Darcy's Ghost

by Findar

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© Copyright 2020 - Findar - Used by permission

Storycodes: F+/f; fpov; bond; cuffs; strip; naked; gag; collar; crop; corset; hobble; heels; armbinder; supernatural; ghost; nc; XX

Continues from

Part 2: The Countess

Alexis balanced the tray of pastries and mimosas carefully as she stepped out onto the pool deck. She wondered for the tenth time if she should have hired someone to serve for her. Too late now, she thought as she put the tray down before her two guests.

Actually one guest and one simpering toady, she thought. The guest was Paige, the undisputed queen of the local social circle. Long black hair, a killer figure, and a designer outfit that made Alexis feel like her yellow sundress was a rag. The toady was Betty. Not quite fat, but heavy enough to highlight Paige’s perfect curves. She had short brunette curls and wore an off the rack pantsuit. Alexis felt comfortable ignoring her.

“What a charming little place you have Alexis,” Paige purred. “I keep telling Roger we should downsize and get rid of the servants. It would almost be like camping,” she laughed, and Betty laughed with her on cue.

Alexis smiled through gritted teeth. “Bitch,” she thought to herself. But she needed to cultivate this woman if she was going to climb the social ladder. So she gave an inoffensive answer about how she enjoyed the time alone with her husband.

Seemingly satisfied with her first attack Paige went on, “So I hear you made quite a find at the antique store the other day. The girls say you were absolutely crowing about some old chest that you found.”

The mention of the chest sent a rush of color to Alexis’s face. She was reminded of the strange occurrence when her milquetoast husband had opened the mysterious trunk. She shifted uncomfortably in her seat at the thought of what he had done with her.

“Alexis dear, are you quite all right?” Paige smiled at her. “I was saying I’d love to see this great find of yours.”

Alexis snapped back to the moment. “Ah, you can’t,” she stammered. “It really needed a good cleaning. I had Eric take it down to the basement until he could clean it out for me.” She shuddered at the thought of Paige seeing those magazines and other things in the trunk.

Paige saw an opening to make her hostess even more uncomfortable. But at that moment the doorbell chimed. Alexis nearly leapt out of her chair at the chance to end the current line of questioning.

Strappy sandals slapped on the tile floor as Alexis rushed to the front door. She opened the door to find a woman of medium height, casually dressed in jeans and a flannel shirt. The woman nervously brushed back a strand of black hair before speaking.

“Mrs. Taylor,” she said. “I’m Paula, from ‘Klaw’s Kollectables’.”

Alexis eyed the woman suspiciously. “And how can I help you,” she asked?

“You bought a piece from our shop the other day,” she said. “It was a display piece and not eligible for sale. I’ve come to refund your money and ask for the item back if you don’t mind,” she finished hopefully.

Alexis wondered if this woman knew about the strange chest. If she did then she knew it was worth much more than Alexis had paid for it. “I’m rather fond of that piece,” she replied. “I’m not sure I can part with it.”

The woman fiddled nervously with her hair. “We could, ah compensate you for the inconvenience,” she stammered.

Alexis smiled slyly. “Well that would be nice.” She paused, “How about ten thousand?”

Paula’s eyes went wide with shock. “Te-ten thousand? That would put us out of business!”

Alexis started to close the door. “That’s my price,” she said firmly. “Come back when you have the money.”

As the door closed she heard the woman exclaim, “Please, you don’t understand! It’s not safe.”

“I’ll give her a day or two to think about it,” she said to herself as she headed back to her guests. When she returned to the pool deck the chairs were empty. Alexis looked around. Were the two women snooping around her house? She went back inside to find her wayward guests.

Alexis’s heart skipped a beat as she moved down the hall. The basement door stood ajar. Surely she hadn’t left it open. If Paige opened the trunk and discovered the kinky magazines she’d be the laughing stock of the community.

