The Tortured Spirit of Lover's...

On this same evening, Mistress Angelique watched as the field workers filed in at the end of the day. One tall, brown-skinned slave caught her fancy, and she sent her personal servant to tell him to come to the mansion kitchen that night, and thence to her bedchamber. The worker was by chance, Elizabeth's John.

John was not eager to fulfill his mistress' desires. He had heard the tales told by a past consort of being bound to the bed for hours while the mistress impaled herself on his manhood and rode him until he was sore, and of being ordered to lick and suckle on the mistress' private parts until she passed from consciousness. It was also known that she enjoyed the female sex as well as the male, and often forced a male and female slave to copulate before her. After witnessing this act, she became as a woman possessed, and wished to be entered in every possible orifice with fingers and tongues as well as the male slave's shaft. More often than not in these sessions, the female slave was given a large wooden or ivory likeness of a man's organ to thrust vigorously in and out of the openings not occupied by the man. At other times, she would attach cruel pinchers to the female slave's nipples and require her to open her sex for the mistress to lick and suckle while the male slave entered the mistress from the rear. Woe be unto the female slave who could not achieve release many times at the lips of the mistress. Few of her slaves were able to stay the course until her needs of the evening were satisfied, and those who failed were given the task of licking her body clean of the fluids remaining from the lustful encounter. He held this treatment in disgust, but his true reason for reluctance was that he loved Elizabeth deeply, and would never willingly lie with another woman.

As it were, John would have to go to the mistress, for, just as the master was kind, the mistress was cruel to any who refused her wishes, and John knew that others who refused had been castrated, or had their manhood severed by the butcher's knife the mistress kept just for such purpose. Perhaps she would tire of him quickly, and he would have saved his life and manhood that he might share it with Elizabeth.

Elizabeth was told of the pending liaison, and was enraged that the mistress should threaten her soon-to-be husband. Elizabeth would act on her rage, as only she could. She had been given her birth name by her mother for the pleasure and use of the whites of the plantation; her aunt had given her another on her sixteenth birthday, that of Mambo Celeste du Brochette. On the instant of her first breath, her aunt, Mambo Jette du Clarisse, had read the signs of the bones and pronounced that the baby girl would become her initiate in the religion of Voodou. Elizabeth began her training at the age of six and had been named ten years later. In the two years since that day, Elizabeth had been the religious leader of the slave community on the plantation as well as for other slaves of the area. No slave would say her true name in the presence of whites, for the practice of Voodou was punishable by death, but the name was said with reverence when the slaves were alone. Elizabeth's knowledge and magic would rid the slaves of this white beast forever.

Elizabeth sent three men to build a special structure on the hillside of the plantation that overlooked the ocean, and then prepared a tasteless potion with ingredients known only to those of her calling. This potion would cause the mistress to fall into a deep sleep, a sleep filled with dreams of lust and violent sexual activity, and the continuous stream of thoughts and sensations would render her unable to control her consciousness in any manner. It would also prepare the mistress for the end to which Elizabeth had planned. Elizabeth placed the potion in the food the maid would set in front of the mistress at dinner, and waited for the events of the night to begin. True to form, after dinner, the master retired to his study, which for the last few years had also served as his bedchamber. The mistress went upstairs to her own room to prepare for the evening's dalliance.

It was nearly dark when John tapped on the kitchen door. He was surprised to see Elizabeth waiting for him.

"Elizabeth, you are still here. I waited until I was sure you would be gone. I came to the house because -"

"I know the mistress summoned you for her nightly pleasure," interrupted Elizabeth. "She has no right to continue this cruelty to us, though we may be but her slaves. Tonight, I shall bring an end to all this. The slaves will be free of this white demon who consumes us like meat at the table, and the kind master will be free of the embarrassment of living with a woman who behaves as a bitch in heat. Perhaps he will find a new mistress who will be as kind as he. No matter, the deed will be completed before the sun rises. Come, we must go to the mistress' bedchamber. You will enter first, and if she is not yet under the spell I have cast, you will do as she asks. The spell will soon render her unconscious, and when she passes into this state, you will open the door for me."

