Dancing With The Devil [Alkaline&Mim]

[Madam Mim]

Druimkinneras, Scotland
1573

Stories about witches. They always began with "it was a dark and stormy night." They always took place in the middle of winter, in the dead of night. And they always ended with the wicked, ugly hag drowned or burned or hanged by the righteous townspeople for her sins against God and Man. Time would tell whether this story would end the same way, but it was most certainly destined to at least begin differently.

It was not a dark and stormy night, nor was it the dead of winter. It was, in fact, in the bright days of a waning summer. The end of August had occasional days warm enough to make a man sweat, but often it was pleasant during the day and cold enough for a coat or a shawl at night. A wagon trundled along the long road from Glasgow, pulled by a donkey and laden with tinker goods and a man who had paid for passage crunched up in the very back. The driver had been humming "The Bonnie Banks O' Loch Lomond," or at least the one verse he knew, since yesterday, but the alternative was walking the remaining twenty miles. As they passed fields along the increasingly steep hillsides, the passenger could see farmers in their fields harvesting and putting crops up for the coming winter, and the smell of new-mown hay was pervasive on the golden air. The sun seemed to set earlier here, though, with the mountains hiding it from view, and the tinker agreed to continue at least a little while after dark so that they could make good time to Druimkinneras.

Druimkinneras. The little town a day's walk from Inverness, quickly becoming known as Baile Buidseach in the Highlands, was the passenger's destination. The bishop of Glasgow had sent him to investigate, to save the mortal souls of the poor villagers and root out any brides of Satan that might be lurking. Six witches had been found there in the past four years, and it was his duty to intervene before it got any more serious. They had even sent a letter begging for help, signed by the magistrate, the priest, and all five members of the village council. For nearly a week he had been traveling: walking, buying or bartering passage on boats going up river or across the loch, walking some more, and finally a ride on the tinker's cart to save his feet or at the very least his boots. Not long now, he was assured; the woods always got thicker before you hit Druimkinneras proper.

Warm, golden noonlight flooded over them as they broke through the trees and the cart track took them along the river. A woman stood in the river, singing as she bathed, standing waist-deep in the gently flowing water. Long, dark, soft hair covered her breasts from sight as she turned to look at the source of the noise, and she made no attempt to hide her nakedness at the sight of two men traveling so near to her. Her voice was honey-warm, and she didn't stop singing when she spotted them. Instead she locked eyes with the passenger of the cart, singing in a language few yet knew, the ends of her hair floating on the gentle current. Crystal blue and gimlet-sharp, her gaze held his steadily as she sang to him in that same entrancing voice.

He blinked. She was gone.

The driver seemed to have never noticed the woman in the river.

It was another hour to Druimkinneras, trundling along the river, and as they neared the village center more and more people looked up curiously at the stranger. Some children dashed off to spread the news. With the way he was dressed there was no mistaking it; the witch finder had arrived. Finally the tinker's cart reached the village center and, without ceremony, the tinker himself set out to ply his trade, leaving the witch finder to get his own bearings. He had paid for a ride, after all, not a grand tour and a who's who. But three men waited there for him already. The position of one was obvious: the priest's vestments gave him away, but the earnest Father Turnbull introduced himself anyway. Another, tall and athletic even in his middle age, with a broad-brimmed hat, identified himself as the magistrate Mr. MacCabe. The third who stepped forward identified himself as Alastair Carlisle, a councilman. Carlisle was average height, perhaps slightly on the tall side, and wiry, but that didn't keep him from having a slightly menacing air about him. Government men tended to be dangerous sorts anyway, but the difference between MacCabe and Carlisle was clear: the former traveled in shadows and fought with words, the latter knew between precisely which ribs he ought to slip a knife. They both, however, knew when such actions were called for and when to show restraint. With poor Father Turnbull standing slightly behind the other two, slightly bouncing anxiously on the balls of his feet, it called to mind the image of a labrador puppy standing between a rottweiler and a doberman.

"Lacking an inn as we are," said Mr. MacCabe, "Mr. Carlisle had graciously offered to open his home to you." MacCabe pulled his lips back and showed his teeth, and if the witch finder squinted and turned his head a little it might look a bit like what MacCabe probably thought a gracious smile was supposed to be. His lips covered his teeth again and fell into a smirk with which he was very clearly much more comfortable.

Alastair Carlisle was a bit more successful at the welcoming smile as they shook hands. "It will be my honor, sir, really. Anything to help the church in these trying times, beset by devilment on all sides. Here, allow me." He took one of the witch finder's bags before gesturing across the square. "My wife has been anxious for your arrival," he said by way of making conversation. "Two of the witches were her friends. We couldn't believe it, not really. But all the evidence was there, plain as day, and it couldn't be helped. When she heard the diocese was sending a true witch finder, she nearly cried with relief. Here we are."

The house was larger than many in the village, though certainly not the largest, and made of good, sturdy stone covered in whitewashed plaster. The gate opened onto a small path, on either side of which was a garden full of vegetables and herbs although most of those seemed to be put up already. Upon hearing the front door open a servant girl appeared with a smile and a curtsy, taking the witch finder's bags upstairs while Carlisle took him through to the room beyond. The windows of the well-appointed parlor were open, letting in some of the last warm air before autumn came, and a woman sat in a chair facing the window which overlooked the hills beyond, her head bent to needlepoint.

"Magda?" Carlisle tapped once on the door frame so as not to startle her. The woman raised her head and stood, turning to greet the men with a curtsy. "My wife, Magdalene."

Magdalene Carlisle was quite short, barely clearing five feet, and her clothes allowed for curves which a hand might find easy to rest upon, never having been graced with motherhood. Her smile was warm and reached her eyes as she greeted the stranger, nodding her head in another quick greeting before setting her embroidery down on her chair and stepping around it to greet the witch finder. Her hair was pinned into a tidy braided updo, but her eyes still sparkled and seemed to peer through him, inside him, as though she could see to his very soul. Her hands were slender, soft as she took his hand.

"You can't know how grateful we are to have you, sir." Her voice was soft, honey-warm, and she had a habit of maintaining eye contact as they shook hands and spoke. "It feels already as though a great cloud has lifted from us!"

 

[Alkaline]

It had been a long week already, so when William Wrycht found a man willing to let him take rest in the back of his wagon on the final stretch to Druimkinneras, he couldn’t help but feel the Lord must have been blessing this trip. It wasn’t always that way, of course, but the witch finder was undeterred regardless. More than anything, he’d just been thankful for a chance to rest his legs. He’d set out from Glasgow by foot some six days or so back after the caravan coming up from England was waylaid by a plague of some sort. William, for his part, was content to wait for the next caravan, but Father Duncan had urged the younger man to proceed now. This was simply Satan protecting his lot, and any delay was sure to mean more trouble than not.

So it was that the witch finder set out, trudging along dusty roads and camping under the stars night by night, until he’d been chanced upon by the tinkerer who was so very happy to lend assistance for the right price. William begrudgingly had paid, of course, and despite the bumps and bruises he’d accumulate on the ride, he was thankful for the relief his blistered heels were getting at the least. Now, if only he had a chance to rid himself of the dirt and grime that caked his sweaty body, he thought to himself while he looked longingly at the river just off the road. It had been an unusually hot few days, and he ached for the chance to rinse himself off.

Even more tempting than the water, was the soft song of the woman bathing in the stream. The man was entranced, completely oblivious to how unusual it surely was at first, staring down the woman from under the brim of his hat. When her eyes met his own, he couldn’t help but smile, her figure disappearing behind a passing tree, before she disappeared herself. Flummoxed, William shook his head and returned back to reality, though the thought of the woman’s flesh continued to linger. He frowned at that and crossed himself, muttering a soft prayer of forgiveness in the process. There’d be no time for such stray thoughts when he got to Druimkinneras. No doubt this was just the beginning of the Devil’s assault, so desperate he’d be to protect his kin.

Thankfully, the rest of the ride was smooth enough, and a little over an hour later he was rolling into the village and disembarking for good. He’d hoped for a chance to wander the village himself, get to know the layout and the people on his own terms, but it was clear from the local’s stares and welcoming committee that he was most eagerly anticipated and would have no such luck. No sooner had his feet hit the dirt, than he was assailed by the trio come to greet him.

With grunts, and gentle acknowledgements here and there, William let them lead the way. In most cases he wasn’t the most talkative of men anyway, but it was especially so in unfamiliar territory. It wasn’t nerves or shyness, per say, but more a habit built over time. In his line of work, he most often found the devils among men would incriminate themselves if you simply let them talk long enough. The demon’s that so often possessed the witches so often overflowed with pride, after all. No single statement was likely to be their downfall, but each interaction was a puzzle piece, and William would no doubt build the whole picture in time.

Magda?

William had caught himself drifting again, the weariness of the road giving his mind permission to dream of the lush guest bed the Councilmen would surely have in such an extravagant house. So when Lady Carlisle was introduced, it wasn’t the intentional quietness that he offered in return to her greeting, but a more stunned silence instead. The steady blue gaze she leveled at him was instantly familiar and foreign all at once. Like those at the edge of a dream, and he had to shake his head to bring himself back to life. “Madam Carlisle, no need to thank me, simply happy to serve our Father. I promise to do everything I can to see His work is done. That we rid this village of the curse it has fallen under.”

A clearing of the throat reminded him of Alistair’s presence while their hands lingered, and the hunter finally pulled his hand away quickly, and turned to face the other host, chin lifting to stand as tall as possible. Where the wife’s stature was disarming and comforting, the husband’s was imposing and hostile. The smile was there all the same, but no doubt it would be a fight if William ever needed to digging around in his past. The witch finder flashed a small smile of his own, and crossed his hands in front of him, one resting on the others wrist as they stared down for a moment.

“If it’s not too much to ask, I could use a bit of a refreshment. It’s been a long trip and surely a change of clothes would be in order. No doubt I’ve a rather unpleasant smell,” he said, ditching the quiet for now and attempting to break the ice with a bit of humor instead. That brought a wider grin as Alistair motioned for him to follow after him.

