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Witch Hunt

By: n2life



Elwan sensed that he neared the witch's lair, he could feel the hair on his arms crawl against his skin. The deathly quite this deep in the forest made the beating of his heart deafening in his ears.

The trees stood towering above him like solemn giants, their branches wove together to form a dense ceiling high above allowing very little light to reach the forest floor causing an eerie, grey gloom around him. The tanglewood became so think that he had to use his greatsword to hack through the vines reducing his progress to only a few feet at a time. 

As much as he tried to shake the feeling, fear began to take seed and sprout within him, sending shivers up and down his spine and sapping his strength. Elwan forced himself to think of the reason that brought him to this evil place, to kill the witch and avenge his wife's death. He could still hear his wife's screaming as she burned at the stake falsely accused as the witch that he now hunted.

His wife had been stripped shamefully in front of townsfolk by the royal guards at the command of the king, his very own father, who would show him or his wife no mercy. The townsfolk cursed and spit at her. They beat her with fists and sticks as she was forced to walk to the stake while he watched helplessly bound, tied, and gagged. 

The only thing that made this act of injustice worse was that only a few days earlier she had confided with him that she was pregnant with his child. He would have sacrificed his life for hers, but instead he was forced to watch his own wife and his unborn child burn at the stake. His hands tightened around the hilt of his greatsword, the white power of good that glowed from the white steel blade diminished as his hate gradually turned into blinding rage

The rage that guided him was fueled by the evil of the place and through the blindness or his rage he did not see the thick vines constantly moving and changing path in front of him and then closing off any attempt to escape behind him.

The forest around him turned dark as the trees and tanglewood grew even thicker. Elwan moved cautiously now, as there was now a clear path in front of him.

Elwan stopped suddenly at the sound of a menacing growling. Two large black hounds stood in the path ahead. Close behind the hounds, stood the witch. 

The witch did not move, her face was stretched taut and expressionless, as she watched him from behind unkept and tangled grey hair. Suddenly the witch lips curled up into a crooked smile, as she said mockingly "Well prince, it's about time, you hacking and slashing could wake the dead" and then she abruptly cackled "perhaps you will meet your dearest wife after all!" 

Blood rushed to his face as Elwan lifted the point of the steel blade that now shined bright white. He could feel the power of the blade surging through him. Elwan sprang forward. All the muscles in his arms bulged and flexed as he swung the greatsword down over his head with all of his might

The witch took a stop beck and with the wave of her hand the hounds sprang through the air. The razor sharp teeth of the first hound bit painfully around one of Elwan's wrists prying the greatsword from his hands while the other knocked him off balance onto the ground.

Tanglewood vines slithered out from all directions binding his arms and legs to the ground. In an instant it was over, Elwan struggled against the vines that held him and looking helplessly up at the witch that stood above him with same crooked smile. She scoffed, "You fool! Did you really think you alone could simply invite yourself into my home, where my powers are strongest?"

The witch kneeled down next to him and pulled out a small knife from out of her black robe and quickly cut away his clothes, leaving his completely naked and exposed. Furious, Elwan struggled futilely to free himself from the vines that bound him to the ground. 

Once he realized it was no use, Elwan gave up his struggle and spit in the witch's face and warned "Witch! You and your heathen kind spread your evil way. Evil must be destroyed. If you kill me, my father will send more to men to follow in my footsteps..." 

The witch cut him off with a sharp and piercing voice liking the spit from her face with her long snake like tongue "Rest assured, dear prince, I will kill you...but not yet. Alive you are still useful. You and your royal family have sent many to hunt us and now only a few of us remain. We now live our lives alone and in hiding in the most remote places, no...I doubt more will come, and if they do, the only thing they will find is what is left of your bones that have been cleaned of flesh and scattered about by the creatures that keep me company in this place." 

The witch stood up and said, "Perhaps I will leave you to learn what true evil really is. Perhaps then you will be ready to show me the manners worthy of a prince, because after all, you are a guest in my home!" With that, the witch turned way with the hounds at her feet and left him. 

Elwan listened until he could no longer hear her footsteps. Again he struggled against the vines that bound his arms and legs. It was no use, he had no choice but to remain as the witch's prisoner until he could find away to escape, yet as the darkness of the forest enveloped him, he began to question if he would find away to escape this evil place

Elwan did not know how long he lay there shivering on the damp ground, full of creatures that slithered and insects that bit his naked skin. Days turned into nights, nights turned into days, but the witch did not return. He became feverish and delirious from hunger and the cold. 

From out of the pitch black darkness of night, a figure appeared holding a lantern. Elwan strained his eyes and found that it was a woman wearing only a thin dress. The dancing light from the lantern emphasized every beautiful curve. He blinked his eyes, and his jaw dropped in disbelief as she continued to walk toward him. 

It couldn't be! Were his eyes playing tricks on him? The woman that stood over him was his wife. His wife loosened the ties that held her gown and it fell away from her. Her amber red hair fell loosely about her shoulders falling in curls about her milky white breasts and slender back. She smiled at him with luscious lips, the same smile that forever changed his life so many years ago. 

This must be a dream he thought, he had witnessed his wife die with his very own eyes, he went to speak, but she raised a finger to her lips to silence him and kneeled down beside him, and she gently brushed her fingers gently against his skin, and he could feel her warmth against his cold damp skin. 

Setting the lantern aside, his wife moved between his legs as she glided her hands up his thighs. She stroked his growing cock with one hand while the other tugged at her own tits and then glided down her navel until she reached the red hair that protected her inner folds, in which she rubbed her clitoris.

Her mouth wrapped around the head of his engorged member as she sucked him. Elwan moaned when her tongue swirled around the base and she sucked him hard. Their lovemaking had always been intense, but in this place if was different, every pleasure felt much more intense.

His wife straddled him, and lowered her moist pussy lips down and around his rock hard shaft, and then slowly and steadily began to slide up and then down in a steady rhythm. He lifted his hips penetrating her deeper every time she slid down upon him. They moved together faster as one as the pleasure they felt from one another intensified. 

Elwan looked into his wife's clear blue eyes, entranced by her fair beauty, and he thought if this was a dream, he wished that he would never awaken. He reached out to touch her but reality began to set in as his hands and arms were still held firm to the ground. As if sensing his helplessness, she leaned forward and their lips touched and he closed his eyes and he desperately and passionately kissed her, their tongues intertwined together as one as his engorged shaft exploded in her, planting his seeds deep within her womb.

Abruptly, the witch's hideous laughter could be heard echoing all around him, he opened his eyes to see the witches old and repulsive face only inches from his own.

The witch smiled revealing crooked and cracked teeth, and she kissed him again upon the lips, as he struggled furiously against the vines that bound him tightly. Her tongue darted in and parted his lips and their tongues met. Elwan snapped his head away from the witch with disgust as he gagged violently.

The witch pulled off of him very slowly enjoying every inch of pleasure. She looked down triumphantly at her lover as he glared at her with seething hatred. She laughed wickedly and she taunted him, "You see my pathetic prince, I have defeated you. First I took your wife and unborn sun, then I stripped you of your own right to be king, and now your own son is growing inside of me. One day, your son..." she paused for just a moment letting her words sink in, as silence once again eerily enveloped them. The witch's evil cackle pierced the silence one last time, "but no my love, for you will be dead. My son will be King." 

Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 01



Flora Radisson gets just what she wants when the townsfolk burn her at the stake.

"Flora Radisson, under the laws of the Commonwealth of Salem Massachusetts, on this day of our Lord in 1692, I find you guilty of witchery, witchcraft, wizardly, sorcery, and conjuring," said the Honorable Judge Robert Hall. "Do you have anything to say for yourself before I pass sentence."

Even though he mindlessly asked her if she had anything to say before he sentenced her to die, he wasn't paying her any attention. Too busy looking through the papers he had before him, he seemed ready to ignore whatever she had to say.

"I'm not guilty of witchery, witchcraft, wizardly, sorcery, and conjuring. If I'm guilty of anything, I'm guilty of being a redheaded woman. If I'm guilty of anything, I'm guilty of being beautiful and sexy and all those bitches are the real witches," she said looking at and pointing to the wives and the girlfriends of the men who convicted her. They are the ones who are jealous of me because their men want me more than they want them," said Flora.

"Who are you calling bitches and witches, you wicked witch? I'll scratch out your eyes" said one of women witnessing the Salem witch trial.

"Quiet! Quiet in the courtroom," said the judge banging his gavel.

"I have proof that I'm not a witch but just a beautiful, sexy redhead," said Flora in her defense.

"Proof? A witch who has proof that she's not a witch? I never heard of such a thing," said the judge laughing. "The only proof that we have is that you are a witch," said the judge. As if he was suddenly made of liquid and his form was moving across his lofty position, the judge looked down to her from across his bench. "What proof do you have that you're not a witch?"

Mesmerizing him with her good looks, she looked at the judge as if she was putting a spell on him.

"Look at me. Just look at me. I'm beautiful and I'm sexy. What witch have you ever seen who looks like me? All the witches you've already burned were old and ugly. Am I right? Do I look old and ugly to you?"

She struck a pose while turning to all who accused her and convicted her of being a witch.

"She's a witch. She's a witch alright. That's why she's so beautiful and so sexy," said a woman.

"No one can look like her without being a witch," said another woman.

"Stone the witch to death," said someone else.

"Order in the court! Quiet," said the Judge banging his gavel. "Under the powers given me by the citizens of this commonwealth, after being found guilty of being a witch, I hereby condemn you, Flora Radisson, to death," said the Honorable Judge Robert Hall banging his gavel for quiet. "Quiet in my court! Quiet," said the judge when everyone started talking and cheering all at once.

"Good! She got a death sentence," said someone.

"That's making an example of her for all the other witches," said someone else. "If you practice witchcraft in our community, you die."

"Hang the bitch," said someone else.

"Burn the witch," said another. "Burn her!"

"Strip her naked and burn her," said someone else.

"Burn her, burn her, burn her," chanted the crowd of people gathered in the courtroom and that erupted outside the courthouse when someone told them the verdict. "Burn her, burn her, burn her," carried the chant outside to the crowd watching while waiting for the verdict and the sentence.

"Quiet in the courtroom. Quiet! Quiet!" The judge banged his gavel again and again. "Anyone not quiet in my courtroom will be removed from my court and put in the stockade after being charged with disorderly conduct and contempt of court," said the judge pointing his gavel at those in the courtroom who disrupted the proceedings.

Looking while watching everyone as if trying to memorize all of their faces, Flora waited for the court to become quiet before having her say and speaking her words.

"I'll be back," said Flora smiling as if she was imitating Arnold Schwarzenegger when he starred in Terminator. She pointed her index finger at the Judge, a finger that was as stiffly defiant as her resolve to return to life. "You can't kill me."

As if she was the Devil and he was Archangel Michael, the Judge looked at her with venom in his eyes.

"No you won't be back and yes I can kill you," said the Judge firing back and pointing the narrow end of his gavel at her. 

"Burn her, burn her, burn her," chanted the crowd. "Strip her naked and burn her."

"If you think that I won't be back and that you can kill me," said Flora with smiling with contempt for him and for his court, "then why even bother burning me?"

She pushed back her long, curly, flaming orangey red hair with a practiced hand. As if her hair predicted her future, her brilliant orange, red hair curled in the way that flames of a fire curled when consuming anything and everything in its path. 

"Quiet! Quiet in my court. Quiet," said the judge banging his gavel.

"If you're sentencing me to death, then surely, you believe that I'm a witch," she said with a victorious smile while looking around at those jurors who found her resoundingly and unanimously guilty. "If you believe that I'm a witch, then you must know that I'll be back, because not even fire can kill me," she said with logic. "Being that you can't kill me and being that I can return to life to harm you all, if you believe that I'm a witch, then you must let me go to leave here and to allow me to live elsewhere."

Alas her logic fell on deaf ears. Already found guilty, she was just awaiting sentencing to die.

"Contrary Miss Radisson. Indeed you are a witch and so found guilty of being a witch by your peers and by this court. Instead of being hung by the neck for practicing witchery, witchcraft, wizardly, sorcery, and conjuring, you'll be burned at the stake on Friday, June the 13th of the year or our Lord, 1692. Once dead, it's this court's desire to make sure that you remain dead," he said with a self-righteous smile. "Seize her!"

Immediately the two guards that already stood beside her, grabbed her beneath each of her arms. Flora pulled back at the guards when they pulled her. With one guard pulling one way against the other guard who pulled the other way, not moving an inch, she remained in place before the judge.

"Ha! You can burn me but you can't kill me," she yelled while struggling against the strength of the two, burly guards. "The numbers. It's all in the numbers three, two, one. Three, two, one," she said again.

"Burn her," erupted the crowd. "Burn her," chanted to crowd to all that she said.

Flora glanced over at her black cat who was perched on the outside window ledge to watch the proceedings. She smiled at her cat and winked at him before refocusing her attention back to the judge.

"I'll be back on Friday, September 13, 2013 to take out my revenge on someone from your unsuspecting family."

"2013? Seriously? 2013? Why wait so long?" The judge laughed loud enough to make everyone in the courtroom laugh. "Quiet! Quiet in my courtroom."

"Shakespeare wrote it best when he wrote and I quote, Revenge is a dish best served cold," she cackled. "Unlike the kangaroo court held here, revenge is a kind of wild justice. Revenge triumphs over all, even death, especially death," she said. "And I'll take my revenge on your family when I return from the dead."

The judge looked from her to look at his courtroom filled with people.

"Revenge? Who cares about your revenge? I'll be long dead by then and you will too. No doubt, you'll be dead before I will," he said with a shrug while laughing. "We'll all be long dead by then," he said with another loud laugh.

"Three, two, one," she said holding up her right hand to count off with her fingers. "Three, two one," she said holding up her left hand to count off with her fingers.

She closed her eyes and dropped her chin to her chest as if she was praying, meditating, or performing some sort of witchcraft spell. As if she was saying a spell or conjuring up the Devil, she mumbled some unintelligible words as if speaking in tongues or in a foreign language that only she understood.

"Remove this condemned witch from my courtroom and remand her in custody until we can make a big enough fire to burn this bitch. And someone go outside and kill her damn cat," said the judge looking at the cat sitting on the window ledge while staring at her master and purring.

Suddenly, as if she was a stone statue, an immovable object remaining steadfast against two men twice her size, with her eyes still closed, she stiffened herself, along with her resolve, to say her words uninterrupted to Judge Robert Hall before being forced to leave his courtroom.

"Come on witch, let's go," said one guard pulling at her but she wasn't moving an inch.

"Let's be off with you now," said the other guard tugging at her but she wasn't budging a muscle. "We don't want to bruise you before the fire burns you," said the guard with a laugh.

"Three, two, one. Three, two, one," she said again this time counting the numbers off with both hands raised high. "I curse you. I curse you. I curse you," she said breaking the hold the guards had on her arms. She lifted her head and popped open her big, blue eyes to stare at the judge. As if her eyes were two pools of deep, azure water and he was drowning in them, he stared back at her with fright. As if her finger was her magic wand, she pointed her finger at the judge. "In three hundred and twenty-one years, I'll whisper my words in his ear. For me, your kin will fall. His name is Robert Hall."

"Remove her from my courtroom," said the Judge. "Get her out of here."

* * * * *

Flora Radisson remained in the stockade while watching the townsfolk gathering enough wood to burn her. The judge ordered two, armed guards posted around the clock to protect her from people stoning her and/or doing all sorts of viciously evil things to her. He wanted her unhurt for the fire. Then, on the warm morning of Friday, June 13, 1692, after collecting enough fire wood and arranging it all in a pile, the women of Salem collected her.

With no one wanting her in their house, they brought her to a small barn just outside of town. Surrounding her to give her some privacy from the leering men who stood outside staring at her through the splits in the wood, they undressed her and bathe her before redressing her in clean clothes. Given no place to go to the bathroom, she had been standing in stocks for nearly a week while peeing and shitting herself. Once washed and dressed to look presentable before the court, without delay and without giving her another podium for her to state her curse, she was taken outside and escorted to the stake. 

"Flora Radisson as so found guilty by a jury of your peers for being a witch and for practicing witchcraft, wizardry, sorcery, and conjuring, as so ordered by the honorable Judge Robert Hall, you will be burned alive at the stake."

