In the Witch's Lair By Reynaerde ----------------------------------------------------------- Jarek stumbled along the path, his swaying lantern casting frightful shadows behind every bush and stump. His friends had gone home come dusk, but the drink had made him overstay. Well, the drink and the milkmaid with the bodice her breasts almost spilled out of. But alas, she had proven more prudish than he’d hoped, and now he had no place to sleep but his own bed. Suddenly the wind picked up, briefly, in a strong gust, throwing his cap to the ground. He stooped to pick it up, but could swear he heard something behind him. Wolves? Bandits? He whirled around, caught his foot on a rock, and promptly fell on his ass with an embarrassing thud. At least he didn’t drop the lantern. He wanted to say that the first thing he noticed about her was her figure, or her scandalous dress, or the broom… or the hat. But the most obvious thing about her was that she was a cat in human form, almost as black as the night around her, with shining green eyes. A cat, and a witch. Fear clutched at his heart as she stared at him hungrily. ‘Stay away from me!’ He half yelled, half slurred at her, fumbling for the knife at his belt with his free hand. She cocked her head, raised an eyebrow, and made a small gesture with her hand. The knife was wrenched from his grip by an invisible force and arced off into a nearby tree, where it stuck. He briefly considered if he could pay her off, but even stuck halfway between panic and drunkenness, he could figure out that wouldn’t work. ‘What do you want?’ He stammered. Her voice came out as a playful, purring growl. ‘You, of course.’ ‘What? Why?’ ‘You’ll see.’ Her lips parted in a smile, and the lantern-light gleamed off sharp, predatory teeth. She whipped open her cape, and the world went dark. Or darker. He ached as if he’d been bound, though there were no marks. Jarek thought she might have trussed him up like a pig and hung him beneath her broom for the flight back to her lair. He had no idea where he was. The room was large, irregular, and round. It looked like it might be the inside of a giant tree. That made sense. He’d heard witches lived deep in the forest. The walls were lined with shelves that held books, jars, strange objects, all profanely magical, no doubt. Candles of various colors, shapes, and strange symbols on them burned, seemingly placed at random. One was even on a stack of books. They produced an array of bewildering smells. They weren’t needed for the light, because overhead was a collection of floating, glowing orbs pretending to be a chandelier. The entire place was a wise woman’s hut writ large. ‘He’s awake!’ The cat’s voice startled Jarek. She came down the staircase that circled the room. Now, in the full light, he could see her clearly. She was large, taller than him, and voluptuous. Her breasts, larger than the milkmaid’s, were only barely contained by a small, leather corset etched with arcane symbols. She wasn’t fat like a noblewoman, but she had an ample belly and ampler buttocks. A set of small chains at her waist held a narrow piece of cloth she wore to cover herself. There was more cloth in her hat than in her clothing. But, the smart part of Jarek’s brain reasoned, you didn’t need a lot of clothing if you were already cover in fur, and not many pockets if you had magic. She had fully descended the stairs, now, and stood before him. No boots on her paws, either. ‘Are you going to show me the goods?’ ‘What?’ She sighed. ‘Still in the “what” stage, are you?’ The witch snapped her fingers, and Jarek felt his clothing fall off him, neatly cut at the seams. Instinctively, he covered himself, but the witch only laughed. ‘I’ve already seen it, you know? You’re just the average village bumpkin. Bit of a beer gut, average dick no matter how big you think it is. Actually, I think yours is slightly smaller than average, but maybe I’ve just been taking them big. Strong arms from all the field work. I do like that.’ She suddenly came closer in two large strides, and clasped his head between her hands. He felt the claws come out. She looked him intently in the eye, and he could smell her fur. ‘What I want is in here. You know, Jarek. You’ve always known. You’re different. Sick. You want to do things the priests wouldn’t approve of. You’ve never told anyone, but I know. I can smell it on you.’ She wrinkled her nose, and the look in her eye changed. ‘And some other stuff, too. You need a bath.’ Of course, the witch didn’t do her own scrubbing. She had him stand in a large tub while a floating sponge and back scrubber circled him as she simply reclined in a luxurious chair. Her gaze was piercing, predatory. Jarek was exposed, but he felt every part of it. ‘Start scrubbing, village boy.’ She said. The sponge doused him, and put itself in his hands. At this point, Jarek felt it wasn’t wise to disobey the witch. He lathered himself with the soapy mixture, and the scrubber started gently working on his back. It didn’t smell like the soap he was used to. It smelled of exotic spices he’d only ever smelled on wealthy merchants, and it almost seemed to burn a little. ‘What is this stuff?’ He asked. He had just enough time to see the witch smile broadly, then there was a sharp smack on his bottom. He yelped, and almost jumped out of the tub. He hadn’t felt this sting since he was a schoolboy. ‘What the…?’ Another smack rang out, and he yelped again. A hot, searing sensation radiated out from where he’d been hit. The scrubber wiggled at him, menacingly. The witch was laughing. ‘I forgot to tell you.’ She said. ‘I have a little rule for guests like you. For every question you ask, Scrubby will smack you. It gets you boys out of the “what” phase like a charm.’ She smiled, baring those sharp teeth again. ‘Of course, it is a charm, but don’t worry about that.’ The soap made him feel warm, and despite himself he was beginning to feel relaxed. ‘And that “stuff” is the finest bath mixture you’ve ever rubbed yourself in. Ginger from the Emerald Isles to clean the pores, volcanic ash from Red Mountain to exfoliate, orchid aroma… and some exquisite spellwork to make you soft and pliable.’ She pointed at his loins. ‘Ah, it’s already working.’ Sure enough, he was erect as a pole. With a smooth motion of her leg the witch put a paw on the sensitive tip of his member. He almost burst at the sensation. The downy fur between her toes was so soft, he’d never felt anything like it. ‘You like that, don’t you?’ She laughed, and slowly moved her paw in rhythmic circles that made him quiver. ‘Who else gets hard from a cat’s paw? You’re a real pervert!’ He felt the climax well up in him, but without warning the scrubber came down with a crack. ‘Why? I didn’t say anything!’ He pleaded. And once more, the scrubber struck his backside. The sting was too much, and he sunk to his knees, the soapy mixture sloshing over the side of the tub. ‘I couldn’t let you spurt all over my paw. And “why?” is a question. Besides, red looks good on you. ’ She sighed, and put her paw before him. ‘Now kiss it, and thank your mistress for your lessons.’ Jarek did as he was told, and put his lips on the witch’s waiting paw. He couldn’t refuse. The witch’s magical soap made his head swim. He was sensitive all over, and he yearned for nothing more than her touch, now that he had felt it. Even the marks left by the floating scrubber felt… exhilarating. She was right, wasn’t she? He was a pervert. He’d had these thoughts about what he wanted to do to women, what he wanted them to do to him, that no-one else seemed to have. But this witch wanted that part of him. The feeling of soft fur on his lips, the not quite bestial smell, was intoxicating. Or was that because of her brew? ‘You’re eager, now.’ She purred, flexing her toes approvingly. ‘Very well, you have earned a reward.’ As she said it, he saw her make a gesture. Then he felt a pressure coil around his manhood, and then the sting of the scrubber striking him. He wanted to cry out, but the witch pressed her paw firmly down. He finally felt the release he’d be yearning for as the witch’s magic stroked him rhythmically, and with every stroke, he took one on his buttocks as well. One resounding smack after another. First, it hurt. But now, it was only enhancing his ecstasy. He finished, juddering, leaning heavily onto the edge of the tub. ‘Th… thank you, mistress.’ He said. ‘Very good, my little minion.’ She crossed her legs and smiled imperiously. ‘You ought to be promising.’ There witch had put him onto a large sort of pillow. It was more like a bed, really. Definitely the largest pillow he’d ever seen. She was purring deeply as she massaged his back in rhythmic, practiced motions. She was using another lotion or poultice that seemed to sap the ache right out of his muscles. He winced slightly when she worked her way down to his bottom. His entire body was aglow, but that part of him especially, and the poultice only emphasized the feeling. But it wasn’t anything he’d describe as pain. Rather, he noticed he felt a strange sort of pride in the marks he bore. ‘You have a nice butt, you know?’ She said, and squeezed firmly. Jarek let out a small whimper. ‘That’s so cute. I don’t think men get told enough that they have nice butts. It’s a bit of an oversight, I think. You don’t ever see them yourself, so you need other people to let you know what’s going on.’ There was no arguing with that logic, though it wasn’t something he’d ever thought about. ‘Thanks. I always thought it was too hairy.’ He said, his openness surprising him. ‘It’s not hairy anymore. I’ve got enough hair on my butt for both of us, anyway.’ He startled at that. ‘You took my hair?’ ‘The soap did. It’d only get in the way. You humans have so little of it, I don’t see why you’d mourn the loss.’ She was right about that, he supposed. She was sitting on his thighs, and even from that he could feel how incredibly warm and fluffy she was. Her hands (paws?) rubbed the poultice into his buttocks with circular motions. He felt vulnerable in this position, but despite being in the depths of a witch’s liar, it didn’t seem as alarming as it should. Was that still the effect of the soap? Was he just tired? Or was it just nice to have a beautiful women manhandle his ass, even if she was a spellcasting cat? ‘Wait, can I ask questions now?’ ‘Sure.’ She said, though he could feel her claws come out and rake lightly over his skin. ‘We’re not playing now.’ ‘Why did you take me?’ He thought for a second. She’d already answered that. ‘Except that I’m a… pervert. Why do you need a pervert?’ ‘We witches can get our power from a lot of places. One of the places I like to get my power from, is sex. I’m a sex witch.’ That seemed simple enough. In all the stories witches always did unmentionable things, and people were always shy to mention sex. ‘So are you just going to drain me and toss me away?’ ‘Ohhh...’ She let out a purring, little laugh. ‘I’ll surely drain you. That’s how it works. But don’t worry, you’ll love it. But I can’t toss you away, even if I wanted to. That’s the secret: You have to do it willingly. That’s the only way you can get power from sex magic.’ He turned where he lay to face her. ‘So I can go home when I want?’ ‘Sure. Just say the word, and I’ll take you back to your village, and you can go back to trying to steal kisses from prudish farm girls.’ Her emerald eyes locked with his, almond shaped pupils narrowing. ‘Do you want to go home?’ ‘No.’ He admitted. ‘I’ll help you with your magic.’ She smiled at that, baring her sharp fangs. With one hand she took his manhood, cock and balls, and gave a sharp tug just on the comfortable side of cruel. ‘So this is mine now?’ He could feel himself swell again at her touch. ‘Yes.’ He said. ‘It’s yours. And the rest, too.’ The witch purred heavily, and crawled forward until they were face to face. Her whiskers brushed against his face, stiff and bristly. Her thin lips touched lightly on his. She kissed him, her tongue flicking against his with a slight rasp. She tasted sweetly, like a fresh peach. When he woke, Jarek stretched lightly, and rolled over in preparation for a long, lazy Sunday slumber. Then he realized he wasn’t in his own bed, and that the strange dream hadn’t actually been a dream. He was still in the witch’s lair in the hollow tree, or something that looked a lot like a hollow tree, with its stacks of arcane items, and its musky smells. In the center of the room, over a smokeless fire, a cauldron was gently puttering. Of course she had a cauldron. The witch herself was seated in her opulent chair, ensorcelled by a giant tome that floated in front of her. Its binding was leather, pink, and covered in lurid depictions. Whatever she was reading, it no doubt held implications for him in the near future. ‘Is that another magical brew?’ He asked her as he unelegantly clambered off the oversized pillow. She noticed him, and with a gesture sent the book back to its shelf in one of the many bookcases. ‘It’s breakfast, actually. I hope you like fish stew.’ Fish for breakfast? Well, she was a cat. She didn’t wait for his approval to summon a set of bowls and spoons. As she served the meal, he noticed she actually did that by hand. The way she hovered her nose over the cauldron provided enough of a hint as to why she did so. Jarek was midway to the table when he noticed he was still naked, and felt a suddenly pang of self-consciousness. His eyes met the witch’s, and he decided to risk it. ‘Uhh… could I maybe have some cloth...’ He wasn’t even done before she threw her head back and laughed. ‘Why would you need clothes? So I can rip them off again? Just don’t spill any stew on yourself, if you want to avoid a burn. Or do.’ Another one of those toothy smiles. ‘I might just lick it off. It’s good stew, after all.’ That was a hopeless cause, then. He didn’t press it further and just sat down. As his buttocks touched the chair, he winced slightly. It wasn’t that painful, he’d just… forgotten. Across the table, the witch snickered softly. Jarek felt a blush creep across his cheeks, and sipped from his bowl to hide his shame. It wasn’t like the broths he was used to, but he should be expecting the unexpected by now. It was deliciously spicy, though he could not name a single spice he tasted. Before he knew it, he was done eating. Last night had not only left him tired, but hungry. ‘Great, you’re done. Now we can get started.’ The witch was already by his side, tail flicking menacingly. ‘…Uhm… do you have a name?’ He asked. ‘I can’t keep thinking of you as “the witch”. My name’s Jarek.’ ‘I’ll remind you that “mistress” will do fine. And I suppose you won’t believe me if I told you my name was Mittens.’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘You can call me Minuet.’ ‘That’s a beautiful name.’ She laughed loudly. ‘Just act like a good fucktoy and don’t whisper it softly into my ear. Unless I ask, of course.’ She turned on the spot, and deftly hit him in the face with her tail. Not by accident, surely. She made a few of her magical gestures, and an assortment of items floated towards her from where she’d summoned them. ‘And please don’t tell me you try that trick on all the girls. Especially if they’re called something like...’ she made a rude, retching noise, ‘...Buela. Now, come over here.’ It’s not like he had something else to do. Jarek duly obeyed. As he did so, the witch, Minuet, had what looked like a small paintbrush in her hand. A small vial and the pink book hovered by her side. ‘I’m going to draw a few magical runes onto you. With magical ink. A lot of the things that happen here are magical, I’m sure you’ve noticed.’ Jarek felt a bit of trepidation as the brush touched his newly hairless chest. The ink, if he could take her word for it, was cold and made him tingle slightly. ‘What’s it for?’ He asked. ‘It’ll help with capturing the magic.’ She said, engrossed in her off artwork. ‘There are a lot of ways to use sex magic, and I’ll capture some desperation first, before you get used to it.’ ‘Desperation!?’ That didn’t sound good. ‘You know, unfulfilled desire.’ She took a step back, and admired her work. ‘All done. Turn around.’ ‘What do you…’ Jarek couldn’t finish his sentence before Minuet circled her finger in the air, and he did turn around. He felt something clasp around his wrists, binding them behind his back. ‘What are you…’ ‘Into the chair you go.’ Without any gesture at all, the large, comfy chair she’d been lounging in earlier walked over. That was new. She didn’t wait for an answer, and simply pushed him down into it. Immediately, he felt a similar feeling on his ankles as he did on his wrists. Leather straps, he could see, inscribed with more symbols. He sat with his legs spread, naked and vulnerable. ‘Looks like the poor boy hasn’t risen yet.’ She was talking about his dick, wasn’t she? It’d gone too fast for him to get hard. ‘Let’s see if we can help him along a little.’ She said. Minuet snapped her finger, and her bodice came loose, liberating her breasts. They were as ample a pair as he’d ever seen, bouncing slightly at the sudden grip of gravity. She had a cute tuft of fur in her cleavage, with smaller tufts hiding her nipples. He’d never thought he’d even be into hairy breasts, but here he was. ‘Oh, that’s doing the trick.’ She bent forward, pendulous breasts hanging free. With a finger, she flicked his rising member. ‘Let’s give it some more.’ She snapped her finger again. The chain and cloth around her waist dropped to the ground. The fur between her legs grew wilder than elsewhere, just like with human women. She wiggled her hips invitingly, and he could see a faint glimmer, the most exciting sort in the minds of men. Minuet was wet. ‘Oh yes, he likes that!’ She almost cheered. Jarek was certainly at what he’d heard called “full mast”. He could try resisting, making her work for it, because she’d plainly said she had no intent to actually have sex with him. But there was no point, and that was a power he didn’t have. Minuet, meanwhile, did a little celebratory dance, hopping up and down on her fluffy paws, her breasts moving heavily up and down, swinging hypnotically. Her butt and belly jiggled slightly. This was no magic, but it might as well have been. She stopped shortly, and regarded him again with that mischievous gleam in her eye. ‘Now for the clamp.’ ‘The what?’ With her usual gesture a small object flew from… somewhere, and true to its title clamped itself around the base of his cock. It wasn’t painful, thankfully, but he felt a distinct pressure. ‘It’s more of a ring really. A ring for your cock. Maybe I ought to call it that. It’ll make it harder for you to come.’ She gently stroked his tip gently with her finger, sending a spasm through his loins. The catlike pad on her finger felt more coarse than human skin. ‘And you want to come, don’t you?’ At first, he could only grunt an answer, but then he found the words. ‘Yes. Yes, I want to come.’ ‘Yes who?’ She held a hand up to her ear, which looked kind of strange, given that she had to reach around her hat to the top of her head. ‘Yes… mistress?’ ‘Good boy.’ Minuet then moved her hands to her breasts and began massaging them softly. She lifted one up, and let it fall down with a slap against her body. Then the other one. ‘You like these, don’t you?’ She asked, rubbing her nipples now, gently swaying her hips. ‘Yes, mistress.’ Jarek could physically feel the pressure building in his member, which twitched with every small movement. ‘You want to touch them, don’t you? You want to squeeze them.’ She tugged on her nipples, jiggling her breasts. ‘Yes, mistress.’ He really did. He could imagine the feeling of her bosom in his hands, running his hands through her fur, sticking his nose in that cute, little tuft and sniffing deeply… Abruptly she stopped playing with herself. ‘Well, you can’t.’ ‘Aw.’ ‘But…’ Minuet swiftly shot a hand between her legs, and rubbed once, twice. Her hand came away visibly wet, and just as quickly she put it on his face. She smeared herself around his nose, around his mouth. She was so warm. The smell of her sex sent his heart racing, and made his member feel as if it swelled to twice its size, throbbing with every heartbeat. He couldn’t help himself. The cat was toying with him as with a mouse, but he had to taste her. He licked her taste off his lips. There was that scandalous hint of sourness. It was so base, so shameless. He wished he could taste more, to drink of her deeply. He felt as if on fire. ‘Very good, little minion.’ Minuet regarded him with a broad, cruel smile, her fangs showing prominently. ‘Please.’ He gasped. ‘Please just touch me.’ ‘Like this?’ She lightly touched his knee. ‘You’re a cruel woman.’ She let out a melodious, little laugh. ‘Very well, then.’ Ever so slowly, Minuet lowered herself to her knees. He could feel her hot breath on his engorged member, her hands moving slowly up his legs, up his stomach, then slowly pulling back, her sharp claws pinpricks on his skin, drawing faint tracks. Then, her lips touched the tip of him, oh so gently. The smallest of kisses. He was sure that he would lose it, here. He almost blacked out, groaning in pleasure and frustration, but when he looked down he saw her smiling behind his cock. ‘Not yet, little minion.’ He had to catch his breath, and she gave him the time. She regarded him with a soft, constant purr and the occasional flick of her tail. After a time Minuet stood up, and with inhuman grace she stepped up the chair’s armrests. She stood there, upright, without effort, looking down at him. Slowly she moved a hand between her legs, fingers gently parting the fur, and she started stroking herself. A few drops of her wetness dripped down on Jarek’s skin. ‘You like that, don’t you?’ It didn’t seem like the sort of question one ought to answer. She knew quite well that he liked it. ‘You want to fuck me, don’t you?’ ‘Yes, please.’ He did have to answer that one. ‘OK.’ She gave a light shrug. Was this it? Did she get enough magic out of him? The sigils on his chest did seem to glow faintly. Minuet bent her knees into a squat, hovering her sex over his, close enough for him to feel her warmth. With her fingers she spread her lips. He could see inside her. She was as pink as any human girl. Her juices dripped down on his shaft, droplets rolling down the length of him. She lowered herself more, and then they touched, soft wetness kissing his throbbing tip. She gyrated her hips, rubbing herself on him. He could feel himself come… but not. It was the damn clamp! Then she stopped. She was still comfortably dribbling down him, but now she was just looking at him with those crazy, green cat eyes. ‘I’m not the almhouse of pussy, honey.’ ‘Oh come on!’ The frustration was just too much for Jarek. Her eyes narrowed, and suddenly her hands shot forward. She took his nipples between her fingers and squeezed. The pain was immediate, a hot sting. Despite himself, he yelped and bucked at the unexpected cruelty. ‘That’s it!’ Minuet laughed. ‘I’ll come on you, little minion!’ She moved her hips again, her sex rubbing against him, up and down his dick. Minuet was still laughing and giggling. ‘Go on! Up and down, horsey!’ With a slight twist of her wrists she gave him another shot of pain. He moaned softly, but he was expecting it this time. And he liked it, he realized. It made him want her more. Duly obeying, he moved his hips up and down in time with hers, grinding against her as she drenched him. ‘That’s so cute...’ She said, trailing off into a moan of her own. He could feel her quiver, her hips shake. She stopped moving and released her grip. There was a sudden pang of pain as she did. ‘Ow! That really hurt.’ ‘So cute.’ She gave him another one of those toothy smiles. With a slow deliberateness Minuet moved off the chair, one long leg after the other. She bent down in front of him, pendulous breasts swaying. She gyrated gently, making them brush gently past his throbbing member. She was tickling him. With her breasts. The touch of fur was ever so light, but it moved him closer to the hint of climax. Then she firmly took him in one hand, her claws coming out again. ‘This thing must be crying for release.’ She licked her lips as she waggled his dick around. Then she squeezed tightly, tight enough to make Jarek grunt in surprise and longing. ‘Have you ever had a cat blowjob?’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘Wait, of course you haven’t. I’m going to be a little more rough than what you’re used to.’ She clamped her other hand around his balls, at the base of his shaft and pulled sharply. Then she went down with a growl, taking the tip of him into her toothy maw. The feeling of her sharp, predatory canines was dangerously immediate. She wasn’t shy about using her teeth, and they traced over the most sensitive part of Jarek’s body as if carving a pattern. His dick was throbbing, practically bucking to unload into her mouth, but he could not find the breath to make any sound. What if he scared her, and she bit him? She swished him around in her mouth, like a delicate morsel. Ever so often there was the pinprick of her teeth, and when her tongue touched him it wasn’t soft, but a rough rasp. The claws on her hands were out, and dragging over his skin every time she squeezed and tugged, and over it all was her low, constant growl. This wasn’t so much a blowjob as a cruel cat playing with her prey. The pressure of his arousal was immense, now. He could feel his every heartbeat. Only the clamp was preventing him from coming, and if it came off, he would probably still do so if she sank her fangs into him. She took him deeply into her mouth, moving down his shaft with small bites, then she took him out again, rasping her cruel tongue down the length of him. Jarek couldn’t help but moan loudly. She did it again and again, with him growing louder every time, until finally she had all of him inside her. Her growl rose, her teeth closed around the base of his manhood, and she shook her head. Her teeth pricked and stung as she did so, her tongue rasping back and forth. Again she took him out, tongue sliding up his dick. Jarek wasn’t sure whether he was moaning or crying, now. But