One More Time

"You please me just fine, my dear," I said with a sigh as I laid her gently onto the bed. "I fear stray thoughts mentioned earlier of my family's demise have proven to be an unfortunate and sudden distraction." I gestured then toward my lower half, a comical yet sheepish, resigned grin on my face. "If only there were something that could be done."

Clarielle gave me a wide, lurid grin. "If only there were." With that, she dropped to her knees, taking my hosiery in her hands and lowering them to the floor as she did so. She then slowly ran one hand up my leg, a single stroke advancing up my inner thigh, lightly dancing her palm across my stones before grasping my manhood at the root, now fully impassioned and standing at proper attention once more. She looked up at me then, her eyes locking with mine, slowly drawing back my foreskin as she lightly danced her tongue across the instrument of her desire. Then, her eyes never straying from mine, she took that grand, furious member deep into her throat in a singular slow, exquisite motion that left me breathless and weak-kneed from the pleasure of it.

Still resolute, I seized a handful of those luxuriant dark curls at the back of the head and guided her motions, first slow, delicious strokes as she suckled upon that spear in supplication to the divine power of Love-and-Passion, then increasingly in speed as my pleasure built to nearly unbearable levels.

I stopped her then, for while I enjoy receiving oral ministrations, I did not particularly enjoy them to completion, and preferred to perform them myself. To that end, I drew her up to kiss her, still maintaining eye contact. "My turn," I said, lifting her chamise deftly over her head to expose her full naked form. Her breasts, unfettered from the restraint of the corset, were still full, ample, and had the pertness of youth — a proper, delightful handful, her areola dark, her nipples about the size of my little finger and about the length of my fingernail. I cupped her left breast gently at first, smoothly running my hand underneath, lightly tracing around the areola with my thumb, careful to only barely brush against that nipple. She gasped with each pass of that thumb, her back stiffening. My caress grew firmer as I caressed first the left, then the right in similar circular motions, taking care to maintain eye contact as much as possible. "Please," she moaned.

"Lie back", I said, moving to slowly ease her back as I climbed onto the bed. She looked at me expectantly, and I kissed her, tenderly at first, my left hand now caressing her breasts as I propped myself on my right arm. Her hands caressed my face, and I sensed her smiling as we kissed.

"What?" I asked quietly. Behind me I could hear a disapproving "tsk" from the washer woman's ghost.

"I like what you're doing," she said as my hand lightly traced its way across her stomach to her legs. I squeezed her buttock, then slowly slid my way to her inner thigh. She shuddered and gasped at the light touch. I smiled, kissed her again, and then returned lightly circling her areola before a more determined stroke across the nipple. "Love-and-Passion!" she exclaimed. "I can't take this!"

"You can," I said before sliding down and taking that nipple lightly between my lips, flicking my tongue across the tip. She gripped the bed and shuddered, and I knew she had received her first blessing of the evening from that divine power of Love-and-Passion.

"You lied to me," she said after her gasps of air became more steady. "You said you weren't the greatest lover alive."

"I refuse to make that claim," I said. "After all, if you are the greatest, there is no room for improvement, and I always strive to improve."

"Please," she whimpered. "Try to improve again."

"Happily."

Now I slid my way to kiss her navel as my hand again slowly traced its way up one inner thigh, past her love mound, gently tickling its way through the curly black thatch of hair there, then back down the other thigh as both her legs quivered in anticipation. She moaned softly as I slid first one, then another finger across her lovely nether lips, drawing forth the wetness there. I withdrew my hand, despite her protesting whimper, and lightly blew warm air there. Now I slid down to crouch on the floor and draw her hips closer to the edge of the bed, her legs over my shoulders, as my tongue slid across those lips in a motion similar to what my fingers had done, and she cried out, bucking those hips slightly, before giving a quieter moaning sigh.

