Stone Cold Revenge Pt.2

[Warning: Mature Content]

[Stone Cold Revenge, done in three parts, is the sequel to kat’s Norma the Bitch.]

SCR 7

Norma put the pedal to the metal and roared down the long drive of her estate; inheriting the wealth of four husbands had its benefits.

Wondering who could do such a thing, Norma sped toward the cemetery. A late night phone call informed her that the family plot had been vandalized and desecrated. And she just tended the graves a couple days before.

Hopefully it’s just the three, she thought. Oh please don’t let it be Squinch’s.

Upon arrival at the cemetery, Norma was surprised to find everything quiet. She figured there’d be police, or at the very least the managing staff; but no, she didn’t even see the old caretaker. And not a single flashlight beam was seen anywhere. Thank goodness she always kept one in the glove box.

Flashlight in one hand, shoulder bag with dog in the other, she made her way to the family plot, and noticed other evidence of vandalism. Several headstones had been turned over, half-dozen statues had been defaced or broken, and one depicting a mythological character had been stolen.

Probably teenagers with nothing better to do.

A thick rolling fog shrouded the family plot. It would shroud the cemetery within minutes. And strangely, the fog seemed to be emanating from the north wall.

The sight of the family plot took her breath away.

The grass appeared to have been trampled by who knows what. The graves of the trio had been dug up, the casket lids removed and left leaning against the grave walls. The rotting corpses of her first three husbands, in varying stages of decomposition, were exposed. But what struck Norma as odd was each of their pants were down to their ankles, one of their bony hands gripped their crotch, and the other held a pair of panties over their mouth and nose; or rather the nasal cavity where their noses had been.

Those look like my panties, thought Norma. How’d they get from Squinch’s grave to…

“Squinch’s grave!”

She looked up and saw the ornate ironwork still intact. But it didn’t take long to see the grave was open, and the casket lid was raised—but still connected since it was better quality than the others.

Norma inched forward, afraid she was going to find the same grisly sight. As she peered down into the casket, the shock of what she saw quickly registered. The casket was empty.

The eerie sound of tribal drums began to beat a rhythmic dirge. Norma saw a new gap in the plot boundary. She felt a strange pull to follow the makeshift trail marked with pieces of vandalized headstones and sculptures.

Fear hot-wired her trembling body, reminding her how turned on she’d gotten the day Squinch tried to kill her—the day she fell in love with him. But all it did for the rat-dog was make it yip and yap twice as much as it peered bug-eyed out of the shoulder bag.

The closer she got to the north wall the stronger she felt the irresistible pull of the spirit, and her body followed.

Hoots and caws emanated from nearby trees. Norma saw glowing eyes and silhouettes of more owls and ravens than she’d ever seen. The drum beat changed to a predatory tribal beat, steady and deep, but slowly increasing in tempo as she approached an entrance in the wall covered with animal skins and lit with torches on either side.

Logic told her to turn and run, but the rhythmic beat, unnatural pull, and curiosity drove her forward. She even ignored the whimpering of her precious rat-dog as it slunk deeper into the purse; the odoriferous emanation coming from the entrance took all bravado from the “cocksure” canine.

Norma pushed the skins aside and stepped forward—into another world. Her mind told her this wasn’t real. How could she be in a tribal lodge inside a brick wall where no entrance is supposed to be?

The heat was stifling. Rocks burned red hot in the center. Norma circled the pit and felt as if eyes were on her. She snapped her head from side-to-side, swearing she heard whispers and murmurs, but saw no one. And where were the drums that kept beating?

“Alright, you’ve got my attention,” said Norma. “Must you try my patience as well?”

The drums stopped.

A strong wind blew through the flaps, extinguished the torches, and stoked the embers. The swirling smoke and dancing glow of the embers increased the eerie feel and imagery of the lodge. If she didn’t know better she’d swear there were ghostly figures camouflaged by the smoke.

“Do not doubt your eyes,” said Konywickwick in his dry ancient tone, as he materialized on the opposite side of the fire pit.

“W-Who are you?”

“He who alters your plan to enslave a good man.”

“I don’t understand.”

From his belt, Konywickwick removed a bone that had feathers, teeth, and rattlesnake rattlers attached, and began to chant and motion toward the pit, then to both sides of himself. He then grabbed hold of a staff that rose up from the ground beside him, and banged it sharply twice on the dirt floor.

