Lesbia Chronicles: Over Witch's Knee Read online

  Atrocious gulped. The outcome of this little interlude appeared all too clear as her body instinctively responded to Ayla's touch. The pulsing arousal between her legs returned with a vengeance, reliance on her other senses heightened by her inability to see. She parted her legs slightly and moaned happily when Ayla slid her fingers all the way up and pressed fingertips against the throbbing core of her sex.

  Unfortunately, the pleasant sensation was short lived. The fingers withdrew. The next thing Atrocious felt was a quick slap across her face. It was not hard enough to be truly aggressive, more like the swatting motion of a cat toying with its prey. Caught between desire and fear, Atrocious growled in response.

  "Naughty," Ayla noted in the darkness. "Very naughty."

  Before Atrocious could curse, the fingers returned. Ayla stroked through her britches, petting her pussy with a massaging motion that elicited soft moans. It was hard for Atrocious to stay angry when she felt so good. It was hard to be afraid when her hips were lifting off the chair and her mind was consumed with the desire to remove her pants. The pants. Yes. The pants had to go.

  Boldly, Atrocious shoved at the waistband of her britches, forcing them down over her behind. It was necessary to clamp her thighs together in order to get the pants off - a motion that ejected Ayla's fingers. Once naked from the waist down, Atrocious spread her legs again, hoping Ayla would take her invitation.

  A delighted burst of laughter met the action. "A miscreant who bares herself, fancy that."

  Atrocious felt Ayla move closer, breath soft on her ear. "I'd love to take you, my dear, but first..."

  Atrocious cringed, expecting pain and recrimination. Maybe she was about to be beaten, or perhaps forced into hard labor. What Ayla actually said was worse.

  "...you need a bath."

  Guided up from the chair still in a pronounced state of blindness, Atrocious was forced to listen to Ayla chide her over.

  "Such a filthy little wretch," Ayla said, tugging Atrocious' pants the rest of the way down her legs. "I can't imagine how you got into such a state. You were up to no good, I'll wager.

  Atrocious kept her mouth shut, ignoring Ayla's wagers. She was being undressed piece by piece, her defenses stripped away. Before long she was entirely naked. Ayla took casual advantage of the situation, running her hands over Atrocious' body, cupping her breasts and squeezing her nipples. When Atrocious made a sound of complaint, Ayla responded with a quick slap to her bottom.

  "Don't whine, dear.”

  On any other day, Atrocious would have never stood for being treated in such a casual fashion, but being blind and inordinately aroused was leaving her completely vulnerable to Ayla's will.

  "You need a nice hot bath," Ayla said. "But first I think you need a nice hot bottom."

  There was the sound of a chair scraping back and Atrocious felt herself being guided over Ayla's skirts. With little choice but to comply, she lay there naked as the day she was born, feeling the soft fabric of Ayla's apron under her belly. Remembering Scroth's Hollow, she braced herself for pain.

  There was no pain. There was a gentle slap that barely stung. It was followed by another light slap – and then another. Atrocious had expected a cruel beating, not a caressing warmth that tickled and stingled and made her lower belly fizz with excitement and need.

  With fresh arousal blossoming, Atrocious spread her legs. Ayla took immediate advantage, tickling the proffered pussy with the tips of her fingers in between slaps. Enjoying the witch's touch, Atrocious arched her back and lifted her hips up to the sensation. Before long, a searching finger was penetrating, rubbing between her lips and slipping deep inside.

  "This is nice," Ayla said. "It's a pity you're such a naughty little wench who needs a sore behind."

  With those words, Ayla began spanking a great deal harder. The sound of her palm meeting Atrocious' bare bottom echoed off the walls of the little cottage, clap after clap sounding like an audience applauding. Atrocious was forced to grab onto the leg of the chair and hang on for dear life as every hard slap threatened to send her sliding forward over Ayla's lap. She was no longer enjoying herself. It hurt. It really hurt.

  "You won't peep in any more windows, will you?" Ayla vigorously laid her palm against Atrocious' vulnerable bare bottom with punitive gusto.

