Witchy Altar Cloth Novels & Stories

She is looking at me with her mouth agape and i feel her eyes trailing all over me, filled with wonder and lust as she approaches slowly. "That... is totally unexpected! Wow! Why are you so hot?" she says looking at me, while i look back at her.. Her beautiful, cotton, long dress hugs her rich figure nicely. Dark green, with colourful butterflies moving upwards from the lower seams on her left side up until her waist, going round her back and moving up her right side and c-through long sleeve, as two butterfly wings finish on the back on her palm. Her hair is all pulled up and long wavy tufts fall around, framing her face perfectly, making it difficult for me to not focus on her long neck.

“By asking you, of course, so how do you intend on getting this off? You are serious, aren't you?” She seemed hesitant but told me anyway. She said there was a spell her mother told her was capable of breaking and unbinding anything. This spell, which she sloppily gave me the name, could break the bond bracelet but it needed about sixty witches to work together. Of course, she claimed that she knew who and who to call. I had heard all I needed to hear. If there was a spell that could do the job, I would find it myself. “You know what? I'm fine with the bracelet on my wrist,” I said, standing on my feet. “It has been with me my whole life, I don't want to say goodbye.”

The room felt hot and stifling, and the light from the red candles burning on the altar, did nothing to illuminate the dark shadows lurking in the corners. The pungent aroma of burning incense was suffocating and left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth. The altar was crowded with strange and grotesque statuettes, and pieces of bones, hair and various other paraphernalia associated with voodoo.

I was sure if they died, they could find ways to revive themselves, but Althea could not, so it was better if we stayed here. "Look at this." Her words snapped me from my thoughts, and I saw her holding a big, black fabric. She slipped her hand under it, and the fabric disappeared along with the portion of her hand. "What the fuck is that?" I growled as I stood up from my seat. "I think it’s Patrea’s invisible cloak. Let me try." "Althea!" I wanted to stop her, but she was already wrapping it around her, and then she was gone in front of me.

"I do not have anything to wear." "I have something." "What?" "A dress. A beautiful dress. A dress that will make the Alpha forget his own name." I stared at her and my voice was small. "I do not know." "You do not have to know. You just have to wear it." The dress was deep blue and the fabric was soft and the sleeves were long and the neckline was high. It fell to my ankles and the hem was embroidered with silver thread that caught the light and sparkled like stars. I stood in front of the mirror and looked at myself and the frost was still there and the cold was still there and the fear was still there. But the beauty was there too. The beauty of the dress and the beauty of the night and t

The scent is overwhelming—sweet, green, dying things mixed with the heavy musk of fifty unwashed bodies waiting for salvation. "Lie down," Alex says. He’s standing over me. He’s not wearing a robe. He’s wearing his jeans and a black t-shirt, but in this light, he looks like a High Priest. I lie back. "Bind her," Leo whispers from the front row. Alex grabs the white silk ropes they provided. He ties my wrists to the wooden posts of the altar. He ties my ankles. I am spread wide, open to the night sky and the hungry eyes of the congregation.

It was time. The sacred chamber felt like a trap the moment Freya stepped into it. Blue fire flickered from tall candles that circled the altar, strange glows on the stone carvings beneath her feet. There were other seven witches surrounding them, their faces covered with black garments, candles in their hands.

In the center stood a large, elevated altar draped in deep red satin. Lily was led down the stairs by Victoria and Cassandra, completely naked except for a delicate silver chain around her neck that bore the sorority’s rose emblem. Her heart hammered with a intoxicating mix of terror and overwhelming arousal. Every sister, all twenty of them waited in the chamber, dressed only in sheer black and red lingerie that left their perfect, pale bodies mostly exposed. Their eyes glowed brighter now, fangs fully extended, lips parted with hunger. Cassandra’s voice echoed softly through the room as she guided Lily to the center altar.

⸻ Later that day, we went to the tailor. The room was full of fabrics, white, cream, lace, silk, hanging everywhere like clouds. The tailor measured my waist, my arms, my shoulders, my chest. My mother stood close, watching every move. “Your wedding will be beautiful,” the tailor said cheerfully. I wanted to disappear. She held up different styles, asking my opinion. I answered quietly, barely thinking. At some point, my mother turned to me. “Choose something simple but elegant. No drama.” I nodded.

And soon, the guests would start arriving. Just then, Anabel came running up, her arms full of pale blue fabric. “Curtains for the altar,” she explained. “We found this shade and thought it would go better with Karen’s dress than the original white.” I took the cloth from her and held it up to the light. It shimmered—soft, elegant, almost glowing. Perfect. “She’s going to look beautiful,” I murmured. Anabel grinned. “She already does.” We shared a look—knowing, full of memories and moments. Then I turned back to the courtyard. The tables were almost done. The lights were going up. The musicians were tuning instruments, the scent of baking bread already wafting from the kitchen.