Invisible – The Ring

CW: questionable consent; unsafe BDSM; misogyny; rape references

 

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It was pretty difficult, being invisible.

The last few weeks of my first year at University looked like they were going to be spent the same as every other week had been since I got there – alone, in my room, either watching some stupid Netflix show, cooking bad dinners for myself, or, and I wasn’t too proud of this, masturbating furiously to the images of my course mates.

We were all, technically business students – but it had come to my attention that for some, a Business Degree was a piece of paper used to validate the position they were already guaranteed at their parent’s business, and for everybody else – me included – it was a laughable testament that we hadn’t bothered to actually start a business; that instead of pulling ourselves up and spending our time properly, we were cowardly hoping our qualification would get us a job.

So, when I locked the door to my little flat in halls, where I could still hear my flatmates through the cardboard-thin walls, put on enough music to drown myself out, and opened up the instagram accounts of the bikini-clad way-paved girls on my course, and began my near-nightly ritual of fucking myself with a fleshlight I’d gotten as a joke a few years ago by friends who’d cared about me, but I’d moved away from, I had to admit something to myself.

This was a really sad way to spend a Saturday night.

Then, at ten-twenty-three, I opened up the tried-and-true photo album of the woman I had my heart set on – Olivia Homely. Typically, I would go between images of her sunkissed smile, stunning body in a tight bikini from a year ago as she partied her way around Spain, looking desperately girl-next-doorish next to her slutty friends. She was brunette, tight-bodied but with a modest chest. Her arse was, especially in person, by far her greatest feature, and I knew I would give anything for a chance to feel her full, warm cheeks against my cock; to pull them open as the shiny, lubed-up winking hole of her virgin anus waited for me; to slide deep into her, before butt-fucking her like the anal slut she should be. In class, it was distracting. Here, in bed, with lotion being worked into my length and the whole night to kill, it was the closest I got to happiness.

But, tonight was different. Instead of the usual selfies she had at the top of her photo timeline, the ones of her smartly-dressed and smiling in the sort of way that would get her on a corporate catalogue one day, she had been tagged in something.

She was out.

Her top was… revealing – a tight, pale little number that blended into her fair skin, making her look almost topless at a glance. Her skirt, though – that was what caught me. It was tight, and hugged her rump perfectly, whilst also still being a skirt.

I checked the person who had tagged her – Jennifer Aisling. A true slut if ever there was one, she’d been around most of the guys who took the EU Finance and Logistics electives; blonde, busty, and brazen.

But, even though Jennifer was just about falling out of her own dress in some of the photographs she’d posted, it was too much for me to look away from Olivia. When I did, however, it was on the third photo she’d posted – because it wasn’t one of them, nor of where they were. It was a photograph of Olivia’s phone, which clearly stated the time as 10:19. I checked the upload time – 10:21.

They were being uploaded just about live.

‘Fuck,’ I muttered to myself, realising that they were out now. Olivia was out, in town, in that skirt, right now.

And, just like that, I was in research mode.

I didn’t have Olivia on a lot of social media, but the simple fact was that if Jennifer had posted in one place, she would have I’m a few – and some websites have geotags.

It was easy, then, to figure out that she – at least, Jennifer, but I assumed they were still together – was at, or around, a corner about a quarter mile away.

It wasn’t a long walk, and I knew from having walked that way to get the bus into town and back, that there were a smattering of nightclubs, bars and takeaways around there. As I pulled on some jeans, a clean – or, at least cleaner – t-shirt and jacket, I figured I could just go. Just get down there.

There was a funny, if a little date-rapey, quote from Superbad that I was reminded of as I thought about why I was doing what I was doing.

I could be the mistake she makes, I thought. It wasn’t about getting a girl drunk, or taking advantage. It was just that… if I wasn’t given a fighting chance, there was no way I was ever going to get close enough to try anything.

When I was dressed, with a splash of cologne to boot, I reloaded the photos of Olivia, and saw that they were still in the same place, uploading more photographs of Olivia’s skirt stretched over her arse, the slip of inner thigh visible in the lamplight filling me with the sort of vigour that had escaped me for so long.

It was a short trip through the flats, the adjoining doors along the communal corridor all shut, the residents likely out and about as well. All students, all with better lives than me. I could hear them sometimes, through the walls, laughing and drinking and fucking. I didn’t even really know their names, and I reckoned they didn’t really know mine, either. One of them knew I was a fan of Lord of the Rings, as he’d walked in on me watching a marathon once, going into my room by accident. He recognised what it was, yelled ‘Frodo!’, laughed and left. Whenever I had to interact with him, he called me Frodo, now.

With the electric fob in my pocket, I let myself out of the block, down through the carpark, and out the metal gate, into the night air. It was cool and dry, and the lack of wind made it easy to pretend it wasn’t later than, say, seven.

On a whim, I glanced over my shoulder, that feeling of being watched tickling the hairs on my neck. Behind me, I glanced, and saw a figure – maybe a guy, tall, and wearing one of those flat-caps I’d seen older farmers wearing. I couldn’t see his face, because the cap hid him under shadow, but the jacket made me think he was old.

There was nothing… interesting about him, aside from the fact that he seemed totally out of place. Like he’d arrived here from a farm a hundred miles away, and that he had every right to be just as confused as me. Instead, however, he was just… standing.

Watching me.

I nodded, and turned away, putting my mind to the task.

It was a strange feeling – after weeks of basically staying to one side, as out-of-the-way as I possibly could, I was all of a sudden seeking things out. So long of staying in the back of lecture theatres, wringing my skinny hands and hoping no one saw me, I was now… going to people. Seeking them out. Well, one in particular.

And, then, all of a sudden, I was standing outside of a cheap-ass pizza place called Davino’s, and there she was. My eyes caught hers for a second, before she looked away, back to Jennifer as they waited for a slice of something that was supposed to resemble pizza. So, I let my eyes drift, too – looking down at her nude-coloured top, the drift of her shape, her curves, and that arse.

Then, as a laugh from inside caught my attention, I looked back up, and saw Jennifer openly pointing at me.

What the fuck, I read on her lips, as she turned away, Olivia doing the same.

And, I saw the confused look of something on her face. It took a moment to register as disgust, but when it did, I stumbled back. Like I’d been punched in the gut.

