The Town Witch

2019

Tags: misogyny, netorare

The owner of the estate, Mr. Waterlee, was waiting for the Witch at the entrance of his estate when she arrived. Before she even got a chance to introduce herself, his eyes were already roaming her body, sizing her up and desperately searching for any indication that she was a taken woman.

The Witch smiles wryly at the treatment. It was best to let him have one indulgence before she began her work in earnest. Besides, she knew she was attractive, it was something she deliberately cultivated for her particular breed of clientele.

She was tall and skinny, almost androgynous, but that’s where her sense of style came in. High waisted skirts and low necklines made her waist look narrower and her bust look bigger, and dark colors and rich fabric gave her that...esoteric, witchy feel. Not that any of that mattered now, of course. Her outfit du jour was currently concealed by a black wrap coat, cinched tightly at her waist, and the top of her face was obscured by the brim of her mushroom hat.

Not that that mattered either. She was the only woman like herself in town, so it hardly mattered at the moment if he could see her face. Besides, the silhouette of her glimmering gold painted lips was far more tantalizing than showing off her whole face.

Either way, the staring had gone on long enough. The Witch takes a gloved hand out of her pocket and coolly extends it.

“Mr. Waterlee. I’m honored to be doing business with you.”

He takes her hand, not so surreptitiously shifting his fingers to feel for a wedding band that isn’t there.

“Likewise, er, Mrs.—”

“Ms. Exorcist is fine. They don’t let you practice if you’re married.”

The Witch laughs at her own little joke and shoves her hand back in her pocket, stepping past Mr. Waterlee and allowing him to close the gate before following him up the drive, her gold platform stilettos clicking on the cobblestones.

“So you believe your wife is possessed by a demon?”

“That’s the only possible explanation for it, I’m afraid. The doctors say there’s nothing medically wrong with her, but...if that’s the case then there can’t be any other reason for her behavior.”

The Witch smiles to herself.

“And what is her behavior, Mr. Waterlee? I need specifics if I’m to determine the nature of the beast.”

“Well,” Mr. Waterlee starts. “She was quite attractive when I married her, still is, but she’s never been particularly bright, you know.”

“Do I? Isn’t she a school teacher?”

“Yes, but that’s about where her womanly duties end. She’s good with the little buggers, but she’s quite a klutz at home. She can’t clean worth a damn, and her coffee, well, don’t you get me started on that disgusting slop.”

The Witch rolls her eyes under the brim of her hat. “And you suspect demonic activity?”

“What else could it be? Ms. Exorcist, listen, for the sake of our marriage, you must get that thing out of my wife!”

“Of course, of course. Rest assured, I’ll have your wife right as rain before the sun sets. Though, if I may speak frankly, your wife was probably made vulnerable to possession by all the stress of running such a large household. If I were in your position, I’d consider hiring a maid. She could lend a helping hand, give your wife someone to talk to, make you look a bit more...monied. You understand.”

“Yes, of course,” Mr. Waterlee says, scrambling to let the Witch into the house.

Once she steps inside, he scrambles to help with her coat, but she stops him with a raised hand and a smile.

“Careful now,” the Witch says with another wry grin. “I’m carrying quite a few artifacts in this coat, and it would be a shame if you suffered an unintentional side-effect through your kindness.”

With that, she carefully removes her gloves, revealing long, slender fingers with neatly-trimmed, gold-painted nails, and tucks them in the left pocket of her coat before fishing several rings out her right pocket and slowly sliding them onto her fingers. Mr. Waterlee tries and fails to not stare at her, still watching for that wedding ring and growing increasingly uncomfortable at its absence.

The Witch is growing quite tired of that particular bit quite frankly.

She finishes with her rings and shimmies out of her coat. Mr. Waterlee doesn’t respond to her outfit—he wasn’t a fan of the abundant gold jewelry or of her navy dress, but he was certainly a fan of the way it clung to her figure, the way it clung to her ass and emphasized her trim waist.

With a sly smile, the Witch turns to hang her coat and hat, giving him one final view before she let down her long white hair, which, admittedly, she didn’t do much with this morning beyond brushing it and parting her bangs a little differently.

Still, if Mr. Waterlee’s reaction was anything to go by, she looked absolutely stunning.

“Well, now,” she says, brushing her bangs out of her face. “If you would be so kind as to lead me to your wife?”

“Yes, I’ve had her shut away in the bedroom all morning.”

