Princess to Pleasure Slave 23: Lusty Ghost Edition

by Amanda Clover

  Princess Felisa Sansona was sore when she awoke. In her dreams she had been pursued through a maze by rapacious spirits. Her wet hair had spread dampness to her pillow and she felt chafed between her legs. She reached a hand down and touched herself there under the blanket. She brushed her fingertips over her swollen folds and felt a jolt of pain. She clenched instinctively and felt a new pain in her anus, a soreness and burning sensation that was most unpleasant.

  “The ghost,” she moaned softly.

  She opened her eyes and sat up in the bed – the bed she had shared with the witch woman – to find she was alone and gray daylight filtered through the shutters to drain the color from the bedroom.

  “Awake?” Cosima called from a distance.

  “Yes!” Felisa’s shouted answer was hoarse.

  The princess found her childish gown and panties neatly folded on a chair beside the door. Having no other clothes, she reluctantly put them on, though her bust nearly burst out and in daylight the gown was nearly sheer. She looked at herself in the warped mirror over the vanity and easily saw the dark triangle of her pubic hair and the pink of her nipples and areolas.

  What did it matter? She had only met two people at this awful house and one had taken her virginity despite being a woman and the other was a ghost that she might have dreamed.

  The witchwoman opened the door and brought in a serving tray of tarnished silver with a cup of hot tea and a steaming bowl of milk oats.

  “Ah, princess,” said the witch. “You lie down in bed. I have meal before chores.”

  The princess slid back under the blanket and sat against the headboard. The witch settled the tray over the princess’s. lap. Though the food did not look appetizing and the tea was unstrained, Felisa was famished and tucked straight in. She savored the heat the oats in particularly spread into her belly with gooey swallows. Cosima sat at the foot of the bed and watched the princess eat.

  “Why do you keep looking at me?” demanded Felisa between bites.

  “How you feel?” asked Cosima.

  “A bit sore,” said the princess. “What… what happened to me last night?”

  “We made love,” said Cosima. “Then… you went for walk. I found you in ruined part of house. You should not go there.”

  “Found me in what condition?”

  “Oh, child,” said Cosima with a sympathetic tone. “You found lord of manor. And he had his way.”

  “Lord Poletti?” Felisa recalled the vague detail that Poletti had built this ancient manor. “So it wasn’t a dream. I was…”

  She still could not admit to herself what had happened. Cosima was all too happy to do it for her.

  “The ghost of Vincente Poletti had way with you,” said Cosima. “It was bound to happen, you being so pretty and looking so much like wife.”

  “Wife? What are you saying?”

  Cosima gave the princess a gentle pat on her hand and the witchwoman rose from the bed.

  “I will wait for you in great room,” she said. “Come see me when you finish breakfast.”

  Felisa found she had little appetite after the conversation with Cosima. She drank the bitter tea and carried the tray of food downstairs. Cosima was waiting by the great hearth, stoking the flames and spreading a welcome orange warmth into the hall.

  “Tell me now,” said Felisa. “Please.”

  “Come and sit by fire,” said Cosima, patting the stone hearth next to her.

  The princess sat down beside the older woman. It was not close enough for the older woman and Cosima pulled Felisa closer with an arm around the princess’s shoulders.

  “Long ago, this place was built for love, you know?” Cosima began the story. “Vincente Poletti was minor lord who won holdings for heroism on battle. The king who ruled these lands at time gave him mountain thinking no crops grow on mountain, no rivers to fish, no one want place. Lord Poletti built this house with hands. He built to impress a beautiful woman. Daughter of the King.”

  “Did it work?” asked Felisa.

  “Yes, it worked. He was very handsome and charming and he showed her house. It was a place for love he said. And so she came to live with him here, against her father’s wishes. But the king’s daughter was very beautiful and wise and the king knew she would be of great value in marriage. He wanted her back. King sent Lord Poletti away to battle and sent own men to go and bring daughter back. But she would not come back. She threw herself off mountain and died.”

  “What did Lord Poletti do?”

  “He won the battle for the king and returned home to find his house abandoned and his servants murdered. He learned what happened from a goatherd and went to recover wife’s body from king. In end, he killed king and returned here and took poison. House of love was house of tragedy and he haunts this place.”

