Cursed by a witch, p.3
Cursed by a Witch, page 3
The cottage was just one large room inside, as was the custom for such buildings. The hearth was still warm with coals. A long board served as a counter-top. A wad of dough had been set on top of it to rise. It was ready for baking. Cunningly woven river reeds served as flooring. It was as neat and clean a place as any I’d seen.
“Go and have a rest, sweet thing,” Ethelwyn said, “while I make us some dinner. Anyone who stays under my roof will have to work, but that’s for tomorrow..”
Ethelwyn pointed at the low wooden bed in the corner. It was dressed with a mattress--straw, I assumed--and grey linens topped with a heavy wool comforter. This place could not be called rich, by any means, but this witch certainly lived better than most. I lurched toward the bed. At the chance of rest, my limbs suddenly felt heavy.
I sank into the bed and pulled the covers over me. I expected the rustle of scratchy straw, but to my surprise the mattress was soft and downy. It was a feather mattress as accommodating as my own bed in the castle. This witch must have had some hidden wealth to afford something like this. The linen sheets were a little gray with age, but cool and comforting.
The quiet clacks and clanks of the witch’s dinnertime preparation started lulling me to sleep. I found myself idly playing with myself as I drowsed. My fingers explored my body. I first played with my breasts beneath the covers, feeling their softness, marvelling at how I could take great handfuls of them. I rolled my nipples between my fingers, feeling them stiffen to a point. I then slid my hands between my thighs and explored the tight folds there. I was starting to get used to the absence of my shaft and heavy testicles. I tried to press the little button there, but it was too sensitive to play with just yet.
I felt myself grow warm and slick. I put one finger, and then two, just inside my entrance, feeling the warmth inside. It felt nice, but not overwhelming. Not so intense that I didn’t began falling asleep. I began thinking idly about my friend Hopkin, one of the stewards, and my sometime riding partner, whenever I could steal him away from his duties. My last thoughts were of him as I fell asleep and began dreaming.
◆◆◆
It was a bright Sunday afternoon. Hopkin and I were racing neck and neck along the broad horse path that ran along the edge of the forest. White foam flecked the side of my charger’s neck. My horse was faster, but I was careful not to get ahead of Hopkin. We were not trying to win. We were just galloping for the sheer joy of it.
I was already ahead of Hopkin by a few yards when I realized he had slowed to a canter. I brought up the reins and looked back. He pointed over to a swimming hole just inside the boundary of the woods.
“What do you think, Edward?” He asked. “Why don’t we go for a dip and give the horses a chance to rest?”
“Aye,” I grinned. “Why not?”
No one would be expecting either of us home for hours. I couldn’t imagine a better way to spend my afternoon.
We tied the horses up to some saplings and stripped down bare before leaping into the water. We splashed and cavorted like giggling children.
I couldn’t help but admire Hopkin’s lean, muscular body, and the way he slid so easily through the water. I’d never had a truer friend, but there was something more this time. A keen edge of desire wrenched my heart. It was a delight to splash and dunk each other under the water, but it was not enough. I wanted more.
Afterward, we lay on the grassy banks in a small clearing, sunning ourselves. My heart pounded in my chest. Perhaps this was my chance for something more.
“Hopkin,” I said, “It’s been a lovely afternoon with you, truly.”
“Aye,” he said. He was still looking up into the blue sky, watching the clouds drift past.
“Could we maybe make it more lovely still?” I asked. I drew up one knee and arched my back as I lay there, pushing out my fair breasts.
Hopkin pushed himself up on one arm. He looked at my in surprise.
“Edward,” he said, “You’re a lass now.”
“Aye,” I said. “Could it be more perfect?”
He smiled at me so sweetly that it hurt.
“Nay. I always knew you’d make the prettiest lass.”
He rolled over and climbed between my legs. He bent down toward me and kissed me more deeply and more sweetly than I could have ever hoped. I nibbled at his lips, his nose, his cheeks. I wrapped my legs around his back as he angled himself and pushed inside.
