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The Witching Hour

By: Carnal_Flower



Author's Note: Welcome to this supernatural incest tale! It is being entered into the Halloween Contest, so all votes and comments are deeply appreciated! All characters in this story engaged in sexual activity are 18 or older.

Salem, Mass., c. 1725 

The sacred grove was lit by a ring of torches. Circling the huge stone altar in the center were two dozen men and women, some naked and some wearing heavy red cloaks. They listened as the tall figure in a dark gray cloak hissed in a high voice to the handsome man kneeling on the ground at her feet.

"And so, Pastor, now that you have gained insight into our rites, do you wish to proceed?"

Pastor Brown groaned at her feet. God help him! His prick was still throbbing from the unbelievable scene of debauchery he had just witnessed. Had he known, he never would have followed Hannah into the woods.

"Yes," Andrew moaned, despite himself. He knew he would not be able to stop himself from visiting the clearing now. "Yes, I wish to go on."

"Then you may return. And watch. And in some time hence, I will contact you."

"But when will I see my beloved wife, Mistress? That is the reason I followed Hannah here."

"In good time, Pastor! Our kind do not make promises that we cannot keep!"

"Let me remind you, there is no turning back now. You cannot change your mind. Do you agree to our bargain, and swear not to tell another living soul of our existence, on pain of death? Think well, Pastor, this is your last chance."

Andrew groaned again in agony. Anne—he must see his Anne, at any price, even this!

"Speak up, Pastor!"

Andrew moaned, "Yes, Mistress, yes."

"Then it is done."

+++

Six months later . . .

Elizabeth always dreaded the walk home, but especially tonight. She was very late leaving the house where she worked as a companion to Mary Prescott, Salem's oldest living resident. Mary was a sweet old lady, but she scared Elizabeth with her tales about the dangers lurking in the woods outside town—the Copley Woods as they were officially known, but every child growing up in Salem knew them as the Witches' Woods, or sometimes just the "Fields." Even in daylight, on the three-mile long walk from her father's house, Elizabeth hurried through the thick-shrouded path winding through dense maples and oaks on the way to Mary's house, humming a psalm from church or reciting a prayer and clutching the Bible her father had given her. 

Salem in 1725 was well-settled, with clean streets, distinguished civic buildings and busy markets, but outside the town limits, not several yards beyond Mary's front gate, the roads grew unkempt and treacherous, full of large rocks, overgrown shrubbery, and dangerous, slippery hills. The path through the woods was at least flat, and safe and clear, on soft earth packed from a century of travelers. Elizabeth didn't have to worry about stumbling and perhaps twisting her ankle, or getting lost. But it was dark, and silent, and the thick trees seemed to swallow her up in their own world far away from the happy sounds of children playing. They scared her even without Mary's stories.

"I can hear them, sometimes, chanting, and I see the lights," Mary had babbled to Elizabeth as she sat holding her yarn.

"Oh, Mistress Mary, those are just stories," Elizabeth tried to reassure herself. 

"Nay, nay, child, I hear them. I've lived here my whole life, right by the Fields! It's the Devil's work they're up to."

"But who, Mary?" Elizabeth demanded. "The elders put three women in the stocks just today!"

It was true. Elizabeth had seen them on her trip to the butcher's that very morning—three middle-aged women, their ragged hair unwashed and uncombed, spitting and cursing at the townspeople. 

"Child, you don't believe this nonsense, do you?" Mary said, squinting at her. "In all my life, I don't believe they've ever hung a real witch. Oh no. They're looking in the wrong place," she said, gesturing to the woods.

Elizabeth knew that was not true. Her own father had told her otherwise. "Now Mistress, Father could not be wrong. He said things will go back to normal now."

"Haste! Listen to me, young girl." Mary was clutching her with her wrinkled hand. Her long nails dug into Elizabeth's flesh. "I know. All Hallow's Eve is coming. The people in town will be so excited, they won't think to look in the right place."

"What about . . . Hallow's Eve?" Elizabeth said, trembling. This time of year always frightened her. 

"The Sabbath, dear. The Witching Hour. The true witches' time."

"Oh, Mistress," Elizabeth laughed, "Isn't it time for your tea?"

But Elizabeth glanced outside at the gathering dusk with trepidation as she fixed the old lady's dinner. The nights were coming sooner, now, and it would be near dark when she walked home.

"Here you are, Mary. I'm ready to go. Father is expecting me."

Mary fixed her a sharp look. "Yes, dear child. Hurry home, and be a loving daughter to your father. You're all he has left now."

The mysterious illness which had plagued the town for that last two years had taken Elizabeth's beloved mother, Anne, as well as her two younger sisters. It was only her and Father now at the isolated Manse.

Elizabeth leaned down and kissed the wizened flesh. "You'll see. God has shown us the right path."

Outside, Elizabeth wrapped her cloak around her and tied her bonnet tightly under her chin. A deep autumn chill descended in the air and the whispering wind brought scents from the harvest—fresh cut hay, corn, apples and pungent smoke from the huge bonfires. The sun was setting in red and yellow. My, she wanted to be home. She longed to be sitting with her father as he read in the common room, she his only comfort now.

Elizabeth glanced with a worried look to the gloomy entrance to the forest. She started when Mary's old cat Jacob hissed at something in the darkness ahead of her. Even from afar she could hear the trees groaning and creaking like an old woman's moans. She saw strange gusts of wind making small tornadoes in the leaves. They sounded like voices whispering "Don't go, don't go . . ." It was so very black in the woods, and small gravestones lined the way on either side! Elizabeth shivered as she thought of the plague and the witches locked up in the town square. Oh! But her father was waiting for her, and she was late. He would be driven crazy with fear if she took the long treacherous path across the fields to her right.

As soon as she got into the forest, she began to hum with nervousness. Most of the trees had lost their leaves and their huge craggy limbs and branches stood out black and menacing against the brilliant orange sky. They looked like headless bodies with severed limbs! The deep silence was broken only by her feet swishing through the dead leaves, the creaks and groans of branches or the occasional hooting of an owl. She hummed and concentrated on the comforting thought of her father. He was probably washing up after a long day, and wondering where she was.

Suddenly, Elizabeth saw movement ahead of her. A flash of deep red. What was it? Was it a deer, or perhaps a cardinal? But it was too big for a bird, and the color much too bright for a larger animal. Her senses heightened and on edge, every step of her foot made her heart jump and pound in her chest. She was trembling as she reached into her pocket and found the small silver crucifix that used to be her mother's. 

Oh, Mistress Mary! Her cackling laugh and droning voice filled Elizabeth's head with her stories of witches and a black mass. She was just a senile old woman! And Father was never wrong about anything.

But then her heart began to thud painfully hard, making her pant and lose her breath. She heard footsteps approaching and saw the flash of red getting bigger, and closer. It wasn't an animal. It was a cloak—a deep crimson, velvet cloak wrapped around a woman she had never seen before. The stranger was walking quickly, and it seemed, purposefully towards her!

As she neared, Elizabeth gasped. Why, she was beautiful. As beautiful as her own dear mother! 

The lady looked to be about 30, Elizabeth guessed. She had thick glossy black hair, pale skin, black eyes, and sensuous, full red lips. Elizabeth curtseyed as she always did her elders.

"Good evening, Mistress."

"Good evening, daughter. Why art thou in these woods so late?"

Elizabeth noticed the antique language and thought perhaps she must be a Quaker.

"I am on my way home, mother. To my father's house, just yonder."

"Which house, child?" said the dark-haired lady, scanning the horizon.

"Just there, over the tree tops, in the valley," Elizabeth said, pointing.

The lady looked, and started, and turned around to peer at her closely.

"I see. You are a pretty child."

"Yes, Mistress," Elizabeth said, puzzled, looking at the ground.

"Look at me, child," the lady said, tilting her chin up to see her. "My name is Hannah. Hannah Goode. Don't be afraid."

Hannah smiled, and caressed Elizabeth's cheeks. "Such pink, rosy cheeks. Such golden hair. Thy lips are red and beautiful, daughter."

Elizabeth frowned and asked. "What do you mean, mother?"

"Never mind. And so are you scared, child, walking in these woods alone?"

"Yes, mother. I'm very glad to see you."

Hannah smiled, and held her hand. "Don't be, daughter. I am thy friend."

"Why have I never seen you before?" Elizabeth asked. "I know everyone in these parts. I grew up over there, with my father, the—"

"Pastor?" Hannah said. 

"Yes, Pastor Brown. That is my father. Do you know him?"

The mysterious lady smiled. A strange smile danced on her lips and across her glittering black eyes. 

"No, child. But I have heard of him. I am new here. I am come here with my husband, to live with my Aunt Esther."

Hannah sighed with relief to hear that the beautiful lady was married. "Will I see you at church, then, Mistress?"

"No, child. We are . . . of a different faith. But I will be here, every day. I do some work yonder," she said, pointing to the town. "Perhaps we may walk together sometimes, and comfort each other on these cold autumn nights."

Hannah was holding both of her hands, and Elizabeth felt such warmth and kindness from her eyes. 

"Yes, Mistress! I don't like being in the woods alone."

The lady leaned in to kiss her. "Take care, Elizabeth. I will be here, tomorrow, to see you safely through."

"Good evening, ma'am," Elizabeth said as she parted and continued her walk. It was not until she finally reached the gates of the Manse that she even thought to wonder how Hannah knew her name. How very odd. But it was a common one. Perhaps she had guessed.

Elizabeth glanced and saw that the horses weren't back, so Father must still be making his rounds. She sighed, thinking how he worked so hard. He traveled five days out of the week to smaller towns, tending to the poor and lecturing, and gave the sermon and kept the Church on weekends, and they still only just got by. She was glad the fee she received each week from Mary could help pay for the little things they needed. 

Secretly Elizabeth was glad Father was not back yet. It would give her more time to get ready. She hurried inside to her bedroom.

It was practically the only pleasure she had—getting dressed to see her father. And she so loved making herself pretty! If only she had more opportunities to do so!

Her neighbor Seth Townsend sometimes took her for walks, but nothing compared to the feelings she got from being with her father and making herself attractive for him—especially since her mother died. Her poor father, missing his wife, the beautiful angel Elizabeth had loved with all her heart. She wanted nothing more than to be as pretty and sweet as mother and comfort Father like she had. 

Several months after her mother had died, Papa had come into her room one day carrying a large basket of clothes. 

"My dear child, Elizabeth, I would like you to do something for me."

"Yes, Father."

"These are your mother's dresses. I would like you to wear these from now on, whenever you are in the house."

"But what about my own clothes, Father?" Elizabeth asked.

"Do as I say, child, and do not ask questions."

"Yes, Papa."

"You can be too willful, child. You must obey your elders. Have I not taught you that well enough?"

"Yes, I'm sorry, Father."

Elizabeth forgave him. He was always the sweetest, gentlest soul, but he had been greatly changed by poor mother's death. He raised his voice at her in between dark moods where he did not talk, and spent hours just staring into the fire. If wearing mother's clothes would please him and make him happy, she would gladly do it.

+++

Jostling on horseback over the country roads, Pastor Brown stared sadly at the house, reluctant to head in. 

He knew he was acting strange around Elizabeth, but he could not help it. She had always been his favorite, because she was so like her mother, in looks as well as manner. He had often found himself gazing at her in an inappropriate manner, even when Anne was alive. And now that she was gone . . . God help him! 

Being without Anne was distorting his mind!

They had always enjoyed each other—more than they should have, he well knew. He closed his eyes remembering the carnal delights of their holy marriage bed. His wife had loved the pleasures of the flesh as much as he . . . Many times he had asked her, is this not a sin? To love this so much, and take such wild delight as we do? For a man of God to do such things! His wise Anne had assured him that the marriage bed was a sacred right, that they were lawfully wedded to each other in the eyes of both man and God. As long as they loved each other, and their God, what happened between them was good and pure. 

Andrew felt his member stirring as he thought of Anne's sweet mouth, her cries, the moans she had to stifle when the children were asleep, the ecstasy that they reached together, over and over. Their three daughters had never changed their craving for each other. 

Being deprived of the daily communion with Anne's flesh had damaged Andrew. He felt it. He tried to give himself relief sometimes, out in the fields, in the middle of the day getting down from his horse and roughly jerking his stiff cock thinking of the way Anne liked to take it in her mouth and moan for him until he splattered his seed all over the tall grass, with tears in his eyes. But it was never enough. 

Perhaps the women had been able to tell what kind of depraved frame of mind he was in. Perhaps that was why Hannah had approached him that day in the Fields. Why him, of anyone else? 

