FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BY SANDRA HARRIS. BOOK 3- PARTS 12 AND 13.

christopher lee and veronica carlson

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA.

A NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

BOOK 3- CHAPTER 12.

While Sir Blaise noisily pleasured his cousins Abigail and Athena in his luxurious bedchamber in Richmond House, he was unaware that, two floors above him, his mother lay in bed with his own personal valet, John Harker.

Lady Grace Carfax, a mere fifty-two years old and, in any case, in excellent shape for a woman of her age, enjoyed the services of her son’s handsome thirty-five-year-old valet on a regular basis. His male organ so far exceeded her late husband’s in length and girth as to make almost a mockery of her dear departed Bernard’s sexual accoutrements.

Now, after a vigorous session of love-making that had been preceded by the usual thrashing of her bare buttocks with the thick leather strap she kept hidden in a drawer, Lady Grace lay wantonly naked in John Harker’s strong arms. She felt sated and alive, truly alive in a way she had never known in the entire duration of her marriage to Sir Bernard.

‘Have you been thinking about what we discussed?’ John said now as he idly fondled her breasts. Lady Grace yawned and stretched in a wholly relaxed and pleasurable way.

‘What was that again?’

John did his best to hide his annoyance as he said lightly:

‘You know, you and me getting married, like we talked about.’

Lady Grace looked uncomfortable. She laughed somewhat awkwardly and replied:

‘John, dearest John, light of my life. You know it’s impossible. I am a member of the aristocracy. I have been to Court and have been most graciously received by our dear Queen. How could I possibly marry my son’s valet? How would it look to people? And how could I ever tell my son? He’s the man of the house now since Bernard passed. Besides,’ she added, a shade too brightly, ‘aren’t we fine as we are? Why change something that works so well for us?’

‘So you’re ashamed of me then,’ John said, removing his hand from her breast.

‘Not at all,’ Lady Grace hastened to reassure him. Replacing his hand on her soft white breast, she went on with a tremendous sigh:

‘Why, if it were not for the conventions, I would marry you tomorrow. You know that I love you. Please don’t be difficult, John darling.’

John considered his words carefully. A lot was riding on what he said next.

‘If we were married, I could thrash your backside soundly every night for you without us having to be so secretive about it. I could sleep here in this bed with you every night and no-one could stop us. And I could take charge of your finances for you too,’ he added as casually as he could. ‘Your pretty little head shouldn’t have to be bothered with such tiresome mens’ business as monies. I could take all of that burden off your hands for you.’

Grace was silent as she considered his words. It was true that she’d gotten into the most dreadful muddle over money since Bernard had passed away nearly two years ago now. She was so sick and tired of managing things on her own that she was quite literally on the verge of handing sole control of all her considerable finances over to her son Blaise.

‘A pretty young girl like you shouldn’t have to worry about money and the running of a big household like this one,’ said John slyly, allowing his hand to lightly trail along Grace’s belly down to her hairy mound. ‘Let me take care of you. Let me care for you always, and discipline you too when you need it. Naughty pretty young girls like you need to be disciplined every day, lest they be tempted to disobey.’

‘Will you punish me now, John dearest? I’ve been ever so naughty,’ lisped Grace in a little girl voice. ‘I need to be punished so very badly.’

‘Well now, I don’t know,’ said John, deliberately coolly, turning away from her. ‘If you don’t love me enough to marry me, then I don’t know if we can have any kind of a future together.’

Grace hesitated, then made up her mind. Social niceties and conventions be damned! She needed her place in society, it was true, but she needed John’s lovemaking and the strap across her bare bottom more, much much more.

‘I’ll do it, John,’ she said excitedly. ‘I mean, we’ll do it. You and me. We’ll get married. Only spank me now, please! I’ll do anything you want, only please spank me now. Spank me hard!’

‘Turn over onto your belly then,’ John ordered sternly.

Trembling, Grace obeyed. The thunderous spanking he gave her then, on top of her already beaten backside, was all the convincing she needed that she could not live without John Harker in her life.

Afterwards, she gave him a pair of emerald earrings the late Sir Bernard had given her as a reward for his services. A little token of her appreciation, as she put it, pressing the earrings into his hands with a light, deprecating little laugh.

She knew he would sell them for hard cash but what did it matter? There were plenty more useless trickets and gee-gaws where the earrings had come from. She no longer cared for the jewellery and dresses her late husband had lavished upon her.

The only thing that mattered now was keeping John in her life. If marriage and a few trinkets was the price he demanded, well then, so be it. It was too late to go back on her word. The die was cast.

After the spanking, she slept soundly in his arms.

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA.

A NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

BOOK 3- CHAPTER 13.

The gypsy girl had whipped the crowd into a trance during her frenzied dance. As her long black curls bounced and her green eyes flashed and her skirts swished and twirled about her bare legs, they could not take their own eyes off her for an instant.

She was beautiful, surely the most beautiful, bewitching and fascinating creature that had ever graced the Heath. While she danced to the music of the fiddler, a pair of dwarves, also from the circus, deftly and ably pickpocketed the unsuspecting crowd. There were rich people watching the dance too, proper toffs, not just the ever-swelling ranks of London’s underprivileged.

