Morgana was a witch. That much I knew for certain. It wasn’t her looks that gave her away. No, not at all. She was an exquisite creature. Skin of alabaster, pouting red lips, and cool grey eyes that seemed as though they could peer into your soul. For all I knew, they could.
You see, I knew she was a witch because it was my job to know. As a hunter of such abominations, I had learned Morgana by pure chance and made haste to the small village. I watched her from a distance, keeping to the shadows lest I be discovered and fall under her captivating spell myself.
It was clear Morgana was no ordinary witch. Her power to corrupt and entrance was apparent on the face of every man and woman I came across. I knew the sooner I rid the world of this evil, the better.
To work their magic, witches use a combination of spells, incantations, and potions to ensnare their victims. In Fansly, I found nothing of the sort, which could only mean one thing. Morgana was a rarity. Her power was something I had only read about in ancient, dusty tombs. It was her voice alone that contained the vile magic.
My preperations were meticulous. I wore a cross around my neck, blessed by the Holy Priests of Alcon. My dagger was made of pure silver, and the handle was crafted from flint stone. I slid stakes of iron into my leather belt and draped two coils of rope around my shoulders. I lit my prayer candle and allowed the hot wax to fall into my ears. It wasn’t pleasant, but it was the only way I could gain the protection I needed from Morgana’s haunting whispers. I was ready.
I moved through the woods to Morgana’s cottage. My path was lit only by the full moon. Each step was carefully calculated to mask my arrival. The element of surprise would be my greatest ally.
As I approached the cottage, I saw the flickering of candlelight. I steeled my nerves. “Morgana! In the name of God Almighty, I beseech you! Show yourself now and accept punishment for your sins!” My deep voice moved through the branches of the forest. I could smell a storm blowing in on the wind, but I would not be deterred.
The handle to the cottage stirred, and the door opened. With a backdrop of flame from a burning stove, Morgana stood before me. Her features were delicate as if crafted out of porcelain. My heart thudded in my chest. I swallowed hard and felt a bead of sweat trickle down my neck. I drew the rope from over my shoulders as I approached her. “Sir, I believe you are making a mistake. I’m no witch,” she said with a smile. Her voice was muffled through the wax but still powerful. The sweetness with which she spoke the words was quite convincing.
“Do not lie to me, Bride of Satan.” She looked surprised as if shocked by my reproach. She retreated slowly back into her cottage. She moved to slam the door, I reached it first, holding it open with my palm.
“Sir, you’re making a mistake. I beg you, please, leave me in peace.” Her cries of desperation made something inside me stir. Something primal and sinful. I fought back the thoughts as I moved in.
“Come quietly, and maybe the Lord may have mercy on your soul.” Morgana had positioned herself behind a large, black cauldron. In an instant, the terror left her eyes, and a wicked smile curled the edges of her lips. Black streaks ran from her eyes, staining her smooth, white cheeks. She kicked the cauldron, spilling boiling water across the floor. I stepped to the side to avoid being burned, but that was the moment she needed to make her escape. She fled out the front door and into the woods.
I couldn’t lose sight of her. The wax plugs in my ears would make it impossible to hear her movements, so I had to rely on sight alone. Clouds moved above us, blocking the moon and casting the woods into empty blackness. Luckily, I was faster than her. I lunged, grabbing her by her supple waist and tackling her to the ground.
She fought me. Her once-sweet features became twisted as she lashed at my face with sharp nails. I grabbed her wrist, knotting a portion of the rope around it. I put my knee on her chest and planted the rope into the ground using one of my iron stakes.
Morgana slapped me. Her palm struck my ear, and then she drug her nails across my cheek. The plug in my ear came free, but I couldn’t react lest she discover my new weakness. I drew my dagger, pressing the sharpened point against her throat. “Now, there will be no more of that. Understood?” I asked the question with a venom-laced voice. “Not. Another. Word.”
She smiled at me with dark lips as I bound her second wrist and planted it in the ground. Her arms were stretched into the shape of a cross. I stood and felt the first drops of rain fall on my head. I knew I had to work quickly.
In our struggle, Morgana’s dress had been pulled high on her thighs, revealing symbols etched into her body using dark ink. The way her body writhed on the ground was mesmerizing. She clenched her feminine thighs together, turning to the side and showing off the beautiful curves of her hips.
I drew a band of steel from my pocket and stood over Morgana, ready to use the handle of my dagger and light the spark that would create her dooming inferno. I felt her foot move along the inside of my thigh. I shuddered at her touch. Every nerve in my body fired at once. I looked to the heavens for strength. “In the name of….”
She moaned. The purr of her voice constricted around my soul. I felt frozen in time as I fought to contain the desire building inside of me. She must have known because then, she laughed.
The noise started small and innocent—barely more than a giggle. “You don’t want to hurt me. Do you?” Her seductive whimper made me forget where I was. Who I was. The song of her voice clouded my mind with thoughts of luscious indecency. When I looked down at her face, I knew for certain that I was lost. Morgana bit her lip. She closed her eyes and arched her back. As her chest heaved, the ropes binding her wrists pulled tight.
The dagger and steel fell from my hands as I knelt on top of her. “Just one kiss. Please,” she begged. My mouth was pulled to hers as if by gravity. Our tongues chased each other inside our mouths. Morgana bit my lip, and I could taste the metallic tang of blood. My hands clutched the hem of her dress, pushing it higher, revealing the soft flesh of her body.
Driven by instinct alone, I unbuckled my trousers. My erection was throbbing, begging to be inside Morgana. Drops of blood fell from my mouth, creating a pattern on her belly. I didn’t recognize the shape, but it seemed almost deliberate. I didn’t care. I had to have her.
I leaned into her neck, tasting her skin as our bodies became one. Thunder clapped in the sky above us. Morgana purred sinful delights into my ear. The fragrance of her raven black hair filled me with an insatiable lust. Rain poured on top of us as lighting lit up her seductive features. I plunged deeper inside her as Morgana’s creamy thighs wrapped around my waist, holding me firm. Her sensuous body was begging to be devoured, and I obliged. With a moan of passion, I was hers.