Now cleaned and dressed, she was turned over to those townsfolk men who were chosen to strip her naked. In a frenzy, the men tore off all of her clothes while touching her and feeling her where no men were allowed to touch and feel women who weren't their wives or mistresses. Good Christen men that suddenly became perversely perverted animals, their violent sexual assault of her person was far greater than any crime she was accused of committing. With first her breasts exposed and then her arse and pussy, instead of cowering to hide her nudity with her arms and/or hands, she stood defiant and unashamed with her arms by her sides. Showing no fear and not combatting her rapists, seemingly she stood proud to not only be deemed a witch but also to be burned as one.

A time of morals, modesty, religion, God, and puritan values, it was such a seldom sight to see a naked woman, especially one so beautiful and sexy, to be standing in public so brazen. Defiant against the wills of the lustful men who stripped her naked while sexually assaulting her on her execution day, as if wishing them all harm, she looked at them all one by one. A time before women shaved their armpits, their pussies, and their legs, with a light coat of amber fur covering her, she was still a sexy sight to behold.

A woman in a man's world, a woman accused, tried, and convicted of being a witch for merely being a redheaded beauty, all eyes were upon her as if she was a stripper being stripped on stage. In the way that they tore of her clothes and stripped her naked, indeed she was giving them a striptease show for their viewing pleasure. Waiting for her sorcery to conjure up something to save her, a fire breathing dragon or a two headed monster, the crowd watched while waiting for her to do something, anything to prove that she was indeed a witch. If anything, by standing there so immodestly and immoral naked, defiant against the laws of the time and against the Salem Witch Trials, if she proved anything at all, she seemingly disproved that she was a witch.

Obviously waiting for her to perform some magic miracle of witchery or wizardry to either beguile her captors and/or to free herself from the binds that bound her, she disappointed them with her inaction to perform and her inability to escape. Too proud and too confident of her own bad self, someone like Flora would never beg for mercy. Too disrespectful of puritan values, especially when she knew that the men were all hypocritical pigs who lusted over her and disrespected her with leering looks and lewd comments, someone like Flora would never beg for her life.

Having been down this road so very many times before and already resigned to being burnt at the stake, someone like Flora would never appear weak and scream from the flames of the fire melting her skin. Someone like Flora would never apologize for being her strong self and for being the witch that she is. More turned off by her brilliant, orangey red hair and more put off because she was a sexy, vocal woman, the men and women of the period didn't appreciate a woman who felt free to give her opinion. Yet, putting her faith in her witchcraft than in her friends and neighbors, she knew she'd be saved from death at the very last second. 

* * * * *

It wasn't enough for the men to strip her naked, not part of the deal, especially when they were the ones accusing her of lewd and lascivious behavior with the men of her community. Even though she was innocent of her accused witchery, witchcraft, wizardry, sorcery, and conjuring, and even though not one man stepped forward to bear witness against her for having sex with him or with anyone, she was still found guilty of being a witch. Even though they were all good, kind Christian men who attended church every week, acting in the way of starving animals that were hungry for sex instead of for food, they were all determined to have their wicked, sexual way with her naked body. Unlike their homely, short, obese, and unkempt wives, perhaps because she was so beautiful, tall, shapely, and busty, they all wanted her. Committing more of a crime than they ever accused her of committing, the crowd that watched the public, sexual display suddenly all turned into co-conspirators and voyeurs in encouraging the men to defile her beautiful, naked body.

God help her because no one else could or would. If only the Devil would step forward to save her from being burned, she'd show them all that she was a witch capable of conjuring up the Devil. Only Flora didn't need God to save her and she didn't have to conjure up the Devil to prove that she was a witch. She wanted to be burned at the stake to leave this time and place behind for another and better time and place in the future.

"Fuck her! Fuck the witch! Fuck the bitch! Force her to suck you! Make her blow you! Ram your cock up her arse!"

As if praying in church, they cheered their hatred for Flora by yelling out their lust for the men to have sex with her. What wife would encourage her husband to have sex with a woman, especially back then? What neighbor would want to watch someone having sex with a woman they accused of being a witch, especially back then? Seemingly, because she was a witch, it was okay for them to put their morals and modesty aside while stripping Flora naked and raping her. 

How dare they do that to her? How dare they violate her in such a forceful way? How dare they murder her before their God, their laws, their fellow men, and their country?

Surely, if she was a witch, and indeed she was a witch, she had the tools to fight them and to save herself from being burned alive. Surely, if she was a witch, and indeed she was a witch, she knew the spells to recite to escape. Surely, if she was a witch, she'd never be so complacently submissive to allow these stupid, backward people of her community to strip her naked and force her to have sex with them. Casting doubt among her neighbors, friends, and relatives, maybe she wasn't a witch after all, oh but she was. Maybe she was just a beautiful, intelligent woman with red hair that the wives of the men who accused her, convicted her, and raped her were all jealous of and no longer wanted to have her around to tempt their husbands with infidelity. Convolutedly, it didn't seem to matter that the men who they were raping her now were adulterers and all the other men who lusted over her naked body were co-conspirators of rape too by watching without coming to her aid to stop the sexual brutality. 

Not satisfied with just stripping her naked, enflamed and encouraged by the wild, cheering crowd, the three men so chosen felt her and touched her where no men should ever touch and feel a woman who was naked in public in 1692. Even if she was so deemed, so tried, and so convicted of being a witch, she didn't deserve such a brutal, sexual assault. Naked before her friends, before her relatives, before her neighbors, before the mad mob, and before Judge Robert Hall, she still stood defiant while the three men had their wicked way with her naked body. 

What were they thinking to go against all they believed to so use, abuse, and murder a woman by burning her alive at the stake? In a time of Christen charity and good will to all men and women, how dare they? How dare they? How dare they?

As if she was a tavern wench instead of a condemned witch, being that she was so insolent in his court and even dared to curse his future relative, he could have stopped the men from raping her. Where no person of this community would ever darken the doors of a strip club, if there was such a thing back then, they all crowded around to watch the men having their wicked, sexual way with her now. Oh the inhumanity of what Flora needed to endure and survive for her to leave this place was unprecedented in the history of modern men and women.

Judge Robert Hall could have prevented the men from forcing her to suck them and from sodomizing her. Yet, not interceding on her behalf, the judge stood by and watched the three men have their wicked, sexual way with her naked body. Forcing her to her knees, one by one, as soon as she opened her mouth to speak, to voice her defiance, and to curse them and the crowd, they filled her mouth with their cocks.

Humping her mouth and fucking her face, they forced her to suck them and the crowd cheered when the three men ejaculated in her mouth, all over her face, and all over her long, beautiful, red hair. Back before the Japanese raped innocent women on the subway and gave them a cum bath, the colonists of Salem gave Flora a real, Pilgrim cum bath. Then, bending her over, without even taking the time to lubricate her, they fucked her in her pussy and up her arse hard like the yelping and howling dog they deemed she was before they tied her naked, dripping with their cum body to the stake. Yet, undeterred from what she was about to do, having been down this road many times before throughout the centuries, everything they did to her only gave her the strength that she needed to work her black magic.




Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 01



She'll be back. Yes, indeed she'll return and when she returns, she'd seek her revenge. Woe is the one she so cursed. Woe is he for he will receive her wrath as an unfairly accused and persecuted women tried as a witch and raped before being burned at the stake. How dare they do this to her? How dare they? She was just a beautiful, intelligent woman living alone who happened to have red hair. With all of them declaring themselves as Christen people, are they insane to so sexually used and abuse her?

They are the evil ones and the crazy ones and not her. Different than all the other women in their small puritan community, the women were all jealous of her because she was so beautiful and so sexy. Not blaming their men for leering at her while lusting over her, for her to so beguile their men to stare and to leer at her, she must be a witch. Definitely, the only explanation to explain the perversely perverted behavior of their men was to deem her a witch.

* * * * * 

Not happy here, hating this place, this time, and these people as much as they hated her, if only they knew that being burned at the stake was her only way to leave here to go someone else, what would they say? What would they think? As if the flames were a time machine that launched her forward in time and space, able to pick her year, month, and even down to the day with her potions and spells, she knew there were better times for her in the future. The numbers, all in the numbers, the numbers along with what she saw in her crystal ball, told her that she'd find love and happiness in the future on September 13, 2013.

As if the flames could launch her forward, she's lived in the dark ages before but this place, Salem Massachusetts, stuck here with the Pilgrims was a fate worse than death. Only, if she went that far enough ahead in the future, she inherently knew that the people living at that time would be more civilized and wouldn't be burning perceived witches at the stake. Should she be as unhappy as she is now and should she want to leave there too, the only way she could leave there was for her to set fire to herself.

"Burn the witch! Burn her! Burn the bitch!"

Yes, burn me, burn me, burn me, she chanted to herself with them. If only they knew that she wanted to and needed to be burnt at the stake, wouldn't they be surprised. She couldn't wait for the flames to ignite her as if she was a boaster rocket launched toward the future. A miracle that was her life, she couldn't wait to see what she would find in the future after leaving this life behind.

Out of control, consumed by anger and hatred for someone who was merely different from them, the crowd wanted her eradicated from their small, closed minded community. After receiving the verdict and the judge's blessing with a death sentence, what better way to kill her as if she's a weed, than to burn her? Free from the guilt of killing her, the God fearing and church going members of her community were only following the judge's orders to burn her. Perceiving her as a witch instead of a woman, in the eyes of their God, they did nothing wrong.

A time when men saw not much more of a woman than an ankle, she stood before them all naked with her tits, her arse, and her pussy totally exposed. With her red pussy as bushy as if it was already on fire and with her hair as wild as her blue eyes, she showed no embarrassment, shame, or remorse to be so nakedly exposed in public. Offering no resistance, they tied her to the stake and stepped back to light the fire. She lifted her head up to the sky and her lips moved as if she was talking to someone, issuing another curse, praying to God, or summoning the Devil.

As if watching a big screen TV or a live performance of a rock band with pyrotechnics, with the flames burning closer and licking at her feet, there were no cries of pain or screams for mercy from Flora. With just cheers from the crowd before her audience fell silent, there was only the crackling sound of the fire burning all of that wood, so much wood wasted just to burn her. Then, just before the flames reached her, all anyone could hear over the noise of the flames was what she so brazenly and chilling said in court. She now repeated again for everyone to hear.

"Three, two, one. Three, two, one. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you. In three hundred and twenty-one years," she yelled opening her blue eyes wide as if they were twin lasers to stare at Judge Robert Hall. "I'll whisper my words in his ear. For me, your kin will fall. His name is Robert Hall," she yelled over the noise of flames and the booing and harassment of the crowd that threw whatever they could find at her.

"The witch is dead! The witch is dead," sung the crowd and later stolen to use in the Wizard of Oz. "Ding, dong, the witch is dead!"

Seemingly waiting for the right moment, as if jumping through a window or launching itself in an open porthole to another time, space, and universe, her cat jumped into the flaming fire at the last second too. Then, in a burst of flames and a big ball of fire, when the fire reached the excess kerosene soaked in the wood around her feet, she was surrounded by fire. With the flames consuming her and with her and her cat engulfed in a flash of a brilliant, blue flame that shot up a thousand yards into the sky as if it were a booster rocket, she was gone in a flash.

Gone, gone, gone, she was gone. Totally disappearing as if she was never there, never burnt at the stake, and never even existed, Flora Radisson disappeared from the Earth in a flash of fire. Gone conceivably forever or for three hundred and twenty-one years, as she foretold but who would know, nonetheless for the time being, she was living there no more.

After the fire was out, accustomed to finding enough evidence of the one ordered burned at the stake for their family and friends to bury in a grave so that her immortal soul would ascend to Heaven, there was nothing left of her to find. Usually not much more than some charred bones, along with her skull, it was puzzling that there'd just be ashes and smoldering coals. As if the bonfire was a crematorium, did the fire burn so hot to leave nothing but ashes behind? If the fire did burn that hot, why did the fire burn so hot? Was it because she was really a witch? As if she was the resultant end of a magic trick and as if she was an illusionist instead of a witch, she was gone. As if there was no one and nothing burned at the stake but wood, the townsfolk and all of the relatives of Judge Robert Hall now and in the future were disconcerted by what happened there that day and by her witchy curse.

To be continued...



Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 02



Friday, September 13, 2013 was not like any other day for Attorney Robert Hall.

Not his typical, long day, Attorney Robert Hall left the Salem, Massachusetts, district courthouse at 11am in the morning for home. Unable to focus, rather than make a mistake, he left the courthouse. Always suspicious but not usually superstitious being that he's above all of that as an officer of the court, he was usually fearless from harm when protected by the laws of the Commonwealth Salem Massachusetts. Nonetheless uneasy by the curse on the the date of, Friday, September 13, 2013 looming and now here, it was an early day for him.

Although preposterous, whispered down from generation to generation, because of the curse handed down to him and his family from the accused, convicted, and burned at the stake witch, Flora Radisson, he decided not to push his luck by taking unnecessary chances with his life. Unable to concentrate on his work anyway, instead of staying in court the whole day, he left the courthouse as if he was being stalked by an assassin. Not wanting to be out and about while so vulnerably exposed, he gave in to his superstition that there may be something more to the curse than he gave it credit.

Their way of keeping their family safe from the world of the occult, the supernatural, and all things unknown about witches, witchcraft, and wizardry, not since his great ancestor, Judge Robert Hall, for fear that the curse will happen, has anyone dared name their son Robert. Only, Robert's mother not believing in witches and curses, wanted nothing more than to name her son Robert to celebrate and to honor his family. Moreover, she hoped that by naming her son Robert would be enough to break the spell and finally put the curse to rest after no witchcraft befell her son on that fateful day, today, Friday, September 13, 2013. So far so good, he was still alive and well. If this was a test against the witch Flora Radisson, then her curse with the rumored witch was nothing more than hokum. 

Nonetheless, being that today was the day of the curse, taking precautions to not laugh in the face of witches, witchcraft, spells, and curses, Robert worked in Salem Massachusetts after all, the mecca of the occult, the supernatural, and all things witchy. After having seen some strange and unexplainable sights on the streets of Salem, especially during Halloween, and especially during a full moon, and even more so during a blue, full moon, he knew better not to believe in witches and in witchcraft. In the way that those believe in Voodoo in Louisiana, he believed that all things were possible, even witches, especially witches. Giving in to the superstition by locking himself inside his house until this day was behind him, he was going home to watch a movie before watching the Red Sox beat the stuffing out of the Yankees and A-Rod.

"Yankees suck," he mumbled while driving home laughing.

Chanting what Red Sox fans yelled out during the game whenever they played the Yankees, as if he was meditating, the chanting helped him to relax. Instead of being preoccupied with witches and curses, by refusing to allow his overactive imagination to be consumed by superstitions, he was going home to watch some TV, have a drink, and relax. Only, in the way that he remembered the Yankees suck chant, he couldn't remove the witches' words and the witches' curse from his mind. Always there in his sub-consciousness, the recollection of her curse was even more prevalent being that today was that fateful day of the curse coming to fruition. 

"Three, two, one," he remembered the curse as if it was a sad song that his mother sang to him as a baby. Only, not giving credence to it by verbalizing it, his mother never discussed the curse. "Three, two, one," having never heard the curse from the lips of his mother, he heard about the curse from his relatives and friends who feared for his safety and for his life because his mother dared name him Robert.

"Three, two, one. Three, two, one. I curse you. I curse you. I curse you. In three hundred and twenty-one years, I'll whisper my words in his ear. For me, your kin will fall. His name is Robert Hall." As if he was the one so chosen and so cursed now, and indeed he was with his mother naming him Robert, Robert Hall, he couldn't remove those words from his mind.

Aside from some of the female judges and prosecutors, he's never met a real, live witch. There are those in Salem who profess and proclaim that they are witches but when asked to prove their claim of being a witch, their evidence falls short. Nonetheless, without doubt, he didn't have to believe in witches to know that black magic, spells, potions, and curses when practiced by an astutely skilled professional is as real as a medically licensed doctor practicing his learned profession of medicine. Moreover, with many residents walking around in costume throughout the year, every day is Halloween in Salem. Every day there's someone dressing up in costume and if there was a witch coming after him and walking up behind him to seek her revenge, he'd never know if she was a real witch or just one of the residents of Salem playing endless, year long, Halloween trick or treat games.

