Witchcunt

Transcript

Good people, what we have here is a woman of questionable ethics, of ungodly ways and moral reprehensibility in every way. A witch! I, acting in the good stead that you have all placed upon me in my position of leader of this village, serve to make a public demonstration of this woman, that none of her type are welcome here.

We will not allow such overt evil to occupy the same lands as us, to practice their ungodly faith in our wholesome village, to corrupt the innocent and do harm unto others, in league with the devil and his accomplices. This, this is a God-fearing village of good folk who seek to devote their lives in a blessed manner. What have you to say before you are made an example of? I am not a witch.

What grounds have you to accuse me of such? You were wantonly without clothing in the field next to the river, dare you deny it? In full view of any passer-by such as myself.

Busy pleasuring yourself, I saw you. It's warm, it's summer. I was enjoying the cool air against my skin and about to bathe in the river.

Who else would not do likewise if they thought they were alone? Such a beautiful day, is it now sinful to celebrate the bounties of our natural world? Aha, only you knew you were not alone, for I was in that field, you saw me.

How were I to know that you were there? The grass was tall and you were quiet. Slander, lies, all that spews forth from her mouth.

And what would you do with me? Burn me at the stake? Drown me? What would you have me do to prove I am not a witch? A woman of godly measure would remain chaste and pure when under incitement.

An immodest witch would not, bearing her breasts for the beast, in the middle of the day, under the full sun, no less. Fingers up to the knuckle within yourself. Besides, everyone knows witches have endless orgasms.

Ha, I knew it. This man you all hold in such high esteem is nothing more than a deviant. Something only a witch would accuse me of.

Me, a devoted, righteous spirit who has done nothing but seek to keep this village pure. Who do you think they're going to believe? You, a brazen whore who displays herself like some watery tart? Or me, a well-known and respected pillar of the community? In a word, I think you're fucked.

No, no. Would a pillar of the community behave like this? Would such a man who seeks to keep his village free from sin handle a woman in such a way as this? Stop what you're doing, witch.

It won't work on me. You can't bewitch me with your libidinous ways. It's shame you seek to bring to this village, that it's shame you shall have.

Come here. These breasts on display for the world to see. Is that what you want? Is that what you need? The eyes of the world upon you in your natural state.

You seek an audience. You can't do this. You can't just take me and use me like this in front of all these people.

Someone is going to say something. Someone has to say something. No one, my dear, is going to say anything.

It's simple. Best you admit it. You like the way I'm rubbing my hand against you.

You like the way all these eyes are on you, and you like being a dirty, filthy whore ripe for the taking. So open these legs and let my fingers find you under your skirts, wet, soft, warm, and wanting. So here we are, good people.

You bear witness to her power over me and no doubt others, using her dark magic to bewitch the flesh. Look what she has done to me, to all of us. I see many of you rubbing at yourselves, standing there bewitched also.

She has reduced us to our bare primal roots. Thank God above the women have the sense to have taken their children and run indoors. A witch, no less, would surely target the most base within a man.

My mind remains chaste, but my body runs wild under her will. I have no control over my actions, I assure you. To hold and caress these soft, supple breasts.

To pinch these firm nipples betwixt thumb and forefinger like so. To suckle at her like a babe at the teat. So sweet, the devil's consort, a witch.

I don't know how many times I can tell you all. Fog, I am not a witch. This soft, rounded body, full of curves, built to incite men's greed and gluttony.

Built to incite lust. And this, the font of Satan himself, pouring forth with his nectar. Sweet, sweet temptation.

Drawing my fingers in like a pair of lips built for sin. I'm not a fucker. Oh, fuck.

Oh, your fingers feel so good. Burrowing into my flesh like that, I am not a witch. I am not a witch.

I am not a. .. Oh, I'm fucked if I do and fucked if I don't.

And damn, you can fuck. Oh, fair cop, I'll take it. Yes, come undone in your confession.

Come undone in front of those who you make bird with longing the same way you do me. And now you witness her power. Here under my fingers, she confesses.

My other hand to her throat. She shows her true form. Yes, yes, yes.

Oh. On your hands and knees, witch. Let us bare these heathen loins to the world, if that is what you so desire.

Let the world see your bare behind in its round fullness. Your folds glistening under the moonlight as twilight gives way into darkness. What say you? What judgment do you place on this wanton woman, this witch? Burn her, burn her, you say.

Can we save her soul? I believe we can drive this evil from her. Bring me a flame.

Fetch me a candle. Oh, God, please. Please, no.

Oh, now, now you pray. Do you confess? Confess now in front of the God to which you pray.

Submit. Confess. Hear her.

She speaks in tongues. May the devil leave the body of this poor soul. Each droplet burns like fire itself, searing heat that sets skin aflame.

Can you feel the hot kisses across your bottom? And what if I were to drop one right here on your hole? I won't confess.

You will. You will confess, and I will save your soul. Now, hold perfectly still.

You will confess. You will submit to me. You will let me have you.

You will let me save you from a bonfire. You are mine. I am going to take you now, and you will let me claim you.

You will let me, and you will beg me for more. I feel you. I feel you right at my entrance.

Tell me. Tell me now. Tell me you're mine.

Tell the crowd that you are a witch. Tell me how much you want me. No.

I am yours. Take me. Claim me.

Have me in front of all of these people who are taking such pleasure in watching you right now. Have me in the palm of your hand. Take me, and I will call myself whatever you wish of me.

Slut. Bitch on heat. Witch.

What would you have me do? Beg for your car? I need you.

I need to feel you deep inside me, in front of this audience. You own me. I submit.

I submit to you. Here, take the scanton. I'll take you, and so I shall.

Confess. Confess. I'm a witch.

Louder. I'm a witch. Louder.

I'm a witch. Yes. Yes, you are.

Yes, you are. My witch. My whore.

Submit. You're mine. I'm yours.

I'm yours. Together we will save you. Fuck the devil out.

Push back against me and help fuck the devil out. Yes. Fuck.

Fuck. Witchcraft. Really? You know, you could have just asked for a date.

Foul, evil temptress. Drained me of all will and self-respect. How dare you? Most normal folk just ask a woman out, you know.

So would you be interested in sharing a roast turnip and mead with me sometime? But you, no. Not you.

Along you come, dragging me off to save my soul, my hero. Have I not cast the evil out of you? You are grateful, are you not, that your flesh no longer acts to serve the Dark Lord himself? That you will once again be born into the light with new commitment and resolution? Oh, yes.

Undoubtedly. Not a drop of sarcasm to be had, my hero. And lo, I am delivered.

Cured me, you have. Only one problem. And pray, what might that be? Witches are insatiable.

Witches come multiple times. Now, by my count, I've come once. You've got some work to do.

No, wait, just, hey, um. .. Bewitch you? Of course.

You honestly think that you'd be man enough to provide me with what I need any other way? I'm not done with you. Oh, my God.