The Necromancer's Wife: A Dark Romance

by Cara Vance

  The only questions were what had happened to me, and would Harold make good on his promise to make it happen again?

  Chapter 3

  Time had no meaning in that other place. The longest conversation with old friends felt no different than a quick hello to a passing acquaintance - barely remembered, but instantly recognizable all the same. It’s hard to explain. Bodies didn’t exist there as they did back...home. It’s as if everyone was a canvas of smoke, but what appeared on that canvas was exactly how you remembered them. We saw what we expected, what we hoped, what was comfortable.

  That wasn't important right then, though. What was is that I had no concept, no sense of time between that first occurrence and the next. It could have been a minute or a millennium. All I know is that one moment I was surrounded by loved ones and the next they were gone, replaced by that swirling miasma of energy.

  Once more, I was devoured by it. This time, though, I tried my best to hold a sense of myself, my memories, and what to expect.

  Upon coming to; however, I made it a point to forget about what to expect next time. I found myself on my hands and knees...or someone else’s hands and knees. Unlike last time, there was no gradual sense of becoming someone else. This time, it was more like a light switch. One moment I was ethereal, the next I was just there. Looking around, I was obviously in bed again. I glanced down and saw my hands. Gone was the porcelain skin from before. In its place was a dark mocha color covering long arms, tight with muscle. Whoever I was now, she was in killer shape.

  I had little time to ponder the rest, though, as I felt hands grasp my waist. They reached under and began to finger her - my - clitoris. She - I - was already quite wet. I let out a throaty gasp as fingers slid inside of me. I sighed in a voice deeper than my own as they continued to work me. So wonderful was the feeling that I barely noticed when the other hand reached behind me and gently spread my butt cheeks apart.

  Realization of what he was doing hit me. That son of a bitch...he wouldn’t dare!

  What I had forbidden my husband to do in life, he now took liberties with in death. The tip of his thick manhood pressed against my asshole, demanding entrance. I tightened my host’s sphincter in response. I was about to let out a growl, demanding that he stop, when one of his hands slapped sharply against my ass.

  I gasped in pain - perhaps some pleasure too - and Harold used my surprise to force himself in. It was so tight and he was so large that I was sure he would split me wide open. I gritted my teeth, feeling tears well up in my eyes as he violated me. Finally, after what seemed an eternity, I felt his balls slap up against me. I was impaled upon him, helpless to do anything but let him have his way.

  He began to thrust into me. The first few were painful, not to mention an entirely new experience for me, but then slowly that gave way. A new feeling, one I had never experienced before, began to spread through my body as he continued his assault.

  “How do you like this, Lydia?” he asked from behind, the smug bastard. I’d make him pay for what he was doing.

  When he was once more buried to the hilt, I again tightened my muscles. He gasped in response. This body was indeed in good shape and I’d use that to my advantage. Keeping myself tense, I took over. I matched him, thrust for thrust, never letting up the pressure.

  Harold was never was one to give up easily, though. He continued to play with my vagina, alternating between rubbing my clit and gently fingering my labia. Gradually, I realized how good it felt to have both of my holes worked over, but I wasn’t about to let him know that.

  Emitting a snarl, I began to move my hips faster, never letting up on the pressure. I was close. Harold’s expert fingers were going to drive me over the edge any moment now and he knew it, but I was determined to make him cum first. The son of a bitch had been inside of me for a scant few minutes, and I knew it would piss him off to squirt so soon - especially in the newfound kingdom he had just conquered. Fuck him, though.

  My breathing became labored and I closed my eyes. It was going to be a race to the finish line. I put everything this body had into one final squeeze of my muscles. I held it, nearly losing myself in the process, and finally he succumbed. A blast of hot cum scalded my innermost regions. I had won, and now it was time to accept my prize. Feeling his fingers twitch against my mound as he came, I gave in to the orgasm that I had so rightfully earned. A wave of pure pleasure swept through me, made even better as I imagined him behind me - helpless to have done anything more than shoot off like a teenager.

  I could no longer hold him. My body spasmed with climax and every muscle relaxed as I collapsed forward onto the bed, my husband’s cock sliding from this body’s slippery hole in the process.

  Harold lay down alongside, put one arm around me, and fondled the ample breasts of this new body.

  I playfully slapped his hand. “Asshole.”

  “That was incredible, Lydia.”

  “That was low. Bringing me back just to assfuck me.”

  “Sorry,” he replied. “But you have no idea how lonely I’ve been.”

