Haunted Halloween Rape Orgy

[SoftGameHunter]

Teaser: Take all the horror tropes about haunted mansions and combine them with spiritual possession and gang rape. Then continue reading.
-------------------------------------------------------------

The author of this story has read and accepted the rules for posting stories. They guarantee that the following story depicts none of the themes listed in the Forbidden Content section of the rules.

The following story is a work of fiction meant for entertainment purposes only, if that. It depicts non-consensual sexual acts between adults and spirits. It is in no way meant to be understood as an endorsement of non-consensual sex in real life or afterlife. Any similarities of the characters in the story to real people are purely unbelievable and should not be taken seriously.
-------------------------------------------------------------

Title: Haunted Halloween Rape Orgy
Author: SoftGameHunter

-------------------------------------------------------------

Another oldie but goody. I can't believe I waited until Cabbage Night to remember to post this one.
-------------------------------------------------------------

Haunted Halloween Rape Orgy

Ch 1

Unbeknownst to any of them, each of the five college coeds in the Chevy Tahoe happened to feel a sharp chill as the overloaded vehicle rounded the bend and the tower wing of Westerland Manor came into view. The chill began for each of them in their crotch, quickly spread out but just as quickly faded to nothing aside from a mild resurgence when it reached their nipples. John was talking from the front passenger seat, something about the history of the Manor, so none of the five were interrupted giving anyone else in the vehicle any sense that anything unusual and certainly sinister had happened.

Andrea sat in the furthest seat back, hardly listening to John anyway. Talk of haunted houses actually bored her. She only came on the trip because her roommate Tina had talked her into it and she had no other Halloween plans for the weekend. Despite her full Japanese upbringing, Tina loved Halloween and everything associated with it. She’d spent the last several days talking about how special this particular holiday was, going on and on about how it fell on a blue moon this year, and the moon was at its closest approach to earth since last year and there would be an eclipse, and Halloween fell on Friday the thirteenth or something like that. She was jolted out of her daydream when the vehicle suddenly swerved hard, knocking her against the wall.

“Jeez, watch what you’re doing!” Jasmine shouted at Craig, driving probably too fast. Behind them, nearly knocked off her feet and into the ditch with her two dogs, Patty Marsten stood shaking her fist at the SUV full of the rowdy college kids.

“Sorry,” Craig said. “The road’s kind of winding.”

“Then slow down,” Tina said. “We don’t need to slide into some ditch before the fun even begins.”

“Now what were you saying?” Craig asked.

“Oh, that back in the 1860s when Westerland Manor was an insane asylum, it was home to more future executed sex criminals than any other location in American history.”

“Ew! We don’t need to know that!” Becky said, making a face. “Didn’t anything nice ever happen here?”

“Don’t worry, I’m sure some of them were lesbians too,” Craig said.

“Possibly,” John replied. “Until 1862 it was an army barracks. Then it was a mental hospital until 1896. But before all that, back when it was just the original house, it was home to a witch’s coven.”

“There were no real witches,” Cheryl piped up. “That was just a bunch of mass hysteria, probably caused by Claviceps purpurea fungus in the bread.”

“That theory is for the Salem Witch trials. No, these women actually confessed for real. There were three of them, and they said Lucifer himself would strike the town dead if any of them were harmed. Of course the townsfolk hung them all anyway. I’ve even read they were hung in the nude, which is pretty wild for a bunch of Puritans.”

“Did Lucifer kill the town?” Jasmine asked.

“Well, they’re all dead now. So maybe,” John replied.

“You’re just a fountain of cheerful stories,” Andrea said.

“Come on, get into the spirit!” Cheryl said. “How often have you actually spent Halloween in a haunted mansion?”

“Is there a cheer for that?” Tina asked. “How about one, two, three, four, we don’t want no zombies coming up, um, from the floor!”

“I’ll pass it along to the coach,” Cheryl said.

It took another few minutes before they reached the manor grounds at the top of the hill. As the seven of them filed out of the vehicle, Jasmine looked down, behind them to the right. “Hey, I thought we were way out in the middle of nowhere. I can see the town from here.”

“Yeah, sure. Why not?” Craig asked. “It’s just the main road that’s long. It’s only about a mile-long hike here from the nearest houses. You can see the place from town.”

“Well, this is my first semester here. I hadn’t noticed.”

“You’re not from around here?” Andrea asked.

“Just ‘cause I’m a little older don’t make me a local. I’m from Philly.”

“Well from now on you won’t be able to miss seeing this place,” John said. “Right here, looming in front of us, is the old asylum. The 1769 mansion is that older wing over there. The original house is in back, around the right.”

“Overlooking the foggy moors?” Tina asked, looking down at the fields below. To the right was mostly open terrain, and indeed getting a bit foggy. To the left belong the hill was heavy woods.

“Sure, why not?” John replied. “Alright, we’ve got about two hours of sunlight left. Let’s go get set up in the mansion. I brought kerosene lanterns up here earlier. There’s plenty of bedrooms.”

“There’s no electricity?” Andrea asked.

“Heck no, the place has been deserted for over a century. We’re lucky some historic trust occasionally keeps things in repair and mows the lawn once in a while.”

“This is going to be the best!” Tina gushed as they gathered their luggage and headed inside.

***

In the town below, Patty Marsten sat at Willy’s Roadside with her friend Carol. “Those idiot college brats nearly ran me off the road!” she fumed. “Poor Fifo twisted his paw trying to get away.”

“They should be put in jail,” Carol agreed, nodded. “Always out drinking all night. Making a fuss in the wee hours. God, was I ever like that in college?”

“I’m not trying to be fussy. But jeez, I can’t even walk my dogs without being nearly run over.”

“I’m sure they’ll be pulled over. Probably a bunch of football players”

“Maybe. I don’t know. They were on the road up to the manor, probably spending the night there. Maybe they’ll get drunk in peace and leave the town alone. It’s bad enough with the high schoolers egging half the town. But I think they were all girls, at least in the back.”

The two women got up and left. Behind them, in the next booth over, Jason and Ryan said quietly. “Did you hear that?”

“Old bitches whining about how they can’t get laid anymore?” Ryan answered, ignoring that both Patty and Carol were only thirty-five.

“No, retard, the part about a truckload of college girls staying at the manor alone all night.”

“Huh. Oh. Yeah.”

“We could pay those bitches a visit.”

“Yeah, sure. Let’s do it, man.” They quickly got up and headed out. “What about all those eggs we bought?” Ryan asked.

***

In the walls and rafters, and deepest basement tunnels, many angry, lusty longings began to smell the return of the outside world. Others cried for release.

***

Buffy stirred in her bed, restless after a long afternoon nap. Her terrible ordeals in the old insane asylum had been long buried in her subconscious, but when she looked up the hill to the old haunt, she realized she could never be rid of it all. Not while the deadly horrors of that place continued to go unknown and unpunished by the outside world. For a long while she sat on the edge of her bed, head in her hands, staring upward and trying to suppress her terror of that night three years before. When the police had picked her up she’d been babbling incoherently, splattered with the blood of her friends that dripped down her nude, lacerated body.

With a determined decisiveness, she got up and began to get dressed. She had to make things right. She was pulling on her hiking boots for the trek up when her bedroom door opened. She saw her sometime nurse, Mary. “Where are you off to?” Mary asked.

“I need to stop the evil. My friends didn’t die in vain.”

“Oh no, no. Stop. Listen to me.”

“No! I won’t stop! I know what happened, even if no one believes me.”

“Nothing happened! I mean, nothing like you think! There are no monsters like that! Tisha, just sit and listen to me. Please!”

“And stop calling me that! Never call me that! I’m leaving.” She made for the door, but Mary blocked her way. “You can’t stop me. You have no right!”

“I’m your sister. I have to watch out for you. Please, just believe me!”

Buffy knew she was larger and stronger than the nurse. She set her resolve and bowled right through the smaller woman, knocking her over backwards. Buffy fled for the door. She had much to do.

Mary lay dazed on the floor for a moment, her head ringing from hitting it on the radiator. She slowly sat up and opened her cell phone, hitting number six on the speed dial. “Doctor Monroe, it’s Mary O’Neil. Yes, I’m sorry it’s not a good time. It’s Tisha. She’s reverting again. She doesn’t even know me. I think she’s going up to that damned manor again.”

