Welcome to Hart House Pt. 04

I could not deny it. As I looked at her, taking in her pretty face, and her outfit with the deep neck showing off a scandalous amount of cleavage, I was awash in feelings of lust. I wanted her in the way Nicholas had taken her.

I did not understand. How could I feel this way towards a woman? I had heard stories of women who lived with other women like husbands but had never understood how that could be.

I ducked my head and scrambled down the hall, quickly ducking into my uncle's office and shut the door behind me.

There was a man behind the desk but, unfortunately, it was not the one I hoped to meet. Nicholas sat there with a sly grin on his face, as if it was a proper place for him to be. I admit I cried out in surprise.

"Ah, Elisibeth," he said, confident, as if he had done nothing wrong, "I was hoping we could have a chat. Please. Have a seat."

I opened my mouth to shout at him, to deride him for his impertinence, but when his bright eyes caught mine, no words would come out. It felt as if I was falling into a deep well when I looked into those eyes, as if I was losing myself.

I sat, unable to refuse his request. I was breathing heavily and the feeling inside me raged even more. I could not help but think about him and Annabelle. The thought made my mouth begin to water.

He spoke for some time, but for the life of me, I cannot remember any of it clearly. He told me that Annabelle was his, that what they did was proper and correct. That it was the natural order of the world. He told me that my reactions, as if he knew what I had been up to the night before while I touched myself, were also natural and that I should indulge in them as much as possible.

It was all obviously foolish but, instead of correcting him, cursing him, and leaving, I found myself nodding to everything he said.

At one point he stood and leaned on the wall behind the desk and I could not help but to look at his crotch, as if hoping to see once more his large member. I caught myself licking my lips as I gazed at it.

Finally he told me to leave him, as he had things to do and, obediently I stood and walked to the door, unable to refuse. My hand had just wrapped around the door handle when I felt him behind me, though I did not hear him move, despite how quick he had to have been.

His arms wrapped around me from behind and he pulled my back against him. His body pressed against me and I felt his breath on the back of my neck. I could feel something press against my bottom and knew, instinctively, that it was his hard member.

I do not know what came over me. I moaned and pressed back against him, like some kind of loose woman, hating myself as I did it, needing to do it.

His gnarled hands ran up my front and he squeezed my breasts hard, almost painfully, and I whimpered. I felt my knees go weak and knew that I would not have been able to refuse him anything at that moment.

Suddenly he reached past me, opened the door and shoved me into the hallway, slamming the door behind me. I staggered and spun, needing to be back in his arms and even tried to open the door but he had locked it.

I almost cried out in frustration but composed myself and fled the house, running up the hill to the woods. I knew of a secluded little grove I had I found wandering the grounds the previous week and found myself there.

I threw myself on the ground, ignoring the leaves and the dirt on my dress and shoved my hands up my skirt and pleasured myself quickly to some kind of climax.

It was over an hour and several sessions of play before I returned to the house, just in time for supper.

It was excruciating, that meal. My uncle sat there reading a book in silence, ignoring me and the servant serving us. It was all I could do to stop myself from writhing, grinding my sex against the wooden chair below me.

I had barely eaten anything before I made an excuse and left the table, rushing to my room and touching myself for hours before sleep finally took me.

+++++

DREW

As I finished reading this entry I felt the ghost's mouth leave my now fully hard cock and glanced down at her between my legs. I wondered if Nicholas had, way back then, hypnotised her, or had he just identified something that was already in her and released it?

Elisabeth stood and pushed the book in my hand to the side, climbing onto my lap, straddling me, her thighs on the outsides of mine, my cock resting against her stomach. She reached between us and gripped me, rising and aiming the head of my cock at her pussy, the translucent, smooth lips wrapping around the purple head.

Her chest was just below my face and I could not help myself but to lean down and lick a hard nipple, grabbing it with my teeth and tugging. I heard the ghost groan at that.

"Do not stop reading, Drew," she insisted. "You have come this far. You must know the entire story of my downfall."

She slowly began to sink onto me, her body accepting my hard cock, gripping me with her tight wet cunt. I groaned at the feeling and, as she began to slowly, so very slowly, rise up and down, riding me, I began to read once more.

