Gloom had over come the Vanderwall Estate when Duchess Elizabeth had come to live there. The house was in a crumbling state, lonely and in despair. Where once lavish decorations were proudly displayed now remained only tattered and ruined. In the most remote mountain region of the kingdom the palace stood proud and tall, now slumped by the erosion of the soil under it. What became of Duke Vanderwall and his servants was a thing of mystery, but his younger niece Elizabeth held possession to his last known letter which said little of anything but, “I have found it”.

Now in her early thirties she was too old to re-marry, her husband passing suddenly of a strange illness. Rumors spread of her poisoning him, and to prevent scandal the King sent her to live in the Vanderwall Estate in isolation forever. Her only accompaniment would be Leonardo and Marlon, two strong and handsome young men and servants, and Betsy her small and fragile servant girl.

The walls of the house once painted with a striking gold were now dulled, though the paintings hung straight and new. What strange paintings they were, all of nude women in torment with little devils sitting or laying upon their chests. The differences between the paintings were only in the smallest of details, but all held a hypnotic quality that held the attention of the Duchess for hours on end. ‘What madness could drive a man to collect so many of these ghastly things?’ the Duchess often thought to herself. Indeed they were horrific, but they belonged in this old Gothic house along with the gargoyles outside.

The gargoyles were another oddity of the Vanderwall Estate. Instead of pointing outward along the walls and gates of the outside compound as they would, they were pointing inward. The gargoyle was meant to keep evil spirits outside of a church or house, these seemed to be meant to keep them within. But still, the Duchess believed in nothing of the sort and any tales of ghostly happenings on the estate grounds or in the house itself, she just passed off as local superstition. Things of the supernatural persuasion simply did not exist in her mind. It was clear though that her uncle Duke Vanderwall was indeed a quite eccentric fellow and may have been mad. In fact, the Duchess was quite sure of it.

Leonardo had made a discovery upon the first day there. In the study he found a secret passageway that led down to a dungeon. He immediately reported it to the Duchess who went herself to see it and found it perversely amusing. It was a dark and damp cellar room as one would expect a private dungeon to be with a bizarre wood and iron contraption in the center of it. There were an assortment of chains and shackles all hooked to a wooden chair with it’s back leaned backward.

There were all sorts of gears and contraptions attached to the device though the four of them could not figure out what they were for. It appeared to be some sort of torture device powered by a water wheel in the corner of the dungeon. There was a hatch above the wheel from where the water flowed and a lever to be pulled when the water was to be released. Neither of them could understand where the source of the water would come from, though it did not matter much since they would never need to use it.

The Duchess thought it would be best to lock the study and forget the room existed. Most of the books in the room were all in some strange foreign language and had perversely sexual illustrations. The most shocking the Duchess had found was that of a half man, half goat creature sodomizing a young woman. She had nearly fainted from the shock.

As she commanded, Marlon had locked the study and given her the key for safe keeping. ‘No decent person should be allowed in that awful room’ she thought to herself hiding the key in the vanity table in her bedroom. It was clear to her that the good Duke Vanderwall was indeed a sick and immoral man.

She had wished that she hadn’t learned these things about her uncle as she had a fond memory or two of him as a child. Those memories were now crushed and replaced with an imaginative figure of perverse cruelty. It was of no doubt now that the machine in the dungeon was of a sexual nature.

Despite being rattled by all she had discovered, the Duchess bathed and slept easy the first night. Her bed was large and soft with an ornate headboard that stretched across the wall resembling the wingspan of a bat. It was colored a dark red juxtaposing with the soft cream color of the walls.

Every room in the house had something strange and dark about it, and needed remodeling for a more uplifting tone. Despite the steadfast skepticism of the Duchess, the house was beginning to unnerve her a bit. Betsy, a weak minded and superstitious woman was all ready greatly unnerved and walked through the halls and rooms of the house with a building tension and paranoia. Leonardo and Marlon both seemed to be unaffected by the unusual house though they took more of an amused take on the entire estate.

