RETURN TO CAFE PRIAPUSMiss Witch was published by Ruthiesclub.com in 2008. The site is no longer in business, and so poor Miss Witch has had nowhere to wreak her special brand of havoc until now. I thought I'd post her story as a Halloween treat this year, and maybe next year add an adventure or two.
This pulpy horror piece with Domina overtones was meant to be the first in a series of adventures for the delightfully horny and clever Miss Witch, a cross between a supernatural superhero and a self-employed ghoul assassin.
Miss Witch enjoys her job, which is to rid the world of all nasty, naughty monsters, fiends, vampires, mummies, etc., and she dispatches her prey only after enjoying a bit of carnal pleasure with each. She’s campy, vampy, and always gets her man (and sometimes a woman). Gorgeously statuesque, with long legs, pale skin and jet black curly hair in the most important places, Miss Witch can seduce any type of scary soul and does so rather frequently.
If you feel safe in your bed at night, you can thank Miss Witch. If you don't, have no fear, Miss Witch is screwing her way through Horrordom as fast as she can, and enjoying every minute of it!
WARNING: This story contains scenes of graphic sex. It is not erotic romance but erotic horror. If you do not like sexually graphic horror stories, please do not read further.
Miss Witch
Miss Witch lay there on the table, bound to it with itchy twine, spread-legged, and writhing in seemingly great despair.“Oh, you wicked monster,” she whispered in her kittenish voice. “Whatever will you do to me?”
The monster snorted and grunted. He was an ugly thing, with his head all misshapen and his skin all lumpy. He dripped of slime. Leafy debris clung here and there to his mottled green skin, giving him the appearance of the remains of a man who’d been dragged to death in the woods, only more hideous. His stocky, blocky frame was definitely solid enough to do damage if he wanted, even with the tremendous hump on his back pulling him off balance.
Miss Witch didn’t twitch, though, nor did she flinch. Even with her silky, little black skirt pulled up and her pussy bare for all to see—though the Miss and the monster were conveniently alone in his tres modern apartment—she felt in control.
Miss Witch was always in control. This was her game, her pleasure. Maybe she enjoyed it too much. Maybe she was a sociopath just like the eepy-creepies she killed. Actually, she knew she was, but by golly, it’s what she was meant to do. Even if it was just in her own head. She had done this before and would do it again. Her nipples hardened at the thought of it, at the thought of fulfilling her true purpose and potential, as misguided and deviant as she was.
Wasn’t that what everyone wanted?
“Ooooh, that stings, you big, bad monster,” she pouted as the monster tapped her hairy mound with his new silicon spoon, exploring it with the same intense caution as a caveman discovering fire.
It didn’t really hurt, but the brute wouldn’t know the difference, would he? The silly drooling fiend probably thought he was in control. As if.
He tapped her damp black curls again, and when he finally decided they posed no danger, at least none that he could discern, he sniffed at the space between her legs, following the lovely odor all the way up to her snatch and back. What was this salty thing?
Though he didn’t really have a nose, just two openings in the middle of his face that leaked yucky orange snot, he caught the scent of her hot, wet cunt. The monster backed off and danced a weird jig, lifting his special spoon high and beating himself on the forehead with it, his monster ooey gooey splashing everywhere. The scent of fresh, clean pussy will do that to the male of any species, and sometimes even to the female (but that’s another story).
Monster grabbed at the fleshy green appendage between his stocky legs and howled an unearthly howl. He hopped around and threw his head back, drool glistening on his long, pointy fangs and pooling around the lipless, gaping space on his face that passed for his mouth. Miss Witch flicked her hips to send the scent of her need airborne, torturing the monster a little more. He jumped up and down and wildly waved his arms. His inflamed organ hardened with every movement, its resemblance to a fat taper covered in its own waxy drippings uncanny.
“Untie me, baby, and I can take care of that for you,” Miss Witch coaxed, though she knew the dumb beast couldn’t understand.
That was always the risk with these creatures. Some of them couldn’t figure out the connection between their sudden wild urges and Miss Witch’s available openings, so she had to get a bit creative sometimes.