"So be it. So be it all. It is what it is," he said to out loud for only himself to hear while getting in his car, buckling his seatbelt, locking his door, and driving home. There was nothing that he could do other than to go home and hide beneath his covers until this dastardly day was over.

Nonsense. It was all just utter nonsense. There are no such things as witches, witchcraft, and curses. Spoken about and whispered about for three hundred and twenty-one years, who knew if there was even such a curse or such a witch. Even if there was such a witch who made such a curse, the chances of the witches' words surviving intact for more than three hundred years was preposterous.

He's disproven that rumor and gossip fallacy when school. With one person whispering a message to the next person in class, by the time the message made it around the room, it was totally different and not nearly the same. He could only imagine what the original curse was more than three hundred years ago after traveling from so many mouths to so many ears. Yet, not dismissing the evidence, just in case there was some shred of coincidental truth to the curse, not wanting to give the finger to the witch by sticking out his tongue to fate and to his destiny, he didn't want to be out in public where he was so visually vulnerable. A good plan, he was going home where he'd be safe from harm.

Furthermore, even though he wasn't pro guns but, in his line of work, a necessary evil, owning a gun was a much needed necessity, and he'd feel safer at home where he had a loaded handgun within easy reach. With his imagination going wild, he wondered if there was such a thing as witches and if there were witches, he wondered if he required a special bullet, a silver bullet, to kill a witch in the way that he needed a silver bullet to kill a werewolf. Or was a silver bullet needed to kill a vampire. No, a silver bullet was for werewolves and a stake through the heart was for vampires.

Other than fire and being burned at the stake, he wondered what killed a witch. Maybe instead of fire, in the way that the wicked Witch of the East was killed by water in the Wizard of Oz, perhaps he should keep a bucket of water by his front door. Seemingly ridiculous to think that there were witches, werewolves, and vampires, yet now with his brain filled with witches, werewolves, and vampires, he had the jitters. As soon as he went home, he was going to fill up a bucket full of water, just in case. Suspicious of everything and of everyone, all that it would take to make him feel at ease is a beautiful woman.

* * * * * 

On his way home to Rockport, an artist community on the Atlantic Ocean, twenty miles north of Salem and sixty miles northeast of Boston, he passed by a car, a shiny, satin black, Lamborghini Diablo with a fire engine red interior parked in a cutout and out of harm's way by the side of the road.

"Oh wow! Look at thing. I wondered who owns that car and why they'd leave it abandoned and so precariously parked by the side of the road," he said talking out loud to himself.

Being that it was unusual to see such a fine supercar parked anywhere, even in this affluent, small town, he took note of the car. Except for the thousands of tourists who flocked here every summer, everyone knew everyone around here and no one that he knows has a car like that. With him being a car buff and having read every car magazine since the day he could read, how could he not notice and take note of such a fine motor vehicle? A dream car for anyone who appreciated fine automobiles, longer, sleeker, and lower than he thought it'd be, the first Lamborghini Diablo he's ever seen up close, the car was spectacular.

"Damn, I'd give my right nut just to drive that thing around the block," he said to himself while slowly driving by it.

Not even having to use his skills as a lawyer to match the driver with her car, a little way up from the car was a tall, shapely redhead in a form fitting, blue dress hobbling up the narrow street with a broken heel. In the way her car was, she was a rare sight to behold. Giving passing drivers the occasional finger, every driver who passed her by stared at her, beeped their horns, and/or made lewd and lascivious sexual comments out their open windows. With a long slit in the back of her dress, she was showing a lot of shapely thigh with every limping step she took. Not that her breasts were small by any stretch of the imagination, but if her breasts were any bigger, with her bright, red hair, from the waist up, she'd look like Joan Harris from Mad Men as played by super busty Christine Hendricks. From the waist down, she looked like Beyoncé.

With her shapely ass keeping beat to the rhythm, up and down and up and down, she hobbled as she walked along the narrow road that barely fit two cars side by side. After seeing the abandoned Diablo, Spanish for Devil, and with her rhythmically walking as if dancing a samba or a rumba, her limping gave her hips a musical beat in his head. With her dressed in that oh so tight, blue dress, he couldn't help but think of Mitch Ryder and the Detroit Wheels' song, Devil with the Blue Dress.

"...Wearin' her wig hat and shades to match, she's got high-heel shoes and an alligator hat. Wearin' her pearls and her diamond rings, she's got bracelets on her fingers, now, and everything. Devil with the blue dress on, Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress..."

As if her blue dress was a wavy flag beckoning him forward instead of warning him to stay away, not perceiving the deadly danger of her, he was more focused on the round, shapely impression her ass made in her tight, blue dress while he sang the song to himself.

"Devil with the blue dress on, Devil with the blue dress, blue dress, blue dress..."

When she walked up and down and up and down with her broken heel, he imagined her going up and down and up and down while sitting on his cock. What better way to rid himself of a curse than to spend some quiet, quality, private time with a beautiful, naked, redheaded woman? An abandoned Lamborghini and now a beautiful redhead with a broken heel, maybe this was his fated destiny to meet his Miss Right.

Not even having the time for a girlfriend, now with his career comfortably planned, he had no financial worries. Thinking about having a couple of kids with someone, he was at the age that he'd like to have a woman in his life. Never did he consider that this was the unraveling of the curse that was put upon his family and upon his head three hundred and twenty-one years ago. Even though the curse was so prevalent in his mind, enough for him to leave work early, more focused on this woman and on her supercar, why would he even think of the curse now? Besides, even though she was rumored to be beautiful, no doubt it was an ugly, old, woman who was erroneously perceived as a witch and who cursed his family and not some beautiful redhead with a Lamborghini Diablo.

Not in the habit of giving a ride to a stranger, being that this stranger had such a shapely behind and drove a Lamborghini, he didn't think he'd be in any danger in giving her a lift to the service station up the road. If anything, she may be the one in danger with him making sexual advances and hopefully taking sexual advantage of her. Maybe she'd be so grateful for a ride that she'd have sex with him right there in his car. It had been a while since he's had sex and with her syncopated walk and with her ass cheeks playing a slow samba, she was making him horny.

* * * * *

"Hello," he said out his car window when pulling up beside her. "I can give you a lift to a gas station." With the roads so narrow, holding up traffic behind him, there was no room for anyone to go around him. "There's a mechanic just up the road," he said with a smile. "I know him. He's a good mechanic. He works on my car. I can get your right in without you having to wait, especially when they see your car. That is your Lamborghini, isn't it?"

She turned to look where he was looking before refocusing her attention back to him. When she looked at him and shot him back a blank stare, he wondered if she understood English. Mesmerized by her piercing big, blue eyes, and with her definitely looking more Irish than foreign with all of that reddish orangey, beautiful hair and sexy freckles, he assumed she understood English. Nonetheless, he was about to try his rusty Spanish or Italian, perhaps even French, on her when she spoke finally.

"Are you done? Are you quite finished?"

"Pardon? Done with what? Finished with what?"

Now, as if he was the one who didn't understand English, he was the one looking at her with a blank stare.

"Done talking," she said opening and closing her hand that she held by her mouth while rocking her head back and forth and mocking him as if she was a puppet.

Filled with fire, she had attitude and he liked that about that. Her personality seemed as fiery as her hair. A real handful, she was one tough broad.

"Sorry, I was only trying to help," he said unfortunately watching his vision of having sex with this beauty disappear as fast as the hardness of his cock softened.

"A mechanic? Seriously?" She looked at him as if he was drunk and, rolling her eyes, she made a face of boredom by his stupidity. "A grease monkey?" Copping an attitude again, she placed a hand to her shapely hip and looked at him as if he was crazy before saying what she thought. "Are you crazy? Is there something mentally wrong with you? Do you need to have your head examined?"

Even though she was insulting him on the outside, he was laughing on the inside. Above them all in intelligence, morals, and righteousness, usually, this is how he talks to the criminals that he defends and here she was talking to him with such animosity and disrespect. Wow! He loved getting a dose of his own medicine.

"Yeah, well, sorry, I didn't mean to offend you by suggesting a mechanic. Those of us who can't afford a supercar routinely use one," he said with half a laugh. "I was only trying to help. I just figured it may be something simple, maybe something as simple as you running out of gas. Maybe if they put your car up on the lift—"

She looked back at her car in the distance as if looking at an old friend before returning her venom back to him.

"That's a two hundred fifty thousand dollar Lamborghini Diablo," she said with a self-important attitude that flashed through her brilliant, blue eyes. "It's a classic. They don't make cars like that anymore. You can't buy one anymore unless you buy one that's been used and abused. I can't have just anyone work on my car," she said staring at him as if her eyes were twin lasers burning a hole in his head. "And do you think that I'd be such a dimwitted woman that I couldn't read a gas gauge? I'm not a dumb blonde and this isn't blonde hair, in case you're color blind too, my hair is red," she said pulling out a clump of her hair with her fingers.

"Sorry, my apologies, I didn't mean to—"

"Besides, I've already phoned the Lamborghini dealership in Boston. They'll be here soon to transport it," she said with a forced, plastic smile while seemingly more calm. "In the meantime, I locked it up, alarmed it, and will just have to wait for them to arrive." She looked at him looking at her. "I'm sorry," she said shooting him her phony plastic smile again. "I'm having a bad day," she said this time giving him a warmer smile.

Beautiful before, she was even more beautiful when she smiled.

"Or for someone to steal it," he said with a justifiable laugh.

"Pardon?"

"I just said that I hope the car will still be there and that no one will steal it," he said inserting his foot deeper in his mouth by continuing to talk to her.

Yet, he couldn't resist not talking to her. Giving him a reason to stare at her longer, she was just so damn beautiful and sexy. Then there was her attitude as fiery as her red hair. John Ford could have used her to inspire Maureen O'Hara in the Quiet Man with John Wayne.

With her fiery spirit and no nonsense attitude, now he knew why some men went to prison for hitting a woman. God, she was such a bitch but it was easy to forgive someone who looked so beautiful and who had such a perfect body for being so God damn bitchy. As if she was the sun peering through a magnifying glass before setting him on fire, which he was already inflamed but in a much different way, she smiled while remaining quiet to give him her heated stare.

"Steal my car?" She looked at him as if he was a car thief. "Trust me," she said souring her face while giving him the stone, cold look of a professional cage fighter making a veiled threat. "No one will dare steal my car."

"Why not? You said it yourself that it's a classic Lamborghini," he said with an affable shrug hoping to engage her in conversation longer. "You said yourself that it was a $250,000 car and was irreplaceable. How can you be so sure that no one will steal your car?"

Baiting her to delay her departure, he questioned her as if she was a witness on the stand while the cars that lined up behind him beeped their horns. He waved them around as soon as the oncoming lane was clear.

"Asshole," said someone. 

"Road hog," said another.

"Inconsiderate," said someone else.

"Believe me," she said batting her long eyelashes at him while smiling a smile of surrender. "My automobile is safe," she said showing some pearly, white teeth. "I left my cat, Satan, behind to guard the car," she said now leaning in his open passenger side car window.

He wished he was standing behind her to ogle her perfect ass. Wondering if it was deliberate, when leaning in his car window, she was showing him a long line of deep cleavage. Her cleavage was so long and so deep that he wondered if he moved closer to her and spoke, if there'd be an echo.

"Satan won't allow anyone to touch my car."

Being that it was Friday, September 13, 2013, with her red hair, a black cat named Satan, and driving a car that the Devil himself or herself would drive, even being the clever attorney that he was, Robert Hall failed to make the obvious cursed connection. Too mesmerized with her big, blue eyes twinkling as if brilliant gemstones, he stared at her beautiful face and sexy body as if he was hypnotized. A sight to behold, a real sexy temptress, having never seen another woman who looked like her before, she was really something to see, to covert, and to want. Even with all the beautiful secretaries who worked for his law firm, never has he seen a woman who looked like her. With her full lips painted as red as her car's interior and her orangey hair as red and coiffed as wild as flickering flames, she was drop dead gorgeous.




Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 02



"Your cat? Satan?" As if just awakening from a dream, Robert turned to see a cat, as shiny black as her car, resting on the car's hood as if it was a feline hood ornament that was left behind to guard the Devil's car, a shiny, black, sinister Diablo. "Is that a killer cat?" He laughed but she didn't.

"He's been known to kill some things on command," she said with a forced smile while looking at her manicure.

"Where were you going then?"

"Lunch. I'm hungry," she said with impatience while looking at her watch, a gold Rolex. She flashed a giant Ruby ring on her ring finger and a huge Amethyst dangling around her neck. "I was hoping there was a restaurant up the road. I figure being that we're about 60 miles northeast of Boston and with the traffic at this hour, the transport driver won't arrive for a couple of hours."

"Transport driver? What are you English?" He let out a little laugh. "Don't you mean tow truck driver?"

"Tow truck? Don't be an idiot. They wouldn't dare," she laughed. "Have you ever seen a one-of-a-kind Lamborghini on the end of a tow truck hook?"

"No, I don't think I have but I don't see very many Lamborghinis either," he said.

"Suffice to say, too valuable of a car, they don't tow Lamborghinis for fear that they may damage the car. Instead, they transport them in a closed trailer at the hands of a trained, car care specialist," she said.

"What about your cat?" He turned to look at her cat again. "Aren't you worried about losing him?"

"Losing him? Hell no. Satan can take care of himself and he always knows where to find me," she said.

As if he didn't hear her tell him her cat's name already and as if he was awakening from being hypnotized or cast under her spell," he looked back at her cat again but the cat was gone.

"Satan? You named your black cat Satan?"

"Doesn't everyone?" She shrugged him a look with a plastic smile.

"No," he said with a nervous laugh. "Most people name their cars Missy, Prissy, Tiger, or Tawny," he said laughing.

"In the case of my cat, I prefer calling a spade a spade. He's more akin to the Devil than she is to a cat named Missy, Prissy, Tiger, or Tawny," she cackled. "In the way that some bad men arm themselves with guns and Pit bulls, I arm myself with my cat. My loyal protector, given to me by my great, great, great grandmother, he's my bodyguard," she said with a laugh.

Not knowing how to retort to her cat serving as her bodyguard, wondering how old her cat was if given to her by her great, great, great grandmother, he ignored her comment.

"There's a place a mile up the road, I can drive you there," he said. "We can have a cup of coffee while waiting for the tow truck, sorry, the transport to arrive."

"Coffee? I don't drink coffee. Coffee blocks my spells," she said.

"We can have lunch then, my treat, while waiting for the tow truck, sorry, the transport to arrive," he said too enamored with her to make note of her saying that she didn't drink coffee because they blocked her spells.

"Okay," she said getting in his car, a new Mustang GT in 'Grab her' blue metallic.

As soon as she climbed in his car, her skirt moved higher than mid-thigh and stopped just short of her pussy. He wondered if she was wearing panties. Surely someone as sexy as she was didn't bother with panties. He wished he was sitting on the passenger side floor while staring up in between her legs at her.

The color of the car's interior perfectly matched her blue dress. Ordinarily she would have disappeared in his car seat but, with her complimenting red hair and big tits, she was too beautiful to be overshadowed by the matching color of a mere car seat. So enchanted with the beautiful woman, Robert no longer thought about the curse, about witches, or about witchcraft. His mind was more focused on inviting her to his house, seducing her, and having sex with her. Already beginning to get an erection, it had been a while since he's had sex and, for some strange reason, she brought out the animal in him. 

"Are you married?"

"No," he said smiling over at her and so happy that he never married.

"Do you have a girlfriend?"

"No," he said again glad that he broke up with his girlfriend two years ago? 

Has it been two years? Wow! Time flies when single.

"Are you gay?"

"Gay? No, I'm not gay, not that there's anything wrong with being gay," he said looking at her with a nervous laugh.

"Then why is someone who looks like you not attached to a woman," she said. "Where I come from, you'd never would have made it past your 18th birthday without a woman taking you to her bed and keeping you there."

"Where do you come from?"

"Right here," she said. "Salem. My family has lived here for generations and generations. They were one of the first families on the boat from England to Massachusetts, just a colony back then," she said.

