Interracial sexual horror story by Cruella Pain

A dark and disturbing interracial erotic horror story of interracial eroticism, domination and…unspeakable evil…
Everyone wanted to find out about Earl. He wasn’t like the rest, he was reclusive withdrawn, somehow different. He seemed set himself apart. But the crew wanted to know more, to find out what lay beneath the surface of the self-effacing Third Officer…

erotic-horrorSo they took him to downtown New Orleans; they found him a woman; they paid to find out, to satisfy their curiosity. But in the most notorious voodoo club in New Orleans, Les Fleurs du Mal – everything was to change.

The crew never did find out. Earl was strange when he came back, somehow altered. Different. Tainted. And it frightened them.

Something fundamental had been done to him. It had started as a joke, but now nobody was laughing.

And not a single one among them ever suspected the truth…

Over 18 only. Word count 6,766



The taxi picked up the English crew at Westwego, on the south bank of the Mississippi. They were full of the prospect spending some time ashore in New Orleans. As the car rolled away from the Grain Terminal and left the ship behind, the taxi driver gave them some ideas in the sleepy, dangerous local drawl, though they hardly needed the pointers. The captain, particularly, had been running into New Orleans and enjoying the famous nightlife for years. There was only one among them who could really be described as a complete greenhorn; the reclusive third officer, Earl.

Earl contributed nothing to the excited discussion about what might lay in store that night. He sat in determined silence behind the driver, watching the light of the bungalows flash by along the main road. His face was not handsome, but there was an engaging honesty and his delicate features as the light washed over them, and it was all too plain that he was very ill-at-ease.

It was Earl’s birthday, his twenty-fifth, and his shipmates had made him come. He never took the opportunity to go ashore with the crew and they all felt that it was high time he did. The captain particularly wanted to ‘blood’ him, as he called it, and took it upon himself as a duty to bring the young man out of his shell. He did not much like Earl, actually, and they all took the captain’s lead in the car when he began to make lewd suggestions and bait him with questions about his virility. Underneath all the laughter was a hard edge and Earl felt it keenly. They were not sure about his sexual credentials, and he knew that they were resolved to find out.

As they went up onto the three-lane, elevated section through Marrero and Harvey he found that he was beginning to sweat, even in the air conditioned cab. He knew in his bones that he would not be able to satisfy the macho requirements of his shipmates, nor perform adequately for the paid girl that they would no doubt be setting him up with. He kept his face turned to the streetlights leading away south over the bungalows, out to the far darkness of the bayous and the Gulf of Mexico beyond, and tried to think of a way out.

By the time they reached the twin bridges and sped across the great, languid stream of the Mississippi, Earl had thought of nothing more subtle and effective but trying to get drunk as quickly as possible and getting out of it as being obviously inebriated beyond the point of being capable of sex.

To continue reading this interracial erotic horror story click on the link below:

The Flowers of Evil on AMAZON


August 22, 2013  Tags: , , , , , , , , ,   Posted in: writing

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