# Witch Blood 12

Author: Little Red Wolf
Tags: Domination/Submission, Dominatrix, F/F, Human, Metaphor, Story Progression, witch

The world formed out of fuzzy
confusion. Rhea's chest heaved and she found her fists crossed in front of her
eyes. She recalled a dream of gruff witch hunters holding her under water and
then sticking a thin reed into her lips to breathe through. The faint trickle
of life giving air would keep her alive but she could not fight back ... and she
knew it was a metaphor. Pushing sweat back from her face did not improve her
outlook but it rubbed sleep-soot out of her eyes and brought fresh blood to the
surface.
Her waking routine began with a
trip to the privy followed closely by dragging out her bathing supplies. The
small bedroom she was living in only had a few things in it to mark it as hers
and she checked on one of those things carefully.
Tiny seeds were sprouting nicely but
they were at a state where they needed little attention. Soon they would be
planted out near the stable's fence where they could climb and then bloom under
moonlight. Another metaphor, she
thought as she pushed open the window and stared longingly at the setting sun.
Being a witch may have qualified
her as a woman of the night to some but
she did not agree. Early morning had always been her private time to set out
into the world and now it marked an ending. Day and night had traded roles and
the women of the brothel would be waking shortly.
A lesson from Baba Ginger played in
her head ... something about a person needing sunshine just like a plant, but she
could not remember why. All she was certain of was that her skin was pale and
her head was aching with strain. Maybe I
should stay up until noon or wake before sunset. Maybe I should climb onto the
roof, strip naked, and bathe in pure sunlight. I'm so tired ... always tired.
The scrub brush worked feeling back
into her muscles and the water made her feel human again. It was not a hair
washing day so she tied it up before settling into the tub and she sighed as
the heat pieced through her gloom.
"Oh! Uhm ... hi Rhea."
"Annabelle," she replied without
opening her eyes.
"Oh, please don't call me that,"
the young woman pouted. Rhea smiled but she still did not look. She had seen
her friend's face enough times to know its shape by now.
"You smell like the stables," Rhea
teased.
"Yes," Annabelle said dryly,
"that's why I'm here."
"Uh-huh," Rhea muttered. There was
more to her snark but it faded in the bliss of the tub. She heard her friend
rattle around the room and the hiss of water filled a bucket. Bristles began
scraping over milky skin and the scent of fresh compost mixed with sweat and
something musky. Rhea's eyes blinked open. "Oh ... gods." She lifted her head and
looked at Annabelle. There were marks on her skin and her fingers were cleaning
moving between her legs in a private cleaning ritual. "Anna! Did you find
yourself a stable boy?"
"Wha- no!" The reaction was so
abrupt that it could only be a lie. Rhea flung back her head and laughed so
hard that she had to curl up into a ball. Twisting herself to face Anna let her
see a body blush no amount of suds could cover.
"Sooo ... he's a stable man, eh?" Rhea continued teasing. "Come
on, Anna. Details!"
Anna's head twitched and she peaked
over at her friend. "Promise you won't laugh?"
"I'll promise not to make fun of
you," Rhea told her honestly, "but if I'm really happy for you then I'm going
to laugh. It's not mean laughter ... but it'll be there."
"Oh ... alright." Anna wrinkled her
nose and then returned to her cleaning. "He's ... uhm ..."
"Yes?" Rhea prodded as she leaned
forward over the edge of the tub.
"He's ... just my type."
The silence that followed built in
Rhea's chest like steam in a teakettle. Then her inner smart-ass began to
whistle. "Sooo ... he's built like a tree and has one of those names that's a
grunt and a feat like, Trog-the-Bull-Rider or Uhg-the-Destroyer?" She held it
together for three more seconds before bursting into laughter that sent her
bubbling to the bottom of the tub. When she surfaced she wiped water away and
then saw Anna rinsing herself off and covering a mark on her arm. "Ooor ...
Biter-the-Woman-Eater?"
