BLAXORCIST: "All ghosts fear melanin"
Contains interracial sex, magical sex, chastity, humiliation, fisting, oral/anal, many spooky ghosts
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Dawn: Pale Petition
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Luan stepped into a strip of sunlight, golden rays flowing over his smooth onyx skin. His dreadlock mohawk bobbed with every step of his powerful thighs, muscles gracefully flexing all along his 6'3'' height (190cm).
A leopard thong sat high on his hips, his round glutes easily keeping it from slipping despite the pull of his package, the tight fabric making his cut cock apparent.
Anklets of bone and wristlets of salt crystals marked Luan as a spirit abater.
Sable City's matte black skyscrapers drew long shadows across the staging area where drones of raven black picked up small shipments and African hunks in blue shorts maneuvered crates.
"We'll try doing it subtly, Mister Gowon," Luan said. "But I can't guarantee we won't have to interrupt your workers."
The supervisor in blue shorts with a lanyard across his wide pecs waved him off. "Whatever you need. Good luck and Black power."
Luan raised a fist in return. "Black power."
Finn, Luan's white assistant said "Black power, sir," as he retrieved silver-shimmering lube from their backpack.
The short twink Finn was clad in Band & Shield - a tight collar around the neck and a nearly flat wedge on his crotch. Both items were in the same off-white as his sneakers. His skin wasn't much less pale, his ginger hair in a buzzed mohawk.
Amidst the crates and roaming workers, Finn bent over and let his boss dig a lubricated fist into his ass.
A few anal pumps later, Luan slathered the silvery ecto-lube on a Small plug, 8 inches long and 5 wide (20cm and 12cm), and shoved it into the prepped white's hole.
As he groaned, Finn put on an off-white hood to fully cover his face, only his nostrils free. The integrated headphones played deep white noise, cancelling all ambient sound.
With a leash on Finn's Band, Luan led the white around the area, weaving between work stations.
The ecto-lube drew Finn's soul into his guts, turning his asshole into an "ass-soul". All the white's bodily desires became an appetite for anal intrusion, his emotions and passions focused only on the plug-fuck, his reasoning blunted down to basic functions.
An invitation for the supernatural.
Every so often, Finn indicted he'd found a hot spot with thighs trembling. The ecto-lube heated up like spice in the presence of invisible ghostly hotspots. Finn indicated strength one-through-five, from mere tabasco to Carolina Reaper.
The abater in the leopard thong waved a lantern. The black psychaldehyde candle within sucked the light out of its surroundings, the darkness-flame sometimes flickering in the direction of the undead.
Luan and his ass-souled white closed in on a hot trail over the course of fifteen minutes, Finn flexing in waves, his moans muffled by the hood.
The spirit abater flagged down some workers. "Black power, guys. Could you move that frame? Just need some space. Thanks. Feel free to watch."
Time to force a possession.
Feeling a dozen workers' eyes on him, Luan snapped salt crystals off his wrists and formed a circle around the quivering white.
Luan leaned into the seal and pressed an inhaler to Finn's nostrils. Diabolitane Nitrate knocked the rest of Finn's self into his ass-soul.
The white jolted as a more ethereal, equally pale being rushed into him, leaving Finn able to feel everything while taking full control.
Finn's arm and legs spread-eagled as he hovered above the concrete. A distorted, translucent face formed on the surface of the hood.
"Who are you?" Luan asked. "What is your final wish?"
Finn groaned and mumbled incoherently along with the visage. However long this soul had wandered, it was too mutated to speak all but ghost tongue, which only angels and the dead knew. Dangerous, in a place where possess-able items got shipped across Sable City. They'd have to check the nearby cemeteries' containments.
Luan rammed his knee into the Shield covering Finn's crotch – and the balls behind it. "I, Blaxorcist Luan, bane of all things pale, command you to untether yourself from this earth."
Grunting and inhuman squeaks.
Another knee kick to the crotch. "You shall never haunt again."
No response but the moan of a ball-tortured white behind the hood.
Luan kicked with the sole of his foot, driving in hard enough to push Finn against the salt circle barrier that refused to let him out. "Obey, pale creature."
Luan tapped a ring on his thumb and Finn's plug filled the white ass with voltage that would have knocked over a large dog.
The ghost was forced to abandon the vessel and Finn dropped to the ground.
The wispy face tore free of the hood and rammed itself against the salt barrier. Luan was ready to meet it with his fist. The ghost shattered and retreated into its vessel again.
Luan gave the twink's Shield another foot-sole kick. "Still here, fucker?"
With no answer forthcoming, the spirit abater let another shock hammer Finn's ass. The ghost was forced out again – more tatters than humanoid - and Luan's salt-ringed arms came in like hammer blows.
With the final shatter, mere streaks of ectoplasm drifted around the circle, slowly burning out.
Luan tapped Finn on the shoulder three times and the swaying white took off his hood. "Done, sir?"
Luan nodded and flexed his right arm. "Standard procedure. Mister Gowon, we're done here. I highly doubt it'll re-form to cause trouble again. Black power."
"Black power," the supervisor said. A dozen hands clapped politely and smirking hunks went back to work.
The white raised his fist goodbye, knees turned inward and quivering from the ball torture. "Black power, sir." He waddled out, hunched over in a haze.
...
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Noon: Pale Puppet
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Where the dark glass skyscrapers of Sable City gave way to the airy, walnut-and-slate houses of the outskirts, lay the old Palm Shade bistro, draped with the blood red vines of sanguine ivy, shaded from the sun's intensity by black-leaved Sable palms.
