The Chambers House Rm 6 Zayna

Disclaimer:

The following story contains explicit content and is intended for mature audiences and open-minded people only. Reader discretion is advised.

This work of fiction includes themes of sexuality, romance, and adult situations and is not meant to be taken seriously. In fact some of my works may require you to suspend belief. It may contain scenes of explicit language, graphic depictions of sexual acts, situations of cheating and polyamory, group minglings, and other content suitable only for those over the legal age of consent in their jurisdiction.

All characters depicted in this story are consenting or willing adults and are works of fiction. Any resemblance to any real persons, living or dead, or both, is purely coincidental.

By continuing to read this story, you acknowledge that you are of legal age to access adult content in your area and that you understand the nature of the content provided and have an open mind for such things. The author assumes no responsibility for any actions taken by readers as a result of the content of this story. Further, the author accepts no responsibility if you are offended by what you have read.

If you are not comfortable with or legally allowed to access explicit adult content, please discontinue reading now.

___________________________________________________________________________

___________________________________________________________________________

Madam and the women of The Chambers House had gathered wherever it was; they existed when they were not in the house itself.

A person on the outside might think of it as a shapeless void, but in fact, it is far from that; the only problem is that anyone seeing this place from the outside would not be able to interpret what they would see, so they would only remember it as a shapeless, grey void.

"Barbara, why have you summoned us all together like this?"

Barbara stepped forward and curtsied to the Madam, "With respect, Madam. I suggest that we allow Martin full rights to the house even though he has not completed his contract."

In unison, another two voices agreed as one, those of Penny and Polly, "He has shown compassion to all of us so far, and a willingness to keep the house as it is, only changing that which needs to be."

A voice from further back chimed in, "But we have not all had our chance to share in his strength. It is unfair that we do not all have our chance with him."

"Angeline, you understand that we are not to use him. We are letting him help us. We cannot take more than he can give," Madam Isabella responded. We saw how weak he became when we took too much advantage of him in his first days."

Angeline bowed her head and curtsied, "Yes Madam, my apologies. I just feel that we are all excited to have a benefactor that appears to be the one we need."

"What of the woman, the one that is poking around where she is not welcome?" Came another voice.

Madam Isabella looked around, saw Aida, and responded, "She is a problem. I sent her away, but I can only do so much and will work with Martin to solve that problem."

"Kill her." Said another voice in the crowd.

Isabella stood quickly, her anger flaring, "Who said that, step forward."

A red-haired woman in jeans and a button-down shirt stepped forward. "With respect, Madam," she said in a midwestern drawl. Where I came from, you put 'em down if you have an intruder or pest. Shoot them clean and be done with it." She motioned to the gathered people, saying, "If this woman is trying to ruin what we have, then we need to take care of her."

The Madam took slow, deliberate steps, approaching the women, "Trisha, you came to us and I brought you in understanding that you needed someplace to live and work. While in my house, you respect my words, do you understand?"

Trisha stood her ground, not flinching. "Again, Madam, with all due respect, If I had not been here, I would have lived a much longer life."

Isabella looked around the gathered ladies and said, "We are all here because someone decided that we should not be a blight on our town, that we..." She glared at Trisha and said, " WE... were not worth having in this town because of our selected professions."

Slowly, she returned to her chair and sat, still focusing on the red-head. "I will not be a party to the death of anyone just because we do not like their understanding of us. I will find a way to deal with this, and you..." She pointed at Trisha, "Will not disrespect me or this house with that kind of talk again.

Trisha looked around, looking for at least one more person to defend her, but she found none. She looked back at the Madam, Curtsied, and said, "Yes, Madam, my apologies for speaking out of turn."

Madam returned her attention to the room, "We will proceed as we have been and Martin will only have full command of the house after he has completed his obligation, not before. Starting next week, you will all be allowed to interact with him as you wish, but no one will consort with him out of order and none of you will consort again with him until he has completed the circuit of rooms and only if he is willing. Is that understood?"

There was a collective, "Yes, Madam."

