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« Last post by farmboy82001 on January 14, 2026, 12:28:02 PM »
Just want to start with a Warning in case it isn't obvious by the title but there will be death involved with this story.
The start goes on a bit, apologies about that, hope you stick it out.
Ghost tripping
There it was, the grand old Edward. Nestled into one of the ‘little’ streets that run East to West in the Hoddle grid. Dwarfed by two taller buildings either side, its grandeur these days was greatly reduced. In its heyday it was considered one of the finest hotels in the city, now it was popular for rural visitors when they came into town. I’d done my research, built in 1936, originally no higher than forty metres which was the restriction at the time, it had opened in 1937.
My primary interest in the hotel revolved around Arthur Williams who had been found dead in the penthouse in 1953. His purported ghost supposedly haunts the original penthouse floor. It was my intention to see this ghost and make contact.
You see, years ago when I was a kid, only 10 years old, we had moved into this grand old house in the country. It was over a hundred years old. Father, who owns and runs the successful construction company, Drake Construction, had dreams of renovating and restoring it to its former glory. Back then he was married to wife number two, Ingrid, who was not my mother but the closest I would have to one. We had moved in with a handful of staff including a gardener/chauffeur, a cook and a constant rotation of tradesmen.
Father would spend many weeks away at work and I found myself alone a lot of the time. I would spend hours roaming the house and its grounds. As I mentioned it was old and older houses come with their share of stories and history. Attics and cellars were of particular interest to the younger me and this place had both. I remember us all going up to the attic for the first time and finding stacks and stacks of newspapers and fashion catalogues spanning from the thirties to the sixties. Used for cheap insulation father had told me, they’d found the wall and ceiling crawl spaces crammed with them.
I don’t know why, but I was fascinated with the fashion catalogues and would spend hours looking through them. Men’s or women’s I didn’t care. I started copying the black and white photos from the catalogue, guessing what the colours might have been and adding that to my drawings. I have a tendency to get a little obsessed on things and this went on for weeks before father found my sketchbook. I watched him get angrier and angrier as he turned through page after page. Drawings of clothes, purses, shoes, belts and hats. Then he turned a page and paused, slowly beginning to smile, he flipped through pages of women in underwear and bathing suits. Smiling, he curled up the sketchbook and patted me on the head with it then handed it back. I was just thankful he stopped looking before reaching my men’s underwear and swimwear section.
“Now why don’t you go outside and play like a proper boy,” he’d said, “I bought you a bike for all this open space and I think you’ve ridden it once.”
Regardless the attic was cleared out quickly, declared a fire hazard which I guess it was.
I made my way underground instead and one day I had the most formative experience of my life. I’d been playing in the wine cellar on a hot summer’s day. Cooler than the rest of the house, I’d been setting up my Army men for a magnificent battle, Germans against the British. Much of the cellar still had a dirt floor and I had dug in trenches on opposing sides and was preparing the plastic men, ready to go over the top. The dim lights that lit the cellar buzzed and flickered, I paid little attention, it was an old house and they did that a lot. As I was crouched there in the dirt they grew dimmer still so that I could hardly see. It was then that I began to feel afraid. It grew colder, as though a draught was blowing through the cellar despite the fact it was well sealed from the outside. Light grew fainter still and I was nearly in complete darkness. I was up and fumbling my way, arms outstretched in front of me, towards the stairs when a pale light began approaching me from that direction. It was white and translucent and I stood paralysed in terror. Stepping back I tripped in one of my trenches and fell backwards. I continued to shuffle away on hands and feet until I made contact with the wall. It was as far as I could retreat. To my despair the apparition continued to approach. It was solidifying as it approached and despite my fear I looked. It was a young woman dressed in a maids outfit, black dress, white apron, she could not have been older than 18. She carried a small box and an implement I could not as yet identify. To my horror she was approaching exactly where I sat. I stood and screamed, light flashed of her implement which I took to be a weapon of some kind. I closed my eyes and stumbled forwards, praying as she moved closer still. It must have been only a second or so as my body passed through this spectre but it was life changing. For that short period when we crossed I could see what she must have seen. It was dim, she carried a small box and a garden trowel and was moving to that point at the wall where I had cowered. That was it, my body passed through the ghost and I was again stumbling forward and tripping once again over the same trench. I turned and the woman was kneeling. With her back to me I felt less fear, she wasn’t there to kill me. She was digging with the trowel, a small hole against the foundation. The box was placed in the hole and covered over. The ghost turned towards me again, her translucent features made it difficult to see her face but I knew she was upset and crying. As she moved towards me once again she began to fade, the lights flickered and returned and the chilly air vanished.
I’d come face to face with a ghost, even passed through one and survived. My fear was gone and my eyes went straight to the point where the box had been buried. I knelt down and dug with hands until I made contact with something wooden. I dug furiously now, removing the dirt and pulling the small wooden box free. I felt I had found some fantastic treasure. The box was not locked and I tore the lid off to inspect the booty. Imagine my disappointment when I discovered some locks of hair and what turned out to be a birth extract and a photo of a young woman with a baby that couldn’t be more than a few days old. I looked closely at the woman and was sure that it was the ghost I had just seen. I rushed out of the cellar to show Ingrid and Father what I had found and tell them what had happened. It was my first lesson in learning that some people will simply refuse to believe anything unexplained or supernatural, and not just that, get vehemently angry about it. It was a lesson I took too long to learn.
As we found out the contents of the box itself had been placed there by a young woman who’d been a maid at the house over 60 years ago whom the master of the house had gotten pregnant. Forced to give up the baby for adoption and about to be thrown out in disgrace by the lady of the house, she had buried the box and taken her own life. Ingrid, much more sympathetic than my father, had agreed with my pleading that we should try to track down the baby, named Isabella.
After that I spent endless amounts of time down in the cellar waiting to see her ghost again. At least I did until father had the door locked so I couldn’t go down there anymore. He couldn’t lock me from outside though and I spent hours roaming the grounds hoping to see her again, waiting from dusk till dawn and even sneaking out at night. Ingrid, aware of what I was doing suggested that perhaps when I found the box, the ghost’s purpose was completed and that she had been freed to rest.
I loved this idea and my obsession with ghosts only grew. I must have borrowed every book from the library that mentioned ghosts along with any media featuring supernatural themes.
When I went to school after Summer I proudly told everyone during show and tell what had happened. Having the box might have helped but Ingrid wouldn’t let me take it in. The whole class, teacher included laughed and at some point during that year the nickname ‘Spooky” stuck.
I didn’t learn my lesson then either and years later at high school confided to a secret crush about this experience. They promptly told others and this time an even worse nickname, “Ghost Whisperer” was assigned and promptly stuck like glue the second I objected. In my final year someone got hold of the year book before it went to the publishers and altered my student profile to include my nickname and added in a favourite quote ‘I see dead people’. Father laughed long and hard when he saw it. I didn’t.
It was several years later after finding the box that a lawyer and a private detective had a breakthrough. By this stage Ingrid and father’s marriage was nearing its end. He was spending less and less time at home and they were fighting constantly when he was. Isabella had been tracked down and was willing to meet with us. She was old to me at my then young age, 65 years old, widowed but with multiple kids and even some grandchildren. She had had a good life she told us. When we showed her her mother’s box and its contents she cried but was also glad. She thanked me for being brave after I told her how I had found it. I got an immense feeling of satisfaction and gratitude from the experience. Also, it annoyed my father greatly which I took much pleasure in. I showed her some pictures I’d drawn of her mother as I had seen her. Not crying though, but smiling and holding the box out, as though waiting for someone to take it. Isabella was impressed with my talents and asked if she could keep it. Might be worth something one day she had said, when you’re a famous artist… or ghost hunter. I swelled with pride and blushed, I gladly gifted it to her.
Ingrid moved out and father and I moved away but my obsession remained. This made my father especially angry. You’re just like your mother he’d yell, she was into all that astrology, crystal healing bullshit! ‘Ooh someone put a reiki on me, help’, for fucks sake! Have a good think about where she ended up.
By this stage he was onto wife number three, Vanessa, who wouldn’t have said boo to a mouse. Just agreed with everything father said. Oddly I was sympathetic to her.
As I approached the end of school father was putting intense pressure on me to come into the business and learn the trade. I had no interest in doing this.
Now when you’ve grown up rich, you can be pretty naïve about money and take it for granted. So when I told my father what I intended, and I confess to deliberately wanting to stir him up as well, he exploded in fury. His face went beet red and Vanessa was pleading with him to calm down. He swore right there and then that if any son of his did any such thing, he would cut me off, not just financially but out of the will and his home forever. I told him I’d leave and live with mum.
He roared with laughter, “she can’t even take care of herself let alone you. I pay for all her treatment and medicine. I could cut her off too if you were to do anything so stupid.”
I stormed out of the house and called Ingrid. I stayed with her for a few days whilst I cooled down. Ingrid didn’t discourage me, but said I could still go to Uni and continue to research at the same time. Become a bit more self-reliant before breaking away. You and your dad are not so different, she pointed out, stubborn, obsessive, it what makes your dad good at his job and will probably serve you well. It was something to mull on, which I did for about a week and I agreed. I returned home and proposed to my father that I would go to Uni and study architecture.
“You’ve come to your senses then,” he said. “Good. Architecture is not a course you can just walk into though, you’ll need good marks.”
My grades were good but agreed with father that the help of a tutor would be beneficial to ensure the highest score possible. I worked hard, and was successful. I left home to live at a residential college near Uni. I spent many spare hours chasing up stories and accounts. I became pretty handy at interviewing people, making them relaxed enough to open up.
From all my research I developed a bit of a theory, that my encounter and other similar ones described were results of what I called timeslips. Somehow the past was opening up, briefly visible, if you will to the present. It seemed to be associated with great trauma or injustice surrounding the event with death involved in some way. I think this is where the freezing air that seems to accompany these encounters comes from. Like there was a wormhole open to the past and the coldness of space was seeping through.
It was through these interviews that I became aware of the stories about the Edward hotel. One interviewee had seen the ghost in his room and fled in terror. I had done further research regarding the hotel and became aware of Arthur’s sordid history and his demise.
I run an online website about Australian ghosts and haunted sites, it only has about 30 subscribers, but I’m hoping those numbers will drastically increase after this. I even have plans for podcasts and maybe even vodcasts if all goes well. On the landing page I had borrowed a quote ‘no one believes it until it happens to them’ which I felt fit perfectly.
I had a special page dedicated to Arthur and the Edward hotel and on it I summarised all the information that I had learnt from numerous interviews with eyewitnesses, current hotel staff, old news articles and architectural floor plans.
• Arthur Williams was found dead in the main bedroom of the penthouse around midday on June 9, 1953 from a single gunshot wound to the head from a revolver. It looked like suicide with a revolver found on the floor in front of Arthur’s final resting place. No suicide note was found, but it was known that Arthur owed a lot of money to numerous shady figures of that time.
• Arthur had two mistresses. Some employees mentioned they had seen them in the hotel that morning although these couldn’t be verified by enough sources to be considered definitive
• Arthur’s mistresses were not seen again after his death. Arguably, with Arthur dead there was no reason for them to return to the hotel. Police failed to locate them and they are considered missing and persons of interest to this day.
• Arthur’s wife, Meredith was caring for her ailing mother and not present during the day. This was verified by multiple sources
• Arthur’s death was ruled unexplained by the coroner. Rumours persist of murder or a murder suicide. The case is still open to this day.
• Murray (Arthur’s brother) had been working at the hotel that day and had gone missing for several hours around the time of death. Reports that he’d been send moving rugs out of a car in the alley adjacent to the hotel, where the emergency exit is. There were also reports that the hotel elevator was not working for a period that day.
