Witching Hour

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Rules are Rules

Samantha stood before Monica’s door. The whore’s test in-hand. It was hidden inside a waterproof folder, laminated top to bottom and clasped shut. She clicked the tab open and shut, again and again, steadying herself, unsure if she should really knock. Her one bit of good news could easily be turned into bad news, all with what her would-be assailant demanded. And she would have to follow it. To a bloody T –thankfully not literal.

The witch took a deep breath, holding it, wanting to hold it until the world swayed and she woke up in her own bed with a nice cold pack on her head... but she had others to see. For once, she was excited to see Peter. She not only had his test but a bright, purple device to give him, courtesy of Norman. He seemed a cool dude, and it’d be nice to actually talk and hang with a guy who just wanted hang. No pretense nor worry of him wanting in her pants nor if he could read her mind or simply tolerating her presence. He was truly one-of-a-kind down there, so she WILL make him a permanent hunting buddy.

I simply have to survive this, she thought, giving her the resolve she needed to exhale at last, and raised her left hand to the door. She knocked on it, a simple thud, before following it up with two, quick raps, resounding across the entirety of the metal plate. The hair on her neck stood as it faded, her blood turning cold as it seemed to be an eternity that stretched. Was she in there? Did Lilith-

The door huffed open, barely an inch, with a Monica standing beside. Her hair was dark blue, almost as deep as Peter’s, while she was in rather modest garb this day. Gone were the bells and bright red spandex, replaced with an emerald microkini. Its laces were bright gold, though were nigh invisible against her pale skin, but she didn’t look like she was excited, nor was she bounding and trying to bust free of it. Instead, she looked ready to burst into tears, shivering, cowering under Samantha’s gaze. The fang slowly opened the door, as if anticipating, if not hoping, it would make a noise on its well-kept hinges, only hissing where she wanted it to creak or shriek so she could flee. But it never did, opening for Samantha. Monica let it go, turning around and heading downstairs. Samantha followed, shutting the door, and sat with her on the couch. The Fang couldn’t look Samantha in the eye, but did see the folder in her arms, paling.

Samantha clicked open the folder, and slowly pulled out the test. She turned it over, barely able to keep a straight face as she kept the score hidden, indulging in tormenting her with each passing, languid motion. She cupped the score, and slowly slid it away, starting from her left, watching as Monica’s face changed.

“I... I got a-” Monica stammered, and shrieked as she pounced on Samantha, bowling her over. The test flew out of her hand, wafting through the air until it landed before the couch, the 100 on it gleaming in the dim light. “I did it, teach! I did it.”

“You did, indeed. I’m very pr-” Samantha began, but was cut off as the fang kissed her. She moaned into Samantha’s lips, wasting no time in slipping her tongue in, wrapping, teasing, snaring Samantha’s. Her eyes glistened with tears of passion, their heat burning on Samantha’s face, forced to bask under those fiery orbs. It wasn’t long before they gave solace, though might as well have been an eternity with how slow they slid shut. Samantha squeaked, feeling her black tank lift, and finally managed to breathe.

And push Monica away.

Anger and fury replaced and burned so bright in Monica’s eyes not even a moment before, growling. Tears still fell, a wonder they weren’t steam, as she gestured to the test.

“But you said if I did b-”

“I did. I know... I lied,” Samantha said, smirking at Monica. “It made you do better, didn’t it? Not only that, but you surpassed all my expectations. I really didn’t expect a perfect score. 70, sure. 80? Possible, but perfect?”

“You... you lied to me? You never had any intentions of fucking me!”

“I just did though-”

“Don’t play games with me now! You know exactly what I mean and want!”

“I know I know... but nope. None. I got my lesbian fix back with Bella. Sorry, Monica, but the dick won.”

“That’s... that’s not fair!” She smacked her hands onto the couch, again and again, repeating it in ever higher octaves and tones until it was an ear-splintering shriek. She grunted, smacking the couch one last time, and looked up at Samantha. Ages, eons had cracked across her face, showing an ancient ire that should never have been disturbed. “You did the one thing no one should ever do, teach.”

