1 comments/ 31530 views/ 6 favorites A Witch's Orgy Ch. 00 By: Alainn A Witch's Orgy: Prologue Moira and Guinevere Carling were sisters, though not in the biological sense. Each found a similar in the other -- sisters in dark temperament and unnatural desires, sisters with great powers the black craft -- and the two cleaved to each other for mutual benefit. What benefit, you might ask, would compel two of a species with a well known preference for solitude to spend eternity together? Quite simply stated: beauty. It isn't as unreasonable as one might think. After a few hundred years, even the most radiant of witches will find their splendor waning, and, quite frankly, Moira and Guinevere were not born with the comeliness such as their craft has created. Were you to look within your heart, could you honestly say you would contentedly live an endless existence looking as a stereotypical ancient hag? No, I very much doubt so. And yes, there are a great many spells and enchantments in a witch's arsenal to enhance beauty. Consuming the heart of a child, winded incantations over bubbling caldrons of putrid smelling (not to mention tasting) potions, invoking glamour (quite effective, but very exhausting)... But none of these were quite as easy to obtain, nor half as pleasurable, as the spell that Moira fortuitously conceived one glamoured evening in the arms of a long forgotten French prince. Once his royal cock was buried deeply within her greedy, insatiable pussy -- once his handsome face was screwed up in that singular moment of pure ecstasy just before the fall -- Moira whispered her greatest wish in a language so evil that a weak-hearted mortal would die from pure, abject terror. Her prince's eyes flew open, and Moira saw wild fear in his eyes. Then his body was racked with shudders of a pleasure so painful that he cried out terribly as his life essence spilled into Moira's barren womb. Taking perverse delight in the pain and fear of her lover, her pussy bore down upon his surging cock and she screamed from the incredible power that coursed through her body. A great heat filled her, the spell inadvertently cast was complete. Though the glamour illusion had long since fallen in the face of such all-consuming rapture, her prince looked down upon her in wonder. She was now more lovely than the most beauteous of courtiers. Her once homely self was all exquisite delicacy and sensuous curves. Had Moira been willing to share her discovery, she undoubtedly would have been able to claim the high seat in the Witch's Enclave. But renown was not important to this great witch. It was a matter of numbers: the more witches that knew of this the fewer men there would be to serve her needs. For there was one unpleasant side effect to this wondrous breakthrough: as she consumed their life essence for her beauty, the men no longer had life to give. They left Moira's arms after a night of great passion as barren as she. Moira would never allow her supply of everlasting beauty to wither away for something as frivolous as a distinction within the circle of her peers. Once a year for the next hundred years, Moira left her solitude to renew her beauty, and then retreated again to her quiet life in a reputedly haunted castle along the southern border of Scotland. It was more than a quiet life; she was inexplicably lonely. Like an answering prayer, Guinevere came a knocking on her door one particularly nasty winter's night. She asked for safe harbor 'til the morn, and Moira welcomed Guinevere into her home. Like recognizing like, their talk quickly turned away from the horrible weather and to the occult. Night turned to day, day turned to week, week turned to year. They spoke of past histories, peers who feigned magnificent fiery deaths much to the amusement of other witches, and, of course, they shared spells and enchantments. Desires were unearthed, and the two were delighted to learn the other tended to the immoral. For that year, Moira immersed herself in the delectable taste and sweet sighs of Guinevere. Some days, she would spend hours at lapping at Guinevere's clit. Others found herself rocking her hips in rhythm with Guinevere's clever fingers as the other woman delved deeply. Their kisses were carnal and cruel; with sharp nips and devouring suckling and battling tongues. Pain was as integral as the pleasure, giving and receiving both. In the mornings, Guinevere and Moira went over each other's body to discover the newest bruises, bite marks and deep scratches made during the night's assault. They applied poultices and whispered words of healing while rekindling a fresh surge of craving with none-too-subtle fingerings, licks and kisses until they were again moaning and screaming so loud that the nearby villagers believed that the old ghosts had returned. For that year, they fed off each other, until the day came that Moira knew it was time to leave to find a man to revive her fading beauty. If Guinevere ever noticed, she never said. For that reason, Moira decided to gift her lover with her knowledge. "Come with me, my love," she whispered seductively to her friend after explaining how the incantation worked, "Together no man could refuse us. And we will fulfill their darkest fantasies and give them such pleasure that they would willingly give us their life essence were we to ask. Come with me, my love, and we shall feed." And feed they did. Together, they roamed the dirtiest streets as the cheapest prostitutes, or introduced kings for a night in the darkest of sexual pleasure. They let horse grooms ride them in barns and stalls, they feasted upon the meat of butchers with the blood and gore of the trade pooling at their delicate knees, the most virtuous of husbands took them on the very tables their families ate upon while the wife slept unknowingly in the nest room, they even spread their legs to sailors in the cargo hold of the great ship as they crossed the ocean to the new world. No man was safe from their lusts, and for almost three hundred years, Moira and Guinevere fed. As time past, Moira noticed how much easier it was to corrupt the minds of men to their will. In the purity of the 1920's, there were secret clubs that catered to men with dark tastes. Guinevere and Moira found no lack of men so desperate not to wonder why a woman would give such pleasure without expecting payment in the Great Depression as they made their way to the west coast. They gave fond farewell parties