“Of course, of course. Where are our manners? Come! And Magdalene, darling, if you’d be so kind as to draw a bath for our guest… I’m sure he’d appreciate the comfort.”

 

[Madam Mim]

"Amen." Magdalene smiled, holding his hand with both of hers as he swore to rid the village of its curse. Not bloody likely, but you're welcome to try.

A street preacher from Inverness had come here "under cover," certain he could rid the village of witches by not announcing his presence and hoping she would trip up; he had been dead inside a week. This man, though...this man was handsome, and faithful, and she didn't detect much in the way of pride, at least not at first meeting. His downfall might be more difficult to manufacture, but she would certainly manage. And toying with him along the way would provide much-needed entertainment over the fast-approaching long winter.

Alastair cleared his throat, and she squeezed Wrycht's hands for a fraction of a moment before quickly dropping them. Magdalene nodded when her husband suggested a bath, the only hint of annoyance betrayed by a slight set in her jaw. But the change was there only for a moment, and quickly hidden by a smile. Patience was the name of that particular game. "Of course," she said, taking William's arm and steering him past her husband, back into the hallway. "Agnes is already working on the bath, so allow me to show you to your room. We've a soft, warm bed with a bonny view of the glen." She set a hand gently on his chest, near his collarbone, as she led him upstairs and fixed him with that gaze again. "All the creature comforts you could hope to desire."

There it is. Everyone has their sin; priests and churchmen are no different. She imagined he was probably wracked with guilt over one of the most natural sins of all, but fortunately guilt is easily assuaged and ignored. It's easy to pretend He forgives you for every trespass and continue to sin, so long as you ask forgiveness after.

Magdalene's tread on the stair was light, and could barely be heard on the thick runner carpet that ran the length of the hall.

"Our room is down that way." She pointed to a door to the right of the landing which stood slightly ajar, the bed within visible in profile. They turned left and she guided him down the hall. "Agnes sleeps in the kitchen, should you ever need anything between mealtimes. But here," she opened the door, "is your room."

William's room was simple, but clean and tastefully appointed. The sheets were a soft linen, the bureau enough to hold the clothes he had brought, and below the window sat a writing desk with a chair. There was, indeed, a beautiful view of the glen, purpled with heather. William's bags had been set on the bed and there was a sound of moving water from a door opposite the window.

"Thank you, Agnes," Magdalene called. The servant girl appeared from behind the door, bobbing a quick, nervous curtsy before scurrying away. "Please, Mister Wrycht, bathe. Rest. Take as long as you need to recover from your journey. Supper is at six, but the rest of the day is your own." She took his hand in both of hers again and squeezed it before bringing it to her lips. "God bless you, sir, for coming to save us."

Magdalene waited in the hall until she heard the sounds of Wrycht slipping into the tub before returning, unpacking his things for him and putting them away, "in the name of being a good hostess." Underneath his mattress, however, was a small bottle with a cork waxed closed. The bottle was filled with rainwater, two rusty nails, a shard of mirror, some honey, and the name William Wrycht written on a scrap of parchment. An observer wouldn't be able to see this without breaking the seal; the glass had been painted black. She used a letter opener to cut a tiny hole in the middle of the mattress--the middle so that he could not casually find it while fiddling with his bedclothes--and carefully pushed the bottle into the stuffing. The "blind and bind" spell was of her own making, but it had worked before when people started getting too close; it ought to work now.

When William emerged from his bath, he found a clean set of clothes folded neatly in the middle of his bed, and a single magpie perched on the sill of the open window, watching him intently.

 

[Alkaline]

William had started to follow after Alistair, eager to both get some rest and pick at the man’s brain at least a little, but he was given no such chance. Before he could protest, he was swept into Magda’s little whirlwind, unable to resist the pull she had upon him already. There was a clearing of the throat, eyes darting towards Alistair as his wife latched onto Willam’s arm and tugged him with her for the tour. It wasn’t unpleasant in the least, but in some ways felt wholly inappropriate. Shouldn’t Magdalene have kept her hands to herself? Or reserved them for her husband?

Those were foolish thoughts, the finder eventually decided, shaking his head just a little as he was led by the beauty down the hall. He wasn’t a damn Protestant like those from the Church of Scotland. A proper Catholic man could distinguish between a friendly woman and a harlot without giving in to lust, couldn’t he? And at the moment, Magdalene was simply being the most generous of hosts.

“Thank you, Lady Carlisle. And Lady Agnes,” he said with a small bow as the servant scurried by, all while trying to gracefully untangle himself from the host without causing an offense. She wasn’t there to hold him long though, and when he was released he wasn’t sure if he was more relieved by the prospect of scrubbing clean, or escaping her entrancing grip.

Get a hold of yourself, William.

He’d have to watch her closely, of course, and make sure he kept his distance. It wasn’t impossible she was a witch, after all, though as he slipped into the bathroom and turned to look over his shoulder he found that almost impossible to believe. She was far from an imposing figure, seeming to overflow with joy in some ways. The perfect disguise, possibly. With own smile turned to a scowl in an instant, though she wouldn’t have seen it with her back turned, and he shut the door for some privacy. The frustration wasn’t aimed at the hostess anyway, but rather his own struggles to resist humanizing those in the village already. If he was to set one or more of these to the stake…. Well it was simply easier to treat them all as puzzles to solve rather than people to know and love. He was a finder, not a priest, after all.

Some half an hour later, the witch finder emerged from the bathroom, having left the tub water far muddier than he’d have even expected. It did the trick though, invigorating him enough to give him a bit of extra life, and he’d even resisted the urges creeping in to self-pleasure, though the memories of the woman in the river continued to plague him. It was but a brief glance, and surely coincidence, but with ample time to think about it, he was certain the lady had born a striking resemblance to Magdalene. Impossible, no doubt, but strange all the same.

It wasn’t until he’d dropped the towel offered for drying, and smoothed his hands over the soft bed dressings that William first noticed the magpie sitting on the sill. In a bit of startled embarrassment, he turned his back to the bird and laughed softly. The move revealed lingering marks across his muscled shoulders though, weeks old bruises coloring the skin with yellows and greens, some stretches still pink where flesh had seemingly been torn open. Clearly penance had been paid for earlier sins…

“Go on, shoo!” William finally said, feigning a bit of confidence, and grabbing the shirt laid out in front of him and flapping it towards the bird in an effort to scare it off. Whether it moved or not, he supposed it didn’t matter, but it still felt awkward to be so exposed in front of another creature, human or not. So once more he turned his back to the window, lacing up the trousers and throwing on the clean shirt, before gathering a small bag of various tools and slipping out of the room entirely. His hosts were nowhere to be found, though he still had at least a couple hours until dinner. The temptation to simply return to his bed and rest weighed heavily, but Wrycht needed to understand the lay of the land, and set out to explore the village instead.

When he did return to the house a little over an hour later, it was overtaken by the smell of dinner being prepared, and the man’s stomach grumbled in excitement. He followed the scent, peeking in to see Agnes hard at work, then ventured back to his room where he’d take notes on those he’d met, and offer prayer and thanks to the Lord for having arrived safely. It wasn’t the easiest of journeys, but he’d made it all the same, he thought to himself as he knelt at the side of the bed, elbows propped on the edge and fingers locking. Maybe this time the Lord would speak back as well, given him guidance on his hunt. No doubt he’d find the demons within the town, but as was always the case, it had seemed like the standard group of God fearing collection of people to start.

 

[Madam Mim]

When William flapped the shirt at it, the magpie squawked and flapped its wings but did not move. Instead it sat on the windowsill, apparently for spite now, and watched him keenly as he dressed and gathered his tools. The bird's gaze was particularly keen whenever he turned his bare back to it. When he returned to the house an hour later, it was gone.

Agnes, who has flushed in embarrassment at being called a lady, was hard at work in the kitchen but it was another hour or so yet until dinner. Still there was no sign of Mr. and Mrs. Carlisle. As William mounted the stairs the door to the master bedroom was still ajar, but perhaps a bit moreso than before. There was the soft sounds of gentle groans and, if he noticed, fingers curled around the edge of the door frame at about hip height. Soft, feminine fingers slid over the hand clamped on the door frame. If William continued toward his room, he would be able to peer around the edge of the door where Alastair leaned against the wall, his other hand clenched in his wife's hair as she knelt before him, her head bobbing slowly. One crystal-bright blue eye peered out into the hallway and caught the witch hunter's eye.

Or, at least, it might be easy to think that it had.

Adjusting his grip, William's host dragged his wife to her feet. She giggled as he tossed her onto the bed and kicked the door closed without turning.

"So, Mr. Wrycht, did you find yourself satisfied this afternoon?" Magdalene casually asked as they started into their supper after Alastair had said grace. Was her hair a tiny bit more frazzled than it had been earlier? "With our town, I mean. Good Christians one and all, and the wicked hiding among them? I heard a few have already met you. It's quite an excitement, having a real witch finder from the big city come to somewhere so out of the way as Druimkinneras." There was something about her eyes...innocent, but almost studiedly so. Had she seen him in the hallway? Or had it simply been his imagination?

 

[Alkaline]

With the Lord properly thanked, William had found himself at a bit of a loss on what to do next, and stepped out of the room once again for a stretch. He hadn't noticed the cracked door at the end of the hall when he'd first snuck in, nor the fingers gripping tight to the side. His head tilted and curiosity drew him forward until he recognized the subtle noises coming from the other side of the wooden frame. By then it was too late, his body freezing as he saw the woman upon her knees, happily throating her husband's cock with a seemingly joyful pleasure. Eyes wide, he was tragically glued to the spot for a second too long, the gaze of one blue eye surely catching his own.

With his back to the wall outside, the finder covered his mouth and held his breath, sure he'd be rebuked by the couple for being a dirty pervert sent to spy on them. Surely they'd find it impossible to believe he was a man of God, at least. By some miracle though, the doors were instead kicked shut, the bang causing William to jump before he beat a hasty retreat back to his room, the erection bouncing against his thigh as he scrambled once more to his knees and began to spit out apologies and confessions to any and every sin he could think of committing in his life.

