As a dutiful daughter and the youngest of five sisters, I have six times witnessed the wretched state of a woman in marriage. It is a life wasted in the pretense that children will make him kind, patience will make him sober and forgiveness will make him faithful. So, with this knowledge, I spent my youth in our farming village pleading that my parents might permit me to join the convent. They had no time for my begging and declined my request without consideration. My match, it seemed, had been made in my early childhood. I was to be a wife.

Aside from the nuns, I knew only of one woman who was free of the shackles of marriage. She went by many names, none of them flattering, and lived in the dense forest, just beyond the river that turned the wheel of our mill. They said she had made a deal with a demon, and lived as a sorceress or a fortune-teller or an oracle. They said that men that lay with her never begot sons even when they returned to their wives. They called her a whore and a harlot, but I could tell that even the strongest men were afraid of her. I wanted them to fear me too.

But the forest at night is not a safe place for a slight young girl; such as I was then. In fact, had I known the true dangers that lurked there, perhaps I might never have run there for shelter. I knew of bears, wandering spirits and slithering serpents; but not of were-wolves, or blood shadows or sleepless nymphs. It was not until the morn of my wedding that I fled, tear-stricken into the thick pine forest, bitter with anger towards my family, and terrified to be dragged back home.

I ran breathlessly through the tall, closely packed trees, staying off the path, though always keeping it just in sight through the thin grey mists. I was dressed for the festivities, in white sleeveless dress that came almost to my bare feet and my straw colored hair braided with wild flowers. Soon the dress was stained with moss and mud as I tripped and fell over on stray roots and hidden stones. The fabric was soon damp with cold fog and trickling sweat. My feet were cut and bruised and encrusted with dirt, the palms of my hands pressed with pine needles that gathered with every fall. But I never stopped to dust myself off or feel my pains; I only got up again and ran faster. Far in the distance behind me I could hear my name being called.

Until the light began to fade, and voices too disappeared. I was exhausted. My whole body screaming that I should stop and rest. I didn’t dare. The new sounds of the forest at night were terrifying; shrill howls of creatures in great pain and thin mournful singing in unidentifiable languages. I saw a chink of orange light up ahead. Relief flooded me. I was almost there.

The cottage was low, windowless and built of grey limestone, with a roof of shrivelled bracken and dried heather. Strongly scented smoke rose in wavering coils from the clay chimney pot. The solitary light that I had seen shone from a cast iron lantern fixed above the battered wooden door. A grey mizzling drizzle fell. I made my last shaky steps up to the doorway, almost too weak to stand. I gave a small polite rap on the door – then hearing another ugly animal sound – thumped on it frantically.

“Please let me in!” I cried. Truly cried, tears streamed down my face. I was tired, cold, frightened and thirsty. My body trembled in the now transparent fabric of my wet dress.

The door swung open. But nobody seemed to be there. An empty wooden chair faced a strong smelling fire burning brightly in the hearth. Gingerly, I moved closer to the fire in search of some heat. I eyed the room warily, making out the vague shapes of a kitchen table, a bed frame and a tattered cupboard.

I didn’t see her, rather, I sensed her. Although the room appeared empty, it never felt that way. She seeped slowly into my awareness; I knew that she was a woman. I knew that she was very old. I knew that she meant me no harm. I knew all this without having the faintest idea of her location or form. Eventually, after some time, I realized that I had been looking at every spot in the room except the one where she was stood. As if my mind had not been able to understand that that place have existed until she allowed it to.

“Oh!” I exclaimed, as she suddenly came into clear focus. She didn’t look old – no more than thirty – and was tall with a proud posture and fullness of figure. A deep red dress clung close to her shapely body and streams of jet-black hair cascaded over her shoulders. Her jewel-like blue eyes glinted through her dark tresses. At her breast hung a pendant made from a carved animal bone.

“Little Bride,” her voice was strong, yet kindly, “There is no coven here for you to join. I can’t smell a drop of magic on you. I’m sorry, you must go.” Desperation filled me and I threw myself on my knees at her feet.

