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Message-ID: <61497asstr$1316477404@assm.asstr-mirror.org>
From: Shon Richards <shonrichards@yahoo.com>
Reply-To: Shon Richards <shonrichards@yahoo.com>
Subject: {ASSM} Ghost in My Basement (Mdom/F, Ghost, BDSM)
Lines: 161
Date: Mon, 19 Sep 2011 20:10:04 -0400
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Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories
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<1st attachment, "GhostinMyBasement.doc" begin>

This erotic story was written by me, Shon Richards.  Please do
not reprint on your website, blog, love letters to your lover etc
without asking me first.  I have yet to refuse a reprint but
let's just be polite about it, okay?

You can write to me at shonrichards at yahoo.com.  I will be
delighted to hear your comments.

Find out what I am up to at http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/
as well as read my more current work. 


"Ghost in my Basement"
By Shon Richards

There is a ghost in my basement.  For the most part, I only hear
her.  Her moans echo through the floor in the middle of the
night.  Not the scary kind of moans though.  These are sexy moans
like she is masturbating as hard as she can.  She climaxes in a
banshee scream that always gives me a hard-on.

That is what I get most of the year but around October, things
change.  It is not always the same day, and it is not always on
Halloween, but it is always in October.  One cold morning I go
down to my basement and there she is, waiting for me.

She is always tied up.  She sits in a wicker chair that I do not
own with her hands tied behind her back.  The rope is thick but
it cuts easily for the knife I keep down there.  She is almost
naked.  A black leather collar is wrapped around her neck,
fastened with a tiny padlock that never opens.  Her chest is bare
and, revealing nice pale breasts with pink nipples.  Her legs are
covered in leather chaps that expose her shaven sex and her tight
pale bottom.  Red lipstick colors her lips, a dark unnatural red
that is the same color as her hair.  

For one day a year, the ghost is all mine.

She barely speaks.  I have no idea what her name is.  I call her
Annie for no particular reason.  The only time she talks is when
she moans or I tell her to beg.  She is good at begging.  She is
a damn near fountain of babble when I ask her to beg.  I tell her
to suck harder or bend over, she obeys instantly.  Ask her what
her name is or where she is from, and she looks at me with
frustrated vacant eyes.  

She only smiles when I fuck her.

Hey, don't judge.  The first time I saw her; I cut her loose and
got her a blanket.  She just sat there, making sad moaning
sounds.  Annie kept reaching for my pants and kissing my feet.  I
went upstairs to get the phone to call the police, but when I
came back, she was gone.

The chair was gone.  The rope I cut was gone too.  I could smell
her though.  It smelled like sex.

Next year, there she was again.  Tied up and looking up at me
with eager eyes.  I had done some research in that time.  There
had never been a death at this house, at least not one
documented.  I read books where they say ghosts repeat actions
they did in life over and over again.  I read some theories that
said ghosts are trying to achieve something they didn't
accomplish in life.  I read some theories that said ghosts are
trapped and can only move on to the afterlife if something breaks
the cycle.  

Annie wasn't offering any suggestions as to why she was here.  At
least, not any verbal clues.  All I know is when I kiss her, she
feels like a real woman.  When I pinch her nipples, she moans
like a real woman.  When I tie her over a bench and fuck her from
behind, she cries out like a real woman.  When I stop fucking her
and tell her to beg for my cock, she begs unlike any woman I have
ever met in life.

She likes it.  I am sure of it.  I spend all year looking at
porn, watching bdsm movies and reading bondage books.  By the
time she arrives, I have a list of things I am going to do to
her.  She never says no.  She never says yes either come to think
of it, but she moans.  She moans and her pussy gets wet and she
begs like she has been waiting all year.

When she does appear, I have roughly twenty-four hours.  Man, I
don't even sleep in that time.  

First, I fuck her mouth while she is still tied to the chair.  I
slam my cock into her throat and grab her dark red hair.  I push
her face in till I can feel my balls on her chin.  She sucks me;
oh she sucks me so good.  Annie keeps sucking me till I shoot my
load into her throat. 

That is just a warm up.  I have to get that out of the way so I
can get over the excitement of her return.  Once I climax once, I
can calm down and take my time.  I can break the nipple clamps. 
I can break out the candles and wax.  I can slap her a bit.  I
can try out my new flogger and leave marks all over her breasts
and cunt.  

I can do all sorts of things.

The weird thing is, she never has to stop.  I can fuck her all
day and she never has to use the bathroom.  I can feed her
nothing but my cock and she never asks for food.  When I am done
fucking the shit out of her, she just looks at me with those
eager eyes.  She is insatiable.

I can't always be fucking her.  I find other things to amuse
myself.  I spank her a lot.  I used to do with my bare hand but
even a ghost's ass can wear you out.  I use paddles now; the
bigger and nastier the better.  She likes it that way.

Well, 'like' is a relative word, you know?  She squirms when I
spank her ass.  She cries out so loud I have to gag her
sometimes.  Her pale ass turns all kinds of shades of red and
purple when I really cut loose.  By the time she fades away, the
ghost slut can't even sit without wincing.

Her ass is always pale and untouched the next time she appears. 
That is pretty much a license to do what I want as far as I am
concerned.  She's like a toy I can never break.  

She is a toy I can only play with one day a year.

I do wonder about her.  I mean, obviously she is some sort of
kinky woman who likes to get tied up, spanked and fucked.  Or she
was in life.  I am providing a service, right?  I am like giving
her the perfect Heaven by fucking her over one day a year.

Then again, this could be her version of Hell.  Maybe getting
used like this one day a year is her punishment for something. 
Maybe she cheated on her husband and had all kinds of kinky sex
behind his back.  Heck, maybe being my fucktoy is her way of
doing penance.  

Either way, I am still fucking her.  I got some new paddles and
this electrical wand thing that hurts like a mother fucker.  

She's my ghost.  

She's my treat.    

The end.

If you enjoyed this story please drop me a line at shonrichards
at yahoo.com.
Or visit my blog at http://erotiterrorist.blogspot.com/


      

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