Punishment was in order, no doubt, and he'd thankfully packed just the thing for the trip. No proper Catholic should go to war against the Devil himself without bringing along his trusty leather scourge, if you asked William himself. He did his best, of course, but he recognized the weakness in his soul, especially when it came to the fairer sex, and armed himself accordingly for the penance he'd surely pay. Some may have argued that preparation to fail alone was giving in to Satan, but the finder found it a comfort to admit his humanity and pay the price accordingly.

"Uh, yes Lady Carlisle..." He replied, his heart pounding in his chest as they all gathered around the dinner table. Had she seen him after all? Unless she was the boldest of women, if seemed maybe not. He was struggling to keep his composure, and she seemed oblivious to the idea anything was wrong. It gave his nerves some comfort as he took a napkin and lay it across his lap, disappointed to find his cock once again perking up at just the sight of his hostess. No doubt he'd need to find an excuse to change living arrangements without offending the couple soon.

"Druimkinneras is absolutely wonderful," he said while plastering a smile on his lips and hoping it seemed somewhat authentic. "I did meet a few, and I must admit, it's hard to imagine any of them could be servants of the devil..." Pausing, he leaned back as Agnes placed a plate upon the table, his mouth salivating at the smell already. "But the evidence seems sound, and it does not lie. So do not worry, I'll find them in time. The Lord wouldn't allow any other way, would he?"

As the rest of dinner was served, the finder waited patiently before offering to bless the meal. It was the least he could do, and he wanted to make it known how thankful he was to have a place to stay as well. After, the priest did his best to recount the names of those he had met, and the professions of each. It was a boring list, no doubt, but maybe the couple could share gossip that they weren't willing to share themselves. Either way, William found it exceptionally hard to listen and make notes as he usually would, with Magdalene's beautiful blue eyes seeming to devour and entice him as they were.

 

[Madam Mim]

Magdalene smiled as the witch finder told them about his day. Her foot gently brushed his leg as she adjusted in her seat, briefly enough that it might be considered an accident. But she had seen the sin in his heart, knew the sorts of things he thought about in the dead of night and tried to hide from his god; nothing was an accident. She tilted her head slightly at his restrained reaction, but said nothing about it.

"With crops and livestock dying, children sickening, surely the Devil is in this place," she pointed out. "May the Lord guide you on your holy mission, Mr. Wrycht, and may you never hesitate for a moment when you finally come face-to-face with the Great Deceiver."

Wrycht recounted those he had met, clearly looking for information, and Magdalene was happy to supply him with gossip. The McDonalds had been on the outs with each other for years and word was she was just waiting for something to happen to him so that she could run off with the gypsy band that came through Inverness every few years. The youngest two Cotterly children looked more like Robert the butcher than like Mr. Cotterly, but the poor man seemed oblivious so far. That or he was kinder and more forgiving than most. Mr. MacCabe's family had led the village for 200 years or more, but rumor was Councilman Forbes had it out for his job. The Buchannans were nice enough folk but charged prices that bordered on usery, in her opinion, and--

"My dear." Alastair had a familiar tone as he smiled and laid his hand over his wife's. "Surely Mr. Wrycht isn't interested in listening to prattling, uncharitable gossip about the neighbors all night?" He squeezed her hand gently. "I know how you like to keep an ear out for the wellbeing of our community, but at this rate you'll make the poor man see witches everywhere."

Magdalene smiled tightly and laughed lightly. "Of course, how silly of me. I'm so sorry, Mr. Wrycht. I was simply trying to help catch you up on the history of our fair village." She took a bite and there was silence for a moment as she chewed. "Perhaps you would be more interested in finding out for yourself? There's a dance this Friday at the MacCabes. The whole village is invited; it might be a good opportunity to get to know them for yourself. And of course, good food, good drink, and good company. There are plenty of pretty girls who would be delighted to take a turn about the floor with a man like yourself." Her eyes sparkled as she said this, and a smile played at the corner of her lip.

Alastair, however, laughed. "Magda if you keep playing matchmaker like this there'll be no single young people left in the village until today's children are well-grown."

"And what's wrong with that?" She raised her eyebrows slightly and grinned. "I only want happiness for my friends and neighbors. A chance for them to partake of one of the most joyful sacraments of our faith, as I have." She leaned over to kiss her husband lightly.

 

[Alkaline]

As with everything she did, even the subtlest of touches send a chill through William. Even though it was incidental, the finder had trouble not wishing it was the sign of something more. A flirtatious hint that the woman found him somewhat attractive or worth courting.

That, of course, was a terrifying thought. One that set Mr. Wrycht's heart racing even faster as he tore his eyes away from the hostess and focused instead on the dinner presented. He was borderline starving, at least, and found it an easy distraction as Magdalene expanded upon the inner workings of the city until she was cutoff by her husband.

"Oh, really it's not a problem, Councilman. And honestly helpful more than you'd know. No piece of the puzzle is too small, and I'll need them all to formulate the picture... And some would say it's my job to see witches everywhere. It's sorting out which are the real ones that is the trick. Each one of us, no doubt, has a vice or two, and the devil will try to get in an exploit each and every one of them. Anyone who trusts in the Lord will surely escape such harm though... So we just need to find those without faith, more than anything..."

He turned back to the food and speared a piece of meat, popping and chewing it carefully and quietly as he met Alistair's gaze again. Already he was suspicious of the councilman, though he did wonder if a part of that was simply spite for having found such a delightful woman to take as his wife. Unlikely that William would ever settle in one place to find such a life. He almost choked at the mention of the dance though, and his cheeks darkened in nervous embarrassment.

"Oh well I'm not much for dancing, but I suppose it would be good to show my face at least. While I may be well balanced, I sadly can't keep a rhythm for the life of me..." Somehow, his cheeks flushed even darker at the mention of the joyful sacraments Magdalene spoke of, his mind turning once more to the woman's lips bobbing and slurping along the length of her husband's cock. He closed his eyes and said a quick silent prayer before doing his best to put on a smile anyway.

"Well, I don't expect to be around town for long anyway. We'll hunt out the source of your troubles, and I'll be on my way. The Lord's business doesn't stop in Druimkinneras, unfortunately, and neither will my travels as a result."

Clutching his hand under the table, William felt a small tremor shaking through it, his eyes flittering back and forth from Alistair to Magdalene, then down to her lips that had been wrapping themselves so happily around the man less than an hour before. It forced the man to dig his nails into his forearm, pinching the skin to distract from the unwholesomeness of it all. At this rate William would need to find privacy, and soon. No amount of prayer seemed likely to stifle these temptations. Maybe Father Turnbull would be able to offer some hope? Or at least a private spot for the finder to pay penance.

 

[Madam Mim]

"Of course we each have our own vices," Alastair rejoined, "but is it not our job to strive anyway for holiness? To recreate the image of our Savior wherever we can in our lives?"

Magdalene nodded. "Amen," she agreed firmly. "So we seem to be agreed, we must mind those who seem to be weak in their faith. We are a village of churchgoers, one and all, but even the Devil can quote scripture to suit his purposes, can he not? So I suppose...those who do say they live by the teachings of Christ but do not show that they do. You know they say that the night Mr. Balloch disappeared, Mrs. Balloch was seen coming back from the woods late at night..."

"Magda my sweet, you're doing it again." Alastair's smile turned a little tight and he squeezed her hand again, more tightly this time. "And the gospel cautions against gossip and slander does it not?" She knew perfectly damn well that it wasn't Mr. Balloch's wife who had caused him to disappear last Spring.

She opened and closed her mouth several times, then nodded. "Of course, my love. You're right. I was meaning to go to confession tomorrow, I suppose I shall add that to my list of sins to atone for." Her lips were thin as she smiled and the corners of her eyes hardened. The quality of sparkle in her eye changed to something cold and hard, like ice over a lake. Husband and wife held each other's gaze for a few moments, then Magdalene cleared her throat before mentioning the dance in three days time. She waved away his concerns about being able to dance. "Then I'll teach you," she volunteered brightly, shifting again and brushing William's thigh under the table as she did so. "'Tisn't much to it, really. Mostly skipping, keeping your hands up, looping arms and so forth."

"Aye, my lady wife is a fair teacher," Alastair agreed, "and a bonny dancer. She's taught half the girls in the village to read, or dance, or sew. All sorts of those feminine things." The word feminine had a tone to it that she didn't quite appreciate, but didn't say anything.

"Well, I don't expect to be around town for long anyway," William admitted. "We'll hunt out the source of your troubles, and I'll be on my way. The Lord's business doesn't stop in Druimkinneras, unfortunately, and neither will my travels as a result."

"More's the pity," Magda sighed, her eyes flicking over his features. "I fear that the Morningstar may target our fair village the second your back is turned. But, you're right. There are other towns in need of a good man like yourself." She laid a hand lightly on his arm, a motion her husband didn't miss. "But in the meantime, I will teach you how to dance and you can get to know everyone, hm?"

It would have been rude for William to leave his hosts directly after supper. Instead, they pulled Agnes in as a fourth in several games of Noddy, with Magdalene claiming William as her partner and teaching him as they went how to play. They sat together close on the sofa, with Agnes and Alastair in chairs on the other side of the low table, and in order to help him without giving away their hand Magda sat close, her thigh pressing against Williams while she whispered in her ear, her lips barely grazing his flesh as she spoke behind her hand. Finally the couple made excuses for Agnes to return to her duties. Magdalene picked up a book that had been marked with a ribbon, saying that she wasn't tired, and with a kiss to his wife and a shake of the witch finder's hand he bade them goodnight. The warm candlelight glowed on Magda's pale skin as she sat near enough to read her book, curled up at one end of the sofa. She looked up at him over the pages and smiled.

"I'm so glad you're here, William," she said in her warm-honey voice, before blushing and casting her eyes down. "Er, Mr. Wrycht. Truly you've been godsent in our greatest hour of need."

