Kelly fell back to sleep in a big leather chair after Alice nudged her awake to say goodnight. When she woke up on her own again some time later, it was hard to resist the urge to go back to sleep for the night right there, but she had to find that outhouse and remembered the beautiful four poster bed waiting for her upstairs. Using her arms to push up onto her stiff, tight legs, she managed to find her balance as she blinked her bleary eyes back into focus.

She took a swig of tequila straight from the bottle, bracing herself to venture outside. The lights kept flickering here and there too. The generator needed to be checked. Clear out in the barn. Just peachy. She was tempted to say fuck it and pee in a red plastic cup like Connie had done but didn't want to take a chance on the generator burning up or something.

Her Aunt Linda had left a double-barreled 12-gauge shotgun propped behind the door. Wandering around in the dark with a gun and booze, how perfectly backwoods. She took another swig of tequila before putting down the bottle and checking the gun. Loaded. Slugs. Good. That much lead would take down even one of Oswald's "carnavorous" wild hogs. Not that she wanted to shoot anything, but like her Grandpa used to say, "If you have to shoot a varmint, then you better do it right. Otherwise, it'll just get mad."

She had never told Alice or Connie how backwoods a family she really had, or what a good shot she was, and preferred to keep it that way. Otherwise, she'd never hear the end of the teasing.

Resting the shotgun in the crook of her arm, Kelly grabbed her surprisingly bright little LED flashlight before stepping out the back door. Moonlight cast a pale glow and faint elongated shadows on everything. She could almost see from the glow alone, so turned her light down to a dimmer mode as she made her way along the short path to the outhouse--no use advertising her presence any more than necessary.

Traces of fog promised a true, spooky Halloween night for anyone, or anything, which happened to be out and about...focus Kelly, don't you dare think about that anymore. She turned the flashlight back up to max--to hell with anyone seeing the light.

The outhouse wasn't so bad, just cold. She kept the shotgun close at hand the whole time. Her mind was starting to play tricks on her--and she didn't even have a buzz from the tequila. Half a dozen different times, she thought she heard something walking around outside.

Finished, she opened the outhouse door a crack to make sure it was safe before setting out for the barn. A dim light outlining an open side door and sputtering generator noises served to guide the way across the backyard. It wasn't that far, but it seemed like a mile under the circumstances.

Wishing she still had that bottle of tequila, Kelly took a nervous breath and changed her grip on the shotgun, cradling it in her left arm for faster access to the trigger. She shined the light around the yard. Even with it on full, the beam was swallowed up by the dark expanse. Still, no eyes reflected back...but human eyes don't reflect. Stop it! You're making yourself crazy. You can do this, no big deal. Kelly shook off her fears and set off cautiously towards the barn.

After a few steps, her stride and resolve grew bolder. She wondered why she had been worried. Suddenly, her foot turned, and she pitched forward. It was as if the whole world had suddenly tipped under her feet.

She landed on her hands and knees and instantly knew that everything was amiss. Her flashlight and the shotgun were simply gone. She was wearing some big, old-fashioned dress. A corset was squeezing her tight from her hips up to her boobs--which now seemed as large as grapefruits--and she felt like someone had strapped a laundry basket to her butt. She noticed other differences as well: she could smell floral perfume, a lot of extra hair was done up high on her head, and she was wearing ankle boots with a short heel. Most of all, she was quite aroused sexually and had no idea why.

Panic shot through her as she realized she was no longer alone. Looking to the left, she saw a strange American Indian man standing still, hands raised palms up towards the sky. The moonlight glowed on his deerskin clothes as he watched her from a distance. He wore a creepy-looking black mask with a long pointed snout that reminded her of a bird, clearly a shaman.

An unfounded feeling of familiarity left her clueless instead of afraid. How could I possibly know him? Before she could get a closer look, her head turned away from him on its own, in complete disobedience to her mind--an act so disturbing that she couldn't possibly explain how it felt. In reaction, a chilling, paralyzing fear ran through her spine like an arctic wind.