Tau made it up the back stairs, to the apartment on the second floor. His mighty thighs quivered with every step of his slippers, branded with the Horned Spade of the "Blaxtra Horny Apparel Company".
His skin was dark as fresh espresso and smooth from head to toe, uncovered save for his Blaxtra Horny torpedo thong barely restraining the arch of his girthy cock.
The lighter steps behind Tau stopped at a respectful distance as he knocked.
The person opening up was a short guy, with blond highlights in his fuzzy locks, his skin dark like expensive honey. Early twenties, athletic on the verge of being a beefcake. He wore a towel with labyrinthine patterns around his hip and an antelope talisman on his naked chest. He dripped with sweat.
"Black power," Tau said, fist up. "We're here for Mister Johannes, your... grandfather?"
"Ah, Black power. I'm Amir. Sorry, man, I was just working out. My mom called you but she's down in the bistro. Come in, do you need anything?"
"We'll be fine. Anything you can tell me while we set up? By the way, your mother said it's okay to film?"
Tau entered and made space for Dante to follow.
"Black power, sir," Dante said. He wore the same shoes as his boyfriend, just a few numbers smaller, thought only an inch beneath Tau's 5'10'' (178cm).
Dante's Shield was covered with a Horny Spade choker, his Band unadorned. His mohawk was just long enough to grab, dyed pastel pink. An OWNED tattoo ran across his chest, a Horned Spade tattoo positioned below his neck.
The white dropped his backpack and knelt to kiss Amir's feet. The homeowner's son raised a leg and pulled his towel up. Dante kissed up the thighs and ran his tongue along the sweat slick ass crack, lapping from balls to hole.
"Mirrors keep turning blind," Amir said. "Some ghost orbs at night, always close to the floor."
Tau activated two silent camera drones, pitch black, barely bigger than a hornet. Filming ghost activities for their Bootube page.
"Any particular room?"
Amir lowered his leg. "Man, I wish. We wouldn't have had to call you."
"Ready bitchboy?" Tau asked his white boyfriend.
"Yes Master," Dante said and licked his lips clean.
A quick, chaste kiss.
The white slipped on the full head cover in off-white, a Horned Spade drawn across his face. It had a gag on the inside, positioned just right to go into his mouth. Only the nostrils were left as connection to the world. Hypnotic rhythm flooded his mind.
Tau lubed up his hand with silvery goo and pushed into white's ass to the knuckles.
He turned to the drone. "Hey Boos. Here's another trail hunt for you. Our client's old man passed away over a year ago without telling them where he'd kept the valuables. Calling on his Departed Will only lead to a confusing haunt. Our specialty."
With a wink, he pushed in, half his forearm sinking into the quivering Dante.
Tau sensed the flow as his knuckles ran along his boyfriend's establishing ass-soul. No blatant disturbances but there were unwanted spirits present. He had to deal with those first.
Dante had to walk on the tips of his toes as he was fist-led into the living room. Tau pulled their bag behind them.
Slowly working in and out of Dante, he waited for the signal. His fist hardly noticed the heat of the lube rising but to Dante it was a pure chili infusion as minor ghostly miscreants were pulled into him.
Tau reached around and rammed his free fist into the white's Shield. Just in the second the ball-ache was going to explode into Dante's guts, he tapped his engagement ring the Shield rammed its own, electrical, assault into the puppet through the inaccessible dick.
Only a firm grip around Dante's neck kept the white from collapsing.
Tau fistfucked a bit more, pulling in minor ghosts with the silver lube. Another punch and shock.
"I usually go for three," Tau said. "Amir, would you like a taste?"
"Sure thing, man. I'm better with the knee, if you don't mind."
"Go ahead."
Dante, control over his body failing as spirits fought for space inside him, was held by Amir at both shoulders and kicked in the Shielded nuts while Tau zapped.
With the environment clear, the puppet could be used to sense the intentions of the ghost they were here for. Mister Dawit Johannes, whose Will would hopefully guide them to treasure.
Keeping one hand inside Dante expertly, the Blaxorcist pressed a flask to his boyfriend's nose. Dante inhaled and swayed, mentally absent. Now the flow was really easy to sense.
"May the Departed Will find its way into this vessel. Pale as the moon, its body is mine, silent as the night, its mind is yours."
Dipping into the lube with the free hand, Tau added the second fist to Dante's guts, alternatingly pushing in deep, never farther out then the wrist, sensing any difference in the flow.
They made their way around the apartment, getting gently pulled here and there, trailed by Amir and their drones.
Every so often Tau rubbed his knuckles inside his boyfriend in the predetermined pattern and Dante slammed a fist into his own crotch. Other times, Tau tapped the ring, which was now inside his boyfriend's ass, to deliver electrical ravage. This kept interfering outsiders from slipping in. Mister Johannes wasn't going to possess, only guide.
Within five minutes, Dante was a quivering, sweating mess but Tau had barley found a signal. If anything it was pulling him outside. The exterior? The walls? The stairs?
"Amir, did the Palm Shade belong to your grandfather?"
"Yeah. You think he hid the goods downstairs?"
"Only one way to find out. I'll try not to interfere with service."
Amir kindly opened the door and Tau led the white ahead with only one fist inside him. There was no way to communicate that they were heading downstairs but he only had to hold the inside of the white's asshole firm as they descended. It was Tau's concentration that mattered, Dante could flail and groan into his gag all he needed.
