Welcome to Hart House Pt. 04

I was very aware that my cock instantly inflated looking at her and I took a deep breath to steady my thoughts and nerves.

"Elisabeth?" I asked. "Elisabeth Hart?"

"Yes," said the quiet voice of the woman. It sounded like it was coming up from deep in a well, a bit raspy, slightly echoey. It was, however, I decided, clearer than it had been any of the other times I had heard it.

"Are you a fucking ghost?" I asked, knowing that the question was stupid. If she was not a figment of my imagination there was nothing else she could be.

"Of a kind," she said. "I suppose. I've never been entirely sure."

"Fuck," I muttered. Elisabeth moved with an unearthly grace and was suddenly standing above me looking down. I could feel my hand shaking and it began to rise, as if of its own volition, towards her. I grunted and forced it back to the couch cushion beside me.

""I've lost my mind," I said.

"Not yet," she said, and I could swear I saw pity in her eyes. "But you will. You will lose everything, Drew. I am very sorry. I know that you have not asked for this. Nor have I. But this place... It makes us need. I need you. You need to fuck. There is no escape. As you fade away I grow clearer and stronger. Then, when you are gone, I fade away once more."

"I don't want this," I said. "Please. Please let me leave."

"We do not have that choice, you or I," she said. "Best not to fight it too hard."

I looked around the attic.

"Pat," I said, suddenly remembering why I had come up here. "Pat told me to check the attic. What am I supposed to find up here?"

The ghost looked around as well.

"My diaries, I suppose," she said. "Pat is the only guest who ever found them. Not that they helped her much."

"Where are they?" I asked.

The ghost looked back at me.

"Why should I tell you?" she asked. "Why should I help you, Drew? This short time is the closest I will feel to being alive once more. Why should I not just take what I need from you?"

"Please," I pleaded. "Tell me where they are and... I won't resist. I'll give you what you want. Just... let me feel like there is some hope for me."

She seemed to consider this then gave a short nod. She gestured to a chest that had an old lamp on top of it.

I stood and quickly knocked the lamp to the floor, ignoring the sound of breaking ceramics and threw open the chest. Inside was a pile of folded up dresses and on top of them a small, leather bound book. I grabbed it.

"Come," Elisabeth said. "You can read upon the sofa."

I shook my head but did as she asked. I had to read it somewhere and this was as good a place as any. And the layers of dust in the floor made me believe that Nicholas did not come up here often, if at all.

I set the lantern on a box beside the couch and opened the book. It was hand written in a blue black ink. The letters were finely formed, in a form I think was called copperplate.

Elisabeth moved and was suddenly kneeling on the floor between my legs.

"Wait," I said but she pushed my legs apart with surprising strength.

"You promised not to resist," Elisabeth said, and began to undo my jeans, my hard cock springing free. "Read, if you must, but I must feed."

I groaned but lifted my ass to allow her to pull my jeans down my thighs. Her cold hand gripped my shaft then she opened her mouth, taking my cock into it. It was a strange thing to see my manhood through the semi-transparency of her head. It made me feel a bit woozy so I looked at the diary instead, attempting to ignore the amazing feeling of her begin to suck.

+++++

August 3, 1893

How fitting is it that I start a new diary on the day I arrive at my new home, Hart House. I may just be a fanciful little girl but I have to believe that there is some kind of good omen to that.

It has, I admit, been the most dreadful year of my life, though that has only been eighteen years. When mother and father succumbed to their illnesses, god rest their souls, I had despaired.

Father's meager fortune was spent, I had no family to support me, no proper suiters to marry me, and my fate, I had assumed, was to be a servant in a house I had once visited as a guest.

That letter from an unknown uncle, brother to my father, had changed everything. Uncle Anthony, the letter read, had long ago had a falling out with the family and fled to the new world. He had then, apparently, made a fortune for himself, something to do with railroads, and hearing of my father's death had asked me to come to him.

Even if I had not been in straits so dire I would have leapt at the chance of this kind of adventure. As it was I had no other choice but to do what I would have otherwise, use his ticket for the transatlanticsteamer, and then the long train ride across this new land to come here. Hart House.

