It was Halloween eve, and once again I was alone. The last year had been as terrible for me as the performer I was about to see, and the ticket for the Vegas show I was preparing to watch a bargain at fifty bucks. A ticket so cheap to see the woman on stage perform with just a few members of her band was almost too good to be true, the only catch was to come in costume to claim the table in this cozy venue. Not exactly a hardship for me, and if I caught her eye and she gave me a smile I would be in heaven.
This was more than simple fan worship for me, she and I had both endured a painful breakup over the preceding year, hers unfortunately dragged out in the tabloids with irrational claims, where mine was somewhat more private. Three years ago I had seen her with fifty thousand others in a packed arena, and now she was performing for a room of perhaps a thousand with a small portion of her band, clearly indicating things weren't so good for her either.
I dressed to impress as a naughty parochial school girl with pleated short skirt, crisp white shirt and tie, and black high heeled boots with thigh high stockings that no proper school girl would ever wear. The black ribbon in my hair making me feel like a slutty little present to be opened by the right woman, or even man if I became desperate enough, but I had little desire for another one of those all things considered.
I had an outrageous thought while choosing my costume, what if the star of the show felt the same way? She was still stunningly sexy despite the difference in our ages, but would she be interested in another woman when most of the men on the planet would willingly dance barefoot on broken glass just to be near her? If nothing else, I thought it a fine fantasy for some solo after show entertainment back in my hotel room.
I waited fifteen minutes for the band to come out on stage, my first round of liquid courage (bourbon this time) consumed, and a second in my hand. The walk down to the ballroom in my costume had been interesting enough with the attention I generated, the walk back up to my room could be an even greater adventure if I kept drinking like I was while wearing my heels. I could easily find a man dressed as I was that would do on my WAY back to my room, but I wanted something new.
Before the band took the stage I looked around the ball room, all were dressed in costume making me feel somewhat comfortable in my exposure. Some were quite elaborate, some hardly tried, and others were considerably more slutty than mine. I noticed that I didn't even notice the men in the room when I first looked around, but they were there as well, and some were quite hansom in their costumes.
I noticed a female devil out of the corner of my eye walking directly toward my table, she generating a fair bit of attention as her costume was both elaborate, and quite stunning in it's form fitting perfection. Her red skin and horns looked like the product of a Hollywood studio, but this was Vegas. Her stiletto heels clicked as she approached my table, and once in front of me I noticed her height, easily over six feet in her heels. There was something different about this woman, I could feel her power, and I became interested.
"May I join you?" she asked, and in a sultry deep voice that both surprised me, and resonated in my core. Her yellow contact lensed eyes bore into my own, and I wondered if she could be the one. I could tell by the confident way she moved that she could be the dominate partner I desired, but a woman like this one could have her choice of partners. Back at home I was something special, but here in Vegas I was one of thousands, the girls in this city stunning in every way, and drawn to this place like moths to a flame...
"Yes, of course" I replied after an awkwardly long pause with my earlier thoughts, and I rose from my chair until she sat in a very unnatural show of respect for this devil before me.
"Ah, yes. Halloween in Vegas, one never knows what can happen in this place, especially around this time of year" she opined in her deep sultry voice.
I was transfixed by her words, and the way her perfectly painted lips and tongue formed them. "What ever do you mean?" I asked.
"A naughty school girl invites the devil to sit with her for a Vegas show, it sounds like the opening line of a bad joke."
"I see your point, I'm Kris by the way" and I offered my hand to the devil before me, hoping I didn't offend her earlier with my hesitation in inviting her to sit with me.
Her perfectly manicured fingers wrapped around my own, her hand warm and firm as she shook it. "I'm the Devil, obviously", but she held my hand an extra second, not releasing it until she was ready. It was a subtle demonstration of control, but I picked up on it instantly.
She then looked to my half empty glass with a smile and waived the barmaid over, and then ordered two "Devils Cut" bourbons, one for each of us. Was her nose so acute that she could tell one brown liquid from another in my glass, (it was bourbon I was drinking, but not devils cut), or did she smell it on my breath?
