Within These Walls

Copyright © October 2022 by CiaoSteve

CiaoSteve reserves the right to be identified as the author of this work. This story cannot be published, as a whole or in part, without the express agreement of the author other than the use of brief extracts as part of a story review.

This is a work of fiction. The events described here are imaginary; the settings and characters are fictitious and are not intended to represent specific places or living persons. It goes without saying that all sexually active characters in this story are over 18

Author's Notes

This is an entry for the 2022 Halloween Contest. I hope you enjoy and would appreciate your votes and comments. As a heads up, I like to think the story contains sex, but sex does not make the story, so don't be disappointed if it is not a quick stroker of a tale.

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If only walls could talk.

What would they say to you?

Every house has a tale to tell. For some the story is clearly wanting to be told, written for all to see on walls and floors, leaving little to the imagination. Others though, well... suffice to say they keep their narrative deep within the fabric of the house itself, secrets hidden between the very walls on which the house was built, hidden away from prying eyes, to remain just that... secrets.

Secret or not, every house does have a story to tell. Happy times, sad times, passionate times, tumultuous times, they see all, they hear all. Those which have been standing for many a decade, will have a smorgasbord of intrigue, mystery and romance etched into those very walls. Even the newest of houses will have its own story, albeit one patiently waiting to be written.

For every house with a story to tell, there are those who go looking for it, either gazing at the visible history, or searching deeper for the secrets hidden within. It is like a passion... an obsession... a destiny... always believing, never stopping, ever the optimist that the next house will be ready to reveal all.

This is the story of one such house, and one such explorer, a twenty-something young woman who spends her whole life searching for those more hidden of secrets. More so, it is the story of just what happens when the house decides she is the one worthy of knowing its deepest mysteries, of becoming one with those very walls.

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Prologue

Four months ago - Victoria confronts the inevitable

"Yessss... yessss..."

Victoria was losing herself. It always ended this way, but it was exactly why she had decided to join him all those years ago. Her master was insatiable, and her job... her job was nothing more than to satisfy his every need. It was a strange relationship, a most unorthodox relationship, a most secret of relationships, yet she had never been happier. Things had changed so much since she found him. Yes, she had sort of fallen out of the public eye—that was one of the drawbacks, one of the conditions she had willingly signed up to—but, in return, she got a home, a protective shoulder, a man who loved her more than anyone else... and... god yes, the best sex you could ever imagine... oh, and lots of it.

There was a time when she would have matched him, and given her own back in return, but these days it was becoming more of a struggle to keep up. The years had been good to Victoria. Yes, she'd lost a little muscle tone, there were wrinkles a plenty, and her blonde locks now had a striking silver highlight, but other than the natural aging process, Victoria still had many of her attractive good looks.

It had been a little over four decades since she first met the house, fell in love with it, and accepted the opportunity it offered to her. God, that sounded so weird. Victoria was talking about the house as if it was a person, alive, with its own feelings. Weirder still was... well... back then, and even now, it truly felt like the house was the one offering her the job, welcoming her into its very fabric.

The decades since may have blurred into a story of never-ending passion, but Victoria could still remember that first time, as clearly as if it was yesterday. It was never planned. It just, sort of, happened... like destiny takes you by surprise.

Back then, Victoria was a spritely twenty-six-year-old, alone, and in desperate need of an income. That's what started the whole journey, the need for money, and a tiny advert hidden away on the bottom of one of the pages of the local newspaper. Yes, in the days before social media, if you wanted something, you put it in the paper. This was different though. The advert wasn't the spectacular, grab your attention, in your face, piece of blatant publicity, nor was it pride of place in the centre of the page. This advert was tucked away towards the bottom, almost hidden by the centre fold of the page, as if not really wanting to appeal to more than the most inquisitive of readers.

That wasn't all. It was subtle and worded in a quite unorthodox way. It was a housekeeper role, of that Victoria had been sure, but there was something which just didn't fit with convention... something about being open minded... something about accepting the unexpected... something about becoming one with your new role, becoming one with the house, becoming one with its master.

