The House On Harrow Hill

Mirrors

I woke with the cameo still warm around my neck.

I hadn’t taken it off. I could have lied to myself and said I forgot, but the truth was simpler and more shameful: I liked how it felt. The carved ivory sat against my throat like a living thing, pulsing gently in time with my heartbeat. Every time my fingers brushed it, a thick pulse of heat arrowed straight down between my legs, making my c**t throb and my p***y clench around nothing.

I was already wet.

I pressed my thighs together and got out of bed before I could do something about it.

I went into town because I needed to remember what normal felt like.

The drive down the hill felt suffocating, trees crowding the road like they wanted to drag me back. I kept one hand on the cameo the whole way, unconsciously rubbing it, each stroke sending fresh sparks through my core.

The café was warm and ordinary, but I barely tasted my coffee. Two older women at the table behind me were talking in low voices.

“Someone bought the Narrow place.”

“Again? Poor thing.”

They spoke about the previous owners the way people talk about ghosts eleven months, pretty girl, found just like the rest. When they noticed me, their eyes dropped to the cameo at my throat. Their faces changed. Not pity. Recognition.

I left without finishing my drink, heart racing and panties soaked.

The moment the house came into view on the drive back, relief flooded me so strongly it embarrassed me. I parked, stepped inside, and the front door clicked shut like a lover pulling me close.

The cameo flared hot against my skin.

I slipped off my coat in the foyer. The tall mirror at the end of the hallway was already fogged.

I walked toward it slowly, hips swaying more than usual. My reflection appeared through the clearing mist flushed cheeks, hard n*****s visible through my blouse, eyes glassy with need. I looked like a woman who hadn’t been properly f****d in far too long.

I raised my right hand.

My reflection raised its left.

This time I didn’t look away.

That night the whispers stopped pretending to be subtle.

While I tried to work in the library, the voice poured into my ear like warm honey.

“You’re dripping down your thighs right now, aren’t you, Evelyn? That greedy little cunt has been aching since you left town.”

I squeezed my legs together, but it only made it worse. I was soaked. I’d stopped wearing panties days ago there was no point when they were ruined within an hour.

In the shower the voice got filthier.

“I want you bent over that sink with your ass up, skirt around your waist while I f**k that tight p***y until you scream. I want to feel you choke on my c**k, tears running down your face while your cunt drips for me.”

I came hard with three fingers buried inside myself, sobbing against the tile, the cameo burning between my breasts like a brand.

The mirrors were getting worse.

Every reflective surface in the house had become dangerous. I’d covered some, but the sheets always fell off by morning. The house wanted me to see.

Late that afternoon I stood naked in front of the full length mirror in the master bedroom, body already trembling with need. The cameo glowed against my skin. My n*****s were tight and aching, my p***y visibly swollen and glistening, a thin string of arousal already dripping down my inner thigh.

My reflection smiled when I didn’t.

She cupped her breasts, rolling both n*****s between her fingers while I stood frozen. Pleasure slammed through me anyway. My real n*****s throbbed in perfect sync.

“Watch her,” the voice growled, thick with lust. “Watch how f*****g desperate your cunt looks.”

The reflection slid one hand down her stomach and spread her slick folds, showing me everything shiny, pink, dripping. Two fingers pushed inside her with wet, obscene sounds I could somehow hear. She f****d herself slowly at first, then faster, hips rolling, thumb working her c**t while she stared straight into my eyes.

My own hand moved without permission.

I matched her stroke for stroke plunging two fingers deep, then three, stretching myself open while my palm ground hard against my swollen c**t. The wet sounds filled the room. I was dripping down my wrist.

“That’s it, dirty girl,” the voice praised. “f**k that pretty cunt for me. Show me how badly you need to be filled and bred.”

My reflection came first back arching, mouth open in a silent scream, juices running down her thighs. I followed seconds later, legs buckling as the orgasm ripped through me. I dropped to my knees, fingers still buried deep, sobbing with pleasure.

The mirror rippled.

Shadows gathered. A tall, broad-shouldered figure stepped out from behind my kneeling reflection naked, powerfully built, face lost in darkness. His c**k was thick and heavy, jutting out, the head already slick. He stroked it slowly, deliberately, inches from the glass.

I crawled forward on my hands and knees, mouth watering.

“Want it, Evelyn?” the voice rumbled. “Want this c**k stretching that needy little hole until you can’t think?”

I nodded frantically.

The mirror bulged outward like warm flesh. A large hand pushed through first, fingers tangling roughly in my hair. Then the thick c**k followed, hot and real, pressing against my lips.

I opened wide and took him deep in one desperate motion.

He was huge. My jaw ached, drool spilled down my chin, but I sucked greedily, bobbing my head, gagging wetly as he f****d my throat. The voice groaned in dark pleasure.

“Good f*****g girl. Choke on it. Take every inch like the desperate little slut you are.”

I came again just from sucking him shaking, thighs soaked, p***y clenching around nothing while he used my mouth.

When he finally pulled out, strings of spit connected my swollen lips to the glistening head.

The figure leaned closer. For a moment I saw glowing eyes ancient, ravenous.

“Soon,” he promised, voice rough. “Soon I’ll bury this c**k in your cunt and breed you properly. You’ll beg me to fill you until you’re dripping my c*m for days.”

The mirror snapped back to normal.

I knelt alone on the rug, mouth bruised, thighs trembling, the cameo burning hot against my throat.

My reflection smiled down at me with swollen, satisfied lips.

And deep inside my dripping cunt, I felt something shift something hungry, answering the call.