The Rituals of Thelema Ch. 01

To suggest my interest in women had any purpose beyond the acquisition of power is quite ridiculous. My very existence depended on the continual absorption of the life force of others and the most prized variety was the carnal jetsam of unrestrained sexual submission. Perhaps initially my purpose might have been construed as a search for mutual pleasure, a mingling of souls towards a higher plain but in truth that ideal had soon been trampled beneath the charging hooves of my search for the essence of personal aggrandizement through magic. Catholicism is such a wonderfully natural precursor to sorcery, investing as it does the performance of ritualistic incantation with metaphysical happenstance and the sweet intermingling of psychic manipulation and fucking is beyond parallel.

The Eurostar terminal in St Pancras was my preferred port of departure. I had on occasion used the intermediate alternative at Ashford but found the inconvenience of not being able to both study my prey from the outset and the possibility of not having my exact choice of locale vexing. Some lesser humans failed to realize their place and somehow assumed they could claim precedence over my wishes. I had no wish to waste energy on reeducating such nondescripts however much the pleasure of opening their veins might appeal. A spider by necessity needs his web suitably in place before the victim can be ensnared and time and experience had taught me the essence of subterfuge.

"Excuse me Sir, are these seats taken?"

I slowly raised my eyes from the newly acquired first edition of Justine to acknowledge the addressee with a broken toothed smile. My visage was as always carefully manicured for this moment, the heavily mirrored spectacles, the carefully groomed van dyke, the spotless Grade Three Habana Cuenca Panama all chosen to accentuate. Amazing how much one can recognize in a glance, dissect the individual as completely as in a postmortem to stare into their very soul. I removed the mountaineer's glasses with a flourish and looked deep into her bright green eyes.

"I would be extraordinarily honored to have you use these rather unworthy seats my dear young thing."

She flushed a little and laughed, not crudely but rather with a natural innocence that made both my mouth salivate and penis twitch pleasantly. The train slowly began to accelerate and as she leaned forward to regain balance she inadvertently placed her palm on my right knee. The wonderfully timed accident momentarily bought us close enough for her aroma to fill my nostrils. Yes, I was suddenly very hungry.

"We sitting here then Lizzie?"

I glanced at the boy standing behind my next meal and inwardly steeled. The attraction of such unfortunate specimens to the female sex had always mystified and to a degree irritated me. But for the fact that his inane stupidity and irksomeness made my obvious good breeding doubly illuminating I would quite happily have shoved him out of a window immediately to be splattered along the tracks in gory magnificence rather than waiting for a more opportune moment.

"Be nice please Roddy."

Roderick attempted to look aloof and dignified but was obviously singularly unhappy to be chastised, unable to willing accept that such is the penalty for existing as a fool and cad. I decided unilaterally to make his last few hours extraordinarily unpleasant.

Justine was proving its usual mix of comedy and pedestrian-ism. I am an admirer of De Sade's writing in its most brilliant form but his insistence on poeticizing even the most banal of physical acts reeks of the somatic narcissist. Call a fuck a fuck I always say, no need to reach for the thesaurus at every turn. Elizabeth had assumed her seat opposite me, Roderick having decided as the 'man' he had pervue over the window seat. Personally I always found the aisle seat far more convenient dually because of my own ease of access and its threatening nature for whomever might dare to risk an invasion of my bench. I sat as always with my back to the engine allowing a modicum of relief from the unavoidable discrepancies in the speed and regularity of our progress. That Elizabeth had chosen to wear a skirt on this day was of course a great benefit and I was pleased to note when her thighs parted occasionally through the carriages vibrations she was not only sans panties but diligently hirsute. In my general experience a well groomed labia points to a proficiently maintained vagina and by extension and far more importantly a clean anus.