John Harker was in the crowd. When the dance to some haunting foreign air drew to a close and the gypsy girl bowed and curtsied and preened before the applauding people, John elbowed his way through the crowd till he was by her side. He grabbed her arm and half-pushed, half-dragged her up the steps of the nearby caravan and shoved her roughly inside.

Once inside, she turned to face him angrily with her green eyes flashing fire. She slapped him hard across the face. For a moment, his fists twitched by his sides, then he grabbed her and kissed her roughly on her mouth.

He lifted her up bodily then and threw her down on the caravan’s one bed. He lowered himself down onto her and hiked up her brightly-patterned skirt. Tearing off her flimsy undergarments, heedless to her protests that they were ‘nearly new,’ he thrust his engorged maleness into her soft pink lady-parts, which nestled snugly between her thighs in a riot of thick black curly hair.

Afterwards, they lay together in a tangle of sweat-soaked sheets and naked limbs. John smoked a cigarette and the gypsy woman known as Maggie Carandini said:

‘So, what have you got for me today then, lover?’

John Harker, trusted valet to Sir Blaise Carfax of Richmond House and secret lover to Sir Blaise’s mother, Lady Grace Carfax, stubbed out his cigarette in the ashtray beside the bed. Leaning across Maggie’s naked form, he fumbled about in the pockets of his coat until he found the earrings. He handed them to her with a grin.

‘How about these little beauties then?’ he said placidly. ‘They match your eyes,’ he added.

‘Real emeralds,’ Maggie said, her eyes huge. ‘I ain’t never seen real emeralds before.’

John winced at the harshness of her Cockney accent. He was inordinately proud of the fact that he’d managed to remove almost every trace of the slums in which he’d grown up from his own accent. Maggie came from Whitechapel, though it suited her to affect a foreign accent sometimes for the benefit of the enthralled crowds who watched her dance.

Stupid people, John frequently thought contemptuously. They actually believed what she told them, that she had come to England from a place far across the water called Romania, the land of mountains and castles and shadows and gypsies and their outlandish superstitions about monsters, vampires and other ghouls.

‘The old bitch must really have a thing for you,’ Maggie was saying now as she inserted the emerald earrings into her own pretty ear-lobes and admired her reflection in a broken bit of mirror. ‘You must really have done a number on her.’

‘Are you jealous, little Maggie?’ John taunted her.

‘I’d scratch her eyes out for her if I ever met her,’ Maggie said, meaning every word. ‘But I never kill the goose that lays the golden eggs. It’s bad for business, me Dad always says.’ She grinned at him wickedly, shaking her head from side to side to watch the earrings dance.

‘Well, this goose is all set to go on laying golden eggs for a good long while yet,’ John told her as he watched the lights in her eyes match the dazzling earrings sparkle for sparkle. ‘It might interest you to know that Lady Grace Carfax of Richmond House has at long last consented to be my lawfully-wedded wife.’

Maggie stared at him in disbelief. Then she let out a screech of triumph that nearly perforated his eardrums.

‘You’ve done it, Johnny Boy!’ she exulted. ‘We’ll be on Easy Street now for sure.’

‘Let’s not count our chickens, Maggie,’ John warned. ‘There’s many a slip ‘twixt cup and lip, after all. She may yet change her mind, as ladies are wont to do,’ he added drily.

‘But she’s said yes, ain’t she?’ said Maggie excitedly. ‘You’ve got to keep her to it now, that’s all. And when we’ve got our mitts on her cash, I’ll wear emeralds like these every day.’

‘You’re not keeping those, Maggie,’ John said sharply. ‘I want my share of the money for them next time I see you.’

Sulkily, Maggie removed the earrings and wrapped them in a grubby handkerchief.

‘I’ll take ’em to my friend tonight,’ she said.

‘Good,’ said John. ‘And don’t pout, it makes you look ugly.’

‘You can be a real bastard sometimes, John Harker, you know that?’ Maggie grumbled as he mounted her naked body and prepared to enter her once more.

‘It’s all part of my charm, Maggie my darling,’ he replied with a cold humourless grin. ‘It’s all part of my charm…’

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. BY SANDRA HARRIS. © BOOK 3- PART 11.

chris linda hayden

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA.

A NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

BOOK 3- CHAPTER 11.

Meanwhile, in Countess Anna’s former home in Victorian London, Richmond House, Anna’s older brother Sir Blaise Carfax was facing a difficult choice. Which of his charming cousins, identical twins Abigail and Athena, should he service first?

Both of their delectable bottoms, full and round and snowy-white, were facing towards him now as each of their owners knelt up on his big four-poster bed and waited impatiently for their handsome dark-haired older cousin to make his choice.

‘Hurry up, Cousin dear!’ urged Athena now, or was it Abigail? The twenty-one-year-old twins were identical but for the beauty mark under the left eye of one of them, but he was always forgetting which one it was. Besides, it really made little difference.

They often contrived, by the cunning use of cosmetics, to cover this mark and even to recreate it on the cheek of the other twin just out of sheer mischievousness. No-one in the Carfax household really had a clue which twin was which.

