The Props Master Prequel: Behind The Ivory VeilChapter 16: Violent Gifts free porn video

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Even with the shock and daring of The Blade, Rebecca considered her first gathering with the full circle on Lughnasad to have been a high point of her life. There were more celebrations, dancing, and even couples slipping into the shadows of the huge stones to make love.

After the circle had dispersed, Rebecca and Mrs. Weed made their way back to the Bed and Breakfast in Keswick. Breakfast Sunday morning was a typical English affair with boiled sausages, beans, soft boiled eggs, and dry toast. Rebecca looked in vain for a salt and pepper shaker.

The trip back to Edinburgh in Mrs. Weed’s old vehicle seemed to take forever, but the two had a lively discussion about Rebecca’s impressions of the ritual that kept her from car sickness most of the way. Mrs. Weed had been careful to fill the car’s tank on Saturday when they got to Keswick because no petrol would be available on Sunday.

“Study the wheel of the year,” Mrs. Weed suggested. “No other place is the combination of male and female so well represented. You will discover that the festivals of the combined circle are based on the solar calendar while the rituals of our smaller circle are based on the lunar cycle.”

Rebecca had been to only two rituals of the minor circle of Braithwaite with Mrs. Weed. There was very little to differentiate them from an evening social gathering of friends. In fact, Rebecca thought of the spontaneous card parties her parents hosted or went to while she was growing up. It seemed no one really planned them. Friends simply dropped in for a cup of coffee and ended up at the table with a fistful of pinochle cards. The kids, if there were any in the company, would settle for playing Crazy Eights or Euchre. Later they graduated to Rummy and Canasta. The adults almost always played pinochle.

The gatherings of the lesser circle of Braithwaite were much the same, but getting to them required a bit more planning. Mrs. Weed attended only the Full Moon celebrations as it was quite a drive to get down to Northern England to ‘drop in’ on the host for the evening.

So, Monday morning, Rebecca was back at work in the library examining various plots of wheels within wheels. It was very difficult to plot on a chart. There were 360 degrees in a circle, but 365 days in a year. She consulted an almanac and discovered thirteen full moons in the year. Yet there were twelve zodiacal signs. And eight pagan holidays. She consulted an ephemeris but even that was only partially helpful. It did, however, show the lunar cycle within the solar cycle.

By the end of six hours in the library, Rebecca’s head hurt. The only thing she had conclusively settled on was that her own monthly cycle was roughly in tune with the full moon. She considered the implication as she pedaled her bicycle back to Mrs. Weed’s cottage. If she bled on the full moon, then by the standards of women everywhere, she should be fertile on the new moon. She filed this information away, knowing that when she was reunited with her husband, new moons were going to be very active times for them.

Rebecca arrived at the cottage exhausted and sweaty from her ride. She could think of nothing better than a relaxing bath when she saw the note from Mrs. Weed on the kitchen table indicating her landlady was having tea with a friend. Rebecca would have a pleasant afternoon.

Fixing herself a cup of tea while the bath ran, she hummed to herself light-heartedly. Wesley would love to visit here. It so suited his eclectic tastes. Turning off the water and placing her tea next to the tub, Rebecca stripped off her clothes as she entered the bedroom. She was removing her panties when she glanced at the bureau.

The dresser had been cleared of its normal knickknacks. Instead, a red sweater lay on the surface. On the sweater lay her walking stick. She fondly remembered cutting it with Doc before she left on her trip and his instructions on how to care for it. But the scene was not a pastoral tableau. Instead, a short knife impaled a note on her staff. Next to her pewter chalice, a red candle burned, trailing wax across the note, staff, and sweater. Rebecca moved cautiously, glancing around her to see if the intruder was still present. The sweater was ruined with red wax embedded in the fibers, but that disturbed Rebecca less than the note.

“Unfinished business, Hart of my heart.”

The stiletto was easily recognized as the same one The Blade had used to feed her cheese just two nights ago.

Panic gripped her as she stood staring at the tableau, unable to move away. She wanted to run, feeling the presence of the sinister soul who had done this—believing he was still there watching her—still in the room, ready to bend her to his will.

