GHOSTS OF CWNDOL

Writer: Iwroteathing

Feature Title: Ghosts of Cwndol

Published: 17.04.2021

Story Codes: Erotic Horror

Synopsis: A mystical village takes her on erotic adventures.

Ghosts of Cwndol

The fireplace crackled with a merry joy that was not matched by the solemn face staring into it. As the sound of screaming foxes echoed across the farms outside, Eryn took another large swig of the generous gin and tonic she had made herself and sighed.

“Working from home.” She drunkenly mumbled, shooting her cottage angry glances. “Working from fucking home.”

Eryn had originally been quite proud of her life plan. She got a series of jobs with the same key feature, that she would be travelling the country, living out of hotels, online hookup’s bedrooms and the occasional stretch of sleeping in her car. Combine that with a gym membership for the showers and grooming, and she found she could live rent free for years while she saved up for the deposit on her house. It wasn’t always pleasant and it had cost her plenty of friends and connections, but it had an end game.

Then a year ago two dreams came true at once, by setting her sights low and agreeing to buy cheap and stay there as little as possible, Eryn had bought a small cottage in the remote village of Cwndol, she would occasionally stay there when in the area and had even hosted the odd party, but she considered the road (and hotels she could put on expenses) her true home. She had also gotten her dream job, management consultant. She was seen as passionate in her desire to visit the companies she was consulting for and a good hands on manager, meanwhile her home was accumulating value as she paid off the mortgage and didn’t use it enough to add to the wear and tear. It was perfect for Eryn’s purposes as an investment.

Then COVID hit and she got the fateful email, the usual pleasantries of “unprecedented times” and “our number one priority.” But for all the bluster Eryn could see the truth of the matter, she was now under house arrest for the foreseeable future. The house was empty, devoid of all comforts. Eryn had screamed and pleaded enough that the internet was going to be hooked up soon and had drained almost all her mobile data ordering every creature comfort she could think of while sitting in her car in a nearby town that actually got mobile signal.

Devoid of anything to do but wait she decided to run herself a bath, but even that was more complicated as she would like. Eryn was stood naked by the gurgling hot tap for some time before she realised that the hot water relied on the stove fire being lit, so she shoved her clothes back on and waited by the fire.

“Fucking working from fucking home.” She grumbled.

…

Eryn had always been a steadfast believer that there was nothing that couldn’t be fixed by a good night’s sleep, it is why she felt such envy for anyone able to get a good night’s sleep in this godforsaken village. She felt that her house was an island in a vast dark expanse that seemed only to emit flickers of light from farmer’s houses, with some extra light when the moon fought hard enough to get through the clouds. The darkness was filled with a series of horrific sounds as the animal kingdom’s natural ballet of murder and fucking played out non-stop all night long. She lay in bed, eyes wide open until the noise of farmers beginning their work day roused her out of bed so early that she could only presume the cows were hosting Good Morning Wales and needed to set up the radio equipment.

After an uninspiring breakfast of a single serving box of cereal, Eryn decided to walk into the village and see what amenities she actually had at her fingertips. The store was useful, a small attachment to the petrol station that served the finest foods in brands she had never heard of, alongside whatever overstock the nearby farms wanted to palm off on them. She was uncertainly optimistic the eggs and meat would be nice.

Wandering among the chocolate box houses she spotted a few other shops over the hill and investigated further. There was a nice bakery that made her lament getting ‘happy shopper plain loaf’ from the petrol station. There was a greengrocer with drastic differences in freshness between the local produce and the ‘imports.’ There was a pub and a church, each held with equal reverence by the locals. And finally there was a little art shop that seemed to mainly stock paintings by the church arts and crafts group, made from painting supplies the shop sold to them the previous day.

Eryn reached the edge of the village and just kept walking, to the passing observer she could be some wild rambler taking in the unspoiled splendor or rural Wales, but in reality she was desperately hoping that over the next hill a coffee shop or an internet cafe had gotten as lost as she was. She returned to her house at lunchtime and ate a nice bacon and egg sandwich with bread that disintegrated immediately.

An afternoon arguing with the internet company meant that Eryn’s day was over quickly and she once again found herself standing naked next to a bath before swearing and going to light the fire. Eryn didn’t even bother to dress, she just stood in the dark house, her naked body illuminated by the fireplace as she thought through what she was going to do with her life while she was confined to this village.