***

It was nearing sunset when the car carrying Jason, Ryan, and Megan rolled off the road just shy of the manor. They didn’t want to be seen. “Mighty cunt hunters on the prowl,” Megan said. “Did you remember to bring the dildos?”

“Fuck off,” Ryan said. “Why did we bring her anyway?”

“Cause you wankers would be walking without my brother’s car, that’s why,” Megan answered for Jason.

“Got the rope?” Jason asked.

“Yeah. Rope, duct tape, my dad’s .38, I got ‘em already. Jeezuz fucking H. Christ already. Let’s just go.”

“It ain’t even dark yet,” Jason said. “Just hold on already.”

“Yeah, keep it in your pants, tard,” Megan said.

“Fuck you. You’d like it from me, wouldn’t you?”

“As if,” Megan said. “Probably wouldn’t even tickle if you tied a feather to it.”

“Shut up you two,” Jason snapped. “We’re here to have to fun.”

“Yeah, good timing,” Megan said. “When’s it gonna be dark out, anyway?”

“Soon.”

***

“We have to have a Halloween party game!” Tina protested. “How about a séance? Or a Ouija board?”

“Or we could say Biggie Smalls three times into a mirror,” Craig suggested.

“What?” Cheryl asked.

“No, we need a real ritual!” Tina said. “Look, I brought a Ouija board with me. It’s in my pack. Come on, it’ll be fun.”

“Sure, whatever,” Jasmine said. “I’ll try anything once.”

By the time Tina had the board out, John and Cheryl were also willing to play with it. They gathered around an old coffee table, each holding the planchette. The sun streaming in horizontally through the window of the second-floor room finally dipped below the horizon.

“It’s your baby. Ask it a question,” Jasmine said to Tina.

“Okay. Oh spirits of the manor, does great harm await us tonight, oh most demonic of all nights?” She felt the piece move, and not surprisingly it rested on the ‘yes’ reply. “Oh spirits of the manor, describe our peril, that we may better prepare to fight it.” Again she watched as the piece moved, first to the letter ‘r’.

“R,” John said. “We’re going to be attacked by pirates.”

“Shut up!” Jasmine said. “I want to see how this goes.” The piece slid under their hands to the letter ‘a’.

“Rastafarians are coming to get us! The bastards,” John said. None of the girls replied the second time. The piece moved to the ‘p’. “Rap music, they all say it’s dangerous, oh, never mind.”

Tina watched intently as the triangle slid over to the ‘e’. She waited for it to continue but no one was moving it. “That’s not funny!” she snapped at John.

“What? I didn’t do that. It’s your board.”

“Knock it off,” she continued. “It’s offensive and not even very Halloweeny.”

“It’s not me doing it,” John said again.

“Oh spirits of the haunted house, tell us in greater detail, truthfully!, what dangers await us.” She watched as the triangle began to slide under their hands. ‘for the men, ghostly possession!’ it spelled out.

“Cool,” Craig said, watching from the sofa.

‘for the women, ghastly rape!’

Tina yanked the triangle away, glaring at John. “That’s it. Be a bastard if you want, but you’re not playing anymore!”

“I wasn’t doing it the first time. Fine.” He got up and sat down on an old chair.

“I’ll join you,” Becky said.

“Are you going to blame the lesbian if the answer is repeated again?” John asked.

“They should. I’d have such fun with them,” Becky said.

“Oh mighty, wise spirits, tell us each, one and all, what danger awaits?”

All eyes were on the board as it spelled out another message. “bloody rape for the negress.”

Jasmine jumped to her feet and hurled the planchette against the wall. “Fuck you, whichever one of you did that!” she shouted. Before anyone could reply she stormed out of the room. The others sat, stunned, for a moment.

“I didn’t write that,” Becky said finally, quietly and in some shock.

“Nobody did,” Tina said. “Come on, Andrea, we need a fourth.”

“I don’t want to play,” Andrea said.

“I’m not sure we are playing,” Tina replied. “Come on, just sit and hold it.” She retrieved the playing piece and sat down. Again they began.

“Who will harm us?” Tina asked.

‘many, alive and dead.’

“How?”

‘rape. torture. anger stalks the girlish flesh. the pent up lust of a thousand generations of evil will vent upon all that is female.’

“Who? Specifically?”

‘everyone you don’t know. everyone you trust.’

“When?”

‘for some tonight. for some forever.’

“Close your eyes when it answers,” Craig said, lighting two of the lanterns. It was nearly dark outside, and almost impossible to read the board. “Change positions around the board and close your eyes. We’ll see what it says.”

“Yeah. Okay,” Tina replied. She rotated the board and they began again. She closed her eyes, as did the others. John and Craig looked on.

“What fate will the manor inflict on us?” Tina asked. She felt the piece moving under her fingers.

John watched as the letters were spelled out. All four of the girls had their eyes tightly shut. He glanced at Craig as the answer formed.

“Well? What did it say?” Tina finally asked after the lengthy answer came out.

“You will be raped, know pain beyond imagination, sorrow, terror, the anguished confusion of your violated bodies will echo for eternity, the beast of hell will vent rage upon your nude bodies, shame will never end, horror from the ancient world in a meeting of evil and pain held squarely upon your womanly orifices.”

For several minutes no one spoke. “I think it’s a good time to go home now,” Becky finally said.

A sliding sound on the Ouija board caught their attention. The Planchette was moving again, by itself. They all stared down at it as another message was spelled out.

‘too late.’

Ch 2.

“What’s going on up there?” Megan asked. They were all crouched outside the manor lawn, behind a few trees. Ryan and Jason had both been quiet for the last ten minutes. Now, neither one of them even bothered to answer her. She could see that at least one of the bitches had hurried outside and tossed a bag into their flashy SUV. “Hey, are you two dumb or what?” she asked in annoyance.

Then Jason turned to her, and in the barely noticeable light she recoiled a tiny bit. It was Jason’s face, but he looked like someone else somehow. He didn’t speak yet, and she stared at the imperceptibly different curve of his mouth and slant of his eyes. She felt like a stranger was staring at her.

Then Ryan turned, and the effect was far more pronounced. Before her conscious mind realized it, Megan knew they were no longer her friends. She let out a brief scream as Ryan lunged at her.

“Stay away from me!” she screamed, backing away in the dark.

“Be still, whore!” Jason’s voice shouted as they came after her. “Don’t make your punishment worse!”

“No!” she shrieked, barely comprehending her new danger. She had just wanted to see some college sluts get what they had coming. Now she was fleeing her own friends, stumbling blindly in the dark. Tripping and stumbling, she headed towards the mansion where she could at least find safety in numbers. Once in the clearing she had the benefit of moonlight, but she heard the footsteps behind her keeping up. She was halfway there when a hand caught her jacket and yanked her back. She fell crashing to the ground with the two strangers atop her.

In the moonlight their transformation became more pronounced. Every feature was theirs, but at the same time horribly wrong. She had little time to ponder it. Rough hands clawed at her clothing, ripping it and scratching her skin. She kicked and screamed, trying to get away from them. With elbows swinging, fingernails scratching, knees bending, and feet kicking she finally rolled away. Jason was nearly on her, but she managed to land a solid heel to his gut. She scrambled to her feet and fled to the mansion. The cool air on her flesh made it clear how much of her clothing was lost. Her shirt was only hanging on by one sleeve, and she hurled it off to keep it from slowing her. Now her smooth, young, and very large tits flapped freely. Her pants were gone, but her panties were still in place, though the flap over her ass was torn and waving in the wind as she ran. Only her shoes were still in place.

There was no one behind her when she burst into the door she’d seen the college girl go in through. There was also no one inside. The bit of light they’d seen had come from an upper floor. Facing her was only an empty, dusty, dark entry hall with no help in sight. “Help me! Please!” she shrieked.

***

“Oh god, I don’t like this!” Cheryl whimpered as she and John stepped through the heavy oak door and into the hospital section. The long hallway in front of them was tall and wide, but featured exposed pipe, peeling pale blue paint, stained floor tiles, and rows of identical heavy doors on either side. A lingering bad smell was in the air. All was lit only by their oil lamp that now seemed woefully insufficient.

“Jasmine!” John shouted. His voice reverberated several times.

“Jasmine!” Cheryl screamed, almost in a terror already. “Come on! We’re leaving!”

“Calm down. She probably didn’t come this way anyway,” John said. “Besides, no one else is here.”

