The Old Wilson Place

(written by Arin, edited and enhanced by Molly)

My parents named me Samantha, and we lived in the city for a while. But then my mother and father came to a decision to leave the city and move our entire Roads family to a house just outside a rural town. That's if you want to call it a town. It only had two traffic lights in it. My parents were fed up with city life. They thought it would be better for me if I had some fresh air to breathe. I soon got used to the country life but since I was eighteen and had my high school diploma, my parents wanted me to get a job and start learning responsibility. I managed to find a job that wasn't too far away, got myself a bike and used it every day to travel to work.

About a year later was the time my parents passed. My parents were wise and had the house paid off and money in the bank, more than I could guess. They'd taught me to work hard and save for a rainy day, so financially I was OK but the house, which they willed to me, seemed empty now.

Rather than waste money on gas for the car, I still used the same bike to ride into town so I could get to work. One day, I realized I could save time if I took a different road into town and started to use it.

On that road I'd go by a large Victorian home with a wrap around porch and the scary looking house gave me the creeps. For some reason, I'd started to talk to the house as I passed, saying 'hello' or 'good day' to it. I guess I was trying to allay my fears by being friendly to the spirits that probably lived there.

As the weather got warmer I started to notice an old lady (whose name I learned later was Mary Wilson), sitting on the porch and I started to wave and say 'hello' to her now, rather than the house. She'd smile and wave back with both hands. I found out that her husband had died a while ago and I felt bad for her.

I think she started to sit out and wait for me to ride by. She was there like clockwork and I looked forward to seeing her. Time passed and I began to leave home earlier so I had time to stop and talk to her, She always had a smile and even invited me in to have some ice tea. Then we'd sit on the porch, me in a regular chair and her in her rocking chair. That's when I noticed her beautiful collar but I was a little shy about asking where she'd gotten it. One day she wasn't there, then the next, and this went on for 3 days. So I stopped at the police station and explained the situation and asked them to do a wellness check. I had to leave my name and telephone number.

The policeman asked, "Are you related to this woman?"

I replied, "No, but she's a friend. We tended to chat for a bit when I passed on my way to work."

The next day, I got a phone call and was told she'd passed in her sleep. They found a letter on the night stand saying to contact her lawyer in town for instructions. I was so sad to hear this, but I hoped she'd enjoyed my visits and I'd still think of her fondly each time that I passed her house. I'd even say, "I hope you're doing OK, Mary," as I went by.

A little over a week later, the lawyer for her estate called me, and introduced himself. He stated, "The police mentioned that you were the person that asked for a wellness check for Mary Wilson, is that correct?" After I told him that yes, I was that person, he continued, "All the arrangements for her funeral had been pre-planned by Mrs. Wilson. Would you like to attend the service?" When I said yes, he said, "Wonderful. I'll meet you there." It was a sad gathering, though. Not many people came to the viewing, but she looked very nice and at peace. After that, her body was cremated and I went home, still upset that she was gone, but glad I'd attended her funeral.

The lawyer called me the following week. "Hello, Miss Roads. Would it be possible for you to meet with me on the last Friday of the month before noon? There are still some documents I'm waiting on, but they should all be here by then." A little mystified, I got his address and agreed to meet with him.

That Friday came and I was sitting in his office at five minutes after the hour. When he sat back down after greeting me, I asked, "Why am I here?"

He answered, "You are mentioned in her will, Miss Roads."

Confused, I said, "There must be some mistake. I wasn't related to her at all. I was only a friend of hers."

He read over the document in front of him and asked, "Are you Samantha Roads?"

I nodded and answered, "Yes, I am," at his insistence showing him my driver's license, which displayed my face, name, and address.

He went on, "And did you ride your bike by her house often, and often stop by and chat with her?"

"Errr... well, yes, that's true."

"Then I am speaking to the correct person. You are in her will. There is one stipulation, though, and that is that her remains should be spread over the property that she loved so much. So it falls upon you to perform this task." Then he got down to the actual bequest. "Mary has left everything to you and this accountant report says that all financial matters are in order, even my fee. I recommend that you keep the accountant, because the amount is rather large. And I'm happy to be available for any legal matters you may face in the future."