But perhaps not tonight. Mr. Monster had discovered during his jungle dance that a closed fist felt good. This monster boy’s IQ must be higher than average, which put him in the high single digits, because his gaze fixed on Miss Witch, who wiggled her puss and groaned in her best damsel in distress voice,
“Oh, you big monster boy, don’t you even think of putting that big, ugly thing in my tight, tiny pussy!”
Though she knew that’s just what he would do, and he did...or tried to anyway. Here he came, his throbbing monster cock bulging in his massive claw-tipped monster fingers, dripping orange slimy droplets that made Miss Witch lick her lips. To her utter dismay, the big dummy rubbed his dick across her tummy instead.
“No, no, no!” Miss Witch admonished. “Try here! Here!” she commanded, wiggling her hips again so the monster could get the idea.
However, he didn’t, so Miss Witch rested a moment, blowing a wayward curl from her forehead as she pondered the best way to remove monster cum from her sparkly black lace bra-top. Her creepy lothario wasn’t getting any closer to her cunt and was, in fact, moving in the wrong direction at that very moment, heading toward her lovely black lips. She could blow him, suck him off, and that would get the job done. Monster cum did have a pleasing tangy taste, but any spare droplets could possibly ruin her spangley couture, the appropriation of which had been a coup.
She briefly pondered her escapade at the wax museum—what had the guard wondered when he found the Britney Spears figure naked that morning? It took an awful lot of effort for Miss Witch to acquire her fine outerwearable underwear, and why should she have to give up her favorite, hard-earned attire because some stupid brute couldn’t find her glory passage?
So Miss Witch, tired of fucking around without fucking around, blew a kiss toward the ropes tying her left hand and ankle, then she blew a kiss toward the ropes tying her right hand and ankle. The ropes obediently fell away, and Miss Witch was free to pursue her prey.
She grabbed monster boy’s slimy, hard dick and pulled him forward toward his destiny, the one between her thighs. She tugged hard enough to get him on the table in the exact right spot on top of her, but not hard enough to grant her penile prisoner early release. Shoving his ridiculous cock between her slick folds made Mr. Monster’s orbs glow red, and when she rubbed herself against his hard thing, he made a noise between a whimper and a groan that made beautiful music with the thunky clatter of the ultra avant-garde spoon—made with material used by astronauts, by the way—as it hit the floor.
The hair in Monster’s one good ear, the one that he hadn’t gnawed off yet, sprouted out a full inch, giving the creatures inside a chance to escape. Worms and bugs and all kinds of critter litter slithered and slathered and crawled this way and that, creating a kaleidoscope of colors and textures there on the side of his head that would have put any decomposing body to shame. It was quite a display.
Gawd, she loved fucking monsters!
Miss Witch briefly thought about Sam—her sweet, sexy slave, Sam. He would wait up all night until she returned to the cave, preparing potions that didn’t need prepared and cleaning things that didn’t need cleaned. He would pretend he’d been up anyway, but the truth was—and Miss Witch always knew the truth—that sexy Sam was sweet on her.
Poor lad! He didn’t understand she had been chosen to save the world from eepy creepies and icky uckies. Yes, darling Sam would wait up for her, and then, no matter how tired he was, he would worship her pussy in that special way of his, and she would wonder why she didn’t retire before some ghastly fate befell her, which it could. It wouldn’t, though, because she was Miss Witch…
And she had a job to do.
It wouldn’t be long now, if she weren’t careful, before Monster’s icky cum ruined her pretty little outfit, so she pulled herself back and pushed him away. Him, the big, bad drooly monster who seemed to have forgotten she was supposed to be the entrée at his monsterfest tonight. The terrorizer of small children and the evil being that populated the nightmares of adults. Now he panted and drooled and farted and snorted. He’d started to fall completely apart, Miss Witch’s vixen ways working a spell on him already. If she wasn’t so horny, she’d leave him that way, and he’d eventually melted into a pile of gloppy goo, a big lustful amoeba. Her way was so much better.
Miss Witch leapt from the table with the greatest of ease and strode purposefully, in her favorite three-inch black stiletto heels, toward the cauldron, making sure to shake her nice round butt. She lifted one long leg over the rim, letting the dappled roughness of the iron massage her clit ever so gently, then she dragged the other leg over and slid into the waist-deep tepid water, all the while thinking that so far the cauldron had a better chance of getting her off than the monster. But Miss Witch had a job to do, a purpose to fulfill, and if she only got a tiny little orgasm instead of a big, exploding one that made her cum all over the floor and made sparks shoot out of her eyes, well, then, that was just a part of the job, and Miss Witch loved her job.
