Victorias Valentine

( The following story would have perhaps found a better audience in Erotic Horror or Non-human, but because it contains incest as a main theme it must be placed here. If darker stories are not to your taste then this story will not be for you. Still, I hope you enjoy it. All characters in the story are over 18.) - MST

My name is Eric, and I love a woman dead for almost a century.

And she will be the death of me and of my soul.

I was a very young man when my father bought the old abandoned Valentine Manor. I still can remember the odd smell of it the first time we entered. A damp musty smell that made my mother fussy about mold and mildew. I was apparently the only one who caught the faint hint of perfume. Least ways when I mentioned it they dismissed what I said.

But then my parents did a lot of that.

My grandfather was a hands-on construction worker when he was younger, and a business owner of a large construction company by the time I came along. Growing up with that for his example it's not at all a surprise that my father loved to restore old buildings. Or at least the idea of doing it.

Mom not so much.

The Valentine Manor took years of work, tons of money, and almost brought about a separation of my parents, if not a full divorce. She simply could not see till it was nearly finished the luxurious dream home that my father could picture that century-old mansion becoming. For me, it was simply a huge playground full of dangers both real and imaginary. A delight of sensation for both the eye and the hand. Dark rooms that had not seen the light in decades were opened up and aired out. Old relics of the last century were uncovered almost daily. Some interesting, most less than that but still cool to see.

I was there when Dad's workers tore into a plaster wall and found a door hidden behind it. I was there and being completely in the way as they forced that door open and revealed a small room full of the most curious items. The bedposts were wrapped in rotted cloth stuffed with straw. The walls are similarly padded. Large metal rings on the ceiling and the walls. Heavy metal shackles on the bed and broken ones were strewn about the room at random. There were great tears in the wall padding as if some huge bear or wild cat had clawed at the walls in anger at being confined.

Mother took one look at that room and ordered it dismantled, destroyed, and forgotten. Dad was almost as curious as myself but wished to keep his already disgruntled wife happy so he gave the order.

Angry that such a fabulous playroom was taken away from me before being properly enjoyed, I gave it one last look around and was about to leave when I saw the corner of a book sticking out of a hole in the wall stuffing. I snatched it and ran.

Sure that I had discovered a book of evil Fey magic or perhaps the mad writings of Abdul Alhazred, you can imagine my disappointment when we got back home for the night and I looked into it only to discover it to be nothing more than a girl's diary. For whatever reason I put it on a shelf in my room with a few other oddments that I had gathered from the Valentine Manor. It was quickly forgotten as more relevant things like entering high school and trying to date girls became a part of my young life.

Years of work slowly passed there at the old manor house but when the last nail was hammered and the last bit of wall painted the old home was everything that my father had promised my mother it would be. And more. A forgotten jewel from an age of elegance, it now lacked not a single modern convenience, while keeping its eclectic charm.

Mother was satisfied if not completely happy.

Father was bitten by the restoration bug, and would soon be buying up other old homes similar to this one and would - with his dad's help - found his own company to restore those derelict once-treasured homes.

This had him travel across the country a lot, which did seem to make Mom happy.

Odd.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Sitting in my room, my heart broken by... well, heartbreak, I was contemplation extremes. Things that begin with M!

Murder, malice, maliciousness... okay, mostly murder.

My girlfriend of a year Dora Fenbacker had decided that - even given my access to nigh unlimited funds to buy her gifts - she no longer wished to date me. In fact, she even went so far as to replace me with another guy four months before deciding to break up with me. That part stung. That my friends knew of this and didn't tell me hurt more. That my mother didn't seem to care that I was contemplating an early career as a serial killer over the breakup stung even worse.

Dad wasn't home to care or not. Not that he really would have cared.

My parents were like that.

Sitting in my favorite reading chair by the window, looking at the rain making the glass cry, I tried to not cry myself. But it hurt. The betrayal of it hurt. Fora had been a friend through my junior year, then "my girl' through most of my senior year.