Each journey lasted approximately two hours and thirty five minutes. I divided this allowance into three sections, the reception, the meal and finally the laundry. The reception was the most enjoyable, allowing a choice of menu, the decision to eat al fresco or perhaps more traditionally, the preparation of the food, the cooking and serving. The meal itself was by necessity repetitive, after all there are only so many gastronomic experiences to be had on a moving vehicle but of course each finale, the crème caramel for want of a better term was always exquisite. The laundry was a matter of arbitrary preference, sometimes purely linguistic, occasionally commercial and on the unfortunately few truly satisfying of occasions requiring a total cleansing. I kept the latter to a minimum, however adept I had become at the art of prestidigitation there was always the chance of some unfortunate glimpse behind the conjurers mirror and that would mean having to totally redesign my preferred feeding habits, something I considered abhorrent.

We had departed St Pancras at just after twenty hundred hours and being still only early February in comparative darkness. The night wore a full moon that cast an eerie glow across the landscape as we traveled through the outskirts of Greater London before reaching the flat fertile plain of Kent. Elizabeth and Roderick were obviously in the midst of that kind of silent argument only truly tragic relationships can manifest. Hard enough to muster words when there is some point to discussion however fraught but when the only sound discernible is the scraping of fingernails slowly losing traction on any jointly held emotions silence marks a battlefield visited with familiar repetition.

"Going for a Slash."

Roddy broke the heavy curtain between them more as a warning to Elizabeth to mind out of his way rather than any real attempt at communication. For her part the girl looked heartily embarrassed, both at his unnecessary vulgarity and the public humiliation of such verbal aggression. I had surmised from the slight twitch that had started to spread across Roddy's face that the need was for relief of a totally different kind and the way he frantically checked his jacket pockets as he rose only confirmed my suspicions.

"You had better take your ticket if you are going to be a while then."

Something in Elizabeth's voice told me this was not an unforeseen or unusual occurrence and I again found myself confirming his soon to be downfall.

"I really must apologize for Roddy's manners, He isn't used to being in proper company."

I raised my eyes again from Justine and arranged my face into a smile of both pleasantry and fatherly understanding.

"We are taking this trip in the hopes of sorting out our problems but it doesn't seem to have started very well."

Nodding I allowed her to warm unhindered into her explanation. She needed to share and obviously found the skeins of my web remarkably comforting as they started to insidiously grip her tighter.

"I am really sorry if my speaking has offended you."

I allowed my smile to broaden reassuringly and ensuring that my eyes were that deep shade of blue women found so seductive I again removed my mountaineer's glasses. My look captured her solidly and momentarily she was transfixed. I smelt her vaginal excreta flow.

"Please don't apologize Elizabeth, I can imagine no circumstance when anything we shared wouldn't both be a pleasure and an honor."

People imagine that magic requires some obvious incantation or gesture when in actuality its very nature is subtle in the extreme.

"it is rather for me to apologize for being unable to mend whatever troubles you with the glue of my experience and honest affections."

Elizabeth was fast melting and I concluded that no one had ever taken the time or trouble to seduce her before. Undoubtedly she had suffered the physical fumbling of inarticulate commoners whose manners would be rough as their hands but the luxuriant feel of words slowly pervading her being was totally new.

"May I ask you something?"

I let her anticipation mount a little as my eyes twinkled and my testes filled expectantly.

"Please Elizabeth feel open to ask me anything you want. I have few secrets and even less shame."

My words were chosen carefully to extract a response and I sensed her opening experientially.

"Is Paris really as romantic as they say? I so want this trip to work, I think it's the last chance Roddy and I have to make things work."

She looked so sad and defenseless, so desperate that many a less considerate predator might have felt pangs of pity enough let her go, but what point? Roderick was a poltroon, a dolt, incapable of ever creating or bringing the longevity of joy this little one deserved. Sometimes the kindest act is the cruelest, the quick incised pass across the neck preferable to condoning the slow impaling spit.

"Paris must be savored like priceless wine, allowed to invade all the senses till your whole being is soaked in its essence, experienced with the eyes, the nose, the mouth, the very core of your being till it impregnates you with its seed."

I watched Elizabeth quaff my words like A Bollinger 2002 Brut, the sumptuous white effervescence prancing across her emotions to transport her senses on lipizzan to new heights of delight. The world closed around us as our carriage thrust into the darkness of the tunnel.

