“I knew you were chicken!” the taunting voice irked Ethan fiercely and he rounded on his accuser…one of his fellow dorm mates.

“Am not!”

His dorm mate, Kevin, grinned, the confident smirk of someone who had had just a little too much to drink, and jabbed a finger at Ethan, “You’re the one who’s been bragging all night about the dares you’ve pulled off…and now you won’t even consider going up to the old McLaughlin Manor.”

Ethan bit down his initial response. Only some out of towner like Kevin would so blithely talk about the McLaughlin Manor. Kevin was far more outgoing and confident than Ethan, and had the easy charisma of the strong and conventionally attractive. Ethan, on the other hand, was a shy, rather bookish fellow, far more at home with a book, a tabletop RPG, or a computer game than parties or dares. It was a testament to the oddities of life that the two of them had actually become rather good friends over the past six months of living together. He glared at the other young man for a moment, as his mind drifted back to all the old stories he’d heard.

Growing up in his home town, a quiet university town of little fame, the stories of the McLaughlin Manor had been (for Ethan) one of the only interesting historical stories.

People disappeared there. At least, that was always the whispered declaration, usually by older folks deep in their cups. They’d talk about this person or that person who had allegedly disappeared after paying a visit to the old place. Some people had been curious. Some had been adventurous snoops. Some had been greedy for rumoured treasure, after all old abandoned places with scary stories attached to them had to be concealing something. Others had just needed a good spot to lay their heads. But one thing had always been in common.

The disappearances had always happened in October…especially close to Halloween. Some people claimed they could hear noises around Halloween…in the depths of night, there were sounds that shouldn’t be present. As though something yet lived in the old Manor…something that jealously guarded its halls and rooms from the unwary and the terminally curious.

“C’mon man,” Kevin gave him a friendly clap on his shoulder, “don’t you want to be the one to finally disprove all the silly ghost stories?” He grinned and waggled his eyebrows, “Or are you hoping certain ones are true? Isn’t there that story about Madeline McLaughlin…?”

Ethan flushed. He had heard about that story. Stories, rather.

The McLaughlin family had been an odd eclectic bunch, generation on generation. If any family would have been wrapped up in the occult, it would have been them. Nearly every new generation had had their fair share of oddballs, cranks, maniacs, and other mad men and women who had given the sinister reputation to the house. Hell, they had been around long enough in the region that their family histories traced back far enough that some of them may have genuinely been wrapped up in wizardry and another nefarious sorcery. Ethan was hardly one to dismiss such tales…especially with the sinister reputation of the family and their home.

Madeline though…she had been cut from a different cloth.

Madeline had been as obsessed with the occult as her forebearers, dabbling in the arcane, and the forbidden lore of the ancients, if the tales were true. Hell, some even said that she communed with devils and faeries and honest to goodness Elves! But more than anything else, it had been the sexual, kinky aspects of her obsessions that had finally overridden nearly all other aspects of the McLaughlin family legend. Madeline had been as infamous for her sexual and fetish proclivities as she had been for the occult. Nearly a century had passed since she had strode the world of mortals…and yet hers was the name that most could easily associate with the dark brooding manor buildings outside of town.

Indeed, what made her different as well were the few pictures available of her. Only a precious few paintings and portraits survived of her, most having been victims of superstitious or perhaps vengeful townsfolk bent on eradicating her memory. This, in the modern day, had only spurred on the fantasies and imaginations of those growing number of (mostly young) folk fascinated by her life. She had famously maintained a harem of young men and women, kept within the manor grounds to be at her beck and call. How willing those individuals were changed with who was telling the tale. Sometimes they had been her loyal accolytes, surrendering themselves willingly to her appetites to taste a morsel of the dark powers she had assembled. Tales of masked cultists appearing in the dead of night at various points around the township, and even further abroad, had been rife throughout Madeline’s time. In other tellings they were her victims, kidnapped and spirited away to satisfy her carnal appetites and fuel her dark rituals with none ever being freed from her otherworldly grip.

