Darcy's Ghost

by Findar

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© Copyright 2020 - Findar - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; straps; gag; corset; collar; leash; rope; whip; crop; sex; reluct; XX

Eric flinched as the front door banged open. He closed his eyes, letting the paintbrush slip from the tiny figure he was painting. He waited for the onslaught.

“Eric,” his wife screeched “didn’t you hear the car pull up? Am I supposed to come and ask you to carry my stuff in?”

He sighed, looking down at his unfinished army of war-game figures. They would have to wait. “Sorry dear,” he said meekly. “I didn’t hear you drive up. I’ll get your stuff right away.”

“Good,” she barked. “I got a chest at the antique shop downtown that will make a nice coffee table. Get it in and see if you can get the lock off. I want it cleaned out today. I’m going to take a bath. All this shopping has made me sweat.”

Eric watched her go with a sort of awe. Alexis had long curly blonde hair, nice ass and legs, absolutely gorgeous tits. And the soul of a demon from hell. He loved her. He also dreaded the sound of her voice. In short, she scared him.

When the bathroom door closed Eric went out to the car. In the back of her SUV was an old iron bound trunk. The wood was weathered and cracked, the iron bands pitted with rust. In fact, the only thing on the trunk that looked new was the padlock that closed it.

With a grunt Eric hauled on the trunk. It was heavy. He staggered back with it precariously balanced on his arms. He could feel things shifting inside. It made a faint whispery sound as it shifted.

Sweating profusely he staggered into the house with the chest. He dropped it on the living room carpet with a thump. From the bathroom he heard Alexis shouting dire consequences for damage to her new chest.

Eric closed his eyes, counted to ten. Then he headed to the garage for some tools. Thirty minutes of hard labor followed as he struggled with a hacksaw. Finally the reluctant lock gave up its hold on the chest. Tossing the saw aside, he pushed up the lid.

It looked like a pile of old clothes in the box, along with some belts and other items he couldn’t identify. But one thing caught his eye; it was an old magazine with an illustration on the cover of a young woman tied to a post. Eric opened the yellowed pages and began to read. A girl named Gwendolyn was in trouble. In the back of his mind a voice was whispering to him. He turned another page.

Alexis lounged in the tub, letting the warm water relax her. It had been such a trying day. First that stupid shopkeeper’s assistant who didn’t think his boss wanted the trunk sold. Imagine an antique shop that didn’t sell antiques? She had set him straight. She was not about to waste her morning waiting for his boss to come back. She was buying that trunk. The young man had given in. He even loaded it into her car for her. But now her silly husband was trying to get the lock off the trunk so she could clean it out. He better not damage it, or there would be hell to pay.

She looked up as the bathroom door opened. Alexis stared open-mouthed at the sight before her, and then she laughed. “What the hell are you supposed to be,” she asked? For there was her husband in the most ridiculous outfit she had ever seen. He was wearing black riding boots and jodhpurs; jodhpurs for god’s sake. He wore an open necked shirt and an ascot. She didn’t think he even knew how to tie an ascot. And his hair, it was slicked back with some sort of grease. He even seemed to have waxed his feeble little moustache.

Eric seemed not to hear her comment as he strode into the bathroom. He had some clothing and belts in his hands which he tossed on the vanity. Striding to the side of the tub he looked down at her and said, “Time to come out of the bath, Gwen.”

She told him to go to hell. Instead he reached down and grabbed a fistful of her hair. With strength she didn’t know he had he hauled her to her feet. Alexis yelped in pain. She swung her arm to deliver a backhand blow to his face. It never got there. With his free hand Eric grabbed her arm. He yanked her dripping from the tub and forced her face down on the floor.

Alexis struggled to get up. He had released her hair. But he kept her arm pinned behind her back. Dropping his weight on her back Eric dragged her free arm up behind her back as well. He pinned them there with one hand while he reached for one of the leather belts with the other.