  “Lonely?” I turned to face him. In doing so, I got a good look at the body I now inhabited. Obviously a runner or some sort of athlete, judging by the six pack of abs I saw. “You don’t look too lonely to me.”

  “It’s not that,” he said. “I’ve done okay for myself, but none of these women can do the things you could do for me.”

  I was still pissed, but allowed myself to be flattered by his statement. Harold and I had our ups and downs during my life, but our fuckings had been nearly epic in their scope. If I had died from one of the many mind-blowing orgasms I had received at his touch, I wouldn’t have been...hmm. I wondered if that was what actually happened. Come to think of it, I couldn’t remember how I had died.

  “What happened to me?”

  “It’s hard to explain. There’s this incantation...”

  “Not that,” I interrupted, although I had to admit I was intrigued as to where he’d been going with that. “How did...I die?”

  “You don’t know?”

  “No. I remember being me...actually being me, us living our lives...and now there’s this.”

  He paused for a moment before finally answering, “It was a car accident.”

  “Oh.” I didn’t quite know how to respond to that, so I simply asked, “Did I suffer?”

  “No. It was very quick.”

  “Well, that’s good.” It was a lame response, but all I could think of. “How was my funeral?”

  “It was nice. Your family flew in from Ohio.”

  “Cousin Minnie?”

  “Yeah, she was there too.”

  “Shit. Why did you have to invite her?”

  “Sorry," he replied offhandedly. "I didn’t really have time to sit down and go over the guest list.”

  I decided to change the topic. Complaining about my bitch cousin wasn’t particularly productive, especially since she technically wasn’t related to the body I currently possessed. Speaking of which, that seemed as good a topic as any.

  “Who is this?”

  “Huh?”

  “This body. Who is she?”

  “Oh. I think her name is Idela Something-or-other. I met her on a dating site.”

  “And that other person?”

  “What other person?”

  “From that last time!” I snapped. “How long ago was that, anyway?”

  “That was last week.”

  “Only a week ago?”

  “Yeah. Saturday, to be precise.”

  So, here was my husband - widower, I reminded myself - fucking two different whores in a week. Okay, that wasn’t entirely fair, I guess. He was technically single now. Still, that didn’t make it sting any less.

  “So what happens to them? You’re not...killing them are you?” I asked, really hoping the answer wasn’t “yes.” The Harold Strom I knew had been a lot of things, not all of them wonderful, but a murderer? No, I just couldn’t believe that. Still...


  He just laughed in reply. “No. The...ritual...it kind of puts them to sleep. When you leave, they’ll wake up with no remembrance of things.”

  “And then what?”

  “Then I’ll probably have to finish what I started with them. That’s kind of why I get them undressed and ready to go before summoning you. If they go...inert, dressed, and wake up like this...,” he trailed off, but I got his meaning. If he did that, it wouldn’t be too long before he had his ass hauled to jail for rape.

  “Slick,” I said sarcastically. “So you get to nail two women for the price of one.”

  “I’m only thinking of you the entire time,” he insisted.

  I didn’t believe him for a second, but kept my mouth shut. Three years was a long time. Though I had no sense of its passage, obviously, he would have had plenty of time to grieve and finally move on...although, apparently he hadn’t. Speaking of time, though...

  “How much longer do I have?”

  “Three hours...well, more like two and a half now. I haven’t been able to figure out a way to get the spell to last any longer.”

  Spell? Oh no. The crazy bastard, had he actually...I stopped myself mid-thought. It was pointless anyway. Obviously, he had.

  Harold had indulged in a lot of odd hobbies over the course of our marriage. His favorite, though, had been a bizarre fascination with the occult. Since he was a psychoanalyst, I had always assumed this interest had been mainly geared toward whatever effect it had on people’s psyches. I now realized I might have been very wrong.

  “What did you do, Harold?”

  “Nothing you need to worry about, dear. Just know I’m trying to find a way to bring you back permanently. I just...”

  “What?”

  “Don’t know how to do that yet.”

  Chapter 4

  Each time Harold brought me back, it was a little less jarring for me, or at least the actual event was. What never stopped being bizarre were the different bodies I wound up inhabiting, or the new perversions awaiting my return.

  Once a week, or so he said, Harold would summon me from the beyond for three hours. He claimed it wasn’t possible to do so any more frequently, at least not that he had discovered.

