Chapter 1: Gateway

Connie, Alice and Kelly couldn't believe how quickly civilization disappeared behind them. The string of potholes called a road wasn't even wide enough for two cars to pass at the same time while keeping all four wheels on the pavement. It all added to the sense of adventure. This would be Kelly's first time to the family estate: the "haunted" family estate.

The stories from her childhood swam in her head. Most of them had seemed like tall-tales when she got older, and she didn't really believe in the supernatural now. Still, those stories carried such an emotional weight that she couldn't help but to be nervous and perhaps even a little fearful. Her feelings were contagious; Connie and Alice looked nervous as well. This was going to be a Halloween to remember for the three of them. Connie and Alice couldn't wait to see a real ghost. They were giving up their fall break at the university to come with her. No one really expected anything to happen, but it would be fun nonetheless.

The little town of Gourdington was their last stop. Talk about a backwater, Gourdington was one of those forgotten places time had passed by. Some people still did not have electricity, running water or a telephone; there was definitely no cell phone signal or Starbucks. Back in Victorian times, however, it was a different place. Near the railroad, but far from the dirty and crime-ridden industrial cities, the whole place was a retreat for the "old money" upper class and one of the best places to live. The houses and buildings reflected that old grandeur, but they weren't staying.

Kelly's Aunt Linda had arranged for them to leave their car in town and get a ride with the local service station mechanic, Oswald. It seemed an odd arrangement to Kelly until they were underway. Her little Honda would have been toast. The unpaved road alternated between stretches of giant potholes and goat trail, definitely 4x4 terrain. The dusty back-roads twisted on forever, and road signs were non-existent.

Oswald was a complete hick with bad teeth, dirty fingernails and gasoline for cologne. He drove like a madman but seemed to know every turn like the back of his hand. Any minute now they expected some essential bolt to come loose on the pickup or an axle to break yet the hound dog in back didn't seem to mind at all though and might have slept through the whole thing.

Alice couldn't wait for them to get there. They were all jammed in the front seat of the pickup trying not to bounce back and forth too much, but she was the lucky one who ended up squeezed against Oswald. When he wasn't shifting gears, Oswald would lay his arm on her thigh, cupping her knee on the inside. Her breasts were large and perhaps in the way, but he seemed overly fond of letting his upper arm brush back against her left boob. In fact, she was starting to think he was hitting some of those potholes on purpose to make her boobs bounce.

Finally, they turned past old iron gates onto what seemed like a long gravel driveway. The driveway was narrow and lined with overgrown bushes, obviously intended more for horses than trucks.  When they entered the circular portion of the driveway in front of the house, it was like they had traveled back in time. Everything looked just like it should have back in the 1800s. The grounds were well maintained with sculpted shrubbery and stone statues. The house was huge with a large surrounding porch, slate shingles and lots of stonework supplementing tons of early Victorian woodwork. It looked as if someone was living there now.

Alice tried to slide out the passenger's side, but Connie and Kelly were too slow and Oswald already had his hand out to help her down. Of course, her ass made one of the best places to "assist" her stepping down from the truck. He followed up with a slap on her rear. "Don't git many city girls out 'ere. You can't git makeup like that or tight jeans like them at thuh 5 'n 10. Must take a tire iron to squeeze inta 'em. I ain't never seen thuh like."  Alice's mouth was open like she was going to say something while the other two women choked back a laugh at her expense. She couldn't help it and laughed too.

There was an awkward pause like Oswald was thinking about what to do next.  He gawked at all three of them openly for a minute with some extra time spent on Alice's rather well-endowed chest.  It was as if he was trying to memorize the way each woman looked. Kelly had a strange passing thought that he might be wondering if he would see them again. Regardless, he was giving her the creeps.

Oswald looked around at the house then broke the silence, "Yuh know this place is haunted like be all don't yuh?" The women laughed. Kelly wondered how much Aunt Linda had tipped him to set that up. This was going to be fun.

"Al'rite have it yer way." Oswald started taking their bags out of the back of the truck and put them at the end of a stone walkway leading to the house. Apparently he wasn't going to carry them in.  

"Yuh ladies don't be gittin' ideas of walkin' 'round t'nite. I'll be back in thuh mornin' tuh check on yuh. Bin lots of problems with wild hogs of late. They's mean 'n and carnavorous.  If one get's yuh, won't even find any bones."  He paused and gave them a stern look, making sure they got the message. "'fore I go, I needs tuh start thuh gen'rator 'n take a look et it. Linda said its bin actin' up a mite."  Oswald headed towards the barn around back the house.

Connie was the first to speak, "Wow, that guy is really something and so is this place. It's amazing."

Alice's rubbed her own shoulders as if cold. "It sure gets dark quickly anymore. It's already getting hard to see. I wonder if that's true about the hogs, gives me a chill."

"All I know is that if Alice needs any body work, she knows where to 'git et dun'," joked Kelly.  Connie was quick on the reply, "I don't know, but I think he's looking for another rack for his service station." It lightened them all up a little.

A pair of dim electric candle-style lights framing the doorway flickered as they came on, the brass of their old carriage-style fixtures still polished and gleaming. The sound of the generator could be heard from the back of the house.

Oswald returned.  "Tank 'twer preddy full so yuh should be good.  If et acts up, just shake out thuh hair filter."  He gave Alice another slap on the ass walking past to the truck. She didn't know how to react. Somehow standards seem to have shifted in the here and now. This time it seemed more like a joke or a compliment. Either way, it was a hard enough slap that it fucking hurt. The attention turned her on a little as her ass warmed up. Maybe that was the intention. She still wanted to say something, but nothing came to mind. She wasn't used to such "advances."

Seeming like he was in a hurry, Oswald bid them a quick good night with an afterthought of "Happy Halloween" before heading out in no time. When the truck pulled away, and its headlights were gone, the lights near the doorway may as well have been airport landing lights beckoning them down the walkway. Their eyes adjusted and soon they could make out enough to gather their bags and see the smooth stone path. An urgency to get inside took hold. Every sound seemed like it might be something sneaking up on them. There was no moon yet, and the air had a damp chiling quality to it.

Alice looked up in wonder. "Look at those stars! Amazing."

Kelly almost tripped as she looked up in response. "What's that band of clouds?  Is that the Milky Way?"

"I think so," answered Alice.  Just hearing her own voice was making her feel a little better.

Wrestling their bags through the doorway, they eventually found a couple lights in the main hallway. An incredible staircase with wide, gradual steps curved upwards, showcasing the front entrance.  The fine stone and woodwork represented the height of style back in the 1800's.  Clearly Kelly's family was much more than well-off back then.

Alice was amazed at the condition of the house. It didn't have the expected haunted house look of cobwebs and dust. "How is it so clean? Someone must take care of the grounds too. I thought you said that your Aunt Linda only stays her occasionally?"

Kelly remembered the stories, "Aunt Linda said it's always been like that.  Supposedly that's one of the main reasons it's considered haunted. Some kind of bubble in time is at work according to some people. The ghost of the old housekeeper, Elizabeth, is supposed to be responsible according to others. There's a groundskeeper named Duncan as well, supposedly."

Connie chimed in, "You mean you've never been here before?"

Kelly was slow to respond. An awed tone in her voice was evident as she looked around as if seeing a dream come to life, "Never. I've always heard talk of the place, but my parents would never let me come here. They don't know I'm here now." She checked to see Connie and Alice's reactions, but they didn't seem surprised at all. Connie was the first to speak, "Mine neither."  They looked at Alice, "Nor mine." They all laughed again.

Kelly set back to business, "My Aunt said we could use the bedrooms left of the staircase. They are for ladies. After quickly claiming rooms, they surveyed the nearby parts of the house. The antiques and paintings gave it a certain character of being locked in the 1800s; otherwise, it looked like something from an old movie. With the poor lighting, they decided to adjourn the upstairs tour until tomorrow and headed downstairs.

Alice found a large basket with some gourmet snacks plus an assortment of liquor and wine bottles sitting on a table in the parlor. "Looks like your Aunt Linda set us up. It's party time girls!"

In no time, they had some warm drinks going. They found the kitchen, but it just had antique appliances and a huge sink with a hand pump for water.

"I guess the generator isn't strong enough to run a fridge too," apologized Kelly.

Alice, the mechanical engineering major, quickly reminded her that the generator would need to be running all the time for that anyway.

The long ride was catching up with them quickly. With no signs of ghosts, the trip was turning out to be more like a stay at a rustic bed and breakfast--pretty much just what they all expected from the beginning. Still, it was nicer than they could have afforded on their own, and they had the place to themselves.

Looking around, Alice was getting a little curious, "So was this a farm or plantation or what at one time?"

"My great, great something or the other grandfather built the house in the early 1800's.  At first, they harvested timber and somewhere there was a small silver mine, but the money really came from the family clothing business back in the city. Before the Civil War, they also raised racehorses. Out back behind the barn with the generator is supposed to be a full-sized race track and a number of training areas."  

Connie was getting curious now too, "So what happened during the war?"

"The house somehow was left alone. Another of my great grandfathers was a Colonel in the Union Army. After the war, he was sent west to fight the Comanche. He was supposed to have been in some very bloody fighting during the way, but a lot of soldiers could all say that."

Kelly paused for a moment and finished another swig of tequila. Alice and Connie followed eagerly with more tequila and red wine respectively. They really didn't miss the ice.

"I know. You want to know why the house is supposed to be haunted."  Kelly didn't wait for a reply. "As usual, it was due to tragic events. After the war, a band of outlaws, former confederates, found out where the Colonel's house was. They still had a grudge from the war.  For revenge, they raided it during a debutante ball being held for the young ladies of the neighborhood. Everyone from the whole area was invited. Whatever happened to cause the haunting was during that raid. That's all I know. At least that's the story. Whenever I would ask, they would just tell me to wait until I was older. They would explain it then."

Connie and Alice were quiet as mice and started looking around a lot. Kelly thought she might tease them a little. It was easy because she had heard quite a few different stories. "There are other stories as well. Things about my great grandfather, the Colonel, being cursed by a shaman have been told. There were also some mentions of a voodoo incident during the war, down near New Orleans. I've even heard stories that the silver mine on the property had something to do with it, that something evil was uncovered from deep within the earth." Kelly started to wonder if she creeped herself out too.

They all just kind of stared for a minute. Thinking, but also tired.

Connie uncorked another bottle of wine. "Let me guess. There's an outhouse?"

Kelly was taken by surprise, "I never thought of that. I don't really know."


Chapter 2: Charlotte's Gift

Connie was the first one to call it a night. Just up the main staircase, she found the broad hallway with their bedrooms. The old oil paintings on the wall had an eerie quality to them in the shadowy light. One small electric light at the end of the hall was the only illumination, and it wasn't very bright. Like the others, it was an ornate glass-shaded table lamp with a pull chain in the Tiffany style-probably even a real Tiffany. Previously, they would have used a candle or a lantern in same location judging by the faint soot marks on the velvety wall covering.

She had claimed the first bedroom on the left. It was decked out with a large four poster bed, a marble fireplace and the decor appropriate for a young woman. It was so classically Victorian. She loved it.

Her head was spinning a little, definitely a few drinks past her normal limit. She managed to find the small table lamp after a bit of stumbling around in the dark. She closed the heavy drapes to shut out the eerie moonlight streaming in the window, then locked the door with the old-fashioned key that was already in the lock. Alone in the dim light, she was jumpy. With the talk of haunting and ghosts on her mind, every shadow looked like something sneaking around in the dark. She needed to relax and knew just the thing.

Connie opened the smaller of her two bags and searched around the outside pocket. She found her vibrator and lube. This one had become her favorite for travel--a special gift to herself last year with her income tax refund. It was elegant and discreet, half jewelry, half state-of-the-art technology like a fine watch. Airport security didn't give it a second glance. Engraved Asian-style dragons inlaid with gold on real silver--silver plating at least--concealed rechargeable lithium-ion batteries, electronics with a variety of options, and a powerful little oscillating motor. Like they say, "size isn't everything." It was super quiet and ran like the devil. Having no suspicious remote control, settings were accomplished with tiny buttons set with the tip of a ballpoint pen, hidden inside, twist and pull to open. It was, admittedly, a pain to set, but she just left it on a random selection of modes she liked and didn't fiddle with it.

Connie pulled the covers down on the four poster bed. She had always wanted to sleep in one. When she saw the beautiful deep pink silk sheets, she couldn't help herself. She wanted to feel immersed in the soft silky warmth--full skin contact. She struggled her way out of her tight designer jeans, took off her T-shirt, push-up bra and panties. She left the lamp on, hoping the generator would stay on all night.

Connie gave the vibrator a few drops of silicone lube from her small plastic travel bottle of "moisturizer."  A little of it went a long way, and she didn't want to get any excess on the silk. She was already wet anyways. Her body anticipated the routine. She started to remember where she left off on her last fantasy: Her car had broken down in a bad neighborhood on her way back from a party. Her short skirt, stilettos and low neckline didn't seem like such a good idea now. Some gang members circled around her. Where did they come from? Was that a stun gun? Were those handcuffs?...

She twisted and pulled the vibrator, turning it on. It was really more the size for clitoral stimulation, but she pushed it inside holding the edge of the base with her finger tips. Oh, it was doing the job. She preferred to be penetrated versus clit-only stimulation. Not that her clit wasn't exquisitely sensitive--most definitely it was--but a vaginal orgasm was so much more satisfying for her now that she had a credit card and could get quality vibrators online in private. Fingers were for guilty teenagers. She loved the deep throbbing contractions from inside.

Connie felt a strange spin like the world tipped sideways for a moment in an attempt to dump her out of bed. Wow, she must have really overdone it more than she thought.

Just as the spinning stopped, the door to her room burst open. Out of reflex, she pulled her hand away from her crotch. She felt the vibrator slip inside after the sudden movement. About that time she realized how stupid she was being and that one of her parents or brothers wasn't about to be coming through the door. After a slight delay for her drunken brain to catch up, she remembered that the door had been locked.  

An older woman in a 19th century formal dress, complete with bustle and an obvious underlying corset, entered confidently like it was a perfectly normal occurrence. Her rather large breasts were contained behind straining buttons. The woman looked like she was going to a special occasion. Is she a ghost? Holy shit!

Connie tried to suppress a gasp as she suddenly noticed a number of other changes in the room. Her electric lamp had been replaced with a candle; there was a small fire in the fireplace, and the sheets were something like cotton instead of silk. There was nothing modern in the room at all. Connie couldn't believe what she was seeing. Something was really wrong.

The woman spoke, "Charlotte! Again! You know what Doctor Stevens said. Your father already banned you from the party and you're still doing it! You're going to get hysteria like your cousin, then you'll never find a husband. Stand over there in the corner young lady!"

Connie was confused. The woman was clearly talking to her, but who was Charlotte? She started to get up from the bed, but it wasn't her idea. Her body was doing it on its own. She started to speak: again, not her idea.  Her voice was different sounding, more high-pitched.  "Please Aunt Harriett, I don't fit in that thing anymore! Besides, I was just scratching. I have a few skeeter bites."

"Not another lying word young lady or you'll feel my hickory switch! Doc Stevens gave you a new prescription and had Mr. Hartly make up a new sleeping sack, one more appropriate to your age. It should help with that damnable posture of yours too. Don't you dare turn around until I say so, eyes in the corner! I want to see your hands behind your back now young lady!"

Connie's head was still spinning. It all seemed real, rather than a dream. She was even starting to get cold without the covers. Somehow she was inside this Charlotte's body. She was reliving some kind of past event. She tried to turn around, but her body, or rather Charlotte's body, would not respond at all. Still, she could feel the vibrator stirring. Charlotte seemed to notice too. Her hand was straying towards her crotch. She was really lustful, and her nipples were perky. Connie's mind tried to scream. C'mon Charlotte, go for it, bring us off!

She heard a lot of rustling near the bed, including what sounded like buckles and could smell freshly tanned leather. Charlotte reluctantly put her hands behind her back again, interlocking her fingers, apparently the expected position. Connie could feel Charlotte's fear of being caught. Connie could also feel how aroused Charlotte was; how aroused they both were.

"Alright Charlotte, it's time," said Harriett flatly.

Charlotte shrugged and sighed. Connie could feel the dread and fear Charlotte was experiencing. She could also feel the resignation and sense of futility. A large leather bag was on the bed. Connie thought it resembled a sleeping bag, one of the tapered mummy-style ones. It was held down to the bed by four sets of straps that ran down the sides of the bed.