I had every intention of approaching her, of trying my luck, shooting my shot. The way they told me to online, the way they did in the movies. But it didn’t work that way, not for me.

Never for me.

Not really knowing what to do, I turned on my heel and walked across the road, barely registering the fact I was walking into a park, where the shadows shuffled and the trees loomed overhead. As I walked in, past the deep-brown gates, I saw that flat-capped man again, walking up the road in my direction. I cut across his path, and into the park I went, away from the humiliation behind me.

They caught me looking, I thought. And she LAUGHED at me. I was furious. At myself. At Jennifer. Even at Olivia. After all, she had… ensnared me in her gaze, caught me in her gravity. How the hell was I supposed to act?!

A fat drop of rain, or dew, or something hit my head, and I stopped dead, nearly screaming. I was so angry.

‘At what?’ a voice asked, from behind me, and I span. There, between the shadows, backlit by the light spilling in from the road, was the man in the flat cap, illuminated in such a way as not to show me his face, nor any detail about him that wouldn’t be seen through the haze of a dirty window.

Then it hit me – he’d responded to me, being angry. But, the thought of it. Or, had I said it out loud, and just not noticed?

‘A girl?’ he asked, the gravel in his voice thick and low. I could hear the smile he gave in his words.

I frowned at him, and turned away, half because of my complete lack of social skills throwing up their empty hands in defeat at being confronted with such a strange person; half because I was still furious, and I needed to let it out.

But, when I turned, I bounced off something that was all of a sudden right in front of me. Confused and annoyed, I looked up and saw the flat-cap man, now directly in front of me, the light now on his face, his eyes piercing and trained on mine.

Then, his eyes flitted over my shoulder, and a smile came to his old face, pulling wrinkles into creases.

I turned, and saw the lights of Davino’s shifting, only to realise that it was because there were people in front of the takeaway’s window. People who were heading towards me.

‘Little freak went this way!’ I heard, and my stomach dropped. Then, pushing past the flat cap man, I ran into the park – into the deep of the shadow, away from the road.

‘There!’ I heard somewhere behind me, and I turned left, coming out into a small skate-park that was nestled between the trees; in the center stood the flat cap man, watching me, amused.

‘Check your pocket,’ he said, his voice quiet, and yet impossible to ignore.

So, as I scrambled over a low fence, and down a ramp towards a tunnel that led towards a different exit, I shoved my hand into my pocket, and found inside something hard. Metallic, maybe.

Round.

I pulled out the ring that impossibly had manifested in my pocket. I wondered if the flat cap man had slipped it in when I had bumped into him;

And how had I bumped into him again?

The thought escaped me, as I realised I’d made a mistake – the tunnel was short, and came out within view of the road I had darted off in the first place – meaning I came out directly to the girls’ left. They were bickering amongst themselves, and it seemed like Olivia was trying to get Jennifer to leave – probably because the park was dark, and she had the sort of sense Jennifer didn’t seem to show.

I froze, hoping the dark of the trees and the distance would stop them from being able to see me. A moment passed, and all I could do was listen from the dark, peering in on them, no different to how it had been back in my room – me watching, unseen.

Then, as my eye flitted down to the thing that had appeared in my pocket, I felt him. The breath on my back, the presence in the air.

As I looked down at a small silver ring.

‘Put it on,’ he said. ‘Before she sees.’

But, as he spoke, I turned. Stupid and loud, I kicked a rock that knocked another, and Jennifer’s head snapped towards me – cutting through the dark like a torch.

And, as I ran up the ridge, she followed – and there was no flat cap man.

‘Get here, you freak,’ she howled, and I could hear the slur of alcohol in her voice – probably the thing keeping her going into the dark, and the thing that had made Olivia so hesitant to let her go into the park after me.

It was also the thing that made me unsure whether she would stop when she got me.

I turned, following a wall, to find it was a dead end. A bike rack, and a bin, with a wall all the way round. If I turned back, and ran, I might be able to get away from her, but I couldn’t run. My chest was heaving, my heart pounding, my mind racing.

So, I did the last thing I could think to do.

I did as I was told, and put on the ring.

Almost on cue, the flat cap ma, walked out from behind me, despite him not being there less than a moment ago – and, just as promptly, Jennifer rounded the corner, her face red and her hair a mess of dewey humidity.

I went to say something – to apologise, explain, something, but the flat cap man’s hand clamped over my mouth. His hand, cold and thick, surprised me, but he was stronger than I thought he would be.

I watched, silenced, as Jennifer frowned, looking around. Which was strange. I was… literally less than a meter away. In no more darkness than before, either.

‘Where did he…’ she muttered, before turning around, and stumbling away, her drunken mind telling her I must have snuck off somewhere.

After a beat, the flat cap man let his hand off me, and I pushed him off.

‘What – wh- what the fuck?!‘ I hissed, having the sense not to shout.

‘I know you,’ he said. ‘A boy who feels invisible, yes? A terrible quality.’

I frowned. ‘What the fuck are you talking about?!’

He laughed softly, close enough for me to realise how much taller he was than me. ‘I see myself in you. That,’ he said, nodding to my hand – or, the ring attached to it, ‘will teach you lessons few people learn. And you can make that quality of yours into your strength.’

Then, right before me, he was gone. Just like that.

Vanished.

Then, I heard her voice.

‘Jen? JEN?’ Olivia called through the dark. It occurred to me that her friend had gone running off into the dark, leaving Olivia afraid and alone, free either to walk away, or to chase her. Apparently, she’d chosen the latter.

I walked, quietly, down the concrete pathway back towards that tunnel; as I peered into it, I saw a figure step out, cautious and slow, peeking into the dark.

It took me a second, because of how she was crouching and the way her hair fell across her face, to realise it was Olivia.

Then, it took me a second to realise that she hadn’t seen me.

I frowned – it was dark, but it wasn’t that dark – the meter between us shouldn’t have don’t much more than make it creepy for me to be that close unnoticed. I watched, confused, as she turned, her head on a swivel as she searched for her friend – until her eyes washed over me.

I could tell she couldn’t see me. It would be hard to explain how – maybe that her eyes just didn’t seem to focus on me, or because her sight line didn’t meet my eyes, or something else. But I could just tell she was facing me, not looking at me.

At which point I remembered the flat cap man, and the ring, and the vanishing, and I put it together.