Now facing the ground, she saw her necklace in the grass. The silver chain was broken, and the miniature silver feather pendant was twisted around upside down. Her mother had given it to her for her twelfth birthday and made her promise never to take it off, and she never had. It was supposed to protect her from evil. Now Kelly was starting to think she knew exactly what evil her mother had been worried about. She had to get it back! She tried to reach for it, but couldn't; her arms wouldn't move!

Kelly was at a loss trying to understand what was happening. It didn't seem like a nightmare, but what else could explain it? She didn't even have a good tequila buzz. Was she having a seizure? She'd never had anything like an out-of-body experience before, even that time her cousin Ray dared her to eat a hallucinogenic mushroom with him. As much as she didn't want to believe it, she knew deep down that something supernatural was happening to her.

Whatever is happening will stop after a while. I just need to go along with it until it does.

She tried to reach for the necklace again, desperate not to lose it but found herself struggling to stand up instead. Her hands looked wrong...realization dawned. They weren't her hands. In fact, it wasn't her body at all--and, without a doubt, definitely not her boobs. Along with the realization that her body had changed, she started to feel the presence of someone else.

Maybe I've been possessed? No, I don't think I'm the one who's supposed to be here. Am I a ghost? What the hell is going on?

The real owner of the body Kelly now shared regained her feet and took a moment to straighten out her dress. She looked at the ground as if wondering how she had fallen. As she set off again, unconcerned that she wasn't carrying a light, she lifted the sides of her skirt to keep it from dragging in the tall grass and started to walk quickly towards the barn, anxious to get there. Kelly thought her boots felt a little too small, and the dress was heavy, but the corset was what she noticed most. It was so tight, rigid and uncomfortable.

This can't be happening!

The barn doorway was still lit in this twisted version of reality, but now the light had the yellow-orange glow of a lantern flame, and she didn't hear the generator running. She wanted to turn for a look at the house, but turning required control of a body she no longer commanded.

As her host body drew closer to the barn, Kelly felt more and more connected to whoever she was. Her host was well-balanced and not terribly uncomfortable in the boots and dress, even if Kelly's perception of those same sensations was to the contrary. They clearly saw the shadow of a person in the barn. Instead of being fearful, it made her host more excited. Kelly recognized the unforgettable feeling. She was meeting a lover. Maybe this is some kind of message? I've heard of people having visions that seemed so real they couldn't tell the difference.

As soon as she entered the barn, Kelly felt the strong and passionate embrace of a man kissing her--kissing them. Her eyes were closed, so Kelly didn't know what he looked liked, but she could feel him holding them tight. The kiss was no quick hello-my-love kiss. Instead, it was a passionate, tongue-chasing-tongue, I-want-to-rip-your-clothes-off kiss of pure passion. The kind of kiss that Kelly had always longed for.

When they finally broke their embrace, Kelly could see a very attractive man, elegantly dressed in a blue coat, vest, and bow tie. He had broad shoulders and a face that was half chiseled Greek statue and half neatly-bearded swashbuckler. No wonder she's sneaking off to the barn.

"My Aunt Harriett will be busy for a while taking care of my sisters, and the guests won't arrive for some while yet, but we still don't have a lot of time," she said in a nervous voice not all that different from Kelly's own.

Kelly remembered an Aunt Harriett from the family ghost stories. Now this was making sense. However impossible, she was reliving the past as someone else, quite likely one of her ancestors. It must be related to the weird time distortion that affects the estate.

The man locked eyes with her. "Kimberly, are you sure you want to do this? Really, truly, sure?"

"As sure as the dawn," she said. "When I think of what it must have been like, I go completely off my rocker. Ever since you told me the story two weeks ago, it's all I can think about. Did they really do all of that?"

"My Uncle Jeb saw it with his own eyes, more than once, back before the war, and I believe him. He's never been prone to tall tales," said Ethan, "but, I'm worried that you're not thinking clearly and have been twisting his account into some kind of romanticized fantasy."

