Welcome to Hart House

"Oh," I said, "it's not really a stay. Just overnight. I'll get my car towed tomorrow."

"Oh," she said and pouted a bit. "Of course. We will see."

I didn't like the sound of that. Something else caught my attention.

"All of us? Who else is there besides you and, what's his name, Nicolas?"

"Oh, the Mistress of course. And some other...staff," she answered cryptically. I was about to press her but she bent down gathering up the soiled bedding, giving me a look at her round ass and a brief glimpse at the pink lips of an unclad pussy. All questions left my mind at that moment as I took it in. My cock which had almost completely deflated began to stir once more, then she stood and crossed quickly towards the door.

"I will wash your mess, sir," she said. "You must be famished. You should come to the kitchen so we can serve you. Go to the end of the hall and take the stairs down two flights. You will find the kitchen there."

Then she left the room before I could respond. I blinked stupidly for a moment before crossing to the door and looking out.

She must move fast, I thought, as I did not see her in the hall at all once I got there. I shook my head at the weirdness of everything then sat on the edge of the bed.

I must have been having a very vivid dream, I decided. That was the only explanation. I sighed. It had been a good dream.

I realized that Annabelle was correct. I was very hungry. I pulled on the pajamas that were set aside for me and wrapped the dressing gown around me. I found some slippers under the bed and pushed my feet into them. They fit very well. I stood and crossed to the door to go find some food.

*****

As I walked down the hall towards the back of the house, away from the stairs that had led me up to the second level, I made a point to ignore the ribald art that was hung there. I had had enough stimulation that night and wanted to avoid embarrassing myself any further that evening.

I kept my eyes down at my feet watching the intricately woven oriental style rug under my feet. This one, like the one on the main level, was a bit worn, with a lighter trail running down the center where years and years of feet had trod before my own.

After a bit I looked up, assuming that I would be by the stairs that should lead to my meal but stopped dead and blinked. The end of the hallway, as far as I could tell, was just as far away as it had been when I left my room.

"What the fuck," I muttered to myself and looked back the way i had come. It looked unchanged except... suddenly I wished I had paid more attention to the paintings on the wall. The one hanging to my left seemed different.

It was a portrait of a woman but there was a dark figure standing in front of her, his back to me. The woman's eyes were closed, in an oval face framed with dark hair. Her lips were red and full. My eyes traced down her body, past the low cut of her top showing deep cleavage, a stomach held in a corset, and a long black skirt. I could see that the figure's hand was pressed between her legs. The painting was well executed and I could see the folds of fabric where his hand pushed against her skirts.

I shook my head and walked forward quickly, meaning to get out of this hallway as soon as possible. I was watching the end of the hall and though I could feel myself moving forward, I could have sworn that the wall ahead moved away from me keeping pace with me.

I stopped and the sensation stopped. I looked to my left and it seemed to be the same painting but different this time. The dark male figure's hand was still between her legs but in this painting her top had been pulled down, freeing one breast. The artist had perfectly rendered her pink nipple, standing hard on the milky white breast.

I swore and looked back again. And again it seemed like I had made no progress down the hallway, still about halfway between my room and the end. I panicked and broke into a run, charging down the hallway, my slippered feet making slapping sounds as I pounded down the hall. No matter how hard I pushed myself the end of the hallway seemed to come no closer to me.

After a couple of minutes of my fruitless running I stopped, breathing heavily, heart pounding. The same painting was beside me but changed again.

This time both of her breasts were exposed and one of her hands was raised up, cupping the left one, finger and thumb pinching the nipple. Her lips were parted, her eyes still closed. Her skirt was off now, pooling on the ground at her feet. The hand of the dark figure was between her legs, with its fingers clearly buried in her pussy.

"This can't be happening," I muttered and staggered further down the hall, blind with panic, needing to be out of this endless trap. I was moving quickly when I thudded hard against a wall.

I had been looking over my shoulder and had not seen the end of the hall arrive so suddenly. My shoulder hit it first and my head snapped forward banging painfully against the dark wood paneling.

