The Coven

Sly had arranged to meet me at my local Starbucks. That was a little unusual, as we don't usually meet outside of his apartment since that's where I do most of my work and we usually discuss my next encounter.

Wow, that sounds really professional, doesn't it? "My work", "my next encounter". Good stuff. I like the sound of it. Sly gives me grief about it, but it's important to my self-image to consider myself a professional. He thinks it's silly, but he has enough respect for me to humor me. He's also wise enough to realize that it's good for business, because I bring that sense of professionalism to my work, meaning I care about doing a good job and leaving our clients well satisfied.

Here, I'll let you judge for yourself. We sell sex. More precisely, I provide the sex and Sly is my manager. I take a lot of pride in my work. I'm good at it. (Sorry if that sounds like boasting, but it's true.) I didn't always know that, though. Sly and I both discovered my latent abilities when he blackmailed me into 'servicing' some of his friends in order to redeem a set of very incriminating pictures and documents. This was all new to me. I'd always been a proper young woman from an upper-class family. "Princess", Sly called me, rather sarcastically. (He still calls me that, but the pejorative intent is gone.) Sly's a product of the streets, and pretty rough until you get to know him.

One of his enterprises in his rather dubious past involved running a few hookers (his term, not mine), so he recognized talent when he saw it. When my debt was paid off, he forced me reluctantly to admit to myself that I had secretly enjoyed the work (hey, if you're good at something, don't you enjoy doing it?) and then stunned me by proposing a partnership. To my own surprise, I agreed. Over the months that have followed, and despite our very disparate backgrounds, we've established a good relationship based on respect for each other and what we each bring to our common enterprise.

Nonetheless, I haven't given up my day job as a copy editor with a law firm in the city. A lot more security there.

So you see, by my standards I am a professional. Deal with it.

Anyway, as I was saying, I met Sly at my local Starbucks. When I came in, he was ogling the barista. To be fair, she was pretty much welcoming the ogle. If I haven't already said so, Sly can be quite good looking. He's a big guy, but he carries himself well.

He had already ordered for me, a venti white chocolate latte. He does take care of me. He knows me well (sometimes I think all too well). He was looking quite respectable in an open-necked dress shirt and slacks and sporting a recent haircut. He's come a long way. I like to think it's due to my carefully crafted nagging, but in truth it's more likely due to our financial success and more upscale clientele.

It had been a slow week. Usually, we have at least one client a week, and sometimes two. I like it that way; I do, after all, have to appear fresh and eager at the law firm in the morning. I assumed that the hiatus was why we were meeting here rather than at his apartment, where, as I said, we often discuss business, often after I've serviced a client. (I prefer working in his apartment with him in the wings, just in case.)

"You're late."

"I love you too. Now that we've established the vital fact of who got here first, I assume you had a reason for meeting here. You could have just called."

"Princess, maybe I just like your company."

"Sure. On the other hand, maybe you want to meet in public so I can't make a scene if you've committed me to something weird."

"Weird? Me? When have I ever...oh that."

"Exactly. So, what have you got for me? I hope it's interesting. I'm getting a little bored."

"Not a problem, Babe. I got a job that I think you'll like. It calls for a virgin."

There was a pause.

"Sly, luv, it might have escaped your close attention, but that particular ship set sail a quite a while ago."

He smiled. "You know that, and I know that, but I'm betting that you can remember what it was like. See, that's all you have to do for this job; act like a virgin. Here's the deal: there's this group of whack jobs that need a virgin for some kind of ritual."

"You mean like sacrificing me on the altar? I don't think so."

"Jesus Christ, Princess, no. No sacrifice. What the hell do you think I am? It's all pretend. They just need you to play the role of the virgin for a little while."

"Then why me? Why not hire an actress?"

"I said you need to play the role for a little while. Not for too long. Get it now?"

"Oh."

"That's my girl. A perfect match of beauty and brains."

