Starring: Amanda Seyfried
Content: MF, Occult, Excessively Purple Prose
Black Magic Woman
Amanda stood before me in the bedroom doorway, naked except for a clinging shroud of black gauze so thin it looked more like shadow than silk. Her statuesque figure was fully visible in the early afternoon light, her full, pert breasts tight against the flimsy material. Ordinarily I'd have to keep myself from staring, but strangely enough in that moment it was hard to
not make eye contact with her. Those big, pretty eyes, grey-blue like deep pools of ice water . . .
A muted noise from down in the street woke me from my reverie and I realised I had no idea how long I had been standing there like a fool. The expression on Amanda's face gave away nothing, her porcelain skin and air of quiet amusement making her look vaguely regal, like some pagan queen rendered in marble. More to cover my embarrassment than anything else I asked "So, why exactly are we-" I shrugged in what I hoped was an expressive fashion.
"What would you say if I told you I was trying to conceive the Antichrist?"
"I'd say that the concept of 'the Antichrist' is largely the product of medieval anti-papacy and 20th century popular culture, with little scriptural authority."
She laughed musically. "Oh, I bet you say that to all the girls . . ." More laughter rang through the airy apartment. "As to the why . . . well, you don't need to worry your pretty little head about that."
"Well, I suppose . . ."
"Shhhhh" Amanda pressed an elegant finger against my lips. I fought the urge to suck it. "No more questions, you'll see for yourself soon enough." She withdrew that elegant finger. "OK?" I nodded, my mouth suddenly dry. "Right then, I need to get things ready in here, but first; you need to take this."
She held up her hands, cupped together one beneath the other. Sitting in the centre of her white palm was a glassy black tablet, a little bigger than your average paracetamol and curiously shaped; not oval but rather a hexagonal prism with a blunted point at each end. Standing in the doorway there wasn't enough light for me to be certain, but there looked to be something etched into the surface, tiny letters or pictograms.
"Ah, what
is that?" As a wise man once told me, if you don't know what it is, you probably shouldn't put it in your mouth.
"It will awaken relict elements of your genome, left over from when you were part of a more . . . versatile species." Her tone was bright, helpful, and gave me no clue as to whether she was joking, totally serious, or planning to shoot me full of bath salts and nail me to the wall. Her perfect pink lips formed an encouraging smile.
Well, I told myself, it's probably just a placebo. Probably. I bowed my head down into her cupped hands and took the strange black tablet into my mouth, glassy and tasteless against my tongue, cold as I swallowed it. As I did so Amanda leant in and kissed me on the forehead. "It will take a little while to take effect, and in the mean time I need to finish getting things ready in here. You take your clothes off and wait." She stepped back and closed the door in front of me.
Alone in the spacious apartment, I began to consider my position. In retrospect it seemed like maybe I shouldn't have just taken a mysterious pill given to me by a woman I didn't really know. But at the time it had seemed, not so much like a good idea, but rather inevitable. Was I hypnotized? Starstruck was more likely, if I was honest. Actors, musicians, artists; there are always a few celebrities floating through the multitude of overlapping occult subcultures, some of them passing through a brief phase and others with a lifelong interest. For a man who liked to think of himself as a scholar and an aesthete, it was chastening to realise how effortlessly Amanda had inserted me into whatever working she had planned, telling me almost nothing, and generally turning me into her little familiar. Was that because she was a powerful adept, rich with secrets and ripe with mysteries? Or was it because I’d watched
Mean Girls when I was a teenager?
Well, even if she had given me an entheogen I was by no means inexperienced. Whatever happened, it was unlikely to be stranger than a night spent in a Budapest basement with only a DPT drip and a real-time audio translation of the Jovian magnetosphere for company. As I undressed I tried to detect some sign that something was happening, analysing my perceptions and consciousness for something out of the ordinary. But it was no good, naturally anything I did feel could very plausibly be psychosomatic.
Which, of course, was the point – as I well knew, the vast majority of 'magic' was psychological manipulation rather than paranormal activity. The old saw that cursing someone worked because the victim believed they were cursed was basically true, just as positive thinking could have the opposite effect. Of course, once you knew this you added an additional layer of complexity to the situation – you had to induce a particular kind of double-think, in which you deliberately 'fooled' yourself. Stylised, ritualistic practices went a long way towards overcoming the rationalist instincts of the modern mind. So did the right kind of drugs. Or the right kind of sex. I felt, briefly but very distinctly, a sort of tingling sensation all over my body, like all the hairs were standing up.
