The front door closes and locks behind them as they cross the door’s threshold. They’re in foyer, and transition into what used to be a huge lobby.
“You’ll kill that ad in the newspaper. When you’re not with your husband or working, you will be with me.”
Mx. Huff clearly knows who Kirstjen really is.
“Now, let’s see what you got.”
Mx. Huff unbuttons Kirstjen’s jacket and gropes her tits through the cups of her torpedo bra. Then, Mx. Huff yanks down Kirstjen’s skirt and panties, and gropes her nethers.
“Yes. Very nice. And Tasty too.”
Mx. Huff slips on a pair of brass knuckles and works over the girl’s midriff. Resulting in bruises and cracked ribs.
“You’re, of course, much too pretty for a bookish wench, but that can easily be fixed with makeup, glasses, hairdo, and a regimen of brutal beatings.”
As if wielded by invisible hands. A lead pipe caves in the back of Kirstjen’s skull, killing her outright. But. Who was wielding the pipe? Mx. Huff, a spinster, lives alone.
Nobody was wielding the pipe.
A naked Kirstjen resurrects hours later hanging in the basement. All of her metal restraints are hardened to prohibit ghosting out of them. All of the locks of the restraints are welded shut to be pick-proof. The dog chain leash of the spiked collar padlocked around her neck is bolted to one of the floor joists overhead. Gagged by a fetish penis-ball-gag (bright red ball with skin colored straps). Shackles. Hands and feet weighed down. Lash marks stripe her backside from her shoulders down to her ankles. She has two black eyes and a broken jaw.
From head to toe, including her hair, is painted with Mx. Huff’s filth. Including, but not limited to. Drenched by Mx. Huff’s urine. Smeared with Mx. Huff’s feces. Shades of Vincent Kennedy McMahon. A Vince-McMahon-level degenerate.
As if wielded by invisible hands. A barber’s razor strap whips Kirstjen’s backside. Brass knuckles bang her torso. Bitch-slaps her face. Yanks on her long golden tresses. Pinches her succulent nipples.
Kirstjen is no longer pretty, and Mx. Huff intends to keep it that way for the duration.
A naked Mx. Huff sits in a chair in a corner. She’s masturbating.
“Oh, goody. You’re alive again,” proclaims Mx. Huff, in Prussian.
Mx. Huff only speaks English when she has to. Which means, Kirstjen will have to learn Prussian fluently, posthaste.
Make plans. Destiny laughs.
Out of the blue, Mx. Huff’s head is twisted around—360-degrees—RTW—round-the-world—as if by invisible hands.
Different invisible hands than the ones that previously did Mx. Huff’s bidding? Excuse the pun, not revealed.
What is colloquially known as boxxing: Severing Mx. Huff’s spinal cord between the first and seventh cervical vertebra, the AOM, the avenue-of-mortality.
Mx. Huff won’t get up anytime soon, maybe never, from that long count!
Circumventing the mansion’s failsafe. Mx. Huff is finished off with a round-the-world; in effect, decapitating Mx. Huff with said RTW.
POV, point of view. It just wouldn’t do to have Mx. Huff resurrect too soon and become a lethal inconvenience again. Hence the RTW.
Failsafe?
The prohibition in place to prevent that Mx. Huff from being taken round-the-world, that quick snap of the head which severs the spine at cervical vertebra 4, C4, the exact center of the AOM.
The failsafe should have stopped the RTW of Mx. Huff, in the nick of time.
An RTW, obviously, constitutes “excessive force,” because it risks preventing Mx. Huff from resurrecting.
Not specific to just RTWs. The failsafe blocks any and all that might render Mx. Huff dead for good: gone forever, extinct, no more lives.
The mansion is cursed, alive, haunted, self-aware, sentient, a domicile, a machine, a PUV, and at one time in its storied life, it had been converted into an insane asylum, specifically an annex of the Elizabeth Arkham Asylum for the Criminally Insane, by one of its previous owners.
The failsafe is not a construct of Mx. Huff. It is not the mansion’s curse nor is it part of the mansion’s curse. It’s “associated” with the mansion.
As soon as Mx. Huff dies, the mansion evicts Mx. Huff’s consciousness and takes up exclusive residence in said body as its very own. Possession being nine-tenths of the law. This is now its “human form,” a guise it has coveted for so very long.
Mx. Huff’s RTW. This was not a fubar. This was a deliberate act on the part of the mansion itself. It had decided to trade-up to a “better” owner, and, in the process, trade-in its human form for one more to its liking.
“I am the house. This house. My name is Mx. Linda Abbey, Doctor Linda Abbey. You may call me Linda or Doctor, depending on the context of our relationship,” Linda proclaims, in Prussian, in a deep for a woman’s gravelly voice. A deep, easily mistaken for masculine, voice.
Not a disembodied voice, because the mansion, in human form, is speaking to Kirstjen directly.
Of course. Linda, “wearing” the body of its now-deceased previous owner, is a fugly, robotic, scary-looking, “older” lesbian.
Linda is an “it.” But it identifies as a transgender female in latter-transition. Plus. Misogyny. Misandry.
As a she-male “it,” Linda has male and female genitalia, now. No need for Parts, anymore, that the body’s previous inhabitant, Mx. Huff, had to resort to using.
A very stern bitch. Very mean. Petty. Vindictive. Envious. Foul tempered. Harsh. Severe. Stern. A dispassionate sadist. A shrew personified. Evil incarnate. Enslaving. Mean. Vile. Sexually-repressed. Controlling. Has no use for pretty girls. Same as the Mx. Huff that Linda has “replaced.”
An apex bulldyke. In other words, a very butch, very abusive, very controlling, older lesbian with a masculine appearance. A TAD (typical alpha dyke), who is dressed TADO (typical alpha dyke outfit). Ergo, a “Ted.” Again, same as the Mx. Huff that Linda has “replaced.”
Linda only speaks English when it has to. Which means, Kirstjen will have to learn Prussian fluently, posthaste.
Linda speaks English with an accent. A gravelly voice with a thick Prussian accent, gender-bent. A very creepy voice.
During the beating, Linda gets way too much into it. Killing the girl. Literally, beating her to death.