by Monica Belle
‘Julian, meet Darius King, otherwise known as Triplesix. He knows who the Inquisitor is, a man called Martin ...’
‘... Wright. He hired his boat at Chapel’s in Norwich and I managed to trick the name and address out of them. I’d meant to tell you earlier but we were so crowded. Darius, hi. Julian d’Alveda. Walk down to the staithe with me.’
We walked, Julian and Darius talking politely but with increasing enthusiasm, while I couldn’t help but feel a little crestfallen. Julian had produced his mobile, and as we reached the old staithe where boats had once moored to serve the village he began to tap in a number.
‘I’m ringing you, Chloe. Watch this. Not me, back down the lane.’
From where we were standing at the water’s edge we could see back down the lane along a tunnel of trees, gloomy even in the bright sunlight. The Americans were visible, and seemed more excited than before, pointing at the screen of their laptop and talking in urgent voices. Julian gave a soft chuckle.
‘I thought that’s how it worked. They’re picking up phone signals, so there’s always some background activity and it gets stronger if somebody dials.’
Darius gave a bass rumble of a laugh.
‘You’d think they’d realise.’
Julian shook his head.
‘No. I’ve been with them over an hour. The guy who owns the apparatus is stringing the others along. They’re on a tour, and paying quite a lot for it, I imagine, so presumably he likes to give them some results. Somebody’s bound to be using a phone somewhere nearby, at least occasionally, and he simply doesn’t turn the thing on until it’s needed, thus guaranteeing haunting on demand.’
‘You’re very observant.’
‘Not particularly. It had to work somehow, and as I was calling Graham when the apparatus first reacted but Black Shuck obviously wasn’t coming down the lane that seemed the likely answer.’
‘I was telling Chloe much the same thing. If Black Shuck’s there, you can see him.’
Julian threw Darius a curious look, which changed to a grin as my phone began to ring and the voices of the Americans grew louder and more excited. I was trying not to laugh, and Darius was also amused, which eased my fears of his possible reaction to what we’d been up to. After a while Julian cut off the call and, as we turned back towards the house, Darius spoke up once more.
‘I was hoping to see the library, but Chloe tells me it’s out of bounds?’
‘Yes, but we can have a look once everybody’s gone. I’ll show you John Aylsham’s diaries.’
As we reached the group of Americans they all began to talk at once, bombarding Julian with questions which he fielded with his normal skill, his face grave as he admitted he’d often felt strange chills while walking down the lane. Darius and I waited a little way to one side, where the path struck out across the field toward the Hall and, after a while, he leant down to speak quietly into my ear.
‘He’s very good, isn’t he?’
‘He’s brilliant.’
‘But he doesn’t believe, does he?’
I hesitated, then decided that Julian was likely to admit the truth anyway, which Darius had obviously already guessed.
‘Er ... no.’
‘He’s a rationalist then? Pity. And you?’
‘I’m not certain. I know most things can be explained, and like Julian says, it’s stupid to assume that something supernatural is happening just because you don’t understand it yourself.’
‘So you’re a sceptic?’
‘I suppose you could say that.’
‘And when you held the ritual the Inquisitor photographed, didn’t you feel that was out of the ordinary?’
I was blushing immediately and couldn’t think of what to say, but he didn’t seem to expect an answer, starting back towards the Hall as Julian finally managed to detach himself from the Americans. Most of the day’s visitors had left, and we found ourselves alone in the Hall, allowing Julian to unlock the library. It felt strangely quiet inside, once the door was fastened again behind us, and I was immediately conscious of the sense of dread, which was difficult to cope with despite knowing what it was. Darius had already told me that he knew all about it and both he and Julian ignored the sensation, talking together as we began to study the diaries.
‘The ritual we performed was a simple version of the original. You know John Aylsham died during the final ritual?’
‘Yes, but what changes did you make?’
‘There were only four of us for a start, and he’s insistent that 7, 11 or 13 are the best numbers. We had a woman as the focus for the summoning as well, which isn’t supposed to work.’
