Witching Hour

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Smooth Jazz, Smoother Legs

Soft, sensual, string-saturated songs suffused Samantha’s sanctuary. It swayed the lights, made them flicker and crackle and lap at Minos’s bronzed back. Samantha moaned against his lips, teasing and taking his tongue, wanting to keep it hostage if only a moment. He always pulled free, but only just, while his hands tugged and pulled at her chest. Hers trailed along his, sketching the lines that seemed sculpted under the Greek flesh, as if he was a statue given life.

Minos pulled away, growling softly. His red eyes burned so hot, paling the fluorescent fires behind him, the hunger in them shared as she looked over his body as he did the same to her, fair form. He cupped her breasts again, groping them, pushing their dusky tips in before letting them pop back out. But did not let go, instead gripping the tips, hard, smirking as she squeaked.

He chortled as he continued to twist them, gently at first but quick to be rough, making her moan. Samantha wanted to argue, but lost all words as he lowered his mouth once more to her body. His horns grazed by her arms, hooking underneath her shoulders as he lapped and sucked on her breasts. He never stayed on one too long, not wanting their tips to lower, even if he did keep a fine grip.

Sadly, he did let them go in time and returned to her lips, moans mingling. Her hands left his chest and rubbed his arms, all the way up to the shoulders before dragging her nails down them, finding their home in his palm. Clasped. Minos growled, and eased her right hand lower, rolling onto his back as he did. He eased her a bit to the side, and pressed her hand against his member, letting it “fully” grip.

She was lucky to get her hand wrapped around it, every throb keeping her pinky and thump from even meeting. And that was the tip alone; the rest of it might as well have been a half sheathe. Stroking it was an exercise in itself, as well, making her arm beside as it had to adjust look minuscule against, even as pre rolled down to the elbow.

Samantha squeaked as he bit her left nip. His face still held that smirk, though his cheeks were nice and red.

“I thought you wanted me to pleasure you,” he said, and brought another squeak as he managed to sneak a finger down below, flicking against her clit.

“I do, but that doesn’t mean I didn’t want to feel it,” she said, panting, and bit her lip. She glanced down, and saw a new dollop of pre rising from that flat top, a small fire in its own right, swirling with the “flames” around. “Already so excited, huh? Hot for teacher?”

“Always.”

She squealed, lost to his growl as he pushed her flat onto the mattress. Her mattress, no less, though it was already showing signs of becoming like his. He kissed down her front, his horns scraping at sheets. Samantha quivered, her breath racing with her heart, watching him sink ever lower. Her cell changed songs, soft bass quick to fill what had started to diffuse. Sultry tones weren’t far behind it, barely heard over her rising pants and moans.

Though she tried to raise her head, though she attempted to watch after him further, sinking below her hips, her pillows had too strong a grasp, holding her head back as she let it lull there. She rocked her hips gently against Minos, quaking as his lips passed her other set. His breath was hot against her thighs, rising in between. She could swear she could see steam in that smoldering fire, raised with each tongue lash. How he tasted her, how his hands played and rubbed and tormented just as much. She squirmed, but her thighs, her waist were pinned by his horns, rubbing, scratching with each movement, making more goosebumps rise.

Samantha gasped, and managed to look down again to see his hands on her breasts, tugging and teasing her nips. The right gave the tip a flick before drawing a line down to her middle and further, joining his tongue once more in its... relief. He had started slow, but quickly sped with her moans. Then her screams. She bucked against him as her thighs continued to scratch along his lengths. The music faded away for a moment, leaving them engulfed, enveloped in that lewd symphony and it alone.

“Ah... Y... ye...” Her voice could no longer be hidden, even as the next song started. She yelped, and gave Minos a dirty look, finding him looking up at her. His eyes gleamed, disappearing again as he nipped the bud down there, making her squeak again. “I-i... if you keep that up, I’m g... gonna... I’m g...”

Her back arched. Her thighs squeezed his head, both wanting to push yet pull him in more, wringing his hand inside. He continued against the tide, hand vibrating, and her screams- shrieks made the metal screech before all was lost to silence. And panting.

Her eyes finally opened, rolled down from her head, and she sneered at him, grinning from ear-to-ear above her, dripping her juices down on her face. She kissed him, and wrapped her legs around his middle, feeling something throbbing against.

“Are you ready to feel the bull’s horn?” Minos said, making Samantha roll her eyes.

“Just shut up and put it i-”

And what a perfect time for her alarm to go off.

