Yesterday one of my demented accomplices asked me how I came into possession of my Gothic house of sexual horrors and depravity. He had a wild look on his face as his eyes darted about, taking in the terrifying tableaux of demonic dolls and creepy crawlies that were seemingly seeping out of the woodwork. The truth is this place is steeped in filth and my horde of possessed dollies are just a manifestation of all the foul events that have transpired here.
I was just a teenage runaway when I was deposited on the doorstep of this manor of murder, molestation and mayhem. It was raining really hard and I had hitched a ride from some perv who said he’d take me anywhere I wanted for a little pussy. It just so happens that my pussy is the littlest cunt around. He had his way with me and I told him that I just wanted to go someplace dry so he brought me here, said it stays abandoned because anyone who lives in it ends up dead. I told him “We all end up dead.” and walked inside to dry all of the rain and cum off of me.
Obviously, the house didn’t kill me. The house loves me, loves who I am, I can feel it. I turned out to be the perfect bait for it to trap all of the unsuspecting suckers it needs to survive. I feed it and it keeps me safe. People are afraid of this place and all of the tortured souls inside. But the ghosts here don’t scare me, I scare them.
Willow
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