“Something did that thing with the Ouija board! Oh, god, Jasmine!” They crept down the old hallway, trying to hear if their friend was coming or not. “Why is this place still here?” she moaned. “Why don’t they just tear it down?”

“Come on, it’s not so bad,” John said. “It’s a hell of a good movie set.”

“Movies?”

“Sure. Just a few years ago they filmed Pumpkin Blood 5 here. It’s where that actress lost her mind and thought she became her movie character. They said...”

“Shut up! I don’t care about that!”

“Okay, okay.”

“Jasmine!” she shrieked again.

Suddenly she heard footsteps behind them. She turned with John, but behind them was nothing at all. “What was that?” she cried. “Who’s in here?”

“Okay, let’s get back to the mansion wing,” John said. “I can’t imagine she came in here.” They began walking back when they suddenly heard a faint human voice coming from behind a door. It sounded like a woman crying.

“This one,” John said, hurrying to the door. Cheryl flung open the door and went in, expecting to see her friend. Instead, in the flickering light of the lantern, they saw a young woman lying on the bare floor. She was stark naked and looked badly beaten. She didn’t even look up when they entered.

“Oh my god!” Cheryl gasped. She gingerly walked over to the brutalized woman. She saw that the woman was wearing some kind of old fashioned metal manacles on her wrists, keeping her hands behind her back. “Are you alright?”

“Can you hear us?” John asked, walking closer.

Several things happened all at once. The light in the room turned a ghastly, sickly shade of green. The smell of rot and decay filled the air. The woman suddenly lifted her head, stared past Cheryl and John to something behind them, and screamed in abject terror. Something cold rushed past them.

Cheryl screamed at the same time. John jumped back, dropping the oil lantern, which shattered on the floor at Cheryl’s feet. She stumbled and fell into the flames.

“Shit!” John shouted as her clothes began to burn. He lunged for her and yanked off the flaming fabrics. Cheryl was shrieking and flopping around, slapping at herself trying to put out the flames. He tore at her clothes, pulling at anything showing flame. For a frenzied minute they did nothing else, failing to notice that the woman was no longer there. The light and smell returned to normal. Cheryl’s clothes lay in a dwindle pile of flame. She was left with only one sock.

“Are you hurt? Are you burned?” John asked. He’d had to pull his own shirt off too, and his hands were blistered from the burns. Cheryl was hysterical for another couple minutes.

“My leg,” she said, rolling onto one side. Her left thigh showed nasty burns, but only in a small area. The rest of her body was only lightly blistered. She yelped suddenly and clutched her hands over her exposed breasts.

“You, you were on fire,” John said. “It couldn’t be helped.”

“Let’s just go! I want to go!” she whined.

“Yeah, let’s go.” They both got up and headed back to the dark hallway. They left the door open, trying to see their way back with the dwindling flames of Cheryl’s clothing. Suddenly, from the direction they were approaching, they heard a sound of footsteps. Many, many footsteps, and a low, inhuman groaning that accompanied them. They were approaching fast.

“Run!” John said, as they both turned to flee deeper into the old asylum.

***

Patty was determined to give the college brats a piece of her mind. She was almost ready to turn back, though, as her car headlights kept flickering on the drive up. Even so, she kept going. The full moon was well above the horizon and shining brightly down. She was nearly at the old estate when she slammed on the breaks. Ahead of her at a bend in the road, out on the open hillside, two women were fighting. She watched in amazement for a minute before realizing she should act. One looked determined to approach the estate, and the other was trying to hold her back. Caught in the headlights, it was clear that neither was a good fighter, and they had done more damage to each other’s clothing than to each other.

She finally set the emergency break and ran out to the women. “What going on here?” she demanded, running up.”

“Please, help. She’s having an episode,” Mary pleaded.

“No! I have to return the talisman to Dr. Gudonov’s library!” Buffy screamed. “It’s the only way to stop the pumpkin blood!”

Patty quickly decided which one to help, and tried to tackle Buffy. Buffy replied with a vicious scratch to Patty’s cheek and a sharp pull at her blouse, sending buttons flying. Then she shoved Patty into Mary, and both women fell down the hill. Buffy continued onward to the estate. She was soon lost to view as the car’s headlights washed out the moonlight.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t very helpful,” Patty said.

“No, you tried. Are you going up to that awful estate? Can you give me a lift. Tisha’s trying to get up there. It’s where she had her breakdown.”

“She’ll just find a bunch of drunk college kids,” Patty said. “I’ll give you a lift. Come on.” She saw that the woman, Mary, was tired and worn out. Her skirt was mostly hanging in pieces, and if she’d worn panties they were long gone. Her blouse was also torn up and her bra was hanging loose. She was covered in scratches from the crazy woman’s fingernails.

They got in Patty’s car and began driving, just as the headlights went out for good.

***

Deep in the bowels of the mansion, in forgotten rooms rarely seen by the outside world, Katherine lay enduring the cold rape of yet another condemned soul. She winced and whimpered in pain when the cold semen flooded her cunt once again. It was a familiar horror, but one impossible to get used to. She slowly curled up, her naked body ever cold, and realized only in time that no one else was molesting her.

“It can’t be,” she said, half audibly. Could it be, she wondered, that she had another chance for escape. When her mind cleared enough to recognize the break in her abuse she struggled to her feet and fled the room. Trying to get out of the building was another matter. She didn’t really know her way. Memories and the flow of time were confusing for her, and she didn’t know how she’d arrived.

She ran around a corner and literally banged into one of two women that were walking the other way. Both screamed and one fell over.

“Help me! Please! We’ve got to get out of here! All of us!” Katherine begged.

“Who are you?” Tina asked. “What happened to you? Is anyone else here?”

“Please! We’ve got to go!” Katherine whined.

“Our car is outside, but we’re looking for a friend,” Becky said. Katherine sobbed in frustration, desperate to convince them of the danger. “Okay, okay. I’ll take you outside. Tina, can you look around by yourself?”

“Sure. I guess,” Tina said. It was a decision she would soon live to regret as the two walked the other direction, leaving her all alone.

“Who are you?” Becky asked, holding the naked woman as they walked, trying to feel guilty for enjoying the opportunity.

“Katherine Sunderland. I’m a reporter. Oh god, you wouldn’t believe what’s happened here! It’s haunted! Everything. The whole estate. It’s a gateway to hell and beyond I’m telling you!”

“Okay, okay. We’re all leaving soon anyway. We’re just looking for our friend Jasmine. Have you seen her? She’s black, about twenty-eight I think.”

“No. I’ve seen no one except them. All of them.”

“Who?”

“Everyone! The spawn of hell! Condemned, vicious souls. They’re, they’re, what’s wrong?”

Becky had stopped. “I thought we came this way.”

“We’re lost? Oh god, no! No! Please no!”

“I’m pretty sure that’s the way out,” Becky said, walking down a hallway. At the end of a hallway they came to a door. Becky didn’t remember it, but decided they would just have to find another way out. She opened the door, and they were in a bedroom. The windows were covered by thin drapes, letting in considerable moonlight. She looked out the window. “I could have sworn we were on the second floor.” She was looking out to a four floor drop onto old cobblestones.

She turned back and her flashlight skimmed over the bed. For a moment she saw a woman lying on the bed, lashed hand and foot to the four corners, totally naked, gagged, and staring at her with pleading, terrified eyes. She yelped and dropped the flashlight, making it go out.

“Did you see that?” she cried.

“Everything,” Katherine moaned. “I’ve seen everything.”

Becky picked up the flashlight and whacked it several times with the palm of her hand. Nothing happened. The bulb was dead. “Just great,” she muttered. “I guess we’ll have to feel our way out in the dark.

“No need for that,” came the low, male voice, just inches from her right ear. Katherine screamed and fled into the dark halls. Becky screamed even louder as her arms were pinned and her clothes swiftly torn from her body.

***

Far away, in a cold, foggy courtyard on the other side of the estate, Jasmine was in bad enough trouble of her own. Her anger at the negress remark was fierce, but her anger had subsided after a while. They were probably just trying to sound like authentic old spirits, she had decided. She’d even called for some pizzas to be delivered before heading back, paying on her credit card when the pizza place was reluctant to take an order for the old estate.

That was in the past, though. Her encounter with the man in the bloodied surgical garb had been short and brutal. He’d quickly pulled her to the ground, ripped every piece of clothing from her body, and shoved his thick member into her. Jasmine had never been raped, never even imagined rape. The awful feeling of a strange cock piercing her seldom pierced pussy had left her sickened and sobbing.

