Witch Hunter. Willow Sears
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the set of some sexy horror movie entitled Stereotypically Gorgeous Vampire Witches with Sumptuous Milky-White Cleavages who Unfailingly Make Your Heart Stop, or something like that. Anyway, what did she mean by ‘show’? What, literally bare it for her, right here in front of the class? Mimi fleetingly thought about summoning up a joke but the woman was impatiently tapping one finger on the desk and didn’t look like she wanted to crack a smile.
Bizarrely, almost magically, Mimi found herself complying, turning to face the seated girls and bending forward from the waist until she was nearly forming a right angle. Incredibly, she even reached back and pulled up her top slightly, so the view of her bottom in tight jeans would not be impeded.
‘It is large, is it not? It sticks out,’ the woman observed, matter-of-factly.
Yes, I have got a fat backside, thank you very much. Glad you’ve brought that to the attention of the whole world, thought Mimi, her cheeks flushing as she saw the sadistic glee sweep the faces of her classmates. Miss Morgana didn’t seem at all perturbed by the embarrassment her brusque honesty was causing.
‘Are others drawn to it? Do your men like to finish upon it?’ she asked.
Finish upon it? Did she hear that right? Was there any way that could mean anything other than what it seemed to? Now Mimi was incredulous. As her eyebrows shot up, her mouth fell open, as if the two parts of her face were linked. Potential answers stopped short in her mouth, making it sound like she was panting erratically on her last breaths. Some kind of rebuttal seemed appropriate but how can any statement begin ‘I’ve never been so insulted’ when you’re voluntarily sticking your bottom out for a woman you first clapped eyes on about a minute before? Does a dignified reply actually exist when you are bent over in front of eight giggling fresh-faced females, all of them complete strangers, whilst being asked to comment on whether your male lovers like to come all over your fat bum?
‘Well, yes, they do seem to,’ was the answer she eventually mumbled.
‘It will always be large because of the jut,’ Morgana unfeelingly continued, actually prodding the proffered bottom a couple of times. ‘The firmness of the fat gives it good shape, at least, but it will dimple the surface texture and take away any smoothness. That will never do. Your bottom has great potential but is too much of a spread to be perfect. We need weight off your hips to accentuate the roundness of the buttocks, and greater muscle tone to compensate for the loss of fat. If we can keep the curve and eliminate sag you will find a great many more admirers, men and women, desperate to ravish you from behind.’
Mimi flushed even deeper red. She knew she had audibly gasped at the word ‘ravish’. Having been plainly informed that, should she join this class, the primary objective would be to make her bottom more desirable, she now didn’t know what to do or say. However, the woman had apparently not yet finished her appraisal, and was pressing gently at the small of Mimi’s back to keep her bent over.
‘Obviously society in general would always ridicule its size,’ Morgana was now saying, ‘but the lustful spirits of this world would adore it. And who cares for society’s approval? Of course, if you wished it to stay exactly as it is I could teach you a spell to make it irresistible to all who saw it, whatever its appearance. However, it is not an easy spell to perform. You have to mix an exact recipe based on heather honey and liquorice root to spread upon the skin. You must stay in the woods, naked by day, for two whole weeks, with the mixture upon your bottom, even within the crack. And the incantation will not work unless every inch of your behind is covered by insects feeding upon the honey, and that essentially requires a colony of bees or wasps. It can get a little, shall we say, stingy in the sensitive areas.’
The woman was now not just prodding the bottom under inspection but running her long black-painted nails lightly over the expanse of stretched denim as she talked of feeding insects. The grazing contact sent a shiver across Mimi’s skin and she knew her face might easily betray how much she was enjoying it. Despite this public humiliation she was glad she was still being bent over, and gladder still that the woman was doing all the talking.
‘There are downsides to having an irresistible bottom,’ Mimi was informed. ‘You may find the attention constant. You will be groped and pinched wherever you go. It will drive your admirers mad with lust. Certainly your lovers will want to plunder your tighter hole. It will undoubtedly become a focus of their penetrations.’
Well, when Mimi decided to get some background for a possible article on the supposed witch and her weight-loss plan, she had no idea the class would be so instantly revealing. Despite this contrived and frankly baffling rudeness, Miss Morgana was undeniably bewitching. As the pressure lifted from Mimi’s back and she found herself being slowly righted, she could easily see why the girls were sitting here so attentively.
‘You may join the class for a while,’ the witch said. ‘That desk at the back is free. What is your name?’
‘It is Mimi, Miss.’
Why had she called her ‘Miss’? She wasn’t in school now! Why did she feel so inferior to this beautiful but clearly unhinged woman? Why had she felt such a sudden and undeniably pleasurable twinge between her legs when this woman had squeezed her bottom?
‘Mimi? That is a very selfish name, is it not? Go and sit down then.’
Mimi automatically did as instructed, chastised and confused, her face colouring even more vividly than before. She was keenly aware that all eyes were on her, trying to get a view of the big bottom that had been the focus of the lesson so far. She would have loved to wiggle it defiantly at them but instead she rushed to hide it on the wooden seat behind her allotted desk. A selfish name? That comment had smarted, made her chest flutter with indignation. It’s not Me, Me, it’s Mimi – as in the heroine of La Bohème, her parents’ favourite opera. It was disconcerting to have this rebuke from the woman who had just been touching her with such tender familiarity.
Bizarrely, it seemed suddenly very important to Mimi that this bewitching female look fondly upon her. Glancing around the room she felt a sudden pang of envy, noting that she was quite probably the oldest of the girls, and not necessarily the prettiest. Even if her underlying motives were to potentially expose the woman as a charlatan witch, Mimi still strangely wanted to be her class favourite.
She had a sudden image of herself still at the front of the class, bent forward facing the girls. But she was naked this time, with her wrists tied to her ankles. In her mind’s eye Morgana was raking the taut skin on her bottom with those long nails, pinching the flesh hard, eliciting gasps from all, giving each peachy cheek a slap in turn. Then Mimi imagined the Witch’s grin spreading and the little slaps becoming a hail of stinging smacks that exploded upon her bottom. She pictured herself shrieking with the pain but taking it all, hurt by the spite of the woman, humiliated at being treated like this in front of the others, yet so proud that she had been chosen above all.
‘Are you listening?’
Mimi jumped in her seat, realising that the witch was sternly addressing her and that the other girls were once again stifling giggles at her expense. She blushed again and mumbled her apologies.
‘You had better get on the treadmill first, if you can’t even stay focused for two minutes.’
Once again Mimi found herself shrinking at Morgana’s chiding tone. She was confused and disorientated and stood hesitantly before following the woman’s eyes to the piece of gym apparatus in the corner. The class was being held at the rugby club buildings that had been built within the estate grounds by the new beneficent owner. She was familiar with the place, having been there a few times to support Dominic when he was playing for the First Team. This building was next to the refurbished changing rooms and was designed for after-match gatherings. Next door was the well-kitted gym, although the only piece of apparatus this Fat Club had seen fit to drag through for its use was the single treadmill Mimi was now standing upon.
The witch set it in motion and Mimi, with her back to the girls, started off at no more than a gentle jog. She was still very conscious of the movement of her rear end, and that all eyes would be upon it. Having put her to her