Karen – O.M.G (Oh My Ghost) by MonsterP63

Karen – O.M.G (Oh My Ghost) by MonsterP63

Archived Version

“And a signature here” said the attorney, pointing to the line, but as Karen was about to put the tip of the pen down on the line, he blocked it with his hand.

“What are you doing?” she asked.

“I just want to make sure we clearly understand each other: this house is haunted. Like a ghost lives there. Creepy. Poltergeist. The people who bought it before you and before them and before them and before them… all sold it because of the ghost. All sold it at a loss. Do you really want to buy that, clearly, haunted house?”

Karen smiled.

“Hey, no sweat. I never met a ghost who didn’t get along with me.” she said, putting her name down.

“You… You encountered ghosts before?” he asked, perplexed.

“No, never. Why?”

“But you just said…”

“That I never met a ghost…” she said, looking at him with a smirk, “… and since I never met a ghost, I couldn’t have met one who didn’t get along with me.” she said, smiling, closing the folder.

The attorney handed over a ring with keys.

“Front door and back door,” he said. “I’ll see you in a few weeks to put it up for sale.”

“Yeah, yeah.” said Karen, dismissing him as she walked out.

“A house with a ghost. How bad could it be?”. She said to herself as she entered the elevator, wiggling her tight jeans encased butt on her high heels.

Waiting for the elevator doors to close, she began to mumble a song, similar to “I shot the sheriff” by Clapton, but instead of “but I didn’t shoot the deputy” she was singing “I got myself a haunted house”, just as a businessman entered, looking at her phone but giving her a quick look before concentrating back to his phone.

She giggled.

A week later, she was waving goodbye to four strong young men, the movers, who carried her stuff from her apartment to her new house. The men have had a great time. For one, it wasn’t a very large move, Karen didn’t have a lot of stuff, pretty much only the basics, and she was directing them in a red leather bra top, tight spandex leggings and high heel wedge sneakers, which was a jewel for the eyes.

She closed the door behind the men after a last goodbye and leaned against the door, letting out a sigh, smiling ear to ear.

“My own house.” she said, closing her eyes, like to impregnate her soul with the house while taking a deep breath. “Oh, hey, ghost, or whatever your name is, I bought this house, which means that it’s MINE. So, get lost. Find some other home to haunt.”

She waited and listened. No sound. No answer. Well, what was she expecting? Haunted houses are not real. It was probably just the neighborhood kids pranking whoever bought the house before. Well, she had news for them: she has been a brat herself. She knew the tricks of the trade.

The house was remote, located on a country road with nothing but farm lands around it, and on a large heavily wooded lot. It was a very private property. She even had a 150m long driveway between the main road and her house.

She unpacked her things, the cookware, her personal stuff, her clothes, putting them in the dresser and in her new walk-in closet.

She looked at it, half empty.

“Perfect! Just perfect. I’ll have this side for these and this side for… yeah.” she said as she picked one of the very few boxes left, a box which was heavily taped, as if she had been afraid it would accidentally open and got out the first garment, then the second, then the third, and hung them in the walk-in closet. Then another large box, and another one.

It was late afternoon when everything was all unpacked. She looked at it: on the left side, jeans, blouses, suits, and on the right side, a colorful array of bright and shiny clothes: Leather, PVC, Vinyl, Spandex, and of course, latex. The shelves were garnished with all sorts of high heel shoes and boots of different styles and different heights. Finally, on the floor, a set of heavy storage boxes.

She ordered some pizza. When the delivery driver arrived, he had a puzzled look.

“Isn’t this the haunted house?” he asked.

“Yes.” answered Karen.

“And you bought that?” he said, stunned.

“Sure, why not?”

“Well, because the previous… oh well, not my business. Take care of yourself and… be careful.” he said, leaving in a hurry, frantically looking behind his shoulder until he reached his car then quickly drove off.

“Yeah, okay, it’s a haunted house. Big deal.” she said with a shudder as she closed the door.

She sat at her dining table to eat, looking around, figuring out how she would make it her home, her very personal and purpose driven place.

She spent a good part of the evening hooking up her TV, stereo system, computer, etc. She then made her bed with fresh blue satin sheets, while humming, she walked to her closet to pick up her pajamas: a spandex catsuit.

She was a fetishist. A kinky fetishist. A VERY kinky fetishist.

She slid her feet into the purple spandex catsuit and pulled it up her legs very carefully. That suit was, by all means, too small for her, but that’s the way she liked it: tight to the breaking point. She fed her feet into the attached toe socks, placing each toe in its small shiny compartment..

She shivered as the smooth spandex rose up her leg, engulfing them, stretching, shining as she pulled it up, to her stomach, to her chest, where she struggled to feed her hands down the tight sleeves, down to the attached gloves, then she reached at the back to close the small zipper.

She looked at herself in the large mirror, smiling. Yes, she liked it very much. She ran her gloved hands along her waist, down to her hips, moved them to her crotch where she played with her fingers a little before moving back upward along the center of her torso, up to her breasts where she gently squished them, her breath shaking.

Back to the closet, she picked up a pair of ballet heeled booties and she opened the large storage case, revealing an array of hooks, links, carabiners, chains and also an assortment of cuffs, collars and other very kinky items.

She picked a set of thick, yet comfortable, cuffs and the matching collar. They were lined with a thick layer of soft neoprene providing restriction while allowing it to be worn tight for long periods.

After putting the boots on, she fastened the ankle cuffs as tight as she could, then did the same at her wrists to end with the collar.

She pulled away the satin bed sheets to reveal a series of steel posts, welded all around her mattress at the foot end, just slightly below the thickness of the mattress. There was one at each corner and also one in the middle. On the headboard, rings were screwed to it, again, on each corner and one in the middle, all leaving so many possibilities to the imagination.

She linked a long chain to the center foot board post and a short one to the head board center post. She took place on the bed and, using a carabiner, linked her ankles together to the foot chain. She pulled the bedsheets over her body and stretched over her head to grab the chain and linked it to her collar, removing most movements. Not enough to strangle herself, but enough that moving would be impaired.

Finally, she turned the light off. Well, she tried. She giggled. Her arm stretched to its maximum and was barely reaching the light switch by her bed table. She had to pull on her collar to finally reach it with the tip of her finger. Now in total darkness, she fondled around to find the long ankle chain, which reached to about her waist, and linked her cuffs with the chain and the lock, closing it shut. In the darkness, she couldn’t see the combination. She would only be able to get out of her predicament in daylight.

Smiling, she laid her head on the pillow, feeling the chain slightly pull on her neck. She was in her happy place.

The images were blurry. She blinked many times, trying to adjust to the relative darkness of the room. She could hear moanings. She tried to move but she was restrained. The cold steel of the cuffs were biting her wrists. Her brain was getting more focused. Around her, cages with people collapsed in them, other people, men and women, were chained to stone walls. She herself was sitting in one of those cages, legs dangling through the bars. She tried to talk but there was something hard, tasting like steel, inside her mouth, pinning her tongue down. What the hell was this place? It looked like a medieval dungeon dating to the Spanish Inquisition.

She could see torture tables below her, a woman squirming and moaning, stretched on one, and a strong built man, evidently enjoying his job of torturing her by stretching her more and more. She could almost hear her tendons snap! That was awful!

A stretching table. Stretched to the point where one couldn’t move at all. She wasn’t seeing pain. She wasn’t feeling torture. She was seeing pleasure, the joy of being restrained. The image seemed to get fainter, like dissolving into darkness. She blinked more and more, trying to see that image again, but what she saw was a ceiling she didn’t recognize. She blinked harder, waking up. She looked around. Well, she tried but her neck was restrained. Where the hell was she? Then it dawned on her: of course, in her new home. That’s why she didn’t recognize the room. She had just had a really weird dream. She tried to remember it but it had quickly faded away, like any dream. She just had the vague souvenir that it was weird.

