The Haunting of Evangeline Kelly

Evangeline Kelly awoke with a start, the noise was unbearably awful and it sounded as if someone were being raped. She sat straight up in bed and grabbed her phone and in a half sleeping haze shoved her tumbling blonde hair out of her eyes and attempted to dial 911.

Suddenly the screaming stopped and the night was a quiet collection of fall wind and its blowing corpses of leaves. Her eyes tried to adjust to the early morning darkness and she spied on her clock, 4 AM, "Shit!" She complained. It would take her forever to fall asleep again. Could she fall asleep again or should she? What if someone were really being raped or hurt near by? What if it was a mountain lion? She'd heard that they can sound like a screaming woman.

She got up and grumpily pulled on her robe, she wouldn't feel right if she didn't at least check around outside. Evangeline took a deep breath as if she were about to go under water but instead stepped into the freezing wind of a Rocky Mountain October. Only whining wind and rustling brush whispered coldly to her and she could feel in the midst of the slumbering mountains that nothing seemed disturbed.

It must have been a waking dream she decided but still hurried back looking anxiously behind her for big cat eyes or fangs, closing the door quickly to her newly purchased mountain home, a long awaited treasure. Its old log exterior was welcoming to her and its 150 year old aged face was the first thing she saw grinning when she pulled into the front drive. She patted her dog, Lily, on the head and slid back under her feather comforter and tried to recreate her toasty little den.

Try as she might she couldn't fall back to sleep. The trees were howling outside and the thought of someone screaming, real or imagined, had her wound up and restless. She twisted her covers into something lumpy and misshaped and then decided to get up. She padded over to her computer and visited her stories on Literotica. Her desire for instant gratification was satiated with a lightning speed connection, and in seconds she was reading comments left to her on her latest story, "Irish Sting". HORROR, a nasty little comment from someone called, "Anonymous".

"What an asshole and too freaking scared to at least put his name next to his stupid comments!" She spit out to her empty house. Her dog only yawned in feigned interest to her distress and closed her eyes and went back to sleep.

Mr. (or Ms. she didn't know) Anonymous' comments were never anything more than a flip remark or shallow observation; he was a heckler without a brain, a loser without a cause, she could recognize his mark at the bottom of many stories, many brilliantly written and most completely undeserving of his ignorant rants. She wanted to delete it but decided to leave his inane and empty criticism there for all to see his idiocy.

As she was about to step away from the computer she felt suddenly compelled to reply to his asinine reproach of her sweet little Irish spanking story. A little sensitivity and A LOT of arrogance made her do things that she usually regretted but her spontaneity left no room for critical thinking. She typed furiously:

Dear "Anonymous" I'm sure you know who you are, either you have a very lonely pecker or a very little brain, it makes very little difference to me, but your stupid negative comments carry very little weight when you don't even have the balls to attach your name. Signed, Naughtychanteusez!

"There! You weasel!" Evangeline thought to herself. "Suck on that!" She smiled wickedly as she clicked to add her comment and then feeling mighty powerful she left the screen on and padded back to her inviting bed.

Suddenly very aroused, her head nestled deeper in the feather down of her pillow; her hands explored her long, supple legs and her soft, silky stomach. The touch of her lithe fingers sent shivers up and down the backs of her legs and her bottom clenched with the nodding thrust of her hungry pelvis. She lingered around the top of her downy labia and lightly contemplated in small circles the wet adventure of further tributaries in the darker regions of her now trickling pussy. She unbuttoned her nightshirt with the other hand and then stroked her right breast, followed by the other. She was wickedly delighted to discover that she could just barely reach her tongue to the tip of her raspberry nipple and flicked its juicy tip back and forth, eliciting little whimpers hushed in the still of the log house. With her fingers up inside of herself and her tongue lapping hungrily at her own nipple she writhed in the sheets and her breaths became raspy and quick until.....

A blood curdling scream rattled her windows and awoke her from the cum-filled trance she was lost in. The dog barked hysterically and jumped at the windows, a vain attempt to see down into the valley below. Her face, flushed and tinged with the light rose of a powerful climax, turned the direction of the barn. That's where the sound was coming from, it had to be. The horses whinnied nervously in response and then she knew she had to go back outside. What if it WAS a mountain lion and he was stalking her horses? She whispered to the dog to stay there, most would say that there was no point to having a dog if you won't use it to protect yourself, but Evangeline always felt like it should be the opposite. She would protect all of her animals as if they were her family.

