Hostel Ghosts

"Have you finished, Abigail?"

"Yes, Mrs Jones. They're all secured."

"Well done. Please light the candles."

I heard a clicking sound. A faint glow was blown on to produce a small flame. A taper was lit from that and taken to the mantelpiece. Soon the common room was lit by a five-branched candelabrum. I could see a woman carrying the taper to other candlesticks and two women standing either side of the fireplace. All three women were dressed in long black dresses with full skirts. The one carrying the taper was wearing a white waist apron that nearly reached the floor.

I looked around. I saw five wriggling grunting bundles all tightly tied in their sleeping bags and firmly gagged with black material covering their mouths and chins.

"That one," One of the women pointed at Elaine, wriggling beside me.

The aproned woman dragged Elaine towards the central pillar. She and the woman who hadn't yet spoken untied the ropes around Elaine's sleeping bag and dragged her out. Before she could get away, Elaine was tied around the elbows, wrists, knees and ankles. They pulled her standing, untied her elbows and wrists, yanked her arms backwards, around the pillar and tied her wrists behind it. Elaine tried to kick as the re-tied her ankles with a loop around the pillar. Her feeble kick barely dented the dome of Abigail's skirt.

"Done, Mrs Jones." Abigail announced.

"Him," Mrs Jones said, pointing at me.

Suddenly Abigail dropped on me. My head and shoulders were pinned to the floor by her knees. I disappeared under the folds of her skirt. I was struggling to breathe as her skirt suffocated me and I was unable to resist as several hands extracted me from my sleeping bag and bound me again. When Abigail raised her knees I panted for breath, still laying on the floor.

Mrs Jones sank to her knees beside me. I flinched away from her billowing skirt, frightened of being suffocated again because Abigail had taken me so close to unconsciousness.

"We need your cooperation. Either you do what we want, or she gets whipped." Mrs Jones indicated Elaine.

"You don't want her whipped, do you?"

I shook my head. I was beginning to be annoyed. Who were these women who had overcome us so easily?

"Abigail? Show him your back," Mrs Jones ordered.

Abigail unbuttoned the back of her dress and pulled it slightly agape. I could see dozens of scars, some old, some obviously recent. She closed her dress and buttoned it again.

"That's what she will get if you don't do what we want. You will do what we want, won't you?"

Reluctantly I nodded my head. Abigail loosened the rope around my ankles.

"Over to the pillar," she ordered as the three women pulled me upright.

I shuffled across to the pillar. Abigail stood me on the opposite side to Elaine, untied my wrists and elbows, fed the rope behind Elaine's back and tied my wrists to the pillar. My hands were touching Elaine.

Mrs Jones stood in front of me.

"For what we want, you shouldn't be too excited. Abigail will see to that."

Abigail knelt in front of me. Her hands untied my pyjama trousers and pulled them down. They bunched over the rope around my knees. Her hands reached out and gently grasped my slack penis. Slowly she stroked it with her fingers.

Despite myself, and despite my embarrassment at being masturbated in front of my friends, my penis slowly became erect. Abigail opened her mouth and her lips closed softly around my erection. The other two women stood watching closely. I shut my eyes as Abigail's mouth expertly aroused me. Elaine's body pressed against my hands as if she was trying to reassure me.

My head arched back against the hard pillar as I resisted the pressure building up in my erection. Abigail's mouth became the whole centre of my existence as it caressed, sucked and slid around me. Finally I could take no more. I came into her mouth with a shudder that shook me and strained against my bonds.

"She's good, isn't she?" The woman who had not yet spoken remarked.

"We know that, Beatrice. Sometimes I think Abigail's too good at it for someone who is supposed not to have male followers." Mrs Jones replied.

Abigail didn't respond. Her mouth was busy cleaning away my cum.

"OK, Abigail. That's enough. Get him ready."

"Kneel!" Abigail hissed in my ear and her hands pressed on my shoulders.

Kneel? How could I kneel? Surely my knees and ankles were still tied together. I shifted my feet. Somehow Abigail had removed the ropes while I was unaware of anything except her mouth. I slid down the pillar. My hands brushed Elaine's hips and thighs.

"I'm going to remove your gag. Don't make a sound or she will suffer." Abigail whispered in my ear.

Once the gag was untied and my mouth was unstuffed I worked my lips and swallowed several times.

"He's ready," Abigail announced.

Beatrice came forward lifting the hem of her skirt.

"This time I go first. You..." She emphasised the 'you', "have to eat me to my satisfaction. If you don't, your girlfriend... I presume she is your girlfriend?"

I nodded.

"Your girlfriend will be punished if you don't."

One of her hands clasped the back of my head while she held her skirt and petticoats up with the other. Her brush slid across my face until her lower lips were opposite my mouth. I extended my tongue. Her hips thrust against me, forcing my tongue deep. I licked, sucked, and fought to breathe as she writhed against me. Her breathing became panting and she began to groan as I did my best to excite her. At last I had her squealing in delight as she reached peak after peak of orgasm. I hadn't known that I was capable of producing such an effect.

At last she moved away and lowered her skirt.

"I hope the others are as good as that," I heard Mrs Jones say from what seemed to be a long way away.

Abigail stood me up again, dragged my pyjama trousers up, tied my knees again before releasing me from the pillar. She shuffled me across to my sleeping bag and lowered me to it. Soon she had placed Elaine, still tightly gagged, beside me. We watched as first Anne and then Peter were tied to the pillar.

