Where Witches Walk

But the war was far from over.

Somewhere in the fog of victory, James had managed to delegate the many tasks ahead to other men. As they moved excitedly, swiftly, to finish saving the world, he was packing to leave.

She hadn't been there. Nobody knew what had happened to Nina. All he had been able to learn was that she had disappeared the first day of the battle, about the same time the witch woman Anne Jall had murdered her own people and the emperor. Anne Jall was missing, now, too, and that was not likely to be a coincidence.

"You've got to stay, lad."

James turned towards Lang's voice, and smiled sadly. "You know I can't."

"Where will you go, though? They could be anywhere."

"South, I think. Anne Jall almost certainly has my wife, and she would want to stick to the places she knows best. Kath'rahim seems a safe place to start."

"Son," Lang put his hand on James's shoulder, "if you were any threat to her, I think she'd have killed you already."

"The last she heard, I'd made it clear that I'd given up on saving my wife. Defeating the imperial army doesn't change that impression."

"But if you do find her..."

"Then one of us will die."

Lang sighed, and squinted to the south. "That's a lot of land, my boy."

"I've got a lot of time. And more than enough money to get by."

Lang nodded. "Who will you take?"

"You need as many men as you can hang on to. I've got three of my best guards with me. That's enough to keep brigands at bay, but not enough to create trouble."

"And the baby?" They had found Nina's child in the care of the Emperor's maids. It was a healthy, beautiful baby boy. James supposed some had suspected he would kill it. He couldn't even think to...that little boy was the only part of his wife he left.

James smiled at Lang. "Piani is going to watch over him, until we return."

"Hane Piani? The Hane Piani?!" Lang feigned horrified shock.

James laughed. "The secret softy, I suppose." He became serious. "General Piani feels a great responsibility in all of this, and he ought not to. Further, he lost the last of his kin to this war. This will be good for both him and the child, I think."

"I won't be seeing you again, I suppose."

James sighed. "Not without a miracle, old friend."

He climbed up onto his horse. He wasn't taking any guards. He had to move too quickly to waste his time with followers. But Lang didn't need to know that. He jerked the reins, and headed south.

--

It never seemed to taste any better.

She swallowed, and again, to the soundtrack of his grunts. Afterwards, she waited to disengage until he pulled away. She just held it in her mouth, letting it shrink. She knew her mistress would want her to do as good a job as possible, and that meant letting him decide when. Unceremoniously, he took her head in his hands and pushed her away. She fell back on her hands, looking up at him. His taste remained in her mouth. She ran her arm across her chin, wiping off the drool. The fat man lifted his trousers, coughed in a thick way that suggested disease, and turned to leave.

The other man was waiting outside. He grinned as the door opened, revealing three missing teeth.

"How was it?" he asked. He was thinner and taller than the other man, as well as younger. Still, only patches of hair remained on his greasy scalp. He scratched at his unshaven neck, and she saw a large wart decorating his fingers.

"How do you think?" the other man grunted. "Best deal we ever made."

"You have her do anything, you know..." the man looked at her with a lecherous interest that made her nervous, "...real dirty?"

The fat man coughed again, and spit on the floor. "Depends on what you'd call dirty."

The skinny man clapped his hands and laughed. "I gotta get started. I'll talk to you more after. This bitch is gonna do things my wife would never dream of doing. Things even that whore outside won't do, no matter the money."

"Huh," the fat man grunted indifferently. "Just don't break it. Don't wanna mess this deal over."

The skinny man was walking towards her. "I wouldn't risk that for nuthin'. You tell the owner of this meat that the stupid whore out front gave me..."

"Shut up," the other one snapped. "She don't need to know."

"True enough. So one hour each, every other day, right?"

"That's how it is."

"For as long as they stay?"

"Yup."

He gave her that cold, calculating look again. Fear ran through her.

"She say how long that'd be?"

"Till January, at least. Probably longer." The fat man coughed. "Waitin' out the winter, I'd guess."

The skinny man waved his friend off, and turned towards her. With the larger man gone, his chest swelled a little bit as he looked down at her. Small men like to feel big, and she suspected that's exactly what he was going to use her to do.

