This is an excerpt from the "Saducismus Triumphatus", published in 1886 by the Society for Psychical Research founded in Cambridge by several notable scholars of the time. Chief among them; Frederic Myers, a well known poet, essayist and classical lecturer at Trinity college; Edmund Gurney, a classical scholar at Cambridge; and Henry Sidgwick, professor of moral philosophy at Cambridge. Sidgwick wrote in the foreword, "Some not unfriendly critics have given us to understand that if we had only confined ourselves to thought-reading and perhaps clairvoyance and similar phenomena of the mesmeric trance, we might have had countenance; but that by taking haunted houses and spirit rapping and so forth, we make ourselves too absurd." Case #184 is actually omitted in the text made available to the public and has only recently found itself into the light of day from the depths of Cambridge's labyrinthine libraries. The following case is originally written in Sidgwick's hand and witnessed by Frederic Myers and Edmund Gurney. Mr. Gurney also recorded the incident utilizing the newly developed flexible film recently invented by George Eastman.

Scarcely had I sat down to enjoy my morning tea when my maid scurried to the front door to answer the flurry of knocks that had emanated from the other side. A breathless footman was ushered into the kitchen, bearing a folded envelope addressed to the Society as a whole. He held the envelope outward, wide eyed with distress, as if divesting himself of this paltry parcel would rid him of all of the malicious imps that seemed to be pursuing him. I took the envelope, noting that the return address was in the florid handwriting of Mrs. Rebecca Dawson, wife of the shipping magnate, Langford Dawson. With my curiosity piqued, I slit the envelope open with my butter knife, emptying it of its solitary vellum note. The note was terse and bereft of any details. Stated flatly in the same florid script read, "An unnatural incident has occurred at Sabine Estate that warrants your assemblage's full investigative powers. Please respond without hesitation as I know not how long we can endure such phantasms." It was signed with a perfunctory flourish with the address of the estate in Exeter hastily scribbled below. I turned the parchment over several times, trying to glean any additional information from the blank paper. It offered up none in response to this interrogative method and I was left to ponder the unknown, dappled in the sunlight of the early morn. I slowly became aware of the tense footman once more, realizing that he was awaiting some form of response so I jotted an equally terse note to Mrs. Dawson indicating our imminent arrival that very evening. I sat in silence after his departure, considering who was available to witness this unknown "phantasm", if such were the case, and how such a witnessing would help the Dawson family, as we were just observers, not slayers of nocturnal apparitions.

After breakfast, I sent word to the University for Myers, Gurney and Sir Oliver Lodge to come to my house at their earliest convenience and I outlined the very succinct note that the Dawson family had conveyed to our little conclave. Mr. Gurney was first to arrive, encumbered with his assemblage of photographic equipment and gadgetry. He was all manner of excited, not merely by the task at hand, but by his newly acquired contrivance for creating daguerreotypes without all of those noxious chemicals. His face was beaming from behind that horrendously misplace mustache that he habituated over. I have always held that it was merely a overcompensation for his effeminately boyish face. Had I that eternally youthful appearance, not a whisker would adorn my chin. As I am a hoary old chap, I feel I am serving society as a whole by favoring all with a well-concealed countenance. Gurney ramble on and over about this facet and that gewgaw, none of which took up residence in my head, choosing to fly freely out the other ear and into the day. I have no notion that any of this technical gadgetry will come of anything, lessening a society by making true artisans obsolete by promises of instantaneous edification.

Myers arrived shortly after tea, informing me that Sir Lodge had spirited himself away several nights prior to take up a new physics class at Liverpool University. After pondering Lodge's fledgling class in particles that were invisible yet comprised all solid matter, we three evaluated this evening's prospects and tried to devise some semblance of a scientific approach to the unknown situation. With no information to ascertain exactly what the situation we were to expect at Sabine Estate, we had to finally admit that our eyes and minds would guide us as best as they are able. The time for empirical details would come after we had made some sort of judgement from our immediate impressions. We had an early supper, then gathered our notebooks, reference books (such as were general enough) and all of Gurney's gadgets into a carriage bearing us to Exeter.

