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It was almost Christmas and the house was a strange paradoxical mix of empty and full at the same time for Lucy. There wasn’t a single vacancy in the inn that she ran, but for the first time ever she was alone for the holidays. Her sister had wed over the summer. Their father had died a few years ago, and they’d lost their mother the year before that. It was her first holiday running the inn on her own. Carin, her sister, was content to pass the inn along to Lucy. Her husband was a banker in the city, and Carin was stepping into her dream life of high society.
But Lucy had always liked the inn. There were so many different people to meet.
That Christmas, every room was full. The rooms seemed popular with singe people traveling and not families so much, this year. It was an interesting atmosphere, and Lucy found herself considering party plans rather than caroling.
There was Sir Crawford in room two, who was taking a short vacation. “Shore leave,” he called it. A sailor – an explorer judging by the stories he had to tell. If he was to be believed, he’d lived an exciting life. Lucy could only imagine the places he’d gone and the things he’d seen.
And Mr. Brown in room four, the American, was just about as fascinating as Sir Crawford was. Mr. Brown had gone into the west and found gold in California. He had stories of fighting bears and crossing deserts and Lucy couldn’t deny that he was quite handsome on top of being fascinating. He had a beautiful smile, with just a hint of mischief in his eyes.
In room five there was Dr. Fredericks. He was evidently training to be a surgeon, recently gaining his medical degree from Oxford. In the new year he was going to be working for St. Bart’s, training under some of the top surgeons in the country. He was very young and naive, Lucy thought. He was probably three times smarter than she was but he couldn’t look her in the eye without blushing. One of those sorts.
Room one had just been filled that morning. A young lady with a rolling cart full of books and papers, quills and ink and a typewriter booked it. Ms. Sonia Waterbury. She was dressed very modestly, much more than Lucy was. Lucy was nineteen, and dressed the way many of the girls her age that she knew dressed – not like a whore, but not like a nun either. Lucy showed a touch of skin, while Ms. Waterbury – who was probably about the same age as Lucy, or perhaps a year or two older – had her shirt buttoned all the way up the collar, her sleeves covering half her hands and the hem to her skirt brushing the floor. Lucy could still tell that she had a lovely form, though. She envied the swell of her breast and the womanly curve of her hips.
And then there was the young man in room three.
He was probably the youngest of them all. Sir Crawford was probably the oldest, with touches of grey around his temples and wrinkles around his eyes. Mr. Brown was younger than he was, and Dr. Fredericks was younger than the both of them. Then there was Ms. Waterbury, who was about the same age as Lucy was. The young man in room three barely looked eighteen. He was in town looking for work, he said. Christoph Everett was his name, and he was beautiful. Lucy was not the only one who noticed, she couldn’t help but see. Ms. Waterbury noticed him while he was having tea in the dining room. And Lucy also noticed Mr. Brown taking notice of him.
That left room six. Lucy almost forgot about six, to be honest, because the man who was staying there was very quiet. He rarely came out. Mr. Price was a Moor, and he must have been rich. He was in some kind of commodities from his land, maybe gold or diamonds. Who knows? Lucy liked him – he was an easy customer to deal with. He didn’t cause any trouble, but Lucy had the feeling that if there was trouble he might be an asset. He seemed to like her, in his own quiet way. He at least smiled to her when he had business to attend to in the lobby.
It was several nights before Christmas that the first dream happened. It came out of nowhere, gripping her – mind, body, and soul. It was the sort of dream that you can’t stop thinking about the day after, even though you tell yourself to go back to your actual, real life. The kind of dream that you just want to go back to.
And to be honest, Lucy didn’t even know what she was so desperate to get back to, really. There wasn’t a name for it or a face. Just the feelings.
Lucy was a virgin, she didn’t know what sex was like but the things she felt in these dreams – her body was throbbing when she woke up. Consciousness came to her and she found herself in the middle of rubbing herself against her blankets, naked and wet, wanting something that she couldn’t put a name to. Some kind of release.
It was strange that she couldn’t remember any details, but Lucy barely noticed. It was also strange that she was naked, but she barely noticed that either. She was too preoccupied with the arousal that she felt, overwhelming her like she’d never topkapı escort felt it before. Her hands traced patterns against her stomach and up her chest, fingers smoothing across her breasts. Lucy’s fingertips raked over her nipples, a whimper caught in her throat as the ridge of her index finger caught against the pink, hard peak.