Leaning back, I bumped my back into my bookcase. I gave thought to doing what I have always done when the world becomes too hard to deal with. Pulling out a book and vanishing into some other world. Tolkien's Shire, or Lewis' Narnia. Tumble down the rabbit hole after Alice, perhaps. Or maybe take to the skies of Pern to ride a dragon against thread. Anything other than this bland colorless world of reality.

I absently bumped backward again.

From the bookcase, a small book fell to the floor. Looking down, I didn't immediately recognize it. Leaning over, I scooped it up and flipped open the featureless leather cover.

"Ah, this old thing." I was about to absently stick it back on the shelf when a photo fell out from between the pages to land on my lap. Picking it up, I looked up the most beautiful young girl I had ever seen. The picture was black and white, framed in a fancy white border. The image had faded a bit and some ink from the pages had faintly imprinted the words "madness grows" across her dress in gray faded letters. It was her face that drew me to the image. She seemed to be looking at whoever took the picture, but to me, it felt like she was looking not at the camera but at me. Here, now at this moment, looking at me. Her eyes seemed to follow me as I moved the picture. Turning it over, I saw that someone had long ago written a name and date on the back.

Victoria Valentine, 1934.

"Wow..."

Picking back up the book from where I had laid it aside, I was about to simply put the photo back inside when the words on the diary page drew my eyes.

~ "I celebrated my eighteenth birthday tonight masturbating with Mamma's broom handle. I will have trouble keeping the smile off my face tomorrow when I see her using it. She will never know!"~

Reading that line over and over a couple of times, I often looked back at the old photo and then back at what she had written. I saw at the top of the page was written the date February 14th, 1934.

"So you were eighteen, just like me," I said to her beautiful image.

Leaning back in my chair, I turned to the front of the diary and began to read. I made it all of ten pages in before the incredible naughtiness of Victoria's written confessions had me hard enough that I had to masturbate.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

~ March 12th, 1934 "I allowed one of the field hands to take my virginity today. A simple-minded young man with a strong body, he smelled of sweat and fresh-cut hay, and he needed little to no encouragement to do what I asked of him. He was hung like father's prize stud bull and made me cry, but they were welcome tears. Mother had been threatening for months now to marry me off, well now that plan will be forever dashed. No man will want me now that I am broken. Not that I can let her know. But surely any man she would offer me to will take one look at me and know I've been used by another man."~

~ March 30th, 1934 "Father beat me today. Rumor of what I had done reached his ears from the local pastor. Maybe God snitched on me. My bottom is so red and it burns with even the weight of my shift upon the skin but... my "cunny" is aflame with need. I've nearly worn my fingerprints away rubbing at myself. Once the others fall asleep I shall have to sneak out, as if to go to the bathroom and retrieve Mamma's broom. The way that I feel though, I fear I may well rub the varnish off the handle before morning. GOD!, You heavenly voyeur you, why not send me a man to take care of me now when I need it so badly!"~

~ March 31st, 1934 "God did not answer my need, but I think some darker higher power may have heard my prayer. A man came to me in the night. In the dark. He was strong, and rough, and took me in a rush. His hand was across my mouth and I could not catch my breath. He filled me, but not as full as the field hand had done. Nor did he last as long, but it was wonderful nonetheless! I was already sore inside from the hard wood of Mamma's broom, but I didn't care that it hurt. I would have gladly let him tear my insides in half if he wished, so long as my inner need was fulfilled. I passed out near the end. Even now I can feel his seed running down my inner thigh, as I write this."~

~April 19th. "I have just returned from the doctor. Mamma and Gran took me. He gave me a large glass of something to drink. It smelled like Daddy's whiskey, and I went loopy for a good long while. Mamma was crying when I woke, and I hurt. I still hurt. My time of the month finally started. I'm going to sleep now, my head hurts like fire. Write more later."~

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Laying in my bed, a lamp on beside me I stroke myself through several more of her diary entries. Victoria wrote of many things that she did to sate her need. Some made me disgusted, some made me so hard I yanked my cock till it hurt and cum like mad! Twice she mentions the man in the night coming for her. As the summer months grow hotter she also talks of going to the swimming

hole and swimming naked in the small river. The boys like to gather there and watch her. She loved their attention and wished they dared to come down there and do what she wanted them to do.

