Within These Walls

Before she knew it, Siobhan had wrapped her fingers around his girth, and held his shaft through the fabric of his pants. As she did, she imagined what it would feel like... to take him up inside... to give herself to him... to let him make a real woman out of her. Slowly, carefully, she eased her hand inside his pants. A smile came across Siobhan's face as she rested her fingers against his cock.

The smile was replaced by a gasp, and then a gentle moan.

As Siobhan enjoyed herself with his now rapidly hardening manhood, the Count had positioned his own hand down between her legs. The gasp was drawn by his first touch against those white lacy panties, his fingers nudging against Siobhan's hidden sex, sending shockwaves of nervous anticipation up inside, sending memories of the previous night through her young mind.

Was this not the first time he had paid her a visit?

The moan which followed the gasp? That was also drawn from a most familiar feeling.

Slowly the Count began to massage Siobhan's labia through the thin fabric of her panties. Her lips were already puffy. In no time at all, and to an increasingly passionate response from his lover, he could feel them pulling apart as he drew his fingers in small sensual circles over her slit. She was warm, ever so warm, and, if he hadn't imagined it, just a little damp.

Siobhan was breathing hard. She had never felt this good—okay so she had to admit she had never felt this good since the night before—and all he was doing was teasing her pussy, gently rubbing at her sex, catching her hardening clit from time to time, pushing her higher and higher.

She wanted to cum.

She needed to cum.

But... not like this... not on her own.

The one thing Siobhan wanted more than any other, was to be taken. Releasing her grip on his cock, and taking the Count by surprise, she fell back onto the bed. Siobhan lay there, her legs still spread wide, her white panties now clearly on display, a tiny damp patch on the gusset suggesting just how aroused she had become.

For a moment she waited, hoping she wouldn't have to tell him what she wanted. Siobhan needn't have worried. With a smile on his face, the Count eased the front of her dress up higher, then looped his fingers around the waistband of those panties. Slowly, one side, then the other, he started to ease them downwards. As he inched them down, Siobhan responded, lifting her ass then pulling her legs together. In no time at all her panties were gone, tossed to one side, landing on the floor close to her previously discarded nightshirt.

Siobhan was trembling again. This time it was the tremble of excitement which filled her body and not one of fear. Slowly, she spread her legs wide, and lowered them either side of his knees. She had never done this before, had never shown anyone her shaven sex. Siobhan held her breath, wondering what his reaction would be.

"Beautiful," the Count replied in an instant. "So beautiful... so perfect... so..."

A passionate moan filled the room as the Count lowered himself down and placed yet another kiss on her lips. This time thought it was her sweetly coated labia which he caressed, his tongue teasing at her soft folds, seeking every drop of nectar hidden within. Siobhan had died and gone to heaven. His touch was so warm, so soft, so sensual, so... god, yesss... she shivered as the first ripple of pleasure shot out from within.

'Take me!' Siobhan called out into her sub-conscious. 'Take me now! Fuck me until I can take no more.'

It was like the Count could sense every unspoken word. He pulled back up, licking the last drops of sweetness from his lips. Pulling his pants down, he released his cock from its confines. This time the reaction from Siobhan was audible.

"What the fuck..." she swore, as she saw with her own eyes just how large he actually was.

A gasp followed as she felt him shuffle forward on his knees between her outstretched legs, the tip of his cock nestling up against her slick folds. He rocked forward, allowing his cock to slide along her slit, drawing soft moans from his young lover.

He would nudge up against her opening and she would gasp.

He would catch her clit and Siobhan would squeal.

Already Siobhan was so close. She could feel ripples of pleasure wash over her, then pull back, to be replaced moments later by the next. She felt the pressure down below as this time he lined his cock up right against her opening, then leaned forward ever so slightly.

"Are you sure?" the Count whispered.

Siobhan nodded her head. She was never surer. Whether she could take his size or not didn't matter any more. He could split her in two and there would be no complaint. Already she was on a fast path to heaven, and if she died on the way, she would be one happy young woman.

The pressure built. Slowly, the count leaned in, his head widening out in her tight opening. Siobhan's moans were becoming pained as she felt the stretch. Wider and wider, she wondered just how much she could take.