“Please, I need your help, I can not go back now. They will think me a witch even if I am not one. I heard there are deals you can make. Bargains that can be struck with demons.”

She looked at me pityingly.

“But do you understand the nature of such exchanges? You only have one thing a demon would want Little Bride, and I am afraid it is not your soul.”

I balled my hands into fists and stared straight into her glittering eyes.

“I can loose my purity under my husband and have my power stripped from me, or I can loose my purity under a demon and emerge powerful. That seems like a straightforward enough choice to me.”

She smiled in spite of herself.

“You are a bold one Little Bride, perhaps we will make a witch of you yet.”

And so I rose from the floor, determined to win my own magic.

xxxxx

“Your family will no doubt set off back into the forest to capture you at first light, we must be swift in preparing and performing the ritual, you will need your magic before daybreak.” Kasita, the witch, explained the summoning spell to me as she washed the mud from my feet in a large copper pan. She rubbed sweet scented ointment into my many minor injuries.

“What must I do?”

“You will need to draw a pentagram within a circle of salt. I cannot help you with this, you must perform the whole ritual yourself or there is the risk that the powers will partly or wholly transfer to me instead.” She gestured for me to stand and I did so. Then she moved to slip my dress over my head – I stopped her.

“Little Bride, you cannot expect this to work if you are so attached to the notion of modesty.” She chided. I lifted my arms obediently and she lifted the sodden fabric from my body, hanging it to dry by the fireplace. She regarded my youthful body for a moment; my long, elegant legs; my slim, girlish hips and my pert breasts with their milky white flesh and their rosy pink nipples. She continued her teaching, while washing the remaining dirt from my body with a wet rag, “You must light candles at the five corners of the pentagram, sit safely in the center of the circle and recite the summons perfectly. You’re lucky that this spell is in your native tongue, otherwise I would not even let you try.” I gasped, as she rubbed the cloth across the point of my nipple. She ignored me. “Lastly, the demon will try to tempt, frighten or force you out of the circle, so that he will not need to fulfill his side of the bargain. You must not yield.” I nodded firmly.

“I will not yield. I will stay in my circle.” At that moment, she began to rub her wet cloth against the thatch of hair between my thighs. I was frozen in place.

“Now, I know you have no experience of men, but you need to know how to become relaxed and aroused, or this shall be thrice the ordeal that it ought to be.” I didn’t move or say a word as the moist fabric worked to part my inner lips and move against my entrance. “How you are now is no good, you are too stiff. You need to sink into it, become malleable.” I couldn’t will myself to relax, but as she moved her friction to my little bud, my body gave an involuntary tremble. “That’s it,” she soothed, “Follow those feelings, let them soften you,” She dipped the rag into the sweet water, then once it was saturated, wrung the water out over my breasts, so that it ran down in meandering rivers over my stomach to my sex, then dripped from my lips to my thighs. Then she again pressed her scrap of wet fabric to my sheath, persisting in grinding it back and fourth over my waking clit. I let my eyes slip shut and tried only to experience the strange pleasure. Kasita’s fingers, soft from her oils and the perfumed water slid gently between the petals of my rose. I flinched away slightly. She stopped.

“He will not be gentle with you Little Bride, if this is too much for you, you ought go home to your husband.” Alarmed, I took hold of her hand and brought it back to rest between my folds. She smiled, satisfied with my decision.

Her fingers traced delicate outlines over my slowly swelling clit, and around the edges of my opening, until my moisture sprang fourth. She spread my wetness with her thumb over my tender bud, while those gentle fingers stretched and explored my slit. Then sunk, silky and slow, inside my narrow chamber. Her fingertips fluttered at my dimpled roof – and while I twisted and shuddered slightly, I did not squirm away. Warm tingling tendrils of newly felt pleasure spread from the spot that she excited, so that my clit tingled and a low heat built in my stomach.

