A Visit From Saint Michael - A Halloween Story - Sex Stories

A Visit From Saint Michael - A Halloween Story

... of what had once been one of the most feared– and loathed– men in publishing. Marvin looked around the room as if to make sure that we were alone. Then he whispered quietly, “Shut the door.” When I had done so and returned to my chair he said in a slightly louder, but still very subdued voice, “Put your recorder on the desk and take out the battery. Same with your cellphone.” I was more than a little confused, but I complied. Then he said, “I am going to tell you the truth, but you can never publish it... not while I’m alive. One, no one will believe you. And two...” He paused to laugh. It was the kind of laugh that causes your blood to run cold; the kind of laugh that you normally do not hear anywhere but behind the locked doors of a psychiatric ward. Then he looked directly at me and continued, “... and two, you don’t want a visit from Saint Michael.” He grinned at me. It was not a normal grin. It was as if he were holding tenuously onto the very edge of sanity. “I’ve never told anyone this story,” he said. “You can tell it after I’m dead. Maybe it will be a warning to others.” He settled back slightly into his chair and began, “It was supposed to be a snuff party.” His eyes widened at my reaction to what he had said. “You look surprised and shocked,” he said. “But where do you go when you have already gone beyond everything? It was time for us to experience the ultimate depravity, fatal Sado-masochism.” He exhaled in a short burst through his nose that was almost a ...

... snort. “Or, at least, that is what was eventually supposed to happen that night. I had procured six virgins from deep in the rural areas of southern Mexico. It was easy to entice them to come north. They were offered jobs as maids and promised that they would receive citizenship within a year.” He laughed and then smiled at me. “People can be so trusting and naive when they don’t really know what is going to happen to them... can’t they?” The fear that comment caused to rise within me was not assuaged as he grinned crazily at me as if expecting an answer. I had no idea what he had meant or what he possibly expected as an answer, so I remained silent. “Their first realizations that things were not what they expected were when Frank, Harold, and I overpowered them and shackled them to the wall of the dungeon. There were six of them and six of us, but it wasn’t going to be a one-on-one evening. Where is the terror and helplessness of that? No, acting all together we tormented each of them in turn.” He made snipping motions with his hands as if cutting something with a pair of scissors. “Even the simple act of cutting off someone’s clothing can be so exhilarating if done slowly and by overwhelming force.” That smile again. “Oh, I don’t mean that we weren’t very gentle about it. This was early in the evening. Nothing touched their skin except the cold feel of the little scissors we each held. We were the overwhelming force. The scissors were gentle little mice, slowly gnawing away at ...