He handed me several documents and said I could read them all, or I could just skip to the last page. I skimmed through the papers. The overall amount shocked me and with the investments alone I could probably live a comfortable life. There was also a pile of keys and a sealed box. He handed them to me, saying, "These are the keys to her property, which is now yours. The box contains Mary's ashes, so please honor her last wish by spreading them in her garden."

By that point, I was in a daze. I said, "But there must be relatives, or children?"

"No, as far as I know, there are none living, and none were mentioned in the will. So even if some exist, they have no grounds to contest her will. You may take possession now."

I walked out with a pile of documents and Mary's ashes. I thought, "Wow, no relatives to mourn her, how sad that is. Mary, wherever you are, I hope you passed peacefully. And thank you for this amazingly generous gift."

I wanted to be closer to Mary in some way, so I moved into her house. I found a person to manage renting out the house that I'd received from my parents. I found Mary's house to be in great shape, but I sure missed her warm smile. In the living room there was a large portrait of Mary in a lovely formal dress. After I moved my things in, I often talked to Mary's portrait. Doing so always made me feel less lonely. Later, as the monetary aspect of things settled, I made several donations to worthy charities in her name.

Those first few days, sleeping there took a bit of getting used to, since I always thought about her at night.

One day I was really tired, and knew that I needed to get some sleep, but I fell asleep on the couch. In a little while, I thought I heard my name being called as if in a whisper. I got up and looked around, finding nothing. All was in order, but now I was a bit scared. I wondered if my mind was reminding me of Mary's last wish about her remains. The very next day I spread the ashes in her garden and said a final goodbye to her and hoped she was now at peace.

Time went by, but I always had a feeling of a presence in the house. I would find things moved from where I'd left them, or even put away.

About a month after moving in, I heard the voice again. I was on the couch reading. So I asked quietly, "Mary is that you?"

"Yes. Samantha. You are my last link with the real world and I have something more for you because of your kindness. Follow me."

I followed the voice of Mary's apparition upstairs to an unused bedroom. The closet door Mary voice said, "Open that closet door, and pull on the rear coat hook, Samantha." I did -- there was a click and the back wall moved. I slowly pushed it open and to my surprise found dimly lit stairs leading down. They went down quite a way. I realized they went down to a room next to what I thought was the basement wall. The stairway was very narrow. I guess that's why I'd never noticed the difference in the room size on the ground floor. But I felt it was very clever, hiding the entrance on the second floor.

Mary told me, "This was my husband's secret fantasy room. And he and I would play together in here for hours."

This was all rather unknown to a good girl like me. Looking around there were items I didn't recognize at all. Others I'd seen in old movies that showed damsels in distress.

There were two storage cabinets and two chests of drawers. Also, there was a CCTV camera mounted on the wall. Mary explained, "John would leave me here sometimes and watch me on the TV in the living room on a special channel. I found it quite exciting when he did that."

I blushed, not yet understanding the attraction. But I admit that I was curious.

Mary explained more things to me, telling me her time here was short right now and that John was waiting for her.

"Open the top drawer of the left chest of drawers," she instructed me. In there I found a beautiful collar. It looked like a duplicate of the collar she'd always worn. And for all I knew, it actually was the same collar. She told me, "Wear that always, please. I can help you put it on."

She came to me and opened it, placing it around my neck. As she closed it I heard a click. It was snug rather than tight but it had some weight to it. "There, my last thing for right now was to do this. It'll help you understand things in this room. I must go for now, Samantha. Thank you for your kindness in stopping and talking, Your visits were something I looked forward to each day. You made me feel less lonely without my John being around."

Her voice paused. "Oh, one more thing. Look in the basement under the blue blanket and remember 7-18-51." With that, her voice faded and she was gone. I was both sad and happy at her leaving. Sad, because I'd miss her voice, and happy because she said she was now with John.

I felt the collar, it fit me snugly. When I went up to the bedroom to look in a mirror, I thought it looked sexy on me.

I went back to the secret room and surprisingly, I found all the items now very interesting and somehow a lot more understandable. After looking around some more, I found magazines and books all about the fetish these items indicated.