Cowards!

I knew that if it had been me I would have spent the whole of the summer between her legs. I wanted Victoria now so badly I couldn't stand it. Her picture was too old and fragile for me to hold and look at too much, but by now the image of her was burned into my mind. I wanted to have her. I wanted to be that man in the night to come to her room and take her in a rush. She was a bundle of lust that needed a man to take care of and there wasn't one. Her reputation, she said had been ruined by rumor so that no man of any age in the surrounding area would do more than look at her.

Older women spat on her, but that she turned against them. She would look them in the eye and beg for more while moaning in lust and they would flee.

The church denounced her. She didn't care.

She had found a new God by then.

The man in the dark was who she worshiped, and she knew he was none other than Satan himself. For no one else could have sensed the overpowering lush within her and come to sate it for her. No angel would have care, no pious God in Heaven. Only a devil with needs and wants of his own would care.

Victoria began to write about the secret books she kept. She spoke of the library hidden in the basement. Of reading things no one was ever meant to read.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

~April 28th, 1934 "I found it! In an old cave up in the hills that I heard some old black women speak of! It was said to have been where a half-negro slave lived after the War between the States, a witch she was called. The oldest of the black women whispered of an old well. And that the Devil would crawl up out of it at night to kill chickens. Which I thought was silly; but I knew of that old well. Some of the local men hunted those hills and I overhead Daddy talking about seeing it. I found it!~

~April 29th, 1934 "The cave was dusty dry, and held old trash. Clothes that rotted away at a touch, broken pottery made from local clay. A wooden chest covered in powdery mold. It was within that chest that I found two books. One was in Latin, and I could read but a little. The other was in the corrupted French of the swamps and I could pidgin it out with effort. I spent the whole day reading by the old hanging tree down next to the river. No one goes there. I left the books hidden in the hollow of that tree till I could get them back. Mamma has taken to searching my room. I have to keep this diary better hidden. I both dread and hope she one day reads this and sees of the things I have done under her Christian roof. I giggle so at what her face will look like. She will have vapors! The book speaks of how a fire on the night of May 1st can bring the attention of the Devil. My inner itch is driving my 'cunny' mad! Tomorrow night I'm going to sneak out and go up into the woods to that old cave and build a fire by that well. If the Devil does come out of it, maybe he will take me back with him. I would love for him to... 'fuck'... me all day and night. Never stopping. I want that so bad!"~

~May 2nd, 1934 "I think I did something wrong. I followed the words of the old French book and did what it said to do, but nothing. In my agony, I lay naked on a blanket in the woods and used my walking stick within myself to get my pleasure. It does not sate but helps. I must retrieve the old Latin book and read it. Perhaps it will tell me what I've done wrong. I burn inside so badly for a man! Be he Devil or dullard, take me as fierce as you wish, but do it now!"~

~ June 3rd "I've asked Poppa to send me away to school. He does not know that I go there only to learn to read my Latin book. I've tried my best for a month now to puzzle it out, but can only get hints. I leave by train tomorrow. Soon Devil man, soon I will be able to summon you for real and true."~

~June 4th "The Devil must know I'm leaving, he came for me again in the night. This time I was asleep on my belly and he took me that way. Hiked up my shift, and took me in my behind. He's never done that and it hurt like all the dickens! I still can't sit still due to the ache of it, but I will never forget the pleasure I felt once he was done and I was left there gaped open in my behind, crying, and drooling his seed. A dozen men could have taken me then and I would have blessed them all for doing it. I dare not take my diary or other books with me, lest they be discovered. The school Daddy chose is taught by nuns. He and Mamma hope to break me of my foul non-Christian tendencies. I will leave this book and my other two in the hidden library in the basement. When I return, I will write more I promise."~

** ** ** ** ** ** **

That of course sent me rushing downstairs. When Dad renovated the house, the basement was pretty much painted and left untouched otherwise. It was hardly more than a crawlspace where the water tanks and furnaces were kept. Mom had never even stepped foot in there to my knowledge. It was cold! A bitter cold, that made me wonder how our pipes didn't freeze.

