Originally a starting post at /r/dirtypenpals, but no one bit. I figured I'd see what people here thought and if there's interest, continue it myself.
It started innocent enough. As an aspiring writer, with a well-reviewed but only mediocre selling first novel, and a handful of published short stories, I was researching for a novel about occult groups. I wasn’t planning on writing in the horror genre, but wanted to create a realistic depiction of occult groups. After reading a bunch online and at the local university library, I went to a nearby metaphysics and new age bookstore, where I picked up a few books (or codexes as the gentleman at the counter insisted on calling them) that claimed to include the secrets of the dark arts. Not exactly credible “primary sources,” but I figured it would at least give me some of the vernacular to enhance my own writing.
One evening, reading one of my purchases on the couch after dinner, I stumbled upon a description of a ritual aimed at cultivating occult erotic powers. After chuckling to myself, I start reading the description of the ritual to you, who, to my surprise, and without laughing, start cooing “Stop babe, you’re turning me on.” Detecting your sly aroused smile, I continue reading the description while gently caressing your bare thigh, exposed by your short pajama shorts, surprised at how authentic your arousal seems. Your breathing quickly becomes heavy, your entire chest heaving with each breath, and you begin to dig your fingers into my arm. I lean over, and whisper into your ear, “we’ll have to try this some time.”
The next Friday, we gave it a go. Moving our guest bed, covered in nothing but a red silk fitted sheet to the middle of the guest bedroom. Each of us wearing nothing but black silk robes, we entered the room, illuminated by nothing but 3 dozen candles scattered around the room, and locked the door. After each drinking a chalice full of red wine, we muttered through in incantation–in what I was sure was a made up language written by an over-imaginative, if not bordering on psychotic, mind–as we spilled a circle of chalk dust around the bed. After completing the magic circle around us, you slid out of your robe and laid down on the bed. Tying each of your wrists and ankles to the bed posts with silk ties, and sliding another one over your eyes, I stood back up at the foot of the bed and continued reading from my “arcane tome.”
Your arousal was already evident, as your entire body heaved up and down, to your heavy and audible breath. The air was beginning to fill with the aroma of your arousal, as I continued to focus on my ridiculous ritual. After a few more invocations of some deity or spirit, I dribbled hot candlewax down your body from between your breasts, over your stomach, and down to your crotch. Instead of crying out, as I expected you to, you moaned and sighed. Returning the candle to the nightstand, I disrobed, displaying my rock-hard erection, and joined you in bed. Kneeling between your spread legs, I kissed up your thighs, alternating between kissing, sucking, and biting gently on your flesh, until I reached your already soaking slit. Breathing deeply in the scent of your arousal, I slid my tongue over your swollen lips, before sucking down on your clit. Flicking my tongue lightly and quickly over your clit, I slid a finger into your inviting pussy, hearing you moan and cry out for more “Oh god, Chris, stop teasing me and fuck me. I want to feel you inside me. I want you deep in me!”
More than happy to oblige, I knelt between your legs and slid on a condom. As I was about to press my engorged and throbbing member inside you, you stopped me. “There’s one more passage you must read first.” “What? Come on babe, I know it got you turned on, but come on,” I protested, but you weaseled your head out of the blindfold, and the look in your eye made me reconsider. As I finished the last two “sentences”–if we can even call the inane babble sentences–a flash of lightning illuminated the window, followed quickly by a thunderclap, the howling wind, and pouring rain. “Now fuck me! Fuck me harder than you’ve ever fucked me before!” You demanded. As I threw the book aside, my eyes met yours. But instead of their usual warm hazel hue, they had somehow turned bright red. A paralazying fear overcame me for a moment, before a deeper well of pure, unadulterated, ravenous lust swelled up within me, and moved my body inside of yours. As I slid into your body, I felt your pussy tighten around my cock, coaxing me deeper and deeper inside. Overtaken by passion, I felt my body move itself, slamming deeper and harder into your inviting flesh. As my moans and grunts joined yours, you pulled your arms out of the wrist ties and wrapped them around my back, pulling me closer to you and encouraging my hips to pump faster than ever. “Take me baby, I’m so close,” you struggled to whisper, as I adjusted my legs and pushed as deep and as fast into you as I could.
As your orgasm overtook you, a bloodcurdling scream escaped your lips. Again, my fear was overtaken by a more primal force as I felt my own orgasm begin, the pulsating feeling sending semin pumping through my throbbing member. Your fingers digging into my back, I continued pumping my hips, driving my cock as your entire body twitched and convulsed, as your scream alternated with moans. Finally your eyes opened again, an even brighter red, as I felt an icy cold window blow across my black. My orgasm subsiding, my vision began to fade, but I swear I felt something moving among us, between us, through us, before…..nothing….
“Chris, honey, Chris, WAKE UP! WAKE UP! What’s wrong with you.” You were shaking my shoulders, as I came to, covered in a light film of sweat. I must have backed out, “Oh god,” I groan as I rub my hand against my throbbing head, “What happened?” “ I should be asking you! I don’t have any memory after you tied me up to the bed. I just came to with you passed out on top of me. What the hell did you put in the drink, Chris!?” Fear and confusion overtake me. “Nothing, I swear. I’d never put anything in without your permission.” Nothing made sense. I tried to sit up, but felt my back tear away from the silk sheet. The red eyes, the feeling of presence, the wind, the thunder, a jumble of memories, none of them making sense, cascaded through my consciousness. I looked out the window, seeing nothing but a full moon and clear skies. I shook my head, and stood up. “Let me get us some water,” I’m sure it’s just some food poisoning or an over-active imagination. You gasp as I stand up and walk towards the door. “Your back, Chris…. It’s…covered in blood.” “What?” I run to the bathroom and look at myself in the mirror; deep scratches with fresh blood oozing out of them run across my shoulder blades. “Honey, what happened,” I ask, returning to the bedroom with two glasses of water, “I only remember bits and pieces, and I don’t remember you doing that to my back. You’ve never done that before, I know it weirds you out. It’s definitely kinkier than I usually want to go.” “I don’t know, Chris,” you respond, your eyes, now hazel again, looking up at me as tears form in them, “I don’t know”….
Source: reddit.com/r/sexystories/comments/3pk8f3/the_ritual_part_1_mf_fantasy_sort_of