• The hotel was closed in late 1953 and a lengthy legal dispute followed regarding ownership of the hotel between Meredith Williams and Murray. Meredith was successful and in 1957 authorised the reconstruction of the penthouse into larger separate rooms and the extension of the hotel following easing of building height restrictions
• Sightings of the ghost, and reports of screaming and thumping noises have been reported pretty much since the hotels re-opening. Always on the tenth floor. These almost always occur in Winter within a 2 week period of the ninth of June. No reports in Spring or Summer.
• Room 101 is the room that corresponds most closely to the place of death and that is where eyewitness accounts and reports from staff regarding noises and cold draughts emanate from. Usually around midday.
Based on all these facts I had rung reception and successfully booked the room for a two week period with the ninth of June falling right in the middle. Ingrid helped me out here with a loan for the room booking. My father watches my finances closely and would certainly have arced up if he’d seen that.
The hours crawled yet the days passed quickly as it can when you’re greatly anticipating something. In that manner of waiting the day arrived and this brings me back to the beginning of the story.
I checked myself in and made my way up to what would be my ‘home’ for the next few weeks. It was the first time I had actually seen inside the room. I wanted to try and replicate the layout so I moved the bed closest to the spot where I thought the death had been. Stories told he’d been found seated on the edge of the bed and on his back. The force of the gun blast sending him backwards.
I setup a camera facing the same point on my bed. I turned on my laptop and went straight to my site and provided an update.
That first day was like going fishing. An initial sense of excitement and anticipation that something will happen the moment you cast your line but then it gradually fades into boredom. That’s how it was the following day, I slept poorly, waking up feeling unrefreshed despite sleeping late. I immediately went to the camera and played back the nights recording on its fastest speed. There was one moment where I thought the room dimmed just a little, but that might have been people passing the door and blocking the thin stream of light that came in under. It was a weird experience watching yourself sleep. I seldom moved which surprised me. I decided to post the footage of the possible room dimming on my site.
The hours passed intolerably slowly yet it seemed to reach nightfall quickly. My sleep got worse and worse and I found myself sleeping through the day as well and waking up with a pulsing headache right in my temple. I felt lethargic and looking at the video I wasn’t moving at all during my sleep, a kind of sleep paralysis, seemed to be taking over. I tried to compensate by exercising for 10 minutes every hour awake. In my comments I saw someone had replied to my post regarding sleep paralysis, querying if I had considered the fact that the ghost might want to harm me.
I mentioned my belief that ghosts were merely vessels to the past slipping through into the present and didn’t think they could harm me.
Another commenter posted that if my theory about timeslips was right, could I change the past when I was there. I answered I didn’t think I would have any control over the host, I would be merely seeing what they saw, but I certainly intended to find out.
Don’t erase your existence someone else joked.
I was approaching one week in the room and starting to go a bit batty with boredom and sleep deprivation so when something finally happened it caught me by surprise. I was watching something on my laptop so was a little slow to pick up the fact that the lights were fluctuating, but when my screen flickered and the video buffered I glanced up and noticed that things were dimmer than they should be. It rapidly turned cold and I could see fog on my breath. My heart rate was quickening in excitement, I glanced at the camera hoping it wouldn’t be affected. When I looked at the mirror I saw the door opening and glanced in that direction, only to realise there was no door there. I turned back and could see a dim outline of a man pacing the room in the mirror. The room grew darker still, the ghost became clearer. He appeared to be removing his coat and hat and hanging it on some unseen stand. I watched in frozen fear as he came and appeared to sit on the bed. It was like he was right there next to me. I’d obviously placed the bed perfectly. He was bending over and removing his shoes I think. I was terrified and excited, it was exactly what I had hoped. If I was going to prove my theory I had to be fearless. I prayed to God despite being atheist, stood and went and sat myself in the ghosts lap, making contact with the bed. It was like slipping on a pair of VR goggles. I saw the room as it must have been back then. I was sitting, or Arthur was, on the edge of a four poster bed. It had red curtains which were drawn and the frame looked to be mahogany, the posters of the bed twisted up in spirals to finials shaped like acorns at the top. The carpet was different as well, it looked thick and soft and was a rich red colour. The room was brightly lit and I didn’t feel cold anymore. It was toasty and warm from a fire that was burning brightly from a large fireplace metres away from the foot of the bed. A beige rug was placed between the hearth and the bed. Round windows looked out to the North, one each side of the fireplace.
I went to stand up to look around further and realised I could not. I was trapped in this host body, totally at its whim, although Arthur seemed completely oblivious to my presence. I could see, hear, smell and even feel what Arthur could. What I didn’t know was what he was thinking, although I could feel a sense of excitement. I could smell strong cologne and feel the heat coming off the fire. I recognised Mallee stumps being burned, father used to get them delivered specially when we lived in the country because they burned hot and lasted a long time. Arthur seemed to be expecting someone as he kept glancing at the door.
I had a vague awareness of my own body all the way in the future. I tried to move but it was like my whole body was numb. If you’ve ever slept with an arm in an awkward position and woken up with it completely lifeless, you’re aware it’s there but it hangs like a dead weight, that’s how my whole body felt.
There was a knock at the door. Arthur turned in that direction, it was like watching a movie, I had no control over what he was looking at but I was able to look around his complete field of view.
I heard and felt him speak.
“Come in,”
and wondered if I’d spoken the words aloud with him. The door opened and a beautiful woman entered. I knew straight away this was not his wife, as I had seen pictures of her. She had blonde hair, cut short in a pixie style, like Audrey Hepburn’s in the movie Sabrina. I admired her ensemble. She wore a red pencil skirt with white polka dots that came down to the middle of her calves along with a short bright red coat with pleats at the back that reached her waistline. It had three large buttons at the front and a wide collar. The colour matched her skirt as did the bold red lipstick she wore and the handbag she carried. I couldn’t be sure but I think it was a Charles Melbourne handbag, definitely Kangaroo leather and she placed it on the nightstand. She had faint rouge on her cheeks giving her the slightest red tinge and ruby studded earrings. White silk gloves covered her hands and she had white Ferragamo Vara Bow Pumps on. She did look amazing. Evidently Arthur agreed.
“More beautiful than I’ve ever seen you,” he commented, “turn around, slowly.”
She unbuttoned her coat, spreading it and revealing a white blouse with a short v neck which made a pearl necklace just visible. Small pearl coloured buttons ran the full length of the blouse, it was well sculpted to her body and tucked into her skirt. A red rope cord with knots at the end served as a belt and this was wrapped around her tightly cinched waist giving her body an hour glass shape.
She rotated slowly, hands on hips, looking like she’d stepped out of a woman’s fashion catalogue from the fifties. Arthur’s eyes lingered hungrily on her form.
“What do you think of my hair,” she said, cupping a hand behind her head. Arthur glanced up above the bust line, seeming to notice for the first time.
“You know I like longer hair, why’d you cut it?”
“It’s the fashion right now,” she said, still preening as though a crowd of photographers were taking pictures.
“I don’t like it,” Arthur said, “you should have checked with me before making a change like that.”
She pouted, eyes downcast, buttoning up her coat again.
“Come here darling so I can get a closer look at you.”
She approached, strong perfume assaulted the nose. Arthur reached out and stroked her face. She had blue eyes with plenty of mascara to curl her lashes and eyeliner that started thin from the inner corner and gradually thickened as they moved towards the outer corner of the eye. It was a cat-eye look.
“My wife is out all day,” Arthur said
She leaned her cheek into Arthurs hand and made direct eye contact and smiled demurely.
“Oh Art,” she signed.
“I have a big surprise for you,” Arthur said.
Her smile grew wide and her eyes sparkled with excitement.
“Are we going to lunch again at The Florentino?” she burst out.
“Oh no, this is even better” Arthur boasted. “Remember that flat in South Yarra I said I was going to buy for you.”
She literally squealed in excitement and hopped for joy.
“Oh I’ll be able to walk into the city to see you,” she cried.
“Hold your horses,” Arthur said, “there’s a catch.”
Her smile faltered.
“What’s the catch?”
“Now now darling Mary, patience. I have another surprise for you and it will be arriving shortly.”
Mary’s face lit up again in anticipation.
“But I need you to go wait in the guest bedroom and don’t leave there until I come and get you, okay.”
“Ooh, I can hardly wait,” she said, almost trembling.
“Go, go now,” Arthur ordered.
She made for the door, but turned back to smile at Arthur as she left, swaying her hips as she exited.
Arthur stood up, despite sensing my body still lying on the bed all the way forward in time, I stayed with him. He put the handbag into a drawer in the nightstand then glanced at an expensive watch, I recognised it as a Rolex Oyster Perpetual in yellow gold, a 6104, with a gold bracelet. My grandfather has one just like it, how I had coveted it when he used to show me.
He went to a tall oval mirror to check his appearance. He adjusted his jacket, tie, vest and pants, he seemed mighty pleased with himself.
“Arthur, you devil,” he said addressing himself, “no stopping things now.”
He smiled broadly at his reflection and winked.
Suffice to say the stories about Arthur seemed true, he was a platinum level prick and was planning something wicked. Of course I had the benefit of knowing some things he didn’t.
He paced the room in excitement, staring out the windows, I noted a café called Gibby’s Coffee Lounge across the street. He pulled a cigarette case out of his jacket, then appeared to reconsider and popped it back.
“Later,” he muttered.
He glanced at his watch again impatiently. There was a knock at the door, taking a seat at the edge of the bed he said.
“Enter.”
Another beautiful blonde entered. Arthur definitely had a type.
“You’re late,” he said. “You know I hate waiting.”
She was unperturbed, “I wanted to look my best,” she said. “You like?”
Arthur’s eyes scanned from top to bottom, she was wearing a bright floral dress. It billowed out at her narrow waistline. A thin white belt with a covered buckle went around her waist helping to cinch it. A pink cardigan covered her upper body, fitting snugly, buttoned all the way up to the crew neckline. An expensive looking brooch was attached to her cardi, it looked gold and had two ivory pieces shaped like eyes set in it with green stones centred in each, possibly jade. Emerald studded earrings adorned her ears.
She was wearing red Bally Mary-Janes with a flatter heel, only an inch or so thick. She carried a hot pink handbag with a gilded frame and clasp, I think it was a Mar-Shel, it matched her lipstick colour and the cardi. With the same familiarity as Mary she placed it on the nightstand. Her cheeks had the faintest pinkish rouge applied and her eyes sparkled emerald green.
She too had short hair, straighter than Mary’s, it resembled Mia Farrow’s hair in Rosemary’s baby. White cotton gloves covered her hands.
“Exquisite, even more so then usual.” Arthur stated.
“You cut your hair as well!” he complained. “I don’t care for boy’s haircuts”.
Her face fell and Arthur sighed, “twirl for me, let me see your glamour.”
She smiled and twirled multiple times, the dress billowing out.
“What did you mean when you said as well?” she asked.
Arthur ignored the question.
“Come here dearest Susan,” he demanded, patting the bed next to him.
She approached and sat and Arthur gazed at her, he stroked her face in the same manner he’d stroked Mary’s earlier, he looked right into her eyes. She’d used more natural tones with minimal liner, her lashes were longer in the middle of the upper lashes, gently curved creating a doll eye look.
“My wife is away all day,” he remarked.
She grew excited, “are we going shopping, are we going to Georges again.”
“Not quite, I have more exciting news. The flat I showed you in South Yarra,”
Susan’s eyes lit up with anticipation, “I bought it.”
She stood up dramatically, hands clasped together at her heart.
“Oh wonderful Artie I’ll be able to see you every day” she said, clapping her hands together.
“It’s not quite that simple,” he said, “sit, sit” patting the bed again.
