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Old man Lang...you had grown up your whole life fearing the man.
He lived in one of the oldest houses in town. And only god knows how old he really was. You grew up being told by other kids that he was over a hundred years old.
As a kid when you walked home from school you’d pass the fence to his unkept yard and shuddered as if some ungodly being was watching you and about to eat you up.
It didn’t help watching the movie ‘monster house.’ And being gullible enough to believe Old Man Lang’s home was the same house.
And it was obvious the man himself hated Halloween. He had a metal sign he would picket on his lawn every October, “Trespassers will be shot, no trick or treating!!” in red ugly paint. Your friend spread the rumour it wasn’t red paint but the blood of children that stupidly couldn’t read or ignored the sign.
He had a sneer that could curdle milk... and his eyes...those cold steel eyes could make you freeze even in the hottest of summers.
And his voice was like hiss that turned into an angry bark.
He used to yell at you and your friends when you would draw butterflies in chalk on the sidewalk. He would call you “no good brats.” When he’d come back running with a house to destroy your beautiful public walking murals.
Your parents and other adults used to laugh at you and the other children’s fear. They said he was actually a kind sweet old man...why couldn’t they see what you saw?
He was evil on earth. He was mean and grouchy. He was a Grinch without redemption.
You had come back from college in time for the Halloween festivities and parties. You visited your parents your neighbours and even your old friends.
You sat with your old highschool friends around a campfire in the middle of the woods. A pre-halloween party. On the distant hill you could see the tips of the old man Lang house roof.
“He hasn’t been in town for a while...his lights don’t show up inside at night...where do you think he’s gone?” Sebastian murmured into his beer bottle.
Across from you Henry cackled, “You think he could’ve died? Old bastard had a heart attack and no one has found his body yet?”
“Nah he went on holiday,” you heard Zoe snicker with disbelief. She through her braids over her shoulder and pointed at the hill, “See, his car isn’t out front.”
You narrowed your eyes and squinted at the house...you smirked and wondered aloud, “I wonder what his house looks like inside?”
Everyone paused and stopped laughing to glance at you.
“Why?”
You chewed your lip and shrugged, “I bet he’s hiding something...like a million dollar stuffed mattress or a rare sculpture.”
“And what? Goodey two shoes Y/N is gonna break into old man Lang’s? Don’t make me laugh!” Sebastian mocked, “You know what, I fucking dare you to knock on his door or break in. See if you come out alive or not.”
Everyone laughed and teased...they didn’t believe you were capable of something so dangerous and stupid.
You glumly looked back at the fire. Something about the dare chewed at you. While everyone continued their own conversations you went over the pros and cons. You really wanted to know where he was. If he was out of town you could only imagine the shit he probably horded inside over the years.
You stood up and turned on your tail leaving the party.
You drove to the hardware store and collected some supplies.
A crowbar, some black gloves, a lighter, yards of rope, and a flashlight clip.
You went home and waited until early hours of the morning. All the trick or treaters had gone home and to bed. You drove out quietly to Old Man Lang’s house. You tried to not let your own thoughts scare you.
“What if he is dead? Do I call the police? How do I explain why I’m there...”
But Zoe made a point that his car wasn’t outside.
The Victorian era mansion was truly a beautiful structure. With the tall window panes and arched doorways that seem to be inviting you to step inside and the sweeping driveway that led up to a pair of grand double doors, you were being called to practically burgle.
The doors and upper part of the home was framed by tall brick columns, while a grand veranda stretched along the upper level, offering breathtaking views of the surrounding landscape.
You envied Old Man Lang and the sights he probably would’ve been able to see over the town. His house was probably the oldest in the entire suburban area.
You pulled up at the bottom of the hill and climbed over a back fence. You were covered in just black to stay hidden in the shades of night. You ran up the side of the house with your bag of tools. There was a outdoor lattice up to a top window. You tested the sturdiness and accepted it was strong enough for your body weight.
It took a lot of physical energy to climb the lattice and when you looked down you held back a scream. You were so high off the ground.
You clenched to the lattice and carefully pulled out the crow bar. Under the sundown sill opening you jerked the metal tool and lifted the window up. You kept it prompt open with the crowbar and crawled inside the opening. It was dark inside but as you came inside you found that you were entering a closet.
