Spectral Depravations

"Ah fuck. Jess, I think I forgot the batteries for the EMF. I might be able to scrounge enough from a few of the flashlights but that might only leave us with one."

Jess finished fixing her mane of hair up into a scrunchie and smeared an errant patch of lipstick from the corner of her mouth. "It's fine," she said, turning away from the mirror affixed to the cube van's interior wall. "I'm going in solo, and this is a lights-out kinda deal anyway."

The flipped latch and grating rumble of the van's door rolling upward cut Deek's protest off before he had a chance to begin.

"'S'matter with you?" asked Elle, flooded by the dim light she'd just released into the cool Spring air.

"She thinks she's going in alone," Deek said dismissively, obviously not looking to participate in the coming argument. He turned back to his cluttered workbench and pretended to fiddle with some gizmo before his mouth got the better of him.

"Oh, hell fucking no!" Elle protested, heaving herself up into the small cabin. The waifish pixie's shock of red hair didn't quite crest Jessica's chest, making her defiance laughably futile in the face of the taller woman's resolve.

"Get over it," Jess demanded, "both of you. File says the old girl's shy, so this is the best way to coax her out."

"What else does the file say, eh? You wanna talk about that for a sec?" Elle demanded.

"Enough," Jess threatened.

"Come on! Deek? You really just gonna sit on your fat ass and-"

"Don't drag me into this," the portly technician huffed, waving a dismissive hand over his head in reply.

"You're such a fucking bellend, you know that?"

Jess took advantage of her crew's developing row, slipping past her angsty A/V operator and dropping to the ground with a dull thud.

"I shouldn't be long! Don't come looking for me for at least a couple hours."

"You're fucked, you know that?" Elle hollered at Jess's back. "Fucked!"

"Yeah, yeah," Jess muttered to herself, crunching up the long gravel drive as a peel of predatory lightning rent the sky. The backlit flash of Lodavike Manor nearly impressed the seasoned Paranormalist. "That's the whole idea."

*******

As was her way, Jessica made her way through the place quietly, and by candlelight alone. The first lap was never meant to draw unnecessary attention; she'd need to know her way around a little in case a quick getaway became necessary.

The old Victorian manor house groaned in protest at her very presence; aged floorboards and joists strained loudly as she passed over them carefully. The report indicated heavy activity on the second floor, particularly the library, but she was shrewd enough to know that those very reports were often written by fools who'd bolted at the first bump they heard in the night. Besides, she had a thing for these old places and was selfishly curious to see what it looked like before she got down to business.

"Creepy," she said to herself; the sputtering candle cast unreliable light over a standing vignette above the fireplace in a drawing room. The photo itself was mundane enough but for the rabid tears across the visage of the place's long-dead master, Lord Egarton. His wife, the reclusive Annabelle Carrow, stood at his side, clutching at his arm dutifully. Her tepid sidelong glance betrayed the disdain she was reputed to have had for her erstwhile spouse. "I guess you weren't much of a fan, hey Annie?"

The house's old bones groaned in reply.

"I thought not," Jessica uttered, forcing herself to remain calm. It was all too easy to let fear get the better of you in places like Lodavike, and Jess knew she'd need to steel her nerves before making any concerted effort to establish contact.

"Let's get on with it then," she said, mounting the wide, curved stair to the second-floor gallery.

Where the first floor had looked relatively put together, Jess's first glimpses of the landing promised no such order would be found upstairs. Lithographed photos hung at odd angles on the walls, if they hung at all, and long scratches tore the floral wallpaper in gouges as long as she was tall. Several wall sconces had been ripped wholesale from their places, and the carpeted hall had a palpably restless pressure to it. The drafty impression of a chill cooled Jess from the inside out.

"Bit of a messy girl, aren't you?" Jess said aloud. It was obvious that the detrital remains of Carrow's essence had long since given themselves permission to wander the house freely.

As if in answer, an unseen door sighed on its hinges somewhere down the hall. This was the invitation, and Jess would be a fool to balk at such a brazen call now. A gusting rush of sourceless wind shoved at Jess's backside, blowing her airy skirt around clamorously.