She groaned, still simply laying there, trying so hard to ignore it. She wanted nothing more than to let it ring until it grew bored enough and decided to shut itself off. Sadly, as the last of the dream washed over her, that wasn’t the case. Ever.

Her body was caked in sweat. Her thighs, and, more importantly, what laid in between especially, were sodden. Her hand had found its way down there sometime during her rest, and was still cupping it, thoroughly drenched. Her breasts rubbed against the blanket, it and the sheets soaked just as much. They ached to be touched, to be teased even more, as did the rest of her body... But, as usual, as she always was, they would have to go wanting.

Another day. Another round of student orientations... she did give herself one last smack below before turning on the light-

And jumping a foot off the bed, finding she had yet a familiar visitor.

“Morning, teach!” Monica boomed. She was sitting at the desk, at least somewhat dressed for the day. She still had on a “bikini top”, but her g-string was replaced by a black-and-blue checker-patterned skirt that even strippers would say wasn’t business attire. She wheeled over in the chair, cocking her head, smiling away. As if nothing was wrong. Nope. Absolutely. Nothing. “You look like you had a fun dream.”

“How did you get in here?” Samantha shrieked, repaid by karma as she went into a fit of coughing, grumbling after. She checked her phone on the nightstand, turning off the alar- “1:05? Are you fucking me!”

Monica giggled, and rocked back and forth, leaning hard on the back of the chair.

“Yep! You were sleeping so well; I was going to wake you up sooner, but I was enjoying you squirming and enjoying what people do best.” Her skirt ruffled a moment, and her hand appeared from underneath. It had a rather lustrous sheen, but may Samantha was too quick to say she was better dressed. As there were no panties in sight under. Meaning she had stained, desecrated Samantha’s chair.

Or, as she would put it, christened it... I’ll burn it in a moment. Whether or not she’s still in it!

Monica, though, was completely blissful ignorant to the murderous glare Samantha was searing into her. No, she was too intent on licking her fingers clean, tittering and moaning while her other hand was still hidden below. Samantha did not want to know what that one was up to. Wherever it may have been it was making a lot of wet noises, and was behind the back of the chair.

“Our cells open at nine,” Monica said, almost singing it. “We are allowed to free roam, all thanks to you. Remember?”

“B... but my room-”

“Also opens. Just like ours... I... heh... volunteered to come and check on you, though I would have loved the opposite, too.”

“Y... you... are absolutely, utterly depraved.” Samantha stood, and stormed into the bathroom. She grabbed her clothes from the stand before its door, another lovely addition she was never told about- nor the A/C that activated above, making her jump again. She stomped back out to Monica, fists cracking a little as she tried to remain calm...er this lovely ‘morning’. “Why is it that I’m denied critical, need-to-know information all the time?”

“What? That? All rooms are equipped with it. Keeps them from being too... stale.”

“Why doesn’t it work with-” She was about to tear into the rotten husk a few doors down, but the way her stomach already rolled from the phatasm of it stopped any further tirade. Besides, it wasn’t a miracle worker... She huffed, and shook her head. “Cool, though! Wish I was told that three days ago... Three days... It’s...”

“Bellie and Jackie!”

“Ah. Tha-”

“Though you’ll mostly be dealing with Bellie.”

“Why?”

“I thought I told you the other day!”

“Indulge me.”

“R-reall-”

“Knowledge, girl. Knowledge.”

“Oh... Yeah. Jackie hates girls. I tried. I really did. I tried to help him to like girls, but he refuses me all the time. Limpy limpy limp limp.”

Can’t say I blame him, but... I’ll bite. “So, because he doesn’t want you, he’s gay?”

“Yeah! Who can resist me? Well, aside, you know, you... and Marcy... and Ayn... Buffbuff... Peter... Jackie too, but really? Who can! I’m adorable.”

She poked her cheeks, coating them in a bit of a shine as she smiled so wide and so sweet that it could give the ’betus, but... Samantha was thankfully saved by simply slamming the bathroom door shut. She could barely contain her giggles as the water rumbled through the pipes, taking with Monica’s whines... but grimaced as she smacked her head, hearing the fan churning away above... as it had done the day before.

Of course there would be ventilation. How else would they be able to breathe down here? That would also explain the whine, which had slipped to the back of her mind for so long, now an ache again.

At least she knew one thing: her first target was going to be Jack.

