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From: "Yotna El'toub" <yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com>
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Subject: {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 5 of 50 [Yotna El'toub] (f/f, F+/f+, M-solo, F-solo,
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Date: Sun, 16 Jan 2005 15:10:03 -0500
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             {ASSM} Vampyre Daze Chapter 5 of 50
        [Yotna El'toub] (f/f, F+/f+, M-solo, F-solo, MC)
********************************************************************
WARNING: This story will contain situations and explicit language of an 
adult nature and should be read only by those of a legal age to do so. If 
you are a minor or object to stories of an adult nature, LEAVE HERE 
IMMEDIATELY. Legal age local to the author is 18+ please abide to your own 
local laws.

Please note and understand the content codes for this story. The characters 
portrayed in this story are just that, characters in my story. Any 
similarities to real people are purely coincidental and unintentional. The 
characters and situations portrayed are pure fantasy; the author is keen to 
state that in reality adult sexuality should remain only in the adult world.

Please do not allow or cause this story to fall in to the hands of minors.
____________________________________________________________________

Chapter five: Wild in their attire.

'Virgin Atlantic is pleased to announce the arrival of flight VS...' The
rest of the announcement was unheard, as an almighty roar surged from the
throats of the impatient fans.  Terminal Four at Heathrow airport rocked,
besieged by dark hordes of teenage 'Bitch' fans.  WPC Helen Grant turned
and shouted to her colleague.  Although she stood only four feet away from
Helen, it was hard to make out all the words.

   "I'm amazed they are so popular with this lot.  I mean in my day, sure,
they were well hot."

   "So, who was your favourite then, Helen?" Audrey bawled back.

   "Sorry, what?"

   "Fave, which one was your Fave Bitch?" Audrey hollered.

   "Oh, Ali - Alison Blackhead.  Yours?" Helen replied.

   "Ellie, I always had a thing, a crush on Ellie.  Still have!"

   The words sunk into Helen, she gave an involuntary shudder.' Crush?'
Helen thought, 'Audrey, the man killer had a thing for women too?  Shit,
how come I get none?' Further thoughts were suspended, as the sexy
septuplet emerged through the arrival gate.  It was all the police could do
to hold the thin blue line - let alone think.  Leather and flesh, cleavage
and attitude; `Les Bitches' walked steadily towards the sea of adoration.
Helen overheard a comment she fully agreed with.

   "They still look as hot as ever!  How come they don't ever age?"

   She felt her pants grow damp, partly from manhandling the writhing
teenage girls who she held back from the stars.  Mostly though, it was from
the look she caught in Ali's eye, as she breezed past the struggling WPC.

   The line broke, and the masses poured forward.  Panicked police voices
rang out hopelessly through the chaos.  Helen recognised the danger at
once, the band were in danger of being crushed to death by their adoring
followers.  In the blink of an eye, the crowd had flowed within yards of
the troupe of women.  They had no protection and no obvious security;
surely they were doomed.

   In front of Helen's wide eyes, the most remarkable thing happened.  The
storm of thundering feet was stilled; the entire crowd stopped moving en
masse.  Helen's eyes moved from one confused face to another, the
expressions changed from uncertainty to rapture.

   Helen felt her own pleasure peak, as girl after girl climaxed before her
eyes.  Time slowed as Helen's heartbeat pulsed in her ears; each beat, a
small orgasm on the way to something cataclysmic.  The terminal faded away;
Helen was alone, haunted by a mischievous Sapphic poltergeist.  Only her
pleasure existed, the world stopped and Helen stepped off it, into her
keenest fantasy.

   Helen stared up into Audrey's concerned face.  She felt her lips moving,
but no words came.  Audrey bent lower, and spoke to her fallen comrade.

   "It's OK, it will pass.  Just keep calm," she smiled, her concern
apparent.

   "Les Bitches - Ali, did they get away?" Helen asked.

   "They are fine, vanished; God knows what has happened here though," said
Audrey.

   Helen sat up and swung her head in a broad arc, people were sprawled
everywhere.  Women, men and children - some writhed in silent ecstasy,
still others masturbated openly; their glazed eyes a testament to their
vacant but lustful expressions.  Others, like her, were recovering.  Men in
semen splattered trousers clung to any support they could find, women
desperately tried to cover the evidence of wild desire.  Most pitiful were
the confused children, witness to passions they had only ever whispered
about, and wracked by their own unwanted desires.

   "Who did this?" Helen mumbled, as the tears welled in her eyes.

   "Best guess is some sort of terrorist nerve gas attack, the bastards!"
Audrey advised.

   "So it wasn't the band?" Helen sobbed.

   "No, how could it be?  They are just seven normal women," Audrey paused,
"aren't they?"

   Helen nodded back at Audrey; the words just came to her - from the
ether.

   "Of course they are, I'm just confused.  Forget I ever said it." Helen
smiled.

   Ali was with her, she felt her mind caressed by the softest of vampyre
thoughts.  Helen grinned; she would never be alone again.

