Hills lizard

THE HILLS HAVE EYES… THE REMAKE. 2006. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Hills lizard

THE HILLS HAVE EYES- THE REMAKE. 2006. DIRECTED BY ALEXANDRE AJA. PRODUCED BY WES CRAVEN, MARIANNE MADDALENA AND PETER LOCKE. BASED ON WES CRAVEN’S ‘THE HILLS HAVE EYES.’ (1977) STARRING AARON STANFORD, KATHLEEN QUINLAN, VINESSA SHAW, EMILIE DE RAVIN, DAN BYRD, ROBERT JOY AND TED LEVINE. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Holy smoke, Batman! I thought I was such a big brave girl, watching the original version of THE HILLS HAVE EYES from 1977 and being relatively able to handle the violence and gore levels contained therein. As brilliant as the original film undoubtedly is, and a terrific example of iconic ‘Seventies horror to boot, the remake is so unbelievably violent that it actually makes the older movie look like an extended episode of LITTLE HOUSE ON THE PRAIRIE. Curious…? Read on if you dare…

This time around, they’ve stuck pretty faithfully to the plot of the first film. The Carter family are still rolling across the Nevada Desert with their trailer fixed to the back of their car, making for sunny California. They never get there, of course, at least not that we know of.

They’re deliberately mis-directed by a crazy old coot who has his own reasons for not wanting them to reach their destination. That being the case, they end up stranded on a deserted stretch of desert where only people who are lost like themselves ever go. They are attacked by a sickeningly violent and terrifying-looking band of mutants for whom this hidden part of the desert is home.

The remake takes the original plot a step- or several steps- further by showing us exactly how these freaks ended up so disfigured and deformed. After World War Two, the American government/army conducted a load of nuclear tests in that part of the desert. The horrific effects of their testing can be clearly seen on the faces of the cannibalistic mutants. As loathsome as they are, they surely didn’t ask to be born that way.

They live off the grid, as it were, in one of the army’s deserted ‘test’ villages. You know the ones with the mannequins and the exact replicas of the ‘Fifties houses with the ‘Fifties TV sets and suites of ‘Fifties furniture and everything? I don’t know about you, but those villages chill me to the bone. I don’t know what I’d do if I ever found myself alone in one. Not likely to happen but hey, you never know.

To my mind, this explanation for the mutants, alluded to only slightly in the first film, is the best thing the film-makers could have done. It’s a top-notch explanation, but not only that. It’s terrifically exciting as well. I was holding my breath at each new discovery and development, each more disgusting and stomach-turning than the last, as Doug Bukowski, Big Bob Carter’s son-in-law, makes his way around the test village searching for his baby daughter Katie. Baby Katie’s been kidnapped by the mutants so that they can eat her. They haven’t any food, you see, so they eat any travellers unfortunate enough to fall into their mis-shapen hands. Well, what else are they gonna do…?

Another new element added by the remake is the terribly eerie ‘graveyard’ for the cars and other vehicles that once belonged to the ‘lost folk,’ the unlucky travellers of whom we’ve just been speaking. Doug discovers this ‘graveyard’ lurking at the bottom of a huge crater left by the army’s bomb tests but he doesn’t have a clue what it is at first. The cars are just sitting there with all this stuff in them that once belonged to the dead people. Doug even takes a teddy bear out of one of the cars to bring back to Baby Katie…

Speaking of Doug, at the start of the film he’s a bit of an a**hole, rude to his father-in-law and disrespecting his wife. He’s a far cry from the nice cuddly Ringo Starr-lookalike Doug from the first film. When the chips are down, however, he becomes something of a hero as he battles Pluto, the worst and most fearsome of all the mutants, for the life of his little girl. Bobby and Brenda, too, initially seem to be inferior to the Bobby and Brenda in the first film but, when what happens happens, they win our respect by stepping smartly up to the plate and fighting for their lives with the best of them.