Ethan swallowed, his heart beginning to beat faster as he felt his face heat, “I’m not…”

“C’mon!” Kevin chuckled, still grinning that leering grin, “You haven’t imagined wanted to be seduced by some deranged sexy as fuck crazy lady? Hell, when I moved here and found out about the myths you’ve all built up about her…” He waggled his eyebrows knowingly, “I hear ol’ Madeline was a right lunatic…keeping whole dungeons filled with all sorts of toys…and sex slaves.” He elbowed Ethan again, “Betcha that’s why you don’t wanna go. Don’t wanna encounter the crazy Mistress McLaughlin, and--”

Ethan made a face, and took another swig of his beer as he gave Kevin a light shove, “Shut it! Look, I just…” He eyed Kevin again and realized that the other boy was not going to drop it, “Gah! Look, uhm, what would be the…the contours of this bet?”

Kevin’s grin widened triumphantly, “I knew it! Well…” he made a show of thinking things through, though Ethan was already positive that his friend had something in mind, “…I’ve heard no end of stories about how depraved and nefarious Madeline and her whole family were…but I’ve yet to actually see anything that backs up all these wild stories. So here is your challenge. Bring me something unique…something that could only come from that house…and you’ll be done! Or…” He chuckled, “If you can’t find it within yourself to steal something from that old dump, you have to stay there all night.”

Ethan looked at his watch. It was just a little after seven pm. On Halloween. Twilight beginning outside…and that would mean he would be spending just under twelve hours in that foreboding old mansion…unless he stole something for Kevin to gloat over. He shivered a little. It had to be safe enough right, before dark at least? All the stories he had ever heard…the worst of it was always on Halloween itself…but maybe…maybe it would be fine, before dark…

Normally Ethan was as levelheaded as they came, hardly the sort to engage in hijinks of any kind. The last thing in the world he was normally up for would be to test out the veracity of scary stories. Hell, he didn’t even watch horror movies at all! Yet…being at university, stretching his legs in freedom for the first time in his life…plus the not inconsequential influence of Kevin…all made for a decision that Ethan would never have normally made.

“Alright. I’m in.”

An hour later, Ethan was having third thoughts.

Second thoughts had occurred after he had jumped out of Kevin’s car at the old gates leading to the McLaughlin Manor. The old stonework wall still encompassed the grounds of the place, much of which was heavily forested and somewhat overgrown. Its not like there were custodial staff any longer, and the gate itself was moss covered and showing tis age. Yet the iron of the gate was still in good order, and it had taken both boys a few minutes to ease the portal open enough that Ethan was able to slip through to the other side. Kevin had stood near the gate, cheekily shutting them again, and giving Ethan a mock salute.

“Remember! No leaving until you get me something…or you spend the night. I’ll be camped out right here, with a camera pointed at the gate, so don’t think you can sneak away in a few minutes and claim you spent the night.” Kevin, clearly, was enjoying this a little too much.

Ethan had made a face at him and then turned around to begin trudging up towards the manor houses.

McLaughlin Manor wasn’t a single structure, but rather about half a dozen buildings all interconnected and built in a high gothic style that was rather reminiscent of some of the old castles and grand buildings that Ethan had seen in Europe from time to time. He had managed to make it most of the way there, getting into the broken paved receiving area in front of the main doors, when the wind picked up significantly. He had shivered at the low, keening moan of the wind as it had swirled around him, making the old buildings seem as though they were eager for his arrival. Siren singing him onwards towards his doom.

Ethan had been twitchy, jumping and shuddering at the sounds, at the deepening gloom as it closed in around him. He had fumbled for his flashlight, slowly mounting the steps towards the doors, and as his hand made contact with the old wood the sky above him had growled with thunder. And then the rain had begun.

Damn it, of all times for there to be a bloody storm??

Armed with his flashlight Ethan wrenched the doors open and scurried inside, swinging them shut behind him with a muted *boom* as the storm that had seemingly spun up from nowhere, finally broke.