"Oh Aunt Harriett, it's so thick and smelly!  I won't be able to sleep in that horrible thing."  Charlotte was practically in tears.

"You'll get used to it after a while my dear, but it might take a while to break it in. You don't want to get hysteria now do you? We've had this discussion before. You know your father's orders. If he has to come up here from the party, he'll be angry as a hornet." Aunt Harriett stared at her with one of those stares.  

Charlotte knew that look. Aunt Harriett was a hair's breadth away from going into a rage, never mind her Father's wrath. Charlotte knew how much pain would be administered to her backside should that occur. She shrugged and sighed again as she reluctantly climbed up on the bed and started to get into position with practiced ease.

Connie could see that the bag was actually some kind of restraining device made of heavy, but well-tanned and flexible leather. She could feel Charlotte's sense of dread increasing along with her arousal. The arousal wasn't coming from the vibrator. She could barely feel its presence (the random mode must be using a lower setting at the moment).

First, Charlotte put her feet inside the lower end of the bag towards the foot of the bed. There were individual, shaped feet, separated by padding. Next, Charlotte slipped her arms down into sleeves built into the sides of the bag. Aunt Harriett helped her and pulled the bag up to her shoulders, then helped her lay back. The back of the new bag was rigid and shaped. Charlotte reacted as if that was unexpected and very unwelcome. Harriett busily started lacing, beginning with the foot of the bag. As she did, it tightened around Charlotte like a sheath.

Connie tried to move, but she could do nothing--no matter how desperately she tried--the image inside the mirror. She realized her romantic view of the Victorian era was rather naive. Poor Charlotte went through this every night? The lacing was up to her hips now. Her legs felt like they were welded together, but that was nothing compared to the torso section.

The bag had a built-in waist-shaping corset device, rigid in the back while tightly constricting the waist. Clearly the goal was to give Charlotte that coveted hourglass shape. The chest area was looser; the bag was obviously designed to leave her breathing unencumbered.

Harriett kept tightening the laces up to Charlotte's neck then buckled a thick collar around her. The collar was rather wide and forced her to keep her chin lifted, another posture forming device--comfort was definitely a secondary consideration.

Aunt Harriett fumbled at the leather over Charlotte's chest, opening two flaps and working each breast out through the resulting holes into the open air. "Aunt Harriett! What are you doing? This new sleeper is indecent! Why would Mr. Hartly make it like that!"

"Calm yourself Charlotte. It's part of the prescription from Doctor Stevens. Your breasts need to be exposed for the new tonic. Your skin needs to breathe after it's applied. Besides, no one will be in here to see you. I'll lock the door. The good doctor assures me that with persistence this new formula will work. If we get that bosom of yours a little bigger, you'll be surprised how many men come a callin'."

Connie could feel a flush of emotion from Charlotte and immediately recognized it. It was the complex set of feelings an insecure woman had about small breasts. The feeling was all too familiar to Connie. For her, it ran the gamut from hatred of Hollywood standards all the way to the envy of other women; an emotional soup made from a base stock of self-loathing spiced with a deep burning desire to be an object of voluptuous beauty.

Despite the supposedly enlightened and liberated views of small breasts being nothing to be ashamed of, and how so many men are really not focused on them, Connie still felt less of a woman being girlishly small. She felt guilty about not being able to accept herself as is--just for icing on the cake. She didn't want to be superficial. She knew she should be ok with it. She knew she was being neurotic about her perceived inadequacies; she still didn't care. She felt how she felt.

She could tell that Charlotte felt the same way, their spirits seemed to be intertwined, but it was the 1800's with no options at the cosmetic surgeon. Connie had tried that route already. Her breasts got hard as a rock and painful to touch, forcing her to have her implants removed. It was the most depressing time of her life.

Aunt Harriett pulled hard at the laces again, taking up any remaining slack. The fit was perfect, like a glove, but that was precisely the problem. Connie could feel Charlotte exploring her confines. Her arms were held fast in the sleeves. Her legs were tightly paired with each other. Her spine was rigidly braced in perfect posture. The wide collar forced her to look up towards the ceiling. She could not roll or twist on the bed since the sleeper was strapped in place. Still, Charlotte was calm, almost soothed, tucked in for the night.

Aunt Harriett held up a white waxy looking ball. Connie felt Charlotte's anger. She struggled against the leather sleeper trying to escape, but it was pointless. "I know Charlotte, but we can't have you disturbing the guests downstairs. Besides, you really behaved poorly last night and woke everyone up more than once."  Harriett shoved the waxed leather ball into Charlotte's mouth before she could protest. It was large and conformed to her mouth. Her tongue was struggling to push it out. The ball tasted like beeswax.  

Next, Harriett pulled a wide strap of thin leather tight over the ball, holding it in place. She buckled it snugly and then buckled a second strap under her chin.  Again, Connie felt Charlotte's rage and frustration as Aunt Harriett tightened a soft leather blindfold over her eyes. "This should help you sleep my dear."

Charlotte's seething rage was fading as the vibrator reasserted itself. Connie could feel how puzzled Charlotte was at the new source of stimulation. Connie was puzzled too. It was like they were in Charlotte's time, the 1800's, but the vibrator was completely modern. How? There must be some connection to the present. As further evidence, Connie could no longer tell whose body she was feeling any longer.

Charlotte seemed to know that someone else was sharing her existence. She couldn't say how she knew. She just did. How they were connected? Connie had no idea, but obviously some of the rumors about Kelly's family estate were not just Halloween stories. Connie had hoped she might see a glimpse of a ghost down a dark hall or something. She never for a moment thought she'd be bound up inside a leather sleep sack with one.

Charlotte jumped when she felt cold lotion covered hands on her breasts. The hands were working the tonic into her breasts, massaging them deeply and roughly. Aunt Harriett explained, "Doctor Stevens said to massage this new formula in deeply every night until both bottles are gone. He said to try not to get it on your nipples, but I don't know how I'm supposed to do that. I don't see why it would matter. Shouldn't do you any harm. I better get back to the ball. Get a good night's sleep dear."  Charlotte felt a light kiss on her forehead then could hear the door close.

With Aunt Harriett gone, Connie could feel Charlotte give in to the vibrator. Connie lost herself in the sensation as well. Helpless to do anything, all she could do was feel what Charlotte felt and wait for her to do what she was going to do. Connie could tell that Charlotte clearly didn't know what was happening inside her vagina, but was enjoying it. To Connie, it was a terrible tease, driving her crazy; too little, too slow. This was one time she could use some direct clitoral stimulation.

Charlotte struggled against the sleeper. The feeling of her exposed breasts was thrilling to her. She clearly felt like a slut with her breasts exposed. The tonic was starting to give her a warming sensation, especially her nipples. In fact, her nipples were starting to burn and her breasts were starting to swell in response. A few minutes later and they were burning fiercely. She twisted and struggled trying anything to reach them. She was just as helpless at reaching her breasts as she was in reaching her sex. It was exasperating. She wanted to call out, but with her mouth stuffed with the waxed ball, she was lucky she could even breathe.

The burning combined with the torment of being restrained was adding up. She tried moving her legs, but could only wiggle her feet and flex her legs a little. Her torso may as well have been encased in iron; her neck was rigid and immobilized. Her hands were trapped in leather mittens at the end of the sleeper arm sleeves. The whole sleeper had just enough play that she could feel movement when she struggled, maybe find a way to relieve an itch, but little enough play that is was relentlessly oppressive.

Charlotte's spirit could feel over 150 years of frustration building up again. She knew that she was replaying that fateful night from 1868 year after year. Every Halloween, for all these years, she would struggle in the same evil fucking bag, frustrated and unable to climax, kept from satisfying her sinful desires. Every year she was powerless to break the cycle as it got more and more frustrating, always denied. Halloween was the only day each year where she could feel anything at all, and she was cursed to spend it this way, strapped inside a bag.

Somehow tonight was different. She didn't know the woman from the future, sharing in her plane of existence. She wasn't one of her descendants, no blood connection, but the woman had given her a great gift. Whatever the woman had done, it felt incredible.

Charlotte could feel the vibrations buzzing like little bees inside her. They had stopped and started a few times, but now they were going on and on. The stimulation inside her combined with the burning tonic was driving her lust higher and higher. She moaned into her gag. She couldn't help it. The room was getting cooler. The fire needed more wood. The cool drafty air in the room was flowing on her exposed, lotioned breasts. In the meantime, she was sweating in the leather sleeper. 

Hellfire! The buzzing was slowing down again. She was cursed indeed. The feelings of helplessness and torment were returning. Charlotte thrashed for all she was worth, desperate to bring some sensation back to her intimate regions. It was useless as always.

Connie just waited, trying to be patient. If only she could somehow tell Charlotte that the vibrator was just in a different mode. The time elapsed and it switched to the next setting.

"Oh sweet Jesus!" thought Charlotte as the vibrator stepped up a speed, then another...then another. What was this thing inside her?  She had no idea at all, but soon she was in the throes of delight--achingly slow, relentlessly building, insidious, seductive, tormenting, exquisite, joyful, powerful and then at last...unstoppable delight!

The contractions worked through Charlotte. The tightness of the leather sleeper held them in like a cannon barrel as they traveled up and down her whole body exploding. The throbbing went on and on, well beyond Charlotte had ever felt before. The strange dimension of replayed time locked her into a state of bliss as the future sought equilibrium with the past. She felt 1869 throb in her sex, then 1870, 1871, 1872.... She moaned and would have screamed if she could. Each year brought its own cycle of bliss, some more than others. The years replayed onward as she came and came, decade after decade's worth of Halloweens, previously nights of tormented denial, now becoming moments of incredible pleasure. The trans-dimensional orgasm was a pivot point of rebalance. She could feel that her body wanted to pass out, but that was impossible; she could not pass out in some years and not others. Instead, the feeling just kept on and on, rippling through time like a wave that she must ride.

Connie remembered sharing Charlotte's incredible orgasm; her completely supernatural, mind-blowing orgasm. After it was done, she couldn't help but swoon from the unrelenting overload of ecstasy. Coming back to consciousness, she could still feel echoes of the contractions coursing through her.

As her awareness returned, she noticed that she could move her arms, or rather attempt to move her arms. She was held fast in the sleeper, but now it just seemed to be her. Charlotte was gone. She also noticed the vibrations in her pussy were gone too. She could no longer feel the vibrator. The smell of the candle was gone.

As her presence of mind continued to return, Connie became aware of her predicament. Gagged, blindfolded and restrained to protect her virtue from herself. Like Charlotte, her exposed breasts suddenly became the focus of her awareness. She might have felt some of the burn from the tonic still on her nipples. Maybe it was just her imagination. Either way, she also became aware of something else. Her chest was much heavier.

She wanted desperately to see her breasts. The blindfold prevented that, but she knew they had changed regardless. She fought the sleeper and managed to wiggle her torso a little. She could definitely feel the much more substantial weight of her breasts jiggle.

Connie struggled again in earnest.  She wouldn't be half-hearted and resigned to her fate like Charlotte. She grunted and groaned as she fought with all her might.  She twisted her legs trying to free her feet from the foot of the sleeper. She thrashed back and forth trying to roll something loose. She tried arching her back and twisting her neck. Most of all she pulled and tugged trying to get her hands out of the mittens or her arms out of the sleeves. Nothing worked. She wanted to scream. It was hopeless and so incredibly fucking frustrating. She was irate beyond all reason.

Eventually she was spent and forced to lay there helplessly waiting for someone to free her. She couldn't sleep. She had a couple more fits of rage struggling against the leather, but all it did was make her horny which just frustrated her all the more, especially since her hands were just inches away.

The weight of her breasts was a constant source of stimulation as well. She could feel her hard nipples. They were definitely bigger too, at least they felt like it. She could feel the constriction of the insufficiently large openings in the leather sack squeezing her breasts tightly around the base. They were swollen from the pressure.

Connie had plenty of time to think over the next few hours. Of course, there must be some time ripple in this house during Halloween, but it was more than that. As she thought back to her shared elation with Charlotte, she knew they must have co-existed for a while in the same...dimension? After that, they have somehow been separated again. Her vibrator must have stayed with Charlotte while the sleeping sack stayed with her. Oh God! The tonic must have displaced to the future. She had the results of applying tonic every night for over 150 Halloweens!

As she laid in bondage, Connie's jaw ached from the gag. Her sex was aching for stimulation just as badly. The constriction around the base her breasts caused constant discomfort, a dull pain echoing with faint pleasure. Still, her insomnia was fading as her exertions caught up with her. Just before she dozed off in exhaustion, completely spent, she thought she felt a long tender kiss linger on her forehead then on each exposed breast.

Someone was caressing her left breast softly as if exploring it to estimate its heft...or was it a dream. There was a whisper in her ear, "What a delight sharing my body with you, my little nymph from the future. You share a part of me now. Remember me when you look in the mirror. How did you know that silver would be unaffected by the curse, oh my sweet little dear?  From now on, I'll be looking forward to Halloween!"  Connie felt another kiss over her gagged mouth just before she fell asleep.


Chapter 3: Abigail's Remission

Kelly had fallen asleep on a large overstuffed leather chair in the parlor with a mostly empty bottle of tequila on the round antique table beside her. Alice was fading fast herself. As her head nodded forward, she snapped awake...again. Much longer and she'd be asleep too. She thought about staying downstairs on the chair but could hear a warm, soft bed calling upstairs. Besides, it was getting a little cold, and she didn't have a blanket. She nudged Kelly awake for a moment to say goodnight before heading upstairs.

A small, inadequate, electric lamp in the upstairs hall served as a beacon to guide her up the handrail. At the top of the stairs, the stained glass shade cast a diffused patchwork of multicolored light into the shadowy hall. Alice faced the obstacle studded navigational challenge of the hallway ahead by aiming towards the apparent middle as she half-staggered towards her room. So far so good. Her room was the second one, wasn't it? Her travel bags were on the floor right where she left them. Here you are Miss. If you need anything further, just ring the front desk. 

On a candlestand near the bed, she found a small, brass, electric lamp with a candle flame-shaped bulb that served as the room's only hint of the modern world. Otherwise, the room was arranged as if to suit a young woman of over a century ago, but without a speck of dust or a cobweb to be found. A small writing desk sat near the window, complete with inkwell and dip pen. Not far from it was a small walnut table that seemed to be for needlework along with an old spinning wheel. Further along the right wall, Alice admired a large chest of drawers. She could tell it was made entirely by hand from a rich, dark wood, perhaps mahogany. She loved the old-fashioned stand mirror as well. The reflective surface under the glass was obviously not modern and might even be genuine silver. Opposite the window, the small marble fireplace was beautifully sculpted, but had some kind of odd stand of rusty metal piping in front of it. Despite it all, what caught her attention the most was the centerpiece of the room, a large four-poster bed, complete with a canopy. This place is awesome. 

Alice walked over to close the curtains, hoping to shut out some of the draft. Outside a thick, newly-formed fog diffused the otherwise bright moonlight giving the landscape an eerie glow. What was that? Looking to the right, she thought she saw someone out there near the treeline. Her heart raced in fear and surprise, but after watching a while longer, she didn't see any further movement. Maybe it was just the tequila or nothing other than some kind of wild animal running around--hopefully, it wasn't one of those nasty hogs. Whatever it was probably went into the woods. With a shudder and a shrug, she finished closing the curtains. She wouldn't be going out there tonight, even on a bet. Hell no. Suddenly, Halloween felt very real.

She couldn't wait to crash and pulled the covers down on the bed. To her delight, she found an expanse of pale pink silk sheets. The unexpected luxury called out to her with promises of decadent bliss. Scratch one item off the bucket list. She rushed to wiggle out of her stretchy jeans and laid them, along with her t-shirt, on the back of the desk chair. Next, she practically ripped off her bra, delighting in being free of it and its necessary underwired torment. Panties would be good enough. She wanted to feel her skin directly against the fabric. Besides, retrieving the nightshirt from her luggage was just too monumental a task in her current condition.

As she start to climb into bed, the whole room spun. It was like the world tilted for a second. She grabbed one of the corner posts of the bed frame to brace herself. When the room stabilized a couple seconds later, she noticed immediately that it had transformed. The air was dry and warmer. A real candle replaced the electric lamp. Now there was a fire in the fireplace, and the draft...her panties were gone.

Oh yeah, way too much to drink. This was a new one. She tried to bend over to look for her panties on the floor (where else could they be?), but her body did not respond to her will. Instead, despite her mind screaming out to stop, she walked over towards the fireplace. Rather, her body did...on its own!  She felt thinner and more nimble compared to normal--definitely no tequila next time. Holy hell. She had heard about this kind of out-of-body experience, but it was quite different actually experiencing one. Could she be asleep and dreaming already?