It was still dark. Too dark to release herself. Well, that was okay, she was in no hurry. She turned on the other side, fighting her tight collar, and the chains on her ankles rendering the task difficult. Oh, she just loved the struggle. She tried to bend her knees, to take a more fetal-like position but the chains prevented it. Damn! So much pleasure. She quickly went back to sleep.

A crow croaking by her window woke her up. The sun was already high. She blinked in the harsh light.

“First order of business: get curtains.” she mumbled as she tried to stretch her arms, spread her legs, only to be reminded that they were tied up. A little pleasure wave ran down her spine. She just loved that bondage feeling in the morning.

She reached for the combination padlock. It was one of those easy to open padlocks with the numbers on rotating wheels. She entered the combination: 1234. Why keep it complicated?

The lock opened and she was out of her bondage a few minutes later, wiggling her spandex wrapped body to the kitchen on ballet heels to get some coffee. She had kept the carabiners attached to one of her cuffs, one at the ankles, one at the wrists. The best way not to lose them, but also the fact that she liked the clicking sound they produced as she walked, kind of sexy.

“Ah fuck! Totally forgot!” she exclaimed as she entered the kitchen to see that the coffee maker wasn’t even taken out of its box. She set it up, feeling the crotch of her spandex catsuit bite her between the legs. That felt good. She lost her balance a few times, a mix of being half-awake and walking on her tiptoes. She set up the coffee maker and started a brew. She sat at the dining table waiting for the coffee to drip, her elbows on the table, hands under her chin. She looked out the distance.

For a moment, her brain went blank, as if she had lost track of time or just dozed back off. She heard the little beep that the coffee was ready. While getting up she pushed the chair back with her legs and fell on the floor.

“What the fuck?” she asked, looking at her wrists and ankles: linked!

“What… I… Gheesh. I don’t remember linking them.” she said, reaching for her ankle cuffs and taking off the carabiner, letting it dangle on only one cuff.

She was about to unlink her wrists when she stopped.

“Nah! More fun that way.” she said as she used her bound wrists to get a cup and pour the black coffee in it then walked to the back of the house, on the patio. To enjoy her coffee in the morning sun.

She sat in the suspended chair, enjoying the first rays of the sun and the light breeze, feet dangling. She raised her legs to cross them under herself.

“What the?… Are those things linking themselves or what?” she asked as she unlinked, once again, her ankles. She took the carabiner off and hung it through the web of the chair and sat with her legs crossed under her, slowly balancing with the faint wind, taking a sip of coffee from time to time.

She thought about what she would be doing on this day, finishing unpacking, setting things up, putting stuff on shelves, cleaning everything while doing so. It was Saturday after all.

There. The last drop of coffee had entered her mouth. With a decisive gesture she got up or rather tried.

“What the fuck?? AGAIN???” she said, looking at her ankles, linked by the same carabiner which had, somehow, jumped from the web of the chair to her ankle cuffs.

“Something weird is going on here.” she said, looking around.

For a moment she thought about the ghost. She grinned.

“Nah, come on. A ghost wouldn’t do things like that. Apparently, I’m having power naps and tying myself up during those naps. I am tired after all.” she said as she hobbled her way back into the house. That was fun.

Before she headed for the bathroom for a good shower, she walked back to the bedroom where she browsed her closet.

“Hum… okay, I’m gonna have to go shopping for new curtains, some paint and some more cleaning supplies… and… yes… a lot more hardware.” she said with a happy grin.

She settled on faux leather pants and a faux leather leotard along with high heel sandals. “That should do it.”

She took off her ankle and wrist cuffs and when she tried to take off her collar, she couldn’t.

“What the heck?” she said, looking in the mirror, trying to find the problem.

It wasn’t locked, but it looked like something was preventing the pin of the roller buckle from moving. She tried to pull on the leather strap harder but it wouldn’t bulge.

“Damn! First time that happens. Must be some dust or something. Maybe the shower will clean it.”

She took off her purple spandex catsuit and took a shower, shooting water without counting at the collar.

She tried to open it again: no luck.

“Well, add lubricant to your shopping list, Karen.” she said, letting it go and putting the clothes she had chosen, then looked in the mirror.

“That will surely draw up some attention.” she said, fondling with the collar.

“Oh, screw it. The neighborhood better learn what kind of girl I am right off the start.” she said as she headed for the door, her pants creaking and her high heels clicking.

She hopped into her convertible and drove off. She had a few weird looks at some traffic lights but she just laughed it off. She drove to the hardware store. When she was in the lubricant aisle, she looked for a clerk. A young woman came to her.

“How can I help you?” she asked.

“Hi. Well… this thing is stuck and I would like some oil or something to put in it but without damaging the collar. Do you have something to suggest?” she plainly asked.

“It’s stuck? Can… Can I have a look?”

“Sure.” said Karen, lowering her neck to allow easy access to the buckle.

The clerk pulled the strap and easily opened the buckle, taking the collar off and handing it to Karen.

“Doesn’t appear to be stuck to me.” she said.

“What the fuck?” asked Karen. “Oh, sorry for my language but I couldn’t get it off this morning.” she said, looking at the collar from all angles, easily moving the pin of the roller buckle. “That thing wouldn’t move! Well… which oil do you suggest?”

“There’s nothing really to oil here. It’s free and there’s too much play for it to get stuck.” said the clerk, puzzled, and looking around to see if someone was filming them for some fucktok challenge or something.

“Uh… Well… I’m sorry to have disturbed you.” said Karen, blushing.

“No problem, miss. Anything else?” she gently asked.

“Uh… No, Thank you.” she said, quickly stuffing the collar in her purse and walking away.

The clerk kept an eye on her, especially looking for someone hidden, filming. She was sure it was some kind of prank, yet that customer really felt ashamed.

Karen quickly finished her shopping at the hardware store and got out.

“I’m never showing my face here again.” she said, walking quickly to her car and driving off.

A few hours later, she was back home from her errands and unloaded her goodies to the house.

She looked at the guest room, or rather what would become her pleasure room, with a smile then she was off to the walk-in closet. She walked out of her bedroom wearing a white PVC catsuit, which apparently had seen better days, and working booties, which she felt would be her perfect painter’s outfit.

The high-gloss PVC was squeaking with her every move, making her smile each time. She laid out some plastic on the ground, finding it funny as it stuck to her PVC catsuit as she laid it out on the floor then, adding blue disposable nitrile gloves, she prepared her paint, took the roller and began her job.

Paint was splashing on her suit but it wasn’t bothering her. That suit had made its time and why not trashing in style, almost voluntarily creating very intricate “splash” patterns. And it wasn’t a first for that suit either, displaying a wide array of paint color splashes all over it. She was giggling and humming all the time, feeling her heel punch a few holes in the thin plastic sheet covering the floor.

After an hour or so, she was due for a break. Well, all four walls were done and only the fine detailed trimming was left to do. And it was lunch time.

She grabbed herself a sports drink and a pre-made sandwich and headed for her patio at the back of the house. The previous owners had left her a suspension chair, those round grilled balls, suspended under a mast.

She sat in it and let herself balance under the soft wind and the sun, heating her stained white catsuit.

She ate the sandwich and, tired by her rush of painting, fell asleep in the chair.

She dreamed, again, this weird dream with people in medieval torture chambers, being tied up, stretched, suspended. It felt so real. She felt herself being carried around and brought to a cross, heavy shackles snapped around her wrists and ankles. Her hands were stretched high over her head and her feet, linked together, left there to dangle as the cross and herself were lifted a few centimeters off the floor.