I slid my tongue across those nether lips more firmly now, tasting her wetness and inhaling the heady scent of woman. She sighed as I explored what the divine powers had given her, clutching her fingers at my hair to draw me further into her as her moans grew louder. Now I used my tongue to circle that special bean at the top of her womanhood, shrouded like a tiny imitation of a man's part but doubly sensitive, triply, even moreso, and her moans and clutching hands grew even more desperate. I sucked upon it then, as though it were that nipple and I was her starving babe, occasionally lightly running my tongue over the tip. I had slid one finger, then another, into her womanhood to find that spongy spot that, on Clarielle, was but a mere knuckle and a half deep, and I lightly, then firmly, made a "come here" motion across it while still suckling upon her special bean.

Now she was gasping for breath and crying out, her entire body tense, her hips bucking into my face, and then, once again, her entire body stiffened in yet another divine blessing as her pleasure crested over her.

"Sweet... love... and pass..." she managed to mumble as she slowly returned to her senses. "I've... never..."

"Her divine blessings are upon you this night," I said as I smoothly slid up to kiss her, again, lightly, first on the forehead and then on the lips. Her hand strayed towards my manhood, which was now at full attention and stiff as the oak posts of the four-poster bed.

"Please," she again said, this time with more urgency. "More."

"Happily," I said, and I moved between her legs on my knees to look at her, my manhood directly aimed at her womanhood.

"Now," she pleaded.

I drew forward and slid the tip across her lips, and she rose her hips to try to draw me in. I resisted then, smiling, and just allowed myself to cover the tip with the juices of her excitement from before, then slip that tip in slowly, ever so slowly, then slid it back out again.

"Please," she cried. "I want it. I want you."

"What do you want," I asked firmly.

"Your cock inside me," she said, her vulgarity revealing all pretense of propriety had left her now, replaced by the urgency of carnal lust and passion.

"How do you want it," I said, sliding it in just a little further now, still maintaining that agonizing slowness. She tried to buck to take me harder, faster, but I grabbed her hips and held them fast so that I could prolong my teasing.

"Hard," she cried. "Fast. Fuck me! Please! Fuck me!"

"With pleasure, my sweet," I said, thrusting myself deep into her velvet channel. Her nether muscles gripped me then as I thrust in and out of her, milking my manhood as tightly as she could. Now her cries of pleasure filled the room, drowning out the disapproving grunts from the washer woman ghost who, I noted, was still avidly watching the proceedings despite her apparent disapproval. A typical thing for ghosts, really, watching the living perform those actions in life the ghosts missed the most.

Now I had her knees over my shoulders as I pounded deeply into her womanhood from above, using my entire body weight and the buoyancy of the feather mattress to give her the strong, steady coupling she demanded, occasionally rapidly speeding my thrusts to her utter delight. She responded in kind by clutching at my buttocks, my back, my hair, the sheets, all the while whipping her head from side to side, her cries of passion at once boisterous and increasingly incoherent as the passions of the divine powers possessed her. Occasionally she would stiffen with the blessing, then gasp and cry out as they ended, and I would stop or slow my efforts to allow her to restore her senses. Occasionally, I would take her from behind, her head resting on her crossed arms before her, her ample breasts pressed into the mattress as I resumed my pounding, like some wild beast or one of the centaurs mounting his mate on the northwestern plains.

She collapsed, finally, saying she desperately needed water and to rest, and we estimated that she had received the divine blessings of Love-and-Passion at least twelve times — one for each of Shaeonosar, the lesser divine powers. I chuckled as she curled around me, sipping her water, me sipping the wine my manservant had prepared. "Then we must try for seven more," I said, "in honor of the six greater powers and Smiling Almiroth, the power of Magic-and-Mystery."

She laughed then, a silvery, musical laugh. "That last should be yours, for this is in itself a mystery," she said, holding my still stiffened manhood in her hand. "Does this thing never receive its own blessing?"

She had no way of knowing I was using my energy reserves to withhold my own release. "I... do not wish to speak of it," I said, feigning some deep, brooding reason.

Her look of concern was expected. "Tell me! Please!"