She needed a good coffee (the espresso machine was on the way), something to do with the long nights (internet due soon and TV in the post), she needed to get laid (…).

Eryn dwelt on how she hadn’t gotten much sex recently, but even that was better than being stranded in the countryside without even a vibrator for company. When she got her internet installed she could hit up the dating apps, see if some tough but sensitive stable hand from a lifetime movie was hiding round the corner. She could take the risk with the pub, maybe she could somehow wrangle someone who didn’t bring the smell of the farmyard along with him.

The fire started to dwindle, interrupting Eryn’s chain of thought with another bout of swearing. She was new to lighting fires but had cockily assumed she could get the job done without firelighters given how successful she had been the previous night. The scant kindling doing nothing to catch the logs as the newspaper burned to smouldering ash. Without thinking she ran to the back door preparing for a trip to the wood store at the end of her garden. As she picked up her first welly, she realised what was wrong with the situation, she was still naked in anticipation of her bath. The darkness whirled outside, inviting in its opacity while the sputtering fire added urgency to her situation.

“Fuck it.”

It was a cloudy night so Eryn was stepping into almost complete darkness, the light from her dwindling fire fighting through the house and out of the back window providing only a slight glow while irrational fears welled up inside her and her eyes adjusted to the black. She also felt a strange sense of silliness wearing nothing but a pair of green wellington boots. The wind just seemed to nip at her nipples as she took her first step away from the house.

As her vulcanised rubber sole hit the ground with a muddy squelch all of Eryn’s fears and doubts suddenly vanished. She no longer felt silly or afraid, just extraordinarily at peace as she swam naked through the night. The darkness became her friend as she felt her body sway and twirl in the breeze. She wasn’t sure what had finally gotten to her but the feelings of frustration and outright hatred she had stewed in for days seemed to wash away on a tide of nighttime. She grabbed more kindling from the woodstore and drifted back inside to a fire that had long gone out waiting for its creator to finish languishing naked in the Welsh countryside.

…

With the internet engineer still figuring out which day to sacrifice to make the long journey to the countryside, and still no signs of her packages, Eryn decided to spare the car and try another walk through the village and into the countryside, hoping to get some semblance of being ‘settled’ into her new surroundings. She saw the same sights as before, the same shops and locals that her mind categorised as basically the same to the ones she saw previously. She didn’t know how she was going to keep herself sane if nothing ever changed around her. The only new thing she saw on her walk was a new painting for sale in the art shop, a painting that took her several steps to process before stopping and running back to the shop window.

The canvas was dark, blacks and dark grey’s had been used to create a landscape at night, swirling into the distance with hills towering high. Subtle blue had been added to the dark paints so the sky was differentiated from the land and stars could twinkle in the darkness, the moon absent from view. But what drew Eryn’s attention was a being of pure light shining in the centre of the canvas, a naked woman in a pose of sheer delight as her body shone into the darkness. What caught her eye was that this woman had a similar build to Eryn, moderately tall, quite busty, with the same asymmetric shoulder length hazelnut hair with blonde highlights, and the same muddy green wellies. Eryn dived into the shop but managed to compose herself as the shop owner turned around.

“Oh, hello!” The elderly woman exclaimed, startled at Eryn’s sudden looming presence. “I’m Gwen and welcome to my art shop, you’re that new girl aren’t you, the one who’s moved into the old Rees’ cottage?”

“Hi I’m Eryn, I think I remember the house deeds having Rees as the previous owner. Anyway the picture in the window…” she began.

“Oh marvelous isn’t it. Anwen has really outdone herself this time hasn’t she?” Gwen interrupted, bursting with pride at her newest acquisition. Eryn tried to find a way to ask further without tipping her hand that she thought she was the woman in the painting.

“She paint a lot like that?” Eryn asked, trying to be nonchalant.

“Inspiration seems to come and go for our Anwen, but her themes are always about freedom and breaking free. Makes sense considering her condition.” Eryn cocked a confused eyebrow. “Oh you don’t know, I guess you haven’t met her yet, she’s often around the village. Although she does live a bit out of the ways for someone in the old Rees’ cottage.” Eryn cocked an impatient eyebrow and Gwen got to the point. “She’s blind dear, hasn’t been able to see since birth, but her paintings don’t suffer for it do they?” Eryn’s mind whirled with questions but at the end of the long pause only one came to mind.

