Morgana turned to look over the things she had collected. She had just about everything she needed. This ritual would make her the most powerful witch in her coven, even though it would drain her to near death in the process. She was aware that skipping any of the steps could kill her, and redistribute her powers amongst the very witches that doubted her, hated her. But she was ready. Sex magick is second only to blood magick in its potency, and tonight she would perform the ritual developed by the ancestors in her bloodline to increase the intensity of her sorcery so that it always had the strength of sex magick -- whether she was performing a sex ritual or not. If she decided to add sex to her future rites, it could nearly match blood magick. If an oppositing witch or warlock was from a lesser bloodline, her sex magick could absolutely defeat their blood magick.
Morgana began to crush bones and herbs together in a large mortar. She had a lot of work to do and she needed to mind her time. This was the only chance she would have in her lifetime to perform the ritual, and too many in her family had failed before her. As a result, her family’s strength had weakened over the centuries, and she was tired of being mocked. They were still stronger than most of the other witches, but not all of them, and the coven never let her forget it. She added in some inky sludge from a jar. The label, faded from dampness and too many years, was no longer legible. Morgana knew this recipe by heart, having been drilled about the process and ingredients from the time she could speak. She took down a few more containers as she went over her mental checklist in preparation for the ritual. The concoction was underway, and her carriage was loaded. She secured the wood for her pyre, and this is what scared her the most. Being burned at the stake was a witch’s nightmare, but for Morgana, it was simply a part of her destiny. If she made it, it would be the catalyst to her bloodline’s evolution.
After scraping the sides to get all of the concoction into a jar, she placed the jar into her satchel, wrapping it in pieces of flannel to protect it. Checking the maps again, she memorized the way to the clearing that sat on a bluff on the edge of town. It was here that she needed to be by midnight in order to find the unicorn. As a little girl, she was fascinated with the idea of sneaking off to search for a secret unicorn, but when she became older, wiser, she learned the truth about her meeting with this not-so-mythical creature. The unicorn was real, and the fun she would have would not come from playing. She was more than nervous. She was absolutely terrified, but she mounted the horse-drawn carriage and headed out. It was just a couple hour’s journey to get to the bluff, but she knew she would need time with the unicorn. Her grandmother had always warned her about the unsavory creatures who lived around the bluff, but she never had any other details.
She rounded a sharp bend just in time to see the sun dip below the horizon. She didn’t have much time left. She wasn’t far now, but there was still so much to do. Finally, she saw the bluff and slowed down. There was a fence along the edge, but she knew to look for an entrance that wouldn’t be visible to just anyone. She pulled out one of her containers and sprinkled some of its contents along the fence until she saw that some of it floated, sparkling, in the air. She tied the horse to the fence, grabbed her bag with the containers, and walked through the magickal entrance. Pulling out another container, she poured a liquid on the ground in a pentagram shape. According to family lore, the unicorn was here, on this night only, but only visible when summoned by people that proved themselves worthy. Her ancestors hadn’t had any problems with this part of the ritual, so Morgana felt confident.
Using a large smear of the concoction, she rubbed the thick black cream on her inner thighs until they were completely covered. She poured a bit more onto her hands and massaged the cream onto her breasts. The air was getting cool now, and her nipples sat taut, engorged, and tingly. Her thighs had started to tingle as well, and she rubbed them together. Naturally moist, some of the cream mixed with her wetness, and when the tingling began on her clit she moaned and fell to the middle of the pentagram. Overcome with a voracious desire to touch herself, Morgana instinctively rubbed her clit, smearing the cream that remained on her hands. Within seconds, she was writhing in want. She needed to be satisfied and couldn’t help herself. She slid her fingers across her love button and in and out her now dripping hole. She couldn’t stop, and she couldn’t seem to satisfy herself. She propped up on her knees and an elbow continuing to furiously pleasure herself with no relief. Suddenly, she began to feel dizzy as her eyes rolled back. Just as her legs were about to give out, she felt something under her, supporting her. It was bucking and thrashing, and she was forced to stop pleasuring herself just to hold on. As soon as she removed her hands, she felt a vibrating sensation in her core. The reverberations filled her up and she finally felt like she would have the burst of relief she was now begging the universe for. As she thrashed about, moaning in unbridled euphoria, she felt a warmth build from her thighs to her chest, around the curve of her breasts to her nipples and straight to her clitoris which began to swell and thump on it’s own. Wave after wave of ecstasy crashed her body against whatever was supporting her and she began to see colors. Rainbow colors. The Unicorn was here and she was on it, being tossed into the greatest pleasure she’d ever known. She had managed to summon the Unicorn and complete the first stage of the ritual. Getting it to come to her was the easy part. She needed to get the unicorn to give her pleasure over and over again so she could gather her juices to add to the concoction she had been preparing. She had to use the concoction to keep her arousal going, but she replenished it with her own juices each time she came, but only while in the pentagram. When the mixture was exactly half, she would be ready for the final part of the ritual. She only had a few more hours and she wondered if she could do it. She was already so drained. She noticed that the pentagram was glowing around her and the familiar symbol fortified her determination.
