{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"dced71df-0ba2-418f-8e1e-fdcc71b67b2d","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2022-10-22T12:39:27.146Z","title":"The Parapsychologist","slug":"the-parapsychologist","shortId":"A0YlY4yP","authorNote":null,"disclaimer":"(c) The Author.","type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"A young parapsychologist investigates an allegedly haunted house but gets more than she bargained for.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"d684ec70-8f5a-4e9d-8b7c-a256590d6401","title":null,"summary":"\nThe Parapsychologist\n\n\nThe haunted house was on the\nedge of town. According to local legend, it had","wordCount":1667,"readTime":8,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

\nThe Parapsychologist

\n\n

\nThe haunted house was on the\nedge of town. According to local legend, it had been used by a gang\nof sadists, who had used to abduct and torture girls there,\nbobby-soxers who had got too close to the place of a night. But\nJustine had never been able to find any legal or police reports on\nthe place from either the 1940s or 1950s. She suspected that it was\nnothing but a local myth. Still, though, there had been reports of\nscreams coming from this supposedly empty manse. It was worth\ninvestigating. Maybe she would finally get her proof that ghosts\nexisted.

\n Justine was a\nparapsychologist. Actually, she was only a parapsychologist in her\nspare time because, just eighteen years old, she was still at\ncollege, studying psychology and religion. But every Friday or\nSaturday night she went out ghost-hunting, hoping to find proof that\nghosts existed. Parapsychology was on of her modules, and she felt\nthat she was sure to pass if she proved the existence of life after\ndeath.

\n It was summer, and one of\nthe hottest nights which Arkham had ever seen. Even during the night\nit was over a hundred Fahrenheit, global warming out of control.\nBecause of that, Justine was wearing only sneakers, very thin hot\npants, and a tee shirt. And she was still too hot. Sweat ran down\nbetween her breasts, and into the crack of her very shapely ass. It\nwas dripping off her short brown hair. \n

\n She got her equipment out\nof the back of her car. Her equipment comprised a four mega-pixel\ncamera, an old-fashioned tape recorder, an aerometer (in case ghosts\nmade the air denser), a dosimeter (in case ghosts gave off any\nstrange radiation) and an ammeter which could measure any increase in\nelectrical activity in the air. She had to make two trips to her car\nto get all of her gear.

\n She set up her stuff in one\nof the rooms of the house. She then got out a pocket flashlight, not\nreally any bigger than a pen, and began to explore the place.

\n She saw no ghost. But,\nsuddenly, the temperature suddenly dropped in the room in which she\nwas in, making her wish that she had brought a thermometer with her,\nas well. Her nipples hardened in the cold, pushing against the very\nthin fabric of her tee shirt.

\n “Hello.” she said,\nshining the beam of the torch around the room. But she couldn’t see\nany ghosts, or any other reason why their might have been such a\nsudden drop in the temperature. \n

\n Then, suddenly, her tee\nshirt was grabbed. It was pulled away from her body in three\ndifferent directions at once, by invisible hands. The tee shirt\nripped, leaving Justine topless, her cold-erected nipples and 34C\nchest on display.

\n “Ah!” Justine screamed.\nBut there was nobody to hear her. The manse was set a long way back\nfrom the road, and there were no other houses nearby. She could\nscream the place down, but nobody would hear her. No help would be\ncoming.

\n Justine tried to run, but\ninvisible hands grabbed her arms. Justine tried to kick out, but\nthere was nothing solid to kick against. Nevertheless, her face was\nslapped, hard, leaving an imprint of fingers on her skin. She dropped\nthe flashlight in shock.

\n More hands gripped the\nwaistband of her hotpants. The invisible hands tore them off with\nease, revealing that Justine shaved off every hair of her sweet,\neighteen year old pussy, one which had only ever known a lover a\ncouple of times before 9and not an adept one, at that). Justine was\nnow naked apart from her sneakers.

\n “Help!” Justine cried\nout, futilely. It only earned her a punch in the guts. She doubled up\nin pain.