The special effects in this film are amazing. The mutants are so fearsome that some of them could pass for Orcs. Props to the make-up department for sure. Watch out for what has to be an homage to ‘Seventies horror film DON’T LOOK NOW in the form of Ruby darting about amongst the rocks in her bright red hoody.

Full marks as well to the test village, the vehicle ‘graveyard’ and also the mines, a little something that was added in the remake. This film is outstanding. Horror maestro Wes Craven, who sadly died this week of brain cancer, simply has to have been proud of it and happy with it.

Sometimes you really have to wonder why remakes are necessary at all, when the original films were perfect to begin with. THE WICKER MAN (1973) and Stephen King’s original CARRIE are possible cases in point. Most people would probably consider that these classic films didn’t need remaking.

In other cases, however, developments in technology and the relaxation of certain censorship laws could make a strong case for a remake actually improving on the original film. THE HILLS HAVE EYES is a perfect example. The original movie is an unforgettable classic. The remake is a bloody horror masterpiece. It’s as simple as that.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

1) ‘… BY A WOMAN WALKING HER DOG…’

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVQ2950

2) A WRITER’S JOURNEY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X4PABVG

3) ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K

4) ANOTHER FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VR8XE84

5) CANCER BALLS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X62THYY

6) CATCH OF THE DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVOFOE0

7) FIFTY FILTHY-DIRTY SEX-POEMS YOU MUST READ BEFORE I DIE.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OABATWO

8) FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OV9EKG6

9) THE DEVIANTS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PPM16YM

10) VISITING DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVPB75E

the hills have eyes 1977 pic

THE HILLS HAVE EYES. 1977. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

the hills have eyes 1977 pic

THE HILLS HAVE EYES. 1977. WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY WES CRAVEN. PRODUCED BY PETER LOCKE. STARRING SUSAN LANIER, ROBERT HOUSTON, MARTIN SPEER, DEE WALLACE, RUSS GRIEVE, JOHN STEADMAN, JAMES WHITWORTH, VIRGINIA VINCENT, LANCE GORDON, MICHAEL BERRYMAN, JANUS BLYTHE, CORDY CLARKE, BRENDA MARINOFF AND ARTHER KING. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Legendary US film director and screenwriter Wes Craven died of brain cancer this week. His most well-known successes include THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT, THE PEOPLE UNDER THE STAIRS, SCREAM and A NIGHTMARE ON ELM STREET. This last features Freddy Krueger, as recognisable a horror icon as impassive killer Michael Myers from the HALLOWEEN franchise and Jason Voorhees, the hockey mask-wearing villain-slash-Mummy’s Boy from the FRIDAY THE 13TH films.

THE HILLS HAVE EYES was the maestro’s second horror film. (THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT came first.) If you’re anything like me, that is to say, not yet jaded by or hardened to horror movie violence, it’s the kind of film you watch with your eyes bugging out of your head and your mouth hanging open with shock. Man, it’s hardcore, haha. Yes, of course there have been a plethora of more violent films in the years since but this film surely paved the way for at least a few of those.

It’s the story of the Carter family, a really nice all-American family taking the world’s most unsuccessful road trip across the Nevada desert sometime in the ‘Seventies. Daddy Carter is a lovely cuddly ex-cop, Mammy Carter a lovely dithery homemaker-type, and then there are their grown-up kids, their son-in-law and baby grand-daughter and their lethal canines, Beauty and The Beast. Bobby and Brenda are good-looking blonde twins. Their older sister Lynne is married to Doug, who reminded me an awful lot of Ringo Starr. Their adorable Baby Katie is their first rugrat.

The plot is uncomplicated enough. When the Carters have an accident en route to California and their car becomes unable to pull their Recreational Vehicle any further, they are attacked by the ugliest group of mutant cannibalistic savages/hillbillies/mountainy folk I’ve personally ever come across. ‘Ugly’ is probably too kind an epithet. ‘Fugly’ might be nearer to the mark.