+++++

August 15, 1893

I have lost my mind. I have lost all sense of decency. I have become a thing that I do not recognise. I am wracked with shame but, more powerfully, I am consumed with need.

It is not easy for me to write these things down, as not only do they make further clear to me just how far I have fallen, but writing the things I have done feeds my need to do more. It is like a fire that somehow feeds itself, adding fuel, making itself burn brighter and hotter, needing more fuel. I fear that eventually I will burn out and somehow perish.

This morning I woke feeling much like I had the night before. Lost, angry, hating myself, but needing to please myself. I lay in bed, alone pinching my breasts, pushing my fingers inside of myself like a whore and, god help me, wishing that someone, anyone, even Nicholas, would replace my fingers with something larger, hotter.

Eventually I rose and dressed. I needed to get out of my room that stank of my sex. I wore my most simple dress, the old blue one. It had not petticoats and just a simple corset. I knew that I would be able to easily reach below it to touch myself if needed. The thought occurred to me that anyone else could do the same and that thought made me shiver and my nipples harden.

I ate a light breakfast alone in the dining room. My uncle had taken his horse down the mountain into the small town in the valley, so it was just me and the staff. I wished to avoid them, or at least that was what I told myself.

After I ate I wandered the house, eventually finding myself standing in the door to the library. The memory of what I had seen there was burned into my mind and I found myself licking my lips while I stared at the sofa where I had seen Nicholas take Annabelle.

As if my will had been sapped from me I seemed to watch myself from without as I slowly crossed the room to stand over the sofa looking down.

I began to sniff the air, like a dog seeking a fox, attempting to smell that smell of sex once more. I thought I just could, though very faintly. I felt like there was a haze in the room, a thin smoke that made everything lose focus except for the sofa directly in front of me.

The next thing I knew I was kneeling on the rug in front of the furniture, feeling the wool against my bare knees. Bare knees! I realized that somehow, in that blink of time I lost, I had removed my dress and was naked in the library. I felt my cheeks flush with a hot blush of shame, but it raced to the heat at my core.

I leaned forward sniffing the cushions that had been under the two as they coupled, seeking that smell. Within moments I believed I had found it, and breached between my legs and began to rub myself.

I pressed my nose hard against the fabric of the sofa, sniffing deeply. The smell seemed stronger and I could not help but rub myself more. I was lost. Possessed by a nameless need. I was moaning like an animal.

My tongue darted out and I began to lick the cushion, needing to taste, not only smell that sex. I thought I could taste something tart yet salty, like the sea, with sour undertones.

I was so lost that I did not notice that Nicholas had entered the room until he was standing behind me.

"Look at this," he said, quietly as if to himself. "Look what I have found."

I gasped and sat up, shamed to my core. He was quick though and pushed on the back of my head, pressing my face to the sofa.

"Don't stop, Miss Elisabeth," he said. "Get what you came in here for."

I tried to struggle but, despite his age and seemingly feeble thin arms, he was stronger than I, easily able to hold me in place.

I could not help myself. I began to lick once more, and rub vigorously.

"Let me help," he said, still holding me down, but then his fingers joined mine.

While I rubbed the hard button that gave me the most pleasure he pushed two gnarled fingers inside me and began to stroke them in and out.

I was moaning and crying out, lost to the the amazing sensations. It felt like forever that I was used like that, but then all too soon I began to thrash, crying out, legs shaking as I reached some kind of climax. Nicholas pumped his fingers relentlessly as I did so.

Finally I shuddered a last time and my body went limp. Nicholas removed his hand from the back of my head and I fell to the floor gasping for breath.

I lay there below him and looked up at the old man. He had opened his breeches and I saw his thick member the second time.

It was long and thick, the end an angry purple bulb, with a small hole that looked at me like an eye. A thin milky fluid leaked out of it and I felt myself licking my lips.

"Please," I begged him. What I was begging for I was not sure. Was I begging him to spare me, or use it on me, like he had with the maid?

"Not yet," he said and gripped his shaft.

