Beltane Pt. 03

Babes

*****

Hello! If you’re just tuning in, Beltane is a story that crosses into many different fetishes and dynamics. Two staples you can expect pretty much throughout are gentle femdom and cumplay, but also included are cuckqueaning, piss, maledom, f on m cnc, breeding, and a smattering of more mild things like anal, deepthroat, facesitting, and fishnets. There are also some themes of occultism, ritual, and magic that are less overt and more true to life than fantasy. Beltane has been, and is, an exercise in incorporating and moving between these things rather than leaning on just one. If you’re looking for any of these things individually in abundance, this may not be your favorite story. But if you’re on board for some twists, turns, bodily fluids, and a pagan fucktacular bacchanal across a variety of kinks, well…

Enjoy!

-TheDaggerAndTheCup

*****

She didn’t clean herself off at all before leaving. She just put her panties back on over the thick glaze of my sperm and got dressed. As she put her underwear on I could see a wet spot forming as my cum soaked into them. She winked at me. She kissed me goodnight and grazed my cock before slinking out the door into the night like a cat.

Holy fuck, I hope she’s really on birth control, I thought. I didn’t think she was lying. She hadn’t really given me any red flags. She had respected my boundaries, what few there were. But I could tell there was still a lot going on behind the scenes with her. She had walked out the door to god knows where, my cum dangerously close to slipping inside her. If she had lied and got pregnant, she would have me by the balls. And I hadn’t even fucked her. The truth was, it didn’t matter how I felt in my gut. I had to trust her.

At the same time, however, I had the pictures. I had kept her face in frame when taking them and she had wanted me to have them. It was my one hard assurance that she wouldn’t try to fuck me over. Some collateral. Not enough to compensate for eighteen years of child support, but something.

The thought of her having that much power over me just by being in possession of my sperm drove me insane the next day. I walked out of a lecture hall in the middle of a lecture (in the lead up to finals week no less) to the bathroom and jacked myself off to the pictures I had taken, unable to control myself. I masturbated four times the next day thinking about her. I imagined her getting home, taking her sopping wet underwear off and sucking them clean while her slender fingers found their way back to her cum-soaked slit…

It was risky behavior, what we had just done. And I loved it. The forced trust, the power she had over me. It was almost like blackmail. She had a little piece of me that I couldn’t control anymore, and she could do whatever she wanted with it. And I think she knew that. She knew exactly what the score was.

Later that day, after the third time cumming while pouring over the photos, I messaged her on Tinder. We hadn’t swapped phone numbers at the bar. I didn’t even know her last name.

“When can I see you again?”

She got back to me in minutes. “Hi there big boy, I was just thinking of messaging you. I’m a little busy tomorrow. The next day?”

My heart was pounding. She hadn’t ghosted me, which meant something. But I had to play it cool.

“I think I can make that work :)”

She replied immediately. “Haha. Don’t play aloof with me, lover boy. Are you touching yourself right now?”

I looked down. My hand had migrated to my cock. I looked back at the screen. “How does she do that?” I asked myself aloud.

I paused for a moment and then responded, “yes.”

She was back immediately again. My heart was still racing. “Mm. Good. I want you to do something for me since I can’t come take and care of you right now.”

Holy shit. “What is it?”

“*ahem*,” she replied.

My hands were shaking. I knew what she wanted, but it was another leap of faith. She could post screenshots of this conversation online if she wanted. She had all the power once again.

“Yes, Mommy?”

Another immediate response popped up. I must admit the attention turned me on. I felt reassured that she wasn’t stringing me along, that she wanted me. She had me once again. I would do whatever she asked. “:) That’s my good boy. Do you have any condoms in your apartment?”

I did. Ann and I had stopped using them six months ago after she had gotten an IUD, but a half-full box still sat in the bathroom. “Yes, Mommy,” I responded, feeling my face get hot. My dick was bulging against my pants.

“Very good,” she replied. “I want you to go and put one on for me.”

“Right now??”

“Yes, right now. Go and be a good boy for me.”

It was as if ‘good boy’ was some magical combination of words. I was compelled, obligated even, to do as she told me. I went and got one from the box and sat back down on my couch.

