Femme Fatale

by Sheri Heller, LCSW

Franz von Stuck Tilla Durieux als Circe [Public domain]

With persuasive words she led him astray; she seduced him with her smooth talk.

All at once he followed her like an ox going to the slaughter,

like a deer stepping into a noose till an arrow pierces his liver,

like a bird darting into a snare little knowing it will cost him his life.

Now then, my sons, listen to me; pay attention to what I say.

Do not let your heart turn to her ways or stray into her paths.

Many are the victims she has brought down; her slain are a mighty throng.

Her house is a highway to the grave, leading down to the chambers of death.

~Old Testament, Proverbs 7

Lorelei inhaled her cigarette, leaving cherry candy lipstick with every toke. The day was exceedingly hot and humid. Beads of sweat trickled sensuously down her ample cleavage, ending in a small puddle in her navel. Lying listlessly on the porch swing, her steel grey eyes locked with the emerald green eyes of Medusa, her trusted Siamese cat and familiar. Lorelei’s face beamed with an exaggerated smirk. The time had come.

At twenty-six, she now owned a home left to her by her deceased parents, who were both pillars of the religious community in the small rural Indiana town. It was a shock to all how the Reverend Tyler and his beloved wife were found burned to death in a torrid fire that took their lives and the Pentecostal church where Reverend Tyler preached. The fire was traced to faulty electrical wiring that mysteriously erupted into a consuming fire. What the Tylers were doing in the church in the middle of the night was never questioned. The town took pity on Lorelei and the town’s men, both married and single, placed their attention on the beautiful orphaned damsel.

As she admired her reflection in her full-length mirror, Lorelei rid herself of her sweat-soaked sundress and gazed admiringly at her curvaceous, yet slender figure. Medusa jumped up on the mahogany dresser, sending ribbons and toiletries askew. Together they gazed at the image in the mirror, acknowledging the power of her beauty. Lorelei felt the ache of pleasure well up in her as she massaged her full tender breasts, but it was not her hand this time that would take her to climax. It was time for the hunt.

Rummaging through her closet, Lorelei murmured to Medusa, “What do you think, dahlin’? Something revealing, but coquettish. They just love to fuck little girls with women’s bodies. I know what to give them and I’ll get my fix too. It’ll be a fair exchange. Yes, I think this one will do.”

Lorelei selected a low cut, form-fitting black dress adorned with tiny red roses. The short sleeves flounced into little puffs. The snug bodice was assisted by a ribbon at the waist to be tied in the back, flattering the flowing skirt. She smirked to herself as she considered herself the exemplary Nabokov prototype. Yes, this would do indeed! She selected a simple pair of blood red sandals, choosing to forfeit the additional height provided by a pair of stiletto heels. At 5’9” she already possessed the stature to entice men. A dash of perfume and she was out the door.

The engine turned over in her restored baby pink and crème ’57 Thunderbird convertible, replete with wings and white leather interior. She put on a classic Johnny Cash CD and bid Medusa adieu as she took off for that familiar stretch of road where she had the most success. The speed of the car coupled with the wind ripping through her hair accelerated her quest. The wetness between her legs increased her desire and memories of prior conquests flashed through her mind causing further excitation.

“This seems like a good spot to settle into,” Lorelei stopped the car on the road surrounded by vast acres of desolate wheat fields that seemed to reach out into infinity.

CC0 Public Domain

Looking in both directions, she saw all was clear and she leaned down and gingerly took the sharp nail file out of her compact red clutch and punctured her rear tire. The glistening sticky sheen of her flowing juices adhered to the side of her left leg all the way down to her ankle. She was in heat.

“Uhmmm, this will surely be a treat.”

Patiently she waited for the inevitable flagging down of a lone trucker or a pathetic traveling salesman eager to deflect from his Willy Loman life. Or maybe it would be a fatherly type who conceals his lascivious perverted nature under the guise of ethics and morality. Whoever it would be, she would be more than ready. Nearby was the sound of a vehicle heading her way. She could feel her heart racing and her heat rising. Soon, she would be satiated.