Mrs Jones used her mouth to bring Peter to a climax but left Abigail to clean up. Then Mrs Jones ground her pussy into Peter's face until she was satisfied that he had aroused her sufficiently. She seemed to take a very long time. We could see Peter's face turning blue when her demands deprived him of breath. When she was finished he sagged in his bonds, panting. Abigail took Peter and Mary to their sleeping bags before it was Graham's turn to be sucked dry by Beatrice, cleaned by Abigail and then he had to eat Abigail while Mary was helplessly tied behind him.

When those two had been taken back to their sleeping bags, Mrs Jones raised her voice.

"You men have behaved satisfactorily. We haven't enjoyed ourselves so much since when?"

"1946," Abigail prompted.

"1946. So it was. Such delicious young soldiers. Anyway, perhaps we owe you a little explanation. We are ghosts. My sister Beatrice and I, and our maid Abigail, were going to a ball in Tunbridge Wells when that idiotic coachman killed himself. It was the first ball we were to attend after our strict mourning for our husbands, killed at Waterloo, had ended. We had hoped to find new partners, if not new husbands. As you have discovered, we like men at our feet.

Unfortunately, as I said, the coachman died. The driverless coach turned over, knocking all three of us out and the lamps caught fire. We burned to death, still unsatisfied sexually. Abigail was whipped for that. I like whipping Abigail if I can't get satisfaction the way I like it. She's been whipped a lot since 1946. It gets her excited and when she's excited she eats us better but it isn't the same as being eaten by a young man."

"But 1936 was dreadful," Beatrice interrupted. "I was hit hard in the mouth. It took months before I could speak properly again."

"You shouldn't have been so impetuous, Beatrice," Mrs Jones continued. "If you had waited until all three of us could grab him... Anyway, we haunt this building but we are restricted to the parts that were habitable in our time. We were improving the house when we died and the wretched builders were everywhere except this room and the rooms immediately above."

I twitched. I had thought of a question but wasn't sure I dare ask it.

Mrs Jones walked over to me and peered down.

"You were about to say something? You can. You were most satisfactory..."

"I understood that you were restricted to what we call the Members' kitchen. This isn't it."

"Of course," she replied. "I wondered why you, who were so frightened, settled down in the one room where we could come. You see, young man, when this building became a hostel, this room wasn't the common room it is now. It WAS the members' kitchen in 1936. Since then there have been some changes in the way you use the rooms."

I dared ask another question.

"Why are you only here on Halloween?"

"We aren't. We're here every night but only on Halloween can we actually appear, touch humans, and tie them up. It's been most frustrating that people have stayed away on Halloween. We can affect people in dreams, and many men have dreamt that they are eating us, which is better than nothing, but not the same as real warm lips and tongues serving us.

And now? Now we will leave you. In the morning your bonds will disappear with the dawn and you will be free. Until then? I think your lady friends have suffered enough. They deserve some compensation and you men will have to give it. Abigail?"

Abigail arranged Elaine face up on her sleeping bag before loosening the bonds around her knees, lifting her pyjama top and dragging her pyjama trousers down. She then dragged me, lifted Elaine's legs, forced them apart and pushed my head between them so that my face was pressed hard against Elaine's pussy. Abigail then re-tightened the ropes around Elaine's knees. My neck was clamped between Elaine's thighs.

Abigail took the scarf that had held my gag in place and tied around Elaine's hips and behind my head. My mouth was against Elaine's pussy.

"There you are. You can show her just how well you ate me," Mrs Jones remarked almost casually.

Abigail arranged the others in the same position with Peter's face between Anne's legs and Graham's between Mary's.

"Of course," Beatrice remarked, "just because you are in the right position it doesn't mean that you have to eat your lady friend, does it?"

"But if you don't," Mrs Jones remarked calmly, "we'll allow Abigail to whip the men severely. She likes whipping far more than being whipped, don't you, Abigail?"

"Yes, Mrs Jones. I love whipping, especially whipping men's bare bums."

Abigail came to each of us and pulled our pyjama trousers down exposing our buttocks.

"You have a choice," Abigail said. "You can lick, suck and excite them, or I'll encourage you, like this."

Each of us felt a riding crop slash viciously across our buttocks. The mark was there for weeks. We complied with the request to excite our partners. Gradually the candles guttered and went out leaving us in the dark.

If we flagged in our pussy-licking, an invisible Abigail whispered in our ears and her riding crop swished through the air.

Several hours later when dawn broke our lips and tongues were sore and we were exhausted. So were our girlfriends who had been bucking their hips under us as they reached orgasm after orgasm.

Our bonds melted away. Their gags vanished. We slumped across each other and slept almost until noon. Wearily we staggered to the new members kitchen and made pot after pot of coffee.

Walking back to Goudhurst station that afternoon was painful. We decided that we couldn't tell anyone about what had happened except to confirm to Dave the warden that the hostel was still dangerous on Halloween night. I assume it still is, even though it has long since closed."

Bill finished his pint. We sat still for a few minutes before buying more drinks. We were glad we hadn't been there that Halloween...

*

Author's note: The hostel and the Paddock Wood to Hawkhurst railway line via Goudhurst have long since closed. Goudhurst hostel was reputed to be haunted, by the headless coachman and others, but Abigail, Mrs Jones and Beatrice and their activities are fiction.

The Globe and Rainbow at Kilndown still exists although much changed. Their food is still excellent and worth a journey to experience.