Witch Hunter (14 page)

‘No need to be nervous just because I know you want your bare bottom spanked,’ the witch said with a smile.

‘I never said I wanted –’

‘I assume you have come here either to interview me for your paper or because you want to be my lover? I suspect you
think
it’s the former but deep down your soul knows it’s the latter. Do you wish to become my lover?’

It was an utterly disarming question and Mimi’s resolve was rapidly being scattered. She had wanted to seize the initiative. She hadn’t quite worked out a viable pretext for being there asking difficult questions without having to admit she was a journalist. She had hoped a bullish approach would put the woman in the corner and have her spilling the beans before she knew what had hit her. However, the witch seemed to be expecting the visit and already knew of Mimi’s trade. Now she was talking about becoming her lover, as if she also knew exactly what her visitor had been fantasising about all the previous night. Blushing furiously and stumbling for an answer was only going to reinforce this conviction, but that’s all Mimi found herself doing. How the hell could she bat this question away and somehow regain the ascendancy?

‘I’m not a lesbian,’ she eventually said, trying to sound curt but in fact sounding hesitant.

‘You don’t have to be a
tribas
, my darling. It is almost impossible for
anyone
not to yearn for the softness of a woman, her gentle nature, her beauty. Females fall for me all the time. Some think I must cast spells upon them. But did you know that heart-stealing magic is the most difficult to perform? Once upon a time it was simple. Nowadays, with all the one-night stands and lies and non-commitment, the heart is so much less easy to fool. It instinctively hides and protects itself. It takes strong magic just to find and touch it. Yes, I have spells to make you dream of me and even to make you come to me. I can make you lust after me as easy as pie, but I want more than that from you. It is your heart I want but I cannot just take it. You have to give it to me. So, what you have to decide is: do you want to give me your heart?’

‘So you admit you’re a witch, then,’ Mimi blurted, unable to say anything else.

‘Ah, yes, I forgot you have so many questions to ask me, for your
exposé
on the Wicked Witch. Well, ask away. Would you like me to put my fingers inside you whilst you do so?’

The words alone were disturbing enough for Mimi, without the addition of the witch’s hand on her knee. Her composure was crumbling fast. She was desperately trying to expel vivid images of her skirt being pulled up past her stocking tops, of her legs open and her eyes shut, of her fluttering breaths and little gasps as she felt the woman’s fingers stirring deeply around inside her. She wanted to say no in answer to the witch’s brazen question, but she knew if she opened her mouth it would only come out as ‘Yes, please’. She tried to sift through her scrambled thoughts to find one of her own questions that she had earlier memorised, but they had all been chased away. She had been rendered mute, giving the witch the opportunity to press home her advantage.

‘Ask me any question you like, my dearest, and I will slide my fingers inside you,’ Morgana was saying, closing in so that Mimi could feel her breath warm against her cheek. ‘It will make the interview so much more pleasurable, don’t you think? It will be your first step towards becoming my sweetheart.’

The hand on Mimi’s thigh was slowly moving upwards, the nails gently grazing the nylon of her stockings to make the skin below tingle. The fingertips came to the hem of her skirt but this proved no barrier. On the hand went, ever so slowly, inside the skirt now, upwards to the thigh. Mimi could summon no words to stop it.

‘To be my lover you must be prepared to give up everything you know. You must give in to darkness and your soul will never be the same again. But our love will be the purest and most exciting of all, and it will last for ever. I will give you pleasures that you cannot even imagine. We will live wild, taking whatever we want from whoever we want. I will nurture you and protect you and feed you, and all you will have to do is anything I say.’

Mimi hadn’t really been listening to the words, too busy willing the fingers that now lay inert on the warm bare thigh just past her stocking top to resume their upward journey. But the words ‘feed you’ had sent a shiver through her and she had emitted a little gasp. The image of the girls suckling hungrily at their Priestess’s breasts came hurtling back. Why was this idea so resonant? God knows she had never felt the desire to taste another woman’s milk before, but now gorging on the witch’s elixir seemed the most sumptuously erotic thought imaginable. Those wonderful firm breasts were now pressing into her own, the witch having responded to Mimi’s gasp and moved closer still.