From a close distance, Lorelei observed the road spraying dusty earth as the now visible van drove towards her. She waved frantically, making sure to thrust her breasts and feign helpless distress. To her delight, the van was slowing down and she could see through the windshield that he was alone.

A car seat was situated in the rear, “Hmmm, a family man. Even better.”

He was in his late forties. A pasty white blading short man with a protruding paunch of a belly perched on scrawny chicken legs. Lorelei judged he had never so much as dreamed as being in proximity to a woman the likes of her. She watched in amusement as he got out of his van and his gait became awkward and his communication hesitant and tremulous. Clearly he was intimidated by her magnificence. The surge of power and superiority consumed her entire being, intensifying her lubrication.

She licked her full lips absently as she droned seductively, “Honey, you are just a God send! I’ve been stranded here for what feels like an eternity. And to have such a handsome stud like you rescue me is more than I could wish for!”

He flushed dark red as he sputtered a reply, “Think nothing of it missy, I was just on my way into town. Glad to be of assistance!”

Lorelei replied, “No need to fix this old thing. If you could just give me a lift, I’ll send someone out to fetch it for me another time. Surely, you could make room for me to snuggle next to you in your van? I’m just so weary from standing in this heat. What’s your name sugar?”

Stammering he answered, “H-Howard. I’d be honored to have you ride in my vehicle. Please, let me get the door for you”.

“Why thank you, dahlin’.” Stepping up to the door of the van Lorelei swung around to face Howard and exclaimed, “I really am so grateful and I do want you to know how much I appreciate your assistance.”

Without reprieve, she was drawing him closer to her until he was paralyzed in her tight embrace. Shocked by the sudden swiftness and fervor in which she scanned his body with her hands, Howard surrendered with a shudder as Lorelei deftly pulled his ass in towards her and maneuvered on ample hand toward his pulsating cock. It was that easy.

“You are just so sweet and hard, baby! Oh, is this big cock all for me? Please tell me it is!” It was all proceeding so nicely, she thought to herself.

Howard could barely breath as he mustered up his energy to assert “B-but, I’m a married man!”

Lorelei clutched his cock with just the right amount of pressure to render him defenseless as she murmured in his ear, “Baby, I’ve been so lonely. My mommy and daddy are both dead and just the thought of having your throbbing cock in my warm, wet mouth takes all that bad pain away. Couldn’t we just have an innocent little tryst in the back of your van?”

It was easy as pie. Lorelei got down on her knees before Howard could even respond. He gasped as she thrust the entire length of his manhood into her mouth, sucking him as if she was lost in a reverie so sweet that it was she who was being pleasured. Just as she felt him about to lose control she released him and raised herself up, placing his hand between her legs and thrusting his fingers inside of her. Howard was as compliant as a newborn as she moaned.

“Take me in the back and fuck me till I cum! Please dahlin’, I need you!”

She threw her dress off and stretched herself out on the floor of the van, her eyes imparting an enticing “come hither” look. He was on her like flies to honey. Lorelei’s suspicion that Howard’s endurance would be nothing to prize was confirmed by his exploding inside her in less than two minutes. Nevertheless, she coddled him with effusive accolades of his stupendous performance. Howard basked in the glow of her tawdry conveyance of satiated fulfillment.

When Lorelei practically begged him to bring her home for more escapades, he was more than willing. Off they went to the Lorelei manor.

Howard’s driving was erratic due to his distraction with Lorelei’s theatrical writhing and moaning from masturbatory feats. By the time they made it to the front of the house, the van abruptly jerked to a halt. Pulling into a clearing on the side of the house, Howard fumbled with his seatbelt and ran to open the passenger door for Lorelei who had just climaxed from an explosive orgasm. Medusa, perched on the wrap-around porch watched in amusement as Lorelei entwined herself around Howard and led him into the house.

Through the foyer and up the winding mahogany steps, they climbed to the second-floor level to Lorelei’s bedroom.

Howard was alarmed by the monolithic cross looming over Lorelei’s king-sized brass bed. In wonder, his eyes surveyed the vast array of stuffed animals and dolls juxtaposed against religious icons, and the framed pornographic images peppered throughout the room on the dresser and hanging from the wall. While Howard was absorbed by the surroundings, Lorelei took the opportunity to quickly change into her ‘uniform’.

