The Witch-Bitch

Few people realize how hard it is to be a witch, Clarisse mused as she stirred her potion. Who could afford eye of newt at today's market price? Not to mention her chants and trances took time, she couldn't possibly work full time and perfect her craft.

The old red brick-walled kitchen bounced a pungent steam around the room. Clarisse breathed in the scent with deep satisfaction. For years, she struggled to boost her fledgling powers; at last she had struck upon a plan. Though her potion would only work for one night, she was sure it would be enough. Sometimes, to be a good witch, you had to be a little bitch.

* * * * * * * * *

"Hey, guys, you got a minute? I want you to taste some tea I made. It's really good."

Angie groaned inwardly. She had sworn last time that she would not taste another of her Clarisse's concoctions, but she knew she'd give in to play the good roommate. Angie had just moved into the house, and into town, a month prior. She only had a small handful of friends and certainly didn't want to upset the ones she lived with.

Angie emerged into the kitchen to find Clarisse behind the butcher block counter, dressed in flowing layers of gauze and taffeta, glitter sparkling on her face. Any stranger to walk in would think that Clarisse was dressed in her Halloween costume, but, no, that was how she always dressed. Angie surmised that she was some sort of pagan; Clarisse was almost always found meditating at her alter. But she was friendly, clean, and generally a good roommate, so Angie didn't question her quirks. We are what we are, she surmised as she took a glass of blue-brown liquid from her friends hand. Gulp.

Angie was aching for a way to stall, perhaps feign a spill, when her other roommate, Luke, came in, wearing half of a pirate costume. "Whatcha got this time, Clarisse?" Luke asked with rolling eyes. Clarisse's back was to him, his gesture was meant for Angie, who hid a slight smile of commiseration.

"This is a tonic to relax you. Valirum, catnip, you know. Good stuff. Drink up," Clarisse said with a sweet smile, and watched both her roommate's take a small, tentative sip.

Angie coughed, but tried to hide it behind her palm. "God, this tastes awful, C. Maybe a little sugar?" Luke was more frank.

"No, no, that would defeat the purpose. One big gulp, guys, I need you to tell me if you think it works." She looked back and forth between Angie and Luke. With soft eyes, and an almost whiny tone, "Please?"

They were good roommates. Clarisse was pleased.

* * * * * * * * * *

Angie tentatively walked a few blocks to where the party was to be held. She didn't know the people throwing it, and barely knew the girl from class who'd invited her, but it was Halloween and she certainly wasn't going to stay at home passing out candy. Beside, her whole street was made up of college kids. They could buy their own candy.

Angie had dressed as a medieval princess, with a elaborate green and gold gown, her long red hair twisted into braids, a rhinestone tiara on her head. It wasn't the costume she would have chosen first, but she'd found the dress at a thrift store for next to nothing, and it looked so good on her. Maybe deep down she did have the princess fantasy. It didn't matter at any rate, even if she weren't a virtual stranger she wasn't the type to put on airs to impress people. It seemed a lot of girls in her art crowd went for the bad-ass image, but Angie was more plain, and too innocent for that.

She looked anything but plain, walking down the street in the velvety gown that scraped the sidewalk. A few hoots and whistles attested to this, but Angie just blushed and kept walking. She had never known how to respond to attention from males, and outside of a few strained groping dates, she tended to ignore it.

The party was what college parties typically were: kegs, music, crowded rooms with no place to sit, to which on this day was added an assortment of costumes and cobwebs. Angie tried to drink a plastic cup of beer and wander, but she couldn't stomach the warm, weak brew, and the house was too packed with people to move. Not an hour after she'd arrived, back to her own house she went.

At least she'd have the place to herself, she surmised. Both Clarisse and Luke had been in their school for years, knew many people, and had a long list of potential activities for the evening. Maybe the Charlie Brown Halloween special would be on. She always loved that one.

She curled up on the couch, still in her costume, and settled on an old black and white vampire flick when she heard the front door open.

"Ah, Princess Angelina, what do you do home so early? Don't you know there are dangerous pirate lurking about?" Luke asked with a sparkle in his eye.

Angie chuckled. Luke would have done better dressing as a clown. But he looked mighty good in scarves and eyeliner -- he'd wisely taken cue from Johnny Depp in his costume. He always looked good, she mused, but he was her roommate and therefore off limits. But tonight, he looked just a little dangerous, and a knot of hunger formed in her core.