"Don't you try to tell me that I have some kind of hysteria now too--I'm not irrational. I know my fantasy is far from the reality, but I don't care beans if it is. Just the thought of being owned by another, to be in their control in every way, even something so intimate--it fascinates me so. I can't explain it," said Kimberly. "Besides, you enjoy it too, don't you?"

"I do, but I don't want you hating me later," said Ethan. "It's going to be way more intense than any of our previous games--for both of us."
"I know it will be," she insisted, "but, this is something that I need to do, just once, for me. I hope you understand."

Kelly felt something when Kimberly looked into Ethan's eyes. Through her eyes, Kelly could see his fascination. He looked at her like she was this beautiful, miraculous yet complex creature--was it, love? It was as if he couldn't believe he was so lucky to have found her, but there was something more in there too, something hungry...maybe. With so many feelings coming from Kimberly's body, Kelly didn't know how much to trust her intuition.

When Ethan hesitated, Kimberly got nervous. "Ethan, you promised!" she pleaded.

"I don't know if I understand why you want to do this so much, but if you feel so strongly about it, then that's good enough for me. Personally, I liked it better when we played 'millionaire gold miner and the San Francisco whore' or that time we played 'Sultan and the new harem girl' and you did that sultry dance with the veils."

"Well, it's your turn to pick next time, and I'll be whoever you want me to be, my love."

Kelly could hardly believe what she was hearing, but it helped calm her down. In fact, it was seriously...intriguing. Nothing like this was in the family stories--nothing about Kimberly or Ethan either, but such stories would not have been told to ears as young as hers at the time.

On second thought...maybe arousing was closer to the right description. If only I could find my own Ethan. As Kelly's thoughts strayed to chains and bondage, she couldn't tell if her thoughts were influencing the body she was sharing or if the lust she felt was coming entirely from Kimberly.

"OK, OK, I'll do it, but don't blame me if you get an ugly bruise or even swoon. Is there anything you don't want me to do? I suppose you're going to tell me you want to go all the way." asked Ethan.

"Yes, all the way. I expect no less. Holding back ruins the illusion. I want every strap, every chain, the gag--the whole hog," said Kimberly with enthusiasm. "I want to be the woman in the story."

Kelly was beginning to feel more and more a part of Kimberly. Her bodily sensation was that of Kimberly's body, but there was more. There was some kind of unconscious perception, well below the level of thought, like Kimberly's unconscious leaked into Kelly's mind. She had the distinct impression that Kimberly thought Ethan's objections were just polite pretense--there was more to Ethan than she knew.

Kelly suspected that Ethan's reserved sexual manners were probably just a way to let Kimberly explore her boundaries and feel in control while he waited patiently, cultivating her deeper passions, until the day when she would discover her true nature--or submit to his. He seemed like the kind of guy that always had ulterior motives. In truth, Kelly had no idea if Kimberly had her own ulterior motives, but she trusted Ethan completely: Kelly was sure of that.

"I don't like to ask, but do you have your rubber cleaned and greased up? That pennyroyal tea made me sick to my stomach for days," said Kimberly. "Besides, I don't want to go through another scare like that."

"I bought a brand new one, all the way from France. It's a lot better than the old one," Ethan said with an unnoticed smirk.

Anticipating his answer, Kimberly was already starting to undress. "Can you help me with this bodice? The buttons are so darn tight."

Kelly's view of Victorian relationships was being challenged by Kimberly and Ethan. She couldn't believe what Kimberly was doing. Weren't people supposed to be all sorts of prudish and uptight about sex back then? She could only imagine what these two would have done with a video camera.

As Ethan helped Kimberly get undressed, Kelly shared her increasing arousal. The intensity of it was incredible. Maybe some women experience lust differently? Kelly couldn't remember ever feeling this turned on. It was almost painful. It was also worrisome. Instead of fading, whatever she was experiencing was getting more vivid and real.

Even though taking Kimberly's clothes off was more a struggle than a striptease, Ethan was clearly ready to go as well. His hands were practically shaking with anticipation as he loosened Kimberly's corset (much to Kelly's relief).