The badly-scarred Papa Jupiter (they’re all named after planets, apparently) is the patriarch of this repulsive clan. His ‘marriage’ to a hideous fat crone has produced a passel of severely pulchritudinously-challenged offspring, a bunch of plug-ugly sons and a daughter who miraculously manages to retain a shred of normality. They live in the mountains and eat what they can kill, as far as I could make out. When the Carter family have the eternal misfortune to find themselves stranded on the cannibals’ turf, the Uglies naturally think that all their birthdays and Christmases have come together.

They have a little ‘fun’ with the terrified city folk, needless to say. I don’t want to spoil the film for anyone who hasn’t seen it but it’s presumably safe to say that utter mayhem ensues when the two families collide. There’s killing, rape, disembowelling and baby-napping going on to beat the band, but I’m not saying to whom or by whom. Well, you can probably work out who gets baby-napped, but my lips are sealed as regards the rest of it. The lucky ones do die first, though…

The pace never flags and the horror intensifies with each passing scene, some of which are accompanied by jaw-droppingly gorgeous sunsets or night skies.

I doubt if I’m the only person who plans to indulge in a Wes Craven-fest at the first possible opportunity. I intend to includes remakes and sequels too, because even though the horror maestro wasn’t hands-on involved with all of them, his name has become synonymous with the different franchises and horror icons he created.

In any case, he painstakingly oversaw remakes of some of his films and apparently went to endless trouble searching for the right directors and writers to breathe new life into THE LAST HOUSE ON THE LEFT and THE HILLS HAVE EYES. These remakes appeared in 2009 and 2006 respectively.

Goodbye, Wes Craven, and God bless. The horror genre won’t be the same without you. I hope your well-earned sleep is sweet and your dreams forever Freddy-free…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

1) ‘… BY A WOMAN WALKING HER DOG…’

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVQ2950

2) A WRITER’S JOURNEY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X4PABVG

3) ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K

4) ANOTHER FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VR8XE84

5) CANCER BALLS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X62THYY

6) CATCH OF THE DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVOFOE0

7) FIFTY FILTHY-DIRTY SEX-POEMS YOU MUST READ BEFORE I DIE.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OABATWO

8) FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OV9EKG6

9) THE DEVIANTS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PPM16YM

10) VISITING DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVPB75E

funny sex 6

FREE SEX-POEMS FROM MONDAY 31ST AUGUST TO FRIDAY 4TH SEPTEMBER!!!

funny sex 6

FREE SEX-POEMS! GET YOUR FREE SEX-POEMS HERE! FREE BOOK OF SEX-POEMS TOTALLY FREE FROM MONDAY 31ST AUGUST TO FRIDAY 4TH SEPTEMBER! GO ON, THEY’RE COMPLETELY FREE!!!

A collection of short, rude funny sex-poems. No stone left unturned in this hilariously bitchy and wickedly honest look at sex today. No, that’s it, nothing else. Just sex. Well, maybe a few bizarre fetishes, but that’s still just sex, isn’t it…? We’ll go with sex. Let’s just say sex. This book is about sex. It’s a sex-book…!

FIFTY FILTHY-DIRTY SEX-POEMS YOU MUST READ BEFORE I DIE: ADULT POETRY BY DUBLIN WRITER SANDRA HARRIS.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OABATWO

psycho shower

PSYCHO. 1960. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

psycho shower

PSYCHO. 1960. DIRECTED BY ALFRED HITCHCOCK. BASED ON THE BOOK BY ROBERT BLOCH. MUSIC BY BERNARD HERRMANN. STARRING ANTHONY PERKINS, JANET LEIGH, VERA MILES, JOHN GAVIN AND MARTIN BALSAM. REVIEW BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Most people are pretty clear about what their own favourite Hitchcock films are. Ask any Alfred Hitchcock fan for their Top Five favourite films and they’ll rattle ’em off for you at the drop of a hat. My personal faves would be ROPE, PSYCHO, FRENZY, VERTIGO and REAR WINDOW. I sometimes change the order but the films remain the same.