You turned on your flashlight and marvelled at what you saw.
Despite his ragged looks in his tattered plaid shirts he so often was caught in, he had a collection of fine shirts and blazers. You admired the sets of leather shoes and watches on a mirror stand. You opened someone the draws and gasped.
“Jackpot,” you whispered. Inside was a plethora of jewellery. Rings, necklaces, bracelets and watches. You collected them and emptied them into your bag of tools.
You left his closet and entered the space you could only assume was his bedroom. There was a massive pink, white and blue quilt over the bed. You left the room and came to intrude on a hallway balcony. You flashed your torch around the place and smirked... he really must’ve not been home.
You admired his home.
The old mansion exuded a sense of age and grandeur, with its faded rugs and tarnished sconces. The grand hall featured high ceilings and wide entrances, while the dining hall had large windows overlooking the overgrown garden. It was covered in hardwood floors and rich fabric rugs.
In its heyday, the old mansion would have been a bustling centre of activity, with countless maids and footmen running about keeping it pristine and ready for a party. These days, it sat silent and still, its age and beauty faded by decay. Dust filtered in the air making you sneeze more than once..
You decided you would need to make trips back to the car with all the potential loot you could knock off from right under him. Old bastard deserved it...besides who the hell would inherit the estate overall??
You found his kitchen and opened his fridge. Inside it was stacked with an adornment of alcohol and snack foods like pickles, cheese and sausage.
You smirked. You helped yourself to a bottle of rosé. As you pulled back and shut the fridge leaving you in the dark a bright light above you flicked on. Your eyes blinked and widened, you swivelled and gasped at old man standing at the entrance of the kitchen.
“Shit.”
His grisly old faced twisted, “What the fuck!?”
Old man Lang was still home...
“Oh my god...” you were speechless. Your mouth opened and closed nervously, you had no idea what to do.
“What the fuck are you doing in my house?!” he shouted, his nose scrunched, “Who are you!?”
You were frozen with fear. You dropped your bag and held your hands up in defeat.
“I...Listen I can just go,” you tried to circle around, hoping you could figure out how to squeeze past him blocking the only entrance into the kitchen, “just please forget I was here.”
His eyes fluttered with disbelief and he shook his head.
He scoffed and glanced at the bag you dropped, “No, were you...were you fucking robbing me? Oh you little bitch...”
You voice heightened the more nervous you got, “Please sir, I thought...I thought you weren’t home,” you gulped as he stepped closer. “I never would have tried to rob you if I knew you were home.”
He nodded and rested his hands on his hips as he scolded you, “I’d bloody hope not. That would make you a worse burglar.”
He snapped his fingers and pointed to the floor space in front of him, “Come here.”
“N-no,” you shakily said, “I’ll leave your stuff and just leave.”
You tried to scoot past him when his hand slapped hard onto the door frame in front of your face.
“That’s hard to say considering I’m blocking your way out,” he said with a strained smile, before snarling and reached around you dragging a bar stool from the island, “Sit down.”
Curling your lips inward you walked backwards and planted yourself softly onto the high stool...
He tongued his inner cheek and looked you up and down.
He was still so much taller than you. And for a man of his age you were impressed by the muscle in his biceps pouring from the black wife beater tank top he wore.
His hands slammed on either side of you on the island. He caged you in and bent his head down to your level.
“I’m going to give you a choice...either I can call the police, have you arrested and charged for burglary.”
You whimpered and shook your head.
“Or...” he drawled over your incessant sniffles, “you let me fuck you.”
Your eyes widened and your lips parted into a loud gasp,“wh-what?”
He mocked your gasp and continued with his baritone drawl. This man was old money of the south...“I can call the police or I can fuck your brains out...quickly now I’m an old man and haven’t a lot of time to waste.”
The thought of letting this man rut ontop of you was gut churning. He was handsome but knowing how far the age gap was, you knew he was a perverted fuck. You were young enough to be his granddaughter or maybe even great-granddaughter.
You called his bluff. He probably didnt even know how to use a phone.
You pushed him away gently and watched in amazement as he stepped aside.