to departing soldiers the night before the scared boys were to be shipped off to France and Germany. When the fifties brought an influx of desk jobs, they sucked the life essence from the men who manned them from beneath the cold aluminum desks. Moira and Guinevere ran naked for the three days of Woodstock, feeding off of more men in those few days than they had in any single year before. The 1980's were a time of sexual exhibitionism, the 1990's a time of sexual sadism, and the witch's basked in the glory of their newly found freedom. To celebrate Moira's 500th birthday in the early spring of 2008, Guinevere found a favorite of her friend's. A simple frat party at a house in the Berkley Hills. Uninvited and unknown, the two women waltzed into the house as if they owned it. Dressed for the singular purpose of seduction, all the men turned to watch as they sauntered into the center of the crowd to the heavy beat of Nine Inch Nail's. As if a single mind, they turned towards each other and began to dance. Their bodies undulated as they wound their limbs together. Guinevere hitched up her skin tight, knee length leather skirt until it rode just beneath the curve of her ass to that Moira's silk stocking clad leg could ride between her own. Guinevere's full breasts were barely confined by a simple black blouse completely open but for a single strategically placed button, and as she bounced and moved to the music, glimpses of her heavy cleavage showed to anyone and everyone who desired to look. Moira had clad herself in virginal white for the occasion. Her top was a tight contraption of lace and whale bone from back in the era of the unnatural thinness that corsets used to give a woman's figure. The brutally taut laces forced her breasts so that they rose so high above the fabric that her nipples were blatantly showing. The skirt was loose and fell to her ankles with a slit that rose on either side up to her hip bones. Each sway showed off a sheer white stocking that rose just above her knee. It was held in place by a delicate garter. Moira took Guinevere by the hips and ground herself against the other woman, moaning at the exquisite sensation of silk and leather sliding together. She tossed her head back, arching her back, and Guinevere took the advantage to lean down to suckle a pebble hard nipple. Moira and several onlookers groaned, and Moira thrust her hands into Guinevere's hair to press herself more firmly against the woman's mouth. Many men had stopped dancing and talking to watch the two women who were all but fucking in the middle of the dance floor. It was an erotic scene that excited men who were barely men, and even stirred the envious green women. The slow bump and grind never changed even as the DJ upped the beat with a fast paced song. Moira dislodged Guinevere's mouth, and slowly pirouetted. Every man's eye was focused, she saw, on the nipple that was distended and red from Guinevere's loving. Guinevere pressed herself flush against Moira's back, and rubbed herself leisurely down until she was all but squatting with her face pressed in Moira's ass. When she rose back up, her hands caught the silk fabric of the skirt and drew it up. Standing again, ass to pussy, Guinevere pulled the skirt the last decently clad inch. Now exposed, Moira reached down and began to fondle her pussy with one hand while the other ran circles around one nipple and then the other. Guinevere moved her fingers along with Moira's. Together they worked Moira's pussy. When Guinevere flicked at Moira's clit mercilessly, she felt herself coming apart. At the culmination of her orgasm, Moira let loose a string of words incomprehensible to the watching crowd, yet they felt the effects. From beneath slitted eyes, Moira enjoyed the aftershocks as she watched the spell take hold. Let loose from their inhibitions, the silly, drunken frat party quickly turned into a sinfully debauched orgy. Couples of all sorts turned towards each other, oblivious of the morals parents, teachers and religion had long instilled. Men came together with women, women came together with women, and men came together with men. Couples turned to groups, and from there was an electrifying anarchy. The witches observed their handiwork with glee. A jock, looking big and muscled in his jersey, had a woman happily pinned to a wall as he hammered his relatively small cock into her. Beyond them was a small group of redheads thoroughly stripping each other while taking long sips from painted blood red lips. One woman kneeled not far away between two men, shifting her mouth from one cock to another as she sucked them to a completion that covered her face in milky white. Everywhere their eyes landed found a new dizzyingly erotic scene. Moira's attention swiveled back to her own scene, when a man, who had been continuously watching her with his intense golden eyes from the moment they walked in, kneeled himself before her. He took swift advantage of her uncovered state by latching his mouth firmly to her dripping wet pussy. Moira moaned and stroked her fingers through his hand as she watched him suckle her clit. Satisfied that the party had indeed begun, and that Moira was suitably distracted, Guinevere gave her lover one long, lingering kiss before taking off with a wink. Moira's eyes followed Guinevere. The leather clad woman made for a couple near a couch at the edge of the dance floor, and Moira smiled wickedly. Guinevere dropped to her knees next to yet another jock who was eagerly sucking off the rather impressive cock of a dreamy-eyed man. While the jock sucked on the fat head, Guinevere let her tongue slide up and down the long length while she palmed his balls. Not happy with being ignored, the man at Moira's feet gave her clit a decidedly sharp nip. Moira gasped and looked down into glittering gold with a mischievous smile. He would certainly pay for that insubordination. Moira took a handful of his hair in her tight little fist, and then ground her pussy on his face until she knew he could hardly breath. Despite the punishment, he continued to work his tongue magically, slipping deeply into her pussy with long, luscious laps. Moira rode the man's face relishing each sinful sensation. Before he could bring her to her second rousing completion of the night, she was distracted by a thick length of steel being pressed intimately against her ass. Abandoning the golden-eyed, clever-tongued man, Moira turned to the tall man