SEX WITCHES

 © 2024 by Bell du Jour and Crystal Veeyant. All rights reserved.

A Powerful Witch

 She was already in the diner when I arrived, an unremarkable yet attractive, young presence taking up a corner booth. I ignored her as I sat at my usual table overlooking the Nevada desert north of Las Vegas. All I wanted was a cup of coffee and some peace of mind.

She wasn’t giving me that peace. I felt her eyes on me as distinctly as an ordinary person feels a breeze on the back of her neck. Something interested her and her focus didn’t lift. She’d become fixated on me. It’s the easiest form of telepathy: sensing attention. Since she wasn’t letting me go, it was time to probe her thoughts.

Most witches have at least one or two Psi—psychic—abilities. Supreme witches, coven leaders like me, have a full set of common abilities. And some of us have developed very unusual talents that can cause pleasure, pain or fear. Because of the shadow world of witch-hunters, my kind must be careful. Using telepathy to screen the intent of anyone fixated on me is a survival mechanism.

I sat there, stared out the window, sipped my coffee, and instantly knew her name was Valerie Wilson. She was twenty-five and a graduate school drop-out who decided to put her master’s degree on hold in favor of wild and exciting adventures. Her thoughts about me came easily…

She’s fascinating. Is she a tourist? No, she looks like she lives out here. Her skin is so fair for a desert woman. Very sexy too. Maybe she’s one of the prostitutes in a desert brothel? Kind of old for it. But probably some guys go for older ones. She’s still so hot for an older woman—

I nearly choked on my coffee at that. I cultivated my early-forties look on purpose. In reality I was much, much older. As near as I could tell she was attracted to me—sexually. Mommy issues or just loved the energy of a strong woman. The important thing was she bore me no malice. I lost interest in her again. Mostly. Then a sudden, powerful flare of curiosity.

“Can I get this coffee to go, Jewell?” I asked the waitress.

Moments after I left, Valerie came running after me into the parking lot, waving my ladies cowboy hat. I’d left it behind on purpose, giving her an excuse to come after me. She couldn’t very well deny she’d had her attention on me. It was also an excuse for me to touch her.

“You forgot this!” she said breathlessly.

She was so very lovely, with long, brown hair, a clear complexion, and intelligent green eyes. She had a pleasing figure, with bra-free breasts in a tight, gauzy cotton top and long, tan legs emerging from a miniskirt. Her fingernails were as flashy as a Vegas stripper’s. 

“Thank you, my dear,” I smiled, patting her soft, lovely cheek.

She is a stripper—just started doing it. And she’s… Oh Mother—is she?

Psychometry is the power to obtain information by touching a person or an object they’ve touched. It’s far more powerful than telepathy because it reveals beyond even the subconscious. Powerful, brief electricity shot between the two of us—like a static shock but more dull and deeper. Even she felt it, reacting with surprise.

I knew her. Valerie was the host body to the soul of one of my most precious slaves, from when I was an elite madam in 1890’s uptown Manhattan. She didn’t recognize me, but she felt the force of attraction. She’d sensed my aura in the diner; it’s why she’d fixed on me in the first place.

“Young Miss!” came Jewell’s voice. “Your check!”

The pretty, thirty-five-year-old waitress stood in the doorway, waving a slip of paper. She seemed relieved that Valerie was talking to me, not trying to evade paying her bill. Jewell was one of my servants.

“Put it of my tab, honey!” I winked. She winked back and returned inside.

“I can’t let you do that,” Valerie said.

“Already done.”

“Do we know each other?”

“You get that feeling too?”

“You know it’s really annoying when you answer a question with a question, lady!” She was both irritated and anxious.

Her distress told me all I needed to know. She sensed the connection, didn’t understand it, and it worried her. The rebellion in her voice made me smile inside. I’d so enjoy disciplining her over a hundred years ago, and she’d often been a brat on purpose, goading me to punish her. She was a sexy little masochist. I thanked the Mother Goddess for this blessed chance encounter.

I had to seize the opportunity to have her back again. One of the harder gifts to master is mind control, but it would get her where I wanted her with a minimum of trouble. I gazed deeply into her eyes and felt the connect. Hers was a brief blank look, followed by calm serenity and a tiny Mona Lisa smile of contentment.

“You’re not annoyed any longer,” I told her.

“I’m not annoyed any longer.”

“You’d like to go where I’m going.”

“I’d like to go where you are going.”

From then on all I had to do was think it. I could have made her strip nude in the parking lot and masturbate. She would do all that and much more of her own free will after I got her back in my coven. I instructed her to watch me to get in my car and drive off. Then she’d wait a minute and head in the same direction.

Keep going until Highway 160 and turn left. Stop when you reach my car and get out. Then get in my car.