“How much for the painting?”

…

Eryn was grateful that Gwen had wrapped the painting so she wasn’t parading it around town, but still regretted cutting her walk short to lug the thing back. It wasn’t heavy but its size made it unwieldy and people had to step into the road to avoid being barged to one side by it. She had no idea what she was going to do with this voyeuristic study of her body, only thinking her actions through as far as getting it out of the shop window. As Eryn approached her home there was a woman standing calmly outside her front door, a serene grin on her face.

“Hi there.” She called out. “Can I help you at all?”

“Oh no Eryn, I just wanted to pop by.” Replied a thick welsh accent. Eryn immediately jumped to the conclusion that this was one of her neighbours who had decided to introduce herself. She was a bit too short and a bit too round to be threatening but something about this woman unsettled Eryn, which she was able to put her finger on very quickly.

‘How do you know my name?” She asked, not intending to sound as threatening as it came across.

“Oh I know lots about you.” The woman began, opening her eyes wide and staring deep into Eryn with grey cloudy pupils. Eryn broke her stride in unease. “Gwen hasn’t shut up about you since you bought my painting.” Anwen broke into a chuckle that disarmed Eryn and soon she was being invited in for tea, Eryn guiding her through the house arm in arm.

Once the kettle was on the stove Eryn joined Anwen by the falling apart dining room table that came with the house, determined to get answers from the bubbly blind woman.

“So are you here with anyone. I noticed you don’t have a cane or a dog.” Eryn asked, wondering if someone else could have seen her and given Anwen the idea for the painting.

“Oh no I live on my own. When you live in this town as long as I have, and it changes as little as Cwndol does, eventually you can navigate on muscle memory alone. If I have to travel elsewhere for medical appointments or somesuch one of the nice ladies from the church helps me, although then I have to put up with hours of Jesus talk, I never minded the man but his followers do tend to be intolerable.” Anwen chatted, settling down as if nothing was strange.

“So nobody helps you with your paintings?” Eryn pressed hoping to get some illumination on the situation.

“No I just sort of visualise the images and let my hands follow the vision. Then I pop them in the shop and Gwen overcharges people like you. Between you and me I think you could have haggled her down to half what you paid for it. But I’m getting paid and I suppose I do add a bit of artistic licence of course…” Anwen explained while Eryn rolled her eyes. “For example in that painting you can see the stars, but in reality it was cloudy the night you walked to the woodstore naked.” Eryn had to rerun Anwen’s words through her brain to realise what had just been said.

“Wait… how did you…” she sputtered.

“Your kettle is boiling dear, and I feel like you’re going to need a well stewed tea for our little chat.”

…

Eryn angrily dipped her teabag, staring at her houseguest who was having a grand time sipping her tea and collecting her thoughts.

“How much did you read into the town of Cwndol before you decided to live here?” Anwen asked, Eryn felt like she was changing the subject but humoured her.

“I looked into the retail value of the house and that was about it.” She spat.

“I see. People think witch hunts are an american tradition, but like with a lot of rotten American things the Brits beat them to it. The town of Cwndol was founded by a lady who escaped such hunts, and afterwards, for generations rebellious women just seemed to have a way of ending up in Cwndol.”

“So you get to spy on me naked because you are a ‘rebellious woman?'” Eryn spat, having no patience for fairytales.

“I’m just telling you what I know and what I see. I’m a blind lady only given sight through visions of my mystical village, so I don’t have the same luxury of scepticism as you do.” Anwen glibly remarked. “As you stay in this village longer you’ll feel it too, the pull, the desire to throw aside inhibitions and indulge erotic desires. From what I can gather that was the will of the village founder and a will that strong can last long after death.”

“So every time I have a dirty thought I’m being controlled by a ghost, and as a bonus I can look forward to another painting in Gwen’s window for the whole town to see?”

“Oh no dear, if you set up a direct debit I’ll bring the paintings straight to you. Mind you Gwen won’t be happy but I have a fair few paintings of her that will keep her on side.” Eryn’s eyes widened and her face contorted into a scowl.

