The house had been empty for years. It was a sprawling Victorian estate tucked away in the countryside, stone pillars, ivy-wrapped porches, and rooms filled with antique charm. David thought it would be the perfect place for a fresh start. He and Lauren had been married for six years, but things had grown cold. Emotionally. Sexually. Like they were roommates pretending to be lovers.

Lauren had once been fiery—spontaneous, wild in bed, insatiable. Now, she was quiet, distracted. She spent hours alone, and David felt the distance growing.

The estate agent mentioned nothing about the house’s past. Only that it came furnished. That included the full-length mirror mounted in the master bedroom, massive, ornate, its edges carved in dark wood like twisted vines. Something about it unsettled David, but Lauren loved it. She insisted they keep it.

It all started very subtly.

Lauren would disappear into the bedroom during the day and lock the door. David assumed she needed space, but one afternoon, while bringing up laundry, he heard her moaning through the door.

Soft at first. Then louder. Rhythmic. Wet.

His breath caught. He froze, confused and aroused. Was she… touching herself?

He leaned closer. A name slipped from her lips.

"Michael… yes… fuck me…” then more urgently she screamed "Michael-" her voice trailing off.

David backed away, heart pounding.

He said nothing at first. But he watched.

She was different now, more confident. Her hips had that sway again. She wore lingerie around the house. She’d smile at David… but not invite him. Her body was alive, but it wasn’t his anymore.

One night, David couldn’t take it. He pretended to be asleep and waited until Lauren slipped out of bed. She padded across the room, stood in front of the mirror, and slowly undressed.

David turned his head, just enough to see her reflection.

Her nipples were hard, fingers trailing down her stomach, between her thighs.

She touched herself, moaning softly, eyes locked on the mirror.

And then… someone else appeared.

Not behind her. Not next to her, inside the mirror.

A tall man, dark eyes, strong jaw, shirtless, towering over her. His hands slid along her waist. Lauren leaned into the touch, arching, begging for more.

David’s blood ran cold. This wasn’t imagination. The man was there, moving, reacting. As Lauren bent forward, her hands on the vanity, the ghost pressed against her. He grabbed her hair. Her reflection showed her getting fucked, hard, fast.

David could see every movement. Every thrust. And Lauren loved it.

She came loudly, screaming for Michael, body trembling.

Then, as quickly as he appeared, the man vanished.

David couldn’t breathe. His cock was rock hard beneath the sheets. He hated it. He loved it.

The next morning, Lauren didn’t hide anything.

“I know you saw,” she said calmly, sipping coffee.

David looked up, silent.

“You liked it, didn’t you?”

He swallowed. “Who is he?”

Lauren smiled. “His name is Michael Ashcroft. He died in this house in 1892. The mirror belonged to him. They say he seduced half the women in town. He died during a threesome in this very room.”

“That’s… insane.”

She reached across the table and touched his hand.

“I didn’t believe it either. Until he touched me. Until I came like I hadn’t in years.”

David blinked. “You’re… letting a ghost fuck you.”

“I want him to fuck me,” she said, voice low, teasing. “He makes me feel things you don’t anymore.”

His stomach twisted.

“I should be furious.”

“You’re not. You’re hard.”

David looked down, ashamed, and undeniably aroused.

Lauren bent over him. “You’re not my man anymore. You’re just my witness.”

That night, she laid down the rules.

He would watch. He would never touch without permission. He’d be silent unless spoken to. And he would learn what it meant to be nothing while his wife was worshipped by something stronger, better.

David agreed.

The first ritual was simple.

Lauren lit candles around the room, dimming the lights. She stood naked before the mirror, whispering Michael’s name. The surface shimmered. His figure appeared slowly, taller than David remembered, his presence thick with hunger.

David sat in the corner, fully clothed, cock hard, aching, forbidden to move.

Michael stepped through the mirror like smoke becoming flesh.

He grabbed Lauren, pulling her close. She gasped, already wet. He kissed her neck, then spun her around and bent her over the bed. David’s mouth went dry.

The ghost wasted no time.

He slid inside her like he’d claimed her a thousand times before.

Lauren moaned shamelessly, eyes rolling back. “Yes, Michael… use me…”

The sound of their bodies slapping filled the room.

David gripped the edge of the chair, trembling, humiliated and aroused. His wife was dripping, taken, owned. She was his wife in name only now.

And she loved it.

Michael fucked her relentlessly. He pulled her hair, spanked her, whispered in her ear. He made her scream, “David was nothing.”

When Michael came, he growled her name, echoing like thunder through the room. Lauren collapsed, glowing, panting.

She looked over at David, smug. “Clean me.”

David crawled across the floor without a word.

Weeks passed.

The arrangement deepened. 

Lauren became cruller. Michael became more possessive. David became addicted.

Sometimes, he watched her get filled while locked in a cage. Sometimes, he was made to kneel at her feet while Michael took her from behind. Sometimes, Lauren forced David to hold her legs open while her ghost lover thrust inside.

David had never felt more powerless. More aroused. More hers.

But one night, it changed.

Lauren looked into the mirror, and Michael didn’t appear.

She called for him. Lit candles. Touched herself.

Nothing.

She grew frantic. David had never seen her so desperate. So broken.

Then the mirror pulsed.

Michael returned. This time, his eyes were blacker. His form sharper. He wasn’t seducing anymore. He was possessing.

He didn’t wait for consent. He grabbed Lauren by the throat, pushed her to the wall, and took her.

She moaned, begging, crying out in pain and pleasure.

David tried to stop it. He shouted, rushed forward.

Michael turned his head and looked at David for the first time.

The room shook. David collapsed, body trembling, unable to move.

Michael finished inside Lauren with a growl so deep it made the windows tremble.

Then he vanished.

Lauren fell to the floor, exhausted, marked with bruises, panting.

David rushed to her side. “Are you okay?”

She smiled faintly. “I’ve never felt more alive.”

Now, they live by the mirror.

Michael comes when he pleases. Lauren obeys. David watches.

The house is no longer haunted.

It’s alive.

And they’ll never leave.