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THE PHANTOM OF BUGG'AR HALL
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THE PHANTOM OF BUGG'AR HALL THE FOLLOWING FICTION CONTAINS MATURE THEMES AND SUBJECT MATTER.IF A FRANK AND HONEST VEIW OF SEXUALITY IS OFFENSIVE,WHY ARE YOU HERE? Alex was having a hell of a time finding the "Manor House" on her list.Every year some ostensibly noble family with land riches and not much more, the crumbling contents of their decaying country 'Manor's" barely counted. If they had anything worth much, they wouldn't be petitioning the Inland Historical Registry for the "privalage" of opening their ancestral homes as bed and breakfasts.The Midland manors were the worst,mostly less then 250 or 300 years old with minimal history or architectureal relevance. Most were just Georgian or Victorian brick piles with all the mod cons of electric and plumbing, both done in the Edwardian,with perhaps a scrawny telly aerial poking from a turret roof. Bugg'er Hall was reported to be of Pre-Roman origin,with various buildings and wings ranging back to 100 bc. "Bullocks" she thought."I'll bet no part of it is older then the Tudors."" And Bugg'er Hall, what type of tourist would stay at a hotel named after a gay sexual act. Other then coastal Americans, of course." Her thin smile was as dark and cold as the heavy rain falling about her. Finally, she saw the turn to the manor house and drove down the oak lined lane leading to a large cobbled drive in front of a dark rough stoned wall, compelete with portacullis and drawbridge.If her mood had been better, she would have been astonished by the varying styles and periods eveidant from the courtyard in front of the Great Doors. All she wanted was a hot bath, a stout whiskey and bed. And to get the hell out of the Midlands. She sounded the horn a good five minutes before she realized she would be parking her own car and carrying her own luggage. The chances of Bugg'er Hall to open as anything more then a rock quarry were dimenishing rapidly. Luckily the huge, ten meter doors were unlocked and properly balenced,the one Alex opened swing wide and nearly swept her from the step. Her mood was getting much darker.She entered the mosaic tiled floor of the Entry and had yet to meet anyone in charge. "Small wonder they haven't the means to keep such an estate, they allow any passer by the ability to walk off with the furnishings." she thought.'Obviously they drink." "Hello, is there anyone about. It's Alex Gaunt from the Inland Historical Registry. Hello?" her inquire echoed down the long hallways until,"Allo Lass, been waiting for ye since noon.Be right with ye, just making a cuppa" The thick accent was nearly unrecognizable as speech,anywhere but the midlands. An elderly man of good stature wearing worn gameskeeper gear came into the entry, his wellington's squinching water with every step. "Alex Gaunt is it? I'm Ian Shagworthy, 16th and last Earl of Shagworthy, welcome to Boogg'er Hall." He picked up her suitcases as if they were a stack of tea cozies." I imagine you want a hot bit and a sip and straight to bed then.I've taken the liberty of having it delivered to your room, if ye'll follow me this way." He strode off down a hallway, leaving Alex standing with her mouth agape at his brusque manner.Well, he'll have no chance of opening now, she thought.One does not leave the representative of the Inland Historical Registry standing in the hall hat in hand. She ran to catch up to him and realized he was giving her a history of the manor, without her actual prescence. "Eh-a,the lower foundations of the barns are Roman,a stable for a legion I'd imagine. At least,it would appear to have been such.But, the real treasure is the pre roman mounds out toward the hills. It's where the Hall gets its name ye see.Back in the druid era, a horrible troll or giant lived these lands, Bugg', and they named the hill after him." Alex noticed his pronounciation finally." You call it BO-O-Ogg'er Hall, bog, like a swamp? Then why is named after a sex act that gets every person giggling like naughty schoolboys?"The ice of her tone made clear her thoughts on the name. ", ah, well.The troll or whatever, Bogg, was a true demon of his time. kidnapped damsels, killed whole armies, ate human flesh.Only a true knight could kill him and did so up on this hill.Hence the name, Bogg's er, Bogg's Hill. It's just that the language took a turn and what was once a simple honest name became, well, a butt of a joke." They were walking up the sweeping staircase, its walls covered by third and fourth rate portraits of various ancestors of various times. Some of the Elizabethan paintings were of decent quality, but others were barely childish dabbings,she