Witch Hunt

Hello all.
I am new to Literotica and have spent a few days perusing the forums. I would love to RP with a number of you. I have concocted a thoroughly contemptible character called Jacob Stropwell. He uses a religious mantle to disguise his perverted desires. Innocent women are arrested and interrogated by him and others and forced to confess to what he wants to hear. The suspected witches are stripped, examined, even tortured if needs be. Stropwell uses Wilton to inflict the pain, but he is sure to remain in the room, feeding his voyeuristic fetish. Read the first post and see if you are interested in participating. Once I hear from you I will introduce your character in the next post.

Tell me what you would like to play. Witch, warlock, trained interrogator. Males and females can both serve in this capacity. The year is 1707. Elmville is situated 60 miles northeast of Salem, where Jacob learned his craft. Thanks for your attention. I am really enjoying some of your threads.

Sincerely
RandyWillie


Reverend Jacob Stropwell held himself ramrod stiff as the buggy bounced over the primitive, New England, roads. The oaks, elms, and beeches lining their way were alive with autumnal color.

“You see Wilton. God is the only artist,” he pronounced and at once performed a grand and sweeping gesture with his right hand. “Man’s vain attempts, belittle the world, belittle man, yes, and even belittle God Himself.” He was so pleased with the last sentence that he took pencil and paper from his vest pocket and recorded the phrase for future use in one of his sermons or pamphlets. “Vanity, vanity, all is vanity,” he nearly sang out the passage and shook his head in disapproval of mankind in general.

Jacob a tall, distinguished looking gentleman, always held himself in this erect and unflinching manner. He, a warrior in God’s continuous battle with the devil, would never show weakness - never slump. Wilton, his man however was a study in contrast. He was a round ape of a man with brutish forearms, a dense unthinking brow, and eyes as empty as a coal mine. They made an odd incongruous pair. But, the overall impression was sinister. They were a match in that.

Jacob held his eyes shut and prayed for strength and guidance in the upcoming campaign against sin and corruption. “Salem, Gatstown, and now Elmville” he was in the habit of talking to Wilton as if he were an extension of self. “ I have studied Satan, Wilton. Know thy enemy. That’s my battle cry. With each confession, I learn more. I know his filthy unnatural acts. I force myself to look upon them with open eyes and with the courage of the Lord. He reached a long arm into the back of the buggy and patted a huge black trunk. When the “Great Deceiver’s” minions sit naked before me, when they see the instruments of persuasion, when they perceive that there is no escape, no denial. Then they tell all, they enact all. His rituals are open to me.” He smiled and caressed the side of the traveling trunk.

He closed his eyes once more and the vision of Jennifer Westover again invaded his thoughts. He had broken her and she admitted everything, every unnatural deed and thought that he imagined she committed. She named others; she showed him the deeds reenacting them before his widening eyes. Some of her fowl words were so foreign to him that he had to have her use himself as the partner...use him to demonstrate. A man must do. Her interrogation had lasted two months. The image of her lithe sensuous body writhing lewdly through unspeakable positions called up a familiar stirring in his trousers. He clenched his fists and prayed with renewed fervor. Five hours a day he would spend with the tempting creature and three hours each night he would pray till sweat beaded his brow and his knees ached.

They, the committee of God’s soldiers had smashed the coven. He had served as General and advisor to this legion of saints. And now he had received a missive from the good people of Elmville demanding his services. There had been: a double-headed calf birthed in the pastor’s barn, unnatural portents in the sky, possessions, and a host of signs that witchcraft had invaded their little community. He felt in the pocket of his great coat for the letter of supplication. The 'hero of Gatstown' they had called him. He would form a team, educate them and set off once more as God’s avenging angel. He thanked God for his talents and virtues. Then, drifted into reminiscences of Jennifer Westover and her subltle young body.

Avalon

(Thanks for allowing me to join in Randy... )

Elmville had always been her home. It was quiet there, just a small town on the map, surrounded by much larger, and more attention getting towns. Surely nothing bad, evil, would ever come to Elmville.

Word had reached the small town, word of witches and evil, arrests and torture, and even..... deaths. Word had come to Elmville. But surely there were no witches here, no spells, no sacrafices, no chantings. Indeed there was the occasional fortune teller, and ones who like to brew their own teas and grown their own herbs. There were stargazers and sun lovers and of course there were a couple of people who did not attend the large white church in the mid of the town.

But did that make them witches?

Avalon paused at the expanse of garden that flourished along the Elmville town common. There was an explosion of color, pinks and yellows, reds and whites, flowers reaching upwards to the sun, and plants bearing fruits, vegtables, and herbs. Yes, herbs. Avalon tended this garden, planted here on the town common with permission from the Elders. Her own yard, at the small cottage where she lived, provided no yard to plant within. She had begged, pleaded, and gained permission, as long as the garden were healthy, and nothing....... that did not belong.... was grown there. Avalon knew what they meant, herbs and plants used by "witches"... She thought they were all crazy. Those herbs and plants had many medicinal qualities, and many carried beautiful blooms. Fortunately for her, the Elders were not well versed in these plants, and she had interspersed several in the garden. No one realized...

yet....

Avalon Paige was 19 seasons old. She was born at the summer equinox, the longest day of the year. Her mother died birthing her, her father shortly there after. It was said she was cursed. But her Aunt, an older woman, stepped up to take in the infant. And in her nurturing care, with her grandfather looking over her as well, she grew. Her Aunt, was what one may call a "witch". She was a quiet older woman, who concocted her own medications and teas, grew her own plants and fruits, and was much more comfortable being out at night than during the day. It was said she could read minds.....

With a mane of chocolate brown hair that fell down her back in a silken waterfall, and eyes that flashed with a golden gleam, she was a natural beauty, her skin flawless, with a slight tinge of the sun's touch.

Avalon

Avalon was quiet and kept to herself, tending her gardens or the animals on her Grandfather's farm.

Not much was known about her Grandfather, He was reclusive and quiet, staying at that family farm just outside the Elmville town center. He raised horses and cattle, sheep and goats. It was said he slaughtered his own for meat. Not a pleasant thought.

Avalon blinked up into the sun filled sky. Not a hint of the storms that had awakened her the night prior. Terrible lightening, the roar of thunder. It was as if the angels were battling, or, perhaps announcing the arrival of...................................................................

She did not know who Jacob Stopwell was. She had heard the stories of an Exocist, a Witch Hunter, a Man of the Heavens who had cleansed several other area towns. But that was 60 miles away, and Elmville was barely a blip on anyone's map. Blink and you would ride right own thru even on the slowest horse and never see it. Well, maybe that was an exageration. But the fact was.... Elmville was a small town, a small town that was about the change, and that change was even now, approaching...

Avalon was blissfully unaware as she turned from the gardens that early morn, and headed down toward the stream that ran, bubbling and cool, along the edge of Elmville.

The garden and the stream were 2 of her very favorite places, where she liked to relax, to think, and to even talk to the angels of Heaven that she believed watched over her.

The closer she drew to the stream, that wonderful sound of water gently flowing over rocks, the more the deeper urge to sing came apon her. She kept her voice soft, like the fluttering wings of a butterfly tickling the breeze as she sang a lullaby to herself, kneeling down at the stream's embankment and dipping her slender fingers within the cool embrace of the water. The storms of the night before had filled the stream, the water gliding up the embankment, nearly to where she knelt. Lifting her head, she checked the sun, it was still very early, the sun only having just risen, she then allowed her eyes to glance around the small clearing. She was alone, as she always was when she came here. This was her spot, her place.

As she had done many times before, Avalon stripped off her simple dark green dress, and leathered boots that her Grandfather had made for her out of cowhide. Not many women had them, but she treasured them, and they were comfortable as well.

She folded the dress neatly and set it and the boots aside, within easy reach, her undergarments she hid under the dress, as was her habit. She had been bathing in the stream for a long time and had never been caught. She bathed only early mornings or in the dead of night, when she knew she would be left alone.

The water was cool, and felt clean and refreshing against her skin.

Disappearing beneath the water's surface, she never heard anyone approach, nor did she realize that she, was being watched.................................

As their buggy approached and passed under the placard, which announced the village of Elmville, Stropwell caught sight of running water. A thick copse of hedging with random gaps allowed him momentary glimpses of the roiling stream. He knew that the geography of the Elmville would play a dominant role in his investigations: streams, open meadows, hilltops, ancient trees. He must learn the surrounding countryside like a sailor learns the seaports. He could feel a coven den in his very marrow and he would unearth every one in this lush countryside. The job required endless hours of walking the fields and byways of Elmville and there was no time like the present to begin.

“Duty, duty, duty… first and always.” He spoke more to himself than to Wilton. But then he addressed his man directly. ”Wilton pull into that lane to the right." My senses are at a tingle.” Wilton was quite accustomed to Stropwell’s senses and their tingle. He dumbly reigned the horse into the lane. “ I shall return presently.” The lanky Stropwell unfolded himself and stepped from the buggy. Wilton went into a slack jawed stare and waited with the same awareness as the horse.

Jacob noticed “Fairy ring” mold on the grass and his tingling heightened: the ancient oaks, the laughing brook, the secretive bower, an excellent witches grotto. Then he heard it…..a lowing, a crooning. It was a female voice. How Catholic to sing. How unnatural. Not Puritan at all. He leaned his side into a tree and craned his neck to trace the source of the delicate sound.

He sucked in air so abruptly when he saw her that he felt sure he would be detected. A nymph stood naked as Eve at the stream's edge She wrapped a thick hasp of glorious brown hair about her head and water ran from it in rivulets down and between her captivating breasts. They were weightless and ponderous, pert and serious, gentle spherical curves drawn by the Lord himself. Delicate pink nipples stood at attention like erotic candy. Her rounded belly sloped neatly into a triangular thicket of glistening hair. Her legs were carved like a figurine and flowed into the embracing stream.

Jacob felt his member stiffen and fought an uncontrollable urge to clasp and flog himself here in the underbrush. He prayed for strength but his time there was no closing his eyes. He drank her. He devoured her. He would have her. The Lord had led him to her and the temptress was at work in the fields of Satan how else could she have this effect on his member. In this place… at this time…. She was an enchantress indeed. A leer crossed his smug face. His first witch in Elmville. It begins. He watched her for a full fifteen minutes watched her dress. He felt a sharp stab in his testicles as she bent over to wriggle back into her underthings. "Only a witch under the tutelage of the devil could effect me so," he mused. He would begin his investigation this very day. She will be mine. I will examine her within the week. She will sit naked, submissive, petrified before me. She will speak to me of all the wanton acts she has performed or even imagined. Intent is also sin. Oh yes, intent is sin indeed.He longed to see her lips pronounce the words of her darkest desires. Unconsciously his hand did wander down to his rampant and throbbing penis. Then,he moistened his lips and scurried back to the buggy, his mind enflamed.

The cooling caress of the water doused her senses for a moment as she dipped under, letting her dark sable mane become saturated. Avalon was blissfully unaware of the eyes that watched her, studied her, raped her, from the distance. Blissfully unaware of the arrival of Jacob Stropwell, at least at this moment.