Then with her two deft fingers neatly tucked together, she started to pound into me. Plunging her fingers in and out of me. I was suddenly breathless, just standing still on my wobbly legs took enormous effort, as filled me over and over. Peculiar, beautiful heat rose through my body and I moaned with abandon as it swept through my skin. Beads of my arousal dripped like perspiration down the inside of my thigh. I felt my body reaching for… something. But pleased with my apparent progress, Kasita retrieved her fingers and rinsed them in the water.

“You are as ready as you can be this night. I will stand guard over the cottage outside in case any of the villagers are foolish enough to wander the forest after nightfall. It is time now, gather your strength.”

***

The weather outside had worsened, with cold rain falling in sheets and a weathering gale battering the tiny cottage. I had never been taught to read, but I copied the illustration in Kasita’s leather-bound book, painting the strange symbols onto the stone-flagged floor with a white pulp made from bird’s droppings, lichen and crushed chalk. With my pentagram mapped out, I set the stubby beeswax candles in place and carefully sprinkled the course sea salt from its frayed sack. The wind blew plenty strong enough to whistle through the wooden door, scattering the grains and breaking my circle, reducing my flaming candles to mere embers on their wicks. Perhaps it wouldn’t work? I persevered, tipping the kitchen table onto its side to act as a shelter from the wind. It wasn’t perfect, but I feared daybreak would be difficult to anticipate in the harsh weather and hastened to begin.

I sat, cross-legged and nude in the center of my protective circle. My body gave an occasional shudder in the chill, and goosebumps covered my bare flesh. The incantation was simple and repetitive. In exchange for a witch’s magic, I offer my body for the pleasure of the Prince of the Azure. I offer my body for the pleasure of the Prince of Azure, in exchange for a witch’s magic.

I whispered it at first, feeling foolish speaking with no-one present, but as the gale roared louder I found myself shouting simply to be able to hear myself. Upon my seventh recital of the mantra, the candles withered and the wind hushed itself to silence. There was only the sound of the rain on the roof. I strained my eyes through the pitch black. Was this right?

Two dazzling yellow eyes, with the elliptical pupils of a cat, burst open, and the whole cottage was bathed in strange orange light.

I had imagined the demon as a man with a ram’s horns or a wolf’s teeth. Instead, the Prince was a true monster – barely human. A huge hulking beast, covered in smooth midnight blue skin. He towered over me. What looked at first to be a heavy cape fastened at his shoulders, on closer inspection was in fact a pair of giant leathery bat’s wings.

His board chest was marked with intricate scarification patterns, disrupted, here and there, by uglier scars that looked like the remnants of battle wounds. His whole torso rippled with exaggerated muscles.

His face, despite being large and unnerving, was undeniably handsome, with a square jaw, a broad – and at least once broken – nose, and thick, sumptuous lips in an even deeper hue of blue. His scalp was bald, and his ears, which were filled with rows of golden rings, came to elfin points.

The palm of his hand could cover my whole face and each finger boasted a band of gold. His nails were black, thick and shiny as if made from polished obsidian.

Yet, even which such an outrageous appearance, I could not prevent my eye from settling on the spectacle of the demon’s manhood. It swung freely, without cover, between his powerful legs. The shaft was a long and thick, with a band of hammered gold encircling the base. It looked completely impossible to accommodate. His hairless sacks hung below, looking swollen.

His bright amber eyes gleamed through the darkness, lighting whatever he cast his gaze upon; so that when he examined my body, I didn’t just imagine feeling his eyes on me. Rather, I saw the path of the beam of light travel up and down my naked form, lingering on my still damp patch of hair, and my nipples, stiff with cold. Remembering Kasita’s words, I resisted the urge to cover my body with my hands.

“Little Witch,” the demon’s voice was otherworldly, unfamiliarly accented, deep and rich, “You have summoned me here to make an irreversible exchange; do you understand that?”

“Yes,” I whispered. Fear took hold of me now I had seen what I must endure.

“The power that you gain will be yours to hone and refine, it may be very weak or even too strong to control at first, you understand this too?”

“Yes, I understand.” I said more firmly, lifting my chin and holding myself a little taller. I clenched my fists tightly.

