SARA'S PLAN 

                               by 

                            Joe Doe


	A HALLOWEEN STORY THAT FEATURES A WITCHFINDER.  



"The Witchfinder will be visiting the village during my absence,  
Sara.  And, as the minister's wife, I expect you to show him every 
courtesy." 

"Of course, dearest husband," Sara said, as she adjusted the buckle 
on her husband's hat.  "Tell me...are the stories I hear about him 
true?  Does he truly have absolute power over all the women in a 
village?" 

"Typically he works with the local minister and the local 
magistrate, and they have the power to temper his more extreme 
edicts.  But, since both of us will be traveling when he arrives, 
I suppose that, in our village, his power will be absolute." 

"I hear that he is...quite fat, quite bald, and quite 
unattractive," Sara said.  "I also heard that he is quite 
lecherous, and enjoys using his authority to humiliate the 
beautiful women of each town he visits.  He refers to it as 
'putting the frisky bitches through their paces.'" 

"Gossip is not becoming, Sara," her husband replied.  "Watch your 
tongue while I am gone, dear wife, or you may find it harnessed by 
the scold's bridle."   

She swallowed as imagined herself marching through the village in 
the humiliating headgear used to harness the wagging tongues of 
women who displeased the men.  Of course, Sara had never had to 
fear that type of humiliation before.  After all, her husband was 
the most respected man in the small town, and Sara was untouchable. 

But now her husband would be leaving town for almost a month, and 
she would be as vulnerable as any other woman.  Perhaps more so, if 
the pent up resentments over her special status were ever loosed. 

"You worry too much, dear wife," the minister said, as he pulled 
his bride closer.  "After all, we don't have any 'frisky bitches' 
in this house...do we?" he teased, squeezing her bottom playfully. 

Sara smiled and gave her husband a long, soulful kiss.  She may 
have been the minister's wife, but her nuptial bed was always warm 
and inviting.  The couple was prim and proper in public, but, when 
the doors closed, they were as frank and loving as any couple in 
the colony. 

She sat on her husband's lap and adjusted his collar.  "I heard 
that in one village the Witchfinder actually stripped a woman buck 
naked in the square, and let the men of the town run their hands 
all over her body."   

"It is customary to let the men of the town help find a 'witch's 
mark,' Sara," the minister explained in a patronizing voice.  "A 
tiresome duty, to be sure, but every nook and cranny must be 
probed!" 

"Tiresome I'm sure, particularly since the accused is always the 
most attractive woman in town," Sara said, sarcastically.  

She paused, as if to consider the matter, and then continued.  "The 
young man I tutor in Bible studies, Tommy Johnson, recently asked 
me to stand on my toes, with my arms stretched over my head, so 
that he could take my measure, tip to toe.  I asked him why he 
needed my measurements, and he said that he couldn't tell me, 
because it was a special project for the town, and a surprise.  
The very next day I noticed him building a gibbet in the town 
square, using the same tape measure."   

"Witches are hung naked in the square, my dear wife, for one and 
all to see.  They are left hanging by their wrists, with their toes 
barely touching the ground.  The men of the town line up, and each 
takes his turn with the examination.  The nature of the witch's 
bondage makes it easy for them to twist her around so her backside 
faces the crowd, or examine her bobbing breasts, with her stiff 
nipples hardening in the breeze.  They may also spread her legs, 
for Satan is very clever as to where he may hide his mark!" 

"Of course, the defendant is always shaved between the legs, so 
that the vixen's hair cannot be used to hide any secret spots."  
The minister ran his hand down the front of his wife's belly and 
rested it on the front of her skirt.  "I imagine it must be 
humiliating, to have your womanly fleece sheared off, in front of 
the entire town.  That ugly old maid, Bertha Evans, volunteered 
for the duty, and she has been practicing for weeks.  She's a 
vengeful and spiteful old crone, and I can tell from the way that 
her eyes glitter that she will enjoy ordering some beautiful lass 
to spread her legs.  I heard her bragging that the lather she is 
using will 'burn and sting, but it will let me get every delicate, 
tiny hair.'  She was cackling that 'the little strumpet will be 
shaved bare as a newborn babe!' 