There was a throbbing at her core that made Lucy whimper. She’d never touched herself, always had been a good girl. It was wicked, that was what she’d learned. She shouldn’t give in to her base desires. She shouldn’t even be touching her breast, Lucy tried to tell herself. She was sinning.
In for a penny, in for a pound, she thought as her other hand – the one that wasn’t still cupping one of her breasts – slipped down between her legs. Lucy strained to remember what the dream had felt like. Sex, something in her, taking her. One finger traced from the mound of soft, strawberry blond hair down the center of her lips, sliding toward her entrance. It had felt so good in her dream. It ached, her body begging for that feeling again.
Lucy’s fingers trembled as she touched the middle one to the outside of that soft, pink hole. It glistened, wetness beading along the skin. By chance, her other finger brushed against something that poked out of the lips, further up toward her hair. She gasped at the feeling it gave her. She didn’t know what that was.
To the side, her alarm suddenly rang and Lucy almost jumped out of her skin. With a frustrated groan she turned it off.
She was so aroused that she was nearly shaking on her feet, but Lucy resigned herself to cleaning up and getting dressed, then going about her day’s work. She didn’t have time for this exploration, nor should she really be doing it.
All day long that feeling lingered with her, making her mind wander to wicked fantasy. Her failure to quench whatever thirst that dream had awoken within her was making her nervous, anxious, agitated. Lucy found herself staring at Mr. Brown more than she normally did, when he came down to have his coffee and read the newspapers. Her cheeks were pink and her chest heaving in the corset she was wearing, and Mr. Brown certainly noticed.
But she also found herself watching Dr. Fredericks when he arrived and asked for his messages. Lucy thought that he was pure as well and she found herself wanting to beg him to end both of their chastity. Or Sir Crawford, a man with such experience and such wisdom… surely he would know what she needed to find her release. Ms. Waterbury alone seemed to truly notice Lucy’s affliction. She stared, seeing the way that Lucy seemed to breathe harder and the fidgeting that she did, shifting from one leg to the other.
“Are you all right?” she asked, and Lucy nodded almost too quickly.
“I’m fine! I just need some rest, is all. I think I’ll be going to bed early tonight,” she said, and finished her duties quickly so that she could retire. Lucy had a few drinks before bed that night, wanting to find sleep quickly. Part of her hoped to finish that dream, for some kind of closure.
It was three days later, that the situation reached a peak. The dream Lucy had that night was enough to push her over the edge. No one knew quite what to do with her at first. When she didn’t wake, the first person to notice was Mr. Price. He went to the lobby for coffee but Lucy hadn’t put any out. He went looking for her in her room, and found her in her bed. He was quick to summon Dr. Fredericks, who performed a quick physical.
Lucy seemed to be unconscious, but her body was moving slightly. It was an odd kind of movement, and one that made Mr. Price and Dr. Fredericks both “uncomfortable”. What neither of them would say was that they were aroused by the way the girl writhed and moaned, bucking her hips. When Dr. Fredericks took her pulse and looked at her eyes though, he was surprised.
“What do you think?” Mr. Price asked him.
“I’m… I’m not entirely sure,” Dr. Fredericks said softly, looking down at his notes. His cheeks were a soft pink color.
“Do you have any guesses?” Mr. Price asked him and there was a long pause while Dr. Fredericks got his thoughts into order and they listened to Lucy gasp and whimper and to the soft squeak from her bed.
“Her pupils are dilated and her pulse is elevated, as well as her breathing. These are all signs of arousal. In fact, if I didn’t know any better, I’d say that she was engaged in some kind of sexual activity right now. This is not my area of expertise by any means,” Dr. Fredericks said, and sounded more sure about that than anything else he’d said since he walked into that room.
“I’ll ask Sir Crawford,” Mr. Price offered and Dr. Fredericks nodded his agreement. Sir Crawford had seen half the world. If any of the inhabitants of the building were going to know about an obscure ailment, Sir Crawford was probably it. Otherwise, they would have to reach out to ümraniye escort some other kind of doctor. Mr. Price left to get the older man and Dr. Fredericks moved back to Lucy’s bedside, watching her with a mixture of intellectual and sexual curiosity.
