tagErotic HorrorHalloworpheus

Halloworpheus

byYDB95©

The All Saints' Eve ceremony was hours away, and yet Phoarateo primping as if it were minutes to his performance.

It had been that way all week, Rylesie reflected as she eyed her vain husband from her perch on their bed. When he wasn't primping, he was practicing, every waking hour of every day. Never mind that he knew the score cold or that he was already known far and wide as the greatest wonderhorn player their side of the mountain had ever known. Or that his bride had been doing her utmost to divert his attention, even if only for a quarter of an hour or so. Today had seen her most brazen such attempt yet, but Phoarateo had barely noticed when Rylesie had blossomed forth in a frilly green body-stocking and curled up enticingly on their bed.

She did enjoy the morose-yet-sweet score that would mark the occasion, even if she was not among those who believed in its power to hold Ratch and his minions of the gutter at bay. Indeed she was not among those who believed in Ratch at all. But she had known that marrying into the wealthiest family in the province would carry certain pompous burdens, and it was all well worth it for the love of Phoarateo and his incomparable touch with the horn.

If only he would touch her already!

When he finished a flawless -- to her ear at least -- performance and then launched immediately into another repetition, Rylesie reached her limit. "Honestly, Phoar!" She uncurled herself and stood up between the bed and his music stand, forcing him to take note of her alluring attire. "Do you even remember that I'm here?"

"I do, and I worry you'll catch a chill in that costume!" He gave her a cursory once over, though his eyes did linger for a spare instant on the elegant breasts that were widely credited with his willingness to marry a commoner. "Today of all days is no time to tempt the fates, my darling, especially not after what we heard at the wedding!"

"Then why not come to bed and warm me up?" Rylesie smiled through her irritation at her true love's superstition -- damn that witch Madame Prue for her silly pontifications on their day of greatest triumph! -- and sidled up to Phoarateo's chair. Still alive with the thrill of the new two months into their marriage, she felt that delicious shock once more as her creamy thighs brushed his left leg.

Phoarateo finally set his wonderhorn on the floor, and for a wonderful moment Rylesie thought she had won. Presently she learned otherwise, as he stood up and gently but firmly pushed her to arm's length. "Rylesie! The word of Madame Prue is no laughing matter, least of all on All Saints' Eve! I know you are not among the believers, but...we are an important family, and people who do believe look to us on this day! I've a job to do, and I take that job seriously! You could do your part with the village children tonight, you know!"

"I intend to, and you know it!" Rylesie pranced back to the bed and flopped down again, her celebrated strawberry curls flailing about every which way and her legs splayed unapologetically. "But that's hours from now, and you do not need to practice every moment until then! You've been making love to that horn for days while I watch, and I merely want my turn!"

"Tomorrow," Phoarateo declared, taking up his horn again. "And I meant what I said about keeping warm, my darling."

Rylesie was seething. If only those who called her "Cinderella-come-true" in the pubs in town could see her now! Known far and wide as the beautiful but common girl who had won the heart of the man whose horn could melt all hearts, sneered at in some corners for having risen to the upper crust on her looks alone...and at that, Rylesie paused in her bitter thoughts and smiled. If it was indeed her beauty that had landed her here, what better way to win this battle?

After allowing herself a triumphant giggle -- which her husband could not hear over the sweet sound of his horn -- Rylesie stood up and went to the fireplace to put two more logs on the fire. Only when this was done did she realize that she had indeed been rather chilly in her lingerie, and so she lingered for a moment to indulge in the warmth of the refreshed flames.

"That wasn't exactly what I had in mind for warming up, my darling," she heard Phoarateo say.

"Neither, I suppose, was this," Rylesie said in her sultriest purr as she turned around to see her husband still regarding her with disapproval. Ignoring his brusque glare, she crossed her arms over her chest and peeled down the straps of her body stocking. Slowly and steadily she brought her full breasts and curvy belly onto display for her husband, whose resolve at last began to slip. Even in his current state of angst, Phoarateo could not help but be delighted at the sight of the reddish-golden curls that framed his wife's most intimate treasure so delicately, and as she kicked the garment away and stood naked in the glow of the fire, she was at last rewarded with a smile.