As she expected, the monster followed, hobbling over to the big black iron pot with an eager evil gleam in his sight orbs. Miss Witch giggled. One taste of her pussy, and none of them could ever get enough. Tonight, her hulky amour would be no different.
“Come get me, big boy,” she cooed.
Poor, pathetic monster! He looked at the pot, then at Miss Witch, then at the spoon on the floor and finally at his throbbing monster dick. Decisions, decisions.
“For Hecate’s sake, baby, don’t forget your special spoon.”
Miss Witch, ever helpful, had made the decision for him, and he waddled as fast as he could with his dick in his claws to the spoon on the floor and grabbed it up. Then he waddled as fast as his bulky form could go toward the cauldron and stared at it miserably. His hands were full—how would he get in?
Miss Witch solved that problem too. She grabbed him by his short, almost non-existent neck and pulled him over the edge, cock and spoon and all. Like a tiny black butterfly, a thought briefly flitted through her mind as he splashed into the water that she should simply drown him, but Miss Witch, way overdue for some serious fuckin’ and on the verge of becoming very cranky, instead pushed him against the side of the huge pot and pinned him there with her sparkly tits. Her hands searched the water and latched on to her prize—monster cock!
Quickly, she pushed his hard, slimy penile appendage inside of her, bringing the red glow back to Monster’s orbs and sending a tingling sensation all through her lower parts. Giving herself a minute to adjust to his massive girth, Miss Witch deftly maneuvered the rubbery, soft spoon handle so that it lodged just so against her hardened clit, the delicious friction making her cunt spasm in response. Not too hard and not too soft. With everything in place, she used her hips to stroke the stunned monster’s hardness, faster and faster until she rode him like a wild beast. Oooh, she rode him so hard.
With every thrust, he snotted and snorted and grunted, and with every brush of the soft spoon handle against her clit and every plunge of his cock into her tightness, she came closer and closer to the edge. Finally, so close she couldn’t stand it anymore, Miss Witch pulled the spoon out of the way, tilted her hips up, and took in Monster’s cock as deep as it would go, rubbing her hard clit against his lumpy skin in quick, rhythmical bursts.
He exploded inside of her with a loud primitive wail, and she climaxed just after his sloppy jism bathed her cunt in a delightful heat. The air filled with a feline yowl as she reveled in the feel of his pebble-like sperm bouncing around inside of her like bumblebees swirling around a hive.
As expected, the monster succumbed to her glittery cum as it filled the cauldron and mixed with his orange ejaculate. Miss Witch loved that her lusty liquid matched her bra-top, but more than that, it reminded her of stars floating in a deep black sky. Plus, it possessed the quality of never sticking to her skin or anything she wore. Was that a job perk or what?
Miss Witch’s pussy felt almost too full and too good to let Monster’s dick go, but a quick check of her nails reminded her that her recent manicure would be ruined if she resorted to hacking his precious thing off just for a few more minutes of bliss. Besides, Miss Witch had a job to do and she knew from experience that monster dick didn’t keep well, even in the fridge.
So, as the monster slipped into a deep, slobbery slumber courtesy of her magic dew and slid into the waves of the magical glop, pulling his cock along with him, Miss Witch grabbed the side of the pot, shimmied over the rim and glided down the side. Then, with great conviction, she stirred the whole mess, threw the spoon in for good measure, flipped the switch to the burner under the enormous pot and set about conjuring a mirror where she could primp while Monster stewed.
She stood there for some time wringing out her tiny skirt before doing her usual post-assignment check. With great ceremony, she spread her legs just a bit and hitched her damp skirt up with one hand to expose her sated pussy, raking her long red nails through her jet black curls to check for any stowaways. She found a frightened baby spider and gently flicked him off of her mound, then carefully grabbed a creepy crawly of undefinable origin and tossed it over her shoulder and into the boiling pot. One can never be too careful when fucking monsters, can one?