She was only in a nightgown, the white cotton shift that covered her from her collar bone to a few inches above her ankles. It had no sleeves, and the expanse of skin was thrilling to the young doctor. There was a rosy flush to her skin, aglow with arousal and sheen from a thin layer of sweat from the ordeal that her body was going through. He could see the way that her hips rolled a little, as though seeking friction. Her chest pressed against the cotton, the thin layer of clothing not enough to hide the fact that her nipples were hard, sticking up. Making his mouth water.
Dr. Fredericks let himself consider touching her, barely fantasizing for a moment before the other men returned. He felt guilty even though he hadn’t laid a hand on her and he turned to Sir Crawford.
“She’s showing signs of extreme arousal. I’m sure you can understand our hesitance in treating her… I’ve never seen anything like it. Have you come across anything like this in your travels?”
Sir Crawford stared at Lucy for a long moment, taking in the sound of her moaning, the desperate and whining edge that her voice had. And the rocking of her hips, and the way her body seemed to tremble every few moments.
“Did anyone notice her acting strange for the past few days?” Sir Crawford asked, and after a few moments Mr. Price spoke up.
“She’s seemed distracted,” he said.
“I noticed that as well,” Dr. Fredericks agreed.
Sir Crawford nodded and looked up to the other two men after a moment.
“I think I know what’s going on here. But you aren’t going to like it,” he said. “Do you believe in things otherworldly?”
Dr. Fredericks was the first to answer – not with words, but with a derisive snort. Of course he was a skeptic. Sir Crawford had never expected anything else. But Mr. Price nodded at Sir Crawford. “I study the beliefs of different people,” Sir Crawford continued. “You’d be surprised at which legends are ubiquitous. That means present everywhere,” he explained before anyone had to ask. “And it could just be that those stories spread further, but some people say that there are patterns across the world. Different stories that will always play out. Archetypes, if you will. Or different creatures that show up in myths everywhere.”
“You’re saying that something from a myth has happened to the innkeeper?” Dr. Fredericks asked and Sir Crawford sighed, shaking his head.
“Well, actually, yes,” Sir Crawford had to admit after a moment. “Many different cultures has a myth like that of the incubus.”
There was a long moment of silence. Dr. Fredericks and Mr. Price had both heard of the incubus, and were familiar with the story, and neither of them could think of a quick argument against it. Mr. Price was thinking of the myth local to the village where he grew up, and agreeing that it seemed like something like that. And Dr. Fredericks was thinking that it was probably the same malady that inspired those folklore. Some kind of an acute nymphomania and a sleep disorder. Perhaps it was hysteria. Some ignorant storyteller had seen a similar case and told a story about a demon that had possessed the young lady with sinful desires. Typical.
“She was probably having the dreams for days. We’ll have to help her – this will be intensive. Dr. Fredericks, I’m sure you’ve heard of the recent strides in treating hysteria?” Sir Crawford asked. “We’ll be employing a similar tactic. Manually,” he explained, and Dr. Frederick opened his mouth to reply but Lucy moaned louder, as though replying to what Sir Crawford was suggesting.
They both looked at her, wondering the same thing – could she hear them? Did she understand what they were saying?
“You mean stimulation,” Dr. Fredericks said after a long moment, staring at Sir Crawford for an explanation. If they were wrong, then they would be in a lot of trouble. You did not fondle an unconscious woman for no reason.
“I mean a good deal more than that, but it’s a good start,” Sir Crawford said. “Mr. Price, would you be so kind as to retrieve a few of my books and Mr. Brown?” he asked.
“Mr. Brown?” Mr. Price echoed.
“Yes, I think we’ll need him. And the two folklore volumes on my desk, please. Thank you,” he said, and turned to the doctor, once Mr. Price had gone.
“She needs the manual stimulation now,” Sir Crawford said, moving to Lucy’s side right away. He reached out, his hand set against her ankle, and she mewled softly. His hands were big, rough, pushing the night gown up her body slowly. Sir Crawford’s hand trailed up past her knee, and when it got to the inside of her thigh he started to feel the heat from her radiating out.
“She’s üsküdar escort incredibly aroused,” Sir Crawford told Dr. Fredericks.
The doctor noticed that Sir Crawford’s voice was lower, thicker, and Dr. Fredericks had no trouble figuring out why that was. The doctor was, personally, keenly and acutely aroused. His cock was so hard in his trousers that he feared he would break through his zipper. It was uncomfortable enough to make him need to adjust himself, trying to do so surreptitiously. “The heat from her is incredible.”