Even their own mother, the woman who had married Blaise’s father’s brother, had scarcely been able to tell them apart when she’d been staying at Richmond House.

Now, of course, Lady Eleanor Carfax, the twins’ mother, was back in their Cornwall mansion nursing her invalid husband, Sir Richard, the brother of Blaise’s deceased father Sir Bernard.

And he, Blaise, had been given the tiresome job of seeing that those impossible, badly-behaved twins came to no harm during their extended stay in London. As if anyone could control such a pair of sex-addicted minxes!

Blaise chose the buttocks of the twin nearest to him and plunged eagerly into the tight puckered hole that nestled between them. Blaise occasionally favoured a nice bit of anal sex, but so few women enjoyed the activity that he’d had to turn to the prostitutes of Madame Corinne’s brothel to find willing participants.

The twins, on the other hand, favoured most sexual activities one could care to name, including a few which their worldly-wise older cousin hadn’t even heard of. How they’d come to be such models of depravity at their tender age staggered him.

There was scarcely a footman in the house who hadn’t fallen under their spell, and Blaise had a suspicion that they had even corrupted their peasant of a personal maid, the plain but rather deliciously-formed Sarah Parrish.

‘You always start with Athena!’ grumbled the twin between whose buttocks he had not yet plunged. So she must be Abigail then. Blaise leaned over and smacked her sharply on the rump, while continuing to move in and out of her sister’s backside.

‘Be patient, wench,’ he said, ‘and wait your turn like a good girl.’

The twin whom he’d smacked responded by waggling her ample bottom at him and pleading mischievously:

‘Oh, Cousin Blaise, do spank me harder! I’ve been ever such a naughty girl and I deserve to have my bottom smacked ever so hard!’

‘I’ll put you over my knee, my girl, when I’m done here!’ growled Sir Blaise, feeling his orgasm building. He speeded up his thrusting and prepared to deposit his issue into Athena’s pretty backside. ‘I’ll thrash the living daylights out of you with my riding crop, you strumpet!’

He grinned to himself at the futility of his own words. Yes, he could thrash both twins till their backsides were raw- and he frequently had- but it was purely a pleasurable exercise and no longer intended for disciplinary purposes. No amount of corporal punishment could make the wickedly licentious twins behave themselves.

Miss Cushing, Anna’s former governess until Anna had been abducted from her bedchamber in the Autumn of 1888 and now the twins’ governess, had beaten the naughty sisters’ bottoms until she was blue in the face.

No amount of caning, spanking, slippering or even birching made one iota of difference to their unruly behaviour. How could it, thought Blaise now with a mixture of amusement and frustration, when they bloody well enjoyed it?

Red in the face now and drenched in sweat, Blaise unburdened himself of his issue into the tight backside of the twin kneeling in front of him. He withdrew his now flaccid penis from her anus and lay down on the bed on his back, spent.

‘You’re always tired when it comes to my turn!’ whined Abigail, coming to lie down beside him, or was it Athena? See, he’d forgotten already which was which, that was how utterly infuriating the pair of them were.

‘I’ve a good mind to get the pair of you married off to older men who’ll put manners on you both,’ Blaise grumbled as his eyes grew heavy and began to close. ‘Or maybe I’ll pack you both back off to Cornwall in the morning. See how many opportunities for minxing and mischief you can find when you’re both buried in the countryside with your strict Mama watching your every move.’

The twins laughed merrily at his foolishness and idle threats. They knew that he had no more intention of dismissing them from his household that he had of giving up women and the pursuit of sexual pleasures. They were perfectly safe where they were and, what’s more, they knew it. Sir Blaise Carfax, one of London’s most eligible bachelor’s, was hopelessly in thrall to them sexually.

‘You can’t get rid of us,’ teased Athena now (or was it Abigail?) as she leaned over Blaise’s sweat-soaked bare chest and began to fondle her sister’s big breasts, as big and bouncy as her own. ‘You need us too much!’

And as Blaise closed his eyes and nodded off, his last thought before sleeping was:

‘Damn the little hussy! She’s right. I DO need them. I need them both…’

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA. A SERIALISED NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

drac stairs

FANGS AND FOREPLAY… THE EROTIC ADVENTURES OF DRACULA.

A NOVEL BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

BOOK 3- CHAPTER 10.

Just as the first rays of dawn were fingering the sky and tinging it with traces of pink and orange, Count Dracula’s carriage, complete with four jet-black horses, thundered back in through the castle gates at top speed.

Igor had been standing in readiness beside the gates for some time now in expectation of his Master’s return. He ducked out of the way to avoid being trampled underfoot by the Count’s horses and stood by the grass verge, waiting as always for his orders.

Count Dracula, driving his own carriage as he sometimes did on his clandestine midnight jaunts, jumped down from his seat in so agile a fashion that it would have put a much younger man to shame. He opened the carriage door and dragged out a body, throwing it carelessly so that it landed at Igor’s feet. It was the body of a formerly beautiful young woman, now stark naked and completely bloodless.

‘Bury her in the forest,’ the Count ordered in his crisp cold tones, as cold as the tomb in which he would soon be lying until the sun went down and the moon appeared once more. ‘In the usual place, of course. You know what to do.’

