Her Room

She finally has a chance for freedom

Photo Copyright: The Author

As with many of my supernatural stories, weird, slightly disturbing things happen and sex plays a significant role.

I can hear her screaming. It is not a sound of panic, more a series of gasps and shrieks; it is the sound of excitement. My room on the top floor of the building is cosy and tidy. The dresses that I have not worn for years hang in the wardrobe; underwear neatly folded in the chest of drawers. Sitting in my chair by the gas fire, I can hear the sounds of life in each of the rooms around me; even those from two floors down reach my ears.

I can smell them too. The beer breath of the man in thirty-two, the carnal lust of the woman in twenty-six. By moving my head slightly I can tune in to any that interest me; like turning the dial on a radio set to pick up a station. Sometimes the signal is clear, sometimes it is surrounded by static. Like radio programmes, some of the stories I hear are mundane, some intrigue me. The woman’s shrieks are enticing. I will investigate.

I can see her now. She is standing by the bed, bent forward, her head nearly touching the covers. The pose forms her behind into the shape of a peach. A peach that is ripening fast as a naked man applies a leather strop to it, his erection swinging in tandem with his arm as he brings the leather down onto her skin, forcing it to ripple away from the blows.

I am transfixed. The woman yelps with each stroke, trying to muffle her cries so as not to arouse the other guests. She is breathing heavily, her fingers are playing between her parted legs. The man drops the strop and pounces on the bent over woman, his member sliding into her liquid folds.

He begins pumping into her with an animal ferocity. Her head is now raised, her mouth open to emit a series of sharp gasps. Their coupling is primal, nothing but raw emotion. The lust, the power, I drink it in from the air, feel it flowing into me.

There is more. In another room a woman is on her knees, her plump thighs swelling beneath her and her heavy breasts swaying as she takes the length of her lover’s cock into her mouth. I am so close I can almost taste the salty sweetness of his issue as he erupts into her, filling her mouth. I glean a little more from their actions.

I am making my way back to my room when I encounter two men on the landing. I stop and observe them. They are rough, labourers maybe, taking lodgings here whilst working on a nearby site. One of the men looks directly at me, a lecherous grin spreading across his face. “Evening,” he says, “Looking for something?”

I step back, shocked - he can see me. Is my physical presence close to returning?

I am as naked as I was when I died, save for the mists I have woven around me. Except I didn’t die; I may have vacated my physical body but I am still here. Suicide, they said, but they were wrong. I did not end my existence; I simply chose to transform from the corporeal into ethereal, intending, at some time, to return.

My body would have lain there whilst I had no use for it had not the owner of this somewhat disreputable house discovered it. He spirited it away and disposed of it, I know not where. It is of no matter; I can assume another expression of my physical form; it just takes time.

The man who confined me to the ethereal has died. He had some inkling of what I am as, after spiriting away my body, he locked my room and never opened it again. His daughter has taken over this establishment but continues to obey his wishes and leave me in peace.

Slowly I have reconstituted my physical form, drawing energy from the guests’ exertions. Now I am close. When I am complete, I will be able to switch from the ethereal to the corporeal at will. I am in need of one more major injection of energy and I have the feeling that these men are the ones to provide it.

My senses tell me the room to my right is empty. Without replying, I turn and pass through the door.

“Fuck me, did you see that?” I hear one of the men outside say. “She just walked through it. And what was she wearing?”

“Not a lot as far as I could see. Do you think she wants some company?” the other replies.

“But what if she’s a ghost?”

“Don’t be stupid. She was real. The door must have been open. See, it’s unlocked.”

I watch as the handle turns and the door opens a few inches. The man peers around it and then swings it fully open. The second man is half a pace behind him, his eyes wide and his mouth open, which is not surprising as I have divested myself of the flimsy apparel that covered my body in the hallway.

The first man swaggers into the room. “Looking for a bit of rough are we?” he growls.

Without waiting for an answer, he unzips his fly and steps forward a growing column of white flesh protruding from the opening in his trousers. He grabs me; I can feel his hands gripping me. Oh, the sensation of touch; something that I have not felt for so long. I concentrate on maintaining my physical presence. He spins me around and bends me forward. I stretch out my arms, my palms flat on the bed, marvelling at the indentations my new weight is making in the pliant surface.

Then he is inside me. I feel my body wrap around his flesh and smile. The other man is standing, his hand wrapped around his erection.

“Stick it in her mouth,” the man behind me says as he begins to thrust into me.

The second man climbs clumsily onto the bed to kneel in front of me. I willingly envelop his flesh, sucking at him in time with the other man’s thrusts into me. I can feel their energy rising, their power flowing into me.

The first taste of their emissions is nectar to me. They are flagging as they crest their peaks, but I have entrapped them. I continue sucking their energy into me. The man in front of me collapses and drops down onto the bed. The one behind me is stronger, but eventually he succumbs and falls to the floor.

I stand, run my hands over my soft new skin. It feels so good. I turn to leave, closing the door behind me. Reluctantly, I shift into my ethereal form to return to my room, not yet wishing to reveal my presence to others I might meet.

***

Maria stood and looked at the chink of light showing under the door of the room that had remained locked since she inherited the guest house from her father. “Oh shit,” she said to herself. “She’s back.”

Want more of the same? This two part story is free to read.