Haunted by the Highlander: A BDSM Story

Haunted
by the Highlander

The mist curled off the loch,
wrapping Inverrock Castle in a ghostly blanket. Samantha peered out of the
backseat window of the car and grimaced. With its four grey towers, pointed turrets
and dark stone walls, it looked every bit the haunted castle. She glanced
around at her three friends and wondered why she’d agreed to this. They gaped
up in awe at the keep as it sat on the edge of the loch.

Honestly, who wanted to spend a
weekend being scared? She folded her arms across her chest and slumped back
against the seat as Annie expertly navigated the winding road towards the keep.
Masking a yawn with the back of her hand, she sighed. A nice relaxing weekend
away was what she needed. Some pampering in a spa perhaps. Then maybe she’d
finally be able to sleep through the night.

Lucy grinned at her. “Isn’t it
amazing, Sam? Looks sooo spooky.”

“Yes,” Samantha agreed. “So
spooky.”

“It will be fun, Sam,” Annie said
over her shoulder. “You need to lighten up and this is the perfect
opportunity.”

“Oh yes,” Samantha said drily,
“nothing quite as fun as being scared to death.”

Fran turned around in her seat
and eyed Samantha seriously. “Don’t be daft, there’s no
real
ghosts. It
will just be actors and stuff. You’re not really scared, are you?”

Samantha squirmed in her seat.
“Not
really
. I could just think of better things to do than spend my
weekend hunting for ghosts in the middle of Scotland.”

“What like moping around your
flat and thinking of David?”

Narrowing her eyes at Fran, she
pursed her lips. “I do not mope. And I don’t care about David. I was the one
that kicked him out, remember?”

Fran snorted and Samantha braced
herself for it. As much as she loved her, you could always count on Fran to be
blunt.

“Only after he fucked up for the
billionth time. You should have given him the boot long ago, Sam.”

“I know, I know. It’s not David I
miss anyway, it’s—”

“The sex!” Lucy piped up.

“It is not the sex! That was never
any good to begin with.” Samantha blew out a breath. Why exactly had she stayed
with David for so long? It was hard to remember now. “It’s going to bed in
someone’s arms each night, all safe and warm.”

“Well, maybe we’ll find you a
sexy Scotsman to keep you warm,” Annie said as they pulled into the empty carpark
in front of the castle.

She sniffed to herself. It was
unlikely she’d find anyone to match her tastes. David had been appalled when she’d
suggested trying new things. She’d tried to entice him into giving her just a
little spanking but he was having none of it. Surely if you loved your partner,
you’d be willing to give something a try? Guess David had never loved her. Good
job he was gone really. But it didn’t help her desires. At one point, Samantha
had even debated joining the local BDSM club but she’d shrugged that idea off
quickly. It was not a spanking from a stranger that she wanted but one from a
man she trusted and respected.

Samantha peered up at the gloomy
windows. Even though it was only mid-afternoon, the sky was as grey as the
stone castle and it felt more like dusk. A shudder trickled over her spine as
she unclipped her belt and stepped out of the car.

Meeting Annie’s gaze with a
raised brow as they all stopped and stared up at the great stone monster,
Samantha shook her head. “I doubt there’s any gorgeous Scotsmen in there. Not
anymore anyway.”

Lucy giggled and looped her arm
through Samantha’s as Annie pulled the suitcases out of the boot. “Maybe you’ll
be lucky and be haunted by a hunky Highlander.”

“Thanks, Luce, that’s really
going to help me sleep tonight.” Not only did she suffer with insomnia, but her
horrible older brother had also pulled several pranks on her as a child, all of
which had been designed to make her as scared as possible of the dark.

Unhooking her arm from Lucy’s,
she grabbed her suitcase and set it on its wheels. Her chest became heavy as
the four of them approached the large double doors of Inverrock Castle.
Yeah,
just what I need
, she thought with a smirk,
another reason not to sleep.

The doors groaned -
of course
-
open and a small, plump woman with short grey hair greeted them. “Welcome,
welcome,” she said as she ushered them into the hall.

Samantha gazed around, aware her jaw
had dropped. The inside of the castle was rustically beautiful. The walls were
still bare stone and iron chandeliers hung from the ceiling. A dark carved
staircase curled around to the next floor. Animal horns and swords and heraldic
crests hung from the walls.

“Wow,” Lucy breathed.

The old woman smiled. “Welcome to
Inverrock Castle. I’m Aileen and I’ll be looking after you during your stay.”

Annie stepped forwards, taking
charge as usual. “Hi, I’m Annie, we spoke on the phone. Thanks for having us,
it’s just beautiful.”

Aileen nodded and grabbed some keys
off the reception desk. “We’re keen to see what you think of our haunted tours.
If all goes well, then we’ll be doing them regularly.”

Samantha lips twisted. “Well, the
setting is right for it.”

Aileen nodded with a grin. “Yes,
and it does help that we do have our own ghosts here at Inverrock.”

The smile dropped from her lips
and Samantha clutched tightly to her suitcase. “Oh.”

“Not to worry,” Aileen reassured
her as her eyes twinkled. “They’re very friendly.”