‘But Master,’ said Igor, ‘wouldn’t she be safer in the crypt?’

There was an old dilapidated crypt in the grounds of Birney Castle in which the Count was wont to inter the corpses of the women he’d abducted from the towns and villages hereabouts on his deadly secret- and deadly- night missions.

The space for coffins in this mouldy rat-infested crypt had long since run out so the Count, or Igor acting on his Master’s orders, had taken to just dumping the bodies in on top of each other and locking the door behind them.

It was a damp, dank, rank and foul-smelling place. Igor had seen a lot of bad things since he’d been in the employ of the Count but this place gave even him the creeps. Still, throwing a body in there and slamming the door behind it was easier by far than trudging into the forest with a shovel to bury the lass by himself.

That bloody forest was a creepy place too, mind you, Igor thought. No birds sang for miles around. Just like the air around Dracula’s castle, the atmosphere in the part of the forest nearest the castle was chilly yet heavy and oppressive all at the same time. It had a horrible sense of foreboding in it. It gave him the willies just thinking about it.

‘The crypt is full,’ said Dracula coldly. ‘Until we can find a suitable alternative you’ll have to bury them in the usual place. Go now, before it’s fully light.’

‘Yes, Master,’ replied Igor sullenly. He wasn’t in the mood for a trek into that accursed forest. Desdemona had ridden him ragged in the Count’s absence, milking him of every last drop of his issue with her thirsty pussy, and now he was tired. All he wanted to do was to go back to bed and sleep the day away, like the Count himself would be doing.

Dracula leaped back up onto the driver’s seat of his carriage. Whipping the four black horses into a frenzy, he thundered off in the direction of the castle just as dawn was fully breaking over the horizon.

The Master was cutting it fine, thought Igor as he threw the body over his shoulder and went in search of his shovel. In a few minutes it would be full daylight and the Count’s bones would have been turned to dust if he’d remained outside, in the glare of the morning sun.

As it was, the black-hearted devil would be snugly inside his coffin by the time the first rays of the sun hit the castle battlements full-on. Just like the rest of the she-devils that lived with him under his care and protection.

Aye, thought Igor sourly, the she-devils and that haughty aristocratic bitch of a wife of his, Countess Anna, or the former Lady Anna Carfax of Richmond House, home to one of the richest families in Victorian London.

They’d all be fast asleep in their nice comfortable tombs while he, Igor, slaved away in that haunted place burying the Count’s latest victim in a part of the forest where no-one ever went. Igor collected his shovel from the lodge beside the castle gates where he lived.

Chucking the shovel into his wheelbarrow alongside the woman’s bloodless body, he set off for the burial place, mumbling and cursing and grumbling under his breath the whole time about how it was well for some people.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

THE ROBE and DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS: A DUO OF BIBLICAL MOVIE REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

robeTHE ROBE and DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS: A DUO OF BIBLICAL MOVIE REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

THE ROBE. (1953) BASED ON THE NOVEL BY LLOYD C. DOUGLAS. DIRECTED BY HENRY KOSTER. STARRING RICHARD BURTON, JEAN SIMMONS, VICTOR MATURE, MICHAEL RENNIE AND JAY ROBINSON AS CALIGULA.

DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS. (1954) BASED ON CHARACTERS CREATED BY LLOYD C. DOUGLAS IN HIS NOVEL ‘THE ROBE.’ DIRECTED BY DELMER DAVES. STARRING VICTOR MATURE, SUSAN HAYWOOD, MICHAEL RENNIE, DEBRA PAGET, ERNEST BORGNINE AND JAY ROBINSON AS CALIGULA.

‘Were you… out there…?’

I know Easter was about a month ago but I’m still cheerfully riding that wave of great old Biblical epics, haha. THE ROBE and its sequel DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS have always been two of my all-time favourites, along with BEN-HUR, KING OF KINGS, THE TEN COMMANDMENTS, SPARTACUS and THE GREATEST STORY EVER TOLD, to mention but a few. Well, I think those are the main ones!

It was said of some guy once, I don’t know who, that ‘he killed more men than Cecil B. De Mille,’ referring of course to the number of extras used in this type of film. They all had a cast of thousands all right, along with camels and rolling hills and raucous open markets in which you could buy a nice living-room carpet and a pair of comely slave twins to go with your watermelon and jugs of wine. They’re all marvellous old films and you just don’t see their like anymore.

THE ROBE is the story of Tribune Marcellus Gallio, brilliantly played by screen heart-throb and two-time hubby of Elizabeth Taylor, Richard Burton. He plays a rich Roman soldier from a good family, a boozer and a womaniser who falls afoul of the Emperor Caligula and gets stationed in the back end of nowhere, otherwise known as Jerusalem, as a sort of pay-back.

While he’s there, he’s put in charge of the unit that’s responsible for crucifying a local troublemaker of note known as Jesus Christ. Yep, that Jesus Christ…! Not unnaturally, the crucifixion has a profoundly unsettling effect on Tribune Gallio.