She hated her mistress so very much. In the months since her memory had gone, they had moved frequently. This was far from the first time mistress had used Nina's body as collateral in finding lodging. "Why spend money," she explained, "when people value skill so much more?" So mistress lived and ate well on the agony Nina suffered from servicing these slime balls. She would use her strange powers to cure any disease Nina caught from the filthy pigs that used her. Nina also suspected that Anne had sterilized her, because her woman's time never came. Anne's would, and she would use her power to dispel it. Nina's never did.

Anne seemed to revel in humiliating Nina, but mostly she never tired of indulging herself in the younger woman's sexual services. She was relaxed, content. She had started to gain noticeable weight. Most of this accumulated on her stomach, hips, and rear. Each of these were places Nina had frequent occasions to examine up close. Anne's legs remained slight under her growing frame. Just like the deposits the men left with their veiny organs, Nina found that Anne's taste never became any more pleasant, no matter how often she experienced it.

As disgusting and loathsome as she found her mistress to be, Nina knew that she could never be free of her. This was her purpose in life, serving Anne Jall. It was the only thing that she wanted to do. To rub Anne's muscles and serve her breakfast and bathe her and carry her things and allow men into her own body so that mistress wouldn't have to take two night's rent out of the purse of money she carried, which had enough in it to buy two hundred buildings such as this. Nina wanted to murder Anne Jall, but instead she knew she would make a thousand skinny, diseased men feel big in any way they desired if it was what her mistress commanded of her.

An hour later, she returned to her mistress's quarters. Anne was sitting in the large cushioned chair, wearing her hair up. She was reading a large book of some kind. The blue blouse and dressy skirt Nina had dressed her in as she stood waiting (she said it was too cold these days not to wear something, though she kept Nina in her tiny belted fabric) made her look regal.

She looked up at Nina, and frowned.

"Wash yourself, slut. You smell like a whore's undergarments."

"Yes, mistress," fury pounded at Nina's temples. Kill her, hurt her. Just march over and do away with the bitch.

She removed her one garment, and climbed into the bath. The water was cold, left over from her mistress's morning dip. Nina knew this before she'd climbed in, though, because she was the one who had to scrub and clean the old bitch, and massage her shoulders until she felt like getting out. Anne watched over her book as Nina soaked in her dirty bath water, and the sight gave her a tingle of pleasure.

"Silly bitch," she said sternly, "you're face is one of the dirtiest parts of you. And that's the part I will be needing later. Dip your whole self in."

Nina clenched her jaw. She knew Anne only wanted her to do this so she could see Nina submerged in her dirty bathwater.

Still, Nina obediently slipped under. The chilly water made her shoulders twitch, and her fingertips numb. After a moment, she came back up.

"Good girl," she heard as she wiped the water from her eyes. She wanted to scream.

She would have killed herself already, but even that was denied her. Her death would inconvenience her mistress, and she couldn't do that. She couldn't even dream of anything but mistress.

"Did you do a good job today?" Anne asked as she went back to reading.

"I think so," Nina said, shivering, waiting for permission to get out of the tub.

"Tell me about it," the woman seemed distracted, but Nina knew she was listening.

"The fat one is normal enough. He reminds me of the one from two towns ago."

"Heanington."

"Yes," she nodded.

"And the skinny fellow?"

"He has...stranger tastes."

"You were gone a long time."

"Yes, mistress."

"I bet you're thirsty."

Nina wanted to cry.

"Have a drink, dear."

It was a long time since she'd given up fighting Anne's commands. She slipped down into the water, and slurped at the unclean, freezing liquid.

--

This was getting him nowhere.

Maybe, it had been impossible from the start.

James ran his hand through his hair. Defeatism was not a familiar feeling to him, and he didn't care for it. He shook it off.

He had spent the last few months exploring the border towns of the southern lands, focusing on larger communities. He figured Anne Jall would have a hard time getting comfortable in a small town. Maybe he was overthinking.

Every town he came to, he tried to imagine them there, walking the streets or hiding behind some closed window. Was Nina there? Had she been, once?

No. He didn't think so. She must be further south.

Part of him tensed at that. He was, after all, the king of the one nation that was truly seen as the enemy, here in Kath'rahim. He was pondering moving down into the belly of the beast. It was unlikely he'd be recognized, but that didn't mean there wasn't risk.

