Bilal and Mistress Octavia Pt. 02

The prayer was long, but I was passingly familiar and could recite it having only to look down at the page a few times. I could tell that Marguerite was impressed in spite of herself. But she simply gave a contented nod.

"You will need to read St. Salah's prayer in full and without errors. You must start after the witch begins the ritual. She will start by drawing blood from my cheek. I will tell you when to begin" For a moment there was a glint of fear in Marguerite's eyes, and I appreciated the danger she faced in her mission. "She will most likely recognise the verse, and may have some way of disrupting it. Be on your guard. But you must stay loyal and faithful to her to the very last minute. If she senses any deception it will destroy years of inquisitorial work."

I didn't have any specific questions, but she went over the plan again, step by step. I felt my flippancy drain from me as I realized the gravity of what would occur. "I do not know exactly what will happen after you read the verse. The witch will die, and all the magic she has cast around the estate will die with her. Be ready for the unexpected."

We went over the plan once again, and I read the passage until I could recite it from memory. It wouldn't do to forget it in the middle of the ritual and there would surely not be enough light for a book. By the time we finished the sun had gone down. I was ready to head out and get this horrid affair over with.

"There is one more thing," she said. "If the ritual succeeds, then Iblis will grant her the power she needs. So we will need to assure that nothing of the sort will happen, even if you fail to recite the prayer correctly, we need the ritual to fail." I waited for her to finish. I had no idea what arcane, inquisitorial plan she was formulating here. "So we'll have to deprive her of the essential component."

"But she won't have all she needs, will she Marguerite? We're deceiving her."

"I did not think I would have to spell it out so explicitly for you Bilal. The witch needs a virgin." I stared at her. "So we'll deprive her of one."

Again I couldn't help but laugh, "Marguerite, there's not going to be any virgin there! If you knew the things I have been up to with Octavia.." But then it occurred to me. "You can't possibly mean-"

"Yes Bilal. I cannot go into this as a virgin."

"You're not, though. The other night..."

"There are very specific requirements for this kind of virginity."

"You're saying the mouth doesn't count?" Her cheeks were reddening.

"I can't be a virgin going in." I couldn't believe she was still a virgin, even knowing that she didn't count taking my ram in her mouth. Why was she playing at this? As I realized where this was going however, I felt my attitude change.

I stammered, "Of course, Marguerite! I think it's a great idea. We'll have to see to it that the ritual doesn't work. It is God's will after all." What was that look on her face? There was some kind of satisfaction. What was she playing at?

She approached me with slow, careful steps. I could see the acrobatic agility in her moves. I gulped and gazed down at her legs. I had only seen a flash of them when she showed me them last time. "So, Bilal. I have one more thing for you to help me with. Since Octavia chose you to be her personal servant, she made you serve her in... intimate ways. Women like her are discriminating in their choices of personal slaves."

I felt cornered again, like I had no choice. But then again I would be happy to wet my ram inside her. "Yes, that's right. I did my job well, though I had no choice."

"And you enjoyed it?"

I stared at her for a moment. "Marguerite, I don't see..." I gulped again. I've never been one to get embarrassed at any sexual act, but Marguerite's gaze made me squirm.

"Witches have ways of manipulating other than magic. They are notorious for sinful, seductive behavior. Men obey them as often out of lust as dark magic. I can smell her on you, Bilal." Her mouth twitched upward in a smile. "You're not one to say no to a woman, even if she means to trap you."

Now she was right next to me, just inches from my face. Of course she was right. My ram was always what got me into trouble. What can I say? But I didn't believe her story for a minute. She could enjoy her carnal work too. I reached for her hips, but instead her hands caught mine. She intertwined our hands and pulled me as close as possible. Her blue eyes were fire instead of ice once again, and our warm lips met. I kissed her tentatively at first, then her mouth opened wide and her tongue invaded my mouth. The moment an affectionate kiss turns into a passionate one is a magical moment, and it always lit my loins on fire. There was no turning back now.