Believing himself bewitched by Jesus’s robe, which he shamefully won in a card game, Marcellus sets out to find it and destroy it. Yeah, he obviously lost it again after he won it, haha. He nearly loses his mind with the strain of it all before miraculously converting to Christianity, much to the surprise- but not displeasure- of his childhood sweetheart Diana, played by the lovely Jean Simmons. (Mrs. Spartacus, remember?)

Demetrius, played by the beefy and burly Victor Mature, is Tribune Gallio’s slave and the star of the sequel movie, DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS. Demetrius, a handsome Greek, becomes a devoted follower of Jesus after witnessing the shocking events of the crucifixion alongside his master, Marcellus.

Poor Demetrius is captured and tortured by the Emperor Caligula, who is more than a little disturbed at rumours of an underground cult, ie, Christianity, that places another god above himself. Caligula’s ego is insanely over-developed and any suggestion that he’s not the one true God himself is like a red rag to a bull.

The actor portraying Caligula in both films, Jay Robinson, was only twenty-three and then twenty-four respectively when he starred in them. This is incredible to imagine as he is absolutely magnificent as the spoilt brat of an Emperor, who quite literally throws screaming tantrums when he doesn’t get what he wants.

‘I want Tribune Gallio! Bring me Tribune Gallio before morning or I’ll have you all killed!’ What did I tell you? Completely and utterly spoilt…

In DEMETRIUS AND THE GLADIATORS, our freed slave Demetrius finds himself in a school for gladiators run by Ernest Borgnine’s tough nut, Strabo. Demetrius attains such success in the arena that he attracts the attention of Messalina, the wife of Caligula’s doddery old uncle, Claudius.

Messalina, played by Susan Hayward, is a saucy temptress who has forced her aged hubby to wear the cuckold’s horns so many times that they’ve worn an actual groove across his bald pate. When a fatal incident in the gladiators’ recreation room causes Demetrius to reject his Christian faith, the horny little hussy has no trouble at all in luring the hunky gladiator to her bed.

Caligula takes an interest in the robe in this film, mistakenly believing that it imbues the wearer with powers of immortality. Huh. It’s not a flippin’ cloak of invisibilty or anything. It’s not a magic cloak or anything like that. Or is it…?

Anyway, he orders Demetrius away from his carousing and merry-making in Messalina’s love-dungeon and tells him to find the robe and bring it to him. Demetrius finds the robe, but he finds something else as well, something which will hopefully jerk him back to his senses in a big way. And after several months spent lying between Messalina’s alabaster thighs (nice legs, what time do they open…?), the randy sod’s gonna need some serious deprogramming…!

These old films are so special. They’re not just for Easter, either. Any Saturday or Sunday afternoon during the year would do for a good long viewing of a nice swords-and-sandals epic. Now bring me a mojita this minute.

That’s right, bring me a mojita right now or I’ll feed you all to the lions! Haha, I’m only joking, of course. I simply wouldn’t dream of channelling my inner Caligula (Caligulady, geddit?) around you guys. As if I’d feed you guys to the lions. But a mojito would be nice…

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

SINISTER 2 AND INSIDIOUS 3: TWO BRILLIANT HORROR MOVIE SEQUELS REVIEWED BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

Insidious-Chapter-3-1

SINISTER 2 and INSIDIOUS CHAPTER 3: TWO HORROR MOVIE SEQUELS REVIEWED BY SANDRA HARRIS.

SINISTER 2. (2015) DIRECTED BY CIARAN FOY. PRODUCED BY JASON BLUM, SCOTT DERRICKSON AND BRIAN KAVANAUGH-JONES. STARRING JAMES RANSONE, SHANNYN SOSSAMON AND LEA COCO.

INSIDIOUS CHAPTER 3. (2015) WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY LEIGH WHANNELL. PRODUCED BY JAMES WAN, JASON BLUM AND OREN PELI. STARRING LIN SHAYE, LEIGH WHANNELL, ANGUS SAMPSON, DERMOT MULRONEY, JAMES WAN AND STEFANIE SCOTT.

These two horror films from 2015 have a lot in common. They’re each co-produced by hotshot horror movie producer Jason Blum and they each belong to two of the biggest horror film franchises in recent years, SINISTER and INSIDIOUS.

I’d already seen the original SINISTER movie, starring Ethan Hawke as true crime writer Ellison Oswalt, and loved it, but I was coming to INSIDIOUS 3 completely blind, having seen neither of the first two INSIDIOUS films. Chapter 3 blew me away, so I now absolutely cannot wait to get my mitts on the first two instalments.

SINISTER 2 sees Deputy So-And-So from the first SINISTER movie desperately trying to keep a beautiful young mother called Courtney and her two small sons Zach and Dylan from the clutches of two villains.

The first of these is Courtney’s abusive husband, who has discovered his wife’s remote hiding-place for herself and her two boys. This violent hot-head wants his family back, but they don’t want to come back. This is where Deputy-So-And-So, who’s completely smitten with Courtney, comes in. Can he be her knight in shining armour…?

The other villain is, of course, Bughuul, the freaky-ass supernatural child-snatcher from the original movie. Both of Courtney’s kids are seeing dead children all over the creepy house in which they’re hiding out with their terrified mother who’s fleeing from her nasty husband, but Bughuul seems to have his evil eye on one of the boys in particular to do his vile bidding. Can Deputy-So-And-So stop this possessed kid from destroying his whole family…?

