of his kind when a rival for their hooch appeared. Samuel doubted the child would be interested in his bottle and knew she wouldn't have the strength to take it from him, but he was prudent all the same. 

	Moving at a slow pace, the girl was picking through some strewn refuse, gradually working her way deeper into the alley. Samuel was prepared to chase her off if she got too close, but hoped the approaching darkness would make her leery of venturing too far from the relative safety of the street.

	Looking up at the indigo sky, Samuel knew that full darkness wouldn't be long in coming. When he checked back to mark the girl's progress, he was surprised to find she had vanished completely. She couldn't have made it back to the street so quickly and she wasn't elsewhere in the alley.

	Beneath him, a child's cries echoes up from the grate. They lost their reverb quality and became sharper as the owner of these noises was obviously brought closer to the grate. Samuel froze, concentrating on listening.

	The child's crying was abruptly muffled by something that sounded like a moist smack. Samuel could hear some indignant noises that then stopped. Another slurping sound happened again, this time sounding like a damp cork being popped from a bottle. Now there was a new noise - the sound of cloth being ripped. The girl - it had to be the girl that Samuel had seen - was whimpering as she was being forcibly stripped.

	His heart thudding, Samuel wondered what foulness this was. He knew of young girls - those who had not yet budded in the chest or grown any hair below - who worked the bawdy houses in certain neighborhoods. They were quite popular amongst a set of men who spanned all classes. But Samuel had never seen one in the trade as young as this. And she certainly had not been a working girl.

	From the grate, more semi-liquid sounds poured forth that sounded like a large dog lapping at its supper. The girl was whimpering and Samuel could hear the rustle of bodies. In his crated hiding place, Samuel nearly wet himself when the child screamed in a pitifully thin but shrill voice. For several minutes, the sound continued, gradually losing strength as Samuel's ear registered something else. The new noise was thick and wet; a heavy sliding and gurgling noise that sounded like....

	Samuel shook his head to clear the thought. But the girl had been stripped, or so he thought. Perhaps this was all his imagination run amok. Chuckling ruefully, Samuel raised the bottle to his lips. It served him right for trying to get involved in the affairs of others. 

	The bottle froze at his mouth when he heard the girl again. She was moaning - some of it may have been pain, but some of it was something a girl her age shouldn't be making, let alone know of. This time, Samuel couldn't dismiss what his ears were telling him. The child's strident groans came in time with the heavy, gooey sounds of flesh thrusting into flesh. Despite his horror, Samuel's prick sprang to life as he listened to the little girl getting sexed.

	The wet sounds seemed rather long as if the owner possessed a member of extraordinary length. But how could all of that fit in the tiny place between the legs of a small child? None of it made sense but the girl was definitely experiencing something as she warbled out a sound of ecstasy that no well-practiced doxy that Samuel knew could have done half as well when she was faking it with a customer. The last sounds of the little girl's orgasmic cries faded as the moving sounds continued. 

	Then those sounds stopped and the girl moaned again, growing louder and more highly-pitched. As they continued, Samuel could imagine the copious, semen getting pumped into her little body. It went on for minutes, the child now screaming in short bursts as she was unmercifully filled. Then she made a small croaking sound that tapered off as she possibly fainted. 
 
With his ears fully attuned to the grate, Samuel heard a low, deep sigh of satisfaction that carried the sense of something ancient and powerful. It was something that threatened to become embedded in his soul and haunt him, even if he wasn't a religious man at all.  Acting with a primal sense of preservation, Samuel bolted from his comfortable nest, abandoning it permanently and leaving the forgotten bottle lying on its side as its contents spilled out.

	
Today

	"Welcome to the Blackthorne Arms," said Arthur Darby, standing to shake hands as he rose from the newly signed contract on his desk.

	"We can't tell you how thrilled we are to have been accepted," Maryanne Dylan gushed as Arthur shook her hand after shaking her husband's.

	She and Pete had been looking for a decent place in the city with some room and had registered with an apartment search site when Arthur responded a day later. The Blackthorne Arms was a late nineteenth century, gothic-looking luxury hotel that had been renovated by its group of present owners into a rent-controlled apartment building.

	The couple had been amazed by the amount of room in their prospective apartment. Arthur explained that most of the units had been made from at least two former suites that had been combined. Although all of the original and intricate woodwork remained, the entire building had been carefully modernized for high-speed communications and entertainment. The rent, which included utilities, seemed suspiciously low; something that Arthur acknowledged and readily explained. 

	"The first floor and the top three floors are where we, the group of owners reside. By renting out the other nine floors, we make enough to pay the property taxes, upkeep, and a fund for future renovations should the need arise. No more is needed as we are all financially self-sufficient. But we also have the luxury of selecting our tenants so that we have a thriving little community here. Most of us are older and have no children here, so we enjoy having youngsters like Miss Rebecca, here."

	The Dylans' daughter looked up and smiled from the chair she had been perched on, swinging her legs and fixing a doll's hair while the adults talked. Her brown eyes sparkled as she acknowledged the welcome.