who had introduced himself most excellently. At the sight of his heart stopping male beauty, Moira hitched her leg up on his thigh, and pressed her pussy against him. He took her mouth with a breath stealing kiss, and she drove him wild by rubbing the hot juices of her pussy up and down his cock. The very knowledge that she was so close to having him within her, along with the incredible friction of his male hardness against her feminine softness, had her mouth aggressively feasting on his and her body moving with sensuous abandon. He was panting heavily whenever she would let him break away for a quick breath. His body was trembling from the strain of holding her in just the right place while she writhed. A mouth pressed hot kisses all over the heart shape of her ass. Moira looked down in surprise to see her clever-tongue man once again making his impromptu name most evocative. The man, touching her with only his tongue and mouth, was drawing spirals and circles around the curves of her ass, causing sweet shivers shooting through parts of her body that Moira never knew she had, even after five, sin filled centuries. It was inconceivable, the urge to abandon her intended for a fleeting and unproductive pleasure. Yet it was there, an urge so strong that she almost abandoned herself to it. Almost. Instead, she focused again on the man before her, the hard steel that rode against her mons. The man took her up, wrapping her long legs around his trim waist. Moira wound her arms like a vice about his neck, kissing him most thoroughly, and, with but the slightest shift of her experienced hips, slipped his cock within her molten depths. A sharp gasp punctuated the penetration, and Moira felt the man thicken with a vicious throb even further with which she answered by tightening and strangling his cock with inner walls. With a crazed cry, he grasped her hips cruelly, raised her up and brought her down upon him with such fierceness that Moira's body thrilled in the punishment. Again and again, he rammed himself deeper and deeper. All the while, Moira whispered wicked promises in his ear, pushing him beyond sanity with words that would make even the pope burn from lascivious hunger. And in the moment before her victim's completion, Moira bound him the spell. Seconds later, with a roar of ultimate triumph, he emptied himself, bestowing his life essence within her. Moira's body contracted painfully around him until, with trembling limbs, he released her and collapsed to the floor. With feline grace, Moira landed easily on her heeled feet. She gazed down, wondering that the culmination of the magic didn't leave her with the familiar sense of unspeakable power. Nevertheless, she felt the tingle of a spell fulfilled, and knew that those who looked upon her would do so with awe from her shining radiance. Dismissing the man sprawled at her feet, she turned to see her clever-tongued man grinning most puckishly. Anger and suspicion rose, clouding her judgment for the first time in centuries. With a red tipped nail, she stabbed him in the chest, propelling him backwards. "Who the hell are you," she asked, irritation causing her normally melodious voice to sharpen with a deadly edge. His smile widened, yet his golden eyes glinted with barely concealed danger, and a wave of fear washed over Moira. "Foolish witch, I am Erebus." Moira's sucked in a sharp breath, and immediately let her eyes fall from his face, for none must look upon Darkness. The condescension that had laced her voice disappeared, and she was repentance itself. "My Lord!" A Witch's Orgy Ch. 01 A Witch's Orgy: Erebus It was with stunning revelation that Moira found herself face to face with the God of Darkness, Erebus. In fact, she cursed herself inwardly, he had been on his knees lavishing her ass with sumptuous attention before she rejected him for a mere mortal! Gods! The party around them whirled on, an fantastic orgy of unprecedented proportions, oblivious to the menace standing in their midst. All around were mortals bound in the spell of Dionysus. They were eagerly partaking in perverted acts so unacceptable in their pathetically righteous culture, the spell simply unbinding them from their restrictive upbringing to allow them to indulge in their forbidden fantasies. Even her sister in the dark arts, Guinevere, was blissfully ignorant as she rode a baby-faced college prep boy into rapture. Moira didn't know what she was to do, what to say. All she knew was that her life was hanging by a scant thread; at the whim of a god well known for his volatility. He was a stunning specimen of masculinity, and Moira felt her body respond even as she wilted under his impenetrable stare. "And what," she asked softly, hoping that her supplicating behavior would diffuse the danger she was in, "may this insignificant witch do for her Lord?" He snorted most inelegantly, "Insignificant? Oh, my dear Moira, I think not." Surprise had her eyes lifting to his face, and she saw there such raw lust that she nearly came from his gaze alone. Hidden behind it, though, she recognized a sliver of respect. Her spine straightened in a semblance of its usual confidence, and she looked fully upon the god whose eye she had apparently caught. "No?" An eyebrow rose and his head ducked down. "Definitely not," he growled low in his throat, and Moira's body tingled in anticipation. Breathlessly, Moira braved, "What am I then, my Lord?" He crowded in on her, forcing Moira to back away until her thighs ran up against the back of a low couch. Strong arms straddled her slender form, and he leaned in until all she could see were his magical golden eyes. His lips brushed up against hers seductively as he spoke a single word that set her afire, "Mine." With that he took her mouth with a possessive kiss. His lips were punishing and hard, his tongue unmerciful as it swept in her mouth to plunder the sweet secrets within. Moira gave way to his domination, opening herself to him in a way she had never before for any man. Her arms rose of their own accord, and snaked around his neck. She pressed herself shamelessly against the solid plane of his body. His barely leashed power hummed in the air that surrounded them, and Moira's body responded to its silent demand. She burned like never before; deliciously tortured through a game of her own creation. Erebus sipped from her mouth as if it were ambrosia -- the nectar of the gods, sustaining the everlasting -- drinking