She averted her eyes. "Ah, the party was crowded. I didn't know anyone. What are you doing home?"

Luke shrugged. "I'm not sure. I just felt like it. Maybe I wanted to rescue a princess from loneliness," he teased and plopped next to her on the couch.

"You're a pirate, not a prince," Angie spat with uncharacteristic spunk.

Luke grinned. "Who says a pirate can't be good company?" His eyes burned into hers, and she felt disjointed. He'd never shown a bit of sexual interest in her before, yet now, she could swear he was giving her bedroom eyes.

The knot of hunger turned into a fluttering pressure, centered around what was fast becoming the heat of her womanhood. She gasped almost inaudibly, then looked away. "The pirate's captive, I'm sure, would not agree with you," she said softly.

He reached out and turned her head with two finger softly on the side of her chin. "Then you are my captive?" he asked. Damn, those eyes.

She knew he was just teasing her, and wanted to force out a laugh to make things right. But she couldn't. She couldn't even speak, she just nodded, once, solemnly.

Without breaking his gaze, he undid the black scarf from his head, folded it neatly, and tied it around Angie's face, covering her eyes. "You cannot escape," Luke growled softly into her ear, and what was once damp below turned into a puddle.

With one fingertip, Luke traced the outline of her plump lips, so lightly that it tickled. By the time she recovered and tried to capture his finger in her mouth, the soft touch skipped down her chin, and explored the lines of her collarbone. Angie drew in a sharp breath and held it.

His fingertip moved, lightly, slowly down to the dip in her gown that showed just enough cleavage to be enticing. Then, with careful, unhurried precision, Luke unfastened the many tiny buttons, one by one, until the gown split like a robe around her, revealing her simple white cotton bra and panties.

On the television, the vampire's victim screamed. Luke stood and reached for Angie's hands. "Come with me," he stated, as a command.

Angie couldn't have stopped him if she'd wanted to. Her mind had ceased to think, her body was operating fully on the sensations of lust and desire, a hunger she'd never felt before welled within her. I his room, Luke brushed the gown off Angie's shoulders. He dawdled in removing her underthings, teasing her with the heat of his breath and the too-soft touch. She wanted him to take her, now, no foreplay, but the words stuck in her throat. He laid her on the bed and knelt beside her.

He knelt motionless for a while, his eyes busy taking in the sight of her body, the swell of her breasts and stiff pink nipples, the curve of her waist, the glistening heat of her cunt. Restless, her arms reached out and sought him, she felt for the buttons of his shirt and tried to undo them. "Please," she moaned. She needed to feel his flesh against hers.

Luke broke of his trance and quickly disrobed. He knelt between her legs and his mouth found hers. There was no softness now, no tender exploration. He lips and tongue devoured hers, and she his. Their hands acted a roaming frenzy, she wrapped her arms around him and pulled him in, closer, pressing her hips against his hardness.

Angie had no qualms or worries left, this was right, she needed it. She put on her faint princess voice, "Please, Mr. Pirate, don't impale me with your giant shaft!" she begged in teasing. He nearly laughed as his cock found her hot, tight slit and plunged in, in one fell swoop. They both groaned and held still, for a single moment, and then the real frenzy began.

He was rocking with force, reaching into her honeyed depths as far as he could, as she met him with her hips, egging him further. "Oh, god, more," she cried and squeezed the walls of her cunt around his cock, trying to meld into him.

He slammed into her and stayed. "But, my darling captive princess, don't you want a tender touch?" He teased. He pinned her down with his weight, her frantic thrusts nearly useless, as he bent over her breasts and began to suckle.

"Ooohhhh," she sighed. He knew just how to play them, alternative between a soft, lapping tongue and a firm squeeze in his mouth. He pushed himself in deeper as he sucked, and as she squirmed and moaned he knew she had nearly lost control.

"Give it to me, princess," he taunted between the licks and the sucks, between the slight rocking of his hips, and the rough thumb on her other nipple. She was panting now, climbing. His free hand slithered between them, between the slick folds of her pussy lips, to the hard little button at her core. "Yes, oh Yes," was the last intelligible thing she cried as she soared blissfully up, into him.