She moaned. It felt good. Torture aside, she would have loved to experience those bondage setups.

A gust of wind and her energy drink bottle toppled to the side, and since it wasn’t empty, she felt the cold liquid drip off her right thigh.

She jumped out of her dream, the dungeon being replaced by the trees of the large lot behind her house. She reached for the bottle to stop it from draining on her suit but her arm was stuck, over her head. Both arms.

“What the f…?” she said as she looked up.

Shackles! Steel shackles! Her wrists were held by steel shackles, themselves linked to the web frame of the chair. And her ankles were also in steel shackles and linked together. And she could feel it: a collar?

“What the hell is going on here? Do I start to walk off in my dreams and tie myself off?” she thought, very, very puzzled by her predicament.

“How did I… and how do I get out of this?” she asked, looking at her wrists in alternance. They were held by carabiners but… Hell! What happened here?” as she became even more shocked when she noticed the padlocks on the steel cuffs. “Shit! I’m walking in my sleep really hard!!, not remembering ANY of it!”

She struggled to, first, grab a carabiner and second, open it, as it was a safety carabiner, opening only when sliding the closing tube off the rod.

She was getting frustrated, trying one hand, then the other one, failing at it every time as two hands were needed: one to hold the carabiner and the other one to slide the locking sleeve. At one point, she let her body slump and she giggled.

“Well, Karen, you always dreamed of being in some inescapable predicament. Your dream is served.” she said, thinking that, with her normal self-bondage scenarios, she would have a timed release and a chicken button release in case of trouble. Now, she had none, except, maybe, damaging the chair.

“I like that chair. I don’t want to ruin it.” she said, and she tried again, and the more she tried, the more aroused she became.

She was really trapped and the prospect of not being released, as if someone else had the control, was absolutely, astonishingly erotic!

She squirmed on the chair, teasing her crotch.

“If only I had put on some toys.” she thought, as her shiny PVC catsuit was easily sliding on the cushions of the chair, her crotch getting more and more sensitive to the rubbing, but not enough, never enough to have an orgasm.

“Oh well… What can you do? Break the chair.” she said, pulling hard on her wrist cuffs. “But if I’m to destroy that chair, better live the best out of it, right?” she said, getting comfy and enjoying her predicament, figuring she would destroy the chair when she would no longer be able to take it, which, with her experience, might be quite a few hours!

She managed, with a lot of struggling, to get her bound legs on the chair and to sit on her hips, giving the chair a few swings. She loved it. But it quickly became boring and she dozed off, but each time she wanted to move her body, she was reminded of her bound wrists, of her bound legs. And each time she was reminded of it, she got aroused. Yes, she loved that tied up feeling and even more since she was stuck. Really stuck.

The sun was getting lower and she had to get out of her predicament. She should break the chair, better do it now. Yes, it was a loss but she didn’t buy it in the first place. She gave a few very sharp yanks on her cuffs but nothing gave up.

“That chair is made of welded steel, dumbass.” she said to herself. “Even if you were not tied up, you would never be able to break it.”

Scream for help? Forget it. The nearest neighbor was 2km away. Unless the bratty neighbor’s kids were nearby. After all, she couldn’t figure how SHE would have been able to set herself up in that manner and not remember it.

“Hey, kids! The joke is over now. Free me please.” she yelled as loudly as she could from her soft voice.

No answer. She yelled again. No response. Not even a giggle.

“If those kids simply set myself up and ran away, I’m gonna tell their parents big time.” she said, then she literally screamed “HEY, MORONS! FREE ME NOW OR I’M INVOLVING THE POLICE!”

Still no response.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck!!”

She yanked more and more on her restraints but to no avail: they were simply too sturdy. Maybe she could drag the chair into the house, or to the garage and use a bolt cutter or something. But the thought quickly vanished remembering that she had trouble just moving that thing around unrestrained. Tied up to it would be plainly impossible.

Panicking, she pulled more and more on her restraints. Damaging the chair, the cuffs or anything else was irrelevant. She needed to get out.

Suddenly, she heard a car rolling on the gravel road leading to her house.

“HELP!! HERE! BEHIND THE HOUSE!!” she yelled, repeatedly.

Finally, a young woman appeared, holding a paper bag with a food delivery service name on it, a scheduled delivery she had forgotten about, and a stunned expression when she saw Karen’s predicament.

“What the hell happened here?” she asked, quickly reaching for Karen and opening the carabiner. “Did you do this to yourself?”

“No, I didn’t and, well, couldn’t in the first place.” said Karen as the young woman helped her out of the chair.

“Then who did this? If it’s your boyfriend, better dump it right now… or it was a game you were willing to do?”

Karen looked down at her high heels, paint stained shiny catsuit and the cuffs. It was rather obvious she was into part of these sorts of games.

“Well, yeah, It’s kind of obvious I have a kinky side,” she began, “and it might sound silly but after painting a room, I went here for a break and dozed off. When I woke up, I was in cuffs and tied to the chair. I’m a heavy sleeper but gheesh! I suspect that the neighbor’s kids did it while I was sound asleep.”

“But those cuffs…” asked the woman.

“They’re mine, alright. I like to be tied up, but I usually have a way out.” she said with a grin. “So probably the kids rummaged through my stuff…”

“Nah, impossible. The Thompsons are sharing the house with their adult married children and their kids are in diapers. As for the Smith, they are alone and in their sixties. No, it can’t be… oh wait! Isn’t this the McClure’s house? You know… the haunted house?

“That ghost thing again. Yes, it apparently is. Why? You don’t believe a ghost would… Nah, come on. How can a ghost put me in cuffs?”

“Oh, well…” she said, glancing at Karen’s outfit, “I don’t think it will matter if I will let you in on a secret that nobody tells because it’s too creepy.”

Karen raised her eyebrows.

“ Twenty years ago, the McClure went on a trip to Europe and visit some of those torture chambers used for, you know, the witch-hunt thing. At one point, they were left behind the tourist group. When they saw they were alone, they went looking for the group and found this cross on the floor, in the dirt. They picked it up, and Mrs McClure hid it in her purse and brought it back.

Legend says that that cross was cursed or that it attracted the soul of a torturer and that its ghost is now ruling the house, torturing its occupants in their sleep.

The McClures were found dead in their bed, their body stretched out as if they were tied up on some torture table.

After the house was sold by the family, the occupants would dream of being tortured, suspended, stretched, caged and even burned. The feeling was so real that it drove them crazy.

Many people looked for said cross but nobody ever found it. Silly story, isn’t it?”

Karen was spellbound (pun intended).

“That’s… unreal,” said Karen. “The ghost… ties up people?”

“What? No. They make them dream they are tied up, or something like that. Have you had that sort of dream lately?”

“Yes… I mean, I got here yesterday and, indeed, yesterday night and… yes, I dreamed of being tortured but…, I mean…” she said, showing her cuffs and making a broad gesture on her outfit, “it’s nothing out of the ordinary.”

“Ah… yes… Hum… You might take those dreams to the letter. But then again, if you indulge in self-bondage predicaments on your own… but I’ll nonetheless put the excuse for the mishap on the ghost.” she said with a wink. “One more creepy story to tell about the McClure’s house.”

Karen wanted to speak but couldn’t find the words.

“Okay listen,” continued the woman, “you were very lucky you had scheduled a delivery otherwise you would have been stuck here for quite a while, I presume, unless you have a safe-person checking on you when you do your stunts?” asked the woman.

“Well, I’ve never had the need to, I mean… why are you asking that and why am I telling you that?”

“Maybe because, between like-minded people, we talk openly.”, said the delivery woman with a grin and a wink.

Karen was stunned for a moment.

