Cascade Fire

By MetaBob

The story so far, from Were-Tigress | Book 1 of Real Amazons, Real Magic:

Bob, a loving husband and father, never knew that he was descended from generations of witches. Then he found a grimoire — or it found him — and began learning magic before encountering two powerful women, Morgan and Mari. Morgan is young and stunning while Mari, older and intending psycho-sexual hypnotic ownership, becomes a were-tigress in order to forcibly and repeatedly seduce him. His conscious mind submerged along with his memory and much of his ability to reason and speak. Lost in the system, he became homeless.

A beautiful, compelling woman finds him and takes him to a school she founded to teach magic and martial arts where the students, budding witches all, are capable, beautiful and talented young women.

• Language: English
• Publisher: MetaBob
• Release date: Dec 13, 2019
• ISBN: 9780463004647

Book preview

Cascade Fire

Book 2 of

Real Amazons, Real Magic

by MɛtaBob

Published by MɛtaBob at Smashwords

Copyright 2019 MɛtaBob

Discover other titles by MɛtaBob:

Packback

Real Amazons, Real Magic

Book 1: Were-Tigress

Book 2: Cascade Fire

Book 3: Crossings

Book 4: Sanctuaries (upcoming)

Senioritis (in progress)

Writing as Robert W. Connor:

The Dog Whisperer

Valley Winter Loop

Personal Assistant (upcoming)

Flightback (an upcoming meta-sequel to Packback )

Celtic Vampiress (upcoming)

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to your favorite ebook retailer and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Cover photo contributor: ksimms234

Licensed from Shutterstock, Inc.

Table of Contents

1.  Sati

2.  Newberry

3.  Houseboy, With Benefits

4.  Caldera

5.  Match

6.  Divination

7.  Taylor

8.  Market Day

9.  The Milky Way

10.  Lustrations

11.  The Raid

Epilogue: Loose Ends

Synopsis of Book 1: Were-Tigress

Bob, a loving husband and father, finds a grimoire and begins learning magic, then meets two compelling women: Morgan and Mari. Morgan is young and stunning while Mari, older and intending psycho-sexual hypnotic ownership over Bob, becomes a were-tigress in order to forcibly and repeatedly seduce him. Bob's conscious mind submerges along with his memory and much of his ability to reason and speak. Lost in the system, he becomes homeless.

Book 2 begins here, shortly after the events of Were-Tigress .

1.  Sati

Someone woke me, stood me up, brought me to a soup kitchen and a hot breakfast. Told them we were together, that she was so happy to find her husband again. Her name was Sati. She had a baby and a bed at the adjacent shelter. A mellifluous consonant heavily-accented voice, though tired. She seemed to be about 35. She led me to a shower at the shelter and helped clean me up. Ran my remaining clothes through the wash. I could perform some relatively mindless functions myself: eat, drink, remove clothes, relieve myself on the toilet, but others like soaping up, drying off, shaving, brushing teeth, were beyond me. She worked around my ever-present tumescence quickly and thoroughly, pronounced me presentable, laid me down in her bed, alone, to sleep in peace while my clothes got clean.

The shelter had a visitation policy and couldn't accommodate a man and woman with a child overnight, but she'd made inquiries at another place that could accommodate families and had asked about bringing me in if she found me. These kinds of places were rare and precious, and she told me if we didn't behave we would be kicked out immediately. Not that I understood. After lunch she fitted the duffel containing all her possessions to my shoulders, tucked her baby into a sling, held my hand as we navigated across downtown. Through the very same bus stops I'd walked past some interminable number of days ago, a lifetime ago.

Apparently one of the women who'd taken advantage of my perpetual erection in her tent had told Sati, who'd been interested in this nonviolent, healthy, relatively fit, not-bad-looking older man as a way into a nicer shelter, willing to share a room and a little privacy with a nonverbal, barely responsive but compliant partner who might also have other uses. And who knows, maybe I might come around from my walking coma and turn out to be something ... except for cracked ribs, broken tooth, bruises, and scabbed cheeks I seemed to be fairly well-kept, and I wasn't wearing a ring. It had been stolen but Sati couldn't have known that.