Lucy wore a little pair of thin cotton shorts underneath the night gown. Sir Crawford’s thumb traced a line up the center of the bottom of them, feeling how wet her slit was and forcing a moan to swell up in her throat. Her hips bucked, trying to find that touch again but Sir Crawford’s hand slid down.
“Please,” Lucy whispered, surprising the two of them. Sir Crawford gave her what she wanted right away when she asked for it, pressing his thumb more firmly against her, working it between the lips of her pussy until he felt her swollen clit pressing against the pad of his thumb. He let his hand stay still and Lucy started to move her hips, just enough to rub herself against his thumb.
“What is going on here?” came a voice from the doorway. Mr. Brown sounded scandalized, but Dr. Frederick stopped him from tearing Sir Crawford’s head off.
“Stop and listen. And look,” Dr. Fredericks said, turning to look down at Lucy. Her body was rocking harder now, one hand curled around Sir Crawford’s hand to hold it still and her hips bucking, motions desperate and determined. She was getting herself off on Sir Crawford.
“Something is afflicting her. Sir Crawford thinks that it’s an incubus,” Dr. Fredericks explained after a moment, trying his best to ignore his aching erection. All of them were hard, and all of them were ignoring theirs and everyone else’s hard ons. “I think that it’s probably something related to nymphomania or an atypical sleep disorder. A sickness or a disease,” he said.
Mr. Brown’s gaze went back to Lucy, watching as her body trembled and listened to her moans get louder and louder until she peaked and pulled back a touch, stretching out and laying down. It only lasted for a moment, before she was rolling her hips again, looking for that thumb to press against. Once it was wedged between the lips of her pussy again she started to move against it, moaning loudly. She came and then started over again. And again, and again.
Mr. Price found the passages about incubi and Sir Crawford tried his best to read. Eventually he had to move away though, and he asked Mr. Price to fill in for him, pressing his hand between Lucy’s legs so that she could rub against him. Dr. Fredericks had tried to keep track of how many climaxes the young woman had had but he lost count at thirty. His cock was still throbbing, aching for him to touch it, but he couldn’t. He wanted to get a turn touching her but he knew he shouldn’t offer or ask about it. He didn’t want to seem strange.
“The incubus comes in dreams to a host. Sometimes when an incubus finds a worthy target, he becomes obsessed. Certain women are favored by incubi. These are women with strong fantasies but who are largely chaste in their physical lives. Virgins especially,” Sir Crawford said as Lucy had another orgasm behind them.
“After the incubus takes over his target’s dreams, he can take their waking hours as well by trapping them in a continuous orgasm,” he read, and felt a tremble go through him. This sounded very familiar. Lucy writhed on the bed, whimpering and reaching for Mr. Price’s hand.
“Inside,” Lucy pleaded softly. Dr. Fredericks swore to himself, gripping tight to the table he was sitting at and gritting his teeth. Every time she spoke, he wanted her. And this plea in particular… she seemed to want it so much. He knew she must feel so soft and hot and wet.
“Only when sexual appetites are completely sated will the incubus release his victim from his grasp,” Sir Crawford concluded, and he glanced from Mr. Price to Dr. Fredericks, and then to Mr. Brown over by the door.
Mr. Price seemed to understand the conclusion he’d come to, and Mr. Brown as well. Dr. Fredericks alone took a few more moments, and his cheeks darkened to a dark rose as he asked, “whose appetites?”
“Exactly,” Mr. Price agreed, looking to Sir Crawford.
The older man sighed, and removed his glasses to wipe them off on the handkerchief he produced from his shirt pocket. “Everyone’s,” he said. “Ours and hers. And hers will be the tricky part,” he added. She still rubbed against Mr. Price. The dark-skinned man had just set one of his thick fingers just at the outside of her tight entrance, and already she was trying to press down onto it and force it into her.
“You’re saying that an incubus is attacking her? Is he among us?” Mr. Price asked, and Sir Crawford hesitated.
“He is probably staying in the house,” Sir Crawford agreed and the four of them seemed to look around all at once, suspicious looks being cast this way and that.
“We should see what the others in the house are doing. Who else is staying here?” Mr. Brown asked. “There’s the boy, Christoph,” he answered his own question before anyone else could speak up.
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