The Enchanted Resort

Hi there - I usually submit stories in the 'Erotic Couplings' section, so 'Non-Human' is a little outside of my normal genre. I'd be grateful to receive your votes/ comments, to help me decide whether I should write more enchanted stories in the future. Thanks :-)

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Basking in the rich evening sunlight, the most beautiful autumnal arboreal display of burnt ochre and deep crimson surrounded them. George and Veronica had been so looking forward to a few nights away at a luxury rural retreat and the location certainly lived up to the hype. It was impossible not to marvel at, and draw inspiration from, the wonders of nature surrounding them. Consequently, earlier that day, almost immediately upon arrival, they had excitedly decided to go hiking, to explore their new environment. It had seemed like such a good idea at the time but, having been out for a good proportion of the day, they were both starting to grow weary.

'George!' protested Veronica, rolling her eyes in despair. 'I'm sure this isn't the way back.'

'Trust me,' replied George, turning a local map ineffectually around in his hands. 'I do vaguely know where we are.'

'Only very vaguely, then,' sighed Veronica, with a shake of her head. 'We walked along this very track about twenty minutes ago.'

For the past hour, they had been trying to re-trace their steps and gain their bearings. The situation was starting to get a little more urgent now, as the shadows began to lengthen and the air slowly grew chillier. Besides, Veronica was more than aware that their luxurious tree house awaited them. Naturally, she was exceptionally keen to get back and enjoy the delights of the à la carte restaurant, whilst her muscles were crying out for the jacuzzi bath she'd spied on arrival.

'It's definitely this way back,' stated George decisively, leading them down a narrow, little-used path.

'Are you sure?' murmured Veronica, clearly not convinced.

'Positive,' he declared, taking his wife's hand with an affectionate squeeze. 'This way, Mrs. B.'

As they progressed down the path, the trees thickened and darkness encroached.

'I'm not sure I like this,' admitted Veronica cautiously. 'We seem to be heading further away from civilization, not towards it.'

'This is the right way,' declared George, sounding less confident than Veronica would have hoped. 'Look, I can see something up ahead!'

Peering forwards into the gloom, Veronica had to admit her husband had a point. There seemed to be a glimmering, dancing white light, only a short distance away. Unfortunately, as they approached, it disappeared, leaving only a narrow, babbling brook.

'It must have been a reflection on the water,' said George despondently, looking around him in confusion, unable to identify the light source.

'Oh, look!' exclaimed Veronica in delight. Her attention had been drawn to a nearby crab apple tree, beneath which stood a perfect circle of twelve red and white toadstools on a springy carpet of soft, green moss.

'That's amazing!' admired George, approaching it. 'Each toadstool is so perfectly positioned, they might have been placed there using a protractor and set square.'

'I can just feel the magical spirit flowing through the air,' observed Veronica, closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, suddenly at one with her surroundings. When she opened her eyes once more, it was with horror, to find George standing in the center of the fairy ring. 'George!' chided Veronica. 'Don't stand inside it!'

'Why not?' he chuckled. 'You don't really believe in all that fairytale creature nonsense, do you? You know they don't exist in the real world?'

'Just get out,' instructed Veronica, refusing to get into an argument with her husband on the subject. She was entitled to her opinions, whether or not they aligned with George's.

'Fine!' he laughed, raising his hands in mock surrender. Unfortunately, as he went to exit the fairy ring, his foot slipped on a damp twig. Momentarily losing his footing, he clumsily knocked over one of the toadstools.

'Oh no!' exclaimed Veronica. 'What have you done?'

'It was an accident, Sweetheart,' explained George. 'I'm sorry. But it's not the end of the world.'

Dropping to her knees, Veronica scrabbled around on the woodland floor, trying to undo the damage. However, it was hopeless; the toadstool was beyond repair.

'That's going a bit far, isn't it?' he smiled blandly. 'I'm sure it will grow back.'

'That's hardly the point, George! You've ruined something that was perfectly formed.'

'I'm sorry,' he repeated. 'But something good has come out of this detour.'

'What?' sighed Veronica, pushing herself back up to standing, a worried look etched across her face.

'Our treehouse is located on the biggest lake in the area. I reckon, if we follow this stream, that's where we'll end up.'

