The House With Many Hands

(This is my entry for the Halloween Contest 2024. If you like it, please give me a good vote, that would mean a great deal to me!! Thank you for reading!!)

(All characters in this story are over 18)

The dead loved me better then the living ever had.

To start with the living; my name is Lara Sheen, and my life was in a spiral until I came to Crook House. Now I feel like I've started to live again.

The firm sent me to the house to oversee some renovations. It was a caretaker job really, part estate agent, part site manager. It was a damn weird property. It had been off the companies books for years. They owned it but had deemed it unsellable. I always assumed it was damaged or unsafe, it was Bella who filled me in when she took me out to lunch one day.

"It's haunted," she said bluntly.

I laughed, but she didn't. She did smile eventually. Bella was always straight with you. No nonsense. She sighed and gave me the story. "We've sold it, I don't know, maybe twenty times now, and every time people refuse to stay. The longest only lasted about a month. They see things. Hear things. Feel things. There's a long report about it, I'll send you a copy. But we can't shift the bloody place. We just want to do it up, sell it on and get rid of it."

"What's changed? New interest?"

Bella nodded. "One party wants the land, he doesn't care about spook stories he just wants to change it into flats, maybe build more on the garden. It's a large property. There's another person, an eccentric who keeps asking questions. He's curious, but he's only making low offers, he's testing us, seeing if we're willing to give it away. The thing is we've reached our limit with it. The offers aren't amazing, but at this point we'll take them."

She wanted me to oversee the project. "You might want to stay at the property. For obvious reasons you might not. It's up to you. There's a hotel nearby."

I gave her a curious look. "You don't really believe its haunted, do you?"

Bella laughed. She had green eyes that lit up when she did. I wished I'd heard her laugh more. "No," she said, "these big old place are full of shadows and creaks. The imagination has gaps and fills them up all sorts of things. I don't know what they thought they saw, but I'm sure you'll be fine."

She didn't sound sure.

Bella ordered us some drinks while I thought it over. She had brought some documents for me to look at, including a few pictures of the house. It was a grand property. Gothic in a way. It would be Halloween in a few months. I smiled at that.

It appealed to me. Not just the atmosphere of the place, but the seclusion. A good place to sit and think about your life. Sort of a holiday. "Looks sort of romantic," I said.

Bella glanced at the photo I was studying. "No one's been murdered there. That we know of, at least. It's only been a happy home."

I snorted. "What's that?"

I went through the other documents, I could feel Bella looking at me. Why had she chosen me? Did she know I needed something like this? A distraction? Did she know there was something wrong?

Maybe you shouldn't send a haunted person to a haunted house.

***

Sitting in my car I checked my messages. There were a few notifications from some dating apps. I was tired of them, but I still checked them. I tapped SubSpace. It was a specific kind of dating app. I tapped in my name, KNEELING.PLS and looked at my profile. My photo caught my eye. Pale as a goth. Long black hair. Hazel eyes. Good lips. It was a stupidly bold picture for a submissive seeking a master.

I had a few new hits and a few messages. Mostly the usual try hard would-be masters. There first line was "You will be my pet and refer to me as sir..." Etc. no attempt to strike a rapport first. Jesus. Where was the trust supposed to come in?

Some nervy guy told me I was beautiful, which was nice but not helpful.

No one stood out. I considered sending a couple of guys some messages, maybe even sending them the dirty pictures they had asked for. You never know, it might make me feel something.

I threw my phone on the passenger seat and took a deep breath. There were worse things then feeling lonely. Empty was far worse.

***

All day I felt shit. I was happy with the meeting with Bella, and I had accepted the job. But the rest of the day had got back into an old groove. When I got home I threw my keys on a shelf and kicked my shoes off. I made a meal that I tried to enjoy. I took a shower that made me miss being touched. I went to bed and sat in the dark. I couldn't stop thinking. I wanted to reopen the app. Send a guy something flirty. Something dirty. Maybe I could trust them. Maybe they could give me a task. Spanking myself felt okay. Sometimes. Jesus. I sighed. I was naturally submissive. I had felt that way for as long as I could remember, but I had no one who could share it with me.

Not for years.

Joe was my first, and really only, master. I was twenty five, he was ten years older. I was dating his brother when I met him. He captivated me. Stern, confident. Always wearing striking cologne. The sheer musk of him, the weight of his presence when he brushed against me; he electrified me.