I picked several magazines and a book and brought them to my bedroom, thinking I'd read them when I went to bed. It was 2 AM before I knew it. By that point, I'd found that I was hooked and finally went to sleep dreaming about my new found treasures.

The next day, after I got my chores done, I returned to the secret room planning to spend all morning there until hunger got to me. It took me most of the morning to really get a better handle on all that the room contained. I went up and made lunch, ate and drank and came right back down, pretty sure of what I wanted to try.

Looking at the items stored there, I spotted handcuffs and leg cuffs, just like in some of the magazines. I grabbed a ring of keys and tested them. They worked in the locks, so I set the keys on the floor.

I undressed and sat on the floor. Once there, I locked the ankle cuffs on and sat there looking at them. "Mmmm, they look and feel so great," I murmured. Next I wanted to add the handcuffs.

I closed one cuff on my right wrist, making sure it was snug. I rolled onto my stomach and brought my legs up behind me. Reaching back, I brought the leg chain between the handcuff hinges and squeezed the other cuff closed until it was snug on my free wrist.

Laying there, I struggled. It felt dangerous, being like this, like I was a damsel in distress. I laid there until I realized the shadows were getting long and time had flown by.

I was thirsty and I started to inch my way toward the keys. I rolled onto my side and my fingers felt for the ring of keys. Grabbing them, I started to feel for the key hole of the handcuffs. I learned something very important that day. There's a difference between linked handcuffs and hinged handcuffs. On hinged handcuffs, their key holes are both on one side. When I'd put these on, the key holes ended up on the side away from my bound hands! There was no way I could get the key into that keyhole!

I was truly helpless and I really started to panic! I was in a secret room, bound in steel, and no one knew I was here. I became so scared and frustrated that I started to cry. Suddenly, I heard a voice calling my name. It was a male voice and he was saying words to try to calm me, so I spoke to him.

"Hello, hello! I'm here. Help me!" I cried out.

"I know, dear," he answered. "Mary asked me to watch over you for a while."

As I laid there, helpless, tears running down my face, an apparition started to appear in the room before me. It began to take shape like a foggy cloud.

"Oh, please help me!" I pleaded. I didn't care if he was a ghost or a hallucination. I just wanted to get free.

He chuckled. "I see you got yourself into a classic hogtie. You look so pretty like that," he told me. I realized it must be John, Mary's husband. But he'd been dead even longer than Mary, which was confusing. He was hazy -- I could barely see any evidence of him. It probably didn't help much that my eyes were blurry with tears.

"Oh John! Will you please help me?" I asked.

"Yes, I certainly will, my dear," he replied.

He moved to the ring of keys and used them to open one leg cuff, untangling its chain from the handcuffs. I felt myself lifted up onto my feet so easily that to him, I must've been light as a feather. He took me by the arm and moved me against the nearby wall where he ran the leg cuff chain thru a large ring in the floor and re-secured my free ankle. Now I was still handcuffed, but also unable to move away from the wall. "You sure have a strange way of rescuing me," I stated, confused.

Without a word, he went to a chest of drawers and returned with a pile of leather straps. He then finally opened the handcuffs. While I was shaking circulation back into my wrists, he placed a wide leather belt around my waist and pulled it tight, pinning my torso back against the cool wall. I then watched, amazed, as he took two of the leather straps that ended in leather cuffs, and attached the cuffs to my wrists. His presence came very close to me as he reached up and threaded the other end of the straps through a ring far up above my head, pulling on them until my arms ended up pointing upward alongside my ears.

Stooping down, he attached similar leather cuffs to my ankles. Releasing the metal leg cuff for one ankle, he pulled its attached leather strap, lifting my leg up and up and out a little. When my knee was next to my shoulder and my lower leg was up higher, even farther out to the side, he passed the strap through another ring and tied it off. It didn't fully straighten out my leg -- my knee was still bent comfortably, but my leg was now held up and out to the side, with no effort on my part to keep it there. John efficiently repeated that process with my other leg.

Taking stock of my situation, I realized that now my nude body was very exposed. My face, breasts, tummy and intimate area were now lewdly on display. With my legs secured up and out, I hung there spread wide open and unable to move.