She enjoyed her bathing swim for upwards of 15 minutes, Avalon had always loved the water, fresh, cool water, and always preferred to bathe this way rather than in a basin of warm, rancid water, which sometimes is what the others used. Once back on the embankment, she did not dress right away, letting the touch of the sun warm and dry her. Slender fingers wove thru her long dark hair, she working out the excess water and tangles within. A few minutes later and she was again dressed, having wiggled into her underthings, and her dress, she weaving her long hair into a loose braid and tying it off with a peice of ribbon she had hidden in the pocket of her dress. Droplets of water dampened the back of the dress, but the sun was now high and warm, that would dry quickly as she walked back into town. She needed to stop at the gardens once more, then the small store for a few supplies.

Some wondered how Avalon made coin. She always had several copper and sometimes silver coin to get any needed supplies. Avalon did not work within the town, instead, unknown to most of the town, Avalon ventured to the natives that occupied the vast expanise of wood and range outside of town. It was there that she taught the young indian children english, and the basics of math. It was there that she learned alot of her herbal knowledge. her Aunt, was part native, another little known fact about Avalon's family. Her own Mother and her Aunt did not share the same father. But this was never spoken about outside of the Paige family. Even her Grandfather, Father to Avalon's Father, did not know. The less people who knew, the better. Many believed the native people to be savages, heathens, devil worshippers. Perhaps some were savages. But the people that Avalon knew were not. They were merely a gathering of families, native to this land, making a living as best they could in this day and age. Avalon was welcomed as if she were family. Her meager coin came from there, and what fruits and vegetables she could sell from the large garden on the town common.

Avalon paused when seeing the small, and currently empty, carriage that now sat before the Elder's meeting hall, just to the right of the town common. The horse snorted, mouthing the metal bit. It strained for a moment, trying to get to a small puddle that had formed during the overnight storms, but due to the hitch, the animal could not get his head down low enough. There was a well at the center of the town common, it was the well that Avalon used to water the plants. She drew a pailfull of water and approached the horse, whispering soft words of calming, soothing, offering the cool, fresh water to the animal, which gratefully drank. Her eyes roamed over the horse, noting that he did not appear hungry, thin, or beaten. More than likely just a bit thirsty, nothing unusal for a horse drawing a carriage in the bright sun this morning. She was glad to be able to help and once the horse had drank his fill, she used the rest of the water to begin her morning ritual of watering. Not much was needed thanks to the storms, and she took the extra time to examine what was growing, noting progress and fruit and vegetable ripening. She never saw Wilton, the carriage driver watching her, nor did she see Jacob join him.

With a smile, Avalon picked a carrot that she had growing. It was young and a bit small, but surely the horse would enjoy a treat. She again approached him, offering the treat, which the horse gratefully accepted, munching away happily. The tickle of the animal's lips to her palm as he took the treat made her giggle softly. Horse's lips were always so silky soft, she thought, as she gently patted the long curving neck of the beautiful animal.

Jacob was first to notice the pastor’s rectory, a quaint whitewashed cottage, a veritable bookend to the little church. It was fronted by a well-tended patch of lawn, both modest and ordered. Jacob liked that. He instructed Wilton with an elbow jab to the ribs and a curt, “Over there, over there. Turn us round.” Wilton circled the village square noting the smithy and a general store. In the center of the green was a luxurious garden, romantic, sprawling, burgeoning with life.

“Stop! Stop!” Stropwell’s scream startled even Wilton whose thick fog of a mind registered everything a full second slower than the actual occurrence. Stropwell fairly leapt from the buggy. He marched double time towards the garden. “I knew it. I could spot this from a mile away.” He was delighted with himself. He plucked a sprig of Monkshood out of the garden and held it up to the sunlight. Then placed it into his coat pocket. “Noooo...,” he chortled as he reached in for another sample plant. “Witches Thimbles.” These he held and examined in a like manner. He nearly ran back to the buggy.

“Wilton, I will spend days in that garden. It contains all the evidence I will ever need.” He reached into his pocket and produced his specimens. “Monkshood, the staple of witchcraft used to make flying spells. It is this plant which allows them to soar like the harpies of hell. Look, look here, Wilton. Witches Thimbles a potent medicinal drug, the main ingredient in a truth telling potion. All this in a two second span.” Smugly, Stropwell urged Wilton on to the vicar’s rectory.

Once inside the rectory Stropwell introduced himself to the Rev. Smythe and had him immediately assemble the elders for their first meeting. They clustered expectantly about the large meeting table and Stropwell introduced himself. He was quick and punctilious.

“ I need three other examiners. One must be a woman engaged in the examination of warlocks. We will form the council and the board of inquiry. I trust Rev. Smythe implicitly. He will chose the three. They will operate under my instructions.

Tomorrow I will address the townsfolk at the Sunday service. Things are much worse than you may have imagined. I have unearthed dastardly evidence already and we start on Monday. We will return this village to God and His good Christian souls.” He bowed his head in humble supplication.

He then described the girl in the stream as delicately as he could to Rev. Smythe.

“Why, that can be non other than Avalon Paige” The vicar revealed.

Stropwell nodded his head sagely. “And the garden in the village green, who plants and tends it?”

“Bless my soul, why that is non other than Avalon Paige. How in the world,” the prelate stammered.

Stropwell dismissed him with a wave of his hand. He would allow the man to think that he already knew the connection. It is commodious to leave the impression of mystery. He stepped out of the rectory leaving the assembly buzzing at his cryptic oration. He however was in for a shock of his own. There, stroking and feeding his horse was the very Avalon Paige of whom they had just spoken… an enchantress indeed thought Stropwell. His loins again ached at the sight of her. He would lay down a surprise of his own. He strode up to the girl.

“Avalon Paige, I take it.” She jumped back in shock.

“Who named you Avalon, my dear, a name bathed in pagan connotations?”

“What do you call these plants? What is this one used for? Who taught you to use this one? How do you use it?”

He rattled off these questions in such rapid order that she had no chance to reply. She stood blinking and was so taken aback by his questions and manner that she could not have responded in any case.

“Later, Later, Miss Avalon Paige. Then, you can answer at you leisure.”

He spryly hopped up onto the buggy and was gone before she could catch a breath.

“Avalon Paige, I take it.”

He had appeared so quickly, almost as if out of thin air, she had not even heard the thud of His boots, or the rustle of His clothes, nor the slight whoosh of His breathing, He was just there, and she stepped back in surprise, staring up at the tall Man, her golden cat like eyes glittering in the sunshine that warmed the both of them...

“Who named you Avalon, my dear, a name bathed in pagan connotations?”
“What do you call these plants? What is this one used for? Who taught you to use this one? How do you use it?”

He rattled off these questions in such rapid order that she had no chance to reply. Avalon's breath caught as she looked into the eyes of the Man before her. She did not, still, know just who this was, and what it was going to mean in her life. But that look, haunted, shadowed, almost..... evil..... scared her, enough so that she actually stepped away from Him.

“Later, Later, Miss Avalon Paige. Then, you can answer at you leisure.” He spryly hopped up onto the buggy and was gone before she could catch a breath.

He had waved the flowers before her face, and rattled off His questions so quickly, she was lucky to even have recognized what He was holding, picked, obviously, from her own garden right there on the town green.
Monkshood and Witch's Thimble. She felt her heart shudder at that. Why those? And the bigger question was, did HE know what they were and what they were used for ????

Monkshood was highly poisonous, yet very beautiful. Many who, delve into the supernatural, believe it was used in witchcraft. What many did not know was that it was a very powerful external painkiller. As long as it was not ingested, but instead boiled slightly and spead over the wound, it worked wonders.

Witches Thimble or Foxglove as it could be called, also very beautiful, was used to strengthen the heart. But some thought it was used to enchant, or worse, instead of strengthen the heart, weaken it.

Looking into the garden, she wondered if He saw and knew of the other..... flowers.... she cultivated there...

Briony .. of the mandrake family, used to cure a number of ills...

Yarrow .. which truely is a witches flower, it being able to break spells...

Vervain ... used cure wounds and to banish many assorted ills. It is an enchanter's herb, and has mystic power over locks and bolts. It can also be used for love spells and love amulets

All this Avalon knew.

A shiver slithered suddenly down her spine, even in the warmth of the sun. A shiver so cold, that she had to curl her arms about herself just cease her trembling.

She saw the Reverand Smythe, along with several of the other Elders, standing now on the steps of the church, watching as the carriage quickly scurried across the town and out of site. They then turned their gazes, ever so slowly, upon Avalon. None spoke to her, in fact, none could even look at her, turning away and shaking their heads.

That shiver.... came back...

The rest of the day seemed surreal to Avalon, her mind always going back to the strange Man, and His questions.

“Who named you Avalon, my dear, a name bathed in pagan connotations?”

She shook her head as that question repeated over and over in her mind. Her Father had named her Avalon, at least that was what her Aunt and Grandfather told her. He named her that because she reminded Him of paradise, and the word meant paradise. What was that Man.... thinking?? Pagan? Witches?

She had heard of what was going on around them, in other cities and towns, larger than Elmville. The Holy Men and the Elders had assured the worried residents that they were safe. There was nothing evil about Elmville, there were no witches. They were quiet people, who obeyed the Heavenly Word, who feared and worshipped and lived and loved. There was no wild sex, parties, no sacrafices or seances. Nothing of that kind happened in Elmville.

But now, the Elders knew different......

And Avalon was in the midst of it.

She had thought to question the Elders, and even approached the church door, but none were inside. Her queries went unanswered. And at the Rectory beside the church, none answered the bell chime. That only made her feel.... creepier... than she already did.

Surreal, all this had a very dream like quality to Avalon, and she found herself just wanting to go home. The Garden did not need watering, the storms of the night prior had taken care of that, and as she looked to the sky once more, she could see the darkening on the horizon, more storms would come.

She stopped at the small store and got what meager supplies she needed, then headed back home. But not before stopping at the Stable. When ever she was bothered or upset, Avalon would stop here, and visit with the horses and the various dogs and cats that made the Stable their home. The boy who tended them, Nathan, was sweet and kinda goofy. He had a huge crush on her, she knew, but she never took advantage of that. She was kind to him because she liked him, liked how he was with the animals.

This evening, and it was now approaching evening, Nathan was no where to be found. Avalon paid that no heed, but instead began to visit each horse., stopping to pet, caress, and feed a treat of an apple, taken from the bin in the corner, to each. She spoke softly to them, telling each how breautiful he or she was, how special, and the animals responded, nuzzling and neighing softly to her.

Sasha Harper sat by the waining light of the candle. Her thoughts ran like mad as she looked at the pages before her. The letter she wrote was to her love, Harris Constine. He was a months journey away and for ages he had been gone it seemed.

Harris Constine had asked her to marry him just before he left for the judeges school across the waters. She felt elated and had accepted without hesitation. What followed could have only been a nightmare. The rumours began circulating of witches and their doings. She knew of the witches and had on occasion, danced naked under the summer moons with them. She was not skilled and had not sacrificed her body to the devil. But she found the freeness they experienced suited her more than the stuffy outward appearance she was forced to project day in and day out.

Sighing, she removed the bone pin from her raven hair and let it fall about her bosom. She closed her green eyes as she ran her hands over the places it fell enjoying the sensations her body produced.

She did not see nor hear the carriage in the street. Without realization, she began to untie her dress and slip it over her porcilen shoulders to her waist. She began to manipulate her ample breasts. The small stubby candle suddenly went out and she was thrust back into reality. Catching a glimpse out the window of a figure, she cried out and fell out of her chair.