If he was as Monica says he was, it wouldn’t take her long. At all. And... she’s... not looking forward to meeting Bella. Even now, her skin prickled in the warm water, shivering, hearing chitin bend and creak, seeing those spindly legs close in on her. Snakes were bad; in Louisiana, you got used to snakes and tracking their scent. Spiders, though... No matter how hard she shook her head, she couldn’t free herself of the silk that came with it. She couldn’t pull out of it tightening around her waist, turning her over as it draped down to her breasts, her neck, closing, tightening-

Samantha gasped, her eyes flying open (just in time to catch a round of shea butter scrub), and was able to breathe again. She cleared her face and gave one last scrubbing before pulling off her shower cap. Those dark curls drank the water, binding together, but smoothed out as she cleaned them through then let the water wisp away, drying before she even stepped out.

As she did, though, she wrapped her middle with the towel slung up on the opaque glass. For good reason, it turned out. Minos leaned against the doorway, his tail fluttering as his eyes roamed, lapping, drinking up every inch he could see. He smirked, and shrugged as he waltzed in, sitting on the porcelain throne as she brushed her hair, while she simply... ignored. Her eyes were locked in the mirror, ignoring the blush spreading on her cheeks, focused on those curls then her teeth. Her gums bled a bit, pressed too hard, a small price to pay, but also drank in the ambiance of the bathroom. It was little more than a square box attached to the other, square boxes. It had a seat in the back right quadrant, a small linen closet before it in the left, a shower-bath monstrosity that took the entire left side (one half had the sliding, opaque glass while the other was open but had a thick, blue curtain to cover where one could sit and relax), and all of it angled towards the sink along the right wall, and before the do-

“Morning,” he mused, almost singing it, repeating it ever louder until it rumbled against the steel walls. He must have been on the fortieth verse, but, shocker, it was the same as the first.

“Ignoring you.” She stated at last. Her brow twitched as she did, but it was sensing his intent. It caught him moving off to the side, and now she was watching his every move out of the corner of her eye –made moot as he simply stood and leaned over her.

“I’m not. How could I ignore a teacher as sexy as you?” He tugged a little on her towel, loosing it, and she wheeled about, smacking him square across the cheek. She clung to the towel for dear life, keeping it before her, and her cheeks burned brighter feeling it had slipped from her other set. The soft wind from the AC above blew against her back, and she could envision it as clear as day in the mirror behind –with a spotlight, no less!

“How dare you!” She boomed.

He chortled, and took her hand, holding it tight as he continued to look in her eyes. And only in her eyes, while his reds sparkled.

“Oh, I dare. I dare... Besides, I already saw as you were getting out.” He eased her other hand down, her dusky tips exposed, enjoying the attention. “Nice.”

S... she huffed, and turned away- just to wheel towards the mirror again- clamored onto the toilet, hugging herself tight.

“J... Just g... go! Just go! Get out!”

He continued to laugh, patted her head, but headed for the door.

“Was simply worried,” he said, waving as he left. “Thank Monica for telling me to check on you.”

“I’ll make sure to give her a reward.”

“Well now I’m going to have to watch like a hawk.”

“W-why?”

He smiled wider. “Monica loves a good slap. It could only get better from there.”

“P-perv... go! Shoo!”

He bowed, and closed the door at last, leaving her to pant and tremble as she stood once more. She leaned over the sink, unable to look at that flustered, horny girl above, knowing all too well even she didn’t really want him to go, but she... she had to... she had to f...

She couldn’t.

Samantha stomped out to the bedroom, made sure the door was locked and even then pushed the desk in front of it before hopping back on her bed. Her thighs were quivering, splayed and ready as she reached into the bedside table...

Finding her blue baby gone.

“Fuck! Where did it-” She began before peeling off a note. Its edge was a touch up from the wood, making it feel different from the rest of the smooth timbers, and burned away as she read it.

Had to borrow it. I’ll make sure to bring it back. XOXOXOXO Monica

“Oh, that cock-juggling w-” She blurted, but bit her tongue, realizing too late she was paying her a compliment... Samantha shook her head, and spread her thighs wider, rubbing anyways... but stopped, the feeling, and mood, gone. “Well, looks like I’ve got to thank her for at least this.”

She sighed... then snapped her fingers. Metal burst out from them, ripping away thick rows down to her elbow as the ceiling melted down to the chair. It raised it, allowing her to watch as it laced soft, yellow energy through it all... then, with another snap, the entirety burst into flames. The fires from her dreams made real... before it was engulfed in the ceiling above. Truly pornographic.

But, as quick as it came it meant that she must go. Typical. Her heels clacked down the steps. Their emerald tips glimmered in the dusk, matching her skirt, pulled low. Her shirt was a bit too tight, tucked deep into the hem, but she wasn’t taking any precautions. Monica had her toy, and she didn’t want a surprise attack. No; she had to work for it.