I folded my clothes neatly and put them on one of the chairs, feeling slightly self-conscious about standing there naked. Had it been this warm before? I expected to be a little cold, but actually it felt rather pleasant. Or was that just my imagination? I took a look around the apartment whilst I waited; at first glance the upscale, minimalist décor gave away little about it's owner. To the more experienced eye, there were a few details which stood out, tastefully-framed woodprints featuring hidden symbols, knick-knacks which only
looked like generic gift-shop fodder. Naturally I was drawn to the mahogany bookcase in the corner, trying to ignore the tingling sensation behind my forehead as I examined it's contents. There was an interesting collection sitting on the age-darkened shelves; the usual suspects, Dee, Frazer, Baudrillard, Negarestani, etc., along with an unfamiliar translation of
Nameless Cults, and what looked like a first edition of
The King in Yellow. Serving as a bookend was a phallic-looking fetish carved from ebony, which I assumed to be a fertility idol though it could conceivably have been a small battering ram.
Possibly it was just the afternoon sunshine, but as I looked up from the shelves it seemed like everything was cast in a faint golden light. I blinked a few times to clear my eyes, but when I opened them the effect persisted, just enough to be noticeable. At that moment the tingling behind my eyes blossomed into a curious warmth, flowing out of my skull and down my spine like warm, viscous liquid, pooling around my pelvis. The not unpleasant sensation spread its tendrils throughout my body, filling me with a curious bone-deep vitality as it did so. I felt like I was aware of my own body in a way that was quite strange; I could feel the sunlight on my skin, and the cool air brushing against me. As I paced the apartment I felt the carpet against my feet, caressing the bare skin, oozing between my toes as my foot sank ever so slightly into the deep, soft pile. I sighed happily and looked down, abruptly realising that my cock was as hard as it'd ever been, if not harder. I took another step and the sensation on the sole of my foot made my cock twitch, a shining droplet of pre-cum dripping from the tip. It was incredibly, absurdly sensitive, almost painfully so. Just the air moving against it was tremendously stimulating. I had just enough sense remaining to realise that something was
deeply odd about this when I heard the door opening behind me.
A skyclad Amanda stood in the doorway, her milk-white body in brazen view. Without thinking I crossed the room and kissed her on the mouth, hard. After a moment I felt her reciprocate hungrily, our mouths a tangle of tongues and lips. I slid my arm around her waist and pulled her tightly against me, instinctively trying for as much skin-to-skin contact as possible. Her full breasts pressed against my chest, her nipples sliding along my over-sensitive skin as I pulled her in. My aching cock was crushed between my stomach and Amanda's taut tummy, making me want to rut against her like an animal. After a little while she broke the kiss by grabbing the back of my head and pulling me away from her, ungently. A spider's-thread of drool connected us a moment longer.
I breathed hard, struggling to control myself. “The carpet, uh . . . the carpet gave me an erection?” She blinked and took a moment to respond.
“Right, well it's clearly taken effect then.” Lazily she raked her nails down my chest, the sensation so sharp and clear I expected to see blood beading brightly in their wake. It was neither painful nor pleasurable, exactly, or perhaps it was both. Her hand snaked to my crotch and I felt her squeeze my cock, hard. I gasped, and for a moment I was sure I was going to cum right there and then, but somehow I managed to restrain myself. “Oh yes, it definitely has.” I moaned wordlessly.
She brought her hand back up and tapped me sharply on the nose with a single elegant finger. “Hey! You need to focus for a moment.” I swallowed and tried to pay attention. “Once we start, you have to cum inside me, alright?” She took my hand and pulled it down between her legs. “You understand? Every drop has to go in here.” I felt her warm wetness against my fingers and shivered with lust. “Not on my stomach, or in my mouth, or over my breasts.
Inside me.” I brought my hand up and licked my fingers, tasting her nectar. It was weirdly intoxicating, and my tongue tingled for a moment in a way that made me think of sherbet. “And not on the rug, either!” I slipped my hand down her back and over her firm buttocks, sliding a finger down her crack. “And not in there either! I'm afraid ritual sodomy only works on men.”
“And now.” Amanda fixed me with her irresistible eyes. “We begin.” She pulled away from me and stepped into the gloom behind her; I followed. My blood fizzed in my veins. I felt full of jism and fire.
Within was a largish bedroom, decorated in the same minimalist style as the rest of the apartment and dominated by a black-sheeted double bed in the middle. The curtains were drawn, and dark cloth had been draped over both the vanity in the corner and the iMac by the window. Rows of candles, censers, and joss sticks flickered and smouldered around the room, filling it with a low yellow light and a heady fog of sweet smoke. I could taste it as much as smell it, in fact I could almost feel it swirling against my skin, leaving a thin sheen of perfumed oil upon me. Amanda lay in the centre of the bed, and in the dim, smoke-hazed light her white body upon the black sheet looked like a chalk figure cut into an ancient hillside. The door closed somewhere behind me. She spread her legs, and I felt the last traces of rational thought within me evaporate.
