Content: A story of supernatural intrigue, featuring ghost sex, muscle, dominance, straight to gay and other mind alterations.
** RAVEN'S HOLLOW – Part I **
=== NIGHT OF THE PHOENIX ===
The Raven Resort Hotel had been easy enough to find, even though it wasn't signed until you stepped onto Ponderosa Drive. The stone mansion was hard to overlook among the more austere homes of Raven's Hollow, this epitome of a sleepy town so densely ringed by forested hills it seemed shrouded from the outside world.
Old hemlock trees veiled the gray facade's arches, swaying under a breeze that rolled in from the distant ocean, defiantly lush in the cooling weather. Behind the building, the low autumnal sun fell on reds and yellows speckling the rising landscape where seasonal trees dared to challenge the evergreens.
Phoenix wasn't sure he'd have found so much as the place's phone number if they hadn't called him first.
The `Raven' had no website, and anywhere it was listed considered all nine rooms booked. True reviews were impossible to come by as it seemed to choose its guests more than the other way around.
Other information was less sparse. He didn't know why they wanted him here but as a recently graduated historian, Phoenix happily dug into places rich with lore. The resort was still run by the family who had built this manor. Surely there was enough noteworthy history for a doctoral thesis.
Phoenix ran his fingers through his shaggy, blond hair, straightened his broad shoulders under the coat and pulled his trolley up the steps. The front door's heavy wings stood open.
Dark walnut paneling, even darker mahogany furniture and thin carved pillars along the lobby put Phoenix in the mind of a European hunter's lodge sans animal skulls. Chandeliers just shy of gaudy gave the place enough light to leave the wood's dull warmth untouched.
The marble topped front desk was manned by a twenty-something Japanese guy in a navy blue polo shirt whose smile showed more of his dimples than his eyes. His arms had just enough definition to indicate an athletic body under the dark fabric.
"Mister Sorensen?"
"Uh, just Phoenix," Phoenix said out of habit. Why did the clerk know him on sight? "Mister..."
"Kamron Sato," the clerk said and stepped around the desk. "Just Kamron will do."
He wore khaki shorts and Phoenix had to force his eyes away from the shapely, smooth calves.
Kamron did a little bow before the guest, his hand toward the left staircase. "You'll be staying in the Red Room. Up the stairs, second door. Overlooking Raven's Hollow." The Asian man took Phoenix' trolley off him, saying, "I'll bring it up for you."
The historian dumbly blinked, feeling a little hot in his coat. "Thanks, Kamron. So you're the..."
Kamron's smile grew. "Front desk manager, porter, and barista if required. Scotch, whiskey? Juice?"
Phoenix had checked into hotels before but never been personally expected. "I've... just got off the plane. Later maybe?"
He slipped out of his coat and laid it over the suitcase, revealing a casual blazer.
Kamron gestured deeper into the hall. "Perhaps you want to have a look around before you settle in. Breakfast starts at seven. For lunch and dinner sign the option you want on that board, or consult the take-out menus over there. I am to tell you Mister Raven will fit the bill, so just drop your order off at my desk. Same with appointments for complimentary spa and massage services."
"That's incredibly generous," Phoenix said, now feeling suspicious. What did some rich guy want from a historian without credentials that warranted all this attention?
But Kamron was already carrying the luggage up and Phoenix felt drawn deeper into the mansion's halls.
One step into an archway saw him nearly colliding with a shirtless black bodybuilder. Deep, flawless umber skin, covered only by white gym shorts and a light sheen of sweat. An eight-pack of protruding bumps set underneath square pecs, flaring out to shoulders that would have looked too broad on anyone with a less tanky chest.
To fight a bout of envy, the athletic Phoenix had to remind himself that such a model physique surely required shoveling steroids by the handful.
The African hunk took a surprised step back and Phoenix' eyes shot up to the shaved head and its most prominent feature – lush lips breaking into a radiant smile.
"Hey, new here?" asked the hunk and took his earphones out. He slung a towel across his shoulders, emphasizing his biceps as if to drive a poor nerd mad on purpose.
"Yes," Phoenix said, pleasantly surprised at how steady his voice was. "Just looking around." He tore his eyes off the bodybuilder's waist region where they had naturally moved to.
