Necromantic (3 page)

“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.

“This one’s a bit young, isn’t she?” I hissed through clenched teeth while I struggled to contain his manhood. Whoever owned this body hadn’t had more than a handful of partners, if that. It was nice...reminded me of my own misspent youth and those first few men I had let use me. Harold and I had met not long after and I remembered how our younger selves had fucked like rabbits in those early days. I smiled, thinking of the three hours ahead of me. He’d be lucky to keep up.

“Freshman from the local college,” he replied, continuing to thrust into her -
me
- with everything he had. “Now shut the fuck up, Lydia...or do I have to gag you?”

That might have been fun, but it wouldn’t have left my mouth free to tease him. I lifted my head and put my tongue to better use than for talking. I nipped at his neck and tried to work my way down, albeit it was easier said than done while restrained. The bastard wasn’t about to win that easily, though. The body I inhabited was young, strong, and nubile...perhaps a runner or maybe a cheerleader. I wrapped my legs around Harold, crossed them over his ass, and bucked my hips with everything I had.

“Oh God, Lydia!” he gasped, trying to regain control. I tittered in response. With me tied down, he thought he was firmly in charge. I may have been a nineteen or twenty-year-old, physically, but mentally I was an experienced woman. He should have known better. Let him dominate this body after I left, for now, though, I was going to enjoy making him cum, whether or not he wanted to.

He tried to pull back, but I just locked my legs more tightly around him, grinding my hips upward until the tip of his cock slammed against this body’s cervix. I felt a small shudder rock me. The feeling was so delicious that I wanted to lose myself in it. This body was young, tight, and wet...it wouldn’t be able to withstand many more hits like that, but that was fine too. If I timed this right...

And I did. My hands were useless, so I used everything else I had. Rocking my body against his, I felt his rock-hard manhood plunge into me again. I arched my back and felt his rough chest scraping against my overly sensitive nipples. A girlish squeal escaped my lips. I couldn’t help myself. I remembered back to my first time. His name escaped me - Doug or something like that - but I never forgot his body. He had lasted maybe thirty seconds inside of me, barely enough time to lift my bra, but it had been enough. By the time he pulled his sticky member from my newly deflowered body, I knew that my days of being a girl were finished. I had become a woman.

That thought, combined with this body and Harold’s hammering, began to send me over the edge. I contracted with everything I had, unwilling to give up, and was rewarded for my efforts by a splash of Harold’s warm seed deep inside of me. I took that feeling and was lost in it. My body convulsed with pleasure as our bodily juices mixed. The scent of his musk filled my nostrils. I opened my mouth to receive his tongue, wishing my every sense to be filled by him...not wishing to know where I ended and he began.

I’ll say it again: the beyond is pleasant enough. Gone are the woes of our earthly forms and whatever troubles might have plagued us, and in that there is true peace to be found. However, the true meaning of heaven is right here on Earth when deep in the grip of a mind-blowing orgasm. We can only experience it for a few moments at a time, but there is nothing like it in all of creation. Trust me on this; I have a little extra perspective in this regard.

Eventually, my spasms turned to quivers and then finally abated altogether. Spent, I felt the last few drops of Harold spill into me. In life, I had often lamented that we were never blessed with children. Even now, the pain of being childless remained...even if just as a distant memory. Tests had shown that Harold was sterile. In death, though, I saw that was probably a good thing now. The way he was going through women with his bare cock, he would have otherwise probably been hit with a dozen paternity suits by now. It was also a win for me. I had always loved the feel of a man’s release. Now I got to experience it in more ways than I ever dared dream.

Harold pulled out of me and produced a key with which to free me from my bonds. I found my wrists were a little sore from straining against them, but I was otherwise feeling quite good. Ah, to be young again.

“I’m happily surprised to see that you came,” he said, sitting up in bed.

I laughed. “Why should that surprise you, dear? You seem to always make me cum.”

“Not what I meant,” he replied.

“What then?”

He hesitated a moment before saying, “It’s not important.”

“Tell me,” I insisted, sitting up and putting my arms around him. I leaned against his back, feeling my nipples harden as they came into contact with his skin. This body, whoever she was, was already prepared for another go. I could get used to that.

“The...spell,” he said. “I thought I might have messed it up tonight.”

“How?” I asked, intrigued. Aside from passing mentions of it back when we began our illicit supernatural trysts, Harold had been quite mum on his methods for bringing me back. Considering the delights that awaited me upon my return, and the short time periods involved, I hadn’t thought to question him further.

“It’s complicated.”

“I’m not a moron, Harold,” I protested, briefly remembering the small art gallery I had run in life. I wondered what had ever happened to it.

Before I could ponder that further, though, he replied, “As I said, it’s difficult to explain. Tonight I thought I might have accidentally mixed up some of the components.”

“What components?”

“Belladonna,” he said offhandedly. “It’s one of the key ingredients. I wasn’t paying attention. Some telemarketer called me while I was preparing things, and I thought I might have mixed in mandrake extract instead. I keep the damn things right next to each other...”

He was right; I had no idea what he was talking about. Heck, I barely believed in an afterlife and I was living (or something) in it. The supernatural mumbo jumbo he was talking about was beyond me.

I decided to push that thought away. I only had about two and a half more hours before being banished back to the netherworld. I wanted to test the limits of this body...and Harold’s.