Bughuul is once more adding to his collection of freakishly sick home movies in this film, by the way. As a huge fan of crocodiles, I loved the home movie in which they featured. The rat thing, while being imaginative and inventive, made me sick to someone else’s stomach, haha. Very Marquis de Sade-esque, I’m sure.

As for the rest of the home movies, it was all just like, fire again, seriously? Still, there’s some pretty nasty stuff in there. Damn you, Bughuul, you sick f**k, will you ever get yours…? I await any future developments with intense interest.

INSIDIOUS CHAPTER 3 sees a pretty young student called Quinn Brenner battling with the evil demon that has unfairly attached itself to her. All she wanted to do was to contact her dead mother (clearly she’s never seen any of those ouija board movies, the dozy mare!), but instead she finds herself in great physical danger as the demon of someone who died a long time ago tries to drag her down into the Underworld with him.

Yes, it’s a guy. Remember the nearly-dead guy in the bed in the movie SEVEN (1995), starring Brad Pitt? First-time director and a close friend of James Wan, who directed the first two INSIDIOUS movies, Leigh Whannell, wanted his demon to look like the guy from SEVEN. The demon is actually played by the guy from SEVEN…! He’s equally terrifying in both films and he’s the reason why I will never, ever watch the movie SEVEN again. So there, haha.

Quinn enlists the help of psychic Elise Rainier to help her fight the demon. Elise, brilliantly played by Lin Shaye, apparently featured in the other two INSIDIOUS movies, along with ghost-hunters Tucker and Specs, played by Angus Sampson and Leigh Whannell himself.

The scenes in which Elise goes into the otherworldly zone known as ‘The Further’ are freaking terrifying. Parker Crane, or the ‘Bride In Black,’ whose origin story I’m unaware of because I haven’t yet seen the first two films, scared the living daylights out of me. I definitely want to find out more about such a hideous and malevolent creature.

The scene where Elise follows the demon known as ‘The Man Who Can’t Breathe’ (because he’s wearing a gas-mask, see?) down into the dark depths of her Reading Room nearly spooked me half to death as well. The film is full of jump scares, which some horror fans tend to look down on, but when they’re well done, as they are here, they can be super-effective.

Heart-throb Dermot Mulroney (YOUNG GUNS, COPYCAT, MY BEST FRIEND’S WEDDING) plays the rather ineffective Dad here who keeps leaving his crippled daughter to fight the demon on her own. Lin Shaye totally steals the show for me though. She kicks ass all through the movie, especially against the ‘Bride In Black.’ I wish she was my Nan, haha.

Anyway, these are two terrific sequels from franchises which I know you horror fans will all know as well as you know your own names. Both are well worth watching and, as for INSIDUOUS Chapters One and Two, I cannot wait to get my hands on them.

There’s a lot of top-notch, high quality horror flicks being made nowadays, despite some folks’ assertions that all the best horror movies were made thirty or forty years ago. It gives one a lot of hope for the future. It surely does.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

SINISTER HOUSE/HAUNTING OF CRESTVIEW ACADEMY: A GRISLY DOUBLE BILL OF HORROR FILM REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

 crestview academySINISTER HOUSE/HAUNTING OF CRESTVIEW HIGH: A DOUBLE BILL OF GRISLY HORROR FILM REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

SINISTER HOUSE aka HOUSE OF BAD. (2013) WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY JIM TOWNS. STARRING HEATHER L. TYLER, SADIE KATZ AND CHERYL SANDS.

HAUNTING OF CRESTVIEW ACADEMY aka BAD KIDS GO TO HELL. (2012) WRITTEN AND DIRECTED BY MATTHEW SPRADLIN. STARRING CAMERON DEANE STEWART, ALI FAULKNER, AUGIE DUKE, AMANDA ALCH, ROGER EDWARDS, MARC DONATO AND JUDD NELSON (FROM ‘THE BREAKFAST CLUB’).

Both of these horror films deal with small groups of people who, for one reason or another, are being confined to barracks, as it were, for certain periods of time. They’re each good gruesome fun to watch, although I’m more inclined to favour SINISTER HOUSE, otherwise known as HOUSE OF BAD.

That’s where we’ll start, with the film that ‘GRABS YOU AND DOESN’T LET YOU GO!,’ according to one of its other reviews. I couldn’t agree more, as it happens. I was glued to this one from start to finish. Let me see if I can explain to you guys exactly why…

Three attractive American sisters, Teig, Sirah and Lily, all hole up in the abandoned old childhood home of Teig and Sirah for a month, or at least that’s the plan, anyway. They’ve stolen a massive stash of drugs from Sirah’s boyfriend Tommy, a drug dealer and pimp. Hence the need for a complete getaway.

They’re going to lay low for a month and then sell the drugs off to a contact of Teig’s. What’s that quote from Robbie Burns? ‘The best-laid plans of mice and men gang oft a-gley…?’ Yeah, what he said. You’d better believe that the sisters’ plans will be ganging a-gley all over the bleedin’ shop.