She closed her eyes.

She held her breath.

She bit her lip.

She waited... and then.

A groan, almost to the point of being a scream, filled the room as she felt the pressure intensify, then give. The initial pain of entry was soon replaced by a warmth as, through a combination of the Count leaning forward and at the same time pulling her onto him, Siobhan felt his length slide inside.

Deeper and deeper, he eased into her.

She felt so full.

She felt so tight around his mighty shaft.

And then he stopped.

Siobhan opened her eyes. She glanced at her body, following the length of the dress down until it ended, and pale flesh took over. Lower and lower her gaze went, all the way across her now slightly raised hips, all the way until bare mound gave way to his manly prowess. Siobhan ran her eyes up across his white shirt, and over his exposed bare chest.

Her eyes locked onto his, and for a minute they were transfixed, visibly locked together in that single gaze, hiddenly joined together with his mighty sword filling her waiting scabbard. It was Siobhan who gave first, any remnant of pained emotion replaced by the most wondrous knowing smile. There was a look on her face which screamed of pure joy... joy at what she had achieved... joy at the thought of what was coming next... or more to the point, joy at the hope that she would be the one cumming.

The smile was short-lived, replaced by an open-mouthed expression of surprise, with a mix of delight in equal measure, as the Count started to rock his hips. His rhythm was short and slow, but with him so deep and with her walls stretched so tight, every movement set her loins on fire. If there was that truly fabled spot deep inside, then he seemed to be hitting it every time.

Siobhan was moaning.

The Count, in return, simply increased his pace. He pulled most of the way out before plunging back in, his thrusts met with a squelch of sweet juices. Faster and faster, stronger, and stronger... as Siobhan relaxed, as her moans turned to groans, he fucked his redheaded lover.

Siobhan tensed.

"Oh... god..." Siobhan squealed, as she felt the first pre-wave of orgasm wash over her.

The count never stopped. He was fucking her with gusto, pummelling her sweet sex as hard as he could in this kneeling position, pulling firmly against her thighs every time he plunged into her tight pussy.

She was breathing hard and fast, yet still she wanted more.

"Yesss... yesss.... faster... harder... fuck me... make me...."

Siobhan was screaming her encouragements, the fires down below now a raging inferno as her lover did exactly what she had asked of him. She never got as far as saying make me cum before the big one hit.

She would love to have said it crept up on her, taking her by surprise as it gently passed over her, but that would have been a lie. The warnings had been there, the ripples of pleasure getting stronger all the while, but, when it came, it was like a tidal wave of pure ecstasy, rushing forward at pace, before crashing headlong into her young body.

She screwed her eyes shut.

She stiffened, raising her ass up off the bed as her climax neared.

She clenched her fists into the bed cover, knuckles whitening.

She held her breath.

She screamed... an almighty guttural scream, the sound of which could have woken the dead.

Then she collapsed back against the bed... panting... spent.

Siobhan no longer had the energy to do anything but lie there. The Count continued to fuck her sodden pussy; his thrusts now individually strong as he neared his own release.

There was no moaned grunt.

There was no sigh of satisfaction.

The only sign of manly release was a single firm thrust, deep into his lover's tight walls, and a woman's smile... a sweet, satisfied smile as Siobhan felt a warmth spread out inside.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

As she came down from her high, tiredness started to take over. Siobhan lay there on the bed, wearing nothing but that faded old dress. She had come here looking for her fabled ghosts, never expecting she would be the one cumming, and cumming so hard.

"Sleep tight, my darling Siobhan," the Count spoke softly to his exhausted young lover. "I must be leaving you now."

"Will I see you again?" Siobhan whispered back, her voice both satisfied and weary.

"That depends on you, and the decision you make," came a rather strange reply.

With that, he was gone, and Siobhan was asleep. Once more, she was dreaming of ghosts, but this time it was a particular ghost she was dreaming of, and one who most definitely didn't come across as being dead. The warmth between her legs simply confirmed that thought.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Epilogue

The morning after the night before - Siobhan meets Victoria, and a choice is to be made

The first rays of sunlight were already filtering in through the curtains by the time Siobhan awoke. She was lying face down on the bed still wearing the faded dress, but something was wrong.

