Caroline stood with the blindfold over her eyes. She felt the woman standing near her.
“Are you afraid, Caroline?” her Mistress’s voice cut through Caroline’s racing thoughts.
Caroline found herself nodding.
“What are you afraid of?”
Vicki was a little surprised at how quickly Julia agreed to go to the sex magick ritual.
What Vicki couldn’t tell her was about Djet (part one & part two). She just couldn’t find a way to tell Julia about meeting a resurrected pharaoh. She wasn’t sure she could tell anyone, well other than her professor.
The cards led Caroline to this hotel and this meeting. She hesitated outside of the bar, reminding herself that she could back out if she wanted. Peter, her psychic, had helped her arrange everything. She’d negotiated, via email, everything she wanted. Only now that she was here, she wasn’t sure if she could do it. But the cards hadn’t led her astray yet. So she squared her shoulders and took her first step toward the bar.
She took a seat at an empty table in the hotel bar. It was sparsely populated this early in the day, and only two lone men sitting at the other end of the bar.
The woman who entered wasn’t what she expected. Caroline certainly didn’t expect the woman to show up in a leather cat suit, but the petite brunette in the exquisitely tailored suit wasn’t it either.
“You want to go to a what?!” Julia couldn’t believe what her friend Vicki was asking. Of course, Julia mused, Vicki hadn’t been the same since she came back from Egypt [part 1 and part 2]. Before her trip, Victoria hadn’t expressed any interest in the occult; however, since she had returned she had an insatiable drive to learn everything about it.
“It’s a coven meeting” Vicki began, but Julia cut in.
“No, this isn’t a praise the god and goddess, dance around a bonfire coven – This is a,” her voice dropped, “a sex cult.”
Victoria turned to leave the chamber. She’d had her moment, but it was time to tell the professor she’d discovered the hidden room and what she was certain was Pharaoh Djet’s sarcophagus.
She heard stone scraping against stone, followed by something light and wispy brush against her arm. She grinned gritted hey teeth against a scream. She was still being mocked for screaming at a scorpion in her first week, so she wasn’t going to add spiders to the list.
*quick draft, which I’ll edit later*
Victoria got the opportunity to go on a real excavation, she jumped at the chance. This was a once in a lifetime opportunity.
After a month of hard work, she was still excited, but admittedly tired. The work was a little easier now that the tomb was open. With lighting, they could begin the work at night.
It was this enthusiasm that led her to be alone after midnight. She was brushing centuries of sand and dust from a fresco. It told the life story of Pharaoh Djet. Professor Edwards had translated as they cleaned. Victoria decided to work late to hear more the next day. She was a little abashed at her growing crush on the long dead king.
She brushed away more sand and noticed a slight protuberance of stone. She knelt down and rubbed at the protrusion, trying to decide if it was debris or purposeful.
She heard a scraping sound, and fell back as a section of the wall slid open. “Oh my God,” she whispered as the dust settled around her.
She was staring into a new room, a room no one had seen in centuries. She pushed herself to her feel, pushing an errant lock of blonde hair behind her ear.
Victoria knew that she should go and wake the professor. It was after all the older woman’s dig, but the allure of being the first to see the room was too much for her pass up.
She grabbed one of the work lights and stepped into the chamber. And her eyes were blinded by the glitter of gold. It was an untouched chamber, and even more it was the burial chamber.
Victoria walked slowly into the chamber. She felt a small jolt run through her as she crossed the threshold.
She gazed at the sarcophagus and felt herself pulled toward it. She ran her fingers along the image of his face. It was stylized, of course, but from the image on the lid and the ones she had spent days cleaning, she’d decided that Djet had been a handsome man.
She’d fantasized about life under his rule. Well mostly she’d had a never-ending fantasy of being the King’s concubine.
Unconsciously her hand drifted to the waist band of her shorts. She fumbled with the button, unwilling to take her other hand off the sarcophagus. When she had the tight cut-offs unbuttoned, her questing fingers found her pussy already wet.
She rubbed at her clit, wriggling her hips to get her shorts to slide farther down. They were barely held up now, but Victoria didn’t care. Her mind was filled with a fantasy of the Pharaoh, a large, virile, muscled man. A man used to getting whatever he asked for.
She worked her hand lower, plunging two fingers inside. She shifted her hand so the edge of her palm kept pressure on her clit, and while her fingers kept pumping inside.