I thanked the devil for her round of drinks, and tossed my remaining one off first so as not to be rude. When they came we toasted the performer we both came to see, but had yet to take the stage. She was late, but I hardly noticed with my interesting drinking companion's attention.
"So Kris, what brings you here?" she asked, and I went on to relate most of my life's woes as if I were speaking to a best friend I hadn't seen in years and was trying to make current on my misery. I couldn't help myself, but my drinking partner at least acted as if she were acutely interested in my boring life.
"How about yourself?" I asked, when I finally managed to get myself to shut up.
"Well, I'm in collections you might say, and this time of year is quite busy for me. Christmas through Easter are naturally slow times in my line of work, but right around Halloween things are crazy. I'm in town to do a job that any other time of year I would have delegated to one of my minions, but at least it gets me out of the office."
I realized this stunning devil might be playing with me, she could either be telling what she really did, or more likely she was trying to stay "in character" with me until I tripped her up. I assumed she was an actress in one of the local shows and was practicing on me, she was certainly costumed professionally enough for that to be likely.
"If you don't mind me asking, how long have you been in this line of work?" I asked. I knew something of history and thought this could be fun.
"Several millennium, and while times are good these days, nothing compares to the dark ages and the plague. Those were the good old days." She smiled to soften her words. I knew she was playing a part, but they called those times the "dark ages" for a reason.
"History records the deaths in the millions from the plague, let alone the torture and suffering of the innocent in the dungeons throughout Europe. It is said that the torturers of the day started to like their work a little too much, getting confessions in days where no crime existed."
I had been to Europe back in college and had toured some of the dungeons, they excited me in a most unnatural way as I envisioned myself a manacled prisoner at the mercy of the dungeon master, ignoring the real horror of the times. I had played at such fantasies just the other night with my own cuffs, the bruises not entirely healed as of yet.
The devil licked her perfect lips seductively before she spoke as if savoring the aftertaste of a favorite desert. "It was even better than that Kris, while I would have claimed the souls of many of the plague victims eventually anyway, the innocents torment in the dungeons at the hands of those who thought they were battling me was especially ironic. Those little minded men got off on all those screams of agony even more than I did, and they all took their liberties with their victims bodies before they were sent to either burn at the stake, or swing for the hangman. The hangman's noose was considered a merciful reward for cooperation in those final perversions, even though they could swing and struggle for quite some time bound as they were for the crowd before it was all over."
...Our strange conversation was interrupted by the start of the show, and my favorite performer looked even better than the last time I saw her. Long legs, short lacy dress that hinted at what lay hidden beneath, but despite the rough year she apparently had she sang magnificently. Three sets and a break for a costume change, and our strange conversation resumed...
"You have obviously played your part long enough that you are a quite convincing devil, and if I didn't know better I might have believed you are who you claim to be" I offered.
"Believed?" she asked incredulously, with one eyebrow raised.
"Yes 'believed'. Please don't take offense, you are very good. To convince me otherwise you would have to tell or show me something that you couldn't possibly know, before you offer me something fantastic for my soul, in keeping with the movie cliché. You did after all say you were in 'collections'." I smiled to let her know I was joking, but I was working on my third drink, and it may not have came out as I intended as the devils cut was especially strong. Would she want to take me home with her, if for nothing else but to teach me some manners? The idea was deliciously enticing.
"You own a pair of manacles that you like to wear when you are entertaining yourself, doing naughty things that no good school girl should." Her words were delivered with a smile, but not an entirely friendly one.
I let the shock show on my face for an instant, but then realized that she likely saw the bruises on my wrist from my cuffs when she shook my hand. It wouldn't take a huge leap of imagination to realize that I was either just arrested, or playing solo. My alcohol addled brain also eventually realized that she must have some knowledge of such things to recognize this for what it was, confirming her dominate status that I suspected earlier.
"You saw my bruises, and yes I do like to play with cuffs and things, do you?" I asked, the offer I was making seemed clear to me.