“Yeah… Listen, I have to go, I have more deliveries to take care of. Now… hum… I… I would suggest, strongly suggest, you, hum… order take out the next time you do a self-bondage session. Ask for Sandra.” said the delivery driver with a wink, handing over the delivery bag.

“I… It wasn’t a self-bondage sess…”

But Sandra had already walked away.

“That wasn’t a self bondage session!” she yelled louder, to make sure Sandra heard.

“That’s what they all say!” she heard back before the car drove away.

“That wasn’t self-bondage” she repeated to herself.

She parted and Karen was left thinking. Could a ghost really do that?

She ate her dinner, wondering. Was this story true? What if?

She was eating while moving her legs constantly, making sure the carabiner was not locking on by itself. She looked at her locked shackles and the dangling carabiner. She would remember putting them on. She SHOULD remember putting them on.

She became puzzled, more and more.

The last bite was stuffed in. The last gulp of her drink went down. She had to know.

She rushed to the basement, still all dressed with her PVC catsuit, her locked shackles and her heeled work boots. She had taken a glimpse of the basement when visiting but nothing more. It was a dirty unfinished basement, almost as if it had been dug after the house was built. There would probably be a concrete floor under all that dirt and debris. A lot of items looked as if they had been thrown aside, like someone searching for something. A very pissed off someone. Almost like a panicking someone.

She looked around, helped with a portable lamp. Her high heel booted feet were unsteady in these rubbles, the heel making sharp crunching sounds with everything it pulverized, and the very same difficulty and noise made her hot, excited. She could also feel the tight PVC of her catsuit stretching, tightening around her thigh when she moved her leg, strained on her arm when she bent it, or stretched it. She could feel it tighten around her chest with each breath. Her left hand found the way to her crotch, gently scratching it, getting teased. Her mind was slowly wandering away from her task of finding that artifact.

Mouth opened, eyes closed, she was panting heavily. Her expression changed rapidly as she opened her eyes.

“Fuck it! I’ll search tomorrow.” she said as she turned around and walked back upstairs, almost running for her bedroom. She jumped on her bed and opened the drawer of her bed table to retrieve a magic wand vibrator. She rolled on her back and applied it to her crotch. Full power.

She arched her hips forward, against the magic wand, moaning loudly, her legs bent, her heels poking into the comforter, finding their grip. In her mind, she was reliving the weird episodes of the day, the tied up cuffs at breakfast, the locked collar, the suspended chair incident, all of these events rendering her hornier by the second.

The orgasm was building up to be powerful. Images rolled into her head, of an old dungeon, of people being tortured, suspended, stretched, caged, then that woman, laying on a table, chained everywhere. Her eyes were closed but she was smiling, almost as if… she enjoyed it. Somehow, the vision was guiding herself to her. Yes, she was smiling and Karen recognized that smile: a smile of pleasure.

Almost on cue, her orgasm lit up, sending her body in a frenzy of shaking and shimmering as she held the vibrator tight to her crotch. At the same time, the vision of the woman changed as she too was arching her hips. The orgasm grew stronger but in a strange way. It was as if she was experiencing two orgasms at the same time! Her brain wanted to focus, to interpret, but her hormones were saying “MORE! MORE!”

It was really as if she was living two distinct orgasms at the same time, her body ran by pleasure hormones from end to end as well as the body of that other person… wait. Was it her? Was it that woman tied on the table?

Something drew her attention. On her neck, something was glowing. As soon as she thought about approaching, her vision did. There, on her neck, a little golden cross, about 2cm long. It was glowing like the sun was shining directly over it. Karen tried to grab it, to touch it but at the same time, her orgasm vanished and the vision disappeared. Or was it her vision that vanished, making the orgasm disappear?

She was laying there, panting, looking at the ceiling. Thinking. What the heck just happened?

She had to know. Could it be? Can the artifact be that little cross? Just a small jewel? Well, technically, an artifact could be anything. She had to know. NOW.

She got up, grabbed the portable lamp and rushed downstairs, still in full PVC and high heel booties. She didn’t care. She knew what she was looking for, but there was so much debris and dust? How to find such a small jewel?

She began throwing stuff around, which with all the chaos of the basement, didn’t make a real difference. She was getting frustrated. The more she looked around, the less she was seeing things. It was late. Perhaps she just had to go to bed and look for it tomorrow. As she was turning around on her heels, making crushing sounds, her hand held lamp flickered and went out all of a sudden.

“Gheesh, thanks lithium batteries. When you go out, you go out. No warning, right?” she said as she tried to turn the lamp back on, to no avail.

It was pitch black. The door upstairs had closed by itself. There were no windows. She couldn’t see anything and she knew there were a lot of things on the ground where she could trip on.

“Ah fuck!!” she said. “Well… Ghost? Don’t you… glow in the dark?” she said, looking around.

That’s where she saw it. A faint yellowish, almost golden glow, in the corner, under some dust. She walked to it slowly, trying to feel the debris with her heeled booties, losing balance.

“Shit!” she said as she fell down on her knees, her hand landing on some concrete block with sharp edges. “Damn it!”

Suddenly, her lamp flickered back to life.

“What the?” she said, looking at the charge indicator: 50%. “Weird.” she said, looking back in the corner. Now she could make out a path. She moved some debris with her hands and feet and kneeled to slowly and carefully remove the last debris with her previously white, now dirty, PVC gloves.

She saw it glow for merely a second, almost guiding her to it. It was in some crack between two stones. She carefully retrieved it. It was a small cross, made out of gold. It was partly bent and crushed. She blew on it and wiped it with her gloved fingers.

“Well, I bet you have a lot to tell me.” said Karen, squeezing the cross in her hand and walking back upstairs. “But it will be for tomorrow. There is no rush right now. Good night, whoever you are.” she said, looking around her bedroom before putting the cross on her dresser. For a moment, she thought she saw someone, in a gown, with long hair. But it was just a ghostly image that appeared and disappeared in the blink of an eye. She looked around for some time before getting out of her PVC catsuit and putting on her spandex night suit, slipping inside the satin lined bed. As is. No tying up. Not even cuffs. She’s had her share of bondage for the day. It was almost 02:00 and she needed to sleep.

She twisted and turned for a while, her body, her mind, searching for the usual restriction, before falling asleep. Funny how one gets accustomed to things, like bondage.

She was standing up in a strange place her mind slowly building up: a dungeon. A medieval looking dungeon. She had her hands tied up over her head, arms opened, linked to the end of a steel bar. She could see she was still in her white, well dirty white PVC catsuit and high heel work boots. She could also feel something metallic inside her mouth, pushing her tongue down. She couldn’t talk, just produce some unintelligible blabbing.

A burly man wearing a bag with eye holes over his head approached. He removed her PVC catsuit, taking the sleeves off without untying her hands. It was a dream after all, so anything could happen. He left her dangling, standing on her toes, wait! Her boots were gone? Oh well. The executioner disappeared from her view and came back almost immediately with a lump of black rubber. Yes of course, latex was very common in medieval times, thought Karen.

He proceeded to put the neck entry thick latex catsuit over her body. Karen squirmed as the suit rode up. She had one just like that. Thick and very tight. Well, she did order it a little too small. On purpose. However, she wore it only once because she was almost unable to take it off, exactly as the manufacturer warned her about.

She shivered as the tight latex rode up her body, encasing it in its tight embrace. Again, without her hands ever getting free, the suit was put on, engulfing her from the neck to the tip of the attached gloves to the toenails of the attached toe socks. It was in a dream but it felt so real.

She squirmed. She just loved that tight hugging feeling the latex was giving her. When she looked up, she could see her stretched arm, covered with the shiny black material, gleam under the yellowish lights of the torch lamps of the dungeon.

The executioner appeared back holding a red heavy garment: a corset. Of course. Well, medieval women were often wearing corsets. But out of red rubber? Not so sure.

