Neophyte

In the darkness Paul waited with baited breath. What next, his hand hurt, his chest felt sore, but the pain was as nothing compared to his cock and balls. He ached to touch himself, to gently hold and caress his wounded manhood. As if in answer two female hands softly ran their way up his legs stopping at his thighs where they moved inwards to his jointly hold his hard but sore prick. He felt a cool ointment being rubbed into his foreskin and scrotum. The pain eased off, replaced by arousal. Then, as swiftly as they had appeared the hands left him, hard and alone.

Again he was left to the darkness. Paul let out a gasp. For a moment he thought he heard movement then nothing. Just darkness and silence. Had they gone? Left him alone forever in this dark, cold place?

Suddenly to his right, a flame ignited. The light flared, found a balance and remained constant. A robed figure appeared silhouetted by the naked light.

"I am Wyrd," the woman said, her voice cold and emotionless, "from whence all life stems, from the place you" raising her left arm and pointing at him as she spoke, "came." She paused intent on creating a powerful ritualistic atmosphere, "And to me you shall return." She said her voice quieter, colder, detached.

Another flame, this time to his left. Again it flared, found its balance and maintained a stable state of illumination.

"I am Being," The figure began, her voice as cold and emotionless as Wyrd's, "the bringer of change. Without which" also raising her arm and pointing at him, "you cannot be."

In between the two flames another figure appeared, but no flame this time.

"I am Death. The reaper of debt." The central figure said. "Collector of life. Reaper of the living." Again pointing at him from her outstretched left arm.

"Together we are the cycle of existence. Without beginning, without end." Collectively they raised their hands above their heads, each sister forming a triangle by connecting the points of their thumbs and first fingers.

Suddenly a cold breeze swept through the room, artificial or magical it mattered not as the effect was still the same. The two flames extinguished and the room turned dark once more. His exposed body suddenly felt even colder. He heard a unison of sudden movement as if some form of ethereal presence had invaded the room. The cold air hugged his naked body.

"Naked at birth, naked at death" One of the sisters said.

"And to death you shall go." A second voice said.

"And to death you shall go, and to death you shall go, and to death you shall go." The words repeated, becoming a witches chant, working a spell upon his unconscious mind, creating the necessary vibrations to manifest his astral body.

From out of the darkness a hand grabbed his chin, holding him firmly. Lower down, a sharp grip clenched his cock and balls ensuring that he would comply. The overpowering smell of chemical filled his mouth and nostrils as he was smothered with a cloth. The darkness turned darker, consciousness faded and life seemed to cease.

8

In the dining room, Maria and Margaret served the three girls dinner.

"What time is it?" Chantelle asked cutting into her Gammon Steak.

"7.30." Brigitte replied looking at her friend.

"Do you think he'll go mad?" Emma asked taking a sip from her glass of water.

"I doubt it, but he will know what kind of power we hold and the lesson will have been learnt." Brigitte said.

"What about Thomas?"

"I told him to get dressed and go home after he'd finished his duties."

"I like Thomas, he's got a funny looking willy hasn't he!" Chantelle said enthusiastic about Thomas' manhood. "It kind of droops even when he's erect!" She continued

"Is it ready?" Emma asked Brigitte, momentarily ignoring Chantelle's more interesting subject.

"It will be. Thomas is a good reliable man." Brigitte said taking a sip from her glass of water.

"Do you like Thomas?" Chantelle said to Emma not interested in talking about the forthcoming ritual.

"I like James', his is nice and big." Emma replied.

"They all have perfectly nice willy's if you ask me." Brigitte said spearing a small potato with her fork.

"But which one would you like to fuck?" Chantelle asked enquiringly.

"All of them!" Emma laughed.

"Yes, but if it could only be one."

"Paul." Brigitte said after thinking over her answer for a moment or two

"Paul?"

"I like Steven." Chantelle said, he's got a great body – so muscular."

"Why do you like Paul?" Emma asked Brigitte

"There is something about him, the way he behaves, I mean, I've only met him once, but I think he'll go far."

"Emma and I teased him before he met you, we threatened to dress him up in a maids outfit!"

Brigitte laughed. "And what did he say to that?"

"He said no way." Emma smiled.

"But he kept his hard-on, so he must have been turned on by the idea. I know, shall we leave it out on his bed for after the ritual?" Chantelle said suddenly eager to take the threat to a realistic level.

"Yeah that'd be fun." Emma enthused. "What do you think Brigitte?"

"I'm not sure if he is ready for that step…"

"He doesn't have to wear it, it'd just be to tease him and see if he really would be into the idea." Chantelle interrupted

"Well, why not have some fun, so go for it." Brigitte finished. "After all," she continued after taking another bite to eat, "men are funny creatures. They say one thing but want another. They are so constrained by the male 'code of conduct' that they find it almost impossible to do what they really want."