He found himself having his third thoughts about the advisability of this venture as he stood in that dusty hallway. Well, it should have been dusty. As Ethan played his flashlight around he frowned at his surroundings. There was dust sure, and the debris of time and a lack of upkeep. Yet things seemed…off. There should have been a thicker coat of dust, but it almost seemed as though the place had only been vacated a few weeks ago rather than over a century. It was a rich enough looking place, somehow much of the original furniture and other accouterments were still intact.

Briefly, Ethan thought about simply grabbing something from here. One of the ornate looking candlesticks or something like that would be proof enough he had entered the place. But even as he took a step towards the sidetable where one such candlestick stood, he knew that such a trophy wouldn’t pass muster. He wasn’t here to simply gather some piece of memorabilia of the McLaughlin family…he was here for something of the mysterious Madeline McLaughlin. That meant, knowing Kevin, something much kinkier than some tabletop light fixture.

Ethan sighed and, without knowing where else to start, carefully began walking along the hall.

McLaughlin Manor proved to be only slightly less ominous and foreboding in person. There were, thankfully from Ethan’s standpoint, no troubling sights or macabre displays of the sorts of rumoured occult madness that transpired here. Just plenty of long dusty hallways, spacious and elegant rooms, and heaps of opulent furniture, baubles, and other paraphernalia of the wealthy and reclusive. Yet Ethan couldn’t shake a small but growing feeling of paranoid dread. As though he was being watched from some dark corner, or secret space. The air was still…yet not. Perhaps some element of the storm that now raged outside was creeping into the old building, but there seemed to be a growing current to the air. As though some entity was…anticipating…what was to come. Ethan was getting jumpy, especially as he couldn’t find anything that might satisfy his bet with Kevin. Nothing sprung out to him after nearly two hours of searching the main level of anything especially unique. Anything that would satisfy Kevin’ insatiable horny curiosity over all things McLaughlin. So Ethan decided to expand his search to the upstairs bedrooms. Surely somewhere up there Madeline, or some other McLaughlin, would have kept something suitably racey.

As he headed up a large staircase, Ethan flinched and wildly swung his flashlight around. Had that been…?

He blinked and scrubbed at his eyes, worry beginning to etch into his features as the bright light he brought with him played around his surroundings. He couldn’t be sure but…he could’ve sworn he’d seen something…

“Kevin I swear if you’re here trying to freak me out I’m gonna kill you!” Ethan had meant to sound confidently disapproving, but his voice nearly squeaked towards the end as he bounded up the stairs. The oppressive silence of the house threw his words back at him, mocking his fear. Absorbing his indignant anger…and frightening him with its impassivity. Damn and blast it, he needed to be out of this damn house!

Reaching the top of the stairs, Ethan took a breath. He needed to be more targeted in his searching. The Master Bedroom! That had to be where Madeline would have lived…and probably the best bet to find something that he could claim was hers!

He hurried down the long hallway, one side open to the large atrium of the main level below. The wall was dominated by ranked portraits of the McLaughlins of the past, and here there was little of the opacity of what it was the family might have been up to. Contained within each portrait was, apparently, what the particular scion of the family had been most interested in. Or perhaps most proud of. Some featured them posed as writers or scientists, boldly plumbing the depths of the natural world. Others…others showed them engaged in activities…rituals…that Ethan didn’t recognize, and felt no strong desire to look too closely. For all of them, their eyes seemed to knowingly return his gaze, glorying in the ancient arts and forbidden lore that they had scrabbled their lives to acquire. More than once he was forced to tear his gaze away from some lordly lady or grinning madman from the past who seemed to draw him in ever more tightly into viewing them.

The damned portraits almost seemed like they had a living force attached to them!

