Beltane Pt. 09 – The Climax

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Alex Grey



If you’re just tuning in, be warned that Beltane is a story that crosses into many different fetishes and dynamics. Two staples you can expect pretty much throughout are gentle femdom and cumplay, but also included are cuckqueaning, piss, maledom, breeding, and a smattering of more mild things like anal, deepthroating, facesitting, and fishnets. There are also some themes of occultism, ritual, and magic that are less overt and more true to life than fantasy. Beltane has been, and is, an exercise in incorporating and moving between these things rather than leaning on just one. If you’re looking for any of these things individually in abundance, this may not be your favorite story. But if you’re on board for some twists, turns, bodily fluids, and a pagan fucktacular bacchanal across a variety of kinks, well…


And if you’re one of my readers that has been patiently waiting on the climax of this story for a year and a half, while I puzzled and pondered how I could live up to the tremendously positive feedback you’ve given me, you have my thanks. I hope this satisfies!



It is dark. The porch light flickers as moths dance around it. They swim in the warmth.

The witch leads the acolyte to the door. Her sundress lathes softly over her skin. The acolyte is half drunk, erect in his pants. She laughs giddily as she fumbles with her keys. He tries to lift her dress, hands brushing her skin. Fine hairs. The witch opens the door, pulling coyly away from his touch into the darkness.

The offering is already there in the dark. She sits, as instructed, on her knees, mouth gagged, arms at her sides. Waiting tensely. A dribble of spit rolls out around the gag and down her chin, onto her neck. Drips on her unwanted tits. She wears a contraption, a metal belt that covers her slit with an aluminum plate. A curved rod rides up her ass. Attached to it is a long metal plug, like a stack of balls that taper to a fine point. This plug has been stretching her asshole for two hours already. The anticipation burns her from the inside.

It is Beltane. The time of fertility celebrated on a younger Earth. The ecliptic forces in the clockwork of the universe have aligned three bodies. The Witch, The Acolyte, and the supplicant Offering. Each has their role to play here.

The witch flips on the lights. She doesn’t even take note of the offering, kneeling naked on her floor, flecks of her juices dampening the carpet. The witch knows she’s there. She gave her detailed instructions, and she knows the offering will follow them.

The acolyte, however, is stunned. He stops, unsure of how to proceed. The offering and the acolyte make eye contact for a moment. He used to love her. He knows better now. He’s in too deep, and there is no going back. The witch has exercised her power over him, and he is hers. But beneath that, he is too intrigued to stop. He has to know what is going to happen.

The witch saunters playfully to the couch, dropping her shoes. She lays facing outward, and spreads her legs. Her dress falls open, exposing her meticulously trimmed pussy. She faces the offering, who stares at her in awe. But the witch only has eyes for the acolyte. She gestures him to come to her.

And he does. He crosses the room, and kneels before her. As he does, he notices she’s wearing a metal plug. The flared end is decorated with a pentagram. Her scent is intoxicating. He begins to worship her with his tongue, lathing her from bottom to top. He lays his tongue flat over her hole, tasting her, probing with the tip. The witch moans happily. He licks upwards, parting her lips as he goes, pushing back her hood, and tracing circles around her clit. His cock is so hard that it hurts.

The offering, watching him please the witch, begins her ritual dance. Her hips bob and sway as her cunt leaks, trying in vain to touch it to something, to feel some sensation. She knows this is fruitless. But it only makes her wetter.

The witch watches with the satisfaction of a conductor on opening night. Her sweet boy, so subservient and eager. So skilled with his tongue, she thinks, as a particularly well-executed suck-and-lick motion arches her back. And her ugly little plaything, so wanting, so eager for abuse. She makes eye contact with the offering, already starting to cry. They both excrete energy, the air is thick with it. And the witch inhales it. Through her nose, her mouth. Her pussy, her ass. It fills her. She drinks from them, these two that offer themselves to her so freely. Her cunt is already soaked.

The acolyte unzips his pants and begins to stroke his cock. He grips it at the base and wrings upwards, pushing a thick drop of cum out of his hole. He uses the cum as lubrication, rubbing his glans. He can tell already that he could cum twice tonight. His body has been trained by the witch for this express purpose. Through her instruction, he’s become an unending font dikimevi escort of cum for her.