  “What does he want? He had revenge on the king!”

  “It is love that keeps him here,” said Cosima. “And you look so much like his wife that he could not resist you.”

  “How do you know I look like his wife?”

  Cosima stood and lit a lantern with a burning twig from the fire. She led Felisa across the great hall, well beyond the warm light of the hearth, to the gloomy reaches of the far corner, where clustered many dusty paintings.

  “When I first come here I look at these,” said Cosima. “I remember beautiful woman with dark hair. Was last portrait hung.”

  She held up the lantern so that Felisa could see. The young princess gasped at the image that hung upon the wall. It was the same dark hair and eyebrows, the same defined chin and delicate lips, even the same dusky eyes. It was as if she looked upon a mirror.

  “How?” Felisa took a step back from the painting. “It’s not… it’s not possible.”

  “Yes, is you,” said Cosima. “Curse? Maybe your curse makes him restless. I do not know. Maybe it is only random luck. You are his wife reborn.”

  “What was her name?”

  “Selena,” said Cosima.

  “Selena,” repeated Felisa. She felt strange saying the name. She said it again and again.

  Cosima held the candles higher and shined their light upon another portrait of a man with long golden hair, a masculine jaw, and a prominent, hawkish nose. His thin-lipped smile was mysterious and his eyes were full of arrogant promise.

  “Lord Vincente Poletti,” said Cosima. “Lord of house. He built for Selena.”

  “He’s… he’s so handsome,” said Felisa as she ran her fingers over the dusty frame.

  As the princess gazed into Vincente’s eyes, she felt an unexpected twinge between her legs. It produced a quiver in her thighs and stole a breath and a beat of her heart. Cosima seemed to sense the princess’s swooning and she pulled Felisa away from the portrait.

  “Enough of ghost stories,” said Cosima. “Now you do chores.”

  Felisa had not lived an idle life, her father had ensured that, but she had never been put to work doing menial tasks. Cosima did exactly that to the princess, forcing her to clean tiles in the ancient kitchen, sweep corridors that had not been swept in decades, and stand in the misting rain and mountain winds to gather old rotten leaves from the trees. It was only in the moments between these tedious tasks that Felisa recalled the night before with great clarity. The way candlewax singed her tender flesh and the way Cosima’s tongue has felt on the cusp of her womanhood.

  She remained guarded around the witch. She could not shake the feeling that the witch had used some sort of spell to awaken her lust. Nevertheless, as darkness began to fall on the mountain and the house went from eerie to terrifying, the princess was glad for the witchwoman’s company. Together, they cooked a stew of carrots, potato, and snared rabbit and ate at the butcher’s block near the wood stove.

  “In Shaddobar,” said the rama woman, “where Empress Jurrinus rules with iron glove, they have stove made of brass that cooks without wood.”

  “Shaddobar is just across the sea from Isernelli, you know,” said Felisa. “I’ve seen one of the
ir spell stoves.”

  “Mmmm,” growled the witch. “When you finish your soup maybe I show you something else to put into your mouth.”

  Felisa’s face went red with shame. She knew instantly what the rama woman meant. The thought of doing with her tongue to Cosima what the rama woman had done with her tongue filled her with fear and excitement both at once. She decided she would refuse, but changed her mind as she looked at Cosima. What did it matter? They were alone, as the witch had said the night before. If it felt good, if it was exciting, why not do it?

  They sat by the hearth after dinner and Cosima smoked a strong-smelling her from a long pipe. She offered some to Felisa, but the princess refused. Her uncle smoked baccat and she had stolen a pinch once and tasted it in one of his pipes. It had made her sick.

  The smell of the stuff in Cosima’s pipe was not baccat. The rama woman’s eyes grew heavy and a dazed smile curled her full lips. Felisa even felt some of the effect just from the smoke that drifted her way. Her body felt warm and she wanted to laugh.

  Cosima put the pipe aside and spread her knees slowly apart. She gathered her long skirt in her hands and raised it shamelessly up her legs. She exposed the fur of her womanhood and the folds of her sex to Felisa. The princess’s face burned hot and she looked away.