He would do this for her. He would.

James Rawlings saddled his horse and, with a small glance back north, towards home, began his trip into unfamiliar territory.

--

The fat man's name was John. In the two months since mistress had brought her to this place, he had stopped being so easy to please. It started after he had run his skinny partner, Dale, off in what he said was a monetary dispute. With Nina all to himself for the full two hours, he'd started exploring. He liked to drag it out, now. Often, when Nina showed up in the back office where the men worked on her, he would have two or three friends with him. Usually men, but John had taken to bringing his wife with him, too. If four wasn't enough to satiate his obsessions that night, he would take to offering money from strangers to "get in on the deal." Nina shuttered at the horror of pleasuring so many ugly, sweaty, gross men. Drinking them down, feeling some of them release themselves inside her. Her body contorting to accept them. She could not take her own life, but death was welcome to do it for her any time. If Anne would let it.

John's wife, Marro, hated the whole thing at first. She was surprisingly thin, waifish almost, and tragically ugly. Poor thing probably didn't have any other options besides old John. Nina almost laughed at the thought. As if she ought to be pitying others for their lack of choice.

Marro had suffered through two sessions, with John insisting and telling her to "Relax! You don't even have to do anything! This little bitch loves to do it for you, you'll see. Show her how you love to do it, bitch!" Nina actually felt guilty as she worked, knowing the skinny redhead was mortified by the entire event. It somehow made the whole thing more humiliating than it was. After the second such session, Nina's mistress had overheard John complaining that his wife needed to learn to enjoy herself. Anne had offered "assistance," and the very next day Marro had become worse than any of the men. She had thought of things for Nina to do that even mistress hadn't. When Nina had given her reports on these acts, Anne had flushed with arousal and insisted on trying them for herself. She seemed just as pleased with the results as John's wife, and Nina sunk further into hell.

Marro and Anne had become close friends, and Marro spent long hours up in the mistress's quarters with her and Nina. Both women seemed to live to find ways to exercise their power over the girl. Both had laughed and handed Nina over when John peeked his head in the door and observed that there were "two fine and beautiful horses in the hotel stable, both well-trained boys in need of some attention."

It was nearly lunch time. Nina was fantasizing, as she often did, of the different ways she would kill her mistress.

Nina was under her mistress's skirt.

She was sucking and slurping at the sex that was her world. Nausea swept through her. Juices coated her lips and chin, and it was hot and humid under the billowing skirt.

Anne sat in her chair, head back and legs open, as the girl worked. Her eyes were closed as she moaned. "Such a good girl," she muttered. She loved to say that. She knew it made Nina furious.

Anne continued to gain weight, though she was still far from obese. As she got bigger, she grew more and more fond of making Nina explore and pleasure her entire body. The more unattractive she grew, the more it excited her to force Nina to treat her like a perfect goddess. Her morning pleasure, though, was usually more like this. Relaxing, prolonged, and straightforward.

Anne didn't think it strange that, after killing her fellow witches in a jealous rage, she found herself so willing to share Nina with others. When Nina serviced the dirt-caked men downstairs, she did it for Anne. It was just another way of serving her mistress.

Anne was very happy any time she could find another new way to play with her toy.

She whispered a little spell she particularly enjoyed, which increased her secretions several times over. She heard the noises under her dress get sloppier, wetter, and felt Nina's mouth clamp down upon her. Anne smiled. Her pet had been through this before, and knew what was expected of her.

Anne lifted her skirts. She liked to watch her toned, beautiful slave drink down her juices. To see those small green eyes closed in concentration as that little throat worked to take in the mistress's sacred fluids. Like a form of worship.

Feeling feisty, she whispered the spell again, compounding it. It thrilled her to see Nina's eyes open wide in surprise, to hear her choke and gag against the growing flood of female secretions. To watch that throat work fast, harder, even as her mouth filled again and again.

Anne rolled her hips against that little mouth, and moaned.

Marro, sitting in the other chair, watched with excitement. "It's like she's nursing at your body. Like you're feeding her!" She giggled.

Anne's heavy breathing briefly became a staccato chuckle. "I am. I want to fill her up." She lifted one foot and ran it along the slave's bare back cheek. Taut and smooth, it stuck out towards the entryway. The thin fabric of Nina's lone costume piece hung between her buttocks. "I want to fill her up with me."