Image by Kai Kalhh from Pixabay

Maneuvering to a corner of the room, she switched off the regular lights and transitioned to black lighting, thus illuminating the day-glo porn, crucifixes, angels and pentagrams. Surrounded by a surreal techno color orgy caused Howard to shiver with apprehension. This momentary blight of fear made him reconsider his decision to succumb to the pleasures of the flesh, but when he caught sight of Lorelei in a gold lame G-string all fears evaporated.

“Do you like what you see, sugar? This is all for you and I want you to do with me whatever crosses that naughty little mind of yours. But first I want you to do something real special for me.”

Howard readily complied with Lorelei’s request to engage in a preliminary toast to their passionate night of debauchery. As he lay squirming with desire on the bed, Lorelei slipped downstairs to the kitchen to retrieve the quart of dark brew containing boiled vines and leaves of the ayahuasca and cawa plants. She carefully mixed the hallucinogenic liquid with honeyed blackberry wine in an ornate gold goblet for Howard’s consumption and in a matching silver goblet she poured herself the honeyed wine. Wearing a devious grin, Lorelei returned to her den of iniquity with the libations.

“Oh dahlin’, you are going to love my ambrosial nectar. I spent hours making it all by myself, hoping fate would grant me a horny stud like you to share it with. Here you go, baby… drink up! To a night we’ll never forget!”

Eager to dispense with foreplay, Howard guzzled down the bittersweet drink with the zeal of a man desperately craving fulfillment. Practically frothing at the mouth, Howard squealed, “My dick is ready for ya, honey! Come and get it!”

Lorelei relished every lingering moment bathing Howard’s sagging flesh with the warmth of her tongue. As he groaned with agonizing pleasure, Lorelei recited to herself , “When my father and my mother forsake me, then the Lord will take me up. Teach me the way O Lord, and lead me in a plain path. Because of mine enemies: for false witnesses are risen up against me, and such as breath out cruelty.”

With her intention clear, she deftly ascended over him, her breast filling his mouth as she mounted his throbbing cock. Lorelei clenched his cock deep inside her with every measured thrust. She knew the visions would soon occur and it was critical to get him exactly where she needed him to be for the sacrament.

As Howard lay beneath her in rapture, oblivious to everything but his pleasure, Lorelei hastened her pace, creating further excitation in Howard. Quickly she pulled his arms overhead and skillfully shackled his wrists to the bed with a pair of handcuffs that lay concealed beneath his pillow. Ensconced within the mattress and headboard lay an elaborate demonic latex mask, which Lorelei agilely placed over her head. The momentary lapse in energetic carnal gyration caused by these tasks compelled Howard to synchronously open his eyes in an attempt to resume lively thrusting.

Howard’s intention, however, was instantly derailed by the horrifying recognition of his entrapment, the hallucinogens kicking in and a crazed satanic being hovering over him.

As this perverse demonic nightmare materialized, Howard lost his erection and descended into terror.

Panicked, he cried out, “Puhlease… what is happening?! I have a heart condition. Have mercy! Oh God, I beg you — please spare me!”

Howard’s cries fell on deaf ears. The dye was cast. Borrowing from proverbs 4:16 and Psalm 7:14 Lorelei proclaimed, “I cannot rest until I do evil. As Satan’s bride and the daughter of Lillith, I am pregnant with evil. I conceive trouble and give birth to disillusionment. Your downfall is my redemption!”

Consumed by traumatic memories of perdition and damnation, Lorelei commenced with summoning the Dark Lord Lucifer. As her parents taught her long ago when she was offered up as Satan’s vessel on the Temple Alter, Lorelei chanted the Lord’s Prayer backward.

Reaching for the ceremonial blade resting on the night table by the bed, Lorelei proceeded with carving a pentagram into Howard’s chest. Oblivious to his screams she recalled the blood streaming from her loins when she was first sacrificed to her father, the Devil himself, and his disciples. It was the price of her sin, tempting those with her seductive beauty at the tender age of ten years old.