“And what’s that?”

“You broke your word.”

“I don’t think I did, no... I remember you saying that you deserved a reward if you do better, but I don’t remember saying anything either way.”

“Don’t play coy! Silence is consent. Actions are consent! You played with my tits! You got me off!”

“Monica, honey... welcome to the twenty-first century. Silence doesn’t mean consent. Really, even consent isn’t consent anymore.” Samantha cleared her throat again as she clapped her legs, standing up. “So! I must be off now, though you now know you can pass no problem.”

“But why would I bother? There’s nothing in it for me.” She gasped, a devious smirk curling on her lips. “There is something in it for you, though.”

Shit. It was going so well, too. “I don’t believe there is, no.”

Monica giggled, standing as well, and rubbed Samantha’s shoulders, making her shudder.

“But there is. If I don’t pass- in fact, if I don’t show up at all, that reflects poorly on you as a teacher, doesn’t it, teach? And that’s why you’re down here. If suddenly, say, one, two, six, all of your students stop showing up... I wonder how quick Lilith would get rid of you?”

I really should have given her more credit... Samantha huffed, backing away, sneering at the whore. “Like anyone would listen to you.”

“Do you really want to call my bluff, Sam? Do you really want to? Even if it’s only me and one other person, that’s more than enough. Only one other; do you know how easy that would be? Ginger wouldn’t need much coaxing. Lisa would be easy, as well.”

Samantha grimaced; she knew when she had been beat.

“Fine... What do you want?”

Monica tittered, all smiles again, her age once more locked behind it as she beamed. Her hands slid up Samantha’s shoulders, caressing her neck, her ears, until both were on top of her head. She pushed, gently (at first) but forced Samantha to her knees, before her black thong.

“I want you to eat me,” she said, humming it. Her thighs quivered with each blast of Samantha’s panting breaths. The air already reeked of her musk, but it only thickened with each hard puff. Monica’s left hand let go and pulled aside the thong, showing that her forest was still dyed white, already clumping from the river trickling down her thighs from those folds. “Do it good; I want to cum on your face, again and again and again!”

Samantha... really didn’t have a choice. She wrapped her arms around the whore’s waist and buried her face in that tundra. Monica moaned and squirmed against before she even began to taste that winter wonderland, already coating her chin with its snow, but Samantha let her writhe. She let her beg and whimper and rub against, feeling her clit dig into her ever harder, thrumming, beyond excited, but still refused to move beyond that.

Monica yipped, and cried out as she blasted Samantha with her first climax. Yet Samantha did absolutely nothing. Her juices smeared on her face, rolled down her chin to her neck, getting ever closer to her tank top and her breasts while Monica simply kept flush against. She growled, pulling Samantha away a moment to give her a dirty look, pouting at the abstaining witch.

“You’re supposed to lick, you know,” she stated.

“Why? You seem to be having no problems getting off.”

Monica huffed, but squeaked as Samantha pushed her back, the couch huffing its soft sigh. It wished it had been forgotten in the heat of the moment, that it wouldn’t be involved, but looks like nobody is getting what they wanted this day –except Monica, of course. Samantha removed her tank top at last, and grabbed Monica’s left leg, easing it aside as she looked upon the white mountaintop. Its tip was jutting incredibly far, twitching as Samantha simply stared at it. Monica was panting, her lips curled into a big, goofy smile, lost to a moaning wail as Samantha blew against it. Her breathing grew fast, quick, and the couch groaned as she arched her back on it, splashing it in a coat of her musk, though not much as the rest shot into Samantha’s face.

“Jesus,” Samantha exclaimed, wiping it from her eyes. “How easy are you?”

“V... very. But I don’t go numb. Ever. I can feel pleasure for as long as needed.”

“I’m not going all night! I have other students to see.”

“That’s okay. Just... just four more.”

“Two, unless they are rapid fire.”