Why had he not heard from the tall lady, the one in gray, the leader? He had been waiting these long six months for a sign. He had been to the clearing more than once, God help his poor soul. He could not resist it. And then to come home to his sweet Elizabeth, it was too much to ask of one man! 

Anne, he silently whispered, I will see you soon, my love. He headed towards the house to the daughter who was her spitting image with fear and guilty anticipation.

+++

Elizabeth opened the door with a warm smile. 

"Good evening, Father, supper is almost ready."

"Good evening, my daughter. I trust you had a good and safe day."

Andrew felt that uncomfortable stirring in his loins at the sight of his daughter. Her mother's dresses did not fit her properly. They clung too tightly to her curving hips and dipped much too low on her bosom. It was indecent. Elizabeth had large, full breasts, much fuller than Anne's, and the corset created a deep valley in her soft pink flesh. But even so, he could not stop warmth from flowing back into his heart at the sight, as if his own Anne were alive and here, still. 

"Let us say our prayers, child."

"Yes, Father."

In the warm glow of the fire, they knelt. As Andrew intoned from the prayer book, however, Elizabeth found herself gazing at him, her mind no longer on her prayers.

Her father was so handsome. She treasured these quiet moments in front of the fire, in their small common room with the earth-packed floor she had just cleaned and swept. It gave her time to look at him to her heart's content. His profile was illuminated in the firelight and she gazed at the full, sensuous mouth beneath his fine, straight nose. The light flickered over his gentle brown eyelashes and the thick, wavy hair pushed back from his dominant forehead. He had taken off his coat and was clad in a white linen blouse with the full sleeves rolled up over his strong, tanned forearms. It gave her a curious feeling, a strange tingle in the tips of her breasts. She had been noticing this feeling more often, wondering what it meant, especially when she got ready for him to come home. She took such pleasure arranging her décolletage! She spent many minutes fitting the tiny ruffle circling around her bare breasts, adjusting it and teasing so that it didn't snag or wrinkle but framed her pleasing breasts just so. Her mother seemed to have tailored her dresses to have very low, scooped necks—she could only assume, to make them more pleasing to Father. It felt strange to be so exposed, but it was just the two of them. Her garments were a private thing just for them, at home. She would never dress like this to go to town! 

Elizabeth noticed Father pausing, and picked up the prayer book to continue where he had left off.

"Our good and gracious Lord, grant us your blessings for a day's work . . ." she continued in her soft voice.

Next to her, Andrew cursed silently to himself as he could not stop his gaze from traveling to his daughter's exposed chest. Like her, he noticed the golden firelight playing over her rich blond tresses, the thick soft curls beckoning on her smooth, rounded shoulders. A luxurious mood filled the room along with her quiet voice. This had been happening much too often, that prayer hour would go on much too long. 

But her flesh beckoned. Andrew could just see the tips of red nipples underneath that distracting ruffled edge. He could not stop from picturing himself untying the front of her vest and exposing those creamy globes to his mouth and hands! So soft and full, so sweet and delicious, just like Anne's. And God help him! He could not stop the wicked question coming into his mind if his own sweet Elizabeth had the same carnal tastes as her mother! He could not stop his prick from stiffening in his rough trousers, and as it throbbed uncontrollably, he felt a slight easing of his conscience. 

He had made the right choice. Because unless something changed, he would have his own daughter on the floor of this very room before long.

Later, their prayers over, the Pastor and his daughter attended to their chores. The intense excitement of being together during prayer hour passed and they never spoke or alluded to those strange feelings. Elizabeth put away her mother's garments and laid out a drab gray gown for tomorrow, while Andrew worked on his Sunday sermon.

+++

Over the next few weeks, Elizabeth found her life changing in unexpected ways, because of her friendship with Hannah.

It seemed every time she passed through the woods after dark Hannah was there. Never when it was light. And Elizabeth was always glad to see her friendly face. They walked, and sat, and talked together and many strange things occurred.

At first, they talked about small things—the town gossip, or Hannah's life in England, or clothes and recipes and housekeeping. Hannah was so smart, and easy to talk to, and seemed to sympathize with Elizabeth. 

But one day, it changed. They had stopped on a comfortable old tree stump in a clearing. Elizabeth brought some bread and butter and cheese from the house and they ate a small dinner, including some beer that Mary had given her. It warmed Elizabeth up on the chill night.


The Witching Hour



"My child, I would like to ask something of thee," Hannah said in her quaint dialect.

Elizabeth gazed at her pretty face. She felt so close to her, just like her own mother. 

"Yes, Hannah?"

Hannah reached across and untied the bonnet keeping Elizabeth's hair tightly confined. Her hands loosened the rich curls, and spread the golden tresses over her shoulders. Hannah stayed close to Elizabeth, looking into her eyes and tracing her finger under her chin. 

"Tell me, daughter, are you looking forward to getting married?"

"Oh yes!" Elizabeth exclaimed. "I'm 18 now. It is time I started looking for a husband."

"Well you are very beautiful, my child. Do you not think so?"

Elizabeth blushed. "I do not know. Seth has told me so."

"Who is Seth?"

"He's a boy I sometimes walk with. He lives over there, on his parents' farm."

"And have you ever let Seth touch you, or kiss you?"

"No, Mistress. Father and mother said I must not do so until I am wedded."

"Do you know, my child, what happens between a man and a wife?"

Elizabeth blushed a deep red.

"Have you ever wondered?"

Hannah's voice was so soothing to Elizabeth, her hands felt so soft and wonderful as they caressed her face, and it was so . . . thrilling to be able to talk about such things with another soul.

"Yes," whispered Elizabeth. "In my bedroom, alone at night, sometimes, I think about Fath—my parents."

"Your father, my child?"

"My father and my dear sweet mother. I sometimes . . . heard them . . . at nighttime."

Elizabeth sighed with the freedom of opening her thoughts to such a kind woman. She loved Hannah. She moved closer and let Hannah rub her shoulders and caress her neck and face as they talked. 

"Now, my child, I will tell thee. In my . . . religion . . . where I come from . . . we do not have the same . . . rules about discussing such things as I find here. Does it bother you to talk about such matters?"

"No!" Elizabeth said, quickly. She had no mother now, no sisters, and no friends close by. 

Hannah ran her hand down the front of Elizabeth's dress, gently touching and caressing.

"You are very beautiful, my daughter. May I kiss thee? May I show you how a man kisses a woman, how a husband will kiss thee someday?"

Elizabeth nodded. Her breasts were tingling in that same way they did during prayer hour. 

She closed her eyes as Hannah's soft lips just touched her own, and felt a deep warmth spread through her body. Oh! She loved her! 

"Elizabeth, my dear," Hannah said. "Does this make you feel good?"

Elizabeth nodded. 

"Do you want more?"

Again Elizabeth nodded. 

"Then you must tell me. What do you think about at night, in bed, when alone?"

Elizabeth whispered, "Can I really tell you, Hannah?"

"Why yes, my daughter. Tell me everything."

Elizabeth seemed quite pained to confess the truth to her friend. "I think about Father, only my father!"

"Yes, child, go on. You may tell me everything."

"I think about . . . his lips. I imagine him kissing my mother. I picture his hands and his shoulders. I think about the sounds I would sometimes hear him make with mother!"

"My child, it is getting late, but I will ask you one more thing. Do you ever think about thy Father's naked flesh? About what he has between his legs?"

Elizabeth blushed so deeply Hannah could see her red face even in the deep gloom of the forest.

"Yes Hannah. I think it pleased my mother very much, because of the way I would hear her cry out for him."

"Oh? Well we do not have any more time today, my lovely Elizabeth. Will you continue this conversation with me? Do you like talking to me?"

"Oh, yes!" Elizabeth exclaimed, holding her hand. "Oh please do not leave me. I so look forward to our talks."

"Then I will see thee soon, child. And we will continue. Good night, sweet daughter of the forest."

+++

A few days later, Elizabeth was sitting and talking to old Mistress Mary, and helping her with her knitting.

"Mistress Mary, you know everyone in town, do you not?"

"Yes, my dear. Everyone."

"And do you know Hannah Goode?"

"Goode? The Goodes are my old friends, but there is no Hannah."

"Why yes, ma'am, she is in town visiting her aunt, with her husband."

"What are you talking about?" Mary snapped at her. "Don't you think I know everything that goes on outside my window? Esther has not mentioned it to me, and besides, she has no nieces or nephews!"

"Well there must be another Goode family, ma'am."

"No, child. Where do you get these silly notions?"

"Why, I know her. I met her in the woods, on my walks home."

At this Mistress Mary tossed aside her knitting, and grabbed Elizabeth's hand. "What did you say?"

"I met her. I know her. She is a . . . friend. And a sweet, good friend she is."

"Child, you must answer me, truthfully! You have met this lady in the woods? At night?"

"Yes, Mary. Many times."

"Oh, oh, oh, you must listen to me, child! That must be, it can only be . . . I told you, the Sabbath!"

"What are you talking about?" Elizabeth cried. Mary was frightening her again.

"There are no Hannah Goodes in this town! You must be talking to a spirit!"

"Oh, no, she is real," Elizabeth said, blushing, remembering her kisses. . .

"Dear, I beg you, I beseech you, do not go into the woods anymore. You mustn't! You must avoid them until the pass of All Hallow's Eve!"

"But I can't! And . . . I don't want to! I like her, Mary. She is . . . kind to me. She . . ." Again Elizabeth blushed.

Mary peered very sharply at her. The old Mistress had a keen eye, and she had been noticing a certain glow about Elizabeth lately. It scared her to the bottom of her soul!

"Young maids such as yourself have no business talking to older women. And especially strange women, in the Fields, at night! You must stop this!"

"No!" cried Elizabeth. "I won't! She talks to me. She likes me. And . . . I love her!"

At this Mary screamed, and covered her white hair with her claw-like hands. "No more! No more! I will hear no more of this! Out! Get out of my house, and do not come back!"

Elizabeth panicked! She could not give up this position. What would she do? If she didn't have Mary to attend, she'd have to take up work at the Townsend farm again, and never have time to visit the woods!

"Oh, Mistress, I am sorry! I will stop. I was misled. I promise you, ma'am." She started crying. "Please don't send me away, please!"

"Then tell me no more of this! And I am going to speak to your father. Yes, child," she said, seeing the look on her young charge's face. "Tomorrow, or you are welcome here no more."

"Oh no, please, please do not tell Papa," Elizabeth cried, hysterical. She did not know why this disturbed her so much. Papa must not know about her meetings in the woods! He simply must not know! Elizabeth got down on her knees and begged old Mary not to say anything. 

"I promise you, Mary, I promise. I was a wicked girl. I will be good from now on, and never talk to strange women again, as long as you do not tell my Father!"

Mary saw how distraught she was, and relented. "Calm down, child, calm down. Perhaps you did not know any better."

"No, Mary. She has never been anything but nice and kind to me."

"That is how they seduce you, my dear! You have been taken in! But you better run along now, it is getting very late. I will see you tomorrow."

Elizabeth ran out of the house. It was now fully dark, and she still had the walk home.

She didn't know why, but she had a feeling Hannah would not be in the woods tonight, and this filled her with terror. She entered the path clutching her crucifix. She knew Mary had to be wrong, but . . . what if she wasn't? What if she had been talking to a spirit! Oh she needed to get home. What had gotten into her? She had let herself get carried away, trusting this stranger! Letting her kiss her, and touch her like that! But it was almost as if she had been enchanted. She could not stop herself. She craved her meetings with Hannah!

As she entered the gloomy forest, pure terror grasped her by the throat. Perhaps she should take the roads. But it was so dark! And this way was straight, and quick. She should just walk, as quickly as she could, to get home!

But as she neared the top of a hill, she saw, then, a flash of red, and the panic and terror began to subside. Hannah was there, after all! Or . . . was she? What was she doing?

Elizabeth walked slowly towards the clearing. It was pitch black in the forest now, except for the light of the full moon. She saw movement, and heard noises, voices. More than one. She crept closer and closer. She could see Hannah's cloak glinting red in the moonlight. But she was with someone. Who was it?

Just then the clouds parted and the full strength of the harvest moon shone down into the forest, lighting up a scene that Elizabeth would never forget. She instantly ducked down behind a bush to hide . . . and watch.

It was Hannah. She was kneeling, down on her knees by a tree. Standing and leaning against the tree, turned away so Elizabeth could not see his face, was a man in a white shirt and dark-colored breeches. He had a hat or some kind of jacket pulled over his head.