heavily and greedily. His tongue laved deeply, with long, confident strokes that had her body weeping to have the same such attention. In one instance, he pulled the very breath from her lungs 'til she was standing on the very brink of plummeting willingly into his Dark abyss. But then he exhaled into her the very breath of the divine, and Moira felt giddy with wondrous life and pure and unadulterated power she had never before possessed. It was beyond exhilarating, the gift he gave her. No words could ever begin to express the feel of the Gods running through her veins. Moira reveled in it, pulling the power about her like a heavy velvet cloak, and she rubbed her body sinuously against its sultry fluidity. "Forever." "Yes, my Lord." "Swear it!" "I am yours, forever." And with that pledge, Moira's words shattered in a million golden shards. She felt herself shudder and quake from the force of their promise. Her softly spoken vow echoed through her body, igniting every nerve and sensation until Moira was screaming in ecstasy at the never ending bombardment of absolute pleasure. How she could have lived so long and not understood such joy was beyond her. Not that it mattered anymore, for even then, Erebus was turning her about and leaning her over the back of the couch. He kneed her legs far apart and placed each hand so that she looked a great eagle soaring on the highest of currents. With but a flick of his fingers, her tightly bound corset fell from her torso, and her breasts swung free like a pair of heavy pendulums marking each staccato beat of her heart. He tugged at the delicate skirt that barely swathed her legs, and a long tear rasped loudly in her ears. The silky fabric puddled at her high heeled feet and all that was left to cover her nonexistent modesty was a pair of sheer stockings held just above her knees by the tenuous ribbons of a lacy white garter. Erebus took her by the hips and drew her backwards so that her ass was plumped high like a heart-shaped temptation. Moira had never felt so exposed, never so vulnerable as she did forced to stand so with a god who immersed himself in the sinful and obscene. Though she had always tended toward such tendencies herself, she suddenly knew that he would take her beyond what invisible lines she had drawn. His strong hands caressed each cheek with reverent strokes, sliding over every arch and slipping between dark crevices. Moira let out a shuddering breath when she felt that oh so clever tongue working dizzying whorls down her spine. He spent careful attention skimming his luscious lips lightly over the small of her back before lowering himself to the floor. Her ass rising like high mounds above his head, he feasted upon every inch of it with his hot mouth. Once he had consumed each curve, his tongue delved into the cleft of her ass, and Moira thrilled to the novel sensations that swept like a hot fire over her. He circled the tightly puckered flower that was usually hidden in the darkness, now desperate for his nourishing affections. And like a flower blossoming under the loving care of the hot spring sun, Moira felt the last chains of her inhibitions falling away as she flourished under his enticingly hot mouth. Low moans sounded from deep in her throat, punctuated by an occasionally pleading "yes!" that was followed by a satisfied sigh when Erebus lavished a place of particular tenderness. Her hips moved with his roving tongue, rocking back and forth, prolonging its touch before he moved on to the untouched. She stood immobile, but for the gentle swaying of her hips, her body frozen with a tension that was taut with strain. Moira's mouth pined for her lover's persuasive flavor, her skin tingled disconsolately where it was once touched by him. Her breasts were swollen with lust and her nipples elongated as if begging for attention. Her pussy dripped the hot juice of her desire, tracing gleaming trails down her long legs. Nevertheless, Erebus ignored everything but her ass, touched her nowhere but where the very tip of his searing tongue chanced to sample. The very core of her being cried out to be filled, to have the thick proof of his need for her sheathed to the very hilt. She needed to be invaded by him, impaled and completely possessed. As if reading her mind, or perhaps her body, Erebus withdrew his tongue and stood up. A hand at the back of her neck kept her in place, and he bowed over her 'til his lips brushed softly against her ear. He cupped her mons, and Moira groaned. "This is man's instinctive compulsion. He enters and inhabits it, filling it with his mortal filth as he pumps like a sweating boar over you. When he leaves, it is soiled from his feeble and useless attempt at immortality." Moira shuddered at the sordid image Erebus painted, and wondered how she ever sought out the repulsive touch of man. "Let them fill it whenever you wish; take their life, for they do not deserve the miserable few years granted them. Gift them with the momentary pleasure denied to most, for there is no reason to deny yourself even the most transitory of pleasures." Then both his hands slid to cup her ass in a unyielding, selfish grasp. He spread the cheeks and slid a finger over her budding flower. "This, however, is mine, and none may enter her but your god, Erebus." The finger pushed carefully within the puckered fissure, and Moira gasped at the unexpected intrusion. "Mine to fill, mine to inhabit, mine to soil with the seed of the divine. Only I shall pump into here, only I shall sweat over you as I take my pleasure in this tight little ass." He emphasized each word with brief, shallow thrusts, and Moira found herself eagerly thrusting her hips back to draw him in entirely. The tension that had been building from his earlier laboring was strumming dangerously as he slid his finger deeper and deeper. His declaration was imperiously tyrannical and Moira was electrified by the thought of this god's domination over her very body. "And you," he continued in his melodiously titillating voice, "I will give you such fantastic pleasure. Every time I enter you, you will come, every caress will make you scream from sensations so indescribably exquisite. You will be famished for the very taste of my kisses, and to touch my body will drive you wild for more." He pulled his finger from her, and Moira wanted to cry, so barren she felt. Yet, before she could plead for the return of his intoxicating touch, the silky soft head of