I’ve only ever watched PSYCHO twice in my life. The first time I saw it, I was a greenhorn school-leaver, crazy about films but afraid of my own shadow. After a tough week of studying for exams, I’d stay up till all hours on Friday nights to watch the late film. One Friday night, it was PSYCHO, a film loosely based on the crimes of real-life Wisconsin murderer and grave-robber, Ed Gein.

It was simultaneously the best but also the most frightening movie I’d ever seen in my life. When the climax came, I literally ran from the TV room up to my bedroom, where I crawled under the covers and lay awake and shivering for the rest of the night. I was too afraid to stay for the film’s dénoument and the bit where they explain things and wrap everything up.

Years later, I read the superb novel on which the film is based. It filled in any gaps that were remaining, plus it had an advantage over the film in that I could always put it away for a bit if I got scared reading it. I own two copies of the book now. The covers are amazing. One has a bloody hand on it with the fingers splayed out against the glass of a shower stall. The other features the lovely Janet Leigh in a pointy ‘Fifties-style brassiére and an underslip. I think I like that one best.

Although I frequently wanted to, I could never bring myself to watch the film again until recently, but I’ve probably thought about it every day since. That’s one hell of an impact for a film to have. I think that the Great Director (the greatest who ever lived) would be pleased to hear that.

The film is shot in black-and-white and has a fantastic, instantly recognisable score and a few much-parodied scenes. In THE SIMPSONS, for example, Baby Maggie hits Homer over the head in a spoof of the famous shower scene to the accompaniment of the PSYCHO theme music, and remember when Sideshow Bob is writing one of his I’m Coming To Kill You letters to Bart Simpson? His surroundings are modelled on the creepy office at the Bates Motel. And, of course, the relationship between Principal Seymour Skinner and his domineering (s)mother Agnes is hilariously based on that between Norman Bates and his bossy-boots Mumsie.

The Bates Motel, which has itself become synonymous with any spooky, evil-looking, out-of-the-way establishment, is the setting for what many consider to be Hitchcock’s horror masterpiece. It’s run by social misfit Norman Bates, who lives there alone with his bad-tempered and controlling invalid mother. He has no life outside of The Two M’s (Motel and Mother), and he has one or two rather curious habits, which you’ll see for yourself when you watch the movie.

Poor Marion Crane, a pretty blonde secretary from Phoenix, Arizona played by Janet Leigh, finds herself overnighting at the Bates Motel in Fairvale after she does an ill-advised runner with forty thousand dollars belonging to a wealthy client of her boss’s. It proves to be the worst- and pretty much the last- decision she ever makes. You see, sometimes people who check into the Bates Motel don’t ever leave it, and I’ll tell you this for nothing. It’s not because of the fluffy towels, the comfy, louse-free pillows and the superior quality of the mattresses…

Marion’s disappearance brings a steady stream of unwanted traffic through the doors of Norman’s motel. Marion’s sister Lila is desperate to find her missing sibling. She involves Marion’s boyfriend, a local hardware store owner called Sam Loomis. A private investigator called Milton Arbogast (what a brilliant name!), hired by Marion’s boss, is also as keen as mustard to track down the missing woman. Who can tell them what-the-diddly-doodly has happened to poor misguided Marion Crane? Can Norman Bates? Can his housebound elderly mother…? You’ll see, dear readers, you’ll see…

Anthony Perkins is fantastic as messed-up psychopath Norman Bates. Janet Leigh and her equally famous horror actress daughter Jamie Lee Curtis are so alike that I actually shed a few tears watching the lovely Ms. Leigh do a superb job of acting in her biggest ever role. Audiences at the time of the film’s release were shocked that Hitchcock killed off his leading lady before the film was even half over, but that’s Hitchcock for you. He liked to shock and he normally got the result he was after.

He urged the cinema audiences of the day not to spoil the film for other viewers by revealing the film’s gruesome secrets to them, that’s how big a deal PSYCHO was in its day. I hope I’m not giving away too much by telling you that Janet Leigh eschewed showers forever after acting in the film. I can’t say I blame her.