  “Do not turn away,” snapped Cosima. “I do not feel shame. You should not.”

  Felisa willed herself to look at Cosima’s furry cunt. The hair was thick but could not hide the pink lips of the rama woman’s entrance. She had bathed, Felisa saw her with a washing pan, and her herbal smell from the night before was replaced with soap and a distinct womanly musk. Cosima rand her fingers over her folds and spread her fleshy flower open, exposing the channel within with its glistening walls.

  “It is natural for woman to pleasure woman.” Cosima’s stroking hand revealed the pink bud of her clit, seemingly as fat as the tip of Felisa’s little finger. “Be free, princess. Do not let laws of boring men scare you. Put your hand here. Feel my pulavek.”

  Cosima took Felisa’s hand and the rama woman pressed it between her plump thighs. The princess gasped as she felt the heat of Cosima’s cunt beneath her fingers. It seemed to burn hotter than the nearby hearth. The rama woman’s obscene hair was softer and silkier than Felisa had expected. Cosima guided the princess’s finger to her fat clit.

  “Touch me there,” said Cosima. “Yes, you rub me there.”

  It came so naturally to Felisa. Her hand began to move against the juicy heat of Cosima’s pussy and she found herself kissing the witchwoman without consciously considering either act. Her tongue delved into Cosima’s mouth. Her fingers explored the hot entrance of Cosima’s sex, pressed into her tight channel, and spread her wider. Felisa thrust her fingers in and out of Cosima’s cunt and rubbed the heel of her hand against Cosima’s bud.

  The princess forgot her suspicions. She lost herself in the hot immediacy of Cosima’s flesh and slid off the hearth stone and onto her knees. Cosima did not have to ask her. She crawled between those thick thighs, resting her hands upon the rama woman’s pale legs as she lowered her face. She was surrounded by that strange musk of a woman’s arousal and it excited her. She kissed Cosima’s inner thigh. She tasted her way towards those glistening fleshy folds and the fat bud of Cosima’s clit.

  Cosima slid her fingers into Felisa’s silky hair and pulled the princess closer. The rama woman moaned and thrust her eager sex at the young princess’s pretty face. Felisa did not hesitate, even as Cosima lifted her legs over Felisa’s shoulders to trap the princess against her vulva. It only encouraged Felisa’s lust. She stroked and spread Cosima’s hot furrow.

  “Oh, yes, princess,” moaned Cosima. “Look at pulavek. So wet for pretty princess. Taste how sweet.”

  Some part of Felisa’s mind was aware of the absurdity of what was happening. She was a princess, after all, and she had willingly got on her knees to lick the furry cunt of a rama woman she barely knew. It was an outrageous thing to do. The realization only excited her more. Her kisses reached Cosima’s steamy slit and the princess gave the woman a testing lick. And another. The more she ran her tongue over those slippery folds and tasted that slightly sour nectar, the more she craved.

  “Ohhhh,” moaned Cosima. “Yes, you like. I know you like.”

  The rama woman reached a hand down to her pussy and spread it open wider for Felisa’s tongue. The princess gratefully buried her tongue into that hot and squeezing tunnel. She explored the odd softness and tightness of it and pressed her face against Cosima’s mound. She inhaled the thick scent of musk and sweat that was trapped in the witch’s pelt. She sucked at the juices that spilled in copious quantities down the princess’s chin.

  “Mmmm yessss,” moaned Felisa. “Your bud. I must lick your bud.”

  “Here, princess.” Cosima used her fingers to guide the princess’s tongue. “Lick and suck like good girl.”

  Felisa’s tongue found the swollen bud, so much larger than her own, and she lapped circles around the hot flesh and pressed her fingers to Cosima’s entrance. She used her index and middle fingers to thrust into the witchwoman’s steamy, slippery fuckhole as she sucked at Cosima’s swollen clit. The princess put her other hand to use stuffed down her own panties and stroking her own increasingly slippery furrow.

  The great hall echoed with Cosima’s cries of pleasure and the increasingly lewd sounds the princess made with her mouth. Felisa sucked and slurped, she licked and nearly bathed her cheeks and chin in the rama woman’s sweet nectar. She continued to fuck her fingers in and out and even added a third finger to stretch that hot tunnel wider.

