Amber Austin - Tarotica

Lancelot held out his hand. As she took it, a bolt of energy surged through her.

Instantly her fatigue and trepidation disappeared. He pulled her up onto a rocky ledge, then pushed aside some juniper boughs, exposing a steep path. “This way.”

After climbing about thirty feet, they reached an opening between two tall stones.

“Hope you’re not claustrophobic.”

Removing his backpack and pushing it ahead of him, Lancelot crawled into the opening. Miranda followed. Darkness swallowed them. Her hands and knees slid along cool, smooth stone; her head brushed the top of the tunnel. She tried not to think about snakes, spiders, and other creepy-crawlies. Listening to Lancelot’s scuffling up ahead, she wondered again what had possessed her to undertake this insane odyssey. As the tunnel narrowed even more, she had the peculiar feeling of moving through a birth canal.

“Don’t be afraid,” he said, reading her mind.

He stopped crawling and a light flickered, silhouetting his form. Suddenly a brilliant flare burst like a comet in the darkness, revealing a space before them. Lancelot stood up and lit another torch.

Scurrying into the light, Miranda gasped as she emerged into a vast pyramid whose peak reached three stories above her head. Twelve wrought-iron lanterns hung on the walls. As Lancelot lit them, chasing the chill from the room, she noticed the massive crystals circling the space and glowing with an eerie illumination of their own. The entire chamber appeared to be shimmering.

In the center of the room stood an ornately carved stone table large enough for a banquet. On its top rested two majestic candlesticks, one holding a black candle and the other a white one. She moved closer, her steps echoing on the stone floor, to examine the four objects between the candles. She’d lived in Salem long enough to recognize a witch’s tools: a magic wand, a jeweled chalice, a dagger, and a silver pentagram.

Lancelot joined her at what she now realized was an altar and lit the candles. Then he picked up the wand and carried it to one corner of the pyramid. Holding the wand as an extension of his outstretched arm, he walked clockwise around the room, pausing at each corner to draw a pentagram in the air. Light shot from the wand’s tip, so that when he’d completed his circuit, a wall of whitish fog surrounded them.

Weird, she thought, but cool.

As Lancelot returned the wand to the altar Miranda asked, “Are you going to initiate me?”

“If you like.”

“What do I have to do?”

He laughed. “Relax.”

With his fingertip, he traced a pentagram on her forehead. A wave of pulsing heat undulated through her body, making her tingle all over. Once again she felt the fluttering in her pussy, which quickly escalated to a powerful throbbing.

He’s casting a spell on me, she thought. Somehow the idea didn’t frighten her in the least.

From beneath the altar Lancelot dragged a long, red-upholstered bench. Suddenly, Miranda’s knees buckled and she sat down on it gratefully. He grasped her shoulders and studied her, his golden eyes blazing. “Are you okay? Sure you want to proceed?”

She nodded as another ripple of desire rushed through her. Despite the cool of the underground cave, drops of perspiration broke out on her forehead. His fingers drew a line down the center of her torso; when they reached her pussy, Miranda moaned and pressed against them.

With hands that seemed to be made of fire and ice, Lancelot undressed her. He’s certainly got the magic touch, she mused. As he lay her down on the bench she felt herself softening, opening to receive him. Her juices leaked onto the red upholstery.

When his fingers found her slit, she took them in hungrily. When his tongue tasted her clit she spread her lips to give him better access.

“Don’t come yet,” he ordered, removing his mouth and his fingers.

Miranda squirmed and whimpered in protest, pinching her nipples as she watched him undress. Except for the necklace of fangs. His body wasn’t as nice as Eli’s—a bit of a paunch, love handles. But when he exposed the biggest cock she’d seen outside of porn flicks, she sighed, “Oh my God.” Will that fit inside me?

He stroked it until white light glowed around it like a glistening sheath. That’s the strangest condom I’ve ever seen, she thought as he knelt between her legs and rubbed the swollen head along her wet seam.

“The magic wand is a phallic symbol,” he told her, easing his tip into her. “A wand should be at least six inches long, but only as big as you can comfortably handle.”

Miranda giggled and raised her hips, trying to take his wand deeper into her, but he held back. Teasing her, he slid the head in and out, stroking the hot spot just inside. As she felt her orgasm gathering, he pulled out.

“Please…” she pleaded.

“Not yet. Stay on the edge as long as possible. You want to build power.” He stroked her breasts and sucked her hard nipples, tantalizing her without letting her come.

The necklace of fangs brushed enticingly against her skin. He slid his cock, greased with her fluids, up her belly and between her breasts, massaging himself with her smooth flesh.

“Let me suck it,” she said.

She opened her mouth as wide as she could and Lancelot quickly filled it. Gently, trying not to gag her, he probed her hot mouth. Her tongue flicked the ridge of his head, her lips embracing as much of his thick shaft as she could manage. When his cock started to throb, he withdrew it and went back to tickling her cunt with it. Miranda had no idea how long the dance went on; she’d lost all track of time. After a while, however, she discovered she could maintain an intense level of excitation without succumbing. The sensation was exquisite.

Suddenly she noticed the rope he held: silky gold like drapery cord, maybe six feet long. She’d never been into bondage, but she couldn’t have objected even if she’d wanted to.

“Soon you can come, my pretty,” he told her, “and as you do, I’m going to tie knots in this rope. Then I’ll give you the rope and you’ll tie knots while I come. Understand?”

Miranda nodded and he thrust into her. Never had she felt so full or so inflamed.

When he hit bottom, she exploded in a kaleidoscope of colors. Wave after wave of pleasure washed over her. As soon as one orgasm ebbed another swelled behind it.

Lancelot busily tied knot after knot in the golden cord as she bucked and writhed beneath him, shrieking like a banshee. The pyramid echoed with her cries. Eventually the crashing force of her convulsions mellowed to a gentle throbbing and he handed her the rope.

As he sheathed his wand again and again, Miranda managed to tie several knots.

He groaned, stabbed a final time, and lay still. His heart hammered against hers.

When her mind cleared and his breathing returned to normal, Miranda asked,

“What’s with the knotted rope?”

Lancelot lifted himself off her and sat up. “You’ve just been initiated into one facet of sex magick. Sex generates tremendous power. The knots capture and hold that power. Take the rope with you—if ever you need extra strength, all you have to do is untie a knot.”

The sun had begun its descent when they emerged from the pyramid. Hermes the hawk perched on one of the tall stones, waiting for them. Racing against nightfall, they hurried down the mountain.

“Do you think you’ll ever come back to Salem?” Miranda asked as they drove toward Seattle.

“Perhaps. I’ll certainly let you know if I do. I’d enjoy teaching you a lot more about sex magick.”

Late one afternoon, a week after Miranda had departed, Eli came upon Sybil seated beside her scrying pond. He paused in the shadows of an oak grove, silent as a deer, not wanting to interrupt her. But she sensed his presence—he could never hide anything from Sybil—and turned toward him.