Now she was standing against the wall, spread eagled, her hands and feet tied with old, rough rope to bits of pipe or railing. She was still naked, and the light of the bright full moon shone directly on her. Little good it did. Her skin was dark, smooth, and flawless, and blended with the dark but not so smooth paint on the brick walls.

“Please, don’t kill me!” she begged, whimpering and with tears flowing down her cheeks. The bloodied man with the old surgical garb was still there, pacing slowly. He was a tall man, and wore a full beard and moustache. His clothing looked oddly antiquated.

“Kill you? Madam, I am a doctor. I do not kill.”

“But you raped me!”

“Indeed. I was, perhaps, a bit overcome with lust, and may be again. I shall not kill, you, however.” As he turned again, Jasmine saw that he was holding a large scalpel. It glimmered in the moonlight.

“Oh god, please!” she sobbed. “What do you want? Who are you?”

“Doctor Andrew Davison, lately of the fourth Connecticut regiment. But now I work here, you see. Or I did. It’s so very hard to keep track of funding what with all the reconstruction projects.”

“Please, sir, just let me go! I won’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, I won’t be letting you go. Not ever, I’m afraid. You’re here for a reason. We might have a spot of fun again, but you are staying, my lovely negro lass.” He walked up and gently slid the blade of the scalpel along her cheek. Jasmine whimpered and sobbed, trying not to tremble enough to cut herself.

“What do you want? Why are you hurting me?” she wept.

“Pain, my lady, is what life is,” he whispered. He ran the blade along the top of her chest, just slightly cutting her skin. “It is the life. It is the soul.”

Suddenly his eyes flashed. She screamed as she felt the temperature drop and the man before her hissed loudly. His breath was of rotting death. He tore aside his surgical garb, and his cock once again pressed home into her belly.

She screamed loud and hard as he penetrated her once more. His frenzied, frenetic thrusts slammed her bound body against the wall again and again as his cock tore at her sore cunt. Now his cock was white hot, burning her cunt as he pierced her like a saw. His hands clutched at her breasts, squeezing and mauling them, twisting them hard as he attacked her body. Tied tightly in place, Jasmine could only watch. And listen. And feel every ravenous bit of depraved lust he inflicted on her abused flesh. Screaming was her only, useless, recourse, and she used it well.

Ch. 3

Andrea crept alongside Craig as they crossed the grounds to the old manor house. Their search of the mansion had been fruitless, as had been their attempts to connect back up with their friends. But they’d heard the various screams, sounding distant and distressed. Andrea could barely keep herself from hyperventilating or puking.

The door creaked loudly as they entered the dusty building. Once the door closed behind them Andrea felt a stifling stillness to everything. Even their footsteps on the old boards, though creaking the wooden joints, seemed muted and dead. Craig shined his flashlight around. The colors, if there were any, seemed dull.

“I don’t like this,” she said fearfully.

“You’ve liked anything else we’ve seen?”

“No.”

“Jasmine?” Craig called out. “Anyone?” Only the terrible stillness answered. They hurried to check the various rooms. Unlike the mansion, few furnishings remained in the old manor house, and those few were broken and decrepit, without even a rustic, colonial charm, however creepy, that was found in the mansion. The ground floor was empty, dry, and still.

“Basement or second floor?” Craig asked, shining the light to the two sets of stairs.

“Oh god, why do we have to do either?”

“She might have tripped and hit her head,” Craig replied.

“Let’s go up then.” Slowly they ascended the stairs. The upper floor was colder and deader, and Andrea felt like she could sense the centuries of accumulated despair. She remembered John’s tale of the three witches. Once, over three hundred years earlier, they had lived in this very building. She couldn’t help but wonder if they’d awoken anything.

As she was peering into the rooms, the light was suddenly not there. She spun around. “Craig?” she asked, barely speaking above a whisper. There was plenty of moonlight shining in the uncovered windows, but she saw no sign of him. She began to panic. Her heart began pounding in her chest.

Suddenly he was there again, just off to her side, shining the light in her face. “Where did you go?” she hissed, on the verge of tears.

“I thought I saw her, that’s all. She’s not here though.”

“Let’s just go,” she begged. But Craig instead sat down on an old chair, turning off the flashlight. “What are you waiting for?”

“It’s funny,” he said wistfully, staring out the window. “I thought I’d put all that beyond me.”

“Put what beyond you? What are you talking about?”

“That stuff on the Ouija board. About rape and torture. All those kinky ideas.”

“It’s not kinky. It’s just sick!”

“Is it? It wasn’t sick once. No, it was fun!”

“Craig, you’re scaring me. What are you talking about?”

“Oh, you wouldn’t know. None of you would. They sealed the court records when I turned eighteen. That was good of them. I thought I needed a fresh start. But now I know what I needed was a fresh record. I need nobody to know about the past. I need to be trusted. Trust is key, you know. It hurts them more when they realize how much they gave it away to the wrong guy. And I like it better that way.”

“I, I’m going now,” Andrea said, backing away. He stood up.

“Eventually. Maybe. But not just yet, Andrea.”

“No, I’m going back to the mansion.”

“I said, no you are not!” he shouted, lunging and grabbing her. Andrea shrieked and tried to pull away, but he held her tight and slammed her down on the floor. A swift kick to her gut left her breathless and doubled over, helpless enough to let him rip her clothes from her body. Everything went, torn apart, and hurled out the window. Now it was just her body, small, brunette, unexceptional but with the lustful pleasantness that all nineteen-year-old girls’ bodies possess.

“Aaaggghhhh!” she shrieked as he grabbed her by her hair and banged her head on the wooden floor. She tried to get out from under him but he was much too large and strong. “Please, Craig, please no!” she sobbed as she felt his cock probing at her nude crotch. Then she screamed again as he thrust into her quickly without a care about what she felt. She was dry and in agony as he slammed her again and again.

After a few minutes, having punched her face several times to keep her still, he dragged her across the rough wooden floor. She felt splinters going into her soft skin. He stood her up and bent her over the old window frame. She could feel the glass at the bottom of the frame cutting her belly as her chest and head hung out the window. He thrust into her from behind, holding her arms together with one hand and her hair with the other.

“Help me!” she screamed as loud as she could. The room was not facing the mansion or the town, but she prayed someone would hear her anyway. As her friend raped her savagely, she could still feel, sense somehow, the awful presence of death and despair that permeated the house. The awful house was raping her as much as Craig was.

The sickly, sticky feel of his cum flooding her belly brought her back to reality. He was done with her. What would happen next? She was already bruised, cut up, and very cold. Would he stop there. She cried out when he lifted her by her crotch and shoved her entire body out the window. It was only the second floor, but she landed awkwardly and cried out in agony as she felt her right ankle twist. She hit her head on the wall and all was black for a while.

***

Megan had quickly dissolved into a blubbering wretch once she found herself alone in the mansion. There had been no sign of anyone. The elastic strap on her panties had given way. Worst, and unbelievably, both of her shoes had begun to pinch her feet with every step. After several minutes she had to take them off. Walking barefoot hurt less. She wished she’d worn socks. Anything to break up her now total, utter nudity would have been welcome.

Her friends had not followed her inside. She had no idea what had become of them. Once she realized she was lost and couldn’t find the door again she’d broken down, weeping hysterically while lying of the hall carpet. It had taken her some time to get herself together again, a process not helped by her feeling that she was not alone in the house after all.

As she frantically tried to find her way out, preferably remaining silent, she had entered into the old hospital portion of the building. It was even creepier than the mansion, especially for a frightened, naked girl. But she hoped she could more easily find an outside door. As she walked through a hall, smelling some distant smoke, she passed a door from beyond which she heard a faint crying. She could barely see the door. The nearest window was some distance away, and the moonlight had been turning reddish for the last half hour, another hideous feature of the awful manor.

Slowly, quietly, with her heart pounding, she opened the door and peered inside. The room was mostly bare. There was a small table. In the middle of the room was a small cage, cubic, no more than three and a half feet on a side. There was a girl inside the cage. She, like Megan, was completely naked. She was curled up, sobbing. She was thin and looked abused, unlike Megan’s own body that was pleasantly fleshy and full figured. Even in the red moonlight Megan could see the scars on the girl’s body.

The door hinge creaked once, and the girl turned. “Oh please! You’ve got to get me out of here!” she sobbed. Megan just stood, staring at the girl in shock. “The key! It’s on the table. Please! For the love of god!”

