The Ghostly Lover

Princess Aria had done everything right.

She had brushed her long, golden hair every night. One hundred strokes. She had massaged oils and poultices into her honey-hued skin until it was as soft and supple as the petals thrown at her feet as she walked down the aisle. She had obeyed her mother and father, and had been rewarded with a betrothal to Prince Edmund of the Aiscill Kingdom, next in line to the throne.

The wedding had been exquisite. She had fluttered her eyelashes demurely at her new husband from beneath her gossamer veil as the priest droned on before them. She had ensured to engage in the most ladylike conversation with him at their wedding feast, blushing astutely at his comments on her ravishing beauty.

So why, then, had she opened the door to her new bedroom that night to find her husband bent over the bed, being throughly fucked from behind by his best man?

She had bathed in a hurry after the feast, brushing aside the servant who dilly dallied and insisted she must be scrubbed from head to toe, bursting through the connecting door into the bedroom to find -- well, the servant had not let her dwell on it for long, pulling her back into the bathing room swiftly with a tactical bath robe thrust in Aria's face.

"My lady, you are not nearly squeaky clean enough," the servant yelped, rubbing aimlessly at Aria's elbow with a rough cloth. Aria pushed her away with a mighty shove and made for the door again, but stopped herself. She remembered that she must be a lady of poise and grace. Ladies of poise and grace did not burst through doors to yell obscenities at their new husband.

With a grunt, she spun on her heel and snatched the cloth from the servant's shaking hand. She stalked back to the bath, sliding into the hot water and rubbing at her skin with the vigor of a warrior.

The servant, who before had chattered idly about how grand the ceremony had been, how excited the young bride must be to be in her new home, now silently passed Aria the soap, her face an alarming shade of scarlet. In the new silence, Aria noted that she could hear a muffled grunting from the bedroom, and a faint slapping that increased gradually in intensity before suddenly ceasing.

She was so sure that she had done everything right.

* * *

That night, Aria lay beside the snoring form of Prince Edmund and wept quietly.

She imagined many women her age found themselves weeping in the bed of their new husband -- uprooted from their homes, married to a man often much older, introduced to the unspoken world of sexual intercourse in a sudden way.

Aria was not like them. She did not mind being uprooted from her home; her mother had encouraged her constantly on adventures, had arranged a marriage to a handsome young man her own age of twenty-one, and had regaled to her in graphic detail the pleasures that she and Aria's father indulged in regularly.

This had the unfortunate side effect of instilling in Aria the highest of standards when it came to her suitors. She had ensured that she was a top-tier catch for any suitor, and was sure she had played her cards right when she caught the eye of Edmund, next in line for the throne of the wealthiest kingdom on the continent. The way that his doe-brown eyes met hers with a sultry wink from across the room set her heart fluttering at the promise of an enthusiastic courtship.

But after fifteen minutes of half-hearted thrusting followed by some excuses about too much ale, Edmund had shown that he was not providing the enthusiastic courtship quite the way she had imagined.

Well, she reminded herself, he certainly had enthusiastic for SOMEone... just... not me.

Aria sighed and sat up, slipping from the bed and padding quietly to the door to her dressing room. She shut the oak door quietly behind her and picked up the pale blue dressing gown that she had earlier tossed onto her slipper chair in fury. She pulled it on over her sheer nightgown and pulled on her silk slippers. She could not spend another moment lying quietly in that bed.

It was not the right footwear for marching out into the chilly night, but, Aria figured, she was clearly not the right Princess for the life she had envisioned for herself, and so the slippers would do.

A small pang of regret did hit her as she stepped out onto the grass of the lawns, the night dew immediately soaking through her slippers. With a hmph, Aria lifted her chin and marched on.

The moon was a perfect half, so Aria could not tell whether it was waxing or waning. She cared not. She was grumpy and dejected and wanted nothing more than to enjoy a wander through the woods. They weren't far -- she had eyed them from the window that morning as her attendants had fussed with her hair, her blush, her corset. Already she was stepping beyond the manicured lawns of the manor grounds and into the natural haphazardness of the woods.

