The Carrington Witch

Hardly thoroughly rested, Sheridan could feel how the girls above and around her again slowly started to lick and fondle her. Sheridan felt a little overwhelmed at first, but then grinned and knew very well that her throbbing groin wanted nothing more than a second round as soon as possible. Pleased and eager, she just waited for the red-haired women to fulfill their task.

Not many minutes of more of the precise handling of the women made Sheridan come again. Looking down through the little gaps between the clutter of naked bodies, Sheridan saw the face of one of the girls just looking up from between Sheridan's legs, her cheeks smeared with Sheridan's juices, her black eyes determined and alert, seemingly inpatient for yet another of Sheridan's orgasms.

And another climax was a fact after just a short while. Again a brief spell of relaxation and then the seven girls were anew working untiringly to make Sheridan cry with pleasure and her groin splash with liquids, giving the bed a musky tang mixed with sweat. A brief rest—then another go. Through moans, cries and screams, through shudders, tremors and shattering strikes of chemicals bursting through her brain, Sheridan had now come five times.

As the girls went to work on her a sixth time, Sheridan was not only exhausted, but felt a dark chill through her mind and nausea through her body crawl upon her from underneath the constant throbs of bliss. The girls continued to do their best to stimulate the sensitive nerve endings across her body, intent on amassing their sensations toward genital eruption in her.

Sheridan looked around the little of the room she could see. To her great disbelief, she saw Agnes sitting in a chair a few feet from the foot of the bed. It occurred to Sheridan that Agnes must have been there the whole time. To Sheridan's disbelief, Agnes started laughing.

Agnes was laughing like she couldn't stop; a giggling, sniveling, menacing laughter that sent shivers down Sheridan's spine in the middle of the heat of bodies. After a while, Agnes got up from the chair and walked toward the bed, looking at Sheridan's oncoming climax.

"You stupid little girl," Agnes's voice said. "Did you—ha-ha-ha—actually believe that you could abuse my magic without getting punished?"

Sheridan's eyes darted in all directions.

"You are all mine now," Agnes continued, almost purring.

Agnes started to laugh again and sat down in her chair, making herself comfortable before enjoying the show in front of her. Sheridan's moans were rapidly replaced by grunts as a pair of expert fingers massaged her vaginal walls and a tongue twirled deep inside her anus. A quick yelp and then a throaty cry: Sheridan's pelvic muscles contracted furiously, making her vagina look like a mouth gasping for air.

Agnes sat smirking, the tip of her tongue riding along the ridge of her pearly teeth.

7.

It was night outside. Silent, thick blackness covered the forest; the clear, dark sky, strewn with stars, seemed a great cosmic lung filled with calm air. The occasional fox's mating scream was the only thing to disturb the stillness, so beautiful to so many people who were sitting at home or had just taken a walk outside to watch, breathe and touch the subtler richness of life.

Buried inside the forest, inside a house, down a hallway, down a staircase, inside a glittering room, on a big, soft bed, lay Sheridan. The covers underneath her were wrinkled and damp. Her eyes were closed and she breathed quietly, although a bit unsteadily. The seven naked women who were her bedmates also lay still, resting in firm embraces around Sheridan, all together the likeness of a pup waiting to burst in the morning. Only Sheridan's head was free, resting on the lap of one of the girls.

Sheridan's eyes flew up. Just in front of her was Agnes's malicious face. Agnes lay on the bed, resting her chin in her hands, looking at Sheridan like a venomous spider contemplating its prey.

"Hello," she said, her mouth stretching wildly across her face. "I was wondering when you'd awake. We'll be here whenever you wake up, you know."

Sheridan felt strangely hot and cold at the same time. She stretched her arm and promptly felt a strong hand somewhere clenching it in place. And somewhere in her nether regions, a dull ache made itself felt.

"Is your cunt hurting? Now, now, that's nothing compared to how your dear Amanda feels. You know that, don't you?" said Agnes, playfully putting her pointy finger on Sheridan's nose.

Tears started forming in Sheridan's eyes. She didn't look at Agnes; she just let her tears fall down her cheeks and down onto the slim thigh on which she was resting her head.

"Your girls seem to awake, Sheridan," said Agnes. "Can you feel it? Can you sense their hunger? Can y—"

A rapping on the door echoed through the enormous room. Agnes looked up with a hiss.