There was indeed a key on the table. Megan grabbed it and searched for the keyhole. It was tough in the dim light, but she managed to get the door open. The girl scrambled out. “Hurry. We have to try to get out of here!”

“Who are you?” Megan asked. “What’s happening here? What’s going on!”

“Greta Parker. I’ve been trapped here for so long! And so will you if we don’t get out!”

“Fine. Do you know the way?” Megan asked.

Megan could see Greta’s face falling. She began to quiver and tears formed in her eyes. “You mean you don’t know?” she asked

“No. I’m lost,” Megan said. Greta let out a long, pathetic wail. Megan turned to go, but Greta quickly followed her.

“Then we’ve got to leave. If we don’t, we’ll be trapped again.”

“Then let’s move already!” Megan snapped. They began to hurry, trying to find a door to the outside. The windows were all barred. There seemed to be no obvious path. Twenty minutes later Megan was on the verge of tears again.

“This can’t be right!” she screamed, looking out the window of another old hospital room. “We were on the ground floor, now we’re on the third! We didn’t go up any stairs! This isn’t true!”

“Please, be quiet,” Greta sobbed. “They’ll hear us!”

“This can’t be happening!” Megan screamed. A noise made both girls spin back towards the door. Jason and Ryan, or whoever were using their bodies as hosts, stood at the doorway. There was no place for either girl to run to.”

“Fine flesh of the living, a repast to sate the carnal senses,” the being in Jason snarled at them. Then they lunged at the girls. Neither stood a chance of escape.

Megan shrieked and tried to resist as the Ryan being pinned her down on one of the old asylum beds in the room. A couple bare mattress springs jabbed her back, but that was a minor problem compared to Ryan’s cock pressed against her cunt. He easily penetrated her, tearing through her angrily guarded virginity like it was nothing. It may as well have been nothing for all he noticed. Quickly, furiously, angrily he pounded down on her nude body with his cock, ripping into her. Megan screamed in agony, her mind breaking while trying to comprehend everything that had happened to her. He kept her pinned down, holding her arms above her head and spitting onto her face as the rape continued. Megan didn’t know what she was supposed to feel besides disgust as the slimy seed flooded her cervix.

After pumping her, Ryan stopped. He still held her arms pinned down. He stared down at her, his face terribly lit by the red glow of moonlight from outside. Across the room Greta was still suffering her rape at Jason’s mercy. Megan was still staring up at Ryan’s face when he twitched. His expression blanked for a moment. Then he was back, but not back. Someone else was in him. “My turn,” the voice within uttered. It was the same voice, but deeper pitched and with a different accent. Once again the body on top of her began raping Megan’s young body. With no idea how many spirits were waiting to abuse her, she screamed into the air, a desperate, frantic cry for help that no one would answer.

***

Even though the order had been paid for with a credit card, Ashley was still relieved to see several cars as she drove up to the estate. One back a ways and two parked in front of the creepy old buildings themselves. It meant someone was actually up there, not hiding, and hopefully not playing pranks. Even so, the eclipse was starting and Ashley had lived in the town all her life – long enough to be creeped out by all the stories about the manor. It was a creepy combination, the manor, the moon, and the Halloween date. She was looking to going away to college if she ever saved up enough to finally move out.

As she got out with the three pizzas in hand, she wasn’t even sure where to go. There was no light on marking a front door. There were doors to the mansion, and others to the old whacky ward. The big Tahoe was parked near one door, so Ashley headed to that one. “Pizza!” she called out, hoping someone would save her the trouble of seeking a doorbell that she was pretty sure did not exist. No one came. She walked up to the door and knocked loudly. “Pizza delivery!” she called out again. “Pete’s Pizza Parlor. If we don’t make it, it doesn’t exist.” She thought it was a stupid slogan, but repeating it made her feel less alone in a creepy place. After a few minutes she went back to her car and beeped the horn several times. “Yo, you guys want your pizza or not?” she shouted up at the mansion.

She walked back to the front door and put the three boxes down. She’d hoped for a delivery tip, but that was looking unlikely. She waited a few more minutes, knocking and shouting, but to no avail. She finally gave up and headed back to her car when she heard a tiny voice from around the side of the mansion. She froze, wondering if she’d heard it right. But there was clearly someone around the corner, and it sounded like a girl crying. She walked way over to the corner of the building a peered around the edge.

Lying in the grass she saw a girl, face down, her body heaving with sobs. She was stark naked, and her body was covered with ugly welts. Ashley gasped and ran over to her. “Hey, hey, I’m here,” she said. “You’re going to be alright.” She crouched down, putting her hand on the girl’s shoulder.

The girl rolled over and looked up. Her face was not even remotely distressed. It was nearly cackling with laughter. “You surely be a naive and foolish lass!” the girl said strongly. Ashley jerked back in shock, bumping into a large person that was suddenly behind her. She screamed and turned around again, only to be grabbed by a large, ugly man dressed in tattered coveralls. His hands and arms were gigantic, and he stood over six and a half feet tall, a giant compared to Ashley’s five foot four redhead frame.

“Looky what Chester got here!” he roared, laughing.

“Let me go!” Ashley shrieked as her terror set in.

“Chester Humphries lets no girl go. Chester like girls to stay and scream, right?”

Ashley did scream. She screamed loud and long as her old terror was replaced by real terror, the kind that twisted her guts into knots and made her heart flutter. She knew the face. It was in her old class filmstrips. The man looked just like the Chester Humphries that all school children in the town learned about. He was only the most famous executed convict the nineteenth century town had produced. And it wasn’t hard to learn the stuff the teachers left out – the sexual crimes that accompanied the murders. The days long tortures and mutilations that were the norm with Chester Humphries rather than the exceptions. Ashley liked history. She was good at it. And her morbid curiosity had led her to old newspaper articles for a paper once, and she remembered all too well the estimates that Chester’s victim tally might well have far exceeded the forty-six murders he was actually convicted of. All these facts were in her mind instantly as Chester dragged her to an old barn behind the mansion, not far from the original manor house.

Once inside, Chester made short work of Ashley’s clothes. They were torn aside like so much tissue paper. He lashed her hands behind her back, pulling the rough ropes brutally tight around her slender wrists. Another loop of rope surrounded her neck, cinched tight. He tossed the other end over a rafter and tied it off to a beam, pulling her tight enough to make her stand on her toes to avoid strangulation.

Ashley stared in horror at the hulking man in front of her. “Please, not me,” she gasped, trying to breath. “Oh god, anyone else. Not me. Please not me.” Her body trembled violently in the cold and agonizing fear that ate at her guts.

“Oh yes,” Chester said, his voice trembling with joy. “Chester like so much. Good girl for Chester to take apart. Very good, pretty girl. Fun with girl parts.”

Ashley was sobbing as he felt his large hands all over her body, sticking his finger into her pussy, and kneading her breasts painfully, as if to squeeze the life out of them. Ashley gasped and tried not to choke. Her screams returned when she saw him holding the knife.

He slid it around her skin, sometimes cutting, sometimes just scratching. He dragged it all over her bound, nude body, front and back, top and bottom. She was bleeding from a hundred small cuts when he threw the knife down into the dirt. He stepped out of her sight shortly, but returned with a handful, a Chester-sized handful, of sharpened knitting needles.

“No! No! No!” she shrieked, hurting her voice from the strength of her cried. Over and over she screamed “No! No!” It did no good. Her words turned to agonized cries as he pushed the first spike into her left breast, from the top, slowly pushing through until the tip emerged from the bottom.

“Please god please god please god,” she sobbed again and again. God wasn’t listening or didn’t care. Chester soon stuck another long spike through her other tit. Then another. And another. Ashley shrieked herself hoarse from the shock and pain, but it didn’t stop Chester from decorating each of her tender young breasts with a dozen knitting needles. Then he moved on to her buttocks.

The blood red moonlight made Ashley ill when combined with the shocking ordeal. Twice she vomited, the first time sliming her body but the second time only dry heaving and nearly ending her ordeal by choking to death. If, that is, death had any meaning in world where a hundred-year-old executed sex killer could still be alive.

When Chester had finished poking thirty long needles into Ashley’s soft ass he returned to her front side. “Chester like girl’s screaming.” He leaned in close, holding a needle close to her eye while licking her face. “Chester like girl parts. Fun girl to play with. Scream, girl! Scream!” And she did.