The iconic outline of the Bates Motel against a dark December sky is one that tends to be never forgotten, once you’ve seen it. The interiors of the Bates home, too, are so starkly effective that I’ve remembered them my whole life. In addition to the shower scene and any shot with the stairs in it (Hitchcock gives good stairs!), I have just two more words for you, dear readers. Fruit cellar…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

1) ‘… BY A WOMAN WALKING HER DOG…’

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVQ2950

2) A WRITER’S JOURNEY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X4PABVG

3) ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K

4) ANOTHER FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00VR8XE84

5) CANCER BALLS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00X62THYY

6) CATCH OF THE DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVOFOE0

7) FIFTY FILTHY-DIRTY SEX-POEMS YOU MUST READ BEFORE I DIE.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OABATWO

8) FIFTY REALLY RANDOM HORROR FILM REVIEWS TO DIE FOR…

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00OV9EKG6

9) THE DEVIANTS

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00PPM16YM

10) VISITING DAY

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00WVPB75E

dracula has risen from the grave

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 37. BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

dracula has risen from the grave

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 37. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Up in the bedchamber shared by Count Dracula and Countess Anna, an interesting scene was unfolding. Count Dracula was seated in a comfortable armchair near the bed. He looked relaxed and at ease. One elegant, black-booted foot was crossed casually over one black-clad knee. His favourite whip, the one he routinely used to chastise Anna, dangled loosely between his long, capable fingers. A smile played about the corners of his fine-cut lips. He looked like a man supremely pleased by the turn of events, as indeed he was.

On the floor a few feet away from him knelt Anna his pregnant bride and Valeria, the most loyal and faithful of all his handmaidens. They were naked. Tears of pain streamed down their faces as they crouched together, holding hands tightly and exchanging glances of fear tinged with mounting excitement. Their nipples were stiff and their bare breasts heaving with their rampant emotions. Anna’s pregnant belly had never looked bigger or rounder. The sight of their nakedness and abject submissiveness pleased the Count enormously.

Their nude bodies bore the marks of the Count’s lethal whip from their shoulders to their knees. He had been especially assiduous when punishing their naughty bare buttocks. While they’d knelt up on the bed side by side, holding hands with their bottoms obediently upraised, he had whipped these bottoms soundly until he had drawn blood. Neither woman would be sitting comfortably for quite some time to come.

They had sobbed and struggled and begged and pleaded during their joint punishment, but neither Anna nor Valeria would have missed the occasion for the world. The Count’s punishments were terrible indeed, but they were also an honour and a privilege and as sexually exciting as anything a woman, living or Un-Dead, would ever experience again in her life.

“I’m bored,” declared the Count suddenly with a huge theatrical yawn. “Amuse me, sluts. I need distraction. Now!” he added sharply. Both women jumped and clutched at each other. Tentatively, her dark eyes cast submissively down, Valeria said:

“Please, Master, how may we entertain you?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” replied the Count slyly, toying with the whip he held in his hands. “Why don’t you both climb up onto the bed and do that thing that you do together every time my back is turned…?” The two women looked at each other fearfully.

“What… What thing do you mean, Master?” Anna said timidly.

“Don’t play the innocent with me,” said Dracula, his magnetic eyes raking over their naked bodies, making them feel somehow more nude than they actually were. “I know what you two get up to together every time I am unavoidably absent. Now, get up on that bed and get started, the pair of you, or so help me I’ll take this whip and flay the skin completely from your miserable bodies! And you won’t enjoy it this time, I can promise you that,” he added darkly.

Too afraid to test his patience further, the two women climbed up onto the big four-poster bed with the heavy bronze curtains, Valeria assisting her pregnant mistress. Nervously, they lay down against the pillows and began to kiss each other on the mouth and fondle each other’s breasts, sorely punished buttocks and rapidly dampening privates.