Eventually he managed to reach the end of the hallway, having bypassed many doors and alternative halls that branched off and away. Leaving him to face the double doors leading to the Master Bedroom. Leaving him to gaze upon the final portrait of the long serried ranks that had fairly propelled him towards his destination in terror over the consequences of staying too long and being sucked into some eldritch trap. Ethan’s mind had slid ever further towards the bounds of his own rationality, as the very atmosphere and air of the house seemed to compress around him, slicing away his logical explanation of the mundane, to leave him only with his suspicions and paranoia of the supernatural and otherworldly elements of the McLaughlin Manor. It was in this unbalanced mindset that he gazed upon Madeline McLaughlin’s portrait.

Immediately he was struck by her beauty. Whatever painter had captured her likeness here, had somehow breathed life into the figure that stood powerfully forth amid the surrounding background. Piercing dark eyes, almost purple seemed to stab out at Ethan, framed by an exquisitely lovely face with dark curls cascading down to tumble artfully around her shoulders. She was dressed in a flowing silky robe, some odd yet appealing cross between an evening robe and wizardly garments. In one hand, held up near her generous breasts, was clutched some sort of orb that seemed to emanate a strange light in the painting. As though it were simultaneously giving off some sort of glow whilst also drinking in the natural light around it. In her other…

Ethan swallowed. In her other, she held a leash, which led to a collar locked around the neck of a kneeling naked figure at her feet. The young man, for it was a young man, was gazing up at Madeline adoringly, his hands held behind him in steel shackles, his ankles similarly bound, yet for all the world he seemed to care only that he was near to his…what? Captor? Owner? Lover? Ethan hadn’t ever heard of Madeline actually taking anyone on as an equal partner…so perhaps this was meant to illustrate the rumoured harem that she had kept around? Certainly the artist had done his best to make both the young man and his obvious worship of Madeline seem appealing and right. What must it have been like to be  Hell, as Ethan leaned in closer, his eyes snared by the painted Madeline’s purplish gaze, he couldn’t help but want to fall to his knees…couldn’t help wanting to gaze up at her from his proper place, beneath her boots. Perhaps if Mistress Madeline was feeling kind she might—

With an audible cry Ethan stumbled back, wrenching himself away from where he had almost made contact with the painting. What the hell was going on? That wasn’t him! That hadn’t been his voice in his head! Had it?

He stared at the painting, Madeline’s gaze seemingly having been broken of its hypnotic hold over him. Yet her expression, previously one of almost aloof, triumphant challenge…now seemed almost more personal. More intently direct upon him. Almost as though the painting had responded to his presence…to his refusal of whatever mad mental suggestion had nearly had him pressing his lips to the hem of her dress. Those purplish eyes now seemed to hone in on him directly, gazing with interest yes…but also with hunger…

With a renewed shudder Ethan backed away, his shoulders bumping into the master bedroom door. Madeline’s eyes seemed to fairly sparkle with desire, pinning him in place against the old polished wood. With a half articulated moan of fear, he managed to tear his eyes away, pressing back against the mounting mental pressure that demanded that he look, and keep looking. That demanded he step back, closer to the painting, and revel in the feelings that seemed to emanate from it. To emanate from the orb clutched by Madeline’s painted likeness. Instead, summoning up reserves of mental resilience that Ethan had never known he possessed, he shoved the doors behind him open, and flung himself backwards into darkness.

For an eternal handful of heartbeats, Ethan shuddered on his hands and knees, panting as he kept his eyes squeezed shut. God. What the hell was going on? This wasn’t supposed to be happening. This was just some dumb bet…some silly thing to scare him before Halloween. He scrubbed at his face, slowly shifting up to be upright on his knees and tentatively brought the flashlight up once more.

The room that confronted him was most definitely the place of Madeline McLaughlin. Where the rest of the manor that he had seen was nothing especially out of the ordinary for most wealthy folks, that godawful hallway of portraits notwithstanding, this was clearly the lair of someone interested in the arcane, eldritch mysteries of the world. Shelf upon shelf of grim looking books glowered down at him from scattered bookcases around the room. An entire section of the place looked to be some partially blocked off laboratory of some sort, with a weird eclectic mixture of chemistry sets mixed with decayed remnants of alchemy materials and other sorts of biological bits and bobs that Ethan deliberately eschewed a closer look at.