had seen better magneted to the frig. But, at the top of the stairs was a portrait of a man, early napoleanic era, and what a man! He was in the uniform of the Famous Light Brigade, but obviously 20 or more years before its Final Charge. He was tall, broad of shoulder, narrow of waist, with a strong determined chin with a most distinctive cleft, high cheek bones and forehead,dark auburn or mahogany hair with a lock that obviously fell constantly across his brow, that lock dark black as a raven's wing, matching his nearly coal black eyes, peircing eyes of an Officer and a Gentleman,the true Nobility of the Empire. "Ah, ye have a goood eye miss. Tha's the famous member of the Family, Lord Aethelrod Reginald Shagworthy, served the Empire with honor in India, China, The Sudan. Died on his way to the Crimea, poor man. If he'd been in Command of the Brigade, they'd never have charged the cannon." Every one tries to claim a famous ancestor or three,but Alex never had one offered that was so obviously easy to check. She resolved that if Aethelrod did not exist, this rockpile would not either. A good car park or camp ground, just the thing for the neighborhood.she thought. Ian opened a door in a long wing of similar doors. "The Master's Suite, the Finest Room in the house for ye ma'am.The very room of his Lordship Aethelrod. He had been around the world, fighting in the worst posts of Her Majesties Empire, and had even finally taken a wife,much later then he should of, but she was a jewel, the light of his life. He wrote her two letters a day when on campaign and would never leave her side when he was in Manor.He swore that he would always return to her, even from hell itself if need. When he got orders to the War, he nearly resigned his commission. But, one last campaign would have ensured a most comfortable pension,at a time when the Shagworthy fortunes were not quite so flush. So, he went to war, with his young bride carrying an heir. She died in childbirth two months later.His Lordship passed three days later,shot from his bya sniper, never knowing that she was gone or that he had a .The servants of the time swore that he would walk the halls of this wing, looking for his love.That he had kept his promise to come back to her, but she wasn't here to return to, now, was she?" More Bullocks, Alex thought.First a famous ancestor and then a love storyand a ghost story to go with him.Bloodybullocks.Laying it on just too thick by half. "Ye'll find a private bath in there by the fire place. You have a nice nosh on the table and a bottle of brandy and soda.it's well past my bed time and I'll leave ye for yourself till the morning." And with that, he was gone. Alex was aghast. She had never been treated so rudely,with such contempt in her life.Most homeowners would have fawned over her every word, watched every expression on her face treating her to four star ambience,looking, hopeing for the mark of Distinction tht would allow them to hold on to a moldering manor. She threw her bags across the bed, slammed her purse to the table and , with great trepidation lifted the cover of the meal. Bangers and mashed, but at least it was hot. In her hunger, she made do with a meal she would not have handed out the back door to a tinker. First, because she would never have had such plebian fare in her home, and second, because she would never have offered a tradesman more then his orders for the day.There is a natural order to things, people must know their place. After a good long hot soak in a most wonderful modern bath, a major shock,and a good brandy and soda during, Alex was feeling nearly ready to face the room she'd be sleeping in.Amazingly, it was quite nice, with a large canopied four poster bed and furniture from the late 1700's. All of the peices were of excellant quality. She slipped her simple night dress over her head, over her towel, and then dropped the towel after her night dress was properly arranged.One never knew what kind of persons would run an establishment like a B and B, and rather less then the best types of people would lodge there. So, the night clothes were modest and severe, in case of a fire alarm in the night. No virgin she, but no one had seen her completely naked either.It just is not proper to be on display, not even for a lover.There are standards after all. She tossed off the last of her brandy, insured that the door was bolted and locked, slide between the fine linen sheets under the goose down comforter and was asleep almost immediately. Perhaps not quite asleep. Alex found she was in that almost sleep, aware of every noise and shadow in the room, but with no real interest to open her eyes. Time is endless and meaningless in tht state, she did not know if she