Her grip was like iron, and she wouldn't let my hands go to caress her body. We kissed hungrily, and a soft moan escaped her throat. I felt my temperature rising as our tongues dueled sensually. Our lips parted, and I could see it all in her eyes. There wasn't even a pretense of business here now. Deception may have been her profession, but the passion laid it bare. She placed my hands on her hips, and I felt her lithe muscles beneath the plump softness. Her thighs were wide. I had seen this when she showed me her arse last time, even if it was just for a second. The vestal habit was formless and covered everything. Only her face and her hands were visible. But I could still see she had a sturdy form. I was eager to see how much was muscle and how much was plumpness.

I moved my hands up her sides, and couldn't quite feel her belly. I didn't know how much was there. She ensnared me with another hungry kiss. I pressed her body against mine, making sure the angle was right for her to feel my hardness. "You weren't much convincing as a vestal."

A smile touched her lips. "You believed on the ship and you believed in the church. And besides, I am a faithful servant who makes sacrifices for God. Submission and passivity aren't a woman's only choice in life."

"Perhaps I did believe you on the ship, but not when you ate my ram!" My hands traveled up her body, and she snatched them just as I reached the bottom of her tits. I could only tell that they were large, and her ample nipples were erect and apparent even through her habit.

"Do you think you can just touch me however you want? We're doing God's work now. Be a faithful servant, not a randy goat."

I pushed her back. "If you want to do God's work, then get on with it. Kissing and fondling won't make your flower bloom."

"Haven't you heard of foreplay, Bilal? You have to be hard enough. And I..." She brought my seized hand down under her dress. I felt the forest of her jade gate's hair and its sweltering heat. "Have to be wet enough." I had been hard from moment she had started talking about fucking. My fingers explored and spread her jade gate apart. There was a gasp, and her body shook. She was certainly wet enough.

She placed the other hand on her tit. "If it will make you happy..." It did. One hand stirred the simmering stew pot between her legs while the other squeezed. Her breasts were quite firm, and were heavy in my hands. I ached again to see her in all her glory. I felt her hard nipple and pinched it through her habit. There was another little gasp. I squeezed her tit again and ended it with another pinch on her nipple. She was red-faced and short of breath now.

I felt her hips gyrate to the rhythm of my finger stroking her insides. I searched for her pearl. Her hand deftly unfastened my belt, and my trousers fell in the back. In the front they were stuck on my ram, like a half-pitched tent. In one fluid motion, she had disentangled my trousers and wrapped her hand around my ram. She began stroking it. "It seems you are hard enough. This belongs inside me."

But I wanted more than that. "Not so fast! You're still playing as a vestal." I reached up to her hijab. Her hand closed around my arm, but there was no force behind it. I tore it to the side, revealing her short, golden hair. In some parts of the empire, women of all kinds, not just vestals, cover their hair like this. They consider a woman's hair to be private, just like her tits or jade gate. Until then I didn't understand how erotic it could be seeing a mundane thing like hair uncovered. Keeping it secret kept it forbidden. My body quivered, and I held my breath and prayed to God not to let my rain come yet.

My hand searched for the seam of her dress, but then her grip became hard like iron again. "I'm no vestal, but don't think that you can ravage me like some three copper whore. I'm still a woman of God and you will show me respect." It seemed I would have to be satisfied with squeezing her tit but not seeing it. Though her tone was angry, her lips and cheeks were bright red, and her eyes were starry with lust.

Just then my probing finger found her pearl. I polished it, making circles around her fleshy gem. Her body spasmed and she thrusted her hips forward. Her breath was chaotic and uncontrolled now. I moved my finger from side to side and allowed her engorged pearl to flop from one side to the other of it. She quaked with each flop. "How dare you? Do you really think you can seduce me with your dirty strokes?"

"Well, if it displeases you." I took my finger away from her pearl. She looked at me, shocked. Her hips moved, desperately trying to maneuver her jade gate back into place. She wobbled like a sailing ship with no wind.

"Bilal... you must! What you were doing..." I simply stared at her. She looked away. "Please continue." I did. When I touched her pearl again, however, she was all fire this time. Pulling away had made her want it so much more, and now she was losing control. If I knew anything about women's faces and bodies, her rain was coming soon.

I pressed down hard on her peal, with rapid vertical strokes. Her mouth fell open and she squeezed her eyes shut with force. A groan, almost like the bark of a dog, erupted from her throat. Her fingers dug into my arm and her legs crushed my hand. There was another trembling moan, and my hand was doused with her warm rain. She tried to say something, but her writhing body wouldn't let her. I could have sworn I heard a blasphemy in there somewhere, but said nothing.