But that was her only reward for the moment. "You are beautiful, my dear, but I do have my responsibilities to attend to." Phoarateo put the horn to his lips once again and turned back to the music stand.

Rylesie had anticipated as much, and expressed no disappointment as she returned to the bed. Climbing onto it, she provided him with an ample view of her undercarriage as she arranged the pillows against the headboard. Having arranged them just as she liked them, she then sat down with her legs spread as wide as she could, and set about caressing herself gently with both hands.

She closed her eyes to better savour the intense pleasure of her own caresses, so it was only when the music stopped that Rylesie knew she had at last commanded her husband's full attention. "Oh, for heaven's sake, Ryl, can't that wait one day more?!"

Rylesie opened her eyes and returned her husband's annoyed glare with a sultry grin. "Why should it have to wait? Even if your constant practicing were necessary, I hardly need to rehearse handing out sweetmeats to the children, do I?" She paused her stroking and pulled her hands back just a touch, parting her vulva to give Phoarateo the most enticing look possible at her arousal for him. She did not need to see her own glistening pink lips to know the sight had had its desired effect on him, for the stern look on his face melted into one of adoration, and his gaze drifted southward from her face. Sensing once again that the battle was won, Rylesie once again began circling her clitoris gently with one finger. "See how hungry I am for you, my love?" she whispered. "Come fill me up with your adoration, please! Make me sing as sweetly as your horn, Phoarateo!"

Phoarateo stood up, his eyes still glued to the moist petals blossoming in the golden thatch of curls between her thighs, and she was rewarded with the sight of his trousers looking all set to split. But he only got as far as beginning to unbutton them before finding his resolve again. "Rylesie, can't you understand how serious this occasion is for the town believers?!" he demanded, at long last managing to look her in the eyes again. "You grew up among them, surely you know how so many of them look up to our family, even if you were never among them!"

"I was among them!" Rylesie protested. Emboldened by her nudity rather than embarrassed by it, she at long last drew her hands away from her vagina and propped herself up on the pillows, though she did not draw her legs together. "Haven't I told you time and again how I used to skip along the path just beyond the wall out there as a little girl, overhearing you and your mother's beautiful music and all the merrymaking that came with it, and dreaming I might catch a glimpse of it all one day?"

"You have," Phoarateo acknowledged. "But did it never occur to you that our good fortune carried responsibility along with it?"

"As a little girl watching both her parents work themselves half to death in our bakery all day long?" Rylesie snapped. "How silly of me that I never thought you might have it hard now and then." The unfortunate choice of words drew her eyes down to his still-buttoned pants, and she snickered. "Pardon the pun, as I see you do in fact have it hard now!"

"How could I not, with you putting on such an extravagant show! But whatever you thought when you were younger, surely you were aware that so many of the townspeople live in fear of Ratch at this time of year? I owe it to them to soothe them! My musicianship is a gift, and it must be in perfect condition tonight!"

"It shall be as it is!" Rylesie said. "I've been listening to you play all my life, and more than ever this week! I believe in you completely, my love! But I cannot help but think the feeling is not mutual!" Tears burned her eyes, but she blinked them back and kept a determined look on her face. "And furthermore, you know perfectly well I have never denied your sincerity in believing in Ratch and the danger he poses. Nor anyone else I know who believes! But shan't he have won if you and I spend our days quarrelling when we could be celebrating our love in the most wonderful way!"

"We can celebrate it tomorrow! Surely you can wait that long!"

"I can, but I fail to see why I ought to!" Rylesie flopped back on the pillows, her breasts jiggling as she did in a way that she would normally hope he found endearing, but for the moment they were but an inconvenience. Anger having finally gotten the best of her, she let fly with a point that she had always avoided at all costs before. "Besides, Phoarateo, isn't it you who are so very concerned about what Madame Prue said? What if she was right and we haven't much time of wedded bliss to enjoy?!"

"How dare you!" Phoarateo roared. He spun on his heel and faced away from his wife so she would not see the tears of rage coming to his eyes. "Rylesie," he said with barely-controlled calmness. "The word of Madame Prue is sacred within our family and among all other great families of the mountain. Every marriage within living memory that she has blessed has been long and happy and fruitful..." He turned back around, now looking a bit more conciliatory. "Speaking of fruitful, have your monthly courses come and gone?"