"Ok. One thing: how many guys are involved here? I'm not an inexhaustible resource, you know."

"I'm told only the high priest needs to 'complete' the ritual. So, just one. You don't mind an audience, though, do you?"

"Never thought much about it. Oh, what the hell, it might be fun. Are we getting a good price for all this?"

"Oh yeah. For sure. Look."

He wrote a figure on a napkin. My eyes got a little wider. I tucked the napkin into my bra. It felt very good there.

Two nights later I took a cab to an address in the Village. I had tried to dress for the part as a virgin (yes, I do remember having been one). Hair done up conservatively, white blouse, skirt of demure length, plain nylons, low heels, very little makeup. Conservative underwear. I really had to hunt in my stuff to find an opaque bra and full-sized panties. It's been a while.

In the lobby I pressed the brass doorbell for the appropriate apartment and stepped back while the camera eyed me. I assume I passed muster because the entry door buzzed open. I took the elevator to the assigned floor, found the correct door, and knocked. The guy who opened the door was a pleasant surprise. Instead of the wizard's outfit I had been expecting, I saw a well-dressed middle-aged and very good-looking guy. He looked me over very carefully.

"You are truly lovely," he said. "I think we are all going to enjoy tonight. Please come in."

We walked down a short hall and entered a nicely appointed living room. Seated about were two other men and a couple of women, all of a similar age to my host. I was a little surprised that no-one had on robes or pointed hats with moons and stars. They looked quite normal.

My host introduced me to the group. They each got up and kissed me on the lips. Okay, strange, but then I was expecting strange, and I was getting well paid, so I went along with it.

My host stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders and addressed the group.

"Vicki has consented to be the virgin essential to tonight's ritual. She is here of her own free will. Does anyone object to her?"

Well, it was obvious from the way that the two men were looking me up and down that they sure didn't object, and the women just smiled.

"Good, then," the host said, "We should begin. Let us adjourn to the bedroom." No surprise there.

The bedroom was really strange, though. A circular bed occupied the center of the room, under a large matching ceiling mirror. In the center of the mirror was a spotlight that illuminated the bed. The bed was centered on a large pentagram pattern woven into the rug. The only other light in the room came from a few wall sconces containing flickering candles. In one corner there was a brazier with burning coals, emitting a heavy odor that filled the room. Chairs were arranged around one half of the bed, while at the other half there was a kind of podium.

The host (chief priest??) guided me around to the podium side while the others took seats. Again he stood behind me with his hands on my shoulders.

"Gods of the nether world," he intoned, "we gather here before you this night to offer up unto you the most precious gift of this woman's virginity. We pray that you find it worthy and will repay us with your bounty."

I could only hope that the 'gods of the nether world' weren't too sharp when it came to virginity, or they were going to be pissed. With luck though, maybe they'd feel it was the thought that counted. You never know with gods.

The host reached from behind me and unbuttoned my blouse and slipped it off. He unsnapped my bra and let it fall. If the two guys sitting there were thinking about nether gods just then, I'm a Martian princess.

The host continued by loosening my skirt and letting it fall. Even the women were now leaning forward.

About this time, I really began to notice that strange odor coming from the braziers. It seemed to be getting inside my head, making me feel a little dizzy, and yet at the same time warm and cozy. I could feel my newly exposed breasts swelling a little. I was glad the bra was off, and I was looking forward to having the panties off too. They seemed to be an unnecessary encumbrance.

The high priest obligingly slipped his hands inside the waistband of my panties and slipped them down over my hips. He steadied me while I stepped out of them. I was glad of his support because I was definitely feeling dizzy just then.

He gently guided me to the bed and helped me to lie down on my back. At that he beckoned to the others, and in a moment, I felt more hands on my body.

