by Sage Domini
CURVY LIKE A WITCH
By Sage Domini
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One night a year the witches of Phoenix House are allowed to fulfill pleasures of the flesh. Curvy witch Celeste is determined to make this Halloween a night of ecstasy to sustain her. When the brooding werewolf Draco decides to fulfill her need, their hours of fevered lust will shatter all that Celeste thought she knew about pleasure. …
Adults only! Story contains scenes of HOT sexual exploits between a BBWitch and the powerful alpha werewolf determined to possess every part of her, even if just for one night.
Attendance at Mother Alma’s meeting in the cavernous lobby was a requirement. She would never open the doors until she had issued her warnings. The anticipation was almost palpable as the towering wall clock inched closer to six pm. The first timers were clustered in a tight pack to my left. Mentally I pushed them back as their bodies buzzed and undulated too close.
“Hey,” complained one, a fussy girl named Beth who was not well liked. But tonight even Beth’s usually plain face held the ruddy glow of fevered excitement and I regretted my brief annoyance. I well remembered the first Halloween I was of age here at Phoenix House. The thrill was almost too much for one body. An entire wicked evening unbound by the witch laws, free to explore those pleasures longed for and dreamed of the entire year. Tonight even the witches well worn with years beamed radiantly.
Mother Alma raised her arms, rising from the ground slightly. The train of her black gown covered her feet and made her seem ever more the ominous wraith. No one knew how many years she had lived. Some said she was older than mankind. Really, she needn’t have bothered with her flapping theatrics. None among the energized crowd were listening. Anyway, if a witch did not know her responsibilities by her first Halloween then she was likely a lost cause.
The youthful novitiates stirred loudly but were instantly silenced by a dark glare from Mother Alma. I felt nearly as impatient but would not budge until the doors opened. One of the girls sighed.
It had been only a few short years since I had reached my own milestone of twenty one years, the age at which it became possible to participate in Halloween. The ticks of the clock echoed in my blood. The night would be all too short. They would all be out tonight, of course. Witches were not alone in celebrating Halloween. The wolves, the vampires, and even the grim goblins would rejoice in the freedom of the night. But this was not a worry. It was highly unlikely any would violate the Halloween laws. No humans were to be harmed or consequences would ensue.
Mother Alma ignored the younger girls who were trying to blend into the grand staircase. They would not be leaving for the night. They would be practicing their grim lessons behind the doors of the darkened hallways of Phoenix House and dreaming of the Halloween when they would come of age.
Mother Alma surveyed us coolly. “My daughters. In three minutes it will be Halloween evening. Your release will last for six hours exactly. If you have not returned by the strike of one minute past midnight, you will suffer banishment from Phoenix House, from your sisters, and from all the power of the craft.” A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Though history said it had happened before, a witch had never suffered banishment since I had arrived at Phoenix House.
Mother Alma was speaking to me. “Sister Celeste, will you lead the chant?”
I stepped forth gravely. I spoke loud and clear as the others murmured the words with me. They were the same every Halloween. “I am a witch. I am protector of human kind. I stand between the people of the earth and the creatures of the underworld. My mind is serious and my body chaste. Only on Halloween night will flesh meet flesh. It will be enough. I will return.”
“Thank you, Sister Celeste.” I thought Mother Alma’s look was one of disapproval. Though my gown was cut dangerously low, so were many others. It was a permitted indulgence this one night, though no forms among the twenty six other witches were as fleshy and filled out as mine. I had only a little time to use these instruments of my body and I would make it a time worthy of remembering.
The chime of the clock silenced us all as we turned to its face. It was as tall as a man. The Phoenix House had been built in the 1920s as a luxury hotel and the deco style influences remained. The novitiates clutched hands as the hour arrived. I ran my hands over the smooth fabric of my cloak. It was time.
Last year had been disappointing. He was a truck driver and tempting to look at, but had already fallen under the haze of drink before he led me to the cheap motel off the interstate. He seemed disinterested in anything other than that dark triangle at my center and did not wait for me to achieve any satisfaction before finishing and passing out into a dull sleep. I returned to Phoenix House long before there was any danger of banishment. For months I chided myself and my poor choice. Tonight would be different. I would not succumb to the first horny collection of muscles.
The novitiates surged to the front. I really did not envy them their virginal fever. The first time had been difficult. Now I had five Halloween of practice and I meant to apply the things I knew and learn of the things I didn’t. A pleasant warmth spread between my legs as my body awakened to the evening’s possibilities. Perhaps Mother Alma disapproved of me because she knew how I pleasured myself quietly during the resting hours. It was not expressly forbidden, but regarded as a sign of weakness. Witches were not permitted many weaknesses.
Mother Alma raised a hand. Slowly the thick double doors opened. The light outside was fading rapidly. “Daughters,” she said, “it is Halloween.”
Beyond the strict curfew, there were a few rules to abide by. Witches must drink the potion before departing. It would protect our bodies from any unpleasant consequences of the night’s indulgences. And each witch would be in the world alone this evening. It would be the only occasion of the year where a witch mingled in public without the scrutiny of her sisters.