“Then I shall take you Little Witch,” he offered me his huge hand, “Come here to me,” I remained still.

“Do you think me so foolish?” I said, putting my hands on my nude hips and sounding much braver than I felt. He chuckled heartily.

“You are a fierce Little Witch! No, I do not think you foolish, but it is a demon’s duty to coax a maiden into his clutches, I would shame my ilk if I were not to go through the motions.”

His smile was surprisingly warm, but I knew better than to trust him. I gave a small nod with a clenched jaw.

He bowed his head graciously.

“I will enter your circle at your invitation. There, our deal shall be binding.” He inclined his head again.

I drew a deep breath and swept my stray tresses from my face. For a moment, the heavy rain lashing the roof of the cottage roof was again the only sound to be heard.

“I invite you to enter,” These were the final words of the spell and in a single step, he crossed the threshold of my pentagram.

“Strictly speaking,” The Prince stood inches from me now, his lips close to my ear, I felt his breath tickle my lobe and the faint heat radiating from his huge body, “The ritual is only completed when I fill your cunny with my seed. Get on your knees Little Witch. I am barely summoned once a century and plan to enjoy you in every way possible before I leave here.”

In my naivety, understanding did not dawn immediately. I lowered myself, uneasily, onto my knees. My gaze drew level with the heft of his member, which was, to my shock and awe, twitching and growing even larger before my eyes.

“In every way?” I whispered breathlessly.

“In every way.” He confirmed. His large hand caught hold of my chin and he stroked the blushing flesh of my cheek with his thumb. Then he ran his thumb along the jutting bottom lip of my slightly open mouth. He pressed the print of his blue thumb gently into the wet of my mouth, brushing against my tongue. Understanding crept into my mind. This was practice. Nervously, I lapped the tip of my tongue against his thumb – which he then pressed deeper into my mouth. Uncertain, I looked up to his face, but he only raised his eyebrows expectantly. Closing my eyes, I sealed my lips around him and suckled. As I did so, thoughts were occurring in my mind that had ever occurred before. My anxiety began to ease, my initial fright replaced with curiosity. How would it feel? How would it taste? Would I like it?

The Prince freed his thumb, and again, I gazed up at him wide eyed. He lifted his solid thickness in his huge hand, so that the tip was level with my mouth, at first, he only stroked the silky blue skin against the softness of my cheek. Then he smeared it, and the liquid that now seeped from it, across my lips. The fluid was like molten gold, amber coloured, hot and glowing. It contrasted startlingly against the blue of skin. He traced the curve of my mouth with his oozing head, coating my lips in his gold, marking me as the second ring for his huge cock.

His other hand wrapped around the back of my head, his fingers tangling in my hair, holding me securely in place as he inched his trembling length, slowly, firmly into my small wet mouth. He tasted like ocean water, but sharper. Still strangely inquisitive, I sucked softly at the foreign features, exploring his form with my tongue, lingering on the curved ridges, raised veins and especially the weeping eye at the tip. He gave a deep groan of appreciation. Then rammed his cock deeper into my mouth, I flinched with surprise, but his hand on my skull meant I was pinned in place. He moved me back and fourth along his shuddering erection, until I began to bob my head back and fourth myself. He moaned with pleasure again, and sense of pride and satisfaction filled me. He was pleased with me. He’d looked at my naked body and liked what he saw. He was going to make me strong and powerful and I was willing to fulfill his every desire in return.

My curiosity was transforming into longing. How would this colossal dripping beast feel buried deep inside me? I felt him, hot and fierce between my lips and thought of Kasita’s sweet fingers coaxing divinity from my flesh. I pressed two of my fingers cautiously against my little bud, to find that it was a flower in full bloom with dewy petals. The moment that I parted my folds with my fingers the heady scent of my arousal filled the room. I coiled my free hand around the gold ring at the base of his monster. I wriggled my little fingers into my cunny, finding it slick and ready to receive them. We both moaned low, our sounds swirling together, tumbling with the re-surging storm outside. Wholly giving in to the strangeness and terror and thrill of it all. I was sucking wantonly on the Prince’s demonic cock and fucking myself frantically.