“Yes, Mommy,” I typed out. I pulled down my pants. My prick anadolu yakası escort stood at attention. There was already a drop of precum resting on the tip. I ripped open the wrapper and took the condom out, rolling it over my head and down the length of my cock to the base. “Okay, now what?”

She responded with a phone number. “***-***-****”. There was a pause. “Send me a picture.”

My mind raced. What if it wasn’t her number? What if it was one of her friends’? What if she was making me send dick pics to someone I knew? Or something worse that I couldn’t even think of? It was another leap of faith. But she hadn’t let me down so far. I tapped on the number and selected ‘send message’. I held myself at the base, trying to make it look as big as possible, and snapped a picture. At least it wasn’t identifying. I sent it and said nothing.

A message appeared on the screen. “Very good. You’re such a good boy for me.” A pause. “Now I want you to do something. I want you to jack off and cum into that condom,” another pause – “And then I want you to take it off, and tie the end.”

Holy fucking shit. I had no idea what I was getting into when I took this girl home. I knew it wouldn’t take much to do as she instructed. I was already seeping precum into the end of the rubber. I responded. “Is that all, Mommy?”

“Not hardly,” she replied, just as quickly as before. “I want you to send me a video of you cumming so I know you did it. And then we can go from there.” There was a pause. I started touching myself idly. And then a photo popped up in the text thread. It was her number alright. The photo was of her bent over the back of a chair in the library on campus. She was wearing black jeans and a lacy black thong, both of which were pulled down to her mid-thigh, leaving her milky white bare ass and pussy exposed. She was pulling one of her ass cheeks apart with her hand. She had a large metal buttplug in, the kind with fake gemstones on the tapered end. She was smiling over her shoulder into the camera. I was completely shocked. I couldn’t see anyone in the background of the photo and I assumed she was alone in one of the study areas, but it was an incredibly risky pose. More collateral to assuage my fears. A message appeared. “You’ve got me dripping in the library. I’ll be waiting :)”

I hadn’t really even known she was a student. Our conversation the night before had been almost entirely about sex. I began stroking myself immediately. She had even given me something to masturbate to. I wanted to fuck her so badly, to pull her hair and choke her while I pounded her dripping cunt into oblivion, to feel her clench my cock as she came. But submitting to her will was so effortless. She was just a better dom than I was.

What on earth does she want with a used condom? I thought, my mind racing to all the things she could do with it. She wants more power over me. And I’m going to offer it up to her. I was rubbing the head of my cock through the condom, stimulating my glans and head, the way I usually masturbated. At intervals I would run my hand down to the base, gripping it tightly and pulling my skin taut as my engorged member jumped with excitement.

I thought about her keeping a bulging condom of my cum in her nightstand, to do with whatever she pleased. I imagined her tearing it open with her teeth and sucking it all out, sticky gobs running down her chin and dropping onto her heaving tits. I imagined her pushing it into her pussy and rubbing her clit, squeezing the thin balloon full of my potent seed as she came, daring it to break. I imagined her untying the knot and letting it drizzle onto her asshole, using it as lube to plug herself, and going about her day with my cream trapped inside her. I looked back at the photo. Her coy smile looked back at me knowingly. She knew I was loving this. My eyes closed as they rolled back and I bit my lip, speeding up my short, tight strokes.

Orgasm built inside of me and shot from the tip of my cock. Oh shit, I forgot, I thought, grabbing my phone. I squeezed my urethra, trying to stop it from coming until I was filming. I got the video going and let go, several ropes’ worth of cum pumping all at once into the condom. I moaned, thinking about Gemma watching it in the library and rubbing herself underneath the table. It filled the reservoir in the tip immediately and began running down my shaft.

“Shit, shit, shit,” I said aloud, gripping myself at the base to stop it from running out. I stood up, angling it down, and continued emptying my balls into the rubber. I squeezed it all out, then gripped the condom and slid it off, trying to capture all the cum that had tried to escape. I held it up to the camera. It was a large load, filling a half inch of the condom. I held it between my fingers and squeezed it all down into the bulb. Then I tied it in an overhand knot. A sample of my genetic material.

I ended the video and sent it to her. “I almost forgot to film. You had me avrupa yakası escort carried away.”

There was a pause almost exactly the length of the video. She really had been waiting. A message popped up. “Mmm, what a gooood boy. That was so quick 😉 And so MUCH! You must be so pent up, you poor thing.”