"Her" body turned towards the apparatus in front of the fireplace. A thick metal pole stood up from the floor, about an inch and a half in diameter, where it was mounted in a stout, heavy, metal base. The base reminded Alice of the round, cast iron bottom of an old-fashioned barber's chair. It was probably the same type of odd metal stand as the rusted one in her room originally, but this one was new and in good repair with all the parts in place.

At the top of the pole was a roughly U-shaped bar of thinner metal tubing. She could tell the odd shape was definitely deliberate and carefully done, but she had no guess as to what it was intended to fit. The bottom of the pole was also curious. A short ways up from the base were two short leather straps with buckles that were mounted to eye rings at the bottom of the pole using a couple short links of chain. They look like ankle cuffs. Whatever the purpose, the whole device looked medical in some way.

Her view shifted on its own again as "her" body turned directly to the fire in the fireplace and added another log. She saw some kind of water hose leading from the pole base to a metal box. Copper pipes ran opposite the hose from the metal box into the fireplace. The engineering student in her reasoned it was a water convection heater for the pole. Her body now turned back to face the U-shaped portion of the rod and a hand she did not recognize, but was hers, touched it, feeling that it was warm, confirming her theory.

Alice's tequila soaked mind tried to puzzle out what was happening. Was she possessed? She couldn't be, this was someone else's body. Just then, the door opened. An older woman came in wearing a formal 1860's style gown, complete with a bustle and the hourglass shape of a heavily corseted midriff. Alice felt a chill run down her spine. Holy fuck! A ghost! She would have run out of the room immediately if she could. The ghost looked completely real and had none of the shimmering foggy shape or half-transparent body of the stereotype.

The ghost didn't seem surprised at all that Alice was nude and seemed to recognize her. "Good Abby, I see you are ready to get dressed."

"Aunt Harriett, must we use the posture former? Please, just for tonight." The strangeness of hearing someone else's voice coming out of her mouth scared Alice. I'm Abby?  It was too much for her. She could feel everything, but do nothing. How could she get back to her own body? Wake up? Alice could even feel Abby's emotional reactions. It was difficult to tell that it wasn't her own body until she tried to move and couldn't. She tried again to move her arm, to speak, to blink her eyes...nothing.

"I'm sorry dear. You want to look your best for your cousin Beatrice don't you? Those New York tailors are very exacting. Getting your posture straight is especially important tonight for your new dress to drape properly. You don't want to be dragging an edge."  Harriett didn't wait for an answer as she walked over to a narrow curtain hanging on the wall near the fireplace and pulled it aside to expose a metal ratchet crank. A heavy cord ran from the ratchet towards the ceiling. As Harriett cranked a stout horizontal wooden pole, 3 to 4 feet long, was lowered from the ceiling by thin chains. Alice was shocked to see a pair of leather wrist straps with buckles hanging from each end of the pole by a single chain link. Abby did not look up so Alice was unable to examine the mechanism above. Instead, Abby obediently turned around with her back to the metal stand and held her arms to each side. Alice wanted to scream out to her not to do it, but Abby seemed completely unaware of Alice within her.

Harriett wordlessly buckled Abby's wrists into the straps as if it were all rather routine. The straps were near the ends of the bar so Abby's arms were spread about a foot outwards beyond each shoulder. Each strap was heavy leather and cupped the bottom of her hands.

"I still don't understand why I need all of these treatments," complained Abby. "My posture seems good enough to me."

"It's not really my place to say, dear. The Doctor must have noticed something amiss. You'll need to talk with your mother about that. I just know what the prescription says. How many times do we need to go over that?" snapped Harriett.

Abby took the tone of voice as a clue to change the subject. She knew Aunt Harriett's fearsome temper was not far behind. Her parents employed her as governess for reasons her backside knew all too well.

"It does seem like my posture is a little better lately, don't you think Auntie?  Maybe we can reduce the treatment soon."  

Harriett frowned a little, "Maybe, we'll have to ask Doctor Stevens if it's alright."

"Doctor Stevens? That quack? How would any man know so much about a woman's body? He's not even married."

"Watch your mouth young lady!" scolded Harriett. "There are very few men of breeding left around here after the war. Your father has already considered permitting your courtship to the good doctor. It's not the first time he's been asked."

"I'd rather die first!" snapped Abby.

"Sadly, marriage isn't all about what you might want my dear. You have stars in your eyes fawning over young Master Hawthorne. Everyone can see it. You were flirting like a strumpet and spent far more time than is proper with him in that gazebo at the Beauchamp's party last month. I can see that he's charming and handsome, but his family was confederate. You know that your father would never approve of a courtship. You're lucky you didn't get a whuppin' as it was."

Alice could feel Abby's affection for this Hawthorne boy in her body, the southern part, below the mason-dixon line. Alice thought significantly more than flirting probably had gone on in that gazebo.

Harriett cranked the ratchet, and Alice could feel her wrists, Abby's wrists rather, being pulled upwards, well above her head, while the clicking of the ratchet resonated in the room. Alice assumed there must be something with a lot of mechanical advantage, like a set of pulleys, mounted above her.

Harriett continued to crank and eventually stretched Abby's arms up above her head, forcing her up on tiptoes. Alice felt Abby's back crack a couple times from the tension. It felt good, but Harriett didn't stop there. She kept turning the ratchet crank further until Abby left the ground to hang solely by the wrist straps. Alice could now appreciate their design. Each strap was extra wide for comfort. The way they cupped her hands seemed designed specifically for suspension; even though her arms strained as they took her full body weight, her wrists felt no serious pain. Unfortunately, the strain in her shoulders was quite a different matter. Alice hoped this would be quick.

Once Abby was a bit higher up in the air, Alice felt her shared body swing, presumably from an arm near the ceiling, as Harriett pulled at the wooden bar. Harriett positioned her directly above the U-shaped rod, aligned so that the U would come up through her legs like a saddle. Once she was satisfied that Abby was positioned properly, she flipped a catch on the ratchet then resumed cranking. Now the direction was reversed and Abby was slowly lowered until her bare crotch came down directly into the middle of the U with her feet still off the floor.

Alice could feel Abby getting excited at the idea of her nether regions coming down against the bar. She didn't try to kick free or resist and was happy to feel the warm metal pressing against her. As her weight came slowly to rest, she felt her rear cheeks being spread apart invasively as the bar settled deep into her ass crack while the other prong of the U bar pressed firmly against her slit, spreading her labia slightly. Abby let out a slight moan at the familiar and welcome pressure, but Alice was not so happy. While she shared Abby's senses, she did not share Abby's acquired taste for resting her body weight on such delicate areas. To her, it was painful and unpleasant.

Alice was impressed with the precise anatomical fit of the U bar to her, no--she had to keep reminding herself--to Abby's, contours. Even though her labia were pressed heavily into the bar, Abby's clit touched without undue pressure. With the bar between her legs and seated deeply in the cleft of her bottom cheeks, side-to-side movement was prevented. The design was disturbingly effective. 

Alice had no idea how Harriett bent down in her corset to fasten the ankle straps, but she not only fastened them, she pulled them annoyingly tight. Alice realized that with Abby's body wedged in the U, there was now no escape. With her ankles secured and feet off the floor, there was no way to lift off the bar or slip out to one side or the other; her own legs trapped her in place. Even if she could use Abby's hands, she would never be able to bend down far enough to undo the ankle cuffs without jamming the U-bar into places it should never be jammed.

Abby closed her eyes and leaned her head back as she discretely assessed the sensations she was feeling. She tested the ankle restraints to find that she could only spread her legs an inch or so, no surprise, but she had to check, just as she always did. Everything was in order, just the way she hoped and expected.

To Alice, Abby's responses, physical and emotional, seemed to follow a conditioned pattern. First came the restraints and the acceptance of them. Next she was liberated, and it was playtime. Abby's emotions channeled to Alice--Abby felt like she was getting to eat the forbidden fruit. She could feel what she wanted without guilt. After all, hadn't she tried to protest? Didn't she try to get Aunt Harriett to stop? This was not of her choosing, so not her fault. The restraints were her salvation.

Abby fidgeted on the U-shaped rod, sinking deeper, then she started to work herself back and forth against the metal discretely. No! Alice wanted to scream at her to stop. The pressure of the water-heated metal was clearly enjoyable to Abby, and Alice couldn't deny that it felt good, but any pleasurable sensation was completely overshadowed by the harsh pressure and uncomfortable heat. To her, this was a mild form of torture. She couldn't understand how Abby enjoyed it so much.

Abby tried to grind harder as her arousal intensified. Friction was at a minimum--her own wetness lubricating the metal. So with her legs fastened in close, her ability to pleasure herself consisted of short, tightly limited, rubbing movements. Alice would have pleaded for release if she had she been able. The bar was getting way too hot. She also would have begged Abby to lean forward and work the bar against her clit more. Alice found Abby's movements to be rather clumsy and ineffective.

Abby felt hands reaching around her head from behind as she saw a cream-colored ball heading towards her mouth. "Please Aunt Harriett, don't. I hate it."

Harriett replied, "You know what happened last time. You must learn to get control of yourself. I see what you are doing already. Instead, you keep getting worse. Don't you feel the least bit embarrassed? "

"The ball gag is just so miserable; I hate drooling on myself. Are you sure there isn't another way?"

Harriett hesitated, "I know Abigail dear, but the only thing else we have is the French pear gag. I don't think you would like it. This waxed leather ball is a lot softer."

"I want to try it anyways. I can't stand that waxy ball any longer," pleaded Abby.

Harriett went over to Abby's chest of drawers and pulled out a small wooden object. It looked like a small pear cut in three sections plus some metal attachments. "OK Abby, here goes. If you are sure..."

"I'm sure Auntie."  Abby opened her jaw to let Harriett insert the pear. She didn't like the stale wood and varnish taste of it. Once the wide base of the pear was in her mouth, Harriett pushed until it slipped into place over her tongue and between her teeth, right in the middle of her mouth. The body of the pear expanded into a Y shape. The top two sections of the pear spread up towards the top of her mouth while the remaining section pressed down squarely on her tongue. A narrow stem led out the front of her mouth ending with a threaded metal rod and winged nut. Abby could see the metal rod and nut stick out from under her nose. She instinctively tried to shy away as Harriett reached towards her face, but Harriett's other hand was ready for that and held her by the back of the head, gripping some hair, as she gradually started to turn the nut. As it tightened, Abby could feel the hardwood of the pear expand in her mouth to press her tongue down harshly. She was already regretting her choice of gags. As Harriett kept turning the nut, the expansion quickly became painful. Unlike the ball gag they normally used, the pear was hard, unyielding and merciless.

Harriett didn't know when to stop, but she tried to be careful. The pear had enough leverage to break Abby's jaw. She pulled, and it didn't come out, but seemed a little loose, so she gave it a couple more turns to be sure. When Abby start to squeal, she backed it off a half turn. Abby's eyes were still watering from the pain as Harriett smiled sympathetically at her remotely intelligible complaints. The gag not only ached, it was still too big for her to close her lips like she had hoped. She would still drool like a child and wouldn't be able to stop it. Abby vowed to never ask for the pear gag again.

"Alright Abby, I have to take care of few things then I'll be back to put on your corset after your treatment is done. That should give you at least the full half-hour you're supposed to have. The first guests are due in a couple hours so there should be plenty of time. They're always fashionably late anyways."

Abby couldn't wait for Harriett to leave. Her nipples were already getting hard, and her lust was simmering. She knew that lust and carnal pleasure were sins, but there was no way that being forced to endure a doctor's prescription could be her fault. She could not possibly feel guilty about anything that happened now no matter what Aunt Harriett might try to say.

The evils of sex had been taught to her since a child. If so evil, why does it feel so astoundingly good? Why would God have created women with these sensations if they were so sinful? Abby wondered what it would feel like to have a man inside her. If this was how it felt without being penetrated, then having a cock inside must be incredible. It couldn't be painful, could it? God would never be so cruel.

Alice couldn't believe what she was feeling and sharing. Did women really go through this sort of shit back then? What kind of quackery was this treatment? She would never look at struggling into her tight jeans or squeezing her boobs into a snug underwire the same way again. She had it easy. What bothered her the most was that Abby felt so guilty and shameful about sex. Talk about some serious brainwashing shit. She tried not to think about it. The world may be fucked up now, but it seemed even more fucked up back then. Abby couldn't even vote in her day and age. Women had only recently been allowed to retain a degree of ownership of their property after they were married. In England, everything still transferred to the husband. 

Alice try to focus on the pleasurable feelings she shared with Abby and ignore the rest; she had little alternative after all. Of course she would eventually wake up...she had to wake up...this was definitely a dream...right? Yes. An amazing wet dream combined with a nightmare?

Immediately after Harriett left, Abby started squirming and grinding as much as possible. Alice could feel the distant approach of a climax already. It was delicious, then Abby started to grunt. As she continued to move, she moaned more and more, louder and louder. Alice couldn't believe it. She wanted to yell at her to shut the fuck up, but Abby got even worse, like an animal in heat. Alice could feel the emotional maelstrom as Abby's guttural sounds took on a life of their own, primitive and lascivious--the cry of the wild railing against the anguish of repression inside her, unafraid of being released and unwilling to be denied.

After over 15 minutes, Abby was still holding at the same level of sensation while she vocalized continually. She was enjoying herself immensely. Alice, however, was starting to ache with frustration. When would Abby finally go for climax? Faster, for the love of God faster! Then it hit Alice. She could sense it through their odd coexistence--Abby had never experienced a climax. She thought this was the best it got and was trying to make it last. Her Victorian sexual repression left her ignorant of her own body.

Alice was being teased to her breaking point, but she was just a passenger on the ride; Abby was the one driving, and she associated the feelings of an approaching orgasm with pain. Her mother had warned her of the Curse of Eve and the severe pain women would experience should they overindulge in their lust. She knew to hold back to make sure that never happened.

With the suddenness of a thunderclap, Alice felt her clit hood piercing contact the metal bar pressing against their shared flesh. How she felt it now, in Abby's body, made no sense, but it was unmistakable nonetheless. It is a dream, so anything is possible. Her sleeping self was probably rubbing the sheets pleasurably back in the real world.

The ball ends of the barbell piercing pushed the curved "bar" of the barbell against Abby's engorged clit each time she tried to push and rub against the bar. At first, she seemed to think she could wiggle whatever-it-was loose like a piece of stray debris, then Alice could sense Abby's confusion turn to panic. She knew something was very wrong. When Abby looked down, puzzled, they both saw Alice's slave rings in their nipples. Abby completely lost it and frantically tried to pull her wrists free, but ever since she slipped out of a strap and nearly dislocated a shoulder once, Aunt Harriett made sure they were as tight as they could be without cutting off her circulation. All she could do was wait for Harriett to come back and discover the new adornment.

Alice got the piercings during the summer break while she worked at a resort bar on the beach--a bikini bar. It had been a one-thing-leads-to-another chain of events. She started the summer being shamefully exploited as a waitress at a tight T-shirt and short shorts restaurant, purely for the much needed tuition money. She met Patty there and from then on her life changed forever. The whole summer ultimately became a giant awakening. How could she not have known that she was a lesbian for all those years? It still bothered her.

Alice considered Patty's elaborate campaign to get her to work at the bikini bar to be the stuff of legend, but in retrospect, parading around almost naked was a secret turn-on for her all along, and she had been a willing victim. What Alice didn't know, at first, was just how big a setup it really had been. Patty's gaydar was spot on, and she had cleverly shoved Alice's latent sexual orientation right back at her. One can only look at other bikini clad women for so long before the light bulb goes off.

Patty was a considerate lover and taught her slowly and respectfully--every single morning. By the middle of the summer, Alice was obsessed with submissiveness and bondage. Patty played mistress while she played slave. Even though Patty made it clear that they were just having fun for the summer, Alice was caught up in the moment and moving much faster. One lust-filled day of overindulgence in a number of different experimental vices and she had gone all in with nipple and clit hood piercings. Patty said she was crazy, but the constant attention the new jewelry received showed what Patty really thought.

Alice chose heavy gauge silver nipple rings laser soldered into perfect unbroken circles. They were actually designed to be slave rings so were made with some kind of special cut resistant alloy underneath, but no one could tell by looking at them. Her matching clit hood piercing ran vertically. The barbell rod was curved to touch her clit constantly and held in position with extra large silver barbell balls. Again she had gone all in, the balls were chemically treated with industrial thread locker so were now permanently fused.