As Eric wrapped the leather strap around her wrists Alexis struggled even more. To her shock she could not break his grip. When had he gotten so strong? She cursed him, telling him that she would get loose and wring his neck for this. But when he took a second strap and cinched it tight above her elbows Alexis started to panic.

She started to scream for help. As soon as the first word had escaped her lips her attacker’s hand clamped down. She heard him say, “Can’t have you making all that noise now, can we luv?” That stopped her struggles for the moment. It didn’t sound like Eric at all. It almost sounded like a British accent.

Her moment of confusion allowed Eric time to pull a gag from the pile on the vanity. It was a wicked little device, a two inch strip of leather with numerous straps attached. Mounted on the inside of the strap was a hard black rubber phallus.

Alexis’s eyes widened at the sight of the strange device. Eric removed his hand from her mouth and she started to scream anew. But that scream was her downfall. Eric roughly shoved the black penis into her open mouth. Her scream became a stifled gurgle as he held the leather against her face. With his other hand he worked the straps that would hold it in place. One strap went around her head. Two other straps came off the top of the gag and lay either side of her nose. They met between her eyes and continued over the top of her head. A final strap came off the bottom to buckle under her chin, forcing her jaws shut.

Eric climbed off of her, allowing her to come to a sitting position. He smiled darkly as she struggled against the straps that held her. When she tried to speak through the gag he laughed wickedly. Grabbing her arm he hauled her to her feet. Taking a towel from the bar he said, “Time for you to get dressed, Gwendolyn.” He backed her against the vanity and began to dry her off.

Alexis wanted to fight. But there was no point in standing there dripping wet. She stopped struggling, allowing Eric to dry her off. He vigorously worked the fluffy towel over her body, paying special attention to getting her breasts dry. She was dismayed to see her nipples hardening in response to his attentions.

When she was thoroughly dry (much drier and she would be wet, she thought ruefully) Eric took hold of her elbows and lifted her onto the vanity. She was amazed again at his newfound strength. She sat there as he fished in the pile of clothing he had brought into the bathroom.

From the pile Eric pulled a pair of black stockings. Draping one across her lap he reached for her foot. Alexis yanked her leg out of his hand. Getting dry was fine but she wasn’t about to help him with whatever sick game he was playing.

Her determination was short-lived as Eric reached out to grab a handful of hair in one hand and one of her breasts in the other. He slowly tightened his grip on both until Alexis screamed behind her gag. Holding her breast firmly he told her in that strange accent, “This can be beastly uncomfortable for you, Princess. I really suggest that you make it easy on yourself.” He gave her throbbing breast another squeeze that made her yelp. “Not that I mind either way.”

Alexis was frightened. The man before her didn’t seem like her husband at all. And he was willing - no, happy - to hurt her if she didn’t cooperate. She meekly held out her leg for the stocking.

Eric quickly rolled the black silk stockings up her legs. They were held in place with old fashioned elastic garters. He then reached into the pile for a pair of high heeled shoes. Alexis’ eyes widened as he set the shoes before her. They were black, with wide straps at the ankles. But they were so tall. The spike heel must have been five inches at least.

She only had a moment to examine the wicked shoes before Eric was forcing her feet into them. She felt her toes bent painfully forward as her foot conformed to the shoe. Her greatest shock was the straps at the back of each heel. After Eric tightened the straps he secured each with a small padlock. Even if her hands were free she could not remove the shoes.

There was little time for Alexis to adapt to her new footwear. Eric had grabbed the black leather dress and slipped it over her legs before pulling her roughly to her feet. She would have fallen had he not supported her. She balanced precariously on the towering shoes while Eric worked the dress up her body.

Alexis quickly learned that this was no ordinary dress. Made of shiny black leather, it was strapless. The cups on the front pushed upward on her breasts but left her nipples exposed to view. And she felt something strange as he worked it into place over her backside.