  Atrocious did not reply. She was far too busy yelping and squealing to form words. The only bright spot on the horizon was the fact that as the spanking went on her sight slowly began to return. First the dark fog lifted a little, then, as her bottom pulsed with the thudding slaps, she began to make out objects in the room. She could see again! She could see!

  As Atrocious' eyesight began to return, so did her native bravado. She wanted to escape – and she was in luck. Ayla, apparently lulled into a false sense of security by Atrocious' acquiescence, had loosened her grip. It was enough to allow Atrocious to perform a clumsy forward roll off the witch's lap, spring to her feet and wrench the door open.

  A few last rays of sunlight and blush pink skies met her upon her successful escape. Standing outside, Atrocious whooped with glee, feeling very proud of herself. The feeling lasted all of thirty seconds before Ayla appeared in the open doorway, quirking an amused brow.

  "Forget something?"

  It was then that Atrocious remembered that she was not wearing anything at all. She was dancing about entirely in the nude. She scowled and folded her arms over her chest.

  "Give me my clothes."

  The witch's expression grew severe. "I see you have learned nothing."

  "I do not learn," Atrocious declared proudly.

  "I find that eminently plausible," Ayla observed dryly. "Come inside."

  Atrocious did not want to go inside, but outside there were no clothes and inside there were clothes. "Toss my clothes out here," she countered.

  "No. Come inside." With that, Ayla shut the door, leaving Atrocious to consider her situation without the benefit of clothes whilst the increasingly bracing evening winds whipped about her sore derriere.

  "Hey!" Atrocious banged on the door. At first there was no response, but she found that sustained knocking eventually got Ayla to answer.

  "Yes?"

  Atrocious recoiled a step. Ayla looked angry. And tall. "Are you..." she tried to frame the question in a way that didn't make her sound weak. "Are you going to hit me if I come in?"

  "I don't see what purpose it would serve," Ayla said.

  "Does that mean no?"

  "Come inside, you little idiot." Ayla sighed, stood back and gave Atrocious clear passage into the cottage.

  She slinked indoors, looking for her clothing, which was nowhere to be seen. "Where are my clothes?"

  "Boiling in the copper," Ayla explained with admirable patience, pointing towards the only door in the house aside from the front door. "You can have a bath in the meantime."

  "Just give me my clothes and let me get out of here."

  Atrocious was starting to get cold and her ass was throbbing with an after-pain that was not pleasant. All she wanted to do was get back to her horse – though if the mare had any sense she was probably well on her way back to the nearest Imperial base.

  "Cut the attitude and get in the bath." Ayla pushed open the door to the adjoining room where a copper was boiling with Atrocious' clothing inside. Next to the copper was a small, circular bath filled with steaming water.

  "I don't want a bath!" Atrocious stamped her foot. "I want to go..."

  Her objection was cut off as Ayla, tiring of the argument, plucked Atrocious up from the ground as if she weighed less than a feather and physically put her into the bath. Either she was very strong indeed, or there were magical means at work.

  The water was warm and instantly soothing. Though Atrocious wanted to keep fighting, it was easier and far more pleasant to sink down into the tub. She scowled at Ayla with the water up around her chin and made one last ditch effort to save face. "Fine. I'll have a bath. But only because I want to."

  Ayla's
eyes narrowed as she looked at the wretch in the tub. "You are so very lucky you're cute," she growled. "I will enjoy taking this out on you later."

  "No you won't," Atrocious countered lamely.

  She washed herself and watched silently as the buxom blonde witch pulled her clothing out of the copper, wrung it and hung it out to dry before the fire. It would be several more hours before it would be ready and she was at Ayla's mercy until then. Endeavoring to stall for time, Atrocious wallowed about in the tub until the water grew so cold that even Ayla noticed she was beginning to shiver.

  "There's a towel next to the tub," Ayla prompted.

  "Yeah," Atrocious agreed, inspecting her prune fingers.

  "You should use it."

  "It would get wet in the bath," Atrocious replied blithely, sinking beneath the soapy brown water once more. It was not entirely pleasant, but it temporarily adjourned the conversation, which was what she wanted. When she surfaced again, Ayla was gone.

