Iron Maiden

Maiden. Iron Fuckin' Maiden. You've been waiting for six months to get to this concert. It all started about 8 months ago when you met Him online. You started chatting and just getting to know each other. You found that you both like the same music, the same style of clothes, just about everything. Then 6 months ago he asks if you wanted to go to a concert with him. You weren't too sure about it, you had only been talking with him for a few months and out of the blue he asks you to a concert. At first he said that he would let you think on it. Then about a month later he asked again. But this time he told you what concert he wanted to take you to. Maiden. You almost instantly said yes but then you thought again about if he was some kind of freak. Well more of the homicidal freak that is. But his plan is what convinced you.

He mailed you the ticket. Telling you that you could come or not. But how could you refuse now that you had the ticket. His plan was that you would go to the concert, not meeting till inside, that he would be wearing something that would make him stand out. When you saw him and decided that you didn't want to meet that would be fine. Just enjoy the concert.

Now here you are. At the entrance to the stadium, thousands of fans just pressing into lines as they all try to get into the double doors all at once. You look at your ticket and wonder which entrance you should head to. A security guard smiles down at you when you ask him and points you towards an entrance that has only a few hundred people in the line. When you ask him about it, he says that you have a VIP ticket, which means you get to go in the backstage entrance. You stare at him, shocked. Shrugging you head to the line and you get inside in no time. It's a little strange going in the back way. There are all the little things that other don't get to see. People running back and forth getting crazy, trying to get the concert to happen. You even glimpse Bruce Dickinson as he goes back into the dressing room. The Guide, yes you have a guide, is taking you to your "seats". Its actually front row passes. You'll be close enough for them to sweat on you.

As you make your way through the backstage the guide tells the group that at the end of the concert, if the band isn't tooooo tired, they will come back and do a meet and greet. You cannot believe your ears. You might actually get to MEET Iron Maiden. The guide slowly pushes open a side door and suddenly your ears are assaulted with the noise of the 30000 fans that are inside the stadium. She shows you that front pit. Its about 20 feet from the front of the rest of the people out there. So only you and a couple of hundred other people get to be right up front. You just can't believe that you get to be right up front. You want to kiss the person who gave you the ticket, but you haven't seen anyone that has really stood out yet.

The lights dim and everyone goes nuts, but it's only the lead band. No one special, at least not to you. You can here to see Maiden, and that's all you really care about. Other than the mystery man that is out there somewhere. The curious little band leaves the stage and the whole stadium is breathless in its wait for the band they all came to see step out on stage. The almost godly voice of the announcer rumbles through the stadium. It announces that Iron Maiden will be out in just a few moments. It calls for all of the fans to beg for them to come out. Slowly the chant begins. Within moments you join the call, MAIDEN, MAIDEN, MAIDEN.

There is an eternity of Maidens chanted, before the lights of the stage explode in the chaos of a pyrotechnic display. Fire blossoms at the front of the stage as the under working slowly bring the band up from underneath. They rise as if from the grave, the great melodic riff running through your body. The music assaults both your body and your ears. Being so close to the stage is amazing. It feels as if the music is running through your whole body before it echoes off towards the rest of the crowd. You let the rage and the fire of the band take your body and throw it about. You almost dance as if you are possessed. Even as you dance, you watch the others in the pit, and see them succumbing to the same power. Everybody's bodies seem to wither and move as if in pain but the looks on their faces is pure joy as Maiden continues on the stage. After about 5 songs you feel the need to rest, as if you continued you might not survive the night. So slowly you make your way to the side, gently guiding your body through the rest.

You are almost out of the trembling chaos of bodies with you feel a hand on your arm. You turn to attack your assailant, expecting some fool that thinks that just because you're dressed for sex means it's for him. But the vision that confronts you is even more disturbing than man bent on rape. The being that has you is Death itself. That is the first thought that flows out of your mind. It has a skull's face; eye sockets empty as the grave it crawled out of. A blood-freezing scream erupts from the center of your being but it is lost in the noise of the crowd and the band. In a flash, the being has its hand over your mouth and slowly moves you towards the exit. You struggle and fight with it, but its limbs as much more powerful than yours. It pushes you through the door and slams it shut. The voice that issues from behind the skull is low and deep. It almost makes you body quiver as much as the music did.