At first, she was constantly horny. Now she could usually forget about the sensation as long as she wore tight underwear and didn't brush against anything. However, if her clit swelled the slightest bit in arousal, the barbell rod pressing into it would drive her crazy. At that point, she would almost certainly need to sneak off to masturbate or remain horny for hours.

If she hadn't been hoping to see Patty again next summer, she would have had the piercings cut off. They were a little difficult to live with, and they definitely created some practical considerations. Airport security was her biggest fear at first, but they were mostly just amused on the occasions that the metal detector picked up something. It wasn't anything like that. Her problems were much more everyday. For one thing, the rings could easily protrude through a normal bra and gave her the appearance of extra perky nipples all the time. She was sure an observant eye would recognize them for what they were. Alice had been wearing bras with padded cups the whole trip so that her friends didn't notice. She would be mortified if they found out what she had done. So far, she had avoided talking about the summer completely. At school, they thought she was the straight-laced one, way too prudish to be a bikini bartender, and definitely not the pierced, gay friend with the shaved pussy and love of bondage that she had discovered herself to be. She would tell them eventually when the time was right, maybe.

At first Abby wasn't sure what she felt touching her above where she peed. It felt like an itch that wouldn't go away right in that extra sensitive spot of her private flesh. Now the little nub there was swollen and unbelievably sensitive to the slightest contact. The irritating object would not come loose and seemed to be embedded in her body. Abby reasoned that, like the rings in her nipples, it was probably some kind of silver object piercing her...right near her love hole. What kind of evil is this? It was Hallowe'en eve according to one of her Scottish friends. A night of ghosts, demons and the supernatural. Surely the penetration of her flesh had something to do with the devil and dark magic.

With newfound awareness, she noticed how hard her nipples felt. She desperately wanted to examine and touch the rings--there had to be a way to remove them, but exploring them with her hands would need to wait. A quick half-hearted attempt to check the distance confirmed how hopeless it was to even try to reach the rings. With no other options in mind, she tried to shake the rings loose. The attempt caused her to twist more vigorously against U bar, but she didn't care. When her breasts flapped, she could feel the weight of the rings pulling, but they barely moved at all. The feeling just made her even more frustrated--and aroused. Abby was thankful they weren't any heavier. She couldn't even bite down in frustration with the accursed pear gag. All she could do was to look at the gleaming silver loops in wonder and fear through tears of frustration and emotional overload.

She had to admit the metal rings were quite stimulating. The idea that her most private flesh was now forcibly adorned to look like some kind of harem girl made her flush with maddening lust. The metal had no seam that she could see. It had to be magic for them to appear out of thin air and to be so perfectly formed. How could she ever remove them? What violated her lower down in her most intimate and sensitive of places? Would it be something equally as irremovable? She could feel her vagina tighten at the thought. Abby couldn't imagine going to the blacksmith or, even worse, Doctor Stevens, to expose her naked body while they puzzled over how to remove them. She'd rather be forced to wear them in secret than go through that. Besides, her father would give her the whuppin' of a lifetime even if she didn't die from embarrassment.

The foreign object rubbing against Abby's clit pressed relentlessly into the U bar no matter how she tried to avoid it. Each move just tickled her more. She had never felt this kind of pleasure before and couldn't just hold still and take it; the stimulation was too intense. Breathing hard and sweating, she fought the restraints again--she had to get the thrilling, yet hellish, tickly poking to stop. She pulled desperately to lift off the U bar but the ankle straps had so little play that it was only slight relief. Soon her wrist skin and shoulders were both too tired to fight any longer.

Abby had never thought about how much a prisoner she was in the posture former before. Now, fighting to escape with all her might, her previously unrealized helplessness took hold with a new found level of frustration that only served to arouse her further. To make matters worse, she was drooling down her chest, and she could feel her love juices running down her legs; it was so humiliating. She had to get out before Aunt Harriett got back, somehow. As Abby continued struggled to free herself, a new feeling took hold. Her sensitive nub was throbbing in a new way. The throbbing lit the fuse that fired the cannon, and she exploded. Spasms surged deep inside her, then spread outward in wave after wave as her inner body contracted over and over again. The sensation traveled up her navel toward her breasts and up her spine towards her head. At the same time, the sensation surged downwards to her thighs. She wanted to spread her legs wide, but the ankle cuffs were unyielding. Her closed legs held the tension in tight as the incredible throbbing went on and on.

Almost as rapidly as it had started, the amazing feeling ended, leaving her wondering what had happened. She knew that men had a feeling like that when they shot their seed. That's why they are so aggressive sexually. Could a woman have a similar reaction? Was it possible? Did she just...cum? Why did she not feel the pain her mother warned her about?

Abby's contemplation was interrupted as that little knob of flesh suddenly screamed out in pain from the burning heat of the U bar. She desperately pulled herself off the bar by her wrists as high as she could, trading one form of pain for another lesser one. She was extremely sensitive in a way beyond imagining. Maybe this was the pain her mother warned her about. It was so intense that she forgot to breathe for a moment. Between the difficulty catching her breath and her already strained arms, she knew she wouldn't be able to hold the position for long. How could such pain come from such a small bit of flesh?

A couple minutes later, she was forced to lower herself back on the bar. She couldn't hold herself up any longer. The strange sensitivity pain was gone, but the burning from the metal was terrible. She hadn't noticed how hot it had become before; soon she would be painfully burned. That extra log had been a big mistake. She took the heat as long as she could to rest her arms and shoulders. When she had to lift herself again, her arms were trembling immediately from the strain. 

In the midst of her growing panic, Abby heard the door being unlocked. Aunt Harriett gave her a stern look. "What the devil are you doing young lady?" she scolded. Abby's desperate cries for release where muffled into a string of nonsense sounds. Harriett seemed to notice something was out of the ordinary by still didn't seem to be in any hurry. Even in the dim fire light, Harriett could see her love juice running in a glistening trail down her legs. All Abby could think about was the rings in her nipples and what would happen when Aunt Harriett saw them. At least whatever might be likewise penetrating her most intimate flesh was hidden behind the bar she was perched on.

Harriett touched the metal pole, the last traces of love juice trailing down it almost dried in the heat. "Oh my, that's hot. No wonder you're squirming so. How many times have I told you to leave the fire alone. Poor, stupid girl." Harriett closed a small valve near the metal box on the floor, and Abby could feel the heat start to diminish almost immediately.

"You have some explaining to do young lady. You've been trying to pleasure yourself haven't you?" Harriett didn't seem to expect an answer, but Abby tried to say "no" as best she could. Harriett paused to consider. "I guess I can't blame you. God knows what feelings that Hawthorne boy stirred up in you, and you're at that age now. Besides, I suspect that heat was already enough punishment."

Harriett reached around from behind Abby to button on the corset before tightening the laces. It ran from over her breasts down to sit low on her hips. "This new one is the latest style my dear. The longer line and stiffer boning to it will give you a better shape and help that horrible posture of yours, but I'm afraid it might take some getting used to."

Abby was anxious to be all cinched up. The corset would cover her nipples and hide the mysterious silver rings. Harriett seemed to look right at them and still never said a word. She didn't understand; Aunt Harriett must have seen them, even with her bad eyesight. 

Once again, Alice was impressed with Harriett's proficiency. She had the corset laced tight and smooth in no time. Even though Abby didn't seem to mind, Alice was aching to get out of the damn thing already. She had never worn a corset before and was finding it a lot more uncomfortable and difficult than she would have ever guessed, especially the way it compressed her breasts.

Abby actually found the corset comforting. She felt exceedingly womanly in it and was happy not to worry about standing up straight all night. She had also thoroughly enjoyed the pushing and pulling during lacing as her body's movement against the U bar created more pleasurable feelings--the terrible sensitivity already forgotten. Alice thought Abby might cum again, but Abby still didn't seem to understand their previous climax.

Harriett pulled up the corset breast cups and fingered inside, feeling for Abby's nipples, while Abby and Alice collectively held their breath. None of them felt anything unusual. "How?" echoed the thoughts of both Alice and Abby. Both of them could still feel the rings being pressed by the fabric of the corset.

Harriett not noticing the rings wasn't any more weird to Alice than the fact that they were there to begin with. One hell of a dream, thought Alice, still uncertain of the equation of reality, dream and tequila.

Abby also questioned the piercings, but only their exact magical nature. The metal poking into her nubbin left no doubt about their reality.

"There, all tucked inside," said Aunt Harriett. "Now that you're older, you'll have to get used to a lower cut, that's the fashion. It wouldn't due to have anything budding out. Well, all done dear. Let me get you off of there so that we can have a better look."

Finally. Alice couldn't wait to get off the accursed iron U. She couldn't see how the whole process had any medical value, but she reminded herself they still sold snake oil back then. She could tell that Abby had also had enough and was ready to be done with the treatment. The constant unavoidable pressure was getting to be too much for her as well. A girl's body wasn't made to hold her weight there.

In quick order, Harriett had the ankle cuffs undone and was ratcheting Abby back up off the stand. Abby just hung like a wet rag while Harriett swung her clear then lowered her until her toes just touched the floor. She left Abby hanging while she wheeled the stand mirror over.

Abby wasn't thinking about the relief she felt from being free of the posture former at all. She was highly agitated and kept her legs tight together. Alice was confused as to why until Abby directed her gaze lower down at reflection of her sex. Oh! Alice was accustomed to the penetration of the piercings, but Abby was not. Abby was looking for the clit piercing. However, unlike Alice, Abby was not clean shaven. The clit piercing was hidden behind Abby's bush, and she had no idea what she would find under there.

"I'm sorry to have to do this Abby, but at least this way you can see the Hawthorne boy if you insist."  Harriett was holding some kind of harness made of silver bands. Alice suspected what it was right away, but she sensed Abby had no idea what the device was.

In short order, Harriett positioned the first band around Abby's waist, over the corset, but it was the second band that was the most attention-getting. She pulled it down in back from where it was already attached perpendicularly to the first band and guided it between Abby's ass cheeks, revisiting the all-too-familiar feeling of metal wedged there. Alice could feel realization hit Abby when Harriett worked the wide front of the second band up over Abby's sex. The anger Alice felt from Abby was red hot in intensity.

"This wasn't my idea Abby, but I did insist they get a properly made belt. This one came from New York along with your dress and is one of the finest available. It's really quite beautiful. Look at all of the custom engraving done just for you. Roses, your favorite. You'll be wearing more silver than some people ever see their whole life."

As Harriett tried to fasten the vertical belt in place, Abby went wild. She thrashed and kicked like a branded horse making it impossible for Harriett to finish. The smothered cries from behind the gag reminded Alice of the wildebeest being killed by a lion in the African wildlife documentary she watched last week. Terrible and primal.

"I was afraid of that. Sometimes you don't know what's good for you girl."

Alice felt a chill from Abby's body. Abby evidently knew what was next. She closed her eyes, squeezing out a tear.

The swish of the hickory switch was much louder than Alice would have guessed. For such a narrow rod of wood, it was strong. The sharp sting across Abby and Alice's shared ass took their breath away. They danced around on their toes pulling madly at the wrist cuffs, forgetting the tired, stiff fatigue of their arms and shoulders, as the second blow struck. Alice clearly understood Abby's fear of the hickory switch now. A third blow on the way was an unimaginable horror after feeling the first two. Thankfully, Harriett put the rod down. She knew that Abby needed no more incentive to behave. She ignored Abby's muffled sobs as she resumed positioning the front shield of the chastity belt over Abby's sex. Satisfied with the position, Harriett threaded a padlock into place and twisted the key until it closed. By design, the lock was positioned low enough to be hidden under Abby's dress.

"There. Young Master Hawthorne will remain a gentleman tonight and you'll remain a proper young lady--at least where it counts. I'll be back in a bit. I have to give this key to your Mother. I'll leave you there in case she wants to inspect you."

The second Aunt Harriett left, Abby and Alice felt the combined effects of their frustrations rise like flood waters. Raging, angry flood waters. Abby was still in shock. How could they lock me up like this? She hated them. Relentlessly, the barbell piercing rubbed against their shared, swollen clit beneath the ornately engraved metal plate between their legs. The barbell was sandwiched between the metal front plate and her tender flesh--a flint to spark the fires of lust. Truth be told, young Hawthorne's desires were never really as important to Abby as her own, so she did not need to be shielded from him, but him from her. Let his family find a way to persuade her father to allow their courtship. How will I be able to keep his interest if he finds out? He's certain to feel it around my waist.

Harriett was gone a long time and still not back. Where was she? Abby was growing concerned. Her shoulders and wrists were really aching since they were holding most of her weight. Her tiptoes had little strength left, and she was starting to worry about whether she would have problems moving her jaw to speak normally once the gag was finally removed.

Abby examined the belt in the mirror. It really was a work of art. She could read her name cleanly engraved among the beautiful roses in front. It must be made with silver from the family mine. In a way, she was touched that her parents would go to such expense for her, but she also knew that protecting her virtue was a matter of their pride and not hers.

The whole chastity belt was too tight everywhere, especially the front piece pushing down on her maiden mound. The narrow slit in front reminded her that she might have to pee in the thing. Not that peeing was first on her mind, however. She couldn't stop thinking about the little bit of mystery metal under lock and key--or the rings pressed under the corset cups for that matter--or the life-changing ecstasy she had felt earlier.

If she could just touch herself, then this whole thing might be bearable. Instead, the strange dimension of replayed time forced her to endure her frustrations. As the future sought equilibrium with the past, she lusted with need for all of 1869, then 1870, 1871, 1872... Over 150 years of frustration and longing to be touched tormented her. Locked. Denied. Pierced. Teased. Aching with desire. Every Halloween, for the passing decades, she would hang by her wrists; her sinful, wet lust locked under a silver plate for her to contemplate, but never ignore. Each year, she year she was horny as could be, but forced to go unfulfilled, never to cum.

The shared strain of a hangover and exhaustion combined with the strain of hanging by her wrists, and her aching shoulders (nothing but her tiptoes able provide any relief) was too much for Alice. Her head seemed to spin, then she swooned.

Coming back to consciousness, Alice could ignore most of her discomforts. However, the smoldering, frustrated lust still coursing through her body was impossible to ignore. She wished Abby would find a way to escape or that Harriett would come back to free her, but Abby didn't even open her eyes. Slowly Alice realized that she didn't feel Abby anymore. Could it be? She tried to open her eyes and found that she could. Alice was immensely relieved to find herself back in her own body, but it was not a cause for celebration. The stand mirror was in front of her, and the so-called "dream" was still haunting her. She was still gagged and wearing Abby's new corset. She had a very tight silver chastity belt, made by the finest craftsmen in 1860's New York, clamped tight over her sex--one that was finely engraved with roses and the unexpected name "Alice." Noooo!

Even though she was bound and corseted exactly as Abby was in her "dream", most of the room was back to the way she remembered it beforehand. The fire was gone, the electric light was on--even the bed was turned down just like she remembered.

She hated the gag; the corset; the standing; the pain in her wrists, arms and shoulders; and most of all, the annoying discomfort of the chastity belt. Abby might not have been able to escape the wrist straps, but she would find away. After all, she was bigger and stronger than that Abby. She was also taller, so was able to plant her feet firmly on the floor.

Alice tried everything to find some amount of relief somewhere. She pulled, swung, hung, dropped her weight, twisted...any kind of movement she could think of. After over half an hour, she hung defeated, out of breath, sweaty, sore and tired, but also even more horny from her frustrated struggles. She didn't know why bondage always caused that reaction, but it did. Any other day, it would have been fun.

Alice had plenty of time to think over the next few hours of forced contemplation. Obviously the house was really haunted, and there was some kind of strange distortion in time, but it was more than that. She had really co-existed with Abby, and there had been some kind of exchange. The belt even had the wrong name on it! To her annoyance, Alice was turned on by the idea. Being locked in a chastity belt was kind of a fetish thing for her, something she fantasized about, but not one she would have ever tried, unless, maybe, Patty had the key. Maybe she should ask Kelly to mail Patty the key--no, that'd be crazy. Then it hit her, the thoughts of fetish reminding her. What happened to the piercings? She didn't feel them anymore. They must in Abby's body. Poor girl is going to flip out, especially if they try to cut those rings with wire cutters, and they don't cut.

Every so often, she would struggle some more. She couldn't help it. She was just too miserable not to try something. Eventually, she just hung there limply, half awake, praying for her ordeal to end. She must have slipped into dreamland again. She saw a face behind her in the mirror, Abby's face. Hands followed and reached towards her breasts. They slipped in behind the breast cups of the corset.  Alice thought that Abby looked envious when she felt up her much larger breasts. Abby seemed to be feeling her nipples. Yes, they are gone Abby.