	"I have to admit," Pete chuckled. "We wondered at first if we weren't being drawn in to some sinister place with an evil history. You know, like you see in the movies."

	Arthur looked stunned.

	"Who told you?" he asked anxiously before breaking out into a huge belly laugh. 

	The merriment looked incongruous for a moment. Arthur was a plain-looking man in his late forties or early fifties with thinning gray hair and a gray suit.

	"Sorry," Arthur wheezed, taking a sip of water from a glass on his desk. "I can never keep up appearances like that when I'm playing a joke. I'm only a commodities broker - nothing too diabolical about that, I'm afraid. My wife, Pamela, is a real estate agent, though...so who knows? Of course, her devilish side always attracted me."

	The grown-ups exchanged a few more pleasantries as Arthur gave them their keys and some other information about the building access codes and such. Rebecca was getting bored and spoke up.

	"I like this place. It looks just like a castle."

	Arthur grinned and bowed his head in her direction. 

	"An astute observation, Miss Rebecca. How old are you?"

	"Seven."

	"Seven, my! And what a sophisticated young lady you are."

	"Are we going to live in one of the towers? That's where princesses live."

	Arthur chuckled and shook his head.

	"I'm afraid not but you'll have a wonderful place on the eighth floor. The towers are part of the ownership spaces, although you may get a chance to visit the top of the Northeast tower some night."

	"Ooh! What's there?" Rebecca asked.

	Arthur turned to address the entire family.

	"Simon Weatherby, one of our group, is something of an accomplished amateur astronomer. He has several telescopes set up there - something about low ambient refracted light making the ideal place for him. I'm afraid he'd have to explain anything more than that. Anyway, he occasionally invites anyone who's interested to gaze at the stars and planets and whatever space rock may be shooting by."

	"Sounds neat," Pete said. 

	After a few more minutes, Arthur showed the new residents out the front door, his gaze lingering on Rebecca. She was a very charming child, and rather pretty, too. He looked forward to corrupting her soon.

	
A week later, Arthur watched from the lobby as Rebecca exited the school bus and walked up the steps toward the front door. The way the breeze teased her long brown hair reminded him of another girl...the one he had taken soon after he had first arrived at the newly built Blackthorne Arms over a century ago. 

	That one had been a lowly street urchin, one who would not be missed. Arthur had been impatient and hungry after his long voyage from the old continent and had torn the girl's clothes off after snatching her. He would have nearly killed her with the first stroke of his penis had he not somehow managed some restraint and did one of the tricks of their kind.

	He could make her tunnel stretch, widening and lengthening impossibly by natural standards, but his kind was not limited by the natural world. And the rest of the clan, scattered throughout the building, had fed from the energy of her defilement; the loss of virginity and the inevitably induced first orgasm. These were always the most powerful, but they had kept the girl for years, all of them using her and drinking of her climaxes. She was eighteen when she was let out into the world with no conscious memories of her existence inside beyond working as a chambermaid to the wonderfully polite people inside.

	She would marry and raise children in a comfortably middle class life. Each Sunday, the family would attend church. Arthur used to watch them blissfully make their way to the worship service, none of them aware of the foulness the wife and mother had been made to participate in while she came and came like a wanton whore.

	"Hello, Mr. Darby," Rebecca chirped as she walked past him.

	"Hello, Rebecca. Are you enjoying your new home?"

	"It's great! And my room is sooo big!"

	"How delightful. If you have a moment, I would like to show you something children your age here will love."

	Rebecca knew she was supposed to go directly to the apartment after school and wait there until her parents returned from work, but everyone kept saying how safe it was inside. And Mr. Darby was the nice man who had let them stay here. Without further pause, she followed him into his office.

	One inside, he knelt in front of her, his eyes giving her the illusion of deepening concentric circles as he locked his gaze with her. 

	"First, we'll start with a kiss," he said matter-of-factly.

	Rebecca was surprised when he kissed her on the mouth and then she tried to pull away when his tongue slipped inside her mouth. She knew it was wrong, but he held her fast and kept pushing his tongue in. It was incredibly long and grew so that it filled her. Panicked, she struggled harder, nearly fainting when his tongue darted down into her throat. She nearly gagged as Arthur slid his tongue in and out quite lewdly.

	Rebecca's body absorbed the pheromones from the creature known as Arthur as the tongue slithered in and out of her. Although her mental and emotional anguish continued, she was no longer able to resist his commands. Retracting his tongue from her, Arthur gazed at the frightened child, his excitement mounting as he considered his latest catch.

	"Undress and show me my new little whore," he commanded.

	Rebecca trembled and removed her shoes and socks, blouse, and skirt. Arthur slid a hand over her body digging into her soft belly and giving her undeveloped breasts a few pinches.

	"I didn't tell you to stop," he said mildly.

	Her eyes filled with terror, Rebecca slid her panties off, unable to offer protest as now both hands explored her formerly private areas. He cupped and squeezed her little buttocks while playing with the delicate cleft in her tiny mound. 