How long he had been watching she did not know.

Stropwell and Wilton drove approximately one mile south of the town limits. In his communications with the Rev. Smythe, he had requested a secure house, spacious, and well furnished with a cellar suitably adapted and sectioned off to serve as holding cells… a prison, if you will. Carpenters and masons were to follow Stropwell’s exacting specifications. It had taken Smythe and the church elders two months to find, renovate and set up the old Thompkin manse as Jacob Stropwell’s headquarters.

They had surreptitiously made their preparations and then written Stropwell, indicating that they were ready for his arrival. Now, he had arrived. He had chanced upon Avalon Paige. He had discovered her witch’s garden and he was ready to begin his scourge of the village. He prayed for guidance, and for the strength to face his old foe. “Once more into the fray.” He spoke aloud but Wilton, inured to his outbursts, merely continued to goad the roan onwards.

The large red brick manse stood eerily on a hill top, isolate, even abandoned by trees or shrubs and Stropwell liked its Spartan appearance. When they pulled up to the door Stropwell strode majestically to and through the door. He left the luggage and trunks to Wilton’s charge and set out to explore the house. Once inside he found a fine expansive library with an oaken desk. He oozed into the leather seat and ran his palms over the wealth of hand polished wood. He pictured a chair in front of himself. The naked Avalon Paige sitting across from him broken, ashamed, head downcast, enumerating the lewd and lascivious thoughts, deeds, and rituals that she had experienced. His member again grew erect and taught against his trousers buttons.

Suddenly,Wilton burst through the door to shatter his reveries.

“Done Mr. Stropwell.” Stropwell wanted to be alone to wander the cells, to imagine his dominance of her, to enjoy his musings.

“Wilton. Go into town and procure the items necessary to set up house. Fill the pantry. Stock the barn. Load the wood shed. Charge all we need to the council of elders. I feel we are here for a very long time… A very long time indeed.”

Alone, he began penning his sermon and planning his strategy. The following morning he would ply Smythe and the elders with questions. Before the service he would have to find the local gossip and tongue wag… “Easily done. Easily done.”

A full two hours later Jacob hunched over the massive desk polishing his oration. Wilton absolutely crashed through the library doors. “I saw her. I saw her Mr. Stropwell.” He was beside himself and yammered and stammered on like the lunatic he was. “She….she…she…” and he stroked and pinched his breast. “And she…and she…” He aped disrobing and fondling himself.

The fool had brought himself to arousal. Stropwell rolled his eyes and frowned. “Who, Wilton? Not, not, Miss Paige? Did you see Miss Paige in the throws of passion?”

“No, no the other one, the other one…And she…and she…”

“Her name Wilton. What’s her name?”

“Don’t know. But she…she…”

Stropwell took Wilton’s doughy face in his hands. “When you see her at the service tomorrow, you will point her out to me.” Wilton lathered on about windows, candles, hair, all the time molesting himself. Stropwell pushed him out of the library. “You will point her out tomorrow… Good night Wilton.”

He closed the double doors and turned to rest his back against them. Gradually a sadistic smile grew to overtake his features.

The entire town assembled for morning services at the community church. Rumors and whispers had covered the populace like a shroud. Rumors and whispers slipped through the cracks in the their doors and windows. Rumors and whispers passed each other and grew in the night. Their constant companions Fear and accusation were close by their sides.

Thus, every member of the community arrived, sat and waited for the mysterious guest speaker. He sat in the front pew, his man Wilton beside him, the reverend Smythe next. The rest of the council members filled the remainder of that bench and the one beside it. Stropwell sat five minutes passed the 8 o’clock start of service: feet shuffled, throats cleared. They waited.

Stropwell finally eased himself up, marched to the podium, turned and stared down the crowd, then began.

“Eve was Satan’s first consort. Naked, she conversed with that loathsome serpent, that slithering embodiment of evil, sensuality, depravity. With his fowl teachings she tempted and infected Adam. She led us all into this den of iniquity. But she has many sisters. She has many sisters”

He had hit his stride now and ranted, raved, cajoled for an hour. He was a spellbinder and the townsfolk sat transfixed . He had led the crowd deeply into the topic of witches and warlocks. Just when he seemed to be running out of steam and the crowd was breathing normally again he set off the grand explosion.

“We have one among us. YOU.” He screamed and pointed a bony finger at Avalon Paige. “Hold her. Bar the door... Avalon Paige. I accuse you of practicing and promoting witchcraft… Consorting with the devil… Planting his garden… Wandering naked through the countryside… Talking with animals…Plotting with savages…And a host of various crimes and misdemeanors…Look on her all of you, if you have aught to report visit me at Thompkin’s Manse. Those who cooperate with the Lord will not be suspected of consorting with the Fiend. Watch and report those who oppose me. I will scourge this town and face the Demon. Pray for me my brethren.”

Avalon was held by three of the council members. She struggled more to defend herself than to run. She was overcome with both emotion and indignation. He approached her and brought his face close to hers, within an inch. “Do you notice anyone missing my dear? Have you seen your Aunt or Grandfather today? They are already under lock and key, secure in the manse. They are charged with poisoning your mother and father and raising you as a witch. Your entire support structure of evil is crumbling my dear...A house built on sand...a house built on sand." Ned Bunce the blacksmith and one of the council had clamped his huge hand over her mouth and struggle as might,she could make no reply.

A child Beth Williams stood close to Avalon and stared in shocked amazement. She had a red-wine birth mark the size of a penny on her forehead. Stropwell halted his harangue and stared at her. “How long has she had that?” He pointed at the child’s mark. The mother Arabella Williams, flew into a panic. Not her Beth she thought. I must save her. Her mind flew about the stifling room. An idea. An escape. Where?

“It was her.” She pointed at Avalon. “When Beth was a baby, she touched her forehead and that mark appeared. It has never gone away. It was her. The witch did it.”

Stropwell smiled and patted the child on the head. He turned to Mrs. Williams. “You will come and see me.”

Wilton began pulling frantically at his arm. “Her…her…Its her…” Wilton spun Stropwell around and there nipping out, through the backdoor of the church Stropwell caught site of a woman’s frock.

“Who is that who just left?” Stropwell demanded.

“Why, that is Miss Harper. Miss Sasha Harper” The vicar announced.

Stropwell turned his cold grey-eyed stare back upon Miss Paige. “Take her to the manse gentlemen. Wilton will show you her quarters. Perhaps Rev. Smythe you will accompany me home for further consultation. Stropwell’s work had begun.

It had been a restless night for Avalon, despite visiting the stable, which usually calmed her. Dreams, visions, nightmares, and then the relentless storms, all conspired against her, not allowing her to sleep soundly, barely allowing her to sleep at all.

Images of witches and devils, monsters and demons, angels and snakes, all invaded her mind. She sat up in bed, the light of dawn having yet to break, the last of the storms thundering in the distance. Avalon was bathed in sweat, her heart rapidly pounding in her chest. She was not a witch... Witches were horrible people who cast spells and talked to the underworld. Disease and pestilance followed witches.

Avalon healed animals and people, when allowed. She taught children and grew flowers. She cast no spells, concocted no potions, other than healing teas and ointments. But the prevading thought that... that Man, whoever He was, that had confronted her, indeed thought her a witch.

She considered not going to church that morn. But, she chided to herself, that would only make her look even more suspect, more guilty. Surely a real witch would never set foot in the house of the Lord, yet she went every Sunday morning, and often repeated the teachings of the Reverand to the native children she schooled.

The church was overflowing, and talk, murmerings, and chatterings, abounded within. Avalon had stopped at her Aunt's house to ask if she would like to walk to church with her, but her Aunt was no where to be found. Forget her Grandfather, he had stopped going years ago. Avalon stood at the back of the church, looking for her Aunt, but amidst the crowd of people she could not see her. Odd, she thought, as she sat down toward the back, nodding a polite hello to Sasha as she passed. Avalon did not keep company with many in town, but she did like Sasha.

It was hot, and stifling, inside the crowded sanctuary, as all went silent when the guest, the same Man that had confronted Avalon the day prior, took to the alter and began His sermon. She stared in wide eyed disbelief as He took passages from the Holy Book and twisted them, telling firey stories that meant to enflame and downright terrify the simple people who sat before Him.

“Eve was Satan’s first consort. Naked, she conversed with that loathsome serpent, that slithering embodiment of evil, sensuality, depravity. With his fowl teachings she tempted and infected Adam. She led us all into this den of iniquity. But she has many sisters. She has many sisters”

“We have one among us. YOU.” He screamed and pointed a bony finger at Avalon Paige. “Hold her. Bar the door... Avalon Paige. I accuse you of practicing and promoting witchcraft… Consorting with the devil… Planting his garden… Wandering naked through the countryside… Talking with animals…Plotting with savages…And a host of various crimes and misdemeanors"

Avalon's eyes went wide as she was grabbed from the pew she was sitting within, strong fingers digging into her soft, tender flesh. "WHAT?" she managed to scream out, but that was all she was allowed to blurt out, as a meaty hand, that of Ned Bunce, the Blacksmith, a big burly guy who tended to leer at all the young, single women of the town. As Ned silenced her and pulled her back against him, Avalon, to her horror, could feel his.... excitement.

“Do you notice anyone missing my dear? Have you seen your Aunt or Grandfather today? They are already under lock and key, secure in the manse. They are charged with poisoning your mother and father and raising you as a witch. Your entire support structure of evil is crumbling my dear"

That Man, her Accuser, Jacob Stropwell, stood before her, His face mere inches from hers. She stared up into His eyes, her golden hues locked in His flickering gaze. She could see the evil growing within, she knew then, that He was no man of the Lord, yet she could not say anything in her defense, as Ned's hand tightened over her mouth.

Stropwell, a moment later, was distracted by a child. Dear God NO, don't let Him focus His evil on a child, Avalon thought frantically. Little Beth Williams, who had to be no more than 5 years old.

“How long has she had that?” He demanded pointing at the small birthmark upon the girl's forehead.

Avalon remembered when Beth was born, her mother had panicked upon seeing the birthmark, thinking it was a sign of deformity, or worse, of a curse. She had come to Avalon and her Aunt, on the sly, in the mid of the night, to ask about it. Avalon's Aunt had assured her that it was nothing more than a gathering of blood vessels close to the skin's surface, and that it, in no way was a deformity, nor a curse. In fact, her own neice had one, and she had beckoned Avalon over to show her. Her own was upon the back of her thigh, a almost star shaped stain much like the baby's. Avalon had indeed touched the baby's forehead, then her own mark. As a friendly gesture, nothing more. but now......

It was her.” The mother pointed at Avalon. “When Beth was a baby, she touched her forehead and that mark appeared. It has never gone away. It was her. The witch did it.”

WHAT???? Avalon struggled against the men holding her, especially Ned Bunce, trying to protest, her muffled cries not making much headway. Ned, grunted in her ear, clearly enjoying the curve of her ass moving against his now rock hard cock.

Sasha slipped past the commotion, and Avalon caught her eye quickly before turning her gaze back to Stropwell. But Sasha did not slip past fast enough, and Avalon saw Wilton's reaction, and heard Stropwell question the Vicar. Were they going to go after her as well??