But that did not sate her hunger. As soon as she came and he loosened his hold on her, she rocked her thighs into him, squeezing her inner muscles against his throbbing hardness. Her pussy was not a damp hole for him to release into, no, it was a instrument of divine pleasure. Try as he might to hold off, his body, her sweet cries, the energy between them would not have it. Before he could warn her he released load after load into her depths, and she kept rocking, squeezing, milking for more.

Luke rolled off her and to her side, holding her, petting her, too stunned for words. Angie was speechless as well, as if her brain had been shut down by the power between them. They kissed languidly for minutes or hours, neither were sure, they only knew that it wasn't over.

No, it far from over. Through the night they tried every position they could think of, and invented a few new ones. Each coupling was explosive, even as they neared dawn and had each cum more times than they could count. The banter had long stopped, words futile in expressing anything. As they sun began to rise, they fell asleep in each others arms.

* * * * * * * * * *

"Damn, damn, damn," Clarisse cursed. Her spell had worked without fault. But the stupid video camera had not. She had captured exactly ten minutes of extremely hot fucking, and then hours of fuzz. The damn thing couldn't even wait till they'd finished the first time -- she had nothing she could sell. And the spell that worked was deemed for Halloween only. She couldn't wait another year.

What's worse, the two fools practically avoided each other now. Luke and Angie were acting as if they'd committed murder together, not love. Maybe the spell was too strong.

She racked her head and came up with a last ditch effort. She loudly announced her plans to leave for the weekend. Before she left, she added a few drops of something special into the pitcher of orange juice in the fridge.

* * * * * * * * * *

Angie shuffled in from her last Friday class, and tried to be as quiet as a mouse. She knew there was a reason that one shouldn't sleep with their roommate, and this was it. She felt uncomfortable in her own house. It had been over a week since the morning she awkwardly woke in Luke's bed, and she knew they would have to talk about it eventually. But she wasn't ready to do that. She'd never forget the look on his face when he found her virgin blood on his sheets.

"Hey Angie," Luke said, catching her before she could make it to her room.

Angie smiled and nodded, and begun to turn away.

"Wait!" he stood in her way, a pleading look on his face. "Can we talk?"

Angie looked down. Her mind knew it was best to get it over with, so she nodded and let him lead her to the couch where it all began.

"Look, I just want to say I'm sorry if I hurt you in any way, or if you regret it, or...," he drifted off. She had never seen him at a lose for words before, and she knew that it was because he was at heart a good guy that he didn't want to say what he had to say.

"But you just want to be on good terms so we can act like normal roommates, right?" Angie finished his sentence for him. She gave him an easy way out, so he wouldn't have to come right out and reject her.

"I...well, if that's what you want," Luke said. He was trying to find her eyes, but she wouldn't have it.

"Well, that's better than us sneaking around each other, don't you think?" she kind-of snapped. She saw the sorrow in his eyes and regretted her harshness. What happened on Halloween was her doing as much as his.

"Look, Angie, I didn't mean to come off that way. But by the way you darted out of bed that morning, I didn't know how to react." She sat in silence, trying to swallow the meaning of his words.

"What are you saying?"

"I'm saying that...that was the most fantastic night of my life. And now I'm not sure what's going on."

Angie looked up and allowed him to see her vibrant green eyes. "You mean you don't regret it?"

"No!" he said with such emphasis she smiled. "You thought I --"

Angie nodded with a sheepish grin. "I saw that look on your face and --"

Luke didn't need to hear anymore. He took her head in his hands and covered her mouth with his. He spent the last week replaying that night in his head, thinking of Angie's sweet mouth, her hot pussy, her dirty mind. He couldn't bear to look at her without wanting to touch her, and now, he didn't want to wait another second.

They left a trail of clothing on the way to his bedroom; she pushed him back onto the bed and lept on top of him. She lowered her mouth to his as she lowered her pussy onto his thick phallus. They moaned for each other and found the heat had never left them. There was grinding and humping and milking and more fucking, but what surprised Luke more than anything was when, in a moment of rest, Angie said, "you're a lousy pirate."

Luke let her nipple fall from his mouth. "Huh?"

Angie smiled the self-possessed smile of a princess. "A good pirate never lets his captive get away."

Luke reached between her legs and found her slick and ready. "I never have. And I never will," he said.

* * * * * * * *

Upon returning from her weekend, Clarisse was ecstatic to find many hours of tape, golden moments of unrehearsed lust that would fetch a pretty penny. She was only a little chagrined to find the pitcher of orange juice in the fridge, as full as she'd left it.