I called my day manager Orla as I drove north toward 160. “I need a car disappeared. 160 at the dirt road. Put a cage in the parlor, with a full set of training gear ready.”

I’d been a Nevada brothel madam for the last ten years. Witch hunters had forced us to flee our last haven in Louisiana. My brothel was an hour from Las Vegas. Creech Air Force Base with its horny personnel was much closer, and thousands of truckers stopped by every year. Business was great year-round.

It was the perfect place for me and my coven of witches to hide.

Thirty minutes later, Valeria sat in the easy chair beside my throne-style chair in the brothel’s spacious parlor. The four-by-four wire cage sat in the middle of the room with all the toys I’d requested placed nearby. Valerie’s beatific gaze faded soon upon completing my last order, which was for her to sit beside me.

Valerie shot to her feet. “What the fuck did you do to me?!”

“I brought you back home, darling.”

“Home? Wh-what? I don’t know who the fuck you are!”

“I understand your distress, but you will cease the profanity.”

“Fuck you!” She planted her fists on her waist. It was so cute.

“Have it your way, darling.”

Telekinesis is one of my favorite psi gifts. I set two giant invisible hands to seize her shoulders and steady her while I stripped her. Her blouse seemed to tear itself apart at the stitching, then the same with her skirt. Only her panties remained: a stripper thong. Her body was exquisite.

“What the actual fuck!” she shrieked. “How did you do that?” She was still immobilized, which scared her.

“Are you going to behave, Valerie? Can you act like an adult, be calm, and treat me with respect?”

“Who are you?” she breathed. “What are you?”

“My name is Crystal. To answer your question from half an hour ago, we do know each other. Though, a very long time has passed and you’re a different you now.”

“Please don’t speak in riddles. And please let me go. I’ll be calm.”

I willed the restraining hands away and she regained some of her composure. I gestured toward the chair she vacated and she shook her head. I’d half-expected her to try to cover herself but then I remembered she was most recently a stripper. Her nude body was her superpower.

“Do you believe in reincarnation? In the supernatural?”

“Sure. Sort of. I love all that shit on Netflix.”

“The last time I saw you, you were named Eunice. It was in New York, mid-town Manhattan. In 1904.”

She grinned mockingly. “So we knew each other in another life. Oh-kay. Sure. We’re both reincarnated.”

“You’re reincarnated. I don’t need to be. I’m a witch. A very powerful one.”

Despite my mind-control and telekinesis, she laughed. “So you’re like Sabrina in that show… or Rowena!”

I wore my one-shoulder, black silk dress for this reunion. I stood and undid a tie. The dress fell to my ankles, revealing me naked beneath. I’d cultivated an early-fortyish look, but my body was just as tight and sexy as hers. My breasts were bigger, and the thick, meaty nipples were hard from knowing what was next.

“Damn! You look real good for a hundred-fifty or whatever you claim.”

“I don’t claim anything,” I hissed. “See for yourself.”

I didn’t often do shapeshifting because it sapped my powers, but I was sick of her attitude. Valerie was as much a brat as was Eunice. It was time to break her but good.

“Can Rowena do this?” I smirked.

I slapped my palms on either side of my vulva. An elongated bulge emerged between my major labia at my clitoris and grew twelve-inches long and nearly two-inches in diameter at its thickest point. I never managed to get a classic cockhead shape, but my phallus was as sensitive as my clit and stayed hard as long as I wanted.

She was in such shock, she didn’t fight as I tore off her panties. I backed her against the wall and crushed my lips to hers. I made my tongue triple in length and forced it into her mouth. It pushed into the back of her throat and blocked her airway. I snarled at her via telepathy.

If I wanted, I could cut off your air until you suffocate. You will never laugh at me or disrespect me again, Valerie. Nod if you understand.

I felt her nod, so I retracted my tongue to its normal size. I took her throat in hand and glared at her. “This is real, Valerie. I’m a Supreme witch with many powers. You were Eunice, young lady. A hundred years ago, you were my slave and lover and dearest friend, and now that I have you again, I am keeping you.”

Only shock diminished the terror she must have felt. “Wh-what if I don’t want to be your slave or lover?”

“Perhaps if I remind you?” I dropped to a knee and easily pushed her thighs open. “I’m hoping the soul remembers past-life pleasures and desires.”

She whimpered and gyrated her hips as I licked her vulva, encouraging me to keep going. My tongue swelled again and pushed far up into her vagina. She groaned deeply, giving herself over to me.

My phallus ached, eager to penetrate her. I couldn’t wait any longer. I stood and took my female cock in hand. Our eyes met and I saw only need in hers. She nodded.

She cried out in abandon as my tool slipped all the way into her pussy. My shapeshifting phallus ached with ecstasy, every inch as I fucked Valerie’s increasingly wet twat. Our breasts soon grew sweaty as they crushed together as we stroked each other’s bodies.