She took my hand, laid her baby on the bed beside me, laid my hand on him. That was nice ... it had been a few years since my kids were that young, but my body remembered. I stroked his head and hair, rubbed his temples gently. His name was Lashe. She put one of my hands behind his neck, the other under his diaper, and moved my hands to lift him, then hold him. I probably smiled. My body remembered well how to hold a baby, his chin over my shoulder. I rocked him slowly and he cooed at Sati behind me.

She let me rock him for a minute, then took him back gently, laid him in a crib next to the bed, soothed him to sleep, which didn't take long. Laid me down. She was wearing a long, voluminous skirt and a shapeless winter top that allowed no perception of what she might have looked like underneath. She was about 5'7", her blonde hair long and not well-kept, but she had pretty blue-gray-green eyes. Her face unlined but tired-seeming, so she might've been younger than she first appeared. She climbed atop me, adjusted her long skirt, and took me into her. She was warm and wet, and I was as hard as I'd been since encountering Nancy's enormous, engrossing tits.

She rode me slowly, whispering to me in a language I'd never heard before, but which seemed to have a lot of zsh sounds, like a soft French J. It was soothing, would have even been hypnotic if I'd had awareness to be hypnotized. She was not tight, having given birth less than three months earlier, but she had a way of moving her hips ...

I want your

Feelings

Gimme, yes

Aaahhhh

She came. I was as unable as I'd been with the two other women who'd mounted me since Nancy, though my body floated in currents of pleasure.

Sati kept going. Put her hands on my chest, brushing thumbs over my nipples, squeezing me, lower. Not hard, maybe she couldn't, but enough to make her feel tight. Slid up and down while squeezing. Her cervix was a bit prolapsed and was bumping against me. My hands moved to her skirt, under it, to her bottom, mind still gone but body doing something it knew.

She was more slender than her clothes let on, soft rounded legs, hips, tummy, buttocks. A very slim waist. She rocked her hips, squeezed me, gasped, pled in her unfamiliar, euphonious tongue. She seemed to like my cock head against her cervix, rubbed us together as she rocked. Longer vowels now, not so much words anymore. Soft moans, squeezes, harder now. Something in my body was changing.

She came again and stayed near the edge. My mind was still filled with visions of another woman's immense overwhelming breasts, my hands exploring, my cock doing what cocks do, separate. The song in my head changed.

This is for holding on

You reeled me in when I was gone

I owe you so much more than this

Until then, I give this song

Sati's hips rocked, she squeezed around me, her thumbs playing over my nipples. She leaned down, kissed me deep, hard, increasingly deep, her breathing rough. The currents my pleasure flowed within were rushing now. She rose, pulling away, but only just. 10 seconds, then took me back in, rode me, pulled away when her breath told my unconscious self that she would come again. Again. Again.

Her voice, expressing so much pleasure, was so beautiful. Musical. Elemental. Female.

She squeezed around me. Held me, my body throbbing, cock spasming, a fugue of impulse, hers and mine. Her moan rising to a wail, begging, desperate. For my release.

My body relaxed. It was close but not inevitable. My body was learning that when release was close, it could be so much stronger when I relaxed. The fingers of one of her hands dug into my shoulder. She pinched a nipple with the other. Squeezed me inside her, as hard as she could, which wasn't very.

Reached to her waist, drew open her top, which was ... a word drifted past ... a caftan?

Reached back for one of my hands, lifted it to her breast. It was a nice breast, distended, full of milk for her son. She lowered it to my lips, but I'm tall enough that she couldn't keep me inside her as she did, so she took my head in her hands instead, stroked the back of my neck, nudged my cock with the back of her soft smooth ankle.