  Atrocious took the opportunity to scramble out of the bath and wrap herself in the towel that had been placed next to it. She padded forward on her tip toes and checked her clothes. They were warm, but sodden.

  "They'll be ready by morning."

  Atrocious squeaked, startled at being caught out by Ayla. The witch smiled. "Are you hungry?"

  Shrugging, then nodding, Atrocious admitted that yes, she was pretty hungry.

  "Come and have some food."

  Atrocious was suspicious. She had not been promised food, she had been promised something worse. She didn't know what 'I will enjoy taking this out on you later,' meant, but she was pretty sure it didn't mean 'I can't wait to feed you'.

  The sight of a loaf of bread on the table along with some cheese and soup soon made Atrocious set her misgivings aside. She tucked in, forgetting about Ayla's earlier threats whilst she filled her belly.

  "Have you been traveling long?" Ayla sipped at some water whilst Atrocious ate.

  "Ages," Atrocious said.

  "Where are you headed?"

  "Well, er, I don't know," Atrocious admitted. She had no intention of admitting that she was traveling from place to place thieving what she could. Her response earned her a raised brow from Ayla.

  "So you are a vagabond," the witch observed. "I would have thought you too young and pretty to be without a home."

  "I am not that young," Atrocious frowned. “I have seen the back of two decades and then some.”

  "I beg your pardon," Ayla smiled. "When you get to be my age, everyone looks young."

  "How old are you?"

  "I had my two-thousandth, nine-hundred-and-ninety-nineth birthday last month.”

  Atrocious was skeptical. The life spans of the elvish were legendary, but she'd never heard of one that old before.

  “Then I guess I'll always seem young to you," she said, playing along.

  "It is a pity human years are so short," Ayla sighed. "Not enough time for you to begin to learn what you need to know."

  "I already know all I need to know," Atrocious objected.

  "Is that so?" Ayla smiled indulgently. "Is that how you come to be homeless and spying on people?"

  "I have my methods," Atrocious said, slopping up the rest of her soup with a hunk of bread. “I'm sure you have yours.”

  “I do,” Ayla said, her cheeks dimpling with amusement.

  “Magic,” Atrocious said. “You're a witch.” She chewed on the bread for a little while, looking at Ayla the entire time. “You're not going to let me go, are you?”

  The witch did not shy away from the question. She met it with emerald honesty. “It would not be responsible to turn you loose on the world,” she said. “You are hungry. You are tired. You are trouble.” She paused for a moment. “You need someone to look after you.”

  “Even if that were true,” Atrocious replied. “Which it isn't, for I am a grown woman with my own path to follow, why should it be you? We are strangers.”

  “Sometimes strangers can be closer than family,” the witch replied. “And you have no family.”

  “Who says I have no family? I might have family. Maybe I was on my way to a family reunion. Maybe I have a huge family spread right across Lesbia.” Atrocious paused, then received a spark of inspiration. “Maybe they'll come looking for me! Then you'll be sorry.”

  The witch smiled. “In that case, I'll just keep you until they do.”

  Chapter Three

  A full day after her horse was stolen out from under her, Imperial guard Jacey limped into the barracks on the outer rim of Kavden, a large town that sat amongst rich farmlands. The heels of both her feet were a mass of blisters from stomping along in the heavy metal overshoes and her mood was at an all time low. She was twelve hours late back from patrol and she knew her pay would be docked if she did not have a very good excuse for her prolonged absence. The combination of physical discomfort and potential punitive action saw her sidling in the main gate and doing her best to shuffle into the sleeping quarters before she was spotted.

  Her attempts to sneak into her quarters without being seen failed. General Nelson spied her immediately and came barreling forward, his silver and gold armor shining so brightly she could see her sorry face reflected in it.

  "Soldier! Where is your mount?"

  Jacey snapped to attention with a salute. "It was stolen, sir."

  "Stolen? How?"

  The general was a large, imposing man with more scars than hair on his head and a great ginger beard plaited into three thick strands that hung from his mighty jaw. Jacey saw her life flash in front of her eyes as he glowered down at her. She had to make this good or her ass would be grass.