She’d subsumed whatever shock she felt, lost in the ecstasy of being fucked by a supernaturally-sprouted dick. All that remained in her expression was desperate, helpless yearning for satiation.

Her feverish eyes locked with mine. “Kiss me like you did before!”

My lips again met hers and I stuck my tongue into the back of her throat. She sucked it like a cock, whining and gasping in surrender to her complete sexual domination, humping me back as I hammered into her.

We both screamed from our climax. My phallus quickly deflated.

With a burst of strength that belied the energy released by my orgasm, I picked her up and deposited her onto the large leather sofa. She looked at me in wonder as I smiled fondly at her. It was soon clear that, while she was sexually sated and in lust with me, her soul didn’t remember our love as Crystal and Eunice.

“I’m sorry you still don’t remember,” I said. “But even if you did, you’d still need to undergo full slave training so you may reap the satisfaction of your new position.”

“Training?”

I slapped her moderately hard. “Lesson Number One. You will always address me as ‘Mistress’ unless I give you special leave. Now—assume First Position!”

“Y-yes, Mistress!”

She looked at me with teary eyes, shocked I’d slapped her and confused about what I wanted. I instructed her: First Position is kneeling on the floor, knees spread wide enough to part the labia, back straight, chest thrust out, hands lightly resting on the thighs.

I circled her as I spoke. “Hopefully you now believe I have the ability to make you do whatever I want. This brothel is home to a coven of eleven other witches with varying degrees of power. All of us serve brothel customers, mostly men. You are now the house slave—maid, cook, laundress, masseuse. Your position is that of Bottom Girl—everybody’s slave—and you will do whatever my witches say without hesitation.”

“Please. Don’t do this to me.”

“You will come to love it as you did in New York. Perhaps you’ll again serve as a whore as you did back then. You were such a slut.” I kissed her forehead. “And of course you’re my personal slave.”

“What if I can’t?”

“You didn’t immediately love it right away the first time, either. But you will in time,” I soothed. “And don’t think about escape. There’s eight miles of scorching-hot desert from here to the highway. And don’t forget I can hear your thoughts, so you won’t get far. You won’t like the punishments if you do try.”

She lowered her head and wept, defeated. I ordered Valerie to her feet and put on the training harness: a thick leather belt that locked around the waist. I produced a soft leather strap that held a remote-control dildo and buttplug and inserted them between her legs. I secured the strap to the belt and locked it in place. With a control wand, I set both vibrators at the lowest level. She whimpered in reluctant pleasure.

I opened the four-by-four cage’s door. “Crawl inside. This is your new home until further notice. Go on. Crawl in there. It’s one of many punishments for disobedient slaves.”

“Why do you hate me so much?” she whined.

“It’s because I love you so much. And all of my sister witches will too. They’re just as attracted to submissive beauty as I am.” I climbed back into my black dress. “Soon you’ll meet all of your other mistresses.”

I left the room in a swirl of black silk. Her whimpers were music to my ears.

Valerie

I lay in a ball on the floor inside the cage. My tears had long dried. The gentle buzz of the vibrators in my pussy and ass were slowly driving me insane. Without really thinking, I again seized the harness that encircled my waist and passed between thighs, holding the sex toys in place. It would not budge. I gave up and tried to maintain my sanity by recalling what had brought me to this point. 

The break-up with my boyfriend had been devastating on the heels of my father’s fatal heart attack. I wanted to be a million miles from who I was, to have a totally different new life. After using my brain for so long, I’d try using my body. I left the university on “sabbatical” and went to Las Vegas to be a fully-nude exotic dancer.

My thoughts drifted to the woman who had kidnapped me. What she’d done to me was inconceivable. When she took control of my mind I felt deeply violated. Her control of me didn’t feel complete. I could fight her, if I could just figure out how. But—did I really want to?

The vibrations made it harder to concentrate. Through the haze of arousal I thought of Crystal. Something deep inside told me that I belonged to her in a way that I could not articulate. I still feared her. To change shape and move things with her mind was nearly unbelievable! I wasn’t dreaming though—this was real.

The vibrations slowly built my first orgasm. My pussy clenched the dildo and my asshole rhythmically contracted against the plug. My juices made the harness slick. The spasms left me so sensitive. I again clawed helplessly at the harness. Before long, another wave crashed over me as I came again.

“Well look what we have here,” said a female voice.

I lost track of time.

Oh… oh… oh… oh… ohhhhhhhhh…

I opened my eyes to see a beautiful woman standing there. She had long, red hair and blue eyes, maybe in her late thirties. She wore an elaborate robe. In her hand was the control wand and a velvet bag. 

“So you’re our new slave. Valerie.” She pushed a button on the wand and the buzzing stopped.