What time was it?

How long had she slept?

Why did she feel like this?

Rolling over, the first Siobhan felt was the lack of panties, and the soreness down below. She reached down with one hand and gently ran her fingers over her tender sex. A smile came across her face as she remembered the night before, and her first ever encounter with a ghost.

The feeling was short-lived. There was something else.

Siobhan felt queasy inside. She got up on her feet, intent on heading for the bathroom, but as soon as she stood up a sense of dizziness came over the young redhead. It was like the room was moving. Siobhan grabbed hold of the edge of the table to stop herself from falling over, and suddenly her mind sank.

'Damn,' Sinead thought to herself, an expletive ridden outpouring of emotion filling her young mind. 'Fucking once, and now I'm fucking pregnant... and to a fucking ghost... what the fucking hell am I going to do now... it's not like I can go get the fucking morning after fucking pill... how could I have been so fucking stupid..."

Very quickly she started to feel worse still. Her eyes were smarting. Her mouth was oh so dry. She started to feel shivery. Siobhan glanced up at the mirror, expecting to see the worst. If this was what sex, and an assumed pregnancy, did to you, then she was going to live a celibate life from now on... starting just as soon as she'd got herself out of the mess she found herself in.

"Whoa... shit..." Siobhan called out, this time audibly.

As she stared into the mirror, what she saw by way of a reflection started to blur and fade. Her knuckles turned white as she grabbed onto the edge of the table, fearing she was at death's door. She closed her eyes for a moment, telling herself to refocus, then took a second look in the mirror. It was just the same. The reflection was blurred and losing colour. But that was the strange thing. It wasn't the whole reflection. She was still as sharp as ever, but the background, the very bedroom she was standing in, was fading away.

A quick glance from side to side only compounded the issue. It was true. The bedroom, somehow, was disappearing right in front of her eyes, or worse still, she was expiring from this life, her bodily senses starting to shut down. Siobhan started to panic.

"Don't worry, Siobhan," came a female voice from behind.

Siobhan jumped.

"What you feel is perfectly normal," the voice continued. "Don't fight it. Close your eyes if it helps. It won't last long, and you'll feel better."

The voice was reassuring and measured. It spoke like one who had felt the same before... one who had lived through this moment, or died through it, depending on the way you looked at existence. It also had a quite familiar tone. Sinead recognised the speaker, but in her state of panic, she couldn't for the life of her remember where from.

"Help me," Siobhan called out as the final hues of colour left the bedroom.

For a moment all became grey, shapes lacking definition, becoming nothing more than shadows. It was like that moment when day became dusk, just before you lost sight of your earthly world.

Then it happened... all became dark.

Siobhan stood there. Stood there? Well, she knew she was still there, but was she standing, and where exactly was there? She could see nothing. She could hear nothing. All she could feel was her own panicked breathing as she stood there. Was this what death felt like? What came next? Would she be in eternal darkness, or would she start to see light, and would those lights be coming from heaven or hell?

In that moment Siobhan was calm. It had happened, so what could she do about it now. As her mother always told her, there was no point in crying over spilled milk, and in her mind the same probably held true over making such a fatal mistake as fucking a damned ghost.

But that was the other strange thing. If she was dead, then why was she still thinking such things? Wouldn't that stop as well? Wouldn't rational thought fade into the blackness just like her physical surroundings?

As Siobhan pondered the last question, becoming quite philosophical in her own mind, the process started in reverse. Out of blackness came shadows. Shadows became objects. Objects became a room... a sparsely decorated room, but most definitely a room. The walls were plain white, faded with age, just like the very dress she was wearing. There were two chairs. There was a table, on top of which was a jug and a couple of glasses. There was a...

Siobhan jumped when she realised, she was no longer alone.

In the room was another woman. She was much older, maybe in her sixties or even seventies, but ever so attractive. She had the most dazzling silvery-blonde long hair, and dressed in a style Siobhan had seen before, but one she couldn't put her finger on.

Where had this stranger come from?

Siobhan was sure she had been alone a moment ago.

"Take a seat, my darling Siobhan," the woman spoke, holding her hand out towards the young redhead. "Here, let me help you. I bet you're wondering just what happened and where you are."

