A ravaged warrior in search of peace and understanding. A Tarot deck that is more than what it seems. Love born of vengeance in the midst of war. Like a Sacred Desire: Tales of Sex Magick is Circlet Press’s latest anthology of erotica, exploring sex not only as a pleasurable act but as an instrument of ritual, something sacred and profound.
Featuring seven stories from contributors such as D. L. King, Angela Caperton and Raven Kaldera, in Like a Sacred Desire sex becomes a gateway to healing, achieving higher consciousness, and unlocking the mysteries. Editor Jennifer Williams invites readers on a journey both sensual and spiritual, erotic and divine. Like a Sacred Desire promises to challenge and stimulate readers’ senses, hearts, and souls.
Warning: Explicit sex.
Table of Contents:
- Unquiet Ghosts by Jana Denardo
- The Hand You’re Dealt by Elizabeth Schechter
- The Birthright by Renatto Garcia
- Perhaps a Worthy Offering by D. L. King
- Wood by David Sklar
- St. Nicholas’ Eve by Angela Caperton
- Opening by Raven Kaldera
Excerpt from “The Hand You’re Dealt”
by Elizabeth Schechter
The house shook as the front door was shoved closed, and I heard Nick’s footsteps overhead, moving towards the stairs. The circle had gone well, and with the last of the coven gone, I knew that Nick was going to be in a mood. Circle high, he called it. I called it frisky, when I was being polite. When I wasn’t, I told him that he was a slut.
Not that I minded much. I could be a slut, too, and Nick’s moods suited me just fine. But before playtime came work; I had told Nick that I’d clean up my toys. I picked up the drum I’d used to accompany the ritual and made my way over to the wall and the cabinet that Nick had set up for storage of odd-sized ritual items. It smelled of cedar and incense as I opened it, finding the shelf by touch and sliding the flat Irish drum into its place. Behind me, I heard footsteps on the stairs, and then Nick was behind me, sliding his arms around my waist and pressing a kiss onto my shoulder.
“Everyone gone?” I asked, and felt him nod, the stubble of his late-evening beard scratching on the side of my neck.
“All gone. Just you and me now,” he nuzzled my neck. “Want to play, Styopa?”
I grinned. He knew what my answer would be, and he knew I loved the Russian diminutive of my name that he’d tagged me with back before we’d become lovers. After all, it was a hell of a lot more sophisticated than Stevie. “I’ll always play with you, Kolya. What are you up to?”
“Something… random,” he laughed, backing away. “Get yourself ready, Steven. I’ll take care of the dog and get a few things, and meet you in the playroom.”
The playroom. Oh, that kind of play. My heart sped up, and I nodded without saying a word, hearing him going back up the stairs. Nicolai was the love of my life, my sanity, the single good thing that had happened to me after the accident that had taken my sight, put metal rods in my back and leg, and ended my career as a dancer. He was also one hell of a dom, and if he wanted me on my knees, I’d be there immediately.
But he didn’t want immediate. He wanted me ready, and I knew what that meant. I also knew that it meant I’d better hurry. It didn’t take that long to feed the dog and lock up, and if I wasn’t in position when Nick got to the playroom, he’d keep right on going and head to bed.
Only one thing worried me, and that was his choice of words. Random? What was he talking about? Random and BDSM didn’t usually go together, and especially not where Nick was concerned. Every scene we’d ever done had been precise, structured and intense. Random wasn’t a word I’d ever heard Nick use.
But I wasn’t going to find out what he meant just standing here. And if I didn’t move it, I wouldn’t find out what he meant at all.
* * * *
The playroom door squeaked slightly, something that Nick was always meaning to fix and never getting around to. So I knew when he came in, and I knew what he’d see. Me, kneeling in the middle of the room, facing the door (I hoped―he still teased me about the time I’d knelt off center and had been facing the closet when he came in). I was naked, and I’d assumed the position he’d taught me―knees apart, back straight, with my hands resting easy on my thighs. I’d been hard before I’d even gotten my pants off, and the breeze caused by the opening of the door washed over my skin, raising goosebumps and making me shiver.
“Very nice,” Nick murmured, and I could hear the barest hint of the accent that he could never manage to lose, stronger now than it usually was. He really was in a mood. I heard his soft footfalls, almost-but-not-quite muffled by the thick carpet as he walked around me, trailing his fingers over my shoulders and brushing my hair out of the way.
“Very nice,” he repeated. He linked one finger through the heavy silver chain I always wore and tugged on it. I closed my eyes and took a sharp breath; he laughed and let me go.
“All right. Hold your hands out.” I did, and he dropped a pile of something slippery into my waiting palms. I grabbed them before I dropped them, feeling slick, narrow cards.
“What’s this?” I asked.
