Ghosts of Cwndol

Suddenly her body surged with energy, all the stress and worry of the past days converted into orgasmic bliss as her cum squirted out of her pussy and plopped into the lake in spurts. Eryn collapsed onto the thrumming earth and closed her eyes with satisfaction.

When Eryn opened her eyes again, the world was very different. The cold night air suddenly got her all at once, the warm experience a fast retreating memory. She sat up and noticed the lake had disappeared, all enhanced illumination from the moon now replaced with a small and distant glow above the treeline. She looked around for her clothes but evidently the lake had taken them with it when it had buggered off.

"Fuck."

Eryn stood up and tried to orientate herself within the dark forest, she was able to see a single lit window and was able to walk towards it until she once again reached the edge of the meadow and sussed out the best way home without people seeing her. She eventually settled on a direct route and then hoped that nobody else was weird enough to be wandering the countryside this late at night.

...

Eryn's dreams were filled with erotic promises and humiliating nightmares until she opened her eyes and it was suddenly morning again. As she walked to the corner of her house that had signal, her phone chirped with a text message confirming the arrival of her deliveries later that day. Indeed later that day a surly man with a van unloaded a banquet of consumerist wonders that Eryn would spend that day arranging, installing, and trying out. It was a tiring day so no adventures entered her mind as she collapsed into bed, to dream of the day she gets the internet.

The next day Eryn was planning on not leaving the house, but the mouldy own brand loaf of bread compelled her to get something nice from the bakery so she could have top-notch toast with her morning espresso. As she approached the village that same feeling of an unknown hand gently guiding her seemed to infuse her body. She kept her mission to buy bread clear in her mind but for some reason she strayed past the bakery, a decision that could easily be chocked up to a lack of concentration but revealed a deeper purpose as it released Eryn's concentration outside the art shop.

The new painting in the window was as big as the last one, a woman in flowing robes lovingly floating above a clear crystal lake surrounded by a dark forest. Her glow illuminating a figure below her, sat on the bank, clearly masturbating. Her pleasured pussy and moans of ecstasy visible to anyone who walked past. Immediately Eryn stormed into the shop.

"Hello Eryn! Don't worry, Anwen explained your arrangement." Gwen beamed as she bustled over to the window and began to wrap up the painting. "I never mind displaying her work for a bit, even if it is pre-sold" she explained handing Eryn the painting. Eryn didn't say a word as she grabbed the painting and began to storm towards Anwen's cottage. She reached a stone cottage with a thatched roof, the gardens surrounding it were a vivid green, but on closer inspection was moss and lycan instead of grass. Eryn pounded at the door for a solid minute before it was opened.

"Who is it?" Anwen sung.

"You know who it is. It's the woman you've been stalking." Eryn yelled.

"Oh hello Eryn, I'm sure your anger is related but just in case it isn't, did you like the painting?" Anwen chuckled.

"No, just because you gave it to me for free doesn't make it OK. Why are you painting me in private moments?" Eryn stammered, trying not to be disarmed by the sweet smiling old lady in front of her.

"As luck would have it I have just brewed a pot of tea and have some lemon drizzle cake, perhaps you can sit at my table and we can finish our conversation from yesterday."

Anwen invited Eryn in and she sat uneasily behind the table, picking at the crumbs of her cake while Anwen got the various pillows and accompaniments she needed to sit comfortably for a long talk.

"So as I was saying, the will of the founders has a way of breaking through to our modern day. They conveyed to me that you were someone willing to go through great suffering for the sake of a long term goal, a feature they greatly admire." Eryn was not in a mood for more fairy tales but knew she wouldn't get anything else out of the old woman so played along.

"If they like my personality so much, why do they feel the need to possess me and make me walk into the woods naked?" She asked.

"Possess? No they don't possess. To possess is to add your consciousness to another and overrule their desires. The founders all came from places possessed by men, they wouldn't wish that on you. No they don't add to your troubled mind, they remove; self doubt, nervousness, fear, any hangups keeping you from joy, they hold on to that so you can have a good time." Anwen explained taking a sip of her tea. "They let me paint, to capture the moment but also so I can have these little chats with the women they choose."

