Isabo was caught in a trap of her own lust's making. Her nipples tingling from the stranger's kiss, she shook her body from side to side, seeing again the faint outline of a featureless man stride towards her, after latching the secret door closed from the inside.
"I've waited for one such as you for oh, so many years," the floating voice whispered in pain. "And now you've come," he finished, the pain shifting into an animal lust.
The outline grew just enough for her to see the hand trace from her knee to her nether regions, her cunny, traitorous, opening and seeping even more. The hand slid to the very gates of her, when she firmly said, "No," as only a Lady can command.
The hand disappeared into mist again, to an angry howl. Furniture tossed itself, harnesses were ripped from the ceiling, and then the voice was back at her ear.
"I can bear this curse no more. You will accept me as your lover," the trembling voice said, hunger and despair present in equal parts. "The hag Queen condemned me to this ghostly existence when she found me inside her daughter, and it has been years since I have touched anyone!"
The voice became as steel again. "Never doubt it, m'Lady," the voice promised, an invisible hand supporting the elegant, beautiful wooden prick in mid-air. "I will make you crave it so, you BEG me to climb inside your precious place! Only a Canterly woman's joyful climax will free me," it explained, as Isabo watched frantically as the artfully designed manstaff slid toward her nethers again.
"And I will have your climax, by all that's holy," he promised, this stranger, and the instrument of Isabo's pleasure, wet again by unseen lips, circled one nipple, crossed her trembling belly and slid through her thin, self-shaven patch of cunnyhair.
Isabo shook her head, 'n-No, no!" she commanded. The voice only laughed. I'm not the one touching you, M'Lady," it explained, on the verge of insane and rutting laughter, "only this carved stick. Does it not please you," he enquired, as the wooden prick was thrusted deep inside her. She screamed!
"Ahh, your voice bade me stop," said the appearing face of the man-ghost, so close to her lips. "But look! I'm returning!" Isabo looked, and looked, at the young man's chiseled chest, belly, and growing member. Oh, it was as a horse! But NO! Not without her consent, she promised herself. Who does this lackey think he - OHHHH!
His lips, half-flesh again, suckled at her clit, and unbidden, Isabo's legs spread apart. Her lips trembled, but remained closed against the words her fevered body formed in her throat, accepting this phantom lover's touch. Even as her puss dripped between her legs in elegant, tortuous sensation.
The phantom laughed. 'May I fuck you, M'Lady?" |