ROMANCE: Party of Three: A Lustful Collection of Menage Romance (Menage Romance, Bisexual Romance, Stepbrother Romance) by Brittanee Farrow Page B
Authors: Brittanee Farrow
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my eyes, curious.
“I want to make men fall in love with me, lie with me, all at my own will.”
Rashi dabs something wet and sticky on my forehead, then begins to chant.
“Look upon this girl, a slave to her world, and set her free. Give her power over men’s minds, urges they cannot find release for, except in her arms.”
The deep voice from before emanates from the flames and channels through Rashi’s speech. “What would you offer for such a gift?”
“Life’s blood, spilled upon your flames.” Rashi grabs a rabbit from a small wooden cage near the fire, holding it by the scruff of its neck, and slides a dagger under its throat. Blood sprays at first, then falls in a cascade, hissing as it hits the fire.
“So be it,” the fire rumbles again through Rashi.
“Thank you for your gifts,” she reverently whispers, bowing to the fire. She then douses the flame with a bucket of water, and gathers up any remaining artifacts. We walk to the edge of town before I realize she is still topless.
“Rashi—your dress!”
She looks down and laughs, then covers herself. It is well and truly dark, fortunately for us, because she would have drawn attention that way, dark skin or not.
We make the short walk back to my home, but I am shy around Rashi after this experience and don’t speak. I want to ask if the magic worked, if I now have power over men; instead, we walk as quietly as possible. Some windows remain open, and any words might drift in. Now is not a good time to be thought a witch.
Before we reach the door of my home, Rashi whispers a single word:
“Soon.”
It is enough to give me hope.
That night, my dreams are vivid—Aaron and Zachary swirl through my mind. I picture them bathing, skin glistening with water. Zachary is strong and wide, his jaw square and strong. Aaron is tall and slimmer, with a sloping jaw and pointed chin. Both are so handsome, but my mind struggles. Which do I choose? As I turn to either man, the other begins to walk away, but when I chase the other, the first begins to leave.
In the end, Zachary is the image I’ve been pining for, so I focus on him. Slowly, he begins to remove his doublet, then the long linen shirt underneath. All that remains are his breeches, but the image fades before he is fully unclothed.
When I wake from my dream, my shirt is stuck to my back with sweat. The house is still dark and I am drowsy, but yearning. I reach between my legs, finding the peak of my ache, and slowly begin to circle the little bead. I can feel my heart speed up, my breath grow haggard as the sensation builds. I’m close to finding release, but I stop.
It’s always so secretive. Little movements in the dark while the town sleeps. What I want is a partner. Another person who wants to please me and does anything to achieve that end. The ache resumes and I am hungrier than ever for caresses that will send me over the edge, but I wait.
Next morning, when my mother sets out to deliver the mended items and newly made ones, Rashi and I sit close together, knitting and talking.
“Did it work?” I whisper. “Is the power mine?”
“The power is within you,” she corrects. “But power can move between people; just as it was given to you it can be taken.”
“So how does it work?”
“You need to get something from the person you want,” she explains. “Hair is best, but clothes will do. Then you sew a little doll, and take something of yours, hair if you have his hair, a bit of your clothing if that’s what you got. Then, you make circles over a candle flame. The words are ‘For you, I yearn; For me, you burn’.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long. But after it starts workin’ you got to keep that doll somewhere
“I want to make men fall in love with me, lie with me, all at my own will.”
Rashi dabs something wet and sticky on my forehead, then begins to chant.
“Look upon this girl, a slave to her world, and set her free. Give her power over men’s minds, urges they cannot find release for, except in her arms.”
The deep voice from before emanates from the flames and channels through Rashi’s speech. “What would you offer for such a gift?”
“Life’s blood, spilled upon your flames.” Rashi grabs a rabbit from a small wooden cage near the fire, holding it by the scruff of its neck, and slides a dagger under its throat. Blood sprays at first, then falls in a cascade, hissing as it hits the fire.
“So be it,” the fire rumbles again through Rashi.
“Thank you for your gifts,” she reverently whispers, bowing to the fire. She then douses the flame with a bucket of water, and gathers up any remaining artifacts. We walk to the edge of town before I realize she is still topless.
“Rashi—your dress!”
She looks down and laughs, then covers herself. It is well and truly dark, fortunately for us, because she would have drawn attention that way, dark skin or not.
We make the short walk back to my home, but I am shy around Rashi after this experience and don’t speak. I want to ask if the magic worked, if I now have power over men; instead, we walk as quietly as possible. Some windows remain open, and any words might drift in. Now is not a good time to be thought a witch.
Before we reach the door of my home, Rashi whispers a single word:
“Soon.”
It is enough to give me hope.
That night, my dreams are vivid—Aaron and Zachary swirl through my mind. I picture them bathing, skin glistening with water. Zachary is strong and wide, his jaw square and strong. Aaron is tall and slimmer, with a sloping jaw and pointed chin. Both are so handsome, but my mind struggles. Which do I choose? As I turn to either man, the other begins to walk away, but when I chase the other, the first begins to leave.
In the end, Zachary is the image I’ve been pining for, so I focus on him. Slowly, he begins to remove his doublet, then the long linen shirt underneath. All that remains are his breeches, but the image fades before he is fully unclothed.
When I wake from my dream, my shirt is stuck to my back with sweat. The house is still dark and I am drowsy, but yearning. I reach between my legs, finding the peak of my ache, and slowly begin to circle the little bead. I can feel my heart speed up, my breath grow haggard as the sensation builds. I’m close to finding release, but I stop.
It’s always so secretive. Little movements in the dark while the town sleeps. What I want is a partner. Another person who wants to please me and does anything to achieve that end. The ache resumes and I am hungrier than ever for caresses that will send me over the edge, but I wait.
Next morning, when my mother sets out to deliver the mended items and newly made ones, Rashi and I sit close together, knitting and talking.
“Did it work?” I whisper. “Is the power mine?”
“The power is within you,” she corrects. “But power can move between people; just as it was given to you it can be taken.”
“So how does it work?”
“You need to get something from the person you want,” she explains. “Hair is best, but clothes will do. Then you sew a little doll, and take something of yours, hair if you have his hair, a bit of your clothing if that’s what you got. Then, you make circles over a candle flame. The words are ‘For you, I yearn; For me, you burn’.”
“How long will it take?”
“Not long. But after it starts workin’ you got to keep that doll somewhere
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