The night greeted her frosty breath like a cold towel thrown across her tight-lipped face. Her nightshirt lost what little warmth it once possessed and her bones ached and shivered uncontrollably. The flashlight darted into the darkness, restructuring the night into a long dark endless tunnel. The horses continued to confirm their uneasiness and it intensified hers. She could hear Lily anxiously barking at the huge windows in the house above her.

She had recently chosen this new life and thought, at least up until now, that a major change might help to restructure her wavering existence. Oddly, she noticed the blackness of her nail-polished fingers, the laces of her black high top boots dancing to the rythem of her movements, all of which caused her to think, "From darkness into darkness, Why me?'

She struggled to pull at the large wooden arm that cinched the barn doors closed, as she lifted its girth her nightshirt lifted and the cold air assaulted her naked bottom further, invading the small warm, sopping spaces between her legs and sending her flesh into a goose-stepping frenzy. Stomping inside, the still dank air possessed a warm living radiance and the organic smell of horse manure filled her nostrils. The horses immediately responded to a human presence, hanging their heads out over the stalls, bayfully looking as she entered; a presence upon which their lives depended. The thought of their dependency strengthened her resolve to explore further. She had not heard another unnatural sound since straying into the night. All seemed calm, but in her idealistic haste to move onto the property, she had not ventured behind the animals living quarters of the huge barn structure, which now spread before her, well beyond the glowing flashlight.

Under the hayloft were a series of doors leading to unexplored blackness. Carefully she opened one and then the next. It was the third corner room that finally secured her full attention. At first it appeared to be a bridle room, anchored by the horse collars mounted on the walls and the assorted buggy whips stacked hastily in the corner. However it was the 'stock' in the corner that seemed incongruously present. Likely it was built more than a century and a half ago. Its arms, wooden, weathered and worn, suggested something quite sinister.

Tentatively, she reached for it with an uncomfortable caution. Her hand rolled smoothly along the grainy shoulders and below into the two hollow hand holes. Neither was sufficiently large enough for her hand to pass through. Coaxed by curiosity, she began to explore the locking mechanism, lifting the upper arm sufficiently for her to dare press her hands into the rather small openings. With a certain degree of horror, her head stiffened, being certain to keep it clear of the center hole, looming unsteadily above, certainly crafted to secure a human head. A gust of wind banged the barn door angrily shut and a strange cold, electric waft of air spread like a forest fire across the hay bales, causing the horses to stir once again and Evangeline to bolt once again out into the frigid air and away from the spectral eyes that had watched her all night long....

Evangeliiiiiiiine.........Evangeliiiiiiiiine....whispers heard in the last sleeping moments of the morning. She lifted her head and looked around at the sun filled room, had someone just said her name? Face first, she flopped back down onto her pillow and spied the time through the golden strands of her wildly messed up hair, 10 AM? No...12 AM? What had happened to her clock? She sat up befuddled and grabbed the clock, she remembered looking at it when she first heard the scream at 4:00 AM, did she change the hour in her sleep? "What the hell?" she shouted at the top of her lungs. Her wrists were red and a really nasty blue bruise was starting to form at the edges. She couldn't imagine how she did this going through the barn last night; she ran into the bathroom and ran cold water over her now throbbing hands. Looking in the mirror she started feeling as if she weren't really looking at herself, though she could see the sunny room behind her and her dog anxiously waiting at the back door to be let out. There was something behind her eyes that looked unfamiliar and oddly invasive.

First order of the day was to go into town and talk to the Sheriff, if there was a mountain lion on her property she wanted it moved away. She bathed slowly that morning, a small step away from her usual shower but the luxurious warm bath soothed her disquieted nerves and she was titillated by the small popping of rose scented bubbles all over her body. Under the concealment of the fluffy bath water she let her hands wander and slither in and out of guilty pleasures, she thrust cautiously against her own hands with a quick look around to make sure she was definitely alone before quietly coming with a shy groan.