"Now is that any way to treat someone who purchases a ticket to one of the best concerts of your life?" the skull speaks. You just look at it your back against the wall, your eyes open and looking for an ounce of humanity behind that skull. Now as you look and have time to consider, you see that it is just a mask. A very well done mask, almost as if it was created from a face that had lost all its flesh. And the eye sockets are empty. There are eye holes in it but you see no reflections inside of them, just inky blackness. The stance of this being is human, the stance of someone with extreme patience. But there is something vaguely inhuman about the way it moves. Slow and languid, as if the mind thinks and then the body decides itself that it wants to do what its told. Then that voice rumbles out again demanding your attention, "Well???"

You speak, but it is thin and discordant, "I... I... I didn't know it was you. I though it was someone else." You flush and try to edge towards the door, still very much afraid of this menacing individual. Its hand shoots out, palm down between you and the door. You feel a hot wind of breath move over your chilled flesh. You meekly ask, "Can... Can I go?" The death's head slowly moves side to side in negation. You moan in fear, "But you said it was up to me if I wanted to meet you."

The head move back and shakes in silent laughter, the voice still lightly chuckling, "I am truly sorry, but I got impatient for you to take your eyes off of them to see me." Then just as suddenly as the death's mask was in front of you, now was the face of an impossibly beautiful man. You eyes drink in this sight. You cannot meet his eyes so you stare instead at his lips; they are small and thin, lightly dusted with black gloss. The left side of it tilts up in smirk, as if the world is some private joke. His cheekbones high and sharp, leaving his cheeks themselves almost sunken in. They lead up into the curve of his eyes, which now that you've looked into you cannot look away. They are upon the top of his cheeks, their slant more feline than Asian. And the eyes, the eyes, black as a starless night they seem to drink in all the light about them. As you stare into his eyes he speaks again, "Now, How about we go back to the concert and enjoy the rest of it." All you can do is nod, not knowing what you are agreeing to, just caught in his deep eyes.

He grasps your hand and gently moves you from the wall. His mouth near your ear, you hear his whisper, "I do love your dress, and it is quite, provocative." You blush slightly as he says this and his hands slips to the small of your back, his body almost intimately close to yours as he guides you back through the doorway into the pounding noise of the crowd and Maiden. The music's spell breaks the spell that his eyes cast upon you. All of a sudden your body wants to move and dance to the loudness. His presence is almost an annoyance because of its calming effect. You want to lose yourself in the music again. Again you hear the throb of his voice, unaffected by the music, "Go my sweet have fun, enjoy the show. We have much to discuss." Then you feel his hand gently push you into the crowd. You look back, trying to see him but just he pushes you into the crowd he pushes himself into it and disappears.

Before you realize what has happened the music's sway grabs you again and pulls you to the front. You join the rest of the mass at the head of the stage and wither and dance to the music as Dickinson sweats all over everyone. You sigh and moan with the music, its throb reaching deep into your being and pulling out all the rage and lust. You look side to side and see several couples in the middle of fucking right there in the pit. Their bodies moving and grinding to the music as they let loose their lust. Maiden is almost through their set. You know that there are only 1 or 2 more songs to go. Looking about you realize that you don't seen the man that wore death as a mask. But you are not so foolish as to believe that he is gone, that you are free of him. They head into their second to last song, and even though you are afraid you wish he was there also. So that you can feel his strength again.

Half way through the song you see him gliding through the pit, his body bending and dancing through the throng of people so that is seems that he doesn't even touch them. You stare for just a moment longer then you look back to the stage, unnerved by his seeming inhumanness. You feel his presence behind you, the power coming from both the band in front of you and the monster behind you. That's what he reminds you of, now that he is close and you don't look at him. Some kind of monster, something that lives in a back of your mind and should never be found. But this thing, this monster is alive and you can feel his hands encircle your waist. You almost try to bolt, to try and flee this being, but as his fingers touch your stomach and pull you tightly to him all reason slips from you. All you feel is need, a need for something that you cannot describe.