He got up to his feet, swallowing hard. In front of him, dominating much of the room, was a large four poster bed, complete with canopy, that was carved and inlaid with runes and symbols that twinned and wound all around the posters, as well as ran around the bottom portion of the frame. Some depicted scenes, but most seemed to be the flowing script of incantations or other maddening runic lore that ordinary man was not meant to pry into. Ethan averted his eyes from a detailed look, deliberately not paying attention to how the symbols seemed to almost…writhe…beneath his gaze. Stuff like that couldn’t do that because it wasn’t alive, he snarled at himself mentally. Get it together. Get it together.

A number of wardrobes and smaller tables were arrayed along the far side of the bed, away from the laboratory set up. Ethan stumbled over to them and began to pull them open. More eldritch baubles, artefacts from bygone eras lay nestled within, snug in their velvet packed spaces. Seeming to draw the eye and call to the mind and hand to pay attention to them. To pick them up, and to hold them tightly. To make them his own. To make this place his own. Hadn’t he always wanted a place of his own? A home where he was away from the wider world, away from the hustle and bustle of it all? Didn’t he want somewhere…and someone…to feel at home? At peace? Where he could finally kneel before his rightful—

Ethan snatched his hand out of the most recent drawer he had picked up, and then, after steadying himself, peered within. His hand had brushed against an elegant carved wooden box. He stared down at it, trying to nerve himself up. Because carved into the top of the box, in impressively slowing script, were the inset initials M. M.

Madeline McLaughlin.

This had to be hers…something of hers, anyway. His fingers twitched, an oddly hungry desire coursing through him like fire along his nerves. He wanted to pick up the box. Wanted to…and feared to. Was this truly what he wanted? Was this just to win the bet…the dare…or was this something else? Something…darker…

Ethan shook his head, clenching his hands for a moment. It didn’t matter. The hallway had well and truly spooked him. This room was going to gnaw at his mind if he stayed very long within it. He could not stay here until dawn. There was simply no way. Forcing down the voices of his better judgement Ethan reached out and took hold of the box.

He flinched at the contact, but nothing came of it. No crackle of magical power…no darkness lashing out…not even the repeat of the odd compulsions to do certain things. Simply the warmth of the wood…and a growing desire to open it. Ethan carried the large box over to the bed, placing it gently onto it, and then ran his hands along the exterior. A few of the carved runes that he had noticed before on the bed were repeated here, though their precise meaning continued to elude him. His questing fingers found a small latch to depress, and Ethan sucked in a breath. Better to see what this was here, rather than having to redo this dumb, dumb challenge. He pressed the latch, and slowly swung the lid back.

And nearly choked as he let out a shuddering gasp.

Nestled inside on rich velvet lining was a large leather collar, accompanied by twin sets of heavy leather cuffs. There was also an oddly liquid looking oblong shape, almost like a filled vial of some sort, that was arranged to one side. All along the interior was a welter of carved runes and other symbols that fairly seemed to radiate some sort of powerful compulsion. Ethan found his hands gripping the sides of the box, clenching hard, simply to prevent himself from reaching out for the collar. Reaching out…to do something that he was suddenly sure was a Bad Idea.

Ethan trembled there for a moment, his hands wanting to grab for the collar, his mind screaming at him to just shut the box. Not even to bother bringing it with him. To simply get out and run. Flee for the hills from this insane world of magical horror that he had stumbled upon.

“It’s been soooo….veeeeery….loooooong,” A woman’s voice breathed into his ear.

Ethan screamed, practically levitating from his position near the bed and crashing backwards onto the floor, looking wildly around with his flashlight. The box had come with him, its contents miraculously remaining within, and landing next to him. His light darted about the room. Hitting the nooks and crannies, illuminating the lab area, the book cases…the door…

There was nothing. No one. He was alone. He was alone in the room. The voice had been his imagination. It had to have been. There was no way…

Suddenly he swallowed, his flashlight making another pass…and then tumbling from suddenly nerveless fingers.

