The Loophole - A Halloween Story

This time, Gloria not only lost control of her bladder and expelled what little urine was left in her system, she also lost control of her bowels. Despite the leather belt designed to hold it in place, she expelled the anal electrode along with a significant amount of fecal matter.

"Let's get her cleaned up a little before the next step, shall we?" Max said as the helpers hurried in with soapy water and towels. A few moments later Gloria was clean and again properly wired.

"This time it will just be sounds," Max said. Gloria moaned. She knew Harold was as tone deaf as a mule and sang like one. There was no way that he could get the sequences right.

But he did.

Actually, he couldn't tell one tone from another, but he just repeated the sequences that had flashed before him in the first five steps. That worked for the first four tone steps, but Harold had not noticed what was different about the final sequence and once again he got all sixteen steps wrong.

Gloria bucked and screamed as the pulses tore through her, but there was nothing left in her bladder or bowels, so at least this time she did not shit herself in public.

"Time for round two," announced Max and the diabolical game piece once again flashed eight colors. It was moving through the same combinations of colors, except this time it started with green-red rather than red-blue. Harold was a fast learner and he got the sequence right. He also got the ten, twelve, and fourteen step sequences correct. But once again, he was so fixated on the pattern that he didn't realize that the first step had been left out and got all sixteen steps wrong in the fifth sequence.

Between grunts and screams, Gloria managed to choke out, "Harold, you stupid son of a bitch, watch the damn colors."

Harold mumbled a soft, "Sorry," but Fred could also see that he was suppressing a smile. Perhaps Harold wasn't as stupid as his gold-digging wife thought him to be.

The tones again mimicked the colors and again Harold got the first four sequences correct, but missed all sixteen steps of the final sequence. By the time the pulses timed out, Gloria was now hanging limp in her restraints.

"One final round," Max announced.

Gloria raised her head. If she were running this game, the third round would employ a totally different method of setting up the sequences so that the player would be overwhelmed and unable to get any of the colors or tones correct.

But she wasn't running the game, and the only difference was that the sequences started with blue-red. Again Harold got the first four right and totally messed up the fifth sequence. When the thirty-second timer for the restraint pulses finally switched off, Gloria was muttering softly over and over, "Stupid son of a bitch, stupid son of a bitch, stupid son of a bitch."

The whole process repeated itself the final time through the tones. This time, during the fifth sequence, Gloria barely responded even to the heavy pulses that tore through her body from wrist to ankle. As the helpers removed her from her restraints, Max said, "I am sure that she will recover shortly, but just to be safe we are going to take her into one of the other rooms and have our standby doctor check her out."

He looked over at Harold and added, "It might help her to recover if you told her that your consolation prize is eighty thousand dollars."

Harold did not answer, but returned a broad smile. As the helpers carried the practically unconscious Gloria out of the room, he followed a little ways behind.

***

After they had left the room, Maxwell turned and surveyed the crowd. "Our first level of sexual sin was exhibitionism and voyeurism," he said. "Our second was consensual humiliation. The third was consensual pain. The fourth, non-consensual public display and voyeurism of that non-consensual exhibition. The fifth was non-consensual public humiliation. And the sixth was non-consensual sexual pain."

He slowly scanned the crowd, looking almost everyone present directly in the eyes for just a fleeting moment. "What then," he continued, "could possibly be our seventh level of sexual sin and depravity?"

Max paused. Several persons started to raise their hands or say something, but then fell back into silence. "There are several to choose from," he said, "but which would we choose to demonstrate in public?" Max laughed. "Some of the deepest sexual sins must never see the light of day."

He held his hand to his jaw as if pondering some great question. "Which sin is perverse enough to be at the seventh level, yet at the same time, tame enough to present at a party in front of dozens of witnesses?"