Her mother, Lilith, drank her blood, whispering in her ear what Lorelei repeated to Howard as he wept in horror, “I have dominion over you and you will worship my darkness. Wildcats shall meet with hyenas, goat-demons shall call to each other; there too Lilith shall repose, and find a place to rest.”

No longer subservient, Lorelei embodied the infernal energy she was born into and seized control.

Ripping the mask from her face Lorelei eagerly descended upon Howard’s inert body. Slurping the blood from Howards wounds galvanized her sexualized rage and compelled her to bite viciously into his chiseled skin. The mental and physical agony of Lorelei’s deeds pushed Howard over the edge causing him to lose control of his bowels.

The stench of feces permeating the air brought Lorelei back to a coprophilia ritual endured throughout childhood. According to the Satanic teachings, the ceremonial engulfment in shit was a primordial return to the realm of Chaos.

CC0 Public Domain / Creative Commons Zero

Reaching beneath Howard’s ample bottom to amass a thick glob of excrement, Lorelei took great pleasure in smearing Howard’s feces in every crevice of his face. Panting heavily with dilated pupils, impotent against Lorelei’s wild savagery, he was forced to ingest shit through his nose and mouth. Howard’s labored breathing escalated until he ultimately succumbed to asphyxiation and cardiac arrest.

His unresponsiveness alerted Lorelei to his eminent death, inducing her to pray from Ezekiel over his lifeless body, “Yet if you have warned the wicked and he does not turn from his wickedness or from his wicked way, he shall die in his iniquity; but you have delivered yourself.”

Lorelei completed the holy sacrament by smothering Howard with the feather pillow that lay beneath his head.

Feeling satiated and restored, Lorelei removed the handcuffs from Howards chafed wrists and swaddled his corpse in the soiled bed sheets. With effort, she moved him to the foot of the stairs and with a swift kick of Lorelei’s foot, he thumped downward to the cellar door where the pyre raged. At the foot of the stairs, Medusa pounced upon Howards remains purring in approval as Lorelei proceeded to drag him down the steps to the crypt designated by the late Rev. Tyler.

In the Hallowed Vault, Lorelei gathered up her familiar in her arms and exclaimed, “Medusa, you sweet little dahlin’. So glad you’ve decided to join me for the cremation! Let’s get started.”

Gently dropping her feline companion to the ground, Lorelei bent down to grab hold of Howard’s cadaverous feet and pulled him towards the massive crematory dominating the dark cavernous space.

Having anointed the corpse with aromatic cypress and oil of myrrh, Lorelei wrapped the body once again in the dirty linen before hoisting it in the retort. Lorelei pressed the button to heat the chamber to the preset heat. Seated on a cushion, Lorelei closed her eyes as the sounds of the escaping gases from Howard’s torched body wafted towards her ears.

In repose, she received the tranquility of the moment, stroking Medusa’s velvety fur and whispering these words from Ecclesiastes, “All go to the same place. All came from the dust and all return to the dust.”

Hayford Peirce at en.wikipedia [CC BY-SA 3.0 (http://creativecommons.org/licenses/by-sa/3.0/)]

Sitting in silence in soothing darkness aroused memories of her first initiation. Lorelei was twelve years old and already well acquainted with the sins of the flesh. On the prowl for a reliable victim, the Tyler family took a leisurely drive in search of a guileless hitchhiker.

He was a drifter, impoverished and hungry and so grateful for the ride and the delicious, albeit tainted rhubarb pie.

It was Lorelei’s first kill, although she witnessed many slaughters, starting with her beloved pets. Even now the evisceration of her spaniel puppy Kali caused her to shed a tear, but eventually she became immune to the torment, even perfected the ability to leave her body and surrender to an alternate profane Self. No longer did she weep for atonement, pleading that each sacrifice be her last.

When she burned the church to the ground, she understood the magnitude of her supreme power and place.

Image by Dale Forbes from Pixabay

She was the Chosen One. The High Priestess of the Underworld.

