At the circulation desk, Miss Prue shifts on her stool until she’s comfortable again. Since 10 am she’s dealt mainly with borrowings, returns and renewals – perhaps not tasks worthy of her station, but it’s a small library and she has precious few staff at her disposal. She doesn’t mind though – being stationed at the front of the house is an opportunity to see who’s reading what. And naturally, you can learn a lot about folk that way, especially when it comes to discerning their possible openness to the secret ways of the library. Miss Prue’s adept at spotting such potential – her high success rate proves it.
Take the lass now making her way to the desk – Miss Sandie of Barrow Lane. She’s one of the more likely candidates – if she shows one more positive sign, Miss Prue will broach the subject, and hopefully, conversion and initiation will soon follow. Miss Sandie’s reading choices certainly have been moving in the right direction. She began, as they so often do, with philosophy – a popular subject now days. It’s a good sign, but not too helpful in itself – armchair philosophers can go either way. But happily, the lass has progressed to mythology, ancient history, somatic alchemy, aeronautics and the like… yes, she’s reading like she’s onto something – maybe even pursuing the greater mysteries.
Sandie puts down her armful of books on the desk, and Prue collects the index cards and stamps the books. They all look promising: The Rise and Fall of The Magonian Empire, The Spotter’s Guide to Sky Ships, Lamia in Ancient Days, and best of all, The Story of The Worm.
“Ah, The Story of The Worm,” Miss Prue exclaims like the librarian she is, “such a fascinating, enlightening work! I hope you can take away as much from it as I did – it certainly opened my mind to new vistas – yes, to so many possibilities. But of course, you’ll need to read between the lines!” Miss Prue winks. Sandie smiles and looks a little bemused.
“Thank you, Miss Prue,” Sandie says, as she gathers up her books. “I’ll let you know what I think of the worm book.” She smiles again.
“Absolutely, you do that, Miss Sandie,” says Miss Prue. Yes, another one in the bag, she thinks to herself. As the Barrow Lane lass totters towards the exit on her tall heels, Miss Prue notes how much Sandie has changed over the last few months – her appearance as well as her reading habits. With all that bright clothing and flowing curls, the lass was certainly one of the hearty, out-door types not so long ago. But there’s been so much improvement since summer. Yes, those curls are now brushed flat, and her clothes are now subdued in hue – but better still are the heels, the hobble skirt, the collar starched stiff and buttoned up, and that little pill-box hat perched sweetly upon her head. Her once rosy complexion is now nicely pallid. Dark around the eyes, too. Cheeks a little sunken. She’s even taken to wearing glasses! Yes, a definite improvement.
Miss Prue looks up at the clock. “Damn my kidneys! It’s nearly noon – I should get a move on,” she says out loud, but not too loud. She carefully lifts herself off her stool. Though it’s not an overtly big plug fixed on the seat – about the size and shape of a hen egg – it’s best not to take any chances, especially if she’s going to do what she intends to do. She now checks the rod in her yonny and finds it still properly in place.
Down in the basement, she passes one dusty stack of shelves after another. When she reaches the last stack she sees Miss Holly is lurking behind them. Holly, who is the library underslut, puts down her book and dutifully presents her naked backside, and Prue pats one of the nice round buttocks as she goes by. “I don’t have time for you at the moment, lass,” Prue says. “As you might guess, I’m in rather a hurry.” She goes next door.
The little clock on the shrine room wall shows it’s only three minutes to noon. She’s glad she had the presence of mind to have the shrine candles lit when she first arrived that morning – it saves a lot of time. After undressing, Prue opens the door of the orgone cabinet perched on the shrine table and takes out one of the scrolls sitting on the upper shelf. On the lower shelf, there’s three amber rods. The smallest is for beginners, the largest for experienced practitioners. Smiling, she takes the largest, widest one – having taken nearly three long months of training to use it comfortably, she intends to carry on using it whenever it’s appropriate. She plants a wet kiss on the rod’s rounded head. It pulses, almost sings. Looking closely into it’s translucent golden interior, she sees the dancing serpent fire is perceptible. Yes, of the three rods, this one is the most darling – a loving nature is almost detectable. Facing the shrine, she stands the rod up right on the floor and with care lowers herself onto it, letting it stretch her anus nicely. Once it has filled her rectum it gently warms her insides. While still squatting, she leans forward to dip her fingers in the jar containing Oil of The Saints. She anoints her forehead, her lips, her nipples, her navel, her labia and her clit. She loosens the straps of her dildo, then pumps it in her yonny. The amber rod trembles in her rectum as she intones the sacred verses:
*Hara haga nirie nusan,*
*Hara haga nirie bagan,*
*Hara haga nirie ho’an,*
*Nirie zul guzbeth egi,*
*Nitu sabato sacra har…*
Red and white serpent fire pulses up her spine – then there’s one single quivering column of light. Her skull fills with stars…
Prue steps out of her body. She looks down at it – it’s still rocking back and forth, chanting dumbly. She then turns her attention to the other side of the room. As hoped for, the grey mist is there. Already from this mist the pale, long-fingered hand of the Summoner is beckoning her. Moving forward, she takes hold of it, and she’s pulled into the mist. There’s now darkness, then there’s silvery light. There’s soft mossy ground beneath her feet. Yes, it’s the usual place. She still doesn’t know where it’s located, but she presumes it’s somewhere on the other side of the world.
The Summoner’s cold presence is behind her. Before her are the two horned masters – the red on the left, and the black on the right. The Black Master presents his gorgeous backside. “Approach, lass, so you may receive the light and dark blessings of the Sabbat,” he says. He raises his head, and for a moment his two great, curling horns are silhouetted against the moonlit hillside.