'Fine,' she exhaled, accepting his proffered hand. 'Just don't go causing any more trouble.'

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Feeling extremely pampered and content, Veronica and George sat in the oversized furniture on their tree house balcony later that evening, gazing up at the stars. Fortunately, once George had suggested they follow the stream, they had found their way back to their residence very shortly afterwards. Their jacuzzi bath had succeeded in working its magic on their tired bodies, after which, they had headed to the all-inclusive restaurant for a most delicious meal.

'Are you ready for bed, Sweetheart?' asked Veronica. George visibly jumped at her unexpected words; hardly surprising, given how quiet and peaceful it was. Up until then, his concentration had been entirely taken by watching the reflection of the moonlight bouncing off the flat surface of the lake below.

'Of course,' he smiled, shuffling to his feet.

Still not entirely used to treehouse living and the unusual structure in which they would be spending the night, they made their way cautiously across the decking, towards their front door, holding on carefully to the numerous handrails provided. They were suspended twenty feet above the ground, with various suspended walkways and staircases providing access to their temporary tree-dwelling residence. George had been slightly concerned about what they'd signed up to, but was overwhelmed when he'd first set eyes on the property.

The treehouse was the epitome of chic. It looked even more beautiful now, with the flickering of a hundred candles lighting their path. The wooden floors inside the treehouse were highly polished and peppered with silk rugs, which worked to excellent effect, when accompanied by the surprisingly high ceilings. Overflowing bookcases and antique French mirrors fitted snugly along the randomly shaped walls, wherever a sash window was absent.

Walking across the main living room, filled with red leather sofas and tasteful ornaments, Veronica padded through the internal sliding door to their bedroom en suite. This was a revelation in itself; a huge King-sized bed, complete with soft pillows and fresh bedding, alongside a tiled, fully-equipped bathroom. How on earth the owners had managed to get all the items into a treehouse was mind-boggling. And just in case anybody was still missing their home comforts, there was even high-speed Wi-Fi, air conditioning and the intoxicating scent of freshly-cut flowers in every room.

Having locked up, George followed Veronica through to the bedroom, yawning widely, and flopped down onto the bed.

'I'm so sorry!' he said, failing to stifle a further flurry of yawns. 'I think today must have caught up with me!'

'That's a shame,' grinned Veronica playfully. 'I'd really like to have some fun tonight,' she admitted, before disappearing into the bathroom. Her enthusiasm caused George to chuckle; his wife was clearly in a naughty mood. Unfortunately, that wasn't quite enough to inspire him. Within five minutes of his head hitting the pillow, cuddling his twitching, unsatisfied wife against his body, an exhausted George was out like a light.

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During what he could only imagine was the middle of the night, George woke abruptly. For a short while, he lay there in the darkness, listening to his wife's shallow breaths. Occasionally, through the otherwise silent air, another noise caught his attention. George kept telling his over-active imagination it was probably just a racoon, wandering around the woodland below their feet, but if that were true, it was like no racoon that he had ever encountered before.

Suddenly, a flicker of light caught his eye in the adjoining room. All the candles had burnt out, a long time previously, but perhaps they had accidentally left one alight? With a frustrated sigh, George knew he would have to leave the comfort of his warm bed, to check. However, in attempting to get out of bed, with horror, he realized movement had become impossible. Fearing he was somehow paralyzed, his eyes opened wide. George was just about to shout for Veronica for help, when he observed the bright light passing through the doorway to float above their heads. It was only then, that George could see the light was exhibiting a corporeal form.

'Be not afraid,' said the entity, in a soft female voice. 'My race only does good; everybody knows that...well, most of us do, anyway.'

As his jaw dropped wide open, George looked up at what he could only describe as a fairy. Except he didn't believe in fairies, so it must be a hallucination. In his mind, he quickly calculated the number of glasses of wine he'd consumed that evening; it didn't total anywhere near enough to produce this kind of outcome. As he stared more closely at his unexpected visitor, he studied her carefully. The fairy was actually extraordinarily beautiful, with porcelain skin, unnaturally large, almond shaped eyes, pointed ears, long slim legs and a pinched in waist, flaring out at the hips. If you ignored the glowing light, she could almost have passed for an exceptionally short human, had her wings, shaped like that of a butterfly, not been beating rapidly.