‘Can you hear me?’ I asked, tentative and quiet, but easily close enough to be heard.

Olivia didn’t react. She just… walked away, searching for Jennifer.

And, all of a sudden, I was watching her arse as she watched; the sway of her hips, the way it filled her skirt. Before me was the subject of my fantasies, the thing I had watched, hungered over from a distance – and now she was here, alone, unable to see me.

A dark thought came to me. The kind that made my stomach drop as I realised the position I was in. What power I had here.

Before I knew what I was doing, though, the temptation took over.

I reached out, and filled my hand with her cheek – soft and pliant, warm, wonderful.

Olivia froze, took a moment to think, and span, swinging her arm out. I saw it coming, and ducked, pulling my hand back, and watched as the confusion came over her. Her eyes darted around, before she seemed to decide it wasn’t worth the trouble of staying – and ran.

In heels.

She made it half-way up the park path, her steps unsteady and wobbling, before she mis-timed her footing enough for the heel to snap, and she dropped.

I went after her, more to help than anything – the sight of her so scared and in pain was horrid. But, as I found her, rolling on the muddy concrete, her top riding up and a rip in her skirt that split upwards each time she moved, I couldn’t help it.

She didn’t hear me approach. She didn’t hear my heavy breath. She couldn’t see the hands which, with tentative dream-come-true apprehension, stroked up her bare stomach, slipping beneath the fabric of her top.

Her eyes, wide and fearful, didn’t see me. Her hands, swatting wildly at the air, missed me completely.

And she felt so good. Soft and supple, the way I knew she would have been.

So, I pushed further, as Olivia swatted and hit my arm. Her fingers closed around my arm, and her face changed as she realised she was touching something. Something invisible to her.

‘Fuck…’ she whispered, not knowing what to do as my fingers found her lack of a bra, sliding easily over the perfect curve of her tits.

I sucked in a breath as I felt her nipple, hard yet soft against my palm. Her face, a muddled look of fear and confusion, just watched her own hand, clamped around my arm as I felt her.

I was touching her.

And it was heaven.

‘Liv?!’ We both heard Jennifer’s voice coming in through the trees, Olivia’s head swivelling to the sound of her friend, as reality started to set in. In a moment, I had a decision to make – go further, or pull back.

Then, as she kept pulling and grabbing at me, her hand travelled up my arm, to my shoulder, and I realised something.

I wasn’t just touching her. Olivia was touching me.

This was the closest I’d ever gotten to her, and all it took was for her to not know who I was.

Her hand travelled up my shoulder, my neck, and I felt a shiver go through me as she felt my hair in her fingers – unseen to her, but completely real.

I’m real, I found myself thinking.

‘What the fuck…’ she whispered as I pulled back, my hand leaving her pert tits in a show of restraint I wasn’t entirely sure would hold up if she kept going.

But, she did. It seemed like pure curiosity at that point – like she was so enamoured with the impossibility of what was happening, the fact that she was on the ground, in the dirt, her perfect tits smeared with mud from my fingertips – none of that mattered.

I pulled back, sharply, out of her grasp, as Jennifer rounded the corner. The blonde was wild, and as her eyes focused through the darkness on Olivia’s stunned-still form in the ground, she shrieked.

I stumbled back, out of reach as Olivia swatted for me – for her invisible molestor. As Jennifer found her, and pulled her up to her feet, I kept back. In the shadows.

Unseen.

The two of them checked they were both okay, and after a moment of exchanging nothings, I noted that Olivia didn’t say anything about her mysterious encounter. Instead, she took Jennifer’s arm as they found their way back through the dark.

I followed them a little, but as my heart rate hammered in my chest told me it was time to quit while I was ahead, I listened. I turned right, away from Davino’s, and towards my block of flats.

Once I was away, and the road was clear, I pulled off the ring, and it was as though I could breathe again. Air found my lungs, my footsteps crunched into the gravel, and my heartbeat was heavy in my ears.

‘Fuck,’ I muttered to myself, hearing Olivia’s voice mutter the same word in my memory. I flexed my hand, remembering how her breast had felt in it.

Then, as I slipped the ring into my pocket, I let out a tension, wrapped laugh that seemed to sort of burst out of me. Right there, on the pavement outside, I fell into a stupid fit of hysterics.

It must have been a good few minutes by the time I was able to pull it together, and I made my way inside – ignoring the feeling of someone watching me. I wasn’t sure I’d be able to take another conversation with that man in the flat cap.

With a new sort of giddiness in my step, I made my way inside, the ring in my palm, safe inside my pocket as I absently climbed the stairs, arriving at my flat door before I knew what had happened. It was strange – instead of the usual anxiety that would cripple me as I pass the doors of my nameless flatmates, making me rush past high-shouldered and nervous, I had a spring in my step. A bounce.

A confidence.

I knew that what I had done to Olivia was wrong – I had assaulted her. I had let my temptation take the better of me. But, from the look on her face, it wasn’t totally bad – she didn’t scream, or slap. As I felt her chest in my hand, she just… lay there.

A part of me, hoping I wasn’t simply justifying my terrible actions, wondered if she had liked it. Or, at the very least, hadn’t been completely disgusted by me – which was a new experience for me.

As I passed one of the doors, I realised it was cracked open, and could hear the sound of laughter and a TV going from inside, and a sad part of me wished I had been invited to that little party. But, as I looked up and saw the flat cap man standing in the hall, leaning against my bedroom door, I realised that I could be.

Easily.

All I had to do was slip on the ring.

I rolled it around in my hand, and looked down at myself before realising I was hovering outside that flat – and that there was a set of eyes watching me from inside. For some reason, the fact that they were on me made my skin crawl, but there was no chance I would feel better sneaking in now.

So, I carried on my way home, the flat cap man moving out of my way, and within the minute the door was shut behind me and I was safe.

Safe and alone.

I clicked on the lamp, revealing the one-bedroom space with a kitchenette, my sad little nest of blankets next to the lotion and napkins, and the desk to the side where I got my Uni work done an hour before the deadline. It wasn’t much of a life. And, as silly as it might sound, it took me feeling Olivia’s soft tit for me to know that.

I had felt her arse, too – but part of me wanted to know if that was just as soft and warm as her stomach.