The Witch grimaces and follows him deeper into the house.

The Waterlees were old money and their design sense was equally stagnant, lots of heavy dark-red mahogany panelling, purplish damask wallpaper, and black shag carpeting.

On top of that, it was all to clear that this was Mr. Waterlee’s childhood home. The walls were papered with childhood photos of him winning mediocre awards and having a typical eventful childhood, as if his parents were attempting to build a shrine for him. He didn’t even look that much different from when he was a child, he still had that same egg-shaped figure and the same middle-parted hair that resembled burnt cabbage.

The Witch couldn’t imagine growing up like this, much less living in it as a married woman.

Finally, they make their way up to the master bedroom. The Witch bites her lip to hold back a pleased sigh as Mr. Waterlee turns to her.

“She’s...in here.”

“I gathered,” the Witch says, reaching for the handle, but Mr. Waterlee stops her.

“Perhaps I should go in first,” he says, pulling a kerchief from his pocket to dab his sweaty forehead with. “A-as a precaution.”

The Witch smiles warmly.

“How chivalrous of you, and let me take this moment to commend you for your bravery in dealing with this. You’ve interacted with the demon quite a bit, but I’m afraid any further exposure could be very...problematic. I’ll take it from here, if you don’t mind.”

“Yes, of course. I-I’ll be in my study if you need anything.”

With that, Mr. Waterlee scuttles down the hall. The Witch waits until he’s locked himself in his study, then steps into the master bedroom.

Mr. Waterlee’s wife, Jeanie, was one of the most charming women the Witch had ever laid eyes on. She was wonderful when it came to children, yes, but she also had a dazzling wit and a genuine earnest kindness that made her a pleasure to interact with.

She had a cute round face with bright green eyes, short curly brown hair that landed just shy of unkempt, and a smattering of freckles that the Witch always had an urge to kiss. She was short with a curvy figure that was enhanced by her Gibson-esque fashion sense, and the Witch was deeply curious as to how much her clothes enhanced her figure.

The Witch was looking forward to doing some more in-depth research.

With that in mind, she locks the bedroom door behind her as Jeanie stares at her with big, frightened eyes.

“Am I really possessed?” Jeanie asks in a quiet voice.

“Oh, Heavens no,” the Witch says. “If you were actually ‘possessed’ as popularly defined, it would already be far too late.”

Jeanie relaxes somewhat at that, letting out a big sigh and leaning back on the bed. She thinks for a moment, and then a blush spreads across her face.

“Can this be...one of those other visits then?” she asks with a shy smile.

“Of course.”

Fucking finally. The Witch helps Jeanie to her feet, then takes her place sitting on the bed. She’s been waiting years for this opportunity, and she was going to savor every moment.

With that in mind, the Witch undoes Jeanie’s skirt, letting it drop to the floor before reaching for her panties. She shudders in anticipation, inadvertently letting out a little sigh, then slowly pulls them down the nylon of Jeanie’s stockings.

Jeanie immediately presses her thighs together, unused to being so exposed, even in her own bedroom. It’s charming, but the Witch isn’t in the mood for charming. She reaches around and kneads Jeanie’s ass, presses her nose into Jeanie’s bush and breathes in the smell.

Jeanie lets out a pleased gasp, and the Witch pulls away with a wink. She couldn’t spend their entire appointment like that, even if she really wanted to. After all, she did promise that she’d be done by sunset.

The Witch gives Jeanie’s ass one last slap, then reaches up to undo her ascot and the top few buttons of her shirt, sliding her hands underneath and pinching a dark brown nipple.

Jeanie whimpers, unused to the pain, yet still wanting more. She climbs into the Witch’s lap before she stops herself, and the Witch eagerly accepts her, gently cradling her waist with her free hand and grinding her hips up into Jeanie’s with a devilish smirk.

Jeanie gasps, surprised, then moans. How fascinating, she knew about the “exorcisms” but not about the Witch’s wand? Well, the Witch was happy to demonstrate her skills for a willing audience.

The Witch wraps her arms around Jeanie and rolls over, pinning her on the bed. Now that the Witch is looming above her, she can’t help but compare Jeanie to a rabbit, small and cute and trembling with anticipation for what’s to come, her eyes hungrily devouring the figure the Witch cuts in navy.

She did like to dress for her clients after all.