"So nice of them to inform me that at any moment they could strip me of my inhibitions, and to think I was worried about inviting friends over once we're out of lockdown." Eryn sarcastically spat.

"Oh they won't do a thing while you're in your house, you have your privacy and security there, but once you pass the threshold... well it is their village."

"So I'm supposed to be reassured that I'll only turn into an out of control horny woman when I'm in public." Eryn sarcastically continued.

"They are much wiser and kinder than you give them credit for, although it was a bit cheeky of them to take your clothes two nights ago. They've looked inside you and seen something similar to who they are and what they've been through. Next time you come round I'll show you those paintings, although I've heard they can be unnerving."

"Right, so what happens now? Will I see a new portrait in Gwen's window every time I venture outside and they want me to wank in a pond?" Eryn asked, trying to be facetious but genuinely curious.

"Well they have let you in at the shallow end, if you'll forgive the pun, they think you have a lot of potential but some of the moulding will be less pleasant than what you have done so far. But I'll keep my paintings at my house and be there for you as you go through their training." Anwen grinned as Eryn finished her slice of cake and stood up with frustration, taking her newly wrapped painting with her to the front door.

"Fantastic, I look forward to it." She semi-sarcastically scoffed.

...

That night Eryn had three thoughts fighting in her mind, one was that under no circumstances was she going to go outside, one was pure scepticism telling her to go outside to prove these ghost tales were stupid, and the third was a mixture of flattery and curiosity that the ghosts had taken such a liking to her.

These three thoughts resolved themselves with Eryn flashing her tits out of her window, then holding up an angry middle finger for nobody in particular.

That night Eryn dreamed of the past, of women in outfits often seen in American Thanksgiving specials, being accused and punished for their witchcraft while she walked naked among the crowd. The angry mob knew she was there, they would give her a smile and a nod before going back to yelling that one of the women was a whore for hanging out her washing on a Sunday. Eventually one of the gathered villagers handed her a torch and implored her to light the pyres that sprung out from under the accused women. She was hesitant at first until she noticed the tied women were now in black cloaks, their skin turned green, and their eyes looking straight at her, begging with erotic frustration for Eryn to light the pyres. They squirmed and moaned in depraved longing at every moment Eryn didn't set them alight, salivating at the burning joy ahead of them.

Eryn awoke in a cold sweat. She checked her phone, it was 2am and she knew she would struggle to get back to sleep, so she put a saucepan of milk on the stove and stared into the darkness that engulfed her world outside the window. The dream had shaken her and looking into the darkness was weirdly reassuring. Somehow she just knew that it was too dark and too late for fear to exist outside her walls. Her stillness was interrupted by her pan of milk boiling over.

"Fuck!"

Eryn turned off the stove, moved the pan out of the way and looked for a cloth. The pan immediately fell on the floor, milk spreading everywhere.

"Fuck, fuck!"

Eryn reached for the nearby roll of kitchen towels, but as she did the milk brushed her foot, in surprise she jumped and ended up slipping into her recently formed milk puddle and soaking her pyjamas.

"Fuck, fuck, fuckity fuck!"

Eryn practically tore off her pyjamas, threw them into the pile of milk and gave up on the whole endeavour so she could go back to staring into the darkness, her hands now shaking uncontrollably.

Eryn rationalised her next decision in a bunch of ways, she told herself that her house was too hot, that the smell of burnt milk needed airing, that maybe some night air would stop her shakes. However she thought it through, the end result was the same, she walked to her back door and opened it, breathing in the night air and shuddering as the wind caressed her naked body. Stood at her threshold, the night now called to her, she lifted up her foot and took a deep breath as she took one step forward.

"I knew that old biddy was lying." Eryn laughed, standing outside her back door naked. "I don't feel any different." To emphasise the point she took a couple of steps into her garden, ignoring the mud squelching against her feet.