I was so relieved that I closed my eyes and let out a moan. “Oh god, thank you,” I whimpered.

“Save your thanks, slave. My name is Orla. Mistress Orla, to you.”

“Please let me go. I can’t be here,” I cried. 

She acted like she didn’t hear me. “I’m one of the brothel managers and your direct supervisor.”

I unconsciously clenched my fists in rage and resentment. 

“I’ve brought your new uniform and more items for your training.” From the bag she removed heavy leather wrist and ankle cuffs and a thick leather collar. She also set out a terribly skimpy French maid’s uniform that exposed basically everything. She unlocked the cage and opened it. “I expect you to behave.”

I dragged myself out of the cage and suddenly lurched toward the door. If I could just get outside! I screamed as I felt a lightning bolt explode in my asshole, dropping me in my tracks. The electric charge faded quickly.

“That was about half-power.” Orla stood over me with the control wand. “Crystal says why use magic when there’s technology to do it. Now get up and come over here.”

I stood beside the cage, happy to finally be out of that damned thing. I looked down at the maid’s uniform. “You really want me to wear that?” I made a face. 

Orla stared at me, her brow furrowed. “I’m not as gifted a telepath as Crystal, but your attitude is obvious even without mind-reading. It will cause you to behave stupidly. Now, present your wrists.”

I hesitated. “Please, get me out of here.” 

Orla slapped me lazily as if annoyed, not angry. “I will not ask a second time.”

I allowed her to tightly buckle the cuffs around my wrists.  Next, she slipped the collar around my neck, buckling it snugly in place. For some reason I felt brief satisfaction from their weight.

“Put on your uniform,” she said almost as if bored.

The S&M gear was bad enough but the maid outfit was humiliating. My anger spiked. “No!”

She held up the wand again and I cursed myself for the shock about to come. Instead, the vibrators in my twat and rectum sprang to life, only twice as strong as they’d been in the cage. I doubled over, still sensitive from the earlier vibrations. I fell to my knees and clawed at the harness desperately trying to escape it. 

Orla stared at me in silence as I writhed and clawed at the harness torturing me. “That word is no longer in your vocabulary,” she said calmly. “Or would you like another hour in the cage like this?”

“No, Mistress, no!” I sobbed.

The vibrations stopped as quickly as they had started. She ordered me to my feet. As I looked at the floor, unable to meet her gaze, she repeated her order.

With tears of humiliation in my eyes, I put on the totally degrading costume. It supported my breasts but fully exposed them, putting them on full display along with my belly and navel. My crotch and my full ass would also be completely uncovered if ever the evil dildo and plug harness were removed. Long garters held up seamed stockings and went into four-inch, black pumps with ankle straps that had little gold padlocks around them.

“A luscious slut,” she leered. “Everybody’s going to want to fuck you. Now, hands behind your back.”

She joined my wrist cuffs close together with a metal device. From the box and pulled out a leather leash which she clipped to the ring of my collar. Finally she put padded leather cuffs around my ankles, which felt sexy with the stockings. She stepped back and looked me over.

“You’re the perfect slave now. Such beautiful long hair and that smooth, pale skin! I see your ears, nose and navel are already pierced. Mistress Crystal will personally pierce your nipples and clitoral hood.” 

It felt humiliating to be evaluated in this way. Being an exotic dancer meant willingly being a sex object, but that was on my own terms. Nothing was on my terms in this place.

“You will obey all commands immediately and without question. After your training is finished, you’ll enthusiastically perform any sexual act on anyone at any time, no matter how depraved.”

Hearing that sent chills down my spine. Suddenly the leather on my neck felt even more confining. 

“Let’s go,” she said giving my leash a gentle pull. I stumbled behind her as she turned and led the way. 

The brothel was huge. She led me past a dozen open playrooms—some small and simple, others bigger—and all with various themes. We passed the living quarters and arrived at the kitchen, laundry and dining areas. 

“This will be your primary responsibility. And in here.” In a side room, a long range held cauldrons bubbling with strange liquids.  “These are our witch brews you will help tend. With supervision, of course.”

Orla spooned a small amount of liquid from one of the pots and blew on the ladle to cool it. She dipped her finger, testing the temperature. “Drink.” She held the ladle to my lips. 

I remembered my punishment and swallowed. It was bittersweet and it burned mildly, like liquor.

“This aphrodisiac will keep you at a low level of arousal, slightly moist at all times and ready to be used. You’ll drink this each morning and evening.”

I felt tingling in my groin almost immediately. My skin flushed as I grew warmer. 

“You may feel the urge to touch yourself, which you may do as long as it doesn’t interfere with your duties.” She got in my face. “Orgasms are forbidden without permission. There would be consequences.”

She tugged my leash, thrilling me despite my actual enslavement. Maybe it was the brew I drank.

Get ready for Part 2!