One day there was a big family get together and I got chatting with his girlfriend. It turned out she was more of a fuck buddy. She had a couple of Martinis, and when I pressed about sex, she told me he was rough. Dominant. He liked to tie her down. She giggled as she said it. Clearly it wasn't her thing, but she got off on it well enough.

Finally.

I found Joe later on, and steered the conversation to his girlfriend, and her loose tongue. I didn't know how to be bold, but he could tell I was interested. He brushed some hair from my face, and I was sure he could feel me shiver.

I was his by the end of the week. I was being tied up, face down, on his cool bed sheets, and he was walking around me. He had collared me. He spanked and whipped me, while I thanked him. He told me the more he hurt me the harder I came. He seemed impressed.

We were inseparable for about three months. He taught me my own body. He pushed me, explored me. I felt all of the things I had always longed to try and taste. I would meet him at his luxurious apartment and immediately strip for him. The long days before we met up filled me with a sort of empty sickness. A despair of banality. He elevated everything. He would plug me and blindfold me. Dear God. The toys and tools of our play. I was breathless remembering them. The delicious anticipation I felt as I sat on his bed, waiting for him to come to me, was perfect.

It couldn't last. All too soon he was gone, work that took him to Hong Kong. He was curt about it, I was under no illusions he loved me. As he was going, he paused and then embraced me. "Don't worry," he'd whispered in my ear, "you'll find this with someone else."

Then he had smiled and walked out my door.

Next was Brad. He was hot, and at first he was fun. But above all else he was selfish. He liked me being submissive, but he had no interest in what it did for me. There was a callousness to him that never made it fun. I asked him to spank me, and he made sure it hurt. When I told him it was too hard he was exasperated. He had no patience. I cried once and he got angry with me. I tried to articulate myself, to explain what I liked, what I needed, but I realised he wasn't listening. He never had been. I don't know if he was aroused by my pain, but he was definitely amused. A sadist who didn't understand sadism.

When a man waves red flags, pay attention.

Martin was lovely. We met at work, and he gave me puppy dogs eyes whenever I entered the room. I took to wearing short skirts sometimes, just to see him squirm. Eventually he asked me out, and we had fun. He was in love though. The sex was nice, I loved how attentive he was, how patient. He wasn't great at going down on me, but he gave it his all. He would have licked me all night if I'd let him. I knew I would ask him to spank me sooner than later. That felt like the mildest thing he might accept. If was part of my nature. I craved it. I had come to realise I had numerous little triggers. The feel of a collar. The sight of a belt. The slap of a hand on my ass. The anticipation of lost control. When I asked him, Martin was horribly startled. He didn't want to hurt me, he certainly didn't want to control me. If anything, he might have understood better if I'd asked him to submit to me. Perhaps I should have done that, eased him in somehow? Got him to appreciate how good it felt. Then he might have wanted to give me the same feeling.

Still, we played a little. Or tried to. He spanked me, and I enjoyed being on all fours thanking him. But his heart wasn't in his hand. After each strike he'd ask if I wanted to stop. "Was that too much, Lara? Are you good? Oh my gosh, I'm sorry, was that too hard?"

Over and over.

We lay in bed one night and I stared at the ceiling. He was nice to me. Why wasn't that enough? Why wasn't love enough? It was then that I faced the brutal blunt truth. I didn't love him. Not at all. The fact he couldn't, wouldn't, access this part of me was not helping.

After this I began to grow distant from him. He could feel me pulling away. I was like a shadow peeling myself from his skin. One night he cried as we undressed. He said he would spank me if I wanted, he would do whatever I wanted because he loved me.

But I didn't want to hurt him either. How could I ask him to do something that clearly distressed him? We sat on the bed and had a good heart to heart. I told him about Joe. I told him about things far harder and rougher than spanking. Things I had liked, even if I'd only sampled them, I had been left hungry for more. He began to appreciate the gulf between us.

"Don't ask me why I like it, because I don't know. But I do. I want it. It makes me feel alive."

I saw him look at me differently then, his head tilting, as if seeing me in a new light. Did I see his love for me flicker, begin to dim? He didn't know who I was. Not at all.

That made us separating easier.

The sad thing was, he got a new girl in a few weeks, and while I was happy for him, hearing him gush about how happy they were hurt me. The more I tried to be myself, the lonelier I seemed to become.

