Sabrina & Jon - Day of Consequence

All of Jon's experience with Sabrina made it all to easy to see the kind of control she would've brandished as described, no matter what the origin, forgetting he was being convinced of it all with every word.

"And one would think that persuasive eloquence would fade after a time, lest the Blarney stone be restricted only to those who possess the power themselves, but it seemed to stay with me, and grow in potency. Coupled with an empowered upbringing, constantly made to speak properly, the power may have had a reason to remain in me. I would think though that my constant use of persuasive eloquence gave it reason enough to remain, developed with constant, creative practice, energized by feeding off of raw resistance turned into succulent submission, a deviously delightful diet. And when you think solely, only on that notion, should it surprise anyone that evolved persuasive eloquence attached itself so strongly to you?"

"No else before you has proven themselves a match to a persuasive eloquence like mine. My words persuasively tease your senses, eloquently explaining why you should give in and how fantastic it will feel to do so, and yet you don't easily succumb, meeting persuasive eloquence with a...evasive resistance, if you will."

Letting the concepts be unfurled and spoken as they were created in her head blended perfectly with letting her accent slip into the enchanting Irish lilt his mind felt magnetized to. Jon could've been taken irrevocably under with just a programmed trigger or two, but it was often tempting with him to exert a little more effort; a reward for being obedient but a fun challenge, and for her for watching him slowly come under the influence of an unexpected induction, savoring every tale tell sign of a re-acquired mind. Unsure of where this was going, but very sure of how hot it could turn out for both of them, she started to look out for the mostly, thankfully absent waitress to ask for the check.

"It still surprises and thrills me to you managing to muster an internal countenance to magic charms, evading persuasion, persuading yourself that your resistance can withstand eloquence. Persuasive evasion of eloquent words directed directly at you seem a result of resistance. But how, one must wonder. How is persuasion resisted? How is eloquence evaded? Would evasion and resistance be a result of knowing or possessing persuasion and eloquence? Is that how you've resisted? Prolonged exposure to my persuasive eloquence, or dormant eloquent persuasion in you countering my own for a time?"

An azure gaze twinkled gleefully at facial features displaying enjoyment of the suggestively indirect praise. He stared out into space, focused on the narrative, wondering where his 'evasive resistance' might take him next.

"Fascinating theories either way, either of which concluding that such forces, eloquence, resistance, persuasion, evasion, all garnering respect. Measured respect at that, because how many truly embody such abilities. And measured respect would mean that one would have to measure the breadth of power if those forces clashed. And you would have to reach far back to think of when your evasive resistance has completely overcome my persuasive eloquence."

With ironic symbolism, Jon felt hands overcome by softness. Both hands felt warm, one with a hand, fingers teasing his wrist, applying gentle pressure. His other sandwiched between feet he massaged earlier, grown too comfortable to move. The corners of his mouth curled more into a lost smile, blanketed by more persuasive eloquence.

"Can you think that far back? Was there ever a time when you truly did overcome me? Does the memory of my eloquent words and persuasive touch ever allow your evasive resistance to hold for long? Filling your head with eloquent words, pressing persuasive lips to yours, coating yours with my persuasive eloquence like lipstick, binding your lips to mine with painted power. How long did evasive resistance last? How long before persuasive eloquence made resistance the only thing word evading? How long did it take for your mind to evade the silly thought of resistance today? By what measure have you respectfully yielded to the magic of persuasive eloquence?"

Lethargic lips tried moving opposite of Sabrina, the witch unsure if words of argument or capitulation were trying to escape his mouth. She chucked softly, allowing him to try for drawn-out seconds, none of which produced anything coherent, not that his response would've mattered much.

"Hush, sweetie," his lips instantly grew still. "And let the magic of my persuasive eloquence impart important knowledge to your open mind."

"Everyone seems to know that Friday the 13th is a time to be extra cautious, where strange things you can't comprehend could happen, a day made famous based on horror, mystery, and superstition. Fewer know that witches themselves are not only part of, but believers in superstitions as well. But a select privileged few seem to know of the importance of Saturday the 14th, what magical women like me, and those taken by a witch, ensnared, bewitched, made to service, made to love it, refer to as the 'Day of Consequence.' Simple cause and effect, my dear. Certain things done, certain things you've caused on Friday the 13th, yesterday, the effects will be dealt out, experienced today. Your luck is in the hands of your actions, and you Jonathan, being in a unique position of being under the magic of a witch, may not have the luck you expect. But we will explore that luck, very soon..."