They waddled around the building and in the front of Palm Shade. "Black power, everyone. Don't mind us. If you're caught on camera, your face won't make it in."
Five tables were filled. The duo was met with mild interest but the patrons were reassured when Amir followed, now wearing a Palm Shade apron.
Tau relubed and pushed both hands back in, keeping them deep to help Dante's ass-soul fight ghostly meddling.
"Sorry to trouble you again, Amir, but do you have a whip?"
"Sure, man. Need me to use it?"
"Please. This place is a bit messy with interference."
The grandfather's signal came from far, far away and busy places tended to have spiritual baggage. Amir swung the whip with practiced motion, running red steaks across the white's upper back as Tau crouched and led the puppet around with both hands inside him.
The deaf, blind and mute white with his very being pulled into his double-fisted ass eventually circled a specific table.
"It's here," Tau said. "Maybe underneath?"
"There's a loose tile," Amir said. "I remember it from years ago. Mom said she'd get it fixed but then we rearranged and the table was on top."
The furniture was easily moved and the treasure under the tile recovered. A title deed, a huge gem and three necklaces with more sentimental than monetary value.
Tau pumped his fists into his boyfriend who'd gone on all fours. His eyes were on the drones. "There you go, Boos. Another case closed. More of us at the links below, and if you need a seer, a spirit guide or any other Blaxorcist business, we're at home right here in Sable. Black power, folks."
He pulled out, Dante collapsing in spasms, not even the gag enough to muffle his screams.
Tau wiped his hands with a towel, then hung it on the hem of his thong, letting it push the pouch down enough to expose the root of his cock.
"We'll light a few candles to guide your grandfathers Will back to rest, Amir. Do you think your mother would want to join?"
Tau had put a Horny Spade baseball cap on his hairless head, the sun still fairly high above. Still, a red moon was already creeping over the horizon, its deep carmine bleeding into the sky, threatening the sun's dominance.
With their equipment stowed in the car at the back of Palm Shade, and that car still blocking the view to the road, Tau slipped out of his thong.
Dante forced his throat to envelop the uncut 8 inch rod (20cm), the struggle of a pale face over black cock well practiced but still too slow. Tau grabbed the pastel pink mohawk and shoved.
As the retching gave way to silence and Dante turned bright red, Tau pulled out to let the white recover.
"Think you can double up?"
"Yes, sir, please, sir."
Tau pushed the choker aside to reveal the Band beneath and ran his fingers along barely perceptible indents.
He forced his way back into Dante's mouth.
The Shield activated and reproduced – "doubled up" – every oral sensation in the white's ass. Every thrust Tau fucked into the throat, Dante's pale hole experienced, too, gaping with the girth of the black man's rod.
Tau found his rhythm and fucked his boyfriend in the parking lot from both ends, letting Dante taste African cock while the white ass got the artificial ghost fuck it craved even after getting fisted raw.
"Aw fuck yes, bitchboy, I'm about to gift you another load, just like a honkey whore loves it."
Dante held as still as he could while Tau again stayed balls deep inside him to jizz. Five seconds, ten, fifteen. Tau tended to unload in several spurts.
He pulled out, his rod hovering in Dante's face. The white struggled for air.
"Thank you, sir," Dante said with a wrecked voice.
Tau raised a fist for the camera drones. "See you tomorrow for another cum shot. And don't forget to check out our spirit hunt stuff. Black power, folks."
Dante raised a weak fist, his smile loopy. "Black power, sirs."
...
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Afternoon: Pale Possession
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The onyx slate of the apartment's walls and floor glinted under the early afternoon sun, dampened through scarlet sheer.
Jengo's ashen black 6'2'' frame sank onto his knees, thick thighs bulging. His heavy balls and huge cock came to rest on the pillow, which was the same red as the ruby ferns flanking the altar ahead.
Only snakebites in the corners of his full lips and a few rings in the mop of dreadlocks topping his otherwise shaved head, the naked man looked over the offerings.
In the bone circle were potted parsley, burning oil, water in a chalice and wafting sage incense. Why wasn't the beacon working? Not a single ghost to practice on in the area? Not even a mystical morsel?
Jengo grunted a sigh and lit a psychaldehyde candle. Sometimes the spirits got stuck somewhere.
The flame seemed weirdly high. He raised the candlestick. The flame wanted to go up. But he lived on the top floor.
"The fuck?" Jengo mumbled. "That's new."
With a hastily pulled-on tiger striped thong, Jengo stepped onto the roof, the black solar tiles warm beneath his large, naked feet. The sun coming in from the west was swallowed by the taller, tinted glass towers to east and south.
Framed by dandelions and goldenrods - the Sable variety with their leaves and stems black - was the rattan roof lounge where a white twink lay on a mat with his trembling legs raised, spine arched.
The pink plug in the white's ass was pumping in and out as his sphincter flexed, the plug's head visible as a bulge on the stretched abs. Probably from a Shield recreation of his last fuck, going by the gagging as the Band doubled up the anal ravaging.
"Enjoying the sun, cracker?"
Jengo got no response. Ah, headphones. Going by the red tint on the white's skin he'd been laying out for half an hour already. Anally pleased enough to accept a sun burn.
The black man turned to leave just as he heard the rambling. Incoherent, non-words, blabbered through the Band's replica of a dick down the white's throat.
