The Witches Apprentice, Part 3

by Joanne

It was the year of our lord 1569. I have been the lover and partner of two witches for a year now, Mary whom has been my saviour, my teacher and my lover and whom I love dearly and Lucky, another witch now fourteen years of age. She is also my lover. Mary has never told me her age and I never asked. She is handsome rather than beautiful but with a body to die for, huge firm tits and a wonderful cunt hidden by a dense black bush. She is the most experienced witch of us all and is our leader. Lucky, whose real name is Liz, earned her Lucky nickname by saving our skins.

Peace had descended over the land and there was much merriment. The pickings for three witches were plentiful. We lived well and were very happy. Lucky still did not leave the camp without her favourite pistols in her belt, but this was because she used them to hunt, rather than because of fear. She looked more like a highwayman than the real thing. She was now stunningly beautiful with child bearing hips and round breast. It is truly amazing what difference good food and good living makes to a girl's development. Her blond hair would blow in the wind. She can and did lead men into traps that separated them from everything they stood up with. She ensured that we always had a good stock of cloths, boots and weapons for sale. We prospered.

One day Lucky was out hunting. She was in the woods close to the road ahead, stalking a deer. The deer was then spooked by a coach approaching. She took cover to watch it pass. It was driven by two liveried coachmen. As she was watching, a rider mounted on a black horse, blocked the way. He had two pistols which he held at the level of the coachmen's faces. They needed no instruction they stopped the coach in a cloud of dust.

Lucky quickly made her silent way back to camp and told us the story. We gathered more pistols and made our way hastily to the scene. By the time we got there the single passenger was stood outside of the coach. It was a young woman of high birth. My mouth watered at the sight of her. Mary covered the highwayman and took his weapons. Lucky wanted to strip them and take the lot. Mary was too wise for that.

"No," she said, "greed could be the end of us."

She told the robber to strip naked and tied his hands behind his back. She then told us to put him into the coach. She took the lady by the hand. "You will soon be on your way madam," she said, "I'm sure that you will be able to arrange suitable punishment."

"My husband will hang him and will handsomely reward you," she said with all the authority of her position.

"No need my lady," Mary said, "We have the horse and his ill-gotten processions. This will serve us well. Be gone and farewell."

Mary ordered that we cut the binds holding the coachmen and send them on their way. We had too much respect for Mary's wisdom to argue.

Later, in the camp, she explained. "Do you remember the fate of the gypsies?"

I did and said so. "They let greed guide their hand and it was the last thing they did." She said. "This way we are not visited by the soldiers of her husband and the former owner of our booty will soon be dead. We are in profit and will survive to enjoy it."

There was only a slight delay before Lucky and I raced to be the first to ride the horse. As it was it was Lucky who rode it, but she had me sat behind her. We set off at great pace with Mary's call of "Careful," ringing in our ears. We were laughing at the top of our voices as the saddle slapped our bottoms and Lucky's hair flowed around my face.

The slapping of my bottom and the scent of Lucky's hair in my face was all too much. My draws were wet. The horse's back, where I contacted it, was slippery with my juices. My arms were already around Lucky securing my position. I caressed her breast, tweaking her nipples. Leaning forward, as I was, the slapping was directly onto my cunt, my clitoris tingled.

"Fuck me Lucky," I begged. She stopped the horse and I slid to the ground. She dismounted and tethered the horse. She took me into her arms and kissed me, exploring my mouth.

Each time I was able to breath I begged, "Please fuck me."

Still she kissed me. "Please," I begged.

She slowly stripped me naked and pushed me up against a tree. I grabbed a branch just above my head and wrapped my legs around her neck. I wriggled and writhed as she licked and probed my cunt. She sucked hard at my clitoris. Finally she slipped her hand between us and filled my cunt with fingers. I was lost to my climax and purred contently. She backed away leaving me stood naked and dripping.