Her milk came quickly. This had been fun when Joanna was still nursing our kids. I'd been able to easily bring her to orgasm just by licking and nibbling and sucking her nipples. Her milk was so much sweeter than from a carton, but I never drank more than a few drops at a time ... when her milk dropped she tended to leak all over everywhere unless our baby du jour drank her dry or she was able to use a breast pump, so cleanup could be more trouble than it was worth for both of us to get her started. But I'd loved how her breasts had grown so much while nursing and retained some of that increased size after. I'd also been able to get her milk flowing just by imitating the sound of a newborn's cry, which I'd annoyed her with more than once.

Sati's milk was as sweet, and she came again, hard, just from my lips and teeth and tongue, then plunged back onto me and came yet again. She was becoming more vocal, rougher, less restrained. I was on the edge myself, close enough that a little push in the right direction would send me over, and while she didn't know my body as well as Joanna or Mari, she seemed to know plenty about pleasing a man -- this would be a big one when it came, if she stayed with it.

Her rhythm changed. It seemed like she was withdrawing into herself, almost like I'd been doing with Mari. Relaxing. She was still sliding up and down on me, both of us completely slippery inside and out. But she also did something I'd done with Mari, going within herself and then expanding awareness outward.

She entered me.

It should've been no use, there was nothing of a mind left in me, just physical sensation and the vision of Nancy's huge tits, but she found that. And I found my vision changing. Nancy's tits were fully engulfing my cock now, rocking my world. I completely lost it. It would have been the biggest orgasm of my life if not for Mari, but it was really good, went on and on.

Sati came twice more, loudly, as I continued spasming into her, the second time like a deep aftershock.

We came down slowly together, breathing hard, her still whispering unfamiliar, sibilant felicity, smiling. She nestled into my side, kissing me gently, happily. Lashe was stirring in the crib and she rose, lay him between us, and nursed for about 15 minutes, stroking our hair gently, lovingly, whispering. She put Lashe back into his crib, where he went back to sleep, then nestled back into me. I drifted, floated, still with Nancy's tits occupying my vision, though not so vividly as before. We both napped, Sati's arm around my chest, her caftan open, sharing warmth.

You are sorceror. Father, she whispered, some time later.

I couldn't reply, couldn't even consciously understand, but some part of me listened.

I am sorceress, mother, trickster, she said. You must come back.

No visible or audible response from me. She sighed.

You will come back, she said, sighed again, stroked my forehead, took a deep breath, expanded her awareness into me.

I learn this from you, she said. Is good trick. I could feel her smile. She explored further, tickling memory, sensation, insensibility. It is like curse you have, she whispered. I help, but you must lead.

No response from me but even, regular breathing. She sighed, lay her head down next to me, her arm and one leg still over me, her caftan still open. Warmth, awareness open. We napped again until Lashe woke and Sati took him back into bed with us. Nursed him, whispered to him, played with him. Told him stories in her strange language. Her words passed over me, unheeded by conscious mind, but some distillation of me understood. These were old, old tales, never written down but transmitted orally for millennia. Older than Bragi Boddason, Homer, I Ching, the Pentateuch, perhaps as old as the Upanishads, Gilgamesh, or even older.

Sati rose, left Lashe on the bed, me spooning him. He was a small warm quiet form against my chest. His heartbeat synchronized with mine, or ours with each other, and we both went to sleep within minutes, but I heard female exclamations outside our room before fading. Sati's voice slightly embarrassed. Probably her cries during our long tryst had been overheard. Probably I smiled.

She woke us for supper, helped me dress, my clothes clean again. I could really use another shower, but I smelled of her and it was nice. I'd been really deeply asleep, deeper than for many months. A kind of exhausted, drained sleep, not just from the sex. Lashe was also groggy, but accepted her nipple eagerly as she lay on his other side. She stroked my forehead and shoulder, whispered love and acceptance to both of us.

Nancy's huge tits still overflowed my existence, but more distant now. I wasn't so continuously erect. When Lashe was done feeding, Sati rose, wrapped a sling around herself, slid Lashe into it. Then she leaned over, took