Holding Jeanie’s gaze, the Witch slowly rolls up the hem of her dress, revealing her long slender cock and watching the way Jeanie’s eyes drop to gobble it up. The Witch bites her lip to keep from laughing at the sight. It was probably her second favorite part of her job.

The Witch grips the underside of Jeanie’s thighs and folds her in half, taking a moment to trail kisses up the nylon. Jeanie shudders and tightens her grip on the bedsheets, face screwed up in desperation.

It’s unbearably charming.

“Any preference, dear?”

It takes Jeanie a moment to realize what the Witch is referring to, but after a moment she lifts her hips, urging the Witch toward her back door.

Interesting choice. The Witch mentally files that away, and lines herself up.

The Witch doesn’t bother with easing her into it. They’re on a time limit after all, and if Jeanie is bothered by the Witch’s sudden intrusion she certainly doesn’t complain, instead she throws her head back with a cry and wraps her legs around the Witch’s waist, driving her in deeper.

For a brief moment, the Witch smiles. This was, without a doubt, her favorite part of the job. It was one thing to fuck these women, but it was another to have them ask for it, beg for it, to have them tear down their walls for no one else but her.

How could the Witch maintain her air of professionalism when her clients were so happy to see her? Why hold back when she could fuck these women as if she was already married to them while their husbands waiting anxiously in the next room.

A thrill of pleasure runs up the Witch’s spine, and she lets out a low moan before diving forward, peppering the freckled skin of Jeanie’s neck with golden kisses while she drills into her mercilessly.

Jeanie cries out with every thrust because, well, of course she does. It wasn’t that it was a breach of unfamiliar territory, but the fact that she was being breached at all. When was the last time Mr. Waterlee thought to satisfy her? Not just by having sex but by actually making sure Jeanie’s needs were met? Jeanie couldn’t remember.

The Witch didn’t particularly care, she would find some way to take that role out of his hands regardless.

She changes tactics, muffling Jeanie’s cries and trapping her mouth in a long, deep kiss. Jeanie moans and wraps her arms around her, pulling her in in more ways than one.

The Witch smiles to herself. It was one thing to fuck these women, but making them feel loved, cherished, valued, required different tactics.

And sometimes those tactics looped right back around to rough sex.

The Witch’s left hand alternates between tweaking Jeanie’s nipples and squeezing her soft breast while her right slides down to Jeanie’s clit.

It never finishes the journey. Just before the Witch can graze it with the pad of her thumb, Jeanie comes with a muffled cry, her legs tightening like a vice around the Witch’s waist.

The Witch breaks the kiss, panting heavily, a thin string of droll connecting their mouths.

“So soon? I had so much more to show you.”

Jeanie shudders in the aftershocks of her orgasm, but she nods, encouraging the Witch to go on.

The Witch smiles. She normally asked for permission during the first appointment, but never again afterward. Of course, they would say yes after hooked on the idea of multiple orgasms.

The Witch picks up her rhythm again, this time rubbing Jeanie’s clit in quick, off-rhythm circles as she sucks on her other nipple, trying to spread the pleasure out for every passing second.

It isn’t long before Jeanie’s had her second orgasm, and she has her third as she languishes in the feeling of the Witch releasing deep inside her.

“Enjoyed yourself?” the Witch asks, pressing a gold kiss to Jeanie’s forehead.

Jeanie nods, head bobbing heavily from drowsiness.

The Witch unhooks her legs from around her waist, then carefully pulls out, taking in the results of her effort, Jeanie’s heaving chest, her spit-slick nipples and swollen lips, her gaping asshole and the cum spilling onto the bed sheets.

The Witch sighs dreamily, then starts on the cleanup. She certainly had her work cut out for her.

Just before sunset, the recently-”exorcised” Jeanie, clad in a nightgown, carefully brings a cup of freshly-brewed coffee over to Mr. Waterlee’s desk, coffee that the Witch taught her to properly brew.

The Witch watches from the doorway as Mr. Waterlee nervously glances at it, then takes a cautious sip.

“Mm! This is wonderful!”

Jeanie squeals in delight and runs around to the other side of the desk to hug her husband, looking every bit like a proper wife and not a woman who was getting her anus reamed just hours earlier.

The Witch smiles and turns to leave.

“I’m glad to see you’re satisfied with my services. I’ll be expecting my payment in the mail. And Jeanie?”

The woman perks up. “Yes?”

“Do call if you need any more assistance.”

The Witch winks and Jeanie hides a giggle in the sleeve of her nightgown.