   --------------------------

   Jolene hummed happily as she steered the black stretch limo serenely
along the M4.  She and Manda had easily slipped through the throngs at
Heathrow unnoticed.  Nobody wanted their autographs; just as well, Jolene
would have been a little more brutal than the Bitches were.  She listened
to the soft chorus of sighs that drifted forwards from the paneled-off rear
of the car.  Yeah, they could day walk now, but it took its toll - they had
to rest.  Just as well really, it meant that she and Manda were still
indispensable.  As much as she loved them, desired them, and was servile to
them, she would never be dumb enough to trust them.  No sirree, she had
seen too much over the years for that.

   "So where are we headed?" chirped Manda.

   "To Cornwall, still a long way to go Mand," Jolene replied, without as
much as a glance from the roadway.

   "Is that in England, or Wales?" Manda asked.

   "It's England, honey, as far south and west as you can get."

   "So how far?"

   "Hundreds of miles yet, so be patient."

   "I can't wait that long," breathed Manda.

   "You need to pee?  We can stop.  I saw a sign for the services - it's
only about 2 more miles."

   "No it's more important than that, the power they used back there.  Man,
that was a turn on, I'm just horny."

   Jolene pulled the car across to the inside left lane, and slowed from 80
to 60 mph.  Her left hand brushed against the automatic lever as it moved
to Manda's lap.

   "Now we can't have that, can we, sis?" Jolene laughed.

   Manda opened her thighs as the insistent fingers wriggled between them.
She leant over and skimmed her hand across the sensitive black skin at the
top of Jolene's tight leg.

   "Uh uh, not me, I need to concentrate.  I have no interest in coming
just as we slide under the back of one of these trucks.  No touch, just lay
back and enjoy.  I'll think about what you can do for me in return at the
hotel." Jolene winked at her errant sibling.

   "Spoilsport!" Manda whispered, wistfully.

   Then she sighed, leant back and let Jolene's practiced fingers take her.

   "You know I might even enjoy this little holiday," Manda breathed, her
gasps already shortening.

   Alison listened to the cries of incestuous masturbation, drifting back
from the cab.  She smiled.  Today had been a good day - and by the sound of
it the night would be long and exciting.  Her mind drifted back to their
arrival.  Now that had been so lucky, or maybe not - perhaps all the
policewomen on this small isle were suppressed lesbians.  But to have her
so easily; to be able to mind-meld in an instant, now that was rare.  They
now had a contact in the UK police force, and who knew when that could be
of use.

   Concentrating, Alison wondered if she could make contact now.  The limo
faded into a grey nothingness as Alison's consciousness left her.  She flew
over fields of verdant green, before slamming back into reality.  Her eyes
flickered open and looked out through foreign irises.

   --------------------------------------------------------------------

   Helen blinked, and jumped.

   "Are you OK?" a disembodied voice asked.

   Helen turned towards the questioner.

   "Are you all right, Helen?" the Barman asked.

   "Oh yeah, sure, sorry - I was miles away!" Helen paused, "Be back in a
minute, George."

   George watched Helen as she walked towards the ladies' room.

   `If only I could just work up the courage to ask her out.' Inwardly
George sighed, wishing his public persona could break him out of his deep
shyness.

   Helen walked on, unaware of the admiring eyes following her; her current
concern was only about one thing - how to control this feeling of urgent,
burning, alien desire.  She closed the cubicle door behind her, and ripped
her jeans down with such force that her pants followed the rapid descent.
Helen stared in disbelief at the dark stains on her crumpled clothes, how
could she be so wet?

   Helen cradled her soaking cunt with her extended fingers.  To her
amazement, her clitoris reared its domed head through her lips. 
Impatiently, it banged against her dangling thumb, just the way her cat
would, when begging for the first feed of the day.  Her thumb and fingers
surrounded the purring nub and petted away the hunger.  Helen threw back
her head and mewled.  Her pleasure found a voice and it sang a seductive
song.

   "Are you all right?  Do you need help?" an inquisitive voice asked from
the far side of the cubicle door.

   "Oh yes, I need help!" Helen groaned loudly.

   "Open the latch, I'm a first aider."

   Helen pulled the door towards her violently - snapping off the now
redundant latch.  She moved with incredible speed.  Helen grabbed the
startled do-gooder and thrust her to her knees.  With gay abandon, she
smashed her groin into the shocked-open mouth.  As her clitoris crushed
against an unwilling tongue, Helen came, screaming loudly.

   Seconds later the toilet door was flung open, George burst in.

   "I knew you weren't yourself, Helen.  I'm here..."

   George watched as he saw the panicked look on the kneeling woman's face
dissolve into desire, as her mouth filled with Helen's ejaculate.  He saw
the unrestrained bliss on Helen's face.  He saw how truly wasted his love
was.

   Alison groaned as the mutual orgasm hit her.  Although separated in
space and time, the feeling was deeply shared.  Really mutual; the climax
of two souls melded into one.  As she recovered, Alison laughed, amazed at
her own power.  The British Bobbies didn't know what was about to hit them.