I wondered if she would sleep tonight, or if she’d stay up thinking of her interaction. If she’d think of me, not knowing it was me.

Funnily enough, it would probably be the most she’d ever thought about me – and she would have no idea it was the same creep who’d been staring at her through the takeaway window.

‘There are rules,’ that voice said, and I turned to see the flat cap man leaning against the inside of the door. He didn’t have rules, I thought – he could move and appear and disappear as he wanted.

Which, next to the ring, didn’t seem like much of a leap. And frankly, if this was all some drugged-up fever dream, or a hallucination, or evidence of my psychosis settling in finally, I didn’t want to know. I was happy to feed the fantasy. To run with it.

‘What rules?’ I asked, hoping he didn’t notice the shake in my voice.

‘If there are eyes on you, you won’t vanish; if there are people around to see you… pop back, you won’t come back. Not until you’re alone.’

I nodded. ‘Okay. So… this is a secret?’

He gave a soft chuckle, his head turning towards me. ‘You could say that. Additionally – when you are wearing the Ring, you will not be exactly… human. You will have no need to breathe, or eat, or drink. You will not age. You will be you, and yet you will not be.’

I sat on the end of the bed, feeling all of a sudden conscious of how this place would look to someone just coming in. Then it occurred to me that I’d never had anyone actually in here. No friends to visit, family hadn’t bothered, and certainly no girls.

‘Why me?’ I asked, the pure pathetic nature of my question shining through.

The flat cap man paused before answering, taking his time. Then, he faced me, raising his chin a little, letting me see the whites of his eyes. My stomach coiled, as though I was looking down the barrel of a rifle.

‘No reason,’ he said.

And then he was gone.

If there were more rules, he didn’t tell me. I was sure there would be. There had to be, right? A catch, a cost, some kind of cosmic price for this… power. Especially the way I’d used it so far.

In all honesty, though, the night had sort of… exhausted me. Like I was drained of all power, myself. I lay on the bed, my hand around the ring, and fell asleep in minutes – dreamless and heavy.

 

o~O~o

 

Morning light announced that I had forgotten to close the blinds the evening before; my morning wood told me that, while I remembered feeling Olivia’s body, that I hadn’t actually satisfied myself; and the crook in my neck told me that I needed a new pillow.

‘Eeuuurgh,’ I groaned, rolling out of the mess that was my bed, before opening my hand. The ring, silver and thick, lay in my palm. I hadn’t let go all night.

‘Not a dream, then,’ I muttered to myself, before flinching as I heard a door slam somewhere else in the flat. It was usual for the flatmates to be annoying on a Sunday morning, but loud was maybe a new one. Usually they were too or hungover to do anything before 10am.

I opened my phone – which was nearly dead, having not been charged last night – and saw that it was passed 12.

‘Fuck,’ I laughed to myself.

Usually, I would make a shitty breakfast, load up my stash of Olivia’s holiday pictures, and make myself cum before I was even really able to function; but today, there was something else in me. Something… pushing me.

Something telling me I was able to do so much more.

But, I didn’t want to revisit Olivia just yet – my near-failure with her was something I didn’t want to have happen again. No, the next time anything happened with Olivia, I wanted it to be controlled, contained, and free of risk.

What I did want to do was to play a little. To test out the ring, and see what kind of power this thing actually offered me.

So, I pulled on some jogging bottoms – both because they were actually clean, and, frankly, then were comfortable – and a t-shirt under a hoodie, and went into the bathroom. Well, it was a tiny on-suit with a standing shower, a toilet and a sink, but above the sink was a mirror.

I held my own gaze as I rolled the silver ring between my fingers, wondering if I was an idiot. Or, if I was crazy. Or a bit of both.

Then, I slipped the ring over my right ring finger, and watched in a mix of pride and awe as my reflection vanished before me. I simply… wasn’t there.

In fact, as the flat cap man had said, whatever I was right now, wasn’t quite human. Not quite me, anymore. But, knowing who I was… I was fine with that. In fact, I’d been quite desperate to be someone else for a while now. There was something freeing about it.

Only, instead of hiding behind some stupid mask, or an anonymous screen presence, I was here.

I noted that my clothing was invisible, too, as well as the ring itself; and, when I looked at my own hand, I was able to see myself – but it was a shimmering, glass-like vision of my own hand. In the mirror, there was nothing at all. It was like looking at a picture of my bathroom, flipped, absent of life.

Then, I heard another bang, and it woke me from my stupor, as I left the bathroom – still hidden from life, and cracked open my bedroom door. No one was there, thankfully, so I was able to slip out and close it behind me, the click lost to the din of voices and digital noise coming from one of the bedrooms down.

The communal room, though, is where I could hear an argument brewing.

I walked in, my feet making no impact on the carpet beneath me, and entered absently into the room, my presence unnoticed by the three already in here. They were my flatmates, or at least the partners of them. I’d met them all before, and they’d barely noticed my existence. Funnily enough, they didn’t notice me now, either, but I wasn’t as upset about it this time around.

In fact, I planned to get back at them a little.

‘You need to tell him to take it down,’ one of the girls was yelling, her bottle-black hair and thick eyeliner like something out of a bad movie from ten years ago; maybe it was a style making a come-back. She was in a lazy tank-top and pyjama bottoms, and her lack of a bra was, frankly, distracting – not that she had much of a chest to show off. Still, a guy like me tended to zero in on hard nipples poking through thin fabric, and she was showing them off seemingly proudly.

The other two in here, both guys, one of which was sitting at the table in gym clothes enjoying a bowl of cereal; the other, shorter and, from memory, meaner, was the one she was arguing with.

‘Not – a – chance, Brit; you took ’em, you sent ’em, you told him to put ’em up-‘

‘I was high,’ she hissed – apparently her name was ‘Brit’, because of course it was. ‘And he won’t listen to me. Please?’

He sighed, and looked to the guy eating cereal, but he avoided his gaze.

‘Fuck you,’ Brit spat, eventually. ‘Fuck you and your fucking friends – you’re all arseholes.’

The guy she was screaming at let out a bit of a laugh, and approached her with a stride in his step. He towered over her enough to make me nervous, thinking for a second this was about to take a very bad turn.

Then, as I saw him lean in to whisper something, I realised that there was no good reason for me not to know what it was. So, silently and unperceived, I strode across the room and came up close – close enough to smell the shampoo of her hair, and the waft of his deodorant.