Why? Why did he even care about her? It should be obvious that she did not know where the team was digging for their lost goddess. Somewhere in the middle of Greece. She knew only that her letters were addressed to a monk who delivered them. There could be only one thing he wanted from her and it turned her stomach. She voided herself uncontrollably.

How dare he?

Rebecca rebuked herself for her panic, ignoring the vomit and focusing on the staff and note. Panic receded in the face of a shaking rage. She had been violated! This was worse than the attack in Indiana when he had dared caress her and squeeze her breast. He had handled her cup! He had created a sacrificial altar of her staff and sweater. The thought of having him near her filled her with such anger that the room disappeared from her vision. She could see only the violation. She would not live with this. She would burn it all and wish him in the flames.

Even at the thought of fire, Rebecca could see in her mind the wall of light that had surrounded her at her dedication of her cup. Hebe’s words rang in her mind. “The witch’s tools are the knife, the wand, the cup, and pentacles. Each of your tools will come to you from the hand of someone else. Dedicate each to the service of the goddess.”

Her rage, in its turn, dissolved into something more closely resembling madness. Tools received from others. The Flame Keeper from whom she had received her staff and The Blade from whom she had ‘received’ this knife were members of her own coven—the great circle of Carles Castlerigg. She would purify them and make them into her Athamé and wand. Her dawning resolve outweighed Hebe’s admonition against working alone.

Her tools would be the gift of her coven brothers. She hoped they would be pleased when they saw them again. The wand would rule the fire and the Athamé would fan it with wind. At the thought, fire flared in her mind and she turned instinctively to the east to invoke the powers and cast a warded circle. She could not remember precisely the words she had used the last time, but she supposed it really didn’t matter. It was the mind that counted, not the words, and Rebecca’s mind was firmly set. She completed her circuit of the directions seeing a living power in each of the watchtowers and returned once more to the east. The wall of light flared into existence with an intensity that temporarily blinded her. She did not bother, however, to moderate it. She wanted all the protection she could muster.

Now she faced the dresser that would be her altar. She had not and would not touch the items laid out there until her ritual was complete. She was not concerned whether the words that came to her mind were audible, but they rose in pitch as she spun in place gathering power and echoed from the walls of light she had built around herself.

“May you find pleasure in my act, oh most high ones. May you see a tool of good sanctify and purify a tool of evil and turn it to your service. I name this wand Pele! Firerod, flaming beauty, angel of fire, purifier of the unclean. Brigit, goddess of fire, to you be this rod sanctified.”

Rebecca, now fully the witch Sadb, raised her hands to the East and began slowly turning clockwise, gathering into her more power as she commanded the blessings of the powers of all the elements on her wand.

“May this wand be consecrated to your service in the East, oh Arianrhod of the air. May this wand be consecrated to your service in the South, oh Brigit of the fire. May this wand be consecrated in your service in the West, oh Mariamne of the water. May this wand be consecrated to your service in the North, oh Rhiannon of the earth.”

Sadb stumbled a little as she came back to the East and saw the sacrificial tableau again. She could feel a crackling surge of power all around her and faltered beneath the influence of the assault on her senses. She was filled with strength and power that she was not sure she could control. Her eyes focused on the mock sacrifice, the stiletto still protruding from her sanctified wand. Rage overcame her doubt as she glared at the scene.

“How dare you!” she screamed. “I will not be intimidated by you. You will be pure. You will be free!”

Sadb raised a hand to point at the dagger without touching it. She could feel the force gathering behind her for what she intended. She spun, gathering the powers of the elementals together again and felt another surge in her hands.

For a moment, she lost the object of her focus and set herself adrift on the tidal wave that threatened to wash her away. At the same instant, she felt hot and flushed while still fighting off a chilled shiver that tore through her already wavering concentration.

So, this is power, she thought as she drifted once again around the circle with arms outstretched, collecting more strength as she passed each point. This is what Phaethon felt when Helios handed him the reins of the Sun Chariot and told him to drive the horses of dawn. No wonder Zeus struck him down. Such power could destroy the earth. And I am the focus of the cone of power. It lives in me. I can do whatever I will.

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Chief Cave Lion's dwelling was by far the largest in the village. It was a huge lattice of fallen tree trunks, tied together by cord and covered by sewn-together aurochs and rhinoceros hide. It was as large as five or six tepees meshed together. Although the harshness of the winter snow was usually enough to wreck most habitations in the village, the chief's weathered the conditions best and was reassembled on the same spot each spring with, if anything, more splendour than in the previous...