  Occasionally, I’d revisit the same body as on previous times, but more often than not, it would be someone new. Harold was apparently quite the player - something that never ceased to annoy me as it led me to wonder whether he had been on the up-and-up while I had been living.

  He was seemingly also into variety. I was pulled into a wide array of women: white, black, and Asian; thin, athletic, and fat; blondes, brunettes, redheads, and once someone with dyed electric blue hair. You name the combo and Harold either had tried it with me or was probably going to at some point in the future.

  Regardless of how often I came back or in what body, one constant remained: Harold’s cock was always waiting for me. No matter what he did to me, whatever perverse fantasies he lived out, I almost always came in the end. I experienced pleasure through a plethora of alien vaginas, multiple assholes, and mouths without end. Every time it was an erotic mix of new and old. Though the feel of him was always familiar, the various bodies that I inhabited always reacted in slightly different ways.

  Some came easily, while others required far more work - some nearly driving me to exhaustion in the process. Harold tasted somewhat different, depending on the mouth I used to suck him. For some, his cum was salty, others sweet. In one case, her taste buds had been somehow off and I had nearly gagged when he shot his load down my throat.

  Never, though, did I deny him his pleasure, for I knew my own followed. I dare say I became addicted to the sensation. The afterlife - whether heaven, hell, or someplace else - was pleasant enough, but it just couldn’t compare with the earthly delights I experienced. Talking to the souls of even the most heavily missed of friends simply could not hold a candle to how it felt to be filled by Harold’s magnificent manhood. Soon, I began to beg him to try and find a way to bring me back either more often or for longer stretches of time. Sadly, though, it wasn’t to be. According to him, no matter what he tried, three hours was my limit.

  Since that was all I was allowed, I became determined to make good use of the time. All positions were ours to try. Harold earned a good living, thus there was never a shortage of toys to use. I once even tried to convince him to fuck me on the front lawn after dark...why should I care who was watching as long as I was fulfilled? The old me was giving way to the new. Harold and I had satisfied each other sexually while I was alive, but there had always been limits - certain things I refused to do, whether out of fear, shame, or both. The new me shed those inhibitions like a snakeskin. Whatever Harold wanted, I was eager to give him.

  And so it went. Though time had no meaning for me when I wasn’t with him, I began to keep track of our visits. By my count, several months passed. During that time, I experienced orgasms in over a dozen different bodies. In the few instances where his penis wasn’t enough, Harold wasn’t averse to using his tongue for more than talking. I was amazed at how the same man could feel so different depending on whom I inhabited.

  The truth is, it may have gone on like this for years, perhaps even decades, assuming Harold’s surprisingly impressive stamina didn’t finally give out. I, for one, though, craving the feel of being wrapped in (and impaled by) flesh, would have let it go on for an eternity - despite knowing deep down that what we were doing went against the natural order.

  Forget what you think. If there is a God, I never met him. Nor did I ever see Angels flying around me. I never saw Fates weaving any threads, and not once was I given reason to believe that any of a dozen imagined deities were real. Eventually, though, I did become aware of a sense of order in the beyond...order that I was going against in my mortal dalliances. In death, as in life, there are choices. Some of the departed were happy to remain where they were; welcoming friends and family when they left their mortal coils. Others returned to earth as disembodied spirits, to protect and subtlety influence the living. Many more abandoned their sense of self to be reincarnated...hoping that the next life brought them...well, whatever it was they were seeking. I alone, of all the spirits that I had met, chose to do none of this, instead existing for no other purpose than waiting to be summoned again.

  But then, something changed.

  Chapter 5

  The whirlpool of energy appeared before me and I gladly leaped into it, letting it drag my soul back to Earth, while wondering what new adventure awaited me and my purloined privates.

  I opened my eyes and found Harold leaning over me. I tried to embrace him and realized I couldn’t move my hands. I briefly looked around, noticing the clock on the nightstand. It read 7:42 PM - an earlier start than usual. I looked up and saw why I couldn’t move my arms. They were tied...no, handcuffed...above my head to the bedpost. So this was his kink of the week, eh? The bondage was interesting, although judging by his position on top of me, things were going to be a little vanilla otherwise. That was okay, though. Sometimes it was good to get back to the basics. I gave him a salacious wink to let him know I was ready and he immediately plunged into me.

  I let out a moan at the feeling. It was tighter than expected and I actually felt a slight bit of pain as he forced his erection deep inside of me. I happened to glance down at the body that I inhabited and saw the firm tightness of youth. Interesting.