"Alright, alright," she said, squinting into the dark. She decided to forego the effort of trying to relight her candle. She knew she should leave, but trust was a fickle thing with the ones beyond, and she'd not miss her chance at an encounter like this now. Bits of plaster and photo plate crunched underfoot as Jess bade the call of the decidedly restless dead.

Slivers of moonlight through high windows gave Jess just enough light to see by. The room was handsomely appointed, if dated by modern standards, with heavy bookshelves and writing desks set around the perimeter. The smell of rotting pages and crumbling velum reeked of decay, but the oppressive crush of ectostatic energy made the room truly uncomfortable. That, and the knowledge that she was far from alone.

Clearing her throat, Jessica slipped into her 'talking to ghosts' tone; commonly accepted scholarship dictated that the unliving were either jealous or outright afraid of those who possessed what they could not, and that a firm hand would yield the best results.

"Annabelle Carrow. I'm here to speak with you. My name is-"

Rolling peels of thunder announced a blowing gale that drove the paned window inward in ways it was never meant to. The wooden frame cracked around its tortured hinges with a terrible screech, and Jessica squinted against the debris that blew in, shielding her face against the leaves and bits of scree that pricked her skin.

"Hey, cut it out!" Jessica ordered, sure that this was no natural outburst.

As commanded, the assault abated at once and the room became still, as though nothing had transpired at all. "That's more like it," Jessica said, placing her candle on the nearest desk and brushing herself down.

"THAT'S more like it," came a viperous whisper from nowhere and everywhere at once, so soft that Jessica almost doubted she'd heard anything at all. The goosebumps on her flesh sold out the lie of her doubt surely enough. Jessica spun on her heel, sure that the thing had entered the room behind her.

Jessica swallowed hard, searching the room furtively for signs of the specter. She dared not speak to the thing again until she could determine a measure of its malevolence. Turning about, Jess's shoe kicked a wooden plaque on the hardwood floor. Silently, she mouthed the words on the placard at her feet: "Do not uncover."

On cue, the rustle of heavy drapery rasped noisily; what Jess had determined to be a curtained window revealed itself for what it was: a massive, heavy gilt pane of mirrored glass that stood at least 10 feet tall, or more.

"What in the- GAH!" Jess shrieked in outright terror as something plucked hard at a loose tress of her hair. There could be no mistaking the goading contact for what it was; Annabelle's potent spirit had ripped itself into the room in a mockery of corporeal constitution, and with enough force to affect the physical plane as she saw fit. Jess turned for the door, knowing full well it was futile; the heavy oak plank SLAMMED itself shut hard enough to splinter its frame. Jessica yelped in terror anew.

"Oh fuck, oh god!" she huffed breathily.

The thing gripped the bun of ruddy red hair on top of her head and yanked backward, hard, eliciting a strangled cry from Jess, who nearly fell back into the mirror altogether. She reached up to pry the incorporeal fingers free but was swatted away painfully by an icy club she couldn't see. "You fucking whore!" she sputtered. Icy fear gripped her heart as her legs turned to jelly.

From the mirror at her back, Annabelle Carrow's fractally segmented lips smiled in a hungry grin of satisfaction. The woman's terror would feed her starving need for decades at this rate. Probing outwardly, she blinked an ounce of herself into the cold wick of Jessica's discarded candle, filling the room with its timid light.

"THAT'S more like it-" the thing hissed again, drawing fresh shrieks from the woman whose hair she refused to release. It had been years since Annabelle had managed to manifest, possibly decades if the girl's outlandishly garish skirt was anything to go by.

"Let me go," Jessica pled, reaching toward the door with both hands. "You asshole!"

In reply, the spirit took a handful of the woman's skirt in its hand and yanked the thing away in one violent tear. As eager as it was to feed on the living thing's screams, echos of Annabelle's former predilections forced their way along the threads of time to tickle at her hastily collected bits of consciousness; the squirming bundle of life in her clutches was bare beneath the skirt, and it's ass rippled to and fro as it fought against their grip. Purpose, self, and a sense of being continued to assemble themselves back into the thing Annabelle had become over the years, but the first thing to return to her wholly was her thirst.

It was a thirst she'd been denied too often in life.

Clapping the memory of her hand alongside Jessica's head, the specter drove herself in and ate greedily. She ate well.

