Don't Give Up the Ghost

The darkness closed in on Theodore as he descended the spiraling staircase. The feeble light of the torch seemed to be swallowed up by the oppressive blackness, barely illuminating the crumbling, damp stone. With each step, the darkness and must grew as the staircase wound to its final destination. A great chamber lay beyond, its ceiling and even walls well outside the paling light of the torch.

Theodore needed no light to know what lay outside the flickering sphere of his vision. The bones of thousands rested here, a cathedral of bone. The architect of the ossuary was lost to history, the construction ancient beyond reckoning. Few clues remained to suggest the identity or fate of those at rest here. For some time it lay buried and forgotten, even planted over until the unnatural barrenness of the soil prompted the villagers who dwelt above to contact a priest.

Nothing could live here, not when so strong an aura of death permeated everything. Theodore could feel the slow rotting of his flesh as he stayed past his short welcome in this place. The air grew stale in his lungs and the walls felt as though they were closing in. Whatever malign energy took up residence here wished to keep the souls and bodies of the departed to itself. It sensed the threat posed by the interloper and sought to expel him by any means, something the black-robed intruder absolutely could not allow. He paid no heed and began the ritual, building his sanctuary from powdered silver sprinkled atop the bone floor.

The proper protections in place, Theodore meditated, summoning forth the concentration and energy needed to expel the spirits. He used their power against them, focusing his mind on the utter blackness and silence that defended the tomb from bandits and others of weak will. The dead held no power over the living but what the living gave them, empowering them with their fear, hatred, and sadness. All that was required to overcome their power was to reject it, embracing the coldness of death and the silence of the grave to chase out fear and calm the living heart. The caster retreated into his own mind, allowing the silence to prepare his mind for the trial to come.

Clack

The sound of bone-on-bone echoed around the room, deafening after the silence of the catacomb. A strangled cry followed, the soft voice a woman unmistakable against the echoing clack of falling bone. Theodore sighed as he struggled to regain his lost concentration before the spirits could harvest his aggravation at being disrupted. He focused again on his breathing, calming himself and rebuilding his meditative state.

Clack crash CRASH.

His eyes shot open, glaring balefully towards the point of the sound, his fragile concentration shattered by the repeat interruption.

"Sophia, knock it off and show yourself immediately."

A moment later, a second figure appeared in the catacomb. Her form was translucent white, illuminated from within by unearthly energies. Her appearance was that of a maiden in her prime, clad in a long and finely-sewn gown and the finery of a woman of good standing. White hair reached to her ankles, suspended unnaturally as if floating in water. Her feet likewise hung suspended, toes dangling inches from the ground. The apparition was beautiful beyond description, save for the faint pink flush covering her body and clothing and the look of complete embarrassment marring her flawless, porcelain face.

"Sophia, what are you doing here? I told you it wasn't safe for you here. You need to be at home"

"I know, honey, but I get so bored when you're not there. I thought if I was quiet and stayed out of sight, I wouldn't be a bother to you."

Theodore watched her blankly, unable to understand what part of "dangerous" she didn't understand. He was performing an exorcism on the entire area and she was a ghost. She had been rather needy ever since they met a year ago, but this was getting ridiculous. Chasing her out of his luggage before trips was one thing, but interrupting a potentially dangerous spell was something else completely. They would need to have a good, long talk about this when they got home.

"Go upstairs and wait for me. You don't want to be here when I perform the ritual. I'll finish up here and start preparing the corpses. Make sure the villager's skeletons are ready to go. I'll need some help getting all of these bones back home."

The life of a necromancer was not an easy one. He really struck gold tonight, though. There had to be at least a thousand skeletons down here, not to mention the villagers he "appropriated" earlier. With Sophia's help, his little army of undead terrors was growing larger every day. The other necromancers made fun of him for choosing a ghost to be his lieutenant and then almost immediately falling for her. They won't be laughing when they're skeletons. With a smile, the necromancer refocused, hoping to get this over with before dinner.

