The Magic Bedroom
by MrJones69
Copyright© 2025 by MrJones69
Erotica Sex Story: Lucinda and Francesca enjoy cosmic ecstasy in the Magic Bedroom in this fantasy erotic romance tale.
Caution: This Erotica Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Fa/Fa Consensual Romantic Lesbian High Fantasy Oral Sex .
Picture this, a magical cottage located in a sun blessed idyllic corner of the English countryside. Everything was fresh and green, dawn was met with a golden glow, here wildlife thrived and you could experience a genuine affinity with nature. Cocooned blissfully in this bucolic paradise, Lucinda and Francesca, inside the master bedroom of the cottage, lay on the Ivory silk bedding of the four poster bed. Their naked bodies, entwined in a fleshy embrace, sweat drying on their delicate skin, looked like alabaster figurines in the luminous opulence of the moonlight flooding into the room on a sultry night.
Lucinda was a classic English rose, tall and slender with exquisitely delicate features, blue eyed and pale, full red lips and blue eyes that were like limpid pools, her glossy shoulder length raven hair brushed impossibly straight. Aside from her, bathing in the afterglow of their love making, Francesca was short and muscular, her olive skinned limbs toned and wiry. She had big tits and a meaty arse with brunette corkscrew curls, bewitching brown eyes and a thin lipped slightly cruel mouth true to her Sicilian roots.
They had met five weeks ago when Lucinda had gone up to London after graduating in art history at Oxford. Daddy, a stockbroker of great wealth and little conscience, passed down through the generations, had secured her a job at a high profile fashion magazine, a rather vague social media role that included numerous trips to pick up mass orders at Starbucks.Francesca was a freelance fashion photographer and they had met at a party. Despite the age gap between them, Francesca was 27 to Lucinda’s 21, it was the seemingly timid younger woman who had initiated things between them. A night of rough sex at Lucinda’s plush flat taught Francesca that she was far from the demure naif she projected herself as, possessing a high pain threshold and a passive aggressive streak that was subtly manipulative. She also knew how to suck pussy and was gorgeous so Francesca was happy to ham it up as the butch older woman to keep her content.
Francesca sensed she was being used as a preparatory experience before Lucinda went on a voracious quest for a variety of lovers but didn’t care. Hell, she was only there for the ride and fabulous dining. So when in the middle of a glorious summer heatwave Lucinda asked her to come to daddy’s cottage for the weekend, drive down Friday evening, drive back early Monday morning, Francesca immediately assented. Daddy sent his chauffeur, an ex army type of robust and mature vintage, in the silver phantom to drive them down, much to Francesca’s astonishment and hilarity. They drank champers then Lucinda fingered her on the backseat as the chauffeur veered off towards the central reservation.
And now there they were. In the cottage, in the bed, in the moonlight. The hot wax was drying on Lucinda’s back while Francesca tenderly stroked the wound on her back. Lucinda’s claws had dug deep into Francesca’s back when she was finger fucking her and working a tapered white dinner candle up her lubricated anus. After they had brought each other to orgasm they dozed off in each other’s arms, Francesca amused and a little bewildered by the way Lucinda had gone asleep clutching the candle, which was coated with a glistening and bloody mix of vaginal juices and rectal mucus.
In the middle of night Lucinda shook Francesca awake.
“Do you love me?”
“What,” said Francesca blearily.
“Do you love me?” repeated Lucinda.
“What the fuck Lucinda? You’ve never struck me as the insecure type. Of course I have feelings for you but let’s save it for the breakfast table.”
Francesca snaked her arms around Lucinda and pulled her tight against her. She kissed Lucinda’s neck tenderly, “Go to sleep baby.”
“She’s not here yet,” said Lucinda absently.
“Who is not here yet? What the fuck are you on about,” said Francesca. A chill suddenly blew through her and she shivered. Francesca felt like she was stuck in a cold breeze which was uncomfortable but also disquieting given it was a humid and still night.
“You know this is a magic bedroom.”
“Whaaa...” slurred Francesca. She was overcome by a complete loss of vitality and dragged the bed sheets over herself. Lucinda rolled away from her onto her back and started playing with herself. Earlier while the top of the candle had still been pliant she had surreptitiously moulded a modest phallic crown and now she anointed it with her pussy juice.
“This is a magic bedroom,” said Lucinda. “It once had a very special guest, a man of singular vision.”
Shaking under the sheets, Francesca felt like a potent virus had manifested its full symptoms all at once.
“I don’t feel so good,” said Francesca.
“He always said he didn’t do mere party tricks...”
Francesca slapped Lucinda’s head away as it headed for her pussy. After she landed the blow Francesca went limp, the feeble resistance dissipating the little energy she had left.
“Nothing personal, I just need you for her. This helps speed things up a bit.’ Lucinda put Francesca on her back and inserted the candle into her vagina.
‘Someone else ... is here... ‘ croaked Francesca.
“That’s her,” said Lucinda.
‘Are you ok,’ said Lucinda.