The man's huge, engorged member was in Hannah's hands. It was the first time Elizabeth had ever seen such a thing. It was gigantic, or so it seemed to her. She could not tear her eyes away! It was thick, and long, and shining in the moonlight. It curved upwards in a beautiful arc, and Hannah was moaning as she held it. Her Hannah! Her beautiful face. Her big dark eyes, her soft red lips. They were opened and her tongue was lasciviously licking this swollen object. Over and over she ran her tongue up and down, as the man moaned and touched her hair. Elizabeth strained her eyes in the darkness to see everything! She could see the man's heavy, full sacs hanging straight down below. . . Hannah was touching them and caressing them. And at the top of that long shaft, Elizabeth saw a ridged sort of cap, swollen and pulsing in the moonlight. She watched as Hannah moaned, loudly, and took it in her mouth . . . and looked right at Elizabeth as she did so. Hannah gazed into her eyes as she gulped the top of that glistening shaft into her mouth and began to suck, as if she was showing Elizabeth. . . how to do it. Yes, this was why she had arranged this scene. To show her how to swallow that thing!

Elizabeth jumped up with a harsh cry and fled. She ran all the way home, as fast as she could to get away from that strange and terrible vision!

+++

She arrived panting and crying at the door of her father's house, so distraught she did not have the strength to take out her key and use it, but just as she was about to collapse in exhaustion, her dear Papa opened the door. 

"Oh, Father! Father!" Elizabeth exclaimed as she threw herself into his arms.

"What is it, child? Hush, there, there."

Elizabeth cried and held onto his chest. She rarely touched her father, but she needed his strength and protection now. Oh! That tremendous shiny thing! Why was the man moaning, and gasping, and clutching Hannah's head? She felt so frightened! But at the same time, the tingling in her body was so strong! Tingles and throbs and tremors coursing up and down, into her most private place, where Hannah had touched her the other day! She didn't understand what was happening to her! She held tightly onto her father, taking comfort in his calm presence. She felt him, at last, caress her hair. His warm, strong, tanned hands soothing her felt so good. 

"Oh, Father! I have been so bad, so wicked!"

"Hush, come inside, child."

Her Papa led her into the common room, in front of the fire, and fixed Elizabeth a mug of hot tea. He added into it some herbs Anne had shown him once, to calm and soothe and help induce sleep.

Andrew sat in his comfortable chair before the fire. "Drink this, child, and tell me what is wrong."

Elizabeth gulped down the strong tea and immediately felt warmth and calm spread into her limbs. Oh, she could never tell Papa what she had seen, never! 

"In the Witches' Woods, tonight, I thought I heard . . . voices! Oh it scared me so, Father"

"What have you been doing there, my child?"

"Nothing, Papa! Just walking home from work. It's just, it was so late tonight . . . and I was alone, and so frightened!" 

Elizabeth dropped to the floor in front of Andrew's feet and burst into tears, and clung to his hands.

"Hush, Elizabeth. You are all right."

He stroked Elizabeth's beautiful blonde curls, even as he felt his member stirring again with the nearness of her body. Her trembling arms were clutching his thighs. 

Elizabeth felt the effects of her mother's herbs in her drink. They were making her so drowsy, and she was so disturbed and distraught. She lay her head down on her father's lap and let him caress her.

"Father . . ." Elizabeth said, dreamily, "Do you miss our dear mother's flesh? Her body, Papa? Would you like to see my body? Could I show you, like mother?" She was nearly asleep as she said these words, which would have horrified her if she had been in her right mind.

Andrew felt his prick swell absurdly in his tight breeches. He pulled his daughter off him and carried her heavy body upstairs. She was now fast asleep. He deposited her on the bed and covered her in a blanket, and gazed at her a moment before hurrying outside.

As soon as Andrew got into the woodshed attached to the house he unbuttoned the fly of his heavy breeches. His thick, swollen cock was on the point of bursting at the thought of seeing Elizabeth's trembling, virginal young body, her large breasts with the hint of red nipples he had seen, her wild blonde hair spread around her! Such wickedness! But his prick was near to exploding! The Pastor tried to think of Anne. He thought of Anne in the position she favored, on her hands and knees like an animal before him, spreading herself wide to show him her juicy pink cunt! Would his own daughter's cunt be as heavenly as her mother's? Andrew groaned loudly as a tremendous spurt of thick hot cum shot out of his prick, spraying the woodpile, shooting stream after stream, making him dizzy with guilty, horrible pleasure. This must not be!

He must use the signal. Tonight. He must talk to the women. He must get out of the house and away from his tender, sweet Elizabeth asleep upstairs.

Andrew tucked his still throbbing prick into his breeches and headed out to the fields behind the house. He lit a small fire and used some torches to make a deliberate "X" in the direction of the woods.

"What am I doing?" this religious man thought to himself. "What am I doing? I must surely be going to hell!"

Andrew waited, and waited, and before long, he saw a single lone figure come out of the dark woods. It was heavily cloaked, and beckoned him near.

As he neared the figure, he made an "X" with his hands, and when close, knealt down and kissed the hem of the robe.

"Mistress." 

The strange, high-pitched, breathy voice, like a human snake, issued from deep within the cloak.

"Pastor, I hope you have a good reason for summoning me. I do not usually consort with the unclean, as you still are."

"Mistress. I beg you! I cannot wait any longer! You must tell me when!"

"Is that all, human? You disgust me. You are too much of a man. You cannot control that cock of yours. Stand up."

Andrew stood up, taking care to lower his eyes. 

"I will tell you now, human, and then I do not wish to be bothered. Could you not figure it out? You are stupid, like all men. But she loves you, so I am here to tell you in two weeks, on All Hallow's Eve. Do not disappoint us!"

"Mistress, I will not. But who is 'she?' To whom do you refer?"

The cloaked figure hissed under her breath, "Yes, stupid, like all men." 

+++

Elizabeth had no idea how long or how deeply she slept. She only remembered her dreams . . . running after Hannah in the forest . . . her Father chasing her in the forest . . . She slept and slept through the next day, missing her chores and only waking when the bright noon sun shone through the bedroom window.

Oh! As soon as she awoke, Hannah felt the tingling and ache in her body. Her first thought was of that huge throbbing prick! She knew that's what it was called. A prick, or a phallus, or a cock! She couldn't get it out of her mind. Her body was aching and aching. She reached down and slid her wicked hand between her legs and writhed and twisted on the bed. If only mother were here! If only she could talk to mother! 

She must see Hannah! She simply could not wait to see Hannah! But it was so late. She would have to wait until tomorrow. 

Elizabeth got up and wondered where Father had gone. She got something to eat and cleaned the cozy little Manse and put on a stew for Father when he got home. 

She changed into a pretty dress, so excited to see Papa today. She vaguely remembered laying her head in his lap last night, and crying, and whispering things to him. What had she whispered, before he carried her up to bed? She could not remember.

Finally she heard the horses, and ran to the door. 

"Father! I have missed you."

Andrew kissed his daughter on the cheek, touching her arm and trailing his hand down to her waist. "It is all right, daughter. I am home."

"Oh Father, I slept all through the day."

"I let you sleep, Elizabeth, you were very frightened last night. You needed your rest."

"Yes, Father," Elizabeth said, enjoying the feel of his hands on her body. "I don't know what happened. I let my imagination get the better of me."

"Well you are safe, child. And I trust you are well enough to return to work tomorrow?"

"Yes, dear Papa, I am." At the thought of going to the woods the next day, Elizabeth felt a trembling, eager excitement in her belly. 

"Then let us eat this delicious supper you have prepared."

As they ate quietly in the soft glow of the fire, Andrew avoided looking at his daughter. 

"Child, I am going to be quite busy in the next few days. You have heard of the problems going on in the village?"

"You mean the witches?" Elizabeth whispered.

Andrew nodded. "Yes, daughter. They are going to be drowned, the day after tomorrow."

"Drowned!"

"Yes, daughter, and I must go and help them."

"But Father, I thought you said they were evil, and must be punished. Haven't they cursed us with this plague?"

"No, child, I was quite wrong to tell you such things. I did not know any better . . . then."

"But aren't they wicked women?"

"No. They are just poor, lonely women with no one to help them. I must be the one to do it. Daughter, I had a vision . . ."

"Yes, Papa?"

"Your sweet mother. She came and whispered to me, in a dream, last night. She said I must take pity on these poor souls."

Elizabeth knew then that it must be true. "So then, are there such things as witches, Papa?"

Andrew looked at his daughter and lied. "No, child. No, there are not."

+++

The very next day, Elizabeth found it hard to concentrate on her chores in Mary's house. She was so looking forward to seeing Hannah. When dusk came, she practically ran into the forest, her body excited and trembling. She burst with joy when she saw Hannah's red cloak. But soon after, she saw that Hannah was not alone. She held back, frightened, and watched two figures draw near. It was a tall man, in a white linen shirt, dark breeches, and a heavy dark cloak. He had startling black eyes, close cropped black hair and a nicely trimmed beard, and a mischievous smile on his face. Hannah knew at once that this was the man she had seen two nights previously. She blushed dark red on every inch of her body, and immediately dropped her gaze.

"Daughter, do not be ashamed. Come," said Hannah, with a smile. "Come with us."




The Witching Hour



Elizabeth ignored the man and held Hannah's hand, letting her lead her deeper into the forest, far off the worn path through many twists and turns. She would never be able to find her way out on her own! Where were they going? Elizabeth clung to Hannah, occasionally throwing fearful glances towards the man, who smiled and seemed highly amused with her. But even though she was afraid, Hannah's warm hand comforted her. It was real. She was not a "spirit"!

Finally they arrived at kind of rounded semi-circle of tangled thorn bushes whose serpentine branches were thick with huge, spiky thorns. No one could possibly get through this barrier! 

They stopped, and Hannah said, "Watch me, child, and take heed."

She made a series of gestures with her hands that looked like an "X", at the very juncture of the semi-circle. And like magic, a gap appeared in the bushes. But then she made the same gesture, and the gap instantly closed itself.

"Now you, try, child."

It took several tries but finally Elizabeth was able to open the secret passageway. 

"Now you know the way, my dear."

"But how would I ever find my way back here, again, Mistress Hannah? I would get lost!"

"Oh? I think not. I have shown thee. I have led thee here. You will remember the path, next time."

"But where are we?"

"Come," Hannah beckoned.

She led Elizabeth into a dark, round space covered entirely with a roof of intertwining thorn bushes. Benches made of soft wood surrounded the center, in which there lay a large stone slab, with four stone posts on each corner. Hannah made a gesture with her hands, and torches suddenly came to life illuminating the space. 

Immediately Elizabeth thought of Mistress Mary. "I've seen the lights, flickering, at night!" But Elizabeth pushed this thought from her mind.

"Come, child, and sit next to me." Hannah gestured to one of the benches. 

"Elizabeth, this is my husband. I have told thee about him. His name is Robert." But she pronounced the name with a French accent, and when Robert came to greet her, her kissed her hand gallantly and said, "Enchanté, mademoiselle. Ah, que vous êtes tres belle. Elle est une vrais blonde, Hannah, n'est-ce que pas?"

"I do not speak French!" Elizabeth cried, pulling her hand away. He kept his hot lips too long on her skin.

"Hush, he said you are beautiful, and he wonders if you are a true natural blond."

Robert said on the other side of Elizabeth, opening his coat a bit so that she could see his thighs, which he kept spread wide.

"Elizabeth, I missed thee last night. Why were you not here?"

"I was home, Mistress. I was . . . tired, and needed to sleep."

"Why, child? Did something upset thee?"

Hannah rubbed her shoulders, and stroked her soft hair, and leaned in to kiss her. Her ruby lips found Elizabeth's own and she whispered, "It is I, your friend. I will not harm you. Do not be afraid."

Elizabeth could not help yielding to Hannah's soft, gentle kisses and caresses. They seemed to have a magic effect on her, sending warmth and pleasure throughout her body like wildfire and calming her fears. She kissed Hannah back, and let Hannah open her mouth and take her tongue and suck it into her own. Oh, the feelings that coursed through her body! 

"Have you missed this, my sweet daughter? Have you missed my tongue, and my touches?"

"Yes," Elizabeth sighed, reaching for her mouth. She did not want her to stop. 

"Tell me what frightened thee the other night, Elizabeth. Tell me the truth."

Hannah had the strange effect of always making Elizabeth truthful. Her kisses opened her soul and made it completely transparent. She could not lie.

"The thing I saw, Hannah, and what you were doing to it."

"Ah . . . You saw me sucking my husband's prick."

"Yes," Elizabeth gasped. 

Hannah kissed her deeply, and caressed her breasts, making Elizabeth moan when her soft fingers touched the tips and squeezed them. 