this time, when he was almost out, he felt a sudden release. With the last lick on the tip Jarek came bodily, his entire body convulsing, his loins pumping out spurt after spurt of semen, Minuet squeezing his balls. The sensation made his entire body tingle, while the sigils on his chest burned. It was as if something had taken possession of his body, clenching his muscles with every pump. He’d never taken this long to come. The moment seemed to go on forever. When he was done, he was left panting, suddenly phenomenally tired. His sensual parts felt hot and incandescent, even now he finally got what he wanted. Minuet was sitting there looking smugly satisfied with a catlike grin and purring. She hadn’t gotten a drop on herself, he noticed. ‘That was a nice one. Your dick tastes pretty good.’ Then she laughed. ‘I almost felt like eating it!’ ‘Wh… what?’ Minuet made a magical gesture, and Jarek could feel the manacles release his wrists and ankles. ‘Don’t worry.’ She said. ‘I’m joking. Sort of.’ He decided not to dwell on that and stretched his arms and legs, haven gotten stiff at being tied up and sexually tortured by a cat witch. He stood up and rubbed his sore equipment. Upon inspecting his cock, he saw that Minuet had left a criss-cross pattern of scratch and teeth marks. ‘You mauled my dick!’ He exclaimed. ‘That’s what sort off eating is, right?’ She winked, slyly. ‘I’ve got an ointment for that, too.’ ‘An ointment for cat blowjobs?’ ‘This isn’t my first joust, little minion. And I want to get more mileage out of that thing.’ She reached down and gave his dangling member a light slap. It was when Minuet turned and started making more gestures in the air, and occasionally murmuring strange words, that Jarek noticed something was off in the room. A small orb hovered in the air, soft pink light glowing inside it, though the surface was a thick, milky white. It moved gently to Minuet’s prodding. Wait a minute… ‘Is… uhm… is that my…?’ ‘Spunk. Yes. I got a good load out of you, with some real quality desperation. It’d been some time, right?’ Jarek felt himself blush, and looked down at his feet. He’d grown so used to being naked in the presence of this furry sex goddess that he hadn’t given normal life a lot of thought. ‘Yeah, it’d been some time.’ She looked over her shoulder. There was something new in the glint in her eye. ‘Aww. Don’t worry, little minion. Witches don’t care about that sort of thing. We know the world isn’t easy for perverted weirdo’s.’ A way with words she had not. ‘So… what are you going to do with my… spunk?’ She shrugged. ‘Magic. Maybe a potion. There’s some good lust in there.’ Jarek had to laugh at that. ‘So you’re going to give people a sperm potion?’ ‘Hey, if you find a way to make love potions, enhancement potions, etcetera etcetera without sex fluids, let me know. Besides,’ she wrinkled her nose, ‘would you rather have eye of newt and other disgusting shit?’ ‘I guess not.’ ‘Good. Say, you’re getting to be a bit of a wise-ass again.’ She shot him a glance. ‘Maybe I should just milk you for the rest of the day. That’ll give me more material, and take the fight out of you.’ ‘Uhm…’ ‘Imagine that, an entire stable of boys, constantly being milked, all slavishly loyal, all slobbering for a whiff of witch cunt…’ And evil, little laugh started to rise in her throat. ‘Uhhh… What if we go back to me doing whatever you say and having lots of magical sex?’ Jarek hazarded. A toothy smile shot across Minuet’s face. ‘Good boy. Now go clean yourself up. You’ve got me all over you.’ There was the classical image: The witch stirring a boiling cauldron, surrounded by arcane tomes and mysterious ingredients. Though, the spoon was stirring by itself, and the tomes were floating. This tendency to make things float wasn’t something anyone had ever told Jarek about witches. Nor their cat-like nature, come to think of it. Usually the descriptions kind of stayed with that whole cauldron thing, and sometimes what went in it. But that was only one thing. Children. And he saw no little cages anywhere. Unless… did they mean semen? Minuet was levitating the orb of it into the cauldron under the droning of bizarre, arcane language. Was the entire legend just the result of someone misunderstanding what she did here? Nevertheless, you’d think they’d have mentioned witches weren’t crones, while they were at it. Now