While outside winter kept the world still and silent, the Duchess was having a restless night. She tossed and turned in her sleep and awoke with her body hot, inflamed from a passionate dream. Her head was a little dizzy and her vision was blurred. All she could see was her bedroom door open and the dark figure of a man holding a lantern. She sprang up to a seated position and her senses came about her, though the shade with the lantern had vanished, and closed the door behind him.

Wrapping herself in a fine robe she hurried from bed listening to the footsteps echo down the hall. She lit a lantern of her own and followed the footsteps outside of her bedroom door and down the hall towards the east wing. The footsteps continued but seemed to be just out of vision of the lantern’s light until they ended abruptly when the Duchess found herself at the study door. Not only was it unlocked but it was also slightly ajar. She shut it, and left it like that deciding to lock it in the morning. She didn’t want to walk all the way back with the key on this cold night.

In the morning the Duchess locked the study door. To her knowledge there was no other key for that door, and it was still safely hidden in the vanity table when she returned to her room the previous night. How it came to be unlocked was a mystery, though she suspected Leonardo or Marlon might have lock-picks. Or perhaps there was a skeleton key she was unaware of. These old houses usually had one. But Leonardo and Marlon had been her ever faithful servants for years and would not keep that sort of thing from her. But what was even more troubling than that, one of them had crept in while she slept.

The Duchess had confronted both of them, but both denied having been in her room, or to have been in the study. She didn’t believe them of course, there no other men in the house besides those two. That is, unless someone had broken into the house. The likeliness of that was speculative at best. The house was isolated and winter made travel nearly impossible. Food was all ready stocked in the cellar as was the common procedure but there wasn’t anywhere to go for emergencies, and for that matter anywhere to come from.

Despite the overall certainty it was one of them, they both denied it over and over. Fed up with their lies the Duchess decided to let it go and perhaps try and catch them in the act another night. She played as if the whole incident had blown over and was completely forgotten and forgiven. She took her bath as normal and undressed for bed. She had slipped into a elegant white evening gown and crawled under her covers in the blanket of pitch darkness. Comfortable in a seated position with her back leaned against the headboard she waited patiently with a candle beside her and a match to light it when the time came.

It was difficult for her to fight back sleep as she was not known to being awake at such late hours. Her eyes began to grow heavy as the night slowly wore on. The night was quiet, and the cold air seemed oppressive despite her keeping well under the blankets and sheets. The Duchess felt her eyes grow heavier and soon it was a futile battle to keep them open.

As her eyes closed a sense of warmth overcame her. She moaned deeply as a warmth slowly crawled its way up her thighs. Realizing it felt like a man’s hands she quickly opened her eyes and quickly lit the candle to find herself alone in the bedroom. ‘Perhaps I just dozed off and had another passionate dream?’ she thought to herself stepping out of bed with the candle. When her feet touched the floor the room sank with a deathly chill, as if Father Winter had gently blown his icy breath on the back of her neck.

She shivered quickly finding a blanket to wrap herself in, and started towards her bedroom door. The blanket did little good. The further she walked away from her bed the colder it felt. By the time she had touched the door handle her breath was visible in the faint candle light. When she tried to turn the door knob, that is when she heard a bizarre scratching noise from the other side. Her ear pressed against the wood, she heard the sound of nails or claws slowly scratching away at the wood of the door. A sensation of falling overcame her stomach and the cold grasped her suddenly by the spine nearly paralyzing her movements.

There was a whispering just beyond the scratching, but it couldn’t be made out. Her eyes suddenly became wide as she felt a clammy, frozen hand wrap around the back of her neck grabbing at her from behind. She tried to turn her head to see who was behind her in the room but was paralyzed motionless. The blanket that wrapped around her, fell loose and dropped to the floor. Then, a small breeze pushed through the room blowing the candle out. Finding ability to move a bit, but still in the clutches of the cold, the frozen hand guided her back to her bed where they turned warm upon her laying down. The warmth soothed and massaged her body easing her to sleep.

