Young Sarah refused to release his hand and was dragged across the cold, wet ground, muddying her modest flannel nightgown. “Don’t go! She’s cast a spell on you!” 

With a harsh fling of his wrist, her husband Abraham shook her loose a few steps before entering the mist. Those bearing witness knew the mist was no ordinary mist. Despite its beautiful lavender hue, the villagers knew evil lurked there. 

Abraham, however, had become highly enraptured by the voice that had called to him in his slumber, and he was no longer of an ordinary mind. It was as if the unique timbre of the voice held invisible strings tied to him—the most intimate parts of him. 

He did not attempt to break away but continued his slow yet unwavering journey toward the bowels of the forest. The gnarled roots did not trip him, neither did the thorny branches whip him. It was as if the malevolent forest obeyed the whispering voice and allowed Abraham safe entry. 

His feet stopped when particles started to commingle before his very eyes, and a woman’s silhouette took form. She was like no woman he’d seen before, with flesh pale as the freshly fallen snow, and skin barely covered in clothing that would draw condemnation from the elders. Deep burgundy locks fell below her shoulders in mesmerizing waves, framing her breasts bursting from the deep V of her dress. A witch, he surmised, yet he did not look away. 

The witch stepped closer and whispered words into his gaping mouth. “I can show you pleasure unbeknownst to you if you stay the night, but beware, you will never be the same again. You will question the teachings of your forefathers and preacher—the doctrines set forth by your Puritan village. The choice is yours.”

A blanket of ravens filled the treetops, blocking the peeking moon’s rays. He shuddered in the darkness until the witch’s glow extended to him, providing him a sense of safety in the cocoon she’d created for them. The world as he knew it too easily fell away, and his feet took root in the forest floor. 

The witch’s lips, surprisingly warm, kissed his mouth. He returned her kiss and left a wet trail down her neck, then dared to dip into the valley between her breasts before returning to her deep purple-painted lips. 

When their kiss ended, he opened his eyes to find them both naked, with his clothes scattered about the ground beside him. He gazed upon her beauty and found comfort in his decision. How could something so beautiful be wrong? 

Iron shackles materialized, attached to the bark of an ancient oak. “Do you trust me?” she whispered, her tone more pleading than asking. “Let these metal shackles replace the invisible ones in your world.”

He looked into her gray eyes, ironically seeing promises full of color. Trusting his heart, he stepped forward and lifted his wrists overhead. 

The tree bark was unlike any bark he’d brushed against before; it was smooth, cool to the touch, and soothing against his heated flesh. With her body pressed into him, she slid her hand around to the front and draped his lengthy cock in a black handkerchief. Her hand slid the soft cloth up and down his shaft, varying the pressure until his moans told her she’d discovered the magic touch. She then released the handkerchief to move on its own. 

She scooped up sap oozing from the tree, closing her palm around it. When she opened her hand, the sticky goo was a warm liquid running through her fingers. She held her dripping fingers in front of his eyes, then whispered intent in his ear. His pupils grew, but he nodded, trying to relax the tight knot in his backside.

Her first touch was gentle and a distant drum was heard. 

Boom

Abraham found her fingers spreading the lubricant in and around his asshole exquisite torture. Exquisite in that it coated and warmed his most sensitive flesh. Torture in that he needed more. One could say he burned for more, and the tight knot loosened.

She chanted indecipherable words in his ear when several fingers slipped inside his ass. There was no pain, only a wondrous fullness he’d never known. And intimacy. And understanding. And acceptance. He looked over his shoulder, and the witch saw all things in his eyes. Her lips curled into a satisfied smile.

Her fingers began their thrust and retreat. 

Boom…

Boom…

Abraham moaned as his body stilled, absorbing the new but enjoyable intrusions. She pushed deeper, revealing the center of his pleasure. Caressing. Stimulating. 

Boom

Boom

Boom

His insides swirled from his waist down to his quivering knees. “More,” he begged, no longer afraid to ask for it. He turned his head to the right and saw the lavender mist swirling, giving him a close-up picture of her fingering his most private of parts. 

His arousal found no bounds.

The witch withdrew her hand and scooped more sap before thrusting three fingers into his asshole. His hole gaped in anticipation before her palm slapped against his skin, and she finger fucked him harder. 

His balls joyously tightened as the beating drums grew louder and the rhythm changed.

Boom boom boom 

Boom boom boom

Boom boom boom

The black handkerchief joined in the cadence, and Abraham could no longer distinguish one sensation from the other. Warmth—both soothing and electrifying—swirled inside him. His hips were in flux—thrusting back against her burrowing fingers or pressing forward into the caressing cloth. Finally, he fully submitted to the witch’s ministrations and simply hung from the shackles as true ecstasy filled him. 

Boomboomboomboomboomboomboom

The ravens scattered, allowing the moon to watch Abraham’s head fall back with his eyelids closing. He howled as he painted the brown bark white. The witch leaned around him and lapped at his creamy essence. When the last drop adorned her tongue, the shackles disintegrated, the tree returned to its original form, and Abraham collapsed upon the forest floor. 

~ooOoo~

By the light of the following morn, Abraham woke and began walking toward the east. After what he’d been shown, he couldn’t go back to the shackles of society. 

In the west, his wife Sarah clutched a cross and prayed he would return. The preacher looked toward the forest, having heard the drums the night before and knowing, like all the years past, her husband would never return. 

His spell had been broken, and another sheep was lost.