 

[Alkaline]

While the rest of dinner wasn’t unpleasant in any way, the banter between the married couple certainly entertaining, there were a few moments of tension between the pair that didn’t go unnoticed by the finder. Between that and the lingering touch upon his wrist, and occasional graze upon his thigh, William was left rather anxious to escape to the privacy of his bedroom. The man tried to tell himself that this was all normal, that it was he who’d lived the abnormal life surrounded by the Church and its influences. While Alistair was right, the gossip a bit unbecoming and sinful, William was happy to let it slide. It was useful, after all, and… well he wasn’t a priest, simply a witch finder. He was here to find Satan himself, not pass judgment on those who had passively succumb to his influence.

And truthfully, despite the discomfort, there was something to the exchange that he still enjoyed. It was nice to be around people who weren’t members of the clergy. They certainly would not have been the throwing dances, at the least.

“Well, if you insist, I suppose it can’t hurt to learn…” he admitted, his eyes struggling to meet Magda’s own though when he said it. He was already distracted enough by the touch upon his thigh… Falling into the deep blue expanse of her eyes in addition was just asking for trouble. “At the least, I welcome the lessons,” he added, trying to flash a smile at her despite her husband’s insistence to seemingly condescend her skill set. His eyes forgot their discipline and met hers for a second before flashing away and doing their best to avoid her the rest of the dinner.

When supper was done, William rose, eager to escape before being pulled right back into Magdalene’s plans for the night. His lips parted, but protest was swallowed back, and he let himself get carried away with actual fun, for once. It felt wrong in it’s own right, but despite the guilt he felt, he couldn’t actually rationalize a bit of Noddy as an actual sin. The ever encroaching Magda, on the other hand, was a different story. The subtle touches and comfort she had around him continued to unnerve and make his mind drift to almost obscene thoughts. It made him dream of a life where he wasn’t born into the Church’s grasp, at the least. One where he could consider things like courting a woman… One like Magdalene, even. But of course not her exactly. She was Alistair’s already and it would be beyond inappropriate to think of her as anything but a friendly face.

Despite all of that, he was left alone with her soon enough, sitting quietly on the couch as she curled herself up with a book. His hands sat in his own lap, and he was trying to find the right words to dismiss himself when she spoke up, and looked at him almost bashfully for once.

“Oh… You give me too much credit, Mrs. Carlisle. Truly. Whatever work I do manage, just know it’s the Lord’s hand guiding me more than anyone.” He turned his own eyes down again, fingers entangling as he ran through a few options that would get him to bed, only to find himself saying anything but that, and finding an excuse to spend some more time with her instead. “And what is it you’re reading? Don’t tell anyone, but I’ll confess I enjoy reading a little more than just the Lord’s word on occasion. Nothing inappropriate, of course. Just historical records for the most part…” He gave a sly grin of his own, like he’d just confessed a devious secret, before turning away and rising to his feet, that moment of confidence gone in a flash. “But, well, I should also turn in for the night. Long day ahead of me tomorrow. No rest for the wicked an all that…”

 

[Madam Mim]

"Magda, please," she corrected when William insisted she gave him too much credit. "All of my friends call me Magda. And no credit is too great. Even if it's the Lord's hand guiding you, you are the one doing his work. It's a call not everyone has the strength to bear, and I for one am eternally grateful that He has brought you here to care for our immortal souls." She smiled warmly, then glanced down at her book when he asked. "Oh, it's called Utopia. It's about a society where everything is perfect. An interesting piece of literature, if you deign to stoop to novels. Alastair says that novels rot women's brains, but I've never found the harm in a lovely bit of make believe." She smiled a little, then stood as well when he rose to his feet.

"Well, you should have plenty of rest, then," Magda assured him, "since I've never seen anyone less wicked. But here, take this." She pushed a dry, pressed flower into his hand. "I found it between the pages of my book. I must have put it there to press it and forgotten about it, but it was so pretty I thought you ought to have it. As a welcome gift." She smiled again and leaned in to kiss his cheek. "Goodnight, Mr. Wrycht. Sweet dreams."

That night William did dream.

He was jogging through the woods, following some unseen quarry. Playful giggles echoed through the forest. At every bend he could see a flash of pale skin, a swirl of midnight hair, disappearing out of sight. Finally he came to clearing. No one was there. He could have sworn he heard her laughter, caught a glimpse of skin as she had passed this way.

"You would hunt me?" Soft, familiar hands ran down his bare chest, slid sensually over his naked hips. "I who have done nothing to harm you?" One hand gripped his hip more firmly while the other slid to his center and down, softly curling fingers around his shaft and slowly stroking him. "But what if it were I hunting you?" There was a smile in the warm-honey voice as her thumb flicked over his tip, spreading the bead of precum. Soft lips pressed to his shoulder blade. "You want to be hunted, William. I can taste it on your skin. Hear it in your voice. Fall into me, my beautiful prey."

The woman from the river was in front of him, pale skin glowing in the moonlight, hair cascading loose over her breasts and down her back, falling past her hips. Gently Magda pressed William onto his back where he landed in his soft, warm bed as her knees came to rest on either side of his thighs. She braced her hands on his chest as she slowly rode him, moaning her pleasure.

"Save me, my prey," she begged, gasping and moaning as her hips rocked forward, taking him deep inside her. "Hunt me and be hunted, save me and serve me, worship at the altar of my body and I will promise you pleasures untold. William--"

When he awoke the grey light of dawn was beginning to creep over his windowsill, stars slowly fading from the sky. A magpie sang from the sill. Already Agnes could be heard downstairs readying breakfast, but there was no stirring yet from the master suite down the hall.

 

[Alkaline]

"Magda, of course," he said with a small nod, his cheeks blushing just the slightest tint of pink. "I'd hardly think it would rot your brain myself. And you seem sharp enough that if it did, it's really just a kindness to those of us beneath you." A sly smile escaped, but was quickly cut off as William realized the error of his ways. Not only was he mildly flirting with a married woman, but doing some knowing that fact, and under her own roof as well. It wouldn't surprise him if Alistair wrung his neck if he was caught. He started to turn away quickly, but before he even had a chance it got much worse... The woman's soft brush of lips upon his cheek made his stomach turn, while tingling between the legs as well. He was left clutching a small flower he'd not even realized had been slipped into his hand, and just barely managed a soft goodnight before departing hastily down the hallway.

Upon the crack of dawn, he found his situation even worse. Never before had he had such vivid dreams... It was like he was there himself, and judging from the stiff cock tenting up against the sheets, his body certainly seemed to think that very thing. As he lay there, his mind returned to Magda. Whether she was really the woman in the river or not, it seemed his subconscious certainly wanted her to be. No doubt these thoughts would continue to trouble him, and while he knew it would be a sin, he worried the thoughts of his hostess would linger and distract throughout the day. He'd have to pay for his sins, but he'd not let the Devil win so easily. Whoever the witch was, they were certainly powerful and clever enough to identify his weakness and exploit it thoroughly.

Well, he wasn't a holy man in any official capacity, at the least, and he was willing to sacrifice for the greater good, he thought as his hand gripped towards the base of his cock, then slid upward to rub the slick wet mess of pre-cum around the thick head, just as the prey in his dream had done. Before he had a chance to think further, he'd closed his eyes and returned to those images, pale skin under his fingertips, perky breasts bouncing softly as the woman rode upon him. It had been some time since he'd given into these carnal desires, and the release came quick as a result, his hand and tummy left with a sticky mess of white before he knew it.

"Fuck." He muttered softly, his heart thudding as the weight of his sins began to crush down on him again. For the longest while he simply lay still, wallowing in the self pity and hate. This place was no doubt cursed, of that he was now sure. With the room and house still quiet, he found there was at least a small chance he could slip out undetected and get out of town before it stirred too. That little bit of hope spurred some life into him, and he sat up and slipped his undershorts off, wiping his hands and stomach clean of his cum with the discard undergarment before shoving it deep into his pack. The finder frowned at the sight of it though, the mess a reminder of his failure.

A few minutes later though and he was fully dressed, tip toeing out of the house and sneaking past the kitchen where Agnes was working, and into the cool morning air of Druimskinnear. A fog had settled, providing further cover for the man as he snuck his way out of the village and back towards the river where he'd find a small forest for cover. In his pack were the necessary tools needed to repent for his sins and lust, and hopefully clear his mind of such thoughts about Magda once and for all.

 

[Madam Mim]

As William sneaked out to the landing, from the slightly-ajar door there was the small sound of a woman groaning and stirring in her sleep. Were he to glance in at his hosts he would have caught a glimpse of Magda's slender arm hanging off the bed, her loose hair tossed toward the headboard, exposing her naked back to the cool morning air. Sharp crystal eyes opened just as he turned his back to go down the stairs, and a smile curved the cupid's bow of her lips.

Carefully, Magdalene sat up in bed and slid quietly out of it, stepping lightly across the chilly floorboards to find her night shift where she had disrobed teasingly and slowly for her husband the night before, when she had finally come to bed. She padded on bare feet across the thick runner carpet down the stairs and into the kitchen, where she bade Agnes a good morning.

"I think I'll go for one of my walks," she said thoughtfully. Her hand slid lightly across the small of the young lady's back as she passed her to pour some of the hot water for tea. Of course she wasn't interested, but it never hurt to keep Agnes hopeful. "It's always nice on a morning like this to take your morning tea out on a walk, isn't it?"

Agnes rubbed her forearms a little, trying to will away the goosebumps when her mistress touched her. "Aye, I suppose so." It wasn't unusual for Magdalene to go for a morning walk. She didn't know where her mistress went, but usually she took tea or a little bread or something to snack on, and came back with muddy feet and tangled hair and in a much better mood. "It'll be one of those days, won't it mistress? I can feel it."

"Aye, I'm afraid so Agnes." She stood next to the maid and gazed with her out of the kitchen window for a long moment. Then she took a deep breath and smiled. "But I suppose we do what we must to keep the wolves at bay, eh?" With a friendly kiss on the cheek--Magda was only a few years older than Agnes, after all, and the two had grown up playing together--and a hand whispered lightly over her hip, Magda stepped out of the kitchen door with her cup and walked down into the glen.