“I have another surprise for you.”
“Ooh, I do love surprises, I just might faint from pleasure” she muttered breathlessly, fanning herself.
“It’s just in the other room. I want you to wait here. Cover your eyes”
She held up her hands to cover her eyes, Arthur inspecting from the front made an O with his thumb and forefinger and flicked close to her eyes, there was no reaction.
“Now, no peeking or you’ll ruin everything and I’ll be mad.”
Arthur proceeded to the door, he opened it and turned back to check she still had her eyes covered. A wide grin was on her face.
“One last thing, no talking or making any noises or you’ll ruin it. Don’t uncover your eyes until I say you can.”
It was cold outside of the bedroom. He stepped out into a large foyer, I could see the elevator and a large crystal waterfall chandelier that dangled above and reflected off a long black dining table, probably ebony, about 3 metres long, surrounded by mahogany chairs with red leather backs and seating with tack trim. To the left was a large open space that probably functioned as a drawing room area and could be cleared for dancing. An impressive empire chandelier hung over that area. At the other end of the room was what must have been the kitchen area, a long bar could also be seen adjacent to the kitchen. He moved to the elevator and took a key and inserted it into a lock and turned it so the key faced the ‘locked’ position. He then crossed the room, a large wooden cornice stretched around the whole area and there seemed to be carvings in the cornice telling a story. Briefly, in several carvings I spied a kingly figure, seated in his throne, a scepter in hand, next a baby laid before the king, next two women kneeling, gesturing to the baby, next a sword being handed to the king. A line from a book or show echoed in my head, ‘and the baby shall be cut in two.’ It was something biblical.
Sadly the carvings went out of view as Arthur moved into a lounge room space and focused on the furnishings. Chairs faced an unlit fireplace. To the right several doors to separate rooms were open, I spied a billiards table in one which smelt strongly of cigar smoke. In the other I glimpsed shelves of books lining the wall.
Arthur went left and opened a door into what was obviously designed as a guest room for women. The colours were bright and cheerful, arched windows faced south.
Mary sat seated on a stool facing a beautiful walnut vanity in art deco style with a large round mirror into which she was preening. She turned around as Arthur entered.
“Darling are you ready for your surprise?”
“Oh I can hardly wait,” she exclaimed. “Did I hear the elevator open?”
“Yes,” Arthur said, “that was your surprise arriving.”
“Ohh, it must be big,” she clasped hands together. “Oh, oh, is it a personal dressmaker again? Am I being fitted for a new dress?” she gushed with expectation.
“I’m not going to spoil the fun, you’ll find out soon enough,” Arthur said. “Now, cover your eyes,” she did, “yes just like that, be absolutely quiet, no talking.”
An excited squeal escaped her lips.
“What did I just say,” Arthur scolded.
No further sound escaped from her. He moved next to her and put his arm around her waist to guide her out the door. Arthur kept glancing at her as they walked across the foyer. I felt his anticipation and excitement, and despite knowing something bad was about to happen, I was fully immersed in his excitement.
They approached the master bedroom, he removed his arm from her waist and held her shoulder to indicate don’t move. He opened the door, peeking in to check, Susan remained seated on the bed with hands over eyes, a toothy smile cemented on her face. Arthur turned back and stood behind Mary and grabbed her shoulders, moving her forwards into the room. He paused, leaving her standing there facing the bed. She was breathing rapidly in expectation, a huge grin on her face.
Arthur quickly stepped over to Susan, “no peeking yet” he announced to the room. He placed his hands under her armpits and lifted her to standing and then moved behind her to guide her so she was facing Mary. Only two metres separated them. He then stepped back and walked around, glancing back and forth between the two women. They both wore smiles and were shaking a little, legs and feet fidgeting from the delicate tension of waiting. He couldn’t help himself and he walked over and placed his hand just right of Mary’s left breast to feel her heart hammering away. Her lips parted in a silent sigh then pursed expectantly. He removed his hand then stroked a thumb quickly over her lips which caressed it, then he wandered over to Susan, placing his hand in the same way, feeling the chest shaking from her excited heartbeats she raised her chin in expectation, lips parting and puckering and he pressed his thumb gently against them for a brief second and she kissed it.
Arthur stepped back and took a deep breath, “okay,” he said “uncover your eyes.”
“Surprise!” he yelled.
Their hands dropped as did their smiles as they laid eyes on the other. Faces quickly turned to confusion, then scowls and they both turned to Arthur, gloved hands held out pleadingly and at the same time exclaimed.
“What’s she doing here!!!”
Arthur laughed. “So you are both surprised then?”
In unison they spoke loudly and over the top of each other, their combined statements essentially boiling down to.
“You told me you weren’t going to see her anymore.”
“I lied,” was his response. “I couldn’t choose between you so I decided to have my cake and eat it too. The number of times I had one of you up here for an hour or so and then the other would arrive ten minutes after you left. I timed things to perfection, it took quite a lot of work,” he boasted proudly as though expecting applause.
Laughing, he reminisced more, “one time when the old ball and chain was away for the day Mary arrived and then afterwards was so tired and worn out she wouldn’t leave. You,” gesturing at Susan, “were about to arrive so I placed Mary in the guest room and whilst she slept entertained you right here in the bed we’d just been using.” He continued to chuckle as though it were a great joke.
“How could you?” they both exclaimed in harmony, “and with her as well,” pointing at the other.
“Oh don’t get upset. You’ve both been wonderful fun, but entertaining two mistresses and keeping you both beautiful is an expensive business. With the purchase of the flat I can’t afford to keep you both. So one of you is going to leave here today and never return.”
“Throw her out,” Mary exclaimed, stamping her foot, “her cheap perfume is giving me a headache and barely masks the smell of the gutter.” To emphasise her point, she pegged her nose with her fingers and screwed up her eyes in disgust.
Arthur chuckled.
“Me!” Susan turned red in anger. “It’s you who needs to leave. Who do you think you are fooling with that cheap haircut. Did you place a bowl on your head to cut it?”
“Good parry,” Arthur said.
“Cheap!” Mary yelled in outrage. “I’ll have you know it was cut by Jules-François. I can get an appointment based on my looks and reputation alone. I hear the only way you can get an appointment is through Arthur’s money and name. You have no class and no grace. There are some things money can’t buy.”
“Excellent thrust,” Arthur encouraged.
“Looks and reputation, that’s a real laugh. Hahaha.” Susan emphasised. “I know for certain that you are known as the five-bob prossie of Fitzroy.”
“A fine counter,” Arthur commented.
“Well, all people in decent society know of your reputation. I know that you worked in a brothel in Collingwood and were a dollar-a-day tart. You had no customers and were thrown out onto the streets because no one wanted you.”
Arthur laughed again, “bravo,” he said.
Susan spat out, “well, I told everyone at the salon about your reputation and you know what gossips they are. Every decent man and woman in this town knows about you. Next time you go there have a listen to the ladies and how they giggle and whisper behind hands when you walk in.”
“Ho, ho,” Arthur chortled, “well played.”
Mary clenched her hands into fists, banging them against her legs.
“They wouldn’t believe anything you said,” she countered, “and I didn’t have to tell anyone about your sordid history, it’s a known fact. What’s also known is that you’re as grey as a mouse and your dye job is fooling no one!”
“Yes, well said,” Arthur clapped his hands.
Now Susan was clutching at pearls and stamped her foot in fury.
“It’s not just the salon’s that know about you. I’ve told every dressmaker and jeweller across town. It’s no wonder you have to wear fake pearls, you’re fooling no one. No respectable jeweller would even allow you in their shop.”
“Bam!” Arthur said, punching with his right fist as though striking a blow.
“Oh they are real,” Mary replied heatedly, tapping one against her tooth. “I’ll make you eat one if you’re not careful. That ugly brooch looks like it belonged to your great grandmother.
“Bop!” Arthur counterpunched with his left.
Susan trembled in anger. “Artie bought me this brooch, custom made and it cost more money than your entire ensemble!”
“Wham!” Arthur kicked the air.
Mary was flexing her fists in anger. “Just because Art gave you a cheap brooch from a pawn shop and told you it was custom made doesn’t make it so,” she yelled.
“Sock!” Arthur did an uppercut to the air.
The two ladies had their arms crossed and were flushed crimson. The gap between them was gradually closing and they were around a metre apart now. Shoes tapped the carpet in pent up rage.
“Look at her dress,” Mary pointed, “she has to wear a petticoat with everything as she has boy’s hips. Not womanly ones like mine” she crowed, placing one hand on her waist and the other on her hip and striking a pose.
“It’s you who has no bust to speak of. That tissue filled bra is fooling nobody, you’re as flat as a tack.” Susan thrust her chest out to emphasise.
“Why, why you are nothing but a cheap and silly play thing that Art must have felt sorry for. It’s too bad you’re about to be on the streets again. Art has just bought me a flat!” Mary beamed.
“You really are thick aren’t you? Thick and low class. You belong back in Fitzroy. Artie clearly bought that flat for me and brought you here so that I can watch while he turfs you out.”
“You silly tramp!”
“Hussy!”
“Trollop!”
“Whore!”
“Slut!”
The two women were yelling over the top of the other now and right into each other’s face. I could see small speckles of spit flying back and forth as they gestured and threatened.
Finally they turned to face Arthur and demanded he throw the other out right now.
“Well,” Arthur said. He paced the room back and forth, “I did say I would only be able to afford to support one of you and I meant it. My wife is making things very difficult to maneuverer and if she catches me out I’d be in a lot of trouble. That old crone she calls her mother will die soon and I won’t be getting whole days to entertain you both. I did say one of you would be leaving forever and it’s true. However that’s not for me to decide. You two will have to settle between you who gets to stay and who has to leave. I know you have some history already and I missed your run-in at the ladies lounge. You can settle it peacefully or by,” he paused here holding in barely contained excitement, “other means. I promise I won’t interfere and I won’t enforce any rules. You can do whatever you like.”
He sat down on the edge of the bed again and watched to see what would happen.
Mary and Susan turned slowly back to the other, lifting their chins in defiance,
“I advise you to leave now,” Susan haughtily remarked, “while you are still able to walk.”
“It’s you who’ll be leaving. I’m going to put you in the elevator myself, completely naked and humiliated. This is your last chance to get out safely.” Mary proudly declared.
Mouths and noses twisted into vicious snarls, Susan grabbed at Mary’s pearl necklace while Mary reached for Susan’s brooch. Susan pulled and the necklace snapped easily, pearls fell and bounced, rolling in all directions. Mary tore at the brooch which ripped Susan’s cardigan leaving a ragged hole. She tossed it aside and they both made a grab for the others hair with their left. Gloved hands gripped the short locks and pulled back heads, chins thrust out as a result, their eyes glared at the other while mouths twisted in pain and anger. Right hands were raised and Mary struck first slapping the side of Susan’s left cheek. With scalp and hair clutched firmly in hand there was no turning the head away with the slap, Susan’s check absorbed the full blow. Susan’s own right was already in motion and the sharp slap was returned in the same manner. Neither released their hair grip and they continued to trade slaps until the left sides of faces were scarlet in colour. Neck and ears copped some whacks as well. Being trapped in Arthur’s body I couldn’t turn away or close my eyes, whatever Arthur could observe, was what I got to see. Normally I find fights upsetting but I was completely disassociated from my body and fully experiencing Arthur’s growing excitement and delight. He had removed his jacket and tie completely. Tossing them on the bed behind him he was now undoing his belt and loosening pants. Moving further back he propped pillows against the headboard and lay back to watch, hands behind his head. I didn’t have to hear his thoughts to know what he was going to be doing soon, but for now he watched.
