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INSIDE THE WITCH'S LAIR - Part Two
I felt the hot sting of a birch whip across my cheek.
‘Now you’re awake you can tell me what you are doing in my woods,’ said the witch.
I couldn’t speak. I rolled and sat up. She stood between two skulls, two human skulls mounted on spikes. Two Skulls, two dead people, but no skull of a child, my boy could still be alive. There I was, bound in the darkness beside the fire, and I felt hope. I felt as if I still might find him alive and unharmed. I tried to break free from the ties. The more I struggled the tighter they became.
‘Speak stranger or I will make you speak.’
‘My son, what have you done with my son?’
She laughed and tossed more wood on the fire. I expected to see some ugly wart ridden hag, but this witch was gorgeous. She was clad in worn black velvet. Her age only added to her earthen beauty, her face was browned by the winter sun, and her blood red lips were gleaming in the fire light.
‘You come into my land and accuse me of kidnapping a child.’
‘They say you kidnapped him.’
‘And you believe the gossip of Suttonsford?’
‘I didn’t but the skulls, who are they?’
‘The first was taken from a paedophile, he preyed upon little girls. The police of Suttonsford were unable to prosecute, for lack of evidence, so he walked free. He paid for his crimes.’
She rattled her nails on the skull.
‘Is that his skull?’
‘Maybe it is, maybe I dug it from a grave.’ said the witch with a smile.
‘What about the homeless man? Surely he didn’t deserve to die?’
‘Did you know him?’
‘No.’ I said.
‘Then you didn’t know how he ended up on the streets of Suttonsford.’
‘Let me guess he was another paedophile?’
‘Not quite, but close, he was a rapist, he raped his wife, and got off without a jail sentence. His family shunned him, and he was sacked from his job. What he did was never forgotten and he paid with his life.’
‘Is that his skull,’
‘I couldn’t say for sure.’
‘What about my son?’
‘What about him? I would never harm a child.’
‘Do you know what happened?’
The witch went off, unamused by his accusations.
‘They blame me for everything that goes wrong, missing pigs, harsh winters, homosexual first born sons, the hog Witch strikes again, but all of those claims are bogus. Sexuality is not changeable by witch craft. The winter does what it wants, I have no power over the seasons. And then there’s the pigs, well I have to own up on that front. I have put diseased pigs to rest, only the ones left to rot in sties without company. Farmers should know better than to leave their pigs to die in agony.
“The hog witch” I thought to myself.
‘But your son well that is different.’
‘What, my son, you know something?’
‘I do know something.’
‘Then tell me bitch, I would give my life to know that he was alive and well.’
‘I know many things but they will cost you, my services are not free.’
‘You have me bound in ropes, you have just confessed to the murders of two men, how could I refuse you.’
‘Hold on, I never confessed to their murders, all I said was they paid for their crimes. These skulls could belong to anyone. My only crime is possession of human remains.’
‘I will do whatever you want just tell me what you know about my son. Is he alive or dead?’
‘Slow down, we have all night. First you must lend me the service of your tongue.’
‘What?’
She let her velvet gown fall to the mud. She had nothing on underneath. There she gestured to her moist bushy lips. I stared up into her milk white thighs. The warm fire shone over her cold erect nipples. I felt the rush of blood. Green fire shone from her eyes. I tried to move, but again the power of my limbs failed me. She moved closer. She pushed me onto my back and squatted over me. Her hair engulfed my mouth. I tasted her lips, I could barely breath. She rose up.
‘Use your tongue.’
‘And after will you tell me all you know?
‘When I am satisfied I will I will tell all.’
‘O.K’
Down she came over my mouth. I stuck my tongue inside her. I felt for the sweet spot. The faster I found it, the faster I could get free. My tongue went up and I found the soft pear of her clit. I worked it as a jeweller works to polish a gem. She began her quiver. The taste of her cunt got to the back of my mouth. A taste you feel rather than taste. The quivering thundered above me and she groaned out in orgasm filling my mouth. I nearly choked and had to swallow it. She rose up over me and pulled her gown loose around her shoulders.
‘Now it’s time to fuck.’
I looked at her and she threw back the gown and smiled.
‘How can I? I am bound from hand to foot.’
‘Lay back and let me.’
‘O.K.’ I said. My enthusiasm rising inside my shorts.
She unzipped my trousers and pulled them away from my waist. I felt the cool earth against my buttocks. I was bound tight in the cold March air. The helplessness and the cold began to weaken my vigour. She blew a powder into my face. Heat flooded through my veins. My cock rose with renewed strength. Once again she squatted over me. This time she slid her flooded bush over my cock. She rose and fell. With a slow pace. The pleasure overrode my fear of the dark. She moaned as she worked herself to another climax. I was tripping from the powder. Her face aged with each thrust, when she breathed out she was young again. As her pleasure rose, her face turned from that of a woman to a sow, to a red dragon, to a she-wolf, to a spider. Her pace quickened. I could see nothing but two milk white breasts against my face. The touch of her breast bouncing was the final pleasure before the end. When I blew my seed inside her she returned to her original form. She carried on with the last of my erection and thundered out another orgasm. Then she rose up off my cock and stood between the skulls.
‘Now I will tell you all I know.’
The witch built up the fire casting warm pearl-red light over the clearing. She brought a kettle from the darkness let it boil. She poured the water into a pot filled with herbs and mushrooms. The aroma was mud-clean and fragrant. She brought out a wooden cup and filled it. She took a gulp when it had cooled and offered it to me.