Samantha sucked on her thumb, getting it nice and soaked before pushing it against Monica’s clit, rubbing just underneath it. Whatever quip the fang had was lost to her moan, then mewl. She trembled, quaked as Samantha blew against it again. Her tongue lulled, and she drooled onto her chest as Samantha continued to simply tease, to resist the Fang’s want, her need, digging ever harder into the back of her head.

But Monica kept adding the pressure, forcing her face ever closer to those lips. All notions of gentle were lost when she hit another climax, shoving Samantha’s face right against, the force of it like four, hard slaps on her cheeks, chin, and neck, and only by the fourth did she relent. However, her face, her lips were right there now, and Monica watched, with bated breath, as Samantha let her tongue slither out, running along the outer edges, tasting her-

“What the hell?” Samantha uttered, smacking her lips.

“W-what?” Monica said, frowning. “Something wrong?”

“It’s... Do all Fangs gain such a, I don’t know, nectar when they’re aroused?”

“A... are you saying it’s g-goo-”

She couldn’t finish. At least, not her statement, squeaking, moaning once more as Samantha pushed her tongue into those lips, delving deep into the whore’s frosted canyon. Samantha lapped at it, slurping loud, echoing in the room. As were her gulps and pants, pushed on by Monica’s twitching and constricting.

Samantha slowly withdrew her tongue, much to its disdain, trying so hard to hold it in only to give, allowing her to pull it back in her mouth. For the moment. She sucked on the left fold, pulling on it, while her thumb still teased against her clit. Her fingers joined the fray, teasing through the crevasse, rubbing, squelching as Monica cried out ever louder.

“Just like tha... I love i...” Monica blurted, turning into gibberish as she continued to mewl and moan and even yowl. She had let go of Samantha’s hair, no longer needing to coach. Samantha devoured, indulging in that sweet, pungent nectar of her own volition. She tamped those folds, panting hard, and looked up at Monica as her hand, all four of her fingers, squelched away inside. They still had room to move- yet didn’t at the same time, squeezed so tight- yet still able to slip so freely, bringing out wave after wave of her musk, smearing her face in it.

She saw as she played with her own tits, tweaking, tugging on their nips, how those red tips perked. Monica pinched them, hard, to the point of bringing the crimson milk those rosy tops hinted, while the whore’s thighs thrust against Samantha. Her legs kicked out, wanting to wrap, to snare the witch there, but Samantha kept the left at bay. She remembered all too well what she had done to Minos, so her right settled for the top of the couch, toes biting into it as they curled.

“Ah... Oh g... I’m already c-” Monica shrilled, lost to her cry. Samantha tried to remove her fingers, but it was too tight, far too tight now. She continued lapping at Monica’s clit, chuckling as she squirted on her face and chest. Monica let her tits go, trying to push at her, nails digging into her hair as she came again. She was crying, her tongue trying to create words, lost to whatever tongue the broken try to speak. She gave up on trying to stop Samantha, hitting her third, and covered her eyes with her arm, sniffling as her other hand rubbed the couch. “N-no fa... fair.”

Samantha sighed as she stood, heading for the whore’s restroom for a quick bird bath –of which, of course, even that was grander, more extravagant than anything else in the Hall. It looked like it was ripped straight out of Ancient Rome, with the exception of a toilet and a shower. Yet both seemed to fit right in, modeled after the marble the rest of the room was adorned in, with the toilet having a plush, violet cushion around its rim. Samantha looked inside the bowl as she wiped her top and face clean at the sink –which its handles were made of Damascus steel, the steel cascading with color, matching the toilet’s lever... and wheel. The wheel, as she saw, was meant for the bidet built into it.

She found herself growing rather envious every time she stepped into Monica’s room; why did this whore have the best? What has she done to deserve it? She was the teacher, dammit, with Monica being a lowly student, yet she lived like a queen and still had the nerve to say and act as if she didn’t get everything. Samantha scoffed, and looked at herself in the mirror, which seemed to wrap the room and even ceiling from end to end... and couldn’t help but feel this was where she belonged. Not in that modest, humble little loft, but here, surrounded by the finer things.

She grimaced at herself, and bent down to the sink, rinsing her face one last time.

Straightening to find Monica behind her.

