I've been researching haunted hotels and ghost stories for a few weeks, travelling around to different locales all by myself. I'm never scared by the places I visit...until tonight. There's just something about this hotel. It feels...creepy. Like someone is watching. Someone who wants to do me h*rm. I c*ll my boyfriend to talk to him about it, but even that doesn't calm me down. I take a few Benadryl to, setting up my cameras to catch any activity while I try to rest.

I haven't captured any real ghost activity yet, but tonight will change that. In the morning, after my hellish ordeal has p*ssed, I'll catch the curtains by the closed and locked door rippling and flowing, as if by the wind. Impossible.

The covers are pulled away from my napping form, and I awake to the chill of my hotel room, although the late spring air outside is warm and comfortable. I can feel something in the room with me. It feels so close. I try to calm myself with deep breaths, looking around the room, cast in an otherworldly red glow. I feel the hard and fast grip of something around my wrists and feet, a pulling me to the bed, holding my arms above my head and spreading my legs wide. I always rest without underwear and this invasive act has me c*mpletely exposed to the will of whatever is present. I feel the fabric of my night shirt pulling up over my breasts, exposing me even further. I try to wake myself - perhaps it is a dream - but the next touch is between my legs, right against my spread p*ssy, and the intrusion that follows fails to bring me into reality. This is my reality: tied without ligatures to a bed, penetrated and by a ghost.

I cry out, begging for help, for it to stop, but I know my cries can't be heard, not by this creature and not by anyone else. I am alone with it, being hard f*cked by it, it's probing member is deep, deep inside me and I can't help but accept it. Its strokes are long and hard and I try not to, but I c*m. I c*m against its and as I finish my powerful but unwanted *rgasm, I feel the grip on my ankles loosen. I kick out, pulling against my wrists but they are still firmly held in place. I beg for release but my pleas only result in the specter flipping me over, taking me from behind. I swear I can feel and smell its hot sulfur breath as it rams into me. I am crying out, helpless against its persistent, ramming c*ck, until I feel it swell within me. I feel the powerful grip lessen. Dazed, I lay motionless, looking around my room. I can feel a wetness leaking from my h*le, and I can't quite discern if it is me, reluctantly wet and thrilled by the horror of my ordeal, or the sinister c*m of the incubus.

This clip contains GHOSTS, HAUNTED HOUSES, GHOST F*CKING GIRL, PARANORMAL, ROLE-PLAY, BETTIE B*NDAGE.

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