Authors note: special thanks go to Angel Love, my editor.
It was a dark, hot and humid night. Anne leaned over the banister on the patio to catch the soft humid breeze floating past her cheeks. She glanced up at the old gnarled oak tree in the garden and could not help thinking of what the shop keeper in the village had told her that afternoon. She could not prevent a cold shiver running up her spine.
Anne had just bought the old mansion house to get away from the stress and bustle of city life. She was a financial advisor and had made a lot of money in the city, but the job did not satisfy her. In her spare time she followed other pursuits, which engrossed her. She had never been interested in relationships. Her job and wealth were the only things that mattered. Now she had enough money, she wanted to explore new things. She wanted to remain active but also settle down. She had written a few pieces for Literotica in her spare time and gotten good reviews, and this encouraged her to continue. But Anne felt she needed a breakthrough and wanted to write her best work. Maybe this would be her stepping-stone to a wonderful new life!
Anne had felt very fortunate to be able to buy the old mansion. She was pleasantly surprised when she heard the asking price which for her was cheap and immediately settled the contract. Somehow the place had radiated an aura, which attracted her, but she could not place it in any logical context. After she heard what the shop keeper told her, she wondered desperately if she had made a mistake in buying the house.
The man had a pleasant way about him and after verifying that she if she was indeed the new owner of the old mansion, he drew her by the arm to the back of the shop and spoke to her in a soft whisper as if he expected someone to overhear; "Be careful around that house my dear!"
When she had asked why he smiled sadly and whispered, "Some things are better left unsaid; but suffice to say, that people can have things happen to them there, terrible things! He looked as if he wanted to say more but someone had come in and he had walked quickly back to the counter leaving her nonplussed.
All day she tried to imagine what he meant by those "terrible things" and now leaning over the banister, hearing the eerie rustle of the leaves in the humid darkness she suddenly did not feel comfortable at all.
She went inside and turned on all the lights and inspected the house once more to appease her fears. It looked very appealing with its big bedroom overlooking a wonderful garden, its orate ceiling and chandeliers in mint condition, a beautiful kitchen with all the mod cons, and a lovely lounge area with an open hearth for those cold winter nights. Only the huge cellar beneath the house needed work, but she would have time enough to finish that.
"I am very fortunate," she thought to herself, "and I shouldn't be listening to old coots telling me village rumours. It's 2006 for God's sake!"
She felt a lot better, took a long hot bath, went to bed and slept fitfully.
The next morning Anne felt much better. She had slept well and felt refreshed as she admired her slender tanned body with perky upturned breasts. She mouthed a kiss to herself in the mirror and laughed inwardly as she combed her lustrous long black hair, thinking, "The man who finally gets this body, will have to really impress me!"
She had never cared for relationships in the past; no one could hold her interest for long, especially after the one she loved had suddenly died. She did not dwell on that but now lived for her fantasies, which took her further than any man (or woman for that matter) could. But she was someone who always kept her emotions in check, afraid of the unknown; she did not encourage anyone to get close to her.
She knew she had to change, but could not think of any situation that might instigate that.
Anne had just had a shower and was combing her hair when the doorbell rang. Dressed in her robe she went downstairs and opened the door.
The man who was standing there took her breath away; dark and very handsome with eyes that almost seemed to see right through her. He smiled brilliantly.
" Hello, I'm the local vicar, and I've just come to bring you a lovely pie my wife made to welcome you in our midst!"
Anne stammered, "O . . . oh th . . . thank you. Won't you come in?"
Inwardly Anne cursed herself for losing self-control. "My God he's married!" she thought to herself as she brought the pie to the kitchen.
Anne asked, "Would you like some coffee?"
The vicar sat down on an old leather lounge chair before saying, "This place has a history you know." He looked at her penetratingly and added, "Didn't you notice?"
Flustered, but not willing to admit to anything, Anne answered, " I know it's old, so it should have a history shouldn't it?"
"Yes," the charming vicar sighed crossing his legs. "Did you know that this house was built on a site used for very powerful pagan worship hundreds of years ago? It's rather unique you know." He looked at her curiously and asked, "Why did you buy it?"
Anne refused to rise to any bait and said flatly, "It was cheap."
"Yes," the handsome vicar said again, "Money is a good motive."