"Sheridan?" said a muffled voice from the other side. "Sheridan, are you in there?"

Sheridan moaned to herself: "No... She can't see me like this."

Agnes swiftly got to her feet and ran to a lifelike statue of a woman standing with her mouth gaping upward and with the hilt of a sword sticking out of it. Agnes's hands seized the hilt and pulled up a wave-bladed flamberge from the statue's throat. Its edge of poison-green steel flashed menacingly in the air as Agnes took cautious steps toward the door.

The door abruptly swayed open. There stood Amanda. Her amber eyes were glowing and the thick braid of her brown hair swung to and fro behind her back. There was a look of concern across her whole countenance. Then she saw Sheridan, who looked back, completely terrified. To Sheridan's confusion, however, Amanda heaved a sigh of relief and smiled at her.

"Thank god," Amanda said. "I thought y—"

As if from nowhere, the sound of steel singing in the air was heard and an undulating blade thrust toward Amanda. Amanda didn't have a second to react: the sword in Agnes's hands hit Amanda straight in the chest and pierced its way through the heart. A red trail streamed down Amanda's chin from her lips, and her surprised eyes glanced at Sheridan with a sad look.

Agnes unceremoniously pulled the sword out again, blood covering it to the hilt. Amanda's legs gave way and she wordlessly collapsed on the floor and lay still.

Turning around, Agnes was breathing heavily and managed an awkward smile. She threw the sword onto the marble floor, the metal ringing sharply throughout the hall. Walking back toward Sheridan, whose big blue eyes followed her figure, she said:

"W-well, Sheridan. Not only do you hurt her. Now she's lying dead on the floor in a pool of blood. Well done indeed. ... Now, where were we?"

As Agnes started crawling onto the bed, Sheridan saw how the witch was sweating and was much paler than usual.

"I w-will savor every s-second... o-of your ang—... anguish," said Agnes, now heaving and trembling on her way toward Sheridan. Sheridan could feel how the hands around her convulsively clutched her arms and legs. Agnes now lay next to Sheridan, her upper body raised, with her arms stretched and her palms flat on the bed. Looking down upon Sheridan, all color drained from her face, she said in a rasping voice:

"Y-you are never getting out... of here... Sheridan. N-never getting out... of..."

Agnes slumped down on the sheets. Her face was turned toward Sheridan, but her open eyes were lifeless. Sheridan felt how the women holding her now loosened their grips on her and how their weight and heat lifted from her. As she looked around, there was not a trace left of the seven girls anywhere in the room.

Sheridan's tired eyes looked back at her side. There, on the bed, now lay a withered, gnarly corpse as black as coal staring back at her. The scorched cranium grinned silently, the hair on its scalp was white and the remainder of an arm was stretched out toward her. Sheridan let out a piercing scream and her world faded to black.

8.

Noontime in the city of Carrington. People bustling about along the streets, many of them looking for a good place to eat lunch before work or school starts again. A man in a grey coat sits outside a café with a cup of coffee and a salad, reading the local newspaper.

In it, he reads about the fire that broke out somewhere in the nearby forest the night before. According to the report, no one had been hurt, but officials had found no obvious cause to the fire: the weather in the area was highly unlikely to cause natural wildfires, and the place where the fire was deemed to have started—an entirely uninhabited region—provided no evidence for a human cause whatsoever. The man in the coat turns the page; today, the weather shows partly cloudy with sunny breaks.

He gets up from his seat and starts walking toward the park. A crow flaps its wings, taking off into the air as he comes walking. It's a beautiful park, green and flourishing; the sunrays play in the trees. Just behind the branches, apartment houses stretch out along the avenues. The man looks up at them as he walks by, wondering what busy lives play out on the inside; what happiness, what sorrows. He pulls out a cigarette and lights it, the calm wind making the smoke dance.

Sheridan sharply drew breath as she threw the bed covers to one side and stared ahead of her. Her apartment was the same as always; the midday sun shone in gently from the window.

"You're awake!" said a happy voice close-by. Sitting in a chair next to the bed was Amanda, who now got closer and sat down on the edge of the bed, laying her hand on Sheridan's arm.

"Are you all right, Sheridan?" The look on her face was positively constricted with concern.

Sheridan could say nothing. Her mouth hung open as she looked at Amanda and very soon her eyes filled with tears. A quiet sob also escaped Amanda and in a second they threw themselves into each other's arms and hugged intensely, little gasps escaping them now and then as they cried silently.