She bit the back of her hand as a square of light played profane pictures of women's tongues lapping between each others' legs in a dark room. She couldn't wake the ones she lived with, not with this on the screen. The man she was devoted to didn't know about this particular secret, and he wasn't the forgiving type. The rush of shameful pleasure curled her toes as her legs began to shake.

Annabelle moved on from her appetizer.

A loud place, pounding with cacophonous noise and a dizzying array of colourful beams blasting overhead. She swayed in time with the riot of thumping sounds, sweaty, drunk, and gloriously alive. Hands wormed around her waist, groping at her torso, pulling at her longingly, cupping her chest. She flushed with needy desire. The hands spun her roughly around, and lips found hers. Too soft for a man's stubbly face. A woman. God, a woman! "Can we get out of here?" a voice shouted in her ear. She nodded, biting her lip.

She rooted around for another morsel.

A tinny carriage of sorts, surely, screamed along the road. Discarded clothes lay about steely flooring as she fought to get a grip on something to steady herself.

"Hold still," said a small woman in front of her with a little laugh, standing on tiptoe to kiss at her neck. Odds and ends rolled around a desk at her back as the boxy conveyance careened around a corner. Annabelle reached up and took hold of a shelf bolted to the ceiling as the little woman clamped her mouth over a nipple hungrily. "God, you're so fucking sexy Jessica."

A hand probed up her skirt, fingers seeking purchase between her wet lips with implied familiarity.

"Fuck, that feels good," Annabelle heard her own voice say. "You're gonna make me cum like that, Elle. Suck on my tits again, just like that."

The little whore grinned up at her devilishly and sank to her knees in response, flipping the skirt that now lay on the floor of Lodavike's library over her head with a giggle.

Annabelle shook her head and shuddered back into the nearly-real space of her former home. The woman, Jessica, that she'd dined on stood in limp passivity in her grasp still, seemingly spent from her mind's invasion.

The spirit licked her lips. She'd learned a thing or two about what women could do to each other in this new age.

The thick cock-shaped device belted itself around her waist, brought forth from a scattered fragment of Jessica's own imagination. Annabelle imagined a wardrobe into place that was based, too, on the glimpses of former lovers she'd ripped from Jessica's mind. The bits of strappy lace were divine on her, she decided, as she turned to admire her frame in the prison of her mirror. Twisting her hips with a smirk, she enjoyed the heft of soft rubbery shaft that drooped from her girdled waist. Stolen kisses and grappling clumsily in the dark with chambermaids had been all well and good in her time, but it seemed that women like her had found countless new ways to love one another in this more modern era.

Jessica's top fell open easily, her heavy tits making meaty handfuls for Annabelle's deathly cold grasp. Coming around from the intrusive probing of her mind, Jessica felt as strong, unseen hands wrangled her around to face the mirror once more.

She might have screamed, had the vision in the glass not been busily stuffing her own ascot into her mouth.

"MMM MMP MPH!" Jessica gagged against the fabric.

"Oh, come on now," Annabelle gloated, drawing up a length of corded rope to bind Jessica's hands behind her back. "I think we might both need this, sweetheart."

The sight of the heavy length of maroon cock swatting around at Annabelle's waist stole Jessica's breath; she was no stranger to some plastic playthings, but the heft of this thing was surely more than she'd managed before. She might have sought the spirit's attention out for a bit of fun, but she'd hardly signed up for a tumble with a horsecock strapped to a desperately neglected, long-dead housewife.

"Be a good girl now," Annabelle panted, kicking Jessica's legs closer together as spectral bindings coiled up her calves and thighs, "and get ready for me. This looked like fun when you did it with...what was her name?"

"NMM MMF!"

"Yes, her!" Annabelle laughed melodically. "Take a deep breath now, this might be a little big for you."

Jessica felt the broad, flat head of her captor's proxy cock kiss against her lips before the mounting pressure forced its way into her. Though the thing had looked insurmountably large, Jessica found the full girth of it worming up into herself to be ...almost comfortable. For all the fire and fury of Annabelle's arrival, and the bonds at her knees and wrists, Annabelle's thrusting probe was very nearly gentle. Tender, almost.

