Teen Witch

The drumbeat pounded in her ears, complimented by little gasps and squeals of delight over her from the assembled women. She put her hands out and touched anything that came close, stroking a strange woman's face, and then the firm flank of a backside, and then testing the sensitivity of a bare breast or exposed thigh. Everything was orange and red in the firelight, the women's faces like black lines painted on a flickering backdrop.

She gasped when the first woman's mouth found its way between her thighs. She couldn't see anything of whoever it was except for a head of wavy hair, which she grabbed and pushed down on even as she thrust up with her hips. The women around her laughed.

"So eager," one said. "You don't have to rush."

"Don't tell me what to do," Phoebe said. She grabbed the woman and pulled her down for a kiss, tongue stabbing deep into her mouth as someone else's tongue explored her curves and folds below. The air was thick with sex and sweat and too many bodies. Giggles, moans, and sounds of excited affirmation filled the night like tinkling bells.

Someone was lying right next to Phoebe, her nude body splayed like a table setting for the others. Phoebe rolled over just enough to grab the other girl and kiss her, their mouths opening to overwhelm each other and moan into the hollow of each other's bodies. The circle of naked, writhing, dancing, ecstatic women picked over from one girl to the other, trading spots back and forth between their thighs, licking their naked breasts, kissing their exposed arms, shoulders, and thighs. Phoebe gushed.

She had assumed the girl next to her was Ruth, but when she opened her eyes again she saw that it was someone she didn't know, a woman a few years older. Curious, Phoebe stood up (unsteadily) and picked her way through the assembly, until she spotted where Ruth was hiding. The other girl sat on a rock, hugging her knees, staring in terror. Phoebe put out her hand.

"Come on," she said.

Ruth shook her head.

"Come on," Phoebe repeated. "You'll like it." The flames leapt higher, making a twisted black kaleidoscope of shadows on the rocks. Ruth shook her head again.

"Forget her," said Abbie. She was lying by the fire nearby. Phoebe went to her, dropping halfway and crawling across the grass, arriving on her hands and knees as Abbie parted her legs and pulled her in. The scent of wet sex surrounded Phoebe as she leaned in to kiss and lick the pretty pink slit between Abbie's thighs. The sharp, hot taste made her tongue tingle.

Phoebe lay on her belly on the ground and buried her face into Abbie, exploring every curve of her. Abbie didn't cry out or moan; her only response was to hiss between her teeth and push up with her thighs in encouragement. Phoebe closed her eyes and leaned in to kiss and suck harder and deeper, drinking her classmate's body into her open mouth.

Rough hands grabbed her from behind, seizing on her hips and pulling them up, so that her rear arched into the air. She gasped and tried to look, but Abbie forced her head down again. When she felt the hard protrusion trace the line of her ass until coming to the place where her wet pussy splayed out she knew who it was: Mr. Dane.

Phoebe gasped again when he slid the tip inside, then cried out harder. Abbie arched an eyebrow. "It's not your first, is it?"

"No..." Phoebe said. But it was certainly her first like this. It didn't feel warm and human; it was a cold, hard thing, like a toy nobody had lubed up, but it filled her completely when he started to fuck her. She went half-limp, letting the feeling rack her body back and forth on the ground.

"Serve me," said the Black Man. And again as he rocked in and out of her: "Serve me."

"Oh...oh...yes!"

Abbie stroked Phoebe's face, guiding her back to the warm cradle of her thighs. Phoebe gave herself up to it. The cold, hard thing continued to pump her from behind, until soon, it spilled over, filling her with the cool, wet, spurting nectar of its ancient lust. There was more than she could take, she knew. It was a fountain that would never run dry, saturating her body until there was just as much of it as her in her own body, hidden deep in her black insides.

***

Phoebe woke up sick. She thought she should run to the bathroom, but found she was there already. That was lucky.