I laughed with delight as he began making love to me, first slowly and sweetly. The whole lengths of our bodies were bodies were pressed together. The bright warmth of the sun on my skin was replaced with the hungry heat of his body. As desire mounted, he grew more ravenous. He nipped at my ears and neck as he took me with long, strong strokes. Soon, he had me gasping and panting.
I desperately pushed my hips up into him. Feeling his length within me was the most beautiful thing I could imagine. I placed my hand on his stubble-lined jaw. He took my hand in his own, pressing my arm down to the ground, our fingers intertwined. He was pushing harder now, his need increasing.
“Oh, Willa!”
“Yes, Hopkin!”
“Willa!” I could tell from his cries that he was close.
“Oh, yes, Hopkin! Fill me with your seed!”
“Willa!” He cried, “Dinner is ready!”
I looked up at him confused.
“What?”
“Dinner is ready.”
◆◆◆
My eyes flew open. At once, I remembered where I was. Ethelwyn was standing by the edge of the bed, still as nude as the day she was born. Steam was rising from a wooden bowl in one hand.
“Dinner is ready,” she repeated.
“What? Oh.” I shook my head to try to clear it of the fuzziness of sleep. The dream was slowly fading.
“Unless you’re hungry for something else, of course.” She smiled wickedly at me, her eyes glancing over the sheen of sweat on my forehead and the burning flush in my cheeks.
I threw off the covers and sat up, throwing my knees over edge of the bed. The dream had faded, but my need had not. I took her hips between my hands and ran my touch down the side of her thighs.
“I… I think I am,” I said. I’ll be as bold as the witch soon, I thought.
She placed the bowl on a side table.
“Good,” she said. “Your manhood is also quite ravenous. I’d almost forgotten how strong a man’s need is, especially when not allowed to hang free.”
She placed her hand on the back of my head, her fingers tangling with my hair.
“Now, watch closely, if you want to see where I’m keeping your phallus.”
She held her legs slightly apart so I could see the folds. She reached up with her other hand and began stroking her own breasts. She swayed and moaned, provoking her own desire. Between her legs, I saw her nub swell and engorge, poking out slightly between the lips. And then, so quickly I could hardly believe it, it grew long and thick. As it grew, it took a familiar shape, until the broad head was hanging in the air inches from my face.
She leaned forward and placed it against my parted lips. I opened my mouth obediently, and she slid it in, pushing my head forward slightly at the same time. It was at once the dirtiest thing I’d ever done and the most exciting. My tongue could feel every bump and curve as the soft, spongy head gave way to the hard shaft. I ran the tip of my tongue along the bottom of the head, exploring it all the way up to the slit at the very tip, and then back down. She pushed my head down a little further, driving the shaft up to the back of my mouth, before pulling me back again.
She quickly sucked in air as my lower teeth grazed the bottom of the shaft.
“Careful,” she said.
I opened my mouth a little wider. It strained my jaws a bit, but that was a fair price to pay for such an intimate experience with the shaft that had not long before filled me with its seed.
She controlled the rhythm as she pushed in and out of my mouth. I wanted her to slow down so I could feel her better. I put my hand between my legs and slipped two fingers inside myself. I couldn’t believe how wet I was. I moved my hand in time with her, pressing the meat of the base of my thumb against the nub every time I moved past it. I moaned on the massive erection in my mouth.
I couldn’t believe how quickly I’d grown accustomed to this female body, with its female desires. I was astonishing myself with every motion. Allowing myself to be seduced by a witch, then transformed into a woman, and then allowing her to have her way with me. I’d never much cared for priests and church, but I would be damned for this without a doubt--in the eyes of the priests, at least. So I was damned. So be it. I couldn’t be any more damned than I was at this point, so there could be no harm in continuing.