\n Then she felt fingers all\nover her naked body. More hands held her ankles, spreading her legs.\nShe felt fingers she couldn’t see forced between the lips of her\ncunt, feeling her up inside.

\n “No, please.” she said.\nBut she was ignored.

\n Whihhhh.\nThe sound presaged agony, as a line of pain erupted across Justine’s\nback. The ghosts were whipping her. She was sure that the whip must\nhave drawn blood. She imagined the sort of whip they had used on\nsailing ships in the past, or in the American South before the end of\nslavery, the sort of savage bullwhip which would draw blood on every\nstroke.

\n Whihhh.\n\n

\n “Aaaaaaaaaaaaah.”\nJustine screamed, as another line of pain impacted on her fair skin,\nas the unseen fingers still groped inside her cunt. She struggled,\nbut she was held as firmy as though she was in concrete.

\n Whihhhh.

\n “Aaaaaah!”

\n Another whip stroke, half\nan inch below the second one. \n

\n Whihhh. Whihh. Whihhh.\nMore whip strokes fell, until Justine lost count, each one of them\nwrenching a scream from her throat, until she was hoarse. Never had\nshe suffered such pain in her life before. This was true, brutal\ntorture.

\n Then the whipping of her\nback stopped – but only because the ghosts began whipping her tight\nbuttocks. A dozen or more strokes scarred the pale flesh, as Justine\ngurgled in agony and defeat. Then the whipping of her buttocks was\nfinally over.

\n Whihhh. A\npain, and a visible mark, on the milky-white flesh of Justine’s\nbreasts. She found new energy to scream. The agony was even worse\nthan the whipping of her back and buttocks had been. Over and over\nthe whip fell, wielded brutally, not even a hint of mercy being\nshown. The whipping continued until there was barely any space\nbetween the whip marks on her breasts. Many of the red lines leaked\nblood. By then Justine was too hoarse to scream. She could only sob.

\n The whipping of her stomach\ncame as a relief after the whip had mutilated her breasts.

\n Then her thighs were\nwhipped, right from the crease of her crotch down to her feet. It\nseemed as though the whipping would never stop. Her sneakers were\npulled off her feet, so that they would offer no protection.

\n Then came the bastinado of\nher feet, blood brought forth from her soles. By the time it had\nended Justine would not have been able to run out of there, even if\nshe had been released. \n

\n Justine’s position was\nchanged. She was held horizontal, face up, bout six feet off the\ndusty floor of the abandoned manse. Her legs were spread so wide that\nher hips ached.

\n “No, please.” Justine\ncroaked. But the dead knew no mercy, only hatred for the living.

\n Whihhhh. Whihhh. Whihhh.\nThe whip flashed unseen through the air, the brutal lash hitting her\ncunt, lacerating her outer lips, until they were red and bleeding.\nJustine was almost out of it. But the whipping was not yet done. More\nunseen fingers grabbed her cuntlips, pulling them open as far as they\nwould go, while others grabbed her clitotal hood and pulled it back,\nleaving no protection for Justine’s pearl. \n

\n Whihhh.\nWhihhh. Whihh.\nThe whip struck again. The force was not lessened because the target\nwas such an intimate and sensitive part of Justine’s anatomy. As\nmuch force was used as had been used on every other part. Her inner\ncunt was lacerated, with blood spurting out from every strike. Her\nclit was neatly cut in two.

\n “No more.” Justine\ngasped. “No more.” Her body had been ruined. Wasn’t that enough\nfor her spectral assailants.

\n Justine felt the\nunmistakeable head of a cock at her ruined pussy. It pushed forwards,\nbrooking no resistance, as Justine somehow managed to scream again.\nBut her scream was cut short by an invisible cock forced into her\nmouth. It fucked her mouth as though it was a cunt. Somehow Justine\nmanaged not to pass out, drawing air in through her flaring nostrils.