The form that was John started to take a more full and clear shape now as he floated or walked even closer, almost touching me. In some strange manner I could actually feel his manifestation now, causing a shiver to run through me. His form was decidedly manly, and rather youthful. I had no idea how old he'd been when he died, but I thought he'd be nearer to Mary's age when I knew her. He was naked and inches away from me. My eyes traveled from his face to his chest to his crotch, where I saw a good sized penis, in full erection.

"This is the price for me rescuing you. And before you ask, yes, Mary knows. With her blessing, she's encouraging me to do this." He started to kiss my breasts and suck my nipples with his ghostly mouth. But it didn't feel at all ghostly -- his lips felt warm and soft, his mouth and tongue wet and facile as he sucked and tongued. My nipples grew hard and ached, causing me to start to moan and whimper. As if that was some signal, he stopped, went to a chest of drawers, and returned with a panel gag. "This was Mary's favorite gag," he mentioned. "She like the small penis on its inside which filled her mouth and gave her something to suck on, too."

After he strapped it to my head, I found that I could now only make very little noise. And I had good reason to try! His hands roamed over my body, stroking my hair, cupping my tits and pinching my nipples, caressing my tummy and my butt cheeks. Maddeningly, he avoided directly touching my exposed sex, even though my pussy lips were swelling and parting, showing my now drooling vaginal tunnel whose muscle contractions were undoubtedly making it look like it was winking.

I was sighing, squirming, and moving as much as I could, hanging there on the wall. But I was completely under his control. I could only plead with my eyes. Was I pleading to be untied and let go? No! My vulnerability and his touches were stoking my lust! I wanted that erection that I'd seen at his crotch, and I wanted it inside me!

Perhaps intuiting my needs, I felt the tip of his cock press at my pussy lips. With a gentle, firm pressure, his cock slowly opened me, little by little. The anticipation was by now excruciating! That anticipation finally ended as I felt him slide deep inside me. The penetration of his cock stretched and opened me along the full length of my tunnel. My body formed the perfect sheath for him. When he was all the way in, he held his cock stationary inside me for a long time. Just as I was about to scream my frustration into the gag, he started to pump. And pump. And pump.

It was magical! I'd never felt anything like it in me. His cock felt like a penis, but somehow also like it had a life of its own. I'd felt cocks swell when inside me, true. But I'd never felt one swell in a rippling fashion before. Even if he held his pelvis stationary with his cock buried to the fullest, I could still feel swelling surges run from the root of his cock to its bulbous head. And then when the surge reached the head, it reversed, and traveled from there all the way back down to its base. It even vibrated at times! Of course, I'd also never been fucked before while I was naked, helpless, and vulnerable, hanging on a wall with my legs held open by leather straps. I came. Yes, he made me cum, and not just once. I thought I was ready for anything, but when he came, the shock of that sensation made me scream into the gag! His penis was deep, very deep and I swear I could feel his cum spewing into my depths.

Even though he'd climaxed, he kept pounding into me. I was his helpless fuck toy, and I loved it. He used me for a really long time. At the end, when he finally pulled out, I was exhausted and hung limp. Vaguely, I wondered if he'd had that much stamina in real life.

As he released me from the wall, I had to sit on the floor. I was too tired to stand. He placed the leg cuffs back on me and this time a pair of chain linked handcuffs in front of my body. I just sat there, dazed, letting him do as he wanted. He brought me water and it helped me wake up enough to focus on his message.

John told me, "I want you to experience bondage and the thrill of being helpless for 24 hours, Samantha!" With that, he vanished before my eyes -- he sort of seemed to evaporate. I just sat there naked and cuffed. After a bit of rest, I stood and looked for the keys then realized he'd either taken them with him, or hidden them someplace. I started to call his name, but received no answer. I hobbled the long journey up the stairs to the back bedroom, and then down the stairs to the kitchen and got a snack and some tea. The cuffs added to the difficulties of doing the simplest things. The leg shackles slowed me down, and turned just moving around the house into a major project. I grew to enjoying the sound of the clanking, scraping chains though.