They start to play the last song. You are not sure what has come over you. It is as if both the music and his hands conspire against all reason and thought. You push back against him, your body swaying to the music as his hands glide up and down your stomach and towards other places. You feel his hand on your breast and the other down pressing between your legs, this causes a flair of passion, of the need you felt earlier but it isn't it. It isn't strong enough. You lean your body back, spreading your legs more, hoping that this will give you more. You look up at him, his black eyes and his world weary smirk looking down at you. The look in you eyes is pure lust, hunger, need. You cannot read his face. It is cold and almost lifeless, just for a moment it cools your passion. But then you push your ass back just a little harder with your dance and feel his hardness, the need within him pressing against you. You moan a little as you feel his fingers bunch the front of your skirt and pull aside your panties, his fingers brushing your outer lips. You tilt you head up trying to kiss him, but his lips do not meet yours instead they pass by and softly kiss your neck.

The feeling is amazing; it is as if his lips are a mini-taser, sending electric shocks throughout your body. Or maybe it was just his fingertips brushing against your clit. Whatever it was you want more, and you moan this. You feel his smile on your neck and more kisses. The song is over, but the encore has begun. His lips kiss harder on your neck, his teeth lightly nipping at your skin. His finger slips inside of you, sending shivers up and down your body. You can feel it moving in and out of you, and you feel a little embarrassed to be doing this in front of a whole stadium but the feeling he is creating. You moan again, and then fear hits you as his teeth nip at your skin again. Vampire, your mind screams but your body is trapped in his spell now. His finger moves in and out of your dripping pussy causing pleasure just as his mouth latches onto your neck. You can feel his teeth lengthen into fangs and plunge into your vein. Your life's blood gushing out even as his fingers administer pleasure.

Your hips move as your body gets betrayingly closer to an orgasm, even as your blood flows from your neck. You can hear his ecstatic moan as he drinks your body wanting him to have it all. Your mind is still free, free to fear and free to want to run away. You try and try and try to make your body behave, to break from his kiss and his fingers but you cannot. You can feel his mind invading yours even as a second finger enters your grasping hole. He is telling you to give in, to stop fighting and enjoy what is happening. The pleasure is too much, you just cave-in allowing it to happen. The blood just erupting from your throat, his tongue teasing at the wound and drawing more of it from you. You heart is now laboring to keep you conscious, then suddenly your body rocks back against his as your orgasm quivers through your body. It seems like it will never end, the loss of blood making it move in languid waves.

Your knees are weak, trembling, and barely able to keep you up. If it wasn't for him you would have fallen. You feel his finger leave you at the same time as his fangs withdraw. Then before you know what has happened he is gone. You stand there your body quaking with the effects of his ministrations. You grasp the railing in front of you and look wildly about for him. But he is gone, and slowly to stagger back. People looking at you, softly smiling at the drunken girl. You moan and try to make your way out. Someone asks if you are okay. You just murmur that you need to find him. You need to find the man that was just with you. They look at you and ask what he looked like. You stutter and try to find answers for them, but even his face is slowly draining from your memory. Gently they take you to a security guard and let them deal with you. Security just takes you to their office and lets you regain your composure.

You stand up and assure them that you are fine, that is was just too much excitement and too much alcohol. They give you the indulgent smile of those that have seen it before. When you leave the room and head outside the rush of cold air feels good on your skin. You reach up and touch the spot where you're flesh was pierced. There were only 2 little holes that you could feel. Sighing you start to look through the thinning crowd around you. You cannot see either Death or that beautiful being anywhere. You sigh again, wondering where he disappeared to. Deciding that if he wanted to be found you would see him, so you head home. All the way home you feel that someone is watching you, that someone is following you. But each time you turn to look, or stop and wait, the feeling leaves. You close the door to your house, leaning against it and looking about the house. Shaking your head you head up the stairs to your room, shedding your clothing as you go. You stop by the mirror in your room examining your body before you head to the bath. Leaning forward you look at your neck and see the 2 little holes that prove to you that the whole experience was real. You look at the rest of your body, and notice a fingerprint shaped bruise just on the inside of your thigh. You curse and moan as you examine it. Good thing no one else will see it.