The women’s slapping arms were clearly growing tired so they paused, only to grip hair with their right and begin slapping with their left in the same manner. The gloved hands muffled the sounds of the slaps and perhaps the sting but the right sides of their faces were soon glowing, just like the left. When it seemed neither could take anymore they stopped, gasping for breath and rubbing their enflamed chins and face.
“Good job ladies,” Arthur clapped, “don’t stop now, finish her off!” he cheered.
“Had enough?” Mary cried.
“You want me to quit cause you cannot take it anymore,” Susan bawled.
“Hah! Never!”
And with that both women reached out to the others face with pinching fingers, gripping cheeks between fingers and squeezing and pulling the puffy flesh in all manner of directions. They pinched their way all around the others face and ears, pulling at earrings then twisting and tugging these as shrieks escaped lipsticked mouths. The idea of putting up any kind of defense or resistance didn’t occur to either, they were fully intent on inflicting pain at this point. Rage, adrenalin and hatred overriding any normal sense of pain.
Arthur removed his right hand from behind his head and put it down his trousers.
Pinching fingers were getting closer to mouths now, mushing and squashing lips into pursed shapes, any attempt to pinch and tug at lower lips saw teeth snap and almost catch darting fingers. They paused, circling the other, Susan pointed at the large mirror and advised Mary to take a look at her face to see what damage she had done.
“I’m still more beautiful than you on your best day!” she spat.
Susan’s nose crinkled in anger and she grabbed at Mary’s coat and tore, buttons flew off. Mary countered and tore at Susan’s cardigan as more buttons busted free. Grabbing at sleeves they attempted to rip the seams apart but they were fine quality and held firm. Reaching for collars instead they attempted to pull these over the others head. They squirmed in the others grip and pushed the other back. Breaking apart they struggled to remove these as quickly as they could to get to the other before they could regroup. Susan got her cardi off and tossed it at Mary’s head just as she was shedding her own coat. The throw was accurate and it covered Mary’s head as Susan grunted in satisfaction. As Mary shook it off Susan stepped forward with a well-aimed kick right into the shin. Mary cried out in pain as the cardi fell to the floor, she hobbled backwards as Susan closed in for another kick. Mary still holding her own coat flicked it right at Susan’s eyes just as she was launching. A buttoned sleeve cut right across Susan’s left eye and made her gasp in shock.
“Hah!” Mary exclaimed.
Susan’s kick went wide and it was Mary’s turn to kick back. Her pencil skirt restricted wide movements and it was a short kick but it went right into Susan’s shin. Susan’s left eye was still watering as she blinked tears, half blind she lurched forward reaching for Mary. She pushed through another kick into her other shin and wrapped Mary up in a bear hug, trying to pin her arms against her side. She was partly successful and linked her arms behind Mary’s back and squeezed, her face straining with effort as she groaned. Mary groaned back in pain but was still able to move her lower arms and hands. She pinched at Susan’s soft tummy viciously and repeatedly. This brought their faces into close contact as they stared right into the others eyes.
“I’m going to squeeze the life out of you,” Susan grunted out.
“You’re not strong enough whore,” Mary sputtered.
She appeared to be right, both women were buxom and shapely and were neither athletic nor strong and it seemed likely Susan would tire well before any serious damage could be inflicted.
I expected this to be a battle of a thousand cuts rather than any kind of boxing or wrestling match.
Susan seemed to be becoming aware of this as Mary continued to pinch her love handles. Glancing down whilst maintaining the bearhug Susan raised her right leg and stomped approximately where Mary’s left foot would be. Her own billowy dress would have made seeing anyone’s feet impossible when looking down but her heel managed to connect with something and Mary yelped in pain. Susan released her hold and stepped back as Mary hopped in pain.
“How do you like that you cheap slut?”
“You sneaky underhanded tramp, you’ll be hopping out of here soon enough,” Mary exclaimed.
They moved together, arms up and fingers spread, they clasped hands, gloved fingers interlaced as their hands rose above their heads and they tussled back and forth, trying to push the other over, or pulling sharply back in an attempt to topple the other forwards. Dress and skirt rustled as material rubbed together.
“That’s it, fight and struggle,” Arthur interjected.
He’d removed his hand from his trousers now and had rolled onto his stomach and crept forward to the edge of the bed to watch. Placing his chin on his hands and with his cock pressed between stomach and bed he proceeded to wriggle his hips and hump the bed. His pleasure, and hence mine, was building.
Mary and Susan were lashing out with kicks again, aiming at legs. Cries of pain revealed when a shoe struck flesh and bone. Mary pulled Susan in close and stomped approximately where a foot would be. From Arthur and I’s viewpoint we could see their feet and Mary managed to stomp partially on Susan’s foot. A gasp escaped Susan.
“How do you like a taste of your own medicine,” Mary cried triumphantly.
Susan responded in kind though and this began a short period of tussling, as hands flailed, sometimes above heads, sometimes trying to push away whilst the other pulled them back. Feet stamped frequently but without the element of surprise they usually avoided being hit. They each landed a few more successful blows. Feet and toes must have been swollen and bruised but they didn’t stop, alternating back to kicks when opportunity presented itself. Drawing each other close together Susan raised her left leg to try again, Mary raised her right and curled it behind Susan’s left, pushing forward Susan stumbled and fell, toppling backwards taking Mary down on top of her. They landed with a crash, Arthur rose on his hands to observe the fall, but then settled his chin back down and continued to work his hips forward and back against the bed.
The fall didn’t break their interlocked hands. Mary scrambled to break free to take advantage of her position, desperately Susan held hands, squirming and wriggling she rolled successfully managing to topple Mary and turn the tables. Now she tried to break free to scramble on top. Using the same tactics Mary avoided this and in this manner the two women rolled back and forth slowly over the floor. Neither managed to hold top spot for more than a minute before being toppled and the rolling continued. That’s how they rolled their way back towards us. They knocked into the frame of the bed and found themselves on their sides, face to face, snarling and cursing. They were right beneath Arthur now, arms flailing. Up close I could see the damage previously inflicted to faces, which were swollen. Faces were red from inflammation and exertion. They were sweating profusely and breathing heavily, grunting and groaning. Mascara had run and rouge was smeared.
I’m not sure who struck the first blow, perhaps it was mutual, but at this close range they used whatever they could to inflict pain. With hands still struggling, knees had come in to play. Whilst they couldn’t take big arcs their short knee flicks were more than enough. Deep grunts of pain emerged as knees thwacked into soft areas around the thighs. Guttural groans indicated a knee to the crotch.
Arthur cruelly encouraged them, “knee her, knee her right in her most sensitive spots, no more pleasure for her ha-ha.” He had sat up on the bed again and unzipped himself and pulled his purple headed thing out which gleamed with pre-cum. He was tugging away, in line with his growing pleasure, mine grew too and despite my disembodiment I could feel my own orgasm approaching.
Susan and Mary couldn’t take any more of the kneeing, using their legs they had pushed the other away to create a distance between their hips. Their gloved hands remained joined so faces were close enough together to hear each other’s grunting and gasping and feel the others hot breath on their face. Things had slowed to a snails pace, every now and then they would kick into the belly of the other woman eliciting a gasp of pain from the victim and a smile from the antagonist until the return kick. Eventually it became too much and they broke apart and rolled onto backs moaning, curling into balls and cradling tummies and crotches. I wondered if the fight was over and pondered what might come next.
Arthur seemed to have other ideas and, putting his snake back in his trousers reminded them that he needed a definitive winner if he was to know who would get his love, money and flat.
Mary and Susan were in no great hurry though, they rolled further apart and sat on bottoms with their legs stretched out. They gently removed their shoes with soft groans, stockings hid the damage but they tenderly rubbed feet and toes with their fingers. Turning attention back to each other they verbally lashed out.
“You saggy cow,” Mary sneered.
“Flabby sow,” Susan shot back.
Clutching their shoes in hands they stood up snarling in anger, pulling their right arms back they each tossed a shoe at the other. Their aim was true and shoes struck chests and bounced to the floor. They circled a little in the room holding the other shoe up in preparation. They were a little more careful this time, Susan feinted and Mary flinched turning her head.
“Hah! Coward,” Susan cried.
Mary pulled her arm back and made a throwing motion but didn’t release and it was now Susan who ducked and covered.
“Now who’s the scaredy cat,” Mary spat.
I think they knew they couldn’t inflict much hurt with a shoe toss so they closed the distance between them holding their shoe aloft by the toe end, heels facing the enemy. When they were within striking distance they swung at the others heads hitting right in the ear. They both stumbled in the direction the hit took them, clutching their ear.
“Bitch,” they both swore.
Straightening up they more warily approached the other again. The last hit appeared to have taught them the need to defend themselves. So as they swung away they held up their left hand in an attempt to block. This was successful and in this manner they made their way around the room, advancing and retreating as they took swipes and blocked attacks. As frustration grew they adapted, swinging faster and aiming at different parts of the body to catch the other off guard. Mary landed a strike to Susan’s ribs, yielding a yelp of distress. Responding in kind Susan landed a hit to Mary’s left arm, right on the funny bone, extracting an ‘eek’ from Mary. Other blows hit hips, stomach, arms, shoulders and collarbone. They grew madder with each miss and clearly wanted to have at it again so closed in, gloves reaching for faces so they could hold the other steady and land some whacks to the face. The swings did not have enough power to cause a concussion but they must have hurt, their cries were testament to that. Holding chins with their left they struck with their right. Heads were pushed and shoved as they tried to force the other to a corner or against a wall where they could trap them but neither were strong enough to achieve it. They struggled back and forth in front of the fireplace and in the end it was a bit of luck which gave Mary an advantage. As she was pushing forward Susan partially slipped, but didn’t fall, on several spilled pearls. She stumbled back with Mary propelling her and pushing her up against the mantel. Pushing Susan's head back Mary swung at it, landing multiple blows. Susan still gripped at Mary’s jaw and swung back but was less effective, landing blows mostly to the back and shoulders. There was a mesh fire screen in place but it must have been hot up against it. Susan released Mary’s jaw and grabbed at the swinging arm to hold off the hits.
They struggled in the firelight, Arthur was quite excited by this and whipped it out again. He seemed to swing between allegiances quickly, yelling “finish her, finish her” to “fight back, turn the tables on her.”
Mary gloated, “I’m going to roast you like the soft marshmallow that you are.”
Susan was looking decidedly flushed and sweat dripped from her forehead, mascara was now running down her cheeks. In desperation she dropped her shoe and relinquished her hold on Mary’s arm. Mary emitted an exclamation of triumph and proceeded to strike at her enemy’s head at will with the shoe. Susan reached out with both hands and closed them around Mary’s neck and squeezed, a look of savagery and desperation on her face. Mary uttered a choked sound, dropping her shoe in surprise and instinctively reached for the strangling hands. Susan twirled fast and swung Mary around hard so her side slammed into the mantel and fire shield, continuing the momentum Susan maneuvered further to gain the advantage, pinning Mary against them.
“Make her pay,” Arthur cheered.
“Guess we’ll be enjoying roast pig for dinner,” Susan crowed as she shook Mary in fury and hatred and squeezed her thumbs into Mary’s windpipe
“Choke her back,” Arthur suggested, “it’s the only way.”
Retaliating Mary wrapped her own gloved hands around Susan’s neck. Susan had a decent head start though and it was just a matter of time before she won. Mary was now the one sweating profusely and looking flushed, her hands dropped away. Susan emitted a satisfied grunt and continued to choke. Mary’s hands dropped to Susan’s front and began pulling and hiking up Susan’s dress in desperation.