Avalon was then dragged off, the other 2 men releasing her arms and letting Ned, the Blacksmith, carry her, kicking and struggling, out of the church. His grunts in her ear were making her sick, not to mention the evidence of His excitment that was pressing into her. He tightened His arms about her wiggling body, one large hand still over her mouth, the other, coming to rest upon her breast, fondling slightly for a moment before dropping to her belly...

This is a nightmare, Avalon thought, it has to be a nightmare.

The Rev. Smythe sipped his tea and munched hot buttered scones luxuriating in Stropwell’s company. Peter Smythe a portly and relatively simple man had never possessed the powers of oration, which Jacob Stropwell had recently displayed in their tiny church. The good reverend was basically an asexual man; but, something in Jacobs’s delivery, or his content, had stirred even his tiny pecker into motion. He had thanked the Lord for his seated position as Jacob graphically revealed the wanton behavior of Satan’s sisterhood. Now he bathed in the spellbinder’s company in what can only be described as: “hero worship”.

As usual, Jacob Stropwell was speaking... pontificating, might best describe his actions. “I do like that strapping fellow Ned Bunce. He performed the Lord’s duties with aplomb and enthusiasm. I should like to employ him permanently to serve with Wilton as … what shall I call them?… Guardians, yes, yes, to serve as guardians. Is there an equally enthusiastic and physical female to help me with any warlocks who may come under investigation? It would be unnatural for me to examine male bodies for signs of the devil’s contract: a freckle pattern, a black mark, treble knots in the pubic hair, any abnormality in the genitalia…external or internal Smythe, external or internal. There is always a mark, often several and one must spend ages poking, prodding examining, an endless task, an endless task . You will pray for me Smythe, will you not? If you but knew the bouts of temptation, the constant peril I must endure.” Here he reached for a kerchief and dabbed his eye and forehead.

Rev. Smythe was visibly moved and shaken by his idol’s devotion, his goodness. Once again, however, Smythe thanked the Lord that he was seated.

“The “Fiend” never sleeps Smythe. What a coup it would be if he could bend me to his ways. Perforce, I must know every deed every impurity he employs and he endeavors mightily to pull me into his world with each interview. I must steel myself Smythe. Steel myself do you hear?” He pored them both a snifter of brandy and rattled on.

Inside, Stropwell was like a seven-year-old boy; forced to lie in bed on Christmas morning till mommy and daddy called. For downstairs in one of his cells was Avalon Paige completely at his mercy. He ached to begin the process. Yet, Smythe was an important player in his drama. Stropwell also felt the need to be seated behind his desk as he dwelt on the vision of Avalon Paige. He sunk into the leather chair and leaned on his elbows.

“Tell me, have you found my three assistants…suitably staunch, avenging Christians, straight backed, unflinching, brave enough to look temptation squarely in the eye?”

“I have a list of seven, my dear fellow, and would dearly love you to make the final choice. Everyone on the council readily volunteered. I am at crossroads as to whom you may need.” Smythe produced a list and placed it on the desk.

“Tell me what you know of this Sasha Harper.” Queried Stropwell.

“Well she lives alone. She is engaged to Harris Constine who is studying abroad. She is a village beauty. Harris Constine once fancied my own daughter, Bella, but turned as if possessed to the raven haired Sasha Harris. She is the closest thing to a friend that Avalon Paige has in the village. They walk the countryside together. She...” Stropwell interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

“Enough, enough, I have done this long enough to read the signs. Take Wilton and Bunce with you as you leave. Lead them to her home and have her arrested and brought to me. Wilton and Bunce are to lock her up, removed from Avalon Paige. The first time I see her will be our first interview. I have much to do Smythe my dear fellow. Do you mind?” He stood and motioned toward the door.

“No, no, quite right…I must away. Forgive me.” He stuffed the remainder of his scone into his face and swilled back his tea.

“Oh and please post a notice in the Village Square requesting any and all information about the two suspects… Avalon Paige and Sasha Harper. Any assistance in the Lord’s work will bear reward etc. etc. I leave the wording to you.” Stropwell dismissed the compliant prelate.

Stropwell prepared the library fastidiously. He placed the straight back, wicker seated chair, in the middle of the room, directly across from where he would be seated. Several times he sat behind the oaken desk and ensured that he was afforded a full and complete view. He adjusted the chair placing it accordingly and severally until he was satisfied. Were he not a Puritan pillar of society, he would have hummed or whistled as he worked. He was that happy - that pleased with himself.

Wilton and Bunce had returned ten minutes ago. He ascertained by the heel thumping and scuffling, by the muffled squeals and muttered curses that the pair was successful in the capture of the witch Sasha Harper. It had taken them some time to maneuver her down the stairs and into her cell. Stropwell closed his eyes and envisioned the struggle. Either of the two muscle-bound oafs could performed the job easily alone; but both enjoyed manhandling and wrestling the writhing girl into subjugation over and again. Just as Bunce had enjoyed Avalon Paige’s struggling body this morning. Jacob leered and imagined the tussle. His loyal minions deserved their rewards.

When the din subsided, Stropwell pulled the bell cord and presently both Wilton and Bunce appeared at the double doors. “Fetch the accused Avalon Paige to me gentlemen. We begin.” He sat at the desk and spread the new "Elmville" ledger open before him. He arranged the ink and various quills, blotters, quill knife, holders, efficiently before him. He was in the process of this exacting task when the door quietly opened and Wilton guided Avalon into the room then silently withdrew. He kept his head down for effect when he heard the girl ushered into the room. He wondered what she made of the ropes, thongs, a shift, various instruments and paraphernalia arrayed on the library table, which dominated the left side of the room. He allowed her ample time to digest the room and its contents. He painstakingly continued to arrange his writing gear.

“Sit down my dear.” He spoke calmly, kindly.

Finally, he looked up at the accused. She refused his invitation as he had anticipated. Stropwell smiled a wan little smile and tinkled a tiny bell on his desk. Wilton and Bunce entered directly behind the girl. “I’d like her seated.” Stropwell requested maintaining that even and friendly tone. The fowl pair grabbed her above the elbow both ensuring an accidental brushing and rubbing of her marvelous breasts in the process and ushered her to the chair. She was a rag doll in their hands and she was flopped unceremoniously into the seat.

“Do you intend to stay seated my dear?” asked Jacob politely. Bunces massive callused hand fell upon her right shoulder. “You may wait outside gentlemen.”

“If you indeed belong to the devil and have sided with ‘The Fiend’ against God and all Christian souls. He has marked your body. Your body will indeed be a veritable record of your indiscretion. Marks and signs will appear and disappear. It is for this reason alone, my dear that we will conduct these interviews with you in your natural state. Naked. It is a discomfort which we will both have to endure.”

Stropwell patiently smiled again at her negations. He repeated his vile lesson for a second time. He rang the dainty puter bell which sat menacingly on the desk beside his writing implements.The pair of brutes entered immediately.

“I’d like her naked.” Wilton smiled his eyes finally showing some sign of life and Bunce began to drool. The pair advance towards her. Bunce’s ham of a hand flew to the top of her bodice and he tore the material away in a trice. His erection strained powerfully, obviously, against his trousers front. Wilton’s hand was down the back of her long cinched skirt fumbling for clasps, hooks, buttons. Fascinated and deeply aroused Stropwell watched the three struggle. When he ascertained that she understood her position. He intervened.

“Wilton, Bunce,” Stropwell called off the lecherous molesters and they stood back panting with lust. “Does that mean…? You may wait outside gentlemen… No further outbursts Miss Paige…You will strip or they will strip you.” He waited.... leering at Miss Avalon Paige.

~ Avalon was dragged from the church, and gagged and blindfolded, she was carried away. Confused, she cried and whimpered and begged beneath the gag stuffed into her mouth, but to no avail, if they heard her they ignored her. More than likely her beggings and cries were only exciting him more, Ned Bunce that is, who was still carrying her, and letting his hands take free liberty as he did so. He had her now slung over his shoulder, like a sack of potatoes. Mattered not that she was raking his back with her nails. He was a blacksmith, after all, used to shards of molten metal sometimes burning into his skin. He was scarred and oblivious to her struggling. He was much to interested in sliding his hand up and under her skirts as he carried her, this only making her struggle and wiggle and squirm on his shoulder even more. The higher his hand got, the more she shuddered and wailed under the gag.

He found it quite amusing and arousing... But all too short lived, for he arrived at the Keep, and she was to be deposited into one of the newly constructed cells in the darkness of the basement. He dared not ..... hesitate... even tho his raging hardon screamed for attention. Would He, meaning Stropwell, even notice if He took a little... feel... opted for a kiss.. maybe even............................. Bunce let his thoughts run away with him, and a moment later, much to his own humiliation and disgrace, he filled his trousers with his own ejaculate, and he hadn't even touched himself.

That convinced him beyond any shadow of a doubt that Avalon was a witch, and with his lust momentarily sated, he threw her into the cell, slamming the door after her.

Avalon's breath was knocked from her, and she lay there, stunned, dazed, and completely confused and terrified after the morning turn of events. Even Beth's mother had called her a witch... what was happening? What had she done so horrible??

It took her some time to finally calm her racing heart, and mind. She managed to sit up but could not look around to see where she was. The blindfold was still tightly in place. The gag however, just a bandana, was easy enough to loosen and push free of her lips, she taking several deep needed breaths. Stropwell had told her that both her Aunt and Grandfather were imprisoned, but when she called out, she got no answer. She heard nothing. She was all alone... alone and completely terrified.

It felt like hours, so many hours, that she had been left in the cell, in the dark, blindfolded. She had gotten to her feet and walked the perimeter, had called out several more times but gotten no answer. She had cried and prayed, had begged and whimpered. Still... nothing. Until now. She heard a door, then the heavy thudding of boots.

She could not see who grabbed her, not until her blindfold was slipped free. She saw 2 men. One was Ned Bunce, once again. The other she was not so sure, but thought maybe it was the man who had come to town with her Accuser... Stropwell.

It mattered not to her, she was lead from the cell. At least with the other man there, Ned, was not pawing at her. But the thought of what he had been doing, where he had been touching, and almost touched, made her sick. She desperately tried to put that out of her mind as she was let up from the darkness of the cellar and into a home, of some sort. She still had no idea where she was, or why... other than the accusation of being a witch, a witch of all things. The thought made her tremble as she is taken into a room.

Her eyes, full of fire, the fire of hatred and fear, alight upon Stropwell, before being drawn to a nearby table. She saw a myriad of things, horrible things, ropes, bindings, leather and steel, things that caused pain, and things that she had never seen before and did not want to know what they were used for. Her eyes widened in fear as she looked back to the Man before her...

“Sit down my dear.” He spoke calmly, kindly
.
She simply stared back at Him, not saying anything, nor making a move to sit. She heard the door behind her open, but still did not move.

“I’d like her seated.” Stropwell requested

Ned Bunce's large hand came to rest upon her shoulder and she was ... seated.... with him standing next to her. Just being this close to him made her sick and she swore she could smell.... smell.... his own arousal on those thick fingers.

“Do you intend to stay seated my dear?”

She nodded. Anything to get Bunce away from her.

Avalon listened to His rantings, about siding with the "Fiend" against all that was Holy. Her eyes betrayed her emotoins, from sheer disbelief to near rage at His accusations. And now, now He wanted to STRIP her??? To check her body for..... Satan's markings???? She was in complete shock, which for the moment overrode her fear.