Soon three petticoats (one inner, two outer) joined the bodice and skirt hanging neatly among the expanse of hooks and pegs in the tack room of the barn. Kelly was surprised at the cage-like thing Kimberly had been wearing (Kimberly called it a crinoline).

It wasn't made with big round hoops that go all the way around like the kind she remembered from movies. Instead, the suspended framework shaped her more specifically. Starting with an open, flat front, it widened at her hips, giving them a full look as it protruded and extended down her sides. Most of the framework was on her backside. A raised hump high on her bottom formed the beginning of a full, draped affair behind her. Kelly immediately understood how the crinoline was so much better than a whole lot more petticoats to get the desired dress shape, but was still shocked at the engineering involved in Kimberly's outfit.

Despite Kimberly's wanton desires, Kelly could still feel a guilty blush of modesty and embarrassment from her as she lifted her chemise and dropped her drawers to stand before Ethan in just her garter belt and stockings. She could feel his eyes roaming over her body as she removed those as well. Though uncomfortable being nude, she still wanted to present herself to him, the object of his desire. For Ethan, and his eyes only, she had the confidence to bare herself. The fact that he couldn't take his eyes off her confirmed her hold on him. The bulge in his pants was an object of pride: I did that. He lusts for me.

Within seconds, Kelly felt a cold, heavy chain around their shared waist and heard the click of a lock behind her.

"Last chance," said Ethan.

Kimberly answered by placing her own left wrist into one of the shackles.

"Go ahead Ethan, turn the key," she said, a little breathlessly.

Without saying another word, Ethan's strong hands finished shackling her wrists to the front of the waist chain below her navel. The short chain held her hands in close to her body. He quickly descended to her ankles with a matching set of leg irons. They were very tight, and the connecting chain was short--the way problem slaves were kept from running.
Kimberly was now secured as if she were a troublesome and resistant slave made ready for transport. The sensations were even more amazing than she had envisioned. The most obvious difference from her fantasy was the sheer weight of the shackles. She had never considered that they would be so heavy, or so dirty and rusty. About a decade ago, they would have been on a real slave. Male or female, daily labor would have made them a lot stronger than she was, yet they would have been equally helpless from the heavy steel. Ethan was certainly preserving the authenticity.

Kelly had always been curious about more adventurous sexual activities but had never had the partner for it. Experiencing such activities this way, though, wasn't what she had in mind. She felt the tightness of Kimberly's hard nipples and the wetness of her pussy. Obviously, Kimberly found her helplessness to be erotic as hell and was having the time of her life--despite the risks she was taking. Kelly, however, was not enjoying the shared experience. Lacking Kimberly's romanticism, the game was way too heavy for her tastes, too real to be a fantasy. She chose to think the arousal she felt was forced upon her through Kimberly's body. If only she could just spend some time in Kimberly's head as well, maybe she could understand her fantasies.

Suddenly, Kimberly and Kelly were both roused from their thoughts by a stinging pain across their ass. Ethan had whipped them with a riding crop. It stung like hell, but Kelly sensed mostly surprise and not pain from Kimberly. Apparently, she didn't know the crop would be part of their little re-enactment.

"Stand up straight, girl, and open your mouth," growled Ethan in a mock slave master's voice.

"But Ethan..."

Kimberly grunted out a long drawn out "uuunnnhhhggg" in pain as Ethan struck her across the rump again, but harder.

"You will address me as Master or Sir," he said. The game had begun.

His voice was harsh and angry, but Kelly saw a hint of a smile as he enjoyed acting his role. She wasn't sure if Kimberly had also noticed it. There was no change in Kimberly's emotions to indicate she did.

Kelly didn't know what Kimberly had intended to say before being interrupted by the whip, but, apparently, she decided it wasn't a good idea to say it now. Ethan caressed her right breast with the crop, circling her bare, hardened nipple threateningly. Her hands automatically tried to reach up in self-defense only to be reminded of the heavy steel binding her wrists. Though the tight waist chain allowed some reach, it was less than half the distance to her chest. Her breasts were completely vulnerable to him. In fact, there wasn't much of her body that wasn't completely exposed and available to him, now that she thought about her predicament more.

