This story stands alone, but if you want to read about Charity’s first adventure, check out Purloined Penis.
In the darkness of the new moon, Charity made her way through the woods to the meeting place. The coven sentries greeted her warmly, as she sat upon the soft cool grass to remove her shoes and stockings. She suspected young Isaac volunteered for the duty because he enjoyed watching the women undress.
Charity hoped he wasn’t disappointed that she didn’t bother with clothing, only a cloak, shoes, and the small pouch around her neck. Some of the witches came to the sabbat fully dressed, but she could easily cast a glamour to hide her face if she ran into anyone on the road from Salem Town. Not all the coven had skills in glamourie. She shrugged slowly out of her cloak, letting Isaac watch her white flesh revealed to the fire. She gave him a grin, and wiggled her ass at him. Before stepping next to him, “Blessed sabbat,” she said to him, standing close enough to feel the heat of his skin.
His eyes took in her naked flesh, hungry and unashamed. “Blessed sabbat,” he echoed, and she was certain she saw his hand twitch wanting to touch her.
“Will you join us in the revels later?” She asked, feeling the rough texture of his shirt against her breast. And she hid her smile as his hand brushed against her naked thigh. “You should come join us in the dancing at least” she whispered in his ear, and kissed his cheek. Without waiting for a reply, she stepped away and went further into the grove.
Once deeper inside she could see the flames leaping toward the sky, and the dancers, skin slick with flying ointment, dancing around the fire. She scanned the circle, wondering who was in charge of the flying ointment. The salve was made of grease and herbs, the type of herbs and their effect varied. Tonight the ritual was one of lust and libation, so she expected the ointment would be something special.
She saw the Magister standing before the ointment. His lined face glowed in the fire, and his grey hair hung long and loose. She stepped before the old man, and bowed her head in respect. “Well meet, Magister” she said.
“Well met, Hecate’s servant.” He answered his voice strong despite his evident age. “Do you wish the ointment?”
“Yes, please” she answered, knowing what would come next and feeling herself grow aroused at the thought.
He dipped his hands into the cauldron at his feet, and Charity could see the flames reflected in the grease covering his hands. She stepped closer to him and heard his words of blessing as his gnarled hands rubbed the grease into her skin. His palms cupped her breasts, his thumbs rubbing over her nipples, making her squirm. He rubbed harder, his dark eyes meeting hers. He pinched her nipples before moving his hands lower.
His hands slid down her belly and down her thighs. His hands stopped just below her pussy. His fingers run down the inside of her thighs, and over the globes of her ass. She felt the grease coating her skin, wanting more already. She shifted her weight and opened her legs wider.
He gestured at the cauldron, “Would you like to complete the application yourself?”
Charity shook her head, “No, magister, you may complete it.” The old man’s lined face split into a grin, and she opened her legs wider.
He returned his fingers to the cauldron, his fingers glistening with the grease. He slipped his greased fingers between her legs, the ointment allowed his fingers to press easily and immediately inside her. Charity let out a soft moan, as he turned his fingers, rubbing along her walls. His thumb glided over her clit, slowly drawing it out. This time she did moan, and swayed on her feet.
The old Magister, drew her closer to him, so that she almost straddled his lap. He removed his fingers from her pussy, and sent his greased fingers probing her ass. Charity felt his fingers stretching her ass, once again the grease making it an easy entry. She felt his breath against her tits, and wasn’t surprised or disappointed to feel his lips capture one nipple. He sucked the nub of flesh, as he added a second finger to her ass. Charity rested her hands on his shoulders, loving the sensations the well lubricated fingers were causing.
“Perhaps, I need a larger application” Charity moaned.
The Magister released her nipple from his mouth, “You are a wanton child,” he grinned at her. He glanced around the clearing, yet no one waited for the ointment. He turned her around, so she faced the fire and the dancing witches.
She glanced over her shoulder, watching him stroke his already stiff cock with the grease. She fumbled with the pouch around her neck, gently removing her favorite familiar. The penis she’d take from the Reverend felt heavy and flaccid in her hand. She pressed the base gently against her mons, speaking a quick word of magic. It attached to her flesh as it had always been a part of her.
“Where’d you get that toy?” the Magister asked, watching her, still stroking his cock.
“I took it from the Reverend Burroughs last full moon.” She paused to stroke her own cock, loving the novel feelings that coursed through her body. “I thought I’d remind him that I have it.”
The magister laughed, “Cheeky witch, you are” he said, and tugged at her hips. He drew her down until the tip of his cock pressed against her ass.
She lowered herself on to his cock, feeling it stretch her ass. She knew that the Reverend would also feel everything she felt tonight. She briefly wondered where the man might be. Home sleeping to be haunted by dreams of a cock in his ass? Perhaps he was at one of the endless meetings of the men of Salem Town. Would he be able to maintain his composure? As she sank onto the magister’s cock, she forgot all about the Reverend too caught up in the heavenly feeling of a cock in her ass. She bounced on his cock, setting the speed and rhythm she wanted. Her purloined penis bobbed in front of her, spending little spasms of desire through her.
She giggled as the Magister reached around and wrapped his fingers around her cock. When he tugged on the appendage, her giggle became a groan, and she knew that she was going to orgasm quickly.
She pressed herself into his lap, taking his cock further inside her as her cock spilled its seed. She cried out her ecstasy. The magister remained hard and buried in her ass, urging her to keep moving. On shuddering legs, she kept moving drawing out her own pleasure. His hands wrapped around her hips, setting her to a slower, deeper pace. Charity complied, her mind drifting wonder again what the Reverend was doing.
When the magister came, he groaned out an invocation to Pan. He panted a moment, then gave her a light smack on the ass and told her to join the circle. The ointment had done its work, and coupled with the heavy, languor she felt from the orgasm, she felt the soft blurring of the ointment. The world was a little brighter and she felt free.
In Salem Town, the Reverend Burroughs, abruptly left the meeting and hurried home. He could feel the ghostly fingers slipping inside his ass, something he had never felt before. He reached his door, slamming it behind himself. He lay squirming on the bed, and wondered once again why he’d agreed to the witch’s request.