“I see what this is now. This is a blackmail ring. You have someone watch my house and then one night I rush out to the woodstore naked and boom! you have a customer for life. Well screw you and your mystical fairytale extortion.” Eryn screamed, opening the door to show Anwen out.

“This usually happens, Cwndol does attract the strong willed.” Anwen mumbled, draining her mug of tea and shuffling towards the door. “Give it some time and when you’re more convinced come to Thatcher’s Cottage, it’s on the lane after the bakers, and I can guide you more in what has been revealed to me.”

…

Eryn spent the night in a rage, the internet guy still hadn’t arrived so she once again found herself falling into a routine of making dinner, lighting a fire and waiting for the water to heat up enough for her to have a bath. Before she lit the fire she did venture out to the woodstore, but fully clothed and holding two middle fingers high to anyone who might be watching her.

What made Eryn most angry was that she had a libedo like any woman, and now every time she had an errant thought about sex, her mind became infected with thoughts of the spirit of Cwndol hovering outside her window and willing her to go streaking. All kinds of ideas would suddenly be vetoed as Anwen’s words held Eryn’s sexuality hostage.

“I know why I’m restless.” Eryn said to the house. “I was only ten minutes into my walk when that painting and that woman stopped everything. If I go for a nice long walk it will tire me out and clear my head.” She reasoned, grabbing her coat and wellies and walking into the night.

Eryn took a deep breath of the cool night air and scanned the horizon under the clear moonlight. Down the road there was a meadow she had passed by that she decided to explore. The meadow was bordered by a thick and old forest, trees that had seen and concealed more than Eryn could ever know beckoned her to explore. As she was walking Eryn began to warm up, she regretted bringing a coat and unburdened herself of it, folding it neatly over her arm as she reached the edge of the treeline. The forest slowly lit up, something Eryn ascribed to her eyes adjusting to reduced light as she began to slink between the trees.

Eryn could have sworn the March night had been colder when she stepped out of her house but now she found herself taking off her jumper and folding it with her coat across her arm as she ventured further into the forest. Eryn occasionally caught a glimpse of a faint glow in the distance, it shimmered and flicked around the trees, like a sheet caught in the breeze. Pulled by some inexplicable need Eryn headed towards it, her mind dull to the unnatural situation she was walking towards. As she followed the beckoning spirit, she felt her body continue to heat up, pushing forward with warm cozy energy.

The flicker danced among the trees before resolving itself into the reflection of the moon on a crystal clear lake. The lake was inviting, too inviting. The way the forest yielded to it, the swirl of silence and night that protected the sliver of moonlight, it was like a new world had been placed there just for Eryn. There was no residual sanity left in Eryn to plead for her not to place her coat and jumper on a nearby tree, freeing up her hands to begin to strip down. Had Eryn possessed any more reluctance it would not have been able to do a thing as she slowly pulled off her clothes and hung them on the tree.

The ground was surprisingly dry, no mud assaulted Eryn’s feet as she stepped towards the lake. The night was still and pleasant, no goosebumps breaking the unbroken smoothness of Eryn’s skin as she began to wade into the lake.

Ripples shimmered away from her shins, the lake was refreshing but not cold, like a glass of water on a parched mouth. Eryn looked down and saw her body reflected in the shimmering mirror, the moon looking down on her and lighting her way as she crouched and elegantly dove forward into the welcoming embrace of the night. As Eryn floated and looked up at the moon, her arms began to trace the outline of her body, feeling totally detached and completely connected at the same time. There were no trees, no animals, no grass, no village, no cottage, just the moon, Eryn, Eryn’s hands, and every part of Eryn’s body that the hands wanted to probe.

As her hands graced her pussy, it was like a bolt of lightning struck from the moon to her clitoris. She floundered in the water and her splashes broke the tranquility. She swam to the bank and sat with her legs apart, marvelling that the lake was somehow clearly reflecting between her legs despite the impossible angle that required. Her hand once again probed between her legs and the shock of her clit was no less intense. Her fingers began to twitch and shake as she unashamedly moaned at the top of her lungs, the darkness smothering the sound and preserving Eryn’s world. As one hand played with her clit, the other found itself pulling apart her labia and allowing her fingers to probe deep inside of her, she even felt her little finger tickling the outside of her anus and was overjoyed with the sensation.

