Haunted House

And written over each and every brick, hopefully in red paint and nothing else, were sigils. All manner of sigils with all of them looking evil. Scary. Demonic. Some of them had even turned black, like they were burned into the brick, which I didn't think was possible.

It was finding that secret place that got me to research the guy that built this house. What put me on the path of learning all that he did. His twisted and evil history. It's what made the haunting even worse.

I'm not even sure I could have told Marg everything. Especially about the stuff the evil bastard did in the attic. It's so twisted and horrible that I vowed never to go back up there. I can't even go near a place where such humiliation and abuse happened.

The evil bastard hired goons to go with him to a church, where he would pick out a victim. The goons would then kidnap the victim, only to bring them here and chain them up. It was mostly women, but every so often he would grab a man.

It was in the attic that he would sexually use and abuse them for as long as he wanted. They say he even brought in crowds that belonged to his cult to watch as he anally took his victims, allowing all to laugh at the naked victim as part of some ritual. That he hosted them like a party, with the victim being raped as the entertainment and sexual sacrifice.

At first, I thought he did such horrible things because he was just a horrible person. A sick pervert. Some loser that was so messed up he couldn't get it up without hearing a woman scream. But no. I wish that it was.

He did all those evil acts because he belonged to some cult. A cult where the members pledge their soul to some sex demon. He did all those evil sex acts as a ritual to that demon, in hopes of, well, I dunno. Getting possessed? Getting riches? Getting... something? I really don't know. But he believed in the demon and convinced many others to worship him as well.

The tapping sound echoes about the room and my mind, bringing me back to my senses. Though I can't see it, I know what the sound is, and it's the chains in the attic, rattling and bouncing off the brick wall, stating they want their next victim. That they need the sexual abuse, pain and fear from a new victim. That they have been awoken and empowered and will not stay quiet any longer.

With cold fear and a horrible tiredness coming over me, I know that I'm the next victim. The house wants me. It wants me chained to that wall so the darkness can do horrible things to me. I can feel it deep in my soul. I'm not sure if it is from the demon, or the evil bastard, or from the house itself. But I can tell whatever it is, it wants me.

Putting my hands to my face, I fight to keep it together. It's just... I feel so tired. This place doesn't let you sleep. I've gotten maybe 8 hours of sleep in the past week. Of late it seems like something was happening every day to freak me out. To make you too scared to fall asleep. It keeps you in this constant state of fear or nervousness, where any moment you know you will be touched or something will happen. And even when I do fall asleep, it'll do something. From pulling my clothes, to pinching a sensitive place, right down to spanking or slapping my ass.

I'm so tired that it's like I can't even think. How am I supposed to get out of this if I can barely even remember my own name? There's no internet, no cell phone, no nothing. It's not like I can contact anyone. I'm all alone here. Alone, tired and scared.

Wanting to be away from the sight of the spiders, I leave the kitchen. As I do, I consider how stupid I found the idea of a "sex demon" to be at first. I mean, a sex demon? Really? Sounds like a bad Hellraiser movie. Demons are evil monsters. Why would they care about sex? Wouldn't they rather be biting, striking, eating and attacking anyone instead?

After reading more about demons, I discovered how it did make sense, in a weird, sick way. People like the evil bastard believe sex was made as a beautiful way for people to show their love for each other. A God given gift to make a personal connection that's needed to survive in this crazy world. It's a beautiful, sweet act, made with love.

Many demons, such as the demon the cult believed in, took the beautiful act of making love and twisted it. Turned it from beautiful into a session filled with pain, humiliation and terror. The point being to pervert an act given by God to show defiance. And in that defiance it gives the demon power.

Learning this did sort of mess me up. I mean, good people can enjoy kinky sex and not be considered evil. I've even enjoyed getting spanked by a lover. I even let him tie my breasts because he kept asking to do it so often. And I've known others that like bondage, or pain and other darker-leaning acts who are perfectly good people. They certainly didn't worship any sex demons.

I think the difference between normal kinky people and what the demon does is the demon does extreme acts on non-consenting victims. There's no love or joy in it for anyone but the demon. While for normal kinky people, it is still an act of connection or love. It's meant for joy and fun, not hate and pain as it is for the demon.