"Really," he said. "One of the first pilgrims."

"England banished my family to America because my ancestors practiced witchcraft and sorcery," she said with a little smile.

"I'm surprised I've never seen you around," he said more consumed by her beauty than listening to what she just said about her family being banished from England for practicing witchcraft and sorcery. "Surely, I would have noticed your car."

"You didn't answer my question," she said.

"Sorry. What question was that?"

"Why is someone who looks like you not attached to a woman?" She looked at him as if she was purring. 

"I've had lots women in my past before but I've been more focused on my law career," he said looking at her while wondering about the same questions that she asked him. "What about you?"

"What about me?"

"Are you married?"

"No," she said making a sour face.

"Do you have a boyfriend?"

"No," she said making another sour face before giving him her plastic smile again.

"Forgive me for asking such a personal question but are you lesbian?"

She looked at him as if she was wearing her sexiest nightgown and was just coming to bed.

"Lesbian? Interesting," she said. "I suppose that I could be persuaded to be lesbian for the right man to watch me with the right woman. I do have a particular attraction for tall blondes with big tits," she said cackling again.

"How is it that someone who looks like you is not attached to man?" He asked looking at her surprised that she was available.

"Much like you focused on your career, I was attached to a promise that I made a long time ago," she said looking at him in the way he was looking at her with unbridled lust and passion.

"A promise?"

"A curse, actually," she said staring at her manicure.

"A curse?" With the obvious hitting him in the head like a thunderbolt, it was then and only then that he looked at her with fright.

"Suddenly," she said staring at him with her big, blue eyes as if he was a seven course meal and she was starving. "I no longer care about the promise and the curse that I made against you. Suddenly, I'm not hungry for food," she said putting a manicured finger to her lip. "Let's go to your place for sex," she said.

To be continued...



Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 03



Having sex with a witch is better than having sex with a stripper, a call girl, your mother, or your mother.

"My place?"

He looked at her as if he was imagining what he thought he heard her say.

"Yes," she said running a slow tongue across her lips.

She gave him a sexy look that told him that he heard her correctly. Just to make sure that he didn't misunderstand her intentions, he asked the obvious question. 

"For sex?"

He looked at her as if she was his dream woman or his worst nightmare. He had no idea which.

"Yes," she said.

Rolling the dice, taking the gamble, going all in, and going for broke, if she was going to kill him, what better way to die than to die in her arms while having sex with her?

"Wow," he involuntarily blurted as if he was a teenager getting laid for the first time. Actually, never having had sex with a witch before and not knowing what to expect, his mind was a myriad of sexual positions and possibilities.

"You do have somewhere to take me where you live and where we can have sex, don't you?" She looked at him and smiled her sexy grin. "You don't actually live in your car, do you?"

"Yes, no, of course, but what about your cat? We shouldn't leave him there. Should we go back to collect him?"

He turned to look at the cat that was no longer sitting on her car hood as if it was a life sized, feline, hood ornament.

"My cat? That's so nice of you worry about my pet but he's already here," she said turning to her cat sitting in the backseat. "Come to Mommy, Satan," she said. The cat jumped from the backseat to sit in her lap while staring at Robert with its big, yellow eyes.

Robert looked at the cat while wondering how in the Hell he could get in a car that had its doors and windows closed.

"Meow!"

More of a dog lover than a cat lover, feeling frightened by the cat, Robert remained silent while staring at her. Now figuring that she was a witch, a real witch, he didn't know what to do. Yet, she couldn't be a witch. How could she be a witch? There's no such thing as witches, is there? 

Not that he's ever seen a witch before but he's never seen a witch who looks like her. It was Shakespeare who set the stage that all witches are evil and ugly when he wrote about the three witches in Macbeth. Witches are supposed to be ugly and scary like the Witch of the East in the Wizard of Oz. Yet, if all witches looked like Flora Radisson, he wouldn't be afraid of witches. Yet, then again, perhaps not all witches are bad.

There's the good and the beautiful witch who appeared in the Wizard of Oz, the Witch of the North. Hermione Granger of Harry Potter is a good witch. John Updike's novel, the Witches of Eastwick, all had good Rhode Island witches played in the movie by Cher, Susan Sarandon, and Michele Pfeiffer. In Homer's, The Odyssey, his witch, Circe, was a good witch albeit getting a bad rap for turning men into what they truly already are, pigs.

"You mentioned something about a promise and a curse," he said feeling nervously anxious to know what she meant.

"Yes, that bloody, forsaken curse. Ugh, that's going to haunt me for the rest of my days on Earth. Haven't you ever said something that you regretted when you were angry?" She looked at him as if she already knew all the answers to her questions and obviously she did. "Why do you ask about the promise and the curse?"

"Being that today is the fateful day of a curse that was made upon my family three hundred and twenty-one years ago, you're freaking me out, especially with your black cat suddenly appearing from out of nowhere," he said wanting to but not daring to pet the cat.

"Don't worry about the curse. The curse is practically over," she said waving a disinterested hand. "Besides, if you take the meaning figuratively instead of literally, the curse states that you will fall for me. You're the lawyer, counselor. Figure it out. You tell me. What does falling for me actually mean?"

"Sorry, I'm not following you," he said now more concerned with Satan staring at him than her staring at him.

"Falling for me could have a double meaning. It could mean you falling dead at my hands or it could mean you falling in love with me," she said cackling again.

If there was one thing that he didn't like about her, it was that damn cackle. How someone so beautiful could laugh so ugly was beyond his understanding of women, especially witches.

"Not even knowing how to respond to that, I don't even know your name and you're scaring me," said Robert. "I haven't even introduced myself."

Robert gave her a half smile along with a limp wristed handshake that she refused to accept.

"I apologize for scaring you. That wasn't my intention and there's no need for introductions Robert. I already know who you are. You're family's reputation precedes you," she said looking down at his offered hand and rejecting it with an upward lift of her nose.

Having met all kinds of people in court, he's never met anyone like her.

"Sorry, I don't understand," he said. 

He looked at her in the way that he looked at a client to see if he was telling him the truth or lying.

"Sure you do. You mentioned it yourself about the curse. My name is Flora Radisson, the direct descendant of the witch Flora Radisson and you are Robert Hall, the direct descendant of Judge Robert Hall," she said as if purring with her cat. "Am I right?" 

"Oh my God. Indeed you are the wicked witch who's going to—"

Panic attacked his being as if she was a tried and convicted murderess who had just escaped from prison and was out to get him.

"Yes, I'm going to make you fall for me," she said cackling again. "I'm not going to hurt you Robert, trust me, that is, unless you're into that sort of thing where you want me to whip you and discipline you while you're tied to your bed," she said with a dirty laugh. "As far as I'm concerned the curse is dead only—"

Dead? He didn't hear the curse is dead part. He only focused on the word dead.

"Only what?"

He stared at her looking at him before turning his attention back to the road.

"To break the curse, you must make love to me," she said leaning in her passenger seat to whisper in his ear while playing with his hair. 

Make love to a witch? How does a mortal man, a normal man, albeit a very horny man, make love to a witch? All he could think of is her flying him around the world on a broomstick while making love at the pointy end of the broom handle. 

"Make love to you? Seriously?"

Now he wished he had watched the Bewitched reruns instead of flipping by them to see how Darren made love to his wife, Samantha.

"Yes," she said blowing in his ear and with a hand positioned on his upper thigh.

"Seriously, is that what this is all about? You want me to make love to you? You're not going to kill me?"

"Yes," she said moving her fingertips closer to his cock and actually touching his emerging erection through his pants. "That's not to say that I still may kill you...if you don't give me an orgasm," she said cackling again.

She looked at him and smiled and with the cat purring and rubbing up against her shoulder, Satan looked as if he was smiling too.

"I can do that," he said squirming in the driver's seat and suddenly feeling pressured to sexually satisfy her.

"Unfortunately—"

"Unfortunately what? What? Tell me," said Robert beginning to hyperventilate. "Oh God, oh God. What is it now? I knew there was the other shoe. I knew this was too good to be true with you aggressively seducing me, wanting to go home to my place, and to have sex with me."

"Gees, calm down Bob," she said laughing. "Do you always get this excited when a woman propositions you for sex or is it the curse that you're more worried about?"

"You said unfortunately. I heard you say unfortunately. Unfortunately...unfortunately is bad. I've been an attorney long enough to know that unfortunately is always bad. Fortunately is good," he said with a look of horror on his face. "I happen to like fortunately. I always look forward before hearing what good news that fortunately brings. I hate anything that begins with unfortunately," he said hiding his face in his hands before remembering that he was driving the car and took hold of the wheel again.

"Take a breath and relax Robert. I'm not going to hurt you," she said again this time with a soft smile.

Robert took a big breath and let out a huge sigh of air before continuing.

"You said that I'd have to make love to you to break the curse. Okay, that's fine. I can do that but then you ended your solution to breaking the curse with unfortunately. Unfortunately what? Unfortunately if I don't give you an orgasm, you'll kill me? Is that it?"

"Unfortunately, you making love to me doesn't always work the first time," she said with a sinister smile while looking at her manicure as if she was suddenly bored with him.

"It doesn't? Oh God. Why not? I can assure you, never having a complaint, I'm a good lover," he said in his attempt to assure her that he could break the curse by making love to her and sexually satisfying her by giving her an orgasm with his fingers, his mouth, and his cock.

She patted his knee while smiling her assurance.

"If only judging you by your handsome outside appearance, I'm sure you are a very capable lover," she said. "Only, being that this curse goes back so very far, we may have to make love more than once for us to break the curse," she said.

Robert looked at her with as much sexual excitement as he did abject confusion.

"I see. Okay, I can do that," he said getting even more sexually excited before falling silent in thought. "How many times must we, I mean, should we make love?"

He looked at her as if he was making a plea deal with the prosecuting attorney.

"Several...dozens of...hundreds of times, perhaps even thousands of times," she said with a cackling laugh.

Thousands of times? Who makes love thousands of times? Not even married couples make love thousands of times, especially not married couples. The only people he knows who have made love thousands of times is Jack Nicholson and Cameron Diaz, separately and not with one another. One's a whoremonger and the other one is a whore.

"Seriously?" He looked at her as if she was crazy. He looked at her as if she was off of her anti-depressant medication. "You really expect me to make love to you thousands of times to break the curse?"

He looked at her while gulping down his feeling of sexual pressure.

"Listen here Bobby, I'm only trying to help you but if you don't want my help to break the—".

"I do. I do. I want your help. I really want your help. Please, just tell me what to do," he said.

"Even if we did make love thousands of times, the curse may still not break," she said with sadness.

"Oh God," he looked at her with panic. "Why not? I don't understand. How can I not break the curse if I made love to you thousands of times after you just said that I needed to make love to you thousands of times?"

He looked at her in disbelief.

"Calm down Robert," she said patting his knee again. "Sometimes to break the curse, in addition to making love to me, you must fuck me, really fuck me. You must really part my clam while pounding my pussy as if you're hitting the curse with a sledge hammer with the speed of a jack hammer."

Wow! Her words evoked the image of him moving up and down on her so fast that there was smoke coming out of her pussy before his cock caught fire. He looked at her, his Devil with the blue dress on, she was so beautiful. She was so sexy. Never had he ever seen a woman who looked like her.

"Wow," he said imagining fucking her, really fucking her, and parting her clam while pounding her pussy with his cock moving in and out and in and out with the speed of a jack hammer. "I can do that," he said nodding his head yes as if he needed that additional affirmation to convince her and himself that he was willing to do anything to break the curse, even if it meant that he had to fuck her hard and fast.

"Good," she said abandoning her manicure to look at him with her big, blue eyes.

"I can fuck you. I can really fuck you. I can part your clam and pound your pussy with the speed of a jack hammer while making love to you. Let me try," he said. "At least I'll die trying. At least I'll die happy," he said raising his voice as if cheering for his beloved Red Sox at Fenway Park.

"Alas..."

"Alas? Oh no, no alas," said Robert. "No, please don't say alas. I beg you not to say alas. Alas is just as bad if not worse than unfortunately. No one says alas anymore. What alas? Alas what?"

"Just as the curse states, the real way to break the curse is for you to fall in love with me, that is, unless you'd rather that I kill you. Truly, I'd much rather you fall in love with me than me having to kill you," she said with sorrow.

"Fall in love with you?" He looked at her as if she was wearing a white dress and holding yellow roses while walking down the aisle before his vision of her was transformed with her wearing a black dress and carrying dead flowers. "Eventually over time, I think that I could fall in love with you," he said with confidence. "Just look at you. You're so stunning. Who wouldn't fall in love with someone who looks like you?"

He smiled albeit nervously.

"Alas," she said again.

His face turned ashen. His heartbeat quickened and his pulse raced. He felt dizzy. He felt as if he was about to pass out while driving his beloved Mustang GT.

"Alas what now?"

Wishing she would tell him some good news for him to calm himself, as if he was a defendant waiting to hear a guilty or innocent verdict, he impatiently waited until she told him what the alas meant.

"I don't know how someone who looks like you could ever fall in love with someone who looks like me," she said.

Is that it? Is that the alas? Not as bad as he thought. If that's the alas, he could deal with that. All he needed to do was to assure her that he certainly could fall in love with her.

"Seriously Flora? Are you kidding me? Have you looked at yourself in the mirror lately? You're drop dead gorgeous. You have the best body I've ever seen on a woman, bar none," he said suddenly pausing in silence with an unspoken thought.

He looked at her looking at him while a look of fear replaced his look of happiness.

"What?" She looked at him as if she knew what he was about to ask him.

"I was just wondering..."

"Wondering what?"

"Have you ever seen the movie, The Shining with Jack Nicholson and Shelley Duvall, the woman who played Olive Oyl in Popeye?"

"Of course I have. Just because I'm a witch doesn't mean that I don't watch movies," she said laughing. "Of course I've seen that movie. Who hasn't? I loved Jack Nicholson in the Witches of Eastwick," she said swooning while clutching her hands to her breasts before looking at him with curiosity. "Why did you ask if I've seen the Shining?"

She looked at him with curiosity.

"Because in that movie was a witch that Jack thought was a beautiful woman and—"

Then, she looked at him with insightfulness.

"Oh, and you think that I'm really not who you perceive me to be. Is that it? You think that I'm some old hag of a woman with long, stringy hair, and moles all over my body."

Hoping she didn't put a spell on him for him to think that she was way more beautiful than she was, he needed to know what he was dealing with before getting in bed with her naked.

"Well, actually, yeah. You could have put a spell on me to make me believe you are stunningly gorgeous," he said.

She looked at him as if he was a troubled child who needed motherly guidance.

"Answer me this Bob," she said. "Do you think that I put a spell on all of those horny men who drove by me on the road while leering, making sexual comments, and beeping their horns at me because I was wiggling my ass and showing them some leg? You saw how many men were staring at me. Did you think that they were under my spell too?"

Even with him being an attorney, unable to argue that, she did make a good point.

"Okay, okay, you're beautiful now but after I fall in love with you, will you change into the bitch that you really are?"

Oh, oh, he couldn't believe that he just called this witch a bitch. He silently prayed to God that he didn't piss her off to make her turn him into a toad or worse, a Republican.

"A bitch? Me change into a bitch? How could I possibly change into a bitch when I'm already a total bitch now to be sitting here with you in your car after three hundred and twenty-one years," she said.

"You do make a good point," he said contemplating her answer while falling silent. "Is that how old you really are, three hundred and twenty-one years?"

She smiled at him in the way that Gwen Close smiled at Michael Douglas in Fatal Attraction before trying to stab him to death.

"Don't be foolish Robert. I'm much older than that," she said cackling again.

Older than three hundred twenty-one years? How the Hell old is this woman? He could only imagine the musky aroma of a pussy that has aged for hundreds of years.

"How much older, a couple of years, decades, centuries?" He looked at her with renewed fright. "Go ahead. You can tell me. Nothing can top the fact that you're the witch Flora Radisson."

"Hasn't your mother taught you anything Robert? You never ask a woman her age and you never ask a woman her weight," she said punctuating her message with the point of her manicured index finger in his muscled chest with the attitude of a black diva.