I fell upon her, pulling her roughly against me as I positioned my straining cock against her slit, then finally thrusting into her depths. The sensation was indescribable, so intense it made me whimper like a wounded animal, my full length buried in her wet, hot,
tight cunt. Amanda bared her teeth in triumph as I began to fuck her with furious, primal wildness, pressing her pale body into the bed as I hammered into her, trying desperately to get as deep inside her as I possibly could. In my over-stimulated state it wasn't long at all before I knew I was about to cum, the feeling welling up inside me like a volcano about to erupt. I gave a cry of lust and felt Amanda grabbing my ass, pulling me into her as I came. My orgasm felt like nothing on Earth, an explosion of physical sensation that overwhelmed every nerve in my body. I felt, with an insane, inhuman precision, every twitch of my cock as it pulsed and pumped cum deep inside her.
I waited for my cock to soften, for the familiar post-orgasmic process to begin – but no. If anything it was even harder than before, and just as insistent. I pulled it almost all the way out, before giving Amanda my full length in one thrust, staring into her depthless eyes as she said something I just knew was indescribably filthy in a language I didn't recognise. In moments I was once again pounding into her with a merciless lust, driven madly to stoke the electric fire in my brain and feed her my cum. Once again I soon felt a breath-taking climax boiling up within me, the anticipation almost unbearable as I hovered on the edge of orgasm for a second that felt like hours. This time, as the dam broke within me and I exploded into her Amanda cut off my moans with a kiss that was very nearly a bite.
Still I remained hard and desperate with lust.
It went on and on and on like this, the two of us coupling furiously in that dim, incense-fogged room. Our sweat-soaked bodies writhed and ground together in every conceivable way. I took her from behind like a bitch in heat, mauling her tits as I hammered into her. She rode me brutally, with such force that it seemed like both me and the bed should have broken in two. We groped and squeezed, licked and sucked, covering each other with reddened marks and love bites. She flayed my back with her nails and bit my neck like a vampire. Periodically Amanda would bring me to orgasm and I would unleash an absurd quantity of seed into her, before starting over again immediately. By contrast, her orgasms were seemingly less intense, causing her to shiver and sigh rather than the groaning, back-arching, fingers-in-the-power-socket ones periodically exploding through me. They were, however, more frequent; and they grew more frequent as time went on, until she seemed to be in a near-constant state of low-level ecstasy. Even then, she maintained her icy sense of control, as though the orgasmic bliss was something she was deigning to acknowledge; whereas I seemed utterly at the mercy of the brain-melting sexual pleasures afflicting me.
Time was be running like warm toffee, I had no idea how much time had passed since we started. I no longer had any conception of anything outside of the room, the universe shrunk until it was nothing but Amanda and I on that black bed in that dark room. After an unfathomable amount of time, after countless body-wracking orgasms and impossible quantities of sperm, I felt things begin to change. As I pinned Amanda beneath me, driving my cock wildly into her inhumanly perfect cunt, sweat and drool raining onto her soaking body, I became aware of a new sensation making itself known. It was similar to the woozy feeling of illusory motion I get when I go to bed drunk, as though I were slowly tumbling and spinning around; like how I imagined it would be in zero gravity. Beneath me, Amanda was breathing hard through clenched teeth, trying to maintain her self-control as I fucked her as deep and hard as I possibly could. I knew in some primeval part of my brain that
something was about to happen.
I came. I came like a hurricane, like a tsunami, like a supernova. The intense sensations exploding out of my cock were so powerful I thought I was going mad. As I poured my seed into her crucible, Amanda came too, and not in the controlled way she had previously. This time she came like I did, in a howling, screaming, full-body orgasm. She thrashed and flailed like she was possessed, the two of us grinding our bodies into each other, twitching and convulsing as synapses fired wildly and muscles contracted of their own accord. It was like some demented combination of mutual orgasm and a shared epileptic fit.
In our heightened state of awareness, this seemed to last
forever. We felt, with lysergic clarity, as every nerve ending within us flared, every opiod receptor drowned in endorphins. It could have lasted seconds, or hours, we had no way of knowing or caring. The feeling of drunken motion was replaced by the odd conviction that we were totally still and
everything else was wheeling madly about us. I heard demoniac laughter that could have been Amanda, then, with glacial speed, I faded into unconsciousness.
At some point, I don't know how much later, my overstimulated system began to calm down. It was like the liminal period between sleeping and waking, as mind and body reintegrated slowly. I was laying next to Amanda on the bed, which was utterly soaked with sweat, spit, blood, cum, and God only knew what else. We were both stretched out full length in the classic 'Vitruvian Man' pose, our bodies shining with moisture, slashed with scratches, patterned with bruises. My cock was finally softening, though even now it was still semi-hard and seemingly larger than usual. I felt very,
very strange; still buzzing from the echoes of that inhuman orgasm. I turned my head to the side, or at least let it fall that way, and saw Amanda looking back at me. Perhaps it was a trick of the light, or my mangled perceptions, but her eyes seemed lit from within with a silver-grey radiance. She smiled.
Topic: Black Magic Woman (Amanda Seyfried) (Read 10884 times)