Horror and Fucking in the Mansion Ch. 02

The streets were dark, only the scattered lamplights breaking the moonless night; Gina paced up and down, in front of the abandoned mansion. Her head filled with memories and thoughts, all connected to her previous visit, to the ghost-resident of the mansion of horrors (and pleasures).

Dressed only in a mini-dress and athletic footwear, she kept toying with the camera in her hand, twirling her hair; determined to go in, yet terrified at the idea of doing it alone. How could she, though, have asked her friends to join her? It was her mission, it felt, and, besides, after last time Dana avoided like the plague the mansion's neighborhood.

One last, deep breath, a final drag from the cigarette; Gina, walking steadily despite her palpitating heart, crossed the threshold of the mansion and found herself back in the now-familiar dusty living room.

It all came back vividly; confidently, she climbed the stairs, ignored the creaking of the rotting wood under her slim frame.

She found the room wherein she discovered unprecedented enthrallment, sat on the edge of the metal bed; examined the unchanged room.

Gina hung the camera on the wall, next to a spiked baseball bat; what the bat was for, or how it had been used in the past, were thoughts that involuntarily crossed her mind and were instantly evicted, Gina willing only to accept as facts what she knew firsthand.

She sat on the metal table, crossing and uncrossing her exposed legs, caressing softly her thighs, her breasts; growing impatient, hungry for another round. Nothing happened; it was all too quiet, too...dead.

She lit a cigarette, the smoke had no way out and quickly the room was engulfed in a thin mist. Gina desperately sought for the shadow inside the smoke, but, there was nothing; a small grey cloud of ancient dust and ashes rose, when she stepped outside the room.

She wandered into the other rooms, spending a few minutes in each, hoping for the reemergence of the ghost; nothing happened. Another cigarette smoked, more minutes wasted; with disappointment filling her heart, she descended heavily the stairs.

Ready to go out, hit the bars; find excitement someplace else, just so her anticipation would not go completely to waste. Alas, she took her dress off, folded it, and placed it on a small table near the front door. She investigated the other rooms, opened closed doors; she saw nothing out of the ordinary. Merely abandoned rooms of a former household; a faint music echoed within the dead walls.

She raised her head, listened attentively; the dark was complete, she could hardly see in front of her nose, yet, she followed the music through the rooms, the corridors, believing it to be a call from the ghost.

She walked through the half-open door, whence a faint yellow light emitted, without second thoughts. She descended the stone staircase, holding on to the moldy wall; she stepped into the basement and gasped.

All alone, yet the instruments covering the vast space were numerous; each more horrifying and mysterious than the other.

She walked past the machines resembling Inquisition torture instruments, her breath growing heavier with every passing second, her head throbbing. She placed the camera on one of the instruments in the corner, turned it on.

The light source was a tiny, trembling phosphorescent lamp in the far-end corner; cautiously, she approached it. There was nothing around it, but, the music did grow louder and clearer.

She lit a cigarette; a battle raged in her mind, with one side wishing to stay and the other to run away. The smoke came out of her mouth; she saw the harsh, bearded face of the shadow in the blue smoke. She gasped, dropped the cigarette; she did not stir a muscle.

She couldn't, petrified by both terror and joy. Her arms were abruptly pinned against the wall, she heard (inside her head) a cruel laughter. She struggled, but to no avail. Her body grew warmer, she was sweating; naked against the wet from mold wall, being held by cold, invisible hands.

The shadow moved nearer, a freezing sensation traversed her body; its cock—as huge as she remembered it—was up against her leg, reaching down to her knee.

Its hand ran across her body, the icy fingers sending numbing jolts of pleasure to her brain, rendering her completely helpless; she moaned, when the shadow's finger touched her pussy, rubbed and twisted her clit. She bit her lips hard, closed her eyes; still pinned against the wall, she felt its erection building up, the tremendous cock growing against her smooth, sweaty skin.

It didn't take long for the ghost forcefully to push her down on her knees; she opened her mouth hungrily, her tongue protruding. The cock was rubbed between her breasts, icy chills across her chest.

The ghost's hand wrapped around her neck, squeezing gently; the tip of the cock on her warm tongue, the iciness rapidly declined, and the cock was shoved down her throat. She took it all in, helplessly, her arms pulled upwards, a cold, rough boot rubbing her dripping cunt.