She petted the horse as I dressed. She then mounted it and awaited me. As I swung myself up behind her again, she said, "Stay upright and try and keep your cunt away from the horse or we won't get anywhere," she laughed and then called out, "I love you, you randy little whore." She plunged her heels into the horse's sides sending us forward at full speed.

She headed the horse to the top of a hill and stopped there. We viewed the surroundings. There, about a half mile away was the coach. "That should be miles away by now," I said.

The coachmen were sat on the luggage shelf at the back looking bored. The coach was rocking violently. We approached carefully, keeping to the trees where possible. The last hundred paces were on foot, the horse was left tethered. We had the pistols trained on the coachmen. We signalled silence by putting a finger across our lips. They just shrugged and clearly couldn't care less. We peered through the window, as much of it that was not cover by the drawn curtains. Clearly having a naked man riding opposite to her in the coach was too much the lady. He was still tied, but she was riding him for all she was worth. Her tits were bouncing to the rhythm. His cock was large and wet from her juices. We held our mouths to stop from laughing out loud. He was nothing to her, he was just a convenient cock. She was not even facing him as she rode him with all the skill of a practiced horsewoman. She slapped him like whipping a horse and he thrust into her in response. As we watched and in spite of himself, he pumped his load. Unhappy that he had softened she ordered him out. Anxious to have his freedom he jumped out and ran. An arm then reached out of the coach holding a pistol. She fired and the robber fell forward bleeding.

The voice of authority called, "Driver, we are going to be late, get a move on." Again the two coachmen shrugged their shoulders and climbed on board. With a crack of the whip the coach lurched forward. We ran to where the robber fell. He was face down. We turned him over he was alive but only just. "What should we do?" I asked.

"My mother once showed me what to," Lucky said, Try and keep him alive, I won't be long. Talk to him, it will help."

She ran back towards the horse in the woods.

I cradled his head in my lap. "Stay with me pretty boy," I whispered.

It seemed like an age before Lucky returned, but when she did she had two stout poles that she had cut from the woods. She was riding the horse dragging them behind her.

"Get undressed," she said.

"What?" "Just do it, I will show you why," she said.

I obeyed and she laid the poles side by side and slipped our bloomers over them with a pole down each leg. She then put the poles through our skirts, which then stretched across the poles to form a bed. She raised one end of the poles up and around the hinds of the horse. She used out shirts to tie it in place to the stirrups. We struggled but got the man onto the bed. We rode in tandem without stirrups and totally naked back to camp.

When Mary saw our approach she ran to meet us fearing the worst. When we explained she helped to get him into the wagon.

"I'm sorry," I said, "I know you wanted him dead for our safety."

"It's too late to think of that now. I will do what I can and worry about the rest later." She hurried around gathering the things she needed. She dug the ball out of his back with a dagger red hot from the fire. It was lodged in his lower ribs close to his spine.

"He is a lucky boy," she said.

Lucky and I stood holding hands hoping for the best.

Mary coated the wound with some paste she had. She bound it with what was left of my bloomers torn into strips. "Now we must wait," she said, "he may live or he may not."

She poured some medicine out and told us "If he wakes give him a drink of this." She then went back to her chores around the camp. We still had to eat, the food still had to be prepared.

Lucky and I waited, watching him closely. Eventually he stirred. I held his head up and Lucky gave him the fluid. He drank deeply, thirstily and within moments he was out cold again. "What was in that?" I called to Mary.

"Don't worry, I won't kill him. He is going to be out cold for at least twenty four hours though. It's the best thing for him. The rest will help him to recover."

We discussed at length as to what to do next. If he gets his strength back he is going to want his horse and belongings back. We decided to break camp the following day and abandon him where a villager would find him. In the meantime we left him locked in the wagon, bound hand and foot in case he wakes up. We had to sleep that night curled up together near the fire.

We did abandon him. We left him leaning against an animal trough in the centre of the next village. It was the middle of the night, sleep had failed us once the fire went down and the night's chill reached us. Mary left him a note written on his naked legs. "We saved your life against our better judgement. Don't make us regret it." We didn't stop in that village but made haste to get way. With Lucky riding scout in front we could abandon our usual caution and make good speed. We never saw him again.