‘I’m gonna tie you to my bed,’ he whispered, ‘and fuck you as much or as little as I want. You’ll be my toy for the entire day; say yes, and I’ll get the pictures taken down.’

I couldn’t believe what I was hearing – he was just propositioning her to be, in as many words, a sex slave for the day. A living fuck hole.

After a moment of thought, as her breath got a little ragged, and her cheeks a little pink, she nodded. And he grinned.

Then, as he took her out of the room, I followed like a shadow, all of us leaving the guy eating cereal as he scrolled through his phone, seemingly uninterested by the bonkers things happening around him. It amused me to think of how ignorant people were. Quite literally – ignoring the most amazing thing that has happened to anyone in a long time, and only because he wasn’t able to see it at all.

Maybe I shouldn’t have held it against him.

Either way, as the guy opened his bedroom door to push through Brit, I pushed in, under his arm, as quickly and unobtrusively as possible. Still, I accidentally pushed into Brit’s back, making her stumble a little into the space.

It was, against my expectations, quite clean – especially for a Sunday morning, after what I had to assume was a busy night; the desk in the corner, echoing my own, was clear but for a laptop plugged into a monitor, all black and off. There was a laundry basket in the corner, half-filled but not overflowing, and very little by way of mess on the floor.

The bed itself – the centerpiece of the room – was unmade, but in the sort of what you could tell meant it had been not just slept in, but fucked in, and I quickly found myself wondering if brit and this guy – whatever his name might be – had a regular thing going.

‘Text him now,’ she told him. ‘Before anything.’

‘Uh-huh,’ he said with a smirk. ‘Sure, I’ll tell him.’ He pulled out his phone, and within seconds a message had been sent. Then, he held it up for Brit to see.

She sighed, nodding up at him as she sat on the bed.

‘Right,’ he said, throwing the phone onto the cushions. ‘Strip.’

Brit smirked, and again I wondered if this was a regular thing for them. She pulled off that tank top with ease, and I was treated to my first stranger’s pair of tits. In real life, that is.

Her skin was naturally kind of dark, and as her perky brown nipples made clear, she was of some kind of mediterranian descent – not that her accent semed anything but London-based.

And not that I was staring at her accent, as Brit stripped happily as the guy, still nameless in my mind, clicked his bedroom door shut and locked it, before looking down at her like a predator.

‘So – you wanna tie me up?’ Brit asked, standing and pulling off her jogging bottoms in a swift movement. Beneath, she wasn’t wearing underwear, and the shaved mound of her sex came quickly into view – even in the dark.

‘Face down,’ he said, the words and order, not an answer. ‘Push that arse up.’

Brit bit her lip, and obeyed. I watched in jealous silence as she lay down on his mess of a bed, her tits pressing into his bedsheets, her arse up in the air – the glint of light along her wetness betrayed her arousal, as she wagged her butt a little back and forth.

‘You’re mine for the day,’ he said as he went to a drawer and pulled out a set of leather cuffs, with long fabric belts hanging from them. ‘You’re not going to eat unless I feed you cum. You’re not going to piss or shit unless you beg for permission, and I let you go do your business and then come straight back – agreed?’

‘I’m starving – could I eat something proper before we start?’

He considered it. ‘Maybe. I’ll fuck you first, though. See if you earn a meal.’

Brit purred, and I wondered how on earth anyone enjoyed that sort of treatment, as he took the first cuff and attached it to her foot. A thick leather ring went around her ankle, and the strap that came off it he pulled, tugging her left leg outward slightly, as he wrapped it around the leg of the bed, beneath the frame, and secured it into position. Then, the next around her right foot, mirroring the action, until her feet were stretched about three feet wide – wide enough for someone to fit between, without preventing her from keeping her weight upheld.

Then, surprising me, he pulled out a metal bar with hoops on each end and a kink in the shaft half-way down – which told me it was able to be stretched out or collapsed down. He secured one side to her left ankle, before pushing the length of it to about what was between her legs naturally, and secured the other end to her right ankle – meaning that, even if she wanted to, she wasn’t able to close her legs anymore.

She was pinned, open and vulnerable, waiting and willing and wet. God, I could smell her sex, even here, by the side of the bed, out of the way.

And out of the way I kept. I didn’t want to do anything that would alert them, somehow, to my presence. I barely breathed, barely moved. I just watched, unmoving and appreciative of the chance to be present. To be involved.

Next, he went to her hands, tugging her right arm up to her back. ‘Do the other,’ he ordered, and Brit did as she was told. She put her hand behind her back, as the guy pulled out what I saw now looked like a tall faux-leather boot, but without a shoe at the end. He pushed the wide opening over her hands, pressing them together, and slid the material up her forearms until it crested over her elbows, all pinned behind her back, keeping them out of use. Her hands filled the bottom, where there was a ball of now-shifting leather beneath a strap.

With rehearsed patience, he tightened each of the straps that lined the length of this strange contraption, each one pulling her elbows closer together, until her arms were pulled as far back as they would go, the tension in her shoulders surely awful – and yet she never complained. I wondered, if he was rehearsed in doing this, was she rehearsed in taking it?

And, just like that, Brit was restrained, tied by the ankles to his bed, arms pinned so the most she would be able to do was sit up or roll from side to side. But, even then, the sight of her strapped and stifled was… alluring.

Then, the guy opened that drawer again, and pulled out a ring-gag. Dressed just as he had been earlier, though with something of a lump in his crotch, he swung a leg over Brit’s pinned arms, and sat astride her, his hips on her butt, his knees taking his weight.

‘Open up,’ he said, one hand gripping her neck and pulling her upwards, her tits coming off the bed as he angled her whole body with one arm.

My eyes gravitated to the bounce of her breasts, their perfect shape hidden in the dark, as she sneered up at him.

‘Fuck you, Mike,’ she snapped. Mike. So that was his name.

Mike smiled back, and pushed the ring into her mouth. Brit, to her credit, opened up and accepted it with little more than an annoyed huff, before he pulled the strap around her head. He fastened it over her hair, flattening the thick mane against her tightly, as she began to make the most lewd noises through her parted lips.