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.

…

Anwen stirred her tea while Eryn stirred in her chair. This meeting was a bit more cordial than their previous ones, although it didn’t stop Eryn getting a bit worked up at the latest painting of her naked and facing a witch trial in a crowded town.

“You know it’s such a lovely day, how about we have tea outside?” Anwen asked. Eryn sighed knowing what her answer would mean.

“Sure.”

They sat in the front garden while Eryn uneasily nibbled on a freshly baked lardy cake. Anwen sighed as the sun’s rays warmed her skin.

“So you believe in the ghosts now?” She asked with a grin. “That’s good because they believe in you.”

“What did they say?” Eryn asked, snapping upright in her seat.

“They didn’t say anything, their mouths are in the ground with the rest of their bodies. But I can feel their will and they seem very excited by you.” Anwen replied casually.

“They get excited at every girl who enters Cwndol?”

“Well that’s a tricky question. They like to fix the problems us girls have, but it always seems to be the same solution to different problems. A woman leaving a miserable or abusive relationship, a girl stuck in a rut, someone who has it all but it isn’t enough. They will all get something similar to you, a trial by fire, ample rewards along the way, and a stronger person coming out the other side, but the specifics vary widely. But if you’re looking to feel special, the last time they showed this attention to someone living in Cwndol, not just some tourist or passerby, was at least 20 years ago. They clearly want you to move in, live here for as long as you can.”

“I already live here though.”

“Do you?” Anwen replied, “you have a house here, you are currently forced to spend your time here, but you don’t live here, your spirit is one of the road, keeping moving, never feeling comfortable enough to stop and put down roots. They want you to see Cwndol as your home.”

Eryn smiled and nodded, acutely aware that the overwhelming urge to strip had suddenly hit her while having this nice cup of tea.

“Now last night was just a bit of a history lesson, just a bit of reliving the pain that came before this village, you’re no stranger to going through hard times to build something so I’m sure you can appreciate it. You are a bit of a freak after all.” Anwen acknowledged, causing Eryn to pause for a moment and wonder if the blind woman knew she was currently stripped down to her underwear.

“What’s next, getting burned at the stake?” Eryn quipped as she unclipped her bra and dropped it to one side, letting her breasts take in the spring sun.

“Just enough of whatever it will take to instill some appreciation.” Anwen cryptically explained as Eryn wiggled herself free of her knickers and took a hearty sip of her tea, naked for everyone with working eyes to see. “I’ll tell you what, after we’ve finished our tea and cakes I’ll let you see the paintings of the town’s history, I think you’re ready for them.”

“Thanks, for everything I guess. I’m still not sure how I feel about all this but it would be so much worse if you weren’t here to help.”

“Well in that spirit dear, I should probably warn you that the postman is coming up the road so you have about 20 seconds to hide before he sees you in the altogether.” Eryn wasn’t surprised that Anwen knew about her sudden urge to strip, it didn’t shock her as much as it should have.

“You know what.” Eryn said, taking a deep breath. “I don’t feel like hiding.”

As a burly man in ill fitting shorts whistled a merry tune to himself and walked up the hill towards Anwen’s house, Eryn didn’t feel that same numbness to fear and embarrassment that had characterised previous jaunts outside, the spirits of Cwndol had left her alone with her resolve. Nevertheless with each moment she heard the whistling getting closer, despite every fiber of her being wanting to retreat into the house, Eryn stayed rooted to her seat.

“Morning Dafyd!” Anwen yelled to ensure she got his attention. “Anything interesting this morning?”

“I’ll say.” He responded as his eyes locked onto Eryn’s body and his jaw dropped.

“Oh where are my manners? Dafyd this is my friend Eryn, Eryn this is my postman Dafyd, he’s so nice, he helps me know what post I have and sometimes even reads me the letters that aren’t sent in braille.”

“Is that so? Are you a good boy Dafyd?” Eryn sensuously asked, delighting as a deep crimson blush assaulted his cheeks.

“Not always.” He stuttered. Eryn stood up and casually walked over to Dafyd, snatching the post out of his outstretched hands before turning away and slinking back to her seat.