"It's nothing," I said, looking away.

"Something is wrong, and I would not have you suffer. Please, let me help you if I can! What kind of reputation would I have as a courtesan if I could not summon the blessings of the Lady of Love-and-Passion to the Count of Bercanti?"

What reputation indeed. "It is merely..." I sighed. This next part was well rehearsed. "As the rumors say, I have indeed lost the love of my life. Raia died in my arms, and a piece of me died that day as well. While I do suffer truly from the pain of a broken heart, I cannot ever receive the blessings of Love-and-Passion, though as you have come to know, I can give them freely."

"Why ever for?" she asked, the concern in her eyes and voice genuine. Of course it was genuine. It had to be for the ritual to work. "Is it a curse, laid on you by your brother?"

I almost laughed, but refrained myself. "I cannot give myself freely, sweet Clarielle," I said, "because a piece of soul is lost to me. Until I find someone who would be willing to give her passion, her heart, her soul to me, freely, totally, devotedly, I can never truly have love in my life again."

Tears formed in her eyes then, and I felt myself twitch in her hand as she gently stroked me. She sensed this, and that stroking became more urgent. I looked into her eyes, deeply, and saw the longing there. I felt a twinge of guilt, just a hint, but the necklace around my throat throbbed with arcane heat and those thoughts were brushed away.

"I c-could try," she said. "At the very least, I could be your personal courtesan. In time, maybe you would f-find that love... w-with me." She could not meet my gaze now, and it dawned on me now that she had not negotiated a price before because she had hoped to enter into a personal patronage with me, and this was her own attempt to perhaps manipulate me. Poor girl, so clearly outmatched.

"Perhaps," I said, raising her chin so that she would meet my penetrating gaze. I kissed her then, deeply, soulfully, passionately, and she drew my doublet over my head, revealing my fully nude body to her for the first time this evening. She saw the pendant, pulsing slightly now with its rich emerald light, and her eyes widened.

"Is that kaeolar?" she said, fear in her voice. She thought Raia's soul was one of the demon-possessed artifacts from the time of the Cracking of the World. I smiled and caressed her in reassurance.

"No, those rumors about Bercanon nobles happens to be absolutely untrue." I chuckled. "Though I have it on the best authority that they trade with them in the Dienten Confederacy, but you didn't hear that from me."

"What is that then?" she said, her fascination and curiosity now overriding her fear.

"That, my sweet, is the lost soul I spoke of."

She touched the emerald then, tentatively, lifting it to look into its facets. "It's beautiful."

She was, I thought. "So are you," I said, and I meant it.

She looked into my eyes again, then, and with a suddenness that surprised me she gave me a kiss with such passion, such fervor, that when she forced me back onto my back and mounted me I could offer no resistance. Instead, I merely caressed her breasts as she desperately ground herself against me, seeking one more another blessing from the divine powers.

True to our word, she reached that crest again four more times before I rolled her over onto her back and drove her toward that eighteenth-by-way-of-sixth blessing of the evening. As she began to ascend that pleasurable height, I drew power to myself, to the necklace, to her. "Do you wish to love me," I asked as I thrust.

"Yes!" she cried. "Let me give it to you! Let me love you! Give me your love in return! Give it to me!"

"Will you give your heart to me?" I asked.

"Yes!" she gasped.

"Will you give your soul to me?"

"Oh yes! Give me your blessing and I will give my soul to you!"

"Say my name, and say you will give me your soul!"

"Give it to me, Vibaldorólo! Take my soul and give it to me!"

"Done!" I said, my own pleasure overtaking me, and in a release of passion, of power, of mystery and magic, I emptied myself into her body and emptied her body of her soul. I filled her womanhood with my seed, and at the same moment I filled her body with Raia's soul.

She gasped then, as though taking a sudden breath for the first time in years, and in effect, that is was Raia was doing. "Vibaldo!" she cried, her voice possessing that subtle blend of Raia and Clarielle that only I could hear from possessed vessels. "You've done it!"