I felt the shaft in my mouth swell. My jaw ached as I had to stretch it further open to keep from scratching her with my teeth. She was about to spill herself down my throat, I knew it. I tilted my head back slightly, preparing to receive it. I felt a thrill rise up in my stomach. I’d never tasted seed before. I couldn’t wait.
Before it happened, she swiftly pulled herself out of my mouth.
“We can’t waste any.” Seeing the disappointed look on my face, she added, “Yet.”
She pushed me back onto the bed, my legs still hanging off the edge. She lifted my legs up onto her shoulders. Her hard nipples pressed into the back of my thighs. She pushed herself inside me, pressing me down into the mattress.
After such kind treatment by my mouth, she couldn’t last long. After only five pumps, she was groaning as she spilled herself deep inside me. When she pulled out, I felt wetness coating the inside of my thighs all around my entrance.
I touched myself again. My were fingers slick with the thick warmth of our mingled fluids. All I could think about was how wrong and how dirty and how right it was. It did not take long before I was also groaning and shaking, overcome once more by waves of pleasure.
Afterward, we ate together in silence at the small table. The stew in my bowl was no longer piping hot, but it was still pleasantly warm. By the time we were done, the sun had set.
Chapter 6
“Willa,” Ethelwyn’s lilting voice called through the door, “Remember to milk the goats when you’re done with that.”
I groaned. My shoulders protested as I lowered the shoulder yoke to the ground. Two enormous buckets of water were hanging from it. The opposite side of the hill from where we’d first come up was far less steep, and less rocky. There was a small spring at the bottom for our fresh water. Carrying up fresh water in the morning was one of my new duties. Staggering up the hill each morning, struggling not to let all the water slosh out before I reached the top, was when I most missed having the strength of a man. I was not as tall as I had been, and my arms and legs were far more frail.
At least Ethelwyn provided some kind of clothing for work. It was little more than a sack with a hole for my head and for my arms, but it kept the shoulder yoke from digging into my bare skin.
I’d chafed under the humiliation of being put to work for someone else for the first day or two. I’d always had others working for me. But I had to admit that Ethelwyn was a better taskmaster than I’d ever been. I remembered snapping at a new servant for forgetting to wash one of my nightshirts just a month before, and I blushed. They had been new to the castle. I should have been more patient. As Ethelwyn had been. Ethelwyn even did as much work as I did. We didn’t stop until we were both done with the daily chores.
I grabbed a smaller pail and the stool and went to find the nanny goats. I had never dealt with livestock as the noble scion of an ancient house, so it came as a surprise to me how eager the nannies were to be milked every morning. “You’ll understand later,” Ethelwyn had told me. Another reminder that she was soon going to impregnate me, if it hadn’t happened already.
My mind wandered as I rhythmically squeezed out milk from the first goat’s teats into the pail. It wouldn’t be quite fair to say I was having second thoughts. As I considered the alternatives, I couldn’t imagine what other choice I had. I suppose I could have returned to the town near the castle to live as a woman. I would have had to adopt a new name, a new identity, and sought charity from strangers or take a husband in order to survive. It was ridiculous to suppose I could have revealed myself to uncle Wallis. I’d have been taken for a madwoman, or worse--if they believed me, I’d likely have been burned at the stake as a suspected witch myself. So no, no second thoughts.
Not a day went by that I didn’t think about Hopkin, though. He’d been my one true friend. He hadn’t at all judged my interest in books. I’d tried to teach him to read, once, but he had no patience for it. I missed his easy smile and quick wit. Even more than my strength and honor as a man, I missed his company.
There was no sense in spending too much time with regret, though. Things were as they were. The books I’d read had been full of stories and histories of men who had brought themselves nothing but ruin and pain because they couldn’t accept the world as it was. I released the nanny and went to find the next one. Before too long, the last goat was drained dry, and the pail was full. A little milk sloshed over the edges when I picked it up.
I brought the pail into the cottage and set it carefully on the wooden countertop. The pail was heavy with milk, so it was the absolute last of my strength. The inside of the cottage had a strong leafy, sour smell. She’d had me gather stinging nettles from the forest the day before, and she had been brewing it into a tea over the fire. My forearms were still a little red where I had accidentally brushed up against them with my bare arm.
