Ghostly Spirit Seeks Revenge Ch. 02

.......

On the last day of his life, Vince Coulby was just a bit pissed off. Sometimes life really kicks you in the teeth. After weeks of just about ignoring him, his boss would choose this night to ask him to look at a job he wanted doing at his bungalow. The promise of a drink, hardly impinged on his annoyance about the timing. But the extra money for the job was something he couldn't refuse. What he should be doing on this particular night was repeating exactly what he had been doing on the previous evening, and that was having his cock worshipped by a tall, delectable redhead called Lana..

Hell, she hadn't been the first to be overwhelmed by the size he displayed, even when it was flaccid, and it wasn't flaccid for long when there was a willing lady around. Often it would begin to rise just viewing a swaying female buttock out on the street. Such an incorrigible organ, and he was proud of it.

There was only one other thing that bothered him about the coming evening. He had been dubious when he heard his boss had bought that cottage. Of all the cottages that must be on the market he had to choose that one. Vince hadn't been in it since that evening seven years ago that had gone so wrong. Still, they had got away with that. But he wondered how he would feel when he went back.

Thinking about that time brought Mick Donley to mind. He had been horrified to hear what happened to one of his best mates. Police had been to the builder's yard asking questions, but all he had been told was that it had been a particularly brutal murder. Mutilation was mentioned. Christ, who would do something like that? Fortunately, he had a lady who willingly supplied him with his alibi. She had said she would give him a recommendation if he needed it. .

His boss, David Turton, had mentioned it when he'd approached him that morning. "Terrible thing that happened to Mick last week. Good mates, weren't you?"

Vince had been a little surprised by the approach, because he'd felt that the boss had been very cool towards him lately, but he went along with it, "It was another mate killed violently."

"Another mate? Violently, you say. Was he murdered?"

"No, smashed his motor bike into a bridge parapet. Just twenty one, he was."

"What was his name?"

"We called him Sonny, mainly because he was younger than us. Had knocked around with us since he was eighteen.His real name was Peter Parton"

"How long ago was this?"

Vince had to think for just a moment, "Oh, it'd be about five years."

Vince had been surprised at the interest the boss had shown in that little story. But was even more surprised when he came up with his offer. "Listen, Vince, I'd like you to pop over to my place tonight. I fancy an extra, low short wall beyond the patio. We could have a drink and I'll show you what I want. Seven thirty all right?"

At that point Vince could only see Lana's thighs parting for him, and he hesitated with his reply.

"There's ten grand in it for you, but no word to anyone else. Don't want you being seen as favoured. But I know you do good work."

Ten grand? For what might be just one day's work. Lana could surely wait for one more night. He'd phoned her, and told her he was building up his strength to screw her real good.

Not that their last meeting hadn't been real good. And talk about taking your chances! His job had finished early, and he had gone home, bathed and changed and decided to take a walk around town. No real reason, no real goal, he just had these occasional aimless urges.

Parking his car in the multi-storey car park, he decided to have himself a coffee, and a doughnut. It was as he came out of the café that this tall willowy figure came out of the clothing store next door, juggling with several packages. Her flaming red hair was eye catching enough, but the slender shapely body was not disguised by a short jacket she was wearing.

From that point everything worked as though pre-ordained. She dropped a package, he offered to help and she accepted, after casting him an up and down look of approval. Her car was in the multi-storey, she told him, and when they reached it, Vince saw that it was only three cars away from his own. The next major event was the fact that she discovered she had a puncture. Ready to see to that, he found that she hadn't a spare. He offered her a lift, and she accepted, saying that she would phone her garage to see to the car.

Better and better, she had an apartment by the river. Very up-market, and Vince had thoughts of poor Mick and his boasting about his hotel conquests. He carried her packages up one flight of stairs watching the long legs, and her tick-tock backside right in front of his eyes. That set him twitching inside his pants.

Her apartment was elegantly furnished in feminine fashion, all whites and reds. He said yes to her offer of coffee, even though he'd just had one. All he hoped for was that this would move somewhere. She sat beside him on the sofa, having shed her jacket to reveal a blouse that showed an intriguing cleavage, between generous mounds.