As their excitement and pleasure in each other’s bodies mounted, the two women quickly forgot that they were not alone and were, in fact, under the strictest surveillance. Under Dracula’s smugly satisfied gaze, they fingered and licked each other’s feminine parts to an earth-shattering climax. Afterwards, they collapsed back against the pillows, sobbing with release. When they opened their eyes again, Dracula was standing over them, stark naked and holding his fully erect male member in both hands.

“That was undoubtedly a delightful appetiser, my dear ladies,” he mocked, “but I think that now it is time for something a little more filling.” He climbed onto the bed and lay down between the two nude women, who received him rapturously and with a satisfying degree of gratitude.

Outside the door, Dracula’s chief handmaiden Gloria listened to the sounds of their rowdy love-making with mounting fury. She hated Valeria every bit as much as she hated Anna. Those two women were the Master’s pets while she, Gloria, was left out in the cold time after time. She would give anything, do anything, to supplant that pair of evil whore-bitches in the Master’s affections.

Shaking with hatred, she remembered that she was supposed to be thinking of a way to get rid of the Count’s new plaything, the newly vampirised Lady Victoria Strauss, late of Camden House in London. The Count was keeping Victoria and her maid Melanie, who was still living as a human female, in a locked part of the castle. Sooner or later, Melanie would join the ranks of the Un-Dead and Gloria would have yet another competitor to contend with.

If only there was a way to kill all the hated birds with one stone and become the Master’s bride and Countess once and for all. Seething with rage, Gloria vowed to find a way. If it killed her…

TO BE CONTINUED HERE SOON…

This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

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ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA: AN EROTIC HORROR NOVELLA.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K

chris pic

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 36. BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

chris pic

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 36. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

“I’ve missed you so much,” Anna breathed as Dracula pulled her midnight-blue velvet gown over her head, ruffling her long hair and leaving her fully naked. She returned his kisses with a feverish intensity that made the Count quirk an eyebrow in sardonic amusement.

“My little Anna is hungry for love,” he observed as he manoeuvred her so that she was leaning forward over the moss-covered stone chair with her hands resting flat on the arms. He positioned himself swiftly behind her and within seconds had inserted his stiff male member deep inside her. Anna made low animal noises as the Count repeatedly pulled his member almost all the way out of her and then slammed it back into her again with such force that she would certainly have lost her grip on the chair had the Count not been holding her.

“I love you, Master, fill me with your seed, I beg of you!” she cried, her long hair falling forward over her face and her huge, pregnancy-swollen breasts almost grazing the seat of the stone chair as the Count serviced her savagely from behind. His hands groped her teats and big round buttocks, making her squirm and moan with a wild pleasure. How she missed him, how she missed this, when he was away from her!

Bats circled lazily overhead as Anna and her Count coupled urgently, an owl hooted somewhere in the grounds of Birney Castle and the moon disappeared behind a cloud, leaving the tangled, overgrown garden and the old castle itself in temporary darkness.

“Your wish is my command, Countess,” grunted Dracula before emptying himself into her with a triumphant shout. Afterwards, he undressed and they both lay together on the grass, holding and stroking and exploring each other and murmuring words of tenderness and endearment in each other’s ears. “I should absent myself more frequently,” remarked the Count with a short laugh, “if this is the reception I receive.”

“No, you must not absent yourself more frequently!” Anna replied fiercely, clinging to his naked body all the tighter. “I miss you so much when you are gone. I cannot be without you! Ever!”

“Do I not order Valeria to see to your nightly whipping when I am obliged to absent myself?” the Count said, quirking his eyebrow in amusement once more.

“No-one beats me as hard as you do,” Anna whispered shyly, lowering her eyes.

“It bodes well for you that you enjoy that,” said Dracula, pulling her more closely against his bare, sweat-soaked chest, “for I fear that you are in dire need of the strictest discipline this night for leaving the castle unescorted, against my continued express wishes. You and your handmaiden both,” he added, “who even now is watching us anxiously from an upstairs window. Valeria is as responsible as you, if not more so. I left my pregnant bride in her tender loving care, after all.”