"You are out of your mind... Sir" she answered, trying to keep her pounding heart under control. She wanted to yell all matter of horrible things at Him, but dared not. "and Your CRAZY"

He paid her no heed, lauching into His tyraid a second time. Repeating Himself. Leering, shouting, preaching. He actually expected her to strip before Him. She did not move. She did not say anything, afraid that whatever came out of her mouth would be misunderstood. And, truth be told, she was absolutely terrified. Her eyes darted around the room, hoping that Reverand Smythe would barge in, would sing her praises, tell him that she was nothing more than a good christian girl. But instead, the soft chime of the bell upon His desk instead brought in Bunce and his other goon... Wilton...

Avalon went white as they stepped toward her... “I’d like her naked.”

Bunce's hand went to her top, grasping and ripping, the soft cotten easily tearing as he pulled. Avalon screamed, she fighting the 2 men as they tore at her garments. They were not delicate, and now both, were aroused. Ned was almost drooling as he grabbed at her bra, pulling it free, hearing the elsatic and cotten tear at the force at which he pulled. She was kicking and screaming, forced to the floor with the 2 men over her, the chair she had been sitting on skittering off and falling with a loud thud. Avalon was crying and begging them to stop... "PLEASE.. please don't do THIS" she begged, but neither Bunce nor Wilton paid her no heed. She felt a hand down her skirt, pulling at the clasps, another, it had to be Bunce, had pushed his fingers beneath her undergarments. He was trying to feel her... FEEL HER SEX....

"PLEASE.... STOP" she screamed... and He answered. “Wilton, Bunce,”

He called them off her, leaving her on the floor, desperately trying to cover herself. her bodice was ripped asunder, material hanging open, her arm over her breasts the only thing holding a thin layer of material over them, her skirt was open in the back, torn in several places, but at least not off her, her undergarments were pulled down. She had managed to curl her legs under her and sit up, if she had been still sprawled on the floor, her underpanties pulled down, her sex would have easily been visiable. Gasping, head down, trying to hold back her tears, she heard, more than saw, Bunce and Wilton leave, the door closing with a heavy thud.

"No further outbursts Miss Paige…You will strip or they will strip you.”

She was shuddering, unable to look up, to meet His eyes. "Please, don't make me do this. I have done nothing to you. I am nothing to you" She finally lifted her head, hoping she would see something, perhaps mercy, in his eyes. Instead she saw...... lust.... evil, hungering lust, as He stared back down at her.

Her mind racing, knowing that at any moment He would call in those 2, and she just could not stomache that, especially not Ned.

Crying quietly, she lowered her arm, letting what was left of her top fall away, exposing her breasts. Both were round and heavy, creamy white skin, smooth and supple, tipped with dark dusky pink nipples, with were swollen slightly. Seemed Ned had managed to pinch them both during the struggle and it was apparent they were aroused. Not looking at Him, she slowly, ever so slowly, got to her feet, letting the torn and open skirt fall... her undergarments already lowered, again thanks to Ned. Her hips curved nicely, taut belly gliding down, to her nether regions, her soft downy hair a dark covering, light and curling, the pink lips still visable beneath. She stepped back, away from Him, looking down, but she had managed to stop shaking.~

Stropwell was delighted with the proceedings. He came from behind the desk resting his backside on the front edge and leaning back upon it giving the appearance of both sitting and standing. He made no attempt to disguise the rampant cock, which he sported as he ogled Miss Avalon Paige. For once, his imaginings had been surpassed by the actuality of the situation. He was enflamed as she battled royally to maintain her modesty. Seeing her twist, turn, swing to ward off the brutes; afforded him snatched glimpses of thigh, breast, buttocks, flashing and ripping material. All this had dredged and fed dark powerful desires deep within his loins.

He breathed as heavily as she as he leaned back and devoured every inch of her naked loveliness. He, a man of God, boiled inside and lost himself in the vision before him. He could not tell for how long he admired each breast with its perfect rose colored nipple, its sculptured roundness. Her sloping belly would tempt St. Paul himself he thought as he sensed its smoothness; and, oh the delicate folds of her vagina a folded flower worthy of the perfumed gardens of Arabia. Yes he was lost in his reverie for some time.

Then, he picked up the bell and looked menacingly at his victim. He held the clapper but fondled the bell as he began to move, towards then around his naked vision. He strode slowly and in a circling pattern enjoying the complete consumption of his breathing statue. Once behind her, he sighed in wonder and awe. Then he saw it. The birth mark, the star. A cruel, lewd leer spread over his features. Again, he continued his circling.

“I will paint you two scenarios, my dear. Scenario number one: I call in Misters Wilton and Bunce who will hold you down as I examine you completely. I will have them manipulate your limbs and position you accordingly till I have performed all my necessary ministration. A complete examination, must..no, will be made of your body. I am answering the call of Christian duty in this. After the examination they will carry you naked back to your cell, where you will wait for your second interview.

Scenario number two: I examine you alone and afterwards I give you this shift to wear and you can be accompanied back to your cell with a supply of candles for light and a bible for your reclamation. In either case all that must be done will be done in accordance with the common practice in these things. Be under no misapprehensions Miss Paige. My exam will be, perforce. external and internal. It will happen either one way or the other. It will make little difference to me, as the necessities will be accomplished.

You may however rather undergo these examinations with me alone or with Wilton and Bunce holding you open. I leave it up to you.”

He stood before her now tapping his foot and fingering the bell. An immense erection pushed out the front of his trousers.

Avalon was horrified... she was naked, before a stranger, being accused of the most heinous of things. And to make matters even worse, even more unbelieveable and horrific, He was now stating, in no uncertain terms, that He would need to... examine her... inside and out... Just how did He perceive to do that????

A disgusting, sickening thought suddenly flashed thru her mind. A vision she could not shake, even as He spoke, ever so calmly before her, His own excitement, erection, arousal, displayed almost... proudly.

“Scenario number one: I call in Misters Wilton and Bunce who will hold you down as I examine you completely. I will have them manipulate your limbs and position you accordingly till I have performed all my necessary ministration. A complete examination, must..no, will be made of your body. I am answering the call of Christian duty in this. After the examination they will carry you naked back to your cell, where you will wait for your second interview."

A look of pure horror must have come over her face as she heard those words, a look He did not see, at least not at first, as He was walking slowly, ever so slowly, around her, circling her like a wolf circles it's prey. His words woven around her, as ethereal as the threads of a spider's web, yet binding, tightening, constricting. And as the images suddenly flashed thru her mind, Wilton, His creepy looking side kick who looked more dead than anything, and Bunce, Ned Bunce, the disgusting blacksmith, with large dirty hands, hands that had already touched her too much, hands that smelled like his own secretions, thick fingers that pinch, that grope, his face, salivating from his lips, looming over her as He and the other, the dead one, hold her down, screaming, forcing open her legs, her pussy, her ass.... touching, probing even after His examinations... the image of Bunce, carrying her naked body over his shoulder, back to the cell... naked.... naked and alone with Ned Bunce... He coming into the cell with her.... holding her down, silencing her screams with his hand as He comes down atop of her, hand, mouth... cock... raping her.... RAPING HER...

"NO.. PLEASE" she cried out, without thinking, stopping Stropwell in His tracks, He staring at her shivering, trembling body....

"Scenario number two: I examine you alone and afterwards I give you this shift to wear and you can be accompanied back to your cell with a supply of candles for light and a bible for your reclamation. In either case all that must be done will be done in accordance with the common practice in these things. Be under no misapprehensions Miss Paige. My exam will be, perforce. external and internal. It will happen either one way or the other. It will make little difference to me, as the necessities will be accomplished."

Tears formed in her eyes as her head dropped, her body shuddering, she unable to cease the shaking.

"I... I have done nothing wrong. Why... why do You persecute me... Please.... I just want to go home... please... release me... my Aunt... my Grandfather"

But her pleadings only fell on deaf ears.

"You may however rather undergo these examinations with me alone or with Wilton and Bunce holding you open. I leave it up to you.”

It was as if He had not even heard her. the only sound from Him was the tapping of His foot. Her voice was nothing more an an annoyance to Him, it was obvious... except of course when she was moaning and screaming His name, which would be soon enough, she just did not realize that at this moment.

Her legs folded under her, as she collasped back onto the floor, at His feet, as He stood looking down at her. She was sobbing, but her voice could be heard, of course at this moment He wanted to hear what she was saying...

"please.... don't bring those 2 men in here... please" she begged.... not looking up... her tears dropping to the floor before her, long dark tendrils of her hair falling forward to shield her face even just a little ~

Sasha sat alone in the cell. She was cold and hungry yet she felt strong. Whatever tribulations were to become of her, she would take and with a calm head. She never shed tears. Even with retribution was acted upon and most violently. Tears were a sign of weakness, and she was by no means weak. Her hearing was acute and from somewhere she could hear voices. She was almost certain that, whomever they belonged to, they were up to no good.

Her thoughts turned to Harris. He would no doubt have been informed of this turn of events. If he, and he would by his virtuous Chiristian beliefs, believed the nonesense they spoke of her, then she would turn to what she knew best. Being the devil's concubine, she could make her way into others lives as easily as she had here.

Her only friend Avalon, had made this transition easier than she thought. How elated she was to find a sister here, in this prudish place. The thoughts of proper and ladylike behavior had sickened her at first but growing accustomed, she had adapted quite well. Yet, to gather the souls to keep her immortal, she had to take and destroy with the most careful of manners.

She was the last of her coven and her life was quickly becoming the treacherous thing she had been trying to escape for the many centuries. Today, she was sought out. Today, someone was looking for her. Today, she was found out. What tomorrow would bring, she was uncertain of. All she could do was plead and pray for the Goddess to save her and keep her unharmed.

Stropwell looked down on the supplicant Avalon Pige with a raging lust in his heart and a cock like a steel rod. He responded casually.

“Ah, you’ve decided then. In case you change your mind, Wilton and Bunce are just outside the door, waiting anxiously I should expect.” He reached down and placed a hand under each of Avalon’s underarms and raised her to her feet.

“The arch enemy of God, brands his own. He makes the patterns difficult to decipher but with enough practice one can learn to perceive the marks. He however is the master deceiver and surprises are always possible.” As he spoke he rounded Avalon and dropped to one knee his face inches from her birth mark. He took his two hands and spread the flesh where the mark appeared, stretching it one way then the other. His thumbs worked away and his fingers wrapped round her leg. One to the outside and the other on the inside of her thigh as he moved his hand he accidentally brushed the folds of her delicate flower. He popped up and strode to the desk fetching a magnifying glass to closer examine the offending flaw. “Um, hm, yes yes yes indeed.

Then he left the mark and moved to her back. Examining every inch of skin, at times with the glass. Then surprisingly he quickly flipped her forward into a touch your toes position. His cock, seeing her like this, throbbed and bounded in his pants and the eye wept out precum, staining his trousers.

