Ghosts of Cwndol

...

Anwen stirred her tea while Eryn stirred in her chair. This meeting was a bit more cordial than their previous ones, although it didn't stop Eryn getting a bit worked up at the latest painting of her naked and facing a witch trial in a crowded town.

"You know it's such a lovely day, how about we have tea outside?" Anwen asked. Eryn sighed knowing what her answer would mean.

"Sure."

They sat in the front garden while Eryn uneasily nibbled on a freshly baked lardy cake. Anwen sighed as the sun's rays warmed her skin.

"So you believe in the ghosts now?" She asked with a grin. "That's good because they believe in you."

"What did they say?" Eryn asked, snapping upright in her seat.

"They didn't say anything, their mouths are in the ground with the rest of their bodies. But I can feel their will and they seem very excited by you." Anwen replied casually.

"They get excited at every girl who enters Cwndol?"

"Well that's a tricky question. They like to fix the problems us girls have, but it always seems to be the same solution to different problems. A woman leaving a miserable or abusive relationship, a girl stuck in a rut, someone who has it all but it isn't enough. They will all get something similar to you, a trial by fire, ample rewards along the way, and a stronger person coming out the other side, but the specifics vary widely. But if you're looking to feel special, the last time they showed this attention to someone living in Cwndol, not just some tourist or passerby, was at least 20 years ago. They clearly want you to move in, live here for as long as you can."

"I already live here though."

"Do you?" Anwen replied, "you have a house here, you are currently forced to spend your time here, but you don't live here, your spirit is one of the road, keeping moving, never feeling comfortable enough to stop and put down roots. They want you to see Cwndol as your home."

Eryn smiled and nodded, acutely aware that the overwhelming urge to strip had suddenly hit her while having this nice cup of tea.

"Now last night was just a bit of a history lesson, just a bit of reliving the pain that came before this village, you're no stranger to going through hard times to build something so I'm sure you can appreciate it. You are a bit of a freak after all." Anwen acknowledged, causing Eryn to pause for a moment and wonder if the blind woman knew she was currently stripped down to her underwear.

"What's next, getting burned at the stake?" Eryn quipped as she unclipped her bra and dropped it to one side, letting her breasts take in the spring sun.

"Just enough of whatever it will take to instill some appreciation." Anwen cryptically explained as Eryn wiggled herself free of her knickers and took a hearty sip of her tea, naked for everyone with working eyes to see. "I'll tell you what, after we've finished our tea and cakes I'll let you see the paintings of the town's history, I think you're ready for them."

"Thanks, for everything I guess. I'm still not sure how I feel about all this but it would be so much worse if you weren't here to help."

"Well in that spirit dear, I should probably warn you that the postman is coming up the road so you have about 20 seconds to hide before he sees you in the altogether." Eryn wasn't surprised that Anwen knew about her sudden urge to strip, it didn't shock her as much as it should have.

"You know what." Eryn said, taking a deep breath. "I don't feel like hiding."

As a burly man in ill fitting shorts whistled a merry tune to himself and walked up the hill towards Anwen's house, Eryn didn't feel that same numbness to fear and embarrassment that had characterised previous jaunts outside, the spirits of Cwndol had left her alone with her resolve. Nevertheless with each moment she heard the whistling getting closer, despite every fiber of her being wanting to retreat into the house, Eryn stayed rooted to her seat.

"Morning Dafyd!" Anwen yelled to ensure she got his attention. "Anything interesting this morning?"

"I'll say." He responded as his eyes locked onto Eryn's body and his jaw dropped.

"Oh where are my manners? Dafyd this is my friend Eryn, Eryn this is my postman Dafyd, he's so nice, he helps me know what post I have and sometimes even reads me the letters that aren't sent in braille."

"Is that so? Are you a good boy Dafyd?" Eryn sensuously asked, delighting as a deep crimson blush assaulted his cheeks.

"Not always." He stuttered. Eryn stood up and casually walked over to Dafyd, snatching the post out of his outstretched hands before turning away and slinking back to her seat.

"Bye Dafyd." She stated, calmly but firmly. Dafyd awkwardly shuffled away, adjusting his shorts to accommodate his erection. Anwen burst into laughter.