She smiled and looked at Amanda. "That includes you, my dear. But we will talk about this privately."

Blushing, Amanda nodded, "Yes, Madam."

Someone in the back snickered and sang, "Amanda's got a boyfriend..."

They all laughed, Amanda blushed, and even the Madam smiled.

"That will be enough; we are done here," Madam said, standing up and leaving the room.

Martin sat in the diner, sipping what he thought might be the worst cup of coffee he had ever had. However, he had put enough creamer in it, and now it was the worst cup of coffee-flavored hazelnut creamer he had ever had. When he saw Tamara walk in, he was just trying to imagine how bad the breakfast would be if the coffee were this bad.

He waved at her, and she waved back, then came to the table.

She sat and looked around, "Have you been waiting long?"

He shook his head, "Only about twenty minutes."

As the waitress walked by, Tamara asked her for a cup of coffee.

Martin cocked his head, "Coffee? You?" She thought that she usually had hot tea.

She shrugged."It sounded good."

"So, tell me about Duluth."

She looked at him and put her head in her hands, "I don't fucking know, Martin."

"Did you see a doctor?"

Martin did, in fact, know why she went to Duluth but also knew better than to say anything to her about that for fear of her thinking that not only her but both of them were going crazy.

She nodded, "I went to an ER there and told them what happened; they ran me through some tests, gave me an MRI and cleared me saying that it was probably stress combined with road hypnosis."

He nodded, "Hmm. How are you feeling now?"

She shrugged, "Fine, I suppose." She looked at her coffee as the waitress dropped it off, and she thanked the woman.

"Listen, Martin, I am sorry about the last few days. I have been stressed and I do not think you are taking my role in the house project seriously."

He watched her for a moment, then sat back a little, "I get it, but you need to understand that I do not want to modernize the house, I want it... for reasons I cannot explain... to be period authentic in as much as possible."

She nodded, then looked up at him, "Then I really do not have a role in the house, do I?"

"If all you are planning is to gut the place and go full Delia Deetz on the place, then no, there is no place for your input."

She stared at him blankly, then asked, "Deetz?"

Laughing, Martin said, "Yeah, Deetz was..."

"I have seen Beetlejuice, Martin. I know what you are saying." She shook her head. " The Next thing you will do is try to convince me that the place is haunted."

She stared at him for several moments, then gulped down the coffee and stood, "I thought we could talk about this like adults and come to an agreement, I guess I was wrong." Then she stormed out.

When Martin returned to the house, he first went through the first-floor hallway to see their work. The new carpet looked great--almost exactly like the original. The contractors also repainted the walls and installed new lighting.

He opted for LED lights and lighted trim to make the hallway more appealing, and he was happy to see the original artwork the girls had painted on their doors had been redone precisely as they had done it so many years ago, with the help of talented art students from the local college.

He had contracted a local company to look in each room and restore it to what it had looked like when the girls had lived here, to make it as much as possible like the way they had had it back then, and the company did not disappoint. The rooms were incredible.

He picked a room and walked in--room four. The painting outside the door of the two girls facing each other had been redone and looked beautiful. As he entered, the room was clean. The walls had new wallpaper that matched what had been on them before, and the beds were polished with new mattresses and linens.

The door closed behind him, and he heard something to his left. When he turned, Penny and Polly almost tackled him and hugged him.

"Our room is wonderful, Martin. Thank you so much," Penny said, hugging him tightly and kissing him on the cheek.

Polly took his hand, "I love the way they repainted our cameos on the door, " She looked down, "It was so sad seeing them fade and the paint chip over the years."

Martin smiled, "Ladies, it was my pleasure, but we still have a lot to do."

Penny bounced a couple of times and whispered, "Guess what?"

Martin smiled, "What?"

She smiled and looked at Polly, who nodded. Then Penny continued, "We had a meeting, and Madam gave the house permission to interact with you socially, as we wish."

"As long as no know else is around, that is." Polly continued.

Martin looked confused, "I was not aware that there was a restriction on that."