Theodore undid his collar and stripped of his priest's robes. Such deceptions were necessary when dealing with commoners, though he did occasionally feel bad for disguising as a priest, particularly when they begged him for salvation as he turned them into unliving minions. Misunderstood, not evil, he reminded himself. It was for the best, really. No one in his territory ever died of plague or famine, and he got to have plague zombies. It was a win for both sides. Really. They should be thanking him.

He also felt a little bad about his argument with Sophia. She seemed devastated when he asked her to leave him alone when he was working. It was for her own good, but that did little to assuage his guilt. She was all alone when he was gone, just like she had been for most of her unlife. Still, she needed to learn her place as his assistant, lover or not.

He dressed in a shirt and pants, checking himself in the mirror before heading out. Unlike his fellow necromancers, Sophia appreciated his muscular and athletic body. He only wore robes when he needed to. In the living room, she prepared dinner in a pot suspended above the fire. With his help, she learned to better control her form, giving her a degree of selective corporeality. She still couldn't lift heavy objects, but she could still pass through walls when she wanted and could now generally perform simple manual tasks without magic.

Crash

Generally. He stood back as she collected the remnants of the bowl and struggled to clean the splattered soup. He had offered many times to help or assign a skeleton to her aid, but she refused each time. She enjoyed being a homemaker and insisted that she be responsible for all such tasks. It was actually this dedication to the mundane that helped her master physical manifestation so quickly. She disposed of the broken bowl and food before stopping, catching sight of him with the corner of her eye.

"Would master like supper or a bath? Or perhaps...me?"

Where in pandemonium did she hear these things? He did his best to ignore her obvious solicitation. He was incredibly hungry and still had fifty score skeletons to animate. Her rejected her as gruffly as possible before taking his seat at the table. She said nothing as she served him, probably hurt by his crass remarks. He would have to remember to apologize later.

The soup was good, at least as good as it could be when made by someone literally lacking the senses of taste and smell. She must have been a cook of some skill in life, though her memories were hazy and incomplete. He finished quickly, intent to return to work and stood, falling immediately to the floor, chair and all.

"Not so fast, dear. Your bones have sat for years, certainly they can wait a bit longer, can't they?"

A quick test revealed what Theodore had feared. His legs strained against the mysterious bonds about his ankles and knees, tying him to the legs of the chair. He lay on his side, still atop his seat as the restraints twisted and tightened, crawling up his body like a snake. Bundles of translucent white crawled up his thighs and around his waist and wrists. His eyes followed the strands of white to the scalp of his girlfriend-cum-captor. Her hair pulled on his waist, dragging his pants down to mid-thigh while she sat on the table and watched. The tips of her hair crawled slowly up his shaft, twisting and squeezing around his hardening mast.

"Excited already, are we? I think this is what you have wanted all along, isn't it? You know you don't need to play hard-to-get, don't you? You could ask for this whenever you want."

Before he could answer, a rag floated into his mouth, driven by telekinetic force. He choked against the gag but could do little to expel it. The hair wrapped gently but firmly around his now-hard cock, stealing away his strength and will to resist. Each strand moved independently, wrapping and squeezing him as if braiding itself around his shaft. The probing appendages met at the base of his head, circling around and knotting itself it place like laces on a roast.

"It looks so pretty, trussed up like that. I bet it feels wonderful, too. Every twitch, every pull only tightens my grip, doesn't it? I bet it's driving you crazy."

Had he not been gagged, he may have attempted a retort. Instead, all that came out was a whimper that spoke more of pleasure than protest. The braid rippled in place, contracting from root to head in a slow wave before traveling back down. The sensation was unique by not exceptionally stimulating even as her speed increased. There was no friction, simply a pleasant tightness that caressed him unlike anything else he ever felt. The knot about his head grew tight, sliding ever-so-slightly up and down his frenulum and pulling his skin taught.

"Look at you leaking like that. Don't pretend you can't feel the dew gathering on your tip. Here, let's get you upright and see what we can do about that."