"But, Elizabeth, if the mistress suspects, she will have us killed."

"She will know nothing but that she sees all the sights and feels all the feelings that she would have tonight had her desire been fulfilled by you. Now, go, quickly."

John knocked on the door as Elizabeth slipped around the corner of the hall. The door opened, and he found himself staring into the wanton eyes of the Mistress. She was dressed in a thin, filmy robe, and instructed him to come in. She closed and locked the massive door behind him, and when he asked what she wanted of him, she merely turned and walked to the bed. John looked around the bedchamber, and was stunned by the contents of the room.

The walls of the room were hung with paintings of men and women in various acts of copulation, and small statues of the same act were placed on the dresser and night table. Vicious looking whips with many lashes hung from pegs on one wall, and on a small shelf stood a collection of wooden and ivory replicas of male organs, including one carved of ebony that was as long as his forearm, and nearly as large in circumference. The huge bed with its four massive posts stood in the center of one wall. On each post, an iron ring had been affixed, and heavy leather straps hung from these rings to the floor. The bedclothes were pushed to the foot of the bed, and the Mistress lay naked on her back with her legs spread wide as her hands roamed from her mouth to her breasts, then to the engorged lips between her thighs, and back to her mouth. She suckled each finger, making a small moan as each slipped between her lips, and then used the wetted fingers to pinch and roll her nipples.

John tried to remain calm, and asked her again what was desired of him.

"Slave, I burn with desire. My flower weeps sweet nectar as would a split fruit, and my nipples beg to be twisted and suckled. I will have need of your shaft, but the first of our pleasures will require a steady hand and a keen eye if you are to keep the manhood I so desire. Because it is very hot, I am in the habit of shaving the locks that grow between my thighs and over my mound. I find it cooler, and the sensitivity is much more extreme than when the lips are insulated by hair, but it has been some time since I last had it removed, and the short hairs irritate my sensitive areas. On the night stand you will find hot water, soap, and a freshly sharpened razor. Bring them to the bed."

John brought the items to the bedside, and she turned so that her thighs rested on the edge of the mattress. She spread her legs wide, and viciously said, "You will shave the hair that is so troublesome for me, but have a care. If I am cut by a careless stroke of the blade, I shall shave you, and I fear your manhood will be much the shorter for the experience."

John looked in amazement at the lips before him on the mattress. He had vowed some time ago to be truthful to Elizabeth, but before that vow, he had been with his share of women, both young and not so young. He had not before seen a woman so sopping with her own secretions. Her thighs were wet, the short hairs were glistening with her fluid, and a spot was developing on the sheet beneath her. He picked up the soap, dipped his hands in the hot water, and worked up a lather. He soaped the stiff stubble, working the lather well into the soft skin of her mound before moving to the swollen and extended lips. As he touched them, her hips jerked in convulsion and she caught her breath.

"Yes...rub it in well there. The skin is sensitive, and will cut easily. Do your work well, and remember my promise if I am cut."

She was already so wet with her own fluids that when his soapy fingers touched her turgid petals, they slipped between them. He started to speak, when the bite of the before unseen whip slashed across his back.

"Damn you, you ignorant, heathen slave, for entering my portal unbidden. You will enter my passage when I say, and not before. If your fingers lose their way again, you will feel my lash tenfold."

John continued rubbing in the soap, and she seemed to relax. She was rocking her hips in time with his rubbing, and he spared no effort to soften every hair. She placed a hand on his, and said, "Now, shave me, but carefully."

He picked up the gleaming straight razor, and began on her mound, carefully stretching the skin before each stroke. He finished and rubbed his hand over the satin smooth skin before attempting what he knew would be the most difficult part of the task. "Very carefully, now," she commanded, although he noticed that her voice was softer and deeper.