‘And it didn’t, did it? It was the other man who became possessed, wasn’t it?’
‘Ah, Henry, yes. That’s all a bit complicated.’
‘Did you arrange it so the Inquisitor would see?’
‘No. It wasn’t planned like that at all. Vanessa was supposed to take Chloe, and she did, only none of us expected Henry to take her in turn.’
Darius responded with a nod and Julian went back to the diary, pointing out the symbols he’d used.
‘These we did exactly as he suggests. I even used the same wax ...’
He carried on, both of them discussing the ritual and use of my body in a casual manner I’d have found far from flattering except that I was very much part of the conversation. They both seemed very detached, fascinated by the technical aspects of the ritual but indifferent to the intense emotions we’d experienced and the implications of what might be to come, because it was obvious that Darius would be a useful person to have with us the next time we did it. He might even fill the role of John Aylsham himself, which meant I’d have to suck his cock, a thought at once shameful and enticing.
In the end it was me who took charge, who led them both upstairs by their hands, to one of the show bedrooms. I locked us in and kissed each of them before asking them to sit down on the bed and getting down on my knees in front of them. Neither objected, all three of us lost in the moment as I eased down first Julian’s zip and then Darius’s, to pull out their cocks and balls. Both were big, heavy, as men should be, and reacted quickly to the touch of my fingers and of my lips. I stayed kneeling, which felt right, sharing my favours evenly between the two of them as I teased their beautiful cocks to full erection.
As I sucked and licked, stroked and tickled, I was thinking of all the things I’d done since arriving at Candle Street Hall, of how I’d surrendered myself so completely to Julian, even my virgin anus, of how I’d allowed Vanessa to deliberately spank and humiliate me and enjoyed every moment of it, of how much pleasure I’d taken in seeing Henry given the same treatment. All of it was good, and if that made me a thoroughly wicked woman, a slut or whatever they liked to call me, then that was how I wanted it to be. Otherwise I would never have been able to kneel to two fine young men, enjoying their straining balls and erect cocks until, one after another, they had come in my mouth and I’d swallowed down all that they had to give me.
By then I needed my own climax and immediately rocked back on my heels, my thighs wide as I pulled up my dress. Both watched, understanding my need as I tugged down my knickers and began to masturbate in front of them, utterly shameless with my legs wide and my fingers working in the wetness of my sex. They’d left their cocks out, a glorious display of their virility that helped me focus on how I’d sucked them both to orgasm and that even as I rubbed myself towards ecstasy my belly was full of their come. That thought took me over the edge, and as I knelt there gasping out my passion I knew that Julian and I had found the man to be our master.
The prospect of a secret ritual involving both Julian and Darius was enough to keep me in a state of constant, mild excitement despite all the work. I still did my best to concentrate on the day-to-day running of the Hall and the business, but next to what we were up to behind the scenes it had become mundane, even tedious. Besides that, the sheer number of people involved made it impossible to provide the a
mount of personal attention many of the guests seemed to expect. A few even seemed disappointed that we were unable to provide ghosts to order, including one couple who told us in no uncertain terms that, at the very least, we should have built a mock-up of Lady Howard’s coach of bones to drive them around the estate. Julian managed to placate them by saying what an excellent idea it was and he wished he’d thought of it himself, but they weren’t the only ones and so I wasn’t altogether surprised to get a call from Graham to say that there had been a complaint and that Vanessa wanted to see me.
Nothing out of the ordinary had happened over the previous few days, and as I walked down to the gatehouse I was trying to work out whom it could have been. I’d known people to be very quiet and then complain that they hadn’t had enough attention, but everybody in my groups had seemed perfectly happy, so I was genuinely puzzled as I climbed the stairs to the Aylsham’s flat. Vanessa was on the sofa, even more smartly dressed than usual, in a dark grey skirt suit with a red stripe, a silk blouse, seamed stockings and polished black heels. As always she made me feel scruffy, and small, all the more so when she addressed me.