Opening the door wider Alexis called out, “Hello?” Was that a faint laugh she heard? She reached for the light switch and flipped it on. Nothing happened. A hell of a time for the bulb to burn out, she thought. She’d get Eric to change it. But for now she had to make sure Paige hadn’t found the trunk.

The basement was filled with gloomy shadows. Faint light filtered in from the small windows at the rear of the basement. Alexis moved carefully down the stairs, calling the names of her missing guests.

In the center of the room she caught a faint glow. Was that a cigarette? Did Paige smoke, she wondered? Moving more confidently as her eyes adjusted, she called out, “Paige? You shouldn’t be down here in the dark. You might trip.”

Paige leaned casually against the open trunk. But it wasn’t Paige. Her long black hair was pulled back into a severe bun at the back of her head. The designer outfit was gone. She wore a black sleeveless dress instead. Shiny stiletto heels adorned her feet. Her arms were sheathed in long black gloves. In one hand she held a cigarette holder. She put it to her lips, drawing in the smoke. As she exhaled she said, “Now, Za Za!”

Alexis caught a flicker of motion as a leather belt dropped over her shoulders. It reached her waist before she thought of raising her hands. By then it was too late. Behind her Betty pulled on the strap, pinning Alexis’ arms to her sides.

“I ‘ave ‘er,” the woman cried.

“Quickly,” Paige said as Alexis struggled, “get the cuffs on her.”

“Oui Madame,” Betty replied as she reached for Alexis’s wrists.

Alexis fought as the two women slipped thick leather cuffs on her wrists. She might have gotten her arm free. But at that moment Paige delivered a stinging backhand across her face. Alexis’ vision went out of focus with the force of the blow. By the time she recovered her wrists cuffs were attached to the ends of a three foot long spreader bar.

Paige handed Betty a length of rope. “String her up, Za Za. Then we’ll see what it is that Sir Darcy finds so fascinating about this farm girl.”

Alexis tried to talk to the two women as Betty tied the rope on the spreader bar. “Paige, you’ve got to listen to me! It’s the trunk; it has taken over your mind! Close the trunk and we’ll go upstairs. I can explain everything.”

One of the cellar beams had a pair of large hooks in it. Eric had used them to store his bicycle after Alexis had insisted he move it away from her car in the garage. Eventually he had given up the bike but the hooks remained. Now Betty was passing the rope over the hook, hauling Alexis’ arms up over her head.

“Get the lights back on Za Za,” Paige ordered. I want to examine Darcy’s prize.”

The other woman took a step stool and moved about the basement, screwing the light bulbs back into their sockets. As the room filled with light Alexis got a better look at her guest’s transformation.

Paige wore a dress of black satin that hugged every curve of her body. There was a slit up the thigh of the dress, and when she moved it showed a flash of thigh high stockings. The black pumps looked perilous to walk in. But Paige strutted about as if she wore them every day.

The change in her little sycophant was even more shocking. She was dressed in a shockingly revealing French maid’s uniform. The outfit was complete from the ruffle in her hair to the sky high heels buckled on her feet. The top exposed her shoulders and so much of her cleavage that Alexis was amazed she didn’t simply tumble out.

Alexis watched as Paige reached into the open chest. She extracted a riding crop before sauntering back to stand before her. She shuddered as Paige caressed her cheek with the leather crop. She remembered only too well how Eric had treated her when under the trunk’s influence. What might this woman do?

She decided to try reason once more. “Listen Paige,” she said. But that was all she got out. Quick as a snake the leather crop lashed out, catching her a stinging blow on the cheek.

“You may address me as Countess, child,” she purred menacingly. “I wouldn’t permanently damage Sir Darcy’s prize. But there’s lots of ways I could make you regret your insolence.” She turned to her friend. “Za Za, get this rag off of her. Let me see what this little farm girl looks like.”

“Oui Madame,” the other woman said.

Alexis started to put the names in place. All this was from that magazine! The Countess was Sir Darcy’s accomplice. Za Za was her sadistic French maid. But what would these two possessed women do to her?