"Bertha claims the cream will tingle for hours and reveal the 
witch's whorishness to one and all," the minister said, calmly.  
"The cream causes the little slut to become exquisitely sensitive, 
which leads to frequent orgasms during the public examinations, 
and even during the actual punishment itself."  

Sara swallowed hard at the news that Bertha would be doing the 
shaving.  Bertha had been scheming against Sara for years, and 
she had recently retaliated by taking away Bertha's coveted front 
row pew.  The old biddy now had to stand in the back, but, as the 
minister's wife, Sara felt it was vital that she have the best seat 
in the house. 

The thought of the vengeful old biddy with scissors and razor in 
hand was not a pretty one.   There were rumors that in her younger 
years Bertha had preferred the fairer sex, and Sara knew that the 
vengeful old lesbian would enjoy "lathering" the crotch of some 
helpless woman.  Sara involuntarily squeezed her thighs together, 
as she imagined Bertha's fat, pudgy fingers exploring her 
womanhood, and rubbing the burning lather over her exquisitely 
sensitive love button. 

The minister smiled as he looked at his worried wife's face, and 
he gave her crotch a playful squeeze.  "It will be wearisome work 
for the men of the village to watch, but watch closely they shall.  
The witch must not be allowed to conceal any hidden charms." 

"Hidden charms indeed, my dear," Sara replied, coolly.   

She paused, stood up, and sat on the couch to resume her knitting. 
The two spent the next several minutes in silence, as she 
considered her situation. 

At last, she spoke.  "But why would Tommy be measuring ME?" she 
finally asked. 

"You are one of the tallest woman in the village, my dear," her 
husband replied, cheerfully.  "Indeed, your long slender legs are 
the envy of every woman in the colony, or so it is said.  By making 
sure the gibbet was tall enough for you, he ensured that it would 
be tall enough when the actual witch is identified."   

He gave her a playful wink.  "It was good of you to help him.  That 
is exactly the sort of cooperation I expect you to provide the men 
of the village and the Witchfinder while I am away.  Remember, 
Sara, when I am gone, you must do everything they say."  

Sara flinched at the thought.  Her proud ways had earned her many 
enemies in the village.  She knew that the men lusted after her, 
and the women envied her. 

Of course, with her husband's absolute authority, she had been an 
invincible force.  But now her husband would be away, and Sara 
would be defenseless.  Anyone who wanted to settle a score against 
her or her powerful husband would now have a free hand...literally. 

"I can't imagine what it would feel like hang there, stark naked, 
with all of those lustful eyes ogling my naked body," Sara said, 
her voice quivering at the thought.  "It would be so humiliating 
to have to swing there, shaved like a newborn, watching those 
awful, lustful men waiting to take their their turn with my soft, 
naked flesh.  I would be fondled by every lout and ne'er-do-well 
in town -- from the young, horny rakes to the oldest and most 
depraved lechers --it would be so humiliating!" 

"From what I understand, Tommy will be the first in line, since 
he helped out with the gibbet," the minister said.  "He declined 
payment from the town, in exchange for being the first to examine 
the witch.  It seems that he knows the suspected witch quite well, 
and he thinks she is a bit of a tease and a coquette, despite her 
pious facade." 

"So the identity of the witch is known?" Sara said, breathlessly. 

The minister smiled.  "A suspect's name has been bandied about.  
Better than anyone, my dear wife, you know how people gossip."   

He smiled and leaned back in his chair.  "One name in particular 
seems to be on everyone's lips.  She is very pious, I dare say -- 
almost sanctimonious, at times.  But she is also very beautiful, 
and she has excited the lusts of men and the envy of the plainer 
womenfolk.  She is basically a good woman, but also proud, and 
sometimes a touch arrogant." 