Siobhan accepted the hand and allowed herself to be led to the chair. She sat down gingerly. It was a plain wooden chair, rough against her tender sex, but she didn't mind. A chair was a chair, and right now she needed to sit down and get her thoughts together. Siobhan glanced at the other woman.

"Do I know you?" Siobhan asked.

"Maybe you don't remember, but we have met, several times," the woman replied. "Now, here, take this," she continued, filling a glass from the jug, and handing it to Siobhan.

"What's that?" Siobhan asked, unsure whether she should be accepting or not.

"Well, my dear, where you came from, I think they called it water," the older woman quipped, then burst into giggles.

"You're... you're... the woman from the house," Siobhan exclaimed, recognising that laughter. As she recognised the laughter, she suddenly remembered where she had seen the clothes.

"You're... Victoria?" Siobhan half announced and half asked.

"The lady in the painting. But you look much younger in your portrait." Siobhan added.

The older woman nodded.

"I am... and back then I wasn't much older than you are... and I bet you're wanting some answers. Come on, drink up. You must be thirsty. I know I was."

Siobhan finished one glass, then a second. How did Victoria know she was so thirsty? What did Victoria mean when she said she was?

"What happened? Where am I? Am I dead? Are you dead? Was he dead? What do you mean we've met?" Siobhan asked, her mind filling with questions, fired off at a million miles an hour.

"Questions... questions... all in good time, my dear. But, where to start... oh yes... where are you? You're in the house, of course," Victoria responded.

Siobhan looked perplexed. Where she was, looked so different to the house she had come from, so how could she still be in the house?

"But..." Siobhan interrupted. "But it looks nothing like the house. I don't remember seeing any room like this."

"I don't think you get what I'm saying. You are in the house... within it's very walls... this my dear is the waiting room."

"Waiting room?" Siobhan asked, still confused. "How did I end up in a waiting room? What am I waiting for?"

Victoria paused for a moment before replying, thinking about how exactly she was going to put this.

"Yes, a waiting room... and that's also the why... why you are here. The house is waiting for your answer. As for how you got here... well... that dress you're wearing allowed you to meet my master, and then... well I know the earth moved for you, just like it did for me, or you wouldn't be here."

A smile came across Siobhan's face when she remembered the night before. Oh yes, the earth had most definitely moved, but what did that have to do with an answer?

"Sorry... my answer? To what question?" Siobhan asked, still confused at the ramblings of this old woman.

"Ah yes. Now that's going to sound a bit odd. Hear me out though. I didn't believe it at first, but that was over forty years ago... oh, and yes, that was when the painting was created," Victoria started to explain.

Victoria poured herself a glass of water, then sat down opposite Siobhan.

"So, you wore the dress, and the Count paid you a visit," Victoria continued.

Siobhan nodded.

"Well, he's part of the question, but all in good time. Many years ago, well over three hundred, the Count was imprisoned here in this house."

"So, he is dead," Siobhan commented.

"Look... please understand... he's not dead... I'm not dead... you're not dead. We're not ghosts, nor ghouls... but yes sometimes we go bump in the dark. He was imprisoned, not interred... forced to live inside the house... to never leave the boundaries of the garden walls... to never be seen by anyone in the real world."

"Real world?" Siobhan asked.

"Well, I mean where you came from. Did you see me?" Victoria asked.

Siobhan shook her head.

"You didn't see me when I knocked your hat off? Nor, when I bumped into you on the stairs. Not even when I joined you in the bedroom on Friday night. Oh no my dear, if you thought that was one hell of a wet dream, I'm going to disappoint you."

"It was you?" Siobhan continued her questioning. "All of that was you?"

Victoria simply smiled.

"And did you see him?" Victoria asked.

Siobhan nodded.

"But... did you see him before you wore the dress?" came a second question.

Siobhan thought for a moment, then shook her head.

"So, the dress... that's also more than three hundred years old, you know. The dress is a portal from your world to ours. In our world we can see each other, but in yours we can see you, but you cannot see us. So, the dress... that brought you a little into our world, enough that you could see the master, meet the master, and show the house whether you could love the master. The fact you are here, means you did just that, and now the house wants to ask you the question."