The fog caressed her skin as she followed the water upstream. She didn't know what he was doing, but her bird had told her that he had wanted privacy beyond that afforded by his room. Well, if he was heading outside for privacy, then he could only be headed to the forest. As she followed the stream and stepped softly across the moss, black and white flickered at the corners of her vision. She smiled. Two for mirth. Magda didn't need magic to make her quiet; she stepped across moss and bare rocks, sometimes even stepping into the stream, sipping her tea as she went. She had brought it in a leather mug, just in case she slipped, and when she was done held the mug loosely by her side. More black and white, the rustle of wings. A cackling. Five for silver. Well, they certainly were gathering, weren't they? She wondered idly if there would be ten of them so soon, so far away from Samhain, and when the witch finder had only just arrived. Well--

There. The crashing and blundering of someone striking off the path on their own, in search of privacy no doubt. Magda smiled and, though she was able to still walk softly, murmured a charm to muffle her footsteps as she found one of the better-worn deer tracks. Many of the deer tracks led to the grove. Wild animals were drawn there even when it sometimes spelled their doom. It was a way that Magda knew well, well hidden among thick trees and far enough away from the main path that voices were muffled even when the trees were bare. It was almost inevitable that William would be led there by whatever spirits guided travelers through these woods. There was another smile as she spotted him and glanced up in the trees. Seven for a secret, never to be told. Of course. The smile widened before she returned her gaze to the witch finder, watching him remove his shirt and...

Oh.

Oh.

He was one of those.

Magda covered her mouth to stifle a predatory laugh. Was this her great chance? A witch finder already halfway to carnal corruption who beat himself for the dreams she sent him? Was it really this easy, Lord Samael? Surely it couldn't be...

"William?" Her voice was small, concerned as she stepped out from behind her tree. Her feet were bare, as was her head. Her hair was loose and the dim morning sun's weak rays managed to break the fog enough to shine a little through her dress, outlining the silhouette of her shapely legs, wide hips, and generous breasts. The trees dappled and broke the light such that a halo of sorts formed around her head, if only for a moment. Her pretty mouth was turned into a frown of concern, her eyebrows knit, eyes searching his soul for answers. Shyly Magda stepped into the clearing. "I was just on a morning walk," she gestured lamely with her cup, "and I...William were you just...?" She stepped uncertainly towards him and hesitantly, gingerly caressed one of the fresh purpling welts with a cool, feather-light. The other marks across his back hadn't escaped her notice either. She sighed a little, in a way that sounded like it had in his dreams, and a small smile relieved her worried features. "They really have sent one of the holiest men in Scotland to look after us, haven't they?"

Her hand rested on his warm, naked shoulder and she brought her eyes up to meet his, breast heaving gently beneath her shift. "Purity of thought and soul is important above all else for a witch finder," Magda said with a nod, as though confirming it for herself. "You've no cause to feel shame on my account. In fact, if you'd like I um..." She blushed and looked away, her fingertips pressing nervously into his flesh. Then she looked back at him. "Well, I said yesterday that I wanted to help in any way I could, aye? And I'm no priest, of course, but ah...it seems as though you could use a little help. Purifying yourself, I mean."

 

[Alkaline]

The man's chest heaved, sweat on his brow despite the cool morning mist that sprung up around him. The woods were once again silent except for his breathing, the crack of the whip no longer echoing through the trees. William's flesh burned, mark upon his back swelling already, but where his body hurt, he could feel the sweet relief within his soul. The hand not holding the whip reached up and pressed softly to his chest, palm flat against his beating heart as his eyes closed for a moment. The silence was but a brief tease though, a soft voice calling out making him go rigid once more... No doubt it was just his imagination, he thought at first, right until the crack of a twig under footsteps told him otherwise.

Cautiously, the man looked over his shoulder, heartbroken to see it truly was Magda that approached, somehow looking even more stunning that the one in his dreams. She wore barely anything, the gown showing off the curves underneath as it hung loose upon her shoulders... It forced the man to turn away, his cheeks blushing as hot as his back while he fell to his knees in defeat. And here she was, thinking he was the holiest of men...

"Hardly..." He whispered to himself more than anything, flinching suddenly when her soft fingers ran over his back, unafraid of the marks that in turn brought him such shame. They were, after all, secretly a reminder of the lust he felt for her specifically. Clearly it was the poor woman's naivete that the devil used as a tool for his work... So easily manuevered into the exact position he needed her for. No doubt the witch would be close to Magda, he began to think as she drifted in front of him, her soft blue eyes drawing him in and making more than the fresh welts swell.

"You... You'd not judge me for this?" He said as he slowly rose to his feet, his eyes looking down towards the fingers that rested on his chest, then down to the whip still loose in his grasp. Slowly he brought it to hold with both hands, turning it about as he contemplated handing it over to her. It was possible having her deliver the punishment would help... It certainly connected the punishment to the sin in a direct way. "Not only that... You have the stomach to help? It's not for the faint of heart, to whip a man... It would have to stay between the two of us, of course. I can't have it getting out that I'm weak... Easily corruptable. No doubt the witch would use that against me... I've already struggled enough as it is..."

 

[Madam Mim]

"You...You'd not judge me for this?" She could almost feel sorry for him as he rose in front of her. He was considering it, she knew.

Magda smiled softly, allowing her hand to slide from his shoulder down his unmarked chest as he rose. "Judge you? Sweet William, whatever for?" She allowed one delicate hand to rest lightly on his chest, not moving it even as he looked at it. "You purify yourself in the eyes of the Lord so that you might rip out evil by the root from our fair village. What place have a poor sinner like I have to judge you for that?" She stepped closer, nearly closing the gap between them, not moving her hand from his chest. The faint smell of lavender wafted from her loose hair as William asked whether she would have the stomach to help him. Again, she smiled.

"What a beautiful soul you have," she purred, "purging yourself of sin but fearing only for my soul. My...sensibilities." Magda shook her head when he mentioned that it would have to stay between the two of them. "I would never dream of telling another soul," she promised solemnly, keeping intense eye contact as she put her free hand up on his shoulder. "We are all sinners, William. We are all weak. The difference between you and the rest of us is that you are willing to bear up the punishment for your sins." She turned her face to watch her hand slide from his shoulder down his bicep, over his elbow, down to his wrist. As her hand closed over his, she closed the gap between them as much as she dared, her breasts lightly brushing against his abdomen.

"Give me the flog, sweet William," she whispered, her lips brushing lightly against his chest as her fingers laced with his, "and put your hands on the tree. The purity of your soul is the most important one in this entire village...maybe all of Scotland." She looked up at him with those piercing blue eyes, but still her lips ghosted over his skin as she spoke. "If you fall, so fall we all. Please, William..." There was a hint of a pleading whine to her whisper as she moved gently. "My sweet, beautiful witch finder. You are the only man who stands between us and the Devil."

 

[Alkaline]

If he thought it unsettling before, he wasn't sure what to call the intimacy Magda now shared with him. He shivered again, knowing she must have noticed, but he managed to keep his mouth shut all the same. This was wrong in every way, almost enough to make him think sweet Magda herself could have been truly corrupted. While she seemed to have his best interests at hand, the way she touched him, the look in her eyes bespoke something far more dangerous. Maybe it was just the look of someone who knew his own struggles, who carried her own burden of sin, he told himself.

"I couldn't..." He whispered softly, shaking his head though he made no actual effort to step away when Magdalene pressed even closer. William swallowed nervously, but he had not the will power to resist her temptations, if one could even call it that. The way her fingers drifted across his skin spoke of intimacy of the like he'd not felt in years, if ever before, but the words she spoke continued to remind him instead of his sins, turning the lust quickly into guilt as he breathed deeply, nostrils flaring as he was overwhelmed by the lavender.

With eyes closed, his fingers finally loosened their grip, her words empowering him just as quickly as they broke him down. At once filling him with guilt, and then building him back up into their only hope... William knew even that, to have such pride would be a sin of its own, but he was sent there for this job wasn't he? He truly was their only hope, no doubt they'd be unable to escape the devil's grasp without a man trained by the church.

"Okay..." William finally said in defeat, his hands dropping away and leaving the flog in the woman's grip, his eyes looking over the top of her head, so afraid to look her in the eye. There was a tension hanging between the two of them, no doubt, and he could still feel her breath and lips touching his chest, but to look would have been to acknowledge the erotic nature of the moment, something he wouldn't bring himself to believe Magdalene was capable of. He couldn't stomach the implications of such thought.

Briefly his hands found her hips, and ignoring the feeling between his legs, the temptation yet again for his cock to swell in excitement, he pushed her to the side and stepped forward to face his punishment. No doubt, even as small as she was, she could inflict far more pain that he'd exposed himself to if she wanted.

"Lord Father, please forgive me for my sins. Let me face thy wrath, and thy punishment as you see fit. Guide Magda's hand with your strength and fury, and allow me to carry both mine sins and her own upon my shoulders," he whispered to himself, hands briefly clasping as he approached the tree, then reached out and braced against it with arms outstretched. A deep exhale followed shortly after and his shoulders curled back defensively as he prepared for the first lash.

 

[Madam Mim]

He protested again softly, and Magda shook her head. "You will save me--save us--from eternal Hellfire once you've burned the witch. How else could I repay such a soul-deep debt? How else could I stand without shame before my Lord and say with honest lips that I did everything in my power to help you in your destiny to find the witch and give her what she truly deserves?" Her cheeks tinged lightly with passion at the subject.

Finally, he relented. William's hand brushed her hip as he passed her to brace himself against the tree, and Magda smiled at his back. Winning the soul of a man of God wasn't the same as seducing a butcher or a weaver...or even a councilman. He had to, she knew, come to her of his own accord. She hasn't lied to him yet, nor would she. She couldn't, not if she wanted him entirely, body and soul. They called her lord the Great Deceiver, but he never lied; he simply granted free will, and never asked for more than the Great Bully of Abraham ever had. The witch finder wasn't won yet, but he had taken another step down the twisting road to great Truth and Power.

