Twisted Tale
Look Not For Witches
The mob was gathered to see me squirm…
The air was filled with jeers as the two guards dragged me out. It was a cold winter’s day, but the crowd knew they would soon be able to warm themselves.
Already they were jostling to get nearer to the stake where they were going to send me to oblivion.
“Burn the witch!”
“Send her to hell first and then get all the other hags of her coven.”
And then the clods of mud and handfuls of horse dung rained down on me much to the displeasure of the guards whose job it was to lead me to the pyre. There the executioner was waiting by the crude steps that led up onto the top of the wood stack where they would tie me to the stake.
The witchfinder was there, along with the magistrate who condemned me. The vermin had decided that burning was to be my fate instead of the noose and the gallows.
I shivered, partly from fear but also because of the cold. The crowd saw that and the jeers turned to laughter.
“You’ll soon be hot where you’re going, witch!”
I knew that there would be men in the mob wagering on whether or not the executioner would be merciful enough to strangle me before the pyre was torched.
That priest was also there with his bible, waiting for one last time for me to repent and save my soul before I died.
I grinned and then spat at him.
I had been fucked by every one of them as I festered in that dingy prison cell, the witchfinder, the magistrate, the executioner, the guards and the priest. I made sure they enjoyed the way their cocks slipped into my cunny or my ass. Apart from the priest. I didn’t actually fuck him, but I wanked and sucked his cock in that dank prison cell while he told me he could absolve me of my sins.
Absolve me of what? I had done nothing wrong. I gave folk that sought my help herbs to ease their pains. Or potions to the men who had the pox or clap. To so called barren women I gave simple elixirs of water, along with concoctions of bull testicles to secretly give to their men to put some wood in their cocks or fill their balls with spunk that worked.
When they first started hunting for the so called coven I knew what was going to happen. The men were going to have their way with me and my friends, other women like me who just tried to help their neighbors. I was always headstrong and vocal, and because I was so defiant they decided I would be burned not hanged.
That’s why I prepared well. What sort of a life was it for the likes of us anyway? If I could save my friends who would be arrested soon enough and one by one sent to our maker, that would be enough for me.
But each one of those bastard men is going to suffer. The pox and the clap I gave each of them a good dose of these last two weeks will do its job. I know what will happen. If they live long enough they’ll go mad. But before that their cocks will grow pustules, their balls will shrivel and they will not be able to get it up.
All those other men who came to me for treatment of their pox, I made them wank into a pot, or squeeze the pus that dribbled from their cocks into jars. I kept topping it up and I made an ointment that I kept secret and smeared inside my cunny when they came to my cell to fuck me.
The executioner tied me tight and sneered at me as he climbed down the crude steps ready to light my way to heaven or hell. He wasn’t going to take pity on me and strangle me, much to the joy of some of the gambling men and the annoyance of others. I knew why.
“Does your cock have a cold?” I had asked when the guards handed me to him at the steps leading up.
His eyes opened wide and told me what I needed to know.
“It’ll get worse and it’ll be agony. Better get yourself to an apothecary and get quicksilver shoved inside it. But it won’t do any good.”
He restrained from striking me.
The guards laughed at his discomfiture until I gave them a final parting message, too.
“The same goes for you two bastards, you can expect your cocks to drool pus and then so will your ass holes. Only a hot poker up them will help. And then not for long.”
It was obvious that they slept with each other. Unlike the others they had taken pleasure in shoving their cocks up my ass instead of my cunny. I had oiled my hole with the same ointment as my cunny just in case of that.
What did it matter that I was hurting down below now? I would soon be leaving this earth.
The torches were applied and the wood burned quickly as the crowd brayed. The smoke began to engulf me and I laughed as I coughed and cursed all of them.
“Hear my curse,” I cried out. “You witch fornicators — you witchfinder, you magistrate, and all who have tortured and taken pleasure in my body — you will suffer a plague of boils!” I coughed and spluttered as the crowd listened and jeered.
“You dipped your cocks in my cunny. You are mine now. Bewitched!”
The jeers at me started to change. Cries went up, questions were shouted at the witchfinder and magistrate.
Through the billowing smoke I saw their horrified and terrified faces. The mob was starting to turn.
“Your cocks and balls will shrivel and fall. Anyone who touches or sleeps with any of you will suffer the same.”
Angry shouts not directed at me were music to my dying ears.
“And you will all go to hell. Your only hope… ”
I could hardly breathe now. It seemed as if the air was being sucked from me as the fire raged.
“Is to give up this devilish work. Look not for witches -”
Through the haze I saw raised fists and the crowd attacking the witchfinder, the magistrate and priest.
“Look for the evil in men and the wrong-doers within!”
I heard screams first from the priest and then the others.
I prayed for my friends and for my own soul.
Just enough breath for a final peel of laughter before the all consuming mercy of blackness as I passed out, unaware of my death — but content to meet it.
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