“I again ask you to consider, Bunce and Wilton, and act accordingly,” He spoke and then grasped and spread the cheeks of Avalon’s bottom. The beautiful puckered bud tempted Stropwell’s raging cock all the more. He shot his eyes and pictured his long stiff member invading and pumping into the helpless Avalon; the picture included his ponderous ball sack slapping into her cunt again and again. In reality Stropwell’s bony finger pried and then sank deeply into her virgin bottom. He twisted tested and searched using this blunt instrument of torture on his lovely Miss Paige. “The devil’s favored passage,” he spoke to himself as he prodded. The front of his trousers now carried a huge and spreading stain.

He came round to the front of the accused and took each breast one at a time in his hand. He lifted and examined the underside first then worked his way to the spectacular nipples which he spread and stretched like the birth mark and like the birth mark he used the magnifying glass on each. He dropped to his knees and treated her navel in a like fashion. Then, he pushed her back into the chair. The fiend ties treble “Witches Knots” in the pubic hair of his consorts. He opened the girl’s legs and with the glass began to inspect her beautiful cunt. He combed the hair with his fingers. Pulled some hairs out to full length, muttering to himself. After ages suddenly a finger thrust quickly deeply inside Miss Paige’ cunt.

Stropwell’s cock exploded filling his pants with his semen. He rocked and twitched and swayed as he perched between Avalon’s legs, his finger deep deep inside her. He jumped up and grabbed the gray shift from the table. Almost threw a bag containing matches candles and a bible at the girl and told her. “That is all, I will continue later. Get dressed and return to your cell.” He shut his eyes tightly and with sweat gathering on his forehead he began to pray mightily to his protector and Lord.

She felt the heat of His gaze fall upon her as she sat there, crumpled, shaking, and terrified. The image of Ned Bunce kept rolling her thru mind, He groping her, mauling her breasts in those large hands while He loomed over her, pinching her tender nipples with those thick, calloused fingers, His mouth on hers, kissing her, His cock, His thick, heavy cock, pushing into her. She nearly screamed, but managed to keep it inside as Stropwell stared at the trembling figure at His feet.

"Ah, you’ve decided then. In case you change your mind, Wilton and Bunce are just outside the door, waiting anxiously I should expect.” Avalon shuddered, the shiver so intense that it raced up her spine and caused her to moan low, a despairing sound. Stropwell reached under her arms and carefully stood her back to her feet. With her head down, long dark hair hanging before her, she stood there, as He, began a slow walk around her.

“The arch enemy of God, brands his own. He makes the patterns difficult to decipher but with enough practice one can learn to perceive the marks. He however is the master deceiver and surprises are always possible.”

She heard Him murmer, she did not react to that, but did as He dropped to a knee behind her, His breath so close to the back of her thighs, tickling the soft, supple skin there, that she could feel the warmth, the moistness, against her skin. He mummbled and touched.... she whimpering softly as He did so. Her birthmark, He was examining her birthmark, so closely that He actually got up, fetched a magnifying glass and lowered back down behind her. She had tensed when He had done so, His hand having brushed over her nether region. But, He did not show any reaction on His end, not one that she could hear or so or feel, yet. But, she also could not now see the raging stiffness of His cock beneath His trousers. It felt like He was looking at that mark for hours, with an occassinal "hm, yes yes " slipping from His lips.

Avalon closed her eyes in shame, but the worse was yet to come. He stood up, depositing the magnifying glass to the floor. His hands roamed over her back, touching, caressing, trailing lightly along the smooth, unmarred skin. He then placed a hand in the mid of her back and forced her to bend forward at the waist, into a touching her toes position. Avalon gasped "please no"... but His words quickly silenced her... "I again ask you to consider, Bunce and Wilton, and act accordingly,” .... His fingers grasped her ass cheeks, kneading and pressing into the flesh. She bit her lower lip to try and keep from crying out, from begging Him to stop, and for the moment only silent tears flowed and a soft sob was heard... until He pushed His long, slender finger, into the tightness of her ass.

Avalon's eyes snapped open, and she indeed did cry out, "Noooo STOPPPP" ...a yell that rattled the windows. She pitched forward, grabbing the nearby desk to keep her balance, her body shaking uncontrollably as He pushed His finger inside her, inside her virginal ass... “The devil’s favored passage,” she heard Him murmer as He pulled His finger back just a bit and pushed back into the tightness, the muscles wrapping around, throbbing as He invaded her further. Her cry brought both Wilton and Bunce charging into the room and the scene that greeted them was most... arousing. Stropwell was now standing behind her, pressing His hand to the curve of her ass, she was bent over, gripping the desk, her hair a deshelved webbing of darkness that hid her face, moving in tandem with her gasping breaths. Stropwell paid no heed to Bunce or Wilton, continuing to pull His finger out just a little and twist it back into the dry tightness of her ass, while she cried out in pain, humliation, and sheer despair...

He finally pulled His finger free, leaving her bent over, still grasping the desk. Again He did not seem to notice Bunce and Wilton, so intent He was upon His examination. Avalon stood up as Stropwell came around the front of her. Tears stained her face as she looked up at Him.. "please stop" she begged, whispering to Him. But He only smiled. A breast was taken, one at a time. She endured Him fondling, groping, twisting and pinching at her tender nipples, she biting her lower lip to keep from crying out, but the low moaning sounds that escaped her were... unmistakeable, as was the growing wetness that was beginning the dampen her.... between her legs..

Wilton quietly left the room, Bunce following behind, but Bunce did not shut the door right away, still watching as Stropwell fondled first one breast, then the other. His mouth nearly fell open when His new Boss lowered to His knees before the trembling girl and fingered lightly at her naval....

Avalon looked down at Stropwell as He drew close to her naval. He slid a finger around it, then leaned in as if to kiss it... but He merely examined, closely, that cursed magnifying glass in hand once more. Lifting back to His feet, He slowly backed her up to the chair against the wall, a hand to her belly pushed her down, she seated before Him. Once more He lowering to His knees. Avalon was sobbing now, unable to stop what was happening. Stropwell leaned in close, parting her legs widely, easily propping one over one arm of the chair, the other, over the other arm. Ned Bunce's eyes were popping out of his head as he saw the girl's sex, she lewdly open now for any and all to see. Stropwell was a mere nose away from her most intimate of regions. She was warm, wet, glistening droplets clinging to the soft curling hair, cunt lips a deep pinkening in color. The glass set aside, He glides His fingers thru that soft, almost silken hair, hearing the girl whimper. Avalon was desperately trying not to moan, she was shaking, arms crossed over her exposed breasts. She wanted to kick Him in the head, anything to get Him away from her, but she had looked up and seen Ned... watching... and was too terrified to do anything. When Stropwell slipped His long finger inside her, she moaned, gasping, her body reacting. The muscles of her virgin pussy wrapped about that slender length. Unlike her ass where she was dry and throbbing, within her sex she was satin smooth and soaking wet, a pulsing sensation moving over His penetrating finger. Her breath caught, as did that of Ned Bunce.

Wilton grabbed Ned at that moment, pulling him out of the doorway, just as Stropwell shuddered suddenly. His finger still buried inside her, she now crying, He shook, rocked, His finger slipping out for a moment, coated with her fluides, slick and warm... He sliding it back in again without thinking, pentrating her even deeper as she groaned, the tip of His finger finding her virginity intact, shielded, and quivering. He shuddered, as another wave hit Him, His seed spilling, all over His pants, instead of deep inside her heated womb as it should.

She did not realize that He had cum, His cock having released His pent up seed. She herself was fighting with a feeling that scared her... He hurt, yet His finger felt..... different .... inside her sex.... inside her body where He twisted it for a moment, sending jolts of heat to every nerve ending.

He jerked back and to His feet, stumbling away... panting, gasping, leaving her in that chair, splayed open, her pussy lips a deep red, soaking wet, the entrance to her virgin womb almost beckoning Him... He thru the simple grey shift at her, along with a bag.

“That is all, I will continue later. Get dressed and return to your cell.”

His voice almost cracked when He talked, He closing His eyes tightly and not looking at the exposed girl anymore. Avalon was shuddering as much as He was as she got to her feet, slipping the barely covering shift over her nakedness. Clutching the bag, she said nothing, slowly making her way toward the door. Hand on the knob, she opened it, peeking out. She was relieved to find the hall empty, no sign of that dead looking side kick of His, or Ned Bunce. She closed the door behind her and paused. This was her chance, her chance to just run and get out of there. The thought flashed thru her mind like a beacon. Even half naked, she could run to the woods, and get home. But.... He would come after her, or worse.... send Wilton and Bunce. Was that a chance she was willing to take? What of her Aunt... her Grandfather...??

But the decision was taken out of her hands when Ned Bunce came crashing around the corner. He had been watching the door, watching for her. When she emerged into the dark hallway, Ned pounced, grabbing her and forcing her back against the far wall, a meaty hand already over her mouth to stop her from screaming. Avalone screamed anyways, into his hand, the sound muffled, desperate. Ned was just as desperate, red faced and sweating, he was holding her with his body, pinning her to the wall, his hand keeping her quiet, his other hand loosening his breeches and pulling out his raging hard cock. He was going to rape her, right there. He fumbled, trying to push against her, as she squirmed and cried, desperate to break free. He released her mouth with His hand, and grabbed one leg, lifting it from the floor, she trapped against that wall. She tried to scream, the sound coming out as a strangled cry, He covering her mouth with his own in some obscene kiss, as he tried to guide his cock into her still wet pussy.

Avalon, with a last burst of strength, raked Ned's face with her nails, catching him in the eye. He hollared, and let go of her for that moment, and she fell to the floor, scrambling away from him.....

She burst thru the door back into Stropwell's office, slamming the door behind her. He was deep in prayer when she ran to him, crying, nearly hysterical with all that had happened. Ned was thudding around outside the office, but dared not go in after her...

"please... PLEASE.... don't let him touch me... PLEASEEEEEEEE ... I'm begging you..... " she was at His feet, staring up at Him... "PLEASE"

She had no idea the evil that was alight in the eyes of the man whom she begged, or that His arousal had started upon seeing Wilton and Bunce paw at her earlier.

Stropwell had regained his composure after spilling his seed. He prayed, thanking God that he could endure the temptations of the she-devil Avalon Paige. In duty he had to submit himself to sexual encounters, rituals, trials, all in the name of preserving the Good Christian communities in the Lord’s New Jerusalem. With eyes clenched he invoked the blessings of God. The vision, which kept dancing across his mind, however was a splayed Avalon Paige, the folds of her moist pink sex open wide inches from his face. Then would flash her round chiseled bottom, held wide by his exploring hands or prodded by his finger. Her breasts, her naval her silky mons. His long cock still wet and sticky from his recent ejaculation again stirred in his trousers.

The image which brought him to full erection however was of the two brutes, Wilton and Bunce, attacking, tearing, pawing, fondling the struggling girl. Both men with raging hard-ons were lost in their animal lusts. It excited Stropwell deeply to see her fight for her modesty. He allowed himself to imagine what might have been the outcome, had he not called the pair off. A smile induced by this fantasy played over his lips and he felt Avalon Paige grasp him about the legs in begging supplication..

"please... PLEASE.... don't let him touch me... PLEASEEEEEEEE ... I'm begging you..... " she was at His feet, staring up at Him... "PLEASE"

At first Stropwell believed it was still part of his wandering fantasy. He blinked himself to the present and realized that she was in fact clutching at him begging. He caught, through her sobs and cries that Ned Bunce had attempted to rape her in the hallway. Various images shot through his warped mind and he longed to see her violated. The pit of his stomach churned with want and lust.