She struggled to control her breathing, "Now that you've had your fun, you wicked little man, it's time to do our duty to God." She removed both of my hands and pushed me back. She hiked her skirt up, and I could finally see those strong legs that had crushed my hand. They were thick and white, and plump and powerful in equal measure. Her thighs were round and voluptuous at the top. There in the middle was the golden hair of her jade gate, flattened with wetness.

I must have been grinning like a fool because she said, "Yes, yes. You like what you see."

"Under a cloak like that, one wonders. I always want to see what's covered up. How do imams keep from fucking their vestals?"

"You're a dog of a man, aren't you?" She scowled. "Fine then." She turned around, bent, and lifted her dress, showing me her shining arse in all its glory. Where Octavia's arse was round like the moon, hers was the shape of an upside-down heart. Relatively narrow at the top with the cheeks fat and bulging at the bottom. "Here it is, you randy dog. Come rut me like a bitch in heat."

I didn't run. But I did something close to it. My ram was drawn to her like a hooked fish on a pole. I flopped it against the side of her arse, and the wet tip splashed on her thigh. "Do it. Put your ram in. God wills it!" I tried to hold back, but I couldn't wait any longer. I gripped both cheeks of her arse. I penetrated her jade gate and plunged all the way in with a single stroke. I felt it hit the back of her palace wall as she let out a startled yelp. Her jade gate was wet and salty as the sea and my ram floated contentedly inside.

She thrust her hips, and I felt my ram move inside her. However, her jade gate was greedy and tugged on my ram. It slid with difficulty, despite being drenched. Mad cries erupted from Marguerite. As she pumped her hips, her arse made a wet smack as it hit my belly. The aroma of her sweat and jade gate and arse were overwhelming. "Yes, Bilal. That's better. It's dripping for you. It wants to eat you up." It was certainly hungry and eating me. Even this woman's jade gate was dominant and controlling.

I timed my thrusts with hers, and soon we were moaning each others' names together. Now my ram sounded like a boot in the mud, her slurping jade gate held it firm. Thrusting was more effort than I was used to, and I was sweating and winded. But then I noticed her back arching and her thrusts becoming more desperate. A low growl of a cry filled the chamber. Her jade gate actually pushed my ram, and I pushed harder to keep it inside her. I wondered what an imam would think if he passed and heard one of his vestals being fucked this hard. Her body stiffened and another growl escaped her. Her rain flowed over my ram again, and I felt myself getting close.

My last bit of energy was going into these thrusts. But finally my ram got that feeling like a lightning rod. I threw my head back and I filled up Marguerite's jade gate, pump after pump. As the fire of my rain left my body, I felt the weakness that came after. I had wanted to rut Marguerite when I saw her weeks ago on the ship, and it was so satisfying to finally have her. I felt a twinge of genuine affection.

"Oh, Bilal. That was better than I had expected. We will bring a witch to justice, but it's no sin to enjoy yourself." Her head peaked around her plump arse like the sun eclipsed by the moon.

I tried to catch my breath. "I've always enjoyed this kind of work, Marguerite. But you're an inquisitor. You are the one who arbitrates good and evil. So I'll take your word on this." I backed up and pulled my wet, sensitive ram out of her sucking jade gate. We both let out a little sigh as I passed the threshold.

Marguerite smoothed her dress and picked up her hijab. "We are almost ready to move, Bilal."

"Already? Marguerite, there is something called an afterglow. After making love, you stop and talk and enjoy each other. I can't believe I'm explaining this to a grown woman."

"God's will doesn't wait. And it doesn't wait for the 'afterglow' as you call it." She tucked her golden hair into her hijab and the innocent vestal was back.

--

Our plan was to pretend I had deceived Marguerite. She was a naive vestal, coming to Fontaine Estate to administer last rites to Master Julian. He had caught swamp fever and he was not long for this world. It fit into her idle missionary story and made sense. She would be tied up and would shout to me when it was time to begin St. Salah's prayer. Then we would get the hell out.

The barge was on the other side of the river, and so we had to leave the horse and board a small dinghy that we could row across the river. Master Erasmus would be asleep this late. It was close to midnight, I estimated. I didn't relish the prospect of crossing the monster-filled water, but it was the only way.