I was dimly aware of all of them, now, gathered around me. I felt their hands stroking me, feeling my breasts, spreading my legs, running up and down my thighs. It felt so very good. I just let go and relaxed into it. I closed my eyes and breathed deeply. The hands were gentle and warm and very erotic. Stroking me, kneading my breasts. I felt a hand on my pussy and moaned slightly. Someone kissed me, ever so gently, on the lips, while someone else kissed my belly. Hands spread my long hair out behind me in an attractive pattern. I breathed deeply, taking in more of the smoke. I seemed to be floating on a sea of hands caressing all parts of my body, even the most intimate ones. I felt my nipples stiffen and my vagina milk.

I was dimly aware of a murmuring from the group, almost like chanting.

I felt the bed between my legs sag and opened my eyes long enough to look down. I saw the priest kneeling between my legs. He was naked. His cock was thoroughly erect and glistening. Good lord, it was easy to see why he had the job of high priest in charge of deflowering virgins! He was magnificent! And the size of his testicles promised that he could deliver a load commensurate with his other dimensions. It occurred to me that had I really been a virgin that thing would certainly put paid to that! But in that moment, I wanted nothing more than to get that beautiful thing into my mouth and suck it until it delivered on its promise, the sheer warm, salty volume of it filling my welcoming mouth to overflowing with male essence, running down my chin and dripping on my breasts.

Both the men and the women were stroking the priest's oiled body and his cock, murmuring.

The hands of the men on my body got stronger now, pressing me into the bed, spreading my legs wider and holding my arms down, while the women held the priest's cock and guided it relentlessly toward my exposed and milking pussy. The murmuring was getting louder and more intense, becoming a chant. In my current state, though, I couldn't make out any words.

A dimly lit part of my mind, the professional part, kept telling me that I was supposed to be a virgin and so I should be expected to fight to preserve my virginity, but all I could think of was how much I wanted that lovely, oiled cock deep inside me.

To my intense satisfaction I felt the hard tip touch my hypersensitive pussy lips. The women still held the priest's cock in their hands, guiding it into me. Other hands spread my labia to ensure my acceptance of that marvelous instrument. It felt wonderful as it parted my inner lips and slid easily into me. I tried to summon up the will to resist, in keeping with my role, but I was helpless.

The chanting rose to a crescendo.

The hell with my role. I just gave a deep, heartfelt sigh as I felt that wonderful male pole slip into me, stretching my sensitive vaginal walls. Deeper he went, and still deeper. Even though all my attention was focused on that fantastic sensation, I could still feel the many hands stroking me, tweaking my hard nipples, pressing and massaging my belly as if to encourage the priest's cock within me. Warm, wet lips kissed me on the mouth and on my breasts.

Still that beautiful long cock drove into me, irresistibly parting my delicate membranes. Through half-opened eyes I saw some members of the group pressing down on the priest's naked ass, pushing him deeper until I felt his hard groin contact my wet pussy. Hell, if they hadn't been holding my arms, my hands would have been right there with them! I gasped once and moaned loudly. That should give them something to think about!

Then, when he could go no deeper in me, he pumped me once or twice and came. Oh, sweet Jesus, did he cum. I felt that wonderful warmth and pressure as he squirted. His semen seemed to be gushing right up onto and through my cervix, forcing its way relentlessly into my womb. My head rocked from side to side, and I cried out and came, squirting like a fountain. I moaned and gasped in ecstasy and lost all touch with anything outside the fire consuming my body. I passed out.

When I rejoined the world and looked around, I saw the group standing around the bed, all smiles. The women were beaming at me, and the men just looked happy. The priest was gone. One of the men helped me up, and a woman handed me my clothes. They were all congratulating me and thanking me as I dressed.

"Oh my dear," one of the women said, "we're so happy for you. You've given your precious virginity so generously. You are now truly a woman. I hope you feel as wonderful as you look."

Yeah. Great. Sly was gonna get an earful about this one. All in all, though, it was one of the best orgasms I'd ever had. And you know, I really did feel great, all tingly and alive, just not for the reason they thought. God, I do love this job!