“That’s a tarot deck. I want you to think about what you want tonight while you shuffle the cards,” Nick said as he moved around. I heard cabinets opening, and knew that he was getting the toys ready. “Once you shuffle the cards, I’ll lay them out. Whatever the cards say is what I will be doing to you tonight.”
I almost dropped the cards. “Nick, I don’t know about this…”
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
I nodded, “You know I do.”
“What’s your safe-word?”
“Nick, you don’t think I’m going to need….”
“Safe-word?” he repeated, his voice a little harsher, a little more stern, the accent even more pronounced, the tone edging towards strict formality. His dom voice. I ducked my head in response.
“Oatmeal,” I said quietly. I heard Nick move, and then he was kneeling in front of me, tugging on my chain again, pulling me towards him and claiming my mouth in a hard, possessive kiss that left me gasping and wanting more.
“I made a promise, Styopa,” he whispered into my ear, sliding his hands up my arms. “I promised you that I would never hurt you. If you do not like what the cards say, we will stop. We will play another way. Or not play at all. Do you understand?” I nodded, not sure I could speak at the moment, still trying to find my breath. He kissed me again, more gently, then stood up, “Good. Shuffle the cards.”
So I shuffled, trying to focus on all of the wonderful, horrible things that Nick did to me in this room. The sounds of the room became a soothing drone as I concentrated―Nick’s breathing, the hum of the fan blowing, the hiss of the rain outside, all of them harmonizing around the bass line that was my own rapid heartbeat. Finally, I held the cards up, “I’m done.”
Nick came over and took the cards from me, “Good. I’ll lay out the pattern, and then we’ll get started.”
I nodded, returning to my resting position, “May I speak?”
“Which deck is that? That’s not the usual one, is it?” I was sure it wasn’t; as I’d handled the cards, I’d noticed that it had felt different from the deck I knew Nick used when he did readings. Not as heavy… no, that wasn’t it. The cards felt like they were the same paper-weight as Nick’s usual deck, but for some reason, they felt like they had less of something. They were… different.
When Nick answered me, I could tell my question pleased him, “One of the art ones. One that you gave me, as a matter of fact. How did you know?”
“It feels different,” I answered, letting my confusion show.
He laughed, “Of course it does, mily. My working deck is consecrated. This one isn’t. I keep telling you that you’re more sensitive to magic than you give yourself credit for, Steven. ”
I restrained the urge to snort; just because I was sleeping with a High Priest didn’t mean I believed in magic. I was a long-lapsed Roman Catholic, and didn’t give any religion any real credence any more. The extent of my participation in the coven was to play drums for them, and that was how I liked it. But I couldn’t get over how different those cards felt.
I heard the snap of the cards, “What are you doing?”
“Laying them out. Face down, so it will be a surprise for both of us. I did keep one card out. The Knight of Cauldrons. Tell me why.”
Oh, this was going to be a lesson, too? I knew the answer to this one. “That’s my card. For my age and coloring, and because I’m a musician.”
“Very good. All right, next card.” Another card snapped, and Nick snorted. “Well, that makes sense.”
“The Devil. In this deck, it’s called Temptation. But… the meaning behind it is perfect,” Nick moved over to walk around me again, lacing his fingers into my hair and pulling my head back, making me whimper with delight and need, “Depravity. Submission. Perversion. Lust. I think that’s a very good description of what’s going to happen to you tonight, don’t you?”
I swallowed, trying not to shake from wanting him so much, “Yes, sir.”
He kissed me again. “Next card.” He moved away; I shivered and tried not to break position. I missed the snap of the card, but not Nick’s delighted laugh.
“The Emperor,” he announced.
That caught me by surprise, “That’s your card!”
“Yes. Yes, it is,” he said, still laughing. “Well, I suppose that’s a relief. I wouldn’t want to think that you were going to submit to someone else tonight. Although… do you know what the meaning of this card is?”
I was caught in spite of myself, fascinated by the game he had orchestrated for us. “I don’t have a clue.”
“This card signifies the masculine force of the universe. Dominance and discipline, and at the same time, paternal. The Emperor is the universal father figure.”
I cocked my head to the side, “Did you choose the card because he was a dom or because he was a dad?”
Nick laughed. “Both. Neither. The card chose me. Now, let’s see what the next card you chose is.” Another card snapped, followed quickly by two more. Nick grunted, and then all I heard was movement. Nick walked away, and then came back towards me, standing behind me. I stayed still, and was rewarded by the slithering of a silky rope over my shoulder.
“Nine of Swords, the Six of Swords, reversed, and the Chariot, also reversed,” Nick murmured. “Hands behind your back.”