‘God, you’re such a good slut,’ Mike moaned, pulling her up to face him as he loomed over her – before spitting directly into her mouth. Her eyes went wide – as did mine – as she realised what had happened, but when I expected noises of a fight, or even just disgust, she let out a low, guttural moan that rumbled through her.

Mike let her go, and she flopped face-down onto the bed, her arse upwards, wiggling and waving in the air, tempting him with her wet entrance. Instead of delving in, though, Mike stood back, and grabbed his phone. He took several pictures of her all tied up, and I moved quickly to peer over his shoulder.

With something of a sinking feeling in my stomach, I watched as he sent the pictures to a group chat he had called ‘Conquered Whores’ – and above the photos he sent were a list of some from someone else, last night. A redhead, topless, in various stages of being fucked, a hand around her throat and a moan on her lips, frozen in time in the mix of photos.

Mike took a moment to watch as they sent, before putting the phone on the bed again. Unceremoniously, his jogging bottoms followed, and I watched as he pulled out his cock – a slight beat of pride going through me as I realised that he was smaller than me.

I wasn’t huge by any means, but I was above average – a night of googling and measuring tape had told me that. I was under eight inches at the best of times, and closer to seven and a half when I was, you know, spent. Mike looked closer to five, the red mushroom of his cock fat and wet from his own pre-cum – though, from the way he’d been so clinical beforehand, I would have guessed he wasn’t turned on at all by any of this. Maybe he liked the process of it all.

I watched as Brit wagged her back end at him, teasing him, drawing him in, and as Mike settled himself between her spread legs. He gripped her beneath the hips, pulling her upwards slightly, tugging at her ankle restraints, and earning himself a small nnf from Brit – which he of course ignored – before lining up his cock at her entrance.

‘Do you want it?’ he asked.

Brit looked over her shoulder, her mouth wide and drool starting to slicken her lips. She nodded, and Mike grinned, holding his prize in place as her pushed into her.

‘Uuaaaaah,’ Brit moaned as his cock sank into her, his hips meeting hers with a satisfied paff. Mike settled, enjoying the moment as she stretched around his cock, before he began to thrust – slow at first, but quickly finding a pace that made Brit’s face press into the bed, making her lean back into him.

I watched, shifting around the room, as he fucked her restrained body – those pert tits squashed into the bed, her thick butt bouncing against his thrusts, ripples of impact going through her thighs with each wet slap.

‘Auu-aaaa-aaahh!’ she moaned, taking his cock easily; gladly, even.

As I rounded the bed to see her better, her face turned towards me – not at me, of course, just in a convenient direction – and I got to see the look on her face.

It wasn’t what I expected. From the sex, and from the noises falling from her spread lips, I was expecting to see rolling eyes, upturned eyebrows – the sort of thing that would tell me she was having a good time.

Instead, her face was nearly blank. In fact, as Mike let out another groan of pleasure, I watched her roll her eyes – all out of Mike’s eyeline of course. Still, she kept up the moans and the movements.

She was faking it.

I let out a laugh – unheard by either of them, of course – and sat back and watched. I couldn’t help it, and there was no way to deny it; even if she was faking her enjoyment, watching someone as hot as her get tied up and fucked was like living in a daydream. Like I’d walked into one of those amateur porn scenarios.

She can’t say anything, I thought as I kneeled down next to her, adjusting myself beneath the invisible jogging bottoms I was still wearing. She wouldn’t know what to say if she could.

It was a bad justification for wanting to do a bad thing, and I knew it – but there was no way for me to deny my impulses. Not when she was like this, all tied up and open and wet and not enjoying it. I wondered how much of a disappointment this must be for her.

Then, reaching out, I placed my finger on the insider of her ring gag. She didn’t notice, or at least didn’t straight away, but, as I slid my digit into her drooling mouth, her moans fell away as a frown appeared on her face.

As my finger became wet on her drool, I felt her tongue – and she felt me. She flexed, pulling her head backwards sharply.

‘Uagh!’

Mike, barely slowly his thrusts into her, frowned, too. ‘What?’

She started to turn her head to look up at him, but I caught her by the ring-gag, my finger hooking in her mouth, holding her in place. Her eyes, wide and fearful, looked around wildly, trying to place me – something – anything.

Mike carried on, not caring much about her apparent discomfort as I held her there, entranced by the way she had no idea what I was doing.

There were no consequences to this, either. I wouldn’t be caught, would be hated or scolded or sworn at.

What I would get, I knew at that moment, was more of this. More of her, here, like this. Tied up and helpless. Mike would get bored, or tired, and do something else, and when he did, I would have her all to myself.

My mind flicked to Olivia, and her perfect body, lying on that park ground, frozen in a mix of unknowns as I felt her. I wondered if Brit was feeling that same overload of impossible things, now.

A ghost, a poltergeist, a demon, and all it wants it to have you. Fuck you. Have it’s way with you.

I am that demon, and for once, I would have my way.

I held Brit by the mouth, a fish caught on a hook, and leaned in until I could feel her breath on my face. Being so close to her… it was something I had never really experienced before.

Well, not never. I wasn’t a virgin. Technically. But that had been nineteen-years-old awkwardness with a friend, where we both wanted to ‘lose it’. This was more… animalistic. Power-based.

Sure, Mike was fucking her, but I was going to ruin her.

So, as I waited for him to finish, I let go of Brit’s ring gag, and started to have a little think about what I could do to her to make her mine. To make her the broken bitch of this horny ghost she was on the receiving end of. Of course, as soon as I stood, and her face was about level with my crotch, the answer became clear to me.

Without another moment’s consideration, I pushed down the waistline of my joggers, pulled out my invisible cock, and put my hand on the back of Brit’s head. Again, she squawked through her gag, unable to say or do anything to alert Mike as I held her in place, and with my other hand guided the head of my cock into the gag.

It was meant for this, and was holding her mouth obscenely wide – so, as I lined myself up and held her head in place, the shimmer-like shape that was the head pressed into the silicone, and with a little help from the drool and spittle, slipped in.

‘Aaarhk?’ she mumbled as another inch slipped in, and the underside of my cock slid against her tongue. Eyes wide, and lips wider, Brit wasn’t able to do any more than shift her tongue wildly from inside as I pushed in.

My hand on the back of her head kept her still enough, but as Mike was fucking her the constant movement of his thrusts rocking her back and forth wound up with her slowly being spit-roasted onto my length.