4 years ago
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Glade and Ivory Ch 19

It was every Autumn of her life that Ivory and the rest of her clan made the same trek south. Every Spring she returned the same way. She reasoned that the journey would seem less arduous as each year came by, but this year the wind was colder, the snow heavier and the ground more treacherous. Ivory wondered whether the migration only seemed worse because it was the first time her mother wasn’t there to accompany her, but Glade was as good a companion as her mother had ever been and in certain...

4 years ago
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Glade and Ivory Ch 15

It was the time of the year to travel south. Everyone knew it. It was less than half a moon since Ivory’s village celebrated the Autumn Equinox with traditional solemnity, but the snow had settled at night and not melted, the mammoths were restless, and the sky was thick with flying geese. ‘Tomorrow!’ announced Chief Cave Lion. ‘Today we gather what we need for the journey. Tomorrow we leave.’ Ivory was as reluctant to leave as anyone in the village, but the chief had spoken and the auspices...

4 years ago
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Glade and Ivory Ch 06

Chief Cave Lion’s dwelling was by far the largest in the village. It was a huge lattice of fallen tree trunks, tied together by cord and covered by sewn-together aurochs and rhinoceros hide. It was as large as five or six tepees meshed together. Although the harshness of the winter snow was usually enough to wreck most habitations in the village, the chief’s weathered the conditions best and was reassembled on the same spot each spring with, if anything, more splendour than in the previous...

4 years ago
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Glade and IvoryChapter 2

"The forest where I was born is far, far to the South," Glade told Ivory the following day after her apprentice had returned from foraging duties in the woods and removed her clothes on the shaman's request. "It's a very different land. The sun shines high in the sky. At midday it's almost directly overhead. It is always warm. My people never wore clothes. I never knew what it meant to cover my flesh. The need to do so just did not exist." "It sounds like paradise," said...

4 years ago
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Glade and IvoryChapter 17

As she did every year, Ivory found the long march south arduous. She was fatigued and shivered uncontrollably from the cold. Winter had arrived early. Although the snow was powdery, it was settling and had become ever more difficult to trudge through. A journey such as this would be tiring in any season, but was even more so when confronted by snowy gales and encumbered by furs. The need for good stitching was more than ever evident as ice-cold water inexorably seeped through the seams. The...

3 years ago
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Glade and Ivory Ch 07

‘I hate the bastards!’ growled Mimosa the following day, employing the worst insult available in the Knights’ language. Illegitimacy was the ultimate stigma in a society that attached so much importance to child-bearing. Glade paused from shaving her fellow slave’s crotch. She was aware of the vehemence of Mimosa’s remark. ‘I hate them too,’ she said, although by now she’d got so accustomed to being a slave in their society that she’d almost forgotten what life had been like before. ‘They...

4 years ago
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The unforgettable girl at the party prequel

While there I meet some old ass guys, who were her dad and uncles, they started talking about some boring ass stuff and I was ready to fall asleep. My eyes opened up as soon as I nice looking woman that sort of looked like my sister in law. She was average height with shoulder length brown wavy hair. She was taking some plates and cups from the cupboard. I went over to her and asked her if she needed some help. She just looked at me for a while and said "oh sorry, yes can you please take...

3 years ago
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Dark as Ivory 3

It took the entire ride to a parking garage but by the time he parked I was a little more coherent again. And it was mostly thanks to that hotter than hell sports car he had that I started coming back to reality. Otherwise I might have just stared at Flatline some more, like a fucking idiot. But when I saw his car, my eyes went wide. “Woah. Bitching ride. What made you decide on it?” He grinned and then I was talking to him easily because I wasn’t looking at him, instead distracted by the...

2 years ago
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Glade and IvoryChapter 3

If Glade expected her apprentice to be more shocked than she was by her account of the violence that had decimated her tribe she was disappointed. Ivory was more indignant at the rudeness of rebuffing a welcome than distressed by the account of the bloodshed. In any case, Glade was reluctant to give a full account of the horrors that followed. It was painful enough for her to remember the evil and worse still to describe it. Did she really want to elaborate on how so many of the people she'd...