The witch grabs his head, pushing him deeper into her pussy. Her hips buck, facefucking him to orgasm. Watching, the offering’s asshole expands and contracts involuntarily around her plug. A quiver rolls up her spine.

Suddenly, the witch pull’s the acolyte’s hair, ripping him off of her and throwing him backward. He sprawls, almost landing in the offering’s lap. He looks confused, but his cock bobs. The witch pops up off the couch and sheds her sundress, gesturing for him to rise. He does. She undresses him quickly, first pulling off his shirt, and then getting on her knees to remove his pants. She licks his cock as she does, the layers of clothing falling away in a pile at his feet.

The witch stands, her hand gently sliding up between the acolyte’s legs. She grazes him back to front, starting at his ass, across his perineum, and ending at his balls. She cups them and pulls at them gently. His cock again bobs eagerly at her touch. She circles him, playing with him idly. He closes his eyes and bites his lip unconsciously. Sensing his vulnerability, the witch pushes him down onto the couch. He gasps in surprise. She’s stronger than her petite frame suggests.

He sits in a wide stance, his legs apart, his cock hovering above his stomach. The witch bends at the waist, coming to a rest with the flat of her tongue against his glans. An almost imperceptible drop of precum dissolves onto her tastebuds. Wasting no time, she plunges forward, taking his whole cock to the hilt with the same air of expertise that she does everything. The acolyte sighs, his head rolling back.

But then the feel of the witch’s warm mouth around his cock disappears. He opens his eyes to see her walking catlike out of the room. He is alone with the offering, Ann, his ex-girlfriend. Tied between a faint revulsion and arousal at how pathetic she looks. He feels a pride swell up in him. She never valued him for what he was, and now he’s gone and found himself someone prettier, smarter, more eager to fuck him. Someone more powerful. She feels this thought pass through his mind, as if the ritual that is already underway has amplified their feelings. As if the room is now a stew of thoughts, emotions, desires. He sees in her eyes that she feels his contempt.

The offering’s hesitant little hand lifts from where it hangs and begins to play with one of her nipples. He can see ropes of her ejaculate clinging from the metal belt to her inner thighs. Evidence of an arousal so strong he didn’t think it possible. She is wood for a bonfire begging to be burnt, obliterated. Her eyes beg him to hurt her.

His hand finds his cock. He fondles himself, watching her drool and wallow in her own self-pity.

Disembodied noises. The witch searching for something in the other room. She walks back in and his hungry gaze finds her naked body. She is carrying a jumble of objects in her hand, he takes no notice of what they are. She mounts him, her legs bent and spread on either side of his torso. Her ass hangs in air between his legs. His cock brushes her stomach.

She speaks not a word. She kisses him deeply on the mouth, feeling him. His warmth. The stew of emotions in the room changes colors, like a swirling orchestra of lights. She pulls away and his vision is black. He can feel a blindfold around his head. He feels the witch take his wrists into her hands and begin slowly looping them in hemp rope. She pulls his wrists apart, one to either corner of the couch, and then she fastens them to something behind him.

With this done, the witch stands and walks over to the offering. Their accord is deeper than he knows. There have been specific instructions exchanged. Roles to fill. The witch stoops and unfastens the ball gag from the offering’s throat and a bulbous glob of spit pours from her mouth, covering her neck and tits. She breathes heavily. The witch takes up a fistful of her hair, craning her neck back. The offering avoids her eyes as long as she can. Finally, she finds the witch’s gaze in the silence.

The witch drags the tips of her fingers over the skin of her leg to her pubic mound. She finds the top of her crease, pressing her finger into it and sliding it down to her opening. She holds the offering’s gaze as she presses her finger inside herself, pulling it out gooey with her own sweet-smelling juices. She holds her finger out and sticks it deep into the offering’s mouth. The offering quivers.

Still gripping a fistful of her medium-brown hair, the witch leads the offering to the acolyte’s side. She wants to show her why the acolyte, James, her ex-boyfriend chose her. How well she already knows him. How deeply intimate they’ve become. How, in just a few short weeks, she knows him better than the offering did in their year or more together.