had laid there five minutes or five hours when she heard the first shuffling steps, like bare feet crossing the floor. She opened her eyes, but she was obviously alone in the room.Old buildings, theycreak, they shift,there are always noises. Her heavy lids fell and she cuddled deeper into her blankets. When she felt the first touch,a hand on her shoulder, she was deep enough into sleep to think it a dream. And a nice dream. She felt a gentle hand on her shoulder, light but firm. A gentle caress that ran down her arm and back, warm fingers felt through her thin shift. She shivered a bit.The bed shifted, as if a person had just joined her.Alarmed, but still mostly asleep, her hand swept the bed,meeting no resistance.She was alone in the bed, but not alone. She could feel a mass, a shape spoon up next to her, a man's firm chest against her back, his thighs against her bum, and arm encircling her, a hand lightly placed on her belly,between breasts and navel. But, when she reached for that hand, it was not there. When Alex attempted to touch her ghostly guest,there was nothing there and his touch faded till being near imperceptible. But,when she closed her eyes and just let it happen,(Close your eyes and think of England, she giggled. Thanks Vicky.)the caresses became more firm,more tangible.She could smell the scent of a man of the fields, the sweat and dirt and leather and oil of a career soldiar. She felt light, tender kisses along the nape of her neck,a hand gentle, slowly moving along her belly and ribs,stopping just below her breast,just above her privates, but each slow sweep left her a bit more aroused, a bit more intoxicated by her dream. her wonderful dream and that wonderful ghost,Aethelrod Shagworthy, with his chin and eyes.A man any woman would give herself to and glad of it.Alex wiggled back into the body she felt but could not touch,allowing access to her neck and breasts. Those hands, those wonderfully strong perfect aristocratic hands knew how to touch her, where to sweep with fingertip light touch and when to grasp fully and firmly,her breath had increased in rythem and lessened in depth.Fast and shallow,she began to move with the hands upon her.Slow at first, she would writhe back against her phantom lover, while pressing her full and firmly erect nipples into the palm she could feel with such clarity. Her entire body was alive,aroused, beads of sweat pooling and adhereing her night clothes to her thighs,her breasts, her back. No man had been so patient, so meticulous in his handling of her body and she was feeling passion she'd always ridiculed though secretly longed to know. The hands were all over her now, from breast to knees, but her thighs were still ,not quite so firmly, pressed togather.But the hands, those gentle magic hands kept pressing,slowly sliding between her thighs and then slipping away. Her breasts ached, her breathing was ragged and needy, she was so damned horny, what a terrible dream to have alone.But she was not alone. She had her Shagworthy. No longer able to deny the longing, the hunger within, she rolled slightly. Now on her back, she could feel both hands ranging across her body, with total access, total abandon.She felt the light touch of breath across her throat,the lingering brush of a kiss in the hollow.A tongue, circled her hard nipple and she moaned deep in her throat.She rocked in concert with the hands, moving against them, pressing her flesh and her desire into those unknown hands.Her back arched, her hips rolled and bucked.Who ever, whatever she shared her bed with, she had to have him and have him now.She desperately needed this apparition, this grand ghost story inside her. Unbidden, her knees came up, her thighs came apart, as she opened herself to............. THE PHANTOM OF BUGG'AR HALL-PART TWO as she opened herself to her ectoplasmic paramour. Her sweat soaked night dress was dripping, bunched about her waist, and so wet as to be totally transparent. She reached out for her lover, to place him where she so desperately needed him to be.Her hands passed unimpeded as she groped, frustrated, angry, bewildered. She could not stay like this! She could not live so aroused and unfulfilled. Lord Shagworthy needed to be filling her and damn quick! Her eyes slit open enough to see the large beveled mirror on the wall across from the bed. For the first time, she saw herself nearly naked, fully aroused, ( bitch in heat) the voices in her head hissed.