The Bare Witch Project

artwork by callmeplisskin

Naughty Nights and Kinky Tales Story #1

A spooky story of Elspeth Witchbow by We’re All Mad Here

The villages around Stoker Wood all spoke of a similar story: maidens were disappearing from villages.  Some disappeared while walking between home and village while others would vanish from hearths themselves.

The only commonality was Stoker Wood, the great forest that loomed in sight of all the settlements.

Fresh from my time in the Varalan Border Wardens, I found myself wandering through the village of Flyspeck and enjoying a local ale.

“My Emma, she’s gone missing!” moaned some crusty farmer.

“Now Jeb,” the tavern-keeper consoled.  “Don’t mean nuthin’.  Emma’s always had a wild side, that ‘un.”

“It’s the witch, I tell ya!” Jeb cried.  “The witch wot got ‘er!”

My ears perked up at that.  I wasn’t in the Border Wardens long, but I was in long enough to learn that I enjoyed a life of action and danger.

“What’s this about a witch?” I asked.

The two men gave me a suspicious look at first, then their expressions grew a bit more appreciative.  It was a warm day and I’d left off my shirt and my laced leather jerkin was hinting at a bit of a show.  Hey, it got me free drinks, so don’t judge!

“‘Tis the Naked Witch of the Stoker Wood,” Jeb pronounced.  “She’s been snatching up girls in these parts for the last near six months.”

“Naked witch?”  My eyebrow shot up.  

And then the helpful lads explained.  Apparently several of the local lads had seen a beautiful woman wandering about, wearing a light cloak and nothing else, in areas where many of these girls had vanished.

Why did they think this woman was a witch and not simply some exhibitionist prone to wardrobe malfunctions?  Well, these are good country folk.  Hard-working salt-of-the-earth types.  You know, morons.  They pretty much assume witchcraft is done in the buff.

It often is, but that’s usually preference, not a requirement.  And most witches really prefer sexy outfits.  But I digress.

I wasn’t actually convinced this woman was real and involved, but I noted it and then asked for more details.

So after a bit of discussion, mainly clarifying words like ‘reward’ and ‘recompense’, I gathered my gear and headed into the Stoker Wood.

I’m not going to lie to you.  Stoker Wood is a creepy forest.  The sun doesn’t get past the canopy of leaves and branches from the gnarled trees.  There’s creepy sounds and gleaming, unblinking, eyes in all sorts of shadows.  

Fortunately, I was a well-trained Varalan archer with a full quiver of arrows, a well-tended bow, and a big knife at my hip.  

I wasn’t scared a bit.  Anyone who says they heard yelps of terror from me for the first hour are lying liars who lie.  Don’t look at me like that, Evie!

Anyway…

After the first hour, the weird noises and eyes gave way to impenetrable shadows and really disturbing silence.  The forest had a stillness that I could feel along my spine, like icy fingers trailing, and not in a fun and exciting way.

That’s when I saw the first stick figure.

It was a bundle of branches and twine, hanging from a tree’s branches.  At first glance, I thought it was some child’s doll.  Some hair, no doubt clipped off, was set on the ‘head’ to make it vaguely resemble a person.  Its limbs were contorted and bound with twine in really imaginative poses.

I made a mental note that whomever made these was very good at woodcraft and had a very vivid imagination.  I noted the doll as vaguely creepy and moved on.

Then I found another.

Then another.

Each was in a different pose.  The hair set atop each stick-doll was different as well.  Sometimes the hair was long enough for a short braid.  Sometimes the creator went for a ponytail or pigtail.  

This was someone who really needed to get to a city.  And, I thought, not someone I wanted to encounter alone in a dark forest.

That’s when I smelled it.  The scent of baking bread and honey cakes.  I followed the scent a bit until I came over a rise in the forest to spy a cabin in the woods.  

Aside from the smoke coming from the chimney, the cabin seemed dark and showed no signs of life.  I approached cautiously, an arrow ready in my bow, and noticed more of these little bondage stick-dolls hanging on trees and even on the edge of the cabin’s roof.

“Hello?” I called to the cabin.  “Is anyone in there?”

Silence was my answer.  The stillness of the forest was really getting to me at this point.  I think it was the stillness that let me hear it.  A faint muffled sound that might have been someone’s gagged cries.

I circled around the cabin.  There was a door in back.  I tried it.  It was unlocked.  It was dark inside.  I could hear a muffled sound.