Sophia, weak though her body may be, possessed more than enough magic to right the chair, depositing him with all four legs on the ground. She sat on the table before him, body phasing through the soup bowl from which he just ate. His eyes followed up her legs from her toes that rested weightlessly on the chair to her thighs, crossed at the knee. Just beyond lay her sex, bared but not visible through her legs. She sat slightly back on her hands, thrusting out her firm stomach and pert breasts. Her nipples lay hidden just behind her hair, pushing out stiffly. Her expression was a mixture of pride and arousal as she watched him pant and twist in her bondage.

"Like what you see, love? It's been her for you the whole time, if only you would reach for it. But you can't now, can you? Not with your hands tied up like that. Just relax and let me remind you what I can do for you. To you."

Invisible force held his cock still and upright as her big toe prodded his base gently. His cock twitched, tightening the knot below his head just as she promised and adding the barest bit of friction to the slow coiling of her braid. Her toe traced up his cum vein, pushing out a small dollop of precum as it reached his head. His back arched as her first two toes rolled over his head, gathering the lubricant even as it continued to slowly ooze out. Her toes dragged down the underside of his cock, unhindered by the ethereal bands tying it and the invisible force holding it upright against the pressure.

Precum left a trail of wetness down his cock as her toes slid up and down in slow strokes along his shaft. She was gentle but insistent, pausing only to catch his head between her toes and squeeze, jerking up and down on his sensitive crown while tightening her hair. His cock strained against its bonds as it swelled with blood that could find no escape, dying it purple and red. Her second foot joined in, rolling and twisting over his head as she continued to stroke him. Her feet passed through each other, their slow march of pleasure not interrupted by something as mundane as physical limitation. Precum flowed without obstruction, an irrefutable sign of his approaching climax. Her eyes fixed on his as he shook and gasped, moans strangled by the rag in his mouth. Her hands held and groped her breasts, tugging and gently twisting her own nipples before sliding down her stomach and disappearing between her legs. Not being able to see as her fingers worked her cunt only made the situation more erotic. Her arousal leaked out into the soup bowl as she fingered herself.

Her feet synchronized with her hands, stroking and rubbing faster as she masturbated faster. Her breath came as quickly as his, shaking her shapely breasts with every sharp movement. Despite her obvious arousal, her feet never faltered, never slowed. She stroked him intently, eyes darting between his face and jumping cock. He was close and they both knew it. She pushed harder, wrapping her toes around his shaft as she stroked, focusing on his head for a while before sliding all the way down the length of his cock. Her unused strands of hair caressed his testicles, pulling and rolling them in their silken grasp.

Theodore fought against his bonds and the force restraining his dick to thrust into her foot, succeeding only in exciting his lover further with his struggles. He could hear the soft patting of her palm against her mound as she fingered herself vigorously. As she approached her own orgasm, her toes curled around him, squeezing tightly around his shaft. His climax built, sitting in the root of his cock and awaiting a final push to come erupting out. Sensing his imminent release, Sophia trapped both feet around his cock and stroked with all the speed she could manage, trapping his twitching cock between two sets of toes.

His hips thrust forward to deposit his load when she stopped suddenly, hair contracting painfully about the base of his cock and pulling down on his testicles. His seed swelled in his root, his orgasm stifled more effectively than his screams. He thrust furiously against his bonds to no avail, gasping and moaning in frustration and denial. She reached down to gently stroke his cheek, pulling the soaking rag from his gasping mouth.

"You thought you were going to cum, didn't you? Unfortunately, you don't get to cum until you give me what I want. What I need." Her words came slowly as she fought to concentrate amid her own, self-inflicted pleasure. "Tell me you want me, that you'll never let go. That I am yours, now and forever. That you'll never leave me or let me know. Tell me I'm safe. Tell me I'll never be alone again."

Theodore struggled to form coherent words as his body fought against its denied release. He never meant to hurt her, not like this. The past year flashed through his mind as he searched for what pushed his gentle lover so far. He left her alone many times, but she always seemed to understand, telling him that she knew his work came first. If he had known how much she was hurting, he would have never left. He searched for the right words, careful to express what he felt and not just his surging urge to cum.

"I'm sorry I was so selfish. I never meant to hurt you. Please forgive me. I love you."