We arrived at the palatial estate just in front of dusk, being met by a gate guard who led us onto the grounds. A male servant met us at the door who, leading us to Mrs. Dawson, who was reposed in a side parlor off of the grand corridor. It should be noted that Mrs. Dawson appeared lackluster and ashen, as if she had endured more then one sleepless night. Her demeanor was such that one felt that she was not fully corporeal , that it was she herself who was the ghost inhabiting Sabine Estates. She was dressed impeccably as one would expect, yet her eyes gazed past you in an exhausted manner, her mouth held in a listless gape, reminding one of the soldiers who had fought great battles, leaving most of their acumen on the field forever. Her answers were slow in coming and she would sometimes lapse into a lengthy silence, resurfacing only to be shocked to see that there were people in her parlor. Her answers were as terse and uninformative as her note was, and there was a consensus among the group that they should try to determine the malady that had overcome the house from the servants.

Gurney set out to inquire from the maids and returned in a very short time, eyes wide and a nervous demeanor about him. Myers, Gurney and I took leave of the lady of the house, quite sure that she would not remember that we were even there scant minutes from now. Gurney parlayed what the maids had told him, being the repository of all the secrets of any home. Apparently, the cause for all the ado was not a spectral apparition, but was some sort of attacking phantom, some form of succubae that had distressed not the mother, but the daughter; seventeen year old Katrina Dawson. The information was scant as the elder Dawson female kept the servants out of the family's sleeping quarters for some several days, since the occurrences began. The only information that the staff had gleaned was through the hearsay that could be heard through the walls and floors of the mighty mansion. Screams, moans, and palavering in strange, masculine tongues. The house shook to its foundations and the chandeliers would sway. Books and antiquities would fall from shelves from the vibrations. Cracks in the plaster formed directly under the young miss's room, filling the air with fine lime dust, dancing motes shone through an eerie bluish-white light that seemed to radiate from the fissures.

After a brief discussion, we all concurred to situate ourselves in Miss Katrina's room and observe what, if any psychical activity occurs. We had a servant fetch our supplies from the boot of the carriage and we were led to the upstairs living quarters of the Dawson family. All of us to a man noted the drastic drop in temperature as we approached the young miss's room. It was mid-September and our region had been blessed with a temperate clime, echoing June rather than the beginning of fall. The servant opened Katrina's door, but averted his eyes down the hall rather than look in. We gingerly moved inside and the manservant closed the door, a slight snick of the lock catching indicated that we were alone with our subject. Having met the whole Dawson family on more than one occasion, as they were generous contributor to the University and came to most of the dean of the faculties functions, I thought I knew what to expect. The young girl, who on my prior meetings was vivacious and vibrant, now appeared to be wan and drawn, almost gaunt in some respects, but one could still perceive the delicate beauty pushing up through the adversity of her ordeal. She was wearing a light nightgown and thrashed about as if in a fugue state. Her hair lay stick straight, dampened with the profuse perspiration, which spilled off her brow in rivulets. Her nightgown had become semi-transparent with her exudations and her form was clearly visible to all. Her skin was pallid contrasting with the dark circles under her eyes, the flushed cheekbones, cherry red lips and her turgid nipples, which jutted upwards with every gasping inhalation. We observed her for several minutes, taking some notes, but generally just taking in her condition and distress. After a brief congress, we exited the room, sending Gurney to find and return with the manservant who had allowed us access to the room. Several uncomfortable minutes passed and Gurney returned with the butler in tow. We advised him of our concerns that this child was sick with some form of fever, iterating that we were not physicians and we felt we may have been summoned in error. He assured us that what we were witnessing was not the reason for our presence, that this was the precursor to the phantasm that the lady of the house implied. He urged us to return to the room and to wait, which we grudgingly agreed to do.

After an hour and half had passed, there seemed to be a change within the room itself, like it had grown larger and blurrier, making it hard to actually see with any clarity the edges where the ceiling met the walls and so forth. The girl herself appeared to be going through a transformation herself. Her fugue state, the thrashing about and such, had been almost imperceptibly replaced with something else, something more base. I hesitate to state in writing, but the facts must be recorded in true fashion; the young girl seemed to be enduring a sexual arousal. Her cheeks grew more flushed, her skin became almost radiant with expectation and her pelvis rotated in a circular, upward thrust with invitation. The three of us became uncomfortable with the whole situation and still agreed that what we were witnessing was an illness and not a manifestation, albeit we were split as to whether it was a physical malady or moreover a mental dysfunction.

