ChapterForty-Three
ALIENOR
Fucking hell.
I’m now sitting directly over the Boogie Man’s tree trunk of an erection with one of his cockheads clamped around my clit and two plugged into my holes.
The fourth cockhead strokes a slow path up and down my wet slit.
Pleasure overwhelms my senses, which is probably why I agreed to such a bizarre seating arrangement. I’m facing outward, so I can’t even wrap my arms around his neck.
The Boogie Man’s grip around my waist is the only thing keeping me from falling onto my face. But on the plus side, I’m invisible and impervious to the battle.
“Ready?” he murmurs into my ear.
The cockhead around my clit squeezes hard, sending ripples of sensation to my pussy. Every muscle in my pelvis clamps hard, making him moan.
Like fuck am I ready.
I can’t ride the Boogie Man’s dick like it's the tail of a kite. But a shadow falls over the void where the enforcers removed the house, and I catch sight of a prison wagon.
My throat closes with a whimper. “Let’s go.”
“Hold tight.”
I grab the arm around my waist with both hands. For good measure, I use every ounce of strength to clench my asshole and my pussy.
“A-Alienor,” he says with a shudder. “So tight.”
“Hurry.”
The Boogie Man bends his knees and leaps up into the air, making my stomach lurch. I cry out, but he clamps a hand over my mouth.
“Wait until we’re airborne before crying out with pleasure.”
My chest resounds with a low moan. I might enjoy the experience more if we weren’t in the presence of so many powerful magic users.
I gaze down at the battle below, finding some of the younger witches already in glowing chains. Grandma and Aunt Klara fight back to back with a pair of second cousins, forming yellow spheres that deflect the enforcers’ attacks.
A few of the other witches have formed quartets and are fighting evenly with the Council’s minions but there’s no winning against this new round of reinforcements.
Grandma’s house hovers twenty feet off the ground in the type of forensic bubble enforcers use to secure evidence. Beneath the building is a crowd of naked men, each with different colored crystals for penises.
More enforcers fly around on broomsticks, each wielding longer, thicker, and more dangerous-looking staffs than the ones who invaded the ritual room.
My stomach plummets as we fly through the basement space. I place a hand over my heart, hoping Grandma and the others stop resisting arrest.
Someone from below lets out an agonizing scream, making the fine hairs on the back of my head stand to attention. It takes every effort to tear my gaze away from the only family I’ve ever known, a group of women who kept some terrible secrets.
“Are you alright?” the Boogie Man asks.
“I can’t believe the coven would do something so cruel.”
“I can.”
“What do you mean?” I whisper.
“My wife enslaved me for decades,” he says without his usual bitterness. “It is no surprise that her progeny would do the same to other men.”