“Please don’t punish Valeria,” pleaded Anna. “It was all my fault. I just wanted to wander about the gardens in the cool night air for a little while. I swore to Valeria that I would take full responsibility and that she would not incur your wrath for my disobedience. If you must punish someone, then punish me, please!”

She stroked his strong, determined jaw, on which a dark growth of prickly stubble was already making its presence felt. The Count, who was immaculate in his personal habits, shaved each evening upon waking but such was the force of his masculinity that he was stubbly again within the hour. Anna loved the feel of those prickles against the soft bare skin of her breasts and belly when he kissed and caressed her there. She loved the way they stung and burned her skin. Now, Dracula made a show of himself stroking the prickly skin of his chin and said sardonically:

“What an excellent idea, my dear Countess. What an utterly splendid idea, in fact. I believe that I shall punish you most severely for deliberately disobeying my explicit instructions. But Valeria will join you in your suffering, Anna,” he added darkly. “Make no mistake about that.”

He leaped to his feet athletically and dressed himself, while Anna lay on the grass at his feet and watched him with her huge, china-blue eyes that were wide with excitement but also trepidation. Then he pulled Anna to her feet by her hair and, picking her up as if she weighed no more than a rag-doll, began to stride towards the castle with a naked, squirming Anna in his arms.

“My dress-” began Anna, looking over his shoulder to where her midnight-blue velvet gown lay discarded on the grass.

“You won’t be needing it,” replied the Count, ignoring her protests and raising one booted foot to kick open the small side-door to the castle that led directly upstairs to the bedchambers. “Not for what I have in mind…”

TO BE CONTINUED HERE SOON…

This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA: AN EROTIC HORROR NOVELLA.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K

drac grey hair

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF COUNT DRACULA. (FORMERLY ‘ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA.’) BOOK 2- PART 35. BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

drac grey hair

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BOOK 2- PART 35. AN EROTIC HORROR STORY BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

The full moon came out from behind a cloud, illuminating the rundown Birney Castle and its tangled, wildly overgrown grounds. Anna prowled the deserted gardens while Valeria watched her anxiously from an upstairs window. The heavily pregnant Countess Anna was not supposed to leave the castle unsupervised under any circumstances, on the strict orders of the Count himself, but tonight Anna was restless, unwilling to remain cooped up in her bedchamber while outside the moon was full and the night alive with possibilities.

“I shall go mad, Valeria,” she had earlier declared to her handmaiden, as the latter had been serving her with her nightly goblet of fresh drinking blood. “If I have to stay walled up inside this… this mausoleum a second longer, I shall lose my mind and go stark raving mad. I know I shall! Do not fret,” Anna had added placatingly on seeing Valeria’s worried countenance. “I only wish to take a short stroll around the garden so that I may breathe in some fresh night air. I shan’t leave the grounds. In any case Igor, our Master’s watchdog, is on guard in the gatehouse to see that such a thing would be impossible.”

“But the Count has expressly given orders!” Valeria had cried. “If he finds out that I have neglected once more to carry out his orders, his wrath will certainly know no bounds.”

“I will take full responsibility,” soothed Anna as she’d slipped past Valeria to her bedchamber door. “In any case,” she’d tossed back over her shoulder as she hurried down the stone stairs as fast as her great bulk would allow her, “the Count is not due back from his business trip till tomorrow.” Valeria in turn rushed to the window so that she could at least keep her mistress under surveillance, even if it was only from a distance.

Now, Anna wandered restlessly around the gardens. Everywhere seemed to be a riot of thorns and tangles and gnarled old trees and thick, heavy undergrowth. It was a wilderness of a garden, as unkempt and unloved as the dilapidated castle to which it belonged.

But Anna loved it, for now at least. Being here on her own in the grounds of Birney Castle at midnight was the nearest she had come to freedom since the Count had discovered that she was going to have his child. Since then, he had ensured that she was never alone, not even for a minute. Valeria and the nude handmaidens kept her constantly within sight of their watchful eyes. For now, however, even if it were just for a short time, she was alone and enjoying the cool, invigorating night air.