As Morgana began to collect her juices, she heard a rustling nearby. The air was still, nearly suffocating, so she knew it wasn’t the wind. The only animals on magickal land were magickal animals and none dared be in the presence of the Unicorn. Once again she smeared the obsidian cream into her most titillating tidbits, and started to feel the familiar tingle. She also heard the noise again, but by that point the tingling hit her clit and she was dazzled by the intensity of the sensation. She bucked on the Unicorn, enjoying the familiar build up. Just as the waves started to build, she was snatched back to the present moment. The Unicorn was still bucking, but she was no longer on it. She was still tingling from the cream but she was no longer in the pentagram. She thought about the time and looked around to see a very large man smirking down at her.
“Not on my watch,” was all he said.
“Who… who are YOU?” Morgana queried, annoyed. She knew he couldn’t be here and know what was happening unless he too was magickal.
He was tall, medium build. His head was covered but she could see his eyes. His chest was almost bare and he wore a long cloth that covered his bottom half. He had a whip in his hand. His energy was big and intimidating.
“Do not speak to me unless you are given permission. Now. Back on the Unicorn.”
Bewildered, Morgana just sat there, staring. She was aware of the time, aware of her nakedness and her wetness. She had no idea who this man could be. She knew she wasn’t afraid of him. But he had knocked her out of the pentagram just as she was about to collect more of her juices for the concoction. Still, she had to focus. She had to come as hard as she could, as many times as she could, and she didn’t have a whole lot of time left.
She got back on the Unicorn, and began to massage the cream that was still on her body from before. It wasn’t enough to get her going so she used a bit more. Still very aware she was being watched, she started to tingle and waited for the magick to happen. She settled into a rigorous pace that escalated deliciously and just as she felt the warmth begin to spread again, she found herself back on the ground outside the pentagram, dizzy.
“WHAT THE ACTUAL F-?” she started.
“I told you not to ever speak to me until I tell you to,” he said calmly, and then flicked his wrist. The whip moved so fast Morgana never even had a chance to move. She felt the most excruciating pain on her left nipple, and then again on her right one. She screamed as her hands, still black with cream, flew to massage them. The cream made them feel better as the tingling started, and she remembered her mission. She went back to the Unicorn, trying to think of a spell to cast on this strange man. She still wasn’t afraid, but she was thinking that maybe she should be. She didn’t know him, and she had never met a warlock more powerful than she was. She cupped her breasts and walked back to the Unicorn and mounted it once again. The cream helped a lot and she continued to tweak her breasts while riding. It felt so good to be on the Unicorn, and this time squeezing her nipples was something she hadn’t ever felt before. She was almost thankful for how painful the whip was. She started to feel the warmth, and looked around for the man. He just watched her. Maybe he recognized who she was and let her do what she needed to do. The warmth rose from her thighs to her breasts like before, but because she had already been denied her pleasure twice, it was much more intense. She could barely stand how badly she needed to come. Her toes curled and she no longer knew what to do with her hands. Her eyes began to roll back and just as she felt the very beginnings of ecstasy again, she hit the cold hard ground with a thud that bruised her back and side.
