Witch Hunter. Willow Sears
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outer covering; the britches, stretched taut by the wide girth of the charger beneath him; his long boots in the stirrups; his gloved hands, one holding the silver claret goblet and raising it to his thin, pale lips. His eyes could scarcely be seen under the wide brim of his hat, but she saw his nod towards her, his acknowledgement that proceedings should begin. She felt the jump of adrenalin inside and turned again to her baying pack of hunter girls.
‘Get her,’ was all Morgana needed to say.
They were off in an instant, pushing away from each other to try and gain the lead, shrieking in their excitement. None of them was slight of build. All had thick thighs and paunches, big bottoms if not big breasts. But they were relatively fit and used to such exertion. Their prey was already flagging as they whooped after her. She was looking desperately back over her shoulder, having not yet even reached the first cover of the bushes. She would do as all other victims did. She would drag herself panting into the hedgerow, see the long climb up to the woods and know that it was impossible to get there. She would scramble around to find somewhere to hide, realising above her panic that it was a fruitless exercise. Then, with her heart banging in her chest and her lungs defeated, she would crouch amongst the scant cover of the bushes and await her inevitable capture. By the time the pack found her they would be beside themselves with bubbling desire, and she would bear the full force of it.
Morgana knew she had to get there soon after her girls did. She watched them follow their quarry into the thicket, scattering this way and that to find her and dig her out. She heard the raised cry of triumph and saw them dashing through the bushes towards the sound, each intent on getting her hands on the newly unearthed prize before the others, since the most gratification was to be gained from being one of those to overpower the victim, being one of the first to force a way into her when her body was quaking and whilst she still had the strength to scream her frantic passion into your ears. The scramble to get to their prey would be frenzied, and would leave her ravaged.
The Priestess kicked her horse into action and trotted down the hill. When she got to the mêlée the girl was already stripped bare, her body smeared with mud, grazed from their raking nails and red from their slaps. Her nipples were inflamed and pointing skywards, the flesh of her breasts flecked with nettle rash. She was on her back, her arms pinned to her sides. Her hips had been raised from the ground and her thighs forced wide apart so that a huntress could get on her knees between them. Her buttocks were being harshly gripped to hold her steady while she was taken. Some of the girls stroked their prey’s belly and chest with their nettles. Some bent over to pinch or bite her nipples. A couple of them concentrated not on their victim but on her lover, trying to pull her off by the hair so that they could take a turn of their own.
Morgana unhurriedly dismounted, smiling at the writhing mass before her. She went to her saddle bag and withdrew the huge silver penis. Its smooth surface gleamed in the sunlight. It was heavy to hold, solid metal. When it was on, it protruded a full eight inches from her body and was thick enough to fill her palm, so that her fingers could barely encompass its girth. There was a gentle upward curve to it and the head was formed into the distinct shape of a fat glans, tapering at its tip. It was the queen, as befitted her status.
She watched as the girls plundered their victim, moving her one way and then another, taking turns with their toys and fingers. Tears were streaking the face of the victim when Morgana stepped in and moved her onto all fours. She held her and delivered smack after smack to her poor wobbling bottom, turning the already scratched and welted flesh a deeper red. The girl cried out even louder but could only manage to thrust her battered posterior out into the hail of slaps. The puffy quim was visible between the large thighs, engorged by bliss and tingling nettle stings, treacherously glistening with the excitement that allowed her to be taken so deeply.
Morgana took off her cloak and spread it upon the ground alongside the girl. Then she lay upon it, with the gleaming silver spear phallus curving up towards the sky. The girl eyed it through her streaked hair, and then bit her lower lip to mask its trembling. The girl knew what she had to do, but still the Priestess ordered it.
‘Impale yourself,’ was the command.
The girl squatted over the silver penis and very slowly lowered herself, her tremors evident as soon as the tip spread her plump sex and disappeared inside her. She pushed down more, her eyes screwing shut as she slid herself down the cold length and took it deep. The surface of the toy was too smooth and her quim too slick to prevent it slipping all the way inside her, filling her completely. Her puss lips kissed the black leather harness as she rode the toy up and down, with Morgana’s nails gripping her rump and helping her movements.
She was breathing hard and threatening to come, but even with help from the Priestess she was tiring quickly after her ordeal. Morgana pulled her down to arrest the movements, embracing her tightly whilst calling forth the girl who was the subject of this hunt initiation, the one still sporting her bright red dildo. Again, the protocol was known but the Priestess still felt obliged to spell it out.
‘Fill her cūlus,’ she commanded.
The red-dildo girl hunkered down behind the quarry to study the little pink ring up for sacrifice. It was wet with spit and slightly open from the fingers that had invaded its tight confines, but the initiate took pity and reached for the battered vial that had been presented to her in the pre-hunt ceremony to be used for this very purpose, and that she now wore on a string around her neck. She removed the bung and dribbled the clear oily contents along the length of her dildo and onto the twitching bottom now at her mercy. She then took a firm grasp of the girl’s hips, pressed her toy to the target and drove herself forward.
The victim’s squeal almost broke into a scream but she bit her lip just in time and took the slide inside her, even pressing backwards to help its passage. She was given some respite but lust soon took over and she was taken, her soft cheeks splayed apart by the Priestess as the initiate slapped ruthlessly hard against her. Stuffed and filled and with her flesh quivering from the shock waves, she was brought to a rapid, hard climax. However, even when the dildo was finally removed, her ordeal was not yet over. All attention turned to the sound of slow clip-clopping hooves amongst them, which presaged what she must still endure.
Morgana looked up at the Master on his mount and grinned broadly, clutching the victim tight to her with the metal appendage still completely embedded in her body. He studied the scene for a while, taking stock of the girl’s bottom and sex.
He dismounted, his eyes firmly on the girl’s rear end as he made his slow approach. He opened his cloak and unfastened the front of his britches so that he could haul out his huge thick erection. The wretch looked around to see his fat meat bobbing up and down with the blood surging into it. He took a small bottle from his inside pocket, removed the cap, held her hair and thrust the bottle under her nose so that she was forced to take a deep breath of the emanating vapours. Her jaw dropped open.
‘Oh, my God,’ she whispered.
‘Yes,’ he said with a sneer, ‘I am.’
He presented his great erection and pressed forward slowly, more so than the newcomer before him, since he was twice as thick as the toy she had sported. Very gradually he broke the girl’s resistance and slid the full length inside her. It seemed an impossible quantity of turgid flesh to take. She howled but held still, the ecstasy spread all over her face. Once he was fully embedded he waited for her muscles to grip his girth and squeeze him. This pressure, plus the ache within his bladder, was enough to make his erection flag just a little. He exalted in his power over her. She would remember this act for ever, just as they all did. None of them would ever take a fatter cock than his, certainly not in their bottom. To be stretched open by him was bliss enough. They would dream of this experience in all their private moments and pray that he would come to them again one day to repeat it. Nothing else they did would ever match this moment. No one else would ever be more in their thoughts.
The girl sank down against her Priestess, the feeling all too much to take. He roared in triumph and proceeded to slide his cock in and out of her backside, taking it nearly all the way out and then driving it home to slap hard against her buttocks over and over. The girl was very nearly passing out but Morgana showed rare compassion, pressing her full