"Well, you found the gym," the hunk said and smirked. "Right this way."
"Yeah," Phoenix said, feeling stupid. Now that he focused on the guy's face it seemed the man was exactly the kind of person he tended to fantasize about. Maybe the person, period. Did he know the guy from a screen or just his dreams?
"Weird question," Phoenix started, "but have I seen you before?"
The hunk cocked his head. His eyes trailed along Phoenix' body. "Do I seem familiar?"
"Maybe?"
"The name's Lazaro. I'm staying in the Cedar Room. South-west corner, up the stairs right-side from the entrance. Just, if you need anything."
"Uh, I'm Phoenix. Red room."
"See you around," Lazaro said with another devastating smile and walked by.
Phoenix turned around and was not disappointed at the v-shape of rippling back muscles, the bouncing glutes in thin gym shorts and the definition of Lazaro's truly massive legs below.
With a heavy sigh, Phoenix wandered farther into the house.
The building wrapped around a glass-roofed courtyard, onto which every upper floor corridor looked down. Mediterranean décor brightened the seating arrangements of treated mahogany that flowed into the courtyard from a banquet hall, separated by a row of open French doors.
Every plant in the room was a peony, in vases and in pots. The corners of the space were almost like a greenhouse, flecked with tender pinks and saturated purples of peonies running up the columns.
On the opposite side hung a full-body portrait of a dark skinned woman in a flowing silk robe. She was painted dramatically lit, her arms outward in a grand gesture, her mouth open, her expression gentle with eyes nearly closed. Phoenix couldn't help but feel she was singing on top of her lungs.
Around the painting were photos, mostly old enough to be sepia toned. Phoenix would have assumed they were of noteworthy guests but it was all the same black woman as in the painting, sometimes surrounded by people focused on her, sometimes posing alone, sometimes on stage.
"I hear Peonies were her favorite," a voice said, making Phoenix flinch.
He turned to see a white haired gentleman in a navy suit vest and white pants neutrally observing him through subtle, silver rimmed glasses. He was tall and spindly, made taller still by his upright posture. He leaned on a cane, as rigid as his stance.
"Hello Phoenix," the man said as he got no response.
"Mister Mordecai Raven?" Phoenix guessed. Pictures of the resort owner had proven impossible to find.
"Well observed. Care to join me?"
They sat on dark upholstered chairs of smoothly bending wood. A plump woman in a navy blouse placed an ornate silver tablet with ice-cube-filled glasses and several bottles between them. Phoenix grabbed a bottle of mineral water once Mordecai had poured himself something alcoholic.
"Her name was Laqueta Brown," Mordecai said, eyes on the painting.
"The Siren of Oregon," Phoenix added.
He earned raised eyebrows and a smirk.
"Why yes. You read up on Raven's Hollow?"
"Her name came up a few times. She seemed ahead of her time."
Mordecai briefly chuckled. "An understatement. Jazz, soul, occasionally some blues. Her true love was opera but in those times... They never made it easy."
"She was supposedly quite prolific but I've not been able to find a recording of her. Are those..." Phoenix gestured at the record covers on a shelf he only just seen.
Mordecai looked at them as if he, too, had only just noticed their presence. "Yes. Those were hers. I'm afraid they're as good as blank now. Vinyl can only take so much, I suppose."
Phoenix let his gaze wander over the photos. "Still, she was quite the talk of town in her time. Although the old articles I skimmed were more interested in speculating about her elusive affairs and her sudden retreat from society than her music."
Mordecai chuckled again. "Damn straight. Those overblown speculations." Then his expression grew somber. "She was faithful to a certain man, though, unthinkably in those days, not of her race. And even once they could have legally married she preferred independence. After the sixties, being unwed became perhaps the bigger scandal. When an illness prevented her from singing any longer, the life just seemed to drain out of her. She died soon thereafter."
The young historian took a sip. "I knew she stayed in this town a lot, but not that she was a guest at the Raven specifically."
"Yes, she came here at various point in her life. After I took over. My father didn't approve of... Well, I don't think he ever liked anybody but he had views that were outdated by the end of his thankfully short life."
"Oh."
