For April I am trying to post a piece of flash fiction every day. This is Sunday’s entry! This is just fiction: I am sure Wiccan ceremonies are not pretences for gangbangs, but when I thought circles I ended up at henges and never got much further.
I looked around the circle as we held hands, in view of the stone pillars of the monolithic ring encasing us, the chanting group.
It was instinctive; glancing around the members of the Circle of Light as we began our initiation ceremony. A shiver sent my spine tingling, it always did. We only ever welcomed new members into our intimate group when the world is blessed with a black moon, and we were lucky to have had two in one year.
Marie and Jeffrey stood naked next to the fire, recounting our Wiccan chanting with nervous quivers in their voice. I remember my initiation many years ago: it hadn’t changed much in the dozens of centuries since our ancestors first understood the lunar phases, and began worshipping the circle in the sky.
For every moment since those early days, our cult has striven to understood more: the orbit of the celestial body, moving in the same circle it did all those millennia ago. Understanding the relationship between the witchcraft we’ve adopted and the power of the moon. Building better places to worship, so we could understand the moon better. That’s a circle itself.
And so, we stood in the centre of our henge. A circle of earth banks, containing a circle of hedges, and then a circular ring of stone monuments. Concentric circles that make a target, so we focus the energy of the moon to our new disciplines: new agents of the Circle of Light.
We would enrich their souls with the intensity of the moon’s power, channelling their psyche with a kaleidoscope of fiery mirages than would strengthen their resolve through their testing times ahead. We turn them from mice into dragons, bringing them into our circle and embracing their lives.
We would make them whole.
And as our chanting drew to a close, the first package – their clothes – was thrust onto the fire. They repeated their pledges, drawing the symbols of our moon in paint, on their naked flesh. Marie smiled as the paintbrush swirled over her bosom; the shadows of the fire dancing over her naked body.
She looked gorgeous; pale skin, dark black hair, slight body with a strong, robust expression. We liked powerful people in our Circle and she was uncompromising. She knew what she wanted and how she was going to get it.
I liked that, we all did.
We liked her kneeling in front of the fire, pushing out her hands and shouting her initiation spells from our Anglo-Saxon history. The blaze responded; wisps of her words coaxed the smoke as it floated into the night sky and she thanked the moon for its blessing. Jeffrey did the same.
And then the real initiation.
She wanted to join us and we wanted to forge her body with our spirits, to claim her as one of our own. We needed to gift them, the unconquerable lifeblood of our wisdom. The gift of joining our circle.
We walked forward, closing in on them and the fire. Our cloaks bellowing in the gentle breeze as we approached their tentative bodies. They were anxious but had no need to be.
Our Grand Wizard approached Marie first, and leant her gently onto the small table – carved from the fallen oak. She parted her legs.
She was waiting for it, wanting it, desperate for her first blessing. His fingers frigged her clit needlessly before his cock was driven into her welcoming hole. We watched; circling them both as our Grand Wizard thrusted deep into her opening with muted grunts, muttering spells under his breath.
The fire threw shapes over her parted cleft, gratefully receiving the dick of our leader, ramming his manhood into the University student with vigorous lust.
My cock was already hard and watching her groaning and panting as his frantic rhythm speared her cleave was only furthering my arousal. I resisted the urge to play with my cock; I wanted her, I wanted to fuck her on the new moon as my cult watched. I wanted her body to sizzle like the crackling inferno metres from us as I found her orgasm with delightful zeal. Wiccan wisdom cannot be imparted unless she comes, and our Grand Wizard ended his spells with waves of his seed being pumped into the desperate woman.
It’s my turn next: electric tension sizzles through my body as I focused on her, writhing expectantly as my erect cock slid into her well-lubricated pussy. My gown is flowing behind me, knocking on my rear as I thrusted into her. We’re used to “Sloppy Seconds” here but who cares when the wannabe witch is as gorgeous as sunset on water?
Her body squealed with lust as I drove into her cunt; my hands griped her thighs manfully as I stared into her eyes, whispering Anglo-Saxon words under my breath. My balls danced with excitement, my stomach floated with power as I rammed my cock deep.
She needed it; her body quivering as her first orgasm ripped through her soul. Her eyes burnt stronger than the bonfire next to her; brighter and hotter than our religious inferno. She screamed with lust, and satisfaction, squeezing down on my cock with inflamed arousal.
It was what I needed; firing my cum into her, and panting. Semen oozed from her hole as the next man took his turn, and I glided back into the circle.
She fucked them all: every man – from eighteen to eighty – fucked that wiccan beauty as her body drove her to countless orgasms. Jeffrey watched erect, as he offered his girlfriend, smiling as she cuckolded him, as he delighted in her salvation and enjoyment. It’s a delightful celebration, but he had obligations too: to suck the wisdom from our witches, sliding his tongue over their bare clits and drive them into orgasm to expel their precious fluids into his mouth.
It’s needed. And every night until the next black moon, our newest recruits would wait for one or more of us to visit them. To fuck our protection into them. To keep them safe. Our ancestors believed that this warded off evil spirits. The frantic thrusting and consumption of nubile flesh for carnal purposes in view of our saviour, the Moon. They believed it frightened the twisted souls who infected Earth and protected us all from their sinister ways.
Does it work? Who cares! The initiation ceremony definitely works for me.
And Marie. And Jeffrey. And everyone else in that circle.
Featured image from here and used under a CC license.