"I can see why they like you, come on let's go inside."

Anwen immediately led Eryn inside, leaving her clothes by the table in her front garden. As she entered the house she took an abrupt turn and put her hand on the handle of the door leading away from her entranceway.

"Now I must warn you, these paintings are slightly odd, they depict the history of Cwndol, however the pictures change based on who is looking at them." Anwen opened the door to a room lined with intricately painted canvases, filling the walls and floors. Eryn turned to the one immediately on her left, a river scene, several well-to-do people in suits and fancy dresses sat by the river, laughing and joshing. In the foreground a large wooden platform plunged into the river, and beneath the waterline, at the end of the platform, strapped to a crude wooden chair was a naked woman, bubbles emerging from her mouth as she screamed for help. Eryn was taken aback by the contrast of a relaxed and fancy riverside picnic by a woman's water torture, but even moreso as she looked closely and saw the woman looked identical to her.

"I suppose you've noticed that you are the subject in every painting. Sorry this happens to every woman I show them to." Anwen admitted. Eryn closely examined the paint, looking for evidence that the painting had been recently painted over or altered in some way, she didn't know what she was specifically looking for but the paint certainly looked old and settled. It then struck Eryn that suits and dresses seemed a bit anachronistic for a painting of a time when ducking witches was a nice accompaniment to a picnic. She examined the background figures closely and noticed they weren't generic characters, they were people she knew. She recognized her boss as one of the men in a suit laughing at her naked tortured body, her friend's partner was wearing a fancy dress and nonchalantly eating a cake while Eryn drowned metres away from her.

Eryn moved on to the next painting, this was her shackled and chained, naked in a courtroom while a judge yelled at her in a state of purest rage. Her eyes were cast downwards as around her, her closest friends and family stood with their backs turned to the humiliated prisoner.

One by one Eryn scanned the pictures, each time her facsimile was being condemned, humiliated, tortured, and degraded. In each picture her friends abandoned her, her acquaintances betrayed her, and any person in a position of authority would work aggressively and tirelessly to see her downfall.

The final picture was painted in the centre of Cwndol, Stood in the middle of the road was a circle of women, all dressed in clothing from different periods throughout time. In the centre of the circle was Eryn, naked, glowing, and ascending, her face a picture of ecstatic joy.

"I'm sure you have a lot to think about dear, but you should probably go grab your clothes, the wind has picked up and I think they are blowing away."

...

That night was very different for Eryn, before she had fought the strange forces of the village, she'd rationalised and hidden away, but tonight she stood naked looking at her front door, eagerly awaiting her night's activities. She slipped out of her house as easily as she would slip into a warm bath, the nighttime caressing her body and removing her cares. She released her mind from worry and pressure, letting supernatural instincts guide her movement. She wandered into the forest, deep and foreboding, she seemed to spend a lifetime gliding among the trees.

In the distance she spotted a river but the moment it filled her eyes, her body became wracked with new and unpleasant sensations. It was as if she was feeling the blunt chronic pain of past torture, with all the attendent feelings of the discomfort and violation. Her lungs felt heavy with water, her skin felt the overwhelming heat of fire, her bottom felt a glowing razer sharp pressure, and a horrible itchiness covered her head. Eryn collapsed on the floor with the overwhelming sensory overload, crawling the rest of the way to the river.

Next to the river was a ducking stool, just like the one from the painting, the unseen will pushed her forward as she climbed into the seat. That familiar idea of restraint suddenly tightened around her arms and legs, invisibly binding her to the stool as her ears began to fill with the jeers and taunts of an unseen ghostly audience behind her.

"Do you repent your sinful ways?" An aged but authoritative voice yelled above the baying crowd. Eryn was unable to respond before the ducking stool plunged into the river. Eryn felt her body begin to sing as the cold water shocked her system, she screamed and watched bubbles of her life saving breath float away. After an indeterminate time she was raised out of the water and something extraordinary happened, her lungs felt lighter, she was able to breathe a bit easier and she suddenly felt far more alive.

"Do you repent your sinful ways?"

