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The Initiation

She was known and feared throughout the land. People from villages far and wide had stories about her, and it was difficult to tell which ones were true. They called her by many names - the Enchantress, Queen Jinx, the Wild Fae Sadist. She called herself Clementine.

No one even knew her race, much less had committed the witch's face to memory, so she often put on simple clothing and walked among them at the market, at festivals, even sometimes attending services in a village church or coming to meditate in a temple. She would hear them whispering, totally unaware that the woman next to them was who they were whispering about.

She had seen paintings, illustrations, read poems about what people thought she did. It was all very silly, honestly. In fact, Clementine was a powerful witch and a force to be reckoned with, even dangerous if one stood against her, but that wasn't what she felt should define her. What she chose to do with her power, most of the time, was to help and to heal.

On a typical day, Clementine awoke at 3am and started work by lighting the fireplace in her kitchen. Spring had just arrived, and the stone floors of the ruined castle she called home were cold, the air chilly, but the scent of new life was everywhere. Today would be the day for a cleaning ritual to welcome the new season. For that, she would need bread.

As the oven was heating and she was up to her elbows in flour, mixing the dough, Clementine found herself surprised as one of her servants (a small black and white rat) delivered a message. Someone was at the front door.

"Let them in, and I shall greet them in a moment," she ordered. The rat nodded and scurried back out of the kitchen, rejoining a small group of others in the corridor. Together, they all headed to open the door for their master's guest.

Clementine turned back to the dough, wondering if this visitor would be worth wasting it. She eventually decided that satisfying her curiosity - as well as making sure not to rudely keep whoever it was waiting - was more important, and she could easily mix another batch of dough later. She washed her arms in the sink and returned to her room to change into the appropriate attire for greeting company.

................................................

A young man stood outside in the dark. He had knocked on the door a couple of times, timidly at first, but then a bit louder. He knew this had to be the right house, but as he waited for an answer, he started to wonder if he'd made some sort of mistake. Holding up his lantern, he could see his breath in the cold, and he pulled his hood farther down over his face, trying to keep more warmth in. Still, his long fox-like nose protruded into the cold, and he sniffled a bit. His bushy tail twitched impatiently.

And then... the door opened.

"Hello?" He stood at attention but saw no one there. Cautiously, he stepped through the doorway and peered around the corner. Nothing. "Is... is anyone home?"

He looked behind him at the horse and cart he'd left outside. The stocky brown gelding whinnied quietly at him, concerned for his master. The horse was as uncertain as the man was.

"Don't worry, Ben," he called out softly. "I won't leave you. I'll only be a few minutes, and then I'll come back out for you." The horse snorted, as if he didn't quite believe that.

The vulpin man stepped the rest of the way into the foyer, and the door closed behind him. He noticed a fire had been lit that he didn't think was there before, and he immediately went to stand by it and warm his cold hands. He waited.

Clementine wore a long, sleeveless black dress that buttoned up the front, and a black fur cape, made from a single large pelt with very soft, silky fur, wrapped around her shoulders. Her long brown hair was brushed, but she hadn't had time to do anything else with it, so it simply hung naturally down her neck and back. In her sock-covered feet she walked quietly through the dark halls until she could see her visitor waiting by the fire, but he could not yet see her. The witch had seen vulpins before but never personally met one. They were rare in this part of the world. She wondered what this young beast-like man could possibly want from her, and she observed him quietly pacing for a few minutes before making her presence known.

"Good morning, traveller. Have you come a long way to find my home?"

The man looked up from the fire, slightly startled. Once he spotted her, he bowed.

"I've travelled for many weeks to find you," he said. "It was not easy. There are many tales about the Great Sorceress, and separating fact from fiction is not always an easy task."

The witch smiled at that. It amused her to know how often the truth about her work was made into faerytales and legends.

"And what is it you've come for?" she asked.

The vulpin briefly looked her in the eye, then once again bowed his head in reverence.

"I would like to learn your ways. Would you please take me as your apprentice?"