The executioner wrapped it around her waist and proceeded to tighten it, tighter and tighter. Karen didn’t remember this corset to be that tight. However, her stretched position actually helped with the tightening.

Her breath was shaking. Oh, she just loved it. She just loved corsets and that’s why all her jeans were a few sizes too small, to give her that corset feeling without wearing one. It was far from a corset but close enough for her brain to like it.

The executioner reappeared with long tubes. Karen giggled. Yes, of course, ballet boots were the rage in 1263. The boots were put on and laced tightly and once done, he returned to tightening the corset.

Oh gosh! There was still something to tighten? Karen remembered that she was never able to close that corset by herself but that strong executioner apparently had the strength to do it. She moaned as the corset crushed her waist to an incredibly small size. While she was still stunned and gasping for air, he took the steel gag off and slid a tight latex hood over her head.

“Why…” began to ask Karen, but she was quickly shut down by a panel gag incorporating a very long penis shaped rubber gag, pushing down at the back of her mouth, forbidding all sounds. She could only moan through her nose.

She was untied and brought to a table. Karen’s eyes widened: a stretching table! She always wondered how it would feel. But the executioner had more surprises for her. He produced two plugs. Two large plugs: a dildo and a butt plug, and handed them to Karen, pointing to her crotch and grunting.

That was really the strangest of dream with all the modern sex toys in a medieval setting. Well, no harm in a dream, right? She opened the crotch zipper and proceeded to pull them in. She was already well lubricated, horny and ready to have fun. Again, it felt so real! Unbelievably real. Once the devices were in place, the executioner produced a real piece of medieval craftsmanship: a chastity belt! Although it looked a lot like her modern counterpart, like the one she owned. She put it on. However, the corset was so small that she had to reach for the tightest adjustment hole to fasten it tightly, the way it should be.

The executioner pushed her down, to lay on her back on the stretching rack. She proceeded. Steel cuffs had appeared at her wrists and ankles along with a heavy collar. Chains were linked to them, including her collar. She was spread eagled very widely. The executioner added a blindfold then the stretching began.

Her breath was shaking. Wow, what a feeling. She loved it and… someone else loved it. It was weird. It was as if there were two people inside her. It was as if she was feeling the stretching through the ghost? Could it be?

One thing for sure, that ghost loved that. And that was maybe her problem, or what put her into this situation: she liked it. Well, loving bondage was not something specific to modern times. People loved it for millennia. Why would people come up with such torture devices, high heels, corsets, shackles, if nobody liked them in the first place.

She squirmed. Oh, that was so good. She worked her butt muscles to feel the toys. And then, suddenly, the toys came alive! Of course, batteries were common household items in that period!

“Oh, fuck the period, Karen, just enjoy it.” she heard in her head, but she wasn’t the one thinking it.

That threw her out of the dream but she was still stretched out, feeling the toys alive, unable to move, feeling the corset, the tight latex, the heavy stretching bondage. Damn! That was so good. And she felt it was more arousing than usual.

“Just take it for what it is. Oh, so good. I love it.” she heard in her brain again.

The pleasure wave was too strong. She pulled on her bonds and the orgasm exploded. Oh, it was wonderful. Fireworks, explosions of colors, rocket launch, she was out of equivalent words to say that the orgasm was simply out of this world (writer’s problem here…).

She screamed but it was muffled by the gag, which aroused her even more. She tried to arch her hips but she was so stretched-out that nothing much moved. It was even more arousing! She had never been able to tie herself so tight alone, in self bondage. The orgasm doubled in intensity and she could feel that someone else was enjoying it even more than she did.

The last burst of orgasm knocked herself out and her dream dissolved into darkness.

She woke up, well, she thought. She could feel a gag deep in her mouth. She could feel the tight latex around her body. She could also feel the corset crushing her waist and the toys, now dead, inside her. She tried to get up but she was still stretched out, her body tensed as a bow string. Was she still dreaming? She couldn’t have done it herself. No way she was able to draw herself this tight and self-fastened the restraints.

Someone else had to do it. But who? She was still blindfolded. She pulled on her limbs but nothing gave out.

“HELP!” she screamed through her gagged mouth but only some faint garbled sound came out.

“Whoever did this, get me out.”

“Why? Don’t you like it? I do. I just love that stretched feeling. My favorite.” she heard in her mind.

“What the fuck? Who are you? What are you doing in my mind?”

“I can ask you the same thing. What are you doing in MY mind?” asked the ghostly thought.

“I… I don’t understand.” said Karen. “What?… Why?… How?… Who are you?”

“Who am I? I’m not sure. I keep hearing the name Beatrice. Could that be it? Beatrice. Yes, I like that sound. You think it was me?”

“I don’t know…what are you doing here? Why?”

“I do not know. I was being… tortured… in the dungeon,” she said, a little giggle in her thought, “and I liked it, which seemed to piss Bartholomew, the executioner, off. How could I like being tortured? At… At some point, I must have fell asleep or something, as I didn’t feel any pain, just joy. I would go see my fellow prisoners and enjoy their joy too, but they mostly felt pain. Barely none of them felt joy like I did. Then I was here, in this strange castle, with those strangers. I tried to share my feelings with them but all I could sense was fear. I tried to make them feel what I was feeling but they all disappeared. And suddenly, there was you. You are different. What you feel is different. And you have those strange devices and that strange way of dressing yourself up. And I’m not talking about those silly shoes. Really? Who would wear that? Yet, they seems to give you pleasure.”

“You… you waited all those years?”

“Years? How long is years? Was yesterday a year? Because yesterday I was with those people with children and today I am with you.”

“Uh?… Not sure I understand.”

“I’m not sure either. I’m not even sure of who or… what I am. But I know that I have strong pleasure feelings with you and that you share those feelings. I want more of them.”

Karen squirmed, pulling on her arms, feeling the restraints, which aroused her.

“Yes, that’s what I like. Again. More.” said Beatrice.

Karen could feel her drive, could feel her desire to feel the restraints. She had the same desires but right now, her desires were to get out of it.

“You… you tied me up like that?

“I’m not sure. You think so?”

“Well, you need to take me off of it.”

“Why? Don’t you like it like I do? Please, struggle some more for me.”

“No, you have to untie me.” said Karen, pulling on her bounds, which only increased Beatrice’s pleasure.

“Yes, that is good.” whispered Beatrice.

“If… if you don’t free me, I’ll die,” said Karen.

“Die? What is dying? Is it like when there’s no pleasure?”

“Oh shit!” thought Karen.

She fought her bondage, she tried to throw herself all over the bed, but she barely moved. That only increased Beatrice’s pleasure, which Karen felt. Damn! That was strong. She was really a bondage fetishist, way stronger than she had ever been.

She heard her phone notification. If only… Sandra? Nah. She didn’t order anything to be delivered. Her phone rang and ended up, of course, into her voicemail. A few moments later, it rang again.

Karen was squirming, trying to get the message that she needed to take that, but Beatrice had no idea what a phone was and why it was important for Karen to answer. She only felt the pleasure of Karen’s struggles, or eagerness to get free. That’s what aroused her the most.

Karen tried to calm down. Perhaps if she didn’t feel anything arousal, Beatrice would get bored and free her.

Unfortunately, even taking a breath, fighting the corset, fighting the tight rubber squishing her chest, was arousing for her, so of course, Beatrice enjoyed it and wanted more.

She managed to doze off, or being half-asleep, but the dream of the medieval torture chambers reappeared. Beatrice was not only feeling her emotions, she was also feeding them.

“Karen? Are you here?”

“What… Sandra?” she thought. “HEEELLLLPPP!” she yelled through her gag, again and again.

