WITCH

I often used to visit my grandparents’ home nestled deep in a forest, but it’s now been many years since I was last there. Something very strange happened to me when I went to that house, at about the time when I was transitioning from teenager to man. My grandparents had recently passed away and I, as a newly-qualified estate agent, was tasked with finding a purchaser. Being good at my job this did not take long and so, before it was sold, I had taken myself to their home one last time.

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1 May 2003

Many times I had walked the paths around my grandparents’ home. On this occasion, though, I was drawn towards a cluster of trees I had previously not taken any notice of. The trees looked diseased, the ground all around them covered in brown, dying bushes. Pushing through this foliage I emerged into a small glade, at one end of which stood three people.

“Oh, hi,” I said, but received no reply.

One of the people beckoned me over. Seeing that they were all young, very attractive women I allowed my testosterone to take over and approached them without caution. At their feet was a large, black metal cauldron. This forest attracts Wiccan followers and, even though I had never met any, I suddenly realised that this is what they must be. Still I was more intrigued than intimidated.

‘Agency,’ said one of the women.
‘I’m sorry?’ I replied.
‘When you want to take back control of yourself, all you need to say is “agency”,’ they clarified.
‘I’m afraid I don’t understand.’
‘Remove your clothes, we would like to see you naked.’

Now, at last, I began to realise that none of this felt right and so I began to walk away. I stopped when I noticed that I wasn’t being followed. The three women had returned their attention to the cauldron and so I turned back and, for reasons I could not fathom, began to strip. I didn’t even hesitate when it came to removing my underwear.

‘He is a healthy man,’ said one of the women, looking at my naked body.
‘A virile man,’ said another.
‘Our man,’ said the third, who now came to where I was stood.

She ran her hand from my neck to my chest and down to my stomach. I tensed as she took hold of my cock which began to swell involuntarily.

‘Oh yes, he will restore us,’ she said, before using my cock to lead me over to an old silver birch tree.

I was turned so that my bare behind was against the shimmering bark. A thick rope was produced and wound around the trunk and my torso, arms and spread legs. In these women was a power I could not comprehend, nor felt any compulsion to fight against. Instead I watched as they slowly bound me to the tree and then positioned the cauldron directly in front of where I was held. All three then began to chant:

‘Let him wake and gift his seed! May the Old Ones share their magick! Our land refreshed our green returned! Our skyclad Cernunnos resplendent!’

The chant sent me into a light mind haze, all I was aware of was the trees around me and the sensation of a hand gently tugging my penis. Now the hand was replaced with a mouth which slurped and licked with fervent enthusiasm, a desperation to draw out my essence. So expert was this succubus that I was briefly drawn out of my revelry and looked down.

There, with her wrinkled lips clasped firmly around the head of my cock, an old woman suckled. Her tongue teased my frenulum, her hands gently massaging my balls. That word – the one I should speak to free myself – rose to my lips but, before it was given voice, the crone spat on her index finger. I said nothing as that finger was pushed between my buttocks and slipped inside me up to her second knuckle.

Now I saw that my other captors had also revealed their true forms. These old women reached under their skirts and masturbated with a frightening fury while watching their sister suck and finger fuck me. Once again I nearly spoke the word which I was certain would result in me regaining control, but, as if sensing this, the crone crooked her finger just so and began massaging my prostate.

I belonged to her. I became one with the trees. I rose up into that bright blue sky. I struggled hard against my bonds but did not want to escape. The succubus moved to the side and the cauldron brought to my feet. While my spit-slick cock was frantically fisted hands explored every inch of me and I came with such a dizzying force that my head thrust back and all I saw were leaves against the blue.

They had aimed me so that my spunk spilled into the cauldron. Still I was masturbated, my orgasm not abating. Still I ejaculated hot rivers of cum. On and on this went, the crones milking me for many minutes until the cauldron was almost full of pearlescent semen.

Now the ropes acted as a support. I had been sapped of energy and, at last, they extracted the final drop. I didn’t see what they did with the brimming cauldron, but soon after it was removed I was untied and gently laid on the soft mossy ground. Three young women lovingly caressed me until I felt strength return. They helped me dress and took it in turns to kiss me before I walked steadily from that glade, feeling as though I had done something important.

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Although hesitant, I returned to the glade the following year, having first noticed how healthy the trees and ground around it now looked. The witches took from me what they required and I experienced purest ecstasy. It was a simple, fulfilling transaction.

For many years I enjoyed fun relationships and good, but never spectacular sex. The core part of me that revealed itself at orgasm still belonged to those women in the glade, which I always managed to return to every 1st of May.

And then one day I fell in love. I needed to see the witches one last time.

Verdant growth and trees healthily spreading their leaf-fringed branches greeted me at that mystical place near to where my grandparents once lived. As if they knew I would be visiting, the three women waited for me. They didn’t appear to have aged a day since I first saw them. But, of course, I now knew how, in the throes of rapture, they revealed their true older selves.

‘The forest is flourishing,’ I said.
‘This is your forest, our forest, everyone’s forest,’ they replied.

I allowed them to undress me, for I knew that this would be the last time. The cauldron was brought forth for my sacrifice and I was bound to the silver birch, now grown even bigger and stronger. This time the three witches took turns at sucking me, as if they, too, knew that I would never return and that this would be their final opportunity to enjoy me.

So skilled were they with their mouths and probing fingers that I had no idea who was doing what with me. As the sap rose in the trees so mine began to swell my cock, increasing the witches’ fervour. Rope bit into my bare skin as I was brought to orgasm and watched that supernatural flow of cum fill the cauldron.

As gently as ever, the crones untied and dressed me. They smiled and hugged me. I couldn’t say it, I didn’t, after all, want to bring their power over me to an end. But, as I reached the end of the glade on my way out of that forest, I remembered my lover and how my desire for her superseded everything. I turned to face the witches.

‘Agency,’ I said.

In future years I would occasionally, for various reasons, drive close to that forest. For some time after I spoke that word (and thus released myself from the witches’ spell) I watched in despair as the trees once again began to wane. But then green began to return. If it weren’t for the spectacular sex with my wife that so invigorated me I would have been jealous of the witches’ new devotee, whoever he may be.