Her cheeks were still beet, but the gleam in her eye had a chill to it that made Samantha shiver, even more as Monica kissed her neck. She lavished it, nibbled, covering it in her love... but the way her teeth, her second set, slowly lurched out of her gums caused Samantha’s blood run cold.

“I love you so much, teach,” she said, and giggled as Samantha squeaked, feeling her hand rub up in between her thighs. It continued to rise under her skirt, lifting it, and didn’t stop until she cupped in between, rocking. “Naughty Sam. You were expecting this the entire time, and yet had me threaten and use you?”

She giggled as she kissed down Samantha’s back, kneeling behind her, and embraced her legs. Samantha still shivered, twitching though trying so hard to be still, feeling the Fang’s fangs rub against her lips, moaning against. Her breath was so hot, her teeth so cold, reminding Samantha of the razor a month ago, which only made her tremble even harder. As well as her clit.

Monica cooed, teasing it, stroking it as her tongue lapped underneath, slipping down to her folds. Parting them. Samantha fought to keep from moaning, watching herself in the mirror. Eeeing that it was very much a losing battle. She tried to look up, but could only see herself, bent over the sink, her skirt rolled up and Monica’s face pressed against. Her ass wiggled, a perfect heart shape, an invisible tail beating away as she continued to lap and drink from Samantha.

It didn’t take long for Samantha to hiss though, and her head jerked into the sink, back going rigid as she hit her first climax. She could no longer hold her voice, panting, moaning, echoing into the bathroom as Monica giggled and slurped. She nipped her right fold, making her cum again, and pulled away, licking her left cheek of her rear. Coated in goosebumps.

“Silly Sam,” Monica breathed, nipping her rump while her fingers still playing with Samantha’s lower lips. “You can still have the dick and enjoy it with women. There’s no reason to limit yourself; you’re enjoying this far too much.”

Samantha was about to retort, to the best of her abilities at that moment at least, but lost all coherence as Monica slipped her tongue in between those cheeks, pushing into the other, dirtier hole. A hole that missed the attention. Her clit was becoming so sensitive, jerking away from Monica’s fingers, but she showed no mercy, making her climax again and again and again. Her pussy may have gone numb, but her ass hadn’t. Her tongue hit every right spot far better than any rod could. The sink groaned as Samantha thrust back, tasting it as she gibbered and spluttered, hitting one, final climax before Monica finally stood.

She turned Sam over, still lying against the sink, unable to truly move, and kissed her. Samantha simply went with it, unable to fight back, her mind, body lost to the pleasure.

Monica pulled away, and winked. “So was I the best, or was I the best?”

Samantha... couldn’t really argue at that point, simply covering her face with her arm as Monica giggled and carried her back into the other room, cuddling with her on the bed. Guess Peter and Jack can wait another day; she wasn’t leaving that apartment any time soon, and, even when she did, she wanted nothing more than to head to bed. Thank goodness it was only Saturday.

Monica didn’t tease anymore as they laid together. In fact, she passed out, cuddling up to her, looking so... content. She grumbled, though, when Samantha finally got her strength back; the Fang tried so hard to hold her down on the bed, to keep her there, but Samantha was able to pull an Indiana Jones and be replaced with one of her pillows, smiling once more. Monica didn’t stir, even as Samantha plodded her way across the room and retrieved her top, slipping it on. She smoothed out her skirt, sneaking to the stairs, ascending above, and eased open the door, closing it behind with only the smallest of clicks. Only when she was halfway up the hall did she finally sigh, rounding the corner to go upstairs.

Stopped by Minos.

He hugged her from behind, breathing down her neck, chortling when she jumped by his sudden embrace.

“And where have you been?” He said, poking her nips through her shirt, still nice and firm. “Wherever you were you must have had quite a chill.”

She fought her urge to moan as he squeezed them, even more as he pulled and pinched them between his fingers... though still very weary, managed to wrench herself away from his clutches.

“Do you mind?” She said, wheeling on him.

He exclaimed and waved his hand before him, dispelling her breath.

