The second the copper filaments were inside his head he felt the life-force that inhabited Chillingworth Mews and Chillingworth House before it.
He saw blood.
Felt its heat.
Heard the screams…
And now Roger knew for certain he had been tricked - Chillingworth wasn’t the victim – it was the perpetrator. A force of pure evil that fed upon torment; and suffering; and blood; and death. An entity whose thoughts were now his thoughts; whose memories were now his memories – and whose plans were now evident in his own mind. Imprisoned for so many years within a body of bricks and mortar, of wood and plaster – it wanted to be free.
To be flesh again.
To enjoy the agonies of others first hand rather than vicariously through the violence of those under its influence. It wanted to kill and torture and rape. To feed on the hot blood spilled and feast on the screams released.
Roger fought to keep its sickness from his mind but the battle was useless; they were as one – a symbiotic melding of brick and bone. As if to ram that point home, the cable around his throat tightened, lifting his head so that he was looking directly at the terrified woman pinned to the opposite wall and in an instant, he knew the agonising fate that awaited her.
The woman screamed as she felt the flex around her body begin to squirm, the grey plastic casing peeling back, the wires within tearing at her clothes. Buttons popped, fabric was shredded and within seconds she was naked apart from her shoes.
Roger watched as the network of wires spread out across her body, enveloping her breasts, squeezing the firm flesh. She cried out in pain as the copper points pierced her nipples, rivulets of blood flowing from her punctured teats. As the wires spread further, the multi-coloured worms crawled through the triangle of light-brown hair between her legs, teasing apart her labia, several of the thin cables twisting around each other to form a rudimentary phallus before plunging inside her.
The woman screwed her eyes shut tight at the violation but not before her gaze had alighted upon the obvious bulge straining at the crotch of Roger’s jogging pants, disgust at his excitement written all over her face.
Roger burned with shame at his arousal despite the fact that he knew it wasn’t really his. Chillingworth was sharing its depraved lust with him, his body reacting as if the perversions being perpertrated were of his own volition. As if sensing his disgrace, the entity within Chillingworth Mews probed deeper into his head, some of the wires tracking along his brain stem into his spinal cord.
Roger could now feel the woman’s body as if his own fingers were touching her – the firmness of her breasts and the heat deep inside her. His erection throbbed painfully against the restraints of his underwear, more cables erupting from the wall at his back, snaking up his legs, tearing the clothing from his lower body and releasing his penis. The wires twisted themselves into several loops, sliding over his shaft, slowly stroking his arousal to greater heights.
In spite of himself, Roger began to thrust into the sleeve of wires, the woman opposite opening her eyes as the copper phallus in her vagina moved in time with his motions. She looked him in the eyes, a hint of pity in her blue orbs as if she now understood that his predicament was akin to hers. Roger turned his gaze away – he knew that his situation was nothing like hers, an image flashing into his head of her next violation.
The radiator on the wall opposite him suddenly bucked and twisted, the water pipe that fed it tearing free with a grinding sound that set his teeth on edge. The pipe curled away from the wall, bending and shaping itself until it jutted between the woman’s thighs, dribbles of water dripping like pre-cum from its ragged, exposed end.
The sleeve around Roger’s penis suddenly constricted, forcing blood into his glans, the head of his cock bulging purple. Other wires wrapped themselves around his scrotum, squeezing his balls.
TRADE!
Roger thought the booming voice was just in his head, certainly, the woman showed no sign of having heard it.
BE ME! TRADE!
Again the words filled his skull and Roger knew what they meant – he and the building were now one but Chillingworth wanted them to separate – with Roger taking the entity’s place in its prison of brick and mortar and Chillingworth using Roger’s body as a means of escape - to be finally be free of its bonds; free to embark on the journey of depraved perversions it had spent a hundred years dreaming about.
“No! No trade - never!”
Roger screamed the words, the copper nooses around his genitals constricting further around his engorged shaft at his response, blood vessels on the verge of burting open. The coils around his testicles also squeezed tighter, crushing his balls together, excrutiating pain burning in his loins.
“Never!”
Roger screamed his response again, certain that the force trapped within the building would not be willing to risk damaging his genitals any further – he had seen Chillingworth’s desires and knew that a healthy body was paramount to its plans.
As if in acknowledment of Roger’s summation of the situation, the coils of copper around his penis and scrotum relaxed, the sleeve over his shaft starting up its rythmic stroking once again. As Roger’s arousal grew, his thrusts into the sleeve that was masturbating his length increased in fervour and he suddenly felt the woman’s moist heat envelop him.
The woman screamed as the water pipe stabbed into her vagina, thrusting deeper, harder and faster in time with