Aria walked faster, enjoying the caress of the cool air despite the occasional tangling branch or bulging root system. Before long she reached a thinning of the trees, a clearing with a pond in its centre, the half-moon reflected with stunning stillness on its surface. Aria approached it and flopped down at its edge, sighing. She leant forward to catch sight of herself in the still water. The darkness meant she could only make out the rough shape of her head, her hanging hair, her drooping shoulders.

What am I to do? She thought forlornly, picking up a leaf and letting it fall from her fingertips onto the surface of the water, breaking the spell of its stillness and sending growing ripples across it. The moment the leaf hit the water a chill wind picked up, sending a rustling flurry of leaves from their branches to land around Aria and on the pond, each one sending its own concentric ripples to collide and overlap, creating a mesmerising pattern of criss-crossed curves.

Aria stared, her lids beginning to droop as if in hypnosis.

What am I doing out here? She asked herself, shaking her head softly and making to turn from the pond.

Something stopped her.

Beside the blurry, shimmering outline of her reflection in the pond was... another.

She wheeled around, eyes straining in the dim light to catch sight of the one who had joined her.

There was no-one.

Heart pounding, Aria stood and made to walk swiftly back to the grounds and to her bed. Something gripped her wrist and jerked her back roughly. Aria squealed as she hit the ground with an oof, one damp slipper flying off her foot. She sat up, head flicking from left to right as she was once again unable to make out any other person. She was so sure it was the warmth of a strong hand that had gripped her wrist.

Am I dreaming? Am I delirious? I... Okay. NOW I am dreaming or delirious.

Before her, the slipper that had been flung from her foot was floating back toward her through the air.

It reached her and she gasped softly as the sensation of a warm hand returned, this time to her ankle. The touch was gentle, almost apologetic, as it lifted her foot and slid the slipper back on.

Aria didn't move, taking in the strange scene before her. One part of her felt she should run, but there was an overwhelming sensation insider her that told her she was safe. This being would not hurt her.

With slipper returned to its rightful place, the invisible hand did not leave its place on her ankle. Instead, it caressed it gently and slid slowly up the exposed length of her calf.

Aria's breath hitched. She had read stories of ghosts, poltergeists and fairies, but this was not what she had expected.

Her fear was strong, but her curiosity was stronger.

A touch came at her left hand, and she lifted it. She was sure she felt the sensation of two lips pressing against it for the briefest moment, then pulling away.

"Nice to meet you, too," Aria whispered.

The hand on her calf squeezed gently, then disappeared. Already Aria missed its warmth.

Now two ghostly hands held hers. She felt a curious touch at the ring on her finger. It gleamed in the moonlight, a thin gold band that she had chosen herself. Seeing it in this moment brought a flare of irritation to her.

"Useless," Aria said, brushing away the ghostly hands to yank the ring off. She didn't quite have the bravado to throw it in the lake, so she settled for a disdained toss onto the ground nearby.

Was that a chuckle that brushed against her ear?

A smile tugged at her lips. A ghost in the woods was laughing at her? This was certainly a dream.

"Laugh away," she said, "I caught him with the best man. I suppose I'm the wrong sort for him."

It felt good to say it out loud, even if it was to the empty forest.

Not so empty, she thought, as her hand received a warm, conciliatory squeeze.

"Thank you. So, are you a ghost, a poltergeist or a -- Oh!"

The warm hands had suddenly returned to massaging her calf, and one had slid up under the pale blue chiffon to rest on her thigh. Aria froze, more surprised at the jolt of pleasure that had coursed through her body at the assertive touch than at the touch itself.

The hand continued, as if sensing her enjoyment, gently moving across her inner thigh. With a deft flick the skirt of her nightgown was flipped up, exposing her legs to the night air. Though the air had a chill, Aria no longer felt it. All she could feel was the heat from the hands touching her where she longed to be touched.

A hand left her thigh and came to her face, caressing her cheek and running a rough thumb over her lips. Aria parted them, begging for entry, but the hand was moving on -- down, down her neck, across her shoulder. Though she still wore her dressing gown, she could feel the warmth of the touch on her skin. It seemed clothes were no object for this entity.

The hand finally, achingly, slid across her breast. It squeezed, at first gently, and then hard. Aria let her head fall back as a breathy sigh escaped her.