The minister smiled and sat down next to his wife.  As he 
continued, he gently ran his fingers through her long hair, 
and gently stroked her cheek.  "Strange how witch hunts are 
used to settle old scores.  The jealous women of the town were 
the first to suggest that the vixen be humbled and shamed, in 
the most public manner possible.  Of course, when they promised 
their husbands, sons, and boyfriends free license to fondle and 
use her, it did not take long to convince them, too." 

"Did you say 'use'?" Sara said, her voice cracking with excitement. 
"Husband, is it true that the Witchfinder leaves them in the 
stocks...naked...for-for...public use?" 

"Witches are the whores of Satan, and must be brought back into the 
fold by the good church-going men of the village.  The Witchfinder 
insists that the slut be made to service the men with her bottom 
and mouth as well as through the normal ways.  It is most 
disgraceful, and I can assure you that the men of the village 
derive no pleasure from it; it's simply their duty."   

"It must be terrible for them," she said, mockingly.   

"There are consolations," he replied.  "Tommy will be the first, 
and, from what I understand, and he is hung like a bull.  He 
promises to bugger the wench's tight and sassy backside, and a 
number of the ladies in town have already arranged for a front 
row seat, so they can watch the witch's face when Tommy starts 
to drive his thick gristle home.  They were laughing and joking 
about how the witch's little fists would clench and unclench, and 
how wild her eyes would get, when she felt Tommy's manhood pressed 
against her exquisitely tight flower."  

The minister chuckled as his wife listened nervously.  "The women 
said they are looking forward to listening to the strumpet try to 
bargain her way out of her predicament and plead for mercy.  Tommy 
is a strapping young lad, just 19, and I'm sure he'll give the 
tart a vigorous ride, and something to sing about!  And, of course, 
with the burning love cream on her juicy sex, the slut will also 
experience the added shame of repeated orgasms...in public!"  He 
gave a hearty laugh. 

"After the men are finished...is it true that the witch 
is...paddled?" 

"The Witchfinder doesn't believe in burning or hanging," the 
minister explained.  "A good, sound thrashing, or several 
thrashings each day, administered on the naked bottom in full 
view of the decent, Christian members of the community, is the 
best way of achieving true repentance." 

"But, once again, the lather between her legs does offer some 
respite," he minister added, adopting a clinical tone.  "Typically 
the poor woman rubs her thighs together and continues to stimulate 
herself to orgasm, even with the crowd jeering her, and the paddle 
warming her tender bare backside." 

The minister smiled as he patted his wife's hand.  "As you can see, 
dear wife, the Witchfinder will do anything to put a shameless slut 
on the road to repentance." 

"No doubt he is tireless," she said.  "Particularly since the 
accused is forced to share the Witchfinder's bed each evening." 

"When the woman is particularly fetching, he has been known to take 
the time for personal instruction," her grinning husband replied.   

Sara paused and considered the situation.  As the most respected 
and pious woman in town, the thought of being stripped naked in the 
square for one and all to see was almost too humiliating for words.  

But it was also strangely exciting.... 

"My darling, I am the most beautiful woman in the village, and I 
have many enemies.  Without you here to protect me, I will be at 
the mercy of any old shrew who wishes to humble me, or any horny 
rake who wishes to abuse me!  The gibbet is already built, and, as 
soon as you leave, I fear the ropes will tighten around my dainty 
wrists, and my enemies will dangle me in front of the town, naked 
as a newborn.  Without your protection, I will be helpless!" 

"Yes, you will be utterly defenseless, my dear," the minister 
replied, with a knowing smile.  "But isn't that why you insisted 
that I invite the Witchfinder to the town during my absence?"


HAPPY HALLOWEEN, EVERYONE, FROM JOE, SEARCH'EM, INSOMNIA, AND 
LAKEWOOD!



Edited by C. Lakewood