Her grip on him slackened at once, freeing his seed. He came explosively, drenching his chest and hers, splattering everything from her feet to her neck in alabaster shine. She gasped as he came, finishing herself off with a quick twist of the hand. Her back arched, thrusting her breasts out as they heaved. They climaxed together, her curling toes extending his orgasm just as his moans and still-erupting seed intensified hers.

She slipped off the table and into his lamp, panting with him. She kissed and licked along his collar bone and up his neck as she held him close. Her hot, soaking cunt lay bear against his leg, juices trickling down his leg and tingling with unnatural energy. His thigh grew hot where her fluids coated it, an interesting side-effect of exposure to sexual ectoplasm. His eyes laid closed as her hands massaged his chest and arms until he felt something hard press against his lips. He opened them to see a bowl parting his lips, the shimmering silver contents flowing out and into his mouth.

He coughed and sputtered as he drank her tasteless fluids. The warmth spread down his throat with unnatural speed as if being propelled by external force. It traveled down his chest and past his stomach, sitting in a hot lump at the base of his cool, soft member before slowly trickling in. He grew hard, much harder than before as the tingling traveled up his shaft, pushing it to hardness. It occurred to him a second later that it was not his blood pouring into his cock, but rather her juices, filling and hardening inside of him, warming his skin to a fevered heat.

"Didn't know I could do that, did you? My pussy juice is a part of my body, just like any other limb. I don't have the time to wait for you to get ready for round two on your own. I think this is going to feel better for us both, anyway."

Being a necromancer was hard. Not even conjurers had to worry about having their dicks haunted by obsessive girlfriends. Even still, there was nothing in the world that he would trade this enrapturing intimacy for. His cock continued to swell as more and more of her essence poured into it until it was larger and harder than ever before, standing at least an inch taller than it did just a few minutes ago. Her hair untied itself, allowing his cock to bounce and hang of its own volition, free from her grip but now even more under her control.

Closer to his lover than ever before, Theodore could feel her arousal in the energy that filled his throbbing cock. It became unbearable as she placed her hips above his shaft, straddling him and preparing for entry. Overcome by the urge to thrust deep inside her, he nearly missed the soft smile of genuine satisfaction she wore as her hand guided him to her folds before they swallowed him whole.

Her cool walls squeezed tightly around him, stretched past their ordinary limits by his unnaturally rigid cock. She sank down his length, her lips eagerly accepting inch after inch. Her form, though tinted red with arousal, was clear-enough for him to see his cock sink deeper and deeper inside her insubstantial body.

His size gave her no pause as she came to rest on his lap, with his full length embedded inside her. She paused, content for the moment with just feeling his fullness inside of her. She reached down, tracing the outline of his cock on her skin with a finger. With her other hand, she cupped his cheek, stroking him gently.

"This is how it was meant to be, my love."

Her declaration was punctuated by movement as her hips lifted off of his. She stood only a few inches before sitting slowly back down. Her arms wrapped around his head as she slowly thrust him in and out, drawing his head to her bust and wrapping it in spectral flesh. Her cool skin surrounded him, tingling unnaturally as the fell energies fed upon his heat and vitality.

Theodore could feel her breath, cool and damp, upon his neck as she rode him. Her steady breathing was interrupted only by an occasional gasp or whispers of love and eternal devotion. Her pace was slow and steady, better-suited to a night of romance and passion than an afternoon tied to a chair. She licked and nibbled at his ear and down his neck, spreading a thin trail of saliva as she went.

The pace grew with her passions, speeding to a respectable pace that left both gasping in pleasure. When her gasps turned to moans, the necromancer became aware of an altogether new sensation, an unfamiliar swelling in his cock. Looking through his lover, he saw that a thick bulge had formed in his cock, moving up and down his shaft in time with her thrusts. In the throws of passion, she lost control of her form, her body naturally attempting to reclaim its pieces and dragging the ectoplasm that filled his length with it. It traveled along his shaft, locking him inside her like a knot. Her cunt clamped tight around the protrusion, distending visibly as she gripped it tight.