I was met at the station by Nicholas, the butler of the household I am told. He seems a nice enough old man, gregarious and cheery. I suppose he may have given me the odd glance that was inappropriate, but I soon decided he was a harmless old man.

The house is magnificent, though no manor house. My room, this room I write in, is on the second floor and I have a bath all my own with running hot water, if you can believe it!

I met Uncle Anthony as well. He seems a stern, severe type, though perhaps it was just because it was our first meeting. I am told that I can make most men smile and I resolve to put that to the test very soon.

The staff here is small, but the maid, Annabelle seems nice. She is near to my own age, so perhaps we can be friends of a sort, as our stations allow.

Her costume is... surprising, though perhaps this is what they do here in America? I can not remember any servant back home wearing anything so revealing!

I am exhausted from my long trip. Tomorow I will explore.

+++++

DREW

I closed the book and looked down between my legs where Elisabeth was working my cock. She was slowly sucking it deep into her mouth, hand cupping my balls, before slowly sliding her mouth upwards, massaging the bottom of the shaft with her tongue. There were lovely slurping sounds coming from her, and small grunts as my cockhead penetrated her throat. She seems to be taking her time, either to allow me more time to read, or just to savour it.

It was difficult to connect this naked ghost sucking me off in a dusty attic to the excited young woman in the diary.

I skimmed the next few entries. The girl examined the house, explored the grounds. Anthony did not seem to pay her much mind, doing business in his office most days. I figured out that this office was the one that Nicholas used now.

The next few entries caught my eye, however, and I read them carefully.

+++++

August 11, 1893

I must attempt to keep my hand steady as I write, for at this moment it is shaking something terrible and it has been since I saw Nicholas and Annabelle earlier this evening.

The day was gloomy and rainy so I spent a fine afternoon in the library reading one of Uncle Anthony's books. Truthfully not too many of those old tomes interest me. I will have to ask him if I can order some more modern books for my enjoyment.

Supper, like most of them this past week, had been quiet, both my Uncle and I eating in silence as he seems to prefer. I have yet to make that man smile, though I am determined.

After we ate, my Uncle retired to his room and I decided to return to the library. I suppose I was walking quietly. This house is a somber one and it seems to invite you to move without disturbing it.

Perhaps that is why Nicholas and Annabelle did not hear me approach or open the door. Or, more likely, it was what they were doing that distracted them.

When the door swung open I was greeted by a sound I had not heard before. My first thought was that perhaps an animal had gotten in, a raccoon was my first thought, and was rooting around.

The sight that greeted me was something far different. It was Nicholas and Annabelle. I admit that I have been sheltered from the baser things of life but I have some knowledge of what can happen. There have always been rumors of servants getting up to dirty things, but I have always been a good girl and pushed such thoughts from my mind. There was no avoiding this, however.

Annabelle was naked on the couch, her costume tossed on the floor. She was on hands and knees and the old butler Nicholas was behind her. They were obviously in the midst of love making, though the word 'love' seems misplaced. They behaved more like animals.

Nicholas was without his clothing as well. His wrinkled skin, marked with age spots, seemed to hang loose on his bones as he drove his hips forward again and again. His obvious decrepitude contrasted with the beautiful youth of the maid as they coupled. Annabelle's skin was perfect and pale and her heavy breasts swung beneath her with the movement of their bodies. The sounds of their bodies striking one another filled the room.

I should have fled, I know, but I admit I was so shocked that I gasped instead, my noise as loud as Nicholas' grunting and Annabelle's moaning. Both of them looked up at me.

I expected them to respond, embarrassed to be caught in such behavior, to scramble for clothing to cover themselves and to beg my forgiveness but they did not. Annabelle only moaned louder and Nicholas, the dirty old man he is, grinned at me most impertinently.

I wanted to spin and run from the room but I hesitated for a moment. Then my eyes caught Nicholas' and I froze. They were bright and light seemed to dance within them. They seemed to hold some kind of power within them and I was transfixed. Frozen. I could not move. He grinned at me and sped up his thrusts.

He said nothing with his mouth but it was as if I could hear his oily voice in my head, demanding that I enter the room and close the door behind me. I could do nothing but comply and did exactly that, unable to look away from them.