his shaft pressed firmly against the bud of her ass. Where she was tender and vulnerable, he was hard and uncompromising. The heavy weight of his balls slapped softly against her thighs as he positioned himself for the conquering. He took a lock of her hair and wound it around his fist, forcing her head back. "And when I come within you, my dear witch, you will truly know the addiction of ambrosia." And with that, he plowed into her. With a single, powerful thrust, he was seated to the very base within her body. Moira's pained cry was ignored as he forced his way, stretching her beyond endurance, taking her to the brink of sanity. And with a suddenness that surprised her, the pain was replaced with a pleasure that caused Moira's body to shudder and quake, convulsing with violent intensity. Erebus steadily pounded himself into the turbulence, riding her as she bucked back against him. The crushing ferocity of her euphoria strangled his rod, pulling the silvery liquid of his very divinity from his body. He resisted the urge to release, not wanting to allow this woman even the smallest bit of control over him, but to no avail. He exploded, painting her womb brilliantly in silver, her euphoria turning into his own as he was devoured by the essence of Moira. A Witch's Orgy Ch. 02 Chapter 02: Moira Moira watched the revelry with dispassionate lethargy. It was amazing how easily these mortals succumbed to vices of the flesh. They prided themselves on their goodness and morality with one breath, while with the next, expelled whimpering moans of ecstasy while performing acts of deliciously vile lasciviousness. Contradictory asses, the whole lot of them. And they thought she was immoral. At least she had the decency to be exactly who she wanted to be, to do exactly what she wanted to do. No illusions, no artifice. Just pure, unadulterated Moira. If she was to show them what wickedness they were capable of with just the slightest of persuasion, they would be horrified. Very little of what was happening before her was tasteful. Her spell merely took away the flimsy walls they called inhibitions. What were left were their long buried fantasies; debauched dreams hidden behind carefully crafted masks of righteousness and purity. No doubt, the trio of angelic cheerleaders kneeling before her were usually paragons of respectability; going about their cheerful days in their tiny little get-ups, with 4.0 GPA's, and memberships in some elite sorority. But tonight, with the help of a small spell of compulsion, they were feasting voraciously upon the clit of a rather plain looking girl. Moira assumed the lucky girl was usually ignored completely. With her large frame glasses, and limp brown hair, she would never have believed that one day orgasm after orgasm would be bestowed upon her by three foraying tongues and the hard, punishing thrusts of three fingers into her dripping cunt. Several men stood around the foursome, watching them with unconcealed lust, hands pumping up and down their rock hard cocks. One staggered a few steps closer to the oblivious women, and let out a bellow as he came. Streams of liquid jetted from the tip of his cock, landing in thick white spots all over the enraptured brunette's naked body. Suddenly, a second man jerked forward and dropped to his knees. He pumped his cock twice over the prone girl, and then covered her face with his scalding release. Moira turned away just as three other men stepped forward, eager to add to the collection. Her gaze rested, instead, upon the delicious vision of a woman being pummeled from behind. On her hands and knees, the man slammed himself into the woman so hard that, with even the ruckus of dozens of orgies surrounding them, Moira could discern the sweet sound of skin slapping against skin from her distance. The woman looked like she would be screaming her ecstasy from such rough treatment had her mouth not been stuffed full with the cock of another man. He held her head back with a lock of her jet black hair, and was forcing himself into her mouth with as much glee as the man who was taking her from behind. The woman's cheeks were concave from the vacuum she created within her mouth, forming a warm heaven for the lucky man she was sucking on. Then the man rammed himself into her mouth once more, and with a violent convulsion, loosed a torrent which she unhesitatingly swallowed down. Moira's eyes wandered once more, and she smiled cynically at the sight of a couple; a man and woman on a chair not three feet away, rocking together in a slow and steady rhythm. His large hand covered the peak of a breast, while the other roamed the curves of the woman's derriere. It was endearingly vanilla in this house of debauchery, and Moira wondered if she had ever been so innocent. Never, she thought as she shifted her hips suggestively. Behind her, a slight groan came from the perch she sat upon. Moria turned to look upon the face of her lover. Erebus's face was darkening with need, and his cock, forever ready, hardened even further within the tight confines of her ass. He grasped her hips and pushed her down as he thrust upwards. The sensations that spiraled through her were beyond description. All Moira knew was that she was filled beyond endurance, and she loved every unrelenting inch of it. But instead of giving her the rapture she was so obviously begging for -- a magnificent, awe inspiring ass-fucking -- Erebus merely held her in place. With the crook of a finger, one of the angelic blonds came to the god's bidding. He caressed her rounded cheek gently, like a master petting his favored beast, and slid his hand into her thick mass of golden curls. With hardly an urging on his part, he guided her down between Moira's spread knees. "Make her come," he commanded lazily, and the angel set to work obeying him. Moira felt the velvet heat lightly touch the throbbing need at the apex of her legs as she watched the small, feminine tongue slide along the tip of her clit. Completely engrossed with the feast before her, the angel opened her mouth and took the nub between her plump lips. At the sweet suction that followed, Moira arched her back and groaned. Erebus's impaling cock pushed even deeper at her movements, enticing all her nerves into a flurry of delight. With instincts born of the wanton, Moira's body moved to the ministrations of the woman before her. Her hips rocked back and forth with the slow lapping of the angel's tongue, and