\n Another cock entered her\nanus. It was to big for her. She had never had anything bigger than a\nfinger up there before. But it forced its way up into her bowels,\nuntil she had taken twelve inches of the ghostly cock.

\n On and on Justine was raped\nin all three holes, until the three cocks came at once, releasing\nectoplasmic sperm into her cunt, anus and mouth, forcing her to\nswallow and choke. Then another three cocks entered her. That went on\nfor hours, well into the early hours of the morning, until at least a\ndozen ghostly cocks had erupted inside all three holes.

\n Justine was shattered. She\nfelt half-dead. But there was one more thing to some, for the ghosts\nhad not yet released her.

\n The ghosts let her see her\nfinal torture. There was a branding iron in the air. It glowed\norange. It had a small X at the end, at the point of impact.

\n “No.” was all Justine\ncould say. She saw the branding iron go behind her, out of sight.\nThen came a pain so terrible and intense that she could not bear it. \n

\n She was slapped awake. The\nghosts did not want her to miss anything. She was branded on the\nother buttock. Again she fainted, and again she had to be slapped\nback to consciousness, the teeth rattling in her jaw.

\n She looked. The branding\niron was in front of her. It advanced an inch at a time, its target\nher left breast.

\n “No, please.” \n

\n The branding iron touched\nher left breast, being held there, the X right on her nipple. She\nscreamed but did not faint. Nor did she faint when the branding iron\ndestroyed the nipple of her left breast. There was only a charred X\nto show where it had once been.

\n Then the hands forced her\ninto a horizontal position once more. Justine guessed what they were\ngoing to do. \n

\n “No, please, not my clit.\nPlease, do anything else but that.” \n

\n The branding iron moved\nforward to within an inch of her clit – then stopped. It was held\nthere. Justine could feel the heat coming off it. But she thought\nthat maybe, at the end, the ghosts were going to be merciful.

\n The branding iron was\nplunged down onto her clit and held there for the longest count of\nall. Justine screamed and fainted for the final time.

\n
\n\n

\nJustine awoke. It was dawn.\nShe felt incredible. She looked down at her baked body, to see not a\nmark on it. There were no whip marks, and no brandings. But evidence\nthat it had all taken place was evinced by her shredded clothes.

\n Justine, naked apart from\nher sneakers, went down to her equipment, to find that the devices\nhad recorded nothing. The tape recorder had not even picked up her\nscreams. She would have to come back on the following night

\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n\n

\n But perhaps I will strip\noff before coming inside,\nshe thought to herself, with a smile, as she packed her stuff away in\nher car.

","authorName":"Crowley","authorUserId":"24246195-559a-461c-a6d3-e12d9a6af0eb","rating":5,"ratingCount":1,"reviewCount":1,"quoteCount":0,"storyCodes":["Heavy","Fantasy","Masochism","Pain","Rape","Non-Consensual"],"language":"English","readTime":8,"recommendations":[{"id":"52294041-2b4e-467b-b33a-9e956cae71d3","title":"My trip down to visit my Black Pimp cyber-Master","slug":"my-trip-down-to-visit-my-black-pimp-cyber-master","shortId":"DaouWEzq","synopsis":"A trip to live out a long-held fantasy of being a white prostitute. For my Black Pimp friend that found me on this site\nThe story is a actual letter I sent to one of my other cyber-Masters about this weekend adventure and fantasy fulfillment.","rating":5},{"id":"51a4a1e3-2cbe-4f2b-991b-fb2e21f5ef74","title":"Kidnapped Girl","slug":"kidnapped-girl","shortId":"DaFZuPbG","synopsis":"A short tale of torture set in Japan, where a schoolgirl - over 18 - gets brutalised.","rating":5},{"id":"7ac536ef-33a4-4079-a2f0-bc0ced739057","title":"Separated","slug":"separated","shortId":"GFnsy7jh","synopsis":"Six months after she was kidnapped, James receives a final video message from his wife.","rating":5}]}}},"actionData":null,"errors":null}