( )(slut) as she saw for the first time her hard, erect nipples, her sweating quivering abdomen, her trembling thighs. She had never seen herself in full rut and it attracted her and repelled in equal measure. Her right proper English upbringing made attempts to end her pleasure, to bring her back to the plain, severe, passionless English lass in modest array and sensible shoes. But to return to that person of proper standards meant giving up this, with so much left to know, so much left undone.Her fingers brushed across her well shaven mons, and the sensation electrified her from toenails to scalp. Every nerve was alive, and in need, and screaming for release.She again ran her hand over her secrets, wondering if she must again finish what a man had started. The light breeze of warm,nay, hot human breath tht wafted across her lips startled her as she arched harder and higher into the air.Her shaving to "tidy' her unruly area was such a lie, such a blatent barren lie. She had so diligently shaved for this moment,this activity. Sometimes, in her deepest darkest dreams she had barely flitted past such thoughts. Now, she wondered if she could live without it, or, more to the point,if she could survive. The incredible sensitivity of her body was such that even thought was felt on her breasts, across her heaving belly, along her straining legs. And those lips, those sensual English lips, with just a hint of tongue,achingly slowly progressed from her left knee north,slowly taking her beyond arousal into near madness. (no proper english woman would enjoy this)(this is wrong, it is naughty, nanny says)(The bible says, )(intercourse is for procreation only, it is a sin to enjoy it)Alex heard all the arguments in her mind, she must stop this,but she must not.She had to decide, now, here and forever who she was.Prim english prude or a real, sexual woman.(no woman of culture and breeding would enjoy or even allow herself to be...eaten) In that instant, she took the neck of her night gown in her hands and ripped it to shreds off of her body.She watched as it fluttered across the room, draping a moment like a disapproving nurse, then falling to a heap.Her last inhibitions fell with her clothes and she was as wildly desperate as any opiate addict in need of her high. She planted the soles of her feet firmly on the mattress, took the now tangible head of her incubus in her hands, twining her fingers deep into the lush, full curls, and then THRUST up to meet that wickedly talented mouth and tongue, her labia laying open like orchid petels in gentle rain. Time ended. Moments, minutes,millenium passed as she watched herself in the mirror, near horrified at her wanton enjoyment of this...delightful depravity."Small wonder that church and soceity forbids this, it's far too good for the likes of them." she thought. She watched as her hips bucked and heaved, bumped and ground against the transparent face she could feel against her,spread wider then any medical exam, she was howling, moaning deep in her chest, growling like a a wounded predator.Her head whipped side to side with each stroke of his tongue, each deep soulful kiss, each probing lick . Her approaching climax started at her toenails, ripping and rippling through her body,every tendon streched taut, every muscle in full spasm, she trembled in a grand mal seizure of incredible pleasures.Her legs had raised and spread till her toes were en pointe at oppossing ceiling corners., She screamed her delight to the world, moaning and begging in whispery half heard words, "don't stop, oh please, don't dare stop." His last<b> deep kiss </font></b>upon her clit sent her into oblivion, light so bright as to be solid, darkness so deep as the bottom of the earth.His hands cupped her ass as she swooned, the world going near dark. She could feel his smooth cheekbones against her inner thighs,his chiseled chin resting , nay, just parting her ass.For a moment, she knew no more. Slowly,as the world returned,she knew that she had to finish this,go all the way to the end.But, a man's first erection is never, quite , long enough. In duration.It always fades so achingly close. With her few human lovers,her clever hands could slip past that first short coming to a more enduring prowess. But, that was for her weak little men. Her Ghostly God of Love deserved something more, something completely beyond anything of her experiance. And she wasn't sure exactly where to begin. She abruptly sat up,eyes half lidded, and reached out to..nothing.Tears of regret and frustration welled in her eyes.She opened her mouth to cry out and felt the lightest brush aginst her lips. No more encouagement did she need. Alex opened her mouth wide and lunged forward, feeling on her lips, her tongue,the back of her throat what she had never known before. A with a lemon pop would not have licked so meticulously from base to tip as she, slowly savoring the taste of Him.No hard working in Piccadilly could have engulfed a man so rapidly, as deeply, and with such single minded