She imagined Djet, bending her over the sarcophagus, tearing her shorts away. She pretended her fingers were his cock. The cock he’d slam into her, using her for his pleasure.
Her real moans echoed through the chamber, and she realized she was crying out his name as she shuddered to a climax.
She pulled her hand out of her shorts, resting both her palms against the sarcophagus to keep her balance.
Without meaning to, she smeared her cum over the lid of the sarcophagus. After she caught her breath, she noticed what she’d done. The last thing she wanted was to have the whole expedition learn what she’d had done in the chamber.
Blushing, she used the hem of her tank top to wipe away the evidence.
I wore the dress Sir gave me, a thin blue sundress. He, as always, had told me to forgo panties.
We walked through the park together. As we walked I could feel the cool breeze blow under my skirt, Sir told me to let the skirt blow, no holding it down. The day, while cool, was beautiful, so I was surprised at how empty the park was.
We reached a distant corner of the grounds, the well-tended trees and hedges giving way to wilder, unkempt bushes and uncut lawns. Clearly this was a section not expecting visitors. Sir led me down an overgrown path, the shrubs tugged at my clothes. The path didn’t extend far from the main path. The overgrown trail dead ended with a concert bench. The bench was shaded by the overgrown trees.
Sir stopped. He stood behind me, uniting the halter of my dress, baring my tits to the sun and sky. I glanced behind us at the trail. The overgrown nature offered some privacy, but not entirely. Anyone who took a few steps off the main path would see us. The breeze, and the exposure had my nipples rock hard.
Sir stayed behind me, his hands cupping my naked breasts, his warm palms rubbed my nipples. I moaned and leaned into him, my back pressed against his chest.
“Does my girl like having her titties played with in my public?” He asked, pinching my nipples softly.
“Yes, Sir,” I gasped as he pinched harder.
He pulled my nipples stretching them. I whimpered quietly, worried about someone hearing me. Sir dropped one nipple his hand drifting over my belly. He tugged my skirt up, and I felt the cool air on my pussy.
In the distance, I heard voices in the park. I blushed.
“Are you wet, slut?” Sir asked, in his regular tones.
I nodded, terrified that someone would hear us.
Sir, slapped my tits, “Are you wet, slut?” He was louder this time.
I couldn’t hear the voices, maybe they had passed by our little corner of the park.
I nodded again.
I hurried to the bench. The concrete was rough under my knees. My bare tits rested on the cold bench. I flipped my skirt up. I was in a public park, half naked. I could feel the air on my pussy, I was sopping wet, and terrified we would get caught.
“You’re being a bad girl,” Sir said behind me. With warning he slapped my ass, and I yelped. The force of his smack rocked me forward. The rough bench tore at my nipples.
I heard voices in the park again. Had they heard my yelp? Were they getting closer? Sir began spanking me in earnest. I tried to stay quiet. But I let out a few whimpers and moans, and I’m sure if anyone was close enough they could hear the spanking.
I heard one of the voices ask “Did you hear that?”
I bit my lip as Sir finished. My ass stung and my tits burned from rubbing against the rough bench.
“Your moans are going to attract an audience,” I could hear the amusement in his voice. “That’s what you are worried about isn’t it?”
“Yes, Sir. I heard voices. I’m afraid someone might see us.” I said.
His hands caressed my naked ass, “But you love an audience, slut. I recall you inviting a stranger to fuck you, the last time you had an audience.” His hand drifted between my thighs, “just the thought of an audience has you dripping wet.” Sir said. He rubbed my wetness against my asshole.
The voices carried over the trees. It was a man and woman, and the jingle of a dog’s collar. From the sound of it, they were playing catch.
Sir kept working on my ass, stretching me and lubing me with my own wetness. He leaned down to whisper to me. “I’m going to fuck your ass,” he growled. “I’m going to use you hard, and unless you want that couple to hear you, you’ll have to be quiet.”
I felt him behind me, his cock pressed against my ass. He slowly pressed inside of me. I bit my lip, trying not to groan. He stretched me, with a slight burn. I let out a soft moan when I felt his thighs against mine. In the background, the couple called their dog, whistling and clapping for the animal.
Sir grabbed my hips, and started thrusting. I think he wanted to make me cry out. He thrust faster, and I groaned.
“Reach between your legs, slut,” he said, “Make yourself cum.”
I slowly reached between my legs, Sir had stopped thrusting. His cock filled my ass. My fingers found my clit, and I was sopping wet.
“Start rubbing, slut” he ordered.
