Chapter 2: The Job Offer

"Fuck, fuck I'm coming..."

Vanity felt his cock pulse harder and jerk in her hands, and her mouth filled with the familiar musky, salty taste of cum. Rhys came so much as she milked his hard throbbing cock into her mouth that she struggled to keep from swallowing, but she knew she couldn't; she needed it for something else. As his grip on her hair relaxed and she felt him go limp against the bar, Vanity carefully slid his cock from her mouth, keeping her lips sealed as she stood, robe still hanging open. A long thin trail of spit and cum dangled from Vanitys mouth down to the tip of Rhys's softening cock as he leaned breathlessly against the bar. The few patrons in the taproom at this early hour applauded and whooped, and Vanity took a small bow, before grabbing the cup she'd had her coffee in and emptying the dregs of the coffee onto the bar. She carefully spat Rhys's considerable load into the cup. He looked at her, sweat glistening on his youthful, handsome face, with a look Vanity knew well; he was in love with her now. They always were. She smiled and stood on her tip toes and kissed him deeply.

"Thank you for that, Rhys. Your ma would be proud."

Without closing her robe, she pulled herself up onto the bar, slid her legs over to the taproom side and landed gently on the other side. She picked up the cup of cooling cum and raised it in a half-salute to the bar; a couple of old timers and a young woman raised their cups in response, laughing, and Vanity made her way back up the rickety stairs to her room. She had what she needed now.

In her room, she closed the door, kicked off her boots and let the robe slip from her shoulders. She placed the cup of Rhys's cum on the little bedside table, and from her shoulder bag she took some small, acrid scented black candles, a matchbook, and a vial of sweet scented oil. The ritual was second nature to her now, the preparations as easy as breathing. As she placed seven candles in a heptagram shape on the floor, lit them, and kneeled naked between them with the oil and cum within reach, she breathed deeply and closed her eyes; this was the ritual of protection; a sex magick spell taught to her by the sisters of the Church of Mother Night. Vanity knew the hunt for the creature in the mines would be dangerous; every time she went against an unknown foe was a great risk, and this spell would go some way towards keeping her safe from harm. Breathing deeply as the scent of the black candles filled her nostrils, Vanity let her mind wander back to the month she'd spent with the Sisters of the Church of Mother Night in the Penumbra borderlands several years earlier, and began the ritual...