"Tell me, did you touch yourself later? In bed?"

"Yes, Hannah," Elizabeth was unable to say anything else. "And I dreamt of you, and of Father."

At the mention of Father, Elizabeth saw Hannah and Robert exchange a look.

"My child, do you think this is wrong? Do these feelings in thy body trouble thee?"

"No, Mistress. I want more. Please."

"What would you like, child? Be honest, and show your good friend Hannah."

Without even realizing it, or being able to stop herself, Elizabeth found her hand slipping sideways, and slithering up Robert's thighs, like a blind woman feeling her way to something she knew was there. 

"Ah, I am delighted! You want my husband's prick!"

"Yes," said Elizabeth, as if in a dream.

"Would you like to kiss it, and suck it, such as you saw me do?"

"Yes . . ." Elizabeth whispered, still reaching beside her. 

But Hannah found her groping hand and stilled it, and pulled it back. "Open thy eyes, child. And look."

Elizabeth looked to where Hannah was gesturing and gasped. Her husband, Robert, was lying back, with his eyes closed, his legs spread very wide, and Elizabeth could see that swollen thing pushing up through a gap in his breeches. It was just as big as she remembered. She could only start in wonder, and clutch Hannah's hands.

"Daughter," Hannah whispered to her, "Now tell me the truth. You see that pretty cock, how wonderfully big and hard it is?"

"Yes," breathed Elizabeth, mesmerized and simply unable to tear her eyes away.

"Tell me whose cock you truly desire."

Elizabeth whispered instantly, "My father's, Hannah. Andrew's."

"I wonder, Elizabeth, do you think it is as big as my husband's?"

"I do not know," Elizabeth whispered, "But I hope so." 

Hannah's sweet kisses seemed to act like a truth potion on poor Elizabeth! She found herself saying things she didn't even know she thought until she said them—shocking, wicked, evil thoughts!

"Child, you are like a daughter to me. I want to give thee a present."

Hannah reached into her vest and withdrew a tiny silver bottle.

"Here, daughter. This is a sleeping draught. Put several drops of this in thy Father's tea, or beer, at nighttime, and I assure you, he will not wake during the night, for anything. He will sleep like the dead. You may . . . do anything. I would like thee to undress him, and look at his prick, and touch it if you wish. But . . . daughter, do no more than touch."

"Yes, oh yes," Elizabeth sighed, never taking her eyes from Robert's body. She unconsciously reached her hands again towards the beautiful thing, wanting to touch it, but Hannah gently drew her back.

"No, child not yet. I do not think you are ready . . . but soon, soon . . ."

"Yes, Hannah." 

"Now, I will see thee again in two days' time, daughter. And before you go, I must say a few words."

Hannah caressed her body lovingly, touching and holding her, like her own loving mother.

"Your life is a choice, my dear child. I have given thee some powers, I have opened your eyes, as much as I can. But the choice must be entirely thine own. Meet me here in two days' time, with your mind fresh and clear, and then tell your friend Hannah if you would like to proceed."

"Proceed with what, dear Hannah?"

Hannah whispered in her ear, "With the Sabbath, dear child, and do not pretend that you do not know what I mean."

Elizabeth pulled back and looked at Hannah's beautiful, dark eyes. They were extremely black and usually so kind, but in them now she saw not only a dark, menacing power, but even more, a tiny flicker of orange, a pinpoint of firelight in the black depths. 

In that moment Elizabeth felt nothing but love, even as she felt her world crashing down around her. She divested herself of her innocence in one moment, with the help of Hannah's knowing gaze piercing her soul. Of course she had known. She had known all along, she thought to herself. 

Elizabeth held Hannah's steady, intense gaze with her own deep blue eyes, and never looked away. They seemed to exchange souls. 

Hannah whispered, "Come and join us, my love."

Elizabeth nodded. "What must I do?"

"I think you know, daughter. Haven't I given you enough signs, and clues, and hints? Seek out thy heart's true desire. That is all I want from thee."

"Yes, Mistress. I will." Elizabeth said.

"The more time that passes, the more the magic of my kisses will wear off. The lies and falsity of the world outside the forest will close in on thee. I cannot do more than this. So here, dear Elizabeth." 

Hannah pressed the silver vial into Elizabeth's hand, "You will still have this. Do not lose it, and remember what I said. Now I think I should help thee get home tonight. . ."

And with that, Hannah drew her red velvet cloak tightly around Elizabeth's body and whispered in her ear.

"The Manse."

+++

Elizabeth awoke the next morning in her bed feeling groggy and confused. The images and memories of the night before were already getting colder, and farther away. She knew she had seen Hannah. She remembered . . . thorn bushes, and a kind of stone altar. . . Hannah saying to her. . . in two days' time . . .and she felt once again the throbbing ache in her belly, the cravings of her flesh whenever she thought of Hannah.

If she would not see Hannah in the woods this evening, then she would not go to Mary's today. She would clean and cook for Father, who was looking so tired and worried lately. She arose and went to seek him. Perhaps he had not left for town just yet.

"Father!" Elizabeth exclaimed. He was just now heading out the front door.

"Daughter. I did not want to wake you."

Elizabeth gazed at her father and felt a strange, wild joy come into her heart. She recollected the words, again, of Hannah . . . Seek out thy heart's desire . . . was it not now here, in front of her own eyes?

Her father was young, not yet 40. His handsome face, which she had so often seen smiling with love for dear Mama, was worn and tired. . .but his body was strong, and tall, his hips slim, his chest broad. Elizabeth's gaze traveled down to the buttons covering the front of father's breeches, and more images flooded her mind from the night before—of Robert, and the silver vial she had upstairs in her cloak. She felt a strong trembling in her stomach, but it did not scare her. 

Elizabeth rushed to him and wrapped her arms around his neck and pushed her full breasts into his body. 

"Papa," she cried. "I will miss thee, today. And dear Father, do not be sad. Perhaps you may be seeing mother again sooner than you think."

Andrew grabbed her slim shoulders and pulled her away, gazing fiercely into her eyes.

"What do you mean, daughter!!"

"I . . . I do not know! I do not know why that came into my head, Father."

"Your mother is in Heaven, child!" he said, harshly.

"Yes, Father, I know!"

Andrew suddenly clasped his daughter to his chest. "Ah, forgive me, child. I simply cannot get used to her being gone."

Elizabeth held his face, caressed his cheeks, and looked into his melancholy grey eyes. "But you are doing the right thing, helping these women. It is what she would have wanted."

"It is a trial, daughter. There is too much ignorance, and prejudice in this world!"

Elizabeth leaned up and kissed him, on the lips, like Hannah had done to her. "Good luck today, Father. May God bless thee. I will have supper waiting for you when you get home."

After he left, Elizabeth went back to her room, found the silver vial and held it to her lips. "Tonight," she whispered, "Tonight!"

+++

Andrew spent the entire day in town arguing with the Magistrates, and pleading for the cause of the three accused witches.

It was difficult, but the eloquent words and passion of the good Pastor Brown in the end held sway, and he convinced the townspeople to stay the wicked drowning of the three women until the following week, when they could be justly tried. It was all he could do, but he had saved their lives for the time being.

As dusk drew near, Andrew was still standing and lecturing on the high scaffold in the middle of the town square, when he saw in the distance, just at the outskirts of the Witches' Woods, a gray, hooded figure. It might have been mistaken for a rock, or a tree, but Andrew knew better. He was slightly confused, given their last words, but when he saw the cloaked figure make the slightest gesture, pointing to the Woods, he knew the sign was for him, and he did not question.

It was fully dark by the time he gently turned his horse away from the main roads and headed into the soft dirt path into the forest. But his horse, Nellie, did not seem to want to enter. She pawed at the ground and shrieked and whinnied and tried to buck him off, absolutely refusing to step one foot into the darkly shrouded path. 

"Hush, Nellie, that's a good girl," he said, trying to calm her down, but the poor horse was terrified. The moment Andrew got off and stepped on the ground, she took off at a wild gallop, tearing across the farmlands and, Andrew hoped, headed back to the Manse. She had never done that before!

He commenced his walk, and not ten seconds later he heard the sound of footsteps. He looked up, and saw Hannah.

"You!" he exclaimed. 

"Yes, it is I, Pastor," Hannah said with a knowing smile. "Art thou surprised to see me thus?"

The last time Andrew had seen beautiful Hannah, she had been naked, her body glowing in firelight. He felt himself hardening at the memory, and at seeing her again, and so near.

"Do not fear, Pastor. I am come with good news."

"Did she send you?" he asked.

"Yes," Hannah smiled. "My Mistress is very pleased with you today. That is why she sent for you, and sent me to see you."

With the subtle, seductive manner that Elizabeth knew only too well, Hannah managed to slip into the Pastor's arms before he even knew she was there. Her lips were close to his own, and as she spoke, she stroked the front of his trousers. 

"Oh! Thy prick is in a goodly state, Pastor. I am happy to see that . . . I think this will please her," Hannah smiled.

Andrew glanced desperately around the forest. It would not do for anyone to see Pastor Brown close with a woman. Mistress Hannah had this effect on him, and she well knew it.

"What do you mean? And what do you need to say to me?"

"I have a message, from my lady. You will be seeing your wife in one week's time, Pastor, as long as you keep to your end of the bargain. She wishes me to tell you this in gratitude for your work today."

Hannah glared down at the town.

"Whatever you think of us and our ways, Pastor, we do not care for this human practice of slaughtering innocent women. We are grateful to you, and . . ." Hannah stroked his hard cock, "You will be well rewarded, come next Friday."

"And so it is set?" asked Andrew.

"Yes. You remember the way to the sacred grove? And the signs?"

Andrew nodded, trembling, but from what he was not sure—guilt and desire, in equal measure.

"Oh, thou art pretty," Hannah murmured, gazing at him. "We will certainly have a good Sabbath this year. Good night, Pastor Brown, and sleep well."

Hannah drew her cloak about her, murmured something, and in an instant she was gone.

+++

Later that night, Elizabeth lay awake, looking at the moon out her bedroom window.

Father had been so tired when he came back, it had been an easy matter to slip the sleeping draught into his tea. Elizabeth had been so worried she had poured half the bottle into the mug, and within minutes Father had stumbled upstairs and dropped down fully clothed onto his bed.

Hours later, she could hear him breathing deeply. He had not stirred for one second or moved a single inch. 

Elizabeth hesitated, and gazed at the moon, not knowing that her own father had wrestled with the same doubts and choices many months before, and had already made up his mind.

It was true the further away she got from Hannah's kisses, the less . . . enchanted she felt, and the more doubt and guilt crept into her mind. The more she could hear Mary's voice in her ear, as well as Hannah's. The delicious feelings of being with Hannah in the grove had been fading all day like a dream in the morning light. 

Child, do you think this is wrong? Do these feelings in thy body trouble thee?

No, Mistress. I want more.

That is how they seduce you, my dear! You have been taken in!

Thy life is a choice. It is thine own to make.

As Elizabeth slowly got up, she did not know that the same feeling prompting her to glide down the darkened hallway towards her father's room was the same one that had made Andrew unable to stop his trips into the Fields lo these past months, the same one that would bring him to the Sabbath, just as she. 

It was the feeling, the absolute certainty, that this is what mother would have wanted. Trust Hannah, her mother's voice whispered into her soul. You can trust the beautiful witch of the woods, and do as she says.

I would like thee to undress him, and look at his prick.

Elizabeth knew she was sinning, and making a choice to sin, but hadn't Hannah pressed her hand between her legs, and kissed her, and smiled? Wouldn't she love the wonderful feelings throbbing there now? How could this be wrong?

Something was leading her like an enchanted sleepwalker inexorably to her father's bed. She placed a single candle on his dresser and gazed at his beautiful face as she slowly unbuttoned his linen shirt with trembling fingers. She longed to kiss his lips as Hannah had kissed hers. But she did no more than touch—tenderly tracing his lips and chin, his neck and then his shoulders with both her hands, loving the sensation of his powerful muscles and the masculine strength they conveyed. 

Slowly, Elizabeth's hands slid down lower, where his brown hairs grew thicker and stiffer and disappeared into his heavy breeches. 

She unbuttoned the stiff fabric, and lifted the flap covering his lower belly with trembling, nervous fingers. Her hands shook, but she felt Hannah, and mother, with her, looking on with admiration and approval.

"Oh!" Elizabeth cried, and her hand flew to her mouth when she at last freed the object that was the sole focus of her thoughts. 