'Who are you?' croaked George.

'My name is Isabella,' she replied gently, hovering in mid-air. 'After your desecration of our sacred site, the township had a general meeting.'

'There's a whole town of you?' gasped George, his cheeks flushing red with guilt, at his earlier actions.

'There's a whole world of us,' replied Isabella immediately. 'Originally, they voted to send over one of our Revenging Fairies, but I talked them around. Which you should be extremely grateful for, by the way...'

'What's a Revenging Fairy?' asked George fearfully. It sounded like an oxymoron, if ever he'd heard one.

'They're carefully selected, as the least sympathetic of our kind,' she explained. 'A human label might be "sociopath".'

'What do they do?' croaked George. He barely wanted to know, but curiosity was getting the better of him.

'They infiltrate your life and hold you to account for your actions.'

'How?'

'Physical, emotional or financial distress; each has their own special niche,' she explained. 'They only stop, once they've reclaimed the value of what was taken from us.'

'So, what...' George paused, determined not to cause further offense to a group of beings he simply didn't understand, lest the Revenge Fairy be dispatched after all. 'So, who are you?' he corrected.

'I am a Truth Fairy, sent to those who don't believe. You were considered redeemable.'

'Why?' he gulped.

'Because of your wife,' shrugged Isabella, as though that were blatantly obvious.

George was in such shock, at having a conversation with an imaginary creature who couldn't possibly exist, that he hadn't even thought about how his wife was reacting to their unexpected nocturnal visitor. George's eyes immediately slid towards Veronica, confident she was still there, because they tended to hold hands during the night, and he could feel that they were still joined now. Incredibly, Veronica was still unconscious; she tended to slumber deeply, but managing to remain asleep, whilst her husband conversed with a fairy, took it to a whole new level.

'She's in a magical trance,' explained the fairy, seemingly reading George's mind. 'I needed to have this conversation with you first.'

'First?' asked George, feeling seriously worried. 'Before what?' he gulped, still unsure how trustworthy this unexpected visitor was.

'Before your lesson,' smiled Isabella sweetly.

'I'm still not sure I believe you're real,' challenged George bravely. 'Surely, this is all just a dream?'

'You were tired, weren't you?' she queried. 'How do you feel now?'

'Yeah, wide awake actually,' he acknowledged. 'Although that's hardly surprising, given the conversation we're having.'

'And now?' asked Isabella knowingly.

George gasped, as blood immediately began to pump into his cock. Within what felt like seconds, he was rock hard, his body shuddering from an unbearable level of arousal. Subtly, he edged his hand down his body, wrapping his fingers around his throbbing length in disbelief.

'I don't feel any different,' he lied, unwilling to admit the reaction she had caused. His hand felt so good, that he began to stroke himself out of necessity; he simply had to relieve the pressure.

'Such a bad liar,' smiled Isabella, waving her arm in an abstract way. Immediately, vines shot out of the headboard, twisted themselves firmly around George's wrists and raised his hands above his head, where they remained tightly restrained. For a short while, he struggled but it soon became obvious that his efforts were to no avail.

'Please let me go,' he groaned, the sensation in his groin overwhelming all other thoughts.

'Sorry, but no,' she shrugged. 'Preferential treatment and the provision of pleasure, has always been given to believers, and those who respect our sacred monuments. Like your wife. That is the way it has always been, since time immemorial.'

'I'm truly sorry for causing the damage!' he yelped, as a light stroking commenced across his balls. Momentarily, he glanced down at himself in shock, but could see nothing except his huge, bulbous cock staring back at him.

'You also referred to our kind as "fairytale creature nonsense", I believe it was? You'll be telling me that you don't believe in ogres next!' she chuckled, as though such views would only be held by a muttering, rambling lunatic.

'I believe,' he groaned, feeling increasingly desperate.

'Yet I read your heart, not your words,' explained Isabella. 'And I'm not convinced.'

'Please?' he begged.

'Your wife first,' she ordered assertively. 'Once she's completely satisfied, then I'll reconsider your position and what you might deserve. Now give your wife pleasure.'

With a wave of her hand, the vines immediately snaked away from George's body, freeing him once more. However, rather than disappearing, additional vines twisted into view and loosely bound Veronica's wrists and ankles to each corner of the bed. Although this effectively opened her body up fully to whatever would follow, held within Isabella's magical trance, Veronica slept on.

