I have been renovating this grand old mansion now for three months and it has been a great deal of hard work. It is going to take an awful lot to get it close to it’s former glory. This home has a personality and I am aware it has its own strange sounds. It has it’s own ghostly moans and whistles when the wind blows. It’s ancient wooden floor creaks and groans at night and I am learning about them all. I have had the roof repaired and made it critter proof. Doors open and close often on there own, lights flicker and I have the feeling I am being watched all the time. I shiver when sometimes, I feel the sensation of a breath on my neck. I have long wavy hair and when I am working I gather it up and tie it messily on top of my head.

I am working in the red bedroom, my favourite room and I know it is Lord Michael Harrow’s bedroom in the east wing, trying hard to match the original décor. I feel that I am not alone deeply in this room. I was warned by the man that sold me the paint, ‘If you do something to the house that the Lord doesn’t like, he will do something to ruin it. Messing with Harrow Hall can be a dangerous activity.’

I nod as if I am taking his advice and say, ‘I will be careful. Thank you’, but it is difficult to keep a straight face.

Once I was out of the store I couldn’t supress a giggle and I knew one thing for sure. I had to test the theory because I have a mind that likes to prove people wrong.

I had bought a number of sample pots of paint at the start of this and I don’t know how a pot of fluorescent green got into my collection of pots. I fish this thing out, knowing it is something I would never use. Well ghosts are active during the night so I waited until it was ready for bed.

I put just a single broad stroke of the green on the front drawing room wall. I went to bed and slept well. When I woke I rushed to look at the paint experiment and nothing had changed. I begin to giggle and feel a little foolish for even trying it. I stare at it for a moment then I go to the kitchen for my morning coffee. I take it back to the drawing room and I turn to look at the paint There is a word on the brush stroke. It says, ‘no’. Then, in bright green there is the word ‘yes’ against the dark and dusky pink of the original painted wall. It was as if the paint had still been wet and a finger daubed in it to write both words. I touch the  paint  and it is really dry. Now I am a sensible girl and if this house is haunted by a ghost with great taste then I am not going to panic. I very carefully say out loud, ‘I will keep as close to the original décor as I can, Lord Harrow.’

I feel a soft caress on my cheek and I feel I have been petted. Ok that was weird but I’m not afraid.

Today I am going to explore the basement. There is so much stuff down there and it is enormous. I have noticed rectangle patches of darker hues to the walls all through the house that obviously meant paintings had been there. I have glimpsed lots of picture frames in the basement so I want to see if they can fill these patches. I finish my coffee and rush upstairs to dress and I say, ‘Lord Harrow, if you are here, please turn around.’ I am sure I hear a rich chuckle.

I dressed and I am back downstairs looking at the door that opened onto the top of basement stairs. When I first looked at the house the real estate agent would not open the door, but I did when I first got here. I removed the padlock and now I can go down easily.

I go to the basement and move things around so I can get to the frames. They are heavy and gilded. There are so many paintings and  they look largely undamaged. I begin to look through them and then I see a picture of a young woman. I drag it out and then I stop in my tracks. Although the clothes are different it is me on the canvas. I feel a phantom arm snake around my waist. Fingers fumble with my hair and it falls around me like a black shawl. The side is drawn back and I feel lips on my neck. The basement and it’s contents melt away and before me is a what can only be described as a dungeon.

Strangely I am not afraid and I feel as if this is common to me. My phantom is no longer invisible. I can see his arm. I turn around and there is a tall, dark haired man. He smiles and kisses me. This kiss is deep and passionate. It ignites something in me, something dangerous. I have my own mind but somehow I now have memories of things I know I have never experienced.

I look at my lover and say, ‘It has been a while since we kissed, Michael.’

‘Yes, my darling Chloe. You have come home to me at last.’

‘I could not resist you.’

‘Are you ready to take up the reins as my submissive?’

Submissive? My mind screams I am not submissive. However this second set of memories run through my mind and I feel so much pleasure it makes me weak in the knees.

Softly I whisper, ‘Yes Sir’ and I slowly sink to my knees…..

There is a pause as he looks in my eyes then in an emotional voice he says, ‘As ever my darling, you look exquisite.’

He reaches down and helps me to my feet. My normal mind screams this is wrong, but my new mind, the older, wiser mind that fills my head with deeply sexual memories, knows I can trust this man. My sense of peace floods my body and I become putty in my phantom lover’s hands.

My back is towards him and he pulls my hair gently over one shoulder and again kisses the side of my neck. He  pulls me against him, resting warm hands on my shoulder. I turn my head to kiss his fingers.

‘Ah my angel, I have waited over three hundred years for you. Now you are here in my arms and you are mine.’

‘Yes Michael I am yours.’

His fingers dig into my flesh and it hurts some. ‘You have not been asleep that long, yet you have forgotten the correct way to address me.’

‘I am sorry Sir, I am still adjusting to all of this’ and it was me that answered, not the creature in my memories.

His fingers relax and he leans into me and whispers, ‘Don’t fight it, surrender. It will come back much quicker if you do. I promise to take care of you. You are safe with me Chloe.’

As he spoke I knew I believed him. My body is almost vibrating with energy and the skin under his fingers is so hot it seems to burn. They are gently kneading my shoulders, urging me to relax. I’m wound up so tightly and there is an urgency inside me. I try to turn but he holds me so I can’t. I look down and see I am in a long powder blue dress from back in history. I feel him move his hands and there is movement  on my back. He is unhooking my dress unbelievably slow. My mounting arousal is swamping me and I am speaking but not making sense. It comes out like little whimpers.

‘Shhhh darling. Slow and steady. I have no intention of rushing this.’

My bodice is gently opened and slid down my arms. Under it is a corset, snug but not uncomfortable. It is as if I had worn them for many years. It doesn’t have cups so now my breasts are free. My nipples are hard and proud, aching to be touched. His arms snake around me and he cups my breasts. I moan softly and he squeezes them until they feel full and heavy. He then touches my nipples so gently, touching like a feather across them. Then he pinches them and tugs them out. I don’t yelp, I lean back into him and moan softly.  He rolls them between his finger and thumb. I reach behind me and my hands press against his cock and it is hard and trapped.

‘Did I tell you to touch me angel?’

I snatch my hands away and whisper, ‘Sorry, Sir but I am so aroused and I wanted to touch.’

He spins me around and slaps my face with a stinging blow. I gasp and my hand moves to touch the burning skin. ‘Sir, This is all so new to me, and I just wanted to touch.’

‘No angel it is not. Let your self dive deep into your soul and you will remember. Stop fighting this. You are an old soul trapped in modern mind. Don’t live in your mind, free yourself and follow your instincts. You must trust me.’

‘Yes Sir.’

‘Well if you can’t keep your hands to yourself I will do something about it.’

He takes my hand and we walk towards a hefty wooden post. I see a ring set up high. There are two short chains with manacles on. He makes me face the post then my lover pulls first one arm up and fixes my wrist in the manacle and then the other. These are not soft leather ones, they are iron and cruel. Once I am held captive he quickly removes my other clothes until I am naked. He runs his hands over my pail skin but does not touch any place sexual. The thing is every part of my skin becomes sexual under his hands.

He gruffly says, ‘Do not look around angel.’ Then after he walks away, there are a few moments of silence apart from my own breathing.

I am then startled by the sound of a whip cracking loudly, and I nearly jump out of my skin. It is so hard to not turn around and I know I am afraid of what is coming.


To be continued…


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6 Comments on “The Basement

  1. More please, and what’s a guy got to do to get an advanced copy anyway kitten?


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