I flicked my eye up to pin him with an “I’m ready for you” stare. He came apart the second that our eyes met, spasming wildly, firing white-hot lava against the back of my throat, making a dark, guttural sound like a growl. He held my face closer against his crotch, so that I couldn’t back away. My mouth fell open as I struggled for air, golden milk running down my jaw and splashing on my breasts. There was so much of it and I tried to swallow the volcanic liquid simply to be able to breathe again. His mighty hand clasped tightly on my shoulder as he steadied himself. He fished himself from my slippery lips and threw his final spurt across my already shimmering breasts. I was draped in gold. It dripped down my neck and stomach like chains and beads.

For a moment, we were silent in the storm. Then the Prince laughed quietly before remarking,

“I have had little witches who did not resist, and witches who thought pleasing me would mean I wouldn’t go back on my word, but never one who wished to please herself.” He smiled good-naturedly, “But I hope,” he continued, “That you do not think that I am in any way finished with you.”

He lifted me easily from the floor, and then grasping my hips, he hoisted me high above his head. I squealed with astonishment, wrapping my legs around the back of his solid neck to feel anchored. Still holding my hips, he lowered my moist snatch close to his face. He paused. He took a deep breath, engulfed by my scent.

“Your little virgin cunt is gushing for me, Witch,” he said, in a tone that seemed torn between a deep-seated disgust and an awestruck wonder. I blushed with discomfort, but made no denials. He was looking at my vulva; fascinated, those ethereal beams of sunlight streaming from his eyes. I grew wetter under his gaze.

Softly, he pressed his lips against the lily-white skin of my inner thigh. He drew back. He kissed my other thigh. Trembling with a hopeless anticipation, I was scared even to breathe lest he change his mind. He brought his mouth within half an inch of my aching clit. Please, I thought. His wide tongue slashed across my sodden slit. I gasped. The ripple of pleasure was only momentary, but all consuming. I waited. Again, his tongue whipped over my inner lips, satisfying my intense craving for a fraction of a second. I whimpered wordlessly. The Prince smiled smugly. The third lick was quicker, over almost before it started.

“Please,” I finally whispered, unable to bare it any longer.

“Please what, Little Witch?”

“Please…” I could not articulate the things I can tell you now. I didn’t have either the vocabulary, or the presence of mind. I just knew that I wanted. Not what. Not why.

“If you don’t tell me what you want, I can’t be expected to know what it is,” he mocked, eyes glinting. I rocked my hips towards his face a little, trying to express my need.

“Please… lick my…”

He still teased me.

“Lick your…?” A devilish smile lit up the Prince’s face. “Oh, I know…”

At first, I thought that my unexplained wish was to be granted, but to my utter horror, it was not my dripping sex that his broad tongue slithered over. He probed, completely unabashed, at my anus with slow deliberate strokes of his tongue, followed by a flurry of much quicker movements. It felt beautiful. I was so sensitive in that place, that I felt even the smallest flicker like it was a lightning bolt. From my lips fell a stream of murmured babble, odd curse words, prayers and mis-remembered fragments of the summoning spell. I wiggled and squirmed with both pleasure and acute embarrassment.

The Prince stopped. When I dared to meet his eye, his facial expression had changed. It was harder. Hungrier.

He pulled me away from his hulking torso and half-dropped me back in the circle, on my hands and knees, facing away from him. Looking over my shoulder, I saw that his spent cock had awoken, and stood, proud and ready as before. He took a step forward, so that he straddled my buttocks. My anus tingled and my vulva still pleaded for fulfillment. Would he take me now?

“Tell me what you want Little Witch,” he grunted, as one of his enormous hands reached artlessly between my legs, cupping my damp thatch, pawing at my throbbing clit and working rough circles around it. His other hand clawed at my hip, gripping it tightly.

