The Prisoner

The Good Witch of the North gaped at the grotesque effigies in front of the house. She grasped her broom even more tightly. The carved pumpkins with their conical hats and silly grins enlivened her mind. The sounds of laughter and gaiety drew her like a magnet. She wished for more occasions to visit the Earth; there was so much of fun here compared to the staid environment she hailed from. Unfortunately, Halloween was the only occasion ritual that allowed her to ramble about on Planet Earth in her normal witch costume.

Appreciative male glances signaled the approval of her appearance. The ankle-length, low- cut black dress hugged her lush curves and exposed the upper swells of her bountiful breasts. From her previous experiences with humans, she knew men loved her deep cleavage. The awareness gave her more confidence. The impending task sent a shiver down her spine. Grasping her broom even more tightly, she approached the house and pressed the door bell.

A motley scene greeted her eyes inside. Vampires, fairies and mermaids mingled and dance. Her trained nose immediately picked up his scent. He stood in a distant corner chatting with Snow White. The priestly garb couldn’t conceal the macabre thoughts running behind his eye mask. Her special mind read it like an open book. The young girl turned up as Snow White had to be protected. The Witch set to work. She closed her eyes and chanted the magical hymns.

The next moment she saw the priest look in her direction. She thrust out her bosom toward him, ensnaring him by the dainty sight of her creamy mounds. Like in a trance, he moved toward her. They acknowledged each other with a slight nod of their heads. A slutty smile played upon her lips. She rolled her tongue over her ruby-red lips. Her eyes screamed lust. He caught her wrist. She allowed him to walk her away from the crowd, up the stairs and into a room with a bed.

They stripped with urgency. She could feel his eyes dance upon her flawless milky complexion. The golden bush between her legs seemed to fascinate him. “It’s not usual for a woman to come to a Halloween party like this,” he commented as his fingers rubbed on her thatch of pubic hair. His deep baritone mesmerized her. No wonder women found him so irresistible.

“I am old fashioned,” she replied, batting her natural eye lashes.

“Nice, nice,” he murmured as his finger dipped into her wetness.

Her fingers curled around his maleness. It throbbed with vitality. Kneeling before him, she gazed upon its monstrous girth. Her lips wrapped around the bulbous head. With her hands grabbing the base of the engorged shaft, she bobbed her head, massaging as much of his length she could possibly take into her mouth. His animal grunts underscored the correctness of her endeavor.

When he pulled out of her mouth, the witch braced herself for the final assault. His powerful arms scooped her up and carried her to the bed. He flung her onto the mattress and yanked her legs. His face disappeared between her thighs. When his tongue parted her pubic hair and lick the puffed vaginal lips, the sensations made her shudder with joy. The wet tip of his tongue latched to her clitoris, teasing it, stimulating it and pleasuring it. Ripples of orgasm began to wash over her body.

The Witch closed her eyes to savor the pleasure. When she felt his muscular frame crush her breasts, she knew it was time to stop him. Coital joy was not a part of the deal. Providence had sent her to earth with a mission - to teach this Casanova a lesson. He had broken enough hearts. It was time he treated women with more respect rather than as objects of pleasure. A simple magical chant would have rendered him impotent. She opened her mouth, but the words did not escape her lips. Instead, a muffled grunt emerged as the tip of his hardness traced the length of her womanhood.

He filled her in a swift move. Her legs locked at the back of his pelvis, pulling him even deeper into her body. He began to thrust inside her. His lips clamped around her mouth. Their heaving bodies discovered a sweet rhythm. The warmth from her stretched pussy suffused her body with a warm glow. Wanton abandon obfuscated her mind, her true goal becoming only an obscure memory.

An explosive orgasm temporarily quelled her awakened libido. Her quivering vagina contracted around his shaft precipitating his climax. His warm semen flooded her insides. Her alertness returned. The witch knew she would have to make a move, but she changed her plan and simply put him to sleep.

The witch pushed him off her body, rose from the bed and got dressed. She extracted a bag from her pocket and placed his body inside it. Then she flung the bag upon her back, sat on the broom and flew away. The killer was now her sex slave. It would be a fitting punishment for all his crimes.

WC 861