Rather than torture her further, Chester removed his bulky coveralls, revealing a throbbing cock nearly eleven inches long. Ashley could only hoarsely groan as she saw it. When he grabbed her legs and pulled her tender young crotch to his cock, most of her weight went to her neck. She didn’t know which agony to feel most, the not quite complete chocking around her neck or the mammoth prick tearing apart her pussy. It didn’t really matter, as neither was avoidable. Chester slowly strangled and raped Ashley over the next forty-five minutes without break. Even when the bait girl and two of her nude sisters came in to watch for a few minutes, his attention remained on poor, suffering Ashley.

Ashley was utterly defeated by the time he filled her belly with his evil spunk. She knew she was doomed. Only when and how painfully were unknown. When he grabbed more spikes and began examining her tortured cunt, she knew the worst would occur. She cried.

Ch. 4

Katherine came across Jasmine, still tied in the courtyard. The two women stared at each other for just a moment. “Please, get me out of here,” Jasmine wept.

“Is anyone here?”

“Doctor. He could return. Please, hurry!” Katherine struggled to untie the knots holding Jasmine’s body against the cold wall. Once she got one arm free the two of them were able to free her shortly. They quickly fled, searching for a route to the outside.

“This place is impossible!” Jasmine cried. “How did we get in here?”

“It’s the curse. I don’t know if we even can escape,” Katherine panted as they fled from one courtyard to one inside room to another.

“What’s going on? What’s happened?”

“You don’t know yet?” Katherine asked. “It’s the manor. This place is a vortex leading to hell. There are more dead spirits here than anywhere you could imagine. Only rarely does the real manor meet up with the real world. Believe me, I know.”

“What do you mean?”

“What year is it? Please, tell me the year. The date.”

“What? It’s Halloween.”

Katherine stopped in her tracks, stunned. “Halloween? And the moon?”

“There’s an eclipse or something tonight.” The girls looked up to see the eclipse nearly at its peak.

“Oh god, no, no! Not that.”

“They say it’s a blue moon, but it looks red to me.”

Katherine broke down in tears. “Oh no! We’re doomed! No!”

“What the hell is happening here!” Jasmine shouted.

“You don’t get it. I’m trapped. We’re all trapped. I was trapped here in 1978! Many have been here longer. We’re fodder for the depraved lusts of thousands of condemned and evil souls. But tonight! Halloween! Hurry! If you value anything in your life, we’ve got to flee! Get away at any cost!”

Jasmine could only follow the terrified woman as they ran naked through the hospital and mansion, desperately seeking a way out. As they rounded a bend, they both ran full tilt into Patty and a very confused Tisha. Behind Patty and Tisha were John and several unknown men. And with all four women knocked down to the ground, they were easy fodder for the men to drag them into unattended asylum rooms and begin the mass rapes.

Jasmine sobbed loudly as her cunt was penetrated again, this time by a crazed looking man wearing only a threadbare hospital gown. He was strong, though, and held her body down while he rammed his cock into her repeatedly. “Oh, yeah. Lookie there at the black bitch. Like my white cock, black girl? Like it hard? Like it long?” It didn’t matter that she didn’t like it. She hated it, and it hurt. The man raped her for several minutes before pouring his seed into her body.

His face changed, even without his climbing off her. “Well look what the good lord provided for me,” the same man said, his voice becoming a slow drawl. He began thrusting and Jasmine began crying.

In the next room, Tisha lay mostly confused, despite the rape perpetrated on her body. Was she Tisha O’Neil or was she Buffy Moonbeam? An actress, and a rather unsuccessful one, or secretary to the preeminent exorcist of the twenty-first century? She couldn’t figure it out, but she had long, vague memories of Tisha O’Neil going back to childhood, but sharp clear memories of Buffy Moonbeam going back only a few years.

As her rape went on and her cunt became more blistered, her existential crisis seemed to fade. She was in pain, and the same man had already raped her and cum in or on her four times. Her daze faded, and the horror of her situation began to take hold.

Across the hall Patty had no distraction. She was being penetrated simultaneously by three different men, and all of them were shifting personalities after cumming. It had taken her time to realize it. All her life she’d only had sex with her late husband. Even widowhood at twenty-six hadn’t changed that. Now she wept openly, devastated, as her body was violated in horrible ways that shouldn’t even be possible. Oh how she wished she’d stayed home with the dogs instead of coming to the awful manor. But all her crying was for naught. She was staying put, to be the living sex doll for the lustful damned souls of hell.

***

While Tisha struggled with her self-identity, Mary was trapped somewhere in the basement of the old manor house. Sturdy iron manacles held her chained to the floor and ceiling, spread eagled, and standing in the middle of the room. She was trembling all over in naked terror. Surrounding her were three other naked women, unbound and leering at her. They held sharp objects in their hands.

“So, you be an interloper in matters that do not concern thee,” Hester said, hissing in Mary’s ear.

“No, no,” Mary whimpered as Hester dragged the old knife down along Mary’s breast.

“Silence! Dare not befoul the purity of our house with your most vicious of lies!”

“Please!” Mary sobbed. “Please, let me go!”

“My sister told you to be silent!” Agatha screamed, driving her knife into Mary’s right buttock. She twisted it hard before yanking it out. Blood began dribbling down her leg.

“Meddlers. Interlopers. Befouled intruders on his most glorious day! You sully our home and dare to ask us for the mercy.” Hannah now dragged her knife blade along Mary’s cheek, slowly surrounding her right eye. “You insult us!”

“Oh god, please let me go!” Mary sobbed.

Sarah let out a scream like a banshee, hitting sound pitches seemingly impossible for a human throat. She swung the old staff at Mary’s body, slamming into her tits and knocking Mary back. The rough iron cuffs cut at her wrists. “Heathen! Heathen whore!”

Hannah held up her hand, gesturing Sarah back. “Tell us now and truthfully, upon your gravely imperiled soul, how it is that you’ve arrived at this place today.” She began slicing the blade down Mary’s chest, between her tits and to her belly, making a long line of blood. “Surely it be upon you wise to speak nothing but that what is real.”

“I was trying to stop my sister!” Mary cried, trying to keep her tightly bound, nude body away from the knife. “She is ill! I chased her up the hill. That’s all, oh god please let me go! Please!”

Sarah’s hideous screech and the accompanying blow direct on Mary’s crotch with the staff chilled Mary’s blood and tensed her up for the pain that would follow. Agatha let loose on the woman with a rain of belt blows aimed nowhere in particular except for Mary’s front side. She was swinging the old, heavy buckle end, and it smashed into Mary’s face several times, drawing blood from her nose and mouth.

“Place the master’s mark on her back,” Hannah said. “See that she is bequeathed properly for him alone.” Now Mary winced and cried and pulled forward as one of the other girls carved something into her back, slicing her flesh and leaving behind the symbol in blood and scars, whatever it was.

“Fetch the wench’s holder,” Hannah said. Sarah hurried from the room. Hannah held Mary’s neck, squeezing it fairly tightly. Agatha continued whipping her legs with the belt. “You shall be made ready for the master, the true lord of lords.” She ran the blade over Mary’s face in several places, making the woman bleed more. “Mercy shall surely be scarcely found.”

Sarah returned with what looked like a wooden dildo, large and not terribly smooth. Hannah took it and began pushing it up into Mary’s cunt. She cried out in agony as the rough edges cut her tender insides. Hannah pushed it all the way in, completely burying it out of sight. Sarah handed her a needle and thread. Mary screamed fresh before it even began. Hannah quickly pierced Mary’s labia and crudely but effectively sewed her pussy lips shut, holding the wooden rod inside her.

***

Andrea’s terrors continued to get worse. When she woke up after her fall she found her ankle was twisted or broken. She didn’t know which, but she could not stand on it at all. She heard screams, isolated but frequent, coming from the main building and realized her friends were all being tortured surely as much as she had been. Crying as she crawled along in the red moonlight, she tried to make it back to the truck. She had to get help. She had to get out of there. She couldn’t even find her clothes that Craig had thrown from the window before raping her. She had to crawl naked in the cold, misty night air.

There was another car in the lot. Two, actually. One was still idling with the lights on. No one was around. She cried out in pain as she had to crawl across the gravel on her bare knees to get to it. It was perfect. The keys were inside. It was running. She dragged herself up into the driver’s seat and closed the door.