	Without leaning forward, Arthur licked her chest, his purplish tongue long and thick as he tasted her skin, now growing salty with perspiration. He inhaled her fear deeply, relishing the fragrance as his tongue slobbered over her tummy before reaching her innocent sex. The manlike creature knelt upright, the rest of him not moving as his tongue pressed against her mons, whipping along the path of her virginal slit with such force that he could taste a bit of her pink interior. 

	His tongue wrapped around her thighs before probing her bottom, leaving slimy trails of saliva over her fresh skin Although ready to take her, he swept his tongue back over Rebecca's smooth pussy, swirling all over her plumpness and prodding into her, feeling the  entrance he would soon force and the delicacy of her maidenhead. These young ones were such a treat, before and well after they were breached. But feeling their first trembles as their innocent little bodies warred with their inevitable arousal was extra special. 

	He pushed Rebecca to the floor, shedding his clothes effortlessly. His prick looked enormous to the girl although it was fairly normal by human standards. With the child's pussy well soaked by his tongue, Arthur wasted no time bringing it to bear on the defenseless cuntlet before him. With a thought, he gave her the power of sound so she could entertain him with her whimpers as he sank his staff into the spreading, tender flesh of her hairless quim. 

	When he reached her inner opening, Arthur rammed through, obliterating the seven year-old's hymen and feeling the welcome heat of her virginal blood on his hardened flesh. Rebecca screamed but the only reply came from Arthur's counterpart, Pamela, as she laughed darkly from the floor above. 

	Now ensconced in the throbbing, deflowered chamber of the little girl's vagina, Arthur's prick grew as his tongue did. He controlled Rebecca's body, allowing her tunnel to press into her belly as he filled her with his expanding cock. Then he commenced to fuck her, sparing no amount of strength as he deeply impaled the sobbing child with his meat. 

	The friction inflamed Rebecca's twat, making it water and ache for more. Her agonized cries became gurgles and whines as lust entwined with pain, overtaking it until there was only a desperate longing inside her immature sex.

	Copulated ferociously with the child, Arthur made her moan and gasp while her eyes still held the horror and confusion of her rape. Both of them noticed how her pubis rolled with the movement of his cock inside of it and how her belly bulged when he was all the way inside. Messy, slushy sounds accompanied each thrust as Arthur's cock forced the little girl's twat to paint its pale exterior with the blood of her ruined virginity.

	Arthur got back to his knees, pulling Rebecca with him and thrusting her helpless body on and off his prick. Gripping her nearly non-existent hips, Arthur started twisting her as he bore into her, increasing the erotic friction he was forcing her tight little cunt to endure. Rebecca started to scream again as her orgasm hit, the cords in her neck straining as her jaws moved, her keening wail too highly pitched for most others to hear. But Arthur heard it just fine, as did the rest of his clan. 

	With the child now limp as her climax faded, Arthur continued to pull and push on her, sliding her bruised and slick childish snatch along his cock until he was ready to cum. With a mighty jerk, he pulled her hard against him, watching her eyes focus upon him as he inseminated her tiny womb. The seven year-old's belly swelled as her uterus expanded, looking quite pregnant as Arthur pumped thick ropy strands of semen into her. 

	One of these days, he would once again make his seed take hold in a very small child's body like Rebecca's, - something he hadn't done since Michelangelo was painting the Sistine Chapel. Now that would have made one memorable fresco, but Arthur didn't think he would have had the patience to hold a pose.  

	As it was, he enjoyed watching the little girl's body convulse after he pulled out, her bald little pussy opening and closing like a vertical mouth as it disgorged his thick, pungent jism. It looked so sluttish on her otherwise angelic young body. 

	From a dark corner came one of the hounds, a huge, black beast with yellow eyes who licked the child's fouled crotch, feeding on his master's powerful seed and the more delicate vintage of the a seven year-old cuntlet, thoroughly lubricated from her induced orgasm. The little girl moaned and writhed as the canine tongue slathered over her pussy and thighs until she was cleaned.

	Arthur told her to dress and then gave her another kiss; this one only mouth on mouth. 

	"Your memories of this time will be hidden, not erased. Only me and those of my kind will bring them to your consciousness when we chose, allowing you relive what we have done before we take you and use you again. In you terror, you will know unimaginable desires and fathomless pleasures as you feed us with them all."

	Rebecca's face was blank as Arthur brought her back to the lobby. Standing behind her, he spoke.

	"So how do you like it here, Rebecca?"

	The little girl looked confused at her surrounding as first before spinning around in surprise. She hadn't seen Arthur as she was walking through the lobby and smiled brightly at the nice man.

	'I love it here!" she bubbled. "My friends on the bus think it's a castle, too!"

	"Perhaps it is," Arthur chuckled warmly, giving Rebecca a friendly pat on the head. "And as much as you like it here, I can assure you that we enjoy having you among us even more."

	

madvlad@mrdouble.com
http://www.mrdouble.bz/htm/authors/madvlad.htm























This story is a work of fiction.  Names, characters, places, and incidents either are products of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously.  Any resemblance to actual events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.


--

Double for Nothing!!  Tricks for Free!!!

http://www.mrdouble.bz

Be There.....