And, good God, did she feel fucking good.

‘Hrk-hrk-hrk-‘ she gargled as she was pounded deeper onto me by Mike’s thrusts, until I felt myself reach the back of her mouth. I still had inches to go, but I wasn’t in the mood to force her into a deep-throat or choke her, so instead I just enjoyed the wet, warm presence of her mouth around me, stroking the head and slathering me as she was fucked.

‘Shit,’ Mike mumbled at one point, his pace getting faster and faster – meaning Brit’s swallowing of my sword picked up the pace, too. ‘Shit-shit-shit, I’m gonna cum, Brit,’ he moaned, slapping her and making her eyes slam shut as I fucked her hair, my fingers in her silky black hair, the soft of her mouth like a dream.

‘Oh fuck, you whore,’ Mike moaned as he looked up atthe ceiling, not even noticing that his apparent sex-slave was currently gagging on a cock bigger than his. ‘Oh, GOD, I’m gonna fill you the fuck up, strap a vibe to your clit and leave you here like a bitch.’

That perked my ears up. I was, in all honesty, struggling to keep my cool with Brit – my own thrusts had gotten a bit jagged, as I hadn’t had a mouth that pretty around my cock for far too long. But, now, I knew she was going to be left alone… that changed things.

So, I pulled out of her, and Brit’s voice came back – though she still wasn’t able to make words of any recognisable sort.

‘Ahhk! Hahh… hah-hah-huhhhh!’ she groaned as Mike planted himself deep, cumming into her with a purple face and a chesty groan.

Then, without so much as another word, he pulled out, and Brit went from hosting two cocks down to none at all.

I watched, with lust hazing over in my mind at the thought of actually fucking her, as Mike packed his stuff up, getting changed casually around a dearly unsatisfied, and likely very confused Brit. Her body, still tied and bound in state on the bed, arse-up face-down, shimmered with sweat and dripping juices down her thighs, but I could see her eyes as they searched the room for an explanation. And explanation that wasn’t coming.

Mike pulled that drawer open and fished out a small bullet-vibe, and after a moment of searching found a roll of fucking cellotape. He put the vibe to her clit, and clumsily taped it to her in a way that would clearly not last, though he didn’t seem to care, and twisted the end.

It hummed into life, and Brit squealed as those delirious vibrations started to shine through her, making her tense and twist and groan and stretch – as much as her bonds would allow.

‘Fuck…’ Mike sighed as he stood back and just appreciated her for a moment. ‘God, I’m gonna have you broken by the end of the night.’

Then, fully dressed, he grabbed his phone off the bed, and wallet off the side table, and left. The door was only open for a second, before swiftly being shut again – no chance of anyone sneaking in.

No one else, anyway.

‘Just you and me,’ I said, as the room fell quiet around us. Well, quiet aside from the buzzing against her clit, and the soft groans coming from her wide mouth.

I just sat and… watched, for a moment. As she writhed and bucked, the sellotape started to peel off, and in a minute or two it dropped off her, earning a relieved sigh from Brit.

Well, this was my time to act.

I thought for a moment about the times I’d seen her before – in the flat, looking me up and down with eyes that could kill – like I was some sort of infectious disease, carelessly infecting her University experience. I’d passed her in the hall once, and had to brush against her as we made our way in opposite directions, and she gagged.

Well, it was time for me to get back a little. She was a bitch – a beautiful one, tied up and spread and pre-fucked. It was almost comical how well this was going.

But, the physical wasn’t enough. I wanted her to feel what I was doing to her, on a deeper level. A hint of fear, to sate the part of me that wanted to teach her something of a lesson. If nothing else, she needed to be taught that this Mike was a waste of space, and that there was better dick out there.

But that was yet to come. First, I wanted to remind her of my presence. The fact that there was a cock in her mouth which she couldn’t see – I needed to revive that confusion.

So, I simply picked up something on the nightstand – a textbook – and dropped it on the floor.

Brit jumped at the impact, scared of the sudden sound, and tried to look around – but couldn’t, obviously. Her top half tried to fold to look behind her, but the angle of her legs stopped any meaningful flexibility before she got started.

So, I did it again. This time, just out of her peripheral vision, I pushed over a lamp.

‘Hahh??’ Brit whined, her wide eyes trying to see in the dark – so see if Mike was still there, or if – if –

I touched her. Lightly, on the foot. It was a brush, but it wasn’t nothing, and she felt it. Brit reacted with a sort of half-yell, the kind that came out when you weren’t sure what you were afraid of. When you feel a bug on your leg, but you can’t see it yet.

‘Fuck…’ I said to myself, knowing she couldn’t hear me.

Beneath her, I spotted the bullet vibe – still buzzing into the bedsheets. My excited little pervert mind – kid in a candy shop, honestly – grabbed it and dragged it up her inner thigh.

‘Uhaaah?’ she whined, feeling the soft hum travel upwards, slow and teasing. ‘Hah-hahhh…’

I took it up the soft inside of her spread, writhing legs, from the knee to her mound, before swapping and doing the other. At some point, her fear started to give way, as she began to buck – just a little – as I moved beneath her, teasing her away from the questions she should be asking, and pushing her towards just thinking about her pleasure.

I slid the vibe against her slit, and watched her writhe and heard her moan, unsure of the source of her pleasure, but happy to receive it; the poor whore hadn’t cum yet, and I was all too happy to use that desperation to my advantage.

‘Uaah-hahh-hahhhh,’ I heard her chanting, each higher in pitch and more strained in tone than the last.

I dropped the vibe, and turned it off, watching as Brit’s legs shook in frustration.

After a moment, her mind seemed to come back to her, as she tried to shift, to sit up on her forehead and peer under herself – only to see the empty room, of course.

I knelt close to her, close enough to hear her breathing pick up, a note of panic in her whines as she tried to process what was being done to her. As she did this, I decided I would spend some time… reacquainting myself with the female form.

Olivia, after all, would benefit from my talents being a little more rehearsed. A few years of masturbating alone in a dark room had made me unsure of how to, ahem, go about this. Watching Mike plant himself in and get to work told me that wasn’t the approach, however – and the vibe had clearly had the desired effect.

Foreplay practice it was, I decided.