Mother Alma handed each departing witch a small goblet before releasing her into the night. When my turn came the dour coven mistress glanced at the round swells of my body which threatened to spill from the thin fabric. “Remember, Miss Celeste,” she warned. “Midnight.”
I didn’t know why she issued such a reminder. It was not my first Halloween. Some sisters said Mother Alma possessed the rare sight, that she could see certain events of the future. Was that the reason behind her warning? She needn’t have fret. No matter the pleasures of the outside world, I would never abandon my witch duties.
Katie, a radiant redhead, was my friend. She touched my arm lightly as we headed toward the property boundary of Phoenix House. “Enjoy,” she winked, then hurried down the street. Katie and I had arrived at Phoenix House the same year, both innocent girls of the deep south, fresh out high school when the strange figure of Mother Alma entered our lives and made an unusual offer. Eight years had passed since. I well recalled the longing of that first Halloween when I was among those shooed to the second floor. It would be several more years before my first Halloween.
The sensation of being alone on the streets in a sexy gown was rare and intoxicating. Usually when I ventured outside Phoenix House I was dressed primly and accompanied by several other sisters. But tonight was different. Tonight I would seek the touch of an eager partner. He would lick my nipples and explore my secret open
ings. I would happily return the favor. My step quickened with the urgency of my moistening center.
Most of the other sisters would be headed downtown to the clubs and bars which would be pulsing with the night’s unique excitement. Halloween in the mortal world meant the chance to become something else. For us it was the same. I was not a proper witch this night. I was a lusty woman aching to be satisfied.
The streets were dark and forlorn, flanked by abandoned buildings. This had been a great center of manufacturing during a different era of prosperity. Few people walked these parts, even on Halloween night. The sudden crash of breaking glass startled me. My hand flew to the pendant I usually wore around my neck but it had been left behind at Phoenix House. Another rule of Halloween night: No Witchcraft.
I looked down black alleys, unsure whether anyone was looking back at me. I was not even convinced I was heading the right way. Each step I took was all due to a conversation overhead in a café a few weeks earlier. I estimated they were college girls, young and brightly turned out. They were speaking low but a silent chant allowed me to hear words while Katie sat across from me engrossed in her Kindle. One of the girls was talking excitedly about a wild underground club she had visited over the weekend. She shifted her eyes around to ensure no one was paying attention, then breathed, “He fingered me right there on the dance floor. It was unfucking believable. Chicks had their tits hanging out. One girl was even giving a full blow job. We found the men’s room and he fucked me right there against the door.” Her friend gasped and whispered a question but she shook her head. “No, I never even knew his name. Place was called Skylight, way up Van Buren. I gotta go back there.”
I thought about her words that night and touched myself as the inhabitants of Phoenix House breathed quietly around me. The thought of such a place had me salivating.
I was so lost in my own thoughts I did not hear the car until it was beside me. The lights were off but I could make out the dim figure of a man. He leaned out of the car. “Get in.”
I had sworn I would not take the first stranger but the shallow moonlight had allowed me enough of a glimpse of the man that I figured I could chance a few moments to see if he was what I was looking for after all. His hair was dark and his brow deep. He was perhaps a few years older than I. He wore a button up shirt which was rolled back to the elbows, as if he had just come from a long day at the office. He leaned back into his seat, waiting. I wondered what sort of man would issue commands to strange women who walked alone on a dark city street.
He didn’t look at me. “Aren’t you coming?” The low timber of his voice vibrated in my depths. All the long months of fleshly denial had caught up to me. All it took was a man ordering me into his car and I wanted him. I opened the door and sunk into the soft seat, smelling leather and smoke.
He lit a cigarette, and held the pack out to me. “Want one?”
I did not smoke, but I took one. He lit both cigarettes and inhaled deeply. I tried to do the same and coughed furiously. He smiled thinly. “You don’t smoke.”
I tried to breath. “No.” Yet, the sensual feel of the cigarette in my hand and the heady aura of the smoke gave me courage to inhale again, more shallowly.
He started the car. “My name is Draco. We’ll go to my place.”
I stared at him. He was even more finely built than I thought. I wanted to touch the muscled contours his shirt could not hide. I wanted his large hands as my body. And even as I realized he seemed to take me for a prostitute, I didn’t care.
Draco drove fast through the dark streets with the lights off. I took small puffs of my cigarette, which made me feel sexy and exotic. He did not look at me as he piloted the deserted streets and I tried to gauge his mood. He flicked his finished cigarette out the window and ran a hand through his dark hair.
“Is this it?” I asked when he stopped the car. I looked out doubtfully. It was a squat building four stories high and obviously deserted. I started to feel a thin trickle of fear. I was virtually defenseless without my witchcraft.
Draco gunned the engine and pulled into a neighboring parking garage. He did not speak until he had set the car in park. Then he looked directly at me. His sculpted features were inscrutable. My breath quickened as his gaze traveled down the contours of my body, then back up to my face. I went weak as his eyes met mine and I recognized his look of need. “This is it,” he said.