Eryn drifted off for a second as she paced her garden naked, before realising that she felt calm and at peace in her garden. But that wasn't some supernatural ghost taking away her inhibitions she reasoned, it was just that she was in the privacy of her own land. If she walked round the side of her house to the front garden she was sure to feel nervous again.

As Eryn stood naked in front of her house, her heart was quietly thudding away while her breathing remained steady. 'To be honest' she thought to herself 'my road is so quiet standing in front of my house is barely more nerve wracking than being in the back garden. Maybe if I walked down to the main road I'd begin to feel nervous again.'

There was no echo from the quiet slapping of her bare feet on concrete as Eryn started walking into the darkness and away from her house. Her eyes adjusted with each step to see more of the street, eventually letting her see with clarity where her small cul-de-sac met the main road that ran through Cwndol, a road commonly taken by cars that barely noticed Cwndol in their drive to go to more populous towns, a road that was quiet for now.

Eryn serenely strode into the centre of the road, her hands tracing her body to remind herself that she was totally exposed, yet still she felt without any worries.

"It's because I can still see my house." she reasoned to herself, "If I walk away and towards the village I'll feel nervous again." Eryn began to walk further from her house, light-heartedly dancing and twirling towards the town, blowing a kiss to the security cameras outside the petrol station. As she reached the edge of the village something unusual happened, Eryn felt all shame and fear rush back into her, her arms wrapped around her exposed breasts and it took every ounce of strength she had not to scream and wake up the whole village. All she wanted to do was run back home, get some clothes on and try to forget this crazy flight of fancy. But something deep down was urging her onwards, somehow she knew that no matter what, she needed to make it to the front door of the church.

Her hands now shaking, she slowly began to shuffle further into the village. As she walked she had a strange feeling of the blurring between imagination and reality. Although she could not see them she knew that the street was slowly lining with people, if she turned her head quickly enough their existence would flicker in the corner of her eyes and with every breeze the taunts and laughter floated into her ears inside the rustle of leaves and the echoes from the hills.

As she got to the bakers her hands slowly willed themselves behind her back, her wrists were pulled together, and although nothing physically touched them, Eryn knew no matter how hard she struggled, she would spend the rest of her journey handcuffed by an idea. Every step she took the crowd seemed to get more real, the general rustle of the crowd began to break with the wind and every so often Eryn could make out an errant shout of 'whore' or 'witch', although she couldn't be certain if it was coming from the street or she was saying it herself.

The street began to light up as the crowd pushed its way through the bounds of reality, soon Eryn could look her audience in the eyes as they swore and spat at her degraded naked body. As she approached Gwen's art shop she temporarily broke from her path to see what painting would be in the window, believing that Anwen might have already painted how this was going to end, the crowd parted with a smirk to let her see what they could.

The painting was of Eryn, naked, more naked than it was possible to physically be. As her eyes traced the curves of her body, she could see her stiff nipples, her darkest secrets, her drenched pussy, her most perverse fantasies, her anus crying out for each and every violation detailed in the swirl of Anwen's paintbrush. To look at this painting was to intimately know the lowest of Eryn, and to be able to forever feel superior to the disgusting humiliated pervert so thoroughly exposed on the canvas.

She turned away from the shop and began to walk towards the church, the crowd now deafening in its passionate revolt against Eryn, but despite the wall of noise, she could now hear every voice and what they were saying, no insult or catcall got lost in the noise of hundreds of active spectators. She could hear the old lady at the back telling her of her shamefulness, the portly man detailing every inch of her self-consciousness, she even heard young children ask their mother's what they needed to do to avoid becoming such a contemptible creature.

As she made her way to the church, a priest stood at its door, tightly clutching a Bible to his chest as disgust crawled over his face. Eryn fell to her knees at his feet while he held up his hand to silence the crowd.

"Eryn Jones!" He announced through Eryn's lips. "We are all aware that you are a deeply sinful individual. This trial is to ascertain if you are a witch who has communed with the devil, or just some common whore. Your miserable life is now in our hands."