“I… I want…” My thoughts dissolved completely as he burnt friction into my desperate sex. He wormed his thick finger bluntly inside. I cried out. His single finger was much, much wider than both of Kasita’s. He stretched me, almost to the point of pain, delving into my slit without much delicacy. The thumb I had sucked earlier rested, perfectly still, but impossible to ignore on the puckered entrance of my rear.

“What do you want you little whore in heat? Tell me what you want, or I’m just going to do whatever I want to you. You might not like that.” His voice was fraught and dangerous sounding, as though he was struggling to maintain his own self-control.

He wedged a second finger into my sheath, filling me totally and painfully. I squirmed helplessly, full of confusion as the pain and the pleasure fought each other for dominance. Every time I moved into the pain, I ground my sweetest internal spot over his fingertips and was racked with ecstasy. My body was burning for him. He pounded me relentlessly, and though I tried to tell him what I wanted, my breath was ragged and mind on the edge of oblivion.

“I want – your – deep – inside – I want – your – I – need-” I struggled to blurt out. Soon my sounds fell back into animalistic moans of delight. I expected him to haul me up onto his throbbing cock immediately, but instead, he slung the weight of his gold tipped dick onto the slightly parted crevice between the blushing cheeks of my pert bottom. I pressed back against its glorious heat, eager to feel it sliding deep into my wet cunt as soon as possible.

He pushed his thumb into the dip where it rested, massaging the area, working the spilled gold that now dribbled between my cheeks into the tight knot and surrounding skin. My nerves were alight, sensation coursing through my most intimate places. He kneaded the tip of his thumb slowly into my rear, gradually parting the flesh, penetrating me to his knuckle, slowly slipping back out, then repeating. My hole was soon slippery and accepting and I found myself pushing back against his thumb. Just as I was learning that I liked this strange experience, he slipped his thumb out of me. Still pounding my canal with his big fingers, he maneuverer his great, glistening hardness to push firmly into my hole. Once his head was neatly inside, he withdrew his pumping fingers and roughly grabbed both of my narrow hips.

“Do you want this Little Witch?” he growled, as my anus squeezed his tip tightly.

I was frightened and in some discomfort, but I was also burning with the desire to know how it would feel, and to have added another new thrilling memory to my night as the Prince’s plaything.

“Y-yes,” I managed to stutter, “I want this,”

He needed no further encouragement, immediately proceeding to tunnel his way, slowly, steadily, but resolutely, into my passage. I moaned, tilting and adjusting, trying to take his whole monstrous length. I reveled in the full feeling, but felt my cunny pulsing with jealously. Occasionally, he would pause, making low, dark noises, or backing a little way out before pressing on forwards again. When I felt the cool of the golden ring on his shaft pressed close against my opening and knew I had finally managed to house his whole hot shaft. He let out a long satisfied groan.

Then he picked me up by my hips, so that I almost fell down as all of my weight was transferred suddenly to my wobbly arms. His huge hands wrapped themselves around my upper thighs. He thrust himself, hard and rough, in and out of my hole, getting faster with each stroke. At first it felt harsh and unpleasant, but as he went on, it became much more bearable, his seed and sweat mixing to make me much more pliable. Perspiration gathered in the small of my back and my heart hammered in my chest as he continued to fuck me. I panted with quick shallow breaths as just holding myself in place on his spasming cock and my spindly arms took enormous effort. His dangling sacks slapped hard against my begging sex, meeting my hot, wet slit with every punishing thrust. The slaps marked his urgent rhythm. Slap. Slap. Slap. Slap. And my throaty utterances soon fell in time.

“Ah! Ah! Ah! Ah!” I squealed more loudly with every shuddering, labored motion of his pumping hips, feeling him shake with desire at my every sound. Then he shot his stream of endless gold into me, holding me tight against his wildly pulsing erection, until his primal urges were sated.

But my urges were not. My cunny cried out for touching and tasting and fucking. Besides, we had a deal to conclude. Released from his impaling, I turned to face him.

“Oh, you dirty little whore witch,” he groaned, his eyes roaming my body explicitly once more, “I don’t think you can wait as long as my body needs you to.”