"Sorry," he said. "I humbly withdraw my question. I'm content to believe that you are as hold as you look and you look thirty-something," he said met with an angry look. "I mean, twenty-something to me," he said this time met with a smile.

"For your information, let's just say that I wasn't born yesterday. A gross understatement," she said cackling. "In actuality, I am much older than three hundred and twenty-one years," she said tossing her flaming red hair and smiling.

Never having made love to an older woman, the cougar from Hell, she was the cougar to beat all other cougars.

"Wow! I bet you could tell me some things," he said. "I bet you could teach me some things."

He thought of all the unanswered historical questions that he had but decided just to concentrate his focus on having sex with her.

"You have no idea all the things that I can tell you and teach you," she said looking at him with her big, blue eyes while putting her hand on the bulge in his pants and allowing her fingertips to tease his cock through his pants. "Let's cut to the chase counselor. For you to break the curse, you not only must have sex with me but also you must fall in love with me. Moreover, for you to break the curse you not only must marry me but also you must give me a child."

Worse than death, as if his life as a bachelor had come to a tragic and sudden end, he looked at her with fright.

"Holy shit! Love, marriage, and a child? Talk about pressure," he said. "I just may have you kill me right here," he said making an ill-conceived joke, especially when the cat let out a low growl while lashing out with its claw.

The scariest sound he's ever heard in his life, he had no idea that cats can growl.

"I'm counting on you Robert," she said.

* * * * *

"Okay. Wait. So, lemme get this straight," said Robert looking back and forth from the road to look at her. "Not only do you want to have sex with me but also you want me to marry you and give you a child. Is that correct?"

He looked at her in stone, cold silence while waiting for her to answer.

"Yes, that's correct. That's what I said," she said.

Being that he was a lawyer and accustomed to finding legal loopholes, he tried to think of a loophole to avoid having sex with her, falling in love with her, marrying her, and giving her his child. Then, after he looked at her again, who wouldn't want to have sex with her, fall in love with her, marry her, and give her their child.




Witch Hunt, Burned at the Stake 03



"Do I have a choice?"

Deep down, removing the pressure of him having to make the wrong decision, he hoped she'd say no and was relieved when she did.

"Choice?" She made a sour face as if she had a bad taste in her mouth. "There's no choices with curses. You've been cursed, not you personally but indirectly by me cursing your ancestor," she said.

"What or who are you?" He looked at her as if she was Michael Keaton playing Batman and he was a burglar being held in his hand before being dropped from a roof. "How can anyone still be alive after being burnt at the stake," he said looking at her with fright. "How can someone return after being dead or gone for three hundred twenty-one years? This can't be happening to me."

He looked at her as if he was dreaming and/or imagining her.

"I'm a witch silly. Duh? I can do things that you can't even understand," she said with a shrug. "Fortunately for you, in the way of your fairy godmother, I'm your good witch," she smiled while looking out the car window. "A friendly warning though, just don't get on my bad side," she gave him a look of evilness.

He looked at her as if she was one of the Witches of Eastwick who was about to make a doll in his image and put feathers on it before sticking him over and again with a needle.

"Seriously Flora, from all the men in the world, why would you want to marry me when you could have anyone? Yeah, you could marry someone richer, smarter, younger, brighter or—"

"I don't want anyone else. I don't want anyone but you. I chose you," she said squeezing his cock through his pants. "I want you. Having thought about this for three hundred and twenty-one years, I love you Robert."

Except for his crazy ex-girlfriend Cynthia who tried to set his condo on fire when she thought he was cheating on her because he was always working late, no one has ever said that they love him. Hoping he wasn't jumping from the frying pan in the fire, Flora would have to go a long way to be as crazy as was Cynthia.

"Love me?" He looked down at her hand squeezing his cock before focusing more on the road. He had an immediate erection to her touch and the harder he got the more she fondled his cock through the material of his trousers. "How can you love me when you don't even know me?"

"Oh, I know you. I know everything about you," she said. "I've been waiting for you for a very long time. You were meant for me," she said looking at him and smiling. "By the way, I shouldn't have to tell you this but, as a friendly warning, don't ever cheat on me with another woman," she removed her hand from his cock to examine her fingernails. "What I'd do to you and to her wouldn't be nice."

"Meow," said Satan sitting in the backseat again as if he was a wealthy cat being chauffeured around the city.

"But," said Robert, "and I hope you don't take this the wrong way Flora," he said looking from her back to the road.

Afraid to tell her for fear that she may turn him into an idiot or a Republican Congressman, he needed to be honest with her. Willing to suffer the consequence now, better now than later, maybe she'd be lenient with him.

"Yes? What is it?"

He paused in his indecision to tell her. Yet, figuring she already knew, he'd rather be open with her than to lead her on and lie to her.

"I don't love you," he blurted. "Please don't turn me into a frog. Please don't turn me into a Republican. Please don't hurt me. Please don't kill me."

She surprised him when she laughed a normal human laugh instead of her witchy cackling laugh.

"Robert you watch way too many movies. Do you believe everything that you see on the big screen? I have powers but I don't have superpowers. All that I have are from my potions, spells, and curses. I am nothing without my knowledge learned from my big, black book and all the things that I've seen through my crystal ball," she said.

"Sorry, forget that I said that I don't love you. I do love you, I think. I could love you, one day," he said.

He looked at her with fear while she looked at him with love.

"I'm not going to hurt you Robert. I can never hurt the one that I love," she said feeling his erection through his pants again that had suddenly gone soft with his fright. "Even if you don't feel love for me now, you will. All that I need to do for you to fall in love with me if to kiss you. I love you."

She unzipped him and moved her hand inside of his pants to take hold of him and to pull out his flaccid cock.

"Gees, Flora, what are you doing? I'm an officer of the court. This is my neighborhood. This is where I live," he said struggling to remove his cock from her clutches. "Someone may see you."

"Don't you want me to suck you a little bit? I can make you feel better," she said running a slow tongue across her red, full lips. "I can elicit the passion that you'll need now to fuck the Hell out of me later."

"I'm sure that you can. I don't doubt that at all," he said looking from her, down to her hand, and back to the road, "but not now and certainly not here in public. I'm nearly home. Can't you wait just a little longer to elicit the passion that I need to fuck the Hell out of you later?"

* * * * *

Robert drove home with Flora and Satan. Still unsure if she was going to kill him, turn him into something, or just make love to him, he trusted her enough to believe that the curse would soon be dead once he made love to her. Not wanting to impregnate her, at least until he fell in love with her and married her, he wondered if he had any condoms at the house.

As soon as he unlocked, opened, closed his front door, and reached around to turn off his alarm, she turned to him and kissed him in a way that he's never been kissed before. An amazing first kiss, he heard bells. He heard music. He felt more than just sexual desire and lustful passion for her. He felt love. He was in love with Flora. How can this happen?

In less than a minute, just as was stated in her curse, "I'll whisper my words in his ear. For me, your kin will fall. His name is Robert Hall," he fell for Flora.

Is him falling in love with her from the curse? If it was, he didn't care. Having never felt love for a woman before, not even for his beloved Cynthia, especially for his beloved Cynthia, he was in love with Flora now. With just one kiss, he was in love with her. He loved her. He loved Flora.

"Take off your clothes," she said. "I haven't had sex in three hundred twenty-one years."

Scaring him that someone could go more than three centuries without sexual satisfaction when he couldn't go more than a day without masturbating himself, he looked at her with frightful trepidation.

"Wouldn't you like something to drink first?"

Trying to think what a witch would drink, he tried to think what he had in the house to serve her. Being that she has red hair and is a witch, perhaps her preferred drink is a Red Witch cocktail. Only, he didn't have any Pernod, blackcurrant cordial, or cider in the house.

Maybe she drinks Black Magic Shooters but he didn't have any coffee liqueur either. Aha! How about a Witch's Moon, but he didn't have Amaretto or Grand Mariner either. If only he had some pumpkin spice liqueur he could make her a Pumpkin Patch Witch. Unfortunately, in addition to Grand Mariner, he'd never peach Schnapps and champagne to make her a Glenda the Good Witch drink. If only he had Kahlua he could make her a Witch's Tit. Perfectly appropriate for her, if only he had white rum and black Sambuca, he could make her a Wet Witch.

"Nothing for me," she said.

"I have beer," he said. "How about a nice, cold beer with a slice of lemon?"

She gave him an annoyed look and leered at him as if he was crazy.

"No alcohol for me thanks. Alcohol interferes with my spells and conjuring," she said with a feigned and impatient smile. "I just want to see you naked," she said putting her finger to her lips in the way that Samantha in Bewitched put her finger to her nose.

Good God, the witch wants to see me naked. He couldn't help but think that she wanted to cut off his cock or remove her testicles in the way that so many politicians don't have any testicles needed to get anything done in Washington.

"I have cheese and crackers that I could—"

As if there was a storm brewing in his living room resplendent with a black cloud and lightning and thunder, she told him what she wanted.

"Fuck me Robert! Make me your witchy bitch," she said loud enough to make the house shake. "Now get naked."

Not even having to wiggle her nose in the way that Samantha had to in Bewitched, as soon as she said that, as if he was dreaming it, he was standing there naked. 

"How did you do that?"

He looked down at himself before looking up at her.

"I'm a witch dummy. I can do anything," she said with a shrug. "Later, after we have sex, I'll have Chinese food delivered without even having to call them," she said with a smile. "Do you want me to get naked too?"

Not wanting her to spoil his sexy fun, he'd rather slowly undress her than to have her suddenly appear before him naked in the way that he appeared before her naked.

"Actually, I'm kind of an old fashioned romantic. If you don't mind, I'd rather undress you while kissing you," he said.

He couldn't wait to see what she looked like beneath her clothes.

"Whatever floats your boat," she said. Availing herself to his horny hands and hungry lips, she stepped closer to him. "So long as you give me hot sex, I want you to fuck me in the way you've never fucked anyone before."

Feeling conspicuous standing there naked, nonetheless, he took her in his arms and kissed her. Kissing and kissing her, he felt her breasts through her blue dress and bra.

"With your beautiful red hair and big, blue eyes, I bet you'd look as great in a red dress and as sexy in a green dress as you do in this blue dress."

As if she was a chameleon able to instantly change the colors of her skin to match her surroundings, she changed the color of her dress from blue to red to green.

"Which color do you prefer?"

"Blue. You look so hot in that royal blue dress," he said thinking of the song again, Devil with the Blue Dress, Blue Dress on.

Then, in a blink of an eye, her dress, her bra, and her panties magically disappeared. With her long, red hair barely covering her big breasts, she was naked.

To be continued...



Witch Hunt Fantasy



It had taken a long time to find the perfect donor but the hunt is finished at last. Now all that needs to be done is the extraction. The subject's essence is necessary to complete the brew that I need for my survival as a witch. I will continue to have an empty feeling inside of me until I can be one with the donor, so this process must happen soon. I can feel my powers fade as time goes by. It has taken months of careful planning to get this far and nothing can get in my way. 

He will give me his essence willingly or I must take it by force. Time is running out. After hours, days, weeks, and months of watching, listening, and talking, trying to choose the right subject, I have finally found him and his essence will be mine. 

I have sent him a free night in this motel as a way to get him here. I made him think he won it in a contest. Everything is ready, now all I have to do is wait for his arrival. I have already keyed into the room and await his arrival. I feel excited with the anticipation of his presence. 

The room is cozy enough. There is a king size bed, a sitting area, and a large tub. I've brought everything necessary to ensure this night will be a success. I have bathed and purified my body in preparation of this night. My clothing was chosen very carefully with attraction and then seduction in mind. My outer garments are not very revealing but attractive. 

I had chosen a blouse and long skirt with a split in it with just a hint of leg to entice. The blouse is silky and not really low cut but the buttons are undone enough to hint at my ample breasts. I have placed perfume in certain areas all over my body, not to overpower, but to subtly entice. My under garments are: virginal white panties, garter belt and hose; the bra is white also, but has an opening for my nipples to remain available. I left my hair unbound and straight and it reaches down to my shoulders. 

I am lost in thoughts of the night to come when I hear someone opening the door. I am sitting in a chair in the corner of the room. This gives me a good view of my subject as he enters carrying an overnight bag. My heart races with anticipation. He doesn't even notice me until he shuts the door behind him and starts to turn around. 

I glory in the surprised look on his face. He is not a man to be surprised easily I have found by having watched him so long. I carefully and slowly stand up to greet him. I show him both my hands palms up to let him know I am without any weapons. 

"Who are you," he asks me, still looking bewildered. 

"You aren't in the wrong room," I assure him, "if that is what you are thinking." 

I lick my lips and I can't help but admire his body. After all, I have been wanting him for so long now. I am trying to figure out what he will do next. He is still looking a bit uncertain as I approach him. He drops his bag on the floor and frees his hands. I smile at him as I come nearer. 

"I am part of your winnings, Sir," I tell him, "if you want me." 

"Is this some kind of joke or scam" he asked.

"No, of course not," I quickly tell him, but I can see he isn't going to go along with the plan.

I reach into my pocket and pull out a tiny spritzer bottle and quickly spray it in his face. This is enough to blind and startle him long enough for me to get hand cuffs on him. I am afraid of him yelling so I quickly stuff a hankie in his mouth.

Oh my, but his eyes are shooting daggers as he tries to yell through the gag in his mouth. I quickly grab my bag from under the bed and remove a pair of scissors. I have to cut his shirt off as the cuffs are a hindrance. He tries to break away but I place the scissors near his throat. 

"I wouldn't try that if I were you," I tell him.

He stops trying to get away but continues to give me an ugly stare. 

"Sit on the bed," I tell him and I remove his cut up shirt.

I can tell he doesn't like it but complies with my request. I am careful of his legs as I remove his shoes and socks, not wanting him to kick out and injure me. When I have his socks and shoes off, I unbuckle his belt, and unzip his pants. He starts to stand up again but I quickly place the scissors near his throat again, warning him with my eyes that I mean business. 

"Alright, you may stand up slowly so I can remove your pants." 

I can almost see the options running through his head but he is in my control now and his essence will be mine soon. As he stands up I pull his trousers and underwear down trying to keep my eyes off the instrument that will give me my power. 

I then wrap his entire body in the saran wrap except his head and help him lie back on the bed as I can see he can't balance well now.

"Watch me," I tell him, as I slowly remove my outer clothing. 

Now I stand before him in my carefully chosen under garments and watch his eyes as they scan me from head to foot. I can tell he likes what he sees but he is a proud and stubborn man and I will have to take what I need for my witch's brew. I carefully climb onto the bed and straddle him at his waist. 

I lean over and give him a closer look at my nipples. They are hard with my desire. I begin to rub my breasts and take my nipples between my thumb and forefinger rolling them around right in front of his eyes. This feels good to me and I can't help but let out a sigh of pleasure.

I look him straight in the eyes and ask him, "Will you promise not to yell if I take the gag out of your mouth." 

I can almost see the internal struggle he is having but he reluctantly nods his head yes. 

"Just do as you are told and this will be over soon enough," I tell him.

" I don't want to hurt you but you have something I must have."

"You can give it to me or I will take it," I tell him in no uncertain terms. 

I remove the gag from his mouth and wait a few seconds to see if he is going to yell, but he just lies there unmoving, reconciled to the fact that I am in charge of him. I lean over and place my right nipple near his mouth and command him to suckle. 

"Lick it," I tell him. 

He takes my hardened nipple willingly enough and begins to suck on it. 

"Suck it like you would your lover." 

He takes his tongue and circles my nipple a couple times then nibbles on it. This is sending warm feelings all the way to my pussy, where my vaginal walls contract involuntarily. He starts to suck gently and then harder, watching me all the time for my reactions. I gently pull that nipple from his mouth and replace it with the left one. He repeats the performance without being told. I let a little moan slip out and see his eyes grow larger as he watches me. As he suckles my breast, I feel myself grow wet with wanting.

I can feel my pussy contracting and a warm glow spreads all over my body. He removes his mouth and blows lightly on my wet nipple, causing a shiver to pass over me. He looks up at me with a slight grin, as if to say, who is in control now?

I get off him and retrieve my scissors, which wipes the grin off his face. I use them to carefully cut away the saran wrap in his genital area. I can see him hold his breath while I do this and I chuckle to realize how intimidated he must with those scissors so near his manhood.