I stood there, just past the threshold, leaning against the now closed door, unable to stop witnessing this act.

Nicholas suddenly moved and within moments they had repositioned themselves. Nicholas was now seated on the couch and Annabelle was sitting in his lap, facing me. Her face was flushed and she was crying out as she bounced herself up and down.

I could see Nicholas's member, or the part that was not hidden inside the maid, at least. It seemed gigantic, though it was the first male part I have seen in my life. I watched, unable to look away as it slid in and out of the maid, again and again. His testicles, for that is what they had to be, based on my small knowledge, seemed very large and swollen.

Nicholas reached around and gripped Annabelle's breasts with his liver spotted hands, pinching her nipples with bony fingers. She rolled her head back and cried out, shivering and spasming. I could see some kind of liquid leaking out of her and drip down the shaft of Nicholas, over his large testicles, and onto the fabric of the couch.

I felt something. A heat, like a fire,that seemed to ignite within me. I felt my own secret parts more clearly than I have ever before, a tingling, almost burning sensation. I felt some kind of need, though I did not understand what that need was.

Nicholas cried out and I swear I saw his member bulge inside Annabelle. The both of them made such base sounds. It seems to be the culmination of their coupling, for both of their bodies stiffened, and they moaned in unison.

Nicholas gripped Annabelle under her bare thighs, lifting her and I finally saw the full length of his member as it came out of her sex, and it seemed too large, like an animal's. I could not believe that that thing had been inside the young woman. I watched, transfixed as a creamy liquid poured out of her, over his lap and onto the sofa below them.

Finally the spell seemed to break and I was able to move myself once more. As the two of them sat gasping on the sofa I spun and fled, slamming the library door behind me and running up the stairs to my room. I locked my door behind me.

Now, I'm afraid I must make a confession. There have been times in the past when I have felt a similar feeling inside me, in my most secret places. I remember riding a horse and the feeling of the movement below me caused such feelings. Or when I saw a very handsome man. I always was able to clear my mind and pray, pushing such base thoughts out of my mind.

That is what I did. I knelt on the floor of my room, placed my hands together and reached out to god to help me.

It did not help. There was a heat in me. A need. Before I realised what I was doing I had begun to tear my clothing off of me, my petticoatfalling, the bodice of my dress torn open with such force that I lost some buttons. I looked into the mirror above my vanity and gazed at myself as I knelt there in my room looking as wanton as Annabelle.

Inspired, perhaps by what I had seen Nicholas do to the maid, I grasped my own breast and pinched my own nipples. I was surprised at how firm the flesh of them was. How dark a pink they looked in the mirror. It was painful, but a wave of pleasure sank into me from them, finding a home somewhere in my core. I moaned.

I reached between my legs and began to touch myself. Clumsily rubbing at my sex, feeling a wetness I had never experienced before. I knew it was wrong. I knew that this was a path to damnation. I did not let that stop me.

Something built in me and I touched myself, fingers finding a hard button that caused me to moan like some kind of animal. I chased this new feeling, gasping for breath, kneeling on the floor of my room until I could not take it any longer. I felt something break inside me, like a wave crashing into the shore. I felt my body seize up, while at the same time shaking uncontrollably. I cried out in my room, not caring for a brief moment if anyone heard me.

Finally the feelings faded. I began to catch my breath and come to my senses. The things that I saw in the library, the thing I had just done to myself came clear to me and I began to cry. What had I seen? What had I done?

I rushed over to this diary, needing to write this all down while it is fresh in my mind. I am sitting here, my clothing in disarray, and I fear that this may be the start of some hysterical madness, and before I lose myself I want to have this recorded.

Despite the shame I feel deep inside myself I can still feel the quivering in my loins, the ache inside of me. It is not satiated. God help me but I know that as soon as I lay down this pen I will be committing the same sin once more!

+++++

DREW

All the while, as I read Elisabeth's diary, the ghost serviced my cock. She did not seem to be in a hurry, slowly sucking me, keeping me just shy of my climactic edge, before backing off.