She moaned, and arched her hips against the suckling, feeding mouth. She could feel the fluids flowing out of her body. Nina continued to focus only on accepting every drop of the tangy juice, creating a heating suction. Finally, it became too much, and Anne screamed out her pleasure. Then, at last, she undid the spell and allowed the small woman to pull away.

Nina was indeed a small woman, now. Marro's constant questioning about the power of witches had led to some fascinating experiments. First they had come up with the idea that Nina shouldn't be so close to Anne's height. In truth, she was already short against the nearly 6 foot woman. But it seemed appropriate for her to be smaller, to be less, than her owner. Besides, one jealousy Anne had hidden from Tahlen was his ability to tower over the girl, creating such an awesome spectacle of control. So after some work Anne had managed to reduce Anne's size slightly, keeping her proportions the same but shaving 6 inches from her. Anne also kept Nina's slender, toned beauty tightly controlled, so that she was small even for her new four foot ten inch frame. The men seemed to enjoy her tininess.

Marro was a strange match for Anne. She was mousey, thin and curveless. But where Anne was now fat and saggy, Marro had a dancer's spry movements. She had a natural grace that a man would have found sexy. Of course, Marro's unfortunate looks would ruin that initial feeling. Anne had no interest in Marro sexually. Marro wasn't a strong person.

What Anne did like was letting Marro pretend to be strong, at Nina's expense. So, as usual, when Anne's pleasure was finished Nina washed her face and then immediately knelt before Marro. She looked up obediently, ready to do whatever she was told...the only sign of her true feelings the hardness in her eyes.

Marro looked down at the quiet, tiny creature. She tapped Nina's full belly with one foot, and Nina let out a small but strongly-scented burp.

The two sitting women roared with laughter. "Must have been quite the meal," Marro chuckled. She reached down and tussled Nina's hair, like a child. "You're such a good eater."

Anne bit her lower lip, and shifted in her chair. "Tell me it was delicious."

Nina turned to look at her. "It was delicious, mistress."

Marro looked at Anne, confused. "You've never wanted her to say that before. I thought you liked for her to hate it."

Anne shrugged, eyelids half closed with pleasure. "Maybe I'm getting soft."

Marro didn't say anything for a moment. She looked from the middle-aged, purring woman to the humiliated creature kneeling before them. "You could make her like it," she said at last.

Anne grunted. "Why would I do that?"

Marro shrugged. "It's something new. Anyway, I think maybe you want her to like it. Not just to obey you, but truly worship you."

"Don't be stupid."

"No, I mean it." Marro clicked her tongue. She stood up and undid her skirt. It fell to the floor, leaving her blouse and underdress. She hoisted the undergarment up to her waist. As per usual, Nina leaned in and began kissing her thighs, awaiting permission to do more. In her mind, Nina was fighting the rising panic caused by the conversation. Please, let them not take her mind away from her. She couldn't bear to imagine a life where she truly loved and adored these monsters. She pressed her lips against a bony hip.

"Hmm," Anne looked thoughtfully up at the ceiling. "It might be interesting for a while. Just as a change."

Marro nodded, turning around to face the wall. Nina's lips continued placing soft kisses, now on the backs of her legs and on her hind cheeks. "I think so," she said. "Not forever, but just to see." She leaned forward slightly, placing one hand on the back of the chair. Then she casually reached back with the other hand and found Nina's face. Nina was kissing her left rear cheek, and Marro gently pushed the small face into her back crease. She met no resistance.

Anne looked over at them. Marro had her head thrown back, her back slightly arched, a contented smile on her ugly face as she talked. Nina's face was partially buried in Marro's backside, but Anne could see the jaw movement and occasional cheek-indenting suction as she made out with the thin woman's rear. This was one of her favorite things to watch. She shrugged. "Just for a while," she muttered, and then let her power flow from her source and into Nina's mind. "Focus on what you are doing," she whispered. "Until I say otherwise, you love this. The body before you is as perfect to you as a goddess, and you love and worship it fully." She leaned back, and smiled as a great moan lifted up from the working slave. Nina began writhing as she sucked and licked between the cheeks. Her hands reached up and massaging the flesh before her.