"Oh, hush!" Anna huffed.
"Not until you tell me," Rhea
singsonged.
"Alright," Anna said with a sigh.
"His name does mean mountain ... or at
least the hills where the dead are buried."
"Aaand ... you let him ... bury the
dead in the middle of the day when we're all asleep but the rest of the world
is not?" Rhea felt herself bouncing. Anna winced and looked up at her. "Yeah, I
know, I was stretching to make that one work. But stop stalling ... details."
"Well," Anna hedged and then shook
her head. "I don't really want to-"
"Ooohhh no you don't," Rhea told
her in a stern tone that was much too amused to be angry. "I've been trying to
find out who's been plowing your field for weeks! This hound has finally found the
vixen and the only way you're escaping is to tell me your dirty secrets!"
"Ugh ... fine," Anna scowled with
disgust. "His name is Beorgas."
"A foreigner?" Rhea asked as a
suspicion crept into her spine. Anna nodded. "From the north?" Another nod.
"Across the sea?"
"Don't ... tell anyone," Anna told
her with a wide-eyed look that went from embarrassment to fear. "They wouldn't
understand!"
"I'm not sure I understand," Rhea admitted in a sober tone. "It doesn't give me
the right to ruin your happiness, but please, be careful."
"I will," Anna said as her
shoulders slouched in relief.
"Now then," Rhea declared as she
shifted to one side to make room, "come in here and tell me all about it." Anna
hesitated but a look from her friend caused her to give in. Once she was
settled comfortably, she looked down and gave a little blush. Rhea admired
Anna's body and breasts much more openly than before and it placated her for
several wondrous moments before she continued making demands. "Well?"
"Uhm ... well ... what do ... you want to
know?"
"Is he built like an oak with a
cock like some cellar wrecking root system?"
"Rhee-yah!" Anna shrieked as her
friend giggled. "Gods! You've taken to Callie's sense of humor like a fish to a
stream!"
"Well, she has been my mentor for almost a month," Rhea reminded her.
"Haven't the others been teaching
you too?" Anna asked as she tilted her head to one side.
"Yeah ... sort of," Rhea admitted as
she stretched and leaned back. "Belinda and Fayre are way too intense for my
taste and Mabel gets all of the super emotional clients. They're either
wanna-be conquerors or men who really wish they were fathers. So they're either
scary-aggressive or eternally sad, without much in-between."
"Does that mean your empathy is
returning?" Anna asked as her caregiving expression began to take over.
"A little bit," Rhea admitted with
a nod. "My brand is more like a tea-filter than a pile of rubble and I think my
senses are adjusting to the quieter flow of the stream."
"I see," Anna said as she gave a
thoughtful nod. "I like your tea-filter analogy. We can move the energy through
but we can't push too hard or we spill all over and spilling burns us."
"Yeah, kind of like that!"
"So, what about Opal and Kenna's
lessons?" Anna continued. "Are they any good for you?"
"Opal's good." There was a pause
before Rhea could confess her next words. "She ... kind of ... pisses me off,
though."
"Jealous?" Anna asked with a smirk.
"Have you heard her talk about her
clients?" There was a pause as they stared at each other. "She's a little ...
harsh."
"Well," Anna began and then she lingered
a little too long before beginning again, "we don't have clients like she does.
I'm sure your opinions will change when it happens."
"Yeah," Rhea nodded as she leaned
back and thought about it. "I wonder when that'll happen." Anna stared to talk
and then stopped. A knowing hesitation was in her eyes and it would take work
to get her to spill. "Don't do it, Anna. I can see you holding out on me."
"It's not really my place to talk
about my mother's business," she stated evasively.
"So ... no help for a fellow witch?"
Rhea turned it into a questioning tone that caused her friend to look ashamed.
The water pipes rattled as other occupants began their nightly preparations.
Footsteps moved up and down the hall until one particular set crashed closer
and flung the door open.
"Hellooooo my sexy darlings!"