Za Za (she had to remind herself that her real name was Betty) stepped up to her. She glanced over her shoulder to ask, “Ze dress Madame, you wish to keep it?”

The Countess/Paige laughed, “Lord no. You can burn that thing.”

Alexis felt a sharp tug on the spaghetti straps of the sundress. They parted easily, allowing Za Za to pull the now ruined dress down around her ankles. She took no more care with the strapless bra or her panties, leaving them in a pile on the floor.

All Alexis could do was plead for them to stop. That seemed to excite the little maid even more. She surreptitiously tweaked her nipple as she removed her bra and dragged sharp nails down her legs as she removed Alexis’ panties.

The woman who was now “The Countess” was less than amused with Alexis’ cries for mercy. She fished a black hood from the trunk and handed it to Za Za. “Do shut her up. It’s like listening to cats fighting!”

“Oh mais qui, Madame,” Said the little maid. She flipped the mask over her hand inside out. Inside where the mouth would be there was a large black dildo. She held it up to Alexis' face. “Open your mouth, Cheri,” she said.

“No please,” Alexis begged. “I’ll be quiet, I promise. You don’t have to gag me.”

In response Za Za grabbed Alexis by the hair. She yanked the woman’s head back, forcing her mouth open. The rubber phallus was jammed deep into her mouth. From there it was a simple matter for her to pull the hood up over the captive woman’s head and zip it closed.

Alexis expected to be blinded by the leather hood. She was surprised to find that although the hood encased her head, there was an oval shaped opening for her eyes and nose. The dildo pressed deep into her mouth, but not so deep as to make her gag. She wondered what it was about the trunk that made it always produce penis shaped gags.

With Alexis bound and gagged the Countess walked back to inspect her captive. She ran the tip of her riding crop down from her neck. When Alexis looked down to see what she was doing she felt it pressed beneath her chin. “Chin up child,” she admonished. “We’ll have to work on your posture.”

She turned to her accomplice. “Za Za, bring me the posture collar,” she commanded.

The little French maid pulled a heavy leather collar from the trunk. Bringing it to her mistress she said, “May I put eet on ‘er, Madame?”

When the Countess agreed Za Za stepped behind Alexis. As she slipped the rigid collar around her throat she whispered, “Zis we’ll ‘elp you look like a lady.” She forced the edge of the collar beneath Alexis’s chin before tightening the buckles in the back.

As the straps tightened Alexis could feel the leather pull in tightly along her jaw-line. Each pull of the straps decreased her mobility. In the end her head was held rigidly forward. She could not even look down to see her own body.

Alexis stared straight ahead as the possessed Paige channeled the Countess. She could feel the tip of the riding crop as it explored her body. As it circled her breasts she heard the Countess say, “These aren’t bad, but they could definitely use some assistance.”

When the examination progressed to her waist the woman was even more dismissive. With a sigh she said, “With a waistline like that, I doubt you’ll please Sir Darcy. I thought farm girls were supposed to be fit?” Another sigh as Alexis blushed beneath her hood. “Well, we shall have to make the best of it.” She turned to the other woman. “Za Za, see what you can do to help this poor girl with her figure.”

Betty carried a wicked smile on her face as she pranced over to her victim. She held out a heavily boned black leather corset. “Now Cheri, Za Za will make you most beautiful.” She easily corralled the struggling Alexis, closing the busks on the corset. “Now you must breathe only as Za Za tells you, nes pas?” she said as she took hold of the corset laces.

Alexis was reminded of the corset dress that Eric had forced her into. But this corset started at her hips and extended halfway over her breasts. She tried ignoring Za Za’s orders to inhale or exhale. But the woman was determined to get the corset as tight as possible with or without Alexis’s cooperation. Fighting her simply made it more painful.