"Go fuck yourself." Eryn yelled as the ducking stool plunged into the water once again. She screamed, she writhed, she moaned, and she emerged from the water more energised and stronger than before.

"Do you repent your sinful ways?"

"I'm going to kill every man in this town and then I'm going to fuck all your wives." Eryn yelled, looking forward to her next plunge into the river.

Eryn lost count of how many times she got dipped, each time she would shout profanities at the gathered town before being dunked again. Eventually and suddenly the dunking stopped. The stool rose from the water and the forest was empty, leaving Eryn alone with an insatiable desire to continue her journey. She took a deep breath and noticed there was still a tickle of fluid in the bottom of her lungs, like if she'd accidentally inhaled some water from her drinking glass. It was not as unbearable as her burning skin, throbbing bottom and itchy head but she did almost hack up a lung trying to dislodge it without success.

Eryn stood up from the chair and found the river she had been dunked in now gone, replaced by firm ground as she walked away and followed the unseen force to her next destination. She once again found herself wandering the forest, she felt a warm pulse coming from her pussy, rewarding her for her determination and pushing her onwards. She felt no surprise when she saw a wooden platform ahead looking out over a forest clearing, a pile of logs forming a makeshift staircase she knew she had to climb.

As she stood atop the wooden platform Eryn noticed two long logs, slightly apart, sticking up from the centre. She immediately knew that these were her next bonds. She stood between them and felt her hands wrap around the posts, high above her heads so her arms were stretched as far as they could. She then felt her legs begin to shuffle apart, opening herself until her ankles touched the base of the logs. All at once, ghostly bonds lashed her in position and the phantom crowd assembled into the clearing to watch her latest indignity.

"Eryn Jones." A different but equally elderly man's voice announced. "For your wanton crimes of harlotry, whoring and degenerating the town's morals, you are sentenced to twenty lashes." Eryn had but a moment to take in the jubilant cheers of a town slaking its bloodlust with corrupted justice before she felt an explosion of power across her bottom.

Beyond the eons, a ghost with a lot of practice was landing precise strokes on Eryn's naked bottom, but with each lash Eryn felt a wellspring of heat and a feeling of relief. She started counting along in jubilant expectation as each stinging whip caressed her body. The crowd's rage slowly turned to concern and fear as Eryn laughed maniacally over her increasingly welted bottom. Soon she reached twenty lashes and to the crowd's shock she began begging for more, taunting and imploring the whip hand to keep her punishment coming.

"As one final punishment..." the old man began.

"Please be more whipping, come on really let my arse have it." Eryn interrupted.

"Silence, your final punishment is that we will give you a permanent mark of your shame." A surly looking man suddenly appeared in front of Eryn, a leery grin on his face as he looked her body up and down. He turned to one side and a small fire materialised next to him, one he delighted in pulling a red hot poker out of. At the end of the poker was a custom piece of metal work, clearly some sort of brand, Eryn tried to read the back to front letters but didn't have time before the leering man thrust the brand onto her midriff.

Eryn felt a surge of white hot exhilaration, her body screamed in ecstatic joy as the brand sizzled against her skin. At first she began laughing, and then as her laughter became more maniacal she began to moan in orgasmic bliss. She felt the pent up joy of all her experience so far begin to coalesce, and just as she was moments away from an orgasm she felt all ghostly apparitions disappear, ending the surge of pleasure and dropping her to the floor as her bonds were released.

Eryn screamed in sexual frustration, deep down she knew she wouldn't be getting her sweet release until she was done with her adventure. She looked down to where the brand had made contact and saw the word 'whore' burned into her skin, still there despite the disappearance of the ghostly apparitions. She got up and once again began to follow the pull of the forest.

Eryn tried touching herself as she walked deeper into the darkness, but it seemed like her whole body would go numb every time a finger touched her clit or pulled apart her labia, so she was relieved when a small ghostly cabin appeared as her next destination.

As Eryn pushed the creaky wooden door open she found herself in a single large room, the room was filthy with decay layered over past sins, but was also bare save for a single chair in the centre that Eryn knew was her place of honour. She sat down and once again felt psychic bonds fasten her tight to the seat.