Satisfied she wouldn’t be taking any critters home to Sam, she turned and bent forward to inspect her bum for the same. Moonlight streamed through the high windows, illuminating her pale skin. In this position, just a hint of her pussy showed through—nicely pink with soft crinkles of sensitive flesh around her tight opening. Looking at it made Miss Witch horny all over again, and she sucked in a deep breath, closing her eyes at the thought of satisfying her urges the next time duty called.
An acrid smell and a cacophony of voices interrupted her sexy thoughts. Time to go! She adjusted her bra-top and shook her hips, forcing the folds of the skirt back where they belonged, just touching the top of her thighs. The mirror disappeared and she grabbed her matching mesh vest and tiny velvet purse.
With a quick peek in the pot at her monster goo stew, a smile lit on Miss Witch’s face. A job well done! It wasn’t over yet. Suddenly, the door swung wide and creepy things came crawling in… and walking and flying and slinking and so on. Ghosts, ghouls, monsters, skeletons, mummies, vampires, werewolves, zombies, fiends, and assorted other nasty, naughty things pressed through the door all at once, attracted, no doubt, by the delectable smell of cooking monster flesh. They pushed right past Miss Witch and ran straight to the pot.
“Look!” someone shouted, “Fresh monster goo stew!”
“I get the brain!” a zombie claimed.
“And I get an orb!” shouted a mummy.
“I want his cock!” hollered a girlie ghoul.
“Hey, where’s the spoon?”
With a roll of her eyes, Miss Witch made her exit as the monsterfest got under way with the eating of the host. She strode down the hall and made her way to the street, where creatures of all shapes and sizes hustled toward the party, the aroma beckoning them. Their eyes, among other parts of their twisted, deformed anatomies, bulged as Miss Witch strutted past, but they had no idea who this gorgeous dame was. They saw the arch of her tits and the twitch of her hips, but they didn’t see her velvety black bag of tricks as her magic heels click-clack-clicked down the cobblestone pavement and away from the fray.
Just after a block or so, by the yellow glow of the streetlights, Miss Witch stopped and cocked her hip, letting her skirt ride up just a bit so the cool evening air could cool the baby monster between her thighs, her tight pale thighs that had lured a thousand girls and guys to their ultimate doom and gloom and demise. Her monster man had been quite large and her climax quite satisfying, but…
A young man stood on the corner just across the street, gifted with a fine physique and looking quite mad. Mad as in crazy mad, not as in angry mad, and it occurred to Miss Witch that he might be awfully, awfully bad, which could be terribly fun for her. Yes, indeed, she could sense it ever–so-slightly. There was a wickedness about him that needed to be tamed, or beat out of him. Either way, she felt she was just the gal to do it. Hadn’t she just proved it?
So she sauntered on over to the crazy-eyed guy, the noise of her heels and the swoosh of her swinging purse catching his interest in the dark night. She stopped right in front of him and looked him up and down. He wore a faded T-shirt and jeans that fit his ass nice, along with a cape made of tweed hooked at the neck, a top hat, sneakers, and a crooked half-smile that made him seem almost normal. But Miss Witch knew he wasn’t. He had been a very naughty boy. She could just tell.
“Hey there,” she said, letting her eyes rove up and down his muscular frame.
She noted the doctor’s bag in his left hand. The gold embossed letters not obscured by his long fingers—J-a-c-k-T-h-e-R-i-p—caught the light just right.
“Ooooh,” she purred. “How kinky!”
He replied in a veddy, veddy British accent, his eyes twitching as he shifted his weight from left foot to right.
“I need a, um, date, for the evening.”
Miss Witch laughed at that. “I bet you do, Jacky-boy,” she said, “I bet you need a lot of things, including an outlet for that vivid imagination and your talent with those special tools.”
With that she shifted her hip and ripped open her vest, exposing her soft, inviting abdomen, the place where babies grow, where squishy parts waited to be explored. Jack jumped in surprise, and eyed her from the tits down with glowing admiration and the deepest psychotic desire.
“That—that’s what I need,” he stammered, fingering the handle of his bag with one hand and rubbing the front of his pants with the other.
A snicker and a swish of her hips later, Miss Witch was on the move, with Jack following behind her like a hungry puppy. Following her eagerly to his fate, his doom, to the best pussy he ever had.
And the last.
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