I rowed and Marguerite held a lantern aloft, which gave us a meager light. The river was a muddy brown and was completely opaque. Anything that lurked just inches below the surface was invisible. I felt my heart thumping. I knew this was dangerous. I had only seen a fraction of Octavis's black magic.

I caught movement at the corner of my eye. But when I turned the water was empty. But then I saw a ripple just underneath the surface. Marguerite saw where I was looking. Her eyes were wide and her shoulders tense. I didn't think this hard woman was capable of fear, and seeing her fear made me even more afraid. Something popped back up in the water. It was only a few feet away.

What we saw was a pair of cold eyes and the tip of a snout. An alligator circled our boat. I had never seen one swim before and they seemed even more terrible in water than on land. I saw its scaly tail break the surface. It was huge. I'm not sure how, but I knew at that moment we were seeing Colette. The creature's eyes were fixed on me, and I waited for an attack. There was nothing we could have done if the beast decided to. Marguerite's eyes flicked from me to Colette.

The alligator stayed with us only for several minutes. Then she disappeared into the deep. Why had she come out here? I gulped and breathed a sigh of relief.

When we got to the shore, Marguerite stood silently in front of the estate. I could see her face, and it was wide eyed and sweating like it had been as we crossed. The mansion was there up ahead. Going to the door would be crossing the point of no return, I knew. There was a splash behind us and I looked back to see Colette sprawled only a few feet from our boat. Her eyes glittered in the lantern light. It seemed we had already crossed that point.

When we came to the door, we saw a lantern moving inside. Octavia opened the door before we even knocked. "Oh thank heavens! My poor son!" She rushed us inside. "I am sure my servant told you of our need for a holy woman. He has been sick for a week and now..." her voice broke, "He's burning up and delirious." She hid her face in her hands.

"Please, mistress, be still. I am here and God will not call your son home until I have administered his last rites. Show me to him."

"Bilal, be a dear and show... What is your name, sister?"

"Marguerite, mistress."

"Please sister Marguerite. Bilal will show you to Julian's bedroom." We walked toward the stairs. The hair was standing up on the back of my neck. There was something powerful here already. Behind us, I heard a sound. I looked and Octavia was mumbling under her breath, and weaving her hands in strange ways. The language was the dark tongue of Iblis.

When she finished the air in the room became heavy and my stomach lurched. Marguerite had stopped ahead of me, and then she teetered on her feet. She toppled over, stiff and straight as a felled tree. I would have laughed if I had not been so terrified. She lay there inert on the ground, not a muscle moving, not even her eyes.

Octavia shoved a set of chained manacles into my hands. "Quickly now, Bilal," she gasped. "Time is of the essence."

The manacles clicked around Marguerite's wrists behind her back. As soon as she was bound, I heard a heaving sigh from Octavia, and Marguerite's body became fluid again. "Mistress, please! What is the meaning of this?" It broke my heart to hear her voice so full of fear and anguish. I was impressed in the strength of her conviction. Had I not known better, I would think she really was this afraid. "I am only a vestal, please let me go."

Octavia stood over Marguerite. "Foolish girl. Your god cannot save you tonight." Her face twisted into a mask of rage and she kicked Marguerite in the side. Marguerite let out a sobbing cry of pain.

"Mistress, please release me. God will have mercy. It is never too late!" She looked so small and helpless there on the floor.

"It is too late for you, my dear." She turned to me. "Bilal, we are going. You know the way. Get this sanctimonious sow and come."

Marguerite's eyes were wide and her face was wet with tears. "No, sir! Please, Bilal, sir! She means to kill me. She is an evil woman!" But I gulped down my pity and picked her up. Her body shook with sobs.

Octavia handed me some of her supplies to carry in a knapsack and she carried an oil lantern. Colette had come further up the bank, and she hissed at me as I passed. She looked even more monstrous in the dim light. I prayed this was the last time I would see this odious beast. Marguerite's frantic sobs and pleas acted as a chorus for our journey.

She was truly afraid, hysterical even. Her face ran with tears and she begged and begged until a frustrated Octavia struck her across the face. For the rest of the way she just cried and moaned. We had come to the edge of the marsh where Octavia hid her shrine. The wood bust of her head seemed especially ominous this time.