hardened steel clad in soft, smooth skin slid in and out of her ass. Fingers entered the hot wet haven of her pussy, and began their work. With the hot devouring mouth and firm tonguing, Moira became limp with the unyielding pleasure that bombarded her. With the persistent stroking fingers Moira felt herself unravel piece by piece. But it was with one last firm thrust of his massive cock into the tightly puckered entrance of her ass that Erebus freed a storm of pleasure that refused to dissipate. Again and again, her every sensation was battered by the tempest. Her screams were drowned by the rushing of blood in her veins, as again and again, the duo pushed Moira into paradise. A Witch's Orgy Ch. 03 Slowly extricating herself from his ever throbbing readiness, Moira stood and stretched her aching body as Erebus looked on. His eyes glittered with lust and his cock strained towards her lush nakedness, though he had barely let loose a torrent of seed within her body not a few moments before. Moira preened at his chronic hard-on, though she knew that it was more a divine gift than an unending need for her. It hardly mattered either way. His intense attention was focused on her for the now -- her body, her pleasure -- and that was all Moira cared about. The god raised a hand to caress her silky white thigh and asked, "And where might you be going?" His fingers strayed to her front, slipping into the wet heat of her body, and Moira gasped from the fullness as he filled her with his fingers. For a moment, she quietly enjoyed the steady pumping, spreading her legs wider for easier access. Then she eased away with a mischievous twinkle in her eyes. "My Lord, even the most powerful of witches requires an occasional personal moment." Unconsciously, her hands strayed from where his fingers had been but seconds before, up to cup her full breasts suggestively for him. She licked her lips, and focused her eyes on his cock that softly glistened with the wetness of her body. "Unless there is anything you might need, might you excuse me, Lord?" He smiled indulgently even as his eyes roamed to the orgy that surrounded them. "I suppose I could entertain myself for a short while." Moira felt a flash of violent green jealousy with thoughts of how he might entertain himself, but she did need a moment. A moment to compose herself, and her racing heart. A moment to reassert herself as a being of great power, not just a god's plaything. A moment to berate herself for the sappy, impossible thoughts she was entertaining. Moira Carling, the most powerful witch and enchantress of her time, did not entertain such thoughts about anyone. Especially if that someone was the great God of Darkness, Erebus. So, instead of succumbing to the jealousy that coursed through her, she dipped a small curtsey, flashed a saucy little smile, and left him to his own devices as she tended to her own. Moira wound through entwined bodies, delighting in the sights and sounds and smells of decadence that she created. She loved nights such as these. Naked bodies glistening with sweat and sticky white substances. Men and women coupling here, men and men coupling there, women and women coupling everywhere. A small spell of compulsion, and these pitiful mortals fell easily to their darkest and most hidden desires. She paused before a male and female that rocked together most innocently upon a couch. Were they alone rather in the middle of dozens of frantically fucking people, their loving would have been sweet and pure. Nevertheless, Moira couldn't abide by how sweet they were now being. So she slid her body between the panting couple, grazing her dripping pussy down the beautiful body of the female. She straddled the two merged bodies, and ground herself down, luxuriating in the feel of his male body pressed against her ass and the feminine softness cupping where she wanted to be touched most. The woman looked up at her with surprise, and when her mouth opening in protest, Moira took advantage. Her lips pressed to the woman's soft lips, and her tongue invaded the saccharine warmth. Behind her, the man groaned. Before her, the woman stiffened with ingrained revulsion. But then, under the persuasive lapping of Moira's tongue, her body relaxed and her mouth responded. A tentative tongue reached out to Moira's, and together their tongues caressed. The woman then arched her body and her soft, pink tipped mounds pressed intimately against Moira's own breasts. Heat pooled deep in her belly as Moira felt the nipples digging into her sensitive flesh. Moira leaned back against the woman's man, and his hands instinctively came around to touch her. When his hands cupped her breasts like an offering, the woman leaned forward to capture a budded nipple between her lips. Together, the couple touched and kissed Moira's body, introducing themselves into a new world of ecstasy. Slowly, they urged Moira to stand, their mouths following the trail down her body as she did so. When the man was lavishing her ass with kisses and nips, the woman hesitated not at all in delving into the secret folds of Moira's pussy. Fingers prodded and then slid deep into her opening, tongues lapped long slow laps at her throbbing clit, and teeth left marks on the plump flesh of her ass. Without warning, Moira slithered from between the two, but with no worries. They immediately turned to a couple sitting next to them and the men proceeded to share their females in a most intriguing way. A small, satisfied smile touched the corners of Moira's mouth. She had enjoyed the two innocents -- especially the female with the surprisingly wicked tongue -- but now she was primed for something a little more decadent. Earlier, she had observed a male stealing into the garage, only to reemerge with a long length of rope, and Moira was curious what fantasies he was living. Passing beneath the wide arched opening he had long since disappeared through, she found that the beautiful, formal dining room had been turned into gangbang central. The walls were painted a dark blood red, accented with pure white crown moldings. A large, dark wooded cabinet set against a wall, showcasing beautiful glowing white china and shimmering silver. Opposite were two tall windows, graced by light draperies that would welcome the sunlight were it daytime. As it were, the night pushed menacingly against the glassed portals, eager to share in the sin. The sin: a victimized young woman, so tiny that