She flashed her eyes at him, internally speaking spells she knew to never say out loud. The whip fell to the ground and the man screamed. At first, he sounded wounded but the scream turned into what sounded like a war cry as his whip flew into his hand. All at once, the whip dashed out at Morgana, stinging her nipples, across her chest and stomach, thighs and buttocks. When she looked down, she had red welts all over her body. They looked to be spelling out something, but they hurt so bad she couldn’t think about that. She reached for her cream and rubbed it on all the parts that stung. As the pain began to calm and tingle, she was able to make out the letters.
She remembered the name from somewhere, but between the pain, the tingling, and worrying about finishing the ritual on time, Morgana was starting to get scared. Not of the man, but of failing her family’s bloodline, and losing her life in the process.
She remembered her bag, and ran over to it. In her clothes were the crystals she wore for protection. She knew she had to remove her clothing for the ritual, but maybe that didn’t mean jewelry. She had to give it a try. She ran back to the Unicorn still bucking in the middle of the pentagram. She slathered a large amount of the black cream all over her body, in her hair, on the jewelry, and paid extra attention to her welts, nipples, and clit. She took the time to really rub the cream in. Her whole body was tingling so hard she could barely mount the Unicorn. She started to feel the warmth before she even got on properly. Then she had a thought. She used a bit more cream to rub on the Unicorn where they joined. The Unicorn began bucking harder and harder as a glow started to form on its body. Her warmth became more intense than any of the previous times and she too, began to glow. Morgana grabbed onto the rainbow mane of the Unicorn and squeezed her knees. This time, she wasn’t going anywhere. She needed to come. For her family, yes. But Morgana had been denied orgasms all night while nearly encased in a magickal lubricant. She needed to come for her own sanity. She thought about the concoction, the ride to the bluff, and how good it felt summoning the Unicorn. She rode faster. She thought about Alaric and the whip marks across her nipples. She rode faster. She could feel Alaric trying to yank her off the Unicorn, but she held on tight. The idea of not being able to come yet again made her ache, but feeling his strong arms around her as he pulled on parts of her was strangely arousing. She remembered her pendant’s power and knew that if Alaric was of a lesser bloodline, she could siphon his powers for her own use. She silently chanted as her glow became brighter and brighter with rainbow colors sparking from all over her. She could no longer feel Alaric. She couldn’t even tell where she stopped and the Unicorn began. She just knew that she had never felt this good. Her pleasure seemed to be handed down from the cosmos as she burst into light. She was no longer a girl on a Unicorn. She was light itself. The excruciating ecstasy that filled her and then became her was too strong to be contained in a human form. She glowed and flickered in a shapeless ethereal energy a few feet above the earth. She noticed that the pentagram was glowing brighter than ever, but the Unicorn was gone, along with the fence. She saw her carriage with the pyre wood. She had just enough time to do the last phase of the ritual, but she had to burn herself at the stake. How could she do that when herself was no longer a self, but an energy? She looked around. Surely her ancestors could give her instructions. She thought of the teachings she memorized over the years. She was sure a witch HAD to burn at the stake for the final phase to be complete.
But what if…
She saw Alaric on the ground, lifeless. She floated over to him and waved her energy around to turn him over. She saw the markings on his pendant. He was a witch too!! No, a warlock! She knew he was magickal, but all kinds of creatures lurk in this area and she had never met him or even heard of him.
Instinctively, she knew it was time. The witching hour. She used her energy to construct a pyre from the wood and moved his body to the top. He wasn’t dead, but she had siphoned all his powers and most of his life force. She concentrated her floating energy into a tight ball until it became a flame, and lit the pyre. As the flame roared to life, she found her human self standing in the field, in her nakedness, covered in black smudge. The cream, mixed with her juices, had transformed. SHE had transformed. She picked up Alaric’s whip and with a quick flick of the wrist, he was gone. Just a flame shaped in his likeness remained for a while, and then that, too, dissipated. Morgana, now the most powerful witch in her coven, had stronger magick than anyone in her bloodline had ever had. She shuddered at what would have happened if she hadn’t been able to complete her ritual and realized that Alaric was there to siphon her energy in case she failed. She wrapped his whip around her hand and headed back to her bag to get dressed. The fence was gone, and her horse nuzzled her when she got close. The sun broke over the horizon just as she mounted the carriage.