"Which brings me to why you're here," Mordecai said and turned toward the guest. "When my father wasn't drinking the day away he scattered the family's possession into the winds to finance his destructive hobbies. And as we're doing well for yourselves, I'm ready to collect them all again."
"Ah, wouldn't an art historian in particular be better for the task?"
"I think you're quite capable. Most items shouldn't be too hard to find – or all that far away." The old men glanced at the upper floor interior windows. "This place has a way of attracting what belongs here."
==========+++++==========
The burgundy damask atop the wood paneling was complimented by upholstery and bedsheets in deep crimson. Cream and scarlet tones added some brightness to the furniture that couldn't have dated more than half a century back despite its opulence.
There was no TV, but Phoenix only needed Wi-Fi to entertain himself. He had been given an official Raven email address to contact anyone in possession of an item coveted by Mordecai.
The list he had been given was mostly books, scattered to New York, France, Belgium, Sweden and even Thailand. Amazingly a great deal of them had found their way back not only to the US but Portland specifically.
Phoenix, in an off-white bathrobe embroidered with a black raven silhouette, popped his shoulders and closed the laptop.
He was about to sink onto the bed when he noticed an indentation in the sheets, like the imprint of a large, unseen hand. It dragged itself away from him and vanished.
The student stood frozen. Unsure what to tell anyone, he nonetheless turned toward the heavy walnut door to the corridor.
Something grabbed him by the neck and dragged him onto the bed.
Phoenix clutched his neck, finding nothing there but pure force. A glance into the mirror let him see finger indentations on his skin before he was thrown onto the mattress.
His naked legs swung through the air as more ghost hands grabbed him by the shoulders and dragged him into the middle of the bed. The choking pressure on his neck lessened and in turn his mouth was covered.
More handprints on either side of him showed up just as his wrists were clutched with iron grips. Phoenix twisted with tense muscles under the grips, eyes wide in horror, dashing left and right for hints of other phantom fingers.
More invisible hands tented his bathrobe as they slipped underneath. One gripped his package with two fingers like a cockring. The blond student's dick twitched as he arched up to fruitlessly struggle.
Phoenix' mouth was released and he inhaled to shout for help.
"Hel-"
Something slid into his throat and his shout turned to gargling. Unyielding fingers kept his mouth open as a rod that had to be a ghost dick punched into his esophagus.
Phoenix' torso spasmed out of his control as his throat was forced to accommodate a fairly thick, invisible cock. He cried out with heat rising into his face, but only muffled choking escaped.
Hands on his ankles raised his legs. The bathrobe parted to reveal his lower abs where a semi-hardon chubbed.
Familiar, salty cream flowed into his mouth. The dick retreated just far enough to place the load on Phoenix' tongue instead of down the tube. The amount of cum was insane – supernatural. Shot after shot after shot made him gargle.
With his mouth filled, the ghost's cum ran over his lips as the phantom dick fully retreated. More cum sprayed from the unseen cock, now sprinkling the student's chest.
Finally, Phoenix got to see that the cum was just as invisible as the phantom. Only the senses of touch, smell and taste were allowed to witness this being.
The hands on the historian's wrists let go as more held onto his straining legs and pulled upward.
Just as a mix of swallowing and spitting had freed his mouth, the ghost dick returned to his throat, pumping in and out just enough to let him breathe but not enough to let his shouts go unmuffled.
Phoenix' cut seven inches hung fully erect as he was lifted by the spread legs. With his bare hole toward the mirror, the resort guest got to see his gravitationally impossible predicament before a deep oral thrust forced tears into his eyes.
Hands rained down onto his glutes in irregular spanks that echoed through the room. Under the struggle, his bathrobe parted fully, dropping off his lightly defined chest and small but well-rounded shoulders.
Held upside down on the mattress, the spanked historian tried to reach into his mouth but there was nothing he could do. The ghost dick existed only to his throat, not to his shaking fingers. Pure nothingness was orally violating him and having his hands free meant little.
At last the unseen hands dragged him off the bed entirely, feet pulled upward. He tried to hold onto the bedsheets but the ghost dick pulled out for a second just to let hands slap his face hard enough to make him flinch. He lost his grip and slid from the bathrobe just as the hands pulled him upside-down into the middle of the room.