   -------------------------------

   Virginia hastened her pumping legs as she left the village of
Tuckingmill.  She was close now, a couple of miles - time for a sprint.  A
month ago, this would have been impossible, but the determination had paid
off.  Even with all the cycling she wasn't losing much weight yet, but her
stamina had definitely improved.

   Under her chafing breath, she swore softly at her Celtic ancestors for
handing on such unfashionable genes.  Virginia was one of the plump variety
of Welsh women.  It actually looked quite normal on her, but not to her
eyes.  She was so sensible, and yet, Dr Virginia Kemp had tried all the
diet plans; when they failed her, she turned to exercise.  Virginia was
determined to sculpt her body into something from a Vogue magazine.  She
was not in the slightest neurotic though, no, after all, she would have
recognised the symptoms.

   She puffed up the incline and into Camborne.  The Hospital was close now
- in 15 minutes she would be showered, empowered, and ready to start the
dreaded 'graveyard' shift.  Finally, thankfully, Virginia leant her racing
bike against the flint stone wall of the hospital.  Humming, she left her
precious bike unlocked- something she would never have done in Cardiff;
down here, there was so little real crime.

   The water stung her reddened skin, and Virginia continued to hum.  Soon
the hum changed; she burst into one of her many chapel hymns.  Her clear
melodious tones filled the staff changing rooms.  The solo performance
provided excellent cover for her assailants, letting them move into
position undetected.

   Virginia turned off the water, and drew back the curtain.  She stepped
into the steamy room, and donning a towel, went to her locker.  She never
reached it.  From nowhere, a sack was thrown over her head, and unseen arms
wrapped around her.  Virginia released a muffled protest into the sack.

   "If you do as we say, you won't get harmed!"

   "Rachael, is that you?  Don't be so silly!" Virginia's reply was muted.

   "It doesn't matter who it is - you are going to help us escape, you have
no choice."

   "Escape, how?" Virginia mumbled.

   "Drive us to a hiding place.  Simple, even you can manage that."

   "I came on my bike!" Virginia was even more indistinct.

   "What?  Speak up, that makes no sense!"

   "I came on my BIKE!" Virginia shouted, into the sacking.

   "Oh great!  Marvellous!  Thank you very much..."

   "There's always the van," another voice chimed in.

   "Pearl?  Has she suckered you into this madness as well?" Virginia
asked.

   A savage kick to the shin was her reply, followed by a barked question.

   "Where are the van keys?  Quickly!"

   "You'll have to find them.  I am not telling you." Virginia sounded
resolute.

   The towel around her was ripped back, and pinching, twisting fingers dug
deep into her breast, torturing her trapped nipple.

   "Tell me, or I will rip this off!"

   Something in the voice told Virginia this was no idle threat.  It was
the manic promise of someone on the very edge.  Suddenly Virginia was very
frightened, very frightened indeed.

   "My locker." Virginia said, nodding sullenly towards the grey cabinet
that had been in front of her.

   "Better, much better!"

   Virginia bounced uncomfortably as her shoulder struck the ridged metal
floor of the hospital van.  She lay dazed for a few seconds, and then sat
up.  She shuffled cautiously forward; her naked toes struck the rear doors
- she pushed in vain, the doors held fast.  A sudden lurch threw her
sidewards, and confirmed to her that the van was being driven by a relative
novice.  Desperately she scrabbled at the sacking covering her head and
this time it gave way.

   Her eyes slowly adjusted to the dim light, and she saw a scrap of paper
had been pinned onto her towel.  Examination revealed it as a page from a
school book, a passage from Shakespeare.  One paragraph was circled in red
ink.  Virginia read:

   "What are these, So withered, and so wild in their attire, That look not
like th' inhabitants o' the earth, And yet are on't?"

   Virginia looked up, wondering just what the hell all of this was about?
Turning her head, she had the oddest of feelings; She was greeted by an
insane stare of two wild eyes.  The eyes were tinged with an unusual red
cast.  Could this be an effect of the rear view mirror they glared into?

   The van shuddered to a premature halt.  The glaring eyes disappeared
from the mirror, and then re-appeared at the grill above the driver's seat.
Seen directly, the redness and piercing gaze had an even more unearthly
quality.  Virginia recoiled, shuddered and felt her cool exterior crack. 
Her scream filled the van's cab.

   No one heard.  The driver concentrated on the journey ahead once more,
and the van lurched forwards.  The white van sped headlong through the
hospital gates, as its captive wept for her future.  

               --------------------------------


____________________________________________________________________
Foot Notes (C) Yotna El'toub January 2005
____________________________________________________________________
I hope you have enjoyed reading this story as much as I enjoyed
writing it.  As always, feedback is appreciated, since it is my only
payment for my work.

Please address comments to yotna_eltoub@hotmail.com

This story is copyrighted by the author and as such may not be
published, posted or archived on any newsgroup, website, or server,
other than ASSM and ASSTR, without the EXPRESS PERMISSION of the
author. Any reader may archive a copy of this story, provided the
warnings and copyright information is atta

_________________________________________________________________
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