Polly explained, "It was not really a rule, more a standing order. No one could interact with you out of order. That changed at our meeting. So you might see girls that you have not met yet, but they can only consort with you in the proper order."

Martin nodded, "Okay."

Then, in unison, they both said, "Thank you again!" They kissed him on the cheek and vanished.

As he left the room, he ran into Tiffany and said, "There you are. Were you talking to someone in there?"

"Just to myself, it's a bad habit."

She shrugged, "Hell, I argue with myself and usually lose, so you are one up on me."

Martin laughed and looked at the papers she held, "What have you got for me?"

After looking them over, she said, "The first floor is mostly done, and the carpenters will take a week off before starting on the second floor. The electricians will rewire the entire second floor this week and then the third and attic the following week."

Martin looked over the list and the numbers, then whistled through his teeth, "Maybe I was wrong and this is turning into a money pit."

Tiffany laughed and then looked at the doors, "They did a good job."

He nodded, "Yes, they did."

"It almost makes me wish the girls that lived her could see what we are doing to the place."

Martin smiled knowingly, "Yes, it does."

Suddenly Tiffany spun around, looking for something, "Did you hear that?"

"Hear what?"

Then she shook her head and laughed, "I guess nothing. This place must be getting to me. I thought I heard a woman giggle." Then she headed down the hall.

Before she got too far, Martin called after her, "Tiff, can I ask you a question?"

Stopping she looked back, "Sure."

"Wilson, that is your married name, right?"

She got a look of disgust, "Yeah, I've been too lazy to change it back since the divorce, but yeah."

He stepped a bit closer, "What is your maiden name?"

"Avary. I am the proud daughter of two of Vermont's most prominent white supremacists, at one time, Charles and Mallory Avary. So you see why I am not anxious to change it back." She winked and walked away.

Martin returned to his office, closed and locked the door, went to his desk, and looked through the papers he had shown Amanda.

As he was looking, he heard a little bell and looked up to see Amanda and Isabella.

Nodding, he said, "Ladies." in greeting.

"Is she my great... uh, great Grand Daughter?"

He nodded, "It would appear so."

Amanda spun and bounced a couple of times excitedly, looking at Isabella.

"Calm down, child, sit." Isabella chided gently.

Amanda sat on the couch but was still buzzing with excitement. He could see that she wanted to talk more and ask more questions, but was respectful to the Madam and stayed quiet.

"Martin, have you said anything to Tiffany, yet?" Isabella asked with concern.

"No, I have not and was not planning to until I spoke with both of you about it."

The Madam walked to another chair and sat down. She glanced at Amanda and then turned her attention to Martin. "Do you think that this Tiffany is someone who could handle meeting someone like us, I guess you would say, 'ghosts'?"

He shrugged, "I have no clue. I considered myself pretty open minded, but you will recall my first meeting with you."

She nodded, "Yes, and here we are now." She said with a wink.

Martin looked at Amanda and said, "Amanda, let me work on this. Please do nothing until I give you the OK, okay?"

She nodded excitedly, "Yes Martin."

"May I interject?" The Madam said.

Martin looked over at her, "Sure."

"Martin, you have been doing a wonderful job with the house and with my girls. So far not one of them have anything bad to say about you." She smiled and looked at Amanda. "That is why I have decided that after room six, I will let Amanda and you have a night together again."

Amanda jumped up, ran over to the Madam, and hugged her, "Thank you so much."

Even Martin felt his heart lighten and a little giddy. He stood and said, "Yes, Madam, thank you." He looked at Amanda and returned her smile.

After a moment, they both vanished.

"Good night, Tiffany." Martin said as she left that night. He then watched her get in the car and pull away.

Martin knew he had told Isabella that he would only take care of two rooms a week after he had become so drained, but something in his body was definitely changing. He found that his level of excitement and need increased almost every day.

It had gotten so bad that he found himself masturbating three and four times a day when he was not with the girls. And since this had started he discovered that his penis had grown a solid four inches in length and two in girth when hard.

Speaking of which, he grunted as his erection became painful, confined in his pants and he had to adjust it as he walked down the hall to room six.

