Disclaimer: Any resemblance of characters or situations, be it fictional or nonfictional within the context of this story is unintentional. I have never written anything like this before so bear with me. The nature of the story does not necessarily reflect any personal desires on my part, it’s just an experiment with macabre vicariousness and nothing more. Please keep in mind it’s just a story, and if you’re not into horror please don’t get invested.
Lastly, a special thanks to u/Eiras_Erotica for work-shopping some ideas with me.
**Part 1**
***
Julie had noticed Mark checking her out on more than one occasion. He was hardly even slick about it. She was the “cute-girl” in the office. Her long curly brown hair, big brown doe-eyes, and dimpled cheeks earned her, her fair share of attention around the office. However, unlike most guys, Mark followed her around like a puppy and he seemed especially enamored with her ass. Truthfully, most of the office was, men and women alike stole glances at her it －she was skinny, and it was admittedly large and jiggly for a girl her size－ but Mark was really into it, not in a creepy way, it was just so often he seemed hypnotized when she walked by. She found it endearing, really.
Still, she was stunned when he finally asked her out. Mark was a little too thin to be so tall, and usually solemn. He was almost a Hollywood-trope-level nerd; with his thick black-framed glasses, and neatly trimmed brown hair. Everything about him was neat and polished. He was also… just so quiet and little meek. All that aside, she didn’t find him unattractive. He was pale but blemish-free and although his face was a little thin, he did have a handsome jawline.
He took her what was probably the most expensive steakhouse in the downtown area. She’d never been, but it was more lavish inside than she imagined. The space was large but the seating was reserved and intimate. Gas lanterns lit up each booth, and crystal chandeliers hung overhead. The walls were painted a warm sandy color, and floors were dark marble tile. It was difficult to tell if the place was booked-up or not, the walls echoed with the lively voices of various patrons and elegant soulful music, but she hardly saw a soul aside from the staff.
They had ordered a few drinks to start, which came out promptly compared to everything else. They chatted a bit over their glasses. Then Mark excused himself just before the food arrived and disappeared. It had been nearly an hour since he left. She checked the restrooms and the bar, but he was gone.
Julie stirred the dwindling ice cubes her glass with an enervated finger, resigned to the fact that he was not coming back. She paid the bill when it arrived, but didn’t bother to touch her food. She had never been ditched in the middle of a date before. She was more hurt than angry. Her legs felt numb, and the buzz from her drink had long since subsided. She quietly rose from her seat, and walked towards the exit.
The waitstaff shot her some sympathetic glances as she left the restaurant but otherwise said nothing. The sounds around her were all muted. Before she made it the door one of the waitstaff tried to offer her some complimentary chocolate covered something or another, but Julie refused. She realized she must have looked miserable. She could feel the weight of it in her chest. There was a grimace that was sweeping over her face. Her breathing was staggered and her eyes felt hot. She fought the urge to sob. She pushed open the heavy steakhouse door and stepped out into the nighttime summer air. The air outside was thick and sticky although the sun had set hours ago. She groaned to herself. She was about to step off the sidewalk to cross the street when she noticed a tall, thin mass slink back into the alley beside the restaurant.
“Mark?” She called out as she walked back towards the darkened alleyway. She heard rustling and then the slamming of what sounded like a heavy metal door.
“Mark, is that you?” She repeated.
Their date was going well, and Mark was probably the nicest guy in the office. *Something must’ve happened to him* she decided.
She walked down the darkened path. The street lamps offered little light around the edge of the building. Everything was awash in tones of grey and blackened in shadow.
*This is a bad idea,* she thought, but pressed forward into the darkness. The alleyway ended with a large windowless brick wall and a great door to her right. She could see the glint of something shiny and sliver peeking out from the door’s handle. *A key.*
She attempted to turn the key, but the door handle was stiff. She jiggled the handle a moment, twisted it one way and then the other, pressing her weight into it before the knob finally turned. The door opened to a realm of near-total darkness. She was hesitant to step inside, but her feet compelled her forward. There were steps ahead of her. A shallow descent into deeper darkness with no light-switch or hanging-pull that she could feel. Before she even realized it, the door was closed behind.
“Mark?!” She yelled into the darkness, “Are you in here?”
Slowly her eyes adjusted. This room was more temple than restaurant basement. The room seemed impossibly strange. It must’ve been perfectly square and windowless, though it was too dark to make out where the room ended. It felt larger than it should have been. As if the room existed somewhere beyond the confines of the basement. There was an eerie yellow glow several feet out into the expansive black. Julie swallowed hard, “Is there anyone down here?!” She yelled.