“What are you doing you dyke whore?” Susan exclaimed looking down. When the dress was bunched up high enough Mary reached between legs and grabbed. It was obvious as to what she was doing but it wasn’t visible to Arthur who put his wanking aside. Leaping up from the bed and ducking down he attempted to get an up skirt view of the action. Susan was shrieking, her choke hold forgotten as she slammed Mary’s hands away and retreated back, stumbling into a crouching Arthur who was behind her and almost falling. She continued to retreat back as Arthur moved aside, her dress rustled as she rubbed and smoothed it down. Meanwhile Mary was retreating in the other direction, rubbing her neck and raggedly sucking in breath.
“You dyke whore, you want to fight dirty fine.” Susan stripped off her elbow length gloves, revealing painted nails that matched her lipstick. “I need to feel your flesh under my nails you strumpet,” she demanded.
Mary peeled off her own gloves which also reached to her elbows, revealing her own matching nails and lippy. “I’m going to scratch your eyes out you harlot,” Mary rasped, still massaging at her neck.
“Come on then,” Susan gestured, making no moves herself.
Mary hung back in her area, making her own come get me gesture but making no advance.
“Come on coward.”
“Have a go ya chicken.”
They each needed more time and neither wanted to get near that fire again in a hurry.
After a few minutes of pointing and name calling they started to approach the other, treading carefully so as to not trip on the battlefield. Hands outstretched as they reached striking distance and grabbed at their counterpart and struggled. This led them in a dance around the room as they slammed into walls, a dresser, a dressing table and the posters of the bed. They were doing their best to scratch and claw at arms and hands. Shortly claw marks were clearly visible on wrists and the backs of hands. Arthur was making himself extra comfortable and while they danced proceeded to a book case, where he slid open a closed shelf to reveal a host of liquors and glasses. He made himself a scotch and dry, a loud shriek and bang diverted his attention where Susan had just slammed Mary’s back into the corner of the dresser. Items on top of the dresser shook and tipped over as they fought and tried to free arms and hands. Arthur turned back to his drink and then proceeded to remove his pants and shirt, leaving him in boxers and singlet. Folding them neatly he returned to the bed and placed them underneath in the narrow space, I noted his shoes were there as well. Sipping his drink he returned his attentions back to the women who were grabbling in front of the fireplace again. Mary pressed an advantage and propelled Susan backwards until she hit the bed and toppled backwards with Mary on top. Arthur pulled his legs up to avoid making contact and returned a hand under his boxers to start up again. The bed shook with their struggles, Mary had one of Susan’s arms pinned on the bed while Susan held onto Mary’s other arm by the wrist. Mary was using her weight to try and hold Susan down but it was a precarious position as Susan squirmed, kicked and struggled underneath. Mary made a claw with her hand and clutched and snapped trying to scratch at Susan’s face as she pressed down. Susan attempted to buck but Mary held on, lying flat over her, legs spread widely. They were belly to belly with Mary rearing up to make room for an attack at Susan’s face. The claw got closer and closer till it was only inches away, Susan’s eyes fixed firmly on the descending talon while Mary glared down with hatred, her tongue poking out the side of her mouth in determination. As those nails came within scratching distance of eyes Susan turned her head to the side and exposed her puffy cheek to the claw. Mary grunted in satisfaction as nails made fleeting contact with cheek, leaving faint white trails where they scratched. Susan forced the hand away and they struggled as the same process repeated itself. Mary pressing down, claw gradually approaching, nails grazing the cheek before being pushed away.
“Scratch her. Maim her,” Arthur encouraged, wanking with gusto.
Setting his drink aside on the nightstand he got off the bed to observe the battle side on, and then from behind. Skirt and dress swished and bunched up, revealing petticoats while stockinged legs hissed as they slid together. Moving to the other side now he watched as the claw descended again. He was clearly about to reach his own conclusion and pulled down his boxers exposing his prick fully. He desperately looked about the floor for something. Spying a silk glove he picked this up, pulling it over his cock he continued to pull himself faster and faster. The silky softness of the glove interior felt good as he wrapped it around his erection.
Mary’s hand was again snapping away, trying to draw blood. Susan was definitely getting the worst of it at the moment and I wondered whether this was the end for her. As nails raked at cheek again, this time instead of pushing away, Susan turned her head and with snapping teeth managed to hold Mary’s hand in place and bite into it, growling as teeth sank into flesh and Mary screamed.
“Bite her, payback time,” Arthur yelled.
Mary backtracked now, scrambling up and off as Susan held on like a dog following her up, not letting go.
Arthur reached his crescendo here and gasped as he ejaculated fiercely into glove. I felt his orgasm, and subsequently my own orgasm in response.
Mary slapped and scratched at Susan’s face with her free hand trying to break free, Susan held firm, both hands gripped tightly around the trapped wrist. In the end Mary hiked up her skirt, giving her legs more room and launched a vicious knee aimed right between the legs of her opponent. Susan howled, breaking off her bite and fell to the floor clutching her crotch. Mary fell back, staring in horror at the purple and bloody bite mark that marked her hand. She flexed the hand instinctively, and retreated back to the exposed liquor shelf as Susan lay on the floor moaning.
Arthur was squeezing down the length of his shaft, extracting the final drops and then cleaned his tip on the inside of the glove. Removing it, he put his softening cock back in his boxers. The soiled glove hung in his hand and he proceeded to the fireplace, pulling back the screen he tossed it in, there was brief sizzling and spitting then the glove burned bright.
Arthur turned back, Susan was lying on her back, knees tucked up to her chest, red furrows ran down her cheeks and neck but I couldn’t see blood. Glancing across at Mary she was pouring some liquor over her hand to clean the bite.
“That’s expensive stuff,” Arthur said. She ignored him and rubbed in the alcohol with a grimace. She then wiped her hand clean on the remains of Susan’s cardigan and inspected it again, it was purple around the bite and the teeth marks were puffy and white but it looked a little better, cleaner without the blood.
Arthur took this break to go to his jacket for his cigarette case to retrieve a smoke and a lighter. Moving over to the nightstand he removed an ashtray from a drawer and lit up. With his drink back in hand he proceeded to wait and watch.
Mary was making her way back to the fireplace where Susan was now up and waiting.
“How do you like your face now harlot? I’ve scarred you for life!” Mary boasted. “You could sell yourself for free and still not find a buyer.”
Susan touched her face, feeling the scratches.
“You couldn’t even break the skin and this will heal just fine. Your hand however will get infected, you will be out on the street, no one will help and you will die in the gutter.” Susan laughed lightly, “I’ll be praying for it.”
Mary was fuming and charged, she grabbed at the sweetheart neckline of Susan’s dress and tore through to the sleeves with ease. The dress peeled away to the waist revealing a white petticoat. Susan caught a little off guard by the swiftness of the attack countered and grabbed at Mary’s blouse and tore, buttons popped off. As Susan was doing this Mary reached out with fingers and began pinching at Susan’s underarms, squeezing tendons and muscles. Susan gasped in pain but continued to attack the blouse, determined to get it off, she worked at the seams where the sleeves joined the bodice. After a minute or so she had success and ripped the sleeves loose where they dropped, dangling on Mary’s extended arms, her hands and fingers were still vigorously clutching at Susan’s sweaty armpits. With the sleeves loosed, Susan gripped one armhole with both hands and pulled until the fabric tore through, the blouse now dangled off the other shoulder. Susan made short work of that and the blouse dropped away to dangle from Mary’s corded waistline revealing what appeared to be an ivory lace slip. Susan grabbed at Mary’s armpits now as well to dish out the same punishment. They proceeded like this for some time, fingers gradually working their way down towards breasts. They pinched at exposed flesh but clearly wanted more skin to grab so they tore at the straps of these undergarments, ripping them easily so they too now dangled from the waists. This left both women with only bra’s and girdles remaining on their top half. White in colour, the bras were large and cone shaped and immediately made me think of videos I’d watched of Madonna’s Blond Ambition World Tour. The women quickly moved on from armpits and now pinched at the milky white skin surrounding the bra. After working around the cups and leaving a red ring of flesh fingers worked their way underneath to pinch at sensitive breasts.
Light gasps of pain escaped mouths as fingers toiled unseen under bras. Eventually they found their way to straps and pulled at the elastic, stretching it and snapping it hard against the thin skin between ribs and underarm. Continuing in this manner the elastic became loose enough that both women just grabbed the front of the bra and jerked down exposing marble white bosoms.
“Wonderful” Arthur commented.
They paused as they looked at their rivals breasts. The torn remains of Mary’s sleeves fell from her arms and they reached behind their backs to unhook their bras.
Susan’s alabaster breasts were naturally large and heavy, sagging just a little without support. She had large rose coloured nipples perfectly centred and symmetrical. Mary’s in contrast were far smaller, porcelain white with small brown nipples just off centre. Patches of red covered both where fingers had already done damage.
Susan’s eyes filled with glee at the sight of Mary’s small breasts. Not taking her eyes off Mary she knelt down to pick up Mary’s bra, feeling the cups and laughing she pointed out to Arthur the thick padding within and her tiny mounds. Arthur chuckled. She then cupped her own heavy teats and bragged about their ideal size and form.
“Perfect breasts,” she concluded.
Mary countered, “Well at least by the time I’m forty my breasts will still be taut and perky. Your flabby tits will be sagging to your knees.” and to emphasise her point she thrust her chest out proudly. Arthur snickered.
Susan stepped right up to Mary so they were breast to breast.
“My breasts could completely consume yours I think?” Susan suggested.
She wrapped her arms around Mary, who did the same and they forced their breasts together, pulling the other into them. Susan’s breasts were indeed large enough to practically envelope Mary’s, they bulged as Mary’s teats pushed into the soft flesh forcing it to spread.
Arthur was growing excited by this and reached into his boxers again to renew his pleasuring.
Soft grunts came from both women as they pushed chests together, melding breasts, arms wrapped tightly around the other and hands gripped girdles, heads tilted back slightly and eyes closed as they gasped softly. These gasps increased in volume as they moved chests, side to side and up and down. They didn’t sound like gasps of pain to me. When they had pressed their breasts together nipples had been flat, when they separated after 5 minutes or so those nipples were rock hard and fully erect.
Glancing down and observing the others stiff teats they yelled over the top of the other
“Degenerate!”
“Deviant!”
Hands hovered, fingers at the ready, but both women seemed hesitant to touch the other woman’s nipples. Arthur was holding his breath and his cock as he waited to see what would happen.
It was Mary who made a decision, slapping first with her right hand, smack into the side of Susan’s ample bosom. Susan yelped in pain and slapped back, her hand almost covering Mary’s smaller breasts so flesh and nipple copped it. Hands flew fast in a frenzy of slapping, Mary’s hand made a meaty slapping sound whilst Susan’s produced a dull clap. Their pale breasts quickly turned pink as no part was left spared. As the colouring turned to a fiery red, Susan pinched both breasts cruelly just below Mary’s areola. Mary crying in pain quickly aped the move and they pinched a circle around opposing nipples.
Arthur was enjoying this immensely, stroking long and hard, I could feel us both approaching another climax.
Despite the punishment being meted out, both women’s nipples jutted out like bullets.
“Squeeze her nips,” Arthur suggested, “they are sensitive and delicate. It will hurt her”
This seemed to tip both women over the hesitancy and they both grabbed nipples between thumb and forefinger and squeezed. They stood like this for a minute or so, eyes clenched shut, biting lips to keep from crying out.
“Squeeze ‘em like your milking her,” Arthur demanded.
They proceeded to pinch and pull, stretching those teats and then pushing them in repeatedly. Groans of pain rose from both as they tested the limits of what they could endure. Now they proceeded to twist nipples back and forth as they pushed and pulled. Their fingers grew moist as nipples began weeping under the intense punishment being dished out.