Abby stood up on tiptoes to lean in towards Alice's ear. She whispered, "How did you know about silver and the curse? How could you do this to me? The chastity belt wasn't in your plans though was it? I'm grateful for what you've taught me, but you know it will only drive me to sin--that's why you did it. You're in league with the devil. Two can play your devil's game, dark one from the future. Even a demon cannot defy silver. You will never find the key!"

Alice shot awake. Was I dreaming again? Please, please, let it have been a dream.


Chapter 4: Kimberly's Mark (added: 2015/09/19)

Kelly fell back to sleep in a big leather chair after Alice nudged her awake to say goodnight. When she woke up on her own again some time later, it was hard to resist the urge to go back to sleep for the night right there, but she had to find that outhouse and remembered the beautiful four poster bed waiting for her upstairs. Using her arms to push up onto her stiff, tight legs, she managed to find her balance as she blinked her bleary eyes back into focus.

She took a swig of tequila straight from the bottle, bracing herself to venture outside. The lights kept flickering here and there too. The generator needed to be checked. Clear out in the barn. Just peachy. She was tempted to say fuck it and pee in a red plastic cup like Connie had done but didn't want to take a chance on the generator burning up or something.

Her Aunt Linda had left a double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun propped behind the door. Wandering around in the dark with a gun and booze, how perfectly backwoods. She took another swig of tequila before putting down the bottle and checking the gun. Loaded. Slugs. Good. That much lead would take down even one of Oswald's "carnavorous" wild hogs. Not that she wanted to shoot anything, but like her Grandpa used to say, "If you have to shoot a varmint, then you better do it right. Otherwise, it'll just get mad."

She had never told Alice or Connie how backwoods a family she really had, or what a good shot she was, and preferred to keep it that way. Otherwise, she'd never hear the end of the teasing.

Resting the shotgun in the crook of her arm, Kelly grabbed her surprisingly bright little LED flashlight before stepping out the back door. Moonlight cast a pale glow and faint elongated shadows on everything. She could almost see from the glow alone, so turned her light down to a dimmer mode as she made her way along the short path to the outhouse--no use advertising her presence any more than necessary.

Traces of fog promised a true, spooky Halloween night for anyone, or anything, which happened to be out and about...focus Kelly, don't you dare think about that anymore. She turned the flashlight back up to max--to hell with anyone seeing the light.

The outhouse wasn't so bad, just cold. She kept the shotgun close at hand the whole time. Her mind was starting to play tricks on her--and she didn't even have a buzz from the tequila. Half a dozen different times, she thought she heard something walking around outside.

Finished, she opened the outhouse door a crack to make sure it was safe before setting out for the barn. A dim light outlining an open side door and sputtering generator noises served to guide the way across the backyard. It wasn't that far, but it seemed like a mile under the circumstances.

Wishing she still had that bottle of tequila, Kelly took a nervous breath and changed her grip on the shotgun, cradling it in her left arm for faster access to the trigger. She shined the light around the yard. Even with it on full, the beam was swallowed up by the dark expanse. Still, no eyes reflected back...but human eyes don't reflect. Stop it! You're making yourself crazy. You can do this, no big deal. Kelly shook off her fears and set off cautiously towards the barn.

After a few steps, her stride and resolve grew bolder. She wondered why she had been worried. Suddenly, her foot turned, and she pitched forward. It was as if the whole world had suddenly tipped under her feet.

She landed on her hands and knees and instantly knew that everything was amiss. Her flashlight and the shotgun were simply gone. She was wearing some big, old-fashioned dress. A corset was squeezing her tight from her hips up to her boobs--which now seemed as large as grapefruits--and she felt like someone had strapped a laundry basket to her butt. She noticed other differences as well: she could smell floral perfume, a lot of extra hair was done up high on her head, and she was wearing ankle boots with a short heel. Most of all, she was quite aroused sexually and had no idea why.

Panic shot through her as she realized she was no longer alone. Looking to the left, she saw a strange American Indian man standing still, hands raised palms up towards the sky. The moonlight glowed on his deerskin clothes as he watched her from a distance. He wore a creepy-looking black mask with a long pointed snout that reminded her of a bird, clearly a shaman.

An unfounded feeling of familiarity left her clueless instead of afraid. How could I possibly know him? Before she could get a closer look, her head turned away from him on its own, in complete disobedience to her mind--an act so disturbing that she couldn't possibly explain how it felt. In reaction, a chilling, paralyzing fear ran through her spine like an arctic wind.

Now facing the ground, she saw her necklace in the grass. The silver chain was broken, and the miniature silver feather pendant was twisted around upside down. Her mother had given it to her for her twelfth birthday and made her promise never to take it off, and she never had. It was supposed to protect her from evil. Now Kelly was starting to think she knew exactly what evil her mother had been worried about. She had to get it back! She tried to reach for it, but couldn't; her arms wouldn't move!

Kelly was at a loss trying to understand what was happening. It didn't seem like a nightmare, but what else could explain it? She didn't even have a good tequila buzz. Was she having a seizure? She'd never had anything like an out-of-body experience before, even that time her cousin Ray dared her to eat a hallucinogenic mushroom with him. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she knew deep down that something supernatural was happening to her.

Whatever is happening will stop after a while. I just need to go along with it until it does.

She tried to reach for the necklace again, desperate not to lose it but found herself struggling to stand up instead. Her hands looked wrong...realization dawned. They weren't her hands. In fact, it wasn't her body at all--and, without a doubt, definitely not her boobs. Along with the realization that her body had changed, she started to feel the presence of someone else.

Maybe I've been possessed? No, I don't think I'm the one who's supposed to be here. Am I a ghost? What the hell is going on?

The real owner of the body Kelly now shared regained her feet and took a moment to straighten out her dress. She looked at the ground as if wondering how she had fallen. As she set off again, unconcerned that she wasn't carrying a light, she lifted the sides of her skirt to keep it from dragging in the tall grass and started to walk quickly towards the barn, anxious to get there. Kelly thought her boots felt a little too small, and the dress was heavy, but the corset was what she noticed most. It was so tight, rigid and uncomfortable.

This can't be happening!

The barn doorway was still lit in this twisted version of reality, but now the light had the yellow-orange glow of a lantern flame, and she didn't hear the generator running. She wanted to turn for a look at the house, but turning required control of a body she no longer commanded.

As her host body drew closer to the barn, Kelly felt more and more connected to whoever she was. Her host was well-balanced and not terribly uncomfortable in the boots and dress, even if Kelly's perception of those same sensations was to the contrary. They clearly saw the shadow of a person in the barn. Instead of being fearful, it made her host more excited. Kelly recognized the unforgettable feeling. She was meeting a lover. Maybe this is some kind of message? I've heard of people having visions that seemed so real they couldn't tell the difference.

As soon as she entered the barn, Kelly felt the strong and passionate embrace of a man kissing her--kissing them. Her eyes were closed, so Kelly didn't know what he looked liked, but she could feel him holding them tight. The kiss was no quick hello-my-love kiss. Instead, it was a passionate, tongue-chasing-tongue, I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off kiss of pure passion. The kind of kiss that Kelly had always longed for.

When they finally broke their embrace, Kelly could see a very attractive man, elegantly dressed in a blue coat, vest, and bow tie. He had broad shoulders and a face that was half chiseled Greek statue and half neatly-bearded swashbuckler. No wonder she's sneaking off to the barn.

"My Aunt Harriett will be busy for a while taking care of my sisters, and the guests won't arrive for some while yet, but we still don't have a lot of time," she said in a nervous voice not all that different from Kelly's own.

Kelly remembered an Aunt Harriett from the family ghost stories. Now this was making sense. However impossible, she was reliving the past as someone else, quite likely one of her ancestors. It must be related to the weird time distortion that affects the estate.

The man locked eyes with her. "Kimberly, are you sure you want to do this? Really, truly, sure?"

"As sure as the dawn," she said. "When I think of what it must have been like, I go completely off my rocker. Ever since you told me the story two weeks ago, it's all I can think about. Did they really do all of that?"

"My Uncle Jeb saw it with his own eyes, more than once, back before the war, and I believe him. He's never been prone to tall tales," said Ethan, "but, I'm worried that you're not thinking clearly and have been twisting his account into some kind of romanticized fantasy."

"Don't you try to tell me that I have some kind of hysteria now too--I'm not irrational. I know my fantasy is far from the reality, but I don't care beans if it is. Just the thought of being owned by another, to be in their control in every way, even something so intimate--it fascinates me so. I can't explain it," said Kimberly. "Besides, you enjoy it too, don't you?"

"I do, but I don't want you hating me later," said Ethan. "It's going to be way more intense than any of our previous games--for both of us."

"I know it will be," she insisted, "but, this is something that I need to do, just once, for me. I hope you understand."

Kelly felt something when Kimberly looked into Ethan's eyes. Through her eyes, Kelly could see his fascination. He looked at her like she was this beautiful, miraculous yet complex creature--was it, love? It was as if he couldn't believe he was so lucky to have found her, but there was something more in there too, something hungry...maybe. With so many feelings coming from Kimberly's body, Kelly didn't know how much to trust her intuition.

When Ethan hesitated, Kimberly got nervous. "Ethan, you promised!" she pleaded.

"I don't know if I understand why you want to do this so much, but if you feel so strongly about it, then that's good enough for me. Personally, I liked it better when we played 'millionaire gold miner and the San Francisco whore' or that time we played 'Sultan and the new harem girl' and you did that sultry dance with the veils."

"Well, it's your turn to pick next time, and I'll be whoever you want me to be, my love."

Kelly could hardly believe what she was hearing, but it helped calm her down. In fact, it was seriously...intriguing. Nothing like this was in the family stories--nothing about Kimberly or Ethan either, but such stories would not have been told to ears as young as hers at the time.

On second thought...maybe arousing was closer to the right description. If only I could find my own Ethan. As Kelly's thoughts strayed to chains and bondage, she couldn't tell if her thoughts were influencing the body she was sharing or if the lust she felt was coming entirely from Kimberly.

"OK, OK, I'll do it, but don't blame me if you get an ugly bruise or even swoon. Is there anything you don't want me to do? I suppose you're going to tell me you want to go all the way." asked Ethan.

"Yes, all the way. I expect no less. Holding back ruins the illusion. I want every strap, every chain, the gag--the whole hog," said Kimberly with enthusiasm. "I want to be the woman in the story."

Kelly was beginning to feel more and more a part of Kimberly. Her bodily sensation was that of Kimberly's body, but there was more. There was some kind of unconscious perception, well below the level of thought, like Kimberly's unconscious leaked into Kelly's mind. She had the distinct impression that Kimberly thought Ethan's objections were just polite pretense--there was more to Ethan than she knew.

Kelly suspected that Ethan's reserved sexual manners were probably just a way to let Kimberly explore her boundaries and feel in control while he waited patiently, cultivating her deeper passions, until the day when she would discover her true nature--or submit to his. He seemed like the kind of guy that always had ulterior motives. In truth, Kelly had no idea if Kimberly had her own ulterior motives, but she trusted Ethan completely: Kelly was sure of that.

"I don't like to ask, but do you have your rubber cleaned and greased up? That pennyroyal tea made me sick to my stomach for days," said Kimberly. "Besides, I don't want to go through another scare like that."

"I bought a brand new one, all the way from France. It's a lot better than the old one," Ethan said with an unnoticed smirk.

Anticipating his answer, Kimberly was already starting to undress. "Can you help me with this bodice? The buttons are so darn tight."

Kelly's view of Victorian relationships was being challenged by Kimberly and Ethan. She couldn't believe what Kimberly was doing. Weren't people supposed to be all sorts of prudish and uptight about sex back then? She could only imagine what these two would have done with a video camera.

As Ethan helped Kimberly get undressed, Kelly shared her increasing arousal. The intensity of it was incredible. Maybe some women experience lust differently? Kelly couldn't remember ever feeling this turned on. It was almost painful. It was also worrisome. Instead of fading, whatever she was experiencing was getting more vivid and real.

Even though taking Kimberly's clothes off was more a struggle than a striptease, Ethan was clearly ready to go as well. His hands were practically shaking with anticipation as he loosened Kimberly's corset (much to Kelly's relief).

Soon three petticoats (one inner, two outer) joined the bodice and skirt hanging neatly among the expanse of hooks and pegs in the tack room of the barn. Kelly was surprised at the cage-like thing Kimberly had been wearing (Kimberly called it a crinoline).

It wasn't made with big round hoops that go all the way around like the kind she remembered from movies. Instead, the suspended framework shaped her more specifically. Starting with an open, flat front, it widened at her hips, giving them a full look as it protruded and extended down her sides. Most of the framework was on her backside. A raised hump high on her bottom formed the beginning of a full, draped affair behind her. Kelly immediately understood how the crinoline was so much better than a whole lot more petticoats to get the desired dress shape, but was still shocked at the engineering involved in Kimberly's outfit.

Despite Kimberly's wanton desires, Kelly could still feel a guilty blush of modesty and embarrassment from her as she lifted her chemise and dropped her drawers to stand before Ethan in just her garter belt and stockings. She could feel his eyes roaming over her body as she removed those as well. Though uncomfortable being nude, she still wanted to present herself to him, the object of his desire. For Ethan, and his eyes only, she had the confidence to bare herself. The fact that he couldn't take his eyes off her confirmed her hold on him. The bulge in his pants was an object of pride: I did that. He lusts for me.

Within seconds, Kelly felt a cold, heavy chain around their shared waist and heard the click of a lock behind her.

"Last chance," said Ethan.

Kimberly answered by placing her own left wrist into one of the shackles.

"Go ahead Ethan, turn the key," she said, a little breathlessly.

Without saying another word, Ethan's strong hands finished shackling her wrists to the front of the waist chain below her navel. The short chain held her hands in close to her body. He quickly descended to her ankles with a matching set of leg irons. They were very tight, and the connecting chain was short--the way problem slaves were kept from running.

Kimberly was now secured as if she were a troublesome and resistant slave made ready for transport. The sensations were even more amazing than she had envisioned. The most obvious difference from her fantasy was the sheer weight of the shackles. She had never considered that they would be so heavy, or so dirty and rusty. About a decade ago, they would have been on a real slave. Male or female, daily labor would have made them a lot stronger than she was, yet they would have been equally helpless from the heavy steel. Ethan was certainly preserving the authenticity.

Kelly had always been curious about more adventurous sexual activities but had never had the partner for it. Experiencing such activities this way, though, wasn't what she had in mind. She felt the tightness of Kimberly's hard nipples and the wetness of her pussy. Obviously, Kimberly found her helplessness to be erotic as hell and was having the time of her life--despite the risks she was taking. Kelly, however, was not enjoying the shared experience. Lacking Kimberly's romanticism, the game was way too heavy for her tastes, too real to be a fantasy. She chose to think the arousal she felt was forced upon her through Kimberly's body. If only she could just spend some time in Kimberly's head as well, maybe she could understand her fantasies.

Suddenly, Kimberly and Kelly were both roused from their thoughts by a stinging pain across their ass. Ethan had whipped them with a riding crop. It stung like hell, but Kelly sensed mostly surprise and not pain from Kimberly. Apparently, she didn't know the crop would be part of their little re-enactment.

"Stand up straight, girl, and open your mouth," growled Ethan in a mock slave master's voice.

"But Ethan..."

Kimberly grunted out a long drawn out "uuunnnhhhggg" in pain as Ethan struck her across the rump again, but harder.

"You will address me as Master or Sir," he said. The game had begun.

His voice was harsh and angry, but Kelly saw a hint of a smile as he enjoyed acting his role. She wasn't sure if Kimberly had also noticed it. There was no change in Kimberly's emotions to indicate she did.

Kelly didn't know what Kimberly had intended to say before being interrupted by the whip, but, apparently, she decided it wasn't a good idea to say it now. Ethan caressed her right breast with the crop, circling her bare, hardened nipple threateningly. Her hands automatically tried to reach up in self-defense only to be reminded of the heavy steel binding her wrists. Though the tight waist chain allowed some reach, it was less than half the distance to her chest. Her breasts were completely vulnerable to him. In fact, there wasn't much of her body that wasn't completely exposed and available to him, now that she thought about her predicament more.

She struggled for a minute and gained a better appreciation of how strict her bonds really were. In her fantasies, keeping balance was never an issue, and the manacles didn't threaten to tear the skin off your wrists and ankles

As the futility of her struggles became undeniable, Kimberly started to understand the hopeless resignation of a slave. She could try to resist, but he would eventually force her to obey. There was no room for pride or dignity--even virtue did not matter--exactly the feeling she wanted to experience. This was perfect.