I staggered back, bright lights dancing in front of my eyes and almost fell back in my ass before catching myself against the wall.

There was a final painting on the wall to my left. My hands were shaking with fear and adrenaline as I regarded it.

It was the same woman but now she was laying on the ground completely nude. The dark figure was gone but her legs were spread wide and her own hand was between them, her own fingers inside of her. Her back was arched, pushing full breasts to the sky, her head back mouth open as if she were crying out. The artist was amazing and I could see how wet she was, represented by careful but expressive paint strokes.

I spun away from the painting and saw a narrow staircase to my right. This one was not as grand as the one I had climbed up to this level. It seemed like more of a servants passage but I hurried down it regardless, needing to leave that hallway behind me.

I made it down one of the flights of stairs, around the corner, descending another when I felt the air around me grow cold. I stopped and looked around me but as far as I could tell I was alone.

I began to descend again when I felt two hands placed on my back and then a hard shove as they pushed me forwards.

I yelped as I felt my balance give way and I began to tumble forward. I swung my arm out and just managed to catch the railing. I stopped myself from going head over heels down the staircase but my shoulder felt yanked and I swung to the side, my ankle twisting as I fell forward.

"Fuck!" I shouted as I felt the sharp pain stab into me and run up my leg.

I looked back behind me, to confront my assailant but, again, I was alone.

"This place...fuck this place," I muttered bad began to slowly, painfully go down the stairs, wincing each time I placed pressure on the damaged foot.

Finally I reached the lower level. I could see that the stairs continued downward but I had no intention of going into this place's basement.

I could feel warmth coming through the door in front of me and pushed it open, seeing a dimly lit kitchen behind it.

I limped through the doorway and looked around.

*****

The kitchen was large, designed to prepare large meals and banquets. The ceiling was low but it was spacious with large, long wooden prep tables. The oven across the room was massive and radiating heat. It smelled, at that moment like baking bread and a savory soup smell. It was by far the most inviting room I had seen in Hart House so far.

By the far wall was an old wooden table with benches along it, seeming to be the staff eating table. I could see Nicolas sitting at it drinking a cup of tea. Annabelle was at the stovetop stirring a large pot with a long handled wooden spoon.

"Ah," Nicolas cried out when he noticed me standing there. "Finally you join us, Mr. Drew! Please come and sit! Have a cup of tea and a bowl of soup! Isn't soup just the best thing to eat on a cold stormy evening!"

I sighed looking at the distance I would have to cross with my twisted ankle and then began hobbling towards the strange butler.

Earlier I had found him slightly sinister but after what I had just gone through, in my room as well as in the hall and stairs, he almost seemed benign. I could understand a lecherous old man.

When I got closer the old man seemed to notice that I was in pain and stood up crossing over to me.

"Oh, my boy!" He exclaimed. "Whatever happened to your poor foot?" He put his shoulder under my arm and began to help me to the table. I was afraid at first that I would be too heavy for him but he bore my weight surprisingly easily for a man his age.

"Tell me," he said as he helped me to sit on the bench, "how did you come to this state? Raise your foot up here on the bench. You have to elevate these things, you know!"

"Oh," I said, turning so I straddled the bench and stretched my leg out, laying it along the old wood. "I..."

I paused. What could I say? That some invisible figure pushed me on the stairs? He would think I was lying or crazy.

"I guess I slipped," I said finally.

"Oh you must be careful in these old houses, my boy," Nicolas said. "All sorts of ways to slip up in here."

He turned to Annabelle who was still at the stove.

"Come girl," he called. "Bring the man some soup. And take a look at his ankle."

"Oh no," I protested. "I'll be fine in a minute."

"Poppycock," Nicolas scoffed. "Annabelle has many talents. First aid is just one of them."

Annabelle crossed the kitchen holding a bowl of steaming soup and placed it and a spoon in front of me then sat on the bench by my extended foot, straddling it, facing me. I couldn't help but glance down, knowing that she was not wearing any underwear, but unfortunately (or thankfully, depending on how you look at it) her gathered skirts covered her there.