she appeared almost childlike but for the exquisite proportions of her body. Her curves would tempt a saint, so graceful and voluptuous; her breasts far too full for her tiny stature, and yet the rounded mounds were perfectly shaped and topped with appetizing, strawberry pink nipples; her legs were slender and beautifully muscled; her tiny feet with their soft pink toes the stuff of fantasies for those with feet fetishes. All of this glory was tied down to the long dinner table with the rough looking rope. Her arms were open wide, as if welcoming all those surrounding her. Her ankles were tied firmly to the corners of the table, her knees bent and held in place by two equally naked women. Between her legs, heaven glistened with the juice of many worshipers who came to enter the golden gates for a few moments of pure rapture. The woman was shaven completely so that, with her legs spread so, every crevasse, dip and curve was exposed to the soft light of a crystal chandelier. Moira felt her breath rush from her lungs at the sight of the poor woman in such a vulnerable position. Desire pulsed through her, propelling her forward through the crowd that surrounded the prone woman. When she reached the edge of the table, she stopped a man, who was about to take his turn at heaven, with an imperial look. Cock hard and in hand, he stepped aside, and Moira took her place at the head of the table. Without pause, Moira leaned down and dipped her tongue into the wet heaven. The dark scents of multiple men nearly overwhelmed her, and she opened her mouth wider to take it in. She tasted contradictions -- lust and heat, pleasure and anger, salt and sweetness -- and Moira drank it in. Her tongue speared into the deep cavity and came away wet with the juice of men. Wild for more, she lapped and sucked, drawing out every drop of the life essence of man from this writhing woman. Unable to get enough, she bit down on the woman's clit, eliciting a cry of painful pleasure that accompanied a sudden gush of liquid as her body convulsed with ecstasy. Moira turned and caught the eye of the man whose place she had taken. He was furiously beating his cock with his hand, trying to relieve the pleasure which he was denied in such an unsatisfactory way. Moira beckoned him forward, standing slightly to the side so that he could take her place. She replace her hand with his, sliding her hand up and down his length a few times before urging him closer to the helpless woman. Holding him mercilessly by his cock, the tip a breath away from the heaven he so desired, she whispered in his ear; "I want you to take her now. Hard. Fast." Moira squeezed him tightly to emphasize her words, "Ram your cock into her tiny little cunt until she screams. She needs to be punished, the little whore, for letting all these men touch her before you. Fuck her until the only man she'll ever remember is you." Moira let him go, and the man, inflamed by her words and his mounting desire, thrust into the tiny woman like a crazed animal. The woman cried out softly in surprise at the sudden viciousness. Urged on by the sound, the man grasped her hips and used them plunge deeper and harder than before. Moira stood at his side, caressing around the base of his cock with clever fingers, goading him on with dark words -- "Fuck her, punish her. Harder. Faster." -- as she stroked into the heat of her own black desires with her other hand. The woman's pitiful moans slowly escalated into panting cries, and then into full fledged screams as she was pounded into again and again. Moira watched her body arch and shudder each time she was slammed into. Each impact propelled her forward until the ropes that held her in place bit into her tender skin. And yet the woman screamed, not from the pain of the ropes or the violence from the man, but from the wild pleasure of her clenching body that responded so immorally to the pain and brutality. Then the man rammed into her one last time with a wild roar and the slumped over the tiny woman in his respite. The men who had watched in stunned silence crowded forward, eager to live out their fantasies of ropes and pain and punishment. Moira, however, was already walking away, ready to play with someone new. A Witch's Orgy Ch. 04 Guinevere Carling was lost in the pounding music, the throbbing beats as steady as the slow strokes of the cock currently buried in her. Her fingers flicked her clit along with each off-beat. The twang of the guitar accompanied the shuddering of her pussy. The lyrics were as dirty (and more clever) as the words coming from the mouth of the man gripping her ass from behind. It made this man (if you could call the barely legal, completely thrilled with his luck, virgin behind her a man) bearable, the music. As his harsh grip clamped down on her like a vice and his body stiffened like a board, she knew he was about to come. Guinevere let loose a string of words that sounded like a myriad of voices sounding upon each other. It would have terrified the man had the music not drowned it out. Instead, he let loose a bellow and emptied himself within her greedy pussy. Her body absorbed his essence, the power she stole from him more intoxicating than the momentary pleasure he gave her. When he collapsed upon her, she shoved his sweaty body off onto the floor where he landed, completely oblivious. She stood up and stretched her muscles, enjoying the sensation of a perpetually youthful body. The magic was great, the spell beyond her own abilities. If it were not for Moira, she would never have even thought to attempt such an act. But her friend had taught her, nurtured her, until she had finally managed to steal the life essence of her first man. The power had nearly overwhelmed her. When she came down from the high, Guinevere saw with amazement that her wrinkling skin had smoothed down and her sagging curves tightened. Now, Moira and Guinevere stalked the world for youth the way a vampire hunted for blood. They took what they wanted and left the husk of men behind; living, but incapable of assuring the immortality of mortals. Guinevere left behind yet another husk, panting to survive his little death. Scattered here and there throughout the party were men left in exactly the same manner. She wondered, as she searched for her next victim, how her friend was faring. The whole point of this night was for Moira. It was her birthday, and Guinevere knew that Moira loved nothing more than to corrupt