She realized that Eric had been rather mild in his lacing. This woman was borderline psychotic about it. Alexis felt her waist being crushed in a giant fist. With each pull of the laces she felt certain a rib would snap. And her breathing had been reduced to short gasps of precious air.

Just as she was certain she was going to pass out, Za Za declared she was finished. Alexis couldn’t see the effect, but she could well imagine the wasp waist she now had. Her breasts felt as if two great hands were pushing them upwards. Even with the posture collar restricting her view she could see her protruding nipples.

Alexis was almost too exhausted to care when the woman returned with sheer black stockings and shoes. She did little as the woman lifted her leg. The black silk stockings had a luxurious feel as they slid up her legs. Za Za kept to her task, hooking the stockings to the garter straps that hung from the corset.

“And now Cheri, we geev you ze proper shoes, nes pas?” the little maid said as she held a pair of shoes before her. Alexis blanched at the sight of them. The heel was a solid seven inches tall. She remembered seeing the wicked shoes in one of the old magazines.

Alexis whimpered as her feet were forced into the cruel shoes. The steep angle of the ballet shoe left her standing on her toes. A thick ankle strap and a padlock ensured that she would not be able to remove the shoes even if her hands were free. At least the extra height eased the strain on her arms.

Paige walked back over to inspect her servant’s work. “Very good, Za Za,” she said before turning her attention to Alexis. “Hmm,” she said pensively. “I’m not sure what it is that Darcy sees in you. Perhaps it’s your inheritance? Or do you have some hidden qualities that I’m not aware of?”

She reached out with the end of her riding crop to stroke Alexis’ nipples. The bound woman shied away from her intrusion. Her reward was a quick snap of the crop on her exposed flesh. As Alexis yelped the evil woman hissed, “Do not pull away from the Countess, you insolent girl.” She gestured with the leather covered stick, “Stand up straight and let me examine you properly.”

Alexis knew she had little choice. Her experience with Eric had taught her that when people were possessed by the trunk (she could think of no other explanation) they had no qualms about causing her pain. Bowing to the inevitable she closed her eyes and stood tall, presenting her half naked breasts.

“That’s better,” she heard as the cool leather began to stroke her breasts. Alexis could feel her nipples begin to pucker as the Countess stroked them. She flushed with embarrassment at the thought of another woman causing such a reaction in her.

Perhaps she could just imagine it was her husband stroking her to arousal? But when she called him from memory he was wearing jodhpurs and an ascot. Did she prefer Sir Darcy to Eric?

Before she could find the answer she heard Paige murmur, “Perhaps there is more to our little farm girl after all.” The Countess turned to her maid, “See Za Za how she responds to the simplest touch. I think I’ll have you test her. Show our little farm girl what you learned in the alleys of Paris.”

The little maid seemed eager to comply. “Mais qui, Madame,” she chirped as she dropped to her knees before the captive. She looked up at Alexis with an impish smile. “Spread your legs, Cheri.”

Realizing what Betty intended threw Alexis into a panic. She shuffled backwards on her pointed toes, stopping only as she was pulled up short by her bound wrists. She wailed a garbled, “No, please,” through her heavy gag.

A sudden explosion of pain across her naked backside sent her forward. The Countess laid into her tender flesh with her crop, striking her three sharp blows. Her cheeks burned with the impact.

“Insolent girl,” the Countess snarled. “You will do as you are told or suffer the consequences.”

Alexis blinked tears from her eyes. Paige was absolutely vicious with her riding crop. She had no doubt that she would be beaten black and blue if she disobeyed. With a resigned whimper she tottered forward to the woman who waited on her knees.

Her calves burned as she spread her legs. She could feel the pull on her wrists as they took more of her weight. Alexis closed her eyes and waited for the inevitable.

When the first touch came Alexis couldn’t help but pull away. Her action was met immediately with another crack of the riding crop which propelled her forward again. This time she felt Betty’s fingers on her thighs, pulling her forward.