So then came chatrooms. Dating apps. One night stands. I had some fun, but I had bad times too. There were men I didn't feel safe surrendering my body to. There were women too, one who spanked me harder than I'd ever taken before. For a while I thought I had connected with someone, until she threw me out next morning. "Fuck off before my husband comes home," were her last words.

Jamal refused to hit me. Shelly was fun, but she got too drunk and spent all night retching in the toilet. Ted had big serial killer vibes. Rupert lived in Canary Wharf and wanted to lick caviar off my spine. He didn't care about humiliation or domination, he just wanted someone to objectify. I enjoyed it for about ten minutes, but then realised he just wanted to turn me into a footstool. Slaves turned him on, and not sexually.

I was about thirty when I felt like I just gave up. Three years on, I haven't had a proper date in two years. I watch an excessive amount of pornography, and spend most of my free time chatting to like minded souls on very specific sex forums, who I know I'll never meet in real life.

Now I'm lying in bed thinking about old lovers. I could have gone with Joe. He might have let me. I could have been Brad's object, I might have learned to like it. I could have been curled up with Martin. He would never have pushed me, but he would have loved me. He would have spanked me sometimes. He would have done anything to make me happy.

All of these things, with hindsight, could have worked. Probably.

Naked, I touched myself as I thought of them and others. Hands that had touched me, kisses. Fingers. Lips. I had a box of toys under the bed. I thought of getting my gag out. My collar. There was a leash. I could plug myself. Get a blindfold. I could play by myself and imagine whatever fantasy I wanted.

I turned over and buried my face in the pillow. Sometimes I cried. Sometimes I didn't.

***

Crook house was a gothic folly. Made by a wealthy man who wanted to live in a house with more character than it was entitled to. It was built a mile off the main road, and was a large three storey mansion. It was all wooden beams and arched curves. It looked like a Tudor-styled tavern out of a fantasy novel. I got out of my car and just studied it for a while. I liked how thrown together it seemed. It had a lot of personality in its clumsy elegance. It didn't belong here and it didn't care.

I crossed the threshold and shivered. It was a cold house. I would have to get the boiler going. I wondered if there was any food in the kitchen?

I was thinking if any of the bedrooms were usable when Bella slammed a door shut across the lobby from me. I looked at her and raised an eyebrow. She smiled. "Damn, thought I'd scare you. You're hard to get."

I gave her a smile. "If I was easily spooked I'd be no good for this."

Bella gave me a curt nod, she liked that. "Come on, I''ll give you the tour."

The next hour she took me over the property. There were six bedrooms, one of which was suitable for immediate use. There was a big kitchen, unstocked. A dusty library, and many living rooms cluttered with old furniture and old busts. I noticed a few references to All Hallow's Eve; it was carved into wooden beams and under the archway of the front door. I noticed it as we returned to the lobby. I pointed it out and Bella nodded. "Donald Crook built this house," she explained, "he was an eccentric with a fondness for superstitions and weird antiques. Some of it was auctioned off to raise money for the house, but most of it's still here. Along with his lurid themes and flourishes." She gave me a wry smile. "There aren't a lot of modern conveniences, but the fridge and freezer work. The oven's new. I had the boiler checked. Should warm up the house pretty good." She paused, looking around. "Any questions?"

I couldn't think of any.

Bella gave me a look. "Did you read the report? All of it?"

I nodded. The company had kept thorough records of every incident at Crook house. Every report or claim. Every so called sighting. "Interesting reading. Do you think there's truth to any of it?"

She shrugged. "I don't believe that sort of thing, but something certainly seems to happen here. Like I said, you don't have to stay here. There's a hotel."

I nodded. "I'll try it here. I'm curious."

Bella gave me an intrigued look. "Are you sure you read the whole report?"

It was pretty lurid stuff. A woman who said she'd been groped. A man who felt hands on him in bed at night. I gave her a smile. "It sounds quite lively. If anything happens you'll be the first to know."

Bella gave me a short laugh. "Alright. You know there's a pool at the office? Some people think you won't last the week. There's a prize if you make it to Halloween." That was in two months, the renovations should take about that long. I smiled. "I'm sure I'll be okay."

Bella smiled back, with much less certainty, then she gave me a last nod and walked out. Just like that. Crook house was mine.

