She was a witch -- Part Three

 
Again came the email.  
   
With the five words,  
“Be here,  
On the 31st.”  
   
This time there was,  
A signature,  
A word,  
“Please.”  
   
And s symbol,  
A pentagram.  
   
So once again,  
I was going,  
To Austin.  
   
But this time,  
It didn’t feel as if,  
I was summoned,  
Commanded.  
   
It was,  
As if,  
Something within me,  
Wanted to go.  
   
On arrival,  
I was paged,  
“To the red courtesy phone,”  
I picked it up,  
“Pick up your car,  
In the Wally Park,  
Park ’n Ride.  
You’ll know the car,  
You rode in it last year,  
Door opens to the combination, 131313.  
Key is under the seat.  
You know the route.  
Don’t be late.”  
And,  
Then,  
The phone was dead.  
   
I knew the car.  
The combination worked.  
I knew the route.  
I arrived just as the sun set,  
A ball of fire,  
In the west.  
   
Walked in the fiery dusk,  
Through the trees,  
To the meadow.  
   
This year the cloth was,  
Black.  
Still with the pentagram,  
In red,  
Blood red.  
Still with the knives.  
   
The candles in their places,  
Lit themselves,  
As I walked across the grass.  
   
She was already undressed,  
Different this year,  
Pregnant,  
I looked from her belly to her face,  
Something within me growled,  
“Undress me,  
Quickly,  
Now.”  
   
With a puzzled look in her eyes,  
She did exactly that.  
   
Then stood again,  
Before me.  
   
And spat at me,  
“Twelve months pregnant,  
Twelve months,  
Not morning sick,  
All day sick,  
Twelve months waiting for this day,  
This year,  
I hope you’re happy with your work.”  
   
My vision seemed to shift,  
Slide off sideways,  
Returned to her face,  
Tinted green,  
Hints of red.  
   
The voice that answered her,  
From my own mouth,  
Was nothing like my own.  
   
The words were blunt,  
Cruel,  
Demanding of,  
Obedience,  
“In the middle of my pentagram,  
On your knees,  
Open your mouth,  
First my needs.  
Yours later,  
Much later,  
Maybe,  
Depending on how well,  
You handle mine.”  
   
She dropped to her knees,  
Terror in her eyes,  
Opened her mouth,  
Whatever was controlling me,  
Caused my hands to grip,  
Wind themselves in her hair,  
Forced my cock,  
Into her mouth,  
Down her throat,  
Until she gaged,  
Choked,  
And tears came to her eyes.  
   
In and out my cock plunged,  
In ‘tell she choked,  
Out only so that,  
It could drive in,  
Again.  
   
On the thirteenth stroke,  
I emptied down her throat.  
   
Pulling out,  
Still partly,  
Erect,  
That voice ordered,  
“Lick it clean.  
Suck it hard.  
Make it wet.”  
   
A few moments later,  
“Turn around.  
Head down  
Grip the cloth.  
Bite the cloth.”  
   
Nothing gentle,  
As I pushed,  
Into her ass.  
   
Grabbed her hair again,  
For leverage,  
In and out.  
   
Until on the thirteenth stroke,  
I emptied into,  
Her ass,  
Just as I had done,  
Into her throat.  
   
This time there was a difference,  
My ejactulations,  
Triggered,  
Contractions within her.  
   
The feeling of them,  
While still inside her ass,  
Caused my erection to again grow,  
Made still larger,  
By the sensations of her,  
Tightening cum soaked ass,  
As I pulled out of her.  
   
It was at that moment,  
The moon passed behind,  
A thin cloud,  
And shown,  
Red.  
   
From somewhere I heard a clock,  
Tick,  
Then begin to strike,  
To count off,  
A second set of contractions within her,  
Which would expel,  
From her body.  
What had been planted there,  
A year ago,  
   
Twelve,  
Racked her body,  
Each stronger,  
More violent;  
Twisting,  
Warping her around,  
Until on her back,  
She had one more.  
   
That Thirteenth one,  
Stretched long,  
Accompanied by a scream,  
So loud,  
So agonizing,  
So filled with pain,  
Terror,  
It was as if,  
What she was delivering,  
Clawed its way from within her.  
   
First showed a  head,  
Stretching her,  
Ripping her,  
Followed by a body,  
Bathed in blood,  
Deposited at the center,  
Of that red pentagram.  
   
While I watched,  
In horror,  
What was inside of me,  
Watched in rapture.  
   
Next I knew,  
I was standing,  
In my room,  
Blood stained,  
As if my perspiration,  
That evening,  
Had been blood,  
Rather than sweat.  
   
My mind was numb,  
At what I had seen,  
What I had been part of.  
   
I was,  
Shaking,  
Trembling,  
Fighting to stay,  
Standing.  
   
Still,  
I had the raging,  
Erection,  
Waiting to be,  
Slackened.  
   
As my hand,  
Wrapped around it,  
In the mirror,  
I saw,  
My face,  
My eyes,  
Laughing,  
Looking back,  
At me.  
   
This group of interrelated poems now has reached six.

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/73509-she-was-a-witch-for-the-halloween/

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/131827-she-was-a-witch-here-is-part-two-of-the/

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/152515-t-was-a-bloody-drink-to-please-hell/

http://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/181254-she-was-a-witch----part-three/

https://deepundergroundpoetry.com/poems/240717-equinox/