She reached out and lifted my foot into her lap, her soft hands removing my slipper and rubbing the slightly swollen ankle.

Nicolas moved and sat behind her, also straddling the bench and looked over her shoulder as she tested the movement of the joint. He laid his hands on her shoulders and I could tell he was looking at her tits.

"How is it girl?" Nicolas asked.

"I think he will be fine," she said but didn't not release my foot. "It is only slightly sprained at worst."

"That's good news, isn't it boy?" Nicolas asked and I nodded, slightly annoyed that this man was calling me 'boy'.

My eyes widened slightly as I watched Nicolas slide his hands down Annabelle's shoulders, move them to her front and slide back upwards. He cupped her breasts one in each hand. I expected her to protest but instead she leaned back, pressing herself against his chest.

His fingers stroked the soft material of her top before gripping the low neckline and pulling down. First one then the other breast popped free, exposed to me.

I swallowed. Despite the fact that I had so recently cum all over my bed, my cock hardened again to see these full tits. The nipples were thick and a fiery red, soon to be cupped and pulled on by the old man behind her.

"Ah," I said, uncomfortable. "I should...I should go to bed."

"Nonsense, my boy," Nicolas said. "Annabelle doesn't want you to leave, do you, girl?"

She smiled at me and began to slide her hand up my calf.

"No," she said. "I do not. "I want Mr. Drew to stay."

Annabelle reached behind her with her other hand I could tell that she was fishing Nicolas' cock out of his pants. Her arm began to go up and down as she, hidden from my view, began to stroke him.

Her hand continued to slide up my leg, over my knee and up my thigh, finally coming to the bulge my cock was making in my pajama pants.

"Oh," she said, grinning. "Is this for me?"

All of my restraint I had shown earlier in the evening, all the thoughts of not betraying my wife, were gone. I needed more than just this woman's hands on my cock. The room seemed to take on an unearthly look, hazy on the edges of my sight. It felt like a dream again as I realized all I wanted was to have this woman in front of me.

Luckily Nicolas pushed Annabelle forward then, his wrinkled old hand on her back. She allowed herself to be moved forward so that her hands rested in my upper thighs and her face was beside my still-covered cock.

I looked up to see that the old man had his trousers open, an impressive cock standing out from it. The pubes above his member were grey but the circumcised head was purple and the shaft was long and thick. I would guess that he was a bit bigger than me but as Annabelle pulled down the hem of my pants I stopped caring about comparing.

"Shit," I groaned as the woman between the old man and I opened her mouth and sucked my uncircumcised cock between her red lips.

My hands came down to rest on her head, fingers digging into her dark hair. I pulled her further onto me, raising my hips. Her eyes closed as I felt the head of my cock reach her throat, but she took me deeper without complaint.

Behind her Nicolas maneuvered her, so that her knees came up to rest on the bench and her ass was presented to him.

"Oh, she's a good girl, isn't she," he said as he lined himself up with her pussy.

I nodded, moving myself so that I was standing, still favoring my twisted ankle. Annabelle was now on her hands and knees on the bench and as Nicolas sank into her she was pierced in either end.

"Now, Drew," Nicolas said as he began to stroke in and out of her, making her move back and forth on my cock, "do not be shy. Little Annabelle likes a hard fuck. Do you not, Annabelle?"

She couldn't talk because my meat was filling her mouth but she nodded slightly, and grunted the affirmative.

I began to stroke in and out of her myself, matching the pace of the old man behind her. I had never shared a

Woman with another man before so I was letting them take the lead.

Nicolas began to speed his thrusts and I could hear his saggy old balls slap into her. She was grunting around my shaft each time he sank into her. I began to speed myself, watching three quarters of my cock disappear into her face each time.

"C'mon, Drew!" He cried. "Let's give her what for!"