The hand at her calf had moved up and was resting on her hip, the thumb drawing slow, tantalising circles.

It was when she felt the wet heat of a mouth pressing over her nipple that Aria let a moan tumble from her lips. The sound spurred the entity on, licking and squeezing, nipping and sucking.

The hand on her breast moved to her shoulder, pushing her down onto the soft grass. Aria let her legs part, inviting whatever this entity had in mind for her.

It took the invitation.

Pressure came down on her, the feeling of a solid body atop hers, and a hand moved to where she wanted it most.

Two fingers drew a lazy line along her opening, spreading her wetness and sending a shudder through her as they paused atop her clit. It started with gentle circles, slowly increasing in pace as Aria flung her arms around the invisible being atop her.

She almost giggled, imagining the sight, but bit it back for fear of offending her ghostly lover. She needed this too much to scare him off now.

The hand pulled away from her pussy and she felt the ghostly whisper of a kiss at her throat, almost timid.

"Please," Aria breathed, the pulsing in her core demanding satisfaction.

She held her breath as the entity paused for a moment, as if weighing her request. All she could hear was her heart pounding in her ears, deaf to the murmuring of the trees around her as their leaves danced in the wind.

A hand squeezed her hip. The next moment, she felt it.

A hot, solid pressure at her entrance that pressed needily.

"Yes," Aria purred, tilting her hips to meet the penetration.

It pushed, then tugged out, then pushed again, a rhythm of shallow thrusting that drove her wild.

She spread her legs wider -- as if that would be an obstacle for this lover -- and whimpered.

The entity responded, pushing deeper in a long, slow thrust that filled her up and left her breathless.

It swiftly pulled back before thrusting in deeply again, beginning a steady rhythm that left stars bursting in Aria's eyes.

Each thrust pushed against the part of her that sent hot pleasure pulsing through her belly, the sensation building, fading, building, fading.

Aria squeezed her eyes shut as she panted, her toes curling as she zeroed in on the frenetic sensations growing within her.

The entity seemed to be enjoying itself just as much, its hands gripping her hips tightly as it increased its pace, thrusting into her with wild energy that pushed her body into the ground.

Ah - ah - ah

Aria's panting matched the rhythm of the entity's thrusts. Each penetration was sending her closer to the edge -- and finally, she fell.

A long, low moan spilled from her lips as she came on the thrusting member of the entity, the pleasure coursing through her in waves that pushed all other thoughts, all other cares from her mind.

The thrusts reached their peak and suddenly stopped, the hot cock pressing into her, twitching as she groaned.

Aria laid there, dazed and sated, the member inside her slowly softening and withdrawing.

One last whisper-light touch of lips pressed again hers, and the heat against her disappeared.

She blinked slowly, bathing in the sensations -- and the confusion -- that pulsed lightly through her.

Aria didn't know what had just happened, but she knew she liked it.

She also knew that the sky had begun to lighten, and she needed to be back in her husband's bed long before the house began to stir to life.

She sat up, pulling her night gown back down over her knees and tightening the dressing robe around her. She turned back toward the pond and scanned the ground before it, searching for the thin gold band that tied her forever to Edmund.

Aha!

She pounced on it, but hesitated. A smooth stone beside the lake caught her eye, about the size of a dinner plate and worn with age. Moss had crept over it, but Aria could still make out that there were words engraved on it. She pushed the moss back with her hand and squinted, barely able to make out the text in the dim light of early morning.

SER NATHANIEL OF METCALFE

SLAIN 1547

KNIGHT OF THE KING

Aria paused a moment before the memorial, mind reeling.

"Nathaniel?" She mused, "Well... Thank you, Nathaniel."

A breezed picked up around her as if in response, and Aria could have sworn she felt a hand gently touch her cheek.

She slid the thin gold band back onto her finger, feeling much less weighed down by its form, and stood to make her way back to her bed.

Aria frowned at a strange sensation that struck her. Was that --? No... Surely not.

Quickly she bent and reached under her nightgown. She pulled her hand away and held it before her. Creamy, sticky fluid coated her hand -- and it was certainly not Edmund's.

Oops...