"Last week, Phoarateo. You'd have known if you hadn't been married to your horn all those days."

"Mustn't let Mother know, then. It would break her heart."

"You do know what you must do if you want to change that, don't you?!" Rylesie couldn't help laughing through her annoyance.

Phoarateo laughed as well. "Rylesie. My love." At last he unbuttoned his trousers and pulled them down along with his undergarment, at last regaling Rylesie with the lovely view of his robust manhood. But he sat on the edge of the bed, out of her immediate reach, and did not make any move to remove his shirt. "Please, my love, try to understand how terrifying Madame Prue's reaction was to us all at the wedding! For decades, her predictions have never failed. If she says on a wedding day that the marriage is destined to be long and happy, it always has been. When she has foreseen tragedy or strife, it has always arrived."

"Haven't we already beaten the odds by virtue of marrying at all, though?" Rylesie asked, and once again she began caressing herself gently, enjoying the view of his engorged member just out of her reach.

"I tell myself as much every day," Phoarateo admitted. "And I am not one to shirk from a challenge. But nevertheless, her predilection struck terror into my heart on what was otherwise the greatest day of my life, and I take the menace quite seriously. Especially today of all days! So if you cannot bring yourself to believe in the prophecy, my love, I do wish you would not ridicule it so!"

"But I'm not ridiculing it!" Rylesie insisted. "I am saying, supposing she was right and our days of bliss are so severely numbered. Then should we not take every opportunity to consummate our love while we still can?"

Phoarateo nodded but said nothing, and then let his gaze drop adoringly to his wife's nimble fingers as they danced across her own tender flesh.

Sensing an opening at last, Rylesie stopped her stroking and reached her hand out to her beloved. He slid upward on the edge of the bed and placed his hand in hers. With a triumphant gleam in her eye, she guided his hand gently to her vulva. "You could use some practice with this as well, after all," she teased.

"You're so right!" he chuckled.

Indeed his first strokes across her lips and clitoris were rather clumsy, but they were nevertheless a delicious thrill for Rylesie after the long wait. They also quickly grew more adept once he climbed onto the bed and knelt over her; though their marriage was young, he'd had the time to learn just how far and how firm she liked it with his two plump fingers inside her. In no time at all he had her moaning in deep satisfaction. With his hard cock finally within reach, she promptly returned the favour, the lingering dampness of her own arousal providing for a lovely glide along her palm.

"Ohmylove!" he gasped as she expertly caressed his engorged head in perfect rhythm with his own strokes within.

"Isn't this worth a break from the horn?!" Rylesie gasped between joyful grunts.

"You can play my horn anytime, my love!" he replied just as breathlessly.

"And so I shall!" Rylesie tightened her grip on his hardness and sat up. With a lingering thrill to the last of his fingerplay, she pushed him gently onto his back and leapt atop him with the alacrity of a cat. Before he could hope to change his mind yet again, she pinned him beneath her hips and enveloped him within her ravenous vagina. With a triumphant "Ohhhhhhhhh," she gave him a tender intimate squeeze, and was soon rocking away with utter abandon.

Why did he always resist so? Why, if he was always so concerned about giving his mother a grandchild, did he have to be cajoled so into doing his part to make it happen? Why couldn't that silly witch Madame Prue have just said they were perfect for one another at the wedding? Why couldn't anyone else see her real problem was the same as anyone else's -- with Phoarateo, son of the great Grommerio and Faelene, marrying a commoner? Did he really believe those from her side of the wall took such prophecies the least bit seriously? It wasn't Ratch they feared, it was starvation!

Rylesie could not keep these concerns completely at bay as she rode her beloved into a delightfully intense orgasm nearly two weeks in the making. But the joy of her own sensations and his lovely responses, and the sense of triumph at just getting him out of his pants for once, were enough to outweigh them all for those precious minutes. His thick hardness inside her, his well-practiced hands caressing her sides and breasts instead of his horn for once, his wonderfully guttural moans and base words of encouragement, and mostly the sheer awareness of their deep abiding love -- in that wonderful moment, they were all that mattered.