‘When are you going to smarten yourself up, Chloe?’
‘I’m sorry, Vanessa, but ...’
‘It’s Lady Aylsham today, and I don’t really expect you to answer my question as I realise that you’re a hopeless sloven. Now ...’
She trailed off as she reached for a piece of paper. I knew she was playing with me, or at least, half playing, as if it had been anything serious she wouldn’t have insisted on being called Lady Aylsham. That probably meant I was going to get a spanking, which I wasn’t really in the mood for, but I told myself I’d be all right once my bottom was warm. I knew better than to protest and stayed quiet until she’d finished reading what was on the sheet of paper and spoke up again.
‘A Mr and Mrs Anstruther say that you were extremely rude to them, that you wouldn’t answer their questions and that you told them to be quiet. Well?’
‘Mr and Mrs Anstruther? I don’t even remember them.’
‘That’s rather the problem, isn’t it, Chloe? You need to pay more attention to individual visitors. So, what’s to be done with you, do you suppose?’
I hung my head in genuine chagrin, knowing that whatever I said the outcome would be the same: a trip over her knee with my knickers pulled down, unless I refused point blank, but I already half wanted it and she knew exactly how to get to me. It seemed pointless to delay the inevitable, but if I was having trouble raising my eyes from the carpet and my voice was a mumble as I answered her, there was nothing fake about my reaction.
‘I suppose I ought to be spanked, Lady Aylsham.’
Her mouth flickered into a cruel smile, but only for a moment before she went on.
‘So you think you ought to be spanked, do you? How many times have I had to spank you since you arrived here, Chloe?’
‘I ... I don’t know, Lady Aylsham.’
‘You’ve lost count, haven’t you? That’s no surprise, and as a matter of fact, so have I, which just goes to show that it’s not having much effect, is it?’
‘No, Lady Aylsham, I suppose not.’
‘No effect at all, and we both know why, don’t we?’
I wasn’t sure what the answer was supposed to be, when it was all a game anyway, but I took a guess.
‘Because I enjoy it too much?’
She gave a snort of contempt.
‘You’re a slut, Chloe Anthony. What are you?’
‘A slut, Lady Aylsham.’
‘Yes, you’re a slut, and yes, it’s because you enjoy it too much. A punishment is meant to hurt, Chloe.’
‘It does hurt!’
‘Not enough, which is why I’m going to cane you, Chloe.’
I must have made a silly face as I remembered the sting of her riding whip, because she laughed, only for her expression to suddenly become serious as she carried on.
‘I mean what I say, Chloe. This is intended to hurt, and to make you pay a bit more attention to the job I’m paying you for, and paying you well, I might add.’
She sounded genuinely cross, and I was a bit taken aback by the vehemence of her words, which left me wondering to what extent she was playing and to what extent the punishment was intended to be real. I began to answer, wanting reassurance that she wouldn’t be too harsh with me, but before I could speak she had lifted something from behind the sofa, something that shut me up – an old-fashioned school cane with a crooked handle, long and brown and as thick as a finger. She nodded as she read the fear in my eyes.
‘That’s right, Chloe, this is what I’m going to use on that fat little bottom of yours, hard. Now get those jeans and panties down and touch your toes.’
My fingers went straight to the button of my jeans, but I was begging for mercy even as I began to prepare myself.
‘Couldn’t you just spank me, Van ... Lady Aylsham? Or at least spank me first so it doesn’t hurt so much?’
She laughed and put the cane to one side, filling me with relief but also shame for being so pathetic. I knew I could have told her to go to hell, or played the game and taken my caning like a big girl instead of begging to have my bottom smacked first, but it was now too late. She had one finger crooked and was beckoning me forward. I went, to lie myself across her knees in that same awful position she, and Julian, had held me several times before, the position in which a girl is spanked.