When he prayed she crossed herself and said "Amen"; it was all silly ritual anymore, not an agreement. There was no power left in the new god's old words. People didn't remember the reasons for doing what they did, they knew only that they were told to do it to avoid the wrath of a petty tyrant who took attendance. Magda took a moment to consider her next words and actions, shifting a little as though uncertain. As she did, the feeling of a soft hand ghosted over the front of William's trousers, though there was no one there to touch him. His trousers and small clothes had come untied. Surely he had just been careless in fastening himself in the desperate panic to get out of the house; he could subtly fix it when Magda was done, especially if he excused himself to take a few minutes to recover. But now his clothes were loose, and his cock very nearly hung freely though out of Magda's line of sight. He had gained some relief from the tightness of his trousers as his arousal had strained against them.

Finally Magda sighed and shifted. " Our Father, who art in Heaven," she intoned solemnly, bringing the flog with a soft crack upon his back, "hallowed be thy name." Crack! Everyone knew witches couldn't say the Lord's Prayer. She was careful not to bring the whip down too hard, just enough to sting a little and leave a red streak, not enough to raise welts or draw blood.

Hands pressed against William again, bracing themselves against his thighs. When he looked down, no one was there. There was not even the depression of pressure on his trousers. One hand remained, while the other ghostly hand slid up and down his shaft, very much as they had in his dream.

"Thy kingdom come," crack! "Thy will be done," crack! "on Earth as it is in Heaven." crack!

Soft lips parted around William's head before taking his shaft slowly into a warm, wet mouth that he could not see. The mouth slid up and down his length, leaving no trace of their passage on his skin. One hand still braced itself on his thigh while the other gently gripped the base of his shaft, squeezing and rubbing gently and meeting the lips on their way down.

"Give us this day our daily bread," crack! "and forgive us our trespasses," crack! "as we forgive those who trespass against us." crack! "Lead us not into temptation," crack!

The lips slid all the way down, pushing his cock to the back of a throat that wasn't there. Gently it constricted around his head, carefully swallowing around it.

"...But deliver us from evil." crack! Magda was starting to sound breathy, and was panting a little. It was a tone familiar from his dreams. "For the Kingdom," crack! "and the Power," crack! "and the Glory are yours." crack! "Now and forever." crack!

The lips traveled back up William's cock to suck hard and irresistibly at his tip.

"Amen."

They stopped. They weren't gone; hands still braced themselves on his thighs and if he concentrated he might be able to feel the ghost of a warm breath on his suddenly neglected cock. They weren't gone, they were poised. Waiting. He teetered on the edge and they knew it.

" Shall I stop?" Magda panted behind William's back. A hand slid into his small clothes and cupped his balls, massaging them gently but never quite pushing him over that precipice of pleasure. "Or shall I say a Hail Mary for you?" At the same time an invisible tongue flicked tauntingly at the tip of his quivering, aching cock, Magda's very real hand laid gently against his back, cool on his skin after the heat of the whip. "I want to make sure to help you in every way I can; give you everything you need." She moved her soft hand slowly over his flesh. "Please, William." There was that trace of a begging moan again, hiding under her words, never quite there enough to be thought of as anything more than a trick of the imagination.

 

[Alkaline]

The words she said were right, but everything else about the moment felt wrong… William recognized it too, but somehow felt powerless to resist. A small grunt escaped when his trousers mysteriously loosened though, and it’s not like he had much time to think about that any further as the first lash cracked across his back. His chin tilted upward, shoulders pinching even tighter and a small gasp escaped as he felt the blood flowing to the surface, warming the torture flesh, and disappointingly his stiffening cock as well.

In surprise, his head fell forward, chin to chest, nails digging into the bark to stare at his supposed assailant, the one gripping firmly to his cock. When nothing but air was in its place, he simply stared for a moment, gawking at the empty space where surely someone was. Despite the Lord’s Prayer being uttered, whatever creature of the beyond took him had no fear of William’s Father Above.

No. This can’t be.

Simply a trick of the mind, he thought, arching again as the flog crossed his back again, his hips arching forward where he surely felt the head bending back against an invisible throat, slapping into lips and chin that took his every inch. Just like Magda had taken her husband’s so eagerly the day before…

Eyes pinched shut again, and William let out a low growl, determined to fight off the pleasure, to ignore the throbbing desire to burst… To somehow ignore the delicate, invisible touch that pressed against his thighs, cupped and massaged his balls…

“Lord forgive me,” he begged, almost on the verge of tears as the final crack rose through the air, the pain barely noticeable so consumed by the feeling of having his cock throated by an unseen force. Unless, William thought, this was simply another temptation. A trick of the mind, exaggerating an affinity for pain he’d not fully explored before. It made more sense than to be taken by a spirit or demon. He was mixing his own confusion, his haunted dreams into reality, but in truth it was not there.

It was easier to tell himself that when Magda was tearing into his back. When she stopped, asked if she should continue or issue a Hail Mary, he thought he was free until that teasing tongue returned, covering the slit of his cock where a thin strand of pre-cum hung in air just before snapping and dropping to the forest floor below. A gasp escaped as well, under Magda’s soft touch and his cock ached further, making William whimper pathetically at the realization that a gentle hand on his back was enough to tip him over the edge.

“Don’t stop. And don’t hold back this time,” he finally said, hands rotating to grip even harder, a sharp snarl cutting into the words as he focused on the tree ahead. “I’ll not let Satan defeat me so easily. If you think a Hail Mary is appropriate, I’ll take any blessing I can get. But I can still feel the sin within me.”

Despite the determination, his cock bobbed again in the air as his thighs flexed, pointing the stiff length straight ahead as if taunting that invisible creature as well.

 

[Madam Mim]

William Wrycht pleaded for the forgiveness of his god and Magda smiled at his back, flush with exertion and arousal. Wouldn't he be better off, she thought, with a god who understood him? Who didn't insist on punishing humans for being human? Who did not punish those who didn't worship him, but simply rewarded those who did beyond their wildest dreams? How much simpler his life would be, how much more enjoyable.

Apparently much more. He demanded that she continue whipping him, and harder, and Magda's smile became a grin.

"Yes, William," she panted, her breath caressing his back as the invisible hand massaged his balls. "I will do anything you believe you need to purify yourself." Leaves rustled underfoot as she adjusted her stance and leather creaked as she gripped the flogger. "Hail Mary, full of grace--ughn!" Magda grunted as she swung the whip down with a crack!, though it was less the sort one heard from a woman lifting something heavy so much as a woman riding a man past his breaking point. Immediately William's entire cock was swallowed, unseen lips pressing against his belly as the throat once again carefully swallowed around him. "The Lord is with thee." crack! Each swing brought another groan of exertion and a sting upon his back as welts began to raise in angry stripes. "Blessed art thou amongst women," crack! "and blessed is the fruit of thy womb," crack! "Jesus Christ!" crack! It sounded more like an expletive than a prayer. Behind him William could hear her panting and occasional little whimpers, though they were neither of fear, sadness, nor pain.

The lips came up his length again, sucking on his head. The tongue swirled around his tip before slowly the mouth slid down his cock and the tongue traced a serpentine pattern along the underside of his shaft. The hand still gently massaged his balls. Two fingers slowly crept further, pressing between his legs, behind his balls. Gently they pressed against his perineum, massaging and stimulating it in time to the hand massaging his balls and the mouth bobbing on his cock.

"Holy Mary," crack! "Mother of God," crack! "pray for us sinners," crack! "now" crack! "and at the hour of our death." crack!"

There was a slight vibration along his shaft, as though if whatever this was had a voice it would have been humming in contentment. The hands continued intensifying their massage of his balls and perineum, while the throat swallowed around his shaft a few more times before the mouth slid up, lips around his head, tongue swirling around his head then teasing his slit with the tip of the tongue, flicking quickly back and forth.

"Amen!"

All at once he was swallowed again. Magda stepped forward, gently sliding her hand over his back again, as the invisible force became relentless in its attentions.

"William, you're hurt." She panted from the exertion, but didn't let on that she could see him being pleasured by her spell. "Please, no more. It'll get infected. Just go to confession; I'm sure the Lord understands." Then she carefully, lightly, shyly pressed her lips to his shoulder blade, if only for a moment. "If not for your own sake then for mine. Come with me, William." She let that hang in the air for a moment, along with its pleading tone. "We'll return separately, and once the house is empty I'll patch you up and we can go to confession."

 

[Alkaline]

The blistering skin... The aching muscles... None of it mattered. His cock still twitched, and he swore he could feel saliva dripping down his length as the imaginary force took him again and again. Each crack on his back made his body arch back, and his swollen cock bounce, but in reality it only made him want it more. If she'd just hit him a little harder, in just the right way, he'd surely finish. That was how it all connected, wasn't it? In the end, it was Magda herself that pushed him over the edge.

Her panting voice had edged him so close, the sounds of her breathing somehow erotically charged, the mighty "Amen!" making his toes curl, his fingers digging into the tree to the point of bleeding almost... And then that damn force enveloping him, leaving his jaw hanging open as they swallowed his cock whole, refusing to give in until he fed it the seed it seemed to so desperately want.

"Father forgive me. Father forgive me..." William began to whisper breathlessly, his eyes pinched so tight that the veins on his forehead bulged, right until Magda's hand fluttered across his skin, and tipped him over completely. A gasp escaped, the muscles in his back flaring and stretching the beaten and brushed skin taught as his cock twitched and shot it's seed to the forest floor. Thick ropes of it, the intense pressure he'd held back enough to drape it across the tree bark as he shuddered under her touch.

The kiss seemed perfectly timed, lips resting on his back as the last burst fell free, though a strand still hung in air, dangling from the swollen head as William continued to pant. Slowly he began to crawl down to the ground, hands walking along the trunk of the tree until he was kneeling in front of the witch, on the verge of breaking entirely and simply weeping in front of her. She was right, of course. Confession would certainly help, though William knew he should avoid any further help from her. His head shook no, to deny her, but his lips faltered and could not back up that sentiment. He just hoped she'd not notice the shame he'd sprayed in front of him, though he found it impossible to miss as he opened his eyes and took in the horrific sight of it all.