She twisted her head around to see that there were two openings in the back of the dress at the level of her ass. As Eric pulled the dress into place her cheeks protruded from these two openings, separated by a narrow strip of leather. The immediate effect was to make her cheeks push outward in a way that made her blush with humiliation.

Had she looked closer at the dress she would have noticed one of its most important features. It did not close with buttons or a zipper, but with laces. There were two sets of laces, one above her butt openings and one below. Alexis was quick to discover this feature when her captor began tightening the laces.

Eric started working the laces, pulling each one a little tighter, cinching the ‘dress’ a little tighter with each pull. For in reality the dress was a long corset. Every tug at the laces pulled Alexis’ body into more of an hourglass shape. Every time she exhaled Eric would tighten the laces another fraction of an inch until she felt as if she were being crushed in a giant fist.

Finally Eric ceased his efforts at her waist. Alexis, glancing in the bathroom mirror was stunned to see how the corset had transformed her body. But there were still the lower laces that hugged her legs. And her captor soon went to work on them.

These laces were not pulled as tight as the ones about her waist. But they pulled her thighs closely together so that she could only move her legs from the knees down. She was tightly encased in leather from her knees to her nipples.

Of the collection Eric had brought into the bathroom only three items remained, a thick leather collar, a padlock and a leash. Alexis watched helplessly as the collar was placed around her neck and locked in place. It was wider at the front, forcing her head erect. It was almost impossible for her to see the floor at her feet. Eric snapped the leash onto the D-ring at the front of the collar.

“Now Gwendolyn, let’s practice walking shall we,” Eric said in his strange voice. He gave a tug on the leash. Alexis took a step forward and toppled over with a muffled scream. If Eric hadn’t been there to catch her she would have fallen on her face. He stood her upright. “Stupid girl,” he clipped. “I’ll teach you to fall over.” He brought his hand back and delivered a stinging slap to her exposed backside.

And so it went, Alexis learning how to walk all over again, with her thighs bound together and perched on stiletto heels. She received more than one slap on her tingling ass cheeks before she was reasonably stable. But at last Eric was satisfied. Taking the leash in hand he led her out of the bathroom.

Alexis crossed the bedroom in mincing steps, concentrating on keeping her precarious balance. When she saw the door to the living room loom before her she felt a surge of panic. She did not want to risk being seen like this. Even though it might mean rescue from her obviously mad husband, the public humiliation and scandal would be too much to bear.

She stopped, shaking her head violently and mumbling “No” around the rubber penis that was strapped in her mouth. Her protest earned her a slap across her exposed nipples that brought tears to her eyes. A new tug on the leash warned her that she was not to resist Eric’s demands. With tears of pain and shame filling her eyes she tottered out into the living room.

Eric led her directly to the old trunk she had purchased. Taking her by the arms he turned Alexis until she stood facing the back of the trunk. Kneeling behind her, he forced her ankles together, binding them with another of the leather straps.

Alexis looked with fascinated horror at the strange items scattered on the floor around the trunk. There was rope, leather straps, odd items of clothing and an old leather riding crop. She looked down to see her husband tying a piece of rope to the strap that bound her ankles. The other end of the rope led under the trunk. She didn’t know why, she was most concerned with staying upright in her precarious position.

She watched Eric warily as he stepped around to the front of the chest. She wasn’t sure what he was up to, but at least he had closed the blinds in the living room before dragging her out there.

Reaching down in front of the chest Eric retrieved another rope end. With a smile of pure malice he passed the rope through the D-ring on her collar. Holding the end, he deftly stepped back behind Alexis. He supported her teetering form with one hand while he took up the rope’s slack with the other.

It took Alexis only a moment to realize what was happening to her. The rope that attached her ankles passed under the trunk. It was now connected to her leather slave collar. As Eric pulled on the rope it pulled her body forward. With her ankles bound and her knees hobbled by the corset dress she could only bend at the hips. Eric kept her feet from moving back as he slowly bent her over the chest.