She gazed in awe at the sight before her, and instantly a vision came into her mind, of the strange altar in the center of the sacred grove. Of Father, writhing on top of her naked body. In her head she heard mother's moans and cries, the ones coming from her parents' bedroom in the middle of the night. Husband, give me thy prick! Harder, make it last, make it good!

"Oh, Hannah!" Elizabeth thought, as lust such as she had never felt or even recognized poured into her young mind. Loving her father's beauty and telling Hannah she desired and wanted his cock was one thing, but seeing it, in the flesh, was quite another! Elizabeth never knew such feelings could consume her body! They were different, and stronger, and better even than the ones Hannah's kisses had given her!

Elizabeth stood for a long, long time just looking . . .

His prick was not as smooth and perfect as Robert's, but it was longer, and thicker. It was bumpy, and ridged, and crisscrossed with many thick veins. The large sacs below were purple, and the cap huge, and violently red! Oh what a strange sight! The tingling in Elizabeth's breasts spread throughout her whole body, eventually coming to lodge deep in her belly. She could not help imagining what it would feel like to take this thing inside her! To not only lick it, and suck it, and kiss it with her mouth, but to feel it pressing and pushing into her body! 

Slowly, fearfully, she reached out her trembling hand. As soon she had exposed his member it had grown stiff, and continued to stiffen as she gazed at it. She lightly touched it with her dainty, delicate fingers and gasped—it was hard, and hot! She could feel it pulsing and throbbing like a live animal. Tremulous feelings coursed through her body; she could feel moisture collecting between her legs, and something opening and closing in that aching space, craving and needing its touch, its presence! She stroked and caressed the whole length, from the shiny red cap to the swollen sacs below nestled in his thick hair. 




The Witching Hour



Wonder, awe, and lust burned inside Elizabeth's mind and a bright glow came into her eyes—a glow of deep, expectant pleasure and delight. No, this could not be wrong! She loved Hannah for showing this to her. 

Elizabeth made her choice, and she knew it was the right one.

+++

The next day, Andrew remained unconscious in his bed all day, still knocked out by Hannah's magical sleeping potion. Elizabeth went in to look at him before she left for Mary's, enjoying the new feelings in her body, the overwhelming need in her mind. She leaned down to sweetly press her lips against his, whispering, "I will see thee tonight, dear Papa."

Elizabeth was so anxious to leave Mary's that day, she could barely sit still as Mary babbled on at the end of the day.

"Tomorrow, child, I do not wish you to come here. Stay home, and keep house, and do not go outside. Lock the doors and wait for your Father to come home."

"Why, Mistress?" Elizabeth asked, "It is Friday. I must come."

"It is the Sabbath, child, the Witches' Sabbath! You have no business leaving your father's house!"

Elizabeth stared at the floor with a hint of a smile playing around her mouth. "Mary," she said, "Perhaps we humans do not really understand God's universe as we think we do. Are you so certain that the witches are evil? Is it not more evil to drown innocent women, such as we see in our town this very day?"

Mary again fixed Elizabeth with a sharp, penetrating look. "What has got into thee, child? I have lived many more years on this earth than you."

Elizabeth moved in closer to Mary. "Mistress, have you ever seen one? Have you ever met one of them, in the woods at night perhaps? Is that why you are so certain they exist?"

"NO!" Mary cried, though Elizabeth knew she had guessed the truth, and she could not stop herself from saying more.

"Have you met Hannah, too? Did she take you to the clearing, and show you the path into the sacred grove?" Elizabeth whispered in the old lady's ear.

Elizabeth saw Mary's eyes fill with tears. She looked at Elizabeth, clutching her hand, and whispered, "Oh, do not go, child! I beg you! Do not go!"

Elizabeth got up. Mary was staring at her with a mixture of horror and envy, terror and delight! 

"Good night, Mistress. I will see thee on Monday morning."

Elizabeth hurried out the door. As she did a strong gust of wind bringing ash and smoke swirled around her, whipping her cloak around her face and making her cry out. Mary's cat, Jacob, stood on a fencepost hissing at her with yellow eyes. A sharp "crack" broke the stillness as a bolt of lightening snaked out of the sky, illuminating the headless scarecrow flapping its useless arms in the corn fields outside Mary's door. In an instant, the sky went from pewter grey to inky, midnight blue. She saw heavy black clouds gathering in the sky and clustering over the Fields. The dark opening into the woods had never seemed so menacing and unwelcome. Elizabeth could swear she even saw the grass and shrubs slithering and closing in, trying to hide the opening from her view.

She ran forward against the wind, struggling to reach the forest entrance. Her cloak snagged on the fencepost and she struggled to free herself. By the time she reached the woods a cold, drenching rain was being driven into her face. She couldn't see! The trees were shrouded in mist and she had to feel her way blindly forward!

Suddenly, far ahead of her she saw a light—deep in the woods, beckoning. Despite the wind and the rain, the wavering light guided her further on, helping her, and showing her the way. 

As soon as she got into the forest, all was still, though she could hear now a wild, keening wind and torrents of rain whipping in a circle around the woods, like a tornado. Sitting on the path, waiting patiently for her, it seemed, was a black cat. Elizabeth had never seen it before, but somehow she knew Hannah had sent it. The cat turned and started trotting up the hill, towards the glowing light. 

Elizabeth searched the gloom, the thick trees, the creaking branches, the piles of dead leaves and rotted tree stumps for any sign of Hannah as she followed the cat up the path. She did not see her. Finally, they arrived at a kind of fork, and Elizabeth knew this was where she needed to go left, and leave the familiar path behind. And Hannah was right. Something was guiding her. She simply knew where to go, and wound her way through a zigzagging maze deep, deep into the woods, until, like magic, she found herself standing in front of the circle of thorn bushes. Elizabeth opened the gap and stepped inside.

Hannah was there, standing with her back to her when she first entered. Inside it was wonderfully warm and cozy, and she noticed that Hannah was not wearing her usual cloak, but only a thin, transparent white gown. Robert was there, as well, sitting on a bench with his legs casually and seductively spread and the same lazy, amused smile on his face.

Hannah turned and came towards Elizabeth, and instantly took her in her arms, caressing her hair and face.

"You made it, my love. I was worried. The storm, tonight, and the plague on this town. There are forces allied against us!"

"Hannah!" Elizabeth whispered. She hugged her, pushing her breasts and hips close into her as Hannah brought her mouth down on hers and opened her mouth. They kissed, deeply, for many minutes. Elizabeth's hands traveled down to Hannah's breasts, so open and accessible through her gauzy dress. 

"Are you ready, my child? Ah, I can see. Yes," she smiled, as she took in a glance Elizabeth's obvious sexual arousal. 

"Tell me, daughter," Hannah said, holding Elizabeth's face tightly and looking deeply into her eyes. "You must tell the truth. From here on, there is no turning back. Do you understand, my sweet thing?"

"Yes," Elizabeth said, "I am here, Hannah. I want to see the Sabbath."

"Oh you will do more than watch, my dear. But you must answer my questions."

"Yes, Hannah, I will."

Hannah whispered, "Did you look upon thy father's cock, child?"

"Yes," Elizabeth whispered. "Last night, for many minutes."

"And did it make you want him in your body?"

Elizabeth nodded into her neck and clutched her tightly.

Hannah moved even closer to her ear. "And would you like to take thy father's prick inside you, tomorrow night?"

Elizabeth gazed directly into Hannah's eyes. There was simply no way to lie to her, or tell her anything other than the full truth that dwelt in her soul. "Yes, Mistress, I do."

"Come," Hannah said, leading her over to Robert.

"Free his cock, my daughter. You must learn some things tonight."

Elizabeth eagerly dropped to the forest floor next to Robert's spread thighs, and began to open his breeches. The sensual man seemed to love being a training for Elizabeth. He found her highly amusing and arousing, and his eyes twinkled at Hannah. He reached down and caressed Elizabeth's hands, indicating that she should slow down.

"Gently, my child," Hannah whispered.

Finally Elizabeth freed Robert's swollen cock, and instantly held it in her hands as she gazed up at Hannah.

"May I kiss it, Mistress, and suck it as I saw you do?"

"Yes, child."

Elizabeth could not help thinking of poor Mary as she brought her trembling lips to the beautiful shiny cap and opened her mouth, of Mary trembling in fear and terror back in her house, having never taken the world into her hands as she was doing now. She glanced up into Robert's mirthful eyes. He whispered something in French and pulled her onto him with his hand on the back of her neck.

After several minutes lost in a sea of pleasurable delight, Hannah gently pulled Elizabeth's reluctant mouth and lips away. Hannah helped Robert stand up, and pulled at his clothes, his breeches, as he undressed her. 

Hannah positioned Elizabeth onto one of the strangely soft and comfortable wooden benches and kissed her again.

"Now, my daughter, watch my husband fuck me, and take note of what you see and hear. . ."

+++

The next morning, Elizabeth sat at the breakfast table with her father.

She buttered her bread and savored the creamy sweetness on her tongue, her mind full of the things she had seen the night before, and of the secret knowledge she carried in her heart.

"Daughter," Andrew spoke, "I must leave you tonight."

Elizabeth gazed upon Andrew's sad face, his beautiful grey eyes, and his soft lips. She had pledged Hannah to say nothing, and she knew nothing of how this evening's events would unfold, only that she must appear in the clearing at 9:00 sharp. The lust in her body was so great she could barely refrain from touching Father, soothing him, and kissing him, but Hannah had told her she mustn't. She must put her entire faith and trust in the witches, and leave Andrew up to them. 

"Oh, Father? Where art thou going?"

Elizabeth hardly noticed that she had lapsed into Hannah's tongue.

"I will be traveling, child, and will not return until well after nightfall, perhaps much later. But you will be safe here."

Elizabeth looked out the window. "Yes, Father, I see clouds gathering. I will not be going to Mary's today."

Andrew gazed out the window as well, murmuring. "All Hallow's Eve! A wicked night, to be sure! I am glad you will be staying in, Elizabeth."

Elizabeth came and stood next to him at the window and slipped her hand into his.

"Please, Father, do not worry. I have had a good omen about tonight."

"Yes, daughter?"

"Yes, in a dream. Mother appeared to me. She told me that we will be receiving a sign from her this All Hallow's Eve."

"Is that true, my child?" said Andrew, searching Elizabeth's eyes.

"Yes, Father. But I do not know what it means."

Andrew gazed at Elizabeth, feeling once again the powerful attraction to her flesh, even more so looking at the face that was just like his own Anne's. He could feel Anne's spirit in Elizabeth's eyes. His gaze traveled to her full red lips, and his breath quickened as he imagined crushing his lips hard against them. He was so powerfully drawn to her, particularly in these last few weeks. She seemed to have changed—matured, and grown even more lush and beautiful. Like Anne, her rich beauty did not fit in this stern, unforgiving place. It was why he had abstained from their nightly prayer hour, and kept out of the house as much as he possibly could. He hoped and prayed this evening would bring some resolution. She was so beautiful and innocent. He must keep away from her until the Sabbath was over!

"Daughter, I have been much preoccupied as of late. I hope to God you are right."

+++

Many hours later, nearing 11:00, Andrew rode his horse towards the Fields. 

The Autumn night was cold, but the change in the weather felt oddly exciting. He could feel the promise of something wild and electric brewing in the night air. It awoke his mind and body, making him feel extremely alert. On the outskirts of town he had passed laughing children, who offered him cider and pumpkin bread. Clouds of cinnamon and clove and apple from bakeries filled the air with exotic odors. 

"Beware the Witches Woods, Pastor," the children had cried, "And the spirits of the Fields!"

His horse kept up a quick pace over roads twirling with spinning red and gold leaves, and he could see and smell bonfires with their deliciously comforting odors dotting the landscape. People were chatting and laughing in the distance. It was not the kind of night to stay at home, shut off from activity and goings-on. The merest hint of the coming winter made his body pulse with warmth and excitement at being alive.

Looking up, he saw that the sky over the Woods was roiling with thick clouds illuminated from within by mysteriously glowing pink and purple light. Occasional streaks of lightning cracked overhead as well. Elsewhere the night sky was completely clear except for the thousands of brilliant stars. It was a beautiful night—too beautiful for the sinful act he was about to commit.

For several months, Andrew had been secretly heading in the woods at night, and now, as then, his prick grew violently hard and throbbed with pleasure the closer he drew near. He simply could not control it. It rose up uncomfortably, pushing at the buttons on his breeches, the head fully swollen and leaking, the veins pulsating with eager lust. It had been so long since he had been with a woman! A full year since Anne's death, his only relief his own desperate jerks and tugs. He had not been allowed to participate in the decadent activities around the campfire, in the grove, only watch, until he would rush out and make his prick eject a torrent of semen as the visions of the witches filled his mind. The grove in the center of the wicked woods called to his body; called him as irresistibly as Anne's sweet cunt, impossible to refuse once he had gotten a taste of it. And now, tonight . . .