Putting down her coffee she asked if she could give him a thank you kiss. Needing no further urging he leaned into her and their mouths meshed, tongue searching tongue.

In only seconds she drew away, her head nodded, and she led him to her bedroom, all girlie pink. Too good to be true, but this sort of thing had happened to him before. They stood by the bed, and he watched as she slowly, and provocatively removed her blouse, to reveal a flimsy bra. Vince unbuttoned his shirt and slipped it off. Stepping out of her skirt, she viewed his muscled chest and murmured, "Mm." Before her eyes dropped to the bulge in his pants, and her eyes widened, "Is that all it seems?"

Vince was playing the strong silent type, as he removed her bra, and slid his hands inside the waistband of her panties, sliding them down, until she wriggled her legs to help them down. And there it was, a genuine fiery burning bush, exactly the colour of her hair.

"You're really something," he made his first statement. "Now, sit on the bed."

She did as instructed, and looked up at him expectantly.

Vince unfastened his pants, and let them drop. The bulge in his boxer shorts had her open-mouthed. Deliberately, having done this before with quite a few women, he stood directly in front of her, and slowly, very slowly he lowered his shorts. He knew she could see his black pubic hair and a distorted bulge, and her mouth gaped in anticipation. At last he reached that point where he knew just one more push would release him. He made the move.

His monstrous erection sprang up, almost striking under Lana's nose, so that she momentarily leaned back, before reaching out to touch it, almost cautiously, but with definite eagerness.

"My God, I've never seen, never had one like this."

"Fancy it?" He was in his element. The whole process had been so fortuitous, and now was the time to enjoy it to the full, as her hands began playing up and down his cock, as though fingering a musical instrument. From his standing position he reached down and stroked her pointing, pink nippled breasts. She sighed, as she leaned only slightly forward to touch her tongue to his purple tip.

Wanting more, he laid her backwards as he went with her, giving her mouth greater access to his rigid penis. Her mouth opened to welcome it, as he swiveled round, to bury his face into her fiery fuzz. Sixty nine achieved, he felt her absorb a good length of his cock along her slobbering tongue, as he ploughed his own tongue along her groove to reach the spot where he knew her clit dwelt.

Her hands were working around his scrotum and then pulling at the hilt end of his cock that she hadn't taken. Maybe couldn't take. God, that was good. His own fingers had ploughed deep along her furrow to reach the vaginal lips into which he inserted two fingers.

At that point she pulled her mouth away from his erection and growled, "I want to fuck now. I haven't got much time this evening."

He came up out of her, but she held him down for a moment, as she played a different tune on his cock. She sat up over him, and he wallowed in the adoration she favoured upon him. Two hands working over it up and down. "It really is magnificent," she murmured, making it swell greater with pride. "Now put it in me." And she lay back, raised her knees, parted her thighs, pulled him towards her, he , rolled over her, and had her guide his throbbing cock into her soaking grasping portal.

He drove into her hard, heard her gasp with the power of it, but felt the ridges of her vaginal walls pulling him ever upwards. Back half a stroke, then forward a full stroke, they went like that for some time. He raised himself slightly over her so that each stroke connected with her clit, at the beginning of the glide.

Listening to her breathing, while thrusting and sucking on one of her elegant breasts, he began a faster rhythm. Judging she was close to climax, he pumped even faster and harder, listening to her grunts and moans of delight. Faster and faster, harder and harder, and her pelvic thrusts were matching his, as she raised up from the bed to match his ardour.

"Aah, I'm coming. I'm coming, Eeeeeh"

And she was bouncing ,heaving and biting into his shoulder as he took one double thrust and shot all he had deep into her.

"Funny noises, you make," he said, after recovering his breath.

She sat up over him, laughing and said, "Pity we have had to rush this. But we'll see who makes funny noises tomorrow night when I have a real go at your monster." And without further ado, she bent and took his deflating cock into her mouth, sucked on it and all the juices there, before releasing him.

"Tomorrow night, we'll give plenty of time to sharing some real action."

And that was the promise he had to shelve for a visit to his boss. Still the following night held just as much promise.