Callie shouted and the tension broke into uncomfortable laughter. "Uh-oh.
Something's brewing. What's up?"
"Oh, well-" Anna started but Rhea
interrupted her.
"I'm training with Kenna tonight,"
she said darkly, and Callie's face fell a bit.
"Oh, well ... yeah," she took a
breath and huffed it out. "It'll be okay. Kenna's scary but she knows a lot.
Just be careful about her art. Once she gets talking ... well. She can get a bit
philosophical."
"The art and philosophy of
sex-craft?" Rhea asked with an amused smirk.
"Hey, you've been warned," Callie
told her. "Kenna will flay your hide and eat you alive if you annoy her so just
be polite and attentive."
"What did she do to you?" Rhea
asked suspiciously, and Callie shivered.
"You don't want to know."
 
*****
 
"Have you ever touched a penis?"
Kenna asked the question with the cold intensity which she did most things.
Rhea found herself flinching at the woman's domineering manner but she was
certain it was mostly because they were standing in a candlelit room that
resembled a torture chamber. There were strange metal contraptions with straps
and shelves covered in devices that the young witch could only guess at.
Right
... it has nothing to do with what we're wearing. I'm sure that if we took all of
the cloth from both of our outfits and wove it into one garment ... the tailor
might be able to get one whole shirt out of it.
Rhea bit back her discomfort and
ran her thumb along the material to free it from her cheeks. Then she faced the
other woman with all of the courage she could muster. "Only one," she admitted,
"but I did a lot of things with it. I'm not a virgin, you know."
"Are you not a virgin ... everywhere?" the leather-clad woman
asked with a furrowed brow that caused Rhea to buckle under the hidden
meanings. Kenna began running skilled hands along the slender curves of her
muscular body. A hypnotic heat filled the room like a ritual, drawing all eyes
and leaving the faculties muddy. Rhea realized she was gawking and wrestled for
control of herself.
"Do not avert your eyes," Kenna
ordered, and Rhea reacted as if stung. A graceful hand took up a ridding crop
and caught the younger woman a blow along her bare ribs. The gasp of shock
became one of confused pleasure as the sensation tingled its way along one
side. "I am the mistress of this lesson, little servant. Do you understand me?"
Rhea hesitated and Kenna leaned forward, her voice pitched low and breathy. "I
want to hear you say it."
"Y-yeah," she stuttered.
"Yes, Mistress," Kenna corrected
her.
"Yes ... Mistress," Rhea repeated and
she began to wonder what type of magic this woman wielded that controlled
people so efficiently.
A wicked little smirk appeared at
the corner of the perfect mouth. Goosebumps rushed across Rhea's skin as the
leather of the ridding crop began to trace a line across exposed flesh, moving
from side, to stomach, to just below her navel. "Are you not a virgin ... here?"
"Y-yes, Mistress," Rhea barely
answered. Her heart was racing as Kenna circled around behind her. Both hands
slid up naked arms and then came up to cup full breasts, the riding crop tucked
was tucked under them but she barely noticed.
"Are you not a virgin ... here?"
"Yeh ... yes ... mistress!" A moan
slipped out as warm breath touched her neck. She's so close ... doing so much ... why is my body reacting like this?
Velvet fingers slid lower and the
tips of savage nails raked lightly down exposed flanks. Then Rhea felt her
bottom being cupped. "What about here?" Kenna asked softly. "Did your lover
penetrate you here?"
"W-what?" Confusion caused the
spell to lose its power and the intruding hands drew back.
Kenna circled around to stand in
front of Rhea once more and she gestured to her own sex with the ridding crop.
"If a man enters your body here and comes to completion, then you have
accomplished what any healthy woman can do." She slid the tip of the leather a
little farther back until it was positioned at her bottom. "If the man enters
here, it is just as likely that he
will come to completion, though it takes training and preparation for you to enjoy it."
Rhea's already excited body had no
trouble recalling Lyle's weight on her back and his teeth on the nape of her
neck. But the thought of him entering her from that place did not sound
pleasant.