Clementine raised her eyebrows in surprise. "You want to be a witch?"

"Yes," he said, still bowed. "I've read about and studied witches for years. I always wanted to learn the craft, but I need a teacher."

"Why me? Surely there were other witches that live nearer your homeland?"

"It's true, most villages have a witch, but the ones I've met only practice the simple craft. None are as powerful as you, my lady." At this, Clementine couldn't help but laugh out loud. The vulpin looked up at her, confused. "Why are you laughing? Isn't it true that you're the most powerful witch in this part of the world? I promise I'll do anything to learn from you." She gained control of herself and wiped a tear from her eye.

"I'm sorry," she said, "it's just so amusing. People in this kingdom don't like witches much. Sure, they'll come to us for help when it's necessary, but when you have true power, they won't trust you. It's a lonely life. I'm not sure you understand what you're asking for."

"I know it won't be easy, but I know that with the type of power you have I could help so many people. I'm prepared to do whatever it takes to join you in this sacred position."

The witch smiled kindly at him and placed her hand on his shoulder. "Very well, then. I will teach you. But you should know, I won't take it easy on you in the slightest. If you are to be my apprentice, you must also be my slave, only to earn your freedom once your training is complete. Are you sure this is what you want?"

He nodded solemnly. "I am yours to do with as you will, so long as I can learn your craft."

"Give me your name."

Ah. He recognized that phrase well from his research. In the old days, it was common knowledge, but most people had forgotten or just no longer cared, that telling a magical being your name would give them power over you, but if they specifically asked you to give them your name, it would no longer be yours, and they would own you. He hesitated for a moment, but reminded himself that he should have expected this, and he had just agreed to slavery. "Of course," he said. "I am --"

As he spoke his name out loud, he found that he could not recognize the word. It was like some alien sound that escaped his lips. He tried to repeat himself but found that he couldn't. He almost panicked, but looking into his new master's eyes, he found calm.

"From now on," she commanded, "your name is Kitt. To this name shall you answer, and by it shall you be recognized." And with a hand to his forehead, the pact was sealed. Kitt blinked as his mind attempted to process what had just happened, but this new identity felt so natural now that it almost seemed like he had never been anyone else.

"Thank you, master," he said as he bowed.

Clementine motioned for him to stand and said "Follow me, Kitt. There is one more thing I need from you before your apprenticeship becomes official."

He followed her down the dark corridor and took a left turn, where she led him down a flight of stairs. It was much colder in the castle even than it had been outside, and now that there was no fire to warm him, Kitt shivered. He could tell that even his master felt cold, as she clutched her fur cloak tightly around her. He wondered what sort of animal it was made from. At the bottom of the stairs, they turned to the right and entered a relatively small room with a simple wooden door. It was so dark that Kitt couldn't see anything, until his master held a candle to her lips and breathed a small flame onto it. She then did the same to several other candles, lighting up the room and revealing some rather ordinary looking furniture - a wooden table, two chairs, a shelf cluttered with miscellaneous objects, and several chests. Most of the chests were simple and made of wood, but one stood out. It was covered in leather and fastened with a shiny lock, and it looked very expensive. The witch reached, somehow, into her breast and pulled out a golden key, unlocked the chest, and removed from it a very old, very familiar knife. Kitt had, of course, never seen it in person before, but he instantly recognized it from countless illustrations in books he had read. It had always looked slightly different in each artist's rendition, and now that he saw it with his own eyes he understood why. It was clear that this ancient artifact had been passed down from master to apprentice through many generations, and that each new owner of the blade had enhanced it in some way, adding their own modifications to make it more powerful, more useful, overall a more valuable tool than it had ever been before. Clementine saw the look in his eye as he gazed upon it.

"I assume you know of this blade." He only nodded, said nothing, and she continued. "Then you must be aware of the power it holds, and what it can do. The Witch's Blade has belonged to countless witches, wizards, and sorcerers before me, and used for many purposes. It was originally intended to be used as a tool for healing, but in its lifetime it has also been used to cause harm. It is, both metaphorically and literally, a double-edged blade." Kitt swallowed nervously and stared at the blade in awe.