In fact, it did make me ponder a strange thought. I wonder what happened if one of the victims they captured started to enjoy the abuse. That they got into it, and turned it into something positive. Where the victim orgasmed off it, instead of being scared and humiliated. Would they have let the victim go? Did it hurt the demon? Did it give them power to fight it?

My eyes close as I feel an unnatural cold surround me. Like an unseen cloud, it moves around me as I stand in my downstairs living room. The cold brings something...alive with it. The feeling pumps even more fear into me to the point that it feels like it's trying to enter my very pores. But with my eyes closed, I take deep, strong breathes to keep it at bay.

Once I feel a tad bit stronger, I open my eyes to see a sight that adds on to the confirmation of what's happening. I see my panties, laid out in a line, as if a path for me to follow. And every so often, I see one of my bras too. All of my underwear made into a nice, neat line, making a clear path that heads no doubt to the garage...and then the attic. And yes, all of my underwear was in my bedroom, upstairs.

"Ouch!" I cry out and my hips shoot forward as I feel a bad sting on my bottom. It scares me to the point that I spin around, scared that a snake bit me on the ass or something. But of course, nothing's there. Nothing's there because it was a spank to my ass. A spank meant to make me move. A hard slap on the ass, telling me to get my body to the attic so I can be the victim.

"N-No," I say out loud, not even sure who I'm saying it too. The house? The demon? The crazy sex bastard that built the place? Maybe to all of them.

My shirt is flung upward suddenly, exposing my breasts while covering my face with my own shirt. This makes me shriek as I wasn't expecting it. It's done it before, but never so fierce or aggressive. I grab my shirt and yank it back down to cover myself, refusing to expose any part of me. Refusing to give in.

As I pull my shirt down, my pajama bottoms and panties are yanked down as if there's an invisible man behind me who did it. They fall to my feet, exposing my shaved womanhood to the house, as well as my ass.

Once again I shriek as I don't want to be exposed. I bend over quickly to grab my bottoms, but as I do, something grabs my shirt again. While bent over, the force pulls on my shirt, allowing it to overpower my arms and slide off me, moving over my head with ease. In a single move, I'm made topless, my tits dangling and swinging under me.

The force of my shirt being pulled forces me forward, where I fall over. With my feet wrapped in my own pajama bottoms, I can't step to try and catch my balance. So I fall, nearly landing on my face. Thankfully I'm able to get my hands out to break my fall.

Once I land, I reach out, wanting to grab my shirt. Only...it's gone. I don't see it anywhere. Panicking, I sit up and pull my knees to my chest in hopes of at least grabbing my pajama bottoms. But then I see they are gone too. My pajama bottoms and panties are just, gone. Disappeared. No doubt somewhere in my house, taken from me in some messed up hide and seek game.

I'm naked. Completely naked. NAKED. Every inch of me exposed and out in the open. I've been stripped. Made to feel like a toy to the darkness. I'm being assaulted and there's nothing I can do to stop it. And for some reason, I feel like every window is a pair of eyes, staring at me hungrily. Where there are hundreds of people looking at me in the darkness and are laughing at me.

"No! I won't let you!" I declare to the house, my voice quivering as I'm so scared and pissed off. Defiant, I stand up as if about to physically fight. It's silly and isn't going to help anything, but I use one arm to cover my breasts and the other to cup my womanhood as I stand. At the very least, won't let it get to see the best bits.

There's just one question that I have...what do I do now? What can I do? The only thing my tired and fear-filled brain can think to do is to go get my Bible. That maybe, somehow, it'll protect me. That it'll repel the darkness because I believe in its power.

Suddenly, the air gets extremely cold. It feels like that cloud of cold air returns, surrounding me again, only this time it's far more intense. Instantly I shiver and my teeth chatter. The cold latches on to me like a blanket, wrapping around every inch of me, like it's trying to leach my body heat away. It feels physical, like its able to hold me.

"NO!" I scream as loud as I can as I feel the cold moving up my nose. I feel the stabbing cold as it snakes its way into both nostrils as it tries to get inside me. A moment later, I feel the exact same thing, but in my mouth. The piercing cold moves in like it was dry ice or something, freezing my body as it goes.