Anne replied sarcastically, "That's strange coming from a vicar! I thought spiritual matters were more important to people like you!"
He smiled at her, making her weak at the knees and kept her gaze till she broke it off. " I'm not that kind of vicar," he said. "I' m what you might call an Elemental Vicar."
"What do you mean by that?"
"I keep ancient traditions alive. Come to my church sometime and you will see what I mean Anne."
He stood, and said, "I must go now. It's been very nice meeting you. Enjoy the pie. My wife made it especially for you! And you are special, did you know that?"
Butterflies started flapping in her belly when he said those words; ones no one had said to her in that way for a long time; except John of course, but he was gone.
"Yes Vicar, if you say so," she muttered. Somehow his charm made her feel less than him. Through the window she watched his frame disappearing into the distance for some time.
Anne decided to not allow her disconcerting but fascinating meeting with the vicar to upset her plans for the morning. She would concentrate on her writing completely and not allow herself to be distracted by anything. Nothing mattered more now than writing her masterpiece!
But first she would have breakfast and drink the coffee the Vicar did not want. The pie looked very scrumptious so she cut a big slice and ate hungrily. It tasted marvellous, bursting with delicious red fruits and she could not resist taking another slice. Before Anne knew it she had eaten all of it!
"Now Anne, you have really done it! No more food for today!" she admonished herself. She had always taken pride in her figure, not wanting herself to get plump in any way. From a small age she had lived by the adage that a healthy figure is a healthy mind and had followed it through till today.
Now she was sitting behind her computer, with an empty screen waiting for the first words of her new novel to come to her. The cursor flashed but nothing happened. She had to concentrate! She closed her eyes, letting her mind go blank and started to write. Words appeared onto the screen. She did not read them, but inspiration came to her in waves. She did not consciously see or feel the words she was typing. She was typing and was happy to do so - finally! Words flowed, flawlessly from her fingers, faster than she could think. She felt outside of it all.
The only thing she noticed or felt was a deep low sounding drone in her head and a feeling of warm emptiness in her loins, like the feel one has going down on a roller coaster. Only now the feeling was concentrated all around her sex between her legs. She enjoyed the feeling and rode with it, all the time seeing her words flow over the computer screen, but not being aware of what they meant.
After a time the feeling of sexual pressure became so overwhelming, she had to touch herself, to somehow fill up the emptiness in her loins. She stopped typing and spread her thighs to bring her hands down to herself. She touched her thin panties and felt an enormous wetness there, wetness she had never experienced. Shocked she looked down and saw what she had done to the seat of the chair. As she rose to clean it up quickly and looked up at the screen, she saw what she had written. Her breath stopped in her throat!
Never in her wildest dreams had she been able to imagine the despicable sexual acts depicted in the enormous quantity of pages she had unconsciously written. Acts describing in lurid detail the wanton and perverse sex between her and the vicar, not to mention other unknown "players." Although she was enormously shocked, Anne could not tear her eyes away form the screen. So absorbed was she that she didn't realise that she had been rubbing herself furiously while she was reading until she felt herself Cumming powerfully through her soaking wet panties.
" My God!" she thought, "what's happening to me??"
She forcefully shoved herself off the chair with her arms and switched the computer off. Standing there, helpless with cum running down her legs, she cried out in frustration. But the thoughts of the Vicar doing unspeakable things to her did not leave her, but instead they intensified. In her minds' eye she could feel his eyes burning into her as he was doing things to her while she pleaded for more and more. Her cunt was getting wet again and she felt her clit.
"Mmmmmaaaaaahhhhhh I'm a slut!" she murmured to herself. "Fuck me vicar! Stick your fuckstick in my cunt!" all the while rubbing herself to oblivion.
A small voice inside her protested. "This is all wrong. Something is going on and I have to find out before I go mad!!"
Before she could let another thought in, she rushed to the shower, undressed as quickly as possible and let the ice cold water hit her body. Slowly her wild thoughts dissipated and she began to think clearly again.
Under the shower, the cold stream kept her head steady and she thought of the shopkeeper who had warned her. She would have to pay him a visit and possibly he could shed more light on what was happening to her. She had to find out!
As quickly as possible she dressed and had a stiff drink, hoping it would keep the wild thoughts at bay. Taking the car she sped to the shop and luckily it was open. Anne rushed inside and saw the shopkeeper. She dragged him to the back.