  Cosima unlaced her bodice and fondled her heaving breasts as she writhed against Felisa’s face. The rama woman sucked her own wine-dark nipple and pinched the other fat bud between her fingers.

  “Oohhhhhh!” Cosima wailed. “Yes! I cum for you! I cummmm!”

  Felisa moaned lustily, bucking against her fingers as the fingers of her other hand plunged in and out of the rama woman’s dripping channel. The princess sucked fervently at Cosima’s fat clit. Her slightly curling fingers pressed against the spongy inner walls of Cosima’s pussy. She felt those walls tight. The rama woman arched and thrust her juicy thatch against the princess’s mouth.

  “Ahhhhh! Ahhh yes! My gods! My beauty!”

  Cosima’s plump legs flexed and her thighs clenched against Felisa’s head. Cosima’s juices poured out in a slick torrent that dripped from Felisa’s chin and onto her breasts. Felisa came in that same moment. She fucked against her fingers and released the pent lust of the day spent laboring for Cosima. There was no shame in that release, no regret in the sweet nectar that she drank from Cosima’s flower.

  At last, Cosima’s orgasm was spent, and the rama woman released Felisa from between her thighs. The princess kissed her way back up, lingering at Cosima’s wine dark nipples before kissing the rama woman and sharing that sweet taste. It was a sloppy, hungry kiss and both women luxuriated in every moment of it. Their passion spent, princess and witchwoman lay together beside the hearth on the pelt of an ancient warg that smelled of their sweat.

  Felisa rested her head on the soft pillow of Cosima’s preast and listened to the steady beat of the rama woman’s heart. The witch stroked the princess’s dark, silken hair.

  “I’ve made up the bed for you in one of the guest rooms,” said Cosima. “You will sleep alone tonight.”

  “Alone?” Felisa lifted her head from Cosima’s breast and gazed at the rama woman unhappily. “The ghost might return, Cosima. I do not want to be alone. I want to sleep with you.”

  The princess tried to slide a hand between Cosima’s thick legs. The rama woman pushed the princess’s hand away and forced Felisa to sit up.

  “You must face fears. If Vincente Poletti comes to bed, you must confront him.”

  “What? How do I confront a ghost?”

  “Shhhhhhh!” Cosima pulled Felisa tight and stroked the back of the princess’s head. “The curse is onl
y lifted by courage.”

  Felisa wanted to say more, she wanted to plead with Cosima to take her up to her bed and hold her close. Her pride as a daughter of Sansona prevented her from voice any more of her fears. Some part of her new that the rama woman was right; Felisa had to resist the spirit if it came for her.

  How? Even thinking of the unearthly glow made her remember the way those hot candles had plunged in and out of her helpless holes. That sent a new and depraved heat through her body. The way the spirit had touched her body with his cold hands and used those candles was a terrifying pleasure, as addicting for Felisa as being with Cosima.

  She offered no more protest and followed the shapely rama woman up to the room. It was much smaller than the master bedroom Felisa had shared with the witch the night before. The bed was smaller and there was only a wardrobe and a cracked mirror to otherwise furnish the room. The lines, at least, smelled like the wash and the sun as Cosima tucked the princess into the bed.

  “Goodnight, my not-so-innocent princess,” said Cosima and she kissed Felisa upon the forehead.

  “Goodnight, kinky rama witch,” replied the princess, which elicited a laugh from Cosima.

  Her hips swiveled and her round backside rolled as she departed the room and left young Felisa to her fantasies of further explorations with the witch. Felisa thought to write a list upon some old book to keep track of all the way she wanted to touch the body of Cosima. She decided she would write such a list alongside another with all the things she wanted Cosima to do to her. Then, perhaps, some arrangements could be made to ensure each item was thoroughly crossed off the list.

  There was no fireplace in the room and the only light, other than the moon through the shutters, came from a candelabrum left on the nightstand beside the bed. Felisa decided she would keep a vigil and wait for this spirit, this amorous wraith of Vincente Poletti, to appear in her room.