"Open your mouth," was all he said, ignoring her smile.

Ethan stood on her ankle chain with one foot, his leg between hers with his knee against her crotch, as he brought a steel contraption towards her face. She tried to back away reflexively and quickly realized that she was going to fall. Ethan grabbed her by the left arm and pulled her upright onto her feet and against his knee again. He had an evil look which might not have been playacting.

Once again, he brought the device towards her face. She recognized it as a brank. It had a U-shaped metal bit attached to a cage of springy metal bands meant to go over her head and hold the bit in place. They had talked about using a leather gag with a ball, and this definitely wasn't what she had in mind.

"May I please have the leather gag, Master?" Kimberly said it respectfully, looking downward, trying to play the game properly. He must be trying to scare me for effect. I wonder where he found that monstrosity.

He simply said, "No."

Shocked, she fumbled for something else to say that would not invite more whipping. How could he just deny me like that? He had never said "no" before, not even once. He tapped the riding crop on her left nipple smugly as if he was aching to use it.

Their playtime had few formal rules, but "no" was final and without appeal. Any further attempt to convince him to change his mind was to be met with immediate punishment. The agreement had been her idea. She hated begging, and the rule prevented her from having that option so that Ethan had no motive to keep teasing her into doing it. Now having such a rule seemed like a very bad idea.

Kimberly was surprised that Ethan had taken control of their game. This was the first time he had dominated her in any way. Finally! She had been wondering if she would ever draw that side of him out. The game was going better than she had hoped.

She responded to his command gleefully and opened her mouth in mock obedience. She hated everything about the brank except that she would be gagged, yet she would give him this victory without further struggle. He had earned it. Plus, she wanted to encourage him.

In the back of her mind, she didn't know if Ethan would really have struck her across the chest or not--he would certainly have whipped her somewhere--but, knowing Ethan, the question of doubt was deliberate. He was a master at keeping her guessing, and his ability to be convincing during their games was one of the things about him that turned her on.

Ethan shoved the metal bit into Kimberly's waiting mouth, then carefully positioned the bands around her head--from her mouth to behind her head, one more around her nose and over her head, another around the top of her head (over her forehead) and the last under her chin. She could tell he was trying not to mess up her hair too much, but now she was worried about fixing it in time for the party. She felt the springy steel bands cage her head uncomfortably as Ethan worked them snug.

The appearance of the bit had been deceptive, it was far bigger than it looked, and barely fit inside her mouth. However, the shallow upward angle at which it was fixed was more of an issue than the size. The angle only matched that of her fully open mouth and forced her jaw apart while the shape of the bit depressed the full length of her tongue flat.

When Kimberly heard the click of a lock behind her head, dread of enduring the brank transmuted into a thrill of delight that went straight to her pussy. Speech had been her last defense, and it was now taken away from her by this humiliating, hideous thing on her face. It also meant that Ethan now had complete control, and he could do whatever he wanted with her--just like in her fantasy.

Ethan wasn't exactly following their plan, but he was in her head and playing on her fears nonetheless. Her doubts and his unpredictability helped make the game feel real. Did he really understand the powerful effect he was creating?

"Good girl," said Ethan condescendingly as he patted her rump the way an owner pats their dog--she did not have her dress with its bustle to protect her. He let his hand linger on her right ass cheek for three or four heartbeats before he gave her a little squeeze that made her squeal. Kimberly understood his message: I've been waiting to do that. She blushed in response.

Kelly had to admit that bondage fantasies were a turn on for her too, though she had never acted on them--at least she understood that part of Kimberly's psyche. She had to admit that Kimberly and Ethan's re-enactment game was thrilling, despite any intellectualizing she might do to the contrary. The crop had been the turning point. The pain made her think about their body so much that her mind simply re-focussed on immediate physical concerns.

Now she was as anxious as Kimberly to see what was next. Kelly's own fantasies had also included whipping, but it was something she probably would have never tried on her own (even if she had ever had the chance). The real thing...well... The warmth in her shared ass was way more erotic than she would have guessed. Ethan seemed to know exactly how hard to hit.

The pressure of the metal bit depressing Kimberly's tongue grew exceedingly unpleasant within minutes--not to mention the foul, oily, metallic taste. She didn't know if a tongue could go numb from pressure, but she would probably be finding out.

She already loathed the brank. Yet it definitely taught her just how much she was playacting as a slave and could never have endured the reality. She accepted the lesson. Well played Ethan. She didn't want him to think he could have been right about her unrealistic fantasies so stoically hid her discomfort.

Kimberly's eyes shot wide open as Ethan stepped back and raised the crop to his side. What's he doing?

Careful not to mark her in a place that would show later when she wore her low-cut dress, he struck the undersides of her breasts with a hard, stinging blow using the shaft of the crop. The force of the blow was enough to lift the weight of her sizeable breasts.

As the pain shot through her, Kimberly almost fell over. Her hands jerked up towards her chest in a reactive and desperate attempt to protect herself that only served to hurt her wrists and rattle her chains. At the same time, a scream of outrage and pain started spontaneously, but the bit transformed the attempted scream into a fit of coughing and choking instead.

That works better than I might have thought, considered Ethan. "That'll teach you. Now be a good little heifer and keep your mouth shut," he taunted, forgetting to use his slave master voice.

Kelly felt Kimberly's complete astonishment. She couldn't believe Ethan had whipped her, especially on the breasts. Bastard even had a smile on his face when he did it. She was furious for few seconds until she realized he was just trying to goad her--it had worked. She could only imagine what it would be like if she were helpless like this in front of an uncaring or even sadistic owner. Ethan was definitely in rare form, stretching her boundaries--and his. Next time, she would be sure to discuss limits.

Kelly, however, saw a different Ethan, one with a spark of sadist in his eyes. She had seen that kind of eyes before. He enjoyed inflicting pain. Maybe Kimberly's provocations were partially to blame, but she'd have her hands full now that he had a taste of dominance--the djinni was out of the bottle.

Nevertheless, Ethan's attitude alone didn't explain the looming dread that descended on Kelly. Maybe it was just too much Halloween, too much tequila and too many ghost stories combining together, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Something terrible was going to happen.

Kimberly savored Ethan's use of the word "heifer"--the implications were not lost. That's what she was now, a cow that has never had a calf, a woman forced to be nothing more than a breeding animal, just like the slave women Ethan had told her about.

The dehumanization of it was strangely stimulating to Kimberly, yet this was just the prelude to their game, and time was running short. She wanted Ethan to get on with it. As if he had heard her, he did exactly that. He unhooked a short lead from an assortment of them on the wall of the tack room and clipped it to the side of the brank, next to her jaw, to use it as a bridle.

Without saying a word, he started leading her towards the door. Kimberly thought about resisting, to feel what being forced was like. Before she could decide, her mind was made up for her as the slack was taken up on the lead. The lead applied force at an awkward angle which pressured her stretched jaw, neck and trapped tongue. Resisting it was clearly not a good idea.

After pausing to lock the tack room door, Ethan lead her towards the stable which ran through the middle of the barn. He never let up tension on the lead but was patient with her shortened, hobbled stride. Soon they were entering the main aisle between the stalls. Wait! The doors barn doors are open!

The barn was close enough to the house that someone just might see their silhouettes in the lantern light--or perhaps they could see more, like the fact that one of those silhouettes was naked and chained. Kimberly stopped and tried to warn him, but he wouldn't listen to her garbled gag-talk pleas and gave her another smack across the ass with the crop before tugging at the lead again.

When Kelly wasn't distracted by her much larger breasts bouncing around, she felt Kimberly's fear and worry growing. Maybe, she was finally starting to wise up and second-guess her trust in Ethan. Or, maybe, she was starting to get cold feet from the risk of getting caught. Too late now, was all Kelly could think.

Why isn't she concerned that her clothes are locked away in the tack room? Kelly was starting to feel like she was watching one of those horror movies where the characters keep doing so many stupid things that you know it's only a matter of time before the serial killer gets them, except that she was sharing a body with one of those characters this time.

Kimberly hurried her steps to get away from the open doors as fast as possible. Even if they had been closed, the main stable was risky. When guests start to arrive, the drivers would normally keep their carriages at the ready in front of the house, but someone could need any number of things from the stable.

Ethan was supposed to set everything up in a horse stall that would be screened with a blanket over the barred window. Blankets were used all the time with nervous horses so no one would think twice about it. They had even discussed locking themselves in with a padlock.

Given the danger, Kimberly assumed Ethan would rush her into a nearby stall. Instead, he kept leading her right down the middle of the stable towards the farrier's station at the other end. What is he doing? She was already worried enough about this...equipment...they were going to use--she had yet to see it. With each step, her worries were growing closer and closer to an outright panic, but at least they were getting away from the open doors.

There was a fire in the farrier's ironworking stove. Is Calwell here? Maybe he just left the fire ready in case he needs to work a shoe.

"Whoa girl," said Ethan.

What now? Kimberly reluctantly stopped as commanded, fidgeting nervously, anxious to get to the stall. The command, phrased as if for an animal, made Kimberly's pussy clench.

"Stay."

More pussy clenching--it was just the way he said it, so commanding, so authoritative. Ethan dropped the lead, leaving her to stand by herself as he went to a hand cart parked outside a stall a dozen steps away. He picked through the stack of folded canvas bags on top of the cart, never looking her way and taking all the time in the world.

She kept looking back towards the open barn door. Why is he taking so long? Then it dawned on her. He was testing her, tempting her to move further away from the open door, or even attempt escape.

Shackled as she was, escape was impossible, but she was still tempted to get out of the main aisle and hide. Ethan could be rather devious sometimes. This was definitely some kind of setup. Perhaps he hopes to administer some type of delicious punishment?

Kimberly studied his actions, hesitating. He still had the crop in his hand and seemed to be in a dark mood this time, brooding and serious. Provoking him was probably not a good idea. She could only guess what he was thinking, but one thing was for certain, he was sending a clear message to her right now: even without his hand on the lead, he was in control, and she was helpless to his will.

All she could think about was her predicament. Naked. Horny. Chained. Powerless. Owned. At least the brank wasn't bothering her as much now after all the distractions. If she could just get away from the door...

If she disobeyed, it would be very unpleasant--she had no doubt now. After all, she had agreed to go all the way. He was making her experience and come to terms with being completely controlled.

Thankfully, right here, right now, this did not seem entirely real to her; the chains on her were those of her lover--her adventuresome, caring, patient, trustworthy, understanding and wise lover--were they not? Nevertheless, there was a metaphor of sorts there, and it was worrisome. Was he starting to take ownership of her heart as well? Perhaps she was giving too much of herself over to him too easily? She could feel the desire building. Could her heart be rendered just as helpless against him as her body? Part of her, somewhere deep down, wanted this, probably too much to be rational.

Kimberly's emotions flowed through Kelly like the waters of a flooded stream. Kelly wasn't quite sure what to make of the feelings, but there was more than simple love in the mix--she was sure of that. There was also something more than lust--no matter how pure and primal. Even "passion" didn't seem like the right word. The heat between their shared legs was fueled by some kind of deep and consuming need from deeper within Kimberly's psyche.

"Before the war, the last section of the stable ahead was different," said Ethan. "You can see how the stalls have been rebuilt if you look closely. There would have been smaller pens filled with male slaves. The overseers would parade female slaves past, naked and chained, to get them worked up. Some of them might be from work far in the field and not even see a woman any other time than for breeding."

Ethan pulled the bag he had selected over Kimberly's head, blinding her. Next, he unclipped the lead for a moment in order to thread it back through a small hole in the side of the bag. Once satisfied, he pulled the drawcord snugly around her neck and tied it off.

The bag stank of stale oats and barley from the last time it was used to feed horses. The heavy fabric was a little suffocating, but the way it covered her face was also reassuring--like when she was a child and would pull the covers over her head to hide from the bogeyman.

Ethan was simply being true to the re-enactment. In his account, the slaves were bred like livestock. It was all about traits and bloodlines. They were never to know each other's identity.

A dozen butterflies were fluttering around in the pit of her stomach. Despite it all, she was horny as ever. How can I possibly react this way? What is wrong with me? Why does being treated this way fascinate me so?

Under the bag, Kimberly fought back a few tears, the emotions were just too strong to sort out, but they didn't last long. She refused to believe there was anything wrong with her. There was just something more primal deep down inside that was triggered by this situation. It was that simple. It didn't need to be something wrong or something that she should feel guilty about. Nevertheless, she knew she'd never do this re-enactment again. Neither would she forget it, ever.

Kelly was worried about Kimberly. The emotion she felt was confusing and maybe even disturbing. She wished she could have talked to her--then, rather suddenly, Kimberly snapped out it. She seemed refocused. Kelly didn't feel the butterflies in her stomach anymore. It was as if a switch had been turned off. The only explanation seemed to be that Kimberly plainly refused to think about what was bothering her anymore. How can she do that so easily?

Ethan pulled on the lead again. Kimberly hesitated at first as she tried to get used to walking blind. Would he catch me if I fall? She believed he would. He wouldn't let her get hurt--not that kind of hurt at least.

Straining her ears, she couldn't hear anything above the noisy chains as he lead her through the barn. When she smelled smoke from the farrier's fire, she thought they must be getting close.

"Whoa!" Ethan was back to using his sinister sounding slave owner's voice.

Kimberly stopped, feeling the lead go slack. She expected to hear Ethan open a stall door, but instead she felt the crop touching the left side of her ass.

"Turn," was all he said.

Kimberly stood there, unsure of what he meant.

She heard the swish of the crop an instant before she felt its sting across her bottom. He struck her harder this time. The unwanted shriek which rose compulsively from within her sent her, once again, into gagging fits while she danced around, foot-to-foot in the chains, pulling at her wrists--as if it might help the pain.

"I said turn!" Ethan said angrily before grabbing the lead close to the brank and starting to pull her in a circle.

Ethan spoke, projecting his voice as if towards an audience, "Perfect breeding stock. Look at these magnificent tits."

He sounded like he meant every word. She felt his hand roughly cupping and lifting her right breast from behind. He was forceful, just short of causing pain.

Now she understood. In the re-enactment, she was supposed to be paraded in front of the men. They'd be at the bars of their stalls watching. It didn't matter that no one was really there, hooded as she was. It was easy for her to pretend:

She was naked before the lustful eyes of a bunch of dirty, sweaty men, studs, about to fuck her, the brood cow--heifer, she reminded herself. At the sight of her, they were getting hard in anticipation. They would soon fill her with their seed--and there was nothing on God's green Earth that she could do about it.

She felt Ethan squeezing and feeling up her left butt cheek.

"Look at this beautiful round ass! Soft as a peach. Don't worry, you'll all get your turn. Maybe even a second go--if you behave." He gave her a playful, but forceful, slap on the ass, letting his hand linger afterwards.

Kelly felt humiliation from Kimberly, but that humiliation was just a quickly forgotten prelude. Soon their heart was racing and they were breathing heavy as lust overpowered all other feelings. Ethan's pretend exhibition was working spectacularly. He seemed to know exactly how to push Kimberly's buttons. And my buttons too, Kelly realized. She had to admit a certain accord with her own fantasies: the stripper fantasy, the stolen clothes while bathing at the lake fantasy--even the shrinking bikini fantasy. She was taken against her will at the end of each one of them. Kimberly and her weren't all that different after all.

Despite the sack concealing Kimberly's face, Ethan could still read her emotions. Her hands told the story. First there was fidgeting and twiddling--her habit when considering. Then her hands were still and tense--she was getting ready. Then she was stretching towards her pussy (a good six inches away)--she couldn't help but try. Next came outright straining against the chains (still at least four inches away)--a seeming desperation in her attempts. Last came the clenched fists of anger, frustration and denial. She would have been even more frustrated and angry if she had been able to see the huge grin on his face.

"Spread your legs cow," said Ethan, his emphasis resonating through her.

Ethan started tapping the insides of her thighs with the crop.

Blazes! He knows how sensitive I am there.

"Wider. Chest out. Let them have a good look."

With the shackles, she couldn't spread her legs much, but it was enough. The feeling of exposure, even if to an empty barn full of imaginary men, flushed through her body. Out in the darkness, the pretend watchers were really getting the full tour of her body now, their lecherous eyes roaming over every inch of skin. When she heard Ethan's unimagined breathing quicken, she would have smiled if the bit allowed. He always liked what he saw, she never doubted it.