Because of our earlier experience, riding the horse, bare back and naked, had become a game we played. Lucky and I would gallop about until the bouncing about against the hard back of the horse got too much. The horse soon got used to us, and didn't need tethering, it simply would feed waiting for us to finish eating each other's cunt. Lucky would have her bunch of twigs with her, that she loved me to thrash her bottom with. The spanking and the pounding the horse had given her, always had her cunt weeping. Our love making was torrid and abandoned. It took several gallops before our young appetites were ever satisfied.

In our travels we meandered, this way and that. We avoided towns preferring to stay in the countryside where we were safer. I had no idea where we were at any time or what area we had covered. That is until now.

It was my turn to ride out front scouting the land. The ground started to feel familiar. Nothing I could be sure of, just a sense of having been there before. The feeling started to unnerve me. Each time I rounded a corner, the feature I expected to find did appear. A hillside, a particular tree, all common features nothing unusual, but very very familiar. The effect was a deep feeling of dread.

I turned the horse and galloped back to the wagon. I told Mary about my feelings. She sat me down and put her arms around me, "It is possible that we are close to where I found you. We have covered many miles, but with many loops and turns. It is impossible to say if you have been here before or not." She held me close, "Why is this a worry for you? No one would remember you. You are so different from what you were back then."

I was reassured but gave up my turn as scout to Lucky. She rode off with her usual gaiety. She continued our practice of circling our camp about a half mile out, so that we never again, got any unpleasant surprises. We always knew when we approached a village. The wilderness would give way to fields of crops, some of which we stole and cooked, and we would see the women stooping to their toils. To any free spirit like me it was a picture of hell.

This village was very familiar. Then I saw it. It was the unmistakable gate to the big house my mother and I worked in. The lady of the house had taken us in. An act that I had mistaken for kindness, in truth it was because she was moved by my mother's beauty and she wanted a tame lover that she may keep, as one might keep a dog. I was young and even when I witnessed the lady coming to our room at night and witnessed what she had my mother doing to her, I didn't understand.

I knew nothing of the arrangement or if the master was approving of it. I only knew that it was me that killed the master to prevent him from killing my mother. It was this that put me to flight. I have not seen or heard of my mother since that day and had it not been for Mary I would not have survived at all. Now I was filled with the horror and fear that I felt that night. Visions of it returned to me, the blood, and the screams of the master as he fought for his life wriggling trying to reach the knife in his back, the dash through the woods in fear of my life, the screams of my mother urging me to run.

I sobbed out my feelings to my two lovers who held me between them and listened in silence. I needed the truth. I needed to know what happened. I needed to right the wrongs that were done that night. We were as one in our determination. Our love was such that the hurt of one is felt by all.

We entered the village intent on finding the truth. I approached the house as a beggar. I approached the kitchen door as so many beggars did when I was there. I tapped on the door, "Food for the poor," I called as I had heard others do. I remember how Charlotte was always sympathetic and would pass scraps out to the beggar.

The door opened and there was Charlotte, a sight for sore eyes, a sob welled up in my chest. "Charlotte," I said, my voice caught with the sob. She stopped with a start at the mention of her name. I removed the shawl from my head that hid my hair and most of my face.

"It's me, Bess," I said.

"Oh my god, Bess," she said. Her mouth dropped open.

"I need to talk with you," I pleaded.

"Not here, it is dangerous."

"Where then," I insisted.

"Meet me outside the church this evening," she said.

I touched her hand in a gesture of thanks and with that arrangement made I left.

That evening we waited outside the church. Mary and Lucky were in the shadows in case we were betrayed. They were heavily armed. I was dressed in respectable clothes so as not to raise any alarm. Charlotte approached in her shuffling gait that I remembered from old.

She greeted me by holding both my hands, "Bess, Bess, let me see you. How you have grown," she said.

"I am well," I said, but I am here to find the truth of what happened to my mother."