"Oh! Oh Rylllllll...unhhhh!" Phoarateo ground his head back into the pillows in intense enjoyment as he came, and Rylesie's own eyes grew wide and her screeches reached a new pitch a moment later as she followed him over the edge. He was gazing up at her in amazement when she came down from her cloud and smiled down at him. "I love you Rylesie," he said.

"I love you too!" She leaned down and kissed him, still clutching him firmly within her wet intimate embrace.

"Let's never fight about this again, my love."

"Just come to bed when I ask, and we never shall!" And they both dissolved into laughter.

Only one musician on either side of the mountain enjoyed a more sterling reputation than Phoarateo, and that was his mother, Faelene. But women were strictly verboten from the All Saints' Eve ceremony, and in any event Faelene had given her daughter in law every indication that she preferred celebrating with the children at their annual costume party. She said as much yet again that afternoon as she and Rylesie helped the servants cut and decorate the garish cakes that were to be passed around that evening. "Honestly, my dear, you and I have by far the better end of the deal!"

"I must say, given how heavy the threat of Ratch hangs in the air this time of year, it is great comfort to think we're helping the children through the thick of it!" Rylesie agreed. "And to tell you the truth, Mother, I've heard that song of his quite enough by now!"

Faelene laughed with her. "I recall that feeling all too well from his youth, Rylesie. Phoarateo amazed both his father and myself with his quick learning and dedication, but one does not learn to play that well without a great deal of practice. Besides, I was the one who had to teach him!"

"Bless your heart, Mother!" Rylesie was silent for a moment. "Might I ask, Mother, about Madame Prue..."

"Oh, my dear, you mustn't take her words as gospel truth!" Faelene exclaimed. "Her vision was surely corrupted by all the silly objections so many had to Phoarateo marrying a town girl!"

"That's what I told him. But he clearly doesn't believe it."

"Tradition is everything to the men of our class, my dear, that is all. Besides, Phoarateo is my son and I love him, but he is a pompous and proud young man. Born to the breed, I suppose. Amazing how often we need to remind the world that we are not in fact royalty."

"I can't even recall how old I was before I understood that," Rylesie admitted. No one on all the mountain seemed to know just where Grommerio had come into his lavish wealth. Rumours abounded that he had made a bargain with Ratch, lord of the poison glen -- at least among those who believed in Ratch. Among sceptics like Rylesie and her family, tales of military triumphs lost in the mists of time held sway. But none knew with any certainty, not even Rylesie, who had learned not to ask well before she had married into the family.

"You did come to the parties as a child, did you not?" Faelene asked. "I know I recall a beautiful fairy with just your hair colour!"

"Oh dear!" Rylesie laughed. "Yes, my mother slaved for I can't recall how long to fix the wings just right for that costume!"

"It was a beautiful costume," Faelene said. "Even then, I recall wondering what Phoarateo might think if he could only see you. But tell me, my dear, if you don't believe in Ratch..."

"Why come to the party then?"

"Well, yes."

"For the cakes, of course!" Rylesie laughed.

Faelene joined in. "I rather suspect a lot of the children concur with you."

"If you don't mind my asking, Mother, do you believe in Ratch?" Rylesie asked. "I mean, it just seems so bizarre to think an army of evil bides their time all year long in the poison glen, and rises up just once a year to steal away any souls they can snatch, and that music is somehow going to soothe those savages into submission! Never mind that children dressed as anything beautiful or frightening or both and eating lots of sweets are supposed to hold them at bay!"

"First of all, Rylesie, that is not why we have the children dress up and why we feed them the sweets. We do that to keep their spirits up and their minds focused on happier topics than the threat of what might be lurking in the poison glen. Surely your parents explained that to you when you were old enough to understand?"

Rylesie shook her head. "All they saw in it was a fun evening for me and a bit of time to themselves."

"I suppose there is something to be said for that," Faelene conceded. "Now, to answer your first question, as well you know, I have been extremely fortunate in this lifetime. I have a gift for musicianship that I was able to pass on to my son, and I was born into a class that gave me opportunities few shall ever have in this lifetime. I must believe a world with that much good must also have some evil, and that we must be on our guard against it."

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