He was not alone.

What he had on the first pass thought was the dark shadow of a large ornate coat rack slowly detached itself from the wall. It seemed to almost flow into the room, creeping towards him. Sucking in the light so only the edges of it were revealed for brief flashes…remaining a shadow. Some formless manifestation of his dread it seemed to Ethan…until suddenly twin pinpricks of otherworldly light flashed into existence deep within that darkness. Ethan stared in mingled fascination and horror as he began to be able to discern features. Human features. A vaguely womanly shape came slowly into being…the pale outline of a face, the soft curve of a jawline and smile…ruby red lips that revealed a flashing hint of teeth. And dark purplish eyes.

Eyes that burned into him with heated desire and hunger.

“W-who…who are you?” Ethan stammered, scrambling backwards from the entity, the box suddenly clutched in his hands. An absent corner of his mind demanded to know how it had gotten there, and why the hell he was still holding it. The rest of his mind was far too busy gibbering in terror.

“I…” the entity flowed closer, “I am the realization of desire…” Another pace, and Ethan heard the unmistakable click of a boot heel. He saw the swirl of darkness in the same way as a robe might move and shift. His eyes widened and he found his eyes locked again to the entity’s own purple ones.

“You’re…you’re…” Ethan mumbled, still trying to back away. His shoulders hit a solid surface. A wardrobe. He shuddered, “You c-can’t be here.”

The entity’s smile widened, and a deep, richly amused and darkly terrifying laugh sounded throughout the room, “I think you shall find, dear one, that I may go where I please.”

At the same time that the being spoke, more whispers came flowing into Ethan’s ear.

“Kneel and submit…”

“Collar yourself and surrender…”

“You are a slave…”

He blinked, shook his head, and screamed as he suddenly found darkness swirling right in front of his face. Found burning purple eyes mere inches from his own.

“You have nearly completed your journey.” The voice was encouraging…seductive…and horrifying in its earnest desire for him, “You willingly entered my Manor…you willingly entered my bedchamber…and now, you shall willingly collar yourself. Thrice ye shall have made yourself mine…and thus I shall claim thee.”

The sudden switch to an older dialect and rhythm of speaking had the feel and form of some ritual. Some beginning portion to an event from which there would be no return.

“I…I didn’t…pl-please…” Ethan stammered, still trying to squirm away. He somehow managed to tear his eyes away from the entity in front of him, whose name was clawing at his mind, and instead found himself gazing down at the box. The box that he was still holding…and whose contents’ siren song now battered against his crumbling mental defences like the final blows of a battering ram carrying down the castle gate.

“Let go of your fear…” The voice called to him…somehow near and far away at the same time, overlapping as though there were two, three, or four of her at once, “Let go and give in. Let go and submit. Allow me to take away your pain, your fear, your anger. Allow. Me. In.”

Ethan felt a touch that burned like ice grip his arm, and then felt an achingly warm tingling race through him. His hand released the side of the box, and shakingly dipped into its interior. Beside him, in front of him, all around him, came the whispering, susurration of chanting. Some long forgotten, rightly forgotten tongue. Some arcane ritual that mankind had buried and forgotten in ages past…and that had now been harnessed anew.

Ethan blinked again, and through a deepening haze, found himself staring at his lap. The box lay there, still open and pulsing. But both his hands were now held before him, cradling the thick black leather collar that had been within the box. He didn’t remember picking it up. He only remembered…only knew…that putting it on would make this end. Putting it on would save him. Putting it on would carry him away from this place of terror.

“Thrice ye shall submit…” the whisper was crooned into his ear, “And thrice ye shall name me. Allow. Me. In.”