"Hey lady, what are you doing?" he protested.
She looked at him and whispered as menacingly as she could, "Look here, what you told me yesterday, I need to know more!"
He looked at her and suddenly a knowing look spread over his face. "You've had a visit from the Vicar I think . . .
" Yes!" Anne hissed, "Now tell me what he has done to me!"
"I have to be careful," the old man said, "the Vicar mustn't find out that I've been talking to you; understand?"
"Of course," Anne placated him, "I have a problem now and only you can help me. Of course I won't tell!"
"You're getting strange urges?" He asked.
Anne looked down ashamed. "Yes" she murmured, " terrible ones! Please help me."
" He's made you a glamour," the man said.
"A glamour? The only thing I got was a pie; which I ate!"
"You ate it all??"
"Yes," said Anne, "it was lovely!"
"Lovely indeed," the shopkeeper said sarcastically. " You ate the glamour!"
"What's a glamour?"
"Have you lost anything lately?" the man asked.
Yes, a pearl handled comb. I left my bag in the kitchen while viewing the house and since then I haven't seen it anywhere!"
"It must have been the realtor," he said. "They are all in on it you know."
"What is a glamour?" Anne persisted.
"They use a personal article or piece of you and weave their spells around it and . . . "
A customer had come in and was looking at them.
"Get out now!!" the man said, "we mustn't be seen together!"
He pushed her forcefully out the fire escape leaving her standing nonplussed outside behind the shop. She decided to wait at the back till the customer was gone and go back inside to find out more.
After about ten minutes she took a peek through the door. What she saw confused her. The shop was deserted. The front door was locked and there was no one there!
"Hello" are you still here?" she cried, but nothing answered.
There was nothing to do but go back home. In the car she thought hard over what the man had told her. She had been bewitched in some way by this glamour, but did not know to what end and why! What did the Vicar do and what was he about? As her thoughts turned to him so did her feelings. She could not bear it! She could hardly control the vehicle now and stopped by a park. Luckily she was wearing a skirt, so she leaned back and opened her thighs, the thoughts of His Manhood, his massive cock penetrating her every orifice, using her and letting her be used.
A park gardener walked by and saw her sitting alone in her car, her head bent over the steering wheel. He came to the window and asked, "Can I help you lady?"
She looked up, leered at the gardener and slowly pulled three wet fingers out of her cunt. "Want some of this mister? It's lovely!" she said licking them lavisciously. "I'm sure I can give you something better than that nagging wife of yours at home."
"How did you . . .?" the man stammered.
"Oh don't worry. I won't tell," she said huskily and got out of the car and spread herself on the still warm hood. She batted her eyes at him over her shoulder; lifting up her plaid skirt so he could see her wet hole and said, "Don't be afraid, I want you. Bring those gardening tools over and use me as you have always dreamed of using your wife!"
"OK lady, you asked for it!" the man cried.
He picked his toolbox up and opened it for her to see. "These tools all right for you?"
"Yess! Stick that spade handle in my ass!" she whimpered, "but let me lick it first - we don't want to damage Master's goods do we?
"Master?" the man asked mystified.
"Never mind that darling just do it to me!" she urged him, gyrating her ass in front of him.
She took the small spade used to dig up roots in the garden and stuck the the well-rounded rosewood handle in her mouth, licking it and making lewd smacking noises, and handed it to him. "Come on! Stick it in my asshole! Fill me with it!"
She spread her ass and felt the handle slowly filling her up till it could go no further. The rounded handle acted like a butt plug and any pull on the spade made her anal muscles react spasmodically. It was not enough for her. "Fuck me with your fucking cock!" She commanded. "Stick your fuckstick into me!" She rubbed her cunt vigorously, opening her reddened lips for him to see.
His member was thick and swollen when he lunged at her from behind and she felt her cuntlips stretching as his salivating cock rubbed the walls of her wet sopping vagina. He was fucking her frantically now, breathing hard and jerking on the handle of the spade in her ass now and then, stretching her anus open.
His breathing and pumping cock became crazed now, and Anne screamed, "See Master, uh, UHHNN see how your slut is getting f . . . fucked for you?"