Suddenly she felt a presence close to her. Hands were touching her, reaching for her head, taking off the blindfold, and finally the gag, making Karen spit a mouthful of saliva.

“Oh shit! Sandra. I’m so glad you’re here. Take me out of this.” said Karen.

“How?… The ghost?” asked Sandra.

“Yes. Her name is Beatrice and apparently she can manipulate objects… and people. I went to sleep, untied, in my PVC suit last night and I woke up like this morning… like that.” she said. “Take me out now.”

“Why, hum… Beatrice didn’t take you out herself? She could put you in but not out?” asked Sandra, sure Karen had put herself into that predicament but was using the ghost as a lame excuse for her mishap.

“She doesn’t want to. She wants to feel the pleasure and as long as I’m tied up, she feels it. Now, get me out, please?”

Sandra took a step back then approached Karen, not to free her but to put the gag and blindfold back in place.

“What the fuggggrmmmmfff.” asked Karen, visibly pissed off.

“Just wait here, I’ll be right back.”

Karen grunted and fought her bounds again, and she could feel Beatrice loving every moment of it, almost asking for more!

It took some time. Karen felt a presence close to her. On her. Something heavy was taking place over her, sliding on her latex skin, like… more latex skin. She felt something hard hit on her chastity belt, then some vibration. It could only be Sandra.

Karen figured that Sandra was kneeling over her, her ankles over her thighs, crotch against crotch and her hands resting on her breasts!

She felt hands run up and down her body, squishing her breasts. She responded. Well, she was a bondage fetishist so… she liked it. And Beatrice too apparently. She could feel Sandra’s hot breath through her latex skin. Sandra slowly stroked her chastity belt against Karen’s, transmitting the vibrations of her toys to Karen’s toys. They moaned. All three of them. Wait. Three?

The orgasm built up quickly. Almost too quickly. It was as if all of their minds, Karen, Sandra and Beatrice, had fused together into a single one and each one was feeling all the orgasms pleasure of the other two, making it 3 times as powerful as anything possible.

Karen screamed. Sandra screamed. And in their minds, Beatrice screamed, as the orgasm engulfed them, rummaging through their body, sending waves of pleasure to every cell of their bodies, to every synapse of their brain. They were getting literally fucked out of this world. They were no longer on Earth. They were no longer in this Universe, whatever that meant. They were seeing stars explode, liberating more energy than thought possible, and all that energy was pure pleasure, pure lust.

With Sandra’s weight over her, karen was feeling her restriction more than she thought possible, and it made her even hornier, which was transmitted to Sandra and Beatrice, and the circle of pleasure, orgasms and all the rest, rolled again, and again, until Karen’s mind slowly faded to black, simply overwhelmed by it.

She came around a few moments later. Her blindfold had been removed as well as her gag. She was still very much stretched out, very secured. Sandra was laying by her side to her right, her head resting on her hand, sporting a red latex catsuit, high heels, a corset and a steel chastity belt, a complete set of leather cuffs, looking at Karen, smiling, gently rubbing her index finger up and down Karen’s arms. She felt the tingling. It aroused her. Damn! Is there any way out of feeling aroused?.

“That was fun,” said Sandra.

Karen only smiled back.

“You can’t imagine.” she whispered.

“Oh, I don’t have to. I felt it. I felt you, I felt Beatrice. Didn’t you feel it too?” asked Sandra.

“You… You felt Beatrice? And… you felt my emotions too?”

“Well, I felt two, how should I put it, presence, on top of mine, so I can only assume it was you and the ghost.”

“Why is everybody referring to me as a ghost?” they both heard.

Sandra looked up with a stunned expression. Karen turned her head where Sandra was looking. There, a woman, long blond hair, wearing a long dress and steel shackles, floating in mid-air, the light passing through her.

“You… you see that?” asked Karen.

“Huh, huh…” managed to mumble Sandra, stunned.

“Because…” stuttered Karen, “… because… you are a ghost. I’m sorry to break the news if you didn’t know already but… you’re dead. And you have been for, I guess, eight hundred years, give or take?”

“But… I… I don’t want to be dead. I want to continue experiencing this pleasure I feel but the only way I can is with somebody else, and you’re the first one I encounter. I want to feel it again, all the time. I want to keep you like that. That feels so good, I feel so… alive… oh yes, just like that.” she said as Karen slightly squirmed trying to get a more comfortable position as her limbs were aching. “I… I can’t be dead…”

Karen and Sandra looked at each other, not knowing what else to say.

“Release me,” whispered Karen to Sandra.

Sandra reached for the carabiner linking Karen’s wrist cuffs to the chain. She pulled on Karen’s arm and the chain but she was unable to gather enough slack to take the carabiner off.

“I… I can’t. Those chains are too tight.” she whispered back.

“What are you trying to do?” asked Beatrice, floating over Sandra.

“I want to free her. She needs to be free.”

“No, she doesn’t. She likes it there. She must stay there. I like her to be there. And I like you to be there too.”

“Beatrice.” said Karen with the softest voice she could use, “you are dead. We are not. We have living needs, like eating and… going to the bathroom.”

“I do not understand.” said Beatrice, now floating over Karen.

“I… I don’t know if it could be done, Beatrice but listen to me. Read my brain, like… Don’t only take the pleasure waves, take it all. Feel it… Merge with me.”

Karen laid there. Sandra was stunned. She saw the ghostly figure go down over Karen’s body and disappear, fusing with it. Karen’s eyes opened wide, then her eyes began to move from side to side, frantically, like searching for something. Her mouth was opening and closing like a fish out of water, all life disappearing from her eyes and she stopped moving. She looked… dead.

The bedroom disappeared to make room for a filthy, moisture smelling stonewalled room. She could hear screams, but those were not screams of joy and pleasure, but screams of pain and agony. She tried to look around but she felt something heavy around her neck. A neck shackle, of course, made out of coarse, wrought iron, hammered to shape.

A man with a canvas hood over the head, showing only his eyes, approached her. He spoke to her in a language Karen didn’t understand, although she understood the meaning. He was telling her to take those tortures as blessings, that he was doing them to get the evil out of her body, that only the evil was hurting, that she was not.

She pulled on her chains, which made her… horny? She liked it. Yes, she liked it. And the more she pulled on her restraints, the hotter she was. She wasn’t feeling pain, only pleasure.

Her arms were stretched upward. She could feel the cold iron bite into her flesh. Her feet were resting on the ground, legs held apart again by heavy irons around her ankles. They were naked and she could feel the dirt and pebbles under them, hurting.

The dungeon blurred before getting clearer again. She had moved. She was now on a stretching device, her iron shackles linked to thick ropes while the executioner was slowly turning a giant wheel. The wood, the ropes were all cracking, making eerie sounds but she was moaning. She wasn’t feeling tortured but everything going on was just pure pleasure. Pure lust.

It felt so weird. It was as if all the pain was non-existent or that all the pain had been converted to pleasure.

And now, that pleasure was all she had left. She wanted to stay away from the pain and her only way was to feel the pleasure. She was afraid that if she let the pleasure go, she would feel the pain again. Even after she passed away.

‘Beatrice, we need to talk,’ said Karen. Sort of.

“Shit, Karen! What the hell did you do? Are you alright? Talk to me!” said Sandra, slapping Karen’s face. But she stayed cold, lifeless.

She tried to take the restraints off but she was simply tied too tightly.

After a long moment, Karen’s head began to jerk side to side. Her arms and legs began to tense and to relax, as if she was slowly feeling the bondage, the restriction, or she was fighting Beatrice.

It lasted for some time before Karen’s body suddenly relaxed and the chains loosened enough for Sandra to quickly take the carabiners off the wrist cuffs. Karen’s hand slowly reached for her face. She was smiling.

