The High Priestess (The Tarot Club 3)

“Jonathan! Claire!” The man summoned two of his followers - a married couple more devout than most Catholics I had seen. They stepped forward, eager to be called upon.

“Asmodeus is hungry. It is only right that we remain good hosts and feed him.” Claire’s dark eyes darted towards me, as she fidgeted against her husband, her nerves strumming through the room, but Jonathan did not falter, proving his ever growing loyalty to mister Crowley.

He guided Claire along, hosting her easily until he placed her on the surface of the table where I sat. Her pulse jumped erratically at her neck, her breathing heavy and anxious, whilst her gaze darted between her husband and what he was surely about to do, and me. I allowed my senses to unfurl as I watched Jonathan’s hand caress her thigh, dipping beneath her skirt, sliding his hand towards her core, and although her breathing was still filled with erratic heaves governed by her nerves, the flutter of desire pulsed beneath her fear. Jonathan seemed to sense her desire - her willingness, for he smiled, although I didn’t pay him much attention, focusing my gaze once more towards Mister Crowley.

Aleister dipped his head in my direction, as if he were giving me permission to feast and I grinned at him, allowing him to see a bite of the darkness that thrived within. He did not break my gaze, instead he seemed filled with a sort of feral delight - a sort of lust for my darkness. It was only a matter of time before he offered himself to me, before he demanded that I take him, allowing him to perform sex Magick with a Demon. I was still undecided whether I would take him up on that offer - whether I would claim him, allowing my shadows to bite at his essence, to taint his soul.

The sexual energy shifted in the room and the shell of a woman clinging to Mister Crowley gazed absently at the couple before me. I couldn’t recall if the woman was his wife or simply one of his lovers. In the end, I supposed it did not matter.

Claire’s initial resistance was futile, for soon enough her back was flush against the surface where I sat, and Jonathan’s mouth was sucking against her core, the slurping sound overshadowed by her soft sighs and fluttering moans. One needn’t have been a Demon of Lust to have smelt her desire. Her fingers curled against the table, her nails grating across the surface as her moans grew louder, proving that her husband was indeed talented with his tongue. Over the ages I had learnt that some men had never bothered to hone their talents, but once more, Aleister was proving that his followers were equally invested in the art of pleasure, as well as their Magickal education.

Her desire and lust pressed against my skin, filling me with strength and purpose, but it was Aleister’s desire that seemed to overpower her search for pleasure. His lust for power forcing him to command Jonathan once more.

“Get Claire naked and on all fours, I think it’s time to perform a ritual as your bodies meld into one.”

Jonathan didn’t acknowledge the order, he simply rose from where he squatted with his face between her thighs, and before her protests had fully formed from her lips, he had filled his wife over, raising her onto her knees as he slid the skirt off her entirely. He removed his trousers and slid in her in one quick motion, silencing any further complaints she may have.

Claire sighed around him, suddenly uncaring of the many surrounding them as her husband slammed into her in deep slapping movements. This time, Aleister’s gaze bounced between mine, Jonathan’s and Claire’s, and when Jonathan tore her shirt down, exposing her lovely breasts, I allowed myself to look my fill - to feed off the live sex act occuring before me.

And it wasn’t just Claire’s desire that filled my belly - it wasn’t her moans that seemed to crescendo with each thrust and retreat of her husband - it was Jonathan’s need to find release in her cunt - it was Aleister’s growing desire to control his followers, watching upon them as his cock grew hard beneath his table - it was the way one of the woman shifted in her seat opposite Crowley, clenching her thighs together as she fought her own rising desire at the sound of Claire’s passionate gasps and moans - it was the way the peasant Witch’s nipples pebbled beneath her shirt in the wake of her desire, her apple forgotten. I feasted upon it all, gluttonous and drunk on the lust that seemed to fill the room.

This was how Aleister controlled his people - how her continued to grow his own population in the name of enlightenment - all through the promise of more, as each of them desired and lusted after being someone more powerful, someone who could wield Magick as if that alone offered them solutions to their plights of the world.