The gardener was cumming. She wanted to see the lust in his eyes, lust she had awoken in him! She jerked out his member and pulled the spade handle out of her ass, her sphincter muscles gaping uncontrollably. She turned on her side and ordered him to spray on her face. She did not have to tell him twice, as a fountain of hot semen spattered uncontrollably over her face and hair.
"Aahhnnnmmm . . . uurgggg" she lolled, rubbing the white stuff over herself and looking him straight in the eyes.
He looked at her astounded.
"Pick up those sticks you have cut and beat my ass and tits with them," she demanded, and fist me. I want to feel pain for my Master!"
"You're crazy!" the gardener cried and ran off.
"Crazy I may be, but I must satisfy my Master!" she mumbled as if in a drunken stupor. Still fingering herself with her four fingers and squeezing her red swollen clit, she picked up the sticks the gardener had dropped and began beating herself over her breasts and thighs. She spread her thighs and rolled her fist over her wet cunt, attempting to push it in. With the image of the Vicar in her mind she came again and again on the bonnet of the car. Then she passed out.
When she came to, she did not know where she was. The sun was setting. She was lying on the wet grass, her soiled and torn clothes all around her, her loins painful and body sticky with semen. Then the memory of what had happened came flooding back. Every sordid detail came back to her and what's more, she was torn between a feeling of terrible shame and one of pleasure derived from her controlling the unknown stranger with her sex. She hated herself for that.
"What have I become?" she whimpered, utterly horrified.
Luckily the keys were still in the ignition and she raced herself home. The dark mansion house felt strangely comforting.
She opened the door to a quiet house. She ran to the bathroom and put the shower on HOT and tore what remained of her clothes off her body and stood under the streaming hot water for nearly a full hour vigorously rubbing the feeling of filth from her body with a hard brush. After showering she took the clothes to the fireplace and burnt them.
She moved to the sofa and flopped down, her mind still in turmoil and turned on the table lamp by her side. She saw a black envelope lying there, embossed with gilt lettering:
To Miss Anne Soignant. Her heart racing, she opened it. The paper was also lined with gold edge and had a black header CES in scrolled lettering at the top. It read: You are hereby cordially invited to the seasonal Calling Ceremony on Friday no later than 10:00 pm. at the Church of Elemental Saints at Sandhurst road no. 235.
Signed: Your Vicar!
Friday was today! "He's noticed me already!" She unwittingly thought with some pride. Her hand strayed again uncontrollably to finger her crotch and then, in a blind panic she thought, "Oh my God stop it!"
She forcibly drew her hand back trying to think of other things. She thought of the shopkeeper who had mysteriously disappeared. Had he perhaps been murdered by the one who had come into the shop while he was trying to tell her more about what was going on? She was sure now it was the glamour she had eaten that was making her behave this way. What must she do to escape this horrible thing; run away?
She fumbled for her car keys in her handbag almost ready to pack and leave forever. It was then that she noticed something else. The mirror over the fireplace had blackened where the smoke from her burning clothes had reached. She could faintly make out some words on it. Moving closer she read: go to . . . and then it became unreadable. Quickly she boiled a kettle of water, and when it was steaming, brought it to the mirror letting the vapour bring out more words. Slowly the rest became visible too; go to . . . the shop ASAP! Look under the oil drum - Shopkeeper
He was alive at least! All was not lost! Maybe she would finally be given a solution to her predicament. She ran to the bedroom looking for something to wear. The only thing she could find was a skimpy black party dress and black knee length boots, as well as a black scarf. This would have to do. The shopkeeper had been right about the glamour, she would follow his instructions.
As fast as she could, she raced to the shop, which was dark and deserted. She remembered the oil drums around the back and took a small torch with her to see in the darkness. There were several drums there and she lifted them but - nothing! Almost panicking now she ran further to the back and saw one with the word OIL on it. That must be the one! She lifted the drum and saw a piece of dirty paper beneath. Looking at it under the light of the torch it looked as if it had been written in a hurry, Anne spent some time deciphering the words: "When you read this, Anne, I will be far away, yet near to you and you will not yet have lost your sanity to Him. To conquer his spirit it is imperative you go to the Ceremony tonight! He will try to take your will completely, but you will overcome him if you only follow this: let happen what will happen and focus on the light of one who loved you completely. He will help." Now go!" The shopkeeper.