She struggled for a minute and gained a better appreciation of how strict her bonds really were. In her fantasies, keeping balance was never an issue, and the manacles didn't threaten to tear the skin off your wrists and ankles

As the futility of her struggles became undeniable, Kimberly started to understand the hopeless resignation of a slave. She could try to resist, but he would eventually force her to obey. There was no room for pride or dignity--even virtue did not matter--exactly the feeling she wanted to experience. This was perfect.

"Open your mouth," was all he said, ignoring her smile.

Ethan stood on her ankle chain with one foot, his leg between hers with his knee against her crotch, as he brought a steel contraption towards her face. She tried to back away reflexively and quickly realized that she was going to fall. Ethan grabbed her by the left arm and pulled her upright onto her feet and against his knee again. He had an evil look which might not have been playacting.

Once again, he brought the device towards her face. She recognized it as a brank. It had a U-shaped metal bit attached to a cage of springy metal bands meant to go over her head and hold the bit in place. They had talked about using a leather gag with a ball, and this definitely wasn't what she had in mind.

"May I please have the leather gag, Master?" Kimberly said it respectfully, looking downward, trying to play the game properly. He must be trying to scare me for effect. I wonder where he found that monstrosity.

He simply said, "No."

Shocked, she fumbled for something else to say that would not invite more whipping. How could he just deny me like that? He had never said "no" before, not even once. He tapped the riding crop on her left nipple smugly as if he was aching to use it.

Their playtime had few formal rules, but "no" was final and without appeal. Any further attempt to convince him to change his mind was to be met with immediate punishment. The agreement had been her idea. She hated begging, and the rule prevented her from having that option so that Ethan had no motive to keep teasing her into doing it. Now having such a rule seemed like a very bad idea.

Kimberly was surprised that Ethan had taken control of their game. This was the first time he had dominated her in any way. Finally! She had been wondering if she would ever draw that side of him out. The game was going better than she had hoped.

She responded to his command gleefully and opened her mouth in mock obedience. She hated everything about the brank except that she would be gagged, yet she would give him this victory without further struggle. He had earned it. Plus, she wanted to encourage him.

In the back of her mind, she didn't know if Ethan would really have struck her across the chest or not--he would certainly have whipped her somewhere--but, knowing Ethan, the question of doubt was deliberate. He was a master at keeping her guessing, and his ability to be convincing during their games was one of the things about him that turned her on.

Ethan shoved the metal bit into Kimberly's waiting mouth, then carefully positioned the bands around her head--from her mouth to behind her head, one more around her nose and over her head, another around the top of her head (over her forehead) and the last under her chin. She could tell he was trying not to mess up her hair too much, but now she was worried about fixing it in time for the party. She felt the springy steel bands cage her head uncomfortably as Ethan worked them snug.

The appearance of the bit had been deceptive, it was far bigger than it looked, and barely fit inside her mouth. However, the shallow upward angle at which it was fixed was more of an issue than the size. The angle only matched that of her fully open mouth and forced her jaw apart while the shape of the bit depressed the full length of her tongue flat.

When Kimberly heard the click of a lock behind her head, dread of enduring the brank transmuted into a thrill of delight that went straight to her pussy. Speech had been her last defense, and it was now taken away from her by this humiliating, hideous thing on her face. It also meant that Ethan now had complete control, and he could do whatever he wanted with her--just like in her fantasy.

Ethan wasn't exactly following their plan, but he was in her head and playing on her fears nonetheless. Her doubts and his unpredictability helped make the game feel real. Did he really understand the powerful effect he was creating?

"Good girl," said Ethan condescendingly as he patted her rump the way an owner pats their dog--she did not have her dress with its bustle to protect her. He let his hand linger on her right ass cheek for three or four heartbeats before he gave her a little squeeze that made her squeal. Kimberly understood his message: I've been waiting to do that. She blushed in response.

