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Gang Banged By Ghosts (Kelly Addams)


Gang Banged By Ghosts by Kelly Addams

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Daniel and Claire have bought Rookery Manor at auction, convinced that they can restore the old country house to its former glory. And 25 year old Claire has decided to investigate its history, learning that it was the home of a highwayman and a French libertine. But what she doesn't understand is that within the walls strange things happen, and forbidden desires are fulfilled!

Product type: EBook    Published by:     Published: 05 / 2018

No. words: 6040

Style: OM - Step-Siblings, OM Erotica

Available Formats: MobiPocket (MOBI)  EPUB  PDF  This book has a format which can be downloaded to Kindle


Excerpt

It had seemed like a good idea at the time, but in hindsight Claire suddenly wasn't so sure. The old place scared her a little.
Rookery Manor, a rambling old country home set deep in the heart of the British countryside. Its history could be traced back to the sixteen hundreds, and it had been a colourful history, from a hideout for highwaymen to the country residence of Sir Guy de Fournier, a famous libertine and bon viveur. The old manor had been a command centre during the second world war, also a military hospital. Before being pressed into Her Majesty's Service it had been a prominent finishing school for headstrong young ladies, and during the late sixties and early seventies, just as it began to fall into neglect and disrepair it had become a popular squat for hippies.
Following a narcotics related accident the police had swooped. The grounds had been cleared and the old house boarded up.
And for the best part of forty years Rookery Manor had sat deserted and crumbling... until the moment that Daniel Palmer, and his younger step-sister Claire had snapped up the decaying pile for a pittance at auction.
Always happy to follow her step-brother into every harebrained scheme Claire had pooled her bank account then set about the gradual renovation. It was going to take years, it was going to be a massive effort, but she couldn't deny that they had stumbled upon a true bargain, just the market value of the grounds far outstripped the price they had paid.
“We can't lose!” Daniel had insisted, “Even if we never finish renovating, this property will still be worth more than we paid.”
Claire had to agree with his logic, yet lurking at the back of her head lingered a doubt, almost like a dark cloud that repeatedly dimmed what should have been total enthusiasm.
It's the house she told herself. Like it has eyes, always following me, always suspicious... menacing yet not really dangerous. She had never felt threatened, just a little uncomfortable.
Often, when she stood fresh and dripping from the shower and admired her firm and perfectly proportioned body in the full length mirror in her bedroom she could almost swear that she was being watched. Drying her long black hair she had often caught a glimpse of a shadowy figure from the corner of her eye. Just an over active imagination she told herself, yet still she felt uncomfortable enough to quickly cover her full breasts with a towel, her cheeks flushing like she had just been caught naked in the bath by a stranger. On one occasion she had been standing before the mirror, a razor in one hand as the fingers of the other explored a smoothly shaved snatch, suddenly she had felt a chill pass over her, and without knowing why she had quickly wiped away the steam from her mirror with a small towel.
I did see eyes, staring at me, a pervert watching me shave my pussy. Of course she had spun around and found herself completely alone. Perhaps it's the house watching me, she had giggled nervously at the silly suggestion, it was ridiculous of course, how could a house watch anyone, and how could she let nothing more than a spooky feeling drive her to such crazy theories. But there was something definitely odd about the place, the way it felt in a strange way... sentient.
And everything creaks she added. The remaining doors, the floorboards, the heavy beams that supported a surprisingly sound roof. It felt like the building was alive and breathing, everything seemed to move around her.
But that isn't really surprising, the place has been here for over four hundred years, and it's made of timber and rough bricks all held together with horse hair plaster. It's bound to shift a little.
Four hundred years!
Claire thought about the time she had spent in the local library and online. She had felt compelled to delve into the manor's provenance. Completed in 1603 and just before the passing of Queen Elizabeth the First, it was one of the oldest remaining buildings in the area, and was the home of Squire Edgar Garstang. He was reportedly a pillar of society and a personal favourite of the queen, Squire Edgar had risen to be a joint Master of the local foxhounds and a Justice of the Peace, both positions of honour and great responsibility... so it came as a shock when he was also revealed to be a notorious highwayman.
Edgar had eventually been run to ground as he entered his estate after a particularly high profile robbery, and justice had been swiftly meted out. According to the village records he had been hung by the neck until dead inside his own lavish banqueting hall. The article had made Claire shudder as she pictured the large room in her own home, the higher than normal ceiling lined with age blackened oak beams. And which of those beams did they hang Edgar from? A chill had run up and down her spine as the image of a dark and tall man dressed in top boots, cape and tricorne hat spun slowly at the end of a rope.
“In my own home!” she whispered, then closed the book and moved on to another age.
For another two hundred years the Manor had passed from father to son, the Fitzroy family having inherited, distant relations to highwayman Edgar. That was until the great, great grandson lost not only the property but also his life while racing from point to point across country as part of a foolhardy wager with Sir Guy de Fournier. Both drunk, the gamblers had mounted and galloped away from the Manor's stables, the first to arrive at the village church gates to be the winner and owner of the others estates. Sir Guy had raced ahead, then waited patiently in the company of the local vicar for the defeated Fitzroy to arrive. Of course he never did, the unfortunate man lay twisted at the bottom of a ditch, his neck broken by the injured horse that had stumbled and brought about his demise... and a change of ownership for Rookery Manor.


Author Information

30 something married nymph with a very dirty mind!
WARNING: You will find nothing vanilla in any of the books that I write, I don't even like vanilla ice-cream!
Taboo, taboo and more taboo, so be warned before sampling the products of my filthy mind.

 

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