He opened the door and walked in.

Down the hall from the room, Tamara peeked around the corner. She had snuck in through the basement, again. Only she did not know this was the second time she had done so since the Madam had wiped her previous memories of the incident.

Carefully she crept down the hallway and stood in front of room six. She ran her fingers along the painting of a ballerina catching a butterfly that was on the door, then reached for the knob.

First, though, she leaned her head against the door and listened. She could not hear anything, no talking, no breathing, nothing at all. So she turned the knob and burst in.

Nothing.

The room was empty. There was no sign that Martin had been in here at all. She quickly opened the small closet, looked under the bed, checked the window, and even tapped walls in search of a hidden door, but there was nothing.

Thinking she might have seen him enter the wrong room, she did the same thing in the two adjacent rooms, with the same results. Martin was nowhere to be found.

Frustrated, she walked back down the hall and left the house.

Martin first noticed the strong smell of cinnamon in the room, and then the candles lit in the corners.

"Hello handsome," came a voice from the corner of the room, "I have been looking forward to meeting you."

Zayna stepped out of the shadows, already completely undressed--dark red hair highlighted by the candlelight and what looked like the skin of a beautiful sun-tanned brown.

Her breasts were, as far as he could tell, almost perfect and he could not get over the large, areolas that seemed to take up most of them.

As she came closer, she smiled, "I am glad that you find me appealing."

As he took her in, he saw a delicate chain around her waist and a pennant below her navel. Below that, he saw a nicely trimmed bush of auburn curls. He also noticed that she had taken good care of herself, with a toned but not muscular body.

"What are you thinking, Martin Simms?"

There was also an accent, but he could not place it, but it made him melt somewhere inside.

"I am just in awe of your beauty, Zayna." He managed to say.

"You embarass me, Martin. But now it is my turn to see you."

She untucked his shirt and helped him remove it. Then, she ran her hands across his chest and said, "You have a nice chest." Then she placed her head against his chest and wrapped her arms around him, saying, "You feel nice."

Her warmth and the feel of her naked flesh against him was incredible. Martin wrapped his arms around her and held her for a moment. He felt his dick throb against his pants and this caused her to giggle and back up.

"I see your friend wants to come out and meet me, too." She got down on her knees and looked up at him. "May I?" she asked.

There was no way Martin could have had the strength or willpower to say no, so he stroked her hair and said, "By all means."

As she unbuttoned and pulled down his pants, he could see that his erection had worked its way out the left leg of his underwear, and the head was poking out. She pulled down his boxers and watched as his prick came up and bumped against her cheek.

"You are very large; I am not sure you will fit all the way in my cunny," Zayna said as she gently touched his beast's head, and it jerked upward in reaction to the attention. "I would like to try if it makes you happy."

He nodded, "Only if it does not hurt you."

She stood, took his hand, and helped him remove his pants and shoes. Then she guided him over to the bed and sat him down in front of her.

Near the light of the candles by the bed, he could see how beautiful she was and figured that she must be East Indian or a pacific islander, but could not be sure without more light. As he took her in, he looked at the tuft of hair between her legs and began to reach for it.

"May I?" He asked.

She smiled and parted her legs slightly, "But of course."

Gently he caressed the hair and probed through it until he found the moist slit of her pussy. She was very wet and as his fingers explored the folds he looked up and saw her close her eyes and tilt her head back slightly.

Martin brought his fingers back up to his face and could see her juices so thick on them that as he parted his fingers, a thin thread of them bridged the gap, and without thinking, he put them to his lips and tasted her.

"I make sure to keep myself very clean, all the time." She said, "Madam says I should not wash myself so much, but I prefer it that way."

"Have you tasted yourself?" Martin asked.

Smiling, she took his hand and said, "Many times, on my own and both men and women." Then she slowly and seductively, put his fingers in her mouth, sucking her remaining juices off of them, all while never breaking eye contact with him.

Martin groaned and felt his dick throb and she looked down at it and smiled, then reached down and touched the tip, bringing back her finger with a long line of clear fluid.