Sakes alive! Kimberly froze with a gasp as she felt Ethan's hand on her pussy. He lightly fingered her nether lips, smearing her wetness around, exquisitely teasing her sensitive little bud...Oh! That's so good... A brief headspin reminded her of the need to breathe. As if her gasp for breath were a cue, Ethan slowly removed his hand leaving Kimberly to continue lewdly thrusting her hips and pushing forward seeking to renew the broken contact--until she realized his hand was gone, and she felt like a fool. Bastard.

"See how she wants it? She's at her peak, fully in heat. All she can think about is having a cock inside her."

It was true: she couldn't wait to have Ethan's cock inside her. She tried to reach her pussy again. Maybe there was still some angle she had missed. It wouldn't take much to send her over the top. Out of the darkness, a light slap of the crop across her right hand told her she would have to wait. It stung just enough to remove any doubt that Ethan was serious.

"No." Then he tapped the insides of her legs with the crop again to remind her to keep them spread.

Kimberly reluctantly obeyed, but she was starting to get seriously agitated and wanted to get on with the game. Her impatience was also about the threat of discovery in the middle of the stable, and relieving the strain in her splayed legs--not just the aching desire between them.

Observant as ever, Ethan seemed to sense that the moment had passed and pulled on her lead. When he kept going, she reasoned that he was taking her to the far end of the barn. Finally, she heard him open a door, presumably that of the stall. A heavy scent of fresh straw implied special preparations had been made. He led her forward a few steps then roughly grabbed her by the arms as he guided her into position.

"Kneel."

She considered for a moment, never having knelt in shackles. Since she couldn't spread her feet wide enough to go down on one knee, she would have to get as low as possible before dropping down on both knees at once. Ethan must have seen her difficulties. He reached under her arms to slow her descent to the floor. The feel of his strong arms and the smell of him close to her was heady.

Did he close the door? ...I didn't hear it.

Ethan reached up under her hair to grab the nape of her neck. The brutish feel of his hand on such delicate and vital flesh sent shivers through her body, reminding her just how much control he had over her.

"Forward."

She felt the crop touching her ass in warning. Ethan wasn't wasting any words and that was fine by her. She was well beyond any mental foreplay of stories and roles. Kimberly knee-walked forward gingerly on the straw-covered floor until she bumped into what felt like a cold metal bar running horizontally high at her hips. The contact against her naked skin sent shivers through her body. The moment she had been thinking about for the last two weeks was at hand.

"Bow."

Leaving her no time to react, Ethan roughly pressed her neck forward and down. Without her eyes and hands, leaning forward and falling forward on her face were nearly the same thing. Kimberly shrieked some unintelligible complaints that didn't seem to draw a reaction (except another hidden smile from Ethan). If Ethan had released his grip, she probably would have toppled head first.

He did that on purpose! Kimberly was certain.

The metal bar against the front of her hips kept her posterior raised as her upper body was folded lower and lower. Ethan kept pressing until her head was lower than her hips and something metal cupped the bottom of her throat--the bottom half of a neck cuff! He held her neck against the metal as he closed the cuff and flipped some kind of latch--at least it sounded like a latch and not a padlock.

Now unable to straighten up, Kimberly didn't seem to understand what was going on very well. Kelly perceived Kimberly's reaction as an odd combination of surprise, worry and fear mixed with something that might be described as erotic curiosity. Given the surprise, none of this could have been scripted out ahead of time with Ethan. Regardless, Kelly thought she knew how this was going to go down. Ethan was restraining them into some kind of metal frame with a built-in yoke. It would hold her in what was essentially doggy-style position while he fucked them.

Ethan quickly proved her right when he unlocked each of Kimberly's wrists in turn to place them into cuffs spaced about a foot away on either side of their shared head. The metal yoke reminded her of a low-to-the-ground version of a medieval pillory. At least the new position of her wrists took some of the weight off her neck and was much more comfortable.

Kimberly seemed to calm down a little after that. In fact, as Ethan pulled a heavy strap tight across her lower back, securing her tightly to the bar under her hips, Kelly felt her calm down even more. Kelly really didn't understand it. How could being bound ass up for easy fucking be a reason to become calmer?

Realization, however, dawned as Kelly felt a gush of wetness in their shared pussy. Kimberly wasn't getting calmer, she was getting more content and horny. Kelly had to admit that being bound with their shared behind lewdly displayed and eminently vulnerable was a turn on for her too. She was keenly conscious of how their pussy was presented through the gap between their legs even before Kimberly deliberately parted her legs slightly.

Ethan smiled as he ignored Kimberly's subtle invitation. She won't have to wait long. This was the part he had been waiting for the whole time. He would never tell Kimberly, but he had been fixated on this moment for the last two weeks as well--longer actually, ever since he found the breeding rack hidden in his Uncle's barn. It had to be the same one from his Uncle's stories.

As he looked at Kimberly's upturned, naked, incredible ass he couldn't believe how lucky he had been to find her. He still couldn't believe how eagerly she brought up the idea of using the rack in one of their games. If she hadn't, he didn't know if he would have been bold enough to raise the subject. She was prim and proper in public and yet wanton and adventuresome in private. Somehow, he had to find a way to get her old man to allow a public courtship. I need to marry this wonderful creature.

He freed Kimberly's ankles only to spread her legs wide and cuff them again. That's going to drive her out of her mind. He fingered her, just a little, to remind her how exposed and helpless she was. The small moans she made in response were the music of angels.

He had pictured the rack hundreds of times in dozens of fantasies ever since he first heard his Uncle's stories, but seeing a real woman helplessly bound in it surpassed any fanciful vision. The design was well-considered, and Kimberly was nearly immobilized already, even if he didn't use the remaining straps and cuffs. Escape was impossible. The cuffs were directly attached to the spreader bar, no chains links, no play that allowed slight movement, just solid steel. It even disassembled for discreet storage.

Kimberly would have been scared as a rabbit facing a fox if he had let her see it ahead of time. After this, she might never want to use the rack again, so he was going to take full advantage. She'd forgive him later. She always did.

Ethan started tapping the insides of her thighs again. "Knees apart."

Kimberly hesitated, much of her weight was on her knees. The position would be awkward.

Impatiently, Ethan swatted the inside of her left thigh with the crop. An automatic grunt of pain followed the sound of the slap and reflexive jerk of her body. Despite the force of that reaction, the breeding rack only rattled slightly. In her game with Ethan, the cards were all drawn, and she may as well fold her hand.

Instantly, the butterflies were fluttering in her stomach again. Ethan could do anything he wanted: whip her, ignore her, fuck her. If she could only see or talk...one or the other would be enough to help her calm down. Without either, she was on pins and needles waiting for the next command or, hopefully, the next touch.

She knew she could only blame herself that the game had gone this far. It's just that the idea had been so thrilling--she would give him total control, let him reveal his desires, whatever they were, primal or sophisticated. He could not see her face, so would be forced to act without cues. He could deny it all he wanted, but she knew he was holding back and hiding behind manners and etiquette. He wanted a lot more than just roleplaying from her. It was time to find out what Ethan was hiding. Hopefully, she would like it.

"Knees apart," Ethan repeated calmly in that harsh voice he affected for his role.

With some difficulty, she worked her knees wider. After she had done so, Ethan slipped another cuff over her calf, just below her knees. Spread wide on the floor, her legs now provided little support, so she was forced to let most of her weight rest on the bar that she was bent over. Whoever designed this contraption knew exactly what they were doing. She was not able to raise up off the bar in the slightest and could not move her hips.

Kimberly couldn't imagine being more exposed and available as she mirrored the slave in Ethan's account. Blind, gagged and unable to move, there could be no regard for feelings, no personal connection, no give-and-take exchange of pleasure, and definitely nothing remotely like intimacy. In unladylike terms, the only way she could think under the circumstances, she was now just a poke-hole--

One anonymous man after another would be led to her in chains. Released, they would paw and feel her all over--the object of their pent-up lust. A wet cock alley and a few minutes of pleasure. Faceless. Nameless. Flesh. Livestock. One-by-one they would pump her full of their seed, heedless of the consequences to her. When each was satisfied, he would be shackled again and led off while the overseer called, "Next!"

She snapped out of her reverie with a muted shriek as the crop landed full across her ass. Hellfire! (At least she was learning how to avoid choking on the mouthpiece.)

Kimberly had forgotten this part of Ethan's account. "Loosening up" the slave with a whipping was often customary. There was even folklore insisting that it increased the chance of conception--more hogwash to justify cruelty. Kimberly had just assumed Ethan would skip that part since they had not discussed it. After all, they had never included the crop or any kind of whip in their games before this, nothing more than a little spanking. Once again, Ethan must be trying to make a point...surely that must be it.

Ethan started a series of whippings across nearly every inch of her upturned bottom. At first, she fought down her screams, but she quickly realized the folly in it. Pride wasn't worth the effort. Besides, there was no other relief to be had and no one was going to hear her at the back of the barn with her mouth muffled by a metal bit.

At least a dozen strikes covered both butt cheeks when he stopped. Ethan had been quick about it--like he was trying to get it over with...or couldn't help himself. Still, it hadn't been horrible. Even at speed, he knew how much force she could tolerate and never hit the same place twice.

The shared whipping left Kelly stunned. She had never been whipped before, and the intensity of it was far beyond the suppositions of her fantasies. She didn't think she could ever learn to enjoy such pain, even when inflicted with erotic intent. However, within moments, she almost wished for more. Her body's reactions were...intriguing. The stinging pain was gradually subsiding to be replaced with a warm, almost pleasurable heat and an overall sense of feeling good.

Kelly refused to believe any of the pleasurable reactions were her own. They must be Kimberly's reactions, especially the arousal. It must be partly mental--well, except for the warm glow in her ass and the rush of euphoria she felt. Kelly knew an endorphin rush when she had one.

When Ethan started to slowly caress their sore ass, Kimberly's desirous pussy clenched in reaction as an aching sexual need grew stronger and stronger. His touch was painful, but Kimberly loved it (at least it seemed that way to Kelly). Pain and pleasure had a certain similarity in Kimberly's body. Consequently, Kelly was sure that she was a masochist. Kimberly, curiously, seemed confused, as if she didn't know.

Ethan stood directly behind them, scant inches away. After his exertions, they could feel his body heat radiating against their sensitive, sore skin, adding to its heat. He reached underneath from both sides to cup Kimberly's breasts, lifting and squeezing them as if to test their weight and firmness. Was it her own body or Kimberly's? Kelly found it hard to tell--until breasts were involved. The difference in size compared to Kelly's much smaller chest was not just cosmetic. So much more of her body was an erogenous zone. It shifted some internal nerve pathways. When Ethan groped her chest, the sensation moved through so much more of their body at once that Kelly felt like she could cum from breast stimulation alone.

Kimberly didn't hear the crop swish in the air before her pussy erupted in pain. She lurched powerfully against the restraints in reaction--before she could even try to hold back--then started to cum...body-shaking hard. Ethan had struck her just right, up between the legs from behind. The pain of the crop set her off but was not harsh enough to overshadow an incredible orgasm. As her body twitched uncontrollably within the metal rack, she groaned something guttural and thoroughly undignified.

Kelly couldn't help but think that Kimberly sounded like a sick animal with all the grunting and moaning noises, but that was the last thought she was capable of before being swept along in the whirlwind of pleasure she shared.

The primal force of Kimberly's orgasm was unbelievable. It was so much greater than the best climax of her own that she could remember. Kelly decided right then, that if she ever got out of this situation, she was going to try bondage. The lack of control, the sensations...everything was amplified. The next time, she wanted to be more than the bystander.

The second Kimberly's body relaxed, the head of Ethan's cock was prodding her slit. With her hips strapped tightly to the horizontal bar, she couldn't move an inch to avoid him. What is he doing? He knows how sensitive I get afterward. Please, Ethan! Stop! He tormented her with the head of his wood-hard cock by rubbing slowly up and down without entering her. Not yet Ethan, heavens no! Not. Yet. She tried begging, but with a mouth full of metal, she had no idea if Ethan understood a thing she said.

Sharing in the sensation, Kelly would have screamed if able. She knew that some women got sensitive after orgasms, but...holy hell. It was indescribable. She had never felt anything like that before. A second later, Ethan slowly entered her, and Kimberly shared Kelly's desire to scream so did--no attempt at words, she had given up on speech. Nevertheless there was desperation in the sound of her groaning utterances, anyone could tell that from the tone of her voice, brank or not.

To her surprise, Ethan's penetration was much more pleasurable than she thought it would be. She felt a spike of extreme sensation that quickly faded to a really incredible, pleasurable feeling that seemed to extend up through her belly and into her whole body. He had timed it perfectly and seemed to know what would happen. Bastard.

Ethan laughed at her reaction, pleased with himself.

Kelly found the tone of his laugh disquieting, unsure if it was a playful reaction or something more derisive. It certainly seemed to be natural and not more roleplaying, perhaps that's why it was unsettling. Kimberly, though, didn't react to it at all. Maybe she had thrown that mental switch of hers again and turned it off. Even though Kelly felt like she had missed the start of the movie when it came to Ethan and Kimberly, she still couldn't understand Kimberly's blind faith in him.

Perforce, Kimberly's attention returned to the physical realm as Ethan's thrusts demanded her complete attention--especially since his cock felt strange. It was all bumpy and textured. Then she remembered how Ethan had said that she would like the new condom. Land sakes! They make things like that? With each thrust, she felt every inch of him twiddle her nether lips and tickle the apex of her cleft, courtesy of little rubber knobs teasing her on the way in and out.

Being a dead fuck had never been her style, but she was too well restrained to be an active participant in her own pleasure. The design of the breeding rack didn't take into account her participation, only her availability and inability to escape. Still, she tried...oh how she tried.

Blind and bound, her attention was drawn to specific sensations: the slap of his body against her ass as he thrust into her; the tension she could create by squeezing her "lady muscles"; the resulting faint grunts from Ethan; the drool leaking out around the metal bit. Through it all, she realized just how alive she felt.

Ethan's hands trailed along her ribs on their way to their final destination: the pendent flesh of her bosom. Taking advantage of her helplessness, he took his time, appreciatively, possessively. Finally, he cupped the undersides of her swollen breasts where the freshly whipped skin was still angry--then he squeezed. Sweet Almighty. It felt so good. Yet, the pain was only the punctuation in a sentence of pleasure. Her encircled, but untouched, nipples cried out their neglect as she held her breath hoping they would not be denied.

Suddenly, Ethan's hands fell away, and he pulled out of her. Had there been a faint thud? What is he up to now? Another lesson in helplessness? Hopefully, he didn't loose his pearly shower already.

To her relief, she quickly felt his cock teasing her again, the head running up and down her cleft while parting her nether lips slightly. Wait! The little rubber studs are gone. Is he wearing the condom? Ethan! No! As he pressed inside, his smooth shaft sent shivers through her body. It must be a trick. A different condom? Surely he wouldn't deliberately leave his seed inside me?

Concern over the condom was soon forgotten. In fact, she was turned on by the idea of a naked cock which she could do nothing about, just like in the story. The fabric of the bag over her head was flapping from her heavy breathing as Ethan's hands once again traveled along her ribs towards her waiting breasts. But...something was seriously amiss. They were rough and calloused as well as much bigger. They were not Ethan's hands at all. Someone else was fucking her!

Who? How? Even in reenactment Ethan would never let anyone else touch me, would he? Something was seriously wrong. Kimberly panicked--completely and utterly. She fought against her bonds in mindless frenzy, heedless of bruises and ripped skin while her garbled calls for Ethan met no reply. What happened to him! What is he doing?

Kimberly fought down the fear. She trusted Ethan. She reminded herself. Yes, she trusted him. This had to be some kind of theatrics for her benefit. After all, hadn't she said for him to go all the way? It was easy to believe it was real, but it was just roleplaying, was it not?

"That's right little slut, no more Ethan. It's my turn now," said a deep voice before a scornful laugh.

The sound of that voice sent chills down Kimberly's spine. What if it isn't a trick? She forgot all about acting and enactments as instinct took over and panic returned. Adrenalized fear and desperation fueled her renewed struggles, yet she was held fast and forced to give up her futile attempts to break free before she hurt herself. Soon, all she could think about was the unidentified cock thrusting inside her the whole time, steady as a steam piston.