She carefully wrapped her wrists with bandages and then donned a long sleeve shirt, a rather feminine Victorian shirt with a high collar and lines of lace down the considerable length of her torso. She threw on a pair of jeans but felt suddenly uncomfortable so she slid into a long denim skirt instead. The effect was quite pleasing to her and she languished in front of the mirror piling her hair on top of her head for over half an hour, completely uncharacteristic of her usual low maintenance mountain style.

Driving into town was another adventure. She felt as if she'd never experienced driving so vividly before. She smiled and giggled over the bumps in the road, she felt exhilarated whooshing around curves and speeding over big hills. By the time she got into town she couldn't remember why she was there and though it filled her with just a dash of consternation she was too consumed with the town to care. She swooped in and out of stores buying things she never in a million years would have purchased, flour and sugar and molasses of all things. She bought tea towels and a little china tea set from an antique store and in a moment of raw femininity she bought a pair of aged cotton and lace bloomers, blushing as she paid for them.

Shopkeepers marveled at her outfit and told her how "authentic" she looked and asked was she doing some sort of a play? She just looked at them blankly and smiled politely before leaving the store with her treasures. The day seemed to steal away from her and suddenly as the town square bells started to chime five o'clock her face darkened and her hand went nervously to her throat and without another moment to lose she hopped into the car and rushed back home.

Evangeline in a frenzy of incomprehensible panic practically threw her dry goods into the cupboards and grabbed two steaks out of her fridge and threw them in a frying pan. She stood for several moments contemplating what had transpired that day and why she was now hysterically throwing together a dinner for just herself dressed like Ma Ingalls from Little House on the Prairie? She unbuttoned a few buttons on the Victorian blouse and put her hand to her head, pulling the pins from her little Gibson girl do and shaking it loose in a defiant toss of her head.

LOUD SHRIEKING from her barn made her lunge for her butcher knife. In a fumble of fingers and stove dials she turned off the gas burner under her steaks and flew out the front door. Lily was barking at the outside of the barn and Evangeline whistled for her and grabbed the unruly dog and put her in the house. She marched down to the old wooden door and was ready to throw it open and slice the living daylights out of whatever was either making that scream or causing that scream!

EVANGELIIIIIIIIIIIINE.........EVANGELIIIIIIIIINE......., the voice whispered in a low throaty plea. She stopped at the door and dropped the knife. Her legs trembled and she started to cry. EVANGELIIIIINE.........she instinctively put her hands on her bottom and backed away. EVANGELIIIINE....the barn door creaked open slowly. The horses were oddly out in the pastures and turned their heads lazily towards their crying mistress, their eyes large with concern but their bellies content to stay with their grasses. EVANGELIIIIINE.... the relentless voice crooned over the crisp breeze into her perfect ears. EVANGELIIIINE....she could feel the breath upon her neck and under her hair and down her shirt. EVANGELIIIIIIIIIIIIIINE....it beckoned and she surrendered by stepping into the dark gaping mouth of the calling barn.

Dazed and dizzied by the enchanting experience, she shuffled through the animal living quarters in the direction of the tackle room that she had discovered the night before. The door was shut, as she had left it, but a startling glow emanated from under the old worn door. Her hands fluttered like her heart, but something beyond her sphere of control drew her to open it.

Like a hammer strike to the head, a sudden flash of light consumed her consciousness and there she lay in a square filled with cheering and chanting people. Her hazy vision was drawn to the stage like structure obscured by the milling masses all dressed like the mannequins she had seen earlier at the antique shop. Evangeline crawled to an opening where she could clearly see the object of everyone's attention; a young woman secured in a stock stared intently back into her eyes. Instead of dread and fear, as she would have expected, she found insolence, defiance and a glimmer of triumph staring back.

A gray-headed, middle-aged man, wearing a dark suite and crisscrossed black tie, stood menacingly behind the young woman with what appeared to be a long handled buggy whip. A lengthy leather tail trailed from its fluttering end.

The crowd chanted, "Whip her, whip her, whip her...sinner...sinner...sinner...."