Jengo stepped up to the raving guy and gave him a foot tap in the Shield. "Hey, bitchboy, fucking answer," he tried again. It was some boy with a blond fade he'd seen in the elevator before – who'd never failed to be polite.
Jengo went down and pulled the plug. It was a Medium one, 10 inches long (25cm) and 6 inches across (15cm), leaving the white to spasm with a gaping, flexing ass.
The lube was nothing special. A fuck so good it created an accidental ass-soul was nearly unheard of without a real black cock in the mix. Whatever Jengo's beacon had called shouldn't have slipped into the twink.
Through the gags and the raving, the white seemed to have a lucid moment, finding Jengo's eyes. "Graaaw waggawagga Hel- Help please sir plea- grawoggoboggo..."
The amateur spirit abater looked around. The moon had already risen, its red glow bleeding into the sky around, tracing the dark edges of lower buildings' roofs. He hadn't noticed it because nothing reflected in the skyscrapers of Sable City ahead.
"Right, red moon. That'll do it." Jengo gave the white a kick in the flank with a dark chuckle. "You fucks are going to have a tough month ahead. Well, moon's white five months at a time anyway."
He stripped out of his thong, his rod quickly thickening.
Pulling the white around by the hair, to line up his crotch with the pale face, Jengo reached for the white's lube.
He turned off the recreated fuck, freeing the twink from the tyranny of his Band & Shield. This only left the possession.
Leaning over, he took the headphone wearer between his thighs and muffled the blabbering by putting his hole on the white's mouth. Holding the ghost victim's legs up with one hand, he pushed his other, lubed hand into the flexing hole.
"Here we go, cracker. You better bake me some cookies for this neighborly service."
Digging in to the wrist, Jengo used the other hand to jerk himself hard. With some lube on his rod, he lined up with the raving mad white's mouth.
As his arm slipped deeper into the ass, he pushed his cock along the throat. Braced on one knee, he placed his other foot on the Shield for continued pressure, the covered white nuts trapped between foot and fisting arm.
Jengo's balls hit the victim's face. At the same time he pumped his way into the ass to the elbow, feeling the insides struggle as the possession futilely tried to enter his dark skin.
He pulled out to the wrist and worked his other arm in, too, a foot always staying on the Shield, applying light kicks.
"Hear me, spirits, and honor the rites. I, Jengo, bane of all things pale, claim possession of this vessel. With my power, by my wisdom, through my judgement, I excise all that dwells within, lest I approve its presence. Obey, pale creature."
The white shook as his body was vacated. The ghost was visible as a flicker in the air and ripped itself apart as it fled the abater.
Jengo pulled his arm out and shoved the plug back in. He pressed the plug's button to start the shocks that would let the white's soul reset undamaged. He continued to fuck the mouth – both hands now around the throat - and applied some light pressure to the nuts.
Over the next ten minutes, the twink became himself again, struggling under the oral assault.
With a brush against the Band, Jengo doubled up the fuck to let the plug work its shocks all over the anal walls. The twink spasmed rhythmically under the double fuck shock attack, his throat pumping the solid rod.
By the time Jengo jizzed his load onto the loose tongue, the victim held as still as the electro plug-fuck let him, his hands caressing the thighs framing his head.
"Be a little less stupid next time, cracker," the amateur abater said on pulling out. "Red moon's not going anywhere. Won't always have a good guy stumbling over you."
The white did his best to say "thank you sir" through the demolished throat and trembles.
"Apartment?"
"45," said the hoarse voice.
"I'll check by with some buddies for a better thank-you tomorrow. Gotta get ready for an appointment now."
"Y-yes sir."
Jengo spat into the white's mouth, pulled his thong back on and left. Some fun story to post in the chat.
...
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Sunset: Pale Pact
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What evening sunlight still filtered between the black towers of Sable City, cast a warm glow onto ebony paneling in the eerily vacant hallway.
With Crestwood High emptied for the day, Jabari jiggled his keys on the way to the back door. The student councilor's wide shoulders kept the sleeveless crop-vest wide open over his pecs, its Crestwood-brown fabric still lighter than his flawless skin.
The loincloth with the lion's head – the second half of his uniform – was just wide enough to cover his thong, but not heavy enough to obscure the arc of his thick cock entirely.
The young man with a mohawk of tight braids ran his keycard over the backdoor's scanner.
"Jabari, my man. Black power."
Jabari gave a fist bump and half-hug to the other student, an Afro-Arab with skin like caramel. He had a broad jaw and incredibly cut muscles that looked much bigger on his short frame. He had traded the Chestwood uniform for a casual golden speedo and a litany of necklaces, dangling with bones, salt and quartz.
"Black power, Chima," Jabari said, "glad you could make it. We don't have a real abater club, so..."
"Peanuts, bro. I'm always glad to get something for my resume. I was just waiting for the call."
Waddling in behind Chima was Tyler. The lean white with blue eyes had all hair removed from his head save for a little palmtree right on top. He wore the Chestwood collar with the lion's head over his Band, a matching brown utility belt just above his white Shield.
"Black power, sirs," Tyler said. He dropped down to kiss Jabari's feet.
The student councilor pulled his thong aside for a quick lick across the ass crack and a nuzzling of black balls before the whiteboy was allowed to rise.
"Ready?" Jabari asked.
Tyler grumbled. "It's a little much having this up my ass."
Jabari gave him a once over. "Really? I thought ghost detection just uses Medium plugs?"
"It's not the circumference I struggle with, sir," Tyler said. "I can take big plugs. Ecto-lube is just itchy."