Priority of sensory awareness was relegated away from maintaining a seemingly aware visage, paying the bill, feeling Sabrina slip her feet back into her shoes, and more toward the arm-in-arm walk lead by her. Lips of persuasive eloquence at his ear, Jon learned about the Day of Consequence. Apparently it could've been any day past a Friday the 13th, but it was rare that a witch's chattel couldn't be tracked down, or willingly summoned in less than a day. And some of the superstitions witches deeply subscribed to kept Jon from smiling along the way; the functional parts of his mind wondering if he violated any superstitions that would lead to the consequence of bad luck.

By the time he was able to think more coherently about it, he was lying down, blinking awake to find himself awake in her bed, naked, confused, aroused. It was only easy to move his neck to see Sabrina leaning against the door way of her bedroom, dressed in the same clothes from the diner, save for a witch's hat, and a devilish smile. Naturally his erection grew and he found the strength to reach out to her with one arm.

"Sorry, my dear, but it looks like someone has decided to keep us apart."

Sabrina had to stifle a laugh from the panic in his eyes, the anger in his features suggesting he wouldn't mind strangling this someone.

"Some poor fool has placed an ivy plant around your apartment, and that doesn't seem to agree with witches. So we couldn't go to your place." Anger turned to sadness as someone's identity was revealed. "They also seemed to place some rosemary at this door way, the door way of a witch's bedroom of all places. Tsk tsk tsk. What a shame, I was feeling frisky. And you would be feeling...well, everything." A moan of frustration erupted from Jon, trying to find the strength to move.

"But they also left my broomstick next to the bed. And I can only imagine the sexy spells it's casting over the bed, for its occupants."

As if on cue, light wisps of touches, caresses, gentle binds, and sultry whispers washed over the bed in waves. Supernatural forces seemed to know what he liked, but teased him about it, making him want the touch of his witch more than anything else.

"What's my trusty broomstick asking you to feel? What's it communicating to you? Does it lament being me being able to reach it? Does it wish it had legs to come to me? Does it long for me in its long, hard, wooden form, desperate to be ridden and between my legs?"

"F-fuck...innu..endos!"

Vibrant, jubilant, accented, witchy laughter spread through the apartment, blocking out other sounds, even his own breathing and swearing under his breath.

"Is that why you're so stiff and rigid? Feet straight out and hands to your sides? Waiting for me to treat you like my broom and ride off into the night to do things that make your core shake and your mind numb because all you need is my mind and body telling you what to feel?"

Jon utterly refused to say "yes," keeping his mouth shut tight. The rest of his body could not be screaming it louder.

"So exposed, so naked, so vulnerable. Well, except for that little charm around your neck..."

Invaded senses suddenly drew attention to the small weight of the blue crystal around his neck meant as a protective charm from the likes of Sabrina. It didn't protect him from the broom's enchantments of the bed, restraining his arm from moving to toward his chest. It couldn't protect his will from the crystal around her neck she was fingering; even in low lighting, it still gleamed brilliantly, like every time she brandished it right in his face.

"Who's charm do you think is more powerful Jonathan? It seems to be able to protect you from me, as lead at a distance. But distance is no feat to cross, for mesmerizing crystals like mine. Facets shining blue across the room with reflected like, across oceans with reflective memories. And this crystal knows you much better than your little trinket; it knows how to capture you much better than yours knows how to defend. So an even better question might be, how can it protect you, from you? Your desires, your needs, your pleasure?"

His eyes couldn't pull themselves away from her pendant thanks to thick Irish persuasive eloquence, as he tried pulling away from his necklace. Knowing how long she could possibly deny him for "inaction," he forced energy back into his arm to pull free of the charm and rip the necklace off, angrily throwing it in the general direction of the trashcan.

"Uh oh. That might not fare well for you Mr. Task. Without that charm, your body might feel more under the assault of the broom's magic. Even the thought of being unprotected my leave you defenseless against thoughts of what we've done, what you like me to do to you. Hands Jonathan, all over your body. Legs, teasing you, straddling you. A journey of azure, filing your soul."