I pull his cock and balls out of the opening. I can see he is a very stubborn man. Most men would have been hard after the strip show I had given him and the breast sucking he had done, but not this man. He was obviously fighting with himself and letting his pride rob him of the pleasures I could give him. 

I take his cock and manipulate it gently in my hand; cup his balls with my other hand, rolling them around gently, while I continue to slide my hand up and down his shaft. I can feel him starting to harden and I lean down and lick the head with the tip of my tongue, running circles around it. I take the head in my mouth and graze it gently with my teeth while I continue to flick my tongue across the hole and I am soon rewarded with a drop of precum. 

I raise my head relishing this precious drop as I roll it around in my mouth before swallowing it. I groan with the intensity of it as his essence becomes one with me. I feel almost faint for a second but quickly feel a rush of power and strength like I've never felt before. I know if one drop can give me this rush. I must have all this subject has to offer.

I lean down and take his hard cock into my mouth again, starting to lick faster this time. I take a bit more of his engorged rod into my mouth, savoring the taste, feel, and smell of him. More and yet more, I take it down my throat until I have almost all of him inside me. I begin to slide his cock in and out of my mouth, slowly at first but faster as I become anxious for yet more essence.

I can feel him throbbing inside my mouth and can hear him moan as I begin to suck harder on his hard shaft. I release the suction each time it almost comes out of my mouth but quickly slide it back down my throat, sucking as it goes. I can feel my self almost gag as I take all I can.

This continues for some minutes, the in and out, until I feel him erupt, filling my throat with hot cum, the very essence I need for my powers. He is groaning with the pleasure I have given him and I am swallowing as fast as his body pumps it to me. His buttocks have risen off the bed somewhat as he tries to shove his rod into my mouth further. I can't believe he is still contracting in orgasm. The juices run out of my mouth because I can't swallow his essence fast enough.

He collapses back on the bed and I can feel his cock finally stop contracting. I still do not let him leave my mouth as I continue to suck on him, causing him to cry out in pain or pleasure, I'm not sure which. I must have every drop of his wonderful essence. 

After I have sucked him dry I lick up the bits that escaped my greedy mouth, licking his balls as well to make sure not a drop is wasted. I continue to lick his inner thighs, relishing the scent of him. He appears to be resting as I perform these acts on him but I feel invigorated by my new powers and already want more.

I look him in the eyes and after licking my lips, tell him, "I want more and you will give it to me." 

He shakes his head wearily and tells me, "I don't think I have any more to give." 

"Oh, but you do," I tell him, "and you will give it to me." 

I feel very wet at this time and very much in control. My pussy is throbbing and I can feel desire deep in my gut needing to be satisfied. I crawl back up and straddle him, and once again offering him my nipple. I don't say a word this time but he readily takes it in his mouth and starts to suckle. I reach behind me to see if I can bring his cock back to life again, but it is too soon. I pull my nipple from his mouth and edge up closer to straddle his face. He looks up at me and hesitates. 

"Lick me I command," as I inch even closer to his mouth, my pussy wet and open to him.

He takes his tongue and drags it the length of my cunt. I feel tingles run up and down me as his tongue grazes my clit. He stops and waits for my shudders to stop before he continues to drag his tongue up and down a few more times. He is being careful not to lick my clit but a grazing pass each time. I groan with the need of him and the release only he can give me. I can feel his tongue as it pushes into my vaginal tunnel. The heat is intense and I throb internally and my pussy contracts as it tries to milk his tongue.

Too soon he stops this and licks the length of me again, but this time he laps at my clit until I almost explode with the need for fulfillment. I almost scream as he leaves my clit to go back to tongue fucking me. I reach behind me and feel his cock. It is starting to get hard again and I slide my hand up and down the length a few times as he continues to lap at my pussy. 

This time when he goes back to flick his tongue over my clit, he doesn't stop. I feel the warmth start in my belly and travel outward. My pussy is contracting faster now, wanting something in it to milk. The juices start to flow as I feel myself on the edge and over to fulfillment. The intense orgasm rocks me to my soul. He continues to flick my clit with his tongue but it is too intense now and I pull away, resting just out of his tongue's reach.

It takes me a minute to get my breathing and pulse back down to normal. I can feel my juices running down and out of my pussy, but won't let him have it. My essence is too powerful for him to take. I ease back some more and straddle his legs while I play with his hard cock.

"No, please," he whispers to me, "Haven't you had enough?" 

"No, I need more of your essence and you will give it to me." 

I straddle his stiff rod and start to lower myself down a little at a time. I can feel myself stretching as I take even more of him into my pussy. Rising and lowering myself on his rod till I have stretched to take him all. I lower myself down and just stop for a minute of two savoring the fullness of his cock inside me, filling me up where just a little while ago I had felt so empty.

I am still wet from all my juices so I can slide him in and out with little resistance. I go slow and easy at first then come down a bit harder as I increase the pace. I can feel his stiff cock hitting what must be the bottom of my pussy. It hurts a little but I can't seem to make myself stop. This is deep penetration and I slam myself down even harder on him. He doesn't say a word but I can feel his hips try to rise up and meet my downward slams.

I groan with the pleasure/pain of it. The heat is increasing as he slides in and out faster. My hands are on his shoulders giving me leverage to rise and lower myself. His hard cock starts to throb inside of me. Every vein in his cock is filling with blood now and the rubbing motion against my inner walls causes further stimulation. I know it won't be long now.

I feel the first burst of hot cum inside me and quickly pull off letting it shoot into the air. I grab his cock and aim it towards my torso, allowing it to hit me in bursts. I feel the heat of his essence as it hits my body. I glory in the feel of it. I take my other hand and rub it into my breasts and down my belly, all the time stroking and milking his cock for more. 

It doesn't take long for him to finish shooting his load and his once throbbing cock now is starting to diminish. I lean over and suck the last drop out of him and then get up and reach in my bag to get the scrapper and bottle so that I can save his essence for my brew. 

I face him so he can watch me take the square of plastic, similar to a credit card, and gently scrap the essence from my breasts and belly and place it in the jar. I make this an erotic show for him, caressing myself with the plastic, paying particular attention to my breasts. The friction of the plastic against my nipples has caused them to get hard and I roll them between my fingers a bit while I continue to get every bit of essence I can.

I have enough for my brew but feel like I don't want this night to end. He has watched every move I make and not uttered a word the whole time. I have used him unmercifully and obtained what I need to make my brew. Now I feel sorry for him and sorry for me because I want more from him then what I have taken.

I would like to have him give me that which I have taken freely and of his own free will but I am afraid. I gather up all my tools and dress slowly, prolonging the time with this subject that I have been so intimate with. He still doesn't utter a word as I get ready to leave just watches my every move. When I am ready I lean over and kiss him good bye, loosen his bonds enough so that he will be able to get out of them shortly, and place my pager number on his chest. 

"Thank you," I tell him, "I'm sorry it had to be like this. I would have preferred your willingness to help me but I could see you wouldn't help me that way."

I turned to walk away when I heard him speak at last. 

"Don't go," he said, "who are you?"

I hesitate but keep walking. I shut the door quietly behind me as I leave. I got as far as the car before I changed my mind. I turned around and retraced my steps back to the room. I still had the key card and quietly keyed back into the room. He glanced up from his struggles to get loose from his bindings when he heard me re-enter the room. I was not sure what to do. He was almost loose and I didn't know whether to run or take my chances. I guess he could see the indecision in my eyes. 

"Come help me, please," he asked and smiled at me.

I was amazed by his smile. I could see into his eyes and knew he meant me no harm. I quickly went to assist him in getting out of his bindings that I had so meticulously placed him in just hours before. He was naked under the bindings and I couldn't help but admire his body as I helped unwrap it. He stood up beside the bed and I helped steady him a bit as he had been flat on his back bound for several hours. 

He stretched and moved around the room some looking at me the whole time. He didn't try to cover himself or put any clothing on. He looked quite natural and acted as if he felt comfortable without his clothing on. He looked at me and smiled again.

"You never told me your name," he said. 

"Liz," I replied. 

"Well, Liz, would you mind telling me what this was all about" he asked. 

I struggled a bit trying to decide whether I should tell him the truth or a lie, but after looking into his eyes again decided to try the truth.

"I know you are going to find this hard to believe, but I'm a witch, a good witch, and I needed your essence for a brew that I must make to increase my powers." 

The look on his face was priceless, it ran from surprise, disbelief, amazement, and finally to acceptance all in a space of about ten seconds. 

"You aren't kidding are you, Liz" he asked. 

"No, I'm not kidding," I replied.

"Since you needed my essence so bad," he said, "don't you think you should have to pay a price for it," he asked. 

Now it was my turn to be amazed. I wondered what kind of price he had in mind. 

"What kind of price do you think would be fair," I haltingly asked. 

He chuckled and said," Well, Liz, since the room is paid for and I'm by myself, I suggest you spend the rest of the night with me and share your essence with me." He shrugged and continued, "It only seems fair." 

I could already feel myself tingle with anticipation as I looked him in the eyes and nodding, agreed to his request. 

"This time" he said, "I will be a bit more in control, though."

He walked over to me and started to unbutton my blouse, pushing it back to reveal my breasts in the cut out bra. He leaned over and flicked his tongue across each nipple in turn, causing me to feel weak in the knees. I just stood there waiting to see what he would do next. 

He very carefully removed my skirt but left my undergarments on. I reached over and rubbed my hands across his chest, something I had wanted to do all evening but the bindings had been in the way. His skin was hot to the touch. His nipples became erect as I ran my hands over them. 

"Take your panties off," he said, "and come to bed." 

I quickly released the garters so that I could slide my panties off and then reattached them. I then followed him willingly to the king sized bed where he was already lying on his back. I slid in beside him turning on my side to put my arm around his torso. 

He reached down beside the bed and got a tube of something out of the duffle he had dropped there earlier, handed it to me, and said, "rub this on my cock for me."

I complied, squeezing the contents into my hand and rubbing it generously on his fast growing shaft. He just laid there and seemed to enjoy the attention I was giving him. When I had done this to his satisfaction, he requested that I lie down and let him do the same service for me. I lay back but he quickly rolled me over onto my stomach. I didn't protest but waited to see what he had in store for me, peeking over my shoulder at him. 




Witch Hunt Fantasy



He must have used the contents of the tube because I could feel him rubbing something cool and slick onto my butt. He was rubbing it all around in my crack, massaging me gently. He took his hand and slid it all the way through to my pussy, rubbing back and forth, as he applied more of the lotion. He would rub awhile and flick my clit with his finger, and retreat to my buttocks, massage there awhile, and start all over again. 

I was getting wet and felt the urge to rise up some to give him better access to my clit, but when I tried to rise up he took his hand and pushed me back down. 

"Not yet," he said, and continued to perform this type of massage and tickle on me. 

I was really getting turned on and wondered when he would let me turn over so could feel his hard dick in me. I was trying to comply with his wishes, I felt I owed him this much. I was feeling excited and wet and tingly but he just kept massaging and teasing. Then I felt him place a finger at my anus and start to push it in. I tensed up and he stopped. 

"Relax," he said and just held his finger where it was. 

I started to relax a little, as I grew accustomed to the feel of it. It didn't really hurt, but had come as a total surprise to me. No one had ever done this to me before. I tried to relax and I guess he could tell because he eased his finger in a bit more. I tensed up again but relaxed straight away this time, as he was rubbing my clit with his other hand. I felt the beginnings of an orgasm coming on. 

He stopped his manipulations of my clit but pushed his finger in all the way, stopping for a few seconds to allow me to accustom myself to the feel of it, and then he began a slow sliding in and out rhythm. I was very close to an orgasm but needed something else before I could go over the edge. I raised my buttocks in the air a bit hoping he would take the hint and continue to stimulate my clit but he took his finger out of my ass and pulled up on my hips till I was on all fours.

I could feel him spreading the cheeks of my ass and felt pressure as he put what I know must be his hard dick against my anus and started pushing. I tried to pull away because I knew how large his engorged cock was and I just knew he would split me open, but he held my hips and wouldn't let me go. 

"Hold still," he told me," I won't hurt you." 

I tried to relax as I knew he hadn't hurt me so far. I could feel the pressure as he eased his cock into me a little at a time, waiting until I grew accustomed to it and stretched to accommodate his size. It didn't really hurt but was a little uncomfortable at first. It was taking a long time for him to do this, just a little at a time. He pushed a little more in till he had it all the way in and stopped, resting for a minute, then he slowly started to pull out. 

This happened several times as he slowly pushed in and out. Then he increased the pace as he reached around and finally stimulated my clit for me. I felt myself pushing back to meet his thrusts, he was all the way in this time and I am teetering on the edge of an orgasm.

I can feel the chills running all over me, the weakness radiating out, and the involuntary contractions of my pussy, and the fullness of my insides, then I feel his hot cum squirting into me and filling me up. This is all I needed to send me completely over the edge. I collapse from the weakness and intensity of my orgasm as he falls across my back. He is still in me and I can feel his dick as it continues to throb and fill me with his hot cum. I just lie there and enjoy the sensations as they wash over my body. 

He is very still and I can tell it has been intense for him also. I can feel him grow smaller inside me and I experience a feeling of loss as he slowly pulls out of me. I feel depleted, fulfilled and satisfied all at the same time. Then I feel a good smack on my ass which startles me, but before I can turn over he smacks me again, none to gentle.

"Now get up woman," he tells me, "and run us a bath." 

I start to say something but decide against it. Instead I get up and walk to the bathroom, holding on to the dresser to steady me along the way. I run the bath water good and hot knowing I need this as much or more then he does. I can already feel my butt starting to throb and burn a bit from the exercise it has received.

I fill the tub up almost to the top, remove my remaining undergarments, and ease myself into the hot water. Just as I slide in I see him at the door watching me. He grabs a wash cloth and joins me in the tub, stepping in behind me and straddling his legs around me. The next thing I know he is soaping and washing my back. After he is finished doing this, I lean back against his chest and let him reach around and wash my breasts and belly. 

He is very gentle and I feel like I could just melt with the pleasure of it all. Just as I am about to nod off he drops the wash cloth in front of my face, causing a splash. He pushed me off his chest, stood up, and stepped around to sit in front of me.

"Your turn woman," he said. 

Not that I felt like even moving but because I felt like I owed him, I started to wash his back for him, then reached around and did his front like he had done for me. When I had finished he leaned back onto me and rested there for a few minutes, closing his eyes and not moving. We stayed like this till the water started to get cool. I reached for the faucet, to add more hot water, but he stayed my hand. 

"Time to get out," he said," I'm not finished with you yet."

I don't know if he is kidding or not. I wonder where he gets his energy from. I have had him performing for me for two hours and then our last mutual go around. I thought I had a good appetite for sex but it seems he has one as large or larger. I step out of the tub and he steps out behind me reaching for a towel he hands it to me and I start to dry off. He obliges me by drying my back with another towel. He then dries himself and turns his back to me. I in turn dry it for him. He takes my hand and leads me back to the bed. I wonder what he has in store for me this time.

As we approach the bed he steps in front and sits down on the bed pulling me across his lap face down. I feel him rubbing my butt gently and then he smacks it rather hard. It stings but doesn't hurt all that bad but I struggle to sit up. Unfortunately he has me at a disadvantage and smacks me again several times in rapid succession. My butt is really starting to smart and my whimpers are about to embarrass me by becoming cries, when he lifts me up and pushes me back on the bed. I've never been spanked as an adult and it makes me feel kind of funny yet a little excited, too. Not knowing what he has in store for me this time, I just lean back on the bed, not really lying flat but propped against the pillows. He stretches out beside me. 

"Suck my dick," he tells me as he just lies there, looking smug.

I am not about to argue with him as I would love to have more of his essence to strengthen me. I lean over and start to lick his cock all over lapping his balls, and inner thighs, also. I then take his semi hard cock in my mouth and start to suck on it, nibbling on the head, and then taking it down my throat. This goes on for several minutes until his dick is rock hard. I am anticipating a load of his hot cum, that I can swallow, when he reaches down and pulls me off of him. I'm a little bewildered as to why he stopped me but I let him do as he wants.

"Lie down," he says. 

I quickly do as he requests. He then straddles my ribcage and places his hard cock in-between my breasts. 