Over the next few weeks the strange nights continued. The Duchess would often awake inflamed with passion and the feeling of being penetrated and ravaged by an unseen nightly visitor. Each time she tried to escape her bed the warm touches would turn frozen and painful. The days did not offer much comfort either. Marlon and Leonardo being two young and virile men cut off from the world were beginning to turn dark minded.

They began to torment Betsy who seemed to be on the edge of nervous breakdown herself. They were grabbing, groping and making lustful threats towards her. Each passing day they grew more and more bold until the Duchess had spied on them forcing Betsy to her knees to service them orally. The Duchess knew it wouldn’t be long before Marlon and Leonardo grew bold enough to turn to her for such activities.

Betsy, decided to take action for herself much to the surprise and relief of Duchess Elizabeth. Perhaps the raping of the cook was a task best left undone. For one night after dinner both Leonardo and Marlon were suddenly struck with a strange illness. Confined helpless to their beds in a feverish state their windows were mysteriously left open inviting the wintery chill and snow inside. Both of the men had frozen to death by morning. Unable to bury either of them due to the frozen ground outside they instead dragged them deep in the woods and left their bodies there as an offering to the wolves. Rid of the the burden they hurried back to the estate before the sun set and night came so that the two women would not become wolf offerings themselves.

The crescent moon hung low overhead and an endless gathering of stars in the night sky illuminated the estate grounds. The house perched high, just over the snow covered mountain range gave quite a breathtaking view from the grand tower. Elizabeth enjoyed the view of the cloudless landscape immensely. This was the only time that the Duchess had felt any kind of peace since arriving at the Vanderwall Estate.

In fact, if it was at all possible she would prefer to sit in that one spot for the rest of her life it was so alluring. However the temporary feeling of tranquility was quickly disturbed. She felt as if someone had stepped out on the ledge with her although no one else was around. A strong, cold wind rushed pass her nearly shoving her through the door and back into the house. An unusual timidness overcame her typically boastful attitude and she quickly retreated back into the tower.

The sense of complete isolation had drained her spirits away. It was mid-February and by the current weather, seemed as if winter would run long that year. The Duchess and Betsy were making do, but barely. The toll on Betsy was great, as she was pale and decorated with dark circles under her eyes now. She was weak and weary but went on with her chores though she seemed to be standing at Death’s door at times. It was obvious from the first day that Betsy was the most effected by the strange house.

The Duchess decided to move Betsy to a bedroom closer to hers so that they wouldn’t be too far apart. The closest room was a lavish guest room down the hall from her own master bedroom, but guests wouldn’t be coming anytime soon. Poor Betsy almost didn’t know what to do with herself in such a room as she spent her entire life in a servant’s quarters. Betsy managed just fine though, enjoying the softness of the bed. She had never felt such luxury before.

Snapped awake the Duchess sat to attention, this was the first night she had not awoken to some sort of presence in the room. It was odd to her, she didn’t know whether to be relieved or concerned. The night was silent and the air felt normal. What had alarmed her in her sleep if nothing was afoot? Was the simple fact that nothing was there enough to startle her sleep? She stood out of bed and stood on the floor of her bedroom. Nothing was there. No coldness, no hand to grab at her. She was alone in the room. The stillness of the moment however was dispelled by the sound of Betsy screaming. The Duchess quickly wrapped herself into a shawl and lit a lantern to hurry down the hall.

The hallway echoed with the sound of Betsy’s screams mixed with the sound of a headboard pounding into the wall. A feeling of dizziness overtook her suddenly, slowing her pace to a careful creep. The dizzy spell left her as she continued onward to Betsy’s door, the sounds becoming louder with each measured step. At the door of the guest room, the Duchess pressed her ear against the wood trying the hear what was going on before barging in. It was obvious that Betsy was being attacked by something in bed. She then reached for the door handle but fear swept through her body and the Duchess quickly cowered back.