The idea is that the money from the sale of the drugs will be enough to set the sisters up in a new life, something that each of the women desperately need. Sirah’s abusive boyfriend Tommy has had her dancing topless in the clubs.

Teig, the eldest- and toughest- sister, is an ex-con who trusts no-one, not even her own sisters. Lily, their young step-sister from their father’s bit-on-the-side, is an absolute stunner looks-wise but she just can’t keep her pretty little snout out of the heroin trough. And she’s going to be holed up for a month with a suitcase stuffed full of drugs? Good luck with that…!

There are problems right from the start. Lily’s got to go cold turkey, for one thing. As it’s a film and not real life, we don’t really see her going through the horrible traumas that a person coming off the ‘junk’ for realsies would be forced to endure.

Sirah, the weakest of the three sisters, actually misses her abusive pimp and can’t keep her busy fingers from texting him on the phone she solemnly promised her sisters not to use. The seriously on-edge Teig will kill her if she finds out.  She’ll go through her for a feckin’ short-cut, as we say here in Oireland.

It’s not just the physical stuff that’s a problem, either. Their old childhood home is filled with bad memories and evil spirits, dating back to the time when something terrible happened between Teig and Sirah’s constantly warring parents back when the two girls were kids.

Teig and Sirah are still afraid to go upstairs and down into the cellar. Lily demands to know why. The other two sisters think she’s better off not knowing. If you’ve seen this excellent horror movie, you’ll probably think the same. Oh, and there are lovely bare boobies on show here too, and that’s always a big plus…!

HAUNTING OF CRESTVIEW HIGH is a terrible film really, but as I watched it with a friend, we had great fun with it together. If I’d been watching it alone with no-one to have a laugh with, I’d have been bored rigid and bitterly disappointed with the lack of any real scares.

It’s about a bunch of really awful American high school kids in their last year of school, a school for mostly super-rich snobs like the children of politicians or lawyers.

A bunch of six of these privileged little horrors all find themselves in an eight-hour detention one day. Their teacher falls mysteriously ill and goes off, locking the posh brats into the school library for the whole day.  The Health and Safety people will have a f**king heart attack when they hear about this gross act of negligence on the teacher’s part.

It’s a loving homage to the hit ‘Eighties movie THE BREAKFAST CLUB, and Judd Nelson actually plays the headmaster in this snobby upper-class school, which will delight any fans of the old movie. There’s actually another film doing the rounds called ‘DETENTION,’ which has the super-cool tagline ‘THE BREAKFAST CLUB MEETS THE GRUDGE…!,’ so I must check that out if I get the chance.

Anyway, the six brats involved in this all-day incarceration are mostly the kids of rich parents who’ve committed foul play against an old native American chap called Jacob Rainwater. They’ve shoved him off his land in order to build the school a huge fancy library.

In return, the school will guarantee that their snotty, ill-bred brats will all graduate on time and with the honours they need to get into their big fancy colleges. It’s well for some…

The spirits aren’t happy, however, even if the kids’ parents are. Some strange paranormal-type happenings in the library on Detention Day have the snotty little poshos running scared. And the situation is not without its element of human conspiracy, either, but I ain’t telling. Let it be a surprise-slash-reward for anyone who actually sits through the whole cringingly bad film…!

So there you have it, guys. Another two-for-the-price-of-one horror film review from your friendly neighbourhood movie critic. The first film is terrific and utterly watchable. It’d be a great story even without the horror, if you know what I mean.

The second film, well, still watch it by all means if it comes your way. Just don’t expect too much from it, that’s all. Except boobies. There are boobies in it so you can expect those. Boobies (like diamonds in the ‘Going to Africa’ episode of THE SIMPSONS!) will make everything all right. Boobies…! Boobies…! Boobies…!

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor

THE LAST EXORCISM/THE HAUNTING OF BATES HOTEL: A DOUBLE BILL OF GRISLY HORROR FILM REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

LastExorcismInterviewLeadTHE LAST EXORCISM and THE HAUNTING OF BATES HOTEL: A DOUBLE BILL OF GRISLY HORROR FILM REVIEWS BY SANDRA HARRIS. ©

THE LAST EXORCISM. (2010) DIRECTED BY DANIEL STAMM. PRODUCED BY ELI ROTH. STARRING PATRICK FABIAN, ASHLEY BELL, CALEB LANDRY JONES AND LOUIS HERTHUM.

THE HAUNTING OF BATES HOTEL. (2012) DIRECTED BY BYRON TURK. STARRING JEAN LOUISE O’SULLIVAN, DANTE ZUCCA AND ZACHARY FLETCHER.

I bought both of these films to watch over the recent Saint Patrick’s Day holiday weekend here in Oireland, hence the double review today. While I always enjoy watching horror that’s new to me, however ropey, I must confess that I found one of these films to be possibly the worst horror film I’ve ever seen, while the other one baffled me at first but grew to be a strong finisher. Want to know which one is which? Stay tuned and I promise to tell all…!

Well, here I am telling all as promised, haha. I’ll start with THE HAUNTING OF BATES HOTEL. Being as I am a lifelong fan of Alfred Hitchcock’s legendary horror film PSYCHO  (1960) and the book by Robert Bloch from which it derived, I admit I bought this film for the PSYCHO connection and also for the cover of the DVD box.