Kelly had to admit that bondage fantasies were a turn on for her too, though she had never acted on them--at least she understood that part of Kimberly's psyche. She had to admit that Kimberly and Ethan's re-enactment game was thrilling, despite any intellectualizing she might do to the contrary. The crop had been the turning point. The pain made her think about their body so much that her mind simply re-focussed on immediate physical concerns.

Now she was as anxious as Kimberly to see what was next. Kelly's own fantasies had also included whipping, but it was something she probably would have never tried on her own (even if she had ever had the chance). The real thing...well... The warmth in her shared ass was way more erotic than she would have guessed. Ethan seemed to know exactly how hard to hit.

The pressure of the metal bit depressing Kimberly's tongue grew exceedingly unpleasant within minutes--not to mention the foul, oily, metallic taste. She didn't know if a tongue could go numb from pressure, but she would probably be finding out.

She already loathed the brank. Yet it definitely taught her just how much she was playacting as a slave and could never have endured the reality. She accepted the lesson. Well played Ethan. She didn't want him to think he could have been right about her unrealistic fantasies so stoically hid her discomfort.

Kimberly's eyes shot wide open as Ethan stepped back and raised the crop to his side. What's he doing?

Careful not to mark her in a place that would show later when she wore her low-cut dress, he struck the undersides of her breasts with a hard, stinging blow using the shaft of the crop. The force of the blow was enough to lift the weight of her sizeable breasts.

As the pain shot through her, Kimberly almost fell over. Her hands jerked up towards her chest in a reactive and desperate attempt to protect herself that only served to hurt her wrists and rattle her chains. At the same time, a scream of outrage and pain started spontaneously, but the bit transformed the attempted scream into a fit of coughing and choking instead.

That works better than I might have thought, considered Ethan. "That'll teach you. Now be a good little heifer and keep your mouth shut," he taunted, forgetting to use his slave master voice.

Kelly felt Kimberly's complete astonishment. She couldn't believe Ethan had whipped her, especially on the breasts. Bastard even had a smile on his face when he did it. She was furious for few seconds until she realized he was just trying to goad her--it had worked. She could only imagine what it would be like if she were helpless like this in front of an uncaring or even sadistic owner. Ethan was definitely in rare form, stretching her boundaries--and his. Next time, she would be sure to discuss limits.

Kelly, however, saw a different Ethan, one with a spark of sadist in his eyes. She had seen that kind of eyes before. He enjoyed inflicting pain. Maybe Kimberly's provocations were partially to blame, but she'd have her hands full now that he had a taste of dominance--the djinni was out of the bottle.

Nevertheless, Ethan's attitude alone didn't explain the looming dread that descended on Kelly. Maybe it was just too much Halloween, too much tequila and too many ghost stories combining together, but she couldn't shake the feeling. Something terrible was going to happen.

Kimberly savored Ethan's use of the word "heifer"--the implications were not lost. That's what she was now, a cow that has never had a calf, a woman forced to be nothing more than a breeding animal, just like the slave women Ethan had told her about.

The dehumanization of it was strangely stimulating to Kimberly, yet this was just the prelude to their game, and time was running short. She wanted Ethan to get on with it. As if he had heard her, he did exactly that. He unhooked a short lead from an assortment of them on the wall of the tack room and clipped it to the side of the brank, next to her jaw, to use it as a bridle.

Without saying a word, he started leading her towards the door. Kimberly thought about resisting, to feel what being forced was like. Before she could decide, her mind was made up for her as the slack was taken up on the lead. The lead applied force at an awkward angle which pressured her stretched jaw, neck and trapped tongue. Resisting it was clearly not a good idea.

After pausing to lock the tack room door, Ethan lead her towards the stable which ran through the middle of the barn. He never let up tension on the lead but was patient with her shortened, hobbled stride. Soon they were entering the main aisle between the stalls. Wait! The doors barn doors are open!