Curvy Like A Witch

CURVY LIKE A
WITCH

By Sage Domini

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One night a year the witches
of Phoenix House are allowed to fulfill pleasures of the flesh.
Curvy witch Celeste is determined to make this Halloween a night of
ecstasy to sustain her. When the brooding werewolf Draco decides to
fulfill her need, their hours of fevered lust will shatter all that
Celeste thought she knew about pleasure. …

Adults only! Story contains scenes of HOT
sexual exploits between a BBWitch and the powerful alpha werewolf
determined to possess every part of her, even if just for one
night.

A
ttendance at Mother Alma’s meeting in the cavernous lobby was
a requirement. She would never open the doors until she had issued
her warnings. The anticipation was almost palpable as the towering
wall clock inched closer to six pm. The first timers were clustered
in a tight pack to my left. Mentally I pushed them back as their
bodies buzzed and undulated too close.

“Hey,” complained one, a fussy girl
named Beth who was not well liked. But tonight even Beth’s usually
plain face held the ruddy glow of fevered excitement and I
regretted my brief annoyance. I well remembered the first Halloween
I was of age here at Phoenix House. The thrill was almost too much
for one body. An entire wicked evening unbound by the witch laws,
free to explore those pleasures longed for and dreamed of the
entire year. Tonight even the witches well worn with years beamed
radiantly.

Mother Alma raised her arms, rising
from the ground slightly. The train of her black gown covered her
feet and made her seem ever more the ominous wraith. No one knew
how many years she had lived. Some said she was older than mankind.
Really, she needn’t have bothered with her flapping theatrics. None
among the energized crowd were listening. Anyway, if a witch did
not know her responsibilities by her first Halloween then she was
likely a lost cause.

The youthful novitiates stirred loudly
but were instantly silenced by a dark glare from Mother Alma. I
felt nearly as impatient but would not budge until the doors
opened. One of the girls sighed.

It had been only a few short years
since I had reached my own milestone of twenty one years, the age
at which it became possible to participate in Halloween. The ticks
of the clock echoed in my blood. The night would be all too short.
They would all be out tonight, of course. Witches were not alone in
celebrating Halloween. The wolves, the vampires, and even the grim
goblins would rejoice in the freedom of the night. But this was not
a worry. It was highly unlikely any would violate the Halloween
laws. No humans were to be harmed or consequences would
ensue.

Mother Alma ignored the younger girls
who were trying to blend into the grand staircase. They would not
be leaving for the night. They would be practicing their grim
lessons behind the doors of the darkened hallways of Phoenix House
and dreaming of the Halloween when they would come of
age.

Mother Alma surveyed us coolly. “My
daughters. In three minutes it will be Halloween evening. Your
release will last for six hours exactly. If you have not returned
by the strike of one minute past midnight, you will suffer
banishment from Phoenix House, from your sisters, and from all the
power of the craft.” A low murmur rippled through the crowd. Though
history said it had happened before, a witch had never suffered
banishment since I had arrived at Phoenix House.

Mother Alma was speaking to me.
“Sister Celeste, will you lead the chant?”

I stepped forth gravely. I spoke loud
and clear as the others murmured the words with me. They were the
same every Halloween. “I am a witch. I am protector of human kind.
I stand between the people of the earth and the creatures of the
underworld. My mind is serious and my body chaste. Only on
Halloween night will flesh meet flesh. It will be enough. I will
return.”

“Thank you, Sister Celeste.” I thought
Mother Alma’s look was one of disapproval. Though my gown was cut
dangerously low, so were many others. It was a permitted indulgence
this one night, though no forms among the twenty six other witches
were as fleshy and filled out as mine. I had only a little time to
use these instruments of my body and I would make it a time worthy
of remembering.

The chime of the clock silenced us all
as we turned to its face. It was as tall as a man. The Phoenix
House had been built in the 1920s as a luxury hotel and the deco
style influences remained. The novitiates clutched hands as the
hour arrived. I ran my hands over the smooth fabric of my cloak. It
was time.

Last year had been disappointing. He
was a truck driver and tempting to look at, but had already fallen
under the haze of drink before he led me to the cheap motel off the
interstate. He seemed disinterested in anything other than that
dark triangle at my center and did not wait for me to achieve any
satisfaction before finishing and passing out into a dull sleep. I
returned to Phoenix House long before there was any danger of
banishment. For months I chided myself and my poor choice. Tonight
would be different. I would not succumb to the first horny
collection of muscles.

The novitiates surged to the front. I
really did not envy them their virginal fever. The first time had
been difficult. Now I had five Halloween of practice and I meant to
apply the things I knew and learn of the things I didn’t. A
pleasant warmth spread between my legs as my body awakened to the
evening’s possibilities. Perhaps Mother Alma disapproved of me
because she knew how I pleasured myself quietly during the resting
hours. It was not expressly forbidden, but regarded as a sign of
weakness. Witches were not permitted many weaknesses.

Mother Alma raised a hand. Slowly the
thick double doors opened. The light outside was fading rapidly.
“Daughters,” she said, “it is Halloween.”