An old woman stepped forward and growled like a hissing snake, "Adulterer! Her soul will burn in hell just like that free wheeling bottom of hers! Whip her good sonny! "

And that he did, lifting the leather wrapped handle behind his right ear, snapping it, the recoiling whip sent the leather tail across the woman's bared bottom like the crack of a flintlock to an uproarious roar from the surrounding masses.

Evangeline watched in horror as the woman's body lunged within the wooden shackles, arms and head held securely. Her vision clouded and in her dreamy-state she became the only witness to this young woman's apparent torment. The face of the man began to radiate and glow and the girl's face beamed sinfully, her eyes in an erotic trance as the lash landed again and again. Their charade was completely ignored by everyone but Evangeline, she could see the lust and adoration in both of their eyes and it tugged at something inside of her.

Flushed and disoriented, Angeline suddenly became aware of the stillness of the barn that again surrounded her. Like from a deep sleep, a quiet calm now filled the tack room where she found herself sitting, Her trembling body was soaked in sweat and her head and hands were extended across the unsecured wooden stock. She moved to stand, which served to awaken the aches, pain and burning she was now feeling across her back and bottom. Curling her hands beneath her skirt, she clutched at the stinging parts and smirked, though she didn't know why.

How could this be happening, she wondered? Her bottom swooned like it had just been whipped and her creamy thighs tingled of torment and pleasure. Angeline rushed back to the house and the bathroom mirror where she smiled through a tear streaked flush. Turning, she lifted the denim skirt and confirmed the inflamed lash marks that streaked red across her thighs and bottom. Her wrists ached under the bandages and her neck seemed abraded and bluish.

Vaguely remembering, she lazily returned to the kitchen and the two steaks she had begun preparing earlier. Without much consideration she turned on the stove as if nothing had ever interrupted her and began to prepare dinner for two. She sang sweetly as she cooked dinner, "Sweet summer breeze, whispering trees, stars shining softly above, roses in June, wafted perfume, sleeping birds dreaming of love. Safe in your arms, far from alarms, daylight shall come but in vain, tenderly pressed close to your breast, kiss me, kiss me....again." Then she added with a tormented laugh, "whip me, whip me again..."

She waltzed around her little log house in a spell of lunacy, invisible hands clasped tightly around her waist, an invisible body fully erect in every sense of the word pressed against her own, their sexual organs grinding as they twirled and spun about. Afterwards, she set the table for two and then sat for an hour and absentmindedly ate most of both steaks before giving the rest to her befuddled dog.

She arose from her table and without cleaning up the dishes or blowing out the candles, dressed for bed. Once again she looked in the mirror and as the sudden realization that she was not fully herself began to dawn on her, she caught a shadow in her peripheral vision as it swept across the floor and then quickly discovered that the little pair of aged bloomers she had purchased earlier that day were laid out neatly on her bed.

Evangeline fingered the lace softly around each cuff and then completely disrobing, she pulled them on slowly, enjoying the feel of the frilly old cotton on her sensitive skin. They felt cool against the whip marks across her bottom and as she crawled into bed she slid her hands under the ties and ran the tips of her fingers over her wounds in a seductive collection of swirls and strokes that drew out drop after drop feminine excitement from inside of her lonely pussy. "Evangeliiiiine.........." the voice was filled with need and desire. Lily whined in the corner and then as if content to keep a watchful eye from a distance, lay her big furry head down on her bed.

Evangeline turned over onto her side and whispered dreamily, "Yes?" Her hands were all over her own bottom and she began to fumble with the ties on her bloomers and she grabbed at her breasts, she was a frenzy of hunger and uncontrollable lust. She looked around her through half closed eyes and was not surprised to see the woman from the stock standing next to the bed, small and pretty like a porcelain doll dressed in a long full black skirt and a rosy pink lace blouse that just barely showed the full bronze moons of her erect areolas. Standing next to her was the man with grey hair, his hand casually around the tiny woman's waist. They smiled at Evangeline before gazing passionately at each other as if for the first time. Evangeline plunged her fingers in and out of her now dripping womb, thrusting and shouting as she watched the two tenderly kiss, their lips melting into one another, each tongue slightly tasting the others with a delicate, intricate stroke.