The Witches: Merry Witchmas

Models: Rob Piper & Joanna Angel

Lying still and silent on the crimson divan, the woman looked like Sleeping Beauty’s kinky older sister.

Her pale skin was decorated by gothic tattoos, almost all of which were on full display thanks to the red netting of her bodystocking, which did almost nothing to conceal her decency. A red latex bra hugged her big plastic tits, just about concealing her nipples but leaving everything else on view, while her matching panties were even more revealing, the crotch so thin it almost slid between the lips of her pussy. Huge boots engulfed her feet, the white PVC streaked with red to mimic dripping blood, a colour scheme which was replicated in her lengthy ponytail, within which streaks of her natural midnight-black locks had been dyed vivid red and snow white: plaited together, they gave the effect of a corrupted candy cane. And as if she did not already look kinky enough, a large red ball gag was nestled between her lips, the leather straps clinging tight to her jaw.

This was the body Eleanor found herself in as she awoke with a start.

Sitting up, she looked down at her hypersexualised appearance and gave a scream, only to discover the noise was muffled by the gag. Panic surged through her body, and yet she could also sense an unusual sensation undermining every other thought; she couldn’t quite put her finger on what it was, but it felt as if there was something powerful dwelling somewhere in the depths of her consciousness just waiting to strike.

The whole room looked like a demon had decorated for Christmas. In one corner stood a Christmas tree with black needles, the boughs hung with baubles the colour of blood and the crown topped with an angel weeping into her hands. Beside it a metal cage hung from the ceiling, beneath which a set of shelves were lined with candles she suspected were used to torment anybody who might find themselves locked behind the iron bars. Meanwhile the opposite wall was festooned with sordid tools of every variety, from studded floggers and nipple clamps to gleaming handcuffs and chastity belts. Eleanor could see no door. No escape.

‘Kneel, whore.’ The gruff voice came from the shadows, infiltrating her mind like an oppressive fog.

Without even thinking, Eleanor obliged. Conscious thought simply seemed to turn off as she followed the command, rising to her knees and sitting back on her ankles. But she didn’t stop there. The voice had called her a whore, and it seemed that was enough to make her want to act like one. So rather than kneel with legs together and head down, Eleanor parted her thighs and thrust her giant silicone rack forwards, eager to show off her most enticing assets.

The second she had followed the order, clarity flooded back in. Cold panic rose once agin, but she couldn’t bring herself to move. Because now she knew what that underlying sensation was: arousal. The act of obeying the voice had sent a burst of pleasure rushing through her, so intense she would have groaned if she could. And the longer she remained in her position, the more she found herself craving new orders just to feel that pleasure again.

A huge black bull emerged from the shadows. He was a giant of a man, dressed to impress in a sharp black suit and dress shoes polished to a mirror sheen. A Santa’s hat perched atop his head, the material black rather than red, yet somehow it did not make him look ridiculous. Then again, that might have been Eleanor’s lust telling her that, because the instant she laid eyes on the man every fibre of her being yearned for him.

She was so consumed by desire it took her a moment to recognise him.

Eleanor had met him earlier that day, back when she had been in her old body. She had passed him while out shopping with her husband. At the time the bull’s arm was wrapped around the waist of a slender redhead wearing crop top and hotpants, the woman giggling girlishly at something he had just said.

Eleanor hadn’t been able to stop herself saying something. She couldn’t stand shallow sluts like that at the best of times, but least of all when they had more skin on show than a high-end stripper. After chastising the redhead, she had turned her viperous tongue on the bull himself.

‘You ought to be ashamed of yourself, going around with a skank like her. I know your type, you dirty bastard. All you care about is getting your cock wet and you don’t care who you’re fucking to do so. The moment you turn your back, she’ll be riding some other gullible fucker, you know that, right?’

But the bull had simply smiled. ‘Actually, I don’t need to turn my back for that. Usually she’s sucking my dick while she does it. We’re very experimental in the bedroom.’

‘Not that you’d know anything about that,’ the woman added, looking Eleanor up and down disdainfully. ‘You look like a melting waxwork with a bad case of sour face syndrome. No wonder you’re such a prude, I bet you haven’t been laid since before the dinosaurs died out.’

Stunned, Eleanor had stormed off and spent the rest of the day ranting about their behaviour to her mild-mannered husband, who had responded with a steady stream of ‘yes dear’s and ‘you’re right, darling’s and ‘I don’t think you can call people that anymore, love’s.

But what on earth was he doing here? What had he done to her?

A smug smile twisting his handsome features, the bull circled around the divan. Despite her confusion, Eleanor wanted nothing more than to turn and face him as he came up behind her and took her upper arms in his huge hands. But the order to kneel was still running through her mind and she was simply unable to ignore it.

She could feel the immense snake in his trousers pressing against her back. The sensation set her stomach churning as she imagined what he could do to her with it.