If you looked at the Thompkin Mansion with a practiced eye, you would see that all of the rooms each single one was a fraction smaller than they had been before. One of Stropwell's demands in the renovation was to have passages built behind each wall, and screens and knot holes placed to afford him ability to spy into every room. Even the prison cells had iron grates over head; he could observe his captives anywhere in the house. Not a single closet provided protection from his voyeur’s gaze. He told himself that the devil performed most of his fowl deeds in the dark and unobserved and he wanted to catch the fiend at work anywhere within his house.

“Ned Bunce, get in here.” He called out suddenly an edge of anger in his voice.

“What happened to you?” he demanded seeing the blood still flow from Bunce’s forehead and across his eye.

“It was her.” Bunce pointed at the accused. “I tried to escort her to her cell, sir. She cried, Rape, Fowl, Help, and all manner of things, sir. Then she scratched me and tore her shift. I was startled and she burst into your room.”

“You have to learn Bunce, that the devils first tactic is always to cause a rift among Gods laborers…You have nothing to fear. None here will believe her. Your words at all times will be taken as the gospel. Do your duty man without fear.” Ned’s face widened into a lecherous grin. He could not believe the fortunate position he was in. Avalon Paige at his mercy. No one to question him or believe her accusations.”

Stropwell noted the brute’s reaction to this freedom and next set up a little show for himself. “If she will resort to violence she must be bound. Wilton…. “He called the second oaf into the room. He then had a huge standing frame was pulled out from against the wall. It looked like a massive doorframe with pulleys and manacles at the four corners. “Secure, her.”

Her struggles were to no avail and Stropwell loved the way she finally looked, spread into an “X.”

“Wilton and I have work to do. We will be absent for two hours. We have Miss Sasha Harper to interview. You Ned will keep an eye on Miss Avalon Paige while we are gone. He grabbed Wilton by the arm and yanked him out of the room. He told Wilton to go observe Miss Harper. Stropwell could tell Wilton was obsessed with Miss Harper ever since he had seen her fondling herself. He saw Wilton dash off to view the object of his lust and then Stropwell entered the room adjoining the library. A locked door in this room lead to the passageways. He unlocked the door and was soon peering into the library undetected. His hand had already worked its way down the front of his trousers.

“You have to learn Bunce, that the devils first tactic is always to cause a rift among Gods laborers…You have nothing to fear. None here will believe her. Your words at all times will be taken as the gospel. Do your duty man without fear.”

Avalon eyes widened, she had a look of pure horror alight in her eyes, across her face.

"Do your duty man without fear."

He was going to let him rape her. He was CONDONING IT. "No... NOOOO" she screamed, scrambling to her feet in a vain attempt to get away, get away from this nightmare, this nightmare that was about to turn into ...................."NOOOOOOOOOO" she howled.

Wilton, having been called in by his Master, and Bunce grabbed her, easily restraining the hysterical, kicking, screaming, struggling Avalon. She was secured to the X, still fighting and crying, begging Stropwell for mercy. "Please.... PLEASE.. Mr. Stropwell.. please. Don't let him, DON'T LET HIM... MERCY... PLEASE"... her words coming in great sobbing gasps, tears freely flowing down her reddened cheeks. Ned was leering at her, he hardly able to contain himself.


But her beggings, her pleadings for mercy, fell on deaf ears.


"Wilton and I have work to do. We will be absent for two hours. We have Miss Sasha Harper to interview. You Ned will keep an eye on Miss Avalon Paige while we are gone"

"Ohhhhh Goddddd" she cried as both Stropwell and Wilton turned and left the room, leaving her nearly naked, secured to the X, with Mr. Ned Bunce. Her shift, the one that Stropwell had given her to wear, was torn, one breast exposed, the other barely covered. Never mind that it was short as well, barely coming down over her ass and the front of her thighs which were now lewdly splayed open in this X postion.

Ned licked his lips, approaching her slowly, one step at a time. He had a whole 2 hours, and he was going to use those 2 hours. The closer he got, the more Avalon screamed, cried, begged.

"Damn it slut.. SHUT THE FUCK UP" Ned roared. He looked around for a moment, actually taking his eyes off her barely covered body, searching... searching.. ahh.. there it was, a simple thing, a child's ball with a leather tether meant to tie it in place... a ball gag. Ned fetched it from the table where all the other, paraphenalia that Stropwell had laid out was displayed. Ned shoved the ball into Avalon's mouth, cutting off her desperate scream, and tied the leather behind her head, effectively silencing her save for her now muffled sounds, which to him sounded like moans of passion and need, at least that was what he convinced himself they were. He cared less actually.

Ned stood in front of the bound girl, staring, leering at her. Avalon tried to scream, the sound was nothing more than a low groan from behind the gag.

Ned leaned into her, and to her horror, she could feel arousal thru his pants, pressing against her... Ned smiled at her, He feeling her body tense. His large meaty hands came up, each grabbing a breast, he freeing the other one from the meager confines of the shift, which now only hung from her waist. His breathing became a little ragged as his hands now kneaded and fondled first her right breast and then her left, his thick fingers pressing into the soft pliant flesh.

"sssstop... please" she tried to beg from behind the gag, but the sound was nothing more than a gurgle and that only made him laugh, a savage, obscene sound, in her ear. Her nipples, already sensative and peaked from being examined by Stropwell, were now what interested him.

Ned had always been rebuffed when approaching the ladies of Elmville. Oh he had raped one or two or three in his time, but it was always an ugly, rutting expierence, where he really had no chance to..... enjoy... himself in anything other than the actual act. This time, he had 2 whole hours to enjoy....

Ned began pinching each tender nipple, feeling them warm to his touch as she squirmed and struggled, staring at him. Rolling the swelling peak between his thick thumb and forefinger, brought forth a mournful, and what Ned took as aroused moan from beneath the ball gag. Avalon could feel the sensation racing thru her, as he manipulated her nipples, rolling, pinching and groping her breasts.

His breath was hot, and disgusting against the side of her neck where Ned nuzzled at her, His grunts vibrating along the skin, making her cringe. She closed her eyes as he continued what he was doing, He painfully pinching her right nipple, feeling the warmth in his fingers as he rolled and pulled at it, enjoying the cry from beneath her gag. "Ahhh yes, I like those sounds, those moans, yessss" he grunted in her ear, his breath warm and moist, the feeling slithering thru her. Avalon trembled against him as her body fought off the senstaions he was was causing her, her lips quivering against the gag that was pushed between..

"ahhhhh yes, feel that nipple respond" he taunted her, as his hand moved to her left nipple. She could feel both throbbing with every wild, terrified beat of her heart.

He smiled at her, a dirty, obscene smile, and before she could react, or even realize what he was going to do, that dirty, smiling mouth was latched onto her left nipple. She screamed under the gag, to no avail. No one would ever hear the muffled sound accept him. No one was there to help her, save her, even if one had been able to hear her. He pressed against her, her back hard against the wooden X that held her at his mercy. Cupping her breasts in his hands, he suckled and bit at her nipple. Avalon writhing and struggling, but that only seemed to excite Ned all the more. She was helpless, bound and gagged, helpless for him to use. Just that thought made him harder than he had ever been before, his cock was aching as he suckled at her, enjoying the feeling of her taut nipple in his mouth. He pulled on it with his lips, suckling hard, like a babe trying to feed, grunting around it. Her nipples were large, just as her breasts were, and it was obvious he loved it. He ran the thumb of his other hand over her other nipple as he nursed from her, getting it more aroused... more.. ready... for him. He pulled from her left, and devoured her right, suckling so hard that he left a deep red marks around both her nipples... He kneading the breast as he did so, as if wanting milk from it. His body pressing into her as she struggled and whimpered, her nipples burning and aching from him.. her skin was flush, warm... and ... she was getting wetter... Avalon's body was betraying her, it was something she could not help, nor stop.

His teeth sank back into her left nipple once more, Avalon sobbing, moaning beneath the gag to the burning sensations that were shooting thru her. Her nipples were deep red, swollen, yet Ned would not let up. He was feasting on her, but.... it would get worse, so much worse.

Ned shoved one hand down between her spread legs. She tried to scream again under the gag, but his own moans overshadowed any sounds she could make. His fingers found her sex. Ned paused, releasing her nipple and looking at the captive girl. He was surprised to find her... wet. "ahhhh... slut" He grinned, and one might have thought he would just plunge a finger or 2 right into her, but he did not. Instead he began an obscene stroking, slow and deliberate as he relaxed his mouth around her nipple... releasing it and licking with the very tip of his tongue. Ned had a lot of time to plan what he would do to a captive woman, in his dreams and fantasies. This was his dream come true. Stropwell was his god now, Ned worshipped the man for giving him this chance, this fantasy.


Avalon's body, bound as it was, could still move some, and her hips did, slowly rocking to the motion, her body moving without the benefit of her mind telling it too. His hand felt... good... the massaging, caressing, felt... good. She was disgusted with herself, but could not deny that it did not.... hurt... at least.

Avalon had masterbated before, using her own hands. It was not something she would ever admit, but Ned's hand was bringing forth the same pleasureable feelings her own did, only more intense. Her breathing became ragged as he continued stroking, his rough fingertips finding and arousing her clit. "Ahhhh... now I see what you like" he grunted as he felt her trembling, felt her becoming wetter and wetter. With a thick middle finger, he circled her clit, watching her eyes go wide as she tried to hide what it was doing to her. He only smiled, a dirty, toothfilled grin, and let that finger press to that tender swelling clit.

He had once watched his father mount and fuck his mother, and when he had asked his father what he was doing, his father had said, "fucking" but then he had elaborated, taking his son to his own naked mother and showing him where to touch, and how, to make her moan. "her clit son, and her nipples, use your fingers, your mouth" he had said. Ned had never forgotten. He had experimented on his mother, until she died. Raping the screaming girls had never let him experiment again, they fought to much, til now. Til Avalon.

He leaned his head in and began kissing her neck, as if he were her lover, his lips wet and lewd, gliding along the curve of her throat. His finger moved back into the folds of her sex, searching, and locating that tight entrance... slowly... deliberately.. he began to push that thick middle finger into her. She cried out under the gag, tears flowing from her eyes. A muffled "no.. NOOOO" could be heard, but again, only by him. But he did not stop, ever so slowly he let that finger push within the warmth of her. He finally stopped, about 3/4 of the way in. She was shuddering. Her wetness dripping down his penetrating finger and over his knuckles.

Ned was groaning against her neck, his hips pushing his raging hardon against her thigh while he fingered her. He pulled his finger out, then slide it back in, deeper this time, back out again and back in as she cried.

"enough of this" he grunted, pulling his hand from between her legs. Then he remembered what his father had said. "Use your fingers and mouth son, not just your cock".

He remembered his mother, how she loved when he used his mouth on her. Ned dropped to his knees before the splayed Avalon, she looking down in horror. She shook her head wildly.... as Ned's face came closer and closer to her sex. Reaching up, his fingers opened her, and Ned saw her clit, swollen, reddened, it looked just like his mother's had. His tongue danced out to touch, lick, and Avalon tensed, shuddered, her eyes going to the ceiling overhead as she moaned into the gag. The sensataion was like nothing she had ever felt before. Ned was in extasy, unable to control himself, he devoured her.