"Any moist opening can bring a man
to completion," Kenna explained, "but there are other ways that require skill
and artistry. The easiest ways are always the most dangerous to you. When the
seed of a man enters your body, you make yourself vulnerable to pregnancy,
disease, and the poisons of another's soul. Every man carries the burdens of
life within him and his seed is an expression of those burdens. If it gets into
you ... then you will carry a measure of those burdens."
Rhea tried to think of something to
say but the whole experience, both the conversation and the pressing of
physical boundaries, was too much for her to grasp yet.
"Painters and poets release their
frustrations into their art," Kenna continued, "but most men cannot find
release without the intervention of another. That is where we come in. We are
wielders of forbidden pleasures. It takes training and practice to achieve ...
but it is worth it."
Kenna brandished the ridding crop
and Rhea watched it with morbid fascination. When it landed on her ribs, the
sting elicited another gasp of pleasant shock. "Each person has their own
weaknesses." The leather began to trace lines of sensation as its wielder
circled. "Each person has places of pleasure and pain that are different from
others. Some people like to be beaten and others abhor such an idea." The
leather tip of the ridding crop touched Rhea's back, her shoulder, slid softly
over her collar bone, and settled under her chin. "Did you ever ... taste him?"
"Y-yeah," she admitted.
"And did you like the taste of his
seed?"
"No!" Rhea neatly shouted but then
she settled a bit. "No, it was all ... I ... I just didn't like it."
"Pity," Kenna shrugged as she
stepped back, breaking the physical contact. "It is more difficult if you
dislike the taste."
"How difficult?" Rhea asked as her
tutor as the woman moved to a table of toys and picked up a length of polished
glass. Several pieces of leather attached it to a small harness that could be
worn around the waist.
"Nothing a little training cannot
handle," the serious woman said with a languid grace. She held the phallic
glass before her like a holy relic and her expression lost its playfulness.
"This, is what makes a man weak. Kingdoms have fallen because of this little
beast. Wars have been fought and scores of men have killed each other due to
the passions contained in their blood. When a man does not release his passion,
it builds."
Kenna curled the fingers of one
hand and began to slide the cylinder forward and back. "When the pressure is
too great, the man explodes. Some men explode into violence, others explode
into art, and others ..." Her fingers quickened over the glass and Rhea felt her
pulse gallop more quickly at the sight of it. Moisture began to gather at her
core and her breath came in short excited bursts.
Eventually Kenna stopped and Rhea
became suddenly aware of her reactions. Their eyes met and Rhea could see the
dark amusement in the other woman. "The man who comes here cums to completion
in our hands, looses his lust, and then returns to his normal life. Do you
understand?"
Rhea let out her breath and paused
before speaking. "Wait ... are you telling me that men will freak out and kill
each other if we don't have sex with them?"
"Many of them will," Kenna told
her. "Some are better at containing themselves than others ... but all require
release."
"No," Rhea shook her head and she
let out a little laugh. I've made jokes
about it but there's no way ... "Men aren't that monstrous! Maybe some of them are like that but men aren't ... they
aren't all-" She lost the ability to continue when she looked back into Kenna's
eyes. The ferocity that raged within those pools of inky darkness suddenly
terrified her and Rhea was suddenly uncertain of everything.
"We are the harbingers of desire,"
Kenna growled. "Men must loose their seed or be consumed by rage. The church
tells them it is a sin to do this on their own so they search for a mate. The
church then tells them it is a sin to have sex outside of the creation of
children. The church then tells them they are not to enjoy such an act."
Kenna took a deep breath and then
regained control of her anger. "Have you ever noticed how zealots are so full
of anger? Celibacy is an unnatural thing that causes holy men to abuse their
flocks, molest children, and murder people who displease them. It is our job to
harness these passions and give them release. Bring a man to completion and his
anger falls flaccid. Then he can return to his life, do as he wills yet harm
none."