Search as I may for a good hour I never found anything that looked like a hidden library or any such thing. It was just a dark half-empty room. I even began to wonder if I had missed something being torn out and thrown away without me being aware of it when I saw a shadow move. Glancing over quickly like, I caught the movement of a figure in white. But when I looked straight at the area there was nothing there. Moving over I found a small metal latch painted white like the walls. I had to take out my pocket knife and scrape away the paint till it would move, and then it still did so reluctantly. There was a great pressure on it and when it finally popped free, the hidden door swung open violently.

The room was ten by ten and thinking about it, I realized it must be right under where the padded room Mom had torn out must have once been. Inside was a single chair, a table with a lacework of symbols carved upon the top, an old glass oil lantern, and a bookshelf that was half rot. Upon it were a half dozen books that powdered to the touch when I tried to pick them up. Two however were not rotten. They were as fresh and whole as if they had been placed there yesterday. They were even devoid of dust.

One was Latin, the other French. I can read neither.

Mother fussed at me for tracking dusty footprints through the house. Dad was two states away rebuilding a hundred-year-old general store. It will make such a lovely nightclub for the local town.

I heard Mom crying that night. Dad called earlier and said he wasn't going to make it for Valentine's Day, for the second year in a row. He promised to take her out to eat when he got home that weekend. I honestly couldn't care whether he was there or not anymore, and since my girlfriend dumped me all Valentine's Day meant to me was that it was Victoria's birthday.

** ** ** ** ** ** **

~ October 30th, 1934 "I wished I didn't have to come back here to my parent's home. If I didn't need to retrieve my books I would never have come back here. The disappointment on their faces at seeing me, their daughter the nuns threw out of their school, calling me disturbed and blasphemous. If they knew what I had planned for them they would like to see me even less. I can now read my Latin book! And no longer is the French book even a chore to read. Century-old books on the Occult they are not the writings of some half negra slave woman, but rather a nobleman that was crushed under stones in the 1690s as a witch. His son, himself a dabbler in the darkest arts had hidden the books after his father died. In the days since I've come home, I've devoured the pages of each book. I now know so much! I know that many nights of the year are a powerful time for conjuration and summing of spirits. Walpurgisnacht -the night I lit my fire by the cave is one such. If I knew then the spells I know now the Devil would have indeed appeared and taken me sexually. I know now that the root cause of my lust is the night of my birth. Valentine's Day. The day the old Romans call Lupercalia, a celebration of lust is a powerful day indeed.. So of course I'm insatiable! But, I now also know of an even more powerful night. Halloween! Tomorrow night I shall... Mom is coming."~

~ October 31st, 1934 "Tonight I'm going to put a few things to the test and see what I can make happen. I would ask to have luck wished for me, but I no longer believe in luck. And I have no one to ask."~

~ November 4th, 1934 "It has taken days for my family and myself to recover from Halloween. It was glorious! I prepared the ritual dolls just as instructed. Hair and cloth were taken from both Mamma and Father. After dinner, in the hidden library, sitting within the drawn circle, I began to anoint them with whiskey stolen from my father's liquor cabinet. Above me, I heard them begin to laugh and laugh. Smiling I crept back up to see, and let me say it was a true site to see. My mother drunk without a sip to have crossed her lips. And Father, with his eyes aglow with laughter. I hurried back down to my room and applied the dried purple flowers of a mountain-grown mandrake. I nibbled a bit of root and spit the juice on both dolls. I heard my mother scream when it hit. Hurrying upstairs I found the two of them already half disrobed. Father had her on the big dining table and was tearing at her clothes and his own. Mother was bare-breasted in the lamplight and pulling at her husband. Her face turned to me and for a moment she blushed in horror but then a powerful lust filled her eyes and she held out a hand to me, beckoning me. Exhaustion takes me so quickly now, that I must rest. I'll write more after I have rested."~

** ** ** ** ** ** **

Glancing through the page I see what she writes, but am instantly so shocked by it I close the old diary. I have my cock out of my pants, in my hand, and I am stroking the hardness for all I am worth instantly.