She seated herself, not without some difficulty due to her size, on an old stone seat partially covered with moss. Careless of her dress, a low-cut gown of midnight-blue velvet, she leaned back against the seat and closed her eyes. It was so beautiful here, she thought, so silent and peaceful. It might help to dissipate some of the restlessness she felt if she were to sit here quietly for a while. A light breeze stirred her long, loose blonde hair and she put up a hand to brush it back from her face.

When a long, low growl suddenly shattered the peace of Anna’s midnight garden, her eyes shot open and she sat up straight, her senses on full alert. A wolf was standing under a tree a mere three or four feet away from her. Anna’s eyes widened at the sight of him. He was the biggest wolf she’d ever seen in her life before. He was a magnificent beast. His coat was sleek and glossy, crackling with health and vitality, and his tail was thick and full. Even from here, she could see the way his eyes glittered. Was it menace they held, or was it something else…?

Anna held her breath as he padded towards her, his huge paws making no sound on the grass. He stopped when he reached the stone seat on which she was seated. While Anna sat rooted to the spot, the enormous wolf jumped up suddenly and rested his front paws heavily on the arm of her chair, effectively trapping her between his massive, powerful limbs. His mouth, filled with ferocious-looking white fangs, was only inches from hers and she could feel his hot breath on her face.

She looked into his eyes, thinking at once how familiar they were, how black and magnetic and compelling! Where had she seen them before? As if under a spell, Anna leaned forward and kissed the wolf fully on the mouth. She slipped her tongue between his lips and closed her eyes in bliss, her breasts heaving in her dark-blue velvet gown, as the wolf kissed her back masterfully.

She stroked his luxuriant fur, revelling in the feel and texture of it, and held his face between her two hands, the better to keep him close to her. She felt no fear, only pleasure, as they kissed and kissed and kissed again. When at last their lips drew apart from each other and a trembling Anna opened her eyes, the wolf was gone. In his place was Count Dracula.

“Well, well, well, my dearest Countess,” he said softly, his eyes gleaming with a possessive lust which sent the most delicious shivers of anticipation up and down Anna’s spine. “This is an unexpected pleasure indeed. A most unexpected pleasure…”

TO BE CONTINUED HERE SOON…

This story is a work of fiction and comes (almost!) entirely from the imagination of Sandra Harris. Any resemblance to any persons living or un-dead is purely coincidental.

This story is copyrighted material and any reproduction without prior permission is illegal. Sandra Harris reserves the right to be identified as the author of this story.

Sandra Harris. ©

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based performance poet, novelist, film blogger, sex blogger and short story writer. She has given more than 200 performances of her comedy sex-and-relationship poems in different venues around Dublin, including The Irish Writers’ Centre, The International Bar, Toners’ Pub (Ireland’s Most Literary Pub), the Ha’penny Inn, Le Dernier Paradis at the Trinity Inn and The Strokestown Poetry Festival.

Her articles, short stories and poems have appeared in The Metro-Herald newspaper, Ireland’s Big Issues magazine, The Irish Daily Star, The Irish Daily Sun and The Boyne Berries literary journal. In August 2014, she won the ONE LOVELY BLOG award for her (lovely!) horror film review blog. She is addicted to buying books and has been known to bring home rain-washed tomes she finds on the street and give them a home.

She is the proud possessor of a pair of unfeasibly large bosoms. They have given her- and the people around her- infinite pleasure over the years. She adores the horror genre in all its forms and will swap you anything you like for Hammer Horror or JAWS memorabilia. She would also be a great person to chat to about the differences between the Director’s Cut and the Theatrical Cut of The Wicker Man. You can contact her at:

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

ANNA MEETS COUNT DRACULA: AN EROTIC HORROR NOVELLA.

http://www.amazon.com/dp/B00SAUGZ6K