attention as she gave her Light Brigadier. Her deep moans in perfect harmony with her tempo, she gripped His perfect hard ass in her hands and hauled him closer to her, taking him deeper and with more fervent need with each passing second. She could feel the tiny tight curls of the hair on his butt cheeks, his testicles bouncing off her chin in amusing, if distracting counter tempo,but His prescence in her mouth was just right,not too big so she'd choke, not so small as to be superfluous. And it tasted like life. She felt fingers on her face, cupping her head, and a slight small forward thrust met hers in harmony.She was taking his entire length in each stroke,faster with each repatition. Her own passion was also rising, and she felt another climax approach. Her breasts ached for his hands,her loins begged for his firmness. The sudden pleasant warmth tht exploded in her mouth and down to her belly was brandy on a cold winter's day, hitting bottom and spreading to her fingertips and toes and back, leaving a lovely little fire behind and below her belly button. Her own climax dwarfed his by magnitudes exponential,silently,as her mouth was full, and no lady would shreik with her mouth full. And nothing to wipe from her lips. She threw herself back, spreading wider as she gripped those cavalry thighs, hard and powerful as the they once commanded.She guided him surely to her own saddle, to be ridden to the chase and beyond. Her hands still filled with his flesh, but with less heft,less reality, brought him hard against her wet waiting body.She could feel his length to her naval and more.She writhed to place him, strained to lift him or move him or just, "Bloody HELL, when would he take her?"()(freak)(necrophiliac)(you are fucking a ghost,a DEAD MAN)The final inhibitions, her last rational mind tried to keep her from this irrevocable step.Whimpering in arousal that was becoming .well, painful, wonderfully, frighteningly painful. until the sheets tore beneath her and still she was losing her stud."Please, OH GOD, PLEASE, JUST, JUST, T-T-T-T-A-A-A-A-A-A-K-K-K-K-K-E-E-E-E-E MM-M-M-M-M-M-M-M-E-E-E-E-E"Her scream ripped off dressed stone walls,echoing like a damned soul. It was as a baby's coo compared to her moan as he placed hmself within, and in a malevolently slow 30 second stoke, totally impaled her. AND SHE HOWLED.He was perfectly right, not so narrow as to bang about, not so thick as to hurt, all THAT much, and well long enough to meet unexplored territory. , Every moment of Alex's lust was reflected in the mirror and the more she witnessed, the more she had to do. AND SHE WENT WILD.The backs of his knees cradled her heels, his perfect hard flexing ass in her hands as she found his tempo, found it wanting,and literally rode his shaft to her liking.Every inch of her body felt his hands, his kiss. Her mouth knew his mouth, and his satisfying firmness. She was doing everything at once and doing nothing at all, but just experianceing the wonder of telling the world to Bugger All. She felt his chest against her face, kissed him, then nibbled, and then bit down hard. His rythm increased and the thrusts somehow deepened, and the spiraling joy of harder and faster left her unable to draw breath, unable to think.Just the feeling of flesh.The wonderful, wicked,feelings of the flesh.Her screams muffled by his pec clenched tight in her teeth,she watched the BED ACTUALLY CRATERING, THE MATTRESs HITTING THE FLOOR BENEATH THEM AND THE CANOPY POSTS DIPPING TO CENTER,with every stroke like an honor gaurd dipping their banners for the Queen. "I am going to destroy a fucking 200 year old heirloom." That final thought sent her over the edge.Total Physical Overload. Like her laptop hooked into a lighttenning bolt, She could not take any more. Her awakening, veiwed from the mirror, equally cat in the canary cage and school boys caught in the act.The canopy above her sagged from a near diagonal head post. The sheets had long past been shredded and the goose down mattress had seen better nights, during the Blitz.The comforter had mysteriously made for the door, as if to leave with some segment of human decency. The pillows were a memory of cotton ticking and goose down and the air was filled with faux snow flakes. Alex stretched, a long full body strech that relaxed, excited and aroused in unmanageable amount. "Well, in for a penny,in fora Crown.", she thought.She rolled over onto her stomach, took the headrails in white knuckle grip, left knee moving up,tucked tight against her ribs. With tight clenched eyes and quivering chin,she turned her head to her left shoulder, her trembling lips barely visible past her long blond hair. In a voice near imperceptible, an anemic whisper, she licked her lips, exhaled