She was back at her house (although she didn't remember how she got here), half-dressed with her legs bare. Her calves and ankles were cut and bleeding and, as she watched with a vague horror, her cat, Belladonna, crouched over her, licking the blood from her scratches. "Stop it," she said. Then, louder, "Stop!"

The cat gave her a bored look and crept out of the room, tail swaying. Phoebe slumped over between the toilet and the bathtub. She wanted to curl up and bury herself until her hangover went away. Or maybe just until she died, whichever happened first.

Eventually, she crawled to the living room. The TV was on, with its bleary images of faceless ministers. When she unmuted it, the broadcast said:"What contract have you made with the Devil?"

Phoebe blinked. The TV spoke again:

"Why do you seem to act witchcraft before us with the motions of your body, which have influenced the afflicted?"

"I don't know what you're talking about," said Phoebe, putting her face in the crook of her arm. "I don't even know what a witch is."

"If you don't know what a witch is, how do you know you aren't one?" said the TV. Then the set turned itself off.

Dragging herself to the kitchen, she fumbled with her phone. Which job would Mom be at today? Or was she out of town again? Phoebe couldn't remember.

But it didn't matter, because no sooner did she touch the phone than it rang, startling her. She snatched it up and thrust the receiver to her ear "Hello?" said a man's voice. "Who is this?"

The hair on the back of Phoebe's neck stood up. "Mr. Dane?"

"Is that you, Phoebe?"

"Yes. Mr. Dane, why are you calling me? I...I guess I'm late for school, aren't I?"

"It's Saturday, Phoebe. I'm calling because you called me."

"No I didn't? I don't even know your phone number?"

"I got a weird call from this number. It sounded like...well I don't know what it sounded like, but it sounded pretty bad. I didn't realize this was you. You really didn't call me?"

"I'm not sure. I think I've done a lot of things. I think..." She paused, and then before she had the chance to think better of it she said, "Mr. Dane, can you come here please? I've hurt myself somehow, and nobody's home, and I really need help. I'm sorry, but will you come here right now please?"

He seemed to hesitate. Phoebe held her breath. "Okay," he finally said. "Where do you live?"

Phoebe paced as she waited. She spotted Mr. Dane through the window before he knocked. She wanted to smile at him when she answered the door, but the best she managed was a weak wave. "You look awful," he said, coming inside.

She shut the door and locked it. "It's not as bad as it looks."

"Phoebe..." he said, turning away and looking at the wall. "You're not wearing any pants."

She glanced at her bare legs. Mr. Dane was blushing, but Phoebe just laughed. "I guess I had better get dressed. Come in and wait?"

He loitered around the interior, not sure what to do. "Where are your parents?"

"Mom's not around," she called from her room. It looked like she had nothing clean. She settled for pulling on the skirt of one of her uniforms. When she looked into the living room, she found Mr. Dane eyeing the previous night's books curiously. The cat sniffed around his shoes. Now she did manage to smile.

"Do you want anything? Something to drink? Or something else?"

"You told me you were hurt."

"I was. But I think I'm much better now. I was mixed up. I'm sorry I scared you. It was sweet of you to be worried, though." Now that she wasn't alone, she didn't feel sick anymore. Suddenly, she felt very good.

He stood with his hands in his coat pockets. "I'll get going then," he said, although his face clearly showed that he didn't believe a word she'd said.

"Please stay? Since you're here already."

"I can't be alone with a student in a private setting."

"Why not?"

"It's inappropriate.'

"I've done worse," Phoebe said. "I bet you have too."

She slid her bare feet across the floor, skating closer to him. He was standing in front of the couch and she put her fingertips to his chest, trying to push him down onto it. He didn't budge. "Loosen up," she said. "School's out."

"I'm leaving."

"If you really want to."

Abbie was standing right behind Mr. Dane. He didn't seem to realize she was there, not even when she put her hands on his shoulders and pushed him into a sitting position on the couch. Phoebe clambered onto his lap and spread her legs. She wasn't wearing underwear, and her naked crotch pressed into him. She ran her fingers through his unruly hair. From behind, Abbie licked the ridge of his ear, although again he didn't seem aware of this either.