I nodded and crossed my wrists behind me; he lashed them together firmly and then drew them up, running the ropes over my shoulders and down, crossing and recrossing my chest until my arms were immobile. I could feel the ends of the rope trailing down my belly in a long tail, and I shifted slightly so that the rope swayed and slid over my cock. That felt good, but the movement earned me a sharp slap on the thigh and I fell still.
“You look very good in rope and nothing else,” Nick tugged on the ropes, checking their placement. “There’s no point in blindfolding you, mily. Except for aesthetics, that is.”
“And while we’re at it, we can take owls to Athens,” I muttered.
Nick snorted his amusement, and there was a steady tug at the center of my chest; he had gathered up the tail and was using it as a leash. “Come on.”
“Are you going to tell me what the cards mean?”
“In a minute,” he answered, pulling me along for a few steps before stopping me pushing me up against a table edge―the massage table that stood off to one side of the room. He bent me over it and pressed one hand on the back of my neck, forcing me down until my cheek was pressed against the surface and all I could smell was leather. Then he pushed me forward; when he was done, my head and shoulders hung off of one edge of the table, and my rock-hard cock was pressed against the other. “Don’t move,” he ordered me, and then moved away again. When he came back, it was with heavy cuffs that he locked around my ankles, and a spreader bar that he used to force my legs apart. “How long can you hold this position?” he asked.
I thought about it for a moment, shifting gently in the ropes and judging how it made my back feel. “I don’t think this will be a problem. I’ve got pretty good support from the table. If I start to cramp, I’ll call red.”
“Good boy. Oh, and the two cards? The meaning of the nine of swords really doesn’t apply to anything we’re doing here tonight, but the artwork shows a lovely young man tied up with rope.” He patted my ass and moved away, and I felt a tug on the rope leash as he pulled it towards my chin and then down over the edge of the table. Nick moved around the table again, and there was a tug at my feet as pressure was put on the spreader bar.
Nick patted my ass again when he was done, and then ran one hand slowly down over my hip. “Can you move?” I tried and failed, finding myself unable to stand up straight. He must have tied the rope tails off to the spreader bar, trapping me over the table. I could move a little from side to side, but not much, and I told him so. He ran his nails down my spine. “Good. That’s the next two cards. Six of swords, and the Chariot, both reversed.”
“What, they mean bondage?” I asked, shifting a little, testing my limits.
“Not in so many words.” He slapped my ass and then slid his hand down, between my legs, stopping just before he reached my balls. I whimpered and thrust back, and he laughed and pulled his hand away. “Reversed, the Six of swords means hindrance, and the Chariot means lack of control.”
“Which means bondage,” I said again, pushing my ass back towards him. “Well, I’m hindered, and I’ve got no control. Is there a card in there that says I get fucked?”
“If that’s something that you were focusing on when you shuffled, then perhaps. There are five cards left, and they’re all face down. So… let’s see what the next card says. Maybe it’ll say you need to be gagged; you’re awfully chatty tonight.” The next card snap was so close to me that I jumped when it sounded. Nick made an odd sound, and then another card snapped. “Interesting.”
I wanted to ask what was so interesting, but I really didn’t want to be gagged, and I can take a hint. So I waited. Patience is a virtue, and virtue gets rewarded. Or at least, that’s what I’ve been told.
It seemed to work in this case. I heard another snap, different from the sound of the cards. This one I recognized as the top of the lube bottle being opened. It was followed by a cold dribble down the crack of my ass. A third snap, and I almost cheered; latex has a very distinctive sound―Nick had put on a glove. He ran his gloved nails up the back of my leg, making me twitch, then slowly started to spread the lube, making long sweeping strokes that ran from my balls to my anus and didn’t come nearly close enough to either. I groaned and tried to push back more, earning myself another slap.
“Stay still,” he ordered. He circled my anus with one finger and then slid it in slowly. The next stroke was two fingers, and then three, and I moaned in response, closing my eyes. He growled, leaning forward over me and reaching forward with his free hand, shoving his fingers in my mouth, “Is this enough for you, Styopa?”
I whined around his fingers and set to work, sucking as hard as I could and running my tongue over his knuckles the way I knew that he liked. He growled again as he started to finger-fuck me into a frenzy, then whispered into my ear, “You are such a hungry little slut, aren’t you, my Styopa? You want nothing more than my cock up your ass, down your throat, however you can get it. Don’t you?” I whined again. He was right, of course. I did want him, however I could get him. As often as I could get him, and as hard as I could get him. He laughed, pumping harder and shoving his fingers further down my throat; I had just enough slack in the ropes to pump against the edge of the table, and the sweat pooling under me made it easier, so I was building to a wonderful come…
And the phone rang. My eyes flew open as Nick laughed and pulled his fingers out of my mouth.
“So that’s what those cards meant!” he said. I heard the snapping of latex as he stripped off the glove, then the padding of his feet as he walked away…
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