‘No... ‘ gasped Francesca. She was struggling to breath now like her chest was in a phantom vice.
Lucinda took the candle out of Francesca’s pussy and licked the juice off.
“Someone else is here,” said Francesca, her voice now reduced to a choked whisper.
“It’s her, my one and only love. She drew a razor across her wrists.’ ‘Who,’ said Francesca, just before she started to convulse.
‘Alice, sweet Alice,’ said Lucinda, watching the flailing body come to rest.
“Do you see as I see,” said Lucinda.
Francesca looked comatose, a faint wheeze the only evidence she still lived.
“Do you see as I see?”
“You’ll see,” came the reply, in a thick West country burr that had previously been alien to Francesca’s body.
“Alice...” Lucinda clapped her hands with pure childlike joy.
Francesca’s corporeal form sat bolt upright and the eyelids sprung open. Alice was tanned and skinny now, before she had been wan and brawny. A brunette now, no longer a blonde. Lucinda took Alice in her arms and kissed her lips. Sweet Alice was reunited with her presumed lost love with the thrilling taste of a stranger’s pussy juice on her lips. Well, it was her pussy juice now.
Alice flopped on the bed, exhausted by the weight of her new flesh.
“I’ve waited so long to see you and you just sleep,” said Lucinda sulkily. Alice grunted.
“I’ve so much to ask, you’ve so much to tell me. Do you like your new body? Francesca was physically blessed but I wish it was all you, but I feel your spirit in there, I feel so close to you and I’m getting nothing back.”
Alice, head full of white noise, did not wish to seem ungrateful for Lucinda’s dexterous occult resurrection of her but the whiny sense of entitlement was needling her. She was no longer the hick, albeit one possessed of modest telekinetic powers she didn’t understand or fully harness, least first time round in the flesh, in awe of the cultured posh girl with the rich parents. There’s was the oldest plotline in the book, with the additional tragic twist of Alice’s suicide, a narrative that would now be tweaked to Alice’s preternatural whims.
“I’ve come back with certain gifts...”
“You had gifts already, a little wayward maybe. Tell me more...”
“You’ll see,” said Alice flatly.
“Come on, don’t keep me guessing.”
“I’m tired little duck, let’s sleep.”
“You must tell me ... the other side ... are you pleased to see me, I’m quite proud I pulled it off ... why did you leave me Alice?”
“We’ll talk about it all, in time,” groaned Alice, rolling over and nuzzling her pillow.
“Come on, don’t be a bore,” implored Lucinda.
“There’s a certain overlap with the meatspace. I felt you out there. I could hear the click of your heels in my deepest recesses.”
Lucinda snorted derisively.
“You sound like a fucking horse,” said Alice.
Lucinda clapped her hands with delight, “Now’s that my Alice, my truculent little rustic pudding. Where did you get all those fancy words from?” Inwardly bridling at Lucinda’s condescension, Alice whispered “I’ve heard a lot of things in different voices. Now sleep my flower.”
Alice took Lucinda in her arms, her new body still feeling weird, its movements willed rather than instinctual responses. Lucinda had the most beautiful hair, thought Alice, holding it in her fingertips, enjoying its luxurious glossy feel, acquainting herself with sensual touch again. “Look at the moon, little duck, look at the moon,” purred Alice. They stared through the open window together at the full moon in a darkness that seemed to be pulsating, where all the stars seemed to have gone.
“Are you looking?”
“Yes my sweet,” said Lucinda, discomfort evident in her tremulous affirmation.
The moon’s luminescence was increasing in its intensity for Lucinda, a blinding white glow that had lost all colour and definition, exacerbated by finding herself unable to move her neck or close her eyelids. Witchly cackling, Alice, out of Lucinda’s tortured fixed gaze, sat upright in bed and buffed a pillow to prop herself against, deriving a deep and satisfying pleasure from Lucinda’s distress.
“I can’t blink,” said Lucinda.
“Now you can’t speak,” said Alice and Lucinda lay mute and immobile.
The moon was just now an agonising blur for Lucinda, one she feared would pop her eyeballs. Just as they were about to burst and run down her cheeks everything went black like metal shutters had fallen. Now there was nothing but blackness with Lucinda mute, blind, deaf and paralysed but with her senses of touch and smell still keen as ice cold hands that stank of decay ran themselves down her body. Lucinda, without even the dubious comfort of being able to unleash a cathartic scream, was afraid her heart would stop. Phantom fingers were stroking her pussy when she lost consciousness.
Lucinda shot upwards shrieking.
“You alright there girl,” smirked Alice. “That was quite a turn.”
“Alice what the fuck was that?”
“I just did a little dance in your head like I did with your girl Francesca, just the prelude mind.”
“Prelude you fucking dumb slit,” spat Lucinda, jumping out of bed and grabbing the long sleeved white blouse she wore as a nightshirt off the dressing table chair.
“What’s eating you gal,” said Alice impishly.
“Fucking peasant cunt,” shouted Lucinda, aiming one of Francesca’s kitten heels at Alice’s head.
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