The Pastor glanced around fearfully. If only the good townspeople knew what he was doing, where he was going! That he was headed to a Black Mass, a witches' Sabbath! The only comforting thought was that his sweet Elizabeth would never know about her Papa's wicked deeds. She was sleeping peacefully at home, now, he knew. 

Just as he was about to enter the woods, he saw a figure. He knew right away it was looking for him, making sure he was coming to keep his promise. 

He turned Nellie home once he'd alighted, and walked into the forest. As soon as he entered, he felt a strange, drowsy mood come over him, as if he'd been drugged. Thoughts of home, of Church, and the village instantly left his mind. He could think of nothing now but his task. He must have release! Waves of pleasure pulsed in his groin as he thought of beautiful Hannah, wondering if she would be there. Images of golden bodies writhing in the firelight spurred him on to walk faster and faster into the woods. 

As Andrew neared the exterior of the semi-circle, the figure he had seen at the edge of the forest took his hand.

"Come in, Pastor, we have been waiting for you."

+++

The moment Andrew entered the grove the strange fog which had descended on his brain in the forest grew stronger. He was in a dream! 

Incense of some kind was burning from large censors lit with burning coals; the sweet scent seemed to penetrate directly to his mind, bringing on a powerful urge to copulate. The room smelled of women; he could feel soft hands touching his body as he was brought directly up to the towering woman in grey, who said, "My sisters, it is time to start the Sabbath."

He saw women in white dresses and red cloaks, and men dressed in black kissing them, whispering in their ears, laughing and holding and rubbing their breasts. The sight made Andrew dizzy; never had he so needed to plunge his prick into a warm, soft cunt! The need was so great he could think of absolutely nothing else. 

"Sisters, you see down in the valley the ignorance of the humans who rule this earth. They know nothing of pleasure, only control and fear. Our kind are hunted and hated; our values despised. We haunt the edges of this universe as outcasts, and look on the folly of man with pity and contempt."

Andrew heard soft murmurs of delight in the crowd.

"We are eternal beings, guarding the ancient wisdom of our mothers."

"But our wise forbears knew we cannot dwell in the spirit alone. Our knowledge would be worthless if we did not become women, and awaken our bodies to love. Our Sabbath celebrates this!"

"In the cities and towns below, we are despised and blamed for our embrace of the flesh, but not here! Tonight, our holy Sabbath, we praise our beauty and love ourselves, as women! We welcome with open hearts the carnal delights of sex into our souls! We are not like those humans who know it as a guilty secret, experienced in shame and fear!" 

The gray lady laid her strong hand on Andrew's shoulder. 

"Rise, human, and face us."

Andrew heard twitters and sighs and coos of welcome from the crowd.

"Yes, he is a beautiful man, and a holy man, but he is also a man with a loving heart, and a 'weakness' for female flesh."

At this there was both laughter and clapping.

"Tonight, we praise as well the lust of man—the mark of the female upon his soul. His weakness is our strength, his vulnerability, our power!"

"This man is here because of his love for one of us! We welcome Andrew into the sacred grove. He has consented to join us in exchange for one chance to see his love again, and we thank him for his faith."

"Our kind does not believe in coercion. We know only the power of seduction, nothing more! Is it thy free choice, Pastor, to join us here tonight?"

"Yes, Mistress," Andrew replied. "It is."

"And you have agreed to perform our ritual tonight?"

"Yes, Mistress, I have. Please let's begin!"

More laughter from the crowd. The gray lady chuckled.

"Ah, he is eager. Like all men, he is guided by his cock, but we cannot blame him for that."

Two women suddenly came to Andrew and drew him to the stone altar in the center of the room. They gently pushed him on his back, but instead of cold stone he felt softness and warmth. 

The two women held his arms and legs. Andrew's head was spinning from the powerful sweet incense. His entire being was concentrated now on the throbbing pleasure between his legs. He must fuck, soon! Andrew moaned and closed his eyes as he felt his clothes being removed—his boots, his breeches, his linen shirt—until he was splayed naked and his swollen prick jutted out far from his body. 

Then he saw Hannah. She was naked, her beautiful pink-tipped breasts glowing in the light of the fire; her small rounded hips beckoning him to spread her body before him and plunge inside her. She slithered up to him and caressed his face, kissed his lips as her soft hand felt his stomach, teasing him unmercifully and making him groan, until she finally grasped the thick base of his member. 

Hannah spoke: "We are fortunate this Sabbath to have a holy man perform our rite!"

Again Andrew heard murmurs and tittering laughter.

"We are lucky to see the cock of a man of God swollen with lust, bursting with need to feel the soft touch of a female! This cock will bring great joy to the woman we have chosen for him. Andrew, you have agreed to be the first man to fuck her, and demonstrate to her your manly prowess? You will be good to her, and give her what she needs? You will take her virgin maidenhead and make her first tastes of love be gentle and delightful?"

Andrew could only moan as the horrible truth was spoken—both from the lingering shame of agreeing to such a task and from the electrifying thought of the sweet virgin cunt waiting for him!

"This rite symbolizes our very beliefs—the moment a maid becomes a woman, and enters the sacred groves of carnal pleasure! We love and praise the holy phallus! We celebrate the craven desires it awakens in our souls, we do not fear it! Our kind does not cast aspersions on the lustful desires of our flesh! We are not whores, but witches! Our bodies, as well as our hearts, open to you with love."

Hannah leaned down to kiss him once more. 

Soon Andrew felt soft hands on his body, running up his thighs and over his stomach, and down to his groin, where they gently squeezed and caressed his exposed shaft and large swollen sacs. He reached down to touch her—was it Hannah?—and felt that the girl was wearing a thin, gauzy robe. His hand found thick hair spilling over a light, slim body. He moaned as his hand found her hips and traveled to the parting of her round, soft buttocks through the silky material. He slipped one hand into the crevice, searching for her wetness and moaning, attempting to draw her near, draw her closer!

He felt warm lips kissing his, again, and then a quiet voice in his ear.

"Father, it is I, your daughter."




The Witching Hour



Andrew instinctively tried to raise himself up but Elizabeth's hand grasped his cock tightly.

"Shh . . . Father . . .I want thee. I want thee to take my innocence, I have dreamed of nothing else."

Andrew moaned at the sound of Elizabeth's voice, and at the terrible vision that arose in his mind. Parting her thighs, spreading her legs before him, gazing on her beauty, and ramming his prick inside her! It must be the magic of this night, he thought, because he could not condemn this desire, nor did he wonder how or why she was there. 

He groaned, "Daughter . . ." and slid his hand deeper into her cheeks.

"Oh my sweet Elizabeth . . . " he said as he found her hot slick wetness, the sweetest cunt he would ever know. 

"I will feel thy prick inside me tonight, dear Papa. . ." Elizabeth whispered seductively. "Trust me . . . It is what our dear sweet mother desires."

Andrew groaned and reached for her, his will simply too weak to resist, his need too great; every single moment and aspect of the strange night's proceedings had led him directly to her. He wanted to hold her on top of him and watch as his huge veined cock slid into her body. He wanted nothing less, he would sell his soul to the witches for eternity as long as they did not take her away!

"Father, let me kiss thee . . ." Elizabeth said, she brought her mouth down onto the lips at which she had gazed in secret for so long. Ah, to kiss him was such sweet delight! She parted his lips with her own slowly, knowing that the crowd was watching her every move, that they could see her tongue slip into his mouth and press it against his own. Elizabeth felt her father's hand clutch her head and bring her mouth down harder, open it wider, so he could lick and suck her tongue deeply, murmuring "Daughter . . ." 

Andrew's greedy mouth devoured the full lips; each time he drew her young and inexperienced tongue into his mouth and sucked pushed him further into a sexual delirium he knew could only be satisfied in one way. She was fresh, and untried—the wicked thought pushed into his mind. With every taste and lick, he was more fully embracing and craving the terrible task he must perform. His tongue foreshadowed his hard cock pushing and pressing into her body. 

Lost in the magic of her father's kisses, Elizabeth did not notice at first soft hands reaching into her robe and stroking her breasts, caressing her nipples, working to arouse her even further and ready her body. But Hannah's fingers and mouth soon had her nipples sending aching need into her cunt and she lifted her head off Andrew to moan and gasp. 

"Sister!"

"Shh, sweet Elizabeth, enjoy my tongue," Hannah whispered, as her mouth closed on one hard, pink point of flesh. She began to suck, skillfully eliciting shaking tremors in the virginal girl's body. She played with her breasts for a long while, knowing just what she was doing—pushing the beautiful full mounds together and sucking first one then the other, and drawing the pink tips deep into her warm mouth. 

At the same time, Andrew felt hands on his hard prick, holding it firmly and stroking the length up and down. He could not help taking one hand off Elizabeth to frantically, desperately try and bring the head and mouth of the unseen woman onto the swollen cap. Elizabeth heard him make a deep guttural groan in his throat when he felt the head of his prick engulfed in wetness, like his own Anne so loved to do. 

The witches used all their skills to arouse the chosen couple, as the rest looked on. Some were shedding their cloaks and robes, unable to hold back from their own lust as they took in the growing spectacle. 

Andrew's hands roamed over Elizabeth's backside, and her breasts were throbbing from Hannah's persistent mouth. She soon began to feel the beginnings of a wild, tremulous pleasure that nearly scared her. Hannah sensed it, and made a signal. 

The next moment Elizabeth felt hands gently lifting her off Andrew, and saw him drawn up off the altar as well. She then stood to face him, holding onto Hannah. 

"Elizabeth," Hannah said, tilting her head to look into her hers, "Do you desire this holy rite, and do you love this man?"

Elizabeth whispered. "Yes."

Hannah then faced Andrew.

"Pastor," she said, "We know how badly you want this."

"Your soul has no secrets from the gaze of the forest. We have watched your growing lust for your daughter, and encouraged it when we could. And we know that she craves it as deeply as you. It is why you were chosen! There is nothing more sacred and enticing to us than the sexual love of a witch for her earthly father. And we know you will be tender and gentle—at first."

"But Pastor, heed my words, you must not spend your seed inside her body tonight. Perhaps you did not know that our Sabbath is two days' long. . . you will go back to the Manse tonight, and only tomorrow will you return to the grove to complete the rest of the ritual."

Andrew groaned with pleasure hearing that he would have another night with Elizabeth, that this would not be the last!

Hannah signaled again and two lovely, unclothed witches came close to Elizabeth and, in full view of the crowd, drew her garment off her shoulders and let it drop to the floor. They spread her long thick blonde hair about her, eliciting sighs and gasps from the men and women looking at her beauty.

"Andrew, is she not beautiful? Does her body not arouse you? Is she not the spitting image of your wife, whom you loved so? Is her flesh not pink and flushed with desire for you?"

Andrew moaned, almost in pain, as he gazed upon Elizabeth's nakedness.

His eyes traveled instantly to her curving hips, and the tiny patch of yellow hair veiling her sex. The rose and ivory tints of her warm flesh stood out so appealingly in the dark grove; the firelight danced over her large soft breasts, making her hard nipples cast sharp shadows. Her beauty mesmerized him, and he instinctively reached for her, wanting to slide his arms around her waist and across her stomach.

But Hannah stopped him, as the other witches pulled Elizabeth towards the sacred altar.

"Tomorrow, Pastor, you may indulge your lust for her flesh as much as you wish. Tonight, you must leave the task of arousing her to us, who well know how to do it." 

Elizabeth was gently laid on the magical altar that was made of stone but felt like the softest bed. They gently tied her arms and legs very loosely to the posts on the four corners with soft silks. The sight of her breasts pushed up high, their deep pink nipples catching the glow of the candles, her blue eyes gazing at him with drowsy desire as her tongue lightly flickered across her open lips, and her legs, spread wide, giving him a full view of her cunt glistening with welcoming moisture, penetrated to the most primal realm of the good pastor's psyche. Deeper than his desire for his wife. Oh these witches! They knew men so well. Could anything be better, and sweeter, and more horribly, wickedly forbidden than this? It was a depraved act that only the forest could ever allow, that only he and his daughter and a group of supernatural beings could ever admit or witness, that no person outside of this room must ever, ever know about!

