The Femdom Witch and her Concierge Ch. 01

Magic has waned in the world. In the past, magic was a prevalent and powerful force, wielded by individuals and groups who held significant influence and power. However, as time has passed, the use and practice of magic has diminished greatly. The number of individuals who possess magical abilities has greatly decreased. The remaining practitioners of magic are mainly limited to a small group of women, known as witches.

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Two events shook the foundations of the mountainside inn within a week. Firstly it was rocked by an earthquake, and secondly, the witch arrived.

Colm had been working at the River and Stone Inn for as long as he could remember and it was second nature for him to be able to anticipate the guest's needs. One look at someone as they approached the counter was usually enough for him to make a summary judgement, around here there were only two types of guests, those travelling down the White Ridge Mountains towards the capital city of Stockton, or those leaving the city and heading up into the mountains. Foothill Rest was a fitting name for the town, it was only ever a rest stop for travellers, never a destination.

One of the more well-travelled guests had called him a true concierge, which the guest had explained was someone a little bit better than an innkeeper, someone who assisted the guests, not just let them in and take their coin. Colm was very proud of his work in anticipating guests' needs and privately thought of himself as a concierge, not that he'd ever tell anyone that.

In his years working here, he'd rarely had a witch stay at the Inn though. Colm remembered that once a witch from somewhere uphill in the hinterland or mountains had stayed here on her way down to the city below for some supplies, but she only stopped here because of the Inn's convenient location.

But now a very different type of witch was strolling towards him and he did his best to try and assess who she was, and what she might need. Her long black dress and pointed black hat told him her profession. Unlike the prior visitor, the mountain witch, who'd worn practical, hard-wearing woollen dresses and a wide-brimmed black hat, this new witch wore what appeared to be silk. And unlike the previous witch, her hat was small and fashionable. Her dress also had a red fringe and accents which appeared to give her dark brown hair a matching soft red glow. Being this fashionably dressed, she was clearly a city witch on her way up the mountains, he concluded. Not a local then, he thought, I should ask if she needs a guide.

Colm tried to estimate her age, but her looks confounded him. Her face was that of a mature woman, possibly anywhere in her 30s to her 40s. But her skin was as smooth and flawless as someone in their early 20s. It gave her an ageless appearance.

"Can I have a room for the night, and possibly for the whole week? I'm willing to pay for the week upfront, but I'm not sure which day I'll be leaving" she said.

She introduced herself as Meridin Semira but offered very little additional detail about who she was, and where she was going. When he subtly asked about her plans, she didn't offer much detail beyond saying she was waiting. With no mention of what she was waiting for, be it a person or a thing.

The perfect kind of guest, Colm thought to himself. He didn't like a guest who tried to be your friend. He insisted on keeping a well-defined barrier between himself and others, guests especially. Relying on others was a recipe for disaster, he thought to himself.

The next week passed quickly. Word of the witch had spread through the town, and the Inn's common room had never had more locals in it. All sorts of people who'd never stay for a meal suddenly found an excuse to drop in, in hopes of catching a glimpse of the witch.

Colm noticed that there was one group of locals who were staying away though. Save for himself and a couple of married men there were no young men in the crowded common room. Colm assumed that all the young men had heard the same rumours he had. Rumours of witches taking young men in their thrall, forcing them into service as personal protectors or servants. Some of the rumours were far more salacious, only ever mentioned in hushed whispers. Rumours about witches who used their thralls for sex, witches who had more than one thrall at a time, making them do sex acts that would turn your hair white.

Colm was shocked from his thoughts by Bridgid, the baker's wife, who plonked down a tray of bread and said, "You carried her bags in, how many dresses do you think she has?" Ordinarily, the Inn baked enough of its own bread, but the sudden rush of people wanting to eat here left them short.

The witch had been there for a week and had worn a new dress each day. It was a mystery that the regulars at the Inn discussed in depth.