The cloth piled up underneath him, letting him see the stitching of the raven as he rose high enough that his foot soles were an inch from the ceiling.
The ghost dick in his mouth relented enough to let Phoenix catch his bearings. He caught his reflection in the mirror, face red, legs spread, muscles tight. A line of precum glistened along his abs.
He could see himself clearly and yet it felt like something was in the way, as if a ghost's face hovered right before his. And Phoenix could have sworn the totally invisible creature was grinning.
He flinched as something wet rained on him. The invisible cum already decorating his face and chest slowly slid off him but new ropes fell on his body from above. A ghost dick jerking off onto him?
Phoenix looked dry in the mirror, safe for the beginning sheen of sweat on his tense muscles, but he could tell he was caked by yet another impossibly large load.
A finger entered his hole. Then a thicker one.
No wait, that was whole new dick. How many more where there?
Prevented from looking up by the oral fucking, the resort guest glanced through tears at the mirror at his terrified expression. His floating self looked more pathetic than ever.
Ghosts didn't seem to need lube, having no skin to cause friction, but the dry thrusting burned just a little anyway.
Phoenix' eyes rolled back into his head as his gargling scream rung in his own ears.
The ghost dick went in slowly and stayed there while the historian struggled to get used to the lightly burning pulsation, his own dick twitching, now rock hard.
Then the ghost fuck began. Under the returned spanking of unseen hands, Phoenix' ass was assaulted with rhythmic thrusts, out of sync with his oral invasion.
Flailing uselessly, the student held onto the only available thing – himself. First placing one hand on his hardon just to keep it from swinging, he was soon jerking off with deliberately slow motions. He didn't want to cum before the final ghost did.
Wait, did ghosts ever finish cumming? Would he be trapped here all night? The thought almost pushed him over the edge and he had to slow down even more, just as the ghost-ass-fuck picked up speed.
The spanking returned once more, this time accompanied by pinching along his flank that ended just below his nipples.
Phoenix kept jerking off while he nipple-rubbed himself, eyes on his mirror image and its impossible floating position.
The dick in his mouth held still and cut his breath off for good. Phoenix choked and wretched. Then the ghost rod pulsed and dropped a load into the student's throat. Too large to handle.
Again, Phoenix' mouth overflowed. Being upside-down meant the cream ran right into his nose and eyes. He could still see through the totally invisible jizz but the sensation kept him blinking frantically.
As the ghost dick pulled out, Phoenix coughed with crunched abs and splattered invisible droplets onto his abs. Wet, slick nothing ran from his lips into his hair.
The ass fuck intensified, now joined with harsher spanking all along his legs.
He could have called for help now, but didn't.
With all remaining strength, he flexed his legs and abs to curl up and point his hole at the mirror. There was nothing visible inside but his interior. He was seemingly gaping, his insides throbbing by themselves. He relaxed again and groaned at the ground.
After a seeming eternity, Phoenix felt the pulsation of the ghost dick as the fuck-rhythm turned erratic and jerked off faster.
The phantom creamed its load into his ass with enough pressure to start the historian's orgasm. His hole instantly overflowed with a fountain of jizz, not seen, only felt.
Phoenix let his own cum rain in strings onto his chest as his dick-filled ass squirted invisibly and gooey nothing ran from his crack. It was a harder orgasm than he'd enjoyed in a long time.
He was flung toward his bed and the phantom hands let go. Landing on the sheets with a thump, Phoenix cried out, his voice now hoarse.
He raised a weakened arm, dizzy from the blood rushing out of his head. He needed to...
Sleep overtook him.
Phoenix' face took on a serene expression.
The memory turned into a dream and the dream faded.
He would wake up fully caked in cum, practically glued to the sheets. He'd be horny and none the wiser, having only his own load to blame and attributing his sore muscles to the unfamiliar mattress.
==========+++++==========
Jasper shot up in his bed.
The presence was back!
Something was haunting the Raven mansion again. It had never stayed long enough to find, cleverly hiding inside guest bedrooms when everybody was asleep.
Jasper made a note to tell grampa at breakfast. No reason to go ghost hunting as long as nobody complained...