The full moon hung over Zomba like a red courtroom bulb. Thocco texted me at 23:1; "Basement archives. Naked. Blindfold yourself with yesterday's tie. Do not be late. The jury is hungry."
I obeyed and walked through campus barefooted, tie already knotted around my eyes, heart hammering louder than the crickets. The night air tasted of wet earth and secrets.
At the library's back entrance she was waiting in a crimson graduation gown, nothing underneath, but red pen glowing between her teeth like a cigarette. She grabbed my wrist, nails digging half-moons. "Level Five tonight," she whispered. "If you survive."
The basement door creaked open on its own. Here comes twelve red masks in a perfect circle, candles made of melted law textbooks flickering at their feet. Silence so thick that you could just hear pulses and none. Thocco pushed me into the center. The floor was cold concrete painted with one giant chalk gavel.
"Read," she commanded, her voice cold and sharp, slicing through the silence like a blade. She pressed the forbidden copy of Chapter 9 into my trembling hands, her eyes unblinking, watching me like prey. My voice wavered as I began, the words tasting forbidden on my tongue:
"We met in the shadows of the abandoned tobacco barn outside Salima. The air was thick with the scent of rot and smoke, but we didn't care. We clawed at each other in the darkness, desperate, primal, until the walls seemed to breathe with us. I couldn't tell if it was her nails or something else that left the burning scratches on my back, but I didn't stop."
Thocco stepped behind me, untied the blindfold, and let it fall. Her gown slipped to the floor too. The Moonlight through the skylight painted her skin blood-red. She straddled me right there on the chalk gavel, lowered herself slowly, and took every inch while staring into the masked faces.
"Keep reading," she hissed, while rolling her hips. Every time my voice faltered she squeezed until I found the next word, that reads: "I placed my palm on each sternum and whispered the trigger phrase…" She leaned back, hands on my thighs, riding harder, and the twelve masked bodies began to tremble in unison.
"Let the animal win." I read it louder than ever. That was the line wholly forbidden in the Nola Kates novel. Thocco threw her head back and screamed (raw, animal, no shame). Her orgasm ripped through her like a verdict.
The book fell from my hands, pages soaked instantly, and the circle answered, with the twelve simultaneous releases. There was no sound except wet breathing and the soft thud of knees hitting concrete. They were fingering themselves, whilst Thocco was kissing me so hard and fast, she was in stance.
"No human being would have done it like that" I was filled with dark thoughts and fear.
When the initiation was coming to an end, one mask slipped. I saw Tadala's eyes, wide, glistening, staring right at me. I was shocked to see her. I skipped a beat, fast forward I remembered that I once introduced her to the Crimson Veil Society. I fucked up, my long-time crash and I, now we're licking the same pot of sex club? Damn.
What a small world, isn't it we are fated for each other? That was my mind asking questions to no one, we'll see what will happen next. Finally, Thocco collapsed forward, bit my collarbone hard enough to draw blood, and whispered against my skin.
"Congratulations, counselor, you just fucked the entire jury" Tadala brought in.
She stood, running down her thighs like fresh evidence, picked up the soaked book, and pressed it to my lips. "Kiss your new constitution." She commanded.
I kissed it.
You have tasted us, tasted revolution" one body masked said tirelessly.
The twelve body masks rose as one, formed a line, each member walked past, dipped a finger in the puddle between Thocco's feet, and drew a tiny red X on my chest with her wetness. And the last line was Tadala. She drew the X slow, then leaned in and licked it off.
"See you at the next full moon," she breathed.
"Bring gin. And rope." She continued.
The circle vanished into the stacks like smoke, and all the twelve masked bodies deserted. Thocco was one who left behind, the queen of the Crimson Veil Society. She slipped and blindfold back over my eyes and tied it tighter.
"Walk home like this," she said.
"Let Zomba smell the verdict on your skin." she continued.
I walked out at 02:47 am, blindfolded and my naked chest in twelve wet X's and one bite mark shaped like lake Malawi. The moon followed me all the way home, laughing like Nola Kates herself. The moment I stumbled through the door and collapsed onto the couch, the weight of what I did crashed over me like a rogue wave. I had sinned grievously against the word of God.
Worse, I had dragged Tadala into that diabolic circle, offered her up like a trembling lamb to wolves draped in silk robes and moonlit smiles. Hot blood surged behind my eyes, hammering for release, begging to confess, to scour the night from my skin in flames. Yet the words lodged in my throat, choked by something darker.
Because beneath the guilt, a treacherous glow still burned.
Those twelve orgasms, each a shuddering crescendo that tore ragged moans from every throat in the circle were the purest rapture I'd ever tasted. My body still thrummed with their echo, every nerve singing hallelujah in a tongue older than scripture itself.
Then the revelation struck, sharp and blasphemous: sex is not shame. Sex is sacrament. If you spill in ninety seconds, it only means your blood runs hot enough to boil the stars. And mine? Mine had scorched the full moon into silent, silver submission.
I smiled into the shadowed barn; lips slick with copper and honey. The coven would call me back tomorrow night hungry, unrepentant, already aching for the next unholy hymn.