The wind in her lungs suddenly disappeared and her breath became short as a cold sweat overcame her body. Her lower spine tingled and her skin began to crawl from the presence of something evil beyond the door with Betsy. Slowly the Duchess lowered herself to a knee and gazed through the keyhole to see just what was on the other side. She could see the edge of the bed, and it rocking back and forth but not what was going on.

Reaching up, the Duchess quietly opened the handle and cracked the door ajar just enough to catch a glimpse of the bed. No other sight seen by her eyes instilled more horror than what was before her. Her stomach sank and her heart raced as her eyes widened in a frightened disbelief. For there was Betsy, her clothes ripped from her, her legs spread and mounted on top of her an imp ravaging her.

It had the torso of a man, though the skin was red. It had the legs of a goat, though its fur was brown. It had two small wings protruding from it’s back and ram horns jetting from it’s forehead. It laughed maniacally at Betsy’s screams and pain while it’s claws scratched at her breasts and stomach. All the while it’s hips pounding into her with forced thrust after forced thrust. Betsy’s most horrible scream though, came with the creature’s orgasmic howl.

It pulled itself from her depths smoke rising off it’s phallus. Betsy’s genitalia was left scorched and burned from the imp’s demonic seed. Betsy laid there unmoving and barely breathing. The Duchess was paralyzed with fear, but when the imp turned it’s head to gaze upon the onlooker, the Duchess screamed and immediately fled the hall. In fact, she fled the house all together.

She had run out into the courtyard, trudging as fast as she could through the deep snow. A blizzard had descended and a flurry of snow impaired her vision. But what she saw next was no mistake. As she neared the gates the gargoyle statues that stood over began to move by their own will. The grotesque stone creatures suddenly came to life standing up on their hind legs and stretching their wingspan. They let out an awful roar that threatened the Duchess leaving her no choice but to retreat back into the house and find safe place to hide. For the Duchess, a night of Hell was about to begin.

Slamming the front door shut, she locked herself in. The stone gargoyles were pounding at the door from the other side warning her not to try another exit. The Duchess cowered in the foyer hearing the high pitched laughs of imps, scampering about the halls upstairs. She hurried into the kitchen, and locked herself in a food pantry. It was dark and uncomfortable, also quite the chore was remaining quiet but her soul and virtue were at risk. She watched through the small crack of the door where a small sliver of light pierced through. She watched as the imps entered the kitchen, sniffing at the air. They climbed over the counters and smashed the pots and pans about screeching out their terrible laughs. The Duchess held her breath.

The imps sniffed in the air then fell quiet. A strange scent filled the room that emanated from their pores. The scent filled the Duchess’s nostrils and was quickly inhaled deep into her lungs. It then carried into her blood, and began coursing through her veins. Her heartbeat began to quicken. Her skin began to warm. Her chest began to heave. She then felt herself moisten. Her breath was running out of her, she tried desperately to regain control but to no avail. Tears streaming down her eyes she went to her knees, legs spread and began fondling herself. She gave one last effort to control herself, but she was inflamed in passion, a bitch in heat.

The imps caught the scent of her womanly honey, and began to move slowly to the closet door. The Duchess tried to tear her hands away from herself but could not. When her fingers slipped into her own depths, she let out a moan. The imps hearing this opened the door, and leaped onto her. Their horrible claws ripped at her, tearing away at her clothes. Unable to move the Duchess laid back as their tongues and hands groped at her. An imp then leapt up onto her chest, shoving it’s disgusting phallus into her mouth. Her eyes widened with tears pouring down her face as the thick meat slammed deep into her throat over and over again.