My jeans were already wide open and she’d quickly pulled them down, tugged the tight blue denim over my hips and bottom to leave my knickers on show. I knew full well those would be coming down too, but she couldn’t resist tormenting me with a few smacks across my panty seat to let me think I might be allowed to keep at least a little modesty. It worked too, my hope rising despite myself, only to give way to embarrassment and shame as my knickers were peeled down over my bottom. She began to spank me again, harder now, and to talk to me as she did it.
‘How can you bear to let another woman do this to you, Chloe? Over my knee with your knickers pulled down for a spanking? How does it feel? How does it really feel, with your bottom bare for me to smack, and you actually get off on it?! Don’t you have any self-respect at all, Chloe? Don’t you have any pride, to let yourself be spanked like this? Spanked, Chloe, spanked on your bare bottom.’
She laughed, bringing me fresh shame and adding to my helpless and rapidly increasing excitement. I wanted to try and explain to her how natural it felt, and how good, maybe even to remind her how much she’d enjoyed Henry’s cock up her own bottom, but I knew it would only get me into deeper trouble. She’d got to me though, badly, the tears already trickling down my cheeks as the spanking grew gradually harder, until I’d begun to kick my legs and toss my hair about in helpless reaction, with my thighs cocked wide to show off my sex behind and my cheeks spreading with every slap to expose my anus.
I thought she’d carry on, bringing me fully on heat so that I could cope with the cane as well as possible, but as soon as I’d begun to gasp and push my bottom up she stopped. My fear picked up on the instant, giving way to hope as her hand settled on my now hot bottom and she began to touch me up, only to come back once more, stronger than before, as she spoke up.
‘Up you get then, you big baby. Get in position, touching your toes the way I told you, and now that you’re nice and warm I think I’ll make it 12 rather than six.’
‘But Lady Aylsham ...’
‘OK, 18.’
I shut up, not daring to say more, and got to my feet. My face was wet with tears, my hair a bedraggled mess, my bottom hot and red with my jeans and panties in a tangle around my ankles as I shuffled to the centre of the room. She retrieved the cane as she stood up, and I was feeling thoroughly sorry for myself as I bent over to present her with my bare bottom, painfully aware of the show I was making of the dark little hole between my cheeks and of my very wet sex but unable to bring myself not to obey.
She got behind me, her mouth twitching in cr
uel glee and her eyes bright with satisfaction as she laid the cane across my backside. I shut my eyes, braced myself for the pain and determined not to give her the satisfaction of hearing me scream, for all that I’d been crying since the beginning of my spanking. She pressed the cane to the flesh of my bottom, lifted it and brought it down, hard, to lay a line of searing fire full across my cheeks and set me jumping and screaming, my resolve lost immediately as the pain kicked in. I nearly tripped over my own lowered clothes, and only just managed to keep my balance, with Vanessa barking at me as I clutched at the table to stop myself going over.
‘Stay still, can’t you! Honestly, the fuss you make over getting your bottom whacked.’
‘It hurts!’
‘It’s supposed to hurt, stupid. Now get that fat bottom back up. That’s right, well up so I can see your cunt, and hold onto your ankles. That way perhaps you’ll manage to keep still.’
I’d got back into the humiliating position she’d demanded of me, biting my lip in pain and frustration as for the second time the cane was settled across the cheeks of my bottom, lifted and brought down. Once again I screamed and jumped, completely unable to cope with the shock of impact and the fiery pain of the welt she’d planted across my flesh, but this time I’d quickly caught hold of my ankles again. Vanessa gave a soft chuckle.
‘Good girl, you’re learning. You see, it’s much easier if you do as you’re told, isn’t it?’
‘Yes, Lady Aylsham.’
I’d said it, but I was ashamed for my own words, and the submissive streak in me that kept me holding onto my ankles with my arse stuck in the air while some vicious bitch got her kicks by caning me. Not that I could even pretend I didn’t want it, with the juice from my sex running down my thighs just as the tears were running down my face. I even told myself that I deserved it, that I needed to be beaten for being rude to the Anstruthers, although I still couldn’t remember who they were. That seemed right, and as Vanessa tapped the cane across my bottom I spoke up once more.