She smoothed it out again and again all the same, donning the yellow jacket today. Its cuffs bit into her wrists, ensuring it would be a true challenge –a challenge Monica would more than not try to take, but this at least gave her a fighting chance... and a reason for self-defense. Jack’s room was simply across the way, on the left, but she still took her sweet time, watching every nook, every cranny, every shadow and brighter spot or anything that seemed to move against the grain. Silver glowed on her fingertips, pulsing, fading as she arrived at the door.

Samantha knocked on it... and didn’t need to wait long, opening to a man with platinum white hair. His eyes had a dark red glow, hiding their natural browns as he glared at her. His arms were crossed over his thin chest, covered in scars and burns.

“Hi,” she said.

“Piss off,” he said, and closed the door.

“Nice meeting you!”

She tittered, and turned around.

Leaping back at the door as Norman stood there.

He was rubbing his neck, chuckling sheepishly, a bit flushed from her fright. His hair was tied back, accentuating his soft face, while his chest was under a bright pink shirt, tucked into a pair of sleek black dress pants.

The door flew open again, and Jack’s eyes seemed to glow with malice... cooling as they fell on Norman. He even smiled, holding his arms out to the feminine lad.

“There you are,” he said, far warmer a greeting than he had given Samantha. “I’ve been waiting on you.”

“Sorry,” he said, heaving a heavy sigh. “Monica had to talk to me.”

His eyes flashed, and he grabbed him, looking him over.

“Are you okay? That cunt didn’t do anything to you, did she?”

“Jack. Please. You know I hate that word.”

“Sorry. Fits her so well.”

“If you really want to insult her, call her an abstaining virtuous model of society,” Samantha said, stepping out of the way. “Sorry about knocking on your door again, Jack. Norman was... gawking behind me.”

Jack’s smile, returned hearing Monica hadn’t done anything, was gone, acknowledging her existence again.

“The fuck are you still doing here? Get lost.”

“Jack, that’s no way to talk to our teacher,” Norman said, and moved to his side, shaking Samantha’s hand. “Besides, she’s nice enough.”

“I suppose... If Norman says you’re fine, I guess I’ll tolerate you.” He slapped her hand out of Norman’s, taking it in turn. He squeezed a bit too tight, shook a bit too hard, but smiled all the same. “Jack Bertrend. Glad to meet ya, hag.”

“Samantha Coffey.” He scoffed with a hint of revulsion. Which Samantha knew all too well. “What? Thinking I’ll do that stupid joke? Minos already did it for me.”

“Oh. Good. The tart knows when she is a joke.”

“Be nice, Jack,” Norman said.

“I am! Now, are we going to stand here and give this wench another thought or go play?”

Norman clapped, giggling. “Oh! Yes! I’ve been waiting! I hope I get that plate today. I’ve been wanting to finish off that bow for forever.”

“I’ll help you as long as it takes. It’s simply nice to talk face-to-face.” He waved Samantha off as he ushered Norman into his room. “You... you... you can go now.”

Samantha gave an elegant, extravagant bow, and gave the door the middle finger before storming to the next door. As she expected, quick. If only it wasn’t as headache-inducing as Ayn... or any of the others sans Norman. There was a part of her that realized hating her students before the first day of class was probably not a good sign... but the rest of her was focused on the next, and last, door. For that day, but, considering the trend...

It was directly across from Samantha’s room, with the last three against the wall to the left. But that was her destination for the day... sadly. Her hand hovered before the door, trembling, refusing to budge. The shield was even covered in webbing, sealed shut, keeping her from knowing what she was descending into, what sort of Hell awaited behind that steel curtain. Once more, Samantha heard the chitin stretching, bending, prickling down her back. Each movement was calculated, alien, tickling yet scratching. Hairs rubbed at her neck, her ears, fangs dribbling with the stinger protruding from a dark a-

She shook her head, and mark that jump number five.

Marcy chuckled as she patted Samantha’s shoulder and helped her settle. Her wings ruffled, tickling Samantha through her shirt, though that wasn’t saying much. It was little more than a bit of taut fabric, stretched so far and so thin it did nothing to hide those red nips under. She had silk pajama bottoms covering her legs, but her tail loosened them again and again, puled back up as it thrummed against her back with each clack of her talons, tipped with dark caps.

“Bella time?” Marcy said.

“No shit,” she exclaimed, ‘hitting’ Marcy’s shoulders. “Don’t scare me like that.”