Now, after all these years, Victoria understood every word and what it had meant, but back then her actions were fuelled by the need for money as much as her idle curiosity. What did she have to lose?

She remembered the first time, the interview, if you could call it that. That day, the house had seemed so bleak, so cold, so intimidating, so off-putting. Then there was the guy who had greeted her... the caretaker... or was he the master himself? How old had he been? Seventy, eighty, maybe even ninety, perhaps older still. He didn't really ask questions, well not the type you expected at an interview, and Victoria had to excuse his personal directness, blaming it on age.

Why did her sexual status really have a bearing on whether she could do what was expected of her? It was a house after all, and all she needed to do was look after it. How hard could that be?

What followed was just as strange. It wasn't so much a second interview, but more an invitation to meet the house, stay the night, and let the house choose whether she was the right fit for the role.

The second time couldn't have been more different to the first. As she approached the house, as she entered within those high courtyard walls, she first noticed the change, the glow of lights inside, the flicker of a warm fire. It was like... well, if the house was trying to dissuade her the first time, it was welcoming her with open arms this time, and as she walked inside, Victoria immediately felt at home.

She stayed the night, settling down on a freshly made four-poster bed, the same one that she now knelt upon. She remembered falling asleep. She remembered dreaming... her mind filled with the most unexpected, most satisfying, most wonderful feelings... as if she was really there, living the very images which filled her mind. There was a dress. Then there was her master. He was there. He was in that dream. Oh god, yes, for sure he was there, and for sure that very night she let him consume her young body, take her for his own.

She wasn't ever looking for love, but just to have an income, enough to put an end to living hand to mouth. It was never her intention to meet anyone, especially not a dashing romantic sort like the Count. That was the strange thing. Even his name was out of the ordinary. Count Serafino D'Arcy was how he introduced himself, but these days Victoria just called him Master.

She knew she shouldn't have done it, but she couldn't help herself. Victoria had never met anyone quite like the Count, and she was sure she never would meet anyone else like him. His voice... his eyes... his beguiling charms... Victoria just couldn't resist. That was more than forty years ago... years full of pure enjoyment.

Whatever friends and family may have said, if they even missed her, Victoria wouldn't have changed a thing.

Life changed that very day when she met the house... when she stayed the night... when she allowed herself to be seduced... when she let him take her into his realm... when she accepted both house and master. It wasn't every day you met the perfect lover. Wouldn't you have done the same? Taken that chance? It came with a cost, of course, but what she lost was nothing compared to what she gained.

Now though... at well and truly the wrong side of sixty, the years were finally catching up with Victoria. She knelt on all fours in the middle of the bed, her sheer white lace dress matching the cotton drapes hanging down from the bed frame. The dress was almost as old as she was. It had been one of her favourite outfits, the one she had worn that very day when she visited the house for the second time. Wispy see-through cotton, long enough to only just cover her backside, over the top of black lingerie... oh yes, she certainly had appeal back then.

Now though... well, the loose wispy fabric softened the ageing process. You didn't notice the way her arms and legs, muscles now wasted away a little, creased as she moved. Your eye wasn't drawn in by the way her previously pert breasts now drooped under her slim body, swinging against his every thrust.

You didn't notice... well, that was one of the costs. In joining her master, in entering his realm, Victoria had said goodbye to her own. She was still there, in presence at least. She could see all around her. She could make herself be heard. She could make herself be felt. But she could never be seen, not by anyone other than the master she had chosen to join, nor could she ever leave the fabric of the manor.

Her life had changed. Just like the bricks and mortar, Victoria had now become part of the house itself. The house was hers, and she was its. She had everything... she wanted for nothing... she lived here... she loved here... and, eventually, she would die here, in the fabric of this very house, her memory immortalised in the picture gallery. Again, it was a small price to pay for the years of pleasure she had already enjoyed.