She walked towards the light. They were candles. Dozens of candles, stout mounds of half-melted wax and vulnerable little flames, flickering as dim as the night stars in the dead of winter. There was a chill in the air. The smell of burning sandalwood was so strong it stunk her eyes, but underneath that there was something repugnant, like the smell of rot, wet leaves, damp-cedar, and fleshly dug soil.
Ahead of her, in the center of the semi-circle of candle-flame rose a curious black stone altar. The altar was solid and unpolished, rough edges jutting out from every angle and every side. It was rectangular and quite large, siting nearly three feet from the floor and at least six feet in width and another three in length. The light from near a hundred candles, shimmered across the stone altar as She walked deeper into the room. Five high back wooden chairs came into view just outside the altar, among the candles. The light glinting off the sides so only the illuminated edges could be seen.
Her heart was pounding. She shouldn’t be here, she knew.
“Is there anyone here?” She called out again in the darkness. A maddening curiosity suddenly taking root in her brain.
No one answered, but some madness must’ve drawn her further in. Her heart was pounding harder. She could hear the thumping of it in her ears. The room was eerily quiet.
Approaching the altar, she could see a crude asymmetric pentagon-shaped, terra cotta pot sitting at its center. She leaned forward to see its interior was filled with a semi-viscous, near-translucent, yellowish liquid. The reflection of her face stared back at her from inside the container.
Her refection grinned, its eyes shimmering with a strange black malice, she could feel it; hatred, anger, and frustration boiling up to the surface of the strange fluid. She pushed away from the altar, her heart pounding so hard it hurt.
“I shouldn’t be here…” She said aloud.
Still, she felt compelled to stay. her eyes slowly growing more accustomed to the frail candlelight. She could make out the odd reliefs adorning the sides of the pentagrammic container. She circled the altar, her heart suddenly aching with need. She carefully studied each side of the bowl, her finger tracing each new depiction of monstrous entities, like nothing she had ever seen before.
She could feel her hand reach out, and dip below the edge of the strange container. The thin syrupy liquid, filling her cupped hand. Gingerly her hand pulled free, ropy strands of the fluid were running across the surface of the stone altar as She brought her hand to her mouth.
*What are you doing?* A voice inside her head had asked.
She pressed her hand to her lips, tilting it forward as she tilted her head back. The strange yellowish fluid pouring passed her lips and over her tongue. It was peppery, sweet, syrupy, but greasy with a similar consistency to raw egg whites. She rolled tongue savoring the unique taste of the strange liquid. Then she swallowed. A strong feeling of satisfaction washed over her. It felt as if she had graduated from college all over again. There was a warmth in her stomach, that pushed outward, from her toes to the tips of fingers. She was suddenly feverish, sweating despite the chill in the air.
She fanned her face for a few seconds, before her fingers found the bottom her blouse, and pulled it up and over her head. She tore at another bit of fabric, and then another. More and more of her bare flesh becoming illuminated by the candlelight. She was naked, but still uncomfortably warm. She dragged her fingers across the cool stone of the altar. She pressed her palm down, watching little wisps of steam rise from her scorching hot flesh. The stone was rough but comfortably cool. She leaned over the altar, her breasts grazing the rough stone as she pushed the pentagrammic container to the top of the altar.
Afterward, she gingerly placed a knee atop the coarse stone, shifting her weight forward, springing off the dusty floor with her bare foot to collapse across the width of the platform. There was more than enough space for She to spread out and spread out she did. Stretching her feet to each corner of the altar, her hands laying flat angled outward from her shoulders, gently gripping the abrupt edges of the stone structure.
The rough surface scraped her shoulder blades, and tender meat of her ass, but the satisfying coolness made it bearable. She let out a contented sigh, her eyes staring up into the darkness.
Something was moving just beyond the candlelight, shadowy figures shifting around in the dark. She could see the movement through the corners of her eyes, in her peripheral, but the forms faded into the darkness when She looked at them straight on. The tingling imperceptible sensation in the back of her mind told her it wasn’t simply her eyes playing tricks on her. There were people or something out there, stalking her in the darkness.
She felt uneasy, she felt like she should have ran screaming from the room, but the warm, confident, happy feelings from the strange drink had lingered. She couldn’t even sit up as the figures drew in closer.
She was afraid as the tall dark figures came into view. There was no way to express it, her mind couldn’t quite hold on to the fear. Instead, she felt a muddled sense of curiosity.
She turned her head slowly counting the figures as they closed in around the altar. One, two, three, were to her left and deeper into the room, and a fourth and fifth were to her right, blocking the path from which she came.
Each was draped in black cloaks and hoods of rough spun wool. Their faces obscured in shadow. Candlelight, flicking off the outlines of each menacing figure.
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/i3nqnu/julie_exposition_planned_mmmmmf_gangbang_bad