Ethelwyn was also wearing sackcloth, sitting on a stool and peering out a window, the wooden cover propped up to let the breeze through. It didn’t seem that she needed the sackcloth as much as I did, but she wore it for chores just the same.
I sat down on another stool and watched as she got up herself to get back to work.
The kettle was now hanging off to the side of the fire. Ethelwyn grabbed it. She stuffed a bit of cheesecloth in the end and poured it into the pail of milk until it rose just above the edge. A drop more, and it would have spilled all over the floor and countertop.
“The cheese will be ready tomorrow,” she said with satisfaction. “Now, enough work for today!”
She quickly shucked the sackcloth from her body and hung it from a peg on the wall. I did the same and hung mine up next to it. The scratchy thing was good for protection while working, but the work was done, and there was no modesty among witches.
Ethelwyn’s pale skin was astonishingly, heartbreakingly perfect. Not a blemish could be seen on her body. Looking at her face, I was reminded just how young she looked. She couldn’t have been a day over twenty. But the way she talked and moved, the authority with which she ordered me about, indicated someone at least twice that age.
Her pale skin contrasted starkly with my own. I’d only spent a week naked in the sun, but my skin had rapidly tanned to a burnished bronze all over. A sprinkling of brown freckles had shown up on my shoulders in just days. I didn’t understand how she could maintain that perfect fair skin spending all day in the sun as she did. My cousin Bridgitte was forever obsessing about keeping her skin fair--she had her maid carry a parasol over her head whenever she went outside--lest she fail to attract a wealthy husband. And yet she was never as fair as pure-skinned Ethelwyn, who spent every day bathing in the sun’s rays.
Ethelwyn gracefully stepped outside without a word. I followed her. After work was done, usually about midday so far, it was time to bathe the grime and sweat off our bodies. I’d never done so much bathing before. Of course, these were not the luxurious hot baths we had weekly in the castle, in huge vats, but long leisurely dips in the creek.
It had felt like at least a mile away when Ethelwyn first took me home, but it was really only about a quarter of that. We took a slightly different way each time. Ethelwyn was always careful not to leave an obvious trail, lest someone spy us bathing and decide to try to find the way to our home. Dwelling in the forest like this was very illegal. These were technically the King’s lands, though the castle had their use as stewards.
Ethelyn liked to spend some time up on the rocks behind the waterfall. I’d tried to join her a time or two, but the rocks were too slick for me to get any purchase, especially under the pounding water of the falls. I usually took to paddling around in the deeper parts of the creek a little ways from the falls where the water flowed gently.
Afterward, we sunned ourselves on the banks to dry.
As I basked in the warm May sunlight, I thought back to the tales I’d been brought up on as a child. They all had horrid witches--stories of children wandering into the forest and being snatched up and eaten, or kidnapped and worked to the bone and fed only gruel. I suppose they weren’t entirely off. Ethelwyn had laid a terrible curse on me, after all, and had certainly put me to work. But she was fair and kind. I couldn’t find the slightest bit of malice in the curse, either, not toward me personally. She felt that my family had done her wrong. And I suppose we had.
Besides… I blushed all the way down to my chest just thinking about it. She’d introduced me to pleasures I’d never imagined. I idly stroked my body with my hand, feeling my skin down to the curves of my hips.
After bathing, we would return, and could enjoy ourselves as we pleased. We had spent a fair amount of time pleasing each other.
The way back to the cottage was even easier than the way up. I skipped up the rocky stones ahead of her. I couldn’t believe I’d had so much trouble before. This body was weaker, but so much lighter. I could leap from rock to rock like I was floating in the air. Ethelwyn always lagged behind up the hill now. I had no doubt that she could have beaten me to the top if she tried, but it seemed like she hardly ever hurried for anything--well, sometimes she hurried for one thing.