The rope dragged Alexis head down until she was bent over the old wooden box. She cried out against her gag as Eric tied the free end of the rope to the hasp on the front of the box. Alexis found herself standing, but with her head lower than her ass in a most uncomfortable position.

After tying off the rope Eric stepped out of her field of vision. In fact there was very little that she could see from her current position. Only her breasts, pushed up by the half cups of her corset and the front of the chest could be seen.

With little else to do besides thinking about how uncomfortable she was Alexis examined the surface of the chest. It had been painted black at some point, but time had worn and cracked the old paint. The initials J.W. were painted in faded gold letters. She wondered who J.W. could have been.

Her musings were interrupted by the appearance of Eric’s booted feet. She wondered anew at the strange change in her meek little man. She noted with growing alarm that he tapped the side of one boot with a riding crop.

As Eric spoke Alexis felt a chill grip her heart. “And now Miss Gwendolyn, you will learn the penalty for defying Sir Darcy.” She watched, horror struck, as he raised the crop to her naked breasts. A whimper escaped her as he gently stroked the exposed nipples.

There are times when our bodies betray us. Nerves and flesh are hardwired to respond to stimuli. So there was little Alexis could do but watch as her nipples became hard and erect under the touch of the leather crop.

Alexis closed her eyes, hating the feelings of arousal that flowed from her breasts. She did not see the crop suddenly pull away, only to come snapping back to strike her bare flesh.

She screamed, garbled and inarticulate, the sound muffled by the gag strapped to her face. Her nipples, teased to hardness, were hypersensitive as the leather wrapped crop landed on them. It was like an electric shock. Her whole body twitched in response. It could do little else, strapped and corseted as it was. And it continued to twitch as Eric paddled that tender flesh.

Alexis stopped screaming as the torment went on. She could not pull away from his attack on her breasts. And the pain was gradually changing from a sharp sting to tingling warmth that filled her body. She simply waited helplessly, moaning as he tormented her.

The flogging stopped as suddenly as it started. Confused as the sudden loss of stimuli, she tried to look up at her tormentor. All she saw was those boots walking around behind her. She thought about the openings in the back of her dress and the way her naked cheeks were thrust up in the air. The words that escaped her gag might have been “Please, no”. But even she did not recognize the words.

The first slap did not come as a surprise. Alexis cried out. But it was almost a cry of relief. The tension of waiting had been almost as bad as the pain itself. They were not hard hits. Instead they were short, rapid flicks of the crop, allowing the little leather tab on the end to strike her bare bottom.

With each stroke of the crop Alexis could feel her skin warming. There was also a new sensation growing between her legs. She was shocked to find herself becoming aroused by this torment. Mortified at this perverse reaction she jammed her eyes shut and tried to force her mind to other thoughts. But her body would not be denied. Though her thighs were bound together tightly she could feel the trickle of moisture there.

Alexis lost track of how long she was held there. When Eric tired of her red, throbbing backside he would return to teasing and tormenting her exposed breasts. She was sure she had had at least one spontaneous orgasm during the flogging. The mere thought of it filled her with shame.

The end of the torture was almost as much of a shock as the flogging itself had been. It simply stopped. Eric looked down at her panting, exhausted body and said “Well luv, I think you are ready now.”

Alexis simply lay across the trunk as he untied the rope from her collar. Untying the rope that held her ankles he pulled her upright. Unable to support her own weight she crumpled. He caught her easily, scooping her up and throwing her over his shoulder.

Alexis could only see the floor and Eric’s broad back as he headed back into their bedroom. Had she not been gagged she still would have been speechless. Her wimpy, milksop husband was carrying her like she weighed nothing at all. She could feel the muscles of his shoulders pressing against her stomach. When had he gotten so strong?

Her time for speculation ended as she was dropped unceremoniously onto the bed. She landed with a grunt, the wide collar digging into her jaw as her head snapped forward. She cried out against her gag, knowing it was useless.