The problem came when she tried to move it. The car was a stick shift. She realized on her first try that even pushing down on the gas created more agony than she could stand. She stalled the engine and lurched forward. Another try was worse, and she suddenly pulled over the edge of a small depression in the ground. Again she tried, but the car was stuck. The front tires were in the mud now, and probably wouldn’t have come out without a good push anyway.

Andrea collapsed in sobs, leaning on the steering wheel to cry over her fate and bad luck. She’d just noticed the smell of pizza when the door opened and strong hands hurled her from the car and to the gravel ground. She rolled to a halt, screaming in pain from her busted ankle. She looked up to see John standing over her, a crazed look of lust on his face.

“John, please. Help me,” she wept. He just grabbed her, flipped her onto her back, and climbed onto her. “No! What are you doing? No!” she screamed as she felt him guiding his rigid cock to her abused slit. She cried out as he pierced her and began ramming her hard. Her ass was sliding along the gravel with each thrust. She couldn’t believe it was happening again. First Craig and now John. She was emotionally defeated by the time he dumped his load into her.

It was not over, she soon discovered. He paused only for a second, then smiled and began raping her yet again. She stared up at him, horrified at this new development. So far he hadn’t said a word to her. It certainly didn’t seem like him at all.

“Oh, oh yes,” he said as he began the third rape. “Good cunt. Such juicy good cunt!” Andrea shrieked for help to a savior that would never hear her.

***

Becky ran and ran and ran. Her mind was still reeling at the concept of being a rape victim. And not just any rape, but a ghastly, ghostly gang rape. Now, stark naked and fleeing down the hillside, she could only think about getting away. Her many hours of practice at the track had left her with strong runner’s legs, and she even had the collegiate medals to prove it. Now she needed her strength to survive. Yet, she was running barefoot, nude, down a slippery slope at night into the fog. With each step she didn’t know where her foot might actually land.

At the bottom of the hill the fog was far thicker, and surrounded her in a blood red haze. She could see the eclipsed moon almost directly above, nearly complete, but nothing else. She soon lost track of the hill, the town, and every other familiar landmark. She slowed to a walk, trying to catch a glimpse of a way out or hear a sign of further pursuit.

She yelped when she heard some kind of growling off to her side. She turned the other direction. A minute later there were footsteps in front of her. She whimpered when she then heard a whispered pair of voices nearby. She was certainly not alone out there. They were following her, trying to find her, or perhaps just playing cruel games with her. She tried and failed to fight back her tears. She was shivering in the chill. It couldn’t be more than fifty degrees out, if that. Even in seemingly mortal danger, she couldn’t help but feel extra helpless for being naked.

Something growled, louder, deeper than a human’s voice, and with a slobbering quality that made her spine shiver. Her terror was growing by the second. She couldn’t pick a direction. Whoever or whatever was out there was all around her.

“Please!” she sobbed desperately. “Leave me alone! Leave me alone!” She heard the clear sounds of laughter, not from one or two but three directions. She fell to her knees in tears. For several more minutes nothing happened. She heard whispered voices all around her, but saw nothing in the red gloom.

“Please!” she shrieked once more. The first attacker clobbered her from behind, driving her body face down into the grass. More piled on. Her arms and legs were grabbed and she felt cocks entering her. The one in her cunt was bad enough, but the one in her anus was much worse. A man’s swollen and smelly prick was shoved into her mouth, his ball sack slapping her nose and eyes. The frenzied nature of the sudden thrusting nearly put her into shock. They were bouncing her around, shaking her with the violence of the attacks. Becky just sobbed and took it all, weeping in pain and shame and disgust.

On and on it went. The fog was so thick and red she could barely see a couple feet. She couldn’t even see her attackers well, with the bright moon usually behind them, hiding their faces in gloom. But there were many of them. Possibly men, possibly mannish beasts, she couldn’t tell either way. They surrounded her, and once her massive gang rape began they were louder in their voices and other sounds they made.

When her ass bled they kept coming. When her cunt bled they continued raping. When she tried to bite them clawed fingers clasped onto her throat, strangling and scratching her neck until she was on the verge of passing out, only to give her an unwanted reprieve from sweet oblivion. On and on and on went the frenzied attack in the fields, covering Becky with foul cum inside and out.

It lasted until a single moment when the moon overhead flared brighter, and a soft glow seemed to shine down on the haunted manor and hillside. Becky saw it from underneath her savage attackers. Inside the mansion and hospital, they others saw it from the windows. Ashley saw it, and even Chester was distracted from piercing under her fingernails with needles. Mary saw it from the basement cell where she stood chained. Andrea looked up from the parking lot where John’s eightieth possessor was raping her for the eightieth time. The temperature dropped easily another ten degrees, and the sudden drop in air pressure made everyone’s ears pop. All, victim or brutalizer, felt the impending doom of great, ancient evil permeating the very air around them.

Ch. 5 Doom!

Tina was the only girl on the manor hill to still have her clothes on. She would soon trade places gladly with any of them. Her searches had led her into the deepest basement levels of the mansion and hospital, hideous, dead tunnels of despair that screamed out in the memories of past victims. In vain she’d walked among them, trying to find her way back out until her lantern went out and left her in pitch darkness. She’d listened all night long as screams from above echoed down the halls, repeating again and again until they were lost in the background noise of the tombs of the condemned.

Now the tunnels all filled with the ghostly red light, coming not from the moon but simply out of the air. She looked up from her seated position on the floor and screamed when she saw three robed figures standing over her. Their faces were hidden in the depths of the cowls, and their gloved hands clutched black scythes. She screamed and backed away, unable to even stand as she tried to pull away.

They grabbed her and tore her clothing away in what seemed like a single motion. Two grabbed her arms between them and dragged her, following the third up the stairs and out to a courtyard. Tina tried desperately to scream again, but her voice was powerless. Their very touch drained her of her strength. They dragged her lithe, smooth body to a stone slab in the middle of the courtyard and attached chains to her neck, wrists, and ankles. She had slack, and could move, but she was going nowhere.

With her lower jaw quivering she looked around in the now almost bright red light. The eclipsed moon was blinding. Symbols, pentagrams and stars and Arabic writing, covered the slimy old walls. The cold was unbearable.

She didn’t have to wait long. She felt the rumbling before she heard it, and smelled it before she saw it. Noxious vapors erupted around her. Her face cringed and twisted up in abject, hysterical terror. She wept and begged for all kinds of mercy, mostly reverting to her native Japanese as she forgot everything else around her. She could see the robed figures that brought her, standing one on each side and one below her feet, but all standing back by the walls, keeping the distance that she longed to.

The terrible, live sucking figure that arose at her feet finally evoked from her the scream that had been denied to her earlier. She quickly ruptured both vocal cords, leaving only a raspy whisper to her. It, he, was gigantic, probably twelve or more feet tall. In the light he was red skinned, but so was she. His head came between her and the moonlight, but in the shadows she could make out hints of the features that leered down at her. The slobbering teeth. The flaming eyes. The large mouth and nostrils that belched out the most noxious odor of death imaginable. There was no sinister dark cape or horned helmet. Only flesh and bone. As the enraged member approached her cunt she despaired of surviving it. As her pussy was torn into, Tina felt her body go limp. Not numb, but unable to move for a moment as the cold, sharp member ruptured her. Claws grasped her tiny body, shaking her and thrashing her underneath, but all pale in comparison to the awful, burning, freezing feeling that speared her vagina like nothing in the mortal world could.

It howled. Only a beast could make such a sound, and her friends she would never see again all heard it. She felt life draining away from her body, never to return. But death still eluded her, and she felt intimately every grasp, every scratch, every squeeze, and worst of all every thrust as the minutes ticked away. Just before the first hint of whiteness appeared on the bloody moon above she felt the poisonous flooding of demon seed gushing into her abused womb. Seed that had a life of its own, but quickly began to harvest her feminine body for needs so evil and foul that Tina’s poor mind could never comprehend them.

The beast tore her off the slab, snapping the chains, her body surviving only by the demonic will. Tina’s mind thrashed about wildly, willing herself to be free from the abduction. She looked up as the world receded above her, closing in and leaving her alone with the devil incarnate, a living incubator, never again to see the surface of the Earth or know even the slightest of its pleasures. Her mortal eyes tried to absorb the images that soon surrounded her in her new eternal prison, but mortal vision was incompetent for the task of witness what man calls hell but is in truth so much worse. Her ruined vocal cords managed one final scream heard even back up at the surface of her lost mortal world.

