Lacy Devlin

The Witch’s Curse

I move a branch away from my face and take another step, my boot sinking into the damp earth. It is dark and what little moonlight I would be receiving is blocked by the heavy foliage. Thank God for my torch.

  I shouldn’t be out here. None of us should. 

An owl startles me, flapping off in the direction of the treeline where I can barely make out a crescent moon grinning maliciously.  

I can see other torches like fireflies flitting about the forest. Spread out, the other men from the village and I can cover more territory. But, spread out, we are much more exposed. 

“Come out, witch!” a voice snarls far to my left.

Another calls, “You’ll burn for what you did!” 

They are out for blood. 

But me, I merely shiver, and pull at the front of my jacket, trying to close out the chill of the autumn. Coldness so early in the year is a bad omen and I fear the corn will not survive the season. 

I am far outside of the village. Far away from my warm bed that lies empty and instead stepping into a thicket that swallows me from the view of the others.

My boot hits a rock on my next step and I force my view on the ground to steady myself.  When I look back up, she is there. My heart starts cascading in my chest as I view her in a black cloak like a phantom of the night. 

I squint in the scant light as she unrobes her chestnut hair. Her face glows like a second pale moon. 

Her big doe eyes fix on mine. They are as big as when we were children. My mother always stared at her brashness, said girls ought not talk like she did. She warned me to steer clear of girls like her, claiming the devil sent evil wrapped in beauty. 

She turned all the heads in the town, and the whispers followed her like the swish of her dress. When she announced she would never marry, the preacher gave an extra long sermon that Sunday. Guard yourself from the temptresses, he preached. It was a woman that caused the garden to fall. 

“John,” she smiles with reservation. 

My hand flinches up to the hilt of my knife. 

“Molly.” I tip my head in her direction, my throat suddenly dry as the wind. I hold my breath as I watch every movement, unsure which of us is the predator and the prey. 

She eyes my hand and takes a step toward me, her gait as light as a cat’s. 

“You think me a witch, John?” She tilts her head at the question. Shadows dance around at her back as she slowly moves closer to where I stand. 

“A man’s dead, Molly. I’ve got to take you in.” 

She’s close enough now I could grab her. Her eyebrows raise and she purses her lips. I’ll be damned from those lips begging me to kiss them. She only gave herself to me once and I can still remember the smoothness of her skin. 

I shake my head trying to remember my task. 

“I hardly see what a dead man has to do with me.” Her smile disarms as much as it frightens me. My body heats like fire to have her so near.  

“Why’re you runnin’ then?”

Her gaze burrows into me like a vermin. I stare at her lips as she gently licks the bottom. Discomfort snakes up in my trousers; I shift to try to ease some of the tension.  

“There’s nothing left for me here.” That cuts in ways it shouldn’t. She knows that I’m engaged. 

I whisper-yell, “You were the one who wanted nothing but fornicating in the forest…Taking whoever you wished for your pleasure.”

“So?” She steps right up to my chest then, around the torch and our bodies are pressed up to each other and I can feel every place that we touch. 

Her breasts pressed into my chest halts my breath. Her hips cause friction on my manhood and I’m harder than Plymouth Rock. I exhale trying to remember why I’m out here, then she bites her lip and I can hardly remember my name. 

I recall the last harvest in the meadow when she rolled on top of me and guided me inside. I knew I shouldn’t have done it, but it was a temptation too great for me to bear. 

God, let this cup pass from me.  

Her body against mine and I remember its contours. Can’t the same sin be forgiven?  

My hand touches her elbow and with that one touch, I must have her. My soul be damned one more time. I drop the torch as my other hand reaches for the small of her waist. 

My lips meet hers in a fervor as my tongue searches her mouth. Her hands reach inside my jacket as she claws at my back to pull me nearer. 

She bites at my lip as I reach down to grip her bottom. I rock her into me to rub her against my cock. The throbbing becomes more intense as I kiss down her neck, biting her roughly as she sounds. She’s moaning and asking for more as she rakes her fingers through my hair. 

I plunge my face in her breasts, kissing and nipping on the flesh. I need more as I loose a breast and suck on the nipple. Her breaths are pants as she whimpers from my mouth.  

I reach down and pull her dress up, gathering the fabric in my hands. I find her mouth with mine as I free myself from the constraints. I’m dripping with anticipation as our tongues meet as I back her into a tree. The scratches from the leaves tingle on my flesh.  

She grips at my hips and I feel her wet entrance. 

I lose all control as I growl in her ear. “You see what you do to me.”

“Yes, punish me.” She pants and arches her back.

“God forgive me.” I thrust deep inside of her. Her legs wrap around me and I pump into her faster. We shake the leaves as we rock back and forth, disturbing the wilderness. 

“Shhh,” I say, kissing her, trying to cover up the noise.  I grip her ass harder, ramming her down on my member. I can feel release coming, feel my balls growing tight. 

She tips her head back and then screeches like a demon. Her entire body shudders, riding vibrations as I work. She feels so good around me; I cannot hold back. 

In a rush of hot pleasure, I release all of my seed, exploding into her sex. 

It is heaven as I shudder, great waves of joy through my body. The fog begins to clear as my breathing becomes less ragged. I drop my head on her shoulder. What have I done?  

Wetness runs down my leg, evidence of our indiscretion. 

She unwinds off my body, Her voice small in the night. “Turn around so I can right myself.”

I do as I’m asked. I tip my head back and sigh, trying to think of how to make this right. I fix myself in my pants as I view torches coming. 

“All done?” Do I turn her in? Do I tell her to run? 

“Molly?” She doesn’t answer. Voices are nearing. 

I turn around and she’s gone. There’s only darkness where she stood last. The torch I dropped is weakly burning, losing life on the mud. I reach down to pick it up and see my hand is crusted red.

 I soon find it’s on both hands and all over my pants though I feel not one scratch. Surely I’ve been cursed and I scream out in utter terror. 

“Hurry,” I call to the others.  

For with some trickery of evil, the witch has covered me in blood.


Lacy Devlin loves smut. After voraciously consuming an ungodly amount of lust filled fiction, she decided it was time to unleash her own freaky fantasies. She has a Masters in English and Creative writing from Southern New Hampshire University. She is currently working on a collection of steamy fairy tales called Erotically Enchanted which will be released by the end of this year.

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