“I was :(” I responded. “What should I do now?” Even though I had just drained my balls, I was still horny. My cock was still at a half chub.

“Are you busy?”

“No, Mommy.”

She sent me an address four blocks from my apartment. “Go to my house. The door is open, my roommates are home. If they ask you who you are, tell them you’re leaving something for me. My room is the first door on the right as you walk in. Leave it on my bed.”

That seemed easy enough. I hoped I wouldn’t get any weird questions from her roommates. “Yes, Mommy.”

Another message shot onto the screen. “You’ve been very good for me. Don’t worry, I’ll make sure it’s worth your time :)”

I felt myself throb meekly. I responded simply, “Omw,” on my way.

I pulled my pants up, put shoes on, and tucked my offering in my pocket. I decided to walk, feeling like some evil servitor carrying out his master’s bidding in the growing Spring night. There was something so fantastical, so ‘black magic’ about it. I had never been so rapidly wrapped up in a sexual relationship with someone I hardly knew. An exclusively sexual relationship at that. And the chemistry was undeniable. She understood my brain without me having ever explained it. I couldn’t hide anything from her. But I didn’t yet understand how she ticked. That, I guess, was really the upper hand she had on me. I was an open book, and she was a mystery.

I rounded the corner and walked up to an old arts and crafts house with a big porch. The blinds were drawn in the front window. I can’t just walk into this house, what if they think I’m robbing the place? I stepped up the porch and knocked on the door. A taller, black-haired girl with caramel-colored skin in pajamas opened the door.

“Hello?” She asked.

“Oh hey, uh, sorry,” I stammered. Lie, you idiot. “I don’t know if Gemma told you I was coming. I’m James. Gemma’s in my…” Keep it vague “lab, and I have some notes to give her back. She told me just to put them in her room.”

I realized suddenly how sketchy-looking this was. I didn’t even have a backpack with me. Where was I supposed to be carrying these notes? For all she knew I could be a stalker. Maybe this was it. Gemma was setting me up to get the cops called on me for a sick thrill.

“Oh, okay,” she said. “Yeah, Gemma just texted me that you were coming by,” she stepped out of the door, inviting me in.

I sighed internally. Oh thank god. “Thanks,” I said.

“That’s her room,” her roommate explained, pointing to a door. “We’re watching a movie downstairs, just let yourself out.”

“Great, thanks!” I said.

She walked through a darkened doorway and out of sight. I was relieved. She had seemed completely disinterested. I opened the door and turned on the lights.

Gemma’s room matched her outwardly gothic vibe. The walls had a few large pen and ink drawings on them, mostly of natural landscapes. Above the bed was a tapestry of a tarot card, ‘The High Priestess’. She had a full size bed in one corner, draped with a black duvet emblazoned with a red pentagram. The whole room smelled lightly of incense.

There was a low dresser with a large mirror against the opposing wall surrounded by polaroids. On the surface of the dresser there was a tarnished brass bowl full of pieces of jewelry, hair ties, and some back lipstick. Next to the bowl sat a hitachi vibrator, four metal buttplugs, which were arranged by size, and two dildos, one smaller and one larger, both of which were suction cupped to the dresser. There was an empty space where a butt plug was missing between the third and fifth. The fifth was almost two inches wide and looked like a beehive, segmented by rounded rings. She’s wearing something almost this big right now, I thought, an erection growing in my underwear. There was also a black leather collar with a metal ring in its center, and a chain which had clamps at either end. Nipple clamps, I thought. The dresser must have had twelve drawers in it and I could only imagine what else she was hiding in there.

One of her drawers was halfway open and overflowing with underwear of all kinds. I didn’t see a single bra anywhere, however. A pair of white panties sat on the floor in the middle of the room. I paused a moment, looking at them. They were the ones she had been wearing the night before. I bent over and picked them up. They weren’t covered in dry cum, but had obviously been wet. Did she actually suck my cum off of her used panties? My erection dug into my zipper.

Next to her bed there was a nightstand, which had a lamp on it, and beside that a shorter, square table covered in a cloth with a pentagram on it. In the eryaman escort corners of the table were red stick candles which had pools of melted wax around their bases. On the cloth were a few crystals and small animal bones, a few rings, and small dried flowers. It was like some kind of altar. I decided not to touch anything else for fear of making her angry. Not that I feared punishment, but I wanted her to be happy with me. The need to please her was greater than anything else.

