A Halloween Carol (4/5)

4: The Final Visitation, or a Deathly Crone

**“Get up,” she said. A crop in her hand lightly tapped his cock, and that brought him to attention. He noticed her voice sounded strange, as though it were echoing or modulated somehow. It was creepy and weird, and made him almost as nervous as the crop at his cock.

He looked up and tall thin woman stood in front of him. She was dressed as Death, but instead of a scythe she had a nasty crop in her hand. And a witch’s hat on her head. “You’re the third witch,” he said.

“Yes,” she said. “You’ve had your fantasy; you’ve had someone to nurture you; I am your punishment.”

“What?” he said.

“Get up,” she repeated. “Then you’re going down.”

“Downstairs?” he asked.

“That too,” she said. “Now get moving.” She gave him another swat on his cock with the crop. His cock was hard, and the swat stung as it hit.

“Ouch,” he said.

“Crybaby,” she said. “That was just a love tap. Now get up and go down to your bedroom.”

He shook his head to clear it and then clambered out of the bed. “We’re in a bedroom now, is it not good enough?”

She stood right in front of him, and grabbed his cock and balls with her leather-covered hand, and squeezed lightly on them. “No, we’re going to your marital bed,” she said. “It’s where you sin every night, and where you will be punished, and — if you are lucky — be redeemed.”

“What, I don’t understand.”

She squeezed a little tighter. “You didn’t think we picked you at random, do you?” She let go, and turned to go out the door. Sebastian followed her down the stairs and into the bedroom. “Lie on the bed,” she commanded, “with your head here at the foot.”  He followed her instructions silently.

She untied her cloak and let it fall. Underneath it she wore a corset that lifted and exposed her breasts, a pair of knee-high boots, and nothing else. Her bush was grey and trimmed, and right in front of his head.

She looked down at him, the death mask still covered her face. “Sebastian Eames, tonight you are getting the punishment you deserve. Since you got divorced, you’ve been passive, drifting through your life. You’ve let her memory control you and now, I’m going to control you. She may not have gotten any pleasure out of her control of you, but I intend to.”

The death-witch knelt on the bed, and lowered her pussy to his mouth. “Lick,” she said. And to emphasise the point, she flicked his cock with the crop. “Lick!”

She thrust down at him and he did what she asked. It had been a long time since he’d done this; it was something he’d enjoyed when it had been his desire. He could do it now, at hers. He slid his tongue against her pussy, and tasted her. She was already wet.

“Good boy,” she said.

He licked and sucked on her clit, and she rubbed her pussy on his face. He could feel that he was still hard, and her crop rubbed up and down his cock as she rode him. As long as he kept licking, and sucking she didn’t hit him with the crop. That was out of his mind, though. He’d always loved this, going down on a woman. Vicky had liked it, too. Thankfully this odd death-witch’s pussy was different.

Her lips were long and he teased them with his tongue and teeth, parting them as she rode him. Her taste was almost sweet, and her clit was hard and round. He teased her, sliding his tongue over her clit then down and inside her as she rode him. As his tongue slid inside her she stopped and ground against his face. “Oh yes,that’s good,” she said. “You’re good at this, servicing women, aren’t you boy?”

He just grunted and kept up the work.

“This is how you like it, right? Pinned down and forced to make someone else come?” He nipped and teased her as she taunted him. Was that what he wanted? Or did he just enjoy this? “If that’s what you want,” she said. “If you want to be led, that can be arranged.” She ground tight against him, and started moaning. He reached up and grabbed her ass, pulling her down against him.

“If that’s what you want,” she moaned. She hit his cock a few times with crop, not too hard at first, then a bit harder as she lost control. “It can… it can be arranged.” He moved her a bit with his hands, bringing her clit to his tongue. He teased it, wrapping his lips around it and sucking.

She cried out. “You can be our toy. Ohhhhh! Forever!” He at nipped her clit with his teeth then sucked again. She went rigid, shaking in place over him; he kept sucking throughout her orgasm. When she was done he rolled her over in the bed.

She lay there on her back, still shivering from her orgasm. “I’m no one’s toy,” he said.

“Could have fooled me,” she said. “Three women in one night, and each did what they wanted to you. There’s not an aggressive bone in your body.”

“There’s one,” he said, and pushed her legs apart. Her pussy glistened in the light. He slid between her legs, between her lips, filling her up. He sighed as he bottomed out in her.  His hand wandered up her body and then he reached to take the crop. No, he thought, and took her hands in his and held her to the bed.

“Yes,” she whispered, and wrapped her boot-covered legs around his body. “Fuck me. Fuck me, Sir.”

He wrapped his hands around her wrists, so that he wasn’t actually holding them down, but holding them in place. They would go wherever he wanted them to go. He thrust into her, feeling in control for the first time in forever. His preternaturally hard cock thrust into her slowly, demanding every inch of her. She moaned beneath him, her voice eerie and full of lust.

He heels pressed into his ass, urging him on, but he took his time. He was in control of this, of his life. He could decide what he wanted to do, how fast he wanted to go. He leaned over, and sucked on her breasts, still sliding slowly in and out of her. “Fuck me faster,” she begged.

“I decide,” he said and thrust deep inside her, holding himself there. “I decide the pace.”

“Yes, yes, Sir,” she said. She seemed to change then. She was less insistent, and more pliable. He smiled to himself and thrust in and out of her. She turned her head to one side, and moaned as he fucked her.

He finally sped up then, fucking fast, but still sliding almost out of her and then all the way in. Her breath came faster and faster, mimicking his speed. His hands dug into her wrists, and she let out a little cry of pain. It was the first sound she’d made that made him want to go faster, so he did. Soon he was pounding into her as hard as she wanted.

She began to shudder beneath him. Her pussy tightened and grabbed at his cock as she came. He was close, and kept thrusting into her. He pounded at her, and she took it. He felt it building, his biggest orgasm of the day — and there had been so many, if all of this was real. So much sex, and he’d needed all of it.

He thrust into her, and feeling his arousal peaking. He pinned her there, and thrust, going  rigid with his own orgasm. He revelled in his come filling her up as he held her down. She came again as he did, crying out silently below him.

Sebastian col lapsed beside her. “Thank you, Sir,” she said. He wanted to kiss her but the mask was in the way. He reached up to move it, and she shook her head. “Us witches have to keep our secrets,“she said. He just nodded.

She ran a hand through his hair, and squeezed his arm.

She slipped out of the bed and pulled her cloak back on. She left the crop, and Sebastian let her go. He eventually fell asleep again.**

To be concluded tomorrow, with The Party