He took a deep breath, and attempted to stretch the skin of her outer lips by pushing them to one side. The wet, soapy skin merely slipped from his grasp. After several attempts, and her command to "stop messing about and get on with it," he finally grasped one lip between his thumb and forefinger, and pulled gently. He was awaiting the bite of the lash, but instead heard only the low moan that slipped from the mistress' mouth.

From that moment, John treated his task with the same care as he would have used had he been shaving the sack holding the balls that swung between his legs. Lift, pull to stretch, and then make a very small, very gentle stroke. The hair was being removed; he saw it in the lather on his hands and on her thighs, but the process was taking a very long time because of his care. It was made more difficult because, at the times when he accidentally brushed the large, engorged nub at the top of her passage, she cried out and her hips jerked. Once, he was nearly ready to slide the razor over her skin when she convulsed, and was fortunate to lift it just in time. He finally completed the task, wiped her clean with a towel, and asked what else the mistress would have him do.

He received no answer, and when he looked in her face, he saw that Elizabeth's potion had done its work. Her eyes were glazed but open, her mouth worked open and closed, but without so much as a tiny sound, and shortly, she began to shake as if in the throes of great release. Her breasts were swollen firm and high. The nipples and the dark circles around them were taught and wrinkled with passion, and when he looked back to her shaven lips, he saw more clear liquid slowly flowing from the opening. Suddenly, she arched high off the mattress, again and again, as her lips mouthed unspoken sounds of passion. A gush of fluid stained the white sheet dark.

John stood up, walked to the door and called softly to Elizabeth. She entered the bedchamber and closed the door behind her. She watched the scene on the bed for a moment, and then turned to smile at John.

"There are three men with a mule and cart waiting in the garden. You must carry her to the cart."

The cart creaked over the rough path to the ocean side of the plantation and up a large hill. When they arrived in a small clearing at the very peak, John saw a rough coffin of hewn stone. A large stone slab leaned against the huge headstone. He asked Elizabeth, "What is this?"

"This, my dearest John, is the tomb of Mistress Angelique. Here she will spend eternity in payment for her sins, but she will not die. Her body and spirit will remain alive, fed by men of her own race at times revealed by the signs to me and to those who come after me. She will taste of the flesh, but not of the pleasure, for she has taken pleasure enough from the men slaves of the plantation. Her eternity will be spent with an unquenchable fire in her belly, breasts, and thighs, and her soul will beg for release, but none shall come."

Elizabeth hurriedly lit the candles that sat in a circle around the stone coffin. At her signal, John and the three men carried Angelique into the circle and sat her on the ground. She moaned and began to convulse again, and would have fallen had the men not supported her.

Elizabeth opened the bag she had carried, took out a small parcel, and said, "Open her mouth." She placed a small pinch of powder on Angelique's tongue, and pushed her jaw shut. Another pinch of powder she rubbed into each of Angelique's nipples, and they immediately became very warm to her touch. "Now for the last of this magic powder, and the last thing she will feel pushed inside her greedy passage." She placed a large lump in her fingertips, and pushed it inside Angelique's swollen, dripping opening until her hand was buried to the wrist.

Elizabeth then instructed the men to lay Angelique in the stone coffin; that done, she stood over the naked woman, and mumbled the words of a Voudou spell that would complete a ritual not practiced for centuries, but still learned by each initiate before being named Mambo. When she had finished, they placed the top on the coffin.

"Did you carve the signs, both the large one for her and the small one for me?," she asked, and the old man who served as the plantation mason nodded. He pointed to the top of the headstone, and then placed a small packet in her hand.

"Good. We are finished here. Return to the plantation, and tell of this to no one. We have relieved the plantation of this demon for all time, and your part is done. Only I will think of this night, when I read the signs. It will be six months before I need watch, and then I shall plan the sacrifice.