You started walking away through the kitchen walkway, and then heard him call, “Tell your mama I said hello. It’s been some time since I’ve had her sugar cookies.”
Now that made you pause...you flew your head back at him. He was leaning against the counter top with his arms crossed. Your eyes narrowed...he knew about her most notable recipe...
You thought he didn’t know who you were!?...that’s why he got so close, to see you better. He wasn’t wearing his glasses.
“Oh I know you’re that Y/L/N girl...it’s been some time since I’ve seen your brat self. College girl last I heard.”
You licked your bottom lip nervously, “Yes sir.”
“And what did the princess go to learn?”
You narrowed your eyes. It was uncomfortable being called princess.
“A-art major.”
“Art major?” he chuckled, “What the fuck would the youth of today know about true art huh?” he grunted, “too busy looking at your phones and drinking your coffee to see real art.”
You felt a twinge of anger and annoyance at his foul remark. It was such a boomer thing to say. You knew art very well. His own arrogance blinded your accomplishments. You would’ve told him off if you weren’t in such hot water being caught trying to rob him. T
He sighed, “No wonder you left my paintings alone...what did you try to knick?” He licked the bag you tried to abandon towards you.
You didn’t want to show him...you should’ve grabbed the bag and ran for the hills. You carefully crouched and unzipped it. You held the flap open and showed him.
“Ah...old family jewellery...well you might’ve made a dime on them...”
He was telling the truth. The rings were old by the fact they were thick and discoloured and had old rubies gleaming in the sockets. The necklaces were lockets.
You re-zipped the bag.
“So...What’s it gonna be brat?” he asked tilting his head at you, “You can let me fuck you... or I tell your parents and the police where you were and what you were doing on Halloween night?”
You stood up slowly and gulped hard.
“I..I don’t know...I don’t wanna be arrested sir...but...can you,” you started to choke up, “-wear a condom please?”
He chuckled and scratched his silvery beard. His gleaming eyes reminded you of a sharks black gaze.
“Sure...”
᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥᪥
Oh dear...who would’ve expected this?
How long had it even been?
You were tethered in ropes. A blind fold covered your face and a red rubber ballgag tightly filled your mouth. Naked, your clothes hung off your body in tatters. You were tied up in a frogtie position. Your arms behind your back and your knees pulled apart. You were laid out on his chaise lounge
His hands you felt pinched your nipples and tugged hard.
You whimpered and couldn’t pull away. He cackled and slapped his bare hand hard down onto your exposed pussy. You squealed.
“Youre a pretty little slut. Huh?” he mocked before slapping your thighs hard until the skin he struck turned hot.
A sound of a popping click filled your ears and the scent of a marker filled your nose.
He glided the cold pen across your belly. God only knows what he was writing.
He was yet to fuck you. When you decided to give into him he kept making the requests and threats...so he managed to tie you up, and immobilise you.
He drew more squiggles across your breasts and then felt the stab of the marker cross your forehead.
His cold hands tossed the pen away and your heard it clatter.
When he left you alone you heard him walk out of the room...after a while his foosteps came back.
Then you heard a loud click and the screaming pull of a Polaroid... the noise repeated and you broke down into real violent sobs.
He was taking Polaroid photos of your exposed flesh and what ever he had written on it.
“These are absolutely coming out perfect!” he cheered...”oh that one is going into the wallet,” he said proudly.
You despaired at whatever image he had taken that he promise to tuck in a personal accessory.
He pressed his lips to your cheek and moaned.
“Bet you regret trying to rob me you little bitch.”
You wailed behind the gag and nodded your head. You felt his fingers called down along your stomached and his thumb strayed down to torturously rub your clit. You tried to hold back the moan but the gag only made it more obvious.
He pulled the blindfold down to your neck. He slapped your cheek lightly. The soft burn was brunt with the rings he wore on his wrinkled fingers.
He pinched your chin and pressed his lips to the corner of your mouth and gag.
“I want you to watch,” he said as he slapped your thighs hard again before rubbing and massaging the fire induced flesh. The pain was agony mixing with the pressure his thumb made on your clit.
You cried, and moaned pitifully, “pweeth!” You shook your head and begged with your eyes.