As we contemplated whether or not we were going to proceed with our observations or conclude the whole questionable business, an extraordinary thing occurred. We were interrupted from our argument by slight Katrina emitting a guttural moan. We glanced over and saw her bedclothes grasped in a tight knot slightly above her abdomen by an unseen hand. The knot was let go and we saw two separate areas gathered up in much the same manner and pulled taut. Katrina writhed on the bed even more fervently in a more frenzied expectant way than before. Suddenly, the cotton fabric gave with a great, rending tear and the fabric was thrown thusly to either side of the bed, lewdly exposing the child's sweat slicked form clearly to all. Her legs splayed out and up as if wrapping themselves around an imaginary lover. Her soft, downy mons thrust upwards, grinding itself against air, but seemingly creating some form of friction becoming lubricous with it's own secretions. I stammered and looked to my colleagues for an explanation or support or anything. Their attention was just as ensnared as my own, taking in this supernatural event, gazing on as a mere child was performing in the role of a harlot. Her undulations increased and I watched in wonder as unobserved hands manipulated her breasts. They were grasped firmly at the base where the breast meets the chest and squeezed with such a tremendous strength that they were misshapen so that the firm, developing mammary were forced upwards, stretching the flesh, taut and shiny. After a length, the flesh turned a purplish color and the nipple engorged with so much blood, it seemed on the verge of bursting. The nipples then were pulled violently upwards towards the ceiling, causing poor Katrina to arch her back in what could only be agony. I could see from my vantage point that the nipples were drawn at least three full inches from their normal position, then cruelly twisted a full turn and held there until Katrina shrieked and they were released. I felt as if I should step forward to stop this atrocity after she screamed, and yet I felt myself cemented to the floor, unable to go through with my daring rescue.

Slowly, Katrina began to levitate into the air, almost halfway to the ceiling. Her nipples and breasts were still being manhandled by unseen forces, but now I was of the mind that little Katrina was not enduring pain and actually welcomed these tortures to her most sensitive flesh, writhing, gasping and moaning in such an unseemly manner, especially when one considers her years and her social standing. Her suspended form was held aloft and her legs were unceremoniously spread apart, displaying her soft, supple womanhood for all to observe. Her labials were swollen and reddened, as if she had been recently active in a sexual fashion. Her labials and clitoris seemed to be manipulated by yet another set of phantom fingers, bringing the girl into more of a spell of sensual pleasure. Her clit was drawn out from it's sheath in much the same manner that her nipples had been palpated, pulling and twisting until her youthful sheath disgorged a copious amount of her female fluids. Glancing up at her breasts, I found that they were almost ebony from the lack of blood that they were receiving, her nipples stretched to the limit, appearing as if they were raw and swollen.

I looked to my colleagues and found them to be so enthralled with the whole lewd display that they had forgotten their purpose for being here. I had to call out to Gurney several times to gain his attention and to remind him to record this event photographically. He got out this large box with a glass aperture and started setting up a tripod to hold it. I noticed, to my discomfort that both gentlemen were unable to conceal the evidence of their arousal as it jutted out from their breeches. I was soon abashed to discover that I suffered from the same discomfiture that they did. I took several notes and observed that the time had just passed nine in the evening.

Katrina's pliable private parts were still being manipulated, yet it appeared that something was being pushed inside of her. Her lips would spread as if to allow entrance to some unseen invader. Over and over, her lips would close tightly shut only to be spread open once again, wider and wider. The action became more and more pronounced and the intervals between less and less. The object was something of immense girth, yet the moistened condition of the child assisted the unseen intruder, goading it to her very depths. Deeper and deeper it seemed to go as her pink slit stretched wider and wider, as wide in girth as I would assume my forearm to be. Her body rocked back and forth as if suspended from a swing, the arcs becoming more pronounced as if the ghostly lover had increased its tempo and fervency. The child, Katrina, let her head slump back and downward, her mouth erupting with a litany of lecherous oaths that I will not document herein. I watched mesmerized as this shrouded member, seared her very womb, stretching her young sheath to encompass this massive bulk. Her throaty moans increased in volume until she went rigid, releasing herself after several minutes into climactic convulsion, a gushing torrent of her girlish liquid rushing from between her battered labials.