Lorelei slept well that night. She always did after the catharsis of a human sacrifice. Before the break of dawn, she was already out the door with her backpack and Schwinn bicycle, eager to drive Howard’s car out to the southern-most point of the Knobstone Trail by the Deem Lake Rec area. The chirping birds greeted her and the sweet smell of honeysuckle stimulated her senses. Lorelei felt tranquil as she drove along the empty road. Fate on her side. It wasn’t long before she found a desolate spot to dump the car.

Mounting her bike, Lorelei anticipated enjoying the twenty-mile ride to Louisville, Kentucky.


When she arrived at her destination, she ditched the bike in a playground around the corner from the Greyhound bus depot. “Easy-peasy,” she smiled to herself.

The three-hour bus trip to Nashville, Tennessee granted her an ample opportunity to take a nap. By noon, the bus pulled into the station at 5th Avenue South. It was a twenty-minute walk to the iconic Hermitage hotel in the heart of downtown Nashville, where she booked an elegant city suite. It was a luxurious treat.

Lorelei indulged in a relaxing bubble bath while sipping a glass of Pinot Noir. Feeling cleansed and purified, she changed into a form-fitting silk wrap dress by Diane von Furstenberg. The red and teal print was classy and chic and paired with her black leather Frye boots and turquoise lariat necklace, she embodied the quintessential stylish cowgirl.

As she made her way to the elevator to the world-famous Oak Bar downstairs, Lorelei struck a demure grin in response to the lascivious stares directed her way. Once seated, Lorelei realized she was famished, and she devoured a delicious meal of fried green tomatoes and deviled eggs. No pun intended, she laughed to herself.

In less than twenty minutes, Lorelei was informed by her waiter that the gentleman at the bar offered to buy her a drink.

“Why, I’m flattered!” she replied. “I’ll have the Southern Belle.”

Winking at the portly gentleman in the Stetson cowboy hat, she waved him over to join her. As he confidently sauntered over, Lorelei appraised her current mark. His Scully lambskin blazer signified wealth and his wrinkle-free frozen shiny face suggested Botox injections. She figured him to be in his late 30’s, although the high probability of cosmetic surgery implied he was probably older.

“Hello, young lady. My name is Billy Bob and it’s a pleasure to meet you.”

Up close, Lorelei could smell his puffed-up sense of entitlement. She had an uncanny ability for reading people and off the bat, she knew he was a narcissistic blowhard.

“Enchanted, Billy Bob,” she coyly replied.

As she suspected, Billy Bob adored hearing himself speak. He was from Memphis and came from old money acquired in the oil industry. Allegedly, his true passion was country music, but Lorelei suspected it was more likely that his passion lie with producing the Pretty Young Filly opening up for legendary musician Vince Gill at Ryman Auditorium that night.

As Lorelei suspected, pretending to be enthralled by Billy Bob’s banal discourse worked to her advantage. He would pick her up that evening for dinner at The Catbird Seat before heading over to the concert. Lorelei gushed with feigned enthusiasm. This rendezvous was the foolproof ploy to entice Billy Bob to be her guest for a romantic home cooked meal later that week. They bid one another adieu, agreeing to reconvene in a few hours in the hotel lobby. Walking back to her suite, Lorelei grinned with delight as she considered changing into her form-fitting metallic gold Leroux bandage dress, certain that this would ensure the seduction.

That night as Lorelei basked in the comfort of the hotel’s plush king-sized bed, she mused about how proficiently she sealed the deal. He was like putty in her hands and all it took was her simulating the trophy he craved. Plotting his demise was just as, if not even more fun than the actual kill.

Macabre images gaily danced in Lorelei’s head offering her the promise of executing another consummate scenario of death and destruction. Soothed by her bloodthirsty fantasies, Lorelei descended into a deep sleep but as she suspended consciousness, the images awaiting her eternally brought her back to a secret nightmare replete with fragmented memories of her youth.

Image by Pete Linforth from Pixabay

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Rev. Sheri Heller, LCSW

Written by

NYC Therapist & Author. Complex Trauma & Addiction. Dual citizen, traveler, lover of art and nature. I appreciate the absurd. Sheritherapist.com

Scary Horror Stuff

The Medium, uuh, “Medium” hub for all viral content from SCARYHORRORSTUFF.COM

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