You walk into your bathroom and start the tub. The water is hot and steam quickly fills the room. Gingerly you step into the bath, letting the hot water slowly close over your flesh. The hot water slowly caresses over your whole body as you sink into its sweet embrace. You moan as the searing heat fills all your aching places. You allow the water to cover you to your neck. Its heat permeating every inch of your skin, turning your from pale to almost a bright red. But the almost scaling heat feels good. You just lay slowly relaxing in the heat, letting the tension of the night out into the water. The tension flows from you and you start to think on what happened at the concert. Each time you think of it you mind goes back to the point of pure ecstasy when his fangs pierced your flesh. Tenderly you reach a warm hand up to your neck, looking for those 2 tiny holes. You run your fingernails over the skin of your neck, lightly catching on the 2 little holes, tearing away the tiny scabs that had formed. You can feel little streams of blood flowing from them, staining your fingers. You draw them to your lips and look at them then quickly lick the blood off. You moan a little as you taste your own blood. You look down and notice the watcher taking a pinkish cast as the blood from your neck streams into the water. Slowly the stream slows to a trickle then stops. The blood drying on your shoulder.

You watch all this with detachment, even though you know it should frighten you. You grab the soap and wash the blood from your shoulder. You still feel detached as you pull the stopper for the drain and attempt to stand up. You stumble against the side of the tub almost cracking your head on the back. The weakness you feel washes over you in waves as the pink water twirls down the drain. Staring at the water as it spins; you moan quietly the weakness in both your body and mind. You try again, only to make it half way onto the edge of the tub, your ass on the cold porcelain. You hand reaches out to steady yourself, the room spinning like the water. As if from a great distance you can hear whispering. It rushes inside your ear, no words to it just a soft rustling. You strain to hear it, wondering what it is saying. The weakness washes over your mind again; you almost tumble from the side of the tub. You reach out for a towel, the movement nearly enough to make you topple. But bit by bit you dry yourself, starting at your feet and working up your legs. As you reach your thighs, a slow warm thought crosses your mind as you remember his fingers there. The rough towel skims over your womanhood, the dampness of the water quickly replaced. Leisurely you rub the towel over your mound, tenderly rubbing it up and down your slit. The heat of passion quickly burns away the weakness. You whimper a little, you body wanting to be touched more. You carefully stand, not wanting to fall again, and quickly towel the rest of yourself off. The towel feels wonderful over your sensitive breasts and nipples. But you want to enjoy this more as you realize that the chill from the tiles is slowly cooling your heat.

You walk back across your bedroom, watching your body in the mirror was you go by it. The weakness of the heat and the loss of blood almost overtake you as you reach your bed. You collapse onto it tossing the towel to the floor. The cool slippery feel of your blood-red satin sheets envelope your body as you slide across them. The sheets slowly bring down the temperature of your body, the weakness slowly passing away and being replaced by the heat of you wanting again. Moaning you slither on your bed making your way into the center. You lay facedown for a moment, letting the sheets cool every inch of your steaming body. Unhurriedly you turn over, the sheets caressing your ass and back. Your fingers gradually begin to explore your body again. Oh gods how you wish they were his fingers, that demonic death. Your blood begins to boil as you remember the feeling of his teeth puncturing your neck and the hot gush of your life flowing out onto his tongue. Your fingers quickly rush down over your body, running right over the tip of your hardened nipples and down over your stomach. On head quickly slips between your legs and spreads your womanhood. The other traces the outline of the finger shaped bruise on your thigh.