He took his hand off the Bible and swung it hard, giving Eryn a hefty slap across her face that made no physical contact but reverberated within her prickling nerves. She recoiled and fell over at the idea of the stinging pain on her face, and when she got back up again the crowd was gone and the world was once again silent and cold.

It took Eryn a couple of seconds to get her bearings, her latest dreamlike adventure had left her naked in the centre of the village, the church clocktower telling her it was half past five and the sun slowly climbing over the horizon to chase away any shadows a naked woman could hide in. She decided to run back to her house as fast as she could along the road, squealing in embarrassment every time a car passed her by.

...

Eryn spent the day sat in her house processing what had happened, trying desperately to cling to any explanation that didn't buy into Anwen's crazy stories. In an abundance of caution she was not going to leave the house, opting to watch crappy daytime TV. At about midday there was a knock on the door. A large man loomed over Eryn, he cleared his throat and spoke officially.

"Eryn Jones?" He asked. Eryn started panicking, she had no idea who this man was or why he wanted to talk to her, was he someone official? Was he from the police to arrest her for indecent exposure?

"Yes." She replied.

"I'm from BT, here to install your internet." He announced. "Sorry we tried to call, a tree took down a power line in Rhayader, whole town went dark so we bumped you to the top of the list for today." Eryn went from nervous to overjoyed in the space of a second, finally she would get her internet connection, then she could get back to work and have something to do that wasn't watching the fifteenth daytime soap about identical quadruplets in a love pentagram with Satan. She showed the man in and wondered to herself if the ghosts were capable of getting a tree to fall on a power line.

...

With the internet freshly set up, Eryn immediately took to google to see if she could discover anything more about the crazy village she had ended up in. First couple of websites were local history enthusiasts tamely stating that the town was founded by an all female council before lurching into the wars and skullduggery of neighbouring towns that appealed to them more.

After the few fact sheets Eryn came across a review of a nearby holiday house. The man spoke gushingly about the local flora and fauna, the beautiful house, and the charming village. He then ended his review with "the only bad point of the holiday was discovering my wife is a whore, but that's not the village's fault." Eryn chuckled and moved on with her search.

Eventually she found a really old post from the early days of the internet, it was on a forum for bodybuilders but was in a section for casual chatting.

'So I'm finding it hard to get to the gym these days. Turns out my fiance was straight up fruit-loops. So she's always been into country walking (I always thought it was a bit weedy and cardio for my liking but it kept her from getting fat), so we pack a tent and head into the welsh countryside. We find a nice spot just outside a village called Cwndol (I'll get to why that's important later.) Literally the first night we are there she gets up from our bed and goes for a walk.

Just to be clear she didn't even stop to put on clothes, she walks right out into the wide open world totally naked. So I figure she's sleepwalking, needs to get back inside (I often have to help her realise what is good for her), she has a conversation with me about how she wants to "try total freedom." I worry she's gonna get raped, but fucked if I care so I go back to sleep.

No word of a lie she does this every night, never tells me where she's going or what she's doing. The one night I tried following her she immediately knew and let me have it. Like screaming. She doesn't scream at me, I used to make sure of it but something is different so I slink away like a pussy.

Then one night, I decide to go for a walk myself, dunno why but my legs are taking me around and I notice a scarecrow in the distance. So I figure go check this scarecrow out, and as I get closer I realise that the scarecrow isn't some straw man stuffed in old clothes. No word of a lie my fiance was tied to a stick in the middle of a fucking field. I ask her who did this to her and she doesn't respond because she too busy having a huge fucking orgasm. I can't bear to be around her like this so I go back to the tent.

The next day, in broad fucking daylight she returns, still naked, now with 'witch' written across her tits in paint and a painting tucked under her arm. She says she's leaving me, starts gibbering about ghosts of Cwndol making her horny and other weird shit. I know she needs help so I go to grab her and she fucking bites me. So I'm getting out of there to call the cops. Rural Wales they don't arrive for hours and by the time they do come she is long gone.

Never saw her again. Total freak.'

This was the closest to an actual story Eryn could find but there was no way to verify it. Nevertheless she was now certain Anwen had not been lying.