"I'm going to take a bath." Emma said finally having finished her dinner. "Anyone want to share?"

"No I'm going to meditate for a while." Chantelle said.

"What about you Brigitte?"

"I've got to phone Diana, and anyway you shouldn't bathe after you just eaten."

"I mean in about an hour. I want to read that text on cross-dressing that Samantha left me first – forewarned is forearmed as they say!" Emma replied.

"Well, if you're not going to take a bath yet, then I'm up for one later." Brigitte said, "I feel a bit dirty after that Left Hand Path ritual that we did."

"Yeah me too" Chantelle said suddenly keen not to be left out.

"Okay, meet in the bathing room about 9 o'clock then?" Emma said getting up from the table and turning to Maria who had just entered the room.

"Thanks Maria that was lovely." Emma said

"Good, and you girls like too?" Maria asked looking across to Brigitte and Chantelle.

"Yes it was very nice, you're a marvellous cook Maria, what would we do without you?" Chantelle said.

"Not me that cooked, 'twas Margaret." Maria replied anxious to ensure that Margaret's work was duly noted.

"We'll have to thank her when we see her next then." Brigitte said, wiping her mouth with her napkin.

"And how did go with boy?"

"Boy?!" Chantelle exclaimed.

"Paul's doing fine, we did a few darker chants and then left him to sleep." Brigitte replied

"And told him he didn't have a place here anymore." Chantelle piped up.

"And he believe?" Maria asked

"Oh he believed all right " Emma laughed, "You've never seen a man so scared!"

"When do you get him?"

"About 2 o'clock.."

"You sure he okay?"

"Yes, don't worry." Brigitte said a little tired at Maria's continual motherly concerns.

"I don't want you girls to get trouble, that all." Maria said collecting the dinner plates as both Chantelle and Brigitte got up.

"Actually I was thinking Maria," Brigitte began, "would it be possible to let Margaret have the morning free tomorrow?"

"Why you ask? Margaret a busy girl you know." Maria said unsure of Brigitte's intentions.

"Well, the ritual tonight would be better with four, we could generate more power and make the whole rite a lot more powerful. I mean, we could do it with three, but four is the ideal number."

"Yes, Margaret would make a great fourth!" Chantelle remarked.

"It would only be for a morning Maria," Emma said "and, if you like, we can all help out in the afternoon – Paul included."

"Yes, we've even got a pretty little maids outfit that he can wear!" Chantelle laughed.

"Well…" Maria hesitated ignoring Chantelle's last remark.

"Oh go on Maria, it will be okay, I assure you." Chantelle said aware of Maria's hesitancy.

"If you girls promise to take care I suppose it okay."

"Brilliant! I'll go have a word with her right now then." Emma said heading towards the kitchen.

"I'll come with you," Chantelle said following Brigitte.

"Well, I might as well go and make this phone call," Brigitte said leaving Maria to clear the dinner table.

9

"Is Margaret ready yet?" Emma asked Chantelle.

"Yes, she's just getting changed." Chantelle replied sucking on a lollipop.

"Is the location ready?"

"Yes, that was done by Thomas, he came back and told Brigitte that he'd completed it and taken Paul to the location."

"Is he still bound?"

"Yes," Chantelle said taking her lollipop from her mouth and examining it in more detail, "he made sure he was tightly bound and still sedated."

"And how is Margaret? Have you seen her yet?"

"Yes, she looks fantastic. The clothes Brigitte chose for her are absolutely ideal. She is definitely going to give Paul a raging hard-on as soon as he sees her!"

"Yes, but we're wearing robes aren't we. Aren't we?"

"Yes, I know, but… well, you know, if we weren't she would give Paul a raging hard-on."

"It should be a successful ritual then." Emma said admiring the fine contours of her friends body which were accentuated by virtue of the tight fitting nature of her outfit.

*

His mind foggy, Paul slowly returned to consciousness.

"You have failed."

"You have failed."

"You have failed."

"You have failed." Each girl in turn repeated the words until Paul became more centred and aware of his surroundings.

"Paul, You have failed. We are your judgement." Margaret said from behind the veil of her black robe.

Standing before an open grave, Paul's hands were bound behind his back. A little way in the distance the dark shadows of a night-time Church loomed up, hauntingly sinister to the average person. Ahead of him lay silent gravestones and further ahead trees swayed, pushed by the wind.

Still naked, Paul shivered a little. It was a clear sky above and he could make out a few of the more well known constellations. Behind him dark shadows stood motionless before backing away into the shadows, leaving him to his naked solitude.

"10 of swords, I come to you. The End Complete." The black robed female walked towards him from his left.