The cover features a building not unlike the home that Norman Bates shared with his ‘Mother.’ In an upstairs window, a woman is clearly silhouetted holding a knife. To my eternal disgust, THE HAUNTING OF BATES MOTEL has about as much to do with PSYCHO as GLENGARRY GLEN ROSS has to do with crocheting and needlework. I was deeply, deeply disappointed.

The film is set in an existing real-life horror attraction called the Bates Motel and Haunted Hayride. It’s situated in rural Pennsylvania on a place called Arasapha Farm and television star Bam Margera is seen advertising the Halloween attraction for real at the film’s outset.

In the film, a beautiful young woman called Agnes Rickover goes to work at this attraction to try to recover from a trauma she experienced there a year ago, namely the death of her best friend Lily (an employee of the attraction’s) who burned horribly on the Haunted Hayride.

People start dying ‘mysteriously’ around the Park pretty much on Agnes’s first shift. She determines to get to the bottom of both Lily’s death and the deaths of the other Park employees also. She enlists the aid of her cute but relectant writer friend Clyde to do this. I don’t want to give too much of the lame ‘plot’ away so I’ll just say this. The ‘who’ is pretty obvious. The ‘why’ is never revealed. I want my tenner back.

THE LAST EXORCISM is much more promising and worthwhile although, again, the DVD box features a scene that’s not even in the movie. Sigh. That always annoys me, even though it happens fairly frequently. At least the film inside was worth the ninety or so minutes of my life.

The Reverend Cotton Marcus, hailing from Baton Rouge, Louisiana and as smug and self-satisfied a character as you’ll find in any film, has been performing exorcisms since he was knee-high to a grasshopper. In this ‘found footage’ supernatural horror film, he admits freely to the public, through a documentary he’s allowing to be filmed about him, that he no longer believes in demons.

Say what? That’s right, folks. A medical issue caused him to lose his faith, but he still continues to perform fake exorcisms as a sort of placebo for the people who think they’re possessed by the devil. In other words, if they think he’s curing ’em, he really is curing ’em, if you follow me, It’s purely the placebo effect but, if it works, isn’t he doing them a favour rather than a disservice…?

Anyway, in this ‘documentary,’ he reveals all the tricks of his trade, such as phoney demon noises and making objects move and fall over by using wires. If this was a real documentary, it’d be hard not to be utterly sickened and disgusted by the tricks being played upon individuals who genuinely believe that they’re possessed by the devil. Still, it’s just a film. Isn’t it…?

Cotton’s camera crew follow him to the Sweetzer farm, where the Dad of the family tells them that he thinks his sixteen-year-old daughter Nell is possessed by a demon. Against the wishes of Nell’s brother Caleb, Cotton, filmed by his crew of Iris and Danny, duly performs a phoney exorcism on the pleasant and obliging young girl.

A few phoney demon noises later and Bob’s your Uncle, or so Cotton thinks. Imagine his shock when he’s confronted by evidence of a genuine possesion taking place inside the body and soul of the home-schooled young lady. Things take a distinctly creepy turn as Cotton and his crew discover that they’ve bitten off way more than they can chew with Cotton’s so-called ‘LAST EXORCISM…’

I was scared once or twice by this film, which is a good sign, although of course by now I know what to expect from exorcism films. Projectile vomiting or spewing, heads and bodies twisting to unnatural angles and girls with long dark hair and white nightdresses scuttling up walls and speaking in tongues.

It’s always the same, isn’t it, and this film is no different, although it’s still good. Show me a possession film where the possessed person is a balding, middle-aged businessman with a paunch and a wart on his face and I’ll show you a possession film with a difference. Don’t think it’s gonna happen, though. Not while girls with long dark hair and white nighties are still selling horror flicks.

A rather Dennis Wheatley-esque ending, which I quite enjoyed, completes the picture. I’d definitely recommend giving this one a watch. Not so, sadly, in the case of THE HAUNTING OF BATES MOTEL. Use it to prop up a wonky table, by all means, but that’s about all it’s good for. I just hope and pray that Alfred Hitchcock hasn’t seen it on the flatscreen television in the elegant and comfortable lounge of the afterlife. He’d certainly be turning in his grave.

AUTHOR BIOGRAPHY OF SANDRA HARRIS.

Sandra Harris is a Dublin-based novelist, film blogger and movie reviewer. She has studied Creative Writing and Film-Making. She has published a number of e-books on the following topics: horror film reviews, multi-genre film reviews, womens’ fiction, erotic fiction, erotic horror fiction and erotic poetry. Several new books are currently in the pipeline. You can browse or buy any of Sandra’s books by following the link below straight to her Amazon Author Page:

http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B015GDE5RO

You can contact Sandra at:

https://www.facebook.com/SandraHarrisPureFilthPoetry

https://sandrafirstruleoffilmclubharris.wordpress.com

http://sexysandieblog.wordpress.com

http://serenaharker.wordpress.com

sandrasandraharris@gmail.com

https://twitter.com/SandraAuthor