At have past seven on the dot, he turned the car into the lane leading to the bungalow, noticing that the sign said 'Brooksley Cottage', but he had heard that the boss always called it a bungalow. He had a funny feeling inside about being here, and when the boss welcomed him at the front door there was a strange shiver ran through him. His stupid imagination.

David Turton led him through to the living room, where one of the first things he saw was the bottle of champagne and two glasses standing on the coffee table.

"You'll take a drop of champagne?" Turton asked, already beginning to pour.

"I'm an ale man, really," Vince said, noting the fresh decoration around the place.

"Oh, so am I. But now and again it's good to spoil yourself."

Vince took the sparkling glass, said his thanks, and added, "I see you're getting on well with the decorating. Sam Connor said that's how you were spending your time."

Turton nodded, "Plenty of work. Bring your drink and I'll show you what's been done, and what I want you to do."

Out in the hall, his boss indicated the amount of wallpaper that had been needed for that. Then into a smaller bedroom, that had a pale blue paper, and it was all very boring as far as Vince was concerned. He felt like saying, just show me what you want, and let me get the hell out of here. There was an uncomfortable coldness about the place.

"And just across here is the main bedroom," Turton said, his hand already on the doorknob.

I don't really want to go in there, Vince thought. But what could he do? As his boss pushed open the door and went in, he just had to follow.

Immediately, he was struck by an extra chill, as though someone had opened a fridge door and all the air had been sucked into this room He was pleased to see that it hardly looked the same. No rose patterned wallpaper, but the bed was in the same place. And he thought he was going crazy as he thought he heard that scream from all those years ago.

He felt his boss's eyes on him, and he was feeling strangely woozy. Christ, it was the effect of this place, Even his legs felt wobbly. Get me out of this room.

"Where's the job you want doing?" he asked rather hastily.

"Keen to see it, are you?" Turton said, with a smile. Then, frowning a little, he asked, "Are you feeling all right, Vince?"

What could he say? This place gives me the creeps? All he could say was, "Just a bit rough. Maybe a touch of fresh air, will—" But, even as he spoke, he stumbled. What the hell was the matter with him?

Turton was leading him through the kitchen to a side door," Through here," he was saying. "Best going through the garage."

Vince was worried now. The few steps needed to follow Turton out to the garage took monumental effort. After just one drink? The drink—what was-?

He stood on the threshold of the garage, and Turton was standing watching him. A garage with plastic on the floor? But his vision was impaired , the garage was spinning madly. He was falling—he was—Blackness.

Slowly he opened his eyes, unsure of where he was or what had happened.. Lying on his back he was staring up, into the gloom, at a ceiling laced with wooden spars. Where was this? His nose itched, and he tried to scratch it. His hand couldn't move. It was tied. Uncertainty, and a measure of panic swept over him, as he found both arms tied, his legs too. He could only move his head..

What the fuck was happening here? Jesus, he was buck naked. It was plastic sheeting under him, and he was spread-eagled. The garage, he now recalled, his boss was taking him into the garage That is where he was, he realised as his eyes became used to the gloom. He tried to yell and found that his mouth had been taped. Was this some kind of joke?

Then the overhead neon light flashed on, and he was temporarily blinded,. blinking wildly in the glare. If somebody had turned the light on they had to be behind him, out of his line of vision. .

His eyes adjusting to the light, he turned his head to one side. And his heart leapt in his chest. A stark naked blonde woman was standing there, hands on hips, as though challenging him. In how many situations would this have been a sensuous thrill. for him? The woman was exquisite with firm breasts, flat belly and parted thighs that revealed, through the blonde bush, a hint of delicate labia.

The face could have been one of extreme beauty but there was something about this face that chilled his soul. Lips slightly parted, eyes of green that he was sure flashed red. Pure hate and venom seemed to be pouring at him from that face.

"Look at me. Remember me. Remember. Then regret." Suddenly she gave out one blood curdling scream, and the voice that came from her lips was deep, like a man's. "Not many folk around, dearie. Save your breath."

That scream, those words, from Mick, weren't they. He did remember, and knew it couldn't be. She was dead. So this was some kind of game, wasn't it? His brain wouldn't let him accept that. How could anyone know those words?