I could feel myself throb in her mouth while I read about Nicholas fucking Annabelle in the library, which reminded me of the first night when the two of us fucked the maid together. I began to lift my hips and actively participate.

It was the scene where she, for the first time, pleasured herself that pushed me over the edge. The image in my mind's eye of the inexperienced young woman rubbing herself wantonly was so clear that I released one hand holding the diary and wrapped it in her hair, shoving her down so that her nose hit my stomach, driving forward and releasing, crying out in that dimly lit attic. I read the last words gasping as she sucked every drop out of my cock.

I leaned back, catching my breath, my cock falling out of her mouth. I looked down at her pretty face, noticing that it looked slightly more clear, her cheeks almost with a flush of blush. There was a dribble of my cum leaking out of the corner of her lips but her tongue darted out and caught it.

"Thank you," Elisabeth's ghost said.

"Fuck," I muttered. "Annabelle has been here that long?" It did not surprise me that Nicholas had been at Hart House from the start. That old man had the feel of an old magician, and I had suspected that he was at the heart of things.

"Yes," Elisabeth said. "Annabelle, Nicholas, and myself. Do not pity him, but spare some for her. I believe she was made to be his thrall long before I ever arrived."

Elisabeth licked the length of my cock which had begun to deflate and sucked it into her mouth again, the post climax sensitivity making me groan. To my surprise I could feel it swell once more, almost immediately after my climax.

"Read more, Drew," she said, sucking me hard once more. "There is so much more to my story."

+++++

August 14, 1893

I have avoided recording in this diary for three days, and I admit it has been shame that has prevented me. I did not wish to write down my depravity, but it seems like this small book is the only friend I have here in this accursed house.

When I last wrote I had just committed the sin of self-pleasure, after witnessing the coupling of the two servants. That night I felt like I was going mad. Frankly I still do, but am much farther down the path, I fear.

I had said that I was going to pleasure myself once more that night but that turned out not to be true. It was five times that I touched myself and sent myself over the edge of pleasure. I could hear the morning birds singing outside of my windows when I finally, exhausted, fell asleep.

It was early in the afternoon when I woke and it was only moments before I remembered what I had witnessed the day before, that memory quickly followed with one of my response.

I felt filthy. Like I had rolled around in the mud like some kind of barnyard animal. I needed to make myself clean. I quickly went to the bathroom attached to my suite and ran a hot bath, stripping away my sleep clothing. I glanced in the mirror and, for the first time in my life, I barely recognized the person looking back at me in the reflection.

Nothing had changed, really. I still looked young, and, if I am being honest, pretty, but while I had always thought of myself as a young girl before, now I felt like I was looking at a woman. A woman with needs that I barely understood.

I could see my nipples, rosy pink, harden as I gazed at myself, see a flush spread across my cheeks and my chest. I watched my reflection as my hands slowly raised and touched my breasts. Feeling them, squeezing them, and pinching the nipples. I saw my mouth open as I felt a heat begin to spread in my loins.

I shook my head and forced my hands away from myself. I could not do this. Not again. I stepped into the water which was too hot and gasped as it enveloped me, forcing the pain of the heat to clear my head.

I wanted to touch myself there in the bath, but was able to maintain control, keeping my hands gripping the edges of the cast iron tub, above the water and away from my body.

I lay there, hoping that the bath would make me feel clean once more. The heat seeped away from the water and it was barely tepid when I finally pulled myself out of it.

I still felt that need deep inside me, but did feel more in control than I had at any moment since I had seen Nicholas and Annabelle the day before.

Finally I dressed myself and made my way to the kitchen where the cook was kind enough to make me a snack, having missed both breakfast and lunch.

With some food in me I knew that I had to report what I had witnessed to my uncle. It would be an awkward conversation, I had no doubt, but I thought if he knew he would dismiss the depraved servants and order could be restored to his house and my mind.

I rose and stepped out into the hallway, hoping that Uncle Anthony would be in his office, when I saw the maid, Annabelle, down the passage. I froze and she looked at me and she dared to smile.

I was about to say something cutting and cross, call her a wanton slut who would soon get what was coming to her but when I opened my mouth no words came out. Instead the heat in my loins raged up, like a fire doused with lamp oil.