Gurney had taken several pictures but was now standing stock still, entrapped by the events unfolding in front of his eyes. I saw that he had taken himself out of his pants and was stroking the curved affair rapidly, spilling a copious amount of seed with each stroke. I thought that he had reached his climax, was spending, and almost spent, but the stream of white liquid did not abate. I came to the dawning realization that I was also issuing a stream of my own seed down my thighs, feeling my breeches and underclothing glued to my flesh by this issuance. I looked to my other side, seeing Myers sitting with his legs splayed open, his plow firmly in his grasp while his other hand was held cupped under the head of his stiff affair to capture the emitting deluge. He would then smear his stiffness with the balm, using it to lubricate further moral abuses to himself. Nothing about this tableaux was right, nothing was as it should be as we were not in control of ourselves let alone the situation at hand.

Katrina was still in the throes of her pleasure when her moans were suddenly damped, as if she had been gagged. Moving around behind Gurney, I was given an unobstructed view of her face. Her mouth was wide open and her mandibles seemed to be at the point of separating. The same performance that I had observed being performed on her nether regions was now being performed on her delicate mouth. I could see her throat convulsively swallow as if a huge bulk was being forced down her gullet. Her legs were sharply drawn apart and the rocking motion began once again in earnest, causing poor Katrina to choke moans from around the great mass that was being forced down her throat. I noticed the redolent, musky aroma of female sex permeate the room and found that this delicious aroma aroused me so salaciously that I began once more to release my semen thoroughly and without any hand of my own coaxing its issuance. Katrina rolled her head about, like a greedy child devouring an ice cream treat until, as I looked into her widened mouth, I saw it filled with such a copious amount of white fluid as to be unimaginable. It squirted from between the seals of her ruby red lips and the unseen member lodged therein, streaming in rivulets down her rosy cheeks and neck, onto the covers three feet below. I saw her automatically swallowing as much of the demon seed as her throat would allow, working itself reflexively, forcing the fluid into her belly.

I walked, as if in a dream, the other direction, towards the end of the bed and saw her hips being raised up and thrust downward viciously. Her plump bottom had indentations consistent with a man's fingers grasping purchase on her nubile flesh. When I was able to take in the scene from between her legs, I was first perplexed, then astounded by what my orbs took in. Her precious pink lips were stretched obscenely wide open, offering me a deep glimpse within her ravished womanhood. I could see the soft walls within being roughly battered, pressed in by this unseen rapist. I saw that her sphincter was being opened up in much the same way her vagina had been, slowly and methodically, allowing entrance to another ravager. Soon, both holes were spread open enough to accommodate a man of my physical build to thrust their fist deep within the warm, wet confines of the youth's exposed womb. Her plump little bottom was being thrust upward and brought back down with a vengeance, stopping suddenly as if meeting some type of resistance. Katrina would have screamed out loud if her mouth were not filled with another veiled invader. Her slender form tensed, and almost all movement ceased save for a slight thrumming that seemed to course through her. All at once, a pressurized geyser seemed to erupt from between her swollen slit and her rectum, streaming white-hot liquid in such lavishly obscene amount, covering the floor with the thick fluid. Stream after stream ejected outward and I noted that her belly seemed to rise slightly as if she were being filled with the expenditure from her throat, rectum and sweet rosy slit, all at once. With an audible pop, whatever object had been entrenched therein pulled free of Katrina's abused sheath and rectum and a flood of thick white liquid, an estimated quart or so, streamed out from her orifices and forming puddles on the sheets below.

I have to admit that the my more prurient and baser desires were in more control of my actions than the intellectual nature of me was allowed. I did, however, keep a sense about me to note down certain events and to attempt to inspire the others to do likewise, although on that point, I believe I had failed. Perhaps my background in moral philosophy gave me an abject nature that allowed me a little more latitude when being confronted with the whims of the flesh. The others were lost in the maelstrom of their own libidinous desires, stroking there own rigid affairs with no care as to how they were to be judged or who might there be to judge them. In their defense, I feel it is important to put into context the psychical texture of this event, the swirling emotions and distorted reality which we succumbed to. It was very hard to concentrate, an almost mesmeric aura enshrouded the room, pervading all logic with a thick, warm cloak which concealed even one's own desires from oneself. A physically numbing sensation seemed to envelop us to a man, excluding, of course, one central part to our anatomy. Our thinking was impaired as if too many brandies had been imbibed next to a warm, comforting fire. Although the logical part of our mind rallied against such a foul, demonic possession (as I think we all later agreed that this must be) and knew that our chaste intellect must prevail over such disdainful darkness, the flesh, alas, was weak.