her...."please"........... THE PHANTOM OF BUGG'AR HALL-PART THREE ""That single word seemed to echo within the chamber. Alex nearly regretted the utterence, but she had to know, to try just one more thing,take one more step into the wild side tht she had repressed for so long. She waited. And nothing happened! Afraid to open her eyes, afraid to move, she waited, open, vulnerable, achingly waiting for...for what? Then, the least little pressure between her cheeks, the lightest whisper of breath parting her, touching her, spreading open the final taboo.She winced, expecting a tearing pain as he took her. She felt something inserted, her flesh easily parting for..what? No larger then a spaghetti! It slipped into her, nesting comfortably."Well. bullocks! Is that it?" she exclaimed. There was a bump against her butt, like that of a man behind her.. And the prescence inside her began to grow. In long, slow, excrutiatingly patient strokes, she felt it slowly beginning to grow, larger in girth, longer, and that wonderful filling was so terribly gentle, warm and tight. And she could feel his hands upon her, caressing her hips, running over her cheeks, as he took ever so long to pull his entire length from her and then, "Oh, God, it IS getting bigger."Such a long and wonderful time, time with no meaning, and she began to slowly rock in concert with each inward stroke, writhing and grinding upon her impaling pole that slowly felt so much deeper, so much bigger with each decreasingly gentle stroke. She began to push back against him, taking him deeper and faster, trying desperately to regain the tempo of earlier, the wild abandon of the night. He felt as if he was deep within her chest, his uncut head between her lungs, pushing against her very heart,in perfect rythem, her pulse and his strokes became one. And she wanted more. "Oh god, be brutal, Please, Be brutal with me." she cried, her tears of need and shame and joy welling from her eyes, pooling on the mattress beneath her. She was rocking on her knees now, pushing hard against the headrails, taking a larger and heavier and thicker organ within her with every stoke. "My God, He IS HUGE, (and more then a bit painful)", but she no longer cared about anything but finishing this act, surviving this night, taking all that Shagworthy could give and coming out the other side. His entire length was outside her, then filling her until it felt as if she was going to choke on him, it filled her throat, tickling the back of her tongue? "My god,if he should ejaculate, I shall look very much like a lawn sprinkler!"She thought. The image of ectogism fountaining from her ears,nose and mouth started giggles that turned into hard, wild, desperate fucking groans.There was nothing remotely refined or proper now, she bucked and roiled, writhed and heaved with every thrust of her Rider.When the first hard swat cracked across her right ass cheek, the inch thick English Oak dowels in her white knuckled grasp exploded to toothpicks."yes, God, YES, BEAT ME, BEAT ME NOW!!!"She screamed. With every fifth stroke of his magnificently molded cock was accompanied with a hard, rein calloused palm smacking her butt cheeks, alternating left, then right. Head rails were popping and splintering around her fingers as she tried to find purchase to push back into this wonderful depravity, this long awaited rush of being utterly and totally depraved. She could feel his hands all over, as if he had several more then regulated. One hand kept perfect tempo on her ass, a swat every fifth stroke. Was that the 50th or the 550th? She had no idea nor care. just that it was everything and nothing like she had ever imagined. Another pair of hands cupped her breasts, hard gripping hands kneeding her flesh, pinching and twisting her nipples until every breath was a herculean effort to inhale. She was beyond moans, beyond screams, she had entered sex so good she was literally speechless. Even her barely perceptible breathes got lost in the hard sharp crackng spanking she received, the sounds of flesh on flesh, sliding in to perfect tight fit,so lovely, so filling, so huge, everything she had never known and it just couldn't get any better then this. And then it did. With a hard hand spanking her, and two hands gripping her tits savagely, another strange hand fell, flat palmed across her lips, circling her clit. There was no place left to go but into sweet release. Her howls of ecstasy as she climaxed started within human hearing at painful decibles and rose into the ultra sonic. Bats for miles started and fled as she felt the waves of a damn good butt fucking sweep over her, her hands grippng the last two rails, the cords in her arms, neck and thighs in such high relief as to look permanently deformed.She was beyond trembling, it looked and felt as if she was convulsing, every muscle in such terrible overload as to have her entire body in motion, her skin flicking and twitching and quivering like a shooing a fly. "BUT ALL OVER AND I CAN'T STOP!!!!!"