"Okay. You're right... Thank you Magda," he managed to say, though his voice shook with every word, lips quivering and a sniffle escaping. "I've failed you. I've failed myself... And punishment alone is not enough, it seems..." He stretched out his hands, staring down at the slightly bloody palms and broken nails, aware of them for the first time, a tear running down his cheek and dropping from his chin before he caught it and watched it mix slowly with the crimson on his skin. "Lord give me strength, for I am too weak to do this alone..."

 

[Madam Mim]

The unseen throat swallowed around his shaft, milking him for all he had as his seed spattered against the base of the tree. Even Magda was a little surprised: it hadn't been the prayer, or the punishment, or even her spell which had sent William over the edge, but a single, gentle touch on his beaten and bloodied back as he begged his god for forgiveness. The last strand dangled before the invisible force licked it away, then was gone. He walked his hands along the trunk of the tree until he was on the ground, shaking as he shook his head no, but vocalized a yes. Magdalene knelt beside him, pretending not to see his seed or the cock still falling out of his trousers, and pulled his head into her lap as he tried not to cry while he declared that he had failed and deserved punishment.

"You are not alone," Magda purred, smoothing down his hair and stroking it tenderly. "And surely not even the Lord could punish you as you have already punished yourself. You're a man of God, William, but you aren't holy. None of us are. And to be human means stumbling like the wayward children we are. You've repented, you've punished yourself, and today you go to confession where Father Turnbull will absolve you of your sins and all will be forgiven." She glanced up and saw there, in the trees, a man standing, watching, waiting for her. With a sigh she looked down at William and stroked his hair again, then squeezed his shoulder. "I ought to head back," she said softly. "The house will be starting to stir by now, and we wouldn't want to invite undue suspicion, especially when we were doing nothing wrong. The opposite, in fact." She smoothed back his hair again and leaned down to kiss his temple. "Be ruled by me, William," she murmured. "Heed my council and all will be well. I promise. We'll clean you up then go to confession." Carefully she slid out from under his head and stood, walking in a direction that it would not be obvious that she'd seen what he considered to be shame but what she considered to be blessed indeed. The man turned to walk with her.

"My lord Cernunnos," she murmured respectfully, glancing over at him. "Last I checked it was not a cross-quarter day; Lammas has passed and Mabon is not yet here. To what do I owe the honor?"

Lord Cernunnos was built like a satyr with hairless thighs, with the primary difference being the pair of great antlers on a being who stood a little over seven feet tall. His manhood was as long as her forearm, and nearly as thick as her wrist, and by the way it stood at attention he had been watching her punish the witch finder. Magda glanced down and licked her lips, before returning her gaze to his face.

"I come with a message." He stopped and turned to face her, his tip bobbing temptingly just under her chin. "It seems you'll make short work of this...man of Yaweh," he never called the god of Abraham God; Yaweh was a child next to him, and a petulant, bullying one at that, "and Lord Samael is pleased. He knows you covet Scotland for your own; bring Druimkinneras to its knees, witch finder and all, and you shall have it."

Magda's fingers trailed along the god's hip as she looked up at him. Cernunnos had taken her maidenhead, and she knew she had been a favorite child of the Earth ever since. She also knew that so long as it benefited him the god would indulge her. "And why does he not tell me himself?"

Cernunnos scoffed. "The roads to Faerie are nearly closed; I know you can feel it just as easily as I. The old king clings tight to stolen power and fights to keep it. There is a war for the kingdoms on the far side of Hell, and he is a bit preoccupied with reclaiming what is rightfully his."

Magda nodded. "Lucifer never gives anything for free," she persisted. "What does he want in return?"

Finally the god smiled, and it had a predatory sort of look to it. "You will bear three children," he told her. It was neither flattery nor prophecy, only fact. "The first shall be a child of Heaven, the second a child of Earth," here he gently caressed her cheek with the back of two fingers, "the third a child of fallen man."

The witch grinned. "So you are my Gabriel," she murmured. "The god of Abraham sent his three-in-one, so his once-favorite son sends his one-in-three. But what have you to do with it?"

"Yaweh made his angels purposefully to be incompatible with humans. Surely you don't still believe in the children's story of the virgin birth?" At Magda's shrug he laughed. "There must be an intermediary to prepare the vessel to accept celestial seed."

"And...your price for mediating was a child of your own." It wasn't a question. Magda didn't have to bend her head very much to suck gently on the head of his cock, and smiled when she felt his fingers in her hair.

"It's more complicated than you think. Deeper, older magic than you will ever understand." Cernunnos groaned as he pushed his head to the back of her throat, thrusting gently a few times before pulling her off. Human women were fragile. "Go to your husband, Magdalene," he instructed the pouting woman, "and tell him to give you a child. You will know when the time is at hand for you to fulfill your part of the bargain. Meanwhile you must come to me on the cross-quarter days, and one sabbath a month. These things take time."

"Yes, my lord." She kept eye contact as she kissed his shaft tenderly before turning and continuing homeward.

As she walked, she thought. She and Alastair had been married for six years; she had been 17, he 35. Two years before that his first wife had died in a miscarriage and left him childless, a spell her mother had never explicitly owned up to but Magda knew anyway it had been her. She had gone to the woods for her first sabbath at Imbloc, where Cernunnos had taken her maidenhood and by Beltane Alastair had been paying her attentions he never had before. She wondered vaguely whether her mother had struck a deal with the god of the woods for her future. Had she known the part her daughter would play in the future of the world? Had he? Magda smiled to imagine what her departed mother might think of her daughter on the precipice of such power.

Safely back in her home, Magda peeled off her night dress and slid back into bed, leaving the door open. If William returned and saw, so much the better. If he didn't then there was no reason to have closed the door in the first place. Pressing her front against his back, she kissed the back of Alastair's neck and wrapped an arm around him, sliding her hand from his chest down to his shaft where she gently stroked him to life.

"You can imagine how upsetting it was to awake to an empty bed." He was still a little groggy, but it was clear he had been awake at least for a few minutes. "Where did you go, wife?"

"Guess." There was a smile in her voice.

When Alastair spoke again there was a smile in his, too. "You smell of dirt and pine and morning dew," he said. "My heathen wife must have lost herself in the woods again." He rolled over in bed and pulled her thigh over his hip, sliding his length along her lips where she was still wet from seducing William and attempting to seduce the god of the woods. "And you come home ready for me...you best be careful or I'm like to think you're the witch." He smiled and cupped her cheek, leaning forward to kiss her.

"I've bewitched you, haven't I?" Magda grinned and leaned in to kiss his throat, scooting closer and rubbing herself along his length. "I came home because I was ready for you," she murmured against his skin. His hand slid between their bodies. "Because I've prayed on it. Because I want to try again." Apart from the first year they had been married, they had intentionally tried for a child sporadically, often when Magda had been inspired and invigorated by the fertility rites of Beltane. "Alastair, I want a baby."

His fingers slid along her wet clit, making her gasp and mewl with need. "Well then, who am I to deny my wife what she wants?" Alastair rolled them so that she laid on her back with him kneeling between her legs. He pulled her knees up, pressing her thighs against his ribs as he entered her slowly and deliberately. "You want a baby and you shall have one my love." He groaned in pleasure as he moved inside of her, leaning down to kiss her tenderly. "I shall give you all the world, my wife, and myself along with it." He shivered and arched as she dragged her nails up his back, leaving angry red streaks in their wake.

"And I shall take all of it," she whispered back, "and give you a child."

Alastair gently took her hands and laced his fingers with hers, pinning them above her head as he thrust into her, the two of them panting and moaning and sighing together in a chorus of pleasure. He kissed her throat, bit her collarbone, suckled at her nipple. One hand took both of her wrists and he slid his now-free hand down her arm, over her breast, and up to her throat where he gently squeezed.

"Give me a son with hair like midnight and eyes like the stormy sea," Magda whispered. "Give me a daughter with hair of autumn sunlight and eyes of lazuli. Bring me children of beauty and grace and fire, children as smart as can be. Strong and fearless and loved, to inherit this world after me. My lord I pray to thee, let it be. Let it be. Let it be."

Her husband squeezed her throat a little tighter as he leaned down and kissed her hard. "Amen," he whispered against her lips, unknowingly sealing her spell. Slowly he brought his other hand down from her throat, down her arm, over her breast, across her stomach, to rub her clit as he thrust faster. She gasped and pressed her hips up, clinging to his shoulders and burying her face in his neck.

"There," she whimpered. "Faster, Alastair. Harder." She nipped at his earlobe. "Make me scream."

He obeyed, pounding into her as they took their pleasure from each other. One hand rubbed her clit while the other squeezed her throat, until all at once she came with a strangled cry, clinging to her husband. Her pulsing walls around his cock pulled Alastair shortly after her with a gasp, filling her with his seed until he had nothing left to give. While she had never really despised him, sometimes Magda thought she might actually love her husband. Often it was times like this, laying in his arms, filled completely, hearts pounding, chests heaving, Alastair nuzzling her neck sweetly and kissing her softly while he stroked her hair, that she sometimes thought she might be a little sad if he died. Sweating and panting, with his face buried in the crook of her neck the couple lay together for a few moments before he finally disentangled and slid out of her to go clean himself off.

"The midwife said you ought to put your legs up for ten minutes after," he said as he wrung out a cloth in the basin, avoiding her gaze. This was women's stuff. "Dunno why, but last time we tried, I mentioned...well, she said it would work."

Obediently, Magdalene propped her feet up on one of the bed posts and scooted her hips to a 90 degree angle. "Yes, my love," she purred, splayed out for his gaze when he turned around. She smiled when his cock twitched at the site and he winced as he pulled his trousers on. "I shall spend days with my feet in the air for your sake."

He leaned down to kiss her. "For your own," he corrected, tracing the kisses down her neck to suckle on her nipple. "And don't think the baby will have these beautiful breasts all to himself."

She chuckled low in her throat and threaded her fingers through his hair, grinning. "How could I deny my darling? Between the two of you my heart will be so full of love there'll be no room to deny either of you anything you desire."