"It's beautiful," he whispered. Clementine smirked.

"Drop your pants."

"Master?" His long fox-like ears twitched nervously.

"Go on," she said. "Take off your pants now." He did as he was told, hesitantly at first, and stood half-naked in front of his master. She inspected his genitals. The tip of his penis was just barely protruding from his furry sheath, which appeared average in size, and below that his scrotum hung heavy with slightly larger than average balls. "Now stroke yourself. I want to see you erect."

"Yes, master." Kitt grasped his sheath and began to work it back and forth over his cock head as it gradually emerged. Once it was fully visible, Clementine could see that it was actually a bit larger than the average human penis, and as he continued to stroke it, it only continued to grow. Fully erect, it looked to be about 8 inches long.

"Stop." He reluctantly took his hand off his cock but seemed irritated that she'd stopped him from climaxing. She held out the handle of the blade toward him. "Now, take this knife and cut it off."

"What?!" The vulpin let out a soft involuntary whine as his ears laid back, a mortified expression on his face.

"Don't worry, you'll get it back eventually! The magic in the blade keeps the severed flesh alive and spiritually connected to the body, and it can be reattached when I deem you've earned it." Kitt knew all this, of course, but the idea of having his cock removed, let alone cutting it off himself, was terrifying.

"Will it hurt?"

Clementine sighed, then with a softer voice explained, "The pain will burn hot for just a moment and then quickly fade. As I'm sure you know from your studies, no blood will be shed, and the wound will instantly seal, leaving no scar." Kitt took a deep, calming breath and relaxed, preparing to obey. "Now, I want you to pull as much cock out of your sheath as you can, try to cut out the entire length. You should still be able to urinate normally with your sheath intact, so try not to cut that. I'll keep your cock safe and comfortable until it's time to return it to you."

He nodded and grasped the knife handle. His cock had gone a bit soft from the shock, so he gave it a few more good strokes before grasping it firmly and pulling it away from his body. Then with the knife in his other hand, he carefully pushed back his sheath and, bringing the knife up from the underside, cut into the base of his shaft. The witch was right about the pain. It burned intensely. He yelped and stopped halfway in and had to take another deep breath and push himself to finish it, but once the knife had sliced all the way through, that painful heat was gone in a flash, leaving only an odd tingling sensation that faded in a moment. He could still feel his cock in his hand.

"Now hand it to me," commanded the witch with her hand outstretched. He obediently placed his severed member into her soft open palm; her thumb rested on his glans, and it felt almost pleasant. "And the knife as well." He placed it in her other outstretched hand, and she tucked it away in a pocket on her dress. "Good boy." She patted his head with one hand and rubbed the head of his cock with her thumb. Kitt slowly wagged his tail, glad that ordeal was over and excited for the beginning of his new life as a witch apprentice.

"Now, about your balls..."

"What about them, master?" His eyes darted nervously to hers. Was she going to make him castrate himself as well? But her face seemed calm, and her eyes somehow gentle. Despite what he'd just gone through, Kitt felt sure that Clementine didn't want to hurt him.

"Since you currently have no use for them, would you like for me to hang on to them as well? It might be more comfortable for you, to not have them bumping around all the time. I can keep them somewhere safe, and you'll get them back too, just the same as your cock -- though I'll keep it with me for now," she added more quietly, almost as if she didn't quite mean for him to hear that last part. "Oh, but don't worry, you won't have to cut them off yourself. Testicle removal is a much more delicate operation, which I'll perform for you, if you wish. I can also show you a better use for your scrotum once those are out of the way."

Kitt had to admit he was intrigued by what the witch was offering. And now that he had experienced the effect of the Witch's Knife and knew how quickly the pain had faded, he didn't fear it as much as he had before.

"I'll give you some time to think about it," she said. "For now, I have work to get back to. Do you cook?"

Kitt nodded. "I can cook a few things. My food isn't the best, but it isn't terrible."

