A Haunting Experience Read online

  Table of Contents

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  EBook Offer

  A Haunting Experience

  Kessily Lewel

  Blushing Books

  ©2017 by Blushing Books® and Kessily Lewel

  All rights reserved.

  No part of the book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  Published by Blushing Books®,

  a subsidiary of

  ABCD Graphics and Design

  977 Seminole Trail #233

  Charlottesville, VA 22901

  The trademark Blushing Books®

  is registered in the US Patent and Trademark Office.

  Kessily Lewel

  A Haunting Experience

  EBook ISBN: 978-1-61258-297-9

  Cover Art by ABCD Graphics & Design

  This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as Blushing Books' or the author's advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.

  Contents

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  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Kessily Lewel

  EBook Offer

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  Chapter 1

  She shouldn't have taken the money. In the back of her head, she'd known from the very minute she was offered the deal that she should walk away and never look back. In fact, if she actually allowed herself to remember, she'd had a very strong intuition that something was going to happen when she'd woken up the morning she received the call.

  Sweaty, heart racing, frightened, and something else she couldn't put her finger on, she sat bolt upright, still trembling from dreams she couldn't remember. Murky fears lurked in the back of her mind throughout the morning as she got up and prepared for her work shift. Jumping at shadows and having to constantly pull back the shower curtain to make sure she was alone in the bathroom wasn't the best way to start her day.

  And pieces of her dream kept interrupting her, prodding her to try to remember more. She knew there was something important in it that she had to know, but the dream had been very different from her usual. There were strong overtones of sex, and every time she tried to hold an image in her mind, her body reacted with arousal that made concentrating hard. She finally forced herself to put it aside so she could work; whatever she needed to learn from it would have to wait.

  Despite the anxiety that plagued her throughout the morning and afternoon, nothing momentous had happened, either good or bad. It was a normal day. It confused her because she'd learned to trust those feelings. All the women in her family had them, and most of the time they were deadly accurate. She'd lost friendships over predicting things a little too accurately. They'd called her creepy, among other things.

  If they'd had any idea that there were other skills, which she did her very best to block out and ignore completely, they'd have said worse. Her grandmother had told her it was a mistake and that she'd regret not learning how to use those other talents eventually, but she just wanted to be normal like everyone else. So if sometimes she answered the phone before it rang or knew to avoid a certain area because of traffic, she could live with it, but the rest—no.

  So an uneventful day was a confusing surprise but not an unwelcome one. Maybe, just that once, it had been a misfire. Nothing was coming to shake up her normal little life, and everything was fine. She'd almost managed to convince herself of that by the time she got home in the evening, but as she dropped her things on the counter, she noticed that she'd missed a call on her cell. It was blinking to let her know a voicemail was waiting, and the feeling suddenly came rushing back. Something was coming.

  Her hands shook as she settled on the couch and hit the voicemail button. She wasn't good at checking her messages, and there were a couple of old ones there that she had to play through. They were nothing important or relevant, but after the third beep, everything changed.

  "Ms. Cassidy, my name is Charles Bruebeker. I'm calling on behalf of my client to offer you a contract that I think you might be interested in. There's a significant amount of money involved. Please call me at 216-201-7666 at your earliest convenience."

  Well, that wasn't what she was expecting at all. A family member sick or dying was more in line with what she'd dreaded. Though when those premonitions came, she was never sure if they were indicating something bad was going to happen. A notification that she'd w
on a contest wouldn't have surprised her, either. But a lawyer? A contract?

  The money part made it even more intriguing. She'd recently been informed that the company she worked for was planning to close at an unspecified time in the future. The head office had decided that there were better tax breaks in another state and a chance for a higher profit margin. Some staff had been offered the chance to move with them, but as there would be no money for moving expenses allotted, it put her in an awkward position—come up with the money to follow her job cross country or look for a new one.

  The message left her extremely curious but also very nervous. Looking at the clock, she decided to put it off until the next day; it was likely too late to call him back, anyway. Opting to settle on the couch with a quick dinner and the television remote, she tried to concentrate on the news, but her mind kept flashing back to the lingering dream fragments that had been bouncing around her head all day.

  Something—something about a creepy house and—her cheeks heated as a vivid picture of herself with a man popped up. It wasn't a G-rated picture. Had she actually been dreaming that or had her mind just created it after the fact? Either way, it wasn't her usual sort of fantasy. In fact, it—well. There hadn't been enough to tell, but the very brief flash she'd remembered had been shockingly kinky.

  There was a man, shirtless, with long dark hair curling to his shoulders. He was holding her across his lap with one hand underneath, between her thighs, cupping her sex. His finger pressed between swollen lips to stroke that bud of pleasure, while his other hand slapped down across her bare ass, landing firm spanks that quickly turned her skin pink.

  Her nipples tightened to hard nubs that pressed against her cotton nightshirt, and she felt a sudden slick wetness between her thighs in an indication of how affected her body was by that one image. She'd never really thought of herself as kinky, but then she'd never really had a chance to explore any facet of her sexuality. At twenty-two, April Cassidy was still a virgin.

  She never admitted that to anyone. It seemed embarrassing somehow, as though there were something wrong with her, since no man had been attracted enough to have sex with her. But that wasn't it at all. She'd had plenty of men hit on her and a few boyfriends who'd definitely expressed an interest in moving to the next level. It was just that none of them seemed to want to wait until she was ready.

  And the one who was patient about waiting for sex, well—she'd scared him off by doing one of her creepy psychic things. It wasn't her fault that she always guessed his surprises and secrets before he told her, but when she'd consoled him about the death of his grandmother before his mother had called to give him the bad news, well, that was it.