Alexis shuddered as the other woman’s tongue began exploring her sex. She tried not to think about what was happening, closing her eyes and letting her mind drift away. But her body knew. Whatever the mousy little woman knew before, it was augmented by the sadistic Za Za.

She could curl her tongue as she ran it along Alexis’s folds, then flick her clit repeatedly. She knew tricks that Alexis had never imagined. And soon she didn’t care that it was a woman down between her legs. All that mattered was the delightful feeling as Za Za ran her along the knife edge of orgasm.

Za Za would not let her cum. She seemed to know exactly when Alexis was close. Then she would back away from her most sensitive zones, finding instead some spot that would keep her aroused without proceeding further. Alexis whined into her gag as her body cried for release.

After what seemed an eternity the Countess said, “Enough, Za Za. I think we’ve seen what our little farm girl is capable of. Finish getting her presentable for Sir Darcy’s arrival.”

Za Za stopped her assault on Alexis, leaving her whining with need. Rising from the floor she trotted over to the open chest and reached inside. She pulled out a long leather skirt and showed it to her mistress. “Zis one, Madame?” she asked.

“That will do. Get her dressed,” she ordered.

Alexis did her best to examine the skirt as Za Za forced her feet through the opening. It was obviously long, perhaps floor length. It looked to have laces down the back that reminded her of the corset dress her husband had forced her into.

Her suspicions were confirmed as Za Za stepped behind her to settle the long skirt on her hips. Alexis felt the first tug of the laces as her former guest began tightening the skirt. With every pull she felt her legs being pressed together.

The lacing stopped just above her ankles. Alexis remembered seeing drawings of hobble skirts in the trunk’s fetish magazines. She just never thought she’d be wearing one. She moved her feet gingerly. The tightly laced skirt gave her about six inches to move her feet and no movement above the knees. It was as if her thighs were welded together.

Not that the poor woman was going anywhere with her arms strung up to the ceiling. But at least she could shift her position to ease the strain on her tortured toes.

Alexis watched as Paige sauntered back before her. She felt a thrill of fear as the woman ran the riding crop along Alexis’ jaw line.

“Well my dear,” she purred darkly. “We have you at least somewhat presentable for when Sir Darcy arrives. We’ll just let you rest here awhile.” She turned to the little French maid. “Za Za, I’m quite parched after all this. Bring me some champagne on the veranda.”

Alexis watched as Paige walked away, the sway in her hips would have generated wolf whistles on the street. She navigated in her stiletto heels like she was born to them. And her waistline suggested that Alexis wasn’t the only one wearing a corset.

The two women exited the basement, closing the door behind them. Alexis was left in semi darkness as they turned out the lights. She tried to ignore the physical discomfort and focus on her predicament.

Did the power of the mysterious trunk have a range? When Paige went back on the porch (definitely not a veranda) would she suddenly come to her senses? And when Eric came home from work would he suddenly revert to his Sir Darcy persona?

The thought of her last encounter with him reawakened the fire between her legs. She tried to shift her hips against the super tight skirt. The desire Betty had kindled in her was almost a physical ache. She had no interest in other women, but God what that one could do with her tongue!

What if “Sir Darcy” took her right in front of the other women? Or he and the Countess turned the little maid loose on her again. The possibilities were too numerous and humiliating to contemplate. She had better find a way out of this fantastical nightmare.

Alexis realized that her aching feet might be the answer to her prayers. She wasn’t wearing the ridiculous heels when they suspended her arms over her head. And they hadn’t tightened the ropes after they strapped the shoes on her feet. Could she slip the slack line over the ceiling hook? It was worth a try.

She pulled her arms down as low as the rope allowed. With a whip like motion she brought them up again. The motion caused the rope to snap sharply upward. But it didn’t slip off the hook. Several more tries left her sweating under her leather clothing without success. She would have to try something else.

Alexis knew she had to get the rope to move sideways as well as up if it was to slide off the hook. Steeling herself for what was to come she bit down hard on her gag and bent her knees.