Elizabeth felt some fear gazing up at her father standing between her legs. She was gently tied, she did not know why, but it greatly enhanced her arousal, and the sweet incense was doing much to assuage her fear. Hannah was kneeling next her and she turned her mouth to let her kiss her. Oh, the magic of Hannah's kisses! They worked on her body like nothing else, making her arch her back and thrust her aching nipples into the air and her legs to naturally fall open even wider. Hannah got up, smiling at her, and Elizabeth saw her lean her beautiful mouth down to her breasts while one hand slid down between her thighs. Hannah gently pressed her hand against her wetness, making Elizabeth squirm and moan. She sucked her breasts and sweetly but skillfully brought Elizabeth to a peak of intense need, until she was writhing and twisting and thrusting her pelvis back against Hannah's hand.

"Sister!" Elizabeth gasped. 

"Shh, my sweet one, relax . . ." Hannah whispered. 

Elizabeth let herself sink into the soft melting pleasure of another woman's touch even as her eyes latched onto the throbbing object menacing her from her father's body. She was only vaguely aware of the other hushed voices whispering encouragement around her, so intently was her mind now fixed on Andrew's cock. The very word sent delicious shudders through her body. Between her legs the ache was growing so strong she did not know if she could wait any longer. She insistently, instinctively spread her thighs wider and wider as Hannah's magic touch elicited streams of flowing wetness.

Andrew had started stroking his cock, watching Elizabeth, his eyes fixated on her sex. The powerful enchantment in the witches' incense was designed to evoke the most primitive animal arousal. The scent went right to his cock, making the powerful muscle swell with blood and the dark veins pulse with demanding need. He must get inside her, soon. He could think of little else now but his task, like an aroused stallion approaching his fertile mate. The sight of a woman's lips on his daughter's nipples and her skillful fingers working in and out of her body was entirely new to him and so intoxicating to his senses. 

Hannah drew back, and then two aides came to Andrew's side. They gently placed his hands underneath Elizabeth's thighs so he was now holding his daughter's legs wide open. The last rational thought left his mind when he gazed closely on the wet, golden spread of his daughter's cunt! Her mound was lightly covered in sweet blond hair, just like his Anne's. Her outer lips were spreading for him and revealing her dark, hidden core. The crowd of onlookers gasped at the sight of his ridged and gnarled cock threatening those sweet and tender folds! 

Hannah knelt and whispered in Elizabeth's ear and continued to stroke her face and kiss her lips, and Elizabeth's eyes never left her face as she felt the first touch of her father's hot, hard prick against her body. Her eyes widened in shocked pleasure. She was afraid, but the craven need in her body was so great! 

She could not help crying out "Please, father! Please begin!"

Andrew could do no more at first than rub the length of his huge member against the tight virginal opening. Some powerful instinct, or perhaps the incense, was guiding his actions. He stroked her, gently lubricating his prick and getting her ready for him. He was aware of the great responsibility on his shoulders; there was no turning back now! But just at that moment he got that strange conviction, deep in his soul, straight from his heart, that his sweet Anne was somehow looking on with encouragement and approval, that this was exactly what she would have wanted. That Elizabeth would become a woman through the care of her loving father and the tender support of a room full of witches. Somehow, this was meant to be.

He pushed into her, gently but deliberately, and was amazed at how simple and easy it was. He did not want to hurt her though he knew he must. He bit his lip and held back the instinct to thrust hard into her, giving her no more at time than she was ready to take until he had firmly lodged the large red head of his cock inside her.

Hannah's lips hovered over Elizabeth's and whispered her parting words. "His prick is in thee now, daughter. Enjoy it, my love."

"Oh, Papa!" Elizabeth cried out, as the terrible need in her body gained in intensity. She did not know that the magical incense of the witches did much to lessen her pain, and make every second of the rite as pleasurable as possible. 

Andrew strained to hold himself back, but the sight of his thick cock entering Elizabeth's body made him slightly mad! He couldn't wait to fuck her like he knew his wife liked to be fucked—harder, and harder. He could not help himself! He drove his phallus into her, knowing he was hurting her but unable now to hold back. He had to look down and watch as that veiny, twisted cock pushed into her sweet, delicate flesh. He reveled in the resistance and the incredible tightness of her young body, which made him grit his teeth as he pushed inwards. He watched her pink lips getting obscenely stretched and he drove his cock relentlessly, drawing it back out to moisten and soothe her virginal passage and make the way easier for him before he pushed even harder. His arms straining with the effort, he got his massive cock in until he hit her natural barrier and heard her cry out. He gazed down at her, searching out her eyes, and just at that moment saw her smile at him, with a wicked gleam of lust. 

"Yes, Father! I want it, give it all to me!"

Ah! He tore into her flesh, feeling a spurt of wetness on his cock, and somehow plunged the whole length inside her at once! How wicked, how depraved, how wrong! 

Elizabeth screamed, and arched her back tight against the silky strands that held her bound to the altar. But the burst of pain was brief, and knowing, feeling, that her dear sweet Papa was fully buried inside her, that she was getting what she wanted more than anything in the world, immediately brought on a pleasure so new and great she felt tears come into her eyes. Her mind wrapped itself around the idea of her father's phallus as tightly as the walls of her womb grasped at its beautiful reality. She moaned just as she had heard her mother moan out her pleasure at feeling the same wonderful prick inside her. 

"Father! Father!" she gasped as she pulled tight at her confines, instinctively trying to draw his hard member deeper and deeper into her body. 

Andrew stilled himself for a moment, sweating and dizzy; the room and where he was faded from his consciousness. He was aware only of distant female voices, glowing light, and the feel of his daughter's tight cunt around his swollen prick. He began to stroke her, tenderly and softly, until her rising moans and bucking hips told him it was time to go faster. He leaned over her, on the stone altar, so he could look in her eyes and fulfill his ritual obligation to fuck her as she wanted. Again and again he plunged into her body in the hot grove, their passion and pleasure growing with each movement and shutting out everything around them. 

The growing lust between father and daughter had an inciting effect on the crowd in attendance, many of whom turned to each other with smiles and whispers as they dropped their cloaks and slid naked to the floor or found a convenient bench. Elisabeth's increasingly louder cries inspired them; it was the Sabbath, a night dedicated to sexual pleasure, and nothing was more arousing to this coven of lustful witches than the moans of a girl experiencing her first peak of ecstasy. The room soon took on a decidedly craven appearance, with beautiful bodies writhing on top or underneath each other; men quickly getting behind their wives on their hands and knees before them; women pressing together to please each other with their mouths. Sighs, moans, screams, cries, animal grunts and groans all competed with the sounds coming from the center of the room.

The incestuous coupling on the altar grew wilder as Andrew and Elizabeth lost sight of everything and everyone but their own pleasurable fucking. Andrew, terribly aroused by Elizabeth's binds, having her body totally his to ravish, and Elizabeth, loving her helplessness to stop his prick from plunging into her over and over. She could think of nothing but that hard prick! Each touch sent pleasure spiraling through her lower body, fomenting a spinning storm around one central core, one spot, that made her scream and cry every time he touched it! She felt like such a craven female, such a witch! She was made for this unbearably good feeling! How wonderful and delicious and beautiful it felt to be a woman! 

She found herself moaning over and over "Don't stop, Papa, please don't stop! Oh give me your prick! Harder, please, harder!!"

Andrew recognized well the signs of Elizabeth's mounting need for release; had he not experienced this with his wife more than was proper and right? Had he not felt her cunt opening and closing, sucking and grasping and clutching at him with greater and greater intensity as he did now?!

He bent over Elizabeth and fiercely looked in her eyes as he rammed his cock into her in short strokes, needing to complete the ritual for her because he could not hold off his own peak one moment longer!

He whispered to her over the cries and moans around them the strange word his dear Anne had taught him, "Come, Daughter! Come hard for thy Father!"

+++

From not too far away, poor Mary Prescott lay shivering in her bed. She had seen the lights! The wild purple lights over the forest and when she peered out her window, the tiny orange fires and candles barely visible in the dark woods. But she knew they were there! When she heard the high-pitched cry of a girl, a cry that was as much pain as pleasure, a wild, animal-like scream, she tried to convince herself it was only the wind howling around her house, though she knew not a single dried leaf was stirring.

+++

In the town of Salem in the year 1725, Saturday was a holy day, second only to Sunday in sacredness. It was a day of rest, reflection and prayer. Many residents of Salem took it as an opportunity to visit with Pastor Brown at the Manse—more so after he had lost his wife and two of his daughters to the plague. This Saturday was no different, and since the early morning hours visitors had been streaming into the back room of the Manse, which served as the Pastor's study.

Andrew had gotten up at the crack of dawn. He awoke in his bed feeling extremely groggy and disoriented, and he had no memories of the night before. His last clear thought was leaving the town on his horse, but he could not recollect how he had arrived home. He lay in his bed in the morning for several minutes searching his mind. His thoughts were so foggy, as if he'd just woken up from a long and vivid dream. As he lay there, strange images and thoughts came into his brain. The smell of incense. Writhing bodies. The altar in the grove, had he dreamed he was there once more? 

He dressed, knowing he had a full day, and went to the hearth to light the fire. Was his sweet Elizabeth awake yet?

"Good morning, Father."

Andrew felt fingers tracing lightly on the back of his neck, sending instant chills up and down his spine. He shuddered at his daughter's touch. Elizabeth stood close to him, and trailed her hand down his back until it circled his waist. Andrew could not help turning towards her and holding her by the waist. Elizabeth smiled at him, and leaned in and kissed his lips, sweetly and gently, but with lustful promise. 

"Did you sleep well, Father? Did you dream of thy daughter?"

Andrew did not understand her manner, but he did not question it. It was as though he was under a spell! He was astounded to see his own hands running up to her breasts, to those full creamy breasts so lewdly on display, and pulling down the ruffles until he had fully exposed her hard pink nipples! He leaned down and took one into his mouth and sucked! Oh, the taste and feel, what was he doing? Elizabeth smiled and held his head as he feasted on her generous breasts, caressing his hair and murmuring to him.

"I missed thee last night, Father! I stayed in bed all night waiting for you to come home! Where were you?"

"Mmmmmm," Andrew moaned, unable to answer, his mouth full of her flesh, his tongue swirling around the hard nubs, sucking and biting. He drew her down to the heart, knelt on the floor next to her and pushed her backwards on a chair and gave in completely to his desire. He untied the front of her dress slowly until her entire chest was free and exposed. His hands pushed her beautiful mounds close together, crushed them and toyed with them and teased the aching hard nipples. He could stay here all day simply kneading them under his hands!




The Witching Hour



Hell and damnation!

Here I was, stuck in London trying to do a business deal on Friday 30th November and it looked like we had reached an impasse. My colleague, Dave MacBeth, and I were negotiating with our host, Georgios Stokoptionos, the Greek shipping and transport magnate. The aim was to hammer out a contract to transport fifty thousand freight tonnes of an industrial production plant from Europe and the USA to south east Asia. By nine o'clock that evening I had missed my flight home and we had decided to take a break.

"When shall we three meet again?" I asked.

We were all keen to do the deal, but the devil is in the detail, as they say. On previous occasions we had got together and fixed win-win deals, but this one was proving more of a challenge. Saving ten dollars a tonne on the budget was my goal, which would gain the project half a million dollars in savings, but Georgios was trying get a price that would burst my balloon. Okay, everyone knows I am a cold-hearted bastard who gets his kicks out of contracts, so there was no way in hell that I was going to roll over for Georgios. The fly in the ointment was my promise to get home in time for the annual Halloween Masque Ball on Saturday night.

Up north, where we live, they burned so many witches a couple of centuries ago that every Halloween we are trying to make up for it. It's debatable whether a very expensive costume ball that raises loads of money for charity cancels out the terrible sins of the past, but it's all for a good cause. Although hellishly expensive, the tickets are always all sold out months in advance. People are happy to give their money to charity, but what really gets them going is the dressing up bit, which has become very competitive in recent years and the prizes include a little silver broom on a plinth for "Hottest Witch of the Year".

Hot witches are the main topic of conversation for weeks afterwards. Stories and rumours abound about who did what with whom at the ball. Folk say the local birth rate spikes every July as a direct consequence! I could easily believe that, because I'm a Christmas baby, born on 25th September. That's why my parents decided to name me Nicholas. "Old Nick" is one of the devil's nicknames, so I always wear a devil costume to the ball. Hazel, my lovely young wife, makes a very sexy witch in her little black dress and a black pointed hat, even though she always insists on wearing a long black wig, painting her face white and sticking on a crooked false witch's nose and some really horrible looking false warts.