“Bye Dafyd.” She stated, calmly but firmly. Dafyd awkwardly shuffled away, adjusting his shorts to accommodate his erection. Anwen burst into laughter.

“I can see why they like you, come on let’s go inside.”

Anwen immediately led Eryn inside, leaving her clothes by the table in her front garden. As she entered the house she took an abrupt turn and put her hand on the handle of the door leading away from her entranceway.

“Now I must warn you, these paintings are slightly odd, they depict the history of Cwndol, however the pictures change based on who is looking at them.” Anwen opened the door to a room lined with intricately painted canvases, filling the walls and floors. Eryn turned to the one immediately on her left, a river scene, several well-to-do people in suits and fancy dresses sat by the river, laughing and joshing. In the foreground a large wooden platform plunged into the river, and beneath the waterline, at the end of the platform, strapped to a crude wooden chair was a naked woman, bubbles emerging from her mouth as she screamed for help. Eryn was taken aback by the contrast of a relaxed and fancy riverside picnic by a woman’s water torture, but even moreso as she looked closely and saw the woman looked identical to her.

“I suppose you’ve noticed that you are the subject in every painting. Sorry this happens to every woman I show them to.” Anwen admitted. Eryn closely examined the paint, looking for evidence that the painting had been recently painted over or altered in some way, she didn’t know what she was specifically looking for but the paint certainly looked old and settled. It then struck Eryn that suits and dresses seemed a bit anachronistic for a painting of a time when ducking witches was a nice accompaniment to a picnic. She examined the background figures closely and noticed they weren’t generic characters, they were people she knew. She recognized her boss as one of the men in a suit laughing at her naked tortured body, her friend’s partner was wearing a fancy dress and nonchalantly eating a cake while Eryn drowned metres away from her.

Eryn moved on to the next painting, this was her shackled and chained, naked in a courtroom while a judge yelled at her in a state of purest rage. Her eyes were cast downwards as around her, her closest friends and family stood with their backs turned to the humiliated prisoner.

One by one Eryn scanned the pictures, each time her facsimile was being condemned, humiliated, tortured, and degraded. In each picture her friends abandoned her, her acquaintances betrayed her, and any person in a position of authority would work aggressively and tirelessly to see her downfall.

The final picture was painted in the centre of Cwndol, Stood in the middle of the road was a circle of women, all dressed in clothing from different periods throughout time. In the centre of the circle was Eryn, naked, glowing, and ascending, her face a picture of ecstatic joy.

“I’m sure you have a lot to think about dear, but you should probably go grab your clothes, the wind has picked up and I think they are blowing away.”

…

That night was very different for Eryn, before she had fought the strange forces of the village, she’d rationalised and hidden away, but tonight she stood naked looking at her front door, eagerly awaiting her night’s activities. She slipped out of her house as easily as she would slip into a warm bath, the nighttime caressing her body and removing her cares. She released her mind from worry and pressure, letting supernatural instincts guide her movement. She wandered into the forest, deep and foreboding, she seemed to spend a lifetime gliding among the trees.

In the distance she spotted a river but the moment it filled her eyes, her body became wracked with new and unpleasant sensations. It was as if she was feeling the blunt chronic pain of past torture, with all the attendent feelings of the discomfort and violation. Her lungs felt heavy with water, her skin felt the overwhelming heat of fire, her bottom felt a glowing razer sharp pressure, and a horrible itchiness covered her head. Eryn collapsed on the floor with the overwhelming sensory overload, crawling the rest of the way to the river.

Next to the river was a ducking stool, just like the one from the painting, the unseen will pushed her forward as she climbed into the seat. That familiar idea of restraint suddenly tightened around her arms and legs, invisibly binding her to the stool as her ears began to fill with the jeers and taunts of an unseen ghostly audience behind her.

“Do you repent your sinful ways?” An aged but authoritative voice yelled above the baying crowd. Eryn was unable to respond before the ducking stool plunged into the river. Eryn felt her body begin to sing as the cold water shocked her system, she screamed and watched bubbles of her life saving breath float away. After an indeterminate time she was raised out of the water and something extraordinary happened, her lungs felt lighter, she was able to breathe a bit easier and she suddenly felt far more alive.