  "I was attempting to apprehend a..." Jacey paused. She had been about to say a vagabond, but she would be a laughing stock if the rest of the guards found out that she had been bested by a beggar. "Dangerous criminal," she said instead.

  "Oh?" The general tilted his head slightly. He was listening.

  "Yes!" She left the affirmative response hanging between them, hoping it would be enough. It wasn't.

  With a long sigh, the general prompted her further. "What crimes had he committed?"

  "She. She had committed the very worst crimes!” Jacey glanced about wildly as she tried to think of a terrible crime. “She had killed a nun and stolen her cowl,” she lied dramatically.

  The general's eyes lit up with rage. "She killed a nun?"

  "She slayed her whilst she was on her knees offering up prayers for sick orphans." Jacey did not wonder if she was perhaps laying it on a little too thickly because she was not the sort of person to indulge in that kind of reflection. "And she set fire to the convent to boot!"

  That made the general frown. "Fire to the convent? Which convent? We have not had reports of fire."

  “The little convent at Westfell.” Jacey thought quickly and named the most remote town that could conceivably be considered in their jurisdiction. "Reports have not spread widely because she slayed all the witnesses. She only confessed whilst I was grappling with her.”

  The general stroked his beard thoughtfully. “A strange sort of criminal that confesses her crimes in the midst of an arrest.”

  “She was taunting me with them, sir,” Jacey said, really getting into the flow of her narrative. “She

  said that I would be next, that she would slay me in my sleep and drink my blood.”

  The captain shuddered. There was a sect who believed that there was power in the blood of their enemies. They had a fearsome reputation for killing all who stood in their way. If the captain had been doubtful at the outset, he was doubtful no longer.

  "This woman who stole your horse is a murderer of the most foul kind,” he boomed. “She must be apprehended immediately! By what name is she known?"

  "Atrocious."

  "Yes, her crimes are atrocious,” the general agreed wholeheartedly. “What is her name?

  "Her name is Atrocious."

  "Never mind whether it is a nice name or not, tell me
it."

  "Sir, her name is Atrocious."

  After several more minutes of back and forth in much the same vein, it was eventually understood by both parties that the name of the nun slaying, horse stealing, convent burning, mass murdering criminal was Atrocious. The worthy general set forth to issue an arrest warrant for the woman and Jacey was spared the docking of her pay, after all, what could one soldier hope to do against the machinations of such a vile and violent creature?

  Chapter Four

  By the third day of her captivity, Atrocious was beginning to grow desperate. Escape seemed to be almost impossible. Every time she thought she could sneak out the front door or test a window, Ayla was there. The witch showed no signs of intending to do Atrocious any harm, but a benign captor is still a captor and Atrocious wanted out of there.

  She was sitting on the bed and beginning to despair of ever being free when the front door opened and a young female murkblood simply walked in. Atrocious stared at the intruder. She had quite forgotten how simple it was for some people to just go through doorways as they pleased.

  The staring served two purposes, for the murkblood was one of the most curious Atrocious had ever seen. Her features were distinctly human, but there was still something 'other' about her. Her eyes were brown and wide with large pupils that put Atrocious in mind of a startled cat. Her dark hair was cropped close to her head, and though her features were pleasant enough, one tooth pushed its way out from her upper lip and rested atop the lower. It was less of a tooth than a fang, Atrocious considered, observing the length and pointedness.

  In addition to her facial characteristics, the murkblood was rather short indeed and very slight of build. Her skin was a beautiful caramel tone that Atrocious was immediately jealous of. Her clothing was interesting too. She was dressed in a fine silk tunic that bore the image of a rampant lion and her legs were clad in pristine white leggings. Atrocious wondered how on earth the woman had managed to get so far into the forest without getting at least a little dirty.

  The murkblood walked two paces into the cottage with a stiff legged gait before turning to face Atrocious in a snappy angular motion that was belied by smooth grace. She was obviously trying to be formal, but no matter how rigid she made her movements she just seemed to flow from one place to another.