He pressed the palms of his midnight blue hands tightly together and whispered words in an unfamiliar tongue. When his hands broke apart, a glittering beam of moonlight was stretched between his palms. He kept his eye fixed on me, as he manipulated the moonlight between his fingers, until it was almost like liquid. Then he smeared the strange water-like light over his exhausted, stained dick. The result was fascinating. The gleam cleaned away the gold, juices and filth and his shaft swelled once more – in fact, it continued to swell – growing even larger than it had been previously.

He swept my body with his orange gaze, making a low rumbling sound of renewed desire as he prowled around the edge of the pentagram, examining my body from every angle.

“It’ll almost be a shame to fuck your delicious cunt Little Witch, I have deeply enjoyed our time together.” His hand reached out to trace the outline of my breast with a single finger. I shivered, but lent in towards his hand. “Maybe I won’t ever fuck your cunt. Maybe I’ll just keep you here in this circle forever. Fucking your mouth,” he ran his black nail over my trembling lip, “And your ass,” he slapped my left buttock with his open palm and I whimpered, “And your tits.” He wrapped his blue hands around my white, gold-dusted breasts and squeezed them hard.

“T-tits?” I asked, confused.

“Tits.” He said matter-of-factually, then lent in close to whisper in my ear, “I’d have you lie down on the on the floor, your body burning so hot and wanting against the cold stone. And I’d straddle your tiny perfect body, so that my new cock rested in the valley of your breasts, its head sitting on the wet of your mouth. And I’d have you hold those lovely tits close together, and squeeze the nipples tightly, while I fucked them.” His hand had reached once more into my sodden folds and I moaned instantly. “But I’m not going to do that now my Little Witch Whore, because I can feel your desperate, aching heat all wet and ready for me and its consuming me whole. Its all I’ve been able to think about from the moment that you summoned me. It was everything I could do not to take you in the very first moment.” He toyed with my swollen clit and his lips fell to my neck, kissing, licking and biting like a lover.

“Please my Prince,” I said softly, “Please, put your… cock… in my…” I barely whispered the final ugly syllable, “Cunt.”

His nostrils flared, but that was his only hesitation. He lifted me from the ground in the impossible strength of his muscular arms and suspended me upon the very tip of his massive manhood. I wrapped my legs tightly around his waist, grasped his shoulders in my hands, then slid, luxuriously about on the bulbous head, coating it in my balm and sighing with the pleasure of it.

Until I slipped, slick and creamy, down, ever deeper, onto his stiff, thick shaft. Moaning and clenching my walls as I settled at the point where I could not take even a tiny bit more. He stretched and broke me, but the pain barely registered as my burning need grew. I had thought that all I needed was to have him deep inside my cunny, but it wasn’t enough. I needed to be fucked. I needed to fuck.

We pumped our hips in rapid unison, his thrusting upwards to fill me, mine grinding down him, squirming and bouncing to satisfy my blazing hot spot. My fingers dug into his midnight flesh, adding to the marks on his skin. The sounds I made. Banshee wails that shook the cottage and drowned out the onslaught of the storm.

My clit seemed to hum; the walls of my canal pulsed and squeezed completely out of my control. I could feel its approach. That elusive feeling I had been chasing.

That heat that had been raging intensely in my clit and vulva sparked through my whole body, devouring my flesh, blasting through my nerves, rattling my bones. Sweat poured down my back. Eyes closed and panting, I ground my sex upon his as if for my very life. His bat’s wings burst open. Their span filling the width of the room with their black-blue silhouette. I felt –

“Ahh!”

Then there was bliss. Oblivion.

The storm. The stars.

And I floated there, in my rapture.

Feeling his molten gold fill me. Feeling my power fill me. The magic weaving itself into my nerves and veins. I opened my eyes and I could see it. Golden capillaries glowing under the milk of my skin.

My breath had been knocked out of me, but I soon found it again. I floated, slowly gently down, like a leaf on a breeze.

Until I was standing, strong and powerful in the center of my pentagram. Alone.

A witch.

THE END OF CHAPTER ONE