Why did that not make her feel
any better? Bloody Annie. She should never have agreed to come along. Annie worked
for the company that were helping Inverrock with their publicity and had jumped
at the chance to try out their ghost hunt experience. How the hell Samantha got
roped into it too, she couldn’t exactly remember. She was pretty sure someone
mentioned a four-poster bed. With her insomnia, it was probably the only
enticement she needed. It was only when they had piled into the car, did she
remember the part about hunting for ghosts.

“Well, here’s your room keys.”
Aileen distributed them between them. “Just go up the stairs and turn left.
You’re not all together I’m afraid, but you are all in the east wing. Dinner is
at seven and then the tour will start at ten.”

Thanking Aileen, they all dragged
their suitcases up the wide stairs and set out to find their rooms. The east
wing was divided by a long corridor, lined with family portraits. The squeaking
of their suitcase wheels echoed against the wood panelled walls. Samantha found
her room and stopped in front of it. Room thirteen. She rolled her eyes
.
Naturally.

Slotting the iron key into the
heavy oak door, she froze as a strange sound reached her ears. Her pulse thudding
erratically as she listened intently. She jolted. There it was again, an odd
moaning sound.

“Found it!” Lucy called out from
the other end of the corridor as she fumbled with her keys. “Sam, what’s
wrong?”

Straightening, she shook her
head. “Nothing,” she said brightly. “Nothing,” she muttered again.
Bloody
idiot, your imagination is on overdrive
. Damn that Aileen and her ghost
stories. They may be hunting for ghosts tonight but she sure as hell didn’t
want to find any.

Pushing open the door, Samantha
released a breath. A four-poster bed.
Yes!
Hopefully she’d sleep well in
a bed like this. Wheeling her suitcase to one side, she threw herself down on
the bed, and the heavy satin throw and decorative pillow enveloped her. She stroked
over the luxurious fabric and sighed. Once, many years ago, on a trip to Italy,
she’d had a night of mind-blowing sex in a four-poster bed. Marcello had
introduced her to the delights of a firm hand and some carefully tied
restraints. They had messaged back and forth for a while when she returned to
England but life took over and Marcello soon became a distant memory.

Her room, unlike the rest of the
castle, had a cosy feeling to it, its thick velvet curtains and dark wood
adding warmth to the grey stone. The bed canopy was the same red material as
the curtains and Samantha fought the urge to untie them and hide away from the
world. Why was it that daytime was the only time she could sleep on her own?

Maybe Annie was right, maybe she
did need to find another man, preferably one like Marcello. It was not like
she’d made any attempts to meet anyone since her split from David six months
ago. Bloody hell, had it really been that long? No wonder she couldn’t sleep.
She sat up abruptly. She needed to get laid.

Next weekend, she decided. Next
weekend, she’d persuade the girls to go out on the town and she’d find herself
a nice man for the night. Laughing at herself, she climbed off the bed and
unzipped her suitcase, flinging her clothes over the dark chair that occupied
one corner of the room. Yeah, right. Samantha had never done one-night stands
and she doubted she was going to start now she was nearing her thirties. What’s
more, she’d never find the dominant man she was after.

Pausing to stare out of the
window, she conceded the Inverrock loch was beautiful - at least in an eerie
way. Surrounded by mountains and rocks, she imagined on a sunny day it would be
breath-taking.

A flash of something caught her
eye and she pressed her nose against the cold glass.
Tartan
. She was
sure she had just seen the flick of a kilt rounding the corner of the castle.
But Aileen had said they were the only guests. Maybe it was one of the actors
or something.

Another yawn overtook her and
Samantha slumped back down on the bed. They were going to be up late hunting
ghosts so she might as well close her eyes for a bit. Images of hunky kilted
men swam before her eyes as she sunk into slumber.

***

Jolting upright, Samantha
clutched at her chest as her heart raced.

“Sam,” Lucy called through the
door as she bashed at it. “Are you coming?”

Glancing around, she realised the
room was shrouded in darkness. Pushing down that stupid feeling of someone
being behind her as she fumbled for the light switch, she slipped on her
trainers and lifted the latch on the door.

“Come on, we’ll be late for
dinner.”

Looking Lucy up and down,
Samantha glanced at her worn jeans. “Shit, Lucy, I didn’t realise we were
dressing for dinner.”

“Well, hurry up and dress. I’ll
see you downstairs.”

Nodding, she slammed the door and
scurried over to the chair where she’d abandoned her clothes. Flinging off her jeans
and jumper, she grabbed her red dress and slipped it over her head before
smoothing down her hair and slashing some lipstick across her mouth. Manoeuvring
her cleavage into place, she flicked a look in the mirror and nodded with satisfaction.
Not bad for five minutes. The red set off her blonde hair and pale skin nicely
and the tight bust of the dress emphasised her pert breasts.

A breeze fluttered between her
thighs and she remembered she hadn’t put any knickers on yet - a habit she’d
got into recently when wearing trousers. Flinging her clothes off the chair,
she scowled. She had packed a pair surely? Wrenching open her suitcase, she
shook her head. Obviously not. Oh well, if it was good enough for a Scotsman,
it was good enough for her. Besides, her skirt was fairly long, brushing just
above her knees and it was not like there was anyone to flash. The girls had
seen it all before and probably wouldn’t care less.