I also noticed that there were plants everywhere. Some kind of ivy in a pot hung from the ceiling, its long tendrils drooping almost to the floor. Another sat on the dresser, sprawling across its surface and draping over the edges. There were five or ten small potted succulents around the room as well. Next to the dresser on the floor was a three-foot tall avocado tree which had a ripe-looking fruit hanging from it. They all looked well taken care of and healthy.

I realized I had been in the room for too long. Not wanting to arouse suspicion from her roommates, I dug into my pocket and pulled out the condom. It was warm from the heat of my leg. I laid it gently on her bed, right in the center of the pentagram. An offering for the witch, I thought. I was completely erect in my pants. My cock didn’t ache like it usually did if I got hard after cumming. I felt just as ready to go as I had been the night before, after days without ejaculating. It was completely unprecedented. I absolutely had to have more of this girl.

I walked home without going soft. When I got back I texted her simply “done.” She didn’t text me back. I was up until midnight that night, checking my phone every few minutes while working on a paper. I didn’t cum again, but was erect most of the night. Teasing myself while thinking about what Gemma might do when she got home. Eventually I passed out on the couch, my prick still in my hand.

I woke up to a text from her. Sent at 2:08 AM. It read, simply, “You’re a very good boy for doing as I told you 🙂 Thank you for the sweet present. See you tomorrow 🙂 :)” Attached was a picture. It was a closeup of her pussy, with the full condom, still sealed, resting on her vulva. I groaned aloud.

It was a Friday, one of my long days. I didn’t have time to masturbate before heading to campus and was busy all day long. I was in a daze everywhere I went, too distracted to think, but too busy to leave class and relieve myself like I had the day before. I went to the bar in a cloud. I couldn’t stop thinking about Gemma, her pussy, and my cum. I walked home around 11, counting my tips from the night. I ran up the stairs, pulled my half-hard dick out of my pants and started stroking it. I was looking at the photo she had sent me from the library, wondering how it must feel to be that buttplug. I hadn’t heard from her all day. I looked down at my cock. I think it’s my turn to drive her crazy. I squeezed it, milking a bead of precum out. Then I took a picture of it, forcing the perspective a little so it looked good and thick.

I opened our text thread and started typing. “What are you doing right now?”

It took her fifteen seconds to respond. “Library again. You?”

I sent the photo. Normally I’m not the type to send dick pics, especially without warning, but because sending photos of ourselves was already such a big part of whatever this was, it seemed like exactly the right thing to do. “Just thinking about your ass. Are you wearing one of your buttplugs right now?”

There was almost a minute of silence. She responded. “Oh my god, look at you. I want to feel you at the back of my throat, ugh.” another message appeared, “I am 🙂 I brought the big one with me to campus and I just put it in an hour ago. Just getting ready for that thick cock of yours ;)”

The roles felt like they had been reversed. I was in charge now. I had to roll with it. I started typing. “That’s a good girl. I can’t wait to stretch you out tomorrow.”

She responded without hesitation once again. “Ohh my god you have to stopp. I’m getting turned on and there are randos in here.”

I smiled. It felt good to have control after subbing so intensely for her. It meant she wasn’t invulnerable. I wasn’t sure how long it would last, she definitely seemed like the more dominant one and I didn’t think I would be able to resist submitting to her if she wanted it that way. But for now I had her. “Oh, you don’t want me to bend you over and fuck your ass in front of them? I think they’d like watching me fuck you until your eyes roll back.”

“Ughhh. I’m so wet right now, it’s gonna soak through my pants if you don’t stop.”

I disregarded her completely. “I want you to bring your collar, your nipple clamps, and that buttplug with you when you come over here tomorrow, do you understand?”

“Yes, sir :)” She responded.

My smile broadened. “I’m going to fuck you until you act like a good little slut for me.”

I stroked my cock while I waited for her response. A picture appeared. It was her, holding her shirt up, revealing her tits. She was pinching one of her nipples and tugging at it. She had a coy smile on her face. I could very obviously see people around her in the background. “I’m already a good slut, Sir 🙂 🙂 :)”

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