But first, she treats the offering’s wrists in the same fashion. She loops dikmen escort them in hemp rope, and then ties her wrists together behind her back. The offering looks up to find her eyes as she finishes the job. The witch finds her gaze and gives her a sweet look. She lowers her face, and brings her finger close to the offering’s mouth again. She opens her mouth to accept it.

The witch spits into her open mouth and slaps her across the cheek, the sweet smile turning evil across her face. A hum escapes the offering and a tear rolls down her cheek. The witch presses the gag back into her mouth and fastens it tighter behind her head. Now she’s going to really hurt her.

The witch kneels between the acolyte’s feet, lifting his legs up. He lays on his back with his legs in the air, ass, cock, and balls exposed. The witch bends her head down and begins to tongue his hole, and immediately a chorus of moans pours out of him. He never knew he needed this. Only she did.

Her tongue returns the favor that his gave her. She prods lovingly, tracing his rim and lavishing him. Stimulating in ways he has never experienced. With any other woman, he would never let this happen to himself. It’s too intimate, too vulnerable, too…

But with her, he is free. He lets her take him how she wants. Lets her play with him how she wants. His cock is like stone and his balls tighten involuntarily. The witch feels his body as it passes through its phases. She knows all of his tells. She pauses, letting him rest. She’s building him, coaxing his vesicles to swell. She watches him edge for a moment.

The offering is fixated on this. She never even fathomed that the acolyte might enjoy something like this. She was too fixated on herself to take care of him properly. And now, watching another woman please him, hold him in the palm of her hands, in a way she never could… she feels flushes of white-hot guilt dance up and down her spine. She clenches against the huge plug stretching her ass. It’s beginning to hurt. But the hurt is something, and feeling anything feels good. Her unloved cunt spasms, on the brink of orgasm. But without more stimulation, she can’t come. She burns from within.

The witch furnishes another toy. A black, oblong shape. Behind his mask, the acolyte feels nothing but the witch’s spit cooling his hole. He has never known what it is to be played with like this. The cool touch of a new liquid. Thicker. The witch’s fingers spreading it over him. Pressing on him, pressing into him. There is a little resistance, but he quickly relaxes at her touch. She penetrates him an inch or so with her finger, pushing the lube inside.

And then a new sensation, like a soft inorganic texture at his rim. He feels his asshole stretch a little and open as the witch slides the massager inside of him. He’s a beginner to this, and she bought something specifically to fit his unaccustomed body. It glides in and he sighs, letting it. Letting her touch him like no one ever has. The head of the toy presses against his prostate.

He can feel the witch’s excitement build. He can feel the offering’s pain as she burns. He feels his own body coo at the completely novel stimulation. The witch’s tongue flicks at his balls and he is already on edge again. The lightest touch has become like a shout in an empty hallway. His pelvic floor flexes, hard. Tightening around the base of the prostate massager, it presses against his bulb. He moans in a way the offering has never heard before.

The witch carries on edging him. Feeling it build inside him. The pressure behind the floodgates growing. She licks him from the base of his sack to the base of his cock, rounding the medial line of his scrotum, and then up his cock to its tip, where another drop of precum waits for her.

He feels himself edge again. His cock bobs repeatedly, but he doesn’t release. A thick gob of cum rolls out of his tip and down his shaft. The witch lowers his legs and pushes him back into the sitting position. He feels her sit on his stomach, the soft, wet folds of her pussy rub against the top of his shaft. He feels her hands envelop him, stroking him deeply with his own cum. He’s not sure if he’ll be able to stop himself cumming this time. His ass clenches, the massager pressing hard on his bulb. He groans, feeling something rise inside of him. His balls tense. The massager crushes his prostate.

A syncopated gap.

And then, like a geyser erupting from the pressure of volcanic forces deep within the earth, he ejaculates. Waves of ecstasy flash up and down his body. Behind the blindfold, he sees stars. The witch grinds herself on him as he comes, stimulating his shaft with her perfect lips. He hears his own cum splash on some surface in the room. The waves almost erase his mind for a moment. There is nothing but this feeling. His body spasms wildly, gripping the massager and shooting hot slick ropes of dense, fertile cum.

Slowly, he winds elmadağ escort down. He feels the witch dismount from his stomach and the blindfold loosens from behind his head. Light pours into his eyes, hazy at first. And then he sees it.