Although many of the black dresses that the witch wore looked the same to Colm. Bridget and the local ladies insisted that each day's dress was entirely different. They had begun to take notes, writing down each cut, colour and material that they saw. Some days she wore long flowing dresses, on warmer days she wore mid-length summer dresses. Once, on her first day, she wore a divided riding dress. And it wasn't just the style of dress that changed either. The colours changed too. Usually the dresses were black, but sometimes they had a red fringe, sometimes a green. Sometimes she wore brightly coloured petticoats, sometimes entirely black. To Colm's eye, the different colours of the dress seemed to make her hair come alive in that colour too, sometimes highlights of green or blue flicked through her hair to match whichever colour she was wearing that day.

Colm gave the same answer he had all week. "She only had two cases, and the one with clothes in it was the lightest, no larger than a regular chest." He struggled to imagine her fitting any more than three dresses in the clothes chest he carried in for her. The other chest, the one Colm imagined held her magical supplies was the only heavy one. It was so full of glass bottles it had rattled louder than the Inn's liquor cabinet had during the last earthquake.

As the week progressed, the Inn settled into a new rhythm. Meridin continued to stay at the Inn, without ever letting on why she was there. Onlookers and stickybeaks still popped into the common room to try and sneak a peek at her. That was until Mrs Stone, the Innkeeper, called Colm to her office.

Mrs Stone, sat down in her chair behind her desk, sighing deeply as she did. Her sigh was so long it made her appear to shrink even further in height from her already short stature. As Colm sat in the chair opposite she told him down and told him that his time working at the Inn was drawing to an end. "I don't regret taking you in, you've always been a good worker, but it's time for someone with the family name to run this place."

Colm tried to mask his sadness. He'd know this day was coming, but her choice of words to frame him as just a worker, and not part of the family struck him in the heart.

You did this to yourself, he thought bitterly. The circumstances of his life had forced him to be reliant on Mrs Stone, and look where that had left him. Never again would he allow himself to be reliant on anyone, he promised himself.

Judging solely by appearance, no one would ever mistake them as family. His height and skinny frame had always made him stand out from the short and round Stones. People around town had always joked he was a stick among pebbles rather than them being a family of Stones. But they had been the only family he'd ever known. He remembered sitting around this very same desk when he was a young child and hearing the same woman offer to take him in and raise him. His parents had just died, and so had her husband. It was an arrangement that suited them both, for a time. He needed someone to raise him and she had more work than she could handle running an Inn. She had three daughters and she didn't want them to do the heavy lifting parts of running an Inn. So it went, Colm came to live in the Inn, work in the Inn and eventually ran the Inn himself.

The fact that he'd known this day was coming for quite a while, provided little to no comfort for Colm. Three months previously Mrs Stone's eldest daughter, Ethel, became betrothed, and she and her new husband-to-be had clear plans to run the Inn themselves. Colm knew his usefulness was drawing an end.

"Of course, I understand perfectly. I'll make arrangements to leave as soon as possible." Colm said calmly, then excused himself, and stood to leave. Mrs Stone thanked him for making their parting easy but made no mention in her thanks of the years of work that Colm had provided.

As soon as the door closed behind him an intense unsettled feeling washed over him. He had no idea where to go next. He had no skills that would help him on the road. Being able to serve drinks and show people to their rooms were useful skills to be sure, but not ones that were easy to find work for. Most inns were family businesses, with no need for outsiders to help.

He set off toward his room. He had very few belongings but he still needed to pack them. As he walked down the hall towards the witch's room a thought occurred to him, causing him to pause outside the door. He shook his head as if trying to shake the thought from his head and set off again.

Two steps later, he paused again. He turned and looked at her door. The witch seemed like the travelling sort, maybe she knew of an inn in need of a worker?

Summoning his courage, he raised his hand to knock. But a pang of fear seized him and he froze. His hand trembling uselessly in the air.

"Come," the Witch said in loud confident tones from inside the room. He quickly opened the door and entered.

Meridin was seated at the table, with maps and books open in front of her. Her black silk dress was today fringed with a fiery red.