Dave and I eventually left Georgios's offices in Pall Mall that Friday evening, having agreed to reconvene at ten o'clock the next morning. Contractual negotiations can be unpredictable, so we hadn't checked out of our hotel. I learned my lesson a few years ago, when I was stuck in London with no hotel room. I had a quick shower and called Hazel to give her the bad news that I wasn't on a plane, heading for home.

"OK, Nick, but what about the ball?" she immediately asked.

"Look, Hazel, I promised I would get there. Come hell or high water I will do my absolute best to keep that promise."

She seemed placated and we chatted for a while about this and that. Hazel listened while I talked about how we could get away to the Caribbean for a mid-winter holiday if I managed to pull off this deal and I listened while she told me all about the continuing woes of her younger sister, Jenny. The poor girl had just gone through a painful divorce after she caught her husband, Melvin, in bed with his personal assistant. Jenny is not the sharpest knife in the cutlery drawer when it comes to brains, but she is just as pretty as Hazel and everyone thought Melvin must have been crazy. Their four year old daughter, Emma, is Jenny's top priority nowadays, so she doesn't have much of a social life.

"What she really needs," concluded Hazel, "is a good fucking."

While I agreed that what Jenny needed was a good fuck, she's a single mother now. She has little opportunity to get out and see if she can find a nice guy for a change.

I feel sorry for Jenny, because Hazel and I have clocked up nearly five years of wedded bliss and I think we're still as much in love as when we tied the knot. When we're apart we always end our phone calls by telling each other how much we love one another, but we don't do the "No, you hang up" routine. Okay, okay, I'm a cold, heartless bastard, I know. I finished my call with Hazel and, after a light supper with Dave, I turned in for the night. I was exhausted from the day's discussions, but I tossed and turned half the night, thinking about the contract before eventually drifting off to sleep in the early hours of the morning. 

It's amazing how our brains keep working overnight while we sleep and sometimes the solution to a problem pops into your head when you wake up or when you're standing under the shower. That morning I thought I might just have found the key to getting a deal done. Once I had explained my thinking to Dave over breakfast, we set off to meet Georgios.

It took us all morning and half the afternoon, but we eventually hammered out a deal. I won't bore you with the details, but it involved a transfer of risk in return for the savings that I had targeted. We had sandwiches delivered in for lunch and by four in the afternoon Georgios had signed on the dotted line. Now all I had to do was get home!

I reckoned my best bet was to get the 5pm train instead of going to the airport, but getting across London on a Saturday afternoon isn't easy. Thankfully, London cabbies know all sorts of short cuts and my driver was no exception. I called Hazel while the black cab wound its way through the busy streets, but her number was busy, so I left a message to let her know I was planning on getting a train and would call her later.

London's railway stations are busy places and I had to swerve and dodge as I ran through the crowds towards the platform with only minutes to spare. If Georgios's PA hadn't got me a ticket while we finished off signing the contract I'd have missed the train. I made my way to my seat, trying to catch my breath as we pulled slowly out of the station. I put my coat and bag in the overhead luggage rack and settled down to call Hazel again and let her know I was on my way. 

Have you ever left your mobile phone in the back of a taxi? I felt so stupid. After calling Hazel as we sped across London I had been so distracted that I hadn't put it away in my pocket or my bag. In my rush to pay the cabbie and get out of the taxi I had left it behind. I could try and call her from a public pay phone when I got off the train, but I knew the queue for taxis would be a lengthy one on a Saturday evening and searching for a phone wasn't worth the additional delay. If we were on time, I could be back home by around nine thirty. Either she would wait for me or she would go ahead and I could catch up with her. In the meantime I could sample the bland, stale and tasteless food provided by the train operator.

Eventually we got to our destination, but there were delays due to weekend maintenance work on the line, so it was nearer ten thirty by the time I got to our house. Hazel's car wasn't there, so she had obviously gone ahead. The taxi driver waited while I ran in, emptied my bag in our bedroom and grabbed my costume and some toiletries. I checked Hazel's wardrobe and her costume was gone, so I knew where she was.

The taxi dropped me at the hotel and I checked in at reception. The clerk confirmed my wife had checked in earlier. That was obvious when I got into the room. Her empty bag was by the bed and white face paint was liberally spattered over the surface of the little make-up table, which also featured an empty miniature wine bottle, two empty cans of fizzy drinks and a couple of pieces of stale pizza sitting on a large platter. The pizza looked marginally better than the meal I had on the train, but clearly neither of us had dined well.

I had a quick shower, changed into my fiery red devil costume, complete with horns and red mask, and went in search of my wife. Hazel had our tickets, but it was very late in the evening and no one bothered to check whether I had a ticket. 

But which witch was which? A thousand people were in the hotel's ballroom and half of them were witches. I got myself a glass of wine and circulated, trying not to look as if I was peering at the witches. It might take some time, but I knew I would eventually be able to find her, thanks to the green ribbon that she ties round her witch's hat. 

Hazel's family is of Irish descent and green is very much favoured in her family, not just because of the link to the emerald isle. It's also a good match for redheads like Hazel, Jenny and Emma. Of course it still wouldn't be that easy to spot her, because all the women in her family are little people. They're not exactly leprechauns, but at around five foot three none of them are going to stand out in a crowd.

I was beginning to think maybe I'd missed her and she'd gone back upstairs to our room, when I briefly caught sight of the green ribbon on the dance floor. I moved in that direction, squeezing past the crowds that were watching the dancers. She was dancing up a storm in her little black dress, surrounded by a bunch of guys in skeleton costumes. "Well done, cutty sark!" was the thought that immediately came to mind. Then, just as in the famous poem by Robert Burns, the lights suddenly went out. In an instant all was dark.

I hadn't realised it was so close to midnight and the tradition at the ball is to put the lights out for five minutes at the witching hour. Folk are usually so well oiled by then that pitching the ballroom into darkness for longer than a few minutes would result in chaos, but those few minutes give everyone a chance to make ghostly noises, steal a kiss or two or maybe get a little more intimate. The hubbub of noise was deafening and the ballroom echoed with demonic laughs, banshee howls and screams of horror. Everyone was clearly having a wail of a time in the darkness. 

I crossed the dance floor, detouring past couples and groups as I tried to track her down. What the hell? At the far side of the dance floor some other devil had her in his arms and was doing his best to kiss her face off. They were in a lip lock and he must have had his tongue tickling her tonsils. I was shocked and could only think she had maybe got a little too tipsy. 

Spotting her green ribbon and seeing her kissing another man brought out the green monster in me. I was pretty sure it was some random guy who had no idea who she was. He was probably just chancing his luck when the lights went out, so I held off until they came up for air. It was my fault she was on her own and she was being a little too generous with her favours, but thankfully I would be in the nick of time to save her from getting into trouble.

It looked like I called it right, as they broke apart and he said something to her and then moved away towards the bar. I sneaked up behind her, put my arms round her and started nuzzling her neck. She responded just as I expected, leaning back into me and squirming with obvious delight. I don't know much about erogenous zones, but if you nuzzle Hazel's neck she turns into jelly. "Let's get out of here," I whispered in her ear, trying to make myself heard above the cacophony of noise. I set off for the exit, pulling her along behind me. 

She seemed hesitant. "Wait, wait, wait," she seemed to be saying and then, above all the noise I just made out that she had asked, "Who are you?"

"It's me. Who do you think it is?" I replied, as we emerged from the ballroom into the foyer. The bright lights were blinding after the darkness of the ballroom. She stumbled and I turned and caught her. What the hell had she been drinking? It was going to be more difficult than I thought getting her back upstairs to our room. No one else was around, so I bent down and got her over my shoulder in a fireman's lift. I don't think she had much idea about what was going on, as she was wriggling and giggling as we zipped up to the second floor in the elevator. I got the key out of my pocket as I walked down the corridor, opened the door, walked in, kicked the door shut with my heel and threw her on the bed.

As she lay there gasping for breath I threw off my cape, crawled on top of her and started nuzzling her neck again. Her witch's hat had disappeared and the black wig had tilted back slightly to reveal a shock of copper coloured hair. I nuzzled and nibbled and she mewled in delight as I pressed my erection against her. I slipped my hand under her little black mini-skirt. She was wearing a tiny thong and it was soaking, no doubt as the result of all the flirting and teasing she had been getting up to, as well as my own ministrations. Hazel loves doing it doggy style, so I flipped her onto her stomach, lifted her skirt, pulled her thong aside, got my cock out and was inside her before you could say bingo.

The green monster was still doing my head in and I was going to make sure she got a good seeing to. I'd show her who was her man and why she was mine. She was moaning into the pillow as I built up a nice steady rhythm, pushing into her and pulling out halfway before pushing in again. I reached under her and started gently rubbing her 'little man in a boat'. Soon she was whimpering and pushing back at me. I kept going as she shuddered and gasped through a climax that seemed to leave her a quivering wreck. 

It was the thought of what might have happened if I hadn't reached her in time that drove me on. The thought that someone else might have ended up giving her one was making me harder and stronger. I turned her over and stuck her legs over my shoulders, then pounded away while she grunted her way to another massive orgasm. 

By the dim light of the bedside alarm clock she really did look like a witch. Amazing! And to be honest it was a bit of a turn on. Here was me, having a devil of a time, fucking the sexiest witch and possessing her body and soul! This time, as she writhed in orgasm I could feel her cunt clutching me tightly and I came like an exploding rocket, collapsing on the bed beside her, gasping to catch my breath. She snuggled into me and I had barely the strength to push my trousers off the end of the bed with my feet and kiss her tenderly before I fell fast asleep.

I woke briefly in the middle of the night. There was a faint glow coming from underneath the bathroom door, so she had presumably got up to go to the toilet. I pulled back the covers, undressed and got back in bed, falling asleep almost immediately. I slept like a log, totally exhausted. When I woke again much later there was no sign of her. The bedside clock indicated 7:15. Maybe she had gone to breakfast.

I got out of bed and was puzzled when I noticed that her stuff had gone. The mystery was solved when I wandered into the bathroom. A huge red heart and five big red kisses had been drawn on the bathroom mirror with a red lipstick. I must have made her very happy! Obviously she had left me sleeping, packed up and gone home. I showered and changed, then headed for the lobby, where the receptionist confirmed that the other room key had already been dropped off. When I checked out there was nothing outstanding to pay.

Smiling happily to myself, I drove home to join her for breakfast. Her car wasn't there, so I thought she must have stopped off to pick up some breakfast things, maybe some muffins or crumpets, which we tend to favour on a Sunday morning. When I closed the front door I found a note stuck to the back of it, which read, "Gone to Jenny's. See you soon. Love, H. xxx". Oh well, I'd just have to have breakfast on my own.

I changed into some fresh clothes, dropped all my dirty clothes in the washing hamper and made myself a nice pot of my favourite Vietnamese coffee and some toast with that delicious Scottish marmalade. There was no telling when Hazel would get back from Jenny's, so I switched on the television, tuned in to the sports news channel and put my feet up.

I had hardly sat down when I heard the front door opening. Suddenly there she was, looking like a normal and very pretty human being! No trace of witch! She dropped a packet of muffins on the coffee table, came over and hugged me tightly.

"Hi beautiful! How's Jenny?" I asked. "Another crisis?"

"Quite the opposite! She has a bit of a fuzzy head this morning, but she's a very happy bunny. Why aren't you answering your phone by the way?"

"It's a long story, but I think I left my mobile in a London cab yesterday".

"Well at least you got my note and knew where I was. When I hadn't heard from you by six yesterday evening I knew you were still stuck in London, so I packed all my witchy stuff and went over to see her. I thought maybe she could go and have some fun at the ball."

I was puzzled, but then I realised I had left the front door open when I got back home the previous evening. I hadn't seen the note until this morning.

"So you went to Jenny's yesterday evening and then the two of you went to the ball?"

"Not quite. I drove Emma and Jenny down to the hotel, checked into our room and we all then had great fun dressing up Jenny. We had room service pizza and Emma got that white face paint all over everything. She couldn't stop laughing when we stuck the witch's nose on her mum's face and then she added so many fake warts it looked like Jenny had the plague!"

"But you went to the ball, didn't you?" I asked, with a sinking feeling in my stomach.

"No, I was babysitting Emma at Jenny's place. Jenny said she'd likely be back around midnight, but she didn't get home until around three or four in the morning. She wouldn't tell me the whole story, but one guy filled her up with champagne and then another guy fucked her brains out. She says the guy who fucked her is in a steady relationship and it was just a one night stand, but she swapped phone numbers with the other guy and will see if that goes anywhere. Anyway that's enough about Jenny. When did you get back from London?"

"Er... around midnight?" I replied.

"Ah," she said. "The witching hour."

Hell and damnation!