She takes three steps towards him, kneels down, then leans forward. The Black Master’s smooth, taunt, muscular thighs spread wider and his puckered anus becomes more apparent between his hard, round buttocks. Underneath, his great quivering ball bag catches the moonlight. She plunges her hands into the darkness below, feels for his cock and seizes it. It’s a writhing, muscular snake in her two-handed grip. She leans forward more, and her parted lips meet the Black master’s anus. There’s the familiar salt and sour taste on her tongue. The summoner’s bony hand, placed on the back of her head, applies gentle pressure. She looses no time running her tongue round the hole – anti-clockwise – nine times. She does it nine times again, then another nine times, and then with her mouth forming a big O, she encompasses the Black Master’s anus entirely with her lips. She bathes it with her saliva while jabbing her tongue into it. She slurps her foamy saliva back into her mouth, then floods his anus again with it. Back and forth it goes. Yes, they’ve trained her properly, and she’s now so grateful for it. The mighty cock jerks forcefully up and down in her hands, but she keeps a firm grip on it. There’s only herself and the beloved master now – nothing else exists.
“Move away now, lass,” a voice says. She turns her head and sees the Red Master’s cock and balls. She doesn’t look up at his face. Instead, she glances over the Black Master’s back. The Lady and the Maiden are in the middle distance – each holds a fiery torch in her hand. The Lady looks past Prue, but the Maiden’s steely gaze meets her own – she feels vibrant cold fire in her yonny and in her heart.
“Face me, witch daughter,” bids the Red Master. Prue turns her head again. The summoner’s hand is gripping the hair of her crown. The Red Master’s hand puts something small and soft into her mouth. “Take this Soul Cake of the Sabbat into your body, so one day you may become one of us.” The cake is salt, sweet and bitter all at once. She swallows it. The Cup Barer, who now is kneeling by the Red Master’s side, holds up a silver goblet, and Prue takes a long draught of the strong, fragrant liquor.
“I now give you license to leave – go back to whence you came, my witch daughter,” says the voice of the Black Master. “And take with you the light and dark blessings of the Sabbat. May The Lady of Night look kindly upon you, and may you walk in her footsteps as you traverse the infernal darkness.”
“Yes, witch daughter of the library, come with me,” says the Summoner. One of his hands falls on her shoulder while the other strokes her hair. Grey mist then encompasses her.
Miss Prue is back in the shrine room. She shivers, then repositions herself on the floor. She withdraws the dildo from her yonny, then carefully removes the amber rod from her rear end. After she’s dressed she has a word with the underslut.
“By any chance has Mister Tobin been down here using you this morning, lass?” she asks. “I haven’t seen the blessed lad anywhere since we opened.”
“No, Mistress,” says Miss Holly in a small voice. She continues to stare up at Prue with her big round eyes, and her lips are parted wider than is required – a sign she wishes to speak some more. Prue puts out her open hand and Holly rests her chin on it. With her other hand, Prue stokes Holly’s hair.
“Did you reach the Sabbat, Miss Prue?” Holly asks. Her voice is even smaller.
“Yes, I did go there this time, my darling boy, though only as far as the first station – and even then, I couldn’t progress any further than the two dear masters. But they did allow me to partake in the Eucharist.”
“Yes, they’re still preparing you for the next stage,” says Holly, “I’m sure you’ll breakthrough soon, Miss Prue.”
“Thank you, Miss Holly. I trust you’ll be going there tonight yourself – is that so?”
“Of course, mistress.”
“Well I hope it goes well for you – and also I hope you’ll be able to put a good word in for me while you’re there. Now, my pet, do you have anything else to say?”
“Yes, Miss Prue – are you going to send someone down here to use me? Please!” says Holly while fluttering her lashes and wriggling her backside.
“Oh sure, my lass – I’m sorry, I’ve been neglecting you today, dearest pet – it’s been a busy morning and that blessed Tobin lad has been nowhere to be seen – but I promise I’ll make up for it this afternoon, my lovely, my cheeky boy! Have you anything else to say, sweet pea?”
“No mistress,” says Holly, meekly.
“Good girl – you now can go back to reading your book.”
Prue lets go of Holly, and Holly lowers her head. Prue puts her hand on Holly’s rear end and feels for both holes. She then places her foot on Holly’s side – between her ridcage and her hipbone – and she shoves the underslut towards the wall. Holly whimpers. Prue then gives Holly’s leg a sharp kick – hitting her lower leg just below the knee. Holly flinches, but this time, doesn’t make a sound.
At the top of the basement stairs, Prue meets Mister Thorn, one of her initiates. He looks her up and down while pressing his right middle finger against his left palm.
“Now now, Mister Thorn, you know I’m a busy lass,” Miss Prue says softly though firmly. She looks up and down the corridor, then adds “But you may go downstairs if you need to relax.”
She moves in closer to Thorn so her chin is nearly upon his shoulder, then whispers “The underslut is absolutely gagging for it today – I don’t know what’s got into her – and she’s got the cheek to beg for it too! You wouldn’t believe the scene she was making down there just now. So, my dear fellow, if you do go downstairs for a little while, I suggest you make sure she’s properly and thoroughly used – and while you’re at it, sir, make sure she’s also truly put in her place.”
“Righto, Miss Prue, you can rely on me,” says Thorn, barely hiding his excitement. He’s already unbuttoning his breaches as he makes his way to the basement door.
*By Kay Callovan, copyright 2020*
Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/i01g7l/an_ordinary_day_at_the_library_fantasy