(why would you stop this?) And for one tiny second, she had contol enough to INHALE and her shreicks of pain/pleasure echoed and reechoed through Bugg'ar Hall. And the waves just wouldn't stop!"one is glad to be of Service" she heard in her ear as one last hard hand on her butt, one last deep stroke clear to her eyebrows swept her from the known world and into deep,dark, blissful oblivion. THE PHANTOM OF BUGG'AR HALL-Part four "Amazing what smart shops one can find in these out of the way villages." Alex thought as she walked to her car. Bugg'er Hall had amply passed the Registry's requirements and she had made quite sure to book His Lordship's Suite for the Grand Opening Weekend. Surprisingly,she had awoke to a room undamaged, only the bedclothes had been scattered about,and her nightdress was rent in two and hanging from a wall sconce.Her new sandals clicked authoritatively on the cobbles. With a three inch heel and roman lacings to the knee, they were totally impractical for driving, but she wore them so well.And they looked so good with her denim micro mini,that most likely had begun as American 501 jeans with the buttons down the front and five pockets and invigeratingly short fraying hem. But it allowed a long, confident stride,arousing and breezy. Her tight black silk cami top caressed and clung to her unfettered breasts, raising her nipples and spirits equally as she hopped into her rental, a sporty Cooper Roadster Convertible rather then the Ford sub compact in which she arrived. She wiggled her newly enthonged bum into a more intimate contact with the leather upholstery, fired up the 300 plus horsepower engine, who's rumbling throb of power was unerringly transmitted directly to her driver's seat. "Bugg'er 'All. Quite." she thought." I shall endeaver to be more Shagworthy from now on.". Slamming the car into gear and warming with appreciation for every shifting gear, she accelerated into the fast lane to London. The afternoon sun meeting her half lidded feline smirk of insatiable satisfaction. "RELEASE ME! RELEASE ME!"the voice most monsterous was barely matched in horror by the hideously malformed beast from which it emanated. Above 7 feet in height if fully erect,it's twisted face could barely top one half of that. The curve of its horrifically hunched right shoulder was a full foot above its gnarled howling visage. Its left eye was a white glaze of cataracts, its bloodshot right a whirlpool of rage. Poorly healed scars criss crossed its head and body,leaving weeping gashes and gaps, opening its cheek enough to reveal broken black and missing molars. The right arm was normal enough, though of great size and the hand was horny and rough as a dry stack wall. The left arm was pulled and broken, ending in a three finger hand of talon gauntness. The hugely muscled right leg bore its weight as the oft broken and diseased left leg ended in a clubfoot that flopped uselessly. Its only gait was a shuffling, dragging three point stride in the dark, dripping, moss covered tunneled caverns deep beneath the patios of Shagworthy Estate. "RELEASE ME NOW!!!!!!!!!!" screamed the beast, its echoing words rolling and rebounding from the endless miles of subterranean labyrinth. And in that echo came the words he knew all so well. BUGG'ER SHAGGE WORT, YE DID HAUNT THESE LANDS AS HIGHWAY MAN AND BRIGAND FOR 30 YEARS. 12, 592 INNOCENT SOULS DIED AS YOUR ENTERTAINMENT AND SUP.8,285 WOMEN FROM TODDLING BABES TO GAUNT AND TOOTHLESS GRANNIES DIED BENEATH YOU AT YOUR WHIM. YOUR VERY NAME IS SYNONOMOUS WITH THE INFAMOUS ACT YE USED TO MURDER ALL THOSE SUFFERING PILGRIMS,WHO DIED IN YOUR BED FOR YOUR LARDER. HORRIBLE DEGRADING YOU DO KNOW, HONEST LOVE IS BEYOND YOUR KEN, BUT SEDUCTION YOU WILL LEARN.THAT NUMBER PLUS ONE WILL YOU KNOW BY A SLOW HAND AND A GENTLE WAY, UNTIL THERE IS A SATISFIED, FULFILLED LOVER FOR EVERY PERSON YE DEFILED.OR ELSE,YOU CAN STAY DOWN HERE IN THE DUNGEONS. WITH US. YOUR VICTIMS.FOREVER. His voice started low, then rose in volume and force as his rage took his reason.'their moanings are meaningless, their groans without source,They Never Beg For My Mercy,THEY DO NOT SCREAM TO CLIMAX. THEY...DO..NOT...YODEL!!!!" His howls were the agonies of the eternally damned. "IT'S...NO...GOOD..For... Me..if.. they.. do not...(whispered) yodel. He crawled past the stalactites fanging the tunnel ceiling and dragged himself into the dark, wet,mossy darkness. |
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