Editor's note: this story contains scenes of non-consensual or reluctant sex.
*****
It was shortly after her ravaging by the foul Jackson that Charlotte had first spotted the black robed man. It was at dusk, just as the last of the sun had vanished from the gloomy sky that Charlotte looked out her bedchamber window and spotted the evil figure in the overgrown garden. The figure must have been over six and a half feet tall and looked to be just standing there without staring at anything in particular except empty space. There was something unnerving and spectral about him. The figure didn't seem really there. It was like a figure in a strange dream almost. As the room had grown dark, Charlotte quickly lit some candles and then returned to the window to find the black robed figure gone.
That night, she dreamed of the darkness, the writhing tentacles of the monstrous, obscene god crawling over her body. The dreams were growing more intense as was the intensity of her nervous attacks. Charlotte had already gone through her second bottle of laudanum and the drug store was refusing to give her anymore. Still, her obsession with uncovering the perverse secrets of Bower House was as prevalent as ever. In fact, the further she slid into this state of degenerate irrationality the stronger that obsession grew. Charlotte wasn't sure what she would find but knew that she must be the one to discover it.
For the next few days the weather turned colder and there was no sign of Jackson. The overgrown grass in the back of the yard still hadn't been cut. Charlotte looked for anyone else to do the work but couldn't find a single willing person. She was starting to get desperate when Jackson appeared in her house one afternoon.
She had just come into her kitchen and he where he was waiting for her. Before Charlotte even realized he was there, he had grabbed her and forced her onto the kitchen floor in a submissive position. Once again, Charlotte found herself aroused by his rough, forceful domination of her. Was he going to ravage her again? Was this what she could expect from now on, being ravaged again and again when ever this villainous brute wished? The thought aroused her even further.
"I told you I own this pussy now," he told her.
Charlotte knew that he was right. He did own it. Jackson seemed able to come into her house as he pleased and have his way with her. She was picked up by his brutish strength and bent over the kitchen table. Her skirt was thrown up over her back and she felt the hard slap of his rough hand against her ass. She cried out and he slapped it again. He grabbed her hair and yanked it back.
"I'm going to make you my whore," he said into her ear.
Those words echoed through her mind as Charlotte was held down, bent over the table and made to wait for her second ravaging at the hands of that filthy villain. What did he mean by that? Was the brute planning on selling her to the other ruffians of the neighborhood? Let them have their turn with her in exchange for a little money for himself? The idea of being whored out by Jackson both repulsed and attracted her at the same time. The contradiction made her mind a confusing mass of chaos that was spinning wildly into unfathomable gulfs of perversion and degeneracy. "Dear God," she thought as she felt his hand gripping the back of her neck and pinning the side of her face to the table, "what is happening to me? Am I really going to degrade myself to this man and be his whore? Why is the thought arousing me so? Am I losing my senses?"
All thought suddenly vanished from Charlotte's confused and chaotic mind as she was fucked once again by Jackson. Her pussy was slammed hard and fast. She moaned and shuddered from his viscous thrusts and cried out each time he gave her plump ass a good slap. He fucked her long and good from behind forcing her to orgasm. Charlotte's body shuddered and shook from the force of the ecstasy that flooded her body. Her mind warped and twisted in on itself and she found herself in the darkness of her dreams. The obscene god with his deformed head like a pterodactyl stared down at her with his black eyes, his grey wings beating and his tentacles feeling in the dark for her body. She heard its horrid, guttural voice call for her.
When Jackson's cum shot into her, Charlotte realized that she was still bent over her kitchen table with her pussy now filled with a foul villain's seed. Charlotte was hit with another orgasm at the realization of it. Her tormentor gave her plump ass one final slap before telling her, "I'll be back tomorrow and you'll be sucking my cock, whore."
She slid off the kitchen table and rested on her knees next to it. "I will not," she protested.
Her hair was seized by the brute and she was pulled to her feet. Under his domination once more, Charlotte found herself becoming submissive. He slapped her face and held her by the throat and hair, snarling at her, "you'll suck my cock, bitch. Got it?"
Charlotte closed her eyes and nodded. After that, he was gone once again. She wasn't sure how he left the house or how he was getting in. After cleaning herself up a little, Charlotte made a tour of the house in order to see if he came in through the parlor window once more or somewhere else. In truth, she knew that the whole thing was futile. Jackson will come in and ravage her as he pleased so long as she remained in Bower House. Charlotte was certain of that but she wasn't going to leave. It was starting to dawn on her that she might not be able to force herself to if things really got out of hand at Bower House. She knew that she was on a spiral into complete moral degeneracy and there was no escape from it now.
It was a dark night in late October, a month that had always been dreaded in the city of Darkmouth. Ellis Street was in a particular state of anxiety that increased as the days got closer to November. The Bower House seemed to be becoming a living entity around Charlotte with dark shadows from the corner of the rooms stalking after her like creeping tentacles. It seemed that at any moment they could snatch her by the wrists and ankles and drag her into the endless pits of perverted horror.
The night after Jackson had informed her that she was going to suck his cock, something she knew would be an inevitable fate, Charlotte sat by the fire in her parlor. The firelight barely seemed to illuminate a tiny portion of the parlor, leaving the rest in inky black shadow making the corners of the room impossible to see. She tried to read a novel, but her mind was distracted by degenerate thoughts of submission and humiliation. Her hands started to grope her own giant breasts through the fabric of her violet dress. Her eyes closed as she started to writhe and groan in her seat just a little. She could hear the distant chanting from somewhere beneath the floor. She pulled her skirt up and started playing with her pussy. It felt as though something was behind her chair by the fire. Charlotte could feel the presence of the tall figure in black robes with his hands stretched out over as if she was his puppet hanging from strings. The shadows inched closer and closer to her as she fingered herself into an orgasmic oblivion.
A sound from upstairs broke her out of the spell. She turned and looked but saw no black robed figure behind her. The parlor looked normal. She heard the sound again, a soft thud from somewhere above her. She quickly lit a candle and started her way up the stairs. The entire climb up, Charlotte couldn't help but feel as though someone was following right behind her but every time she turned there was nothing there.
When she reached the upstairs hall and overwhelming sense of dread had suddenly paralyzed her. Charlotte knew that something beyond the material realm of existence was with her. She slowly turned and standing at the stairs was the tall figure in the black robe. Charlotte screamed and stumbled back. She dropped the candle and in an instant she was trapped in the darkness of Bower House.