“So?…” asked Sandra, totally puzzled.

“Everything is good. She’s with me now,” said Karen, letting her arms slide by her sides, slowly squirming, still feeling her bound legs.

“What? Who’s with you? Beatrice? You are… possessed or something?” said Sandra, slowly getting away from Karen.

“I… I wouldn’t say possessed. I would say we reached an understanding.”

“An understanding? Like what?” asked Sandra, visibly scared, taking a few steps back until she reached the wall.

Beatrice’s ghostly figure rose off Karen, stayed there for a moment then vanished.

“She’s gone now. She’s heading for Heaven or wherever the afterlife leads us.” softly said Karen with a warm smile. “This is no longer a haunted house.”

“What the hell happened while you were… merged?” asked a very puzzled Sandra, reaching to unlink Karen’s ankles, hands shaking, but Karen jerked her ankles away.

“Don’t untie me. In fact, tie me back. Tightly. Very tightly!” said Karen.

“Are you fucking serious?”

Karen quickly rose up and gave a hard slap on Sandra’s face, although a latex coated hand slapping a latex coated face produced a heck of a louder sound than it really hurt.

“What the hell was that for?” asked Sandra, rubbing her face with her own latex gloved hand.

“Oh, did I misbehave? It means I need to be punished.” said Karen, smiling, laying back on the bed, arms stretched large and high.

“HELP!! HELP!!! SANDRA IS ABDUCTING ME!! HELgmmfhh.” managed to say Karen before Sandra put the gag back and tied her wrists as tight as she could.

“You’re gonna stay there for a while!” said Sandra, pissed off, walking away, stopping by the door, looking at Karen, squirming, evidently loving her situation. “Why the fuck should you have all the pleasure to yourself?” mumbled Sandra, walking back to the bed and climbing over Karen.

Sandra was kneeling over Karen, chastity belt against chastity belt. Eyes closed she was rocking her crotch against Karen’s, hands resting on Karen’s breasts. They were both moaning, the orgasm building up rapidly. Sandra suddenly felt a presence, as if someone else was in the room with them.

She opened her eyes and looked around, removing her hands from Karen’s breasts, only to find them… linked? Same with her ankles that were now linked to Karen’s newly appearing knee cuffs.

She saw a white cloud fall on her and felt the presence.

“Beatrice!” exclaimed Sandra as her orgasm suddenly increased in intensity threefold.

The pleasure, the orgasm was simply out of this world. It was as if all the joy, all the pleasure Beatrice had had all those years were released all at once, overwhelming all of them. Their brains were becoming a mess of lust and pleasure. The more they fought their restraints, the more intense the waves of pleasure became until they pretty much simply lost it and fell unconscious.

Sandra woke up, laying beside Karen. Her ankles were no longer linked to Karen’s wrist cuffs but were nonetheless linked together. Karen was still very much stretched out. She was softly moaning, looking at Sandra. She removed the gag.

“That was something, wasn’t it?” managed to stuttered Karen.

“Yeah…” said Sandra within a sigh. “What the fuck happened? I thought you said she was gone to heaven?”

“That’s what I thought,” said Karen. “I am as puzzled as you are. Can… can you untie me, please?”

“Uh… yeah, sure.” said Sandra, reaching for Karen’s cuffs with her own linked wrists. “Shit, I can’t get it off, it grew tighter than when I linked it, like when… Beatrice?”

“Did I hear my name?” they both heard in their mind.

“What… What happened, Beatrice? Didn’t you go to the other side?” asked Karen.

“Yes… well, I think. It was a beautiful place, full of warmth and joy. I liked it there but… I missed this. I… I don’t know what happened… or why… but suddenly, I was here, with you.”

“But… you can’t… You’re a ghost… You have to…” tried to say Sandra.

“Beatrice, I think we need to have a deeper talk. Would you merge with me one more time, please?”

Sandra saw Beatrice float down over Karen then merge with her. Again, Karen’s eyes went lifeless.

“Karen? Shit, you’re scaring me.” said Sandra, trying to unlink her wrist cuffs but, although it was just a carabiner, it appeared stuck. She was unable to release herself. “What the hell is going on here?”

Much to Sandra’s relief, Karen’s body felt alive again, smiling. The restraints loosened and Sandra was able to free Karen’s arm, as well as her own.

“What did you do? Is she… going back?”

“Not exactly. We reached… I shall say… an agreement.” said Karen with a tone as if she was having an orgasm while saying it.

“An… Agreement? What sort of agreement?” asked a now scared Sandra.

Beatrice’s ghostly figure rose off Karen and slowly drifted toward Sandra. She was afraid but she could see a warm smile on Beatrice. She felt warm, soft, calming emotions as the ghost merged with her.

“Please, let me in, like Karen did,” said Beatrice to Sandra’s mind.

Still afraid, Sandra let her come in, let her merge with her. And she understood. Everything. Both of them understood. All three of them understood and mainly, realized the possible outcome.

One month has passed. Karen casually entered the home after a long day at work.

“I’m home! But I guess you already know it, Bea.” said Karen, outloud.

She walked toward her bedroom and, for a short instant, stopped walking, a large smile appeared on her face, then she resumed her way to the bedroom.

She walked out a few moments later, completely covered in her favorite extra-thick and tight latex catsuit and hood, corset and ballet heels, heavy cuffs on her wrists, knees, ankles and elbows. A chain linking her elbow cuffs made sure they would not go farther than her sides. A carabiner was linking her wrist cuffs together, and she was walking with a small hobble chain, her chastity belt gleaming in the lights.

She walked to the kitchen, evidently enjoying every second of it, and fixed herself a nice dinner, making a second portion but leaving it there, ready to eat.

Once fed, she hobbled her way back to the bedroom to walk out, unimpaired, but with the largest gag she could fit in her mouth tightly fastened over the latex hood and a blindfold hanging from one of the side buckles. She headed for her dungeon room. There she took place on the bondage table, getting… comfortable, and pulled down the blindfold.

Links suddenly appeared, tying her up, tightly, almost tighter than humanly possible. She moaned. She struggled. She twitched when her toys became alive.

There was a noise at the entrance.

“Hi Beatrice! I’m home!” was heard through Sandra’s voice.

Sandra stopped by the dungeon room, smiling at Karen’s setup, looking at her gently squirming, barely able to move from her tight restraints, Bea evidently having a ball too. She smiled. Her turn will come. She then headed for the bedroom from where she walked out a few moments later sporting a similar setup as Karen, except her thick and tight catsuit was red, her favorite color.

She hobbled her way to the kitchen and ate the portion left over by Karen, then hobbled her way to the dungeon room.

“Your way, Bea.” said Sandra.

She felt a soft yet firm push, backing her to the X frame. She spread her limbs and the links were put in place like magic. She was tied stretched, very stretched out. Very stretched out.

Sandra closed her eyes and felt the presence. Beatrice’s presence.

On the wall, a small cross that seemed to glow at the same time both women moans became louder. Much louder.

The ghost had taken control of the house and the guests.

Karen squirmed as Beatrice entered her mind to fuse it with Sandra’s. All three of them would share the orgasms to come. With time, Bea learned to control the toys, and she took a wild, almost sadistic pleasure at edging them and keeping them there, not allowing them to jump the fence, just keeping them there, squirming in their restraints, fighting to launch but being denied again and again. She seemed to like giving as much as receiving.

But when they launched, when they orgasmed, it was simply out of this world. No drug could achieve that level of pleasure, of joy, of pure orgasmic pleasure, multiplied by three as they all shared and multiplied their pleasures.

Once they were released and they could go to sleep, it came fast and deep. Karen suspected that Bea had something to do in that, making sure they were well rested the next morning although they barely slept.

