Linda and Oswald sat in Oswald's recent model SUV looking onward at the family estate waiting for the sunrise. Neither would dare to enter the grounds while the spirits were still at full strength.

"You know you had to do it," said Oswald, trying to comfort Linda. "You couldn't go on. Next year would be the thirteenth. What choice did you have?"

Linda's eyes were puffy and bloodshot, and her hair and makeup had a general unkempt look from being up all night.

"I know, but I feel like such a traitor," she answered. "It was despicable to lure them in the way I did. I should have been up front with Kelly."

"You couldn't take that kind of chance, and you know it. If you hadn't--"

"That was the same excuse I was given when it was done to me," snapped Linda. "My Aunt Melissa pulled the same rotten trick. Now I understand why she did it, how desperate she must have been, but I was bitter about it for years."

"Kelly will understand. She had to have some idea of what could happen. After all, she grew up understanding your family's...legacy."

"No, that's just it. No one ever told her anything beyond the old haunted house stories, just like I was never told. Our little surprise inheritance," said Linda. "She was completely unprepared and might even have been a virgin. Can you imagine your first time being--"

Linda paused for a moment to regain her composure, choking back tears.

"Besides, Kelly's parents were always in denial. They've never even been here and don't entirely believe in the curse. It's her father that carries the bloodline so, as a man, what would he know?"

Oswald adjusted his grip on the steering wheel and shifted in his seat. "Maybe it didn't happen? Or maybe some other spirit found her first. Just her being here should satisfy the curse."

"Oh, it happened," said Linda. "It always happens."

They paused in silence, Linda lost in thought and emotion, Oswald lost for words. Both were anxious to rush in to help the girls as soon as the power of the spirits faded with the sun.

"Here, have some coffee, it will make you feel better," said Oswald. He poured half a cup from a large thermos and handed it to her. "It's getting lighter now, but we still have a good half hour."

Linda wordlessly accepted the steel cup and took a half-hearted sip.

"The spirits would never hurt her, you know. They've never really hurt anyone have they?" asked Oswald rhetorically.

"Well, nothing permanent at least."

"Then, they's only gotta worry 'bout thuh carnavorous hogs," he joked using his hillbilly accent and re-enacting his Halloween character. Linda only reacted with a look he interpreted as "nice try, don't do it again."

"I just hope she can forgive me."

 

Connie woke from a restless sleep, then she heard it again. Footsteps? More sounds followed, like someone opening a leather bag and rummaging through the contents right at the edge of the bed--next to her!

Her senses snapped to readiness, but she couldn't see a thing. Ah yes, the blindfold. Aaaack, and the gag. It all came back. Even though she remembered being bound in the sleepsack, it still seemed illusory--until, she tried to move. Could it still be some kind of dream, yet feel so real?

Someone was watching her closely; she could practically feel their eyes on her bare breasts as they stuck up through the constrictive holes, built specifically for such exposure, in the leather. Trying to confirm her suspicions, she held her breath to listen yet heard nothing. Perhaps it was her imagination.

Connie squealed in shock and fear through her gag when strong hands evinced the intruder. How did they get in? The door was locked. Yet, someone much more firm of hand than Aunt Harriett checked the straps of her sleepsack methodically, loosening some and then tightening them more snuggly.

"Very good," said a baritone male voice.

Connie squealed again in reaction.

"Don't worry my dear Charlotte," said the voice. "It's only Dr. Stevens here for a little checkup. Your Aunt Harriett told me about your unfortunate behavior. We just want to make sure you're alright, my dear. Such behavior often has, dare I say, a physical cause in young ladies such as yourself."

The emotional impression of Dr. Stevens that Connie remembered from her shared existence with Charlotte was distasteful. While not quite hatred, her feelings were still much stronger than dislike. Wait. How could it be him? He should be dead--another ghost! Connie's whole body tensed.

"I see Harriett did quite well at following my prescription."

Firm hands started squeezing and massaging her naked and swollen breasts, assessing their firmness and weight as if a pair of melons at the grocer.

"The tonic seems to be working quite nicely. Perhaps we can discontinue it soon, unless we want you to be a little larger yet. You have the right frame to be decidedly voluptuous."

Did he just chuckle under his breath? Connie couldn't tell for sure.

"I'm afraid that nipple sensitivity and erection is a common side effect," he added. "Unfortunately, it is a function of physical changes to the breast tissue and likely permanent. I warned Harriett about not getting the tonic on your nipples, but what's done is done. It should lessen somewhat as you get older."

Connie could feel how her nips were firm and erect from his touch. The thought that they could remain that way forever sent a chill down her spine and fire to her groin. Thankfully it is all a dream, she told herself. A haunted house kind of dream.

Did he know he was teasing her mercilessly? She was wet and eager despite her best efforts to resist. He had to know he was toying with her. Charlotte had been right. Connie hated this man. He was playing games.

Ow! He pulled at the breast openings in the leather, testing the fit with his finger and feeling the tightness around the base of her breasts.