So, did I go into the creepy dark cabin by myself?

Yeah.  Yeah, I did.

It was exactly what you’d expect from a creepy cabin in the woods.  The door entered a kitchen with all sorts of strange things bubbling on a stovetop.  Oddly, none of those gave off any kind of scent.  They just looked creepy.  Within the stove itself seemed to be baked goods with more cooling on a table.  Looked like fresh-baked bread.  

My tummy rumbled.  I was hungry but not that hungry.

There were things in bottles that I didn’t recognize.  As my mother’s daughter, there were things in here I did recognize.  Helped me lose my appetite quickly.  That’s all I’ll say about that.

I moved from the kitchen and peeked into the main room.  It was lit by creepy candles and had lots of furniture made from furry things that also had claws when they were alive.  Also lots of stuffed animals in here.

And I mean former animals that were killed and stuffed.

Creepy.

The sound led me to another door that opened to a short set of stairs descending into a dark root cellar. 

Of course.

So I followed the steps down, heeding the loud sounds of someone who might be in distress.

I guess I shouldn’t have been surprised when the cloth was pressed to my face and darkness took me quickly.  Seemed like that was pretty much a given.

When I woke up, I was frog-tied on a cold table.  It was made colder by the fact that my clothes had been taken away. 

Back then, I found that sort of thing surprising still.  Mostly.  

Anyway, I was lying on my belly on this really cold stone table and heard a rhythmic sound.  Moaning that, at first, sounded like someone trying to escape.  Now, as I was closer it sounded more like someone seeking release.  

Not a dozen feet away from me, there were two women on a very comfortable-looking low bed that was surrounded by lit candles.  Not just any candles, mind you.  These candles had arcane sigils on them that glowed softly and pulsed as if to the rhythm of a quickening heart.  The sigils, like the candle light itself, had an otherworldly color to them that just screamed sorcery.

Oh, and there was the hot naked sorceress screaming in throes of passion.

I should back up a bit, shouldn’t I?  

There were two naked young women on the bed.  The bound one was in a position not all that different than my own, with her legs bound in frog-tie for – ahem – easy access.  Aly can explain that to you, Millie.

Anyway, the girl’s arms were bound in some kind of bridle and she wore a thick bit-gag in her mouth with more of those arcane symbols on it that glowed and pulsed like the candles.

My mother tried in vain to teach me to cast magic.  It never really caught with me.  I don’t have the gift for working spells, it seems.  Not consciously, anyway.  And, if I’m to be honest, I never really had the interest. But I did learn enough to recognize some symbols.  These were symbols of transference, binding, and power.

This leads me to the other naked woman on the bed.  While the bound girl was pretty in a wholesome farm girl kind of way, this woman was gorgeous!  She had long, dark hair that flowed in glossy waves down her back and past her hips, like a curtain of sexy… uh… hair.  

I’ll leave the bard stuff to our resident bard, I think.

Suffice it to say, she was ridiculously-beautiful.

She also wasn’t at all bound.  She was instead wearing a very ornate and elaborate – ahem – strap-on that was set with even more glowing magic sigils.  She was using said strap-on enthusiastically on the bound girl, who was responding just as enthusiastically.  The bound girl’s screams of release were just being muffled by the gag and drowned out by the gorgeous woman’s voice.

Oddly, my eyes drifted to a small table next to the bed that was set with a small stick figure.  The figure had the same strawberry-blonde hair as the bound girl and its stick-limbs were tied very similarly to the girl’s present posture.

It seemed I was a bit hasty in my judgment of the village folk.  This was witchcraft.  No doubt.

This went on for another quarter hour easily.  Finally, the two came for what must have been the twentieth time.  The candles all flared brightly, then went out, leaving the room only lit by the glowing sigils.  

And the glowing doll.

The witch got off the bed, leaving the bound girl in what looked like an exhausted slumber, and picked up the doll.  She smirked at it with impossibly-sexy lips, then set it on a workbench and turned her attention to me.

Her dark eyes caressed my naked body in a way that totally did not make me instantly wet and shivering in anticipation.  Not in the least.  Stop looking at me like that, Aya.

“So,” she said in a throaty voice.  “What do we have here?  A little bonus?  A would-be rescuer?”

She casually picked up my bow from the workbench.