"My stars," the pale woman breathed, watching fleshy, warm lips stretch to welcome her between them, "just beautiful. Look at you gobbling me up!" She placed a gloved hand on Jessica's firm ass cheek, tugging at her hair firmly as she kneaded the doughy flesh in her long-spurned grasp.

Inch by inch, Jessica received the flared head of squishy, impassionate silicone into herself; torn between the urge to be terrified of her circumstances and the undeniable allure of being bent over and fucked by a woman who had been denied these pleasures in life, Jessica stopped to admire what was in front of her. Her own eyes, wide in shock, tits spilling out of her shirt and slobbery drool leaking around the edges of her kerchief, bound and bent at the waist while the statuesque figure of Annabelle Carrow, dead some 200 years or more, devoured her figure with greedy eyes. The woman in the mirror began to buck her hips.

"I could watch you swallow this thing up. All. Day. Long." Carrow crooned, licking her lips at the slick filmy coating on her toy with each pullback. "You must really love this."

Jessica finally worked her tongue up and over the gag in her mouth enough to push it onto her chin. "Come on then," she panted, "are you going to fuck me then, or what?"

Annabelle's eyes shot up to meet Jessica's in the glass, a wicked grin splitting her face as surprise turned to eager thirst. "You asked for it," she warned.

And fuck she did; though the rope around her wrist carved into her flesh, and though the grip in her hair burned her scalp, the raw plunging hammer of Annabelle's soft cock punched Jessica closer and closer to the edge.

"Fuu-u-u-u-uuuuck!" She howled, wincing at the pounding assault against her guts. Any living woman's hips would have tired, but Annabelle had no breath to draw or catch, and her muscles never tired; her empathetic vampirism fed her strength anew with each whorish moan and girlish squeal from Jessica's throat.

Meanwhile, in the truck outside, Deek took long drags of a Marlboro while Elle slapped a temperamental radio impatiently.

"Fucking piece of shit."

"Slap it again, that'll fix it," Deek muttered.

"Shut up, dickhole."

"FUCK ME FUCK ME FUCK ME PLEASE FUCKING POUND MY PUSSY," screeched the radio in Elle's hand; the diminutive woman hurled the thing across the lawn in fright.

"Did you hear that?!" she screeched.

"Jess!" Deek shouted, looking towards the open door at the front of the house only just in time to watch it slam itself shut.

"Come on!" He urged, pitching his smoke and hauling ass across the lawn.

"I'm gonna fucking cum! I'm gonna fucking cum!" Jessica sobbed, hanging limply by the rope wrenched above her back as Annabelle cackled maniacally behind her.

"You already have, you delicious little fucktoy! Go on then, give me another!" Cruel thrusts into Jessica's battered and nearly-numb pussy elicited a guttural groan of the most beautiful agony. The panties around her thighs were wet at the hem from whatever she'd leaked all over herself throughout the onslaught, and her breaths came in ragged gasps. "More?"

"More, please, fucking more. Please, so much more!" Jessica begged, loath to admit that her sobbing, drooling ecstasy might actually have to end at some point.

"Well," Annabelle said, punctuating the word with a harsh jab of the dildo, "I think you need to PROMISE," another punching thrust, "to come see me AGAIN!"

"I will, I will! I'll come every day! Please, just don't stop fucking MEEEE!"

"That's my girl," said Annabelle, wrenching Jessica's head back to whisper in her ear. "But I think someone might be looking for you, and we can't let them ruin our fun now, can we?"

Through the snot and tears of refusal, Jessica could only nod her head as her supporting bonds disappeared. Through bleary eyes, she caught the wispy figure of her tenderly punishing lover fade into the shadows of the room once more. "THAT'S more like it...."

"JESS! Oh my god, Deek! She's in here!"

"Jesus fucking Christ, Jessica!"

Breathless, nearly naked, and sore, Jessica knew she had little option but to play dumb. "Wha...what happened?" she asked, feigning confusion.

"Come on, girl, let's get you out of here," offered Deek as he scooped her up in his arms off the floor.

"What were you thinking? Eh? Come on, Jess. You gotta be more careful!"

"Yeah," she said, grinning into Deek's chest, "I guess I should, hey?"