With a grunt of pain she pushed up on her toes, throwing herself upright while twisting her arms. The rope moved but not far enough. She lost her balance, toppling off her heels. Pain laced through her shoulders as they took the whole weight of her body.

Gasping for air Alexis struggled to regain her footing. The tight corset left her panting, unable to draw a full breath. But the rope had moved! She had to try again.

A second and third try left her exhausted. She would try once more. She coiled her tightly bound body, letting her arms take the strain as she lifted her feet off the floor. A sharp push downward smashed against her toes but launched her higher. A twist of her harms and the rope slipped free!

Alexis pin wheeled her arms as she landed. She struggled to stay upright on her ballet heels. It was doubtful she would be able to get up if she fell. With a sigh of relief she steadied herself. She wasn’t free yet. But this was a start.

Her first order of business was to free herself from the posture collar and hood. Ungagged, she could always yell for help. With her arms still attached to the spreader bar she could only reach one hand up to the back of her neck. She felt for the buckles there and her heart sank. There were little padlocks holding the buckles closed.

It was a setback, but not an insurmountable one. She had to be as resourceful as that Gwendolyn girl in the magazine. Glancing about the gloomy basement she spied her husband’s small workbench. Could she find something there to cut the leather cuffs from her wrists? She was determined to try.

It couldn’t have been more than twenty feet to the workbench. To Alexis it seemed like twenty miles. At best she could only shuffle her feet a few inches at a time. Each step hurt her feet. After a few minutes her calves burned with the exertion. Every few feet she was forced to stop and catch what little breath she could.

Alexis had no idea how long it took her to reach the bench. She almost cried with relief at the sight of a utility knife in the second drawer she opened. One handed she flipped the blade open. She turned the handle carefully about, resting the blade against her cuff. A rocking motion of her wrist dragged the blade across the leather cuff, scratching the hardened surface.

Impatience has ruined all of us at some point in life. Alexis was no different. After five minutes of slow progress she tried cutting faster. The blade slipped from her hand. She tried to catch it as it dropped and overbalanced.

She made a frantic grasp for the bench as she toppled over. Alexis had allowed Eric only a lightweight workbench, not wanting the basement cluttered with a lot of his “junk”. As she fell the workbench followed her down, landing on top of her with a cacophony of falling tools.

Alexis must have blacked out during the fall. She opened her eyes to see a pair of high heels standing before her. “So our little farm girl is an escape artist, is she?” she heard the countess say. “We shall have to be more diligent in our efforts, I see. Za Za, bring me that arm binder.”

They extricated her from beneath the workbench but left her face down on the concrete floor. Alexis struggled as they freed her arms from the spreader bar. But she was at a severe disadvantage. In minutes her arms were forced behind her back and into an arm binder. She thought her shoulders would snap as Za Za laced it tight, forcing her elbows together.

The spell bound women rolled Alexis on to her back. She let out a groan as her bound arms took the weight of her body. The countess placed a foot on her chest, the point of her stiletto heel digging into her breast.

“Now where shall we put you so you can’t cause any more mischief,” she crooned.

“Ow about ze trunk, Madame,” Za Za asked wickedly.

“An excellent idea Za Za,” the Countess replied. “Help me lift her up.”

The two women carried their struggling captive back to the open trunk. Alexis glanced inside as they put her feet in. Only the old magazines scattered about the trunk greeted her. She winced as they pushed her down into the old crate, folding her body against the grip of her corset and skirt.

“That should keep her entertained,” the countess laughed as she slammed down the lid.

Alexis sat helpless in the darkness, the smell of old newsprint filling her nostrils. One by one dry papery voices began, becoming stronger by the moment. “Marry me!” “That’s right Za Za, as tight as you can.” “I have you in my power.” “Oh could I but reach the knots.” Terror seeped into her like a cold fog. That last voice, it sounded like her own.


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