She moaned and gagged on the humongous prick violating and expanding her throat; her eyes quickly grew watery, drool dripping from her chin and down to her breasts. Nowhere to go, nothing to do; except, of course, to enjoy the moment, the sensation of being totally dominated by an unknown force of former evil.

With swift moves the ghost pushed her small frame away from the wall, towards the middle of the basement; she remained on the cold floor, panting. She could discern a large, robust figure coming her way; she did not move.

Cold hands grabbed her ankles, repositioned her body rapidly and sternly; she found herself bent to the ghost's wishes, her ankles on her ears. The prick had become slightly visible, a massive darker shade of shadow slapping her pussy.

An icy, long, yet caressing, tongue touched her clit, sending more waves of shivers up her spine. Her fingers went for her hard nipples, rubbing and twisting them in accordance to the tongue's rhythms.

The cock slapped her on the back, reminding her thus of its length and capability of going deep; she moaned and screamed in pleasure, her legs shaking uncontrollably, and she squirted, while the ghost continued licking and sucking, faster and faster; another climax followed soon thereafter, Gina already too tired, too pleased.

It was far from over; she could feel it and, despite the exhaustion, she hoped it'd last longer than the last time. A thick finger forcefully found its way inside her asshole; she screamed in pain, writhing and yowling. The ghost did not pay any attention to her agonizing pleas.

It kept fucking her ass with its warming finger, faster and faster, expanding the asshole; one more finger in, Gina's legs shook violently, drew blood from her lips. Copper filled her mouth, yet, gradually, the pain subsided and was replaced by a different feeling, something like...an unbeknownst to her sensation and she adored every second of it.

Two fingers were thrust in her cunt; the ghost plowed her with both hands, slowly but steadily increasing the number of thick fingers inside her. Three; four.

She could hardly take it any longer; stuffed beyond what she thought physically possible, eight sausage-thick fingers being driven inside her mercilessly. She moaned, groaned, screamed...did everything but struggle against the rapist ghost, whose panting had suddenly become audible to Gina.

She smiled, faintly and in exhaustion; the hard fingering ensued until, in a single moment, all fingers came out; she did not dare move, change position. She was at its mercy and that increased the excitement and intensity of every climax.

The tip of the cock pushed against her gaped ass; her eyes popped wide open at the abrupt realization, but, there was absolutely nothing to be done. In it went; at first, gently, then, gradually harder.

The ghost kept on pushing deeper; every sphincter stretched brought forth a new tenacious orgasm. Perhaps, it had gone halfway in (Gina was in no stand any longer to discern the ghost, the figure; her eyes shut, her mind lost in a world of pleasure incomparable even to junk's infamous nirvana!), when the ghost began the brutal pounding, the heartless violation of her ass.

She reached for her asscheeks and spread them wide, aiding thus the cock to be driven even deeper in; there was no pain whatsoever, only the intense thrill of being stuffed beyond bodily limits, of having a cock pounding her rough and inconsiderately.

During the constantly growing in intensity pounding, Gina experienced two more mind-shattering orgasms; she was moaning low, panting heavily, getting fucked rough and deep, the ghost's deep breathing reaching her ears, intensifying her pleasure.

It lasted for a long time; the ghost was insatiable, untiring; Gina had grown weary, her ass sore, her cunt still dripping. When total exhaustion crept in and she could hardly take the pounding anymore, the monstrous cock throbbed deep inside her; it was more than enough to bring forth another violent climax.

Legs trembling, stomach shaking, lips bleeding; shot after shot of hot cum being deposited deep inside her.

The cock was out, leaving her ass agape; the music stopped, the light was turned off. Absolute darkness, deathly silence. And Gina opened her eyes, sat up straight, and inserted her entire fist in her ass without a problem.

Worrisomely, she got up; she stumbled about, still too sore to walk a straight line. However, she was smiling widely and stupidly, her mind completely overwhelmed by the series of climaxes.

She crawled up the stairs, stark naked and with cum gushing out of her wide open ass; she found her dress, put it on hastily. She stood up straight, drew a few deep breaths.

Still struggling to walk straight, still in slight pain; it didn't matter one bit. Gina felt completely satisfied, still sporting a big, bright smile. She glared at the camcorder she was holding tight, curious as to what was caught on tape.

She walked (stumbled) away from the mansion, eager to go home and rest; as soon as her head hit the pillow she fell asleep and disappeared into wild dreams about the basement and her next visit to the mansion.