Rhea tried to picture Lyle and the
way restraint he always showed around her. Was
he burning alive with lust? Would he have hurt me if I had denied him? No ... not
Lyle. Then something else drew her attention. Do as he wills yet harm none. There was ritual to the words, and
they touched memories in Rhea's mind. She's
a witch ... and she's obsessed with power. Power through sex. I wonder ...
"Kenna, were you raped?" Rhea
suddenly realized she had spoken her thoughts. It was not a delicate question
but the words were out and so she would need to own them.
"No," Kenna told her firmly. "I
have never been raped."
"Oh, I'm sorry," Rhea blurted
awkwardly. "You just seemed-"
"Obsessed?" Kenna asked, and her
posture seemed to relax a bit. "I am not a victim, Rhea, but I am not blind.
Sex is about power. Two people who are in love will share their power with each
other. You trust your partner and your partner trusts you. You trade the power
back and forth. You give him control and then he gives it back. Each time you
give up control you reinforce your trust. It is a beautiful thing."
Rhea remembered giving control to
Lyle. There was so much power in his body and she could tell part of him was
always holding back. He gave me control
and then I gave him control. We both wanted the best for the other and we could
tell when we made love. That's why I trusted him ... no, I still trust him.
That's why he sent me away.
"Have you ever loved a man like
that?" Rhea asked.
"Not like you have," Kenna
admitted, "but I enjoy their company." There was a pause as the tutor returned
her equipment to their shelves and then leaned back in a relaxed posture. "This
place isn't about love, Rhea, it's about power. The men that come here want to
feel the thrill of decision. Every man is cursed with a terrible burden. It
says, 'I want to put my penis in her.' Then there is a terrible surge of lust
that he needs to beat back and control. This place is a refuge. Men can loose
their lust and we get to control them while it's happening. They pay us for
this service and life goes on."
"So, this is a game to you?" Rhea
asked, and Kenna nodded.
"It is one of the great games. Once
you learn the rules and the techniques, you will discover pleasures you did not
know existed. Being desired ... controlling a man's lust and directing his need ...
it is a thrill like few others. You've been in love. Do you remember the lust
in his eyes? Do you remember ... the power?"
"It's not the same," Rhea said as
she shook her head.
"You're right," Kenna admitted.
"It's not the same. But you may still enjoy it."
"I may?"
"Yes, you may." Kenna's smile faded
and her voice turned cold once more. "Or, you can choose to hate it and feel
nothing but contempt for the men who come into this place. That choice is your
own, but I recommend you find the good and cling to it. Otherwise you will be
miserable."
Quiet contemplation was allowed to
fill the room as Rhea focused on the concept. "I don't know," she finally
admitted. "It really goes against everything I've been taught."
"Yes, I know," Kenna said with a
nod. "But I doubt you'll be stuck servicing commoners."
"What do you mean?" Rhea asked.
"Your price was too high," Kenna
told her. "Madam Bellisa has a plan for you."
"What kind of a plan?"
"An expensive plan." The tutor
considered something for a moment and then shrugged. "Whatever she has planned,
you're going to need to understand the fine lines between pleasure and pain.
We'll begin with your stance and then you'll learn to control your face. Once
you've mastered that we'll move to some whip-work."
"You're ... going to teach me to use
a whip?" Rhea asked with a smirk.
"Among other things," Kenna told
her. Rhea jumped when the tall woman put her hand on her shoulder and the icy
gaze held her firm. "You are safe here, Rhea. I will not harm you and I will
stop the moment you tell me to. My job is to inflict pleasure, but I cannot do
so without your consent. If you say the safe word then I will stop. Do you
understand me?"
Rhea nodded numbly and then Kenna
stepped back and held up her whip. "The safe word ... is leather." She cracked the whip and Rhea's heart leapt. "Say it."
"L-leather," Rhea managed as her
voice quivered.
"Good. Now, let us begin."

Source: https://sofurry.com/view/899242

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