"Excellent. Come. Make me breakfast." She put his cock in a silk pouch and stored it in her other pocket and then, with her hands free, grasped him by the arm and led him out and back up the stairs. "The kitchen is this way, and my room is down that hall there. Once we've eaten, I'll show you your room."

Kitt suddenly remembered to ask "Do you have a stable?" The witch stopped walking and looked at him, puzzled.

"A stable?"

"Yes," he said. "I've left my horse by your front door."

"Oh, I'll have my servants take care of him." She made a series of clicking and whistling sounds, and a plump brown rat scurried out of the shadows to meet her. She said something to it in a language Kitt couldn't recognize and pointed toward the door. The rat nodded and scurried away again. "There. Your horse will be well looked-after in my stable, though I'm afraid we'll have to make a trip into town for some feed. I haven't had horses in so long, I nearly forgot how to care for them." The two of them resumed their walk to the kitchen.

"Ben's a good horse," Kitt assured his master. "He's very polite and quite willing to earn his keep."

She smiled. "I think he'll be happy here. As long as he doesn't mind other animals."

"Will I learn to communicate with them like that?" he asked.

"What, you mean wildspeak? Of course. It is the language of witches, after all. Well, technically it originated from the druids, but they passed it down to us, and it's what all witches use to commune with nature."

"Why haven't I ever read about it in my books?"

"Some secrets, young apprentice, are better kept than others." She winked at him and then stepped through a doorway into the warm, well-lit kitchen. The fire crackled cozily, and a fluffy grey cat dozed beside its warmth. Clementine gently nudged the cat awake with her foot. "Ophie, wake up. I want you to meet my new slave." The cat opened one eye to look him over, then yawned and stretched awake.

"Doesn't look like much of a slave," she said in a crackly old woman's voice. "This boy's got no meat on his bones. What's he going to do, sit by the fire and knit?"

Kitt was simply impressed. "She can speak common? This is an amazing creature!" The cat cackled so hard she erupted into a fit of coughing.

"Stupid boy! Have you never heard a cat speak before? Geez, Clem, where'd you find this guy?"

Clementine rolled her eyes. "Ophie, this is Kitt. He's agreed to serve me as a slave in exchange for an apprenticeship. Kitt, meet Ophelia. I've known her since I was a novice witch, and she has helped me maintain this castle for as long as I've lived here. I trust her more than anyone and expect you to show her the same respect you would me."

"Yes, master. Lady Ophelia." Kitt bowed toward the elderly feline, and she grinned smugly.

"Now, Ophie, could you please show Kitt where to find everything he needs to prepare our breakfast? I've got to start a new batch of bread for today's spring cleansing ritual."

The cat nodded and gestured for Kitt to follow her to the adjacent storage room to select ingredients, while Clementine set aside her cloak and once again began mixing the dough for her bread. There was some chatter and clatter on the other side of the kitchen as Kitt worked on breakfast, supervised by Ophelia, but Clementine mostly ignored them, focusing her attention on the bread. Once the buns were in the oven, the three of them all sat down at the kitchen table (well, Ophelia sat on the table) and ate together. The meal Kitt had prepared - rice fried with eggs - wasn't especially nice or delicious, but it was filling, and Clementine appreciated his effort.

After they were done eating, and Ophelia had dismissed herself, the witch stood up and said, "Now if you'll follow me, I'll show you where your room is."

Master and apprentice walked in silence down the hallway. The sun was now starting to rise, and the morning light peaked through the widely spaced windows whenever they passed them. Clementine's mind wandered over her checklist of preparations for the day, things she needed for the upcoming spring season, and wondered how different life would be with an apprentice. Kitt was busy thinking about his altered genitals and what his master had proposed to him earlier. It was going to be weird getting used to his cock being separated from his body, and he wondered if he would regret it. He contemplated asking her about what she'd meant by a "better use" for his scrotum. She stopped in front of another door and rested her band on it.

"Here you are," she said. "This is your room." Now seemed as good a time as any, and Kitt found himself opening his mouth to speak, almost reflexively.