He turned around slowly scanning the faces of the partygoers. Then he continued, "It is so obvious, and yet so elusive. When I announce it, you will all think... or say... 'Of course!' But until I speak it, you will keep what it is carefully locked away in the back of your mind with all your deepest and darkest secrets for fear that what you are thinking may even be beyond the seventh level of sexual sin."

He turned to face Elvira, still held captive in her pillory, and then turned his gaze toward Dracula, who stood alone at the four podia. "The seventh level of sexual sin and depravity which we have chosen for this evening," he began slowly, "is sexual submission and slavery... and of course, its companion sin of owning and using such submissive slaves."

Pointing directly at Dracula, he said loudly, "That is what we are playing for in this round. If you lose, you and Wendy become Fred and Willie's sexual slaves for a period of one year."

He paused for effect and then said, "You could quit now and walk away with a consolation prize of $160,000 dollars.

"Or," Max continued, "we could up the stakes-- and the risk-- and entice you to stay in the game."

The four helpers walked slowly into the room. It was obvious they were each carrying something very heavy. They walked to where the bar of gold bullion was sitting and each placed an identical bar alongside it. There were now five 400 ounce bars of gold bullion on the small platform.

"A consolation price of $160,000 dollars," Max said. "Or one year against one bar of bullion. ... Or the risk of permanent slavery against all five bars. Those five bars, at current market price, are worth somewhere north of three million dollars."

Bruce looked over at his partner and then back at Max. "One year or a lifetime really makes little difference," he said smugly. "I hear that you have a contract due and payable tonight that makes all of this moot."

"I guess I now know who invited our gate crashers and supplied them with the proper costumes," Fred said from somewhere in the crowd. Most of the party goers looked around totally confused. Bruce and Wendy, as well as one other couple in the crowd looked over directly to where the false Fallen One and imitation Mother of Lilith sat.

"Perhaps," said Dracula with a smile that showed his artificial fangs. He shrugged his shoulders. "Perhaps not. But in any case, we accept your terms. A lifetime of sexual slavery against five Good Delivery Certified bars of gold bullion."

Max walked back to his podium and picked up an envelope. "Our final question is in this envelope. All you need do to win the five bars of gold bullion is to answer it truthfully and correctly." He slapped the envelope against his palm and added, "And there is no time limit."

Max then tore open the envelope and removed a single sheet of ivory paper. "The question is this, 'Is it possible for a person to escape permanent captivity in hell at the end of the term of their contract with the Fallen One?'"

"I don't need even the five minutes to answer that one," Bruce snorted. "The answer is 'No!' Contracts with the Fallen One are iron clad. They are absolute and inescapable."

"I believe you... ... are wrong," came a deep voice from the edge of the room. All eyes turned to the source of the voice. The Fallen One and The Mother were standing next to the couch on which they had been seated.

"And I suppose you are some kind of authority on contracts with the Fallen One," said Bruce in his most sarcastic tone.

"No," the voice answered, "I am not SOME authority on contracts with the Fallen One. I am THE authority because I AM the Fallen One."

Bruce snorted in laughter, but those sitting closest to the standing couple were beginning to back away in fear. This was because they were close enough to see that it was the red-skinned woman, not the man who was speaking in such a deep voice.

The couple walked to the center of the room. The person in the Fallen One costume said-- in a rather high pitched voice for a man-- "We were going to wait until midnight to unmask, but it appears we have to do so a bit early." She then began to melt. So did The Fallen One.

Melting is the only word which describes what was happening. Their makeup... or skin... or costume... or whatever it was... began to slough off. But it didn't drip onto the floor, instead it congealed around their body in a slightly different form. Slowly the imitation Fallen One transformed into the true Mother of Lilith and the imitation Mother transformed into the true Fallen One.

"Had Frederick asked if it were possible for YOU to escape permanent captivity in hell," the deep voice continued, "then the answer would have definitely been 'No.'"