If she was to regain control of the situation, now was her last chance, but she didn’t have the strength in her legs to stand and break free of the embrace. She didn’t have the willpower or the inclination to tell the witch to stop. She could have just stonewalled the attempted seduction, just proceeded to ask her questions as intended. But to ask any question was to ask for fingers to be buried inside her, and there would be no going back from that. Mimi had nowhere to go, no words to retrieve the situation, no power of resolve over desire. By her own admission the witch was dangerous, but at that moment lust was chasing logic away. So Mimi just shut her eyes and waited for the kiss.

It didn’t quite come. She felt the brush of the witch’s lips upon her own, a feather touch, back and forth three or four times. Mimi realised her lips were pushing out seeking a fuller contact. This was a sure sign that she had already yielded, regardless of what good reason might have told her. Some part of her wanted to believe it was the witch
making
her feel this way. That, at least, would have excused this immediate and utter capitulation. She had an image of herself falling, but she was sure the landing would be soft and she wasn’t scared. Still the witch just kept up her light, teasing contact, occasionally applying just the slightest pressure of her lips to Mimi’s.

If the ploy was to make Mimi desperate for the kiss then it was working. She found herself squirming in her seat, moving her hips forward to bring her crotch into contact with the witch’s fingers. Her skirt was stretched as tight as it would go, so Mimi lifted her bottom slightly and slid the material up her legs to give the witch all the freedom of movement she required. There could be no stronger hint that Mimi wanted this woman to take her. Still it didn’t happen. Mimi was fizzing with the anticipation. She wanted to say it out loud, to give her consent. ‘Fuck me,’ she wanted to say, just like all those porno girls did so freely. ‘Put your fingers inside me and make me come.’

Predictably her thoughts didn’t pass the witch by. The fingertips that had been frustratingly inert since she had pressed her crotch against them suddenly awoke and traced a nail-tip journey up her cotton-covered slit. Mimi exhaled hard and warm into the witch’s open mouth. Teeth closed on her trembling bottom lip and held it momentarily, exerting just a little biting force. Any second now and Mimi would surely feel the tongue in her mouth and the finger sliding inside her. She couldn’t wait. The material at her crotch felt damp and constraining. She could picture it moulded to the curve of her mound, the dark split beneath defined and visible, ready for the taking. So why
wasn’t
it being taken?

‘You have to give in to me first,’ the witch whispered. ‘To be my lover you must first promise to live exactly as I. When you give yourself to me you give yourself to a whole new world, for all time. Many will fear and shun you. Most will think you belong to Satan, not to me. But mine you will be and everything from then on will be about pleasure. You will never know sadness, boredom, grief or loneliness again. All you will know is bliss, and that bliss will never, ever feel any less great than at that exalted time when you first knew it.’

The nails were still tracing tickling lines over her crotch. Mimi parted her thighs wider, hoping to encourage the penetration she was all but crying out for. She knew that while the cotton was stretched taut over her bulge, at her opening the string of the thong would be gathered and wet through, an ineffectual barrier against any invasion. She was ripe for the picking but the witch first wanted her to promise things she couldn’t even comprehend. All this talk of being eternal lovers, of giving in to another life, it was sending her head spinning almost as much as her lust. The witch couldn’t actually mean it, could she? Surely it was just part of some extravagant fantasy? After all, there wasn’t actually any such thing as
magic
, was there? Yet here Mimi was, somehow drawn into the danger against all good sense, transfixed by a female her rampaging desire had no way of resisting, playing with a fire she had no hope of controlling.

The long black nails were on her bareness now. They had found the delicate skin of her pussy and were sending electric tingles deep inside her. She shifted in her seat and pushed her hips forward but the witch was quicker and kept her fingers from slipping inside, ensuring her teasing touch never abated. Mimi’s effort to impale herself upon the finger was met with an amused ‘tut tut’ and a little chiding bite on her bottom lip.

‘I need you to promise yourself to me,’ the witch said. ‘But you have to
mean
it. The magic will never work unless you tell the truth. I need only your promise, that’s all – oh, and of course I need to taste a single drop of blood from your little
landīca
.’

On the final word the witch’s eyes had widened with the excitement of the thought, and her nail had flicked upwards, right over Mimi’s throbbing, sparsely covered clit, demonstrating exactly which part of the anatomy the drop of blood was supposed to come from. Mimi heard her own whimpers but still couldn’t find an ounce of resistance.