Avalon was helpless as he feasted upon her, his tongue now thrusting into her dripping wet sex.. wiggling and tasting, licking along the slit, teeth raking her clit. The feelings that were exploding thru her were confusing and uncontrollable and she found herself rocking to his mouth, her hips beginning to roll slowly... "That's it" she heard him grunt, he using one hand to open the folds of her cunt and expose the dark, swollen peak of her clit again. He flicked his tongue over it, feeling her shudder, hearing her groan.. he continued to flick his tongue over it, then taking it into his lips for a light suckle. She was trembling, quaking, and moaning continuously now.. he thrust his thick finger back into her, his tongue circling that pulsing clit of hers, his breath warm over it..

Avalon could not help what happened, the wave of pure pleasure that shot thru her, that made her shudder almost violently upon that X, she bit down on the ball gag as she came, a spilling of sweet fluids rewarding Ned for his... actions. Hungrily he lapped at what she fed him, drinking from her, feeding from her orgasm as her body shook against the bindings that held her.

Ned pulled back, gasping, as Avalon panted, head hang down, her body limp in her bindings. He stood, smiling, her own juices now smeared across his lips and chin. He lifted her head with a finger under her chin, staring into her eyes. His smile was... evil.

With his other hand, he free'd his now raging hard cock.

He stood back, looking at the bound girl. Then He quickly, and easily, free'd her legs. Avalon had no strength to try and kick at him, not after that shuddering orgasm. Ned quickly wrapped first one leg about him, then the other. Grabbing his cock in hand, he rocked forward and into the struggling, writhing, gagged Avalon. His thick hard cock forcing it's way into the well lubed, slick, wet,tight entrance of Avalone Paige's body, into her virginal sex.

Ned sneered as he felt the barrier that marked her as a true virgin, and reared back, his cock slipping from her raped sex, he plunged forward and broke thru, tearing, her blood spilling over his cock, slick and warm. Avalon arched her back in pain, her legs tightening around his hips as he rocked all the way inside her, feeling the silken walls of her sex embrace him, wrapping tightly around him. A scream tried to erupt from her throat and thru the gag that she viciously was biting down on.. the sound a vibrating moan that shook thru her whole body. Her sex spasmed around him, the muscles adjusting to his length and size.. her sheath slick and tight.

Ned's lust and arousal were now in full control, he grabbing her hips.... his own hips bucking forward and back as he takes her, fucks her... his cock coated slick with her own lubrication and blood... her body shuddering with every hard thrust.. her breathing comes in rythmic gasps to his pounding. She was vice like tight, wrapping around his cock with every plunge into that wet hole... his balls slapping wetly against her ... His own breathing comes in grunts and groans as he fucks her... bodies rocking.... she writhing... he ramming deeper and deeper into her body... the head of him slamming into her cervix.. making her face contort in pain and pleasure, a obscene combination... He smiled down at her as he raped her, her own juices dripping from his lips.

It did not take Ned long, his hard bucking into her increasing in speed... he ramming, pounding into her, the feel of her body against him, her legs wrapped tight about his waist, her pussy open to him, filled with him, no it did not take him long.... "ahhhhh YESS" he groaned when he knew he was about to cum, Ned reached down with one hand and began to manipulate her clit once again, her eyes snapping open and staring at him... "STOP... " she screamed in her mind.... "don't... DON'T MAKE ME CUM AGAIN" her mind screamed over and over... but her clit and her body and him inside her betrayed her, and just as he exploded into her, filling her spasming pussy with a heated spray of his seed, she too climaxed again, the sheath of her sex clenching him, milking him as he pulsed and throbbed inside her. Avalon sobbed, feeling him fill her, dirtying her, she was gasping around the gag as her own orgasm only heightened his.

Ned collasped to the floor, his cock leaking the last of his seed, dripping from her own thick juices. He was panting, red faced and sweating.

Avalon lowered her head, letting the tears slowly trail down her cheeks. Her body was limp and quivering, a mingling of blood and cum, her and Ned's, ran down the inside of her thighs.

Ned looked up, seeing that the 2 hours were nearly up. He did not bother to clean Avalon up, but did disappear into the bathroom to clean himself up. He emerged, his face still a bit red, his hair a bit dishelveled, but otherwise looking none the worse for wear, other than being completely sated. As the hour chimed, marking the 2 hours that Stropwell and Wilton had been gone, Ned stepped over to Avalon, pulling back her head and releasing her of the gag. He did not bother to rechain her legs, leaving them hanging. She whimpered when the gag was pulled free, and Ned took that moment to crush his lips to hers in a deep kiss...

Neither saw nor heard the groaning Stropwell, who had orchestrated and watched the entire incident from His hiding place in the walls... ~

Lying on the cold floor, she heard the footsteps. Quieting her breathing, she listened as they approached. She fained sleep as she steeled herself for the intruder yet that did not happen. She smelled the familiar scent of arousal and was without a doubt certain this was her captor.

She slowed her breathing even more until there was no sound except the lewd breathing of the man outside her cell. Suddenly, the hinges started to moan as he opened the cell where she was. Motionless, she quickly began prayer working her spell as silenly as death, Yet he proceeded inside and was upon her within seconds. Still, she lay, her dress torn in tatters around her.

She felt his hand brush the tops of her buttocks and down to the hem of her dress before pushing upwards bringing the fabric with it. As the candle light revealed her shaply toned legs, the man let out a moan and she knew that he would not stop until he was satiated. The shift she was wearing under her dress was now displayed and within seconds it to was pushed over her head exposing the nakedness underneath.

She lay on her side, motionless as she heard the buckles of his breeches come undone and them hitting the floor. Knowledge seized upon her as she realized he was going to invade her. Harris was the only person she had lain with and that was at the promise of marriage. Yet, here she lay, this may about to invade the depths of her body.

The warmth of his hands touching her, making their way inside the warmth of her inner most crevices sickened her. What made the act vile, he was, she assumed, jerking his tool. Accepting this, she lay still and allow his rough fingers to violate her flower. In and out his rough hands probed quickening his pace to that of his own flagrant masturbation.

She was aware she too was becoming aroused and that noting could stop this act until it was in a sense consumated. She took the abuse. She shed not a tear. She lay still letting the warmth of his seed run down her thigh as he moaned his release. Pulling his now wet fingers from inside her with an audible plop, he quickly pulled her garments back over her legs and righted them as best he could. Leaning to her face, she could smell the sour stench of his breath.

"Would have fucked you witch. Could have fucked you whore. God has plans for demon wenches as yourself he do" he said and slapped her face hard. She could just make him out and was shocked in realization that this was the man she had seen from her window. He was the man that she had also seen in church as well as the man that had taken her from her home. His name she thought was Wilton but she was unsure. She was suddenly seized with an emotion she was not accustomed to. Fear. Still, she did not so much as move yet continued her silent vigil to the Goddess. She would have her retribution. He would pay. What she failed to realize that what just happend would be the smallest of violations. She would know violations beyond that of the most twisted of minds soon.

Stropwell was amazed at the amount of semen he had produced within an eight hour span. He had involuntarily spilled his seed into his trousers as he examined Avalon Paige. Such a burning arousal had caused his member to shoot untouched, absolutely untouched. An phenomenon he had never before experienced. This miraculous orgasm convinced Jacob that Avalon Paige was witch indeed.

Then, oh then, the breathtaking scene enacted before his prying eyes in the library. Stropwell had stood thrashing and flogging his insistent member as Bunce
felt, suckled, fingered, licked, and finally took the restrained and splayed witch. Her eyes, he kept returning to her eyes as they widened and registered fear, loathing, even passion. From her eyes to her sex, to her nipples, to his prodigious member penetrating those lovely thighs which wrapped round his waist.

Where in the name of heaven did an oaf like Bunce learn to manipulate nipple and clitoris with his hands and tongue. How did a man like him learn to bring a woman, unwilling as she was to orgasm. Stropwell had brought himself to a climax three times during the two hour ordeal. Still he was crestfallen when it was over. He had to see more. His passions were aflame yet and though he lay in bed...resting after his taxing day..his hand once again found his stiff penis and he fondled it lovingly.

He had made Bunce a second Wilton. Wilton who would die for Stropwell and who had performed endless sexual attacks for the inquisitor now had a partner in crime.

"Oh Avalon," Stropwell moaned as his stropping of his cock increased with fervor.."Oh Avalon, I would see you taken by the pair of them" At that Stropwell's overworked testicles produced yet another light squirt of semen.

His day with Avalon and the multiple climaxes Stropwell brought upon himself would have astounded even him; yet, more was awaited his lecherous eyes
and his aching member. In a daze he had wandered down to the cells. The front of his trousers, drenched with his fluids, his mind revisiting the spreading Avalon Paige. He heard, as he meandered, the familiar grunting and huffing of Wilton in one of his throws of passion.

Stropwell knew his own cock was now retired for the day, but he had yet to see the prisoner, Sasha Harper. He slipped into the passages and positioned himself to stare down into her cell, through the overhead grate.

Lying on her back in her cell was the object of Wilton's latest obsession, Miss Sasha Harper. She was darker, leaner, more mysterious looking than Avalon, but Stropwell marveled at Wilton's ability to find and fall in lust with absolutely stunning women. Her raven black hair spread and encircled her face like a black halo and wonder of wonder. She accepted the indignation stoically.

Wilton had her nether regions exposed. A luxurious thatch of black pubic hair struck Stropwell's lurid gaze and he could feel himself begin to actually salivate as he peered between her smooth thighs. Wilton had his cock out and in his hands; a cock more suited to a small horse than a man. He thrashed it and pressed it against Miss Harper's open cunt, manipulating her clitoris with the swollen head of his gigantic penis.

Stropwell perceived, the enemy, sensual arousal, burgeon within the girl unsummoned. And he smiled to see it. To his own amazement he realized that his hand was once again nipping at the head of his own uncircumcised cock. To his unceasing wonder he reached an orgasm at the same time as Wilton.

He then dragged himself to his bed exhausted as we find him now. His bruised and aching penis however, recalling the events of the day once more called for his attention.

Ned Bunce gave Avalon's nipple one last pinch as the deep kiss broke, he grinning down at the helpless girl, his eyes, and his smile, were nothing short of obscene and disgusting. He was satisifed, really satisfied for the first time in his life. He hoped that his new lord and master, Stropwell, would allow him to use Avalon again. He would beg if he had to.

He sat down in the big leather chair that Stropwell favored, it currently faced the limp, used, still bound, Avalon Paige, and made himself comfortable, and shortly, he fell asleep, his snores, a utterly sickening sound, flowing thru the quiet of the room.

Avalon had no voice left, her screams, altho silenced because of the ball gag stuffed into her mouth during the rape, had no less torn her throat to shreds. Her voice was nothing more than a painful whisper. But, then again she had no reason to speak. There was no one there to listen, there was no one there to save her. She hung limply from the X by her bound wrists. Her body, trembling every so often. Her nipples were deep red from Ned's abuse, bruised and sore. Her pussy was just as bruised. Her inner thighs sticky now with the dried secretions of her rape, blood, seed, cum.

Avalon felt as if her life had been destroyed, and she truely sobbed, the horror of what had happened to her finally taking hold. The whole of her naked body quaked as she cried, a silent cry, but crying none the less. She wished, as she hung there, that she were dead.