I lay below him, naked and vulnerable as he stroked himself. It only took a few pumps before he threw his head back and laughed an evil laugh. A thicker fluid sprayed out of him and I flinched as the hot stuff splashed across my body, like it seared me.

He sprayed another glob and then a third. It landed on my face and in my hair, and across my naked breasts and stomach.

"There you go," he said with a nasty chuckle. "A bit of a taste. Let me know if you want some more."

Then he left the room, abandoning me there on the floor.

Again I moved as if someone else was in control of me and I scooped some of the liquid off of my belly and into my hand. Slowly, with that hand shaking, I lifted it to my mouth and slurped it up.

It tasted of salt and oysters, and sweet. It made everything seem so clear and easy. Greedily I began to scoop more off of me and into my eager mouth until finally it was all gone.

I began to cry, sobbing at my debasement. I grabbed my dress, put it on and ran out of the room. In the back of my mind a small voice told me that I would indeed want more. That I should find him right that moment and demand it.

I ignored the voice and hurried to my room.

+++++

DREW

It was difficult to read the diary over the shoulder of the ghost as she steadily rose herself up and down, riding my cock. I could feel her breasts on my chest and hear her gasping in my ear.

I could feel another climax building in me but the ghost was very skilled at keeping me just below the peak of my orgasm, just under the edge.

It was all I could do not to drop the small book, grip her hips and begin to savagely thrust up into her to completion, but I felt that I had to finish this story.

I felt bad for the girl in the diary. It was not fair the way that Nicholas was manipulating her. If I hadn't spent the past few days in a house that was clearly haunted I would have thought that he had hypnotized her somehow. As things were I had to assume he had cast some kind of magic spell on her.

I took a moment to squeeze the ghost's ass before turning a page and continuing to read.

+++++

August 18, 1893

How three days have passed, I do not understand. It is as if I am walking through a fog, lost with my mind scrambled like a plate of eggs.

I have become someone I do not recognize. I think of little beyond my own sexual pleasure and I seek it out constantly. There is an aching hole inside of me that I feel compelled to fill but nothing seems to suffice.

Nicholas seems to know this and is using it, and myself, to his advantage. It is as if I am his thrall, his broken toy that he abuses most despicably.

After our encounter in the library I rushed to my room and pleasured myself again and again until I was called to supper by a knock on my door.

I opened it, after a half-hearted attempt to straighten my mussed hair and disheveled clothing. Outside the door stood Annabelle.

I hated her then, for she looked at me with eyes that told me she understood me. That she pitied me. Pity. I have always hated that emotion when directed at me. Even after my poor parents' death I refused to be the object of pity.

There was another source of my anger, if I am being honest. I hated her because I had witnessed her have something that was denied from me. The penis of Nicholas inside her.

A sudden rage bubbled up from inside me and I found myself grabbing her by her hair and dragging her into my bedroom. I slapped her across her pretty face and snarled, not speaking words, just angry noises.

To my surprise she only smiled at me. This made me even angrier and I rushed at her, grabbing her by her shoulders, sending the both of us tumbling down to the floor. There we began to struggle, fingernails clawing at one another, handfuls of hair yanked.

I had not physically fought anyone since I had been at boarding school as a young girl and was inexperienced. Despite my rage I soon found myself pinned beneath the maid.

I was gasping for breath and she sat on top of me, bottom on my chest and knees pinning my shoulders to the floor. Suddenly she leaned down and kissed me.

This was no chaste kiss as her tongue pushed into my surprised mouth. Even more surprising was the way that I accepted the kiss, hungrily returning it.

Things were a blur but before I understood what was happening I was no longer pinned but she had moved down my body. I looked down and saw that her upper half was under my skirts, and I felt her face between my legs.

Then her mouth was on me. She was kissing my most secret parts, sucking and her tongue licking. I had never felt anything like this. It was so much better than my own fingers rubbing away at me. I rolled my head back and moaned.

I had one hand on my breast, pinching my nipple through the thin fabric, while the other pressed on the back of her head, encouraging her.