Finally the Duchess was able to regain some control and managed to kick and shove off the imps on top of her. Seeing her chance she darted out of the closet and ran off out of the kitchen. Her clothes now tattered barely covering her precious and vulnerable body. She ran up the stairs, tripping over the last step. Laying on the ground she went into a coughing fit, unable to get that horrid taste out of her mouth. She could hear the hooves of the imps clapping against the floor. They were coming to get some more of her. Picking herself up the Duchess made her way to her bedroom and barricaded the door closed the furniture in the room. She then hid herself under the bed where she curled up and shivered in fear.

The sound of the imps soon faded away. A long silence swept over the estate. The sound of a crash filled the bedroom as the furniture blew away from the door. The Duchess closed her eyes wishing as hard as she could that this would all end. The bedroom door slowly swung open with a long groan and creak. The sound of footsteps entered the room. The Duchess peaked out from under the bed watching as two sets of boots walked to the side of the bed.

Two sets of pale hands then reached under, grabbing at the bed and flung it over onto its side exposing the Duchess. She looked up at her would be assailants and screamed in horror for there before her was the two frozen corpses of Marlon and Leonardo. Their cold, deathly hands grabbed her and dragged her out of the bedroom screaming. She screamed all she could as she was dragged down the stairs and hall to the study.

Dread filled her body as the Duchess knew where she was being taken. Down into the dungeon where the machine sat in wait. She struggled all she could but to no avail. Upon being dragged inside she saw Betsy on her elbows and knees, collared and chained and leashed to the wall. The imps crowded around her, each taken its turn to anal rape her. What remained of the Duchess’s clothes were stripped away before she was set onto the machine in an upright seated position. Shackled into the chair by her wrists and ankles all the Duchess could do was await whatever perversity was about to befall her. The corpses of Leonardo and Marlon backed away and stood with their backs against a wall, their dead eyes staring deeply at her body.

The Duchess’s breath was deep and quick. Her eyes darted about the room as she gave what struggle she could. She sensed that invisible force she felt so many times in her bedroom, and watched in horrified anticipation as the water wheel began to turn on its own giving power to the machine. The back of the chair jerked back in a slanted lean while the legs of the chair jerked upward and apart spreading her legs wide into the air. The Duchess began to panic, cold sweat covering her body.

A clicking noise was coming from just under the chair, coming up between her legs. She tried hard to force herself up to be able to see what that noise was coming from. Sweat poured down her face and tears from her eyes as she waited for whatever devilish instrument was about to come into view. What emerged was a wooden phallus, ten inches long which penetrated into her as soon as it was in position. The Duchess screamed out, fighting against her bonds. The machine started pumping the device inside her, pummeling her sensitive flesh, forcing itself deeper and deeper inside of her.

The Duchess’s body filled with both pain and pleasure as she writhed against the machine, howling out with her sweaty breasts heaving in the cold air. Her body being wracked and her virtue ripped away with each artificial thrust after artificial thrust. To both her horror and delight another wooden phallus equal in size came upward from where she couldn’t see and proceeded to shove itself into her back entry. She howled out again, both in pain and pleasure as the two apparatuses pounded her writhing body to orgasm after orgasm. Her honey mixed with blood began to pour down the machine and spill onto the floor where a symbol was carved below.

The Duchess was oblivious to her surroundings as the walls began to glow and the room’s temperature began to sizzle. The symbol below the machine glowed brightly and soon the sounds of gears grinding mingled with the Duchess’s moans, groans and screams. The Duchess’s eyes looked forward as the wall in front of her opened like a door. Between heavy pants of breath she watched this very door open, revealing beyond it Hell itself.

The machine released the shackles and the false phalluses quickly pulled away. The Duchess felt a snap of a collar around her neck and a long chain pulled her off the chair and into the door. Struggle as she might, the Duchess Elizabeth was pulled into the beyond. Hell greeted her, waiting to show her the dark pleasures of an eternity of pain and rape.