“Sorry! You’ve been standing here a while. I just couldn’t resist.” She tittered, and wriggled her hand along Samantha’s arm. “What’s the matter? Can’t stand creepy-crawlies?”

She whined into Samantha’s ear, trailing up ever further, but the witch had enough, pushing her away.

“It’s not a fear. When you get bit by a black widow and brown recluse in the same day, it’s more a mutual hate.”

Marcy cocked her head. “How... did you get bit by both? On the same day? They don’t even share the same-”

“Long story. Short answer: bad luck.” She raised her hand again, wavering, eyes locked on that webbing... and her knuckles slowly, ever so slowly, dreadfully closed in on it, quaking-

“Bella! Bella!!!” Marcy boomed, hammering against the door. “Miss Coffey is here to see you.”

“Why y-”

The door opened, and Samantha took... oh... seven steps back. Her heart hammered in her chest as the first pair of legs creaked out. They were deep blue, their joints embossed with glittering purple crystal, growing denser as it reached her middle and flowed back along her abdomen. Her breasts shined in the light, their underside polished to a sheen, paling her already pale skin, her dark tips perking in the light, drinking it into their almost onyx ends.

Bella yawned, showing four fangs among normal teeth, hidden away along the gum line. Her eight black eyes sparkled, watching Samantha do her act. She cocked her head, and her blonde dreads dangled over her shoulder, falling from her abdomen and grazing the floor. Each was long enough to jump rope with, and was endowed with just as many gems.

“What’s the matter?” Bella said, taking another step out. She offered her hand, and their nails were, also, covered in that purple crystal, smoothed against soft digits. “Miss Coffey?”

“S... sorry. I’m so sorry.” She sputtered and mumbled, before shaking her head, taking it. “This is... Right. May I come in?”

She nodded, and Samantha gripped Marcy’s as well, dragging her inside. The feathery headcase got her into this, and there were species of spider that LOVED the taste of bird. Aside the shield, the rest of the room was... clean, empty of the web. Instead, long, red silk ropes draped the room, caressing a tenor saxophone in the corner. Its black metal shined blue from the light above, and had a message on it, written in white marker. Samantha couldn’t make it out, but she at least knew the language was German. Soft jazz seemed to emanate from the chamber itself, making Bella’s abdomen bob (even more) with each step before settling on a huge plush cushion.

Bella let go, and waved to the other two cushions across, smiling as they sat.

“Sorry for not answering earlier,” she said, humming to the song. “You know how you can get lost in music.”

“That’s because-” Marcy began, wincing as Samantha squeezed her hand. Hard.

“It’s quite all right. I get the same feeling from rock.”

“Ah... we aren’t so different, then. Jazz and rock are but two different branches, removed by blues.”

“I don’t know enough about music to know that, so I’ll take your word for i-”

Bella shushed her, closing her eyes, and her fingers worked at the air. She pressed down on its buttons, moved its keys to match the solo. How she bit her lip, sighing, moaning as it reached its peak until it ended, and only then did she open her eyes again, her smile a bit tired.

“Sorry. I love that part. It’s my favorite song, actually.”

“What is it?”

Let’s Stay Together, by Doctor Saxlove. The next one is also another of his, This Masquerade... I can change it if you want.”

“N-no. It’s fine... so you want to be a jazz musician when you get out of here?”

The music stopped, and Bella glared at Samantha.

“I’m never getting out of here, and even then my original dream died long ago.”

“Then... what did you want to do?”

“Well, I wanted to help my cousin Scarlette with her wedding. She had sent word to me down here, but she has gone silent. For months. Either she eloped or... something.”

“What kind of something?”

... She shook her head, and the legs under her stirred, pressing a tiny remote. The music returned. She closed her eyes again, humming to the song, fingers playing away once more, and didn’t even notice when they left.

“I think she liked you,” Marcy said, finally freed from Samantha’s grip. Samantha did her best to shut the door as gently as she could, but she was, also, balancing the gurgling in her stomach, thankful that she had the foresight to skip food altogether that day.

“Why do you say that?” Samantha grumbled, burping, shuddering as she continued to hold firm.

“She showed her true self a moment. Usually she’s always airy, but she got serious.”

“Great. Just bloody great. Maybe, at some point, I’ll have an actual conversation with any of you!”

“Eh. This is normal for me.”

And I can only imagine the depth Monica has, she groaned, and glared across the hall. Three left... Just a bit longer- oh! Wait! THEN Lilith will reveal the thirteeth because FUCK ME MORE WHY DON’T YOU.

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