‘No thank you,’ I said. ‘I don’t feel like tripping again.’
‘That’s no way to thank a lady after she has just fucked you. Drink it, the night is running out.’
‘Tell me what you know about my son, then I’ll drink whatever you want.’
‘No, you drink first, then I tell you.’
I drank the tea and it filled me with warmth and joy. Then I felt a strange sensation, the trees around the fire began to wriggle like snakes, they danced in the light of the fire. Stars above the canopy came down and shone like street lamps. The witch rose up as tall as the trees and a silver light shone from her hair.
‘What do you wish to know?’ she said in gorgon rage. Her voice turned deep and devilish.
‘My son, what happened to my son. Do you know who took him, is he still alive.’
‘Your son is dead,’ said the Witch.
I roared out in pain. I roared until my throat ripped and then I felt silent.
‘Who killed him?’
‘You did?’ said the witch.
‘No.’
‘Yes, you killed him the moment you walked away from him. He needed you, and you left him alone. I spoke at length with Sandra, she told me he used to just sit there and stare into space after you left. He needed you and you were off enjoying yourself, living like a Batchelor, even though you had a son who needed you. It killed him long before he was taken, and maybe if you had been there for him once a week, instead of once a year, he may not have wandered off from his mother.’
‘Where did he wander off.’
‘He left home one warm Saturday morning. He got up at five A:M, kissed his mother goodbye and came into the woods. I watched him, and I led back, but once I had got him to the edge of the woods I could go no further. I told him to go straight home, he did, but when he reached the church, a car pulled up and a man grabbed him and drove off. That is all I know.’
‘Who took him?’
‘I don’t know, the car was black, a four by four. It could have been someone in Suttonsford, but it could easily have been someone passing through. I don’t know anymore.’
‘Why didn’t you take him to Sandra?’
‘I can’t leave these woods, to leave is to die.’
‘Why can’t you?’
‘Because I am witch, and the land beyond these woods is poison.’
‘How did you meet Sandra if you couldn’t leave the woods?’
‘She came looking for mushrooms with Malcom.’
I broke down and cried into the flames. The witch built the fire up into an inferno and I passed out.
I woke up as the cold of morning ached my bones. I saw the dawn light burn through the leafless trees. The witch was gone. The birds sang with fury. I shivered. The skulls were gone, so were my fetters. The only thing left was the beech wood embers smouldering in the dew. It smelt sweet and fresh, it brought a feeling of closeness to the earth. I stood up. My son was gone with the memory of the witch. As I made my way back to town. I saw the first flowers of spring had popped out of the garlic. Little white woodland flowers. The sun shone and the land began to warm. The first day of spring. I had got the answer I needed. My son was gone, taken by a monster in a black car. My search of the woods was over.
Published 30th Mar 2023
| Edited 31st Mar 2023
Author's Note
This is the final part of the Trail of the Witch. It is not to be taken too seriously. It's pulp fiction. For some reason I decided to have the main character tied up and fucked in the woods by a witch. I have been writing stories for a long time. I am done with trying to keep them serious. This is my take on a concept. Normally it's the woman getting tied up. But in this case it's the man.
I was inspired by Zazzels: Witch Patch series, and Kristinax's poem: Standing at the gates of Hell.
I may or may not do a reading but this is it for this series.
I was inspired by Zazzels: Witch Patch series, and Kristinax's poem: Standing at the gates of Hell.
I may or may not do a reading but this is it for this series.
All writing remains the property of the author. Don't use it for any purpose without their permission.
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30th Mar 2023 8:51pm
Riveting read, never let's up.
I commend you on your story telling prowess.
BIG
I commend you on your story telling prowess.
BIG
31st Mar 2023 2:41pm
Hi,
Thanks for reading such a large piece. I am glad you liked it.
Regards
James
Thanks for reading such a large piece. I am glad you liked it.
Regards
James
30th Mar 2023 9:27pm
Totally agree with PoetSpeak. Riveting read and every word held my attention. A lot of excitement... I really enjoyed the encounter with the witch. You really know how to create a scene James. ;) Definitely took me there. Really great storytelling... I still need to go back and read the previous one.
31st Mar 2023 2:43pm
Hi,
Thanks for reading such a large piece. I had to write this. I am Glad you enjoyed the witch.
Regards
James
Thanks for reading such a large piece. I had to write this. I am Glad you enjoyed the witch.
Regards
James
31st Mar 2023 7:38pm
I hope you're considering entering this series into a short story competition or two, I come across lots of them on Instagram.
1st Apr 2023 8:38pm
Hi,
Thank you for reading. I wrote the Witch story for the poets of DUP. I am forever getting rejection from online magazines and competitions. It takes its toll on my fragile mind. I am glad that people read my work here. The Gram is a strange thing I have yet to get on. I am already addicted to Youtube, and DUP, so I am weary of media. Thanks for the words of encouragement.
Regards
James
Thank you for reading. I wrote the Witch story for the poets of DUP. I am forever getting rejection from online magazines and competitions. It takes its toll on my fragile mind. I am glad that people read my work here. The Gram is a strange thing I have yet to get on. I am already addicted to Youtube, and DUP, so I am weary of media. Thanks for the words of encouragement.
Regards
James