George's overriding need, by this point, was to provide himself with some form of release; he was almost dizzy with arousal. However, Isabella's instructions had been clear and he didn't wish to anger her. Rushing to his hands and knees, George positioned himself between Veronica's wide-open thighs and lowered his mouth towards her. The sooner his wife's pleasure had been achieved, the sooner his desperate release could follow.

Suddenly, a stinging slap reverberated across his ass cheek, causing George to yelp loudly. And yet, despite the pain, it only seemed to make his impossibly hard cock swell even further. George stifled a sob. Despite being utterly desperate to come, something about Isabella's demeanor informed him that he wouldn't physically be capable of climaxing, until he'd followed her instructions to the letter. He was effectively a prisoner, until he had satisfactorily completed his set task.

'I said slowly,' she reprimanded.

'But she's asleep,' protested George.

'No, she's in a trance,' the fairy reminded him. 'Your actions can still make her feel good; have you never enjoyed a gratifying dream? She's still able to receive pleasure, so ensure you start to touch her very slowly, gently, teasingly. I'll wake her at the opportune moment.'

With a curt nod, George repositioned himself level with Veronica's head and began to tenderly kiss her neck.

'Better,' confirmed Isabella. 'That's good. She's enjoying that.'

Gradually, George pushed all thoughts of his pulsating cock out of his mind, and focused entirely on his beautiful wife. Moving down her body, he tenderly stroked her breasts, playfully kissing towards her nipples.

'I'm sorry, but this just feels wrong,' he sighed, only able to hear the delicate beating of wings and his own breath. 'She's completely unresponsive.'

'Fine!' huffed Isabella, waving her arm once more. 'I'll let you hear the sounds of her pleasure, but remember, she's still in a trance.'

With a nod, George returned his mouth to Veronica's breasts, only to hear her soft moans fill the room. Although such sounds did nothing to quell George's need, he was suddenly much more eager to turn her on.

'Oh, my love,' he sighed, placing his warm lips around her taut nipples.

'Use your teeth,' the fairy instructed. 'That's it. A little harder. Good!' she praised as Veronica cried out with desire. 'That's the precise pressure she needs from you in the future.'

Surprisingly, Isabella fluttered beside George's face and opened her own mouth, to display a set of sharp little teeth. As George continued to alter the pressure with his teeth, so Isabella clamped around Veronica's other nipple, dispensing her magical touch. Suddenly, Veronica's body began to judder beneath them, as they each continued with their wicked teasing. Taking his lead from Isabella, George didn't stop, for fear of punishment, only releasing his wife's throbbing flesh when the fairy had also. As he sat upright, George was immediately hit by the sensual scent of Veronica's arousal filling the air. There was no denying how much enjoyment she had just derived from their joint actions.

With a grin, George lowered his hands to her stomach, allowing his fingers to trail across her soft curls. Within seconds, another slap, twice as painful as the one before, rang out across his other ass cheek.

'Not just her tits and pussy!' instructed Isabella. 'Heathen...' she muttered.

Apologizing, George then spent a long, long time simply touching the body of his wife, drowning in her breathy sighs and soft groans. Stroking her tummy, legs, sensitive feet, arms, inner thighs; nothing went unloved. At long last, George returned to her pussy once more.

'Rush this, and I really will punish you,' the fairy threatened.

'Oh God, help me!' growled George, as his cock jerked in protest, half anticipating further punishment. He was swollen beyond belief now, a continuous stream of pre-cum dripping from his trembling body.

'Your wife's pleasure first,' repeated the fairy strictly.

'Understood,' he croaked. Lowering his mouth gently, he very slowly built up Veronica's enjoyment. Her cries increased steadily in volume as he progressed, joyfully running his tongue through her wet, swollen pussy. When he eventually reached her clit, sucking it gently, her shrieks became wild and untamed.

'Good,' praised Isabella. 'Make sure you provide this level of care in the future. I will be watching. Now, I'm going to wake her up shortly,' explained the fairy. 'But before I do, slide two fingers inside her; she's incredibly wet, and she likes to orgasm around something solid.'

Following his instructions, George wondered how on earth Isabella could know what his wife needed.