The building seemed deserted, but was not as run down as it appeared from the outside. Draco switched on some dim lights and led me to a freight elevator. Some vague part of my mind whispered with fear but it was drowned out by the wet want between my legs.
When he had closed the elevator doors and pushed the button to ascend, he spoke again. “You did not tell me your name.”
“I’m Celeste.” I cleared my throat. “I’m a college student.”
Draco peered at me and smirked, as if he recognized the lie. But would he have believed the truth? The official story behind Phoenix House was we were a very devout religious order. Well, it wasn’t a complete fabrication...
I felt rather breathless being this close to Draco, especially in light of what we were heading upstairs to do. Witches were encouraged to avoid contact with men, lest temptation breed. Draco, however, seemed utterly at ease, leaning against the back of the elevator and idly watching its upward clanging progress.
The doors opened directly to comfortable living quarters. I relaxed slightly. The loft was decorated tastefully in muted tones of dark red and gray. The gigantic windows ran nearly floor to ceiling and a large bed waited casually in the corner.
Marcus threw his keys on the counter and opened the glossy black refrigerator. “Drink?”
“No, but thank you.” I awkwardly searched for something to say. I was suddenly painfully aware that the sum of my Halloweens did not add up to much in the annals of experience. I really did not know what to say to a man, nor what he expected of me. Especially since he certainly considered me an expert woman of the night.
I wandered over to the window. There were few lights close by. I wondered how my sisters were faring in the distant glitter downtown.
He startled me when he came from behind, reaching around to cup my heavy breasts. He had removed his shirt. The heat of his skin and the musky scent of his aftershave unleashed fresh waves of desire and I moaned. With movement so slow it was pure torture he reached under my throat and untied my cloak, letting it spill to the floor. I could feel the rise of his male arousal against my back. He would not allow me to turn around, instead slowly peeling my gown first from one shoulder, then the other. As the material rolled slowly over my breasts the anticipation was almost painful. That secret part of me beseeched to be explored, but Draco was taking his time. It was with great extent that I did not assist in the downward progress of my clothing. I sensed it pleased him to undress me slowly. He swept my long red hair aside and let me head roll back into his hard shoulder. He moved his hand further down and then further still, towards that warm, impatient channel. Dimly I realized I was completely visible to anyone passing on the street or watching out of neighborhood windows. I did not care a whit.
Finally, the gown was lost and only my wet panties remained. His hand moved with purpose and skill to stimulate that tender stub of sensation which guarded my opening. I rubbed against his hand, silently willing a harder, faster motion, but he only teased. I groaned with heady impatience. Surely he wouldn’t make me wait much longer. Surely he would-
The piercing howl broke the mood as I instantly recognized it for it was. Momentarily a second, and then a third shrill call joined the first. I pulled away, but Draco snaked a hand around my tightly around my belly and whispered with urgency. “My brethren. Don’t be afraid. You will not be harmed.”
His hand moved to cup my moist mound. My heart beat with rapid fear as I understood. “Your brethren? You’re a…” But his grip on me was so tight and his torturous fingers had begun circling with rapid pressure. I was lost in sensation. He
could have informed he was the devil personified and I would not have broken the embrace.
“A werewolf,” his raspy voice confirmed. He tore away the satin fabric with one fluid motion and buried several fingers deep in that desperate slit. I rocked against him with no thought other than satisfying the pleading within.
Draco knew just how to play his instrument of choice as he teased and withdrew. He reached around with his other hand and opened me with both of his thumbs and the jolt of electricity threatened to bring me to climax. He turned me, moving his hands around my wide hips, and began an avid massage of my backside as he bent to suckle my breasts. My nipples were painfully hard as they fought to win the attentions of his mouth. Suddenly he rose and looked down into my eyes. “Now you know what I am. And Celeste, I always knew what you were.”
I wanted him to resume his activities in the worst way. “I’m not a hooker.”
His laugh was a throaty rumble. He was genuinely amused. “I know that, Miss Celeste. You are a witch.”
I gasped. But of course a werewolf would be able to recognize a witch. I should have known him for what he was but in the giddy expectancy of the night I had failed. With supreme reluctance I bent to retrieve my gown. I could not possibly bed a werewolf. It simply wasn’t done.
Draco seized my hand and brought it to the solid swell in his pants. As I weakly pushed him away, he grabbed my other arm and pinned it behind my back. His mouth covered mine and his tongue was inside instantly, demanding what his body would insist on. He broke the kiss and looked at me with fierce hunger. “No one need ever know.”
I shook my head and faintly attempted to pull back. “I can’t,” I whispered.
His large hands gripped me tightly. I ceased struggling. “You will,” he said with supreme certainty. He placed a finger inside my lips and I tasted my own desire. He ran his tongue along the deep valley between my breasts. He was right. He wanted me and he would have me because I wanted it even more.