He laughed. It was a deep, resonant laugh that nearly froze the blood in the veins of the people who heard it. "But Fred has an older contract-- one of the last with a certain weakness in its language. Under the terms of that contract, all he and Willie had to do was enter into hell... enter, not stay there. If the circumstances were just right, they could enter and go THROUGH hell without staying permanently.

"And their faithful retainers, Maxwell and Marta, uncovered a way to symbolically do that by descending through the seven levels of sexual sin on this night in which their contract was due. They did that. They have gone through Hell and come out on the other side. That makes them the big winners for this evening."

He laughed a very deep and even more frightening laugh before pointing his finger directly at Dracula / Bruce and thundering, "And you... You lose!"

He laughed once again. This time a flash of heat pulsed through the room and a faint trace of sulfur became present in the air. He turned toward Fred and Willie. "As Maxwell had surmised, this little stunt does fulfill the terms of your contract. You are released from the completion payment. And because the contract is technically fulfilled, all the benefits offered under the contract remain in place."

The Fallen One and The Mother walked slowly to the front of the room to stand in front of Fred and Willie. "But you are perhaps wondering," he said, "why I did not simply derail your plans for this evening."

He turned to face the guests who were starting to huddle against the walls. "The answer to that is very simple. Once in a while someone has to beat the Devil at his own game. If no one was ever able to beat me, no one would ever enter into one of my contracts in the misguided hope that they would be lucky enough to someday escape the conditions of the contract."

He turned toward one small group which was cowering in the corner. "Believe me," he said, "you have a much better chance of winning the lottery."

The Mother laughed. Her laugh was much lighter than The Fallen One's and did not create the same icy fear in the people who heard it. "But once in a while," she said in her silvery voice, "someone does win the lottery even against such odds."

She turned to address Willie, "You have beaten the odds."

She then smiled. For some reason her smile, unlike her laugh, struck fear into the hearts of the guests. Perhaps it was because her teeth were sharp and pointed.

"Besides," she continued, scowling slightly, "Bruce and Wendy have really pissed me off over the years with their incessant bickering over minor terms and conditions of their contract."

The Fallen One again spoke-- this time directly to Bruce and Wendy. "You have made yourselves sexual slaves of Fred and Willie for the rest of your lives."

Now it was the Fallen One's turn to smile. He seemed to be now actually enjoying himself. "Because of our agreement," he said. "that will be a very, very long time. Should it get to be too much for you, perhaps you could initiate the early termination clause of the contract. I'm sure The Mother and I would be agreeable to that."

He turned toward Max and added, "And no, Max, early termination isn't in Frederick's contract either. It was added only a few centuries ago. Through the years, I've learned many things the hard way, just as many humans do."

Turning back toward Bruce, he said, "I will be watching over you to be sure that you live up to your wager. As a matter of fact, I am going to hang around tonight until you and Wendy kneel naked before Fred and Willie and officially submit yourself to them."

He snapped his fingers and suddenly Bruce and Wendy were standing naked in the middle of the room. Fred and Willie stepped forward to stand in front of them and The Fallen One said ominously, "You know what has to be done, you did it for me a long time ago."

Bruce and Wendy dropped to their knees and bowed low. Their heads touched the carpet in front of Fred and Willie. In unison they said, "I submit myself to you as your slave and sexual plaything forever."

Also in unison, they yelped and jumped to their feet. Both of their right buttocks were now smoking slightly. "As my parting gift to you, Fred, I branded them for you. You may notice that the brand on their right ass cheek says, 'Slave of Frederick and Wilhelmina Whetherington.' The older brand on their left cheek says, 'Property of The Fallen One.'

"Remember, Fred," he said in a very stern voice, "despite the fact that my brand is only visible on this night or in my presence, it is always there. The wording of the other brand will remind you that although they are your slaves, they are my property." With that, the Fallen One and The Mother disappeared in a flash of flame and a cloud of smoke.

As the guests stood coughing and gasping in the acrid air Willie exclaimed, "Damn! He scorched the carpet again."

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END OF STORY

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