“Do you repent your sinful ways?”

“Go fuck yourself.” Eryn yelled as the ducking stool plunged into the water once again. She screamed, she writhed, she moaned, and she emerged from the water more energised and stronger than before.

“Do you repent your sinful ways?”

“I’m going to kill every man in this town and then I’m going to fuck all your wives.” Eryn yelled, looking forward to her next plunge into the river.

Eryn lost count of how many times she got dipped, each time she would shout profanities at the gathered town before being dunked again. Eventually and suddenly the dunking stopped. The stool rose from the water and the forest was empty, leaving Eryn alone with an insatiable desire to continue her journey. She took a deep breath and noticed there was still a tickle of fluid in the bottom of her lungs, like if she’d accidentally inhaled some water from her drinking glass. It was not as unbearable as her burning skin, throbbing bottom and itchy head but she did almost hack up a lung trying to dislodge it without success.

Eryn stood up from the chair and found the river she had been dunked in now gone, replaced by firm ground as she walked away and followed the unseen force to her next destination. She once again found herself wandering the forest, she felt a warm pulse coming from her pussy, rewarding her for her determination and pushing her onwards. She felt no surprise when she saw a wooden platform ahead looking out over a forest clearing, a pile of logs forming a makeshift staircase she knew she had to climb.

As she stood atop the wooden platform Eryn noticed two long logs, slightly apart, sticking up from the centre. She immediately knew that these were her next bonds. She stood between them and felt her hands wrap around the posts, high above her heads so her arms were stretched as far as they could. She then felt her legs begin to shuffle apart, opening herself until her ankles touched the base of the logs. All at once, ghostly bonds lashed her in position and the phantom crowd assembled into the clearing to watch her latest indignity.

“Eryn Jones.” A different but equally elderly man’s voice announced. “For your wanton crimes of harlotry, whoring and degenerating the town’s morals, you are sentenced to twenty lashes.” Eryn had but a moment to take in the jubilant cheers of a town slaking its bloodlust with corrupted justice before she felt an explosion of power across her bottom.

Beyond the eons, a ghost with a lot of practice was landing precise strokes on Eryn’s naked bottom, but with each lash Eryn felt a wellspring of heat and a feeling of relief. She started counting along in jubilant expectation as each stinging whip caressed her body. The crowd’s rage slowly turned to concern and fear as Eryn laughed maniacally over her increasingly welted bottom. Soon she reached twenty lashes and to the crowd’s shock she began begging for more, taunting and imploring the whip hand to keep her punishment coming.

“As one final punishment…” the old man began.

“Please be more whipping, come on really let my arse have it.” Eryn interrupted.

“Silence, your final punishment is that we will give you a permanent mark of your shame.” A surly looking man suddenly appeared in front of Eryn, a leery grin on his face as he looked her body up and down. He turned to one side and a small fire materialised next to him, one he delighted in pulling a red hot poker out of. At the end of the poker was a custom piece of metal work, clearly some sort of brand, Eryn tried to read the back to front letters but didn’t have time before the leering man thrust the brand onto her midriff.

Eryn felt a surge of white hot exhilaration, her body screamed in ecstatic joy as the brand sizzled against her skin. At first she began laughing, and then as her laughter became more maniacal she began to moan in orgasmic bliss. She felt the pent up joy of all her experience so far begin to coalesce, and just as she was moments away from an orgasm she felt all ghostly apparitions disappear, ending the surge of pleasure and dropping her to the floor as her bonds were released.

Eryn screamed in sexual frustration, deep down she knew she wouldn’t be getting her sweet release until she was done with her adventure. She looked down to where the brand had made contact and saw the word ‘whore’ burned into her skin, still there despite the disappearance of the ghostly apparitions. She got up and once again began to follow the pull of the forest.

Eryn tried touching herself as she walked deeper into the darkness, but it seemed like her whole body would go numb every time a finger touched her clit or pulled apart her labia, so she was relieved when a small ghostly cabin appeared as her next destination.

As Eryn pushed the creaky wooden door open she found herself in a single large room, the room was filthy with decay layered over past sins, but was also bare save for a single chair in the centre that Eryn knew was her place of honour. She sat down and once again felt psychic bonds fasten her tight to the seat.