Chima shrugged. "Only because I used the cheap stuff and mixed twice as much fantasmaplasm in. You'll need it with your lack of experience. And you're supposed to get used to it."
"Sure, sir, I'll just keep rubbing my cheeks together."
"Less sass, more ass, whiteboy."
"Sorry sir Chima. I'm a little nervous actually. May I run your program?"
Chima tapped Tyler's Shield. The last fuck Chima had given the white's ass was reproduced in detail, the Shield ramming every thrust authentically into his anal walls, making the plug jiggle.
Face grimacing in pleasure, the white arched and spasmed on the spot. "Thank you s-"
Chima tapped the Band through the collar and the fuck doubled up, forcing the white's throat into a gag-fest that would have cut his airflow for good if it hadn't been a mere technological illusion.
Jabari walked ahead, trusting they'd follow. "So as you'll have heard through the grapevine, we got a poltergeist. Books tossed around, some beakers in the science lab broken."
"All contained to the west wing," Chima said. He lowered his voice. "Until yesterday."
Jabari rolled his eyes with a smirk. "The poltergeist snapped Masamba's neck, so if you can't abate this thing we'll call in the big guns."
He indicated the anthropomorphic lion with black fur, the mascot of Chestwood, displayed in the lobby, its head long since righted again.
"Ah, but the ghost made Masamba look toward the west. It still wants our attention there." Chima raised an amulet to his forehead. "Let's take this room by room."
They advanced to the west wing intersection. Chima mused with a hand on his sharp jaw. "Which way? Dumbfuck, count it out. And don't guess wrong."
Freed from the doubled up ghost-fuck, Tyler spoke a rhyme, getting the back of Chima's hand slammed into his Shield with every line.
"Stupid horny whiteboy sluts, hit those crackers in the nuts, watch how every honkey ruts, stupid horny whiteboy sluts. This way, sir. Thank you, sir."
They continued, Tyler back to his doubled up pleasure.
It didn't take long for the pale tiwnk to find the first hotspot. He was reluctant to close in, his silvery lube turning spicier and spicier. Soon Jabari and Chima could hear the piano sounds.
Chima nodded to himself. "Ah, that's just the echo of Nalah's recital. Girl was so nervous she puked before, and then it got her into Longridge Academy anyway. We can drain it just to be safe."
He ripped the plug out of his assistant's hole, sending Tyler onto all fours with pleasure and ghost-fuck spasms. Chima exchanged the plug for a shorter, more bulbous one, dripping with clear lube. While not long, it had the thickness of a Large plug at 7 inches across (18cm).
Tyler, on all fours, groaned and grimaced, suppressing a scream with his mouth wide open.
The plug popped in and Jabari kicked him in the Shield as Chima slapped his ass.
"Up," the student councilor demanded. "Siphon while we walk."
Tyler, with the program turned off, breathed fast and heavy at the intrusion of spiritual flow. A series of tiny electroshocks into his guts dispersed the musical echo dripping into him.
Tyler's suppressed moans turned louder and surprised after they'd rounded a few corners. "S-sir, I think I'm draining another one. It feels so... so fucking much."
Chima tapped his own chin. "Hm, the science labs? Maybe the beakers weren't the poltergeist's fault. Which means it's never actually broken anything. Friendlier than assumed. It rearranges... to point at something?"
Tyler kept dropped to his knees, crawling as much as he was walking. Jabari rolled his eyes. No wonder they weren't getting an abater club off the ground if this was the one cracker in Chima's class year.
The epicenter of ghost activity had been classroom 2B lately. Faraway street lamps drew gleams along the ebony walls. The sun had gone down, making way for a deep red horizon, a threatening moon taking over the sky.
Tyler changed back to his ecto-lubed plug and could soon feel the many tiny hotspots across the room.
As the whining white circled around the desks, the Afro Arab man observed the room with his eyes closed and his amulet on the brow.
"Ghost writing on the ceiling," Chima said. "Faint but not blurry. Someone with ties to this place, low mutation. Anything about that class above us?"
"It's where Aadan Ngo was class prez," Jabari said. "The valedictorian who died last year. But he didn't have unfinished business."
"Well, maybe he took a look for old time's sake and a Lingering Passion developed. Tyler? Still bumbling?"
"This desk, sir. Or the one next to it."
Jabari swiped his keycard on the teacher's desk's reader. "All desks should open now."
"Let me check, sir. Just some notes. Wait... Sir, this is answer keys."
Jabari took the print outs. "Well fuck me in the ass and call me white. The ghost pointed us at cheaters. Lemme just write down the desk number."
Chima looked up at the ceiling. "Thanks Aadan Ngo."
From the lobby, a lion's roar echoed, distorted and carried too far for how faint is seemed.
Jabari jolted. "Did we just summon something into Masamba?"
Chima grinned. "Seems like this place has a new mascot. It's not about his unfinished business, it's about ours."
Jabari snapped his fingers and pointed at the ground before him. Tyler dropped to his knees, mouth open.
"Man, I almost pissed myself when I heard that roar." He placed his cock halfway into the white's mouth and let lose his stream. Tyler dutifully swallowed with practiced rhythm.
"We should light a candle," Chima said, "in honor of Aadan."
"Here or in his classroom upstairs?" Jabari asked and flung his last few drops at Tyler's face.
"I was thinking by the mascot. See you there, Tyler."