I felt her fingers enter me while she kissed and sucked and it was within minutes that I was crying out and bucking my hips against her face, my thighs locked around her head.

Eventually my climax faded and I lay there gasping. She left her spot between my legs and stood, holding her hand out to me.

"It is time to go down to eat," she said and I took her hand and stood.

I followed her to the dining room, flushed and confused.

I was afraid that my uncle would say something about my disheveled appearance but, as always, he was reading a book and ignoring me.

I ate the food and left the table as soon as I could without being rude and returned to my room. That night I actually slept, though my dreams were dark and sexual.

I don't have the energy to write out everything that has happened over the past few days. It is too confusing and too shameful for me to go into too much detail. I wish none of this was true.

I did come to the conclusion that there could only be one way to satiate this need in me. I needed Nicholas to take me as he had taken Annabelle. I became convinced that the only way to fill the hole in me was to have Nicholas fill me.

The next day I went to him to demand that he do so. I found him once more in my uncle's office. I knew my uncle had gone to the village that day so I did not put on my dress that morning, wearing only my sleeping shift. I expected Nicholas to immediately do as I wished.

Instead he laughed at me, a nasty sort of chuckle, and called me a whore. I am ashamed to admit that when he called me this my desire grew even stronger. I felt my body react and I began to beg him to take me. I agreed with him, calling myself a slut and a whore and to please just use me.

He put me on his desk and used his hands on me, pinching and squeezing and stroking, bringing me to climax there. Then he took out his member and, to my dismay, he put it in my mouth.

I hate myself for this, but I eagerly sucked on it, following his instructions. I felt like I needed to taste his fluids once more. I was soon rewarded as he held me down, choking me while I desperately tried to swallow all he released in my mouth. I licked the small amount that escaped me off of the desk where it had dribbled.

I watched, crestfallen as he pushed his manhood back into his trousers and sat on the chair on the other side of the desk.

I was sobbing, begging once more for him to use me. He just sat in the desk chair and smiled an evil smile. He made me sit across from him and told me his evil plan.

"Oh, I want to fuck you, Elisabeth," he told me, using crude language. "And I will. I promise you. But, for many reasons, I cannot be your first. We must find some other to be the first to have that pleasure."

I groaned, frustrated.

"But there is no one else," I cried, sounding even to myself like a petulant child, though I could not help it.

"That is not true," he said. "There is another man here at Hart House."

It took me a moment to understand what he was implying.

"Surely you cannot mean..." I stammered. "He is my uncle!"

Nicholas just smirked.

"I cannot do that! It is wrong!" I insisted. "Please. Why can it not be you?"

"That is not your fate, Elisabeth," he said. "If you want to feel that thing you need it must be him. And it must happen in a certain way."

At that point I was so distraught I was willing to agree to anything, including the despicable thing he was suggesting.

"He will not do it," I said. "How could he do that to his niece? He is a kind man."

"Do not worry about that," Nicholas said. "I will make sure that he does what needs to be done. You only need to worry about doing exactly what I tell you to do."

I sadly nodded my head. I was defeated. Soiled. I would do anything Nicholas told me to, at that point.

He reached into the desk drawer beside him and removed a large, red leather bound book. It had black symbols across its cover. I did not recognize them but they made my stomach churn. They seemed to hold a dark power in them.

He turned the pages until he found what he was looking for then turned the book for me to see. The two pages open had word written in a script I could not understand around a central image of a circle cut through with straight and jagged lines, symbols much like on the cover of the book around the image and within.

"Look upon this," Nicholas demanded. "Set it to memory. Do not miss any of it, or things will be most dire for you."

I looked on the pages and it felt as if the image was being burnt into my mind. I felt a spike of hot pain behind my eyes, but when I closed them the image remained, bright in my mind's eye.

It was obviously some sort of magic spell. Sheltered as I was, even I could see that. I hated Nicholas for showing it to me. I hated myself for how eager I was to please him.

"Good," he said. "I can tell you have it marked within you. Take this."

He handed me a piece of light blue chalk.

"I want you to put this inside you. Shove it up into your slut cunt," he said, and I winced at the phrase but could not argue with him. It was true, after all.