that the fear had abated, and he’d been satiated, Jarek felt a new emotion in this witch’s lair. He was becoming sort of… bored. There wasn’t much to do, unless you were an avid reader. He didn’t think she’d appreciate him tramping about, so he just stayed here. It was oddly satisfying to watch her at work, but for the first time he’d been here she didn’t have eyes for him. It made him feel a bit useless, really. He was more than what swung between his legs, but that wasn’t why she’d brought him here. Finishing her work didn’t take long. He was no expert, obviously, but it was quite apparent from Minuet ordering all her books and ingredients back to their places on the shelves. The spoon remained, gently stirring the bubbling contents of the cauldron. For the first time in what had to have been an hour, she looked at him. ‘They’ll be expecting you back soon, won’t they? Have you got anyone at home waiting for you?’ ‘Are… are you asking if I have a girlfriend?’ Jarek was taken aback by the question. ‘Girlfriend, wife, friends, family. Anyone you’d normally meet, but haven’t today. It’s sort of in my best interest to know, you know, given how you’re actually here. With me. The witch. Who defiles you in ways no-one has ever dreamed of.’ He could tell she was proud of that. ‘Not really.’ He said, ‘There’s no work to be done, and there’s just been the festival. I could always tell them the truth.’ ‘That you were kidnapped and fucked by a sex witch who wants your bodily fluids for powerful, arcane magic beyond the wildest dreams of mortal men?’ She raised an eyebrow and drooped an ear. Jarek laughed. ‘No, no, that I found a woman to spend the day with after the festival!’ ‘It works, I suppose.’ She shrugged. ‘I could always put some false memories in your head.’ ‘Please don’t.’ She flashed him that sharp-toothed smile. ‘Really? When I first plucked you out of the woods, you were downright scared of me. Have you grown that fond of me? After mauling your dick, no less?’ ‘You didn’t hurt me. Only enough to make me feel it a little.’ Jarek shot her a shy smile of his own. ‘I liked it.’ ‘That’s. So. Cute.’ With every word she made a long stride towards him. She took him by the shoulders, and licked his cheek affectionately. Rasp. ‘Uh… thanks?’ ‘For a sex-crazed pervert, you’re just really cute.’ ‘Well, for a people-kidnapping, spunk-stealing witch, you’re really nice.’ In a fluid motion she put her arm around his shoulder and placed her naked butt in his lap. Her soft fur and flesh caressed his thighs, she wiggled once and he could feel himself rising as if by command. It had been an hour, after all. ‘More spunk for me to steal? And so soon?’ She grinned. ‘I hope this isn’t how you woo those farm wenches of yours.’ He was glad for the renewed attention. ‘You’d be surprised how often it works.’ He said with some cheek. Of course, he was lying. ‘Oh please, even it working the once would surprise me.’ She gave him another raspy lip. ‘Now, I’ve got something else for you.’ Minuet took one of her ample breasts out of her corset. It took minimal effort, as the garment’s leather only barely covered them in the first place. Wordlessly she parted the fur around her nipple and with a gentle pressure of her hand coaxed Jarek to take it into his mouth. As if by instinct, he suckled, and a rich, creamy milk flowed into his mouth. He closed his eyes and settled his head against the fluff of her breast. If you’d have asked a minute ago, he would have thought this strange, but now he drank, and drank, and drank. When he opened his eyes again, there was not a witch’s teat in his mouth, but only his own thumb. His head lay not on her breast, but on his own straw-filled pillow, and his body on his own straw-filled bed. Outside, the sounds of day were abuzz. Singing birds, rattling carts, the bustle of the market. He was home again. Groggily, he lifted himself. Was it all just a dream? No, it couldn’t be. He threw off the blanket, and grasped his cock. There they still were, the criss-cross welts, the witch’s handiwork. The most arousing cat-mangling of his life. As he rose from bed, a small object fell to the floor. A small wood carving of a black cat, a bad luck charm that was passed around at the festival. He didn’t remember taking one with him. It was bad luck, after all. He picked it up. There was the voice of Minuet. ‘Until we meet again.’