***

I moved in a few days later. I didn't bring much, frankly I wanted to leave as much behind me as I could. I wouldn't be using most of the house anyway, just the few parts I would need for sleeping and eating. There was a small study I could use as an office.

When I arrived I stood in the large lobby and listened. So quiet. You could hear a ghost drop a pin. I waited for something to happen, but nothing did.

I walked around the property, examining it more leisurely. Sometimes I felt as if I wasn't alone. It was eerie. Rooms didn't quite feel empty. There were no creaking floorboards, no slamming doors or hushed voices. There was just a thickening in the air. An unearned sense of claustrophobia. Large rooms felt oddly close. Empty spaces felt strangely busy. I wandered the rooms, checking doors and windows. I never felt as if I were being followed, or watched, I just had the odd feeling that I wasn't alone.

Paranoia came with a property like this, however. It's size, as well as its history, made sure of that.

***

The first night nothing occurred. Just grumbling floorboards and fluttering curtains. I took the made up bedroom and found it had a lovely large bed. It felt quite luxurious to stretch out on. I moved in and put my suitcases in the corner. I'd only brought two. Some clothes and personal supplies. There wasn't much I needed. It wasn't clear how long I needed to be here though. Bella had said weeks, at least, but the scale of all of the different repairs that needed to be ticked off meant it would probably be months.

I felt it was all a bit pointless. All this was because two men had expressed a significant financial interest. Rich Carver was an eccentric who would probably prefer the house left as it is; and Sebastian Dubois seemed more interested in the land itself. Improving the property didn't matter if he was just going to bulldoze it. I lay in bed and listened to the large house creak around me. I had put the boiler on and warmed it up a little, but it wasn't as cold as I'd been afraid it might be. I'd brought my laptop and a few books. I thought of going on to SubSpace and seeing if I had any new messages, but I felt too tired.

I just pulled the blankets over me and thought about Carver and Dubois. The fact there were two people circling the property had seemingly sparked a small bidding war. I wondered who would win? I yawned. Even a haunted house got more interest than me.

***

When I woke up I was expecting something to have happened. A wide open door. A broken vase. Strange footprints. Breath on a mirror. Something. I sat up and looked around. It was quiet. I got up and walked downstairs in just my knickers and an old shirt. It was chilly, but I liked it. I paused in the lobby to see if anything had been moved or disturbed. There was nothing.

Haunted my arse.

I had almost forgotten the superstitions about the house when something happened. Maybe they planned it that way? Or maybe they'd enjoyed watching me drop my guard?

I was in the kitchen when it happened. I was sitting at the table, sipping a coffee. I suddenly had the overwhelming sensation I wasn't alone. I shot up and looked around, but there was no one there. I sat back down, uncertainly, and after a few moments I felt something stroking my hair. It was a gesture that was both soothing and deeply unsettling.

I was too confused to be alarmed. I tried to shoot back to my feet, but I felt as if hands were on my shoulder, pushing me back down. It was as if a spell had been broken. There was no more playing. A hand was at my face. Invisible, but strong. Another was at my throat. I got back up, but before I could do anything I was spun around. All I could think, over and over, was this wasn't possible.

I was being pushed forward, firmly, until I was bent over the table. My heart was thudding. Invisible hands were pushing down on mine. It was as if I were stuck to the table. I tried to move and I couldn't. This was happening. It was real. I could feel my skirt lifting, as if a breeze was making it move. Then something slowly started tugging at my knickers. I bit my lip as suddenly they were being pulled down to my ankles. I should have been terrified, and some small rational part of me was, but as I stood there, bent over the table, unseen hands all over me, I had simply never felt more aroused and excited in my entire life.

"Oh my God," I whispered. There was shock in the way I moaned the words, but no fear.

Did they sense that?

Nothing happened for a moment, as if they were waiting. I didn't scream. I didn't even struggle. I was tense, but that was different. Seconds ticked by, and I felt fear and desire, like two snakes, fighting in my stomach. There was something touching me, I tried to angle my body, to look. I was alone in the kitchen. There were no sounds. Nothing. I just closed my eyes. Only my body could tell me what was happening. What felt like a finger brushed my clit. I shuddered. Something entered me, then. Another finger? There was nothing there. But something was pushing inside. It didn't hurt. I just felt myself stretch a little around it. It was a warm sensation, I kept my eyes shut and enjoyed it.