  "I can't handle this creepy shit anymore, April. It was cute when you would guess who was on the phone before we answered it. It was funny when you'd warn me that the waiter was going to mess up our meal, but this is too much. I'm sorry; I'm done," he had said as he walked out of her life.

  He'd been the only one that she'd thought maybe—in retrospect, of course, she'd been glad she'd held out. How much more would it have hurt if they'd slept together before he dumped her? It was pretty much determined that she was meant to be alone and as far as physical needs—well, she knew how to masturbate.

  But suddenly, after one dream, her body was aching for someone to touch her. Her breasts felt full and sensitive. The crotch of her panties was damp, and she put her dinner aside, no longer hungry. She always thought she had a fairly low sex drive because she rarely touched herself, but that night she caressed every inch of her body, imagining the man from her dream doing it. She even rolled over on her belly and raised her ass so she could give it a firm slap, picturing his hand flashing down the way it had in that one brief glimpse.

  For the first time in her life, she experienced multiple orgasms with the one small vibrator she owned. She exhausted herself bringing her body to a fever pitch over and over before she finally fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

  The next morning when she woke up, she felt well-rested and sated. She was halfway through her shower before she remembered the odd phone message and decided that since she didn't have to work, she should probably take care of it. Whatever it was, she could always say no.

  She should have said no, she thought as she hung up the phone a half hour later. She'd had every intention of it, in fact. So why did she find herself agreeing to the most bizarre job offer she'd ever received in her life? One that would force her to do the very things she tried so hard to avoid doing?

  Those were questions she couldn't answer, but a week later she found herself making the long drive to Cleveland, Ohio, to be part of a psychic experiment taking place in one of the most infamous haunted houses in the country. The name of the property implied it was a castle, but it wasn't—not quite. It was built like one, though, with the stone walls and turret-shaped rooms.

  The tall iron fences that surrounded it added to the overall effect, but as she drove through the hefty gates, she shivered. It crossed her mind to wonder if they were to keep trespassers out or something else in. There was a thick aura of something—not evil exactly, but otherworldly, and it had every hair on her body standing at attention by the time she parked.

  She stayed in the car calming herself with long, slow, deep breaths for almost fifteen minutes before the front door opened and a well dressed gentleman hurried down the steps towards her. She forced her hands to relax their death grip on the wheel. The smile she flashed him looked forced and sickly, but it was the best she could do as she opened the door and got out.

  "Hi, I'm—"

  "April, right? Yes, you're right on time. I'm Charles. Please, leave your things for right now. I'd like to get the preliminaries taken care of. I need to leave soon, and there's some paperwork we have to go through," he explained as he moved hastily in the direction of the house.

  He kept looking back over his shoulder to make sure she was following him, and it wasn't doing anything to dispel the cold knot of fear in her stomach. Neither was the way he kept looking at his watch. Maybe it was a lawyer thing, but she got the idea he desperately wanted out of there.

  As she stepped inside the house, she stopped short, and her eyes widened. After she'd agreed to accept the gig, she'd hopped on the Internet to do a little research. The back of her car was currently packed with camping materials because all the info she could find on the house said it was badly in need of repairs, that it had been abandoned and left in neglect for years. There were numerous pictures of the vandalized interior posted on various websites.

  She'd even brought Mace because she'd read that the house had once been damaged from a fire set by a vagrant. Nothing in the articles she'd read, many of them focusing on the bizarre history of the house, had prepared her for what she saw.

  In the days following the call, she'd come to realize that she hadn't even known the right questions to ask before she'd agreed, and she had made a number of frantic phone calls to Mr. Bruebeker for more information. Each time, he'd assured her that she would be safe, that everything would be explained when she arrived, and that she would be comfortable physically. The emphasis on that last word had given her heart palpitations. And she hadn't believed him, anyway, so she'd brought sleeping bags, lanterns, flashlights, everything she could think of that would make a week in the house bearable.

  But she'd been wrong. The place was incredible. She was awestruck by the complete renovations that must have cost a fortune. The owner had to have poured millions into it. Every detail looked authentic, to her admittedly inexperienced eye, from the molding on the walls to the heavy dark furniture that filled the entryway and the parlor. She let out a long low whistle as she slowly turned on her heel to take it all in.

  "It's— This is beautiful," she said. Her voice was pitched low because the gleaming polished wood inspired reverence, and because the lack of carpeting made every sound echo.

  "Yes, yes, it is," Charles agreed shortly. "Please, follow me to the library where I'
ve laid everything out for you."

  He moved down the hallway quickly, shoes tapping on the hardwood floors, while she followed at a leisurely pace, taking in the decor hungrily. She'd never had access to the kind of wealth that would expose her to a house like that or the antiques that filled it. She felt overwhelmed by the beauty and age.

  And occasionally she felt more when she let her fingers run across the surfaces of the furnishings she was passing. That lamp belonged to a woman named Martha. She'd commissioned it in her youth and kept it until the day she died, leaving so many impressions of her life clinging to it. The mirror with the ornate gilded frame had been a wedding gift to a young couple, and they'd hung it with pride. But after she'd lost one child after another, she'd come to hate the sight of herself and—

  "Are you coming, Ms. Cassidy?" Charles snapped.

  She snatched her fingers away, swallowing hard. There was darkness in the house. It wasn't evil, but there were remnants of despair, hatred, anger—so much negativity was clouding her mind, and she had to slam the door shut on those emotions so that she could proceed.

  He seemed miffed that she was keeping him waiting, so she cut short her examinations. She'd have plenty of time for that later, anyway.

  "You seem like you're in an awful hurry," she commented as she sat down across from him at an elegant oversized desk that was probably worth more than everything she owned. The sheer size of it made it seem more like a permanent fixture than a piece of furniture, and she couldn't resist running her hands over the gleaming wood.