Panic once again overwhelms me as I feel my consciousness being taken from me. It feels just like when I had surgery as a kid. They put that mask-thing over my mouth and nose and told me to breathe. When I did, the gas inside seemed to go inside my body and steal my breath as well as my conscious mind, forcing me into a dark sleep. I remember trying to fight it, but it would be like trying to fight gravity when you are pushed out of an airplane.

"NOOOO!" I scream, but the blackness around the edges of my vision crawls over. It soon covers all of my vision, not allowing me to see a single thing. I fight with all my might to hang on to at least a tiny bit of my consciousness, but it too is ripped away from me. It's just too powerful.

"W-W-What...what happened?" I groan as my eyes flutter open. My entire body feels drained and tired, like I did a few days of hard physical labor. My head pounds as well, making it feel like I'm hungover or dehydrated.

"Nooooo," I groan in hopelessness as I see where I am. I'm in the attic, my hands held over my head, cuffed to the chains. And looking down, my feet are cuffed spread apart as well, leaving me naked and helpless in the house's torture spot.

I pull and pull on the chains, wanting to get free, but they are still very sturdy. Even after all this time, they are strong enough to hold me in place. To trap me. And it doesn't appear like they can be ripped out from the wall either.

The darkness possessed me. That has to be what happened. It possessed me and brought my naked ass here. Made me lock myself up.

Taking a sort of mental inventory of myself, it doesn't appear that it's done anything to me. There's no pain or markings anywhere. If that's the case, it must need the real me for whatever it has planned. That I can't be possessed.

A creak in the attic floorboards makes me whip my head in that direction. The attic is brightly lit as the lights have been turned on, but I don't see anyone. But I heard that creak, as if someone is walking over the old boards.

"W-What do you want?" I ask the darkness, trying to sound not as scared as I sound. Another creak sounds, this one much closer, but that's the only response I get.

I can sense that something else is here. I can feel their presence, even if they are invisible. And whatever it is, is massive. I can feel that it towers over me and has to be double my size in width.

I gasp as for the briefest of moments, I see a flash of something. A black, shadowy shape with two red eyes, like the ends of two lit cigarettes. A huge black shape that is somewhat the shape of a person, and it's right in front of me.

It's the demon. It has to be. It possessed me and brought me here. Now it means to fulfil whatever dark plans it has to give itself more power.

A scream comes out of me unexpectedly as it feels like a lightning bolt cracked right over both of my breasts. As I scream, I feel my tits bounce up and then jiggle, hard. Looking down, I see a long red welt form on top of both breasts, making it look as if they were just hit with something like a whip.

Another blow comes, making me cry out again from the sting. My breasts do the same hard bounce, where they sail up, then come back down, jiggling all over. The sting lingers with a red welt forming underneath the first one.

It's whipping me. It's whipping my tits. When I figure this, I try to pull on the chains to break them, but I can't. My reward for struggling is to be whipped several more times across my breasts, with the last blow landing right on my sensitive nipples.

"Stop it! Stop it!" I shriek at the unseen monster, my breasts throbbing from the punishment. My words are met with what feels like two vises grabbing my hard nipples. They grab and pull cruelly, but pull upwards, making both of my breasts move upward by the nipples as if doing it to themselves.

I shake my head nearly violently as the demonic presence abuses my breasts. I scream for it to stop as it starts to stretch my breasts into cones, knowing how much it hurts. But it doesn't stop. Instead it pulls harder, pulling my poor breasts like they have never been before.

Finally my tits are released, letting them fall and swing as my sweaty self tries to catch my breath. At this brief respite, I hang on my bonds, more scared than I thought possible.

There's no way out of this. I'm stuck to this wall. And even if I could break free, the demon has locked down my house. In time it would just bring me back to this exact spot. There's nothing I can do.

It's going to abuse me and no doubt rape me for the entire night, and there's nothing I can do about it. It'll keep doing it until...I don't know. Until it get what it wants. But how long will that take? An hour? All night? A Week? How long before I can no longer take it and it claims my soul?

Glancing around, I see all the horrid sex toys that are on the wall. All the tools that are about to be used on me, no doubt. Will it use the real thing, or some ghost/demon version of them? And there's just so many and they all look like they will hurt.

Looking at the sex toys feels me with a great amount of fear. Especially the one bar prison which I swear is glowing. It's like the demon knows how scared I am of the thing and is making sure I notice it. It wants me scared. It wants me to feel the fear of it before it uses it on me.