"We will have to have Mr. Hartly make a minor alteration."

Suddenly, Dr. Stevens was pulling at the laces to her sleepsack, loosening them right at the most inappropriate place for him to do so, then he loosened the built-in corset. Even partially unlaced, Connie knew that straps across her body and the sleeves holding her arms still held her securely. She didn't even try to struggle free.

"I'm sorry to do this Charlotte, but your Father asked me for an assessment of your marriageability now that you are of age," he said. "It may be a bit uncomfortable."

Connie doubted any such request had been made, but there was nothing she could do to stop him. Did this kind of thing really happen back then or is it just this quack's own idea?

The cold metal of a stethoscope slid along her belly as the doctor's hand snaked it's way up under the leather. At the same time, his other hand found her slit. She had always wondered what it would be like to be taken by a doctor on the examination table, but this was not what she had in mind. In her version, she was spread wide in the stirrups and the quite handsome doctor was kind and gentle.

"Moist, I see. Very moist indeed, young lady."

Did she detect a sardonic tone in his voice?

"You don't appear to be making any progress. Your heartbeat is quite rapid. Quite likely we will have to continue your prescription indefinitely."

His fingers started to massage her. After a night of frustration in the sack, Connie was instantly ready to explode, but the doctor seemed to anticipate that. His fingers moved slowly and carefully, keeping her on edge. Never quite touching the right spot.

"Yes, we most definitely need to continue your treatment. You don't seem to be able to control yourself at all."

Connie couldn't take it anymore. Of course she couldn't control herself! As his fingers circled her firm clitoris, she twisted and struggled to make contact then shrieked from sexual tension and frustration.

The doctor paused and laughed.

"Young women! So many of you are nothing but sexual creatures despite your imitation lady-like airs and pretend manners. Every one of you is depraved as any whore between your delightful creamy soft legs, ready to boil over at any moment."

She heard him winding up something. The sound reminded her of a child's cheap tin clockwork toy.

"Do you think you're ready to boil over Charlotte? Do you think it would help?"

Suddenly she felt a cold metal cup over her mound, not directly touching her clit. With a click, it started to vibrate her intimate flesh. The sensation seemed to be everywhere except right where it needed to be the most. Holy hell did it feel good! Suddenly the unwinding sound got louder, and then she heard a click, and the vibrations stopped. Connie could not hold back a pathetic and anguished groan when he removed his hand.

"Unfortunately, you were a bad girl earlier, very immature, and bad girls don't get rewarded. You need to start acting like an adult now that you technically are one," he said softly in her ear. She continued to squeal and complain as he laced the bag and tightened the corset section back up, tighter than Harriett had, and left leaving her simmering in her own juices. As if an afterthought, he tilted her head back slightly and tightened her neck collar a notch.

"Don't worry, you'll get used to it," he said. "And, you'll still make a fine wife. Every man secretly wants a princess by day and a whore at night. I will notify your father that you are healthy enough for earnest courtship. Soon you'll be married and raising babes like any respectable woman. We have ways of dealing with your urges until then."

Connie would have punched him in the jaw on Charlotte's behalf if she were able, but encased in the leather all she could do was shake uncontrollably with anger. He was so fucking arrogant, so fucking presumptuous. She knew he was smirking in his condescension even though she couldn't see his face.

After the ghost of Dr. Stevens left, Connie couldn't get any sleep. All she could think about was her hard nipples, aching breasts and the need between her legs. It was maddening. Every so often, she would have a fit and struggle frantically against the bag until she could barely breathe. It only made the frustration worse, like scratching an insect bite makes it itch more, but she had to do it. It was the only thing that would take her mind off her unreachable pussy, mere inches from her hands.

What seemed like hours later, a female voice came from the hall.

"Is anyone in there?"

What new ghost would it be now? She didn't care. Anyone, or anything, that let her out of the sleep sack would do. She squealed back through the gag.

"I hear you!" said the voice.

Various thumps and clicks followed as her would be rescuer struggled with the locked door.

"Hold tight. We'll get you out of there. I just need to get some help with the lock. I'll be back."

It seemed odd that a ghost would need help with the lock. Instantly, Connie realized that she was definitely not dreaming.

Oswald joined Linda on the second floor.

"Nothing but empty bottles downstairs," said Oswald.

"One of them is in Charlotte's room, but something is up with the lock. My skeleton key won't go in the keyhole. I think the room key is still in it," said Linda.

"I've got a few tools out in my truck," said Oswald. "I'm sure I can get it open."

"Let's find the other one first. Charlotte wouldn't hurt a fly, Kelly's friend will be fine in the sleepsack for now."

"And very frustrated I bet," said Oswald with a smile. "I still remember the look on your face the last time you spent Halloween as Charlotte."

Linda shuddered. "It's mainly that creepy doctor. Once was enough for me, but you never know. She might like that kind of thing."

"Well, one down and two to go," said Oswald as he resumed the search.

"Just one," countered Linda. "Kelly will be in the barn."

"The barn?"

"Yes, it always happens out there."