"I'm so sorry," Sheridan said.

"I know," Amanda answered. "I am too. ... Can you forgive me?"

"What do you mean?" Sheridan said, slightly breaking the hug and looking at Amanda.

Amanda sighed. "I have wronged you," she said.

"Wronged me?" Sheridan protested. "I hurt you, I was ruthless, and I—"

"Sheridan," Amanda said, "I'm not sure what you think happened, but I wanted you inside me like nothing I've ever wanted before. And I know you wanted me, so very much."

"But," Sheridan said, looking down, "your cry was so loud."

"Yes. But it wasn't all that much from pain. I was scared, Sheridan. I have never made love to a woman before; I didn't know what to do. Ever since your bravery in coming to my apartment just like that, I was so impressed that I wanted to top it: so I just let myself go. But when I felt that sting inside me, it was like someone reminded me of what I was doing. That I was doing something wrong, that I was perverted and abnormal. I was terrified.

"Then I saw your face, equally scared, and I hoped that you were perhaps ashamed too. I saw my way out: I blamed you. I screamed at you for that trivial accident. But I wasn't scared of you. I was scared of what we did. And I made you take the entire blow."

Amanda held Sheridan's hand in hers.

"When you had gone," Amanda resumed, "I had some horrible moments of anguish to myself, considering my cowardice. But I finally managed to pull out of it, because I knew I could make it all good if I only swallowed my pride and admitted my fault. Doing that was a small price to pay if the reward was reconciliation with you. I knew it was my responsibility to... to save you."

"But how did you even..." Sheridan began, bewilderedly.

"I figured you'd probably not want me to see you in the state you were in, Sheridan—I've never seen anyone so tormented in my life. But with a damsel in distress and righteousness on my side, I felt unstoppable and I knew I'd be able to take a few blows to get through to you."

By now, Sheridan knew the woman in front of her was the love of her life. There was no turning back now, magic or no magic.

"Amanda..." she started. "I will seem stupid and annoying, I know, but... I really, really love you."

Amanda smiled her lively smile, and her teary amber eyes glistened. "Oh, you silly. Why do you think I've always tried to get close to you this past semester? I would have loved just being your friend, but there was always more on my mind. ... I'm not afraid anymore, Sheridan. I love you too. I love you so much."

Sheridan laughed nervously while wiping a tear out of her eye. "Are you sure?" she said.

Amanda started unbuttoning her shirt, revealing her firm breasts, bent down over Sheridan and gave her a deep kiss.

"I'm pretty sure," she said, beaming.

Sheridan kissed her back a couple of times, and as Sheridan tenderly grazed Amanda's body, she discerned a curious line, looking like a scar, just above Amanda's left breast. She inhaled, making Amanda look at her with an inquiring smile. Sheridan took a moment's reflection, but then exhaled serenely, kissed Amanda intently on the lips and then whispered:

"My hero."

EPILOGUE

Two years later, a young woman was walking down the sidewalk next to the university. She looked like most normal people in their twenties. She was slightly shorter than average, but she walked with a springy, even step that somehow made her seem taller. Sheridan Olsen didn't seem to have a single worry in her life.

Sheridan was walking home from her office that afternoon. Professor McKinney, her supervisor, had told her to leave work a bit earlier. "You deserve it," he had said, chuckling in his intellectual manner, making his enormous belly jiggle about.

Some minutes afterward, Sheridan opened the door to her apartment.

"I'm ho-ooome!" she shouted.

The bumping of feet could be heard from another room and in two seconds Sheridan had two arms and an eager leg embracing her, and a pair of full lips kissing her. Sheridan giggled.

"Amanda, ha-ha," she said, "you never change."

"And you love it," Amanda answered, smirking. "Don't you, doctor Olsen?"

"Like nothing in this world, doctor Conley," Sheridan said, and kissed Amanda while fondling her firm behind. "Have you been working hard today, my love?"

"Oh, yes," Amanda said, her hand reaching down between Sheridan's legs.

"I take it," said Sheridan between breaths, "that you've bought the... toys you were looking at earlier?"

Amanda smiled flirtatiously and bit her lip. "I sure did."

"Will it be good?" Sheridan asked, pinching at Amanda's nipple through her shirt, making her moan.

"Trust me," Amanda murmured. "It will be a dream come true."