There it was again. That fucking sound. Like a low gutteral moan. I heard it all the fucking time but it seemed as if it mostly occured while I was getting changed, or in the shower. I told my friends who came to visit but all of them insisted they had heard nothing unusual. So there I was alone in my new apartment with weird sounds and a group of friends who would now be keeping their distance and joking about how I'd lost the plot after my messy divorce.
I won't bore you with too many details of the next few weeks but I will skip to the part where my life flipped upside down. I had gotten used to the noises and had even grown accustomed to the feeling that I was being watched. In fact I kinda liked it. Made playing with myself feel like a spectator sport. But anyway I was making my way to the shower wrapped in a towel when quite suddenly the securely tied fabric slipped to the floor, exposing my body and forcing me to stoop and retrieve it. As soon as I bent I felt a chill brush across my thighs and slit. It made me shiver and I immediately stood up, wrapping the towel around me once more before looking for an open window that may have allowed the cold gust inside.
No windows were open. There wasn't even a window in sight so I shrugged it off and made my way into bathroom where I turned the knobs and allowed the room to fill with steam from the shower. I looked in the mirror for a moment making sure I was still desirable, which felt hard to believe considering my recent dry spell. But everything was fine. All the curves in the right places and I thought I was pretty enough for most men. Soon the steam began to obscure my reflection and that's when I saw it. Etched into the condensation in jagged lines, the word 'whore!' Was written across my bathroom mirror. As I read the insult a voice in my head seemed to echo the sentiment in a tone dripping with hatred and disdain.
The previously mounting heat of the hot water and steam dissipated immediately and left me standing in a cold mist. Even the slightly orange glow of the wall lights seemed to dim and take on a blue grey hue. My body froze and a wave of panic washed over me. It was as if I could feel the hatred seeping between the tiles and burning into my skin. I began to itch with what felt like shame and so instinctively stepped into the shower. Under the water my world returned to normal. The heat and humidity came crashing down and I may as well have been in a rain forest for those next few moments. The lights were shining brightly and the writing on the mirror was gone. "Must have been a dizzy spell from the heat" I thought to myself as I turned down the hot water slightly and stood under the shower.
The droplets refreshed and cleansed me as the concentrated waterfall cascaded down my body. I'd finally began to calm down when it happened. I felt a force push me hard in the back. I slammed into the tiles and screamed with pain from the impact on my breasts. Trying in vain to push myself from the wall I realised that whatever force had shoved me was still present and kept me pinned to the tiles. Panicking about an intruder I began to babble about how he could take anything he wanted, but at that second I realised that I had been let go. The moment the force was gone I slumped limply to the floor and turned slowly to see the intruder. Instead all I saw was an empty bathroom and a door locked from the inside.
I began to rise but the instance I did I was struck across the face. As if the flat of some unseen hand had slapped me with all it's might, sending me sprawling across the floor. Shock and pain were obscuring my reason and I was determined to see my attacker. I looked up, barely raising my face from the floor when I was hit again. My face exploded with pain as if fire had spread across one cheek. This time I'd learnt my lesson and instead of trying to rise I lay dead still, listening out for my attacker. I heard nothing, saw nothing. Then it was in my hair, whatever my torturer may be it had a handful of my locks and was twisting painfully before viscously yanking upwards and dragging me to my feet before lifting me higher, up towards the ceiling. It felt as though the skin would rip from my head as I dangled in mid air, my toes reaching for the floor, desperate regain my ground.
It's impossible to say how long I was held there. My scalp screaming as pain shot through me. I do know it hit me again though, at least three or maybe four times. Then it dropped me. I crashed to the floor in a heap of tears. I remember getting onto my hand and knees, trying to scramble for the door but a moment later my joints froze. My muscles turned to lead and my body stopped dead. That's when I felt it on my mouth. Something thick was sliding between my quivering lips and forcing me to open wide. It pushed inside, gliding over my tongue and hitting the back of my throat where it paused for a moment. I was shaking beyond all control at this point. My scattered brain unable to comprehend my predicament. But what happened next drove all thought from my mind as the thing in my mouth suddenly and forcefully drove it's way down my throat. My eyes were wide open and watering as I tried to breathe, spit dribbling from my lips as it proceeded to fuck my mouth and throat. Later it would remind me of a porno I'd seen where one woman choked another with a 12inch dildo. At the time however I was sure I was going to die.
I woke up in a heap on the bathroom floor sometime later. The pain had disappeared but my mouth was half full of a thick clear gunk that had leaked onto the floor. I sat up and looked at the mirror to see a little smiley face drawn on the glass.
The next few days were spent arranging to move out.