There was no alarm clock. Well, yes there was. A small clock emitting a small beep. Bea had learned that it meant to wake them up. She would do it by releasing their bounds. The sudden freedom woke them up every time.

This morning was no different.

Karen sat on the edge of the bondage table while Sandra took a few steps once released of her stretched X frame night, their blindfolds off. They removed each other’s gags and smiled, looking around, searching for the ghostly figure.

“Thank you, Bea. That was awesome.” said Karen.

She didn’t need to answer. They all felt it.

Sandra grunt and stumbled to the kitchen. Since Karen had made dinner, it was her task to make breakfast. She started the coffeemaker for Karen and fired the kettle to make herself a cup of tea. Her German origins were still strong and she never got used to drinking coffee in the morning.

She was standing motionless by the counter, trying to get her brain in gear, and when she did move forward, it was to discover that Bea had linked her ankle cuffs. She was able to catch herself with the counter. At the same moment, Karen walked in, or rather hobbled her way in, her ankle cuffs also linked as well as her wrist cuffs. They drank their hot beverage and ate whatever they liked, then headed for the bedroom. They helped each other to get out of their locked cuffs and accessories.

“Hum, okay. Where’s your key for the chastity belt?” asked Karen.

“It’s right there, on the hook… Beatrice? Did you hide the belt keys? We need it. We need to take it off to go to work.” said Sandra, looking around her for the floating foggy woman. But she didn’t appear.

“She didn’t do it. Fuck no. BEATRICE!” yelled Karen.

“You do realize that she reads our brains and that yelling adds nothing, right?”

“And how do you know that? You’re a specter expert now?” said Karen with a grin, pulling on her belt. “Beatrice. We need to take the belt off. We can’t keep the corset and the latex to go to work. You know that. We discussed it. We have an agreement, don’t you remember?”

“Yes, I know” said Beatrice, “but I also know that the thought of going out like that makes you horny. Sometimes, you go out to, how do you say it, shopping? And you wear your chastity belt or some latex item and when you come back, you’re all horny. It’s not the first time I feel it, and I want to feel it more.

“But, I… I… We…” stuttered Karen, looking at Sandra.

The thought really made them horny.

“You think we can pull it off?” asked Karen, sparks in her eyes.

“Well, you probably can, I mean you work in an office, but I work in a warehouse. I need to put on my safety shoes.” said Karen.

“Actually… nothing can fall on your toes with those.” grinned Karen, pointing at Sandra’s ballet boots.

“Very funny. Well, her ‘powers’ don’t go beyond about 30m off the property, so I might be able to take them off at work. And you can do it too.”

Karen simply bit her lower lip. Does she want to?

“Well, we have no choice, don’t we? Unless we call in sick…”

“…Which will not prevent Bea from doing it tomorrow…”

“…Or she may as well force us to do it every day.” they said, completing each other’s sentences.

They all acted as if Beatrice couldn’t understand what they were saying.

“Okay, Bea, but just THIS ONCE.” said Karen.

There was no answer. Beatrice was nowhere to be seen. Karen and Sandra walked back to the bedroom. They have to find an outfit. Their chastity belts were so tight that even wearing tights would have gone unnoticed, except for the bulge of the lock at the waist, which could be hidden under a wide shirt, thanks to their compressed waist. But they had to put something OVER their boots.

They both walked out in snug fitting jeans – they didn’t have anything looser – and a loose fitting shirt and walked out.

Driving in ballet heels was a new experience for both of them, but they concurred on one thing: this was fucking arousing!

At work, Karen had a few weird looks, especially over her black hands and very long legs, but since she was usually in very high heels, that her kinky side was, if not known, suspected, although it raised a few eyebrows, she wasn’t bothered.

Her brain was having trouble coping with it tho. The constant feeling of the latex over her skin, her struggle to breathe thanks to the crushing corset, her latex coated fingers over her computer keyboard, or while holding a pen, taking notes, and each time she had to get up to go to the printer or to someone else’s office, strutting on her ballet heels, was all really arousing.

The worst, or was it the best time, happened during her lunch break. She was sitting with her co-workers, at the cafeteria when she suddenly jumped and let out a welp! All those around her turned around, some wondering what happened, some others suspecting what was going on.

Karen was blushing and quickly stood up.

“I… I have to go to my office.” she stuttered, grabbing her half finished lunch with her and hurriedly walking to her office, walking with a strange wiggling of her butt.

She let herself drop on her leather chair, trying hard to muffle her moanings. She took her phone and tap an app before it all stopped. Then she called someone.

“You’re a fucking brat!” she said as soon as the person at the other end answered, laughing her ass off.

“Didn’t you like it? Next time, make sure to disconnect your toy from the remote controlled app before going to work.” said Sandra, still laughing hard.

“You’ll pay for that, you know?” said Karen, giggling.

“Oh, I certainly hope so. How’s your day going?”

“It was fine until now. Now, I’m horny as hell and I can’t do anything about it.” said Karen.

“One thing for sure: Bea was right. We will be horny as hell once we reach home.” giggled Sandra.

“Yeah… How about you? How is your day so far?”

“Extreme! Having to bend to put on my safety shoes with the corset, the belt and the toys was quite a challenge and made me horny as hell right off the start. And we’ve had a lot of deliveries. I’ve been walking up and down the warehouse, getting on and off the forklifts all morning. You can’t believe how many times I almost screwed myself to orgasm just by moving around.”

“I just can’t wait to go home. I’ll be there around 18:00, as usual. How about you? More overtime?” asked Karen.

“No. Well, yes but I already notified my manager that I couldn’t stay today, so I’ll be home at around 18:00 too. See you then!”

The rest of the day seemed to never end. Their minds were elsewhere. Beatrice was devilish about doing that.

18:00 came. When Karen got to the house, Sandra was already there, vanilla clothes off, laying on the bed, waiting for Karen. Karen was quickly out of her vanilla clothes and joined Sandra on the bed, each one turning on their remote control apps, each one teasing each other. They moaned, they kissed, they embraced each other, their body rubbing together, the smooth and slippery latex sending them shivers, their chastity belts banging against each other.

It wasn’t long before a third mind joined them, sharing their orgasm and mostly, making each one feel the other’s orgasm, amplifying it, multiplying it by tenfold!

“Gosh! I needed that!” said Karen, rolling on her back, besides Sandra, both panting.

“Yes… Finally, I could barely concentrate at work by the end of the day.”

“So, same thing tomorrow?” asked Beatrice.

“What? NO! Absolutely not! It’s too much.” said Karen.

“But it was so much pleasurable feeling your thoughts when you came back. You liked it, I could sense it.”

“Yes but we have to… function, otherwise we will lose our jobs, our income. You understand that, don’t you?” said Sandra.

“Yes. I understand.” said Beatrice, a feeling of sadness covering them.

“Damn. I’m hungry. My lunch was… cut short.” said Karen, looking at Sandra with darts in her eyes. Sandra giggled.

“Yeah, I’m hungry too.” she said, getting up but before she could reach the door, it slammed shut.

“Bea?” asked Karen.

Bondage cuffs moved from the desk.

“Ah, yes. Of course.” said the women, putting on their cuffs and collar, and adding the much welcomed latex hood.

Once all set-up, Beatrice linked their legs together at the ankles and the knees, as well as their wrists, forcing them to hobble to the kitchen and struggle to make dinner.

That only made them hornier by the minute, after which they quickly headed for the dungeon. No interest in watching TV or doing anything else.

Beatrice was leading them to the device she wanted. After all, she was their executioner.

They were setup on their respective ‘torture’ devices and their night of sexual mayhem began.

They had no choices, this was a haunted house.

This was really a haunted house.

A kinky haunted house.

© monsterp63

30th of June 2023