Ethan moaned, the sound some unique combination of terror and arousal as the feelings of tingling, alluring warmth raced through him. As he watched his hands bring the collar closer to his neck. As he felt the warm, thick leather wrap around his neck.

Tug. Tug. Tug. Buckle. Cinch. Snap.

He was collared.

Suddenly a stream of darkness detached from the roiling mass before him. The shimmering barely perceived outline of an arm whose hand came towards him. Caressed his face. Drew from him a whimpering moan of pure need.

“Well done, my darling pet. Our joining is nearly complete…” A spectral finger hooked through the ring on the front of the collar, pulling him easily from his seated position up onto his knees. Ethan found himself staring up into darkness once more. Staring up into the twin burning purple fires of the ghostly woman who rose above him, keeping him in place with the sheer force of her will.

“Who am I?” the whisper flowed around him once more. Other whispers followed, twinning about with that single question. These lesser ones whispered to him of submission. Of the rightness of being on his knees before her. Of her supremacy over him, hard won through her studies and her personality, but more simply that it was her natural right to control him. To own him. He was nothing…yet with her, he might become something.

But her voice bore down on him again as he knelt there stammering, and drowned out the dissonant whispering that clawed at his mind, “Who am I, sweetling?”

Ethan licked at his lips, desperately wanting to look away. To deny the reality of his situation. Yet the words tumbled forth from his lips anyway.

“You’re…you’re Madeline McLaughlin.” The sheer absurdity that a woman over a century in her grave should be standing in any capacity at all before him should have allowed him to shake off whatever witchery was going on. Yet he could not compel his body to move. He stayed rooted in place…though an errant thought noticed that he was holding his wrists behind his back. As though waiting for something…

“Once asked, and once answered,” her voice was pleased, and it seemed that the darkness partially receded. Enough that Ethan could get a better look at her face, and his eyes widened as they beheld the beauty of the woman that the painter had tried to capture, now here in the flesh. A ghostly, darkness enshrouded hand reached down, running along Ethan’s jaw. The whispers burrowed further into his mind, wheedling, demanding, teasing him to still further submit. To fling himself upon the mercy of this spectral being, this ghost of the infamous Madeline McLaughlin, and prostrate himself for her judgement. His knees and body trembled to do just that, yet her touch saved him. Demanded gently that he remain as he was.

He gazed up at her, gratitude flowing through him suddenly at her benevolence. And realized that he had missed something as he saw a perfect eyebrow arch.

“I ask again, my sweet captive, what am I…to you?”

Ghostly voices battered once more, making him moan and sway in place. She was a goddess, far beyond his reason or understanding. She was his captor, clearly he could not leave here without some sort of permission. But what was she to him? What the hell did that mean? She was a sorceress of some sort that much was clear. A practitioner of the arcane and otherworldly.  She was…a spectre herself…no longer bound to the mortal realm, though free to walk it at need it seemed. Ethan’s mind raced as best it could, certain that there was a right answer. Certain as well, from the suggestions of the ghostly whispers, that to not answer correctly would bring consequences. She was…what had he called her…a lifetime ago in his dorm room?

Ethan cried out softly, “Mistress! Mistress Madeline! P-Please!” As the words left his mouth he felt leather encircle and ensnare his wrists and ankles. Pulled and buckled tight, just like the collar around his neck, and accompanied by the clinking and tinkling of chain. But he couldn’t look around. He could only look up into those purple eyes. Eyes whose burning nature was slowly cooling. Almost becoming welcoming…warm…inviting.

“Twice asked, and twice answered,” her voice sighed. Content. Pleased. Encouragingly affectionate almost. Ethan felt his body heat in response. Felt himself strain against the invisible and visible bonds that kept him rigidly kneeling in place. There would be no squirming free. There would be no break for the exit…or to surge to his feet and stand before her as an equal…

It almost seemed then that she became even more real. He could now see her robes, her outfit entirely. The painting had not done it justice. She was the picture of ghostly kinky elegance, with long leather boots peaking from beneath the green silky robes that enfolded her being. She still towered above him, superior in every way. Effortlessly controlling. Yet now, somehow, more real with every passing moment.