As I finished taping up the last box of plates and dishes I took a look around the apartment and wondered if I was doing the right thing. Ever since that night the place had been quiet and peaceful. The air even seemed lighter and a happy carefree attitude was being carried on the afternoon breeze through the open kitchen window. I wondered about my sanity and I thought about what my daddy told me about running away. What if this follows me? What if I never have the courage to stay in one place? Then of course there were the wet dreams. Ever since that night, since the beating and sexual violation my dreams had been full of rough, violent, degrading and thoroughly satisfying sex that left me waking with an uncontrollable need to masturbate. I would yank down the covers and frig myself silly until I cried out with pleasure so loud the neighbours must have heard. The teen boy next door certainly smiled at me a lot more than he used too.
And so I stayed. Constantly reminding myself that I would not run. I didn't bother to unpack though, at least not yet. Only the necessities found their way out of the cardboard and bubble wrap. After deciding to stay I did a lot of reading. Researching as much I could find on sexual encounters with ghosts and unknown forces. I found a mountain of references to accounts that I would previously have described as poor attempts of fiction written by desperate attention seekers. Now however I had reason to be far less skeptical. One account told of a woman and how she had survived a viciously abusive spirit by succumbing to it's whims and wants until it found peace and left for good. But that was crazy wasn't it? What if the spirit was a ghost of some serial killer? What if it was a sick pervert?
OK I have to admit that particular thought was a slight turn on. Maybe I would go back to the shower tonight, maybe I'd offer myself to whoever I shared the apartment with.
Two hours later I entered the bathroom wrapped in the same towel I wore last time and turned on the shower. Putting the heat up high and waiting as steam filled the room. My heart was pounding as fear and excitement mingled inside. I wondered if this was pointless, the house had been so quiet, maybe the ghost was already gone. Perhaps it just wanted one more throat fuck before departing to God knows where. Turning toward the mirror my heart skipped a beat as the the steam revealed another message written on the mirror "Good girl" was all it said, with another little smiley face next to it. About a minute later when my heart rate returned to normal I finally let out a long deep sigh and dripped the towel. Stepping out of the tangle about my feet and walking to the shower I stepped up inside and stood naked under the hot water.
For a while nothing happened and so I leaned back against the tiles, spreading my legs and caressing my thighs as my cunt began to moisten. I waited like this for minutes before beginning to masturbate, imagining the ghostly intruder once again taking control and fucking me to within an inch of my sanity. I was fingering myself harder now, picking up speed and just on the edge of orgasm when an iron grip wrapped around my wrist and yanked it away from my juice soaked slit. Just as before I was slapped across the face but this time with a little less force. The blow stung but also left behind a delicious tingle that made my blood rush and my pussy ache with need. Instinctively I dropped to my knees and reached out. My hands where slapped away once again and another blow to my face proceeded a firm grip in my hair yanking my head back before a warm piece of meat slapped down on my face. It stayed there a moment before it was slowly dragged down my forehead, over my nose and finally slipped between my parted lips.
He fucked my mouth in a strong, steady rhythm. Relentlessly forcing every inch of his sizeable girth past my lips and down my throat. Making my choke and gag while trying to breath through my nose. The heat in the shower was overwhelming and I could feel my head getting light. If he'd not been gripping so tightly at my hair i'd have already hit floor. As it was my eyes began to close and the room was getting darker, this time however I was not allowed to float into blissful unconsciousness. Instead I was shocked back to the present by a sudden attack of cold water and a few harsh slaps across the face.
So there I was, cast out onto the hard floor with a fat lip and shivering from the cold. Then he pounced on me and for the first time I saw his shape. His large muscular body momentarily given form by the steam. Too tired to move let alone fight or even fuck back I just laid there as he forced my legs as wide as they could go, pushing until my joints threatened to snap. Just when I thought they could be pushed no further he let go but through some ghostly magic my legs stayed in place, stretched out in this obscene posture I waited as he prodded and poked at my soaking wet cunt. Despite everything my body was overjoyed at the dangerous array of sensations this viscous spirit was inflicting upon me.
When he first entered my dripping wet flesh it was like being impaled by an icy spike. Skewered again and again as my screams threatened to wake the dead. But as time went on his cock began to feel human and then slowly it became something more than human. Soon his cock was growing, the already impressive phallus was several inches bigger and radiating a delicious warmth that made my pussy glow before I felt my entire body convulse with pleasure, twitching as the orgasm of a life time ripped through me.
I made it back to my room a few hours later and gingerly made my way over to the vanity table to check myself in the mirror. My face was a glowing red from the smacks and my lip was a little swollen but it somehow felt great. Like I was some kind of bad ass kinky chick. I shifted in my chair and felt the pain between my legs flare up once more. Yet another reminder of who... What had just been inside me. Owning me.
I was just about to fall into bed when I noticed a journal layed open on my side table. I leaned over to looked at the words scribbled across both pages that read in jagged letters "You're mine now slut, I'm never letting you leave this place. You might try but you won't be able to."