the innocent as she stole their most precious possession. Hands reached out to caress and touch Guinevere as she walked through the frat party turned orgy. A man slipped a finger between the lips of her pussy. A woman rubbed her full breasts against her back as she passed by. Her ass was pinched, her nipples twisted. Engorged cocks were thrust in her direction with hopes that she would take advantage of them. Yet Guinevere ignored it all with haughty distain. Ignored it all, that is, until she saw the perfect specimen of masculine beauty. He was lounging on a couch with the glazed look of a man truly bored, though there were two women diligently sucking on the thick piece of meat that thrust up through his open slacks. Guinevere's mouth watered as she watched feminine lips running up and down the man's cock. One of the women attempted to swallow the entirety of what had to be at least ten inches, but she couldn't even take half. A hand attempted to circle the girth, but fell well short. Guinevere shook her head. No wonder the man looked bored with such inept handling. The girls were green, having only practiced their technique on college boys. College boys were easy to please; finding a woman willing to spread her legs would excite a man in less than three minutes. Suck his cock, and three minutes would be whittled down to three seconds. But this man was the real deal, needing more than a pretty young face and a willing body to satisfy him. She sauntered up to the trio, and posed her body in a way to show off her perfection just before them. The man looked up at her. If he was interested, he hid it well. In fact, his face was still a mask of boredom. Guinevere, however, didn't hesitate for a second. "Ladies," she addressed the two kneeling before her newest target, "fuck off." Slowly, they obeyed the softly spoken spell. They sucked on the head like a lollypop with a last, lingering suck before they moved away. Guinevere ignored the lethal glares they gave her, focusing instead upon the man. Without asking permission, she slid onto his lap, straddling him with her slender legs. Her hands moved up her body until she cupped her breasts as if offering them to him. When he just sat there waiting, she twisted and played with her own nipples for him. Between her legs, the hard evidence of his need throbbed hard. She could feel the beating of his heart against her clit, his soft bulbous head sliding between the lips of her pussy as if it belonged there. With the shifting of her hips, she ground herself down upon him. His body responded by hardening even further, though his face betrayed not a single thought. Guinevere continued her bump and grind, rocking her hips back and forth over him as she twisted her nipples with punishing fingers. Her body was quickly working up to a spectacular orgasm, and she moved faster and ground herself even harder down upon him to hasten the impending explosion. Mere seconds before she was about to come, his hands clamped down on her hips, effectively stilling her frantic movements. The orgasm teetered on its pinnacle. If he were to allow her to move even a fraction of an inch, she would come. But it was as if he knew, the bastard, and he was intentionally refusing her what her body demanded. "You want me, you'll have to be on your knees like everyone else." His voice was like liquid heat; gravelly and rough, yet beautifully melodious with the deep tenor. It sent shivers down Guinevere's spine to her very center, and, as if obeying some unspoken command, she came with such intensity that she melted off his lap and onto the floor. Panting, struggling to take in enough air to steady her out of control heart, she knelt at his feet as he required with her head resting in his lap. She could smell her pleasure mingled with the dark musk of male, and her body quickly readied for another round. From beneath lowered lashes, she gazed up at this gorgeous man. How a mortal could captivate her so easily, she didn't know, but as her eyes swept down to view his thrusting cock Guinevere knew that it didn't matter. From her new position, it seemed like a towering monument; holding tall and strong above her head. The base was lost in a dense mat of black hair, and it rose without shame to an impressive height. A thick vein that ran the entire length throbbed visibly with the coursing of blood. Capping it off was a head with a diameter that surpassed the staff's intimidating girth. Guinevere looked hungrily upon it. It gleamed in the light from the slick wetness of her body, and she couldn't wait to discover the taste of herself mingled with his. Her tongue flicked out to caress the very tip of him; slipping within the shallow groove with deft skill. She dragged her tongue back and forth over it until his body responded with the releasing of a milky-white pearl of wetness. Sucking the head entirely into her mouth, Guinevere fed upon the liquid like the ravenous wanton she was. When she was certain that every last salty drop had been consumed, she let her lips widen. Slowly, she took him into the heat of her mouth. Every inch was savored with the swish and whisper of her tongue. He filled her mouth completely; her lips spread uncomfortably wide to accommodate him as the thick head glanced the very back of her mouth. She held herself still for a moment, then began sucking on him. A vacuum formed within her mouth, tightening around his cock like a vice, and she used it to drive him wild as she bobbed up and down over him. The slight sound of a grunt sent a surge of elation running through her body as she took him even deeper than before. Unlike those pathetic girls from earlier, this man responded to her ministrations. Riding the wave of victory, she doubled her efforts. Up and down she moved; faster and faster. Her lips squeezed around him like a tight band, and her teeth grazed his tender skin. But all the while, her tongue caressed the sting like a soothing balm. So focused was she on his pleasure, that she startled when his hand wound into the thick mass of her hair. With his grip holding her head still, he thrust his hips upward. Guinevere relaxed her mouth, allowing the invasion and taking everything he gave her. Once, twice he pumped into her welcoming mouth. Then, when the third thrust forced his cock deep, he let himself go, spilling his hot seed down her throat. Guinevere readily swallowed it, the taste as dark and intoxicating as the man himself.