Arthur was reaching a frenzy and scanned the floor for a glove, finding one he stood close to the two fighters as they faced each other in battle, he was staring intently on their fingers and breasts.
“Ready to give up,” Mary gasped out.
“Never, I can do this all day,” Susan squeaked.
Arthur reached his limit here and ejaculated into the glove for what seemed an eternity, my own distant orgasm joined with his.
Mary and Susan were almost shrieking in agony now and neither could take it any longer. They disengaged and shoved the other backwards, clutching their breasts as tears ran down puffy faces to drip onto sore tits.
Arthur jerked out the last drops in the cotton glove. It hung heavily in his hand as he tossed it into the fire, where it hissed for seconds as it smoldered and caught alight.
Both women were now lying on their backs cradling chests, Arthur just stepped around them on his way for another cigarette and drink refill. I thought the fight might be over and wondered what might happen next. I made some attempts to disengage, return to my body, without really knowing how. I tried some mindfulness techniques and concentrated on my body’s subsiding orgasm, trying to bring myself back to my own feelings and body fully, but to no avail, I was trapped.
Arthur stood holding his drink and cigarette waiting to see what would happen next.
They remained on their backs with no inclination to resume. Arthur chipped in,
“I haven’t seen a winner yet. My money and flat are still there for the taking, but it has to be a clear winner.”
I thought I saw a glimpse of annoyance on both women when Arthur spoke, I’m unsure if he noticed, or cared, as he took another drag.
Mary and Susan rolled over onto their knees and slowly stood up. Their breasts looked like they’d been scalded by a hot shower. The remains of blouse, dress, slip and petticoat dangled from waists, held there by belt and cord. It was these they now reached for with both hands, Susan made short work of the cord around Mary’s waist. The remains of her blouse tumbled to the carpet while her slip continued to dangle from the waist, her wider hips keeping it and skirt in place. Mary struggled and grunted as she tried to remove Susan’s belt, while she fumbled Susan took advantage. Using her nails she clawed all the way down Mary’s chest, between the breasts, leaving a nasty trail of furrows. Continuing on she gripped the skirt and pulled it down passed the widest point of Mary’s hips. Mary was screeching in pain and anger but finally succeeded in getting the belt loose and tore it free just as Susan was scratching at her breasts with murderous intent. Mary whipped the belt across Susan’s bosoms, resulting in a loud crack and a howl in pain and a quick retreat, the scratching forgotten. Mary went to pursue but almost tripped in her own skirt which had slid to her ankles. She stepped out of this and the remains of her satin slip clung to her sweaty hips, she shimmied out of this as well.
Despite losing the belt, Susan’s dress and petticoat still remained, dangling from her waist held there by the bottom half of her white petticoat which flared out with numerous layers and ruffles and plenty of starch. Sensing that these could be a hindrance she peeled them off.
A final layer of clothing remained on both women, their girdles and what would be considered ‘Grannie panties’ today. They went up above the waist line and disappeared under the girdle. Finally garter belts held up sheer stockings.
Scratch marks were now visible between Mary’s breasts and all across them. A puffy white streak, red at the edges appeared across Susan’s where the belt had lashed skin, I expected in minutes this would be flaming red. The belt still trailed in Mary’s hands. Arthur used this brief pause to return to the bed and make himself comfortable.
Facing another lashing would surely be the end of this fight I thought.
The two stared daggers at each other’s near naked form.
“Look at her boyish hips,” Mary remarked, “those hips could never bear children.”
She went onto boast, “not like mine, these are a real woman’s hips. I didn’t need a puffy petticoat to hide under.” To emphasise she placed hands on hips, striking a pose.
As Mary bragged it was with sudden speed that Susan charged before Mary had even managed to raise her arm. She grabbed for the belt and they grappled, scratching at hands as Susan tried desperately to take it for her own and Mary frantically held on, kicking to try and force Susan away who kicked back. Legs tangled and stockings swished against the other as they attempted to trip whilst jostling for control, pushing and pulling. A tug of war developed and they leaned back and pulled with all their might. Knees bent with bottoms almost touching the ground they both groaned and strained with effort as left legs stretched forward to hold their spot and balance while right legs went back to strain with huge effort to pull the other over. Mary managed a backwards step and Susan toppled forward a little before steadying and then managing to pull Mary forward a step. Every muscle in their legs and arms were tensed as they reached a stalemate, legs dug firmly in they pulled with their arms as first one was dragged forwards and then the other.
It was just a matter of time before one of them used the old let go trick to watch the other tumble backwards head over heels. Mary had managed to pull Susan forward and as it looked like she would lose her grip she let go and Mary fell back several steps before toppling over, legs going up in the air.
Susan was on her like a cat, diving on top, one hand grabbing the wrist of the hand which still clutched the belt. Susan’s other hand grabbed at Mary’s throat and snarling through clenched teeth.
“How do you like being strangled bitch?”
Mary squirmed and struggled on the bottom, still clutching the belt she choked out “how do you like being scratched you cow?” as she raked Susan’s back.
Arthur moved to view the fight from the position of their feet. Hips, stomach and crotches pressed together as legs were struggling and kicking as Susan tried to mount Mary to pin her down. Mary bucked her sideways and rolled, managing to reverse positions, swapping the scratching to reach for Susan’s neck. The other arms wrestled over the belt while they choked and squeezed.
Mary attempted to spread her legs to secure top spot but quickly found herself vulnerable to knees or thighs to the vulva. A successful strike forced a choked gasp from Mary and Susan was able to roll her off and they now faced each other on their sides. The belt they’d been wrestling over had been lost and forgotten as both hands went to necks and the mutual choke war was on whilst Arthur stood over them masturbating as their eyes began to bulge. Legs kicked and pushed and they managed to get a leg up to the others chest as they attempted to push and kick the other away. Holding fast though they now kicked at soft bellies, resulting gasps were barely audible with such little breath to spare. Despite feeling Arthurs pleasure and delight, I prayed for it to stop, but it went on. Legs were now kicking vulvas until their feet eventually settled there, pushing firmly and shaking with the strain. This appeared to have an effect on both and they began making small foot movements, up and down at first, almost massaging. This didn’t escape Arthur’s attention.
“Both of you were always a bit freaky,” Arthur laughed, “strangulation really got you excited,” he commented.
Chokeholds were a little looser and they were gasping a little. Feet were moving faster and big toes were being used to press and probe at sensitive areas which elicited some louder gasps.
Arthur was stroking faster too, standing over them and aiming his cock at the two women.
This didn’t go unnoticed and as Arthur grunted out a “fuck yes” and his hand became a blur the two women rolled apart at the right moment as semen spewed from his cock to land on the carpet where they’d been a second before.
“Water,” they both croaked, Susan stumbling for the liquor shelf and swigging from the soda bottle, coughing and spluttering. Mary headed in the direction of what I presume was an ensuite where I heard the sound of running water. Arthur grumbled but I was elated that they’d dodged him.
What a pig.
He evidently didn’t want to stain the carpet and wiped up his mess with some tissues that were then tossed into the fire. Susan gave him an unsavoury look. Arthur tried to curry favour and knelt down to whisper.
“You almost had her. I was willing you to win because I do want you too. You understand that don’t you?”
He reached out to touch her arm and she gave him a tired smile.
“I better see what Mary’s up to, make sure you haven’t killed her or anything,” he chuckled.
He proceeded to the ensuite where Mary was sitting on the toilet seat, approaching her he reached out to hold her face and proceeded to whisper the exact same thing he’d just said to Susan. Patting her arm gently he said.
“Are you ready to go back in and finish her off for good? I think with your womanly hips, if you could manage to sit on top of her you’d win.”
“Okay,” she whispered, standing up they exited. Susan was sitting on the bed and waiting. She rose as they emerged, fingers flexing, ready to fight again by the looks of it.
“Had enough?” Mary asked.
“It’s you who was hiding in there,” Susan retorted, pointing at the ensuite. “You degenerate you were playing with yourself in there.”
“You’re the deviant. I had to wash myself clean from where your filthy foot was attempting to…to… molest me!”
“Ha! That’s rich, me molest you. I’ll have to watch where you try to grab me again you debauched dyke.”
“You’re the depraved pervert! I always thought you were queer, I guess the gossip was true,” Mary responded.
“There’s lots of rumours about you. After I’m done with you I’ll be telling every respectable person I know that you are a degenerate and that’s why Arthur broke it off with you because he found out about your deviancy! Ha!” Susan rejoined.
“Respectable people! You don’t know any and they wouldn’t give you the time of day.
Yes, the Men in White will be around to lock you up for being a perverted queer when I’m finished with you!” Mary exclaimed.
“Let’s finish this then!” Susan beckoned.
They charged and legs, hips and breasts smacked together, hands formed talons as they reached for the others face attempting to dig claws in. Opposite hands resisted and nails snapped at cheeks, sometimes scratching and eliciting shrieks as hands pushed back. Legs were twisted together and working furiously trying to trip the other. Suspensors strained and stockings stretched.
“Cheap hussy,” Mary cried, grabbling at an emerald studded earring and pulling.
Susan bawled “two-a-penny tramp” while reaching for a ruby studded earring and yanking savagely.
They seemed intent on ripping earrings through the lobes and it was only a mutual stumble and fall that broke them apart. They fell on their sides and grabbed at hair, fiercely gripping as they rolled back and forth over shoes, jewellery and ruined clothing. Mary momentarily got on top, one hand in hair, the other on the floor trying to hold herself steady. She clutched at something she felt on the carpet, it was a pearl. Clutching at Susan’s jaw she worked to force the mouth open while Susan raked nails across her chest and attempted to bite at hands.
“I told you earlier I’d make you eat these,” Mary grunted dropping the pearl into a snapping mouth then covering her hand over it. Susan rolled hard, managing to get on top and push the smothering hand away. She spat the pearl into Mary’s eye.
“Ha! How do you like that?”
Mary raked at Susan’s chest as Susan managed to seat herself on Mary’s stomach and managed to get hold of one arm and pin it to the floor. Her other hand reached for Mary’s neck, forcing her down with her weight. Mary scratched and pinched as she gagged but Susan grunted through the attacks, holding firm. Attempting to secure her spot she shuffled forward onto the chest and attempted to trap Mary’s pinned arm under her leg so she could have her way at will. She maintained the choke hold with her other. Mary looked done for, a desperate hand reached at Susan’s face grabbing at her mouth. Susan snapped at the flailing hand trying to bite it.
It looked like the end of the fight had come. Arthur sensed this and was watching closely from the sides to see the victory, glancing between the expression of savagery on Susan’s face and the look of fear on Mary’s.
Mary wasn’t done yet though and her probing hand reached higher than gnashing teeth to the eyes and her thumbnail dug at Susan’s eye, attempting to gouge. Susan screamed, screwing her eyes shut tight, grabbing at the hand, all holds forgotten. Mary successfully rolled her off and now scrambled on top to sit on Susan’s chest. Susan was rubbing her eye and blinking, it was bloodshot and watery but okay. She sensed the danger she suddenly found herself in and got her arms up above her head as now Mary attempted to grab and pin them under her legs.
“I’m going to wring you like a chicken,” Mary hissed through gritted teeth as she closed a hand around her neck, keeping the other free to ward off any attacks at her face.
“Get off me you fat pig,” Susan choked.
Now it seemed only a matter of time before Susan was finished. She bucked like a prize bull but Mary wasn’t to be dislodged, sitting too far forwards for them to be effective. Showing off her flexibility Susan brought her knees up and bending her legs back tried to hook them under Mary’s arms and fling her off. She managed to get one foot under an armpit, Mary paused her attack and raised her body just enough and Susan’s leg slipped free. Mary worked to completely consolidate her top spot now and focused all efforts on this. Inching forward she was practically sitting on Susan’s tits, she grabbed one thrashing arm and pulled it down to trap it under the weight of her knee. Things were dire now, Mary leaned forward just keeping out of reach of snapping teeth, her breasts hovering just above Susan’s eye line. Her positioning made it difficult for Susan to claw at breasts with her free hand.