“A final time, my pet.” Ethan felt a warm tingling thrill race through him. His a tiny, decreasing part of his mind screamed that this was unnatural, that this was not what he wanted…that he needed to wake up, to move, to get away! But he remained kneeling in place, and the warm tingling feeling swept up and over that final voice. Smothering it into submission.

“Who shall I be to you?” The swirling, whirl of the ghostly voices seemed to lull as she asked, and she herself gracefully knelt before him, her eyes still above him yet nearly level. Her lips curved into an inquisitive smile.

Ethan’s mind could only countenance giving one answer now. To give her any other sentence, any other jumble of words, would be to betray her. And he could not bring himself to even think of betraying this woman...not now.

“My Mistress…please…my Mistress Madeline…I'm...I'm yours...” Ethan’s voice was practically a whisper as he shuddered there on his knees.”

“Thrice asked, and thrice answered.” Madeline McLaughlin remarked, her voice pleased, “Thus our joining renews us both…thus your departure from here to my true home is wrought…”

Ethan opened his mouth and let out a sudden shocked, choking squeal, as Madeline brought up the liquid looking vial and smashed it against his head. Yet instead of glass, the liquid within spattered over him…and moved. More rapidly than he thought possible it raced across his face, across his head entirely, and enclosed it in shiny, slick black latex. He knelt there, bound, shackled, collared, and hooded. The very picture of abject, adoring submission to his Mistress. He let out a low moan, still rooted in place, as Madeline casually affixed a leash to his collar, and airily waved a hand in the direction of the large double doors that Ethan had thought were a closet. At a word from her, the doors rolled open, revealing an odd flickering portal of energy, shimmering and swaying on the other side.

“I’d not expected to obtain a fresh devotee this night…” Madeline remarked as she stepped forward, pulling Ethan behind her on her leash. Somehow his movement was eased, as shuffling he was able to keep up with her on his knees. His eyes remained fixed on her, casting his adoring gaze upwards at her back, shoulders, and her flowing dark tresses. She glanced back, eyes filled with pleased, hungry, arousal.

“And you’ve served me well, my Pet. Not only in binding yourself to me…but in furthering my legend.” Her hand caressed Ethan’s jaw once more, as she stood with him on the precipice of the portal. Where it led to, he didn’t know. Nor did he care. He cared only to look upon his Mistress. He cared only that she looked upon him, cared for him, and held him captive in her collar. He wanted nothing else. The voices in his head that had cried for flight, or for fighting had been quieted. His speaking part in affairs was done. He could simply…be…

“A fresh disappearance…all within the halls of this Manor…” Madeline was musing, “I shouldn’t be surprised to be entertaining still more slaves in the years and decades to come. And to think…I’d despaired of having anyone new to add to my domain from this realm.” She smiled down at him briefly for a moment, “You needn’t fear, slave. I shall shortly bring you to my new home. A place I spent a lifetime building…and can now enjoy for countless lifetimes to come. All thanks to the sacrifices and service of those like you who wish only to please me.”

Her eyes sharpened hungrily upon him, and her mouth twisted in a deeper smile, one alight with a hint of malice, “I am sure we shall both quite enjoy the manner of your service…for a time at least. After all, all things end…” She pulled upon his leash, “Now, let us go. You’ve much to do…and I have such delights to show you…”

And pulling the completely infatuated Ethan behind her, Madeline McLaughlin, last scion of the McLaughlin family and its most successful practitioner of the arcane and eldritch arts, crossed through the portal. Carrying them both to a place both far away from the little town that Ethan had known, to a place that existed elsewhere. Beyond the bounds of mortal reality…to a place where creatures and entities of myth still roamed. To a corner of the land of Faerie…from whence she shall venture forth again and again, to plunder and enslave those who dare to adventure within the halls of McLaughlin Manor…on Halloween Night…