"Don't tempt me Kris," she said darkly, "fifteen minutes with me and I could have you swearing on everything you hold dear that you're Elvis. I can still see that you doubt me though, and no, I make no offer for your immortal soul as yours is off limits to me. You are after all an innocent, but I offer a wager, and a gift if your interested. Here is the way of it, I can tell that I interest you, but our favorite musician is the true object of your obsession. I will prove to you beyond all doubt the color of her panties, as I can tell your curious of such things, but first know that she shares your interests in certain things medieval. She also shares your desires for something different, and I could make you irresistible to her, for a time."
"If you're serious, name your price" I challenged, this suddenly very real to me, drunk or not.
"It's your turn to buy Kris," and she looked to her empty glass.
I finished the little in my own glass and ordered two more from the barmaid, having bought a drink for the devil for the first time, not realizing that this was the price of her influence.
The devil stirred my drink with her perfect fingernail slowly and seductively. "This is the gift, drink this and follow my instructions, and you will be hers for at least ten years. The wager goes like this, if I can prove to you the things I have said beyond all reason, get me her autograph after the show. If not, keep the gift, and we will likely never see each other again."
I shook her hand once again, still not believing she was anything but a gifted actress, and I hopelessly inebriated.
The second set started and our musician was dressed this time in a black cocktail dress, looking like a dream come true for me, especially if she liked some of the same things that I did, and if the devil could keep her end of the deal. I drank my drink the devil had stirred and watched her perform, and on the third song she momentarily flinched and forgot her lyrics, startling many of us watching. She hummed her way through it as if she intended to do so, those less familiar with her live performances possibly not even realizing her error.
The devil slid a warm and moist cloth into my hand as I watched the show, and when I looked at it I realized they were our performers own panties, still warm as if only removed seconds before. I held them to my face and inhaled, knowing without a doubt that they were hers, and the reason for her botched up lyrics seconds before. This devil was obviously more than she appeared, possibly part of a magic show on the strip.
At the end of the set when the applause died down the devil told me to give them back to our friend when I get her autograph, and I agreed, dumbfounded by the trick...
Things went very fast after that, I gave back the panties back stage after the show that my favorite performer wasn't the least bit shocked to see me holding, and got the devils autograph. She offered to give me a ride home, and in my inebriated state I thought she meant my own home, hundreds of miles away. We boarded her chartered jet and flew off, her band mates and others left to put things away, and I found out later, clean out my room as if I had checked out.
Before we even took off the object of my desires had me stripped out of what little I was wearing, my wrists wrapped in the seat belt at my waist and completely useless. With the better than first class seat all the way back, and the cabin empty except for us, she tossed my clothes into a plastic bag, and then to a ground handler before he closed the door.
My obsession rode my face with her little dress still on, but her panties still off all the way to cruising altitude as she motivated me with the tail end of a belt. I did my best, but obviously had much to learn with a woman I just learned was part impatient taskmaster, and part dungeon mistress. She told me the rest of the story that the devil hadn't bothered to:
"I made a deal with the devil for fame, looks, talent, and a partner that would indulge me in my playroom as I unwound from my performances. The wimp decided he couldn't handle it and escaped, and that voided the contract I had made with her. She doesn't like to lose, and offered me a hand chosen replacement, delivered to me in such a way that I would know it was personally from her. The autograph you had me sign was our new contract, you nothing more than the coin that purchased it..."
...Ten years later, Halloween 2014 I found myself naked and wandering in the desert, having finally temporarily escaped my ruthless mistress. Her angelic looks hiding a devil inside, I her prisoner since she took possession of me. One of her mansions lies deep into the desert, and that is where the jet flew so long ago, and where I remained imprisoned in her dungeon, like in times of old until this day. Racks, gibbets, floggings outside and in, all for her pleasure, and that of the men she chose to share me with. I helped her to unwind from her stressful tours, her sadistic energies and torment a close parallel to medieval times, except I was kept healthy.I can of course not tell this story, accept anonymously for fear of recapture, or being locked up in the insane asylum..
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