"I wanted to ask you something... " He paused, suddenly nervous and unsure if he should continue. The idea of being rejected by her was terrifying. Oh well, witches are known for helping people he thought. Five seconds of bravery now might solve all his problems. "I wanted to ask if I can go with you when you leave? I've recently been told to move on, from the Inn and I wanted to see if I could travel with you and hopefully find another inn that needs a worker."

Once he'd asked, a weight was lifted from his chest.

Meridin asked him why he wanted to leave so suddenly, so he explained his situation and his conversation with Mrs Stone.

She sat silently considering his request.

"I don't know any inns that would suit you. But I can offer you something better. Enter my service, and work for me for a year. You'll learn all sorts of new skills, and see so much more of the world. Maybe you'll even find an inn to work at if that's truly what you desire."

She paused, letting the offer sit for a moment, before softening her tone and quietly asking "Do you know what a thrall is?"

He'd never met a thrall before, hardly anyone had. But that didn't stop all the young men from talking about them and speculating about all the ways witches supposedly used them. Colm's head was filled with a flood of images from all the rumours he'd heard. Men being used to feeding grapes into witches' mouths, men using their mouths to please witches, men turned into mice for witch's amusement and some outlandish rumours of witches with a dozen men under their control, all forced to do her bidding. Most of the stories were probably untrue. But it still gave him pause.

"I've heard some things about them," he answered truthfully.

"It's just a magic bond between a witch and another person. That's all. A bond that lets both people know where the other is, and what they are feeling. It's nothing scary, just a mutually beneficial magical bond." She paused for a moment,

"That's the offer. Take it or leave it. At least one year and one day in my service as a thrall, I'll take you from here and give you wonders you couldn't even imagine."

His conversation from earlier that day with Mistress Stone burned in his brain. There was no home for him here anymore, he needed to get out. But was leaving with Meridin the right choice?

Her offer sounded so tempting, so why could he feel his heart pounding so hard? He weighed his options, staying here was impossible. He had no idea how to go out into the world on his own. He had to take her offer and everything that came with it. A year and a day isn't really that long when you think about it, he tried to convince himself.

He told her he accepted her offer. "Excellent," she said her whole face lighting up. "You're going to love it." She instructed him to kneel in front of her.

"To be taken on as a Witch's thrall, first you must submit yourself to me fully. Empty your mind and embrace my mind as it reaches out to you."

As she pressed her thumb to his forehead he suddenly had the strangest of feelings. It was like he could feel the faint echo of her in his mind. It wasn't full thoughts or words that floated through, just a general sense of her, what she was feeling, what she wanted.

Part of him wanted to push her out of his head, to reject her offer. But a bigger part of him wanted this, wanted to serve her. So he gave in, and let her mind enter his without any resistance.

"All magic users can create bonds with other people. They're very mutually beneficial. It's based on feeling, not thoughts. For instance, I can feel where my other thrall is, and what he's feeling. He's about 300km that way." Her long fingers pointed back over her head, vaguely westward. The mention of another thrall made Colm pause. Maybe some of the rumours were true.

"I wish that you could hear each other's thoughts. All I can feel is what he's feeling, full. He's just eaten a good meal, which I guess means he's reached an inn because he's an awful cook." As she laughed the bond was filled with warmth, which Colm found reassuring. Warm laughter was a welcome change to the bitterness that had crept into Mrs Stone's laughter in recent years.

He began to try to make sense of the new sensations in his head. He tried to sense what she was thinking, but true to her word he couldn't seem to read her mind or hear her thoughts.

But he could feel her emotions. He could feel a strong contentedness, a feeling of power. Perhaps she felt that way because he had submitted to her as a thrall. But for all he knew, maybe she always felt powerful. She was a witch who could wield magic at the snap of her fingers after all.

Colm was beginning to feel too much, so he tightly closed his eyes to block out as much of the world as possible. Feeling a second set of emotions was overwhelming him. But to his great surprise, even with his eyes closed, he could still sense exactly where she was standing.

Colm could feel a different emotion through their bond now, the kind of adoration that you feel when you look at a helpless baby animal. Was she feeling that while watching him struggle to come to terms with the bond that now bound them? "Aww pet, I'm sorry. It is a lot to take in at once, I know."