Immediately the room filled with racks upon racks of every torture implement known to man. Then a thin ghostly echo of a man materialised, running his fingers over them with avarice.

“All is not actually hopeless for you. You have satan’s hooks in you, you have been living a deeply sinful life, but all you need to do is confess your sins, and tell us which other women in the town you have seduced and this can all be over for you.” He expositioned. Eryn had no idea who this past life had seduced, she had no way of answering his question, but she felt like this didn’t affect her answer anyway.

“All of them, I have rubbed pussies with every woman in town. We had lesbian sex all night long then in the morning we wiped our fluids off on pages of the bible while discussing women’s rights, trade unions, and the scientific method.” Eryn spat.

“I am told that when you like someone you are deeply caring and defensive of them, the scratches on Alderman Jacobs face can certainly attest to that, surely you would want to help them back into the kingdom of heaven?”

“Well I am told, by your wife, that my clitoris is bigger than your dick. Surely you would want someone to help her finally experience pleasure in the bedroom?” Eryn mocked.

“I see you have chosen petulance in the face of salvation, that is a shame.” The man sighed, picking up a large pair of shearing scissors. “In my time I have seen that Satan plays many tricks by corrupting scripture. In past inquisitions many of his thralls have been given power through their hair, in direct mockery of the story of Samson. Once relieved of this they are often more accommodating to the word of the lord.”

“Brilliant, you know how difficult it is to get a haircut during lockdown” Eryn chuckled before realising that probably doesn’t translate well to his time period. Eryn felt her head snap backwards and the ghost pulled her by the hair, she then felt his grip gradually and stutteringly loosening. It took her a moment to realise he was not letting go of her hair, the hair he was pulling was being sheared from her head. Every so often he would stand in front of her and mockingly sprinkle clumps of her hair to the floor. The first round of shearing gave her a pixie cut, he then went back for a second and closer cut, the blades of the scissors scraping against Eryn’s scalp. Finally he held up a ghostly mirror to give Eryn time to bathe in the humiliation he had put her through.

Eryn’s reflection filled her with strange emotions, any other day the sight of her shaved and stripped would have filled her with sadness and shame. But even though her reflection was not changed or distorted, within it she was able to find a wellspring of pride. The reflection looking back at her was a body that had been degraded to reinforce the spirit, the flames of her humiliation tempering her steely resolve.

“Now then my little bald temptress.” The man began, running his hand over Eryn’s bald head. “Do you have strength within you now to throw off Satan’s hold and help us purify the town?”

“Don’t worry, your secret is safe with me.” Eryn cryptically noted.

“Careful now, witches have often been known to sow discord and spit mistruths.”

“Oh no I know this is true, your mum told me herself how you still breastfeed, and she never lies during pillow talk.” A crack appeared in the stoic visage of her interrogator, his smile faded and for a moment he raised his hand before calmly lowering it again.

“I see you are more resilient than your predecessors, so steeped in satan’s filth that you think yourself immune from damnation. Very well, we call this next device ‘beelzebub’s helmet’…”

“Funny, that’s what your wife calls you.”

“Shut up! Shut up! Shut up! For one moment stop spewing filth from your sin hole, you depraved whore!” The man yelled, his mask of civility falling hard.

“Looks like I touched a nerve, which is funny because your wife says…” Eryn’s thought was interrupted by a metal box being roughly placed over her head. Eryn’s world was plunged into darkness as she felt the neck hole tighten, locking her in. After a couple of moments a shaft of light shone into the box where the man opened a lid on top, he poured in a black shadow and closed the lid leaving Eryn to momentarily wonder what her nemesis had just lined her up to be subjected to.

Suddenly the tickle of tiny feet began to prick at Eryn’s face and shaved head. The man had emptied jars of various insects into the box with Eryn and they had now begun to swarm around her.

Eryn knew she should feel disgusted, she should be screaming for mercy, choking on filth, and pleading for release from the disgusting degradation. But this was far from what Eryn felt, she felt like the only person dirtied by the insects was the man who had just lost his temper at her. She couldn’t see anything but felt cleaner, and the itchiness she had felt at the start of her mystical adventure now made sense and began to retract. She didn’t know how long she spent in the helmet but when it was removed she felt like she had just emerged from a bath.