"Push them together," he tells me.

I do this making a tight tunnel for his cock. He then starts pumping away between my breasts. It is not a bad sensation as I feel the friction of his movements on my chest. The head of his dick is almost at my mouth each time he pumps and I can't help but lick the head as it comes so close to my lips. I try to take it in my mouth but he won't stop the rhythm long enough for me to really get a hold on the head so all I can do is lap at it each time if gets close. 

This continues for some minutes until he starts to cum. He rises up a little, taking a hold of it and actually aims it like a hose. He is spurting hot cum all over my face and chest. I take my tongue and lick what I can reach that has splattered near my mouth and reach up and rub it into my breasts and belly. It feels so good. He just sits there and watches as his cum spills all over me. He grins down at me when I start to rub it in and lick from around my mouth. I can see this is turning him on as he continues to slide his hand up and down his cock and even though it is not spurting any more it remains rock hard with his manipulations.

"Get on your hands and knees," he almost growls. 

He moves long enough for me to comply and then he is on his knees behind me in a flash. He smacks my butt again several times and I glance over my shoulder to see him with his throbbing cock still in his hand. I am almost afraid he is going to stick it in my butt again and tense up a bit in anticipation of the invasion, but he takes it and pushes into my pussy from behind. He eases it in slowly till he has it all the way in. 

Then he takes my hips with his hands and slams it in all the way. I can actually feel his balls as they hit the underside of my pussy. I can't help but grunt with the impact of his thrusts. It is in so deep it almost hurts. I am braced for his thrusts or he would knock me flat on my face. It hurts a little as he touches bottom but feels good, too. He holds me with one hand on my hip to pull me back into him and slaps my ass with the other. It is almost a rhythm as he slams his hard cock into my pussy and then slaps my ass. 

This continues for several minutes and I can feel the quickening of his strokes as he stops slapping me. Then I feel his cum filling me up and running down the inside of my legs, as his cock throbs inside of me. He pulls it out while it is still spurting and covers my back with the hot essence of his cum. He lets go of my hip and I collapse on my stomach while he kneels behind me with his cock still in his hand. I have been covered in his hot seed front and back. Looking over my shoulder, I can see him proudly kneeling behind me with a smile on his face. 

I close my eyes but hear him laugh as he moves to the head of the bed where I feel something nudge my mouth. I open my eyes to see his still semi hard cock pushing at my mouth.

"Lick it clean," he tells me. 

I take his dick in my mouth and suck on it a bit and am surprised to find a drop or two of cum still on the tip. I nurse it like a baby till he gently pulls away.

He smacks my butt again, and when I look up at he smiles and says, "Go take a shower and hurry back I'm not finished with you yet." 

Then he nudges me off the bed. I barely have the strength to stand but wobble off to the bathroom where I start to run the water. I start to lick the cum that is still on my body, but look up to see him standing in the door way.

"No, you've had enough for your brew. Wash that off." 

I reluctantly get in the shower and let the spray hit me, washing the precious fluid down the drain. The hot water does feel good as I lather up and rinse off. When I come out he is still waiting near the door and even dries my back again for me. He leads me back to the bed and instructs me to lie down on my back. He places a pillow under my hips, spreads my legs wide apart, bending my knees as he pushes my feet up towards my butt. This leaves my pussy wide open to him.

He crawls between my legs and starts to take long slow drags with his tongue starting at my anus and slowly dragging it all the way to my clit. This feels heavenly and I pray he doesn't stop. This continues for sometime and I relax and get into the rhythm of his glorious tongue. He licks all around my clit and then flicks it with his tongue, teasing and exciting me all at once. He takes his tongue and sticks it in my pussy, fucking me with his tongue as if it were his cock. I can feel my juices running freely as he laps at my pussy. He takes my clit between his lips and sucks on it, driving me closer to an orgasm.

Just when I am about ready to cum, he sticks his finger up my anus, while he sucks my clit. This is all it takes to send me over the edge. I feel ripples of chills running throughout my body, a radiating heat spreading from my pussy outward, as it convulses. 

I can't help but cry out, "Oh god I feel like I'm on fire."

It is too intense and I try to pull away but he pumps his finger in and out of my ass and has an iron grip sucking on my clit. He stops sucking finally and starts to lap up my wetness; this causes more shudders as he inadvertently licks my clit while trying to get every drop I have given him. He removes his finger slowly from my anus and this causes even more shudders of pleasure to run throughout my body. He sticks his tongue inside my pussy to make sure he has lapped up every drop, and I feel myself contract around him.

I look down and see him smile up at me while licking his lips. As he kneels in front of me I can see he has a glorious hard cock again. I almost groan at the thought of him impaling me again, but I just smile weakly up at him. He kneels there proudly and takes his hand and slides it up and down his swollen shaft a few times. 

He grins at me and almost purrs, "hmmmm...how shall I give it to you this time, Liz. Oh, and by the way, I'm a witch also."



Witch-Hunter General



Authors note: Here is my Halloween story for 2014, hope you enjoy. 

*

The self-proclaimed Witch-Hunter General, Matthew Hopkins, rode into the small village of Mistlea expecting to see the church flock greet his arrival with rabid anticipation and old hags already in custody. His reputation since hanging a coven of twenty-three witches at Manningtree for devil worship had grown with each village he cleansed of witch-craft on his path through the eastern counties. Instead, he was greeted by a lone monk, not even a priest, and escorted to a small chapel on the out-skirts of town.

"You don't expect a man of my eminence to stay in this hovel do you?" Matthew said looking around at the monk's cell he had been led to. The monk, Caspian, looked around furtively and motioned the man closer.

"You shouldn't have come here. It's not safe for you. The people of this town respect their wise woman. Even if you could find her they would not let you hang her," the monk whispered. "They tolerate me, even come to the chapel now and then to talk of the gospel but attendance is sporadic."

"I was invited to this town, where is the priest?" Matthew demanded.

"There is no priest in the village of Mistlea," Caspian looked confused, "You could not have been invited here by a priest."

Matthew narrowed his eyes, every town had a priest no matter how loosely the term was used, he would ordain this monk himself if he had to. "Who do they pay their church taxes to?" Matthew demanded.

"There is no church here to pay taxes for," the monk explained mildly sensing the trouble that was about to erupt. "Perhaps your skills would be better put to use in the richer counties north of here. The people of this town are poor and beholden to no Lord of the land."

"How is it you come to be here then," Matthew did not believe anything the monk had told him thus far.

"It is the work of a missionary to try to convert the pagans, not judge and execute them for their primitive ways," he stood straighter knowing his words would inflame the man he stood before. He would rather that though than undo the small inroads he had made with population of the remote community.

"A missionary should welcome us as allies of the church," Matthew stated. "Perhaps your soul is in jeopardy from the witches that dwell in the dark forests here," he accused.

"My soul is in the hands of the one true god, he watches over me and keeps my soul from being tainted by pagan tenet," Caspian showed a gentle smile. "I'm at peace know I serve my god whole-heartedly. It is you who may be in jeopardy should you choose to judge the women of this village."

Matthew grabbed the monk by his cowl and brought their faces close together with an evil sneer, "I will not be threatened in a house of God."

"It was no threat, my lord, merely a warning. By now the wise woman of this village and her followers will know of your arrival and watch for your departure," Caspian continued to speak in a calm tone infuriating Matthew even more. 

"Who is this wise woman?" he growled in a low, harsh voice barely masking his rage.

"I do not know. For obvious reasons, we do not cross paths and the townspeople protect her like no other from all foreigners," Caspian admitted.

Matthew threw the monk aside like a rag doll and stalked from the small cell of the hovel and out into the fresh air of the village. He found his men still standing in line waiting for him trying to calm their unusually skittish horses. The villagers had not been welcoming, no refreshment or entertainment had been offered to his men.

"Hear me people of Mistlea, your very souls are in jeopardy! You flout the laws of our church and king and this cannot be abided by any god fearing man. I will return for the feast of All Hallows in ten days and bring with me a priest who will hear your confessions and absolve any who seek to find the right path to heaven's glory. Those that continue to protect the witch and her worship of the devil will be put to the trial. Listen to the monk, pitiful excuse that he is, it is your only way to salvation," Matthew intoned loudly. He then mounted his horse and rode from the small village followed by his men.

Caspian stood in the doorway to his home and looked sadly out at the villagers who shook their heads and laughed at the arrogance of the man as he rode away. He knew it would take a miracle to save them now and he walked back inside to the crude altar he had created and began to pray.

"Do not worry for us, Caspian," Selene's soft voice said from behind him startling Caspian from his prayers. "You have but one God, and we have many who will protect us."

"I believe my God is the only God," Caspian said simply.

"Is that what the noisy man believes?" she asked curiously.

"Yes," Caspian admitted, "I choose to believe in a god of love and understanding rather than a god of vengeance and might however."

"This is why it is better to have many, so you are sure you are praying to the right one," Selene laughed. "For every good there is bad, for every action a reaction. The loud man will find his actions will have consequences he is not prepared for. We have a god of benevolence and wisdom but also a goddess of vengeance and spite."

Caspian tilted his head as he regarded Selene. She was one of the few villagers who sought out his company on occasion. She looked no older than two score years but at times she spoke with a wisdom far beyond that and the simple life she appeared to live here. He wondered at those times as he did now if she was somehow related to the wise woman of the village.

"I will pray to my God that Matthew does not return and we do not have to worry about his actions or the consequences," Caspian eventually said.

"And I shall pray to all of my Gods and Goddesses to make your God listen to you," she laughed and skipped out of his home, leaving him staring after her as usual after one of her spontaneous visits. Nearing his thirtieth year, he judged that he could not have been much older than the young woman but at times like this she made him feel ancient. His knees shot through with pain as he stood from his kneeling position at the crude altar and he pressed his fists into his aching back. He decided to go for a walk through the forest and contemplate the majesty of God's creation. It had always given him energy and made him feel revitalised since coming to this village and he felt he sorely needed that right now.

*****

Matthew and his men rode hard through the day and into the night to reach the small castle of Astraea. He had been surprised and disappointed to learn that the ruler of the surrounding lands was a Lady and not a Lord. Even while married it remained the Lady not the Lord that held tight to the reins of power as had her mother before her and the women of the preceding generations had.

His decision to continue on his path down through the eastern counties to the wild southern tip of the country had seemed almost a natural progression in his mind. He dreamed of increasing his wealth and fame by conducting witch hunts with the backing of the church and the Lords of the lands as he travelled. Here in the south it would seem his dream was to be thwarted at every turn by the witches themselves.

Lady Rhea had welcomed Matthew and his men into her home, she had offered shelter, sustenance and entertainment for the night but refused to listen to any of his appeals until the next day. Exhausted from a long day of riding and frustrated by having his plans thwarted at every turn, Matthew ate and drank too much at the banquet prepared in their honour. His frustration eventually turned to anger and he sent his most trusted of men in search of a woman who could soothe him.

When he retired to his room sometime later he found a well-dressed courtesan of middle years, she had been gagged and her wrists bound behind her back. She looked at him with eyes that were flirtatiously excited rather than frightened, but that would change he smiled smugly to himself.

"My man explained what would be required when you agreed to this tryst?" he asked unbuckling his belt. He knew his man would have gone to some lengths to ensure the woman knew all too well the arts of sadomasochism. For most courtesans, it was a way into the wealthier bedrooms of the ruling classes.

"What a wicked witch you are then," Matthew pulled the belt from his pants letting it whistle through the air as he raised it and lashed out at the woman. Fully clothed it did not have an impact or sound he desired, but the woman stood and took the weight of the belt lash without moving. He sneered at her and lashed out again with full force making her take a half step back before recovering.

She hadn't made a sound as yet and had a look of need in her eyes infuriating him further. Matthew moved closer and unbuttoned the tight bodice of her dress enough to roughly pull her breasts free of its confines. They were large and far from firm, but the remaining structure of the bodice pushed the soft, pliable flesh up and out toward him, the erect nipples showing her arousal. He rested the belt on his shoulder and pinched her nipples between thumb and forefinger pulling on them roughly and twisting until he received a small muffled whimper, it was the first sound she made but it was enough for now.

He let go of her and stepped back lifting the belt once more from his shoulder and flicking it out at the unprotected mounds of flesh until they were red-lined and swollen. Tears ran down the woman's face to accompany the soft cries he rejoiced in and he felt his arousal grow.

"Harlots and witches, women are the devils toys sent to tempt man from the path of truth and enlightenment," he snarled at her. "I know you seek to unman me, but it is not I that will fall at your feet, it is you that will fall at mine!" He grabbed her by the hair and hurled her toward the bed where she stumbled and fell face down over the mattress.

Lifting her skirt up over her head, he began to flay her buttocks. Only stopping when the flesh before his eyes began to show signs of tearing, he cared not for the woman only the sounds she made and the body she gave up so willingly for gold.

Matthew stood between her legs and wrapped his fist around his enraged cock pulling it from his trousers. It took only minutes before under his own ministrations long ropey strands of cum began spurt out and cover the woman's inflamed cheeks.

Pulling her up by the hair, he dragged the woman to the door reefing it open. "I am done," he announced to his man, "fuck her and pay her well," his voice held the disdain he felt not only for her but all women. He pushed her out and slammed the door shut stalking back to his bed.

Matthew fell into a fitful sleep his dreams plagued by visions of the faces of those women he had sent to their deaths for witchcraft and devil worship. What woke him in the end though, was the voice of the monk he had met in the village of Mistlea warning him that his own soul was in jeopardy.

*****

Days later Caspian noticed a flurry of activity around the village. The village did not have a lot of farming land around it, the villagers instead cultivated the forest and reaped its rewards preferring to trade twice a year with the nearest town for the things they needed. So it was to his surprise that different sorts of foods began appearing from small kitchen gardens and the depths of the forest.

Wooden effigies began to appear as well to stand on the green in the centre of town. Caspian despaired that a pagan ritual was about to begin and guarding his soul he stayed bound to his small home rather than mingle with the villagers.

He had ventured out to improve his stores by a short walk through the forest, looking for the last of the autumn berries and edible leaves. He tried not to worry about how he would make it through winter believing his God would provide for him. He had managed to care for two bee hives near his home and could always use that honey and make a candle if needed, but it was an arduous process. 

In his time there the villagers had been good to him and he wrestled with his conscience as he walked through the forest about cutting himself off from their rituals and celebrations. Deep in thought he had wandered further into the forest than usual and after tripping over an exposed root he looked around in confusion.

"Are you lost, Caspian?" a familiar girl's voice asked him.

"Yes, I believe I am," he answered good-naturedly.

"Then I will show you the way, do not worry so," Selene appeared from behind a tree and walked toward him. "You worry far too much Caspian. It is the season for remembering the joys of life and celebrating those that have come and gone before us."

"There is a feast that I celebrate that honours people who died in the name of my God," Caspian said thoughtfully. "All Hallows Day comes in just a few days."

"The day the noisy man plans to return to our village," Selene stated a fact. "I know of this day, it is for celebrating the life of people who have gone before us but only those few whose names are honoured in your books. We celebrate all who have gone before us, no one man is better than another when their bones dwell side by side within the earth."

"The deeds of their lives make them remarkable," Caspian explained. 

"Is not the blacksmith who cares not only for his family but for the whole village as remarkable as a man who reads from the book you love so much?" Selene countered.

"It is for those who knew and loved him to remember the blacksmith. The feast of All Hallows is used by the church to celebrate men who have done great deeds in the eyes of my God," Caspian was thoughtful as the young girl's word made him consider his own carefully.

"Then you will join us for our celebration and remember those you have loved," Selene said simply, once again making a statement rather than issuing an invitation. The idea of joining in with a pagan ritual was abhorrent to him, but he said nothing as they walked back through the forest in comfortable silence.

Caspian had begun to think about his family, his memories of a tall man and frail woman distant in his mind as they left him at the monastery to be educated and lead what they said would be a better life than the one he had been born to. He had been gifted in the learning of letters and words and had fared much better than other boys who had been given to the life of a monk and education. 