I stroked Brit’s bound leg with my invisible hand, and she jumped at the contact – butm, as I stroked her, feeling the way her soft skin felt against my palm, she slowly started to relax. After all, there wasn’t much she wouldn’t be able to do about it either way.

I paused, my hand on the hip of this near-enough stranger, and I thought about that. I was, in effect, taking advantage of a woman who was tied up and left like this – exposed and vulnerable. This wasn’t just a grope, or something like that.

She couldn’t consent, and I had no intention of letting her. I had no intention of doing anything that would let her out. I had no intention of stopping.

What I wanted to do, was play with her until she was begging, worldlessly, for my cock – and then I was going to fuck her until her boyfriend returned to disappoint her for the rest of the day.

Only now, as I had her beneath me, was my conscience telling me it was wrong. Horrid. That months of hardcore porn and fucked-up erotica was warping my mind. So, I decided to do something first. Something that would make this more… palatable to everyone involved.

First, I began by leaving her side, and finding Mike’s notebook and a pen; then I turned on the lamp, making Brit squint in the light as it filled the room.

Then, I unbuckled the strap around her head, letting the gag fall from her lips. A health dribble of spittle followed, as Brit moaned and bit the air, using her jaw muscles and letting them move.

‘What… what the fuck is going on?’

An understandable first question. And I wasn’t going to give her the whole truth – but a version of it I thought would enable her to give an honest opinion.

So, in the notebook, I started to write – and Brit watched the apparently floating pen scratch words onto the paper before her with a mix of horror and wonder.

DO YOU WANT ME TO MAKE YOU CUM?

I turned the book, presenting her with the question. For a moment, she stared at it, unmoving, her eyes adjusting to the new light in the room still.

‘I… what are you?’ she asked. I didn’t answer. ‘Are… are you… a ghost?’

I laughed at that – but it was a good alibi, in all honesty. I pulled the notebook back and answered.

YES.

She let out a small gasp, reading it upside down, and I let myself laugh, knowing she wouldn’t be able to hear it anyway.

Brit lay her head down on the bed, her eyes kind of glassing over. ‘Fuck…’ she whispered.

She hadn’t answered my first question, I noticed – and I wasn’t going to answer again. So, instead, I figured I would… remind her. I left the notepad where it was, and circled round behind the bound sex slave, and knealt at the edge of the bed – my face inches from her wet slit. Mike’s cum oozed from her, having marked her as his own not too long ago – but that didn’t bother me. If anything, the idea of her being sloppy seconds was kind of… hot.

I moved in, and pressed my lips to the inside of her thigh, feeling the soft of her intimate flesh against me.

‘Oh!’ she chirped, suddenly remembering why I was there – and what position she was in. ‘Are you… are you gonna fuck me?’

I smirked, and answered with another kiss – higher, this time.

‘Was that your… cock, in my mouth? Earlier?’

Slightly higher – I could feel the warmth of her sex on my cheek. Brit sighed as I worked my way up.

‘Oh God…’ she sighed, and I could hear it in her – the will caving in. She wanted to cum – to be fucked – more than she cared about the fact that it was a ‘ghost’ doing it to her.

The white of Mike’s cum dribbled from her cunt, and I used my thumb to wipe it aside – pushing it deeper into her, smearing it across her pink lips. The slut mewled as I played with her, teasing her folds as I pleased.

But, I got bored.

I reared back, and pulled my cock out again – this time letting it lay across the cleft of her upturned arse. My balls settled at her slit, the tip at the small of her back; even though, to me, I looked like just a shimmer, it was hot – and not something I’d been able to do before. My cock, having been hard for a solid half hour now, was starting to ache for release.

‘Fuck,’ I heard her moan. ‘Oh God, what is happening?!’

I pulled back, the pleasure in her voice egging me on. My length slide across her, dragging across her tight anus, and her used pussy, drawing a moan from her as I went. But, as I looked down, I realised that I wanted to see it. To see myself enter her – not the shimmer.

So, I moved away, and went to that drawer – and holy shit, did Mike have a collection. Ignoring Brit’s moans of disappointment, I rooted around through dildoes and vibrators and clamps and everything else, before pulling out two things; a glass butt-plug, and a blindfold.

I went back to her, a little giddy now, and pulled the ring-gag back into her mouth.

‘Wha-hrkkk!’

Then, just as quickly, I pulled the blindfold over her eyes, giving her a kiss on the cheek as I did. To my astonishment, she mewled to that too.

She really did like being treated like a whore, huh…

Then, once I was sure she wasn’t able to see anything, I pulled off the ring.

It became much more… real. Very quickly.

I was no longer a ghost – I was Tommy again, in a room, with my roommate’s wet, waiting pussy waving nearby, aching for release.

So, without hesitation, I lined myself up, and listened to Brit’s addictive moans as I sank into her. First – the same five inches as Mike. Then another, which got me a warm moan from Brit.

And then another – which got me a deep, sensual groan from Brit.

The final inch and a half was, in all honesty, hard to pack in – for all of her softness and wetness, there was still the nature of her tightness.

I kept quiet as I watched my length slide into her, trying for all the world not to moan, too – I didn’t want her to be able to guess who I was in any way. It was, however, a lot to watch her well-fucked hole accept most of me, and I could quickly feel an orgasm building in my long-neglected balls, even as I only just began to thrust into her.

‘Huaahh-huh-hughh-hlaah!’ Brit’s moans were loud and rhythmic, and it wasn’t long before it became too much – the moans, the way her wet slit gripped me, the sheer fact I was having sex – never mind sex like this – after a dry spell of far too long; it all got to be too much.

In a moment something close to sense, I pushed the ring back onto my finger, and my body slipped back out of the visible realm – not that Brit’s cunt seemed to notice; her moans kept going, her hips humping back onto me as I fucked her deeper than Mike ever could.

I gripped her arms, trapped in that leather binding, and leant forwards, rutting into her like a fucking animal, taken over by lust, fucking her slutty pussy in a frenzy of long-overdue lust.

Slk-slk-slk-slk, her pussy complained, dragging on the invisible cock stuffing her, as Brit moaned like a banshee. I wrapped her hair in my fist as I fucked her, pulling her face upwards slightly – her lips spread by the gag and her eyes blindfolded made her nothing more than a receptacle for my cum.

And, just like that, I crossed the line.