"Have you ever walked beneath the sea before Elizabeth?"

"No never, ever, not even in a dream."

I rose from the seat and stood tall above her, my body close enough that the testosterone pulsing through my glands would invade her being. Placing the impenetrable spectacles back over my eyes I firmly clasped her hand and led her easily towards the end of the carriage. The automatic doors opened in a mockery of the curtains that lead into the bosom of Solomon's temple then closed behind us with a satisfying snap. Elizabeth's hair felt good in my hand, my fist wrapped tight in the thickness just above the nape of her neck and she showed no hesitation as I drew her bare shoulder to my mouth. Her skin smelled heavily of patchouli, worn as a mask for the tell-tale pungency of cannabis sativa both she and Roderick used with great regularity. I tasted her flesh, biting timidly at first but increasing pressure from my few remaining incisors in unison with her melting form until her body swooned sufficiently to drop harmlessly to the floor. I turned quickly to face Roddy as he staggeringly exited the adjacent bathroom still acclimatizing to the fresh application of heroin injected through the visible track in his left elbow crease.

"What the fucks this?"

The outside edge of my right hand met the bridge of his nose perfectly to send him staggering leftwards towards the carriage door. I grasped the collar of his jacket before he collapsed totally allowing me time to slide down the doors heavy window then up again to trap his neck like a medieval stock. Releasing the collar I allowed him to collapse and hang like a perverse facsimile of a Peking duck in a China Town delicatessen. I quickly pulled his pants to his ankles exposing the gaping ragged anal canal so recently sold as plunder in exchange for opiate and zip-tied his wrists behind his back.

Upon regaining consciousness Elizabeth took in the full horror of Roderick's betrayal.

"Fucking dirty conniving rent boy."

Her outburst whilst understandable caused me pain, the sound of such crude and judgmental words being expelled from her divine lips was disappointing.

"Please Elizabeth whilst I understand your anger at such betrayal you must rise above mere vitriol if you wish to both chastise Rodrick and move forwards positively."

I could see she was confused and wishing her to more easily grasp the possibilities now open to her helped her to her feet ensuring her skirt remained caught around her hips exposing her loins fully to my view and tactile pleasure. The lips of her labia parted so easily to my middle fingers casual penetration and she seemed almost not to notice as it slid inwards only halted by web of my hand.

"What do I do know? I put every last hope on this trip and he's fucked me totally."

Roderick had started to make guttural noises, probably due to blood from the split nose bridge running down his throat. I managed to casually connect the upper of my spectator shoe with his scraggy testes and after a muffled groan he went silent.

"My dear child you certainly shouldn't allow the actions of such a manifest dullard ruin your petite vacances."

My mouth loved the taste of the French language and the effect on Elizabeth was noticeable. Her hips had started to thrust forwards and apart as my nail scraped the soft interior of her vagina, indeed the labia parted quite sufficiently for me to slide another two fingers inwards to join the quadrille. Eyes closed she leaned back against the wall to the adjoining compartment all thoughts of Roddy fled from her consciousness. Her lips parted easily as my tongue delved inward and she seemed to shudder almost orgasmic-ally. Sure enough I felt the heavy gush of fluids force past my twirling fingers to pour like warm syrup onto her parted inner thighs. Without a murmur she allowed me to turn her to face the wall and quickly exposing myself press the head of my well engorged penis hard against her anal bud. Arching her back in utter desire she spread her buttocks open and pressed back wantonly. Who was I to refuse such devout supplication and willingly slid deep till she was filled with my throbbing flesh.

The narrowest section of the tunnel was just prior to the speeding trains escape into the Gallic countryside. A quick turn of the door handle with one hand and a depression of the window with the other saw Roddy disappear into the depths of almost demonic darkness. His expression as he momentarily hung in marionette like stance was picturesque and inwardly satisfying and I carried the image with me as I returned to our carriages bench seat where Elizabeth awaited dutifully wearing an angelic smile. The remaining distance to Paris Gare de Nord passed pleasantly enough, my attention to Justine fully recomposed, Elizabeth's head resting peacefully against my right shoulder.