‘Don’t be scared,’ the witch was saying, ‘it takes only one little prick – the last you will ever feel at your puss. It won’t hurt much. And it might be only one drop but it will feel like the most wonderful gush you could imagine, like bliss. Then you will be mine and I will pleasure you. Did you know I have the magic to make my tongue feel like it’s all the way up inside you? Think of it, as deep as anything you have ever had, a snake within you! My girls say it’s the best feeling they have ever had.’

Every time Mimi thought she could gain even the slenderest hold on her thoughts or the situation, the witch’s next words rushed such notions away. Now Mimi was totally lost. It was like torture. She knew she was in danger but she wanted this woman beyond all desperation. She would happily have granted anything to have those fingers inside her, had this just been a frivolous game of passion. However, it was not just part of a fantasy. The witch was serious.

How could Mimi
honestly
promise something when she had no comprehension of how to do so, or what that promise entailed? You can’t just say, ‘Yeah, good old Satan, I’m going to start worshipping him from now on!’ Witchcraft, magic, it was all nonsense, wasn’t it? You can’t just suddenly say you believe in it after all. You can’t just suddenly turn bad when all your life has been about being good. The witch was asking Mimi to give her something when the taking of it was impossible.

Perhaps she could get away without making any promises. Ask a question and those fingers would be inside her, that’s what the witch had said. Why then was her usually inquisitive mind unable to summon a single query from the blankness? Mimi knew it was the witch’s doing. It was some kind of spell to make her think more deeply about the situation. It was blackmail to make her consider commitment and love over wantonness. The witch wouldn’t just
fuck
her; she needed some old-fashioned assurances that it would actually
mean
something afterwards, for ever. It should have been a noble idea, but it just drove Mimi mad.

It was teasing of the worst, most frustrating kind, and now it was getting worse still, because the witch was climbing onto Mimi and that irresistible cleavage was being flaunted just inches away. Mimi was being straddled. Her thighs were still open, still forced apart by the witch’s hand between them. The fingers were still at her opening, teasing but not giving her the plunging penetration she so badly needed. The witch was smiling down at her, feinting to kiss then drawing back. Then her free hand was at her dress front, sliding inside the deep V to cup one of those delicious breasts. As the hand came out, the breast came with it, first to be squeezed, then to be freed, to bounce naked, so close to Mimi’s open mouth.

The witch unceremoniously pulled out her other breast and both were bare and fabulously inviting. They proved too much for Mimi. She knew she couldn’t resist and was past caring whether her desire was merely being induced by some kind of witchy spell. She certainly couldn’t wait around for any more provisos to be made to thwart her. She reached up with her mouth, found a nipple and sucked it in to hold it until her hand got there to grasp it firmly. She could picture the girls in her class feasting so hard upon them, and she immediately tried the same. The nipple was erect and long, but didn’t feel as fat in her mouth as she had imagined it in her fantasies the previous evening. It also wasn’t yielding milk as it had in her dreams. No matter how hard she sucked, the longed-for burst of elixir wouldn’t come. It almost made her weep.

Mimi knew she must look desperate, and from the smile on the witch’s face she was enjoying the frustration. Both breasts felt weighty and firm in her hands, like they were full of milk, but nothing would come, however much she squeezed them or pulled at the nipples. To make matters worse the witch went on lightly running her fingernail up and down Mimi’s still covered sex, sending tingling waves through her but not sating her needs.

‘When you are my lover you will be able to drink my elixir,’ said the witch.

More teasing, more blackmail. Mimi understood the implication. The witch clearly knew how intoxicating was the thought of feasting from her, so it was safe to assume this sudden breast fixation was instilled by another magic spell of sorts. She felt rising anger jostling with frustration. She tried some tenderness, swirling her tongue around the teats and then attempting to coax out the liquid with gentle squeezing of the breasts. When that didn’t work she went back to rougher treatment. She pinched each nipple in turn before closing her lips around them and sucking as hard as she could. Still nothing. She bit at them and stretched them taut between her teeth. She felt a sudden hot burst of jealousy at all the young bitches in her class the previous night who had the technique to milk their Priestess where she did not. Why was their sucking so much more efficient than hers? What did they do to deserve the exquisite treat?