"Master?"

"Hm?"

"I've been thinking about what you said before... about removing my balls. Maybe it would be for the best." The witch smirked.

"I could do it for you now if you want."

"Ri- right now?" He swallowed and focused on steadying his breath.

"Of course. It'll be done in just a few minutes, and then you can settle in and get a feel for your new home while I finish getting ready for the day." She opened the door to the room - his room - and led him inside. He felt strange thinking of this as home, but he realized this is what he had wanted for so long, and now his dream of becoming a witch was finally coming true. He looked around the room. It wasn't what he had expected. The room was larger than what he thought any slave had ever called their own, and it appeared to have been freshly cleaned. A fire had even been lit in the fireplace; he guessed the witch had had her animal servants fix it up for him. There was a comfy looking bed with several colourful quilts on it, and a dresser with a mirror. Sunlight shone through the two open windows and onto the bed. It was now morning.

"What should I do?" he asked his master. She sat on the edge of his bed and patted the space beside her.

"Take your clothes off and lie down here. I'll do this quickly so we can both get back to our day." The vulpin obediently disproved, leaving his garments in a pile on the floor, and hesitated only a second before climbing onto the bed and lying on his back, his legs slightly spread. His tried to relax, but his ears gave him away, laid back against his head. As much as he knew things would be alright, he couldn't help still feeling nervous. "Just relax," Clementine said, calmly stroking his belly, as she removed the Witch's Knife from her pocket. "It'll only hurt for a little bit, and then you won't have to worry about them for a while. Besides, I did promise to show you a little trick you can use your empty scrotum for." The vulpin's ears twitched curiously.

"What's that?"

"You'll see." She held the knife in one hand and with the other, gently pulled his scrotum tight and cut an opening straight across the top of it, just about a half-inch below his now empty sheath. He whined but held back the yelp that threatened to escape his throat. She gently guided his testicles up and out through the opening until they hung in the open air. It was an odd feeling, and one that Kitt did not particularly like. "Hold still," the witch warned, before pulling a testicle away from his body and quickly slicing through the cord that connected it. This time, the vulpin did yelp. Clementine once again stroked his belly to soothe him. "One more," she said, and repeated the process with the remaining testicle. She carefully dropped both severed balls into a silk pouch with a drawstring, like the one that held his penis, and set it carefully aside.

"Is that it?" asked the vulpin, already recovering from the pain he'd just felt. "Am I done?"

"Not quite yet. If you're going to want to put this sack to good use, it has to be cleaned first. I'm afraid this is going to be the most painful part, but it will still fade as quickly as before. Are you okay with this?" Kitt figured if he had come this far he might as well go all the way. He nodded, then squeezed his eyes shut, bracing himself. The witch got to work on his empty sack, kneading and stretching it in every direction. Then, completely taking him by surprise, she reached two fingers into the opening and started to turn it inside-out! The poor vulpin man could not handle this and let out a long yelp, followed by an equally long while, but his master held him in place and continued her work. She dragged the flat of the enchanted blade all around the inside (temporarily "outside") of his scrotum, scraping it and sealing it with its healing magic. It felt like his sack was filled with liquid fire, and Kitt nearly thought he might faint. But after only a few moments of this excruciating horror, the knife was set aside, and gentle fingers were returning outside to inside. The pain faded, and he could breathe easy.

"There," said Clementine, clearly proud of her work. "Now you've got a secret pouch for holding things. Use it well." And she winked as she slid the knife into her own enchanted breast pocket. Kitt remembered the key from earlier and understood now.

"Ah," he said, inspecting his modified scrotum. "Very clever. How long have witches used this trick?"

"I'm not aware of any others who do," she admitted. "But it's a very useful method of hiding valuable items." Kitt nodded. "Now, if you'll excuse me... I must go and get ready. You will join me for the cleaning ritual starting at noon. Until then, feel free to relax here."

She exited the room, leaving the young eunuch alone to contemplate his drastically changed life.