I waved Mary and Lucky over to join us, "Don't be alarmed these are my friends. They are only here to protect me."

It is better that I show you," she said. She signalled for us to join her. We followed her into the church yard. The church itself was closed and empty. She took us through the grave yard and then, to our surprise, she led us out of the yard at the back. There in the light of the moon we saw a single grave stone.

Charlotte pointed to it, "Your mother," she said.

I stood there starring at the stone. I felt my soul empty from my body. A great sorrow processed me. I began to shake. I fell to my knees and howled. I traced the words carved on the stone and I sobbed. Silently I swore my revenge, a witch's revenge. The words on the stone read A WITCH CONDEMMED TO HELL.

"They burned her Bess," Charlotte was crying, "They burned her to death. They blamed her. My lady claimed that she was bewitched. When the master died the wealth and the house passed to his brother, the priest. The whole village, except those who knew her and knew my lady's urges, were convinced that your mother was a witch casting evil spells on the innocent."

"They want hell. I will bring them hell," I declared. The great sadness had turned to anger.

I was inconsolable I was on my knees sobbing. Mary laid an arm around charlotte's shoulders. "Leave now and I thank you for your help. We will take care of her. You are a good woman and a good friend." Charlotte shuffled off into the darkness.

That Sunday the three of us were sat at the back of the church. We were dressed as a respectable family and we took part in the service. The church was a wealthy one clearly generously supported by the local gentry. Many of them were present. Behind the alter was a huge cross with the figure of Christ on it. The alter itself was ladened with golden candle holders and crosses. The windows of coloured figures sent light of many colours illuminating the congregation.

The service was taken by a fat priest. Clearly charity ended with his stomach. At the front was the Lady so ashamed of her lesbian urges that she used my mother, desperate in her poverty, as her plaything and then condemned her, claiming bewitchment. I was cold, dead inside, possessed of a lethal anger. I will not just destroy them, I will also destroy their wealth, their reputation and their souls. When they die they will be friendless, helpless, hopeless, soulless and they will die in agony. That is the curse of this witch.

We had access to the kitchens. Charlotte allowed us in and so putting our potions into the food and the wine was easy. Only the expensive food and wine was tampered with, the food and wine that no servant would be allowed to touch. The antics that followed were comical. The villagers hid their mirth but between themselves they laughed heartily. There was nothing they could eat or drink that was not in some way tampered with. They would find dog shit in the soup they had been eating. We laced the wine with love potion. They would come too in strange public places naked with food in every orifice.

One day they awoke from the drug to find themselves naked next to a huge fire of their paintings, their fine silks and their most prized possessions. Servants left them in fear. Their friends disserted them. Their barns burned down in the night. There was no search for culprits. It was all put down to their insanity. They pleaded with the villagers that they were sane and that it was the work of the devil, but they were laughed at and spat at. People would cross themselves in fear of infection.

They suffered this hell until they were totally alone. They took to the church, the empty church, a church devoid of any congregation. They knelt before the alter in their despair and prayed to their god. The priest gave communion to the Lady, but the wine also had our potion in it.

When they awoke, they were bound, hanging naked by their wrist from the cross. She had a gold cross inserted in her cunt and he had the same up his arse, desecrating everything they believed in. Below them was a mat, a deep mat of black powder with a trail of it leading along the aisle to the door. I was stood next to that door was a flaming torch.

In the light of the torch they could see who I was, but to avoid any doubt I told them who I was. I called to them, "You didn't kill a witch that day, you created one. I now send you to hell." I dropped the torch onto the line of powder and walked out. Cleansed as only a witch can be, we made love as the church burned. No villager came with half a mile.

Anyone looking at this scene must wonder why the back wall of this consecrated ground extended outwards to include a single grave, a grave that no longer had a stone.

We went on to travel for some years more, before we spent some of our ill-gotten wealth in buying an estate. We lived our lives in love and joy and treated our servants with humanity. It was a happy estate in happy times.