Witch of The Burren

Mairead lay unconscious, a bloody gash above her eyes. Two soldiers had her pinned to the floor by her arms and a third knelt between her bare legs, trying to massage his small prick to hardness.

None of them saw Connor as he entered. The two holding her down had their backs to him and the one between her legs had his eyes riveted to her bushy lap. Connor crept up behind the two holding Mairead and took a head in each massive hand. The sound they made as they crashed together was like pumpkins falling from a cart. The would-be rapist looked up just in time to see a naked giant split his head like a log. Connor cradled Mairead's head in his arms and poured cool water over her face. Her eyes fluttered open and found his.

"My warrior," she said.

"Are you all right, love? Are you hurt?"

"No, my heart, they did not hurt me."

"They didn't... I mean, they didn't?"

"No, Connor, they did not."

"Thank God, he sighed."

"Thank the Goddess," she corrected, "and thank you."

After a time, Connor dragged the bodies into the clearing and began to gather wood for a pyre. But as he stacked the logs he heard a sound like the rushing of the sea, only it was coming from above. He looked up to find the sky black with ravens, thousands upon thousands of them. They circled the clearing three times, then descended as one to cover the Roman's bodies. When they flew off again there was no trace of the soldiers to be found.

The weeks that followed were a gentle idyll. No Romans came to seek their missing comrades; the Irish woods had been swallowing their number for years. By day Mairead taught Connor the clandestine arts. Their nights were spent in passion, Mairead bringing Connor to climax with hand and mouth and bung. Connor, denied her sweet cunt, became a masterful lover and Mairead experienced pleasures she had never known. He began to forget the rage that had fueled his days and the Roman invaders he had sworn to destroy. His love for Mairead grew stronger than his hate. He could conceive of no life without her.

But Connor had learned at his father's knee that the life of a warrior was never calm and that for a warrior there was no happy ending. Trouble came with the spring thaw.

He and Mairead were making love and he had brought her to wave after wave of orgasm with his tongue and hands. His rod fairly ached for her. When Mairead rolled over to grab the jar of oil from the bedstand, Connor saw her sweet cunt hidden beneath the ripe roundness of her ass. The thick red hair could not conceal the moist slit at her center. He took one firm ass-cheek in each hand and lifted her to her knees. Then overcome by lust he began to push his thick cock into her.

"Connor,no! Don't!"

"You want this as much as I do, Mairead."

"Don't! Please!"

"Your body betrays you, darlin. I can smell the wetness of ya."

"By the Goddess, STOP!"

Her words were like a thunderclap and lightning shot through his brain. He felt himself sailing through the air and into the trees. The limbs caught at him and held him crucified. Vines began to enfold him and tendrils worked their way into his mouth and nose. A vine encircled his balls and began to squeeze and a thick branch forced its way into his bunghole. When the vines began to press their way into his eyes he passed out from the pain.

He came to in the bed, unsure of whether what had happened was real. Mairead was dressed and at the door.

"If it's a stud bull you'll be acting like then, that's how you'll be treated."

She stormed out. The door slammed itself. Connor wept in his shame.

He fell into a fitful sleep for a time and then awoke, for Mairead was beside him, standing by the bed. She was naked and she was not alone. With her was a tall, broad—shouldered blond woman. She was naked as well and her skin was as white as the clouds. Her breasts were as large as a man's head and were tipped with saucer sized nipples. Her hips were ample and what little hair nestled between her muscular thighs was like flax.

"This is Soibhan," Mairead said. "She is here to service you."

That said, Mairead sat on the bed, her back against the headboard. She parted her legs and Soibhan sat between them. She lay back against Mairead's chest. Mairead hooked her legs over Soibhan's and spread them wide apart. Despite himself, Connor felt his erection swell.

"If it's what you want, Connor, take her."

Connor, almost against his will, rolled onto the two women. Mairead's eyes blazed. Connor stared into them for the space of several breaths then plunged his hard cock into the blonde's wet hole. Soibhan screamed at the size of him, but Mairead clamped her hand over her mouth and turned her head to the side. So, while it was Soibhan he was fucking it was Mairead's face that he saw before him. Her eyes were filled with love and hate and lust and anger and they tore at Connor like a whip. Each of his thrusts pushed the blonde's tailbone against Mairead's cunt, and the hotter her eyes burned the harder Connor drove. He gripped the headboard, driving harder, each thrust crushing their go—between onto Mairead's burning clit. Connor's lips drew back in a feral growl and his thrusts grew more frenzied, as if to tear the blond apart and invade Mairead's sacred cunt. The three began to pant and grunt and shriek in unison, until with a chorus scream

they all crashed into climax.

Connor rolled off of them and covered his eyes with his great arms. Tears burned his flushed cheeks. He heard whispers and a kiss. The door to the cabin opened, then closed.

"She will come back each night, Connor, if that is what you wish."

"No, Mairead, I do not. It is you I love and you I want. But I am a man and I love as a man and I know no other way."

Mairead stared at him for a lifetime. Then she opened the door and left. Connor followed her into the moonlight. She walked a short distance into the woods until she came to an ancient, gnarled tree. She knelt before it and wrapped her arms around its thick trunk. She spoke in words he did not understand. After a time, she nodded her head and rose. She turned to Connor. She took him by the hand and led him to a bed of thick moss. The clouds parted as if by her wish and bathed their bed in a magic blue light. She lay him down and kissed away his tears. Her hands explored his broad chest and the thick cables of his arms. She studied his body as if she were seeing it for the first time. With strong but delicate hands she coaxed his cock back to its fullness. With her mouth she wet him, then she lay back on the peat. She spread her legs and her moistened slit glistened in the moonlight.

"I am yours, if you will have me." She spoke it like a prayer.

"Mairead, I..."

"I have waited my lifetime. Will you be making me wait still?"

"But I..."

"Quickly, Connor, before I change my mind."

Much later, as she slept, Connor untangled himself from her arms. He looked down at his shriveled weapon, pink with blood and jism. So much blood. Connor felt his head began to swim as cuts opened on his legs and arms. A deep hole grew in his chest and blood leaked from his neck in great, red drops. His last thought was of love and Mairead. It was one thought.

It was three days later. Connor awoke in Mairead's bed, his body a dull ache. He could feel the prickle of stitches in his neck and his chest was swaddled in bandages. Mairead was working to light a fire in the hearth. She was singing at her work.

"Mairead."

She came to sit beside him.

"Mairead, I am so sorry."

"Silly man, I am not."

"But the magic..."

"The magic is just beginning."

She kissed him and returned to the building of the fire. It took her twenty minutes to build it, her singing all the while.