"What's gotten into you?" he said.

"All sorts of things."

"This isn't right. You're a kid. I could lose my job..."

"I'm good with secrets." She unbuckled his belt. Thrusting her fingers inside, she found the bulge and rubbed it while she kissed Mr. Dane's mouth and jaw. He didn't kiss her back, but every time he tried to stand Abbie didn't let him.

Phoebe circled a thumb and a finger around his cock and squeezed through the cotton of his underpants. The surface of Mr. Dane's cock felt silky and smooth when her fingers pushed the last layer of clothing away. Strange, she thought. It was simple flesh, easy to use, but dangling and hapless until inflamed by her touch or the proximity of her own body.

Abbie wiggled her eyebrows at Phoebe and grinned. Phoebe pushed Mr. Dane's legs up so that he was lying on the couch instead of sitting on it. She pulled his belt off in one go and yanked his pants down. They became tangled around his shoes, which she'd neglected to take off of him, leaving him somewhat hogtied at the ankles. Oh well.

His body smelled like a hot animal. She stroked his naked cock some more, as if testing. This part at least seemed ready for business, despite the teacher's squirming reluctance. She kissed the tip. He groaned. Phoebe licked her teacher's cock with her red, red mouth, then sucked the head, pursing her lips and then smiling around him as he collapsed into quivering helplessness.

She'd expected it to have a raw, meaty taste, but the actual sensation was surprisingly sterile. Testing, she inched him into her open mouth a bit a time. Abbie stroked her hair and coaxed her along. She nearly choked once, but after a moment the muscles at the back of her mouth opened up and allowed her to swallow him all the way down.

Phoebe's mouth latched on, and her throat rippled with a swallowing motion as she milked Mr. Dane's cock. Abbie straddled her from behind, watching everything with bright eyes from over Phoebe's shoulder while whispering encouragement in her ear and, occasionally, reaching around to squeeze and stroke Phoebe's tits through her shirt. Her body ached as she bobbed her head up and down.

Mr. Dane seemed stuck in a daze, staring at the ceiling with his mouth open and one of his hands dangling off the couch. He looked ridiculous, Phoebe thought, half-dressed with his pants down, helpless against an 18 year old girl who had nothing to use against him except for a pair of pretty lips. Her gasped once, when her teeth grazed him. "Not so hard, you greedy bitch," Abbie whispered.

Squirming harder, Mr. Dane thrashing back and forth with his hips, helplesss. Rather than risk him bucking her off, she slid him even further down her throat. His lips still parted in a long, paralyzed gasp, even as he started to buck, thrusting up against her wantonly sucking mouth as his orgasm hit him and then he began to spurt.

Phoebe's eyes went wide in a moment of surprise, but she repressed the urge to spit it all out. Instead she swallowed, and felt it running down her throat and into her belly. Although her teacher appeared to have been deflated by his own climax, Phoebe felt fuller than ever. She opened her mouth and let the last bit that she hadn't swallowed dribble down her chin.

Abbie kissed her and then, looking right at Mr. Dane, she said. "I don't think that was appropriate at all. I think you may have seriously violated your students' trust."

Mr. Dane looked at Abbie for the first time. "Oh God!" he said. "This isn't—that is, I'm not—"

"Oh hush up," said Phoebe. She bit her lip, and suddenly he couldn't seem to speak. When she tugged her hair he sat and then couldn't stand back up. Abbie laughed and patted him on the head. Phoebe laughed too; it was just too funny. The girls kissed again.

"How do you feel?" Abbie said.

"Perfect," said Phoebe, and it was true.

"It's only going to get better from here," Abbie said. They drew together in a tight embrace, and in Phoebe's ear Abbie whispered every secret she knew.

"It's all yours now," she said. "All the kingdoms of the world, in all of their authority and splendor. It's all been given to me. And I'll give it to you."

And she saw how good it was.