“A warrior?” she mused.  “Someone hired by the villagers?  You’re not a Rithian Ranger.  You’re certainly not a Varalan Knight.  You’re not a Border Warden, this far from the borders.”

She set the bow down and slinked over to me, then traced a fingernail along my naked buttocks and – ahem – elsewhere in that area.  With her other hand, she pulled the gag from my mouth.

“So, my sweetling, what brings you to my humble abode?”

“What have you done to that poor girl?” I demanded.  “Where are the others you’ve abducted?  If you’ve harmed them, I swear…”

She laughed, her frisky hand still toying with me in an increasingly-distracting manner.  I have to admit it was very difficult for me to maintain my outraged composure.  

“Harmed?  No, my sweet, this darling girl has not been harmed, though I expect she’s quite exhausted.  What have I done?  I’ve used her.  Just as I intend to use you, my dear.  It’s basic eromancy, though filtered in a way that suits my needs better.”

She glanced back at the doll on the workbench. 

“That will sit in my kitchens for a time.  The ambient power will saturate my potions and preparations, which will serve me well in sale and trade.  Once done, I will set it in my forest to keep the eyes of the Varalan wizards from my seat of power.  The dolls gradually lose a degree of efficacy, you see.  And my tastes and appetites are demanding.  After a while, I set the dolls in the forest to help me block my home from the unwanted eyes of Varala’s wizards.”

“And the girls?” I demanded, not at all panting and making little noises at what her fingers were doing.

“There’s a tribe of goblins who make their way through here every moon,” the witch crooned.  “Very horny goblins.  After charging up the dolls, the young maids you seek to rescue are… awakened… and crave constant satisfaction.  And, interestingly, retain a rather kinky desire to remain restrained.  They retain a link to the dolls, so their passions pass along a low level of power that I am able to channel for my more basic needs.”

I writhed a bit under her increasingly-intense ministrations.  

“Oh, I see you are going to be a fun one,” she said in satisfaction.  

So, minutes later, I found myself tied and gagged on that comfortable low bed.  The other girl lay completely exhausted and unconscious on that cold stone table. A length of my hair was braided and attached to a small stick doll that was also frog-tied.  The naked witch set new candles around and lit them.  She then donned a double-sided strap-on that was one of the more impressive bits of craftsmanship I’d ever seen.

I’d like to say I shouted defiance and all that, but I’ll be honest with you.  She was really good with her fingers and had kept me on the edge throughout her interrogation.  I needed release!

She kept me teetering on the edge of it for what felt like a lifetime.  

“You may well be my masterpiece, archeress,” she whispered into my ear while driving the strap-on into me like… uh… sorry, Millie.  Moving on…

I could feel the magic taking effect and pulling essence from me.  I could feel the candles doing something.  I could even feel the doll.

And I realized, barely, through the fog of insane pleasure, that the witch made a mistake.

So, my mother is a sorceress.  She’s part fae and the gift manifested in her in ways that she could control and make use of. Great for her.

I inherited some of that fae blood as well, but I didn’t inherit the ability to control it. I have what the fae call “wild magic” in my blood.  I won’t bore you with what that means.  I only half remember most of those lessons anyway.

What it does mean is that the kind of magic in me doesn’t respond well to bottles and containers when you pull it out.  

Mom used to call it ‘quite volatile’ and ‘an exceptionally poor idea’.

Mom has a gift for understatement.

The witch and I orgasmed at the same moment.  It was one of those really, really, powerful orgasms.  Aya and I like to call it a ‘Lawrence’ because… uh, nevermind.  

Anyway, when I woke, the roof was gone, part of the root cellar was gone, the candles were melted goo, and there was no sign of the sexy witch.

Blessedly, the cold table and the captive girl were untouched.  I was more excited to find my bow, quiver, and hunting knife were also undamaged, though I was irritated to find my clothes had been vaporized.

My bonds were weakened by the magical conflagration, so I worked my way free, and searched the area for a bit.  Never found a sign of her.  

I got the girl back to the village.  I hear she hooked up with a knight-errant for a while, then made her way into Glorg after reading some Fannda Flames.  Can’t say I’m surprised.

The villagers all got a free treat as both of us arrived stark naked.  I got enough reward money (including tips, the cheeky bastards)  to buy new clothes, then set out again to find my fortune.

And yet, I still have this feeling sometimes.  I never did find that doll with my hair.  It was probably disintegrated.  But…

~~~~~~

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