He was fucking her faster and harder now. Their bodies slapped together with a wet sound. Each time he connected with her she would grunt around my cock sending shivers up my spine.

I heard his encouragement and felt no resistance from the woman, so I doubled my efforts. I gripped handfuls of her hair and pulled hard, thrusting forward at the same time. Each time I fucked into her face my cock would fill her throat and her nose would hit my pelvis. I would hold her for a moment, enjoying the feeling of her throat working my cockhead as she gagged around me.

Then I would pull back then slam forward again. And again.

Nicolas was cackling with joy and triumph as he fucked he from behind. I was trying to focus on the delightful throat fuck I was giving the woman below me and not think about he letcheous old man behind her.

I was deep in her throat when I reached down under her and grabbed a handful of one of her beautiful soft breasts. I squeezed the nipple between thumb and finger as I held her breath at bay. She was gagging and trying to pull back off of me but I held her there another moment before releasing her, giving her breath. She moaned as my full, dripping cock fell out of her mouth, gobs of her spit dangling from it, connecting my member to her mouth with strings of spit.

"That's the ticket, boy!" Nicolas laughed. "She just came around my cock from that, didn't you girl?"

Annabelle was gasping for breath and nodded, but took me back in her mouth and pulled on my ass, encouraging me to face fuck her some more.

I did not need much convincing as I shoved back into her hot waiting mouth, again pushing into her throat. I was grunting as I fucked her face, my balls slapping into her chin, getting coated in her drool. Her eyes were watering and her makeup was streaming down her face in an incredibly sexy way.

Despite having cum not so long before I was getting close again. I sped my fucking, my hands locked at the back of her head.

"Gonna cum," I grunted.

"Good!" Nicolas shouted. "Good! Me as well. Let's fill this slut up and seal our accord!"

I had no idea what he was talking about but I did not care. I held back as long as I could before I knitted my fingers and the back of her head and shoved as deep as I could, releasing myself directly into her throat. I could feel her gagging but I did not release her. It felt too good.

I realized that I was shouting. Not real words just sounds of lust and triumph as I came into her, spurt after spurt.

Nicolas was shouting as well, in the same way I was. His wrinkled old face was bright red and his teeth were gritted. Annabelle seemed to be Cumming as well, losing her ability to support herself, hanging there between us, held aloft by our cocks.

Finally I fell back, my cock falling out of her mouth, followed by a string of cum and spit. She collapsed, moaning onto the bench, gasping for air.

The three of us stayed there like that, recovering for a few minutes before Nicolas stood up, tucking his cock away again.

"Well," he said, smiling at me. "That's that then. I trust you can find your own way to your room, sir. I'll help poor Annabelle here to bed. She's had quite the evening."

He pulled the woman upright and put her arm over his shoulder and led her away as I watched the two of them leave together.

I blinked and looked around, suddenly realizing where I was. Then what I had just done. The hazy, dreamlike feeling left my mind and I gasped.

I had just cheated on my wife! I had fucked the face of a stranger and taken part in a threesome! It was unfathomable. I had never strayed before and to have transgressed in such a blatant and buzzard fashion...

I stood and almost fell when a jolt of pain shot up from my almost forgotten twisted ankle. I caught myself on the edge of the table and then lurched towards the door.

I do not remember the return to my room. All I know was that it did not take as long as my trip to the kitchen. No ever-long hallways. No changing paintings. No ghosts pushing me on the stairs.

Finally I came to my room and shut the door behind me, leaning against it. I couldn't believe what had happened that night. I was breathing heavily and my heart was pounding. I staggered to the bed and fell into it.

I wouldn't sleep, I thought. I was way too worked up for that, I was convinced. It turned out, however, that I was wrong. As soon as my head hit my pillow my eyes began to droop and within moments I had fallen into a deep, deep sleep.

My last thought before losing consciousness was, Tomorrow! Tomorrow I will get out of here and be free! Then I was gone to the world.

I was, it turned out, very wrong. It was quite some time before I truly escaped from Hart House.

To be continued.