She moved forward, and he flinched, not knowing what to expect. Now she placed one foot on either side of his head, and he was looking up into what should have been the blonde furred gates of heaven, yet he feared they could be the gates of Hell.

Still with legs astride, the woman shuffled back wards over his body. Her voice was harsh female again, "You've had your last look. Now have your last thrill."

She had reached his hips .where his cock lay, long and limp across his thigh. He saw her bend, and he had to raise his head to see her reach out and touch it.

Her eyes, hard as emeralds, looked up at him, as she began to stroke, and lift his flaccid manhood. The strokes were deep and long. It was all surely too fearful for his to respond. But her touch was having an effect. Jesus, that felt good, and maybe this was all some kind of dangerous game.

"Has a life of its own, doesn't it?" her voice was deep and hollow sounding.

Breathing deeply he couldn't believe that he was almost fully erect, and a greater shock came when she leaned forward and licked at the purple head, before her lips enveloped his cock completely. This was amazing, he thought, and she was damned good. Frustrating because he longed to touch her tits, or suck into her.

At that moment, his whole dream shattered as felt her teeth bite hard into his throbbing flesh. His scream of despair was trapped behind his taped mouth. He jerked his body, to no avail.

She released his erection from her lips, and reaching behind her, she produced large bolt cutting shears. What was she intending? But his brain told him., and terror seized him, as he tried to thrash his body free. His erection hadn't had time to recede from the recent shock, and his next sensation was the feel of cold steel behind his scrotum.

"Say goodbye to all erections," she hissed, and snapped the handles together. Biting, searing, stabbing pain racked his whole body, with its centre in his groin. Prevented from crying out, his whole body heaved, and tears filled his eyes. That pulsing, was it the blood gushing out of him.

Through a haze of tears, he saw her stand, and she was spattered with blood, his blood. She still held the cutters, and in their jaws were his blood stained, dripping genitalia. "I have the set now," she growled, releasing the cutter jaws over a bench, from which she picked up-God, a black cock and balls. Mick! It was she who'd taken Mick..

Putting that down she picked up two more items, held one behind her back, the other, he could see through his misted agony, was a large bulldog clip, the kind used for gripping many sheets of paper together. She kneeled down beside him. "A lot of pain, is there? I hope so." The green eyes viewed him meanly. "Now, it's closure time."

With that she stripped the tape from his mouth, and as he released his cries of hate, of pleading of fear,. she opened the bulldog clip, and placed it over his nose. The clip itself was sharp and painful, but it also cut off any breathing through his nose. He opened his mouth to gulp in air, and that was when she produced the second object-a large red dildo. The moment he saw it he knew,. knew without any doubt, the significance of this piece of equipment.

She moved to push it into his mouth, but he turned his head away, sucked in air, and started moving his head from side to side, to prevent entry..

Suddenly, another pair of hands was clutching at each side of his head. Looking up, in despair, he was suddenly filled with hope. "Boss, you! Thank—"

But even as he spoke the woman had forced the dildo into his open mouth. He tried to stop its progress by biting on it, but he had to breathe. Relentlessly, it was forced in deeply to the back.

Practically the last sound Vince heard was, "I'm right down into her throat," It came from her lips, but it might have been his own voice. The dildo head was indeed way deep into his throat, blocking his air supply. His lungs fought for air. There was none. His body twitched and he felt his eyeballs bulging. He couldn't—breathe—there—

"My name was Sara." Filled his head, and he was gone.

.......

Clearing up was messy, and David was glad when the body was all wrapped and bound with parcel tape. Everything had gone well so far. The doctored drink had been ideal. Tina, no, it wasn't Tina, what he had watched and what he had heard from her told him that. She had shown things that Tina couldn't know. Sara's spirit had taken charge of Tina's body. He prayed to God that this could be reversed. So it was Sara who had stood by, still naked, still blood stained, and watching while he completed the clearing up. How could he work like this, knowing without a doubt that he was in the company of a spirit? He'd never in all his life believed in a spirit world. But here he was.

Not Tina, he knew, when she said, "One more function before I return this to my sister." She passed a hand down over her body, turned to the bench, and in each hand, picked up a set of genitals.