I started rubbing. I moaned as quietly as I could. I could hear the woman telling the dog to fetch.
“Stop biting your lip,” he said, and started thrusting again. He quickly moved to pounding. My nipples were raw from the friction. I rubbed frantically at my clit. I knew I should be quiet, but I just wanted, no needed to cum, and I didn’t think I could do it quietly.
I moaned, loud. I thought I heard the couple and their dog. I thought about getting caught. Then I stopped thinking as an orgasm tore through me. I know I let loose a torrent of sounds that only come from sex. But I didn’t care. I kept rubbing as Sir hasn’t given me permission to stop.
My clit was incredibly sensitive, but I kept my fingers moving on it. Sir jerked hard on my hips, and moaned as he came.
Sir pulled my skirt down and helped me stand. He nodded in the direction of the unmistakable sounds of sex. I smiled and nodded. We crept to the edge of our clearing. There on overgrown lawn lay a woman and her puppy, well a kink puppy in full leather suit. The puppy had his face buried in pussy.
I glanced up at Sir, shocked at brazen display of kink in public.
He smiled, “The Dunegon rented the park for the day.”
Caroline opened the door, and the bells attached to it chimed. It took a moment for her eyes to adjust, but the interior looked exactly as she expected. The fortune teller’s shop was dimly lit with lots of beaded curtains and the heavy scent of incense. A large shelf dominated the space. Caroline looked over the items, mostly crystals and candles. She raised a brow at candles shaped like cocks and vulvas.
“You must be Caroline” a man’s voice drifted over her.
Caroline jumped, tearing her eyes away from the sexual candles. She turned and was momentarily speechless. He wasn’t what she expected. He was young, maybe ten years younger than her 35. And he was, by almost any standards, hot. She snapped her mouth shut when she realized she was gaping at him. He was the image of tall, dark, and handsome.
“Um, hi. Yes, I’m Caroline” she fumbled over her words. She offered her hand, feeling lost in his dark eyes.
He smiled at her and took her hand. He led her toward the table, and gestured for her to sit. As he took his in chair he asked, “Is this your first time?”
Caroline found herself gazing at his full lips, wondering what kind of kisser he was. It took her a second to realize that he was talking. “Um, no. Ah, yes. Yes, this is my first tarot reading.”
He seemed to be laughing at her. “Well, I promise to be gentle.” He replied and quickly shuffled a well worn deck of cards. He laid out three cards face down. “Ready?” He asked.
Caroline swallowed, slowly licking her lips. Her eyes followed his strong hands as they flipped the first card. The incense grew thicker.
Caroline stared at the card. She never expected something so explicit! The card bore the image of a woman sitting on a table, while a man knelt before her performing cunnilingus. Caroline’s face burned. She blinked, and the card changed into an image of a group of people at what looked like a Renaissance Faire dancing between four staves. “What the hell?” She muttered.
“Is something wrong?” He asked, his voice low. His eyes seemed to glint in the darkness.
Caroline glanced back at the card, and the Queen of Cunnilingus was back. Caroline felt herself stand and lean against the table, mimicking the woman on the card. Without a word, the psychic went to his knees.
The psychic’s hands curled around Caroline’s bare calves. His palms gliding over her skin reaching the hem of her tight black skirt. He slowly slid the skirt up, exposing her panties. He leaned forward, inhaling her scent.
He slipped his fingers into her panties, lowering them down. Caroline stepped out of them, leaning farther back on the table. She opened her legs wider, her thoughts recalling the vulva candle.
He kissed her mons. His tongue delved between her open legs, lapping at her length. Caroline leaned back, supporting her weight in her hands. She watched him on his knees.
His tongue toyed with her clit, twirling it around. Caroline sighed softly. He continued his exploration. He stiffened his tongue, using it to probe at the entrance to get vagina. This time she moaned and let her head fall back.
He chuckled softly and returned to her clit. He teased, and toyed, and finally sucked softly in the nub. Caroline thrust her hips against his face. The rough stubble of his beard bristled against her thighs. She was on the edge, only to hear someone call her name.
“Caroline?” The psychic’s voice broke through her thoughts, “are you ready for the next card?”
She blinked staring at the Renaissance Fair image again. The Queen was no longer on the table. “Um, sure, I guess” she mumbled.
He smiled, “let’s see what comes up next.”
She nodded slowly. She wasn’t sure what had happened, but she was looking forward to the next card.
The dungeon party turned out to be a sex party.