Unexpected energy rushed through him via her eye-gazing trigger, creating a magnetic urge to get close enough to let her eyes consume his. Groaning hard, he forced himself to roll out of bed. His sweat-covered back landed on a plush rug near the bed, breaking his fall as gently as allowable under the circumstances. He caught is breath for a second, escaping the machinations of the broom, feeling the blue of her eyes and pendant calling out to him like beacons.

"Such strength, such will, such a draw to me. So determined and dependent on my words. No evasive resistance from you, a missed opportunity for rebuttals with your own persuasive eloquence. Only my persuasive eloquence, pulling you to me. Closer."

On his hands and feet he crawled.

"Closer."

Every inch forward was a clearer view of blue.

"Closer."

Every inch forward was a pulse in strained manhood.

"Clossseeerrr."

He presented himself to Sabrina, naked, helpless, trying to look up at her form. A hand reached to crush the rosemary in his hand and throw it away from both of them. He planted a kiss on her boot, waiting, pleading with his eyes for consideration.

"You so want me don't you?"

"Fuck yes, Sabrina."

Musical laughter was more appreciated by his ears being so close to it.

"Do you know what your luck has brought you on this Day of Consequence?"

The way she asked was afraid to make him speak, the growing chance for anything good or bad to happen.

"Would you like to play with my pussy?"

Vigorous nodding made more laughter as she crouched to bring their eyes together. As she suggested, they heartily filled his soul, until she started blinking, making him follow suit. Deliberately longer blinks made his eyes close more and more, until the burning arousal quelled with concentration on what her eyes wanted of him, until he couldn't keep his eyes open anymore.

The next time his opened, he was aware and only half-naked in pants. He was seated on her living room couch, confused and unsure if anything happened. In a love seat nearby, she sat watching him casually.

"Hey," her normal American accent returned.

"Hey. Did-?"

"Yes?"

"Was I...?"

"Going to get to play with my pussy?"

Spoken just as casually, he did a double-take to her words.

"...yes, please?"

She smiled, making a kissing noise in the direction of the kitchen. Walking out of it was a small, black kitten, looking exactly like the one he'd run into at the House of Superstition, the ear laced with grey flickering playfully. It jumped on the couch and sat next to Sabrina, seemingly very comfortable with her new owner.

"Ready to play?"

"...what?"

"Oh, sorry, I should introduce you two. Jonathan, this is Loqui. Loqui, this is Jonathan."

"...what?"

"The House of Superstition was working with a rescue shelter this year. This is the one who came up to you on Friday. I got to see her later; seems like she took a liking to both of us. And I've missed having a cat. You're a cat person too, if I recall correctly, right?"

Latching on to the only flotsam he could, "yeah," was his only response.

"It's kind of a trial run with her right now; if she's a good witch's cat, she'll most likely stay. I'm hoping she does; I'm already kind of in-love."

"Ok, but 'Loqui?'"

"Root word for 'eloquence.'"

Jon sighed and laughed, catching the attention of the kitten who'd snuggled next to Sabrina for a second to approach Jon curiously. He stretched his finger out gently for her to smell, patiently letting her assess him again. She finally showed affection, butting her head against his hand; he rubbed her fur gently, enjoying the feel of cat fur he was given permission to stroke.

"So nice to see my pets getting along."

Jon smirked at her while Loqui mewled, crawling up in Jon's warm lap.

"So no nookie at all today?" Jon asked unabashed, sounding like Mark more than himself.

"Sorry dear," she said between giggles. "Day of Consequence and all that. Plus Loqui deserves some exclusive attention today. Tomorrow is another day though."

The hand not stroking a purring Loqui reached over to take Sabrina's hand in his, giving it a kiss with the same reverence he gave her boot earlier.

"You going to make me hold you to that vague promise?"

"Oh, I'll make you do many things...soon enough." The kissed hand stroked his face, playing with the tip of his ear.

"Just my luck," he spoke trying to stay awake with the affectionate cat nearby. Sabrina moved to seat herself next to him and be just as affectionate, turning on the TV.

"Our luck, dear. Enjoy it."