The white went on all fours and Chima, as he left, activated the rapid electroshock to free the white from all remaining spirit flow. With a touch of the Band, the doubled up fuck reproduced the white's last dicking down once again from both ends. After all, if Chima got another notch in his amateur exorcist belt, the white student in class should also get something for showing up after hours.
...
====================
Evening: Pale Purity
====================
Streetlights painted soft gold across the slate mosaic of Panafrica Plaza where black palms lined building fronts mimicking traditional clay houses.
Zion's deep onyx skin invited the light into the sharp cuts of his bulging muscles, from the scarlet-tipped tail of dreadlocks on his otherwise smooth head, to the cherry red sandals on his large feet.
His padded thong in matching red tastefully obscured the shape of his package but couldn't hide the size, even as it sunk between the thickness of his thighs with every step into the heart of Sable City.
By day, the plaza was bustling, now, only stragglers passed the closed businesses.
The tinted refractor-glass of thousands of skyscrapers kept the light of their apartments from spilling outside, the dark towers blending into the night sky to form a dome of black overhead.
The moon seemed to cast astral blood into the clouds. A nostalgic reminder of the night Zion had chosen to Descend to aid mankind.
The keen observer could have noticed the faint red trail behind Zion, a blur tracing the shape of his ethereal wings. He kept them politely folded.
By his side was Nash, a young white. Buzzed bald and working hard to become muscular at a young age. His Band was ringed by a metal chain, his Shield behind a camouflage triangle, matching his backpack.
As the duo reached the middle of the plaza, they began their routine, putting out candles that shone with a black flame into a circle of salt, blocking all lesser influences.
Nash swiped along his Shield to activate humbler mode. He leaned far forward, knees bent, just before his Shield's cramps and spasms would have forced him into that position. It made kneeling the natural posture but that was for later.
"Divinity, sir, do we begin?" Nash asked, his plugged ass pointed at the African man with the barely visible wings.
Zion pulled the plug, which was the Huge type, 14 inches long (36cm), 8 wide (20) for a truly insane anal spread. He applied ecto-lube to his hand, while the white got wrecked by pleasure.
The man punched his whiteboy in the ass with both fists - Nash's knees buckling - and pumped in to feel the flow of the area.
Zion was highly sensitive to spiritual matters, more so even than seers and those highly attuned to their whites. He kept fisting the hole until he was fisting a soul, Nash's every thought and passion reduced to anal sex.
"Three rounds," Zion decided. "I'll prepare the lures."
"Yes, Divinity, sir."
Zion retrieved a dildo of black bumps stacked to a 20 inch rocket (50cm), thicker than his large hand could wrap around. The base widened to twice the circumference, carrying the label "nature".
Slick with silver goo, the tool vanished into Nash's ass, only the base staying out. The white had to keep his ass pushed out due to the humbling Shield but easily rode the rod for much of its length.
Zion touched the Band to double up, stimulus in the white's throat translating the ride from the other direction as much as possible.
With Nash's mouth wide open, gagging on nothing, eyes teary, Zion plugged the mouth with a shorter, smaller "nature" dildo, the plastic's interior infused with the same mix of herbs, seeds and sediment.
Ghosts spoke a language that changed with every turn of the seasons, every phase of the moon, every grain of sand washed ashore. An angel could intuit it. Even a former one.
Zion whispered into the breeze. Welcome, he told the spirits.
Cold flowed around him, the air turning viscous.
The black candles flickered. Nash groaned, his trembling making the ride uncontrollable.
Zion felt dozens of minor, barely developed ghouls and other hungering soul fragments flood the area and slip into Nash's ass-soul. The whiteboy shivered.
"Now."
Nash pushed down with a whimper and a cry, taking in the base of the dildo. Electricity rammed through him. The ghouls burst from his body, a wobble in the air.
Zion willed the salt barrier to hold. No passage, he told them.
Shock by shock, the ghouls that had congealed in the center of Sable City were eliminated.
"Next one."
Nash fell forward and let the dildo slip from his hole, the bumps railing his guts one final time. He quivered too much to speak. "Y-yes-es, si-i-ir."
Zion prepared the rod infused with iron particles.
It hadn't escaped his attention that they had onlookers. More than usual. A gaggle of young man stood at a respectful distance. They wore knee and elbow pads, hard-shell jockstraps and cleats. Protective headgear hung around their necks or was in hand. Wrestlers.
Zion slipped the "iron" rod into his assistant and let the white resume the ride.
"Come on," Zion said, toward the onlookers. "Observing a cleansing rite is allowed. Just don't interrupt."
The teens drifted closer, up ahead the tallest one, with green-dyed cornrows and a chipped tooth. "Thank you, Divinity. We'll keep quiet."
Wraiths flocked to the salt circle and Zion welcomed them in. Their flow was heating the air around him with anger, rage and vengeance. Nash dutifully fucked himself as spiritual energy rushed into his hole and soul. He turned red from heated air, rage and spicy lube.
Zion was beginning to sweat. Nash was utterly drenched within seconds, his breath ragged.
The faintly winged black hunk commanded the whiteboy to envelop the base and kept the barrier strong as wraiths were shredded between salt and lightning.
"One more and we'll wrap up," Zion said and waved the onlookers closer.
"Amazing job, Divinity," the tall wrestler said. He still radiated the heat of battle on the gym floor, oblivious to the storm of spiritual heat he was wading into. "Always had a fascination with it."
Nash, still on the base, was whimpering into his wide open mouth, muffled by the "iron" dildo and the gut spreading doubled up fuck.