The embers burned brighter, but the smoke cleared as the floor trembled, and two large holes opened on either side of the medicine man, and granite slabs arose—and they were not vacant. A body covered by animal skins rested atop each.

A smaller hole opened directly before the ancient one, and a cauldron arose between two stakes above a fire with mysterious blue flames.

“See what’s in the pot.”

“I can’t.”

Konywickwick waved the rattle, and Norma’s discarded panties from the past two years rose out of the boiling water, unfolded, and swirled above the pot like a silk twister.

“Are those…”

“Yours.”

“Why?”

“Passion discharge overrules water discard.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, or what all this has to do with me.”

The medicine man released his grip on the staff, it remained upright, as he reached into a pouch tied to his belt and extracted the talisman.

“How’d you get that?” said Norma.

“From him you wish to enslave.”

“That’s not true, I love him.”

“You made water on the amulet,” said the ancient one. “Disrespectful… to control.”

“No!” said Norma. “I followed the witch doctor’s directions.”

“Witch doctor no good—or you speak with forked-tongue.”

“I’m not lying,” said Norma. “I’d gladly be his slave if I could just get him back.”

“We shall see.”

Konywickwick waved the rattle, the silk twister dispersed, the panties flew to the sides of the lodge and stuck to the wall. Another wave of the rattle and the contents of the cauldron bubbled fiercely.

“Boiled passion discharge from your coverings.”

He pointed the rattle at the cauldron, then motioned towards the slab to his left. The boiling water mixed with Norma’s cum rose from the pot, slowly drifted through the air, and hovered above the covered body on the slab. The medicine man waved the rattle once more; the animal skins flew to the wall and dropped into a discarded heap. And the hovering fluid rained down upon Squinch’s rotting corpse.

As the medicine man began to chant, Norma gazed transfixed upon the decomposing shell of the only man who ever broke into her bitch guarded heart. Even the rat-dog couldn’t fight curiosity; its head popped up from the purse, and peered in the same direction as its mistress.

The precise moment the ancient one’s incantation ceased the corpse moved, rising to a sitting position on the side of the slab before its eyes opened, and a malicious grin spread wide as Squinch focused on Norma.

Norma’s mouth dropped open as fear and fascination fought for supremacy within her. And the rat-dog dropped a turd into the Gucci bag, as it whined and shook uncontrollably.

“My love,” said Norma.

“Pardon my skepticism,” said Squinch, as he stood in zombie-fied erectness, presenting the dominant nature he’d grown accustomed to. “Considering my present condition, how do I know you ain’t up to your old tricks, bitch?”

“There’s been no one else since you.”

“Says you.”

“It’s true!”

“And yet,” said Squinch with a wicked gleam in his eye. “Here I am, and you ain’t even given me a proper hello.”

“W-What about your, um… condition?”

“You’d be amazed at what I can do in my ‘condition.’”

He extended his hand toward the medicine man, and the ancient one gave him the talisman, which Squinch hung around his neck. He then reached his hand toward Norma.

Her mind burned with the recollection of their last moments, her heart burned with the years of yearning, but there was conflict within her at the sight she beheld.

How do I give him a proper hello when he has no lips?

“Do you think I don’t know why you hesitate?” said Squinch. “You, who kiss a rat-dog, and let it lick you after it licks its own ass.”

“That isn’t fair.”

“Fair,” said Squinch with a malevolent chuckle, “ain’t never been part of our relationship.”

“I brought you the amulet.”

“And made preparation to control me.”

“I didn’t know that would happen,” said Norma. “I followed the witch doctor’s directions.”

“Ya’ claim to love me,” said Squinch. “What does a self-proclaimed bitch know of love?”

“We connected that last day,” said Norma. “I know you felt it.”

“Did I?”

“I saw it in your eyes.”

“Are you willing to prove that love?”

“Yes,” said Norma. “I’ll do anything.”

Any-thing?”

“Yes.”

Squinch looked toward the medicine man; the elder shook the rattle, chanted, then grabbed the staff and slammed it into the ground. A thunderous clap sounded, drums thumped rhythmically, smoke filled the lodge, the embers dimmed, and all went black.

 

[Be sure to catch the conclusion tomorrow.]

[Kat’s Norma the Bitch can be found here.]

[Stone Cold Revenge Pt.1 can be found here.]

 

 

9 thoughts on “Stone Cold Revenge Pt.2

    1. Somehow I think that when you mess with Squinch you get more than a pinch in return. And I’m sure it will be mmm… mmm… good… for one or the other… or both.

      Liked by 1 person

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