“Sleepy time,” Mary declared, closing both hands around Susan’s bruised neck and squeezing.
Mary dragged out the agony like a cat toying with a mouse, choking and then relaxing her grip every 30 seconds or so before squeezing again. Susan’s arm was slapping and scratching at Mary’s back and ribs but too little effect. Any time she reached for the face Mary would slap the hand away with one arm, maintaining the choke with the other. Desperately she flung out her arm to the carpet and probed for something. Arthur scanned the floor as well, spying his shoe poking out from under the bed he pulled it free and nudged it towards Susan’s probing arm. It was a flat black leather shoe with a thick heel, a John Lobb if I’m not mistaken. He pushed the toe end of the shoe just in reach. Susan clasped it, feeling it and recognising what it was took a firm grip. Summoning what might have been the last of her strength she swung true, the heel of the shoe whacking Mary right across the face. She was stunned for a second and completely confused as to what had happened, the shoe heel hit her again across the eye, she faltered and Susan pushed her off with a snarl. Mary was on her knees, Susan hunted, whacking her repeatedly over the head before Mary had sense to put her arms up for protection.
Susan was shouting in a hoarse voice,
“how do you like it, how do you like it?”
She circled around and struck her in the face, right on the nose. A trickle of blood followed as Mary appeared groggy and confused. She knelt down, folding herself into a ball, knees tucked up and arms protecting her head and neck. Susan taunted her to get up and fight, calling her a coward amongst other things. She continued to whack Mary with the shoe heel but appeared to be slowing down, a little fatigued. Mary lashed out with her foot a few times attempting to kick but Susan dodged these.
She gestured at her fallen enemy and turned to Arthur to declare
“I’ve won, it’s over, she’s finished. Let’s throw her out! Now!”
Arthur mused, “it’s not over until she surrenders, she’s unconscious or…” and he left that unsaid.
Hearing that Mary stirred from the floor, getting up to her knees to glare at Arthur and stare defiantly at Susan.
“Do you admit defeat?” Susan demanded raising the shoe above her head threateningly.
“Never!”
“Well then say goodnight,” Susan declared. Mary stood defiantly and as Susan swung, Mary lashed out with a punch at Susan’s face. I don’t know if her aim was deliberate or inaccurate but she struck Susan square in the throat. She gagged, dropping the shoe and falling to her knees and clutching at her throat, a panicked look on her face.
“That’s the spirit!” Arthur shouted.
Ragged gasping for air followed as tears fell. Mary attempted to move but, still somewhat groggy, fell onto her bottom.
Susan stumbled up still sputtering and retreated to a corner where she crouched warily watching Mary who made no attempt to follow. She crouched there while the shock and pain of that punch eased.
Minutes passed with neither making any move until Susan had recovered enough to approach. Scanning the floor she came across Mary’s corded belt. Picking this up she moved slowly approaching Mary from behind who was dog walking across the floor looking for a weapon of her own. Before she could find something Susan pounced getting the cord over Mary’s head and pulling back forcing Mary into a seated position and pulling the cord tight around her neck. Mary clutched at the rope as Susan shuffled forward to wrap her legs around Mary’s midsection and squeeze. Mary pulled at the cord and scratched at legs, ripping and pulling at stockings as suspensors snapped before she flailed arms behind her. Susan kept her head just out of reach.
Mary looked truly done for now, Arthur sensing this stood up, scanning the floor for something. He came across Susan’s brooch, removing the torn cloth attached he left the brooch unpinned. Moving closer to the combatants he knelt close by Mary but facing Susan. Susan’s eyes were wide with fury and she was biting her lip probably without being aware of it while Mary’s eyes bulged from the choking. Arthur watched, waiting until Mary’s hand was close by scratching at exposed thighs and he sneakily slipped the brooch into her hand whilst not taking his eyes off Susan who had eyes only for the task at hand. He stepped up and winked at Susan, moving behind her he whispered.
“You’re almost there, victory awaits.”
Susan grinned as she pulled that cord tighter and squeezed her legs. Mary was choking and sputtering but, holding the brooch she stabbed the pin right into Susan’s foot who let out a loud yelp of pain and surprise. The cord loosened as Mary removed the pin and stabbed again, resulting in a howl of agony. Kicking and trying to withdraw her legs it was now Mary who held on, not letting them go and jabbing again and again. The ends of Susan’s stockings ripped exposing her feet as she kicked and beat at Mary’s back, the strangling forgotten as she pulled back. She got one leg free but Mary trapped the other in her underarm, jabbing the pin right into the webbing between toes. Susan shrieked, kicking with her free leg into the back of Mary’s head who went forwards, foothold lost. Susan scampered back, still crying in pain, clutching at her foot and extracting the brooch with a painful moan. Attempting to stand she was unable, hopping on one foot briefly before sitting down. Mary had rotated around to keep Susan in eyesight and was rubbing at the back of her head and neck.
Susan still held the brooch, glaring at the bloody pin and then looking up to Mary who met her gaze defiantly.
“I’m going to stick this in your eye you bitch!”
“Just you try it then,” Mary croakily shot back.
On hands and knees they crawled to one another. Rising up on her knees Susan sprang forward, brooch pointing ahead while Mary lunged grabbing at her hands, they wrestled and struggled for control. The brooch slowly moving closer to Mary’s face and eyes which stared in terror before she forced hands back and then pushed towards Susan’s sweating face and wide eyes. Back and forth they went before Susan managed to topple Mary backwards. She struggled to get and stay on top as the brooch needle moved closer to Mary’s face, only inches away, before Mary managed to roll her over and scramble on top, now pressing down as Susan’s eyes fixed directly on the slowly descending pin. When it was mere centimetres away desperation gave her strength and they rolled over again. Back and forth across the floor it went, each briefly spending time on top before losing their spot, both unable to score the decisive blow.
I was distressed and tried to look away despite knowing I couldn’t. Arthur was engrossed and excited which fed through to me, I tried to focus on a neutral point in his field of vision but a grunt or gasp, or an errant foot or arm would cross our vision and pull my attention back to their death struggle.
Mercifully they reached a point of exhaustion and lay on their sides, hands still clutched together, but little effort was put into moving the brooch. They were sucking in deep breathes and covered in so much sweat that the room reeked of their exertions. Susan still had the brooch in her hands and so Mary seized one arm at the wrist and with both hands delivered a nasty Chinese burn. Susan yipped in pain, dropping the brooch. Mary fumbled for it, then Susan and it got knocked away in the struggle.
“I don’t need it to finish you,” Mary gasped, “I’m going to strangle you with my hands.”
“You can try,” Susan cried.
Hands once more found bruised necks and squeezed as they rolled across the floor once more, breasts pushing into breasts, hip to hip and legs entangled as more suspensors snapped and stockings bunched and worked their way down legs.
They were squeezing necks and pressing in thumbs like they expected the others head to pop off like a champagne cork.
“Gackk”
“Ackk”
Gagging noises arose from the two women as they rolled across the rug in front of the fire.
“Hackk”
“Rrrrk”
Mixed with desperate breaths.
“Hhhuuuh!”
“Haaaaahhh!”
Finally they bumped into the dresser, Susan on top scrambled to sit up on Mary’s hips who had managed to wrap her legs around Susan’s waist to prevent this. Hips now rubbed and pressed together. They held the others necks at an arm’s length exposing their erect nipples which pointed sharply out of sweaty bosoms which shook with their struggles. Hips were forced tightly together wriggling and shaking constantly, gags had become light gasps as hands still encircled necks but it was no longer violent destruction but gentler squeezing. Mary rolled but made little effort to stay on top and they rolled back across the floor finishing in front of the hearth with Mary on top. Arthur stood and crouched near their feet to take a look up legs where hip met hip. Mary was thrusting hers while Susan lifted hers up to maintain close contact, her legs had wrapped around Mary’s waist to keep her close.
I can’t know what was going through their minds but I likened it to a kind of Stockholm syndrome. Having fought tooth and nail with an enemy they’d come through to form a bond of sorts, perhaps hidden desires were now playing out.
Arthur was hard again and removed his boxers and singlet. Taking in the view of grinding hips I knew what he was planning to do. Approaching from behind he tugged at Mary’s panties, pulling them down around thighs. Mary turned her head in surprise and Susan looked over Mary’s shoulder at this uninvited intruder who was now grasping Mary’s hips and preparing himself to enter.
“What are you doing?” they both cried.
As his cock approached, Susan’s foot lashed out and kicked, her aim was sweet, slamming into his dangling testacles. Arthur howled in pain and protest, rolling on to his side.
“Don’t interrupt while I’m finishing her off,” Mary grunted.
“Yes, we’re close to a conclusion now, leave us be,” Susan gasped.
Arthur groaned, I felt his pain deeply whilst mentally cheering, he fully deserved it and more. He clutched as his softening erection as he leaned against the base of the bed frame. I could feel the pain spreading up through the stomach as it worsened.
“Whores,” he muttered but they didn’t notice, they only had eyes for each other. Hands still encircled necks but were barely squeezing, periodically they’d increase pressure which seemed to heighten the groaning. Mary’s underwear still clung around her thighs, removing her hands from Susan’s neck she fumbled to remove them while maintaining pelvic contact, eventually getting them to her knees she was able to get one leg free and they dangled from the other. Susan rolled her over so she lay on top, now Mary’s hands returned to her neck, Susan removed her hold and fumbled at her own undies, pausing and breaking hip contact causing Mary to hump air and grunt in complaint, Susan got them down to her knees before giving up and returning her attentions to Mary, sliding up Mary’s body until pelvises aligned they now ground them together in earnest. Now Mary’s legs wrapped tightly around Susan’s waist. Despite lingering pain Arthur took another look between their legs. They were truly bumping uglies at this point in a not quite frantic pace but gaining speed. Mary kicked out at Arthur, keeping him at bay from any further attempts at self-involvement. He had to observe from a safe distance as he started to stroke himself hard again, matching his pace to the thrust of hips. Gasps became grunts which became deep groans as they approached a climax.
Cries of ‘squeeze harder’, ‘softer’, ‘faster’, arose from the writhing women as they occasionally readjusted position to a more pleasurable spot. From our vantage point the fire cast light and shadows across legs and hips as vagina’s glistened and labia rubbed over each other. Clits must have been pressed firmly together.
“I’m going to make you orgasm,” Susan gasped.
“You first,” Mary panted back.
Susan was arching her back and grinding down, just one arm on Mary’s neck, the other was squeezing hard and then softly at erect nipples while one of Mary’s hands slid down to Susan’s arse, firmly holding hip in place while fingers caressed the crack.
Susan shifted slightly several times, trying to find that perfect position to finish. Both gasped loudly, clearly one had been found as Mary cried.
“That’s the sweet spot, right there!”
“Don’t move, hold it, stay where you are,” Susan groaned.
Thrusting grew faster and faster and moans grew louder. Arthur reached for something, anything, it was Mary’s ruined slip, and wrapped it around his cock. I have to admit it was a good choice and felt great. As Mary and Susan writhed in a mutual orgasm Arthur groaned himself with what felt like never-ending ejaculation.
Finally, all noises subsided and thrusting and stroking came to a finish. Mary and Susan lay spent in each other’s arms. Some competitiveness remained as they playfully argued about who made who orgasm first.
“I think a rematch might be in order,” Mary declared.
“I like the sound of that,” Susan agreed.