Immediately the room filled with racks upon racks of every torture implement known to man. Then a thin ghostly echo of a man materialised, running his fingers over them with avarice.

"All is not actually hopeless for you. You have satan's hooks in you, you have been living a deeply sinful life, but all you need to do is confess your sins, and tell us which other women in the town you have seduced and this can all be over for you." He expositioned. Eryn had no idea who this past life had seduced, she had no way of answering his question, but she felt like this didn't affect her answer anyway.

"All of them, I have rubbed pussies with every woman in town. We had lesbian sex all night long then in the morning we wiped our fluids off on pages of the bible while discussing women's rights, trade unions, and the scientific method." Eryn spat.

"I am told that when you like someone you are deeply caring and defensive of them, the scratches on Alderman Jacobs face can certainly attest to that, surely you would want to help them back into the kingdom of heaven?"

"Well I am told, by your wife, that my clitoris is bigger than your dick. Surely you would want someone to help her finally experience pleasure in the bedroom?" Eryn mocked.

"I see you have chosen petulance in the face of salvation, that is a shame." The man sighed, picking up a large pair of shearing scissors. "In my time I have seen that Satan plays many tricks by corrupting scripture. In past inquisitions many of his thralls have been given power through their hair, in direct mockery of the story of Samson. Once relieved of this they are often more accommodating to the word of the lord."

"Brilliant, you know how difficult it is to get a haircut during lockdown" Eryn chuckled before realising that probably doesn't translate well to his time period. Eryn felt her head snap backwards and the ghost pulled her by the hair, she then felt his grip gradually and stutteringly loosening. It took her a moment to realise he was not letting go of her hair, the hair he was pulling was being sheared from her head. Every so often he would stand in front of her and mockingly sprinkle clumps of her hair to the floor. The first round of shearing gave her a pixie cut, he then went back for a second and closer cut, the blades of the scissors scraping against Eryn's scalp. Finally he held up a ghostly mirror to give Eryn time to bathe in the humiliation he had put her through.

Eryn's reflection filled her with strange emotions, any other day the sight of her shaved and stripped would have filled her with sadness and shame. But even though her reflection was not changed or distorted, within it she was able to find a wellspring of pride. The reflection looking back at her was a body that had been degraded to reinforce the spirit, the flames of her humiliation tempering her steely resolve.

"Now then my little bald temptress." The man began, running his hand over Eryn's bald head. "Do you have strength within you now to throw off Satan's hold and help us purify the town?"

"Don't worry, your secret is safe with me." Eryn cryptically noted.

"Careful now, witches have often been known to sow discord and spit mistruths."

"Oh no I know this is true, your mum told me herself how you still breastfeed, and she never lies during pillow talk." A crack appeared in the stoic visage of her interrogator, his smile faded and for a moment he raised his hand before calmly lowering it again.

"I see you are more resilient than your predecessors, so steeped in satan's filth that you think yourself immune from damnation. Very well, we call this next device 'beelzebub's helmet'..."

"Funny, that's what your wife calls you."

"Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! For one moment stop spewing filth from your sin hole, you depraved whore!" The man yelled, his mask of civility falling hard.

"Looks like I touched a nerve, which is funny because your wife says..." Eryn's thought was interrupted by a metal box being roughly placed over her head. Eryn's world was plunged into darkness as she felt the neck hole tighten, locking her in. After a couple of moments a shaft of light shone into the box where the man opened a lid on top, he poured in a black shadow and closed the lid leaving Eryn to momentarily wonder what her nemesis had just lined her up to be subjected to.

Suddenly the tickle of tiny feet began to prick at Eryn's face and shaved head. The man had emptied jars of various insects into the box with Eryn and they had now begun to swarm around her.

Eryn knew she should feel disgusted, she should be screaming for mercy, choking on filth, and pleading for release from the disgusting degradation. But this was far from what Eryn felt, she felt like the only person dirtied by the insects was the man who had just lost his temper at her. She couldn't see anything but felt cleaner, and the itchiness she had felt at the start of her mystical adventure now made sense and began to retract. She didn't know how long she spent in the helmet but when it was removed she felt like she had just emerged from a bath.