"Judgement, not rebirth. I come to you. The End Complete." Another black robed female, this time from his right.

"Five of Coins. I come to you. Out in the cold. The End Complete." The voice came from behind.

"Misery, sadness, rejection." Slowly the fourth robed figure appeared from the shadows walking towards him. "The three dark sisters come to you. Your End Complete. You have failed."

"You have failed." The other sisters repeated as they all walked around to stand behind him.

"Before you is the waiting grave." Brigitte narrated. "Open and receptive." Open and receptive – a play on the female role of sexuality and death, symbolised by the maiden, mother and crone.

"Kneel naked man." Two hands – one on either shoulder pushed him down to the earth. His manhood stood erect, attracting the attention of Margaret's eye, making it more difficult for her to maintain her level of concentration as the ritual progressed. The rehearsal the evening before had been a lot easier without the distraction of a naked and aroused male whose penis acted as a light beacon shining in the darkness of the night, attracting her eye, drawing her attention away from the ritual. What would it feel like to her touch? Her smooth hand gently grasping the hard muscle. Or, if she were to lay down, open her legs a little and feel his body upon her, his hardness nudging her soft smooth thigh, or pushing into her opening… The thoughts pushed up into her consciousness bringing an overpowering sense of sensuality and lust. Brigitte had warned that that might be the case and if it did occur she should practice self-awareness: just being present, in her body, in the graveyard, in her mind. Detached from all things until she could once again find her composure and add her own power to the ritual.

Emma continued the narration. "From the darkness of the cosmos you came, born from the Goddess that manifested itself in your mother."

"And to the darkness you shall return, to the Goddess manifest in me." Chantelle continued as both she, Emma and Margaret took a few steps backwards. In the silence that followed Paul felt cold and fearful. Gazing into the black empty grave, he felt a lump rise in his throat. His penis still throbbed with desire, it felt so hard and he ached for release, but no hand had touched him, no lip gently kissed, no tongue caressed, no pussy waited wet and open. He had been teased and frustrated, the flame of his personal fetish had been lit and turned into a roaring inferno. But the girls had teased him and left him.

Behind him Brigitte remained silent, he'd heard the sounds of movement a moment or two earlier and it felt as though the other girls had retreated some distance. Where were they going? To get changed? Would he end up getting a fuck? His cock-head bulged a little more as if agreeing to the scenario.

"And now," Brigitte said, interrupting his train of fantasy, "you will be sent to the grave for ever." Lifting the sword blade back across her right shoulder, she took a final breath before casting the blade forward into Paul's neck. With ease it cut through the spinal column, bone, tissue and blood all parted in one clean sweeping blow. For a moment nothing happened. Mundane time ceased and eternity presenced itself from behind the veil of normal consciousness as it did in all times of great shock.

The four girls remained silent, they had stepped over a line, taken things to an extreme. Had they forsaken the balance? Would they have to be punished in turn? Would Diana be pleased or, cast them out to serve with the other failed women at the House of the Master, stripped of their clothes – the symbol of power that they had over the male initiates to their mysteries. Stripped of their clothes, and forced to submit to the will of the male teachers. Bound, gagged, tormented, teased, stimulated until they each begged to be fucked. They watched silently as finally the head separated from its host body and tumbled downwards into the darkness of the grave.

Paul's eyes looked up as his head revolved in mid-air, within his frame of view he could see his naked and kneeling body motionless penis still erect, at the edge of the grave. Behind it he saw the four black robed girls, the figure on the far right took down its cowl and his eyes briefly saw the attractive face of Emma looking down at him. Then she, the others, his body and the grave all faded away as the world of darkness faded into a beautiful white light, warm, attractive, loving, peaceful. Here there was no pain, no sorrow, no death, no tangible shape other than that constructed by the mind.

The hilt of the sword in Brigitte's hand felt sticky. Margaret rocked her body backwards and forwards as she reeled from the experiences that had just taken place. Chantelle placed a steadying hand on her shoulder, her fingers making small circular movements.

"We'd better clean up…" Chantelle began.

Below him, Paul could see the girls again, the white light fading as the world below came back into focus. What is this? I died, I am in heaven. I don't want to go back. They released me…

A black cowled shape was leaning forward over the back of Paul's body. To either side, the other girls stood with their backs to him, slowly they all turned, pulled down their cowls and looked directly to the location in which Paul's consciousness momentarily existed. Surely they can't see me? Paul thought to himself.

Back in his body, Paul let out a loud gasp as he spurted his load deep into the darkness of the grave below him. Brigitte's stokes continued until she was satisfied that she had stroked as much cum out of the neophyte as she possibly could. Her hand was wet and sticky with the mans juice, Paul leant back against her body, she smelt good. In the distance a dog barked, Hekate, goddess of death and suicides prowled the night…