“New idea,” Mary said, “since I narrowly won,” Susan scoffed, “we can share the flat.”
“Oh that is a fine idea. Plenty of time to teach you a proper lesson and squeeze you into submission.” Susan replied.
Mary’s eyes lit up in challenge but she smiled broadly, as did Susan. They gave each other a light peck on the lips.
Arthur had been silent for once but now spoke up.
“If I’d known about your inclinations, we could have had a lot of fun earlier on.”
He stood, tossing the ruined slip into the fire and proceeded to get dressed. When finished he said.
“You two must be thirsty, let me get you both a drink.”
He started mixing some drinks and when done he turned to the women.
“An Old Fashioned for Mary and a Gin and Tonic for Susan,” he held the drinks out.
The two women separated, Arthur glanced at crotches, wispy patches of wet matted blonde pubic hair were briefly visible before legs crossed and ruined clothing items were grabbed to cover up. They both reached for their drink. Their faces wrinkled in distaste as they swallowed.
“It burns” Susan stated.
“Stings my throat,” Mary agreed.
“Well that’s because you’ve just been crushing each other’s throats. The liquor is bound to go down rough, but drink up, it will help ease the pain. Alcohol is a disinfectant you know so it’s sure to do your throat some good.”
“Good point,” Mary agreed, they both downed their drinks, sputtering and shuddering as it went down.
“That did not go down well,” Susan coughed, ‘I think it made the pain worse.”
“Well perhaps some glasses of water then?”
“Yes please,” they both croaked.
“Rest up, I’ll be right back,” he made for the door, he paused and took a look back, the two women were examining, and tending to battle scars. Susan rubbing gently at caked blood underneath Mary’s nose whilst Mary softly rubbed the long weal across Susan’s breasts. As he was exiting one of the ladies said
“Get some codeine as well.”
“Right,” he replied not turning back, checking his watch.
Arthur marched towards the kitchen, head down. He quickly poured two glasses of water but then opened the fridge and began digging around the back. He retrieved a vial containing some pale blue liquid. His hands were shaking as he mixed this into the drinks. He rinsed the vial and slipped it into a pocket. He made his way slowly back to the room. Upon entering Susan and Mary were giggling as they examined and compared wounds.
“Here drink this,” he said, passing the glasses to both.
‘Don’t drink it’ I was screaming in my head and was vaguely sure I was yelling it as well. To no avail they drank. I felt Arthur sigh in relief when they had finished.
“Tasted and smelt a bit almondy,” Susan remarked.
“I didn’t smell anything,” Mary commented.
Susan tittered, “well that might be cause I busted your nose.”
“You didn’t break it,” Mary remarked, wiggling her nose a little at her, which clearly hurt but she was half smiling.
Susan put her arms around her a little and they touched foreheads in a friendly manner.
I felt Arthur roll his eyes.
“Well how about I order some ice cream from the kitchen and have it brought up, and some hot toddies as well. What do you say?”
“That would be the duck’s guts,” and “that’ll go down a treat” they replied.
Arthur exited and made for the elevator, where there was a primitive looking telephone, although it had no rotary dial that I could see, just a single button. He lingered, lighting up a cigarette. He wandered around and I saw some additional carvings in the cornice as he smoked. A tall tower, one man crafting, two men with wings, one man lecturing the other, a man flying out the tower window, a beaming man in full flight, the sun, the flying man across the face of the sun. That was as far as I saw but I was familiar with that story and how it finished.
He completed his smoke, glancing at his watch again, about 5 minutes had passed. He moved to the telephone and picked up the receiver and pressed the button, after a few moments a male voice answered.
“Hello.”
“It’s me.”
“About bloody time, some guests on the ninth floor complained about noises. Is it all finished? You obviously didn’t blow yourself up or burn down the hotel.”
“I guess my luck hasn’t run out yet. Have the car ready to go in the alley near the delivery stairway. You’ll have to lock the elevators on each floor first, don’t want an unwanted guest getting in the elevator with you”
“I’ll bring up some old rugs to wrap them in. Where are we taking them?”
“Corner of Hoddle and Victoria. The foundation is being laid down tomorrow, for now its dirt. The site is closed today but we’ll have to wait until night before doing anything. We just have to get things cleaned up here and move everything down to the car and be ready to go.
No sign of the wife?”
“No.”
“Good, fifteen minutes then.”
He hung up, sighed and returned to the bedroom, slowly opening the door.
Susan and Mary lay very still, arms around each other, breathing shallowly.
“I feel terrible,” Susan croaked.
“Me too, I feel feverish and weak, like I can barely move,” Mary spoke in a whisper.
“That’s just fatigue catching up with you,” Arthur assured them. “Nothing to fear, close your eyes and in no time you’ll both be fast asleep.”
“I feel dizzy,” Mary whimpered.
“Me too, I feel sick” Susan moaned.
“Not on the fucking rug,” Arthur muttered, darting into the bathroom to retrieve some towels. Returning quickly he placed them under heads, rolling them both into fetal positions.
He pulled out another smoke, unable to look at the two women, he went out of the room and paced back and forth, staring at the floor and then at family portraits on the wall. He stared at what must have been his father who seemed to glare back with reproof, the eyes following wherever we went.
He couldn’t look at the portraits of who I assume were his mother and his beautiful looking wife. Brunette with long wavy hair, naturally dark skin, very different from his two mistresses. He stared at his own portrait, a younger looking Arthur stared back, a slightly sinister smile on his face. There was a further portrait of his brother, who looked similar to Arthur. I recognised him from old photos I had seen.
After another five minutes he went back in, the room now smelt of vomit, he approached slowly and laid hands on chests, feeling for breathing and searching for a pulse. Both were very weak. He sighed, rubbing a tear away. I'm unsure if he was upset for them or himself.
“I’m sorry it had to end this way,” he said “I have debts too numerous to mention to some dangerous people. My wife’s family fortune is all that’s keeping the hotel afloat. If she were to find real evidence of my infidelities it would be grounds for divorce. My hotel could be forfeited to my debtors and I can’t let that happen. So now you understand why I had to do this. I was hoping you two would finish each other off… but we can’t always get what we want.”
He fixed himself a drink and started combing the room, throwing smaller clothing items in the fire and gathering the rest, after about five minutes he returned to the elevator where he turned a key from locked to unlocked. In a minute or so it opened, his brother, Murray stepped out.
“Help me with these rugs,”
They moved them in spreading them across the floor. Murray spied a tear on Arthur’s cheek.
“Don’t go getting soft on me now!” Murray remarked.
“It’s not as simple as killing nips in the war,” Arthur shot back. “Let’s go in” he motioned to the bedroom.
When his brother stepped in he stood frozen for a second before moving closer.
“What the bloody hell did you do to them?”
“I didn’t do that, they did that to each other,” Arthur said defensively.
Murray moved closer and checked bodies.
“You could have at least dressed them for Christ sake,” he snapped.
Shaking his head, “lets get them wrapped up, clothes as well.”
As they moved around the room gathering items I noticed a light beginning to emanate from the bodies. At first I assumed it was coming from outside and I expected them to comment but apparently it was not visible to Arthur or Murray. The light grew brighter, rising from the bodies and pooling across the room like mist, each was a distinctive colour. As more of this seemed to fill the room it began to condense into balls of light. It was beautiful, the orbs were curious, circling around the room, hovering in front of Arthur and Murray. They began to circle each other, moving faster and faster the light blending together as one.
Arthur and Murray were finishing up. They moved the bodies and other items out to the foyer and then down the stairs. The orb following us all the way. Arthur peeked out into the alley to see if there was anyone. It looked safe and they crammed it all into the boot. The ball of light hovered over the car.
“We’ll do one last check of the room,” Murray suggested, “just to be sure.”
The light followed us back upstairs and into the bedroom. Arthur and Murray moved methodically around the room, Murray found the brooch in a corner, however neither spotted a pearl under the corner of the rug, or several buttons under the nightstand.
“Pays to be thorough,” Murray said, “check under the bed.”
Arthur got down on his knees to look, when he got back up Murray had a revolver pointing at his head.
“What the fuck do you think you’re doing?”
Motioning and pointing with the gun “sit down and shut up, on the bed, right there. You really fucked everything up!” Angry spit flew from his mouth and there were tears in his eyes. “You’ve practically bankrupt us with your gambling and whoring. If you’re dead I’ll still have a chance of retaining the hotel and perhaps not getting my knees busted by stand over men.”
Pointing the gun right at Arthur, “yes, you chose to end it all rather than face your problems.”
Murray moved closer, crouching down to a lower level to make it look more self-inflicted.
“No one will believe it, my wife won’t and you know how she gets when she’s on the war path!”
“Ha, your wife will be thankful I’m sure. Any love left there died years ago!”
So this is how it ends I thought, as Arthur pleaded and begged and Murray droned on. I was trying desperately to extricate myself. I had no idea how and suspected if I was in Arthur’s body at the time of death it would be the end of me as well. Arthur’s panic was feeding into me and it made it hard to think straight. The ball of light was circling Arthur and Murray as though waiting, knowing, something was about to happen. I had a sudden thought, if I could see it, perhaps it could sense me as well. With all my effort I concentrated on speaking from my disconnected body.
“Help,” I felt my mouth move.
The light slowed.
“Help me,” I pleaded again.
The light stopped, hovering in front of Arthur. It’s working I thought, they can hear me.
“I’m trapped. Get me out and I swear I’ll devote my life to getting you justice. I know where your bodies will be taken. If I have to dig you up myself I’ll do it.”
The light pulsed and spread and then proceeded to enter Arthur, I felt myself lifting from the body, looking down over Arthur and Murray, the last thing I saw and heard was Murray firing, a flash from the gun and an almighty bang. Then it was blackness.
I opened my eyes, staring at an ordinarily bland ceiling. I went to sit up but could not move. Gradually pins and needles enveloped my body as blood returned to my limbs. Bit by bit I moved, helping the blood flow. Finally I was able to sit up, my head and body ached like nothing I had ever felt. A sticky mess in my jocks had caused a dark patch to form on the front of my jeans. Judging by the daylight outside, hours had passed. So many thoughts and feelings rushed through my head, I had just been witness to three murders. Exhilaration, sadness, relief were all mixed in. I looked to the video camera and wondered if it had recorded it all, or shut off when the power had fluctuated. I would provide an update on my site, but not reveal everything, as there was more important things to be done. Firstly though I needed a long shower and food.
I don’t have time to tell you all the details, but an anonymous phone call to the police with details of items of clothing, jewellery, handbags and shoes worn by all on the last day they’d been seen. Things that only a person who’d been there that day would know. I told them about the pearl and buttons that they should have sitting in evidence if they’d done a thorough search, the locked elevator, how they’d been poisoned most likely with cyanide and the number plate on the car they’d used and the location they’d been moved to. It was enough to get a forensics team out to the site with Ground Penetrating Radar and Electrical Resistivity Tomography. It all took months but remains were found, proper burials took place. It attracted nationwide interest, a pre ‘me too’ moment in Melbourne. I went to Mary and Susan’s funerals to pay my respects. The Williams family name was sullied and the hotel saw a big uptick in notoriety and interest. It did nothing to harm bookings and I hear they do ghost tours there now, very disrespectful. I suspect the ghost won’t be seen again, at least not legitimately. I’m glad to say that Arthur’s wife had remarried, taking a different name, and the hotel remained in that family. Murray had died forty years ago, but I did feel bad for his descendants as children are not responsible for the actions of their elders.
My site was alive with comments and new subscribers, but alas, lest I incriminate myself, I had to leave some cryptic comments for them to salivate over. Suffice to say, I wasn’t done with ghost hunting and am researching constantly in my free time for the next adventure.
The End
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