Ch. 6

Only Cheryl and Andrea happened to remember John’s telling them that a lunar eclipse took hours to finish, and so the reddish light seemed to go on forever for the tormented girls trapped in the manor. Everything had seemed to freeze during the visitation, but afterwards the frenzied nature of rapes stepped up to ten times what they had been before. The girls were passed around like bags of chips, each damned soul taking a bite out of one.

In the parking area, Andrea lay motionless and half numb as John continued raping her again and again, each time shooting a full load of cum into or onto her body. When he finally left her to go back to the mansion in search of a different girl, it took her more than ten minutes to recover her wits enough to begin crawling away. She simply headed away from the manor and towards the town. Each step was a naked agony. Besides her swollen and unusable ankle, she had several broken bones and was beaten and cut up badly. She felt all too little relief even when the haunted manor was behind her, out of sight. She still had a mile to go, nude, freezing, and degraded unlike any woman she could imagine. She never stopped crying the whole way down, a trip that took nearly two hours.

She finally reached the streets of the town and found herself surrounded by dark houses. No one was still up, nor up for the next morning. She tried to call out, but her weak voice couldn’t carry enough to wake anyone. Trembling and sobbing, out of her mind in shock and horror at her ordeal, she just crawled on the sidewalks, painfully, heading for the middle of town. Only after another forty agonizing minutes did she reach a doughnut shop and the safety of the police. It was terrifying and humiliating to have to crawl nude into the shop, but she was far beyond caring too much for such things. She crawled in, broke down sobbing, and finally got the words out to send squad cars racing up the hill.

***

The final half hour of the blood orgy reached a frenetic pace of bedlam. The attackers, mostly shambling men, but including the dynamic, energetic possessions of John, Craig, Jason, and Ryan, switched from girl to girl to girl in a psychotic race to rape as much pussy as possible. In the confusion, a few managed to slip away.

Ashley, of course, was not one of them. Her entire night had been spent entertaining Chester at his sadistic games. Nor was Mary among them. The witches still had her chained tightly, determined to sacrifice her for their lord master.

Jasmine crawled weakly from a door she found, just as the first hints of dawn appeared in the sky. Blood, much her own, caked her body, and she left a bloody trail of vomit and dripping cum. The last remaining rapist zombies only failed to see her because her dark skin hid her in the night gloom. Crying wildly at her ordeal, she slithered out to the parking area. She couldn’t even stand. She couldn’t imagine how many creatures had raped her that night. It was impossible to count, and she didn’t want to remember. She knew, however, that she could never forget that night. It would be with her forever, every day, every moment for the rest of her life. She just knew it.

Tisha, thinking with a clear mind again for the first time, was none too happy with what she witnessed. Only her confusion had spared her some of the night’s earlier horrors. But she knew her sister was up there somewhere, and that Tisha had led her up there. The second half of the rape orgy had left Tisha remarkably able to walk, though swaying badly, but even more beaten, blistered, burned, cut, and generally broken than most of the other girls. She staggered out of the mansion in the morning gloom to find Jasmine lying passed out in the gravel. She looked up in time to see squad cars and ambulances arriving. She fell twitching to the ground before they could get out and catch her.

***

Cheryl dragged herself to her feet, peering out the window to the front of the manor far below. She was somehow up in the spire tower. “Help me!” she screamed when she realized the police had arrived outside. She banged at the window, but the glass held under her small fists. “Help me! Please! Up here!” She broke down in fractured sobs. “Why won’t you come?” she whimpered.

“They can’t hear you,” Katherine said from behind her. “It’s too late for us. It’s always too late. You have to get out the first time, or you never will. But you’ll always try, and hope.”

“What do you mean? We’re rescued. The men are gone. The cops are here!”

“No, the cops are out there, in the real world. They aren’t in here. The manor, the real manor, is fading away again. It won’t rejoin the real world for years to come.”

“I don’t understand,” Cheryl sobbed. “We’re saved. The cops are here.”

“Look at them. Look carefully. What do you see?”

“The cops. The ambulance. Look, one ambulance is leaving already. They took Jasmine and some other woman away.”

Katherine peered down at the scene below. “What about the headlights?”

“What? I don’t understand.”

“The ambulance. The headlights are off.”

Cheryl stared as the vehicle quickly left, careening wildly through the dark. “I don’t understand. What does it mean?”

“In their world, it’s morning already. We can still see them, a bit, for a while. But for us it’s always dark. We’re retreating from the real world. Everything, everyone that’s part of the manor. We fade away until the next time the two worlds meet.”

Cheryl looked outside in growing despair. She saw a dim yellow orb to the east, barely visible. It was the sun. And the figures outside were growing dimmer still.

“So we fade,” she said.

“Yup,” Katherine replied. Cheryl sat down, her ass hurting, but no worse than the rest of her naked, broken body.

“Then we rest. And wait.”

Katherine shook her head, beginning to cry once again. “No. You don’t understand! We don’t fade away into nothingness. We only fade from the real world. We stay conscious, and aware, and alive. And so do they.”

“They?” Cheryl asked in sudden, sickening realization. She heard footsteps coming down the hall. The two girls turned to see the angry, lustful men of the manor, their orgiastic frenzy somewhat muted, but still seeking pussy. Cheryl and Katherine screamed together as it all began again.

Epilogue.

“We’re dropping the charges,” Ken Christenson said to the police chief.

“What? Why?” Frank asked.

“Lack of evidence. Lack of a believable story. Oh, I’m sure something awful happened up there last week, but we’ll probably never know what it was. The stories don’t match up at all. Not the time line. Not the events. Nothing.”

“What about the medical evidence?”

“We took DNA samples from the three boys, John Martin, Ryan Breeg, and Jason Campbell. The guys at the crime lab have been going over the results all week. They’ve identified hundreds, literally hundreds, of separate samples from the three girls. Not a single one of them matches the three boys.”

“And the missing people? I’ve got eight missing persons reports. Most of them had their cars found up on the hill.”

“If you find them, maybe we can do something. But we’ve got nothing real. This isn’t some technicality, Frank. I’m as law and order as you are, but I really think the true story isn’t even close to what we’re hearing. There’s nothing more I can do. You keep looking. But I’ve got a feeling nothing will come of any of it.”

The two old friends sat quietly for a while, sipping their coffee. “How many samples?” Frank asked.

“What?”

“The semen samples. How many? Hundreds?”

“Bob Carrs at the lab said they found exactly six hundred sixty-six.” He took another sip of coffee. “I assume he was just joking about that number.”

“Bob jokes?” Frank asked.

They finished their coffee in puzzlement, capping their strangest professional week ever.


The End

[LaLia]

The beginning had something like the Wrong Turn films... Mental Hospital was there too. The beginning is great: the conversations, getting into the car, the background... very convincing and there was the right Halloween atmosphere. Do you know that feeling in a horror film when you think "you're stupid, this can only end badly"? That's exactly what people thought about your story.

Then you do a really good job of keeping the focus on the story and combining other elements from horror films (the board, for example). Scary, evil, oppressive...maybe not for everyone, but I really liked it

One thing: I found the story a bit too long and if I were you I would have split it into 2 parts

[SoftGameHunter]

@LaLia I'm going to take extra pride in your praise because I've never seen either of the films you mention and still, apparently, managed to create an effectively similar vibe. So thank you!

[Blue]

Now we have two Halloween stories that deal with rape. Even though not a single woman has been raped yet in @Histbuff's story.
Both stories begin with a similar introduction, which made me very curious. And yet there is a big difference:
@Histbuff places a lot of emphasis on describing the backstory. The way he describes the future victims aroused a great deal of anticipation in me, as did the description of how the perpetrators plan to proceed. I could hardly wait until the first rape happened. Unfortunately, I still have to be patient for a while longer.
This story here by @Softgamehunter is completely different. Yes, in the first chapters I also thought that this could become a very good story. But then everything went too fast and too chaotically. Too many rapes, which were often poorly described. Too many perpetrators, too many crime scenes, too much confusion, until I could no longer follow the story.
I would have preferred it if the ghosts and spirits had been left out and the focus had been on how Jason and Ryan plan to ambush and then rape the students. Similar to how @HistBuff did it.
Yes, there are many rapes in the story. But not a single one aroused me as much as just reading the introduction of the other story.
It's a shame, more could have been made of the idea here.