"Zion, of Fallen Empyrion."
"I'm Gavin, Divinity." The teen bowed lightly. "Saying hi wouldn't interrupt?"
"Go ahead."
Gavin gave a solid slap to the back of the only whiteboy among wrestlers. "You heard, Reed." More black hands rained onto Reed's ass and the back of his head.
"Yes sir," the white said and dropped to his knees before Zion, his tongue immediately on the black man's toes.
Zion spread his legs and pulled the red thong aside. Reed lifted his head, ran his tongue along the crack where sweat drops collected, circled the hole and sucked the balls clean. Zion kicked him in the Shield, the device sending the impulse reliably to the nuts.
The white wrestler scooted back and swiped along his Shield to humble himself.
"Thank you for your work, Divinity, sir."
Zion turned to the salt circle. "Last one, Nash, get off."
Nash practically rattled as he let the tool get flung from his ass-soul.
The last dildo for tonight was "bone" and Nash rode while swaying side to side from exhaustion, his ass-soul constantly invaded and vacated.
Shades flooded the area, alternating warm and cold, lingering echoes bound to fade but in danger of turning poltergeist.
Zion sealed the circle a last time, Nash sank onto the base and the battle was won.
The "bone" rod slipped out, Nash leaning back on his knees, eyes closed, swaying, sweating.
Zion turned to Gavin. "Does one of you boys know what's missing?"
Reed raised his hand.
"Yes, whiteboy?"
"Divinity, sir. After so much invasion, the vessel has to be reset or he could take spiritual damage."
"Excellent. Would you like to do that? Or pick a friend to do the honors?"
Reed looked at his wrestling buddies who started a chorus of "Who's it gonna be?" "Yeah, Reed, who fucks you best?" "Pick me pick me" and "I'll reset you next, cracker."
The whiteboy swallowed and moved his finger along the group with a counting rhyme. "Gospel reggae hip-hop jazz, punch a whiteboy in the ass, if it jizzes let it spaz, gospel reggae hip-hop jazz. Oh, it's Gavin, sir."
The tallest athlete wasted no time getting a running start and rammed the back of his foot into the Shield between the kneeling Nash's spread legs.
Nash jolted, doubled over and retched.
"Another, Gavin," Zion said.
Gavin slipped out of his right cleat and pushed the sole of his foot into Nash's face to make him lean back. He followed up with another kick. Nash had a hard time containing his rage behind the tears.
"One more ought to do it."
Gavin put the heel of his foot down on the Shield and crushed.
"Well done," Zion said. "Nash, pack up the candles. Clean the place thoroughly. I'll be checking for anything we missed in the area. Gavin, do you or the other boys have any questions?"
Zion headed away from the ritual site, one ear listening to the wrestlers, most of him keeping his heavenly senses attuned to the flow. Sable City had been granted another peaceful start to a red month.
...
=================
Night: Pale Peace
=================
Finn, the ginger twink, Dante, the pink-haired boyfriend in Horned Spade getup, and Nash, the buzzed meathead in camo and youngest among them, were laying out red sticky tape on the polished, pitch black floor.
Having formed a ring of red pentagrams around a larger pentagram, the whites stepped back to gauge their work.
"Third time was the charm," Dante said, tracing the width of the OWNED tattoo on his pecs. "Master Tau has an eye for angles and I dare say this'll make him happy."
"Which reminds me," Finn said, "that fuck from yesterday?"
"Right," Dante said. "I have the file on my phone. I swear Master Tau was exploring me up to the shoulder."
"I know, I watched the video. It's why I want a taste."
Dante sent the file so Finn's Band & Shield could replicate the fuck anytime. Finn would return the favor when he'd found a particularly good top.
"You too, Nash?"
The youngest waved him off. "Nah, I'm still sore from purifying Panafrica Plaza. Although, sure, I'll get around to it. Send it over."
The door to the other room slid aside, revealing a huge muscleman of onyx beauty.
Luan had changed into the gold-studded loincloth showing the sigil of the Circle of Vivid Shade. Thin gold chains supplemented his wristlets of bone and crystal.
"We set up. How's it looking, whites?"
"Sir," Finn said, "ready when you are, sir."
Nash continued to the table draped with red cloth where Zion had rolled the oracle bones in front of six black candles. "The Divinity rolled two feathers and a bridge, crossed with a snake and the eye of the First for the pentagrams. Water formation, pointing north."
Dante perked up. "Why north, is anything happening there?"
"We're at the very south of the city," Luan said with a nod to the window, the tenth story view of a nighttime Sable City beyond it. A red moon fought the blue glint rising from the streetlights. "Anything that happens is north of here."
Dante chuckled. "Sorry sir, never been at your apartment and all."
Tau stepped right beside him, ruffling his pastel hair. "A bit stupid is just how I like them."
"Thank you, sir."
The wide-shouldered black hunk kissed his boyfriend and gave him a slap on the ass. Tau had also put on the gold attire.
At the dull ring of the doorbell, Tau kicked his boyfriend with his naked foot, a smirk exchanged between them. Zion emerged from the other room, a red cloak accentuating his golden clothing.
The guest of honor was Jengo, the acolyte. A mop of dreadlocks on an otherwise shaved head, snakebites in his full lips. He moved past Dante with a slap on the white ass to throw himself into the arms of the African Circle members. Dante went down to receive the sneakers and leave each foot with a tongue kiss from the toes up.
