Bloody Mary

 (MF/Supernatural) 

Feeling foolish, he gazed into the mirror, seeing the red flush of his cheeks reflected back to him.  'It's' just an old myth, not real, nothings going to happen.'  He told himself as he stood there staring at his own reflection.  Shaking his head, he composed himself and straightened up, sucking in his belly and throwing out his chest in a show of macho bravery.  Taking a couple deep breaths, he locked eyes with his mirror image and slowly chanted, "Bloody Mary" thirteen times, slowly and deliberately.  His face seemed to waver a bit in the mirror as the candle flickered but nothing had happened.  No bloody, vengeful ghost made an appearance.  As a matter of fact, nothing happened other than him standing there staring into his reflection, feeling like a complete idiot for half believing some old hocus pocus superstition.  Shaking his head, he lowered his gaze from the reflection and leaned back against the wall, folding his arms across his chest.  Grinning, he sheepishly chuckled at the thought that before he did this he was actually a bit scared that it was going to work.

The whole thing had come about as a college assignment, a paper on ghost stories and odd superstitions.  Of all the papers he'd had to write this one was the most fun.  It was entertaining to research where this stuff came from and to find that people actually believed in some of it.  Asking around a bit, he heard a lot of old ghost stories and other oddball urban legends.  One was about the mirror ghost and the evil things she could do if summoned.  While a lot his findings were things he'd heard of before, this one was new so he set out to see if he could trace its origins and what phenomena it was related to.  Digging around he was enthralled to find that the legend was vast and the mirror ghost was attributed to many origins.  Because of all the people she had executed during her reign, Mary the first of England had earned the nickname 'Bloody Mary'.  Another person it was attributed to was Mary, Queen of Scots, however no one was sure why this was because she had never been known to have participated in any murders.  One part of the legend, bathing in young virgins' blood to stay young, would reasonably have been attributed to the Countess Elizabeth Bathory but the mirror apparition was always called Mary, so that ruled her out. 

The more he read of this ritual, the more he became curious about whether it could work.  He had read many accounts of people trying it but the results were split down the middle as to whether it had worked or not.  Knowing what he did about these types of legends he knew not to take the accounts that said it worked too seriously.  They had been told and retold so many times that the facts of what really occurred were lost to the ages, so tonight, after a few drinks, he decided to give it a go and see what would happen.  The test would make a good final chapter to his paper.  As he darkened the room and lit the candle, he was actually shaking a little, afraid that it WOULD work and that something hideous and dangerous would show in the mirror.  His stomach was knotted and his pulse raced as he prepared himself for the trial.

Standing there afterward, he shook his head and grinned sheepishly.  Just as he had expected, nothing had happened, no monster in the mirror.  After about ten minutes, he blew out the candle and prepared to go have another drink and lounge in front of the TV for the rest of the night.  As he was about to leave the bathroom he glanced at the mirror and stopped cold.  Stepping closer, he leaned on the vanity and stared into the reflective surface, mouth agape.  Instead of his own reflection in front of the dark bedroom, he saw the face of a beautiful woman.  Smiling softly, she winked at him.  Her hair was long and slightly curly, a beautiful shade of red, her eyes were a deep green that seemed to sparkle even in the low light.  So white was her skin that it was almost luminescent in the darkened surface.

Backing up a few steps, he rubbed his eyes, not believing what he was seeing, but as he watched, she slowly stepped out of the mirror and seemed to glide to the floor.  Standing less than a foot from him, her eyes locked with his and her smile seemed to get a bit bigger.  While she had a human form and features, her body seemed washed out and faded, like an aged watercolor painting.  Without saying anything, she reached out and took his hand.  Her touch was cold and didn't feel like flesh, more like what you felt during a thick fog, cool, eerie, and clammy.  Gripping his hand firmly, she stepped closer to him.  She had to be 6' tall because she looked him straight in the eyes and spoke for the first time.  "You summoned me from the realm beyond young sire."  Like her body, there was something odd about her voice; it was thin and wispy, with a dampened tone to it, as if they were talking in a padded room where echoes were absorbed.

All saliva seemed to have dried up and his tongue was glued to the roof of his mouth.  He couldn't say anything; however, his heart was hammering so hard that he was sure she could hear the pounding and it would burst through his chest any minute.  Over and over, his mind screamed that this couldn't be happening; it had to be a hallucination brought on by the drinks or the excitement. 