Clarielle's spirit stood nearby the bed, shuddering, weeping in horror, and the washer woman went to comfort her.

"We've done it, Raia," I said. "Once more we've done it."

We slept then, our bodies exhausted, our minds numb, our spirits drained. In the morning, just before dawn, we woke and made passionate, tender, powerful love for the first time in years, until the sun peeked its way over the Inner and Outer Wall Districts across the Alor River, and into my bedchamber window. I had the love of my life with me again. Hopefully, this time, the fusion of soul and vessel would last for a lifetime.

- - - - -

That lifetime turned out to be less than a week. Beiric had been quite capable of obtaining an ample number of suitable, proper dresses for Raia's new vessel (have I mentioned that I really need to address increasing that man's wages?) and we spent those days happily, in the bliss of once again being in each other's physical company, making love when it suited us, taking in the sights and entertainments of the capital when we could. After all, Raia had never been to the city of Tirliede, not even when I was at school here in our youth, so I delighted in showing her some of my favorite spots — the Grand Promenade, University Town, the Rouchet Grand Cathedral, the Imperial Opera House... Yes, she insisted on taking in one of Maulendaise's plays at the Jenault Theatre, but at least it was one of the comedies, not one of his dreary tragedies, so we had that going for us. In fact, in all that time the only moments we didn't spend together were the afternoons when I spent a few hours teaching at the Atrasta Fencing Academy, because the divine powers know these Alorréons don't know how to lunge properly.

But our joy was not to last, alas, and before the week was over, I sensed the telltale signs that the fusion did not properly take full hold — it was little things, at first, as she would fatigue easily, then her hands or knees would tremble at innocuous times, and by the end of the week her face had that worn, drawn look and the wrinkles of a woman ten years older that suggested the body would be a dried husk by nightfall. That afternoon we spooned one another in my bedchamber.

"At least we had one more time together," she said, tears in her eyes, as she stroked my cheek with an alarmingly bony hand. I kissed her palm.

"I'll find the proper vessel one day," I said. "I have vowed this, and when have I ever broken a vow to you?"

"Never," she said.

"When I was twelve and you were eleven, what did I pledge to you?"

"That you would always be my Sorcerer-Knight, and that I would always be your Queen Raesa."

"And I always will."

We made love one more time then, tenderly, gently, sweetly, and upon completion I drew her soul once more into the gemstone around my neck. Within minutes the corpse looked as though it had mummified thousands of years before.

I purchased a small plot in the Grand Imperial Cemetery, near a broad peach tree so that she would be under peach blossoms as was right and proper. In the end, I planted lavender there, for Clarielle.

I saw the young courtesan's ghost one more time before it totally faded into the welcoming bosom of the Dark Queen. She had earned that particular blessing, after all, if not the other blessings I'd seen bestowed upon her. Her spirit was roaming the hallways of the Imperial Crown, desperately looking for room to room, calling out a man's name (I don't remember precisely what name it was). When she saw me, she screamed, her face twisting into a horrible rictus as she clawed vainly in my direction, for the dismay of the other ghosts in the hallway. That's how it often is with the Forsaken — wandering in vain, seeking, flailing about, sometimes consuming one another to retain their connection to the land of the living. Sad, really.

And so I continue my quest to find a way to restore my love, my true love, back to life, in a proper, living body. Raia, I made my vow, and I continue to pursue its fulfillment. Even if we're only together just for a little while, it is worth it to be with you, for a brief period, one more time.

- - - - -

Author's note: I don't exactly like Count Tepisma. He's done some horrible things in his life, and he always justifies his actions with the claim that it's all for the sake of his true love Raia. Truth be told, though, I'm not sure that, prior to capturing her soul in a jewel when she died, he ever truly knew her or what she wanted, or, really, if what he carried around with him all those years was even really her anymore than just his memory and wishes for what she was. But he's not supposed to be a sympathetic character, just a fascinating one. I hope that he has fascinated you even a fraction of how much he's fascinated me.