Jengo had brought his friend Elliot, a lean brunet in nothing but off-white Band & Shield.
Jengo slipped out of his thong to receive a golden loincloth and poked his ass out to let Dante lick the crack, forward to the balls, placing a kiss on the cockhead hanging six inches below.
Newcomer Elliot kissed underneath Zion's loincloth, then took positon with the other whites.
The welcoming train was not over, though, because Chima was back, this time with his very own white, introduced as Tyler.
The five men got waited on by their whites for drinks.
"Welcome acolyte and teen novice," Zion said, striking a more authoritative voice. "We have an hour to midnight. How about we clear our heads in the lounge."
The whites had gone into humbler mode, forced to kneel with backs arched, under threat of corrective spasms none of them needed.
Zion and Luan were on the dark red sofa, pissing into their whites who struggled to swallow as the black rods slowly chubbed to full girth. Acolyte Jengo squeezed the last drop into his whiteboy Elliot and dropped himself between the Circle members, the dark shades of their beefy thighs lined up as they relaxed broad legged.
Tau sat on the chair to the left, his fiancé already bobbing up and down the shaft, barely making a sound as his breath synched to the motion, working the entire length into his throat.
Chima's whiteboy was louder, slightly struggling to keep his humbled pose, while forcing his throat to envelop the strictly upward pointing 7 black inches (18cm).
Naturally, every white was doubling up, Dante and Tyler already gaping with the Shield-recreated invasion of owner and classmate respectively.
"How do you know each other?" Tau asked.
Jengo nodded at his companion. "I was a senior at Chestwood when Chima here was a sophomore. We didn't stay in contact through the last two years but we kept common friends."
"Mostly our girls," Chima said. "My girlfriend is a year older, his a year younger. And Nuru knows I'd like to get more into spirit abating."
"We're glad to have you along," Tau said.
Luan pulled his white's face all the way to the base of his cock and kept it there. "If Nuru is also into it, she could check out the Coven of Balanced Mirrors. My wife's having a girl's night out tonight but she can send you the contacts of the gal in charge of apprentices." He let go of Finn's head.
"Thanks but nah," Chima said. "I'm not even sure I'll apprentice with the order. Uni orientation starts in a month."
Zion nodded. "Good luck, pick wisely."
Luan was first to flip his white around and squirted the lube bottle into the eager hole. It was a faint white mix of ecto-lube, no trace of the ghost-attracting component - just right to pull a white's soul into his guts.
Finn's expression went even blanker as Luan shoved him around, ass up and in line with black cock, face down and barely kept from rubbing that face on the floor by nuzzling into Luan's toes instead.
The massive hunk fucked the ginger in the soul, all the white's desires and emotions wrapping around the dark rod.
Jengo pulled Elliot around but had him face the ceiling. The whiteboy's ass was in Jengo's crotch, the torso leaning back until his shoulders hit the ground. Elliot's mouth ripped open as the doubled up penetration started, his slim stomach bulging where cock rubbed against it from within.
Zion's assistant had lubed his own hole, groping blindly for the Divine rod as all his bodily senses focused on his hole. Zion pulled Nash into a sideways pose, one leg on Zion's shoulder, the other dangling. The buzz-haired white gagged and choked freely as he got fucked both ways by a single cock.
Chima took his time, letting Tyler's ass-soul accumulate and only experience the ghostly recreation of his oral assault. The less practiced whiteboy tried to reposition himself, having forgotten to turn off the humbling effect. Spasms through back, thighs, ass and abs hammered him back into shape. Chima reinforced the lesson with slaps from either side until he grew bored.
The high school senior slid off the chair and fucked his white doggystyle, a foot forward to rest on Tyler's face, letting the bottom tongue the black toes through the doubled up oral assault.
They spent twenty minutes in mundane conversation, one by one creaming into their whites to the quivering delight of the bottoms.
There was no danger here, making a reset optional, but pulling the whites out of their trance to let them witness the proceedings was only polite.
Tau and Jengo used their knees, Chima the front of his foot, while Zion and Luan grabbed with their hands. Five pairs of Shielded balls were crushed with just enough strength to pull ass-souls back into the rest of the body.
The whites were left behind, croaking thank you's with wrecked voices, dripping cum from their holes, as the expert and hobby abaters took their positons in the pentagrams in the other room.
The moon's red light fell in just the right way to drench the room, refracting and magnified along the red tape.
Five gold-clad Africans, three of a Circle, welcoming a new member along with a maybe-apprentice. Zion's angelic tongue murmured as a breeze rose within the apartment.
Jengo recited from a paper, "...to protect the living and aid the dead, to respect the bonds of nature and iron, to tread responsibly among disturbed graves..."
The whites knew they had to prevent malignant spirits from entering the pattern around the Divinity and acolyte. With the last of the ecto-lube still making their souls cling to their asses, they activated the Bands' memories of their last anal fucks, not doubling up to stay silent in reverence. With their ghost-hammered holes gaping and presenting easy targets, no lingering apparition would chose to try surmounting the Divinity's presence instead.
"...to protect all entrusted to my care, living and dead, and obey the authorities above me. So I swear."
The black man fist-bumped with grins and rose for their glasses. Their whites trembled with pleasure in their raw guts, now freely groaning after a job well done.
Restless spirits would find repose, or else fear the specialist eye of any Circle among the Sable City Order of Blaxorcists.
Let me know if you enjoyed my spooky ghosts. And tell me who you'd be in Sable City.
abracadabra923@yahoo.com