~*~

Four of them stood in the parlor, holding hands as couples. It wouldn't work if there were just the two of them, what with all the partner-changing. That's what Magda had insisted, anyway. Agnes had again been pulled in to be Alastair's partner while his wife patiently taught the witch finder how to dance. Whenever they held hands she held William's gingerly and lightly brushed her fingers over his where they were still raw from gripping the tree. But she had promised to teach him to dance before the weekend, so teach him she would. Eventually, however, Alastair had to excuse himself to attend to village business and Agnes had to return to her chores.

Magdalene stepped close to William. "Would you like to go upstairs?" she said softly, still holding his hands. Her thumbs brushed lightly over the backs of his fingers. She let the question hang in the air for a moment. "So that I can patch up your back and your hands, I mean. Or would you like to go to confession first?"

 

[Alkaline]

William was overcome by the greatest shame and greatest pleasure he’d ever had all at once. The orgasm still felt like it pulsed within him, somehow, as he was cradled into Magda’s lap, her soft, comforting voice encouraging him to close his eyes, though that only resulted in spilling tears down his cheeks. He wasn’t sure when she even left, honestly. Eventually he just found himself curled on the forest floor, alone with blistering pain across his back and a limp cock flopped out of his trousers. If he was pathetic before, he was no doubt doubly as pathetic looking now. Somehow, someway he managed to crawl himself upright, tuck himself back into his pants, and pull his shirt carefully back over his raw shoulders. It all felt like a dream, honestly, and if not for the copious amount of cum splattered across the forest floor, he’d have likely convinced himself it was all a delusion instead.

Even once he’d regained himself, it took another hour before William even dared to venture back towards the village, having to walk gingerly once he did. No doubt he looked a mess, but with some time away from it all, he had to admit he felt somewhat free of the burden’s he’d felt earlier. Confession was still a requirement, especially considering the dangerous temptations the whipping had created within him. His mind flashed back to Magda, the sound of her heavy breaths as she beat his back, and he felt the warmth in his belly again, his cock daring to twitch in excitement. He told himself it was just her devotion that he appreciated, her desire to see the Lord’s work done, and done well, but he knew the truth deep down.

By the time they’d met again, he’d managed to pull himself together completely. The dancing, admittedly, was a good time as well, but when the others scattered and left William alone with Magda, he felt those same feelings of temptation build up all over again. His hand, still in her own, was happy to stay there though, and his eyes finally found her own blue gaze, a lump in his throat as he imagined what exactly the two of them could do alone before she refocused him on her true intent.

“I suppose it would be best to take care of the damage first,” he lied, knowing he should have bolted for Confessional already, and certainly on his own rather than with Magda as an escort. “Thank you,” he whispered, his head falling and eyes with it to look down at her hands on his own. “I hope I didn’t worry you… You weren’t supposed to see me like that,” he added, his cheeks flushing again before he carefully pulled his hands back, to his stomach, palms turned up to look at the abrasions still fresh and red on his fingertips.

 

[Madam Mim]

The corners of her lips turned up into a gentle smile as William whispered his thanks, his eyes falling onto their hands. Magda brought them to her lips and kissed his fingers gently. "The opposite," she assured him. "When I saw you I thought, 'here is a man devout to his Lord that he would endure such torment for the sake of purity in the line of duty.' I'm sorry to have intruded upon your privacy, but I am glad to have had the opportunity to help." He pulled his hands back and for a moment they both looked at them, the cuts and dried blood that hadn't been properly cleaned. Inclining her head toward the stairs, she took his arm gently. "Let's get you cleaned up."

Magda led the witch hunter up the stairs, steering him toward his room and pulling the door to but not entirely closed. So that no one would think anything toward was going on, she explained. Momentarily she left, returning with rags and a small jar before setting them down on the dresser and pouring water from its pitcher into the basin. The prep work done, she turned and stepped up to William.

"I'll um...I'll need to see your back," she said softly, capturing his gaze with her own.

Slowly, carefully so as not to startle him, her fingers came to the buttons on his vest. One by one she unfastened them, ensuring he felt each button come free even as she held eye contact with him. Perhaps he would think her attempting modesty by not looking...or perhaps it would only weave her web more tightly around him. With the last button undone, she pressed her hands flat against his stomach and slid them slowly up, over his stomach, across his chest, to his shoulders, then down his arms, leaving the vest to fall to the floor. Still holding his gaze, she let her hands fall to his waist to untuck his shirt before sliding it up and over his head, letting that, too, fall to the floor.

"I need you to lay on the bed, William," she purred, her tone gentle, quite, undemanding, but firm. Once he had done as he was told, she sat daintily next to him. There was her smell again: lavender and pine, and chamomile tea. It seemed as much a part of her as the long hair now pulled into a tight updo, or the soft hands William had felt upon his flesh. Gingerly she traced a finger along one angry red welt, then tutted. "It isn't as bad as it could be," she said, "but it'll need some doing." There was a smell when she unscrewed the lid of the jar, earthy but not unpleasant. Like moss and rain. "This salve can cure anything," she assured him. "Make it myself. The recipe was passed down to me by my mother, and her mother before her, and her mother before her. It's been in my family for generations, and no midwife or doctor's ever been able to concoct anything that heals cuts faster."

Indeed as she carefully rubbed the salve over the worst of the cuts, they closed and no longer stung. The larger, angrier welts were soothed and faded until they were nothing but red stripes upon his flesh. The stripes from lighter blows disappeared altogether. Magda applied the salve with both hands, sliding them across his back first with light pressure, then increasingly firm pressure as cuts closed and pain faded. Gradually she increased pressure, pressing her thumbs and the heels of her hands into the tight muscles on his back. As she massaged, she gradually adjusted, first facing him more squarely, then straddling his thighs, then his hips, as she pressed and kneaded, sensually but methodically releasing the knots in his back and shoulders.

"You're so hard, William," she groaned, pressing her hips against his rear as she leaned forward to reach his shoulders. "Your muscles, they're so tight. How do you go about your work, so stiff all the time?" Deft hands worked from his shoulders, down first one arm, then the other, massaging his biceps, his forearms, his hands, and finally each finger, working the salve into each ragged fingertip.

 

[Alkaline]

It felt like he was cast under a spell, though as he looked into Magda's eyes he knew she was incapable of such trickery. Here was the kindest woman he'd ever met, someone devout and God fearing just like he strived to be himself. Willing to do the hard thing to make sure he was pure, even if it was unpleasant.

"Thank you, again... For everything. I can feel Satan's work in this village, but you've kept me on the path the Lord intended. For that I am ever grateful," he whispered as she unbuttoned him, his chin tilting to watch her fingers work each one until it fell open, his nipples perking from both the cold and the excitement of her palms pressing flat against him. Had he been in his right mind, no doubt he'd have realized this was completely inappropriate for an unwed couple, and even more so considering one of the two was spoken for by another man, but all William could do was hold Magda's gaze, to fall into her lovely blue eyes. They'd swallowed him like the ocean took a lost child caught by the undertow, and just like the child he was helpless to resist the pull in that moment.

A soft moan, his own voice, was the first thing to bring him back from that transfixion, and William was a little surprised to find himself laying face down upon the bed, a pleasant weight resting on his backside as fingertips dug into his shoulders, melting his muscles, despite the little witch's insistence that he was so stiff.

"It's a burden I'm willing to carry, Lady Magdalene. A small price to pay to know you're doing good in the world," he said just before gasping, a knot audibly seeming to release in his shoulder, his fist bunching and clenching tight before it was lifted up into her hands and eagerly worked on by her magic touch. Of course, there was only so much he could resist, and despite the extreme release he'd had earlier in the day, his cock was quick to perk up again underneath the two. Magdalene was as equally skilled with her hands as she was beautiful, though William hoped it was just the salve causing such a reaction. Still, he'd seen enough to wonder how she'd used her hands upon her husband, and if she'd done the same with him just before she flipped him over and sat down upon his cock, or took him between her lips and swallowed him down her throat...

A clearing of the throat, and William was suddenly pulling his hands back, his eyes closed as he found the temptation once more trickling into his soul.

"I think I'm feeling better," he lied softly, unconvincingly as he tried to tuck his hand away from Magda, though secretly wishing she'd insist that she had much work left to do still.

 

[Madam Mim]

Magdalene leaned down, her chest nearly flat against his back as she slid her hands from his shoulders, down his biceps, to his fingertips. Her hips pressed against his rear as she made a point to adjust with each small movement. Slowly she worked her way back up and worked on his other shoulder, gently pulsing her hips forward in time with her kneading until she worked the knot out to release.

"Mmmm," she groaned, "that sounded like quite the release." She smiled as she leaned back down to stretch along his other arm. "And I've told you before, William..." Her lips came near his ear, brushing against the ridge of his ear so gently one might question whether he had felt her skin or her breath. "It's just Magda." Her thumbs worked gently beneath his shoulderblades as she murmured near his ear, quoting scripture. "I will give you the treasures of darkness and the hoards in secret places that you may know that it is I, the Lord, the God of Israel, who call you by your name." Her breath whispered warmly around the ridge of his ear. "Call me by my name, Will. Magda." Magdalene's voice remained soft, calm, barely above a whisper as her fingers pressed into his muscles.

"I think I'm feeling better," the witch hunter whimpered, tucking his hand beneath his body.

Magdalene sat up, but did not move from her place straddling his rear as she pressed her lips together and looked thoughtfully at his back. "Very well," she said after a moment's thought. "If you would like, if your penance or other hard work in the course of your duties has marred your legs I can work on them. You'd be surprised at how tense one's legs can be." A moment's hesitation. "We can stay here if you'd like, William. The two of us. Working out the sins on your flesh." Each word was chosen carefully to lead him toward the correct answer, if not now then soon. Magda shifted again as though keeping her balance, rolling her hips smoothly as she would if she were riding him. "Father Turnbull also has confession on Saturdays, and surely your sins are not so large they cannot wait three days? Or..." She shifted again in the pause, putting her hands gently flat on his back as though to balance herself. "We can go into the village now."