"Feel...fear," I mutter out loud, my tired brain making some strange connection. The few brain cells that are still working and not passed out fire into life, trying to get me to work. To see something that the back of my mind knows, but I don't.

The demon has been feeding off my fear. For weeks, it's scared me and terrorized me. Now it is about to feed off my pain as well. No doubt feeding off my other emotions too, like my humiliation, terror, even anger. That's what it wants. That's its goal. To produce those in me and make them even more intense.

What if I did the opposite?

In my mind, I remember a long time ago, when I was having sex with my then boyfriend. We were just playing around and being stupid. He had me pressed up against the bedroom door, where he tied my hands over my head by wrapping a cloth around them and trapping them in the closed door at the top. I remember how helpless I felt, as I had to stand on my tiptoes. Being aggressive, he turned me around and pressed my face against the door and spanked me. Spanked me till my entire ass was red and then fucked me.

I remember that session because it was so hot. It was so intense. I will always remember it as he called me dirty while he spanked me hard. I remember feeling how I deserved it. That my ass belonged to him and he could do whatever he wanted. That he might even take pictures to show his friends. But more than anything, I wanted him to do more. To not just spank me, but much worse. Sure, it was all heated talk in my mind, but oh, how I craved it at that moment.

Over the years, I've let others spank me, but none have come close to that first time. Back to when I wanted it to hurt because it felt good. Hell, I wouldn't have minded if he anally took me that day, if that's what he wanted, which is something I've not let anyone do at all.

Taking deep, steadying breaths, I try to put myself back in that mindset. To go back to that day in my mind. To the time when I was experimenting with sex and loved the idea of being sexually punished. Where the humiliation and pain were just side effects of arousal.

Closing my eyes, I fight hard to not think of demons, of snakes or of possible death. Instead, I think of a fun lover, a bottle of wine and getting to experiment and cum. Of countless orgasms, no responsibilities and extreme joy. Of what this house was supposed to be for me.

I let out another cry as I feel myself being whipped again, only this time, it's not across my breasts. It's between my legs. I feel the blow land right on my womanhood, stinging it badly. This time it's not a single whip, but many of them, like a flogger. Where the whip covers my entire womanhood instead of a single piece.

Only in my mind, I picture a strapping young man with a six pack having just open-hand slapped my pussy while smirking at me. When I see this in my mind, I actually let out a soft moan as it brings a weird sort of pleasure. It's the smirk that does it.

My pussy is whipped again, only this time I don't cry out at all. Instead I moan as I see the man in my mind do it. He smacks me with his hand, only to taunt with that smirk, asking, "what am I going to do to stop him?" This makes goosebumps appear as we both know the answer is "nothing." I even tell him how he owns my pussy now.

Moan after moan comes out as I'm whipped repeatedly. Each time it hits, I feel the whip growing to cover more and more of my body. It takes turns where it hits me, with it landing on my breasts, pussy and ass in different patterns. But each time, my moans get louder as the man in my mind is getting more aggressive. I picture him grabbing a flogger off the wall to use on me, telling me this is what happens to dirty whores. And after a few hits, he grabs an even larger flogger to make it hurt better.

A high pitched squeal comes out of me as both nipples are pulled painfully upward again, stretching my tits. It's so intense that my eyes are flung open, only to see my breasts are now strung up. There's two small wire-like strings coming down from high up on the wall. At the end of these wires are two nipple clamps, which bite down on my nipples, forcing my tits to stay lifted.

"Oh damn it. Damn it. More! MORE!" I yell as the pain and humiliation mixes with the fear I feel. After screaming, I close my eyes to be transported back into the world of my young Dom, where I see him grabbing and holding my tits in his manly hands.

The air in the attic seems to change, almost like a fan was turned on. The fear and darkness that was here starts to change into an almost sweet, flowery smell. I think it's the demon not liking the fact that I'm getting into his treatment. Feeling this makes me smile as I know it's the way I can fight it. I just have to keep enjoying what is happening, which shouldn't be too hard. I know it is making me dip into a very dark and primal part of myself, but if it saves me, I don't care. Especially as I feel like I'm going to cum at any moment. It's just something about the pain and humiliation that makes my entire body quiver.