The master asked each slave the whereabouts of his wife, and was told that his wife had been seen leaving the plantation with a buyer of rum and sugar, and no one ever saw her again. Over the weeks that followed, slaves would come to Elizabeth on certain nights, telling of strange sounds they heard from the hill on the far side of the plantation. She would only say, "The demon spirit screams for relief, but she shall have none." In time, the sounds stopped, and Elizabeth knew the spell to be binding. The master did not appear to grieve for long; after one afternoon ride, he began to avoid the ocean side of the plantation, and in three months, he introduced a pretty, middle-aged woman as the new mistress. She proved to be as kind as Angelique was cruel. Elizabeth and John were married, as planned, and the plantation returned to it's normal state of affairs.

As Elizabeth grew older, it became more difficult to entice white sailors or visitors to the hillside, and she took an initiate to train in the old ways. The girl was intelligent, and quickly learned both the signs and her part in the seduction of the human sacrifices needed to keep Angelique alive in the stone coffin imprisoning her body and raving soul. As Elizabeth became deaf and nearly blind, the duties of reading the signs and making the sacrifice were passed to this girl, along with the new name of Mambo Felice Au Claire. She in her turn, continued the ritual, for, were the sacrifices to stop, Angelique's body would die, and the evil spirit would be freed to roam the plantation in search of victims once again.

No one in those times in Haiti noticed when the occasional sailor went missing. Most supposed that drunkenness was the cause of their disappearance; the unfortunate lad had most likely fallen into the sea and drowned. Visitors were sometimes missed, but no information was ever revealed that would lead to the discovery of their whereabouts. And so the vigil continues to this day, a selfless vigil stood by a long line of women who have devoted their lives and bodies to keeping this devil in the chains of her own forging. The area is still very remote, and visitors are few. The tourists who do not return to their hotel rooms are assumed to have been killed, but none has ever been found, and many are the dusty files of photographs and interviews that sit in the boxes marked simply as "Missing."

As the years have passed, and the root of the truth has been covered by the passage of time, rumors have surfaced, been corrupted, and become a legend of the island, the legend of The Mistress Angelique. The location of the stone crypt is known to all the local inhabitants of the island, and young men do sometimes persuade their ladies to visit the site in hopes that the legend is true. The magic they hope for does not happen, and they go away to seek love potions and charms to persuade their loves to join with them. The special power of the tomb over women is only for those who wear the mate to the carving on the headstone, and this secret has been carefully guarded by the few who speak with the Voudou Gods. As Mambo Jeanette understands, this vigil must never cease, and one day soon, Jesse shall take up the watch.

The American college student sat in the restaurant, drinking coffee, and digesting the excellent meal. His companion, a young Haitian woman with golden skin and a lush body, was speaking of the local legends. She leaned toward him, and he saw both her naked breasts as the loose top fell open. "And it's said, by the very old people of the island, that the spirit in the grave has special powers to increase a woman's sexual desire. I don't believe it myself, but then, I've never been there." She shivered. "Too scary for me."

In his mind, he had her shorts and that top off already, and she was gasping for him to fuck her, right now, as he rolled her nipples and diddled her clit. "Aw, it's probably just a bunch of shit, like the Bermuda Triangle and aliens landing on earth and becoming the Aztecs. I'd like to see this grave. Whatcha think? Would you take me there?"

"Well..., I suppose you're right, and there is supposed to be quite a view of the ocean." She giggled. "You have to promise not to try any funny stuff, like ripping my clothes off, or holding me down while you ravage my body. My mother warned me that men will do that if given the chance."

"I'll have you know that I hardly ever ravage; I seduce, and I don't need some moldy old corpse to help me do that. I'm quite capable of seducing you all by myself." He winked at her slyly. "We'll see about that after we get back. Now, let's go. I'd love to see this ghost, if there really is one."

"And I'm sure she will love seeing you," she thought to herself, and rose to follow him to his motorcycle.

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