Still smiling, she leaned forward and brushed her lips against his in a light kiss, making his skin prickle.  Like her touch, there was something oddly ethereal about the kiss but that didn't seem to matter because when her lips touched his, his cock sprang to life, instantly erect and pressing hard against the fly of his jeans.

Continuing to stare into his eyes, she took one step back and looked him over.  Still, that small smile stayed in place, but her eyes had lit up, sparkling brightly, and acquiring a soft glow.  Tugging, lightly, on his hand, she led him into the bedroom.  When they got to his bed, she pressed tightly to his body, her hands stroking softly up and down his chest and in a breathy, whisper she said, "Sire, it has been so long since I hath known the pleasure of the flesh.  I miss it so!  Would you, kind sire, please allow me that pleasure once more?"  The accent she spoke with was easy to place, British.  Not the well known cockney accent but the accent of someone who was born into the upper class and had lessons that polished the diction.  It snared him like a silken net, pulling him in whether he wanted it or not.  But, he did want it!  Badly!  For some unknown reason an irresistible lust raced through him like an out of control wildfire, searing his insides and making his cock throb insistently.  While his brain kept screaming, "NO", that something was terribly wrong with the whole situation, another part of him said what the hell, let's do it, it's all a dream anyway.  Locking his eyes with hers, he uttered a soft, lustful, "Yes Mary, yes!" then kissed her passionately, wrapping his arms around her thin waist. The illusion strengthened, her body becoming more solid, more real, warmer.

When he broke off the kiss, she turned and leaned over the bed, presenting herself to him.  Hiking up all the clothing she wore, the stays, petticoats, underclothing, etc. she revealed a firm, softly rounded ass clad in old-fashioned pantaloons.  He hooked his thumbs in the waist and eased them down, revealing the pure, perfect whiteness of her backside.  Kneeling behind her, he parted her red trimmed pussy lips with two fingers and gently ran his tongue up and down their delicate, velvety interior.  He could feel and taste her wetness on his tongue, that unmistakable flavor of a female in heat.  He closed his eyes.  Heaven, pure heaven he thought.  With a skill born of practice, his tongue started to tease her clit, rubbing and twirling around it softly, making goose flesh break out over her thighs and the rest of her body quiver as if she had a chill.  With a practiced touch, he brought her to the brink only to stop and let her cool down.  Repeatedly he did this until she was moaning and panting, her whole body writhing in front of him.

That is when he stood up and dropped his pants, allowing his throbbing dick its freedom.  With one hand on her hip he held onto her while he gripped his cock with the other and  and guided it to her flowered open pussy lips.  He rubbed it up and down to coat it in her wetness, then leaning over her back, the hand that was on her hip sliding under her stomach, he gently but firmly pushed himself into her.  No woman he had ever been with felt like this.  Although there was a tight, hot, wetness to her pussy; it felt more like a gauzy piece of warm silk fabric than flesh.  Nevertheless, it felt so good, so good!  Slowly, he stroked in and out, his hand trailing down to play with her clit while the other pulled her to him.  Slowly yet firmly, he pumped himself deeper and deeper, his cock throbbing inside her. 

Under him, she clutched the comforter with her long fingers, whimpering softly, eyes shut.  Her hips thrust firmly back onto him, wiggling around a bit at full penetration.  Grunting, he leaned over and kissed up and down the exposed parts of her alabaster neck, thrusting rougher into her.  As her walls clutched his twitching and throbbing flesh, he could feel them spasming around it as if they were trying to pull him in farther and hold him there.  With a triumphant shout, he thrust all the way into her and erupted, filling her with his hot seed.  Even in his ecstasy, he never let his finger stop its work on her clit, rubbing and teasing it until she cried out in her orgasm, her walls clutching hard on his cock then milking it madly for what seemed like hours.

She let him hold and kiss her a bit in the afterglow but soon ended it.  Standing up, she straightened her clothes then smiled at him and without a word, turned and walked to the bathroom her body gradually loosing some of its definition as she moved away.  Before stepping back through the mirror to the realm she'd come from, she blew him a kiss and whispered, "Thank you kind sire."  Then she was gone, leaving nothing in the mirror but the reflection of his bedroom.  Groaning, he flopped onto the bed on his back and shut his eyes, a small smile on his face as the air cooled his shrinking cock.  Well, he thought that legend WAS true but some of the details were off, way off!  Chuckling a bit, he knew he could never put this into his paper, no one would believe him!