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Subject: "Witch Hunt" (M+/F, nc) Opinions Welcome.............
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Witch Hunt by Pus E. Cat

This is my first attempt at a story for ASSM. It is unfinished and
really just designed for me to get feedback from you, the reader, and
an idea as to whether I should continue. I might just continue anyway,
though, because I'm having some fun with it...

Future parts will probably contain more of the same, i.e., shamefaced
discipline, bondage, humiliation, and possibly the unwelcome (but not
violent) deflowering of an unsuspecting young maiden at the hands of
religious authority figures.

I'd appreciate any comments or advice you might have. Email me at
buckles8@aol.com

And, of course, THIS FILE CONTAINS SEXUALLY EXPLICIT MATERIAL. IF YOU
ARE UNDER

THE AGE OF EIGHTEEN OR DO NOT CARE TO READ THIS TYPE OF MATERIAL,
PLEASE DELETE THIS FILE NOW.


Setting: 17th Century Salem, Massachusetts

She awoke to the sun streaming through the barn windows, finding
herself clad only in her corset and bloomers. The dry straw
surrounding her had given her some nasty scratches, and her first
thought was, "Whatever did you do this time to deserve this,
Elizabeth...?" Elizabeth, approaching her twentieth year, was known
about town for her playful pranks and "unladylike" musicianship.

"Hmm. So perhaps you've really outdone yourself, Elizabeth. And
perhaps I've gotten meself into a churn o' trouble, too...."

Despite the scratches and her messy appearance, Elizabeth was a
beauty. Her long curly golden hair against the rich brown of her
suntanned skin, her pouty lips and playful green eyes were certainly
not missed by the men of Salem, However, none of them would ever admit
it, as Elizabeth defied the current style of Puritanism and utmost
modesty. Hence, she was the object of many a man's dreams, yet none
would dare approach the girl, except perhaps Reverend Mather, who
constantly harped on the girl to change her ways, in the name of
godliness.

"But why is he always beggin me when I'm in the middle of me toilet?"
she thought to herself. The Reverend had a penchant for interrupting
Lizzie at the oddest times, most especially, when she was clad in
nothing but the wooden washing stall outside her family's cottage.
She'd be lathering up with some fresh glycerin soap when he'd come
shuffling up, eyes darting left and right ("and usually when Father
isn't home to chase him away, 'course!") and ask her to speak to the
Lord with him, to find her the path to salvation. Meanwhile, Elizabeth
would do her best to keep her bountiful soapy breasts under the
protection of her arms as the shower stall reached only to her chest.

"Elizabeth Chapman, you're too old to be runnin about town like a
gypsy-wench!  And playin that forsaken instrument of the devil. Mark
my words, you're fated to damnation if you don't change your ghastly
habits. Salvation lies beyond those chapel doors, Elizabeth." He was
referring to her guitar which she occasionally played in town square
for those unfortunates in the stocks.  "Reverend, please let me finish
me toilet...perhaps we could take this up at another time?" Elizabeth
could never understand all the hoopla around the church. She vowed,
after her young mother died when she was only ten, to spend her time
enjoying life, although she had yet to experience the ultimate joy of
the union of man and woman. She was never terribly interested in such
things, however, preferring to spend her time with nature and music.

Following the religious tongue-lashing, the Reverend Mather would
attempt a few more glances into the stall, readjust his pants, and
shuffle back to his farmhouse where he'd promptly alleviate the
growing concern in his pants.

"Oh, demon-woman...I must exorcise you from me own soul," he panted,
as he licked his palms and gripped himself, imagining Elizabeth's
glistening wet boobs surrounding his member. Picturing his hands
tweaking her cherry nipples, squeezing her ample wet breasts with his
penis between them...was more than he could stand...

Back to Elizabeth's predicament. Seems the day before she was
splashing in a stream when suddenly she spied a man in the woods.
Curiosity drew her to the other side, and before she knew it, she was
speaking with one of the mountain people, known to the townspeople as
"The Devil Tribe," as these red-skinned mountain people saw no need
for religion or propriety or anything else remotely Puritanical.
Reverend Stewart, passing by on horseback, viewed her in conversation
with this half-dressed man, and immediately yelled, "I knew it!  She
IS a witch! She must be punished!" He rode into town with these words
on his lips.

All important men of the town gathered, and, although Elizabeth had a
terribly lenient father who also would give his own life for hers, he
was out of town that week trading in Plymouth. "It couldn't be a more
perfect time," stated Reverend Mather, who had just seen her father
off.

"We must exorcise this woman, and if that shouldn't be sufficient,
then we will imprison her and do what must be done until she confesses
to her true identity!"

"Aye!" they chanted, not without some salivation.

"This is for the good of our town as a whole; for poor Edward Chapman,
her father, who has seen all matters of her impropriety and suffers a
heavy heart; and for the girl herself." All the men agreed,
glassy-eyed and anxious, and promptly the lynch mob mounted their
horses and galloped to the deer stream.

"I play the guitar, would you like to hear? It's only across the
stream, and perhaps I could teach you," Elizabeth asked the
red-skinned man, but he shot into the cover of the woods as soon as he
heard the gallop of the mob approaching.

"Elizabeth Chapman!! Elizabeth Chapman!! Confess!" Reverend Mather had
begun a chant in time to the gallop of the horses. She heard it, yet
couldn't believe she was hearing her own name..."Confess what? I
haven't done anything wrong...lately...oh, perhaps it was that prank I
played on Mary Borden, when I tied her petticoat to the pew at chapel!
Oh my...or perhaps it was when I set Mr. Hubbard's sheep free before
the slaughter...or...." Elizabeth realized it could have been a number
of things.

"Elizabeth Chapman, come here for your punishment, or confess to your
association with the Sorcerer of Darkness." She hopped from stone to
stone over to the group on the other side of the stream, asking, "What
am I to confess?"

"Your true identity!"

"Well, then. Elizabeth Anne Chapman."

"And you were sent here by whom?"

"Well, I suppose by the union of my mother and father!"

"AAAAAAHHHHHHHHHH!!!" At that, Mather directed two of the younger men
to tie her with rope, binding her legs and arms together. Mather
supervised the tying, "To ensure her safety, of course," and directed
the boys to wind the rope around her wrists behind her back, several
times down between her legs and up between her buttocks and intimate
areas, over her shoulders, around the top, bottom, and between her
breasts, back around her wrists, around her upper thighs, and then
down to her ankles, which were tied in such a way as to be slightly
inappropriately spread, but only for the sake of security. She was
promptly tied to horseback, and they rode into town. She was
effectively hog-tied, her breasts shoved rudely out, and with every
gallop, she felt an unfamiliar burning sensation below.

They stopped at another stream to water the horses, and the men
couldn't help but see her beautiful breasts pushed out, her nipples
poking through the many layers of her blouse. Her skirt had been
bunched up by the rope, and, from the force of all the galloping, had
ridden up so as to allow a view of her roped-up bloomer-clad behind
and nether lips. Elizabeth was always embarrassed by her behind, which
she felt she inherited from her grandmother, who had large hips, a
jutting rear end, and a very small waist. The round melons behind her
were even more accentuated by the rope, which both separated them and
squeezed them together. She was red-faced from shame.

... to be continued  ...

*************************************************************************
Comments, advice (or if you have any stories like this!! I love this
stuff...) please email me at buckles8@aol.com.
*************************************************************************


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