By Edward Lee

House of Passion

Hildreth condo. On a moonlight evening in early spring, twenty-seven humans entered the mansion’s labyrinthine halls, to partake in an orgy of diabolical debauchery, the likes of which beggared description. And one after the other, twenty-six of them have been butchered in position. The twenty-seventh physique was once by no means recovered.

House of Sin

The screams have light, and the blood has dried however the spectral condo remains...waiting.

House of Hell

Welcome to the mansion made in Hell

Flesh Gothic

Where the temple of evil is your personal body...

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She closed her eyes and stuffed her brain with it, imagined herself bare and sweating and mad with lust as a few faceless guy driven her knees again to her shoulders and penetrated her the following within the woods, her naked rump grinding within the dust. She imagined his weight urgent down, his dermis sliding opposed to hers. the easy snapshot excited her in seconds; she felt her nipples tingle as though tweezed through not easy palms. She started to believe flush. Sexuality was once her charge-it stoked her predispositions. It solicited the spirits. Sweating and wanting breath now from the entire lust in her head, she stored her eyes closed and blew the insides out of the egg, aiming towards Hildreth's grave. while she regarded, she could not think it. The viscid plume had flown wildly to her correct, au iy from the grave. "Okay, okay," she whispered to herself. "Time to aim an alomance. " She stood up, regarded with out a lot hindrance towards the cross which resulted in the graveyard. She observed nobody. Then she driven off her shoulder straps and permit the sundress fall to the floor, absolutely bare underneath. Her innerself felt whatever stir immediately, anything past her. Seikthas or lieppya,-benevolent spirits which inhabited bushes or congregated close to graves-or basic curious wraiths interested in her unexpected nudity. Ghosts, or maybe buoyed souls. It did not subject what; she knew anything used to be there simply because she might think it in her blood. From her bag she withdrew 3 extra issues: a cigarette lighter, a two-by-two-inch sq. of aluminum foil, and a small baggie containing a few sea salt. "Damn," she used to be stuck unexpectedly. A surprising breeze blew the piece of foil away. It landed ten toes from her. with no even considering, she checked out it, held her breath for a second, and willed it again. as though blown by means of the same opposite breeze, the foil sailed again into her hand. It was once effortless. It wasn't even anything she gave a lot concept to anymore. o.k. ... She shaped the foil right into a crude cup, then sprinkled a pinch of the salt into it. She cleared her brain of distractions, walked slowly round the cemetery grounds. She idea simply of actual hope, and spirits. She used to be beseeching them, drawing them out. Her ft crunched quietly over the underbrush. Her epidermis shone in a mist of sweat, and he or she felt her heartbeat choose up, and as she walked she brushed the guidelines of her arms up her thighs. Over her belly ... She lower back to the foot of the grave, concentrated, pin-point. Her naked breasts rose and fell along with her quickened breaths. Envisioning herself at the supplication platform of the top ziggurat, she whispered a prayer to Ea, the god of the sky and of forests, then held the lighter flame underneath the foil cup of salt. The salt crackled minutely, started to sputter and burn. nice Ea, she inspiration. pay attention me ... while a faded tendril of smoke rose from the cup, Cathleen prone her head and inhaled it. She fought to not cough, held it in. yet ahead of she may well seek her brain for a portent- anything grabbed her. no longer arms, no longer someone, yet whatever purely semi-palpable, as though she'd been seized through the air.

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