3 years ago
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Glade and IvoryChapter 4

Ivory threaded the pubic hair through her front teeth where it had lodged and then buried her face back into the rich aroma of Glade's vulva. Above their naked bodies the Sun shone high in the sky, but not as high, Ivory knew now, as the Sun climbed in Glade's homelands far to the South. She huddled up against her lover's warm body, hoping that this would compensate for the biting chill of the wind. Every day these days, Glade and Ivory would leave the village just before dawn and tramp...

4 years ago
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Sisters in Slavery prequel chapter 04 The two Mistresses story

- - Author's note to readers. Nothing about this story is meant to portray any of the characters as under eighteen years of age. Also this story features themes of nonconsensual sex including rape, slavery, incest, and bestiality. It is intended as fantasy and nothing else. If you do not like such stories or are one of those individuals that can’t distinguish the difference between fantasy and reality STOP reading now. Also don't fill up the comments section with posts about how sick the...

2 years ago
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Sisters in Slavery prequel chapter 03 Jonathan joins fold

- - Author's note to readers. Nothing about this story is meant to portray any of the characters as under eighteen years of age. Also this story features themes of rape, slavery, and incest. It is intended as fantasy and nothing else. If you do not like such stories or are one of those individuals that can’t distinguish the difference between fantasy and reality STOP reading now. Also don't fill up the comments section with posts about how sick the individuals in the story are or about the...

2 years ago
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Sisters in Slavery prequel chapter 02 A teenaged slave girl learns her true place

- - I must note before the story starts this is a prequel to Sisters in Slavery that tells the story of the owner of the Sisters Master Robert Sanders coming of age and becoming a master within The Organization leading up to how the Brothel was started. As such there will be some new characters introduced that may or may not be in future chapters of the main story. This also means that all of the established female characters will not be appearing in this part of the story. - - Part...

3 years ago
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A New Dawn the Prequel

The characters in this story are all over eighteen and the age of consent, sex if it happens is consensual. UK English is the rule: if the spellings Mum, arse or colour annoy you, don’t go any further, for the rest of you enjoy. This prequel is a small thank you to kjohns2001, who wrote that a back story setting out Harry’s downfall would help the timeline and narratives for later events, this has been echoed by others. So with your permission here it is and I hope you agree the guy was a...

3 years ago
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Prequel to Cuckolds Warning

I've been writing XXX stories that have been posted on the Internet for many years, and of the dozens I've written, "Cuckold's Warning," which I posted here a few weeks ago, has received more reader comments than any other. One of the most-common questions I get from readers who have enjoyed that particular story usually goes something like, "Just how real is this story?"Well, as I've told those folks, "Cuckold's Warning" has a factual basis. The first two chapters are based closely on what...

2 years ago
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Ashok And My Innocent Mom 8211 Prequel 1

Hello friends! This is Sajaan Shridharan again with an exciting episode of Revathi and Ashok, the prequel to my story ‘Ashok Fucks Again’ and many more on ISS. Before Ashok started fucking my Mom – Revathi in front of me, they were romantically involved many times. I was always a silent spectator of their sensual romance. This episode is an incident during the Vishu Pooja we always used to do every year. My father had not yet moved to Dubai. Ashok was his very good friend and often used to...

3 years ago
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BiochemistryThe Prequel

Biochemistry:The Prequel by J R D Samuel Nevada had a secret. A secret so hidden even he didn't know about it. But that's getting ahead of the story. Sam had just finished the last of his finals in his Law classes and with only one year left before he could take his BAR had decided to celebrate by bar hopping that night. Dressed in his best "cruisin'" clothes he had gone from bar to bar, looking for a woman to take home and fuck. Usually, he didn't have a problem with it,...

2 years ago
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Simons Story A Prequel to the Club

This story is a little slow getting started but I hope that you all enjoy it none the less. It's the longest story that I've written to date. If anyone wishes to archive this story, please let me know. This story has adult material. If you are under 18 or offended by such, read no further. Simon's Story: A Prequel to the Club By Morpheus "Yo Simon," I heard a loud voice calling, wincing at the sound of my name. God how I hated my name. Simon Victor Halloway, though...

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