Abruptly, the door was flung wide and Mrs. Dawson entered with an unearthly shriek, bringing us at least halfway back to our senses. She strode past us all, oblivious of our presence, making her way directly towards her daughter's suspended form. She rent the air with another unintelligible scream and stepped up on the foot board of the bed reaching up to pull her daughter to safety. She was stopped suddenly and with purpose by the veiled intruders and she stood as one would if apprehended by a lawman. Her hair was suddenly pulled into the air and her face was forced forward into her daughter still drenched womanhood. She fought valiantly at first but soon the sound of her suckling this unholy nectar of the demon seed and her own daughter's sweet desires filled the room. Her summer dress met the same fate as her daughter's nightclothes and she was soon standing atop the bed stripped of the vestiges of her caste. Although she was well into her forties, her body had remained resistant to the wiles of gravity and her smallish chest and her ample bottom was displayed erotically for the gents to take in. Her legs were spread akimbo as the manipulation of her nether regions commenced. Moaning like a common street trollop, she bore the weight of her body downward so as to force access into her warm depths. Her head rose up and I clearly saw that her face was smeared with the passionate preserve from between her young daughter's thighs. Her tongue lashed out to taste the taboo treat of her own child's clitoris and drove deep once again into her well used sheath.

The elder Dawson was suddenly drawn backwards, landing upon the floor with a thud. I broke out of my lecherous reverie to assist the addled woman to her feet. She took my one hand, but her other hand grasped frantically upon the knob jutting from beneath my trousers. She ripped and clawed at the buttons until she freed it from its cloth prison, devouring it deeply within the confines of her lustful mouth. She laved it with her tongue like a hungry kitten, mewling, begging to be fed. The other gents quickly saw their opportunity and surrounded the poor lady, proffering their engorged members that still streamed endless with their uncontrollable issuance. She sucked at licked at each of our rigid spears, lapping up the seed that flowed so prodigiously, swallowing every drop. I gazed downward, eyes glazed with lust, and saw that she had forced the better part of her fist deep within her womb, jouncing her full weight upon it, trying to force her whole hand into her depths. She erupted with a guttural cry as her fingers tore past her drenched slit's resistance, driving her fist deeply within her, causing her the most debauched pleasure that she had ever attained. Our trio of stiffened appendages dove down her throat one after another, filling her belly with our thick white semen. She relished the taste, catching errant droplets and streams with her fingers, then licking them clean.

Young Katrina appeared to be enraptured as all of her spread out orifices were abused, each in turn. The puddles of fluid that had been collecting atop the sheets had turned into pools and had soaked through the mattress, dripping onto the floor forming a new puddle. On and on went the licentious rape of young Katrina's hot slit until well in the early morn. Finally, when it appeared that her consciousness was fading, her body floated back down onto the bed and she fell into a fitful sleep, interrupted by the aftershocks of her tumultuous climaxes. Mrs. Dawson fell to the floor denuded and covered with the fluids of many men, mortal as well as demonic. Myers, Gurney and I came to our senses rather slowly as if coming out of a opiate induced dream. We quickly righted our clothing and gathered up our supplies, never once speaking or making eye contact. I wrote Mrs. Dawson one last terse note, stating that it was our esteemed and unanimous opinion that this was not a ghostly event, but was more in the realm of a violent, demonic possession and would fall well into the purview of the local clergy.

The next day, I wrote up the final notes and met with the other chaps later to exchange viewpoints and the like. The tension was a palpable thing during the first few minutes of our meeting, but we fell into the rhythm of our relationship rather quickly. Gurney produced the pictures that he had developed at the lab earlier that day and for the briefest of moments, my member did start to swell. We sent a follow up letter to Mrs. Dawson, as we were all curious what had transpired after our hasty departure. We were not even sure whether or not the old girl remembered what had occurred while she knelt naked, swallowing each of us whole. A few month passed and I read in the society section that young Katrina was to be married to a one William Staffordshire. The marriage was the talk of society for quite a while and soon after the nuptials were exchanged, it was announced that Katrina was to be expecting a child. Six months later, she gave birth to a baby boy. The Society is secretly following the young lad's development because, although none of us, save Sir Lodge, are mathematicians, six months would fall right into the timeline of the demonic rape. Only time will tell, but we will be watching.