A particularly gentle scribe with a slow smile and soft voice had taken him as an apprentice in his early years and taught him that to do God's work was to be accepting of all creatures. The lion and the mouse had just as much purpose on the earth as the horse and cow. He now saw clearly that these village people were the useful hard working beasts and that men like corrupt lords and self-proclaimed prophets like Matthew Hopkins were the lions. Each had their purpose in God's eyes and he worried about what would become of their souls.

"Always so worried, Caspian," Selene looked at him critically. "Do not fret so. Those we have loved will come to our aid when we need them most. Now is the time to rejoice in life, not concern yourself with its ending." She stopped and plucked some berries from a bush he had not seen on the path. "I have plucked these berries from the source of their sustenance but will they end their life now?"

Caspian stopped and stared at her not understanding the question.

"These berries," she explained, "Have life. Just because I pluck them does not mean the end. Their life becomes part of mine now." She popped them into her mouth and chewed making appreciative noises. "I will remember them and the joy I had in eating them but they are now part of my life." She gathered more placing them into Caspian's small basket as he watched her thinking about her words. "It is the same with all life. When a person or a living creature dies and goes back to the mother earth, we remember them for the joy they brought us, but do they not feed the living now? They become part of us and the world around us." Selene looked at him as if asking a small child an obvious question.

As always when he spoke to Selene, he became quiet and introspective. His educated mind railed at her words, but his heart could feel the rightness of them. Having gathered the berries they walked on and he eventually spoke, "What of the soul of living creatures, their spirit?"

"Do you not feel their spirit within you? Within the forest?" Selene asked. Caspian shook his head wondering how he could better explain the concept of a soul to the young woman when she added, "The spirits are here, in what the creator has made."

"The creator, we have that in common," he mused feeling hopeful that they could find something to tie village life to his God.

"Mother nature, the greatest goddess, takes from the earth to create anew. It is a circle not an ending and the spirits of the people who have gone before us live with us, in everything around us, as long as we honour and celebrate them," she smiled believing he finally understood but he shook his head and laughed realising his optimism was misplaced.

*****

Matthew had not slept with any real restfulness for days. The faces of the women he had hung or burned floated through his mind and his ears rang with their curses upon his soul. He had kept the courtesan of his first night in the castle of Lady Rhea close at hand, and had become increasingly violent, taking his frustrations and strange dreams out on the woman who seemed to revel in his darkness.

The township surrounding the castle brought him no joy in his witch-hunt and his men began to become too at ease with the whores and ale houses available to them. Matthew had poured over maps of the surrounding country-side. The small villages that dotted the wild countryside were far ranging and he had planned to make an example of the people of Mistlea before moving further south and across the moors. As he waited and planned and searched the township for any signs of witchcraft, a feeling of foreboding dogged his steps, along with the restless nights of vivid dreams. Each morning as he woke he would curse the village of Mistlea and the infuriating monk as the cause of his misfortune.

Unable to wait longer, Matthew and his men set out on the eve of the feast of All Hallows bound for the village. Matthew did not take a priest with him, he wanted no witnesses to exactly how he would rid the country and himself of the evil that dwelt there. Having convinced himself that it was witchcraft that haunted his dreams and influenced the debauchery of his men. He was now on a crusade to make the world right again. The monk who dwelt there and whose words haunted him the most would be the first to confess and die at Matthews's hand.

He smiled grimly as he rode buoyed up by the prospect of being free of the curse of witchcraft. He glanced over his shoulder at the courtesan whore he had made ride with them that morning. She had become a constant presence in his world over the days he had remained in the castle, returning time and again for the violence he lavished on her. Dressed now in the concealing habit of a nun, he would use her to seduce the monk and show him to be a charlatan and witch lover. His trial would be swift, his execution would not be.

As they entered the forest a woman appeared in the path before them and just as quickly left the trail darting into the trees at the side of the well-worn trail. Believing it to be one of the wise woman's followers or the woman herself Matthew sent a man after her and called a brief halt in their journey. After some time in which Matthew grew increasingly impatient he sent two more men in to follow and find their missing brother. It was only minutes later that the two men reappeared and approached Matthew talking quietly.




Witch-Hunter General



"He seems to have tripped on a tree root and fallen breaking his neck," one of the men reported. 

"We need to bury him," the other added as they told of their brother's demise.

"Yes, fine," Matthew huffed, "Be quick about it we need to make the village while there is still light enough to begin the trials." He turned away to hide the barely concealed rage at the waste of time he had to endure for this burial.

Half of the twelve man squad disappeared into the trees to bury their brother while the others lounged against trees and rested their horses. A woman's laughter rang out and looking up at the path ahead they saw the dirty white shawl as a woman once again disappeared into the trees. Matthew cursed and send a further two men after her. 

After a time, only one came back scratching at his well-groomed beard having found no sign of her and having lost sight of his brother in the dense forest landscape. The men came back from their makeshift burial and with ten men remaining Matthew began to ride towards the village once again.

When next they encountered the woman she did not flee into the forest, but rather stood her ground blocking their way and making Matthew's horse shy as he tried to trample over her.

"You have no business here, Matthew killer of women," she said in a dry, rasping voice.

"It is my duty and my purpose to rid this world of foul devil witches like you," Matthew spat back signalling his men forward.

"There is nothing for you and your men here but suffering and misery. Continue at your own peril," she warned and walked into the tree line. Incensed Matthew sent two men after her. She would be the first witch put to trial in his cleansing of this village.

It was some time later when one of the men reappeared in the path, his face ashen, gasping for breath and collapsed before the hoses. Alighting quickly Matthew's lieutenant ran to him and held him up by the shirt front.

"What has happened? What did you see?" he demanded.

"Manningtree," the soldier wheezed, "The witches of Manningtree..." His eyes rolled back in his head and he passed out cold.

"Absurd," Matthew scoffed, "Tie him to his horse we will bury him near town," he mistook the feint fro death. "There will be no more delays." In his mind the images of the twenty-three women he had sent to their deaths played as they had in his dreams since last visiting this village.

The progress was slow the men constantly dogged by the vision of a woman blocking their path or fluttering through the tree line beside them. The warnings became direr as they got closer to the village alarming the men and turning the horses into skittish timid creatures who started and shied at the slightest provocation.

Fearful and frustrated several soldiers charged into the tree line despite Matthews instructions to ignore the evil old crones and each failed to emerge again. Just before reaching the village, several horses shied and bolted with yet another of Matthew's men being trampled into an unconscious state. 

"It's time to heed the warnings," his lieutenant advised. "We cannot carry out your plans in this village with so few men remaining."

"I am Matthew Hopkins, Witch Hunter General, and I will not be cowed by these old crones and their superficial spells. God will keep safe those that deserve it, and protect us to do his work for him," Matthew said loudly to his remaining men. "Your fallen brethren found the alehouses and whores of the town too tempting perhaps and sold their souls cheaply."

"Lucas was the best of us, yet he lies in a shallow grave this day," Joseph one of the younger men argued.

"Do any of us really know what plagues the heart or mind of another man," Matthew said surprisingly gently, seeing the boy about to turn tail and run from the mission they were on. "If what you say is true though we must rejoice that our brother is now in the loving bosom of our God and saviour."

"Killing innocent women is not any Gods work, let alone a loving God," a feminine cackle came out from the trees surrounding them.

"Those women in Manningtree were not innocent, you saw the trials. Now let us continue," Matthew turned his horse and rode on knowing that his men would follow their lieutenant if not him at that moment.

*****

Matthew rode into the village with his remaining men at his back and the costumed courtesan at his side. Uncaring of the dust and debris his horses hooves kicked up he went immediately to the hovel of the monk he had met during his first visit to the village.

Dismounting, he hurried the woman dressed as a nun inside surprised to find the monk, not there. He did not have to wait long as news of his arrival had reached Caspian who hurried back to see what the witch-hunter general would do with the peaceful people of this village. In truth, Caspian had expected to see a small army herding the villagers to a makeshift trial, what he found instead was five frightened looking soldiers standing beside their lieutenant at the entrance to his home.

Caspian had been dreading this confrontation. He knew the villagers would never give up their wise woman and he wasn't sure what Matthew would do in retaliation. He walked into his home expecting to see a priest there to remove him from the Village or order him to build a suitable church. Instead he found Matthew and a woman of the cloth sitting and patiently waiting for him.

The woman looked flushed as she hastily straightened her garments, but Matthew only glared at the dishevelled monk. "This is not the welcome I was expecting," he said coldly. "I told you when I would return, I trust you at least have a list of suspect names for me." 

"I do not," Caspian said calmly. "I do not know the wise woman, nor would the village tell me of her or her followers. They do not respect our church here, you and I hold no authority over these people, in their eyes."

"We shall see about that," Matthew rose from his chair and indicated the woman kneeling at his feet. "You will see to it that this woman has all she desires." A slight smirk came to his face and he strode out of the hovel.

"We have very little time," The woman said softly as soon as Matthew had exited making Caspian turn and study her closely. "Tonight you must choose your fate, it will be difficult and cause you great angst but you must trust your heart," She seemed anxious that he understood so he nodded.

"Please be at peace here little sister, no harm will come to you here," he gave a small smile misunderstanding her words as fear of the threats Matthew had made against the village and their retaliation.

"Of that I am sure," she touched his face and smiled beatifically at him and he felt an odd warmth pervade his body.

"Annied!" Selene exclaimed quietly while entering the home of Caspian. She ran to the woman and embraced her as a confused Caspian watched on. 

"Selene, the best of daughters," Selene returned the embrace. "You have touched this one's mind and his heart me thinks."

"His mind is slow, but his heart is good, despite his indoctrination," Selene said without rancour or accusation.

"I will come to bless you both when the time is right," Anneid smiled. "The sun is setting we must do what is needed. Remember my words, Caspian monk."

Caspian watched as the two women walked slowly from his home, fearing for their safety with Matthew's arrival he went to the door after them, only to find the men there in a strange stupor as if asleep with their eyes wide open. As the two women moved toward the centre of town the men followed at a distance as if in a trance and Caspian drawn to the scene followed along behind.

A bonfire had been built in the centre of the circle of wooden effigies and as Annied approached the villagers smiled and called out her name jubilantly. With the setting sun blazing in the sky Annied raised her arms and the flames began to lick up the huge structure of the bonfire and rise into the sky. The effigies shimmered and became almost real in their strange stance around the fire.

"What is the meaning of this!" Matthew seemed to have woken from his stupor and had leapt to his feet as his men had also regained their wits and risen with him. 

"It is but time for your trial," Annied said gently, "Bring forth the first of Mathews witches."

"What are you doing whore. It is for me to judge witches, not you!" He had moved close to her and whispered his threat menacingly through closed teeth.

"Tonight when the curtain is at its lowest between spirit and man you will find the witches that haunt you," Annied said calmly and stepped aside showing a woman of uncertain years. Caspian was rooted to the spot he had stood in to watch what was occurring.

"I loved you so much Matthew," the woman said softly. "Your father left me with broken promises and a full belly. There was no other way to survive than to do what I did. Why must you hate me so? It isn't right to have your soul turned black by deeds such as yours. I could never have imagined the evil you would wreak because of me." It was a sad voice but unrelenting despite his cries of witchcraft and lies.

"Was it not enough that you killed your mother for her sins, why must you have killed so many others?" The woman finally asked.

"You were never my mother, you left me alone or with men who did evil things to a young boy while you lay passed out on the floor," Matthew sneered. "You beguiled and bedded them all, used them for their fortune and fame to make a name for yourself. Courtesan, whore and witch, you were evil and I stopped you in the name of God, I stopped you!" He rose again and lunged at the woman who seemed to shimmer and evaporate before him only to be replaced by yet another woman.

This woman as did the next three all professed to have loved him, been willing to do anything for him, and ultimately asked why he had sent them to their deaths. Other women from his infamous witch trials across the country began to take shape and accuse not only Matthew but his men of their misdeeds. The litany of victims seemed to have no end and four of Matthews men were openly weeping and apologising despite the protests of Matthew and his lieutenant who now seemed intent on ignoring the women who accused him.

Eventually, a loud guttural roar issued from the throat of the lieutenant and as if breaking free from invisible chains he stood and ran at Annied. She lifted her hand gently as he neared and pointed a finger. Caspian gasped as he dropped to the ground his body spasmed and then was still. Not even a breath of movement coming from him.

In a voice full of rage and malice Annied turn to the remaining men and hissed, "Had I not known first hand that his was a hatred for all women and that your thoughts were not clouded by the thoughts of others I may not have brought you this pain. If there had been a gentler way I might have sought it. Yours Matthew, is the blackest of hearts and should one more woman or child come to harm under your own hand you will not live to see the following day, this is my promise and my curse for you and each of your men."

Villagers brought forth the horses for the remaining men including Matthew and watched silently as they mounted and left the village each then turning their face back to Anneid as if in rapture. 

"My wonderful children, know that I shall always watch over you. Feast and be happy knowing that I and those that have come before you will always provide," she smiled benevolently and walked back to where Caspian stood. "Walk with me," Anneid commanded. "There is in you a quest for learning and understanding that is stifled by clinging to the indoctrination of your youth. It is wrong to shut out the belief in all things for the belief in one thing only," She said gently sensing his inner turmoil.

"I cannot begin to explain what I witnessed here tonight," Caspian was at a loss to make sense of anything that had happened since Annied arrival in the village. "He will return with an army I am afraid," he finally uttered his thoughts out loud.

"No, tomorrow he will strike a woman and his heart will stop," Annied said sadly. "His men will witness it and learn from it we hope." She said sadly. "If not they too shall rejoin the earth and feed the new generation." Caspian's brow creased as he worried over her words.

"You are a gentle soul Caspian and honouring a God of love suits your disposition. To give love though you must have love. Throw off that habit and cowl and rejoice in the love that surrounds you," she smiled. "Give that love to the people of this village and your future children. It does no good to deny yourself life's pleasures in honour of a God who does not speak to you to answer your questions and prayers." They had reached his home and he looked at the small badly constructed hovel.

"I do not want to leave my home or my life, it is who I am. What I have seen tonight I cannot explain but I will find a way to make my peace with it," he smiled. "I am grateful though that the village is safe and that you helped these good and kind people."

"You are a good man, Caspian. You have a good heart, one that could open up to all the possibilities in nature if only your head would let it," Annied turned her head. "Come forward Selene, you need never hide from me."

"I couldn't even if I tried," Selene giggled.

"Be patient, my beloved daughter. This one has many barriers to overcome before he will be ready. I will however leave you with a gift to hasten the journey," Once again Annied raised her arms and the ground beneath their feet seemed to rumble. Wind blew in a eddy around the hovel of Caspian and finally died down as vines from the forest crept over the now mud caked walls. Flowers bloomed on the vines despite the lateness of the season and the tilted roof became covered in knotted sticks and bark.

"For every evil there is good to keep the balance," Selene whispered softly to Caspian who was once again speechless. His brain was trying to comprehend what his eyes saw and work out if he should reject the changes in his home as witchcraft or rejoice in having a home thatwould keep out the drafts and the coming snow of winter.

"Allow him time to accept all he has witnessed this night and go celebrate with the spirits of those who came before," Annied said softly and Selene walked away slowly. 

"I will return when the time is right and give my blessings," Annied smiled at Caspian, "Rest now for I know your understandings have been shaken with the ground below us." She stepped away from him and shimmered before his eyes. Closing his eyes to adjust what he thought he saw, when he reopened them the nun's habit lay on the ground beside him and a dark bird flew over the tree tops.

Alone with his thoughts he walked into the house and noted it looked much the same. He could not face the alter tonight and instead went to his bed. He closed his eyes and dreamed of his parents for the first time in many years. He could see them so clearly, feel their arms as they embraced him and hear their voices of pride and love for him no matter where his life took him.

When he woke in the morning it was still so vivid and real that he wondered if it had been a dream at all. Getting up with renewed energy, he went out into the town greeting people in his usual way. He sat near the still smoking remains of the bonfire and tried to make sense of all that had happened in the last day. Not only what he had witnessed but the dreams he had in which his parents spoke with him answering all his questions and fears. He worried that he had perhaps gone mad when the familiar voice sounded from behind him.

"Do not worry so, Caspian. Today we will feast and be thankful for our Gods and those that have come before us," Selene laughed, "Even your God if you like."

"I think I would like that," Caspian said suddenly seeing Selene for the first time as more than just a girl."