“Good grief, were you at a fishing cannery? Your breath reeks of low tide... or pussy. Very rank pussy.”

“If you must know, I was at Monica’s-”

“Ah, so same difference.”

“Don’t you mean same thing?”

“No... no... Still, I’m shocked. After all the sass you gave me last year about fucking her, you go ahead and eat her out.” He bit his lip, and leaned close. “Or were you hoping to taste me in there? If you were that thirsty, you could have simply asked. I always have an ample supply-”

“She got a perfect score.”

Pure shock passed over his gaze, even staggered him back a step.

“You’re shitting me.”

“Nope.”

“As in one-hundred?”

“Yup.”

“Then you better have ate her out. You better have left her a quivering, whimpering mess.”

“I didn’t exactly have a choice, sadly.”

“‘Sadly’, my ass! She’s earned it at that point. Do you have any idea how hard it is for her to focus on anything? Unless it’s sex, of course.”

“So I saw when she was taking it. Doesn’t mean I wanted to chow down on her hairy clam.”

“Ah, but you do what you must.”

She rolled her eyes.

And the force was finally enough to topple her.

Minos gasped, reaching out for her as she fell back on the steps, but she kept his hands at bay, waving him off.

“I’ll be fine,” she said. “Just... let me sit here a bit.”

“You o-” He sniffed, and crouched, tugging up her skirt a t-

Samantha kicked him in the chin, but the damage had already been done, chortling once more.

“Really? No panties, either? Are you sure you were ‘sad’ for going?” He said, and inhaled deep, sighing almost dreamily... but most definitely creepily. “Thank goodness for your little prat fall. I could barely smell you over that whore, but now I can drink it in. Such a delight.”

“Dick!” She spat, and found the strength, or, rather, the anger, to stand and storm up the rest of the steps –which she did not think through. Minos whistled after, clapping as her skirt had lifted in her flight, giving him a nice look at her smoothed lips, glistening still. She slammed her door behind, screeching around her hand; it started to flow after, joined to the metal on her knuckles, but returned to normal as she sat on her bed. Yes; her bed, no matter how badly Ayn wanted it otherwise. She gave Samantha a perturbed look, her cocked brow barely seen over that tab- “Are you ever going to get off that thing?”

“Shit, it’s getting me off more.”

“Don’t remind me.”

Ayn sighed, her cheeks rosy, still skimming the piece she was reading.

“This thing is making me remember why I miss men.”

“You can always have Minos.”

“Yeah, no. Don’t have anything to worry about there.”

“Why? Not into the horned type.”

“N... no.”

She mumbled something else; Samantha rose, looking at her over the tablet. “What?”

“Shit, nigga, do you mind? It’s getting to the best part. Don’t you have, like, another student to interrogate?”

“Just... let me go get a bite to eat real quick. Then I’ll go see... I unno, Ginger?”

“Why not Minos?”

“He’s going to be after.” Something to look forward t- She shook her head as she stood, of which she really should have chosen one or the other, knocked back on her rear. “Get both problem cases out of the way.”

“There’s always Monica-”

“Seen first thing. She got a perfect score.”

Ayn dropped her tablet, eyes wide. “Nigga say what now?”

“I’m not going through this again. It was bad enough with Minos-”

“Nigga, I coulda sworn I had something crazy in my ear. Did you say she passed? With a perfect score, no less? What the fuck did I get?”

“You... you, uh... you really don’t want to know.”

“Just tell me this: did I get less than Monica?”

Samantha didn’t say a word, making her way quick into the kitchen. Ayn still repeated her question, rising to a scream as Samantha grabbed something to eat –on the go. Something small for she would have no appetite by the time she got there, anyways. But getting away then was imperative to her survival. Ayn would search and see her test on the desk, and Samantha could only hope she turned the blade on herself rather than her. Not everyone grasps logic well. That’s perfectly fine. It’s something they’ll have to work o-

“Forty-five?” Ayn shrieked, still ringing against the metal as Samantha slammed the door shut. Death had approached fast, but, thankfully, for the moment, she was faster.

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