She tried to distract herself. There was no way she could bear giving this bastard the satisfaction of making her climax, hell no. What had he done to Ethan? She tried remembering the Greek alphabet, poetry...the time her horse broke his leg. Nothing seemed work. She tried humming "Amazing Grace" through her encumbered mouth--suddenly the only song she could remember--to earn more laughs and a brief break from fucking. Then, to her utter embarrassment, Kimberly knew she would climax no matter how much she wished otherwise. The man was too skilled and her body had been approaching the edge already--it had to be that. She could never enjoy being taken by some stranger, could she?

The orgasm ripped through her body with a force that made her groan like some kind of rutting animal. Every muscle strained and shook against the restraints, even her eyelids twitched and some tears leaked out. However, the most disheartening reaction was from her traitorous pussy. Her vaginal muscles insisted on contracting around his shaft like those of some highly skilled whore.

"Sweet Mother, what a fuck!"

The bastard didn't even acknowledge her perceived humiliation. Her hard-fought battle of willpower had been nothing to him...the defeat of her forced climax was nothing to him...she was nothing to him. Worse yet, he wasn't stopping, oblivious to the torture he was inflicting on her now supremely sensitive lady parts. She squealed and thrashed within her tight confines from the torment, but all that did was encourage him to thrust harder and faster. Fortunately, he didn't last much longer. After a muffled grunt, she felt his cock throbbing. Was it her imagination or did she feel his seed squirt into her?

He slumped onto her back, resting and recovering his breath, while his spent cock slowly retreated within her. The whole time his hands never stopped kneading her bubbies. At first, she found his touch annoying, but by the time he finally stopped, she was ashamed at her intense desire for him to continue. She had been used by some stranger as if she were less than human, yet she had never felt more sexual or more alive. Her fantasy was now an unforgettable experience.

Startling her, the stall door squeaked and boots thumped on the floor behind her.

"Tarnation Jeb, you damn near knocked his brains out!" said another male voice.

"He'll be out cold all night, but he'll live," said Jeb. "Tomorrow, his head'll ache so much he'll wish he t'were dead though."

"Ya know who this is?" asked Johnny, not expecting an answer. "This is Mason Eckles' younger brother Ethan."

The arrival of another man sent chills down Kimberly's spine. What was going on? Something very terrible was happening. Where had these men come from? She had just been...she couldn't even think the word and it was the last word she would use, though technically accurate. And, it wasn't over yet, she was still at their mercy. The guests had to be gathering, and Aunt Harriett would be looking for her soon. Would Ethan be alright?

Kimberly felt panic starting to burn inside her again, but there was no tinder left for that spark. All that remained was shock and fear as she froze, her head running wild with overload. She just wanted to curl up and hide until it was over.

"How's I supposed to know he's one of us?" said Jeb. "Even then, my job during the war was to kill Yankee sentries not save 'em for later."

"Shit, you know who you've been prigging?" said the other man.

"I'm figuring it's one of the Indian lover's precious little daughters," said Jeb. Hatred of Kimberly's father, the Colonel, was hot on his breath.

"I'd say this one's Kimberly, the oldest," said Johnny. "Ol' Ethan had her all trussed up like that? Didn't think the kid had it in him. All the better for us, some luck for a change. I couldn't even have dreamed this up. Move over, a buttered bun's as good as any."

"For certain," said Jeb. "She loved every minute of it and is still tight as a schoolgirl. It's a shame we have to...ya know."

"Yes, crying shame, such a beauty," added Johnny. "Hellfire! I've never seen a smooth mound like this before...except on a New Orleans whore once at a distance."

Kelly's earlier bad feeling sank into a bone-deep dread, yet all she could do was wait to see what would happen next. Kimberly wasn't even reacting anymore. There didn't seem to be a clear thought in her head, just mix of confusion and post-orgasmic delirium and perhaps a hint of renewed lust from their shared body. How could she just give up like that? True that she was helpless--that they were helpless--but to just freeze... Her mind screamed, Kimberly! You have to do something! They are going to kill you!

"Hold on, Johnny. I have an idea."

Jeb grabbed three padlocks which hung on a nail near the stall door then attached them to the closures built into the rack at Kimberly's wrists and neck, locking her in.

"If we left her here, all naked and done up, the humiliation of it will be even better revenge against the Colonel than killing her outright," said Jeb. "Don't know anyone from our old unit that wouldn't be satisfied with that."

"Her death would probably be easier for the Indian lover to live with than her disgrace. It's a good plan. Besides, it's bad luck to kill a woman you've fucked," agreed Johnny. "Someone'll find her here after a bit. With the party, word would be bound to spread that his precious, virginal daughter was really more of a dirty puzzle, caught in the act and shaved smooth like a whore."

"Maybe a gunshot or two before we skedaddle to call attention," said Jeb. "But, that still leaves Ethan."

"His brother may have fought on our side, but we don't owe him nothin'. Ethan was old enough near the end of the war that he could have joined up so he's no different than a dozen other cowards. I say we take his here pants and bolt the stall door just to seal the deal," said Johnny. "The Colonel will know for sure that this was something prearranged with them and just what his little daughter's been up to."

"Never liked any of the Eckles none anyway. Give me them keys," said Jeb. "And, put those shackles on Ethan."

"I've seen that look before," said Johnny.

Jeb grinned. "I'll throw these in the farrier's furnace and melt 'em down. They'll have to get a blacksmith to get her free, padlocks aren't like shackles; all these keys are different."

"Here," Johnny said. "Take the shackle key anyways. Might be the only one."

"May as well."

"Fore you go, give me a hand fixin' this rack," asked Johnny. "It's too high."

"What you mean?" asked Jeb.

Kimberly felt the rack move. Her head and arms were being lowered towards the floor, close enough that she could feel the floor right in front of her nose.

"The idea is to have her tilted down like that so gravity can help the seed find its mark," said Johnny.

"I thought they only did that when they left them in the rack overnight after breeding," said Jeb.

"You're probably right, but I like to fuck 'em with their face in the dirt and their ass up high."

Jeb just laughed with the same disturbing laugh which was soon seconded by Johnny.

"I wished we could be here to see her Daddy's face when he finds her like this," said Johnny.

"You better hurry or you will...from the wrong side of a shotgun," said Jeb as he left the stall.

Kimberly was reacting now like someone who had just awakened, but not in the way Kelly would have predicted. She moaned and was trying to wiggle her ass as if to attract Johnny. Kelly could feel her pussy moistening even more. Was Kimberly going completely crazy?

Johnny started to run his hands over Kimberly's bottom, feeling every curve.

"You are a fine piece of woman," said Johnny.

She felt his hands on her wide-strapped thighs, exploring them, feeling the tension in her stretched muscles. Lust seem to flow from his finger tips into her body like electricity.

"How does it feel to be all trussed up and spread open? Are you horny just thinking about it?"

His fingers slid up the inside of her thighs to her pussy and began to explore the soft folds there, slick with her wetness.

"I don't think Ethan sweet talked you into none of this. I think you talked him into it. You love this don't ya?"

To Kelly's shock, Kimberly responded with a clearly sexual moan.

"I thought so. I see the whip marks. Did you enjoy that too?"

Kimberly moaned again leaving Kelly flabbergasted. Why would she encourage him?

"Maybe you want a little more?"

Kelly felt Kimberly tense with pain as Johnny spanked her once across the bottom so hard that the force of his hand rippled through her body. Somehow, Kimberly managed not to scream even though Kelly would have screamed her head off. Instead, Kimberly moaned as if she liked it, maybe she really did. With the pain that followed, Kelly felt the same illogical response from Kimberly's body--she became more aroused.

"Too bad we don't have more time fer more fun," said Johnny. "But, we better get on with it don't ya think?"

Johnny laughed, abruptly stopped, then sucked in his breath as he slipped into them. Kimberly gasped in turn at the sudden invasion and struggled as if trying to escape him. Suddenly, Kelly understood. Kimberly had been trying to distract him even if it would cost a whipping. With her ploy a failure, she was at wit's end and finally did scream through the bit--much to Johnny's amusement. He laughed more as he started thrusting.

"Are you going to tell Ethan?" he said, close to her ear. "I doubt it. Even if you do someday, I bet you'll never tell him the best fuck you ever had was from Johnny boy."

With that, Kelly felt his hand reach around her hip to seek out her clit. He split his forefingers in a V and worked each side of it while he continued his thrusts. The indirect attention to her sensitive nub made Kimberly groan with pleasure yet left her longing for more. His other hand found her left breast and began teasing her already excited nipple. Johnny ran like a clock after that with a perfectly steady rhythm that slowly started to drive them crazy.

Whether it was from the supernatural union with Kimberly's body or her own feelings, Kelly had to admit that she had never felt anything so good in all her life. Johnny really did know his stuff, and they were completely at his mercy. She was starting to appreciate Kimberly's fantasies even more.

Every time Kimberly was close to an orgasm, Johnny backed off with a low chuckle and didn't let her climax. He could read her body perfectly and was playing her like a fiddle. Kimberly's hands echoed Kelly's frustration when she balled them up into tight, shaking fists.

"How bad do you want it?" asked Johnny. "Maybe you should try beggin'."

Instantly Kimberly shrieked an attempt at words. Whether curses or pleas, Kelly couldn't tell.

"Are you saying you want me to fill you with my spunk?"

Kelly instantly felt Kimberly's emotions boil over. Kimberly wanted to come desperately, but she didn't want him to come inside her.

"Thought so," said Johnny before he laughed again with that mocking laugh of his.

Kelly suddenly heard the stall door fly open and smack on the sidewall.

"Make way, Johnny!" warned Jeb. "Can't let this cool."

"Hellfire Jeb, could you have worse timing?" said Johnny as he pulled away from Kimberly. "Wait a dang minute, that looks like a Bowden family brandin' iron. Where in damnation you find that?"

"T'wer still hangin' in the farrier's workspace, like he was gonna use it for scrap iron. Remember, this estate used to be theirs back before the war. The last Bowden was killed down near Atlanta if memory serves."

"Better go easy. She ain't got hide like a mule."

Something red hot pressed against their left buttock for a heartbeat. The searing pain was miles beyond anything Kimberly (or Kelly) had ever felt before, even the whipping, and it took her breath away. In seconds, her body broke into a cold sweat, hinting of shock. Left no choice except to ride it out, Kimberly screamed and cried as she rode out the pain. Kelly shared every nerve ending, yet didn't understand what had happened for a minute until realization struck: Kimberly had just been branded.

Jeb took a moment to examine his work. "Nice clean mark, if I say so."

"You could have warned me what you were doin'," complained Johnny.

"I didn't know I'd find this," said Jeb as he held up the branding iron. "Now we have a proper calling card."

"Well, I'm not done leaving mine if you don't mind," said Johnny sourly.

"Best you finish up then," said Jeb. "I'll take care of this iron so as I don't burn the place down."

Johnny didn't need to be told twice. Without paying the slightest notice to her pain, he started again, taking his time while running his hands over her body, feeling every curve.

Kelly could feel Kimberly's despair. She had an idea what that brand meant. Maybe Kimberly could hide it from a husband at first, but eventually he'd see it and then what would happen? In her eyes, the brand may as well spell out "fornicator." Despite it all, Kimberly's lust started to return with a vengeance as her body redefined the pain/pleasure response in its own way--the way defined by Kimberly's psyche. Kelly felt a something like liberation as well, and she thought she understood why. Kimberly would rather bear the brand than bear the guilt of coerced denial of the truth for the sake of family honor. Too many secrets and denials already gnawed at her heart.

Kimberly gave up trying to fight for every "should" and "must" making demands in her head. Besides, she already knew she would lose that battle even it was one she wanted to win. Johnny's fingers were magic. His arrogance had some justification. Being at his mercy only made her more frustrated and in turn, more aroused. Even after the branding, she was being made to climax, and it was beyond any submissive fantasy she had ever had. In her very core, some part of her surrendered--no, accepted. The damage was already done. She would not taint memories of this moment, but rather make the most it. Perhaps she could make the consequences worth it.

Kelly understood the emotions emanating from her, for what it mattered. She felt a certain amount of pity for Kimberly, but through it all she also felt envy. She still had Ethan. Kimberly had experienced something more than she had ever known. She had boldly dared. She had been adventurous. She had not been content with a prescribed life. She had truly lived! Kelly wondered what price she might be willing to pay if she could live with Kimberly's virtue to self.

As Johnny played her body, Kelly couldn't help but give in to the sensations she shared, sensations too intense to ignore. Despite her self-absorption, she heard a rhythmic chanting in an unrecognizable language off in the distance. It must be the Shaman Kimberly had seen earlier. Regardless of his motives, the chanting seemed to herald something dark and evil to her. Johnny even slowed down for a moment in consideration as if felt it too. Then, like a thunderclap on a clear day, a gunshot rang through the stable. Immediately afterward, the stall door banged open, and a second deafening shot vindicated Kelly's foreboding.

A sharp, penetrating impact to Kimberly's ribs took her breath away. Stunned, it took Kelly a moment to realize that Kimberly had been shot. As the shared pain from the bullet erupted, a sensation of falling over and over followed. Is this what it feels like to die? She didn't know if she would die along with Kimberly, if that's what was happening. Would anyone even know what had happened to me? I could be about to die!

The chanting seemed to close in, resonating loud and strong as if it came from everywhere at once. The power of it permeated deeply as if to Kelly's very soul--or whatever her current state of existence could be called. The next second, her vision fluttered for a moment. Then, the pain of the bullet was replaced by Johnny's touch as if nothing had ever happened. Throughout, the chanting continued without the slightest interruption.

Suddenly, another shot rang out. The same shot, Kelly realized. Following it, she heard the same shouts and noises, so braced for the pain she knew should come next as time replayed. However, this time Kelly didn't feel the bullet.

The chanting encompassed everything as Kelly found herself back in a state of mind overloading bliss while Johnny expertly pumped Kimberly with steady and precise movements, deep and forceful. Time circled in eddies. Over and over again, Johnny repeated his actions, thrusting, pleasuring and teasing. The sensations Kelly shared repeated as well. For what seemed like several minutes, her arousal would rise and fall in complete contradiction to her mind's desires. A terrible frustration started to rise up within Kelly since she knew that Kimberly would never reach climax under the circumstances...then she felt time lurch forward.

Johnny started to thrust harder, and his touch grew rough and insistent. When his fingers closed on her aching nub, everything exploded at once. Kimberly's pussy pulsed wildly as her belly rippled with contractions. The released energy moved down her legs infusing them with uncontrollable tremors and shaking. Under the feedsack, she saw flashes of color despite the darkness. Apparently her reactions pushed Johnny over the edge as he grunted his release. Before he finished, however, time started to repeat again, and they were pulled back from beyond the point of no return.

As time sought equilibrium between the past and present, the years spun forward: 1869...1870...1871... Each year was the shadow of another yet illuminated the next. Through the rolling circles of time, each climax folded into the next creating an unbroken wave of continued bliss.

Kelly could barely think during the constant renewal of mind-blowing pleasure. Any thoughts that tried to form were quickly subdued signals coming from Kimberly's body...no, from...my body. Suddenly, she was out of breath and realized she was the one who had to do the breathing. Her own vaginal muscles were clenching on whatever supernatural cock was fucking her Halloween after Halloween. Her own breasts were bouncing in rhythm to each thrust rocking her hips. How? She had no idea, no idea she wanted to accept anyway. She was glad that she couldn't look behind her to see who or what was fucking her. Whatever it was had a nice big warm cock.

She also didn't understand the level of sensation she felt--the sensations that Kimberly had felt. Her body had never responded like this before, but there was no denying how it felt now--how toe-curling amazing it felt. Supernaturally amazing, she reminded herself, doubting her own understanding of science. Maybe it wasn't her body, but some effect from the...ghost (there I said it), inside her.

As time unfolded, she just kept climaxing. Over a hundred orgasms was beyond imagining, beyond possibility, but that's what she had already experienced--she thought; it didn't seem like the same orgasm over and over. How many more remain? Is this heaven or horror? I don't know if I can take much more.

Kelly awoke in complete darkness. The metal bit in her mouth was first to reacquaint her with her inherited predicament. She immediately tried her arms and legs to find that she was, in fact, bound just as securely in the very device Ethan had used on Kimberly. Her attempts to free herself were also just as futile.

She tried to calm down and wait for rescue. The welcome sound of the generator meant that she was back from whatever strange dimension of time she had been in. Surely Connie or Alice would come looking for her eventually--unless it's still dark out; she really had no idea. She might even be inside a closed stall with a blanket over the window just like Kimberly. "No," she told herself. You can't think like that. Eventually, her Aunt Linda would arrive too. Someone would definitely find her...of course they will.

Holy shit! Someone is touching me. Who? The hands don't feel quite right. What are they doing...oh!