As quickly as they'd come, the second set of emotions suddenly disappeared. "There, I'll mask our bond for a moment, until you get your bearings."

Her lips curled into a flirtatious smile.

"You don't need to find a new inn to work at. You need to love yourself again. And that's where I come in. A year in my service and you'll know all about love."

She shifted over on the couch, inviting Colm to sit next to her before continuing.

"Acts of service are a type of love and your path back to loving yourself again is to love others."

"That's my secret. I get you to perform acts of service for me. Every kind of service you can imagine. From placing grapes on my tongue to placing your tongue in me. From filling my cup with wine to filling me with your cock. You'll do it all."

Colm gasped. His tongue in her? And his cock? He wasn't used to women being this forward.

"The more service you perform for me, the more you will feel love. And once you can feel love again, you'll be able to find yourself again, without thinking of yourself as just an innkeeper."

Meridin shuffled backwards in her seat and continued "Let's start with something small. Come massage my shoulders."

Colm hesitated. He had spent most of his life in service of others but had always drawn a line at physical touch. Part of him knew that as a thrall to a witch, he would have to touch her at some point, but part of him still felt uncomfortable touching a guest. "Must I mistress?"

"Yes, you must."

Suddenly his body felt an overwhelming urge to move across the room and start massaging her shoulders. He tried as hard as he could to fight the feeling, but his body seemed to have a mind of its own and moved to exactly where she had indicated, placed his hands on her shoulders and started rubbing. Colm was in shock. What on earth was happening to him?

Meridin streched her neck as he massaged. "Isn't it nicer when you just do what I want? It's one of the powers all witches have over their thralls you know. We can compel them to do whatever we want. It's a lot nicer when we don't have to use that power though."

As quickly as it came, the inescapable urge to massage her left. Colm was left with his hands on her shoulders, and with a choice: Did he continue to massage her of his own free will? Or should he resist and run the risk of her using that power on him again, forcing him to do it against his will? Oh well he thought, it's only a massage. I may as well do as she wishes. He continued to massage her.

He worked his way along, massaging her shoulders and then her neck.

"The other really useful power that the Bond between us gives me is the ability to read your emotional state. For example, right now I can sense how listless you are. You feel lost in the world. Like you no longer have a sense of purpose."

She pointed to her spine encouraging him to massage further down her back.

"But yet here you are, massaging my back. Performing an act of service for me. It might be against your will at this point, but eventually, you will be begging to do things for me."

Colm frowned, thankful that he was behind her back and that she couldn't see his face. He couldn't ever imagine begging to serve her. His plan was still to find his place in the world, not a place at her feet. He promised himself that after his year and a day were done, he'd leave her and find himself somewhere to live and work, free of reliance on others.

Meridin stretched out her shoulders and asked him to massage along her shoulder blades. "I can sense what your emotions are remember? Right now it might be defiant anger, but I can also sense all your other emotions. I can tell what gets you excited as easily as I can sense what gets you angry."

"Every man has things that get him excited. It's just a matter of finding what. I think I know a few of them already. I think you like powerful women. Hmm, I can sense that caused a little stir. Do you like fucking powerful women?" Colm was silent. "No, I can't sense anything there. What about being fucked by a powerful woman?"

The idea of a powerful woman fucking him stirred dirty thoughts in Colm's mind. He tried to repress them but to no avail.

"Oh, you like being fucked, do you? You want to be laying on your back, held down by the woman above you, as she fucks you?

"Don't deny it. My mind can experience the excitement it gives you as much as your cock does." She looked down at the firm outline Colm's cock was making in his pants.

"Thank you for your service dear thrall," Meridin said, standing up. "It's time to join me on the bed."

She stood and turned toward the bed, murmured some words under her breath and waved her hand in the direction of the bed. Suddenly the plain wooden bedhead came alive and appear to grow and shift in shape. It grew like a tree, branches splitting out from each other, and coiling back against each other to leave ring-shaped holes the size of a man's fist in the headboard.