He laughed and slapped you again, “Please what?” he cackled and rubbed hard, “Please make me cum?”
You curled your toes and sniffled loudly while you wept.
He kissed your chin, “Please fuck me?”
You nodded vigorously. The quicker he fucked you, the quicker he would let you go and not call the police. You were frightened and the more he rubbed and slapped, the warmer your insides felt and your pussy buzzed...
He bent his head down to your chest and licked at your solid nipples. You sighed deliriously as his warm mouth covered you and his silver whiskers tickled your skin.
His thumb you were amazed wasn’t cramped up. You tried rocking your hips but the frogtie made it nearly impossible.
You heard his belt unclinking and his zipper screaming open. The Viagra he took ten minutes ago was finally in full affect. You saw how the blood had made his tip swollen and near purple.
He was fondling his balls and rubbing his tip over your tied up thighs... he didn’t put a condom on...
Your eyes widened and you shook your head, begging him behind the gag as he aligned his pale naked cock to your ready and very fertile cunt...
He was truly evil Old Man Lang, how could you expect any different?
He entered to find you wet and ready, gliding him into you and sucking him, milking him with your needy pussy.
You tossed your head back onto the couch and yelled. You only agreed to this if he wore a fucking condom. He slammed in with a nasty grunt and stuttered his hips before rocking you both into the chaise cushions.
He was thicker than your eyes assumed. He was filling every empty wall of you wet cave. He tweaked your nipples and pushed your head forward. You stared at the black marker and a long grey furred snake buried down deep inside of you.
You felt warm and hot inside.
The sounds of your squelching was morbid. You felt so embarrassed. He kissed your head and continued a hard but slow pace.
Glancing up you watched his elderly face contort as he fell into utter pleasure inside of you.
Your toes curled and uncurled.
His hands played with your clit and nipples. He licked your neck and nipples your ear.
“You hear that my dirty little girl?...you hear how my old cock is fucking deep into your teen pussy? No boy could do this...no boy...but a man...” he shuddered.
You couldn’t correct him with the gag was in. You weren’t exactly a teenager anymore...you were twenty one...Drinking age.
“Oh Jesus Roosevelt Christ!” he cried and shook in delight. He buried himself deep enough to hit your cervix. The pounding sent you and him over the edge. You squeezed your walls tight and let go with a weepy moan while he groaned and hissed ontop of you.
That viagra didn’t exactly last long you smartily thought.
You shut your eyes, your body trembled through the small stabs of the aftermath orgasm. He pulled out and moaned loudly.
He crouched to the ground and grabbed his camera again.
This time you watched him aim the lens at you. He was directing the focus onto your pussy and he scolded you when you tried moving away. He smacked your thigh and held you open. His fingers trailed down and spread your labia.
You squinted...why wasn’t he taking the photo?
But you quickly realised as your muscles contracted what he was waiting for....
You felt the slick wet gloop leak out from your raw slit. His pearly white cum...
The camera flashed and the dragging him of it spitting out the photo tortured your soul. He pulled it out as it finished and waved it about while the colour hit the ink.
His cock hung limp out of his jeans as he walked and sat next to you. He held the photo up to your face and pinched your jaw when you tried turning away.
“Look at it...see that? That’s my cunt in your dirty little pussy. Christmas card worthy isn’t it? Yes I think I’ll send this to your Mama the next time you tell me to put on a condom.”
Your nostrils flared at his cruel words. Next time?!
He laughed at your expression, “Did you really think this would be our only time? Oh no no...you tried to steal family heirlooms from over two hundred years ago. You think I’d just let you go after? No your whole body mine now, little miss art major.”
He kissed your cheek before he slid down to his knees in front of you again and kissed your thighs.
“Besides, this little asshole is just begging to be filled with my rich cream...and I have a whole box of camera Polaroid ink.”
Two weeks...two fucking weeks it had been...he kept you there for a fortnight and he texted your parents through your phone saying you were okay...when he let you go. You didn’t bother going to the police. The sick old fucker had made a photo album...the sick fuck made you enjoy those long two weeks.
You almost didn’t want to leave...
You drove to the pharmacy and bought a pregnancy test.
Lord knows someone has to inherit Old Man Lang’s house.