"Faster... god, yessss... faster...." Victoria called out, her voice breaking up slightly under the onslaught.

Enjoyed? Yes, Victoria might now be long in the years, but there was no need for past tense just yet. She was enjoying rather than having enjoyed, and from the enthusiastic way in which he was pummelling her into submission, Victoria wasn't the only one having a good time.

The Count, or Master as Victoria tended to call him, hadn't changed much over the years. He was still as debonair as ever, with his longer than average dark wavy hair, and muscular physique. Then there was the charm. He didn't say a lot, but what he did seemed to hit exactly the right note. Victoria would hang on to his every word, taken in deeper and deeper into his soul. She did so the very first time they met, and she had done the same every day since. He had a sort of... magnetism... pulling her in closer and closer. And the more he pulled her in, the more she wanted to be pulled.

Tonight, was no different. Even after forty odd years, the sex was just as good as that very first time.

The Count knelt on the bed directly behind his lover. The flicker of candles illuminated every muscle and sinew in his toned body. To say he was ripped was an understatement, yet Victoria had never seen him work out, not that he needed to with a physique like that.

Hands firmly planted on Victoria's hips, the Count was barely breaking sweat as he plunged his rampant manhood deep into his lover's sodden sex, burying himself to the hilt before pulling back off. Every thrust was met in reverse as Victoria pushed back against him, a pained moan leaving her lips as her body shook against his power. He was relentless, pounding away at her, ramming powerfully into her.

"Gonna cum... I'm gonna..." Victoria called out.

The Count smiled. That was just what he loved about Victoria. Of course, she was going to cum. He was going to make sure she came. Sacrificing power for speed, he started to work her faster, his cock sliding effortlessly in and out of her sodden sex. Words had become groaned moans as Victoria felt her fires intensify. She was no longer pushing back against him. It was a strain just to stay upright, her arms now starting to wobble as she felt those first ripples of orgasm wash over her.

He was relentless.

He was pushing her, higher and higher, closer, and closer.

She could sense her onrushing orgasm. Victoria held her breath and tried to ride the wave. She was teetering on the edge, and still he pushed her onwards. The wobble in her arms became a definite shake, as she fought against the inevitable. It was a battle with only one winner and, spurred on by the thrusts of his rampant cock, the winner was not going to be Victoria.

"Yessss... yessss..." she screamed as a first true wave hit her, flooding her body with the joy of climax. Another scream followed quickly after, as a second even bigger one crashed into her.

Still her master ploughed his furrow. He had slowed down, his rhythm becoming nothing more than a collection of short sharp thrusts, each accompanied by a manly grunt and met with a squeal of delight as shockwave after shockwave ravaged Victoria's body.

Before long, with her squeals becoming pained moans between gasped breaths, it became too much. She had no strength left. She could do nothing to hold on, her arms giving way as she fell face first into the waiting pillows, only his vice-like grip on her hips preventing Victoria from pulling herself off his cock.

Still, he worked her pussy, slowly yet powerfully thrusting in as he felt his own release approaching. Once... twice... then, with a final plunge deep into her sodden sex, he gave one more grunt. Buried to the hilt, he released his load deep inside.

Victoria smiled as she felt the warmth spread out inside. She never tired of that very moment... the moment when she felt closest to her darling Count.

It was just like the first time, all over again, the pleasure... the warmth... the euphoria... the breathlessness. Well... almost like the first time. Back then he had taken her breath away, such was the height she had climbed. Now though, as she rolled over and placed her head on his manly chest, Victoria knew there was a different reason for her state of exhaustion. She was no spring chicken any more.

There was a bitter-sweet feeling in her mind as she thought about what was to come next. Oh, how Victoria would have loved to turn back the years and start all over again, but she was no magician and even her master couldn't make that happen. She always knew this day would come eventually, and she always knew what she would do when it came. She had promised herself that she would do everything she could to please her master, and this would be no different.