‘I’m impressed,’ the bull said, stroking her shoulders with his thumbs. ‘When Minerva told me what she had in mind for you, I wasn’t sure she’d be able to pull it off this well. But you really are desperate to obey. I guess I should’ve learned by now there’s nothing she and her sister can’t do.’

Eleanor wanted him. She wanted him so much it physically hurt. She knew she should have had a thousand questions, but all she could think about was letting him pound her facedown into the divan until her makeup ran and she lost her mind.

On instinct, she began to grind against him. At first she was surprised she could do so, but then she realised it made sense: she was still kneeling. And he had never explicitly said not to rub on his crotch. So she wasn’t actually disobeying him. She was simply exploiting the unspoken leeway in his command.

The snake in his trousers began to swell. And as fresh bolts of arousal flared through her, the bull answered all the questions she could not voice.

Where am I? ‘This is your new home. You should think yourself lucky – only a privileged few get to see these place. All of us who live here do so with the blessing of Minerva and Morgana. This is their house of sin and we are all just their humble tenants. Fortunately for us, they are more than happy to mingle. In fact, that woman you were so happy to insult earlier, that was Minerva. She did this to you.’

What have you done to me? ‘And I have to say, she has really outdone herself,’ he went on. ‘She formed this sexy body out of pure magic – with a little input from me, of course. Minerva wanted to stuff you into a body the old you would hate, and we figured a tattooed alt nympho would suit that idea nicely. All she had to do then was pluck your soul out of your body and slip it inside this one.’

Who are you? She could hear the smile in his voice as his powerful hands shifted to squeeze her big fake tits. ‘Mmmh, I think this is my favourite part about meeting a new sub – exploring their body for the first time. Before I came here, I was a nobody. Just a scrawny accountant with fewer notches on his bedpost than an overzealous monk. But the witches changed all that. They saw potential in me, saw the hunger and lust of a born dominant just waiting to be let out, so they gave me the body to match my soul. And now I get to play with naughty little subs like you for the rest of eternity.’

What about my old life? ‘Because I’m afraid that’s what you are now: my slave. Always and forever. You see, Minerva didn’t just steal you from your old body – she rewrote reality so you never existed at all. Only we know who you used to be. But the rest of the world will wake up tomorrow and forget all about Eleanor Mason. Your ex-husband will wake up alongside a different woman. Your boss will hire a new intern to fill your empty desk. Your parents won’t even realise you’re missing from all the family photos. There’s nothing for you to go back to, bitch.’ The bull smirked as she gave a muffled groan. ‘But something tells me you don’t really care about that, do you?’

Eleanor shook her head frantically. Part of her knew she should care – knew she should be horrified by what had been done to her. But that piece of her mind was dwindling rapidly. Lust had all but consumed her and all she wanted to do was worship her new god.

With a snap of the bull’s fingers, Eleanor’s gag vanished. Stunned, she looked up at him with questioning eyes.

He shrugged. ‘You don’t live with witches without learning a few tricks,’ he said matter-of-factly. ‘Now tell me, slave, what is something you never did in the bedroom in your old life? What’s something you’ve always told yourself only filthy sluts do?’

‘Anal.’ The word practically tore itself from her throat. As soon as it left her lips, Eleanor’s stomach flipped as she realised why he was asking

Undoing his tie, the bull gave her a devilish smile. ‘Then that’s what we’ll start with. Because that’s what you are now. My dirty, needy, shameless slut. And that’s all you’ll ever be. I’d say this might teach you a lesson for insulting people, but to be honest I think it’s just going to make you scream.’

Disrobing slowly, her master revealed his incredible body. With each new muscle that came into view Eleanor found her mouth watering and her pussy throbbing.

But then he removed his boxers and her heart almost stopped. The rigid black cock that bucked free was as long as her forearm and almost as thick. Her entire body ached to feel it buried in her holes. And to her delight, she did not have long to wait.

Throwing her down, her master forced her face into the divan. With another click of his fingers her panties had vanished, leaving her virgin ass exposed and vulnerable. Grabbing her by the hips he aligned her hole with the head of his enormous cock.

A wicked expression played over his face as he eyed his helpless slave. ‘Merry Christmas to me,’ he chuckled. Then, with a single powerful thrust he invaded her insides, tearing out a scream which reverberated around the room as he set about ruthlessly breaking in his sex-crazed nympho sub…

Thanks for reading!

My readers will already know how much I love Joanna Angel, and after this piece I love her even more because it gave me a chance to visit the Witches’ storyline again.

It has been a very long time since I added to their story – I think around two years now. Honestly, at this point I’ve come to accept that I’m never going to be able to add to my ongoing series as much as I’d like. Even if I dedicated every story I write to them, I have that many different ones at this point each series would still only get another one or two additions every few months.

But that’s okay. Obviously I’d love to build up my series more, but it would get boring if I only wrote stories for them. I enjoy standalone pieces because they allow me to experiment, and if that means I don’t check in with the Witches – or any other series – for a while I can live with that.

All that being said, if there are any specific stories you want to see me write – any characters you want to see again or worlds you want me to return to – then I’m always open to suggestions!


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