Beyond the strict curfew, there were a
few rules to abide by. Witches must drink the potion before
departing. It would protect our bodies from any unpleasant
consequences of the night’s indulgences. And each witch would be in
the world alone this evening. It would be the only occasion of the
year where a witch mingled in public without the scrutiny of her
sisters.

Mother Alma handed each departing
witch a small goblet before releasing her into the night. When my
turn came the dour coven mistress glanced at the round swells of my
body which threatened to spill from the thin fabric. “Remember,
Miss Celeste,” she warned. “Midnight.”

I didn’t know why she issued such a
reminder. It was not my first Halloween. Some sisters said Mother
Alma possessed the rare sight, that she could see certain events of
the future. Was that the reason behind her warning? She needn’t
have fret. No matter the pleasures of the outside world, I would
never abandon my witch duties.

Katie, a radiant redhead, was my
friend. She touched my arm lightly as we headed toward the property
boundary of Phoenix House. “Enjoy,” she winked, then hurried down
the street. Katie and I had arrived at Phoenix House the same year,
both innocent girls of the deep south, fresh out high school when
the strange figure of Mother Alma entered our lives and made an
unusual offer. Eight years had passed since. I well recalled the
longing of that first Halloween when I was among those shooed to
the second floor. It would be several more years before my first
Halloween.

The sensation of being alone on the
streets in a sexy gown was rare and intoxicating. Usually when I
ventured outside Phoenix House I was dressed primly and accompanied
by several other sisters. But tonight was different. Tonight I
would seek the touch of an eager partner. He would lick my nipples
and explore my secret openings. I would happily return the favor.
My step quickened with the urgency of my moistening
center.

Most of the other sisters would be
headed downtown to the clubs and bars which would be pulsing with
the night’s unique excitement. Halloween in the mortal world meant
the chance to become something else. For us it was the same. I was
not a proper witch this night. I was a lusty woman aching to be
satisfied.

The streets were dark and forlorn,
flanked by abandoned buildings. This had been a great center of
manufacturing during a different era of prosperity. Few people
walked these parts, even on Halloween night. The sudden crash of
breaking glass startled me. My hand flew to the pendant I usually
wore around my neck but it had been left behind at Phoenix House.
Another rule of Halloween night: No Witchcraft.

I looked down black alleys, unsure
whether anyone was looking back at me. I was not even convinced I
was heading the right way. Each step I took was all due to a
conversation overhead in a café a few weeks earlier. I estimated
they were college girls, young and brightly turned out. They were
speaking low but a silent chant allowed me to hear words while
Katie sat across from me engrossed in her Kindle. One of the girls
was talking excitedly about a wild underground club she had visited
over the weekend. She shifted her eyes around to ensure no one was
paying attention, then breathed, “He fingered me right there on the
dance floor. It was unfucking believable. Chicks had their tits
hanging out. One girl was even giving a full blow job. We found the
men’s room and he fucked me right there against the door.” Her
friend gasped and whispered a question but she shook her head. “No,
I never even knew his name. Place was called Skylight, way up Van
Buren. I gotta go back there.”

I thought about her words that night
and touched myself as the inhabitants of Phoenix House breathed
quietly around me. The thought of such a place had me
salivating.

I was so lost in my own thoughts I did
not hear the car until it was beside me. The lights were off but I
could make out the dim figure of a man. He leaned out of the car.
“Get in.”

I had sworn I would not take the first
stranger but the shallow moonlight had allowed me enough of a
glimpse of the man that I figured I could chance a few moments to
see if he was what I was looking for after all. His hair was dark
and his brow deep. He was perhaps a few years older than I. He wore
a button up shirt which was rolled back to the elbows, as if he had
just come from a long day at the office. He leaned back into his
seat, waiting. I wondered what sort of man would issue commands to
strange women who walked alone on a dark city street.

He didn’t look at me. “Aren’t you
coming?” The low timber of his voice vibrated in my depths. All the
long months of fleshly denial had caught up to me. All it took was
a man ordering me into his car and I wanted him. I opened the door
and sunk into the soft seat, smelling leather and smoke.

He lit a cigarette, and held the pack
out to me. “Want one?”

I did not smoke, but I took one. He
lit both cigarettes and inhaled deeply. I tried to do the same and
coughed furiously. He smiled thinly. “You don’t smoke.”

I tried to breath. “No.” Yet, the
sensual feel of the cigarette in my hand and the heady aura of the
smoke gave me courage to inhale again, more shallowly.

He started the car. “My name is Draco.
We’ll go to my place.”

I stared at him. He was even more
finely built than I thought. I wanted to touch the muscled contours
his shirt could not hide. I wanted his large hands as my body. And
even as I realized he seemed to take me for a prostitute, I didn’t
care.

Draco drove fast through the dark
streets with the lights off. I took small puffs of my cigarette,
which made me feel sexy and exotic. He did not look at me as he
piloted the deserted streets and I tried to gauge his mood. He
flicked his finished cigarette out the window and ran a hand
through his dark hair.

“Is this it?” I asked when he stopped
the car. I looked out doubtfully. It was a squat building four
stories high and obviously deserted. I started to feel a thin
trickle of fear. I was virtually defenseless without my
witchcraft.