The offering, kneeling squarely between his legs. Her face drenched in sticky ropes of his cum. Strands stretch between her eyelashes as she blinks. Globs of it hang in her sweaty, lank hair. Drops roll over her lips and around the gag. For the first time in a long, long time, she tastes his cum, faintly. The salt sweet of it.

She has obviously been crying, her mascara runs down her cheeks. A thick string of spit hangs from her lips. Covered. In his cum. The witch giggles off to his side, as if she’s finally seeing the fruits of a work she has been engineering for a long time. The acolyte is shocked, but the waves of orgasm, still rolling through him, stop him from fully processing it.

The witch milked him while the offering’s face was just inches away. The smell of his cum and her honey-sweet pussy just inches away. Component odors of their sex, filling the air, swirling in her nose. And at the moment of his release, both women looked up from his cock and watched each other’s eyes. As spurts of white, creamy juice splattered the offering’s face. A moment expertly curated. The first act of their mayday ritual.

The fire in the offering grows. She feels, not just sees or hears or smells, how much the acolyte prefers the witch. She feels it in the thickness of his cum. Tastes it. The pyre in her gives the witch life. Her clit tingles, watching the offering. All this while, her arousal has been just under orgasm. In fact, she’s had a few to herself. Just little bursts over the edge. When her elegant, beautiful slit first touched his cock, she felt herself gasp and ride just over the threshold. But she had shown restraint, keeping it mostly under wraps.

Now it was time she enjoyed herself, too. She dragged a finger through the thick smattering of cum on the offering’s face and dipped it in her mouth. She put the acolyte’s blindfold back on as he sputtered drunkenly, trying to form words. She kissed him and shushed him.

Submerged in darkness again. He was overcome by sensation, still reeling with the force of his last orgasm. His cock deflated a little, drooping in the wake. But he could tell he wasn’t done cumming.

Somewhere, in the world outside his mask, the witch kept playing her games. He could hear metal clinking. Pregnant pauses where he knew she was doing something – just not to him. Anticipation.

The witch looked down at the offering. She knelt down beside her and licked her face, from her lip, around the gag, up her cheek. The offering whimpered. The witch leaned back and unlatched the gag again, letting it fall to the floor. The offering’s tearstreaked face looked hurt, sheepish. But she still quivered at the witch’s touch. Her mouth didn’t close when the gag was removed and the witch tilted her chin up, leaning over her and spitting a long, thick strand of cum into her mouth. Cum she had so expertly milked from the man she was no longer worthy of. A shiver ran down the offering’s spine, rattling the little lock on her belt. The witch again slid her hand down her mound to the crease of her pussy and pushed two fingers inside.

The acolyte felt a hand clasp his cock. Her palm met his glans, her fingers pointing down the shaft, she slid over him and cupped his balls. He felt her gather them in her hand. Then he felt a familiar feeling, some kind of silicone cock ring being slipped over his shaft. It was large, and hung loosely over his cock, but when she slipped each of his heavy testicles through it, it sat tautly.

This only added to the extra stimulation from the prostate massager pressing against his bulb. The new pleasure he was feeling was almost like needing to piss. It hovered faintly behind everything else, somehow intensifying it. With his prick and scrotum wrapped up tightly, he felt himself quickly reach a full erection again. Any refractory period was long gone.

He felt the touch of a tongue on his testes. He pictured the witch, Gemma, his new ill-defined partner, who he had been enamored with to the point of servitude of late, tasting his cum as she lapped at its source. The stimulation was stronger than normal. He clenched his pelvic floor and the massager again pressed into his prostate, making him moan. He felt his nuts being sucked on, and then with a loud pop, he felt the cold air of the room again.

Gemma mounted him, her ass resting on his stomach. He felt her align his tip with her opening, and then she slid down his length, taking him all in at once. He tensed with the intensity of the pleasure, but a firm hand gripped him at his base. This was his warning. It was not his turn, and he would not cum again until she willed it. As she gripped him, he felt the feeling fade.

The witch felt full, with a plug in her ass and the acolyte’s stiff cock in her pussy. She let herself escape in the feeling for a moment, her eyes closing and head rolling off-center on her slender neck. Below her, the offering groveled. Her tongue stuck out of her open mouth, cum dripping off of it. She had never been a swallower.

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