Eric quickly flipped her over on her stomach. Alexis had a glimmer of hope as he began loosening the laces that held her legs so tightly together. She longed to be free of the corset’s crushing grip. If she thought this was a prelude to freedom she was doomed to disappointment. She saw instead that he released only the lower laces, leaving her corseted above the hips. And now he was starting to strip.

Alexis watched her husband as a rabbit would watch a rattlesnake. He had stripped off his shirt to reveal a wonderfully muscled body. After his riding boots and jodhpurs were gone she stared in amazement. This was not her husband. The engorged cock that pointed menacingly at her did not belong to him. But it was his face, wasn’t it? Even with the slicked hair and waxed moustache it was still his face. She had been frightened by the change in Eric before. But now it was an almost supernatural dread.

Alexis did not resist as Eric flipped her over on her back. She almost didn’t notice the leather straps holding her arms; they had been on so long. Looking down at her feet she could see him removing the strap that held her ankles together. Then he was hiking the bottom of her corset dress up around her hips. He forced her legs wide open.

There was no prelude to his assault on her, no touching to stimulate her. She needed very little, still being wet from her earlier arousal. She heard him say, “Sir Darcy has a present for you, my dear.” Then he was driving himself inside of her.

Alexis screamed against her gag as he forced his way into her. He moved slowly, savoring her distress as he buried himself in her. One hand reached up to grab a fistful of her hair. The other grabbed hold of her exposed breast and began to squeeze.

Tears filled Alexis’ eyes as this stranger began to move himself in and out of her. The pain there was fading, being replaced with the sweet warmth of passion. But if he thought she was enjoying herself too much he would slow down, instead pulling her hair or her breast to give pain with her pleasure.

Alexis climaxed with a long animal cry of pain and joy. She was gasping for air, trembling with exhaustion. But Eric did not stop. He continued pumping her, holding himself back, forcing her to cum again.

She needed air. Alexis felt the need for deep gasping breaths that the corset would not allow her. Unable to breathe around the gag she sucked air greedily through her nose. Still Eric pounded himself into her. She came again. Her vision darkened around the edges, blotting out the light as he assaulted her. She thought she heard him cry out exultantly just before the world went black.

Alexis woke to bright sunlight. She tried to move and groaned. Her body ached all over. She sat up with a start, remembering what had happened to her. She was naked, lying in her own bed. Eric was sound asleep beside her, wearing his plain old pajamas. She looked closely at the sleeping man. There was no slicked back hair or waxed moustache. He did not look like some villain out of a movie serial. He was just her plain old husband.

She sat up and surveyed the room. There were no leather straps or other bondage toys lying about. She asked herself if it could all have been a dream? Careful not to wake her husband, Alexis slipped out of bed. Her body told her that it had not been a dream. Her pussy was tender from the fierce sexual encounter. Her arms and shoulders were stiff from their bondage. And her backside was still tender from its flogging.

Grabbing a robe from the closet she went out into the living room. There was the trunk, unlocked. She examined it closely. The “J.W.” was still there in the front, she had not dreamed that. Cautiously she opened the lid.

Inside she found all the wickedly sexual toys that Eric had used on her. The dress, shoes gag and leather straps were all there, along with other outfits equally bizarre. And off to one side were a stack of old magazines with a pen and ink drawing of a woman on the front. The title read ‘Bizarre’.

Taking one of the magazines Alexis sat down to examine it. She opened the pages to find the evil Sir Darcy tormenting the poor Gwendolyn. Image after image of the sweet girl forced into corsets and heels before being bound and tormented filled her eyes. Her mouth was dry, she swallowed hard. She sat up with a start as her hand unconsciously slipped down between her legs.

Alexis quickly dropped the magazine back in the chest and closed the lid. She didn’t understand the power of this strange chest. But she knew she wanted to explore more of it. She wanted to see Sir Darcy again. Not today though, she thought as she walked uncomfortably to the garage. She would need time to recover before she let Eric read the next installment. Right now she needed to find a new padlock.

12.07.2020

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