"Master," Victoria spoke, her breathing still shallow and fast as she continued to come down from her high.

"Yes, my darling Victoria," came an effortless reply.

"Have I pleased you, Master?" Victoria asked.

"Always," came an instant reply. "I wouldn't want for anyone else."

"But... that's just it," Victoria continued. "We knew the day would come. I'm not that far off seventy and I just..."

For a moment Victoria paused as a tear welled up in her eye.

"I mean to say... it's time..." she added.

God, for some reason she found it so hard to say what she expected he already knew.

"I love you, Master... you must know how much I love you... but it's time..."

"Shhh," he responded, wrapping his arm around Victoria, and holding her close. "I know."

"We've been good together," Victoria continued, ignoring his plea for quiet. "Forty plus wonderful years of good, and now... well... I want you to have what you deserve, and I can no longer give you that. Let me help, Master. Let me find you another lover, one who can satisfy your every need. I can bring her to you. I can prepare her to please you, just as I have done. I can train her to make you happy. You will let me help, won't you, Master?"

A kiss on Victoria's forehead spoke a thousand words. She closed her eyes, a smile on her face, as she thought about the future. Even in her advancing years, Victoria still had purpose.

She could see it now, just like that time all those years ago, and as she did, her mind filled with excitement.

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Chapter One

A month ago - opportunity knocks for Siobhan, but is everyone happy?

"I got it," she called out as she headed towards the back of the coffee shop. "You gotta believe me... I got it this time."

A few heads turned, but more at the appearance of the diminutive twenty-two-year-old redhead than at her excited outburst. Siobhan ignored them as she strode purposefully towards an already occupied table in the shadows. Was it surprising that heads turned? Siobhan was a bit of a star in these parts... well, a star at least if you paid attention to the YouTube postings of one GhostlySiobhan99.

The moniker said it all. For several years now, Siobhan had spent her spare time going in search of the supernatural, and at the same time had built up a sort of cult following on social media. As for ninety-nine? Well, it was one hell of a year to be born, wasn't it, especially if your birthday happened to be New Year's Eve?

And if you hadn't heard of Siobhan or her online alter ego, then the appearance of the young woman alone would have had you taking a good look. Siobhan stood at around five foot four, a pint size bundle of joy. Whatever the weather, however deep the gloom and doom, the one thing you could guarantee was that Siobhan would see the best in everything, and everyone. Just her voice alone, those Gaelic tones softened through years living in the north of England, would have you feeling content. Add in the infectious smile, broader than the proverbial Cheshire Cat, and you couldn't help but be swept away on the wave of enthusiasm which radiated out in all directions.

Siobhan was a character, the sort of person who once met would seldom be forgotten. What was it about the young woman? What, hit you first? Was it the flame red hair, the way it cascaded down across her shoulders, long wavy locks petering out a little below shoulder level? Was it the matching deep red lipstick, or even the smoky eyes drawing you into the most innocent of faces? Was it the paleness of her young skin, the chalky-white complexion which ran in the family?

If the physical appearance didn't catch your eye, then the choice in clothing was bound to. There was a predictability about the young woman and the way she dressed. Siobhan was one for the seasons, two to be precise. If the weather was warm, you'd find her in trousers, often baggy ripped-knee jeans, and a rather clingy cropped top. If it was cold, then simply swap the top for a loose-fitting jumper. Either way, a pair of Doc Marten boots and a woollen beret-style hat, always finished off the outfit. It was the Siobhan of her videos, and the Siobhan of real life. What you saw was what you got with this young woman.

This particular Friday was a little on the cool side, so the choice had been a fluffy black jumper to go with the baggy jeans. It was the sort of jumper which threatened to fall off her shoulders and reveal more than just a glimpse of black bra and deep cleavage. That was the other thing you couldn't help but notice about the young woman. For somebody so short, she was ever so well endowed, both in terms of wide hips and full bust.