[The Friar POV]
My clasped hands were trembling so much the rosary beads were faintly bouncing off my knuckles. I took a deep breath, rolled my shoulders back, and lifted my arms again to follow along the prayers of my father and the rest of my brethren. We did communal prayer before dinner. The clergy who was stationed back in our former location decided it would be more convenient and devotional for us to pray for a while before going into the next room for our meal.
I had come just in time after I had tied that bewitching creature to my bed. I was trembling for many reasons but struggled to pin down which was bothering me the worst.
One, I did it. I had taken her and fucked her like I had dreamt for days since seeing her in the trees. Two, I had sinned. Greatly. Though I was not religious. That was a secret not even my father knew. But I was a friar nevertheless and if I was to be caught, I could jeopardize not only me but my father's reputation. I was already being questioned about my real ethnicity. My father tried his best to convince people for years that I was just a darker skinned Italian. That was not holding up well now that I was a grown man in his early twenties. And three, Brutus was giving me a strange long look from across the way of the sanctuary. He was far beside me, but I could see he kept stealing glances at me.
I wiped the sweat off my forehead hoping that he thought I was just nervous about the rumors of the witches seeking revenge on us rather than him being curious as to why I had a soft afterglow all over me. The rush of sex was cooling off on me but as the prayers went on my mind often wandered back to her soft outer flesh and her tight inner flesh sucking my cock into her womb. My father and Father Blaise had announced this past week of two things. The high priestess witch that had been chased out of town by order of our friary was rumored not to be dead and sought out revenge and two the king of the nearest domain was to pay a visit hoping to expand his kingdom.
I didn't know anything about the witch yet -- I didn't even know her name. But I would talk to her soon after dinner. I had to feed her, clean her up, make sure that she was okay. I had originally planned to kill her if she had fought back as my father explained the witches here were evil cannibals, but my mind changed as I fucked her. Plus, I believed most of the rumors about the witches were probably exaggerated. The witch was looking into my eyes fearlessly like she trusted me. And despite how tight her pussy was she was flooding with wetness inviting my cock to go deeper into her. I had wondered if she was a virgin as I had some smeared blood from my fingers when I wiped at my cock afterwards.
I wasn't a virgin. I had fucked stable girls as a eighteen and nineteen year old knowing damn well I was no European Christian, but a man who was born in a Muslim country and ripped away as a child. But I didn't feel obligated to either faith. I simply just wanted to fuck and fulfill my earthly pleasures as the men among me fought over who was more virtuous than the other. I felt virtuous in my own way. And I rewarded myself with fucking and drinking when I could.
My father Tiago had saved me as a child during the war. I barely had any memories of it and maybe that was a good thing I didn't remember. He took me in and raised me as his own but told me the truth from a young age. He was from Portugal and was a leader in his brethren before becoming second in command of this friary. Father Blaise was in main control, but nobody liked him as much as my father. My father Tiago was the only person in this world I felt obligated to more than his own God despite him reprimanding me that I should care more about God than him. Foolish old man but my old man, nevertheless.
I hadn't had sex since we were sent out here in the middle of nowhere. It was driving me mad. There was a maid in one large city we stayed in for years in my early twenties. We fucked all the time in her husband's bed. When father said we were to be sent to the woodlands out deep in the west of France I was devasted to leave her, though she had not seemed to be upset as me. I later found out that Brutus has also been sleeping with her in our last months in the city. This made me despise him even more. I knew he had only done it to spite me. He had been bullying me since we were teenagers.
About the witch I had tied in my room there was something different about her. And I acknowledge that I didn't pull out of her but came deep inside her when I shouldn't have. I always pulled out with every woman I had been with. But her pussy felt incredible like she was taking my spirit through my cock into her. I felt worried about her getting pregnant from that. But maybe if her witchcraft worked, she may have a solution to undo the damage I caused if any. I would have to ask her.
The bishop finally ended prayer, and we all shuffled out to the dining hall. Before I could get to the seat I always sat at Brutus, shoved past me and took it giving me a half smirk before I quickly moved on to the seat farthest from him. Since I had met him when we were teens, he had tried to always torment me. I was sure he was the one who told the other friars I looked like the people he had seen his father kill in war. One of the older friars had harassed me the past week on it and my father had to step in and separate us from fighting. If Brutus was going to be a continuous thorn in my side in this life, then I hoped the witch could be the rose at least.
I knew a bit about Brutus. Brutus was sent off to be a friar as punishment for other things he had done in his life. He grew up now like me, but he had plans to run his own friary apparently, but I knew it was just an excuse for him to handle the funds he made with prostitutes. Whenever in the past we had went out to beg for money he always came back with the most, but I found out from other friars that he was essentially pimping out women and collecting the money for us that way. I hated him and his conniving ways.
I ate quickly hoping to excuse myself so I could hurry back to feed the witch and bathe her. In my garden shed I had made a special rose milk to bathe her plump, delicious body with. I also had to stop by the kitchen and beg Francis the cook to please spare an extra portion of pottage and bread and that I would skip breakfast and supper to make up for it.
I knew Brutus would be watching me and I didn't want him even more suspicious. So, I had no choice but to embarrass myself so he wouldn't have any other thoughts.
"Father may I be excused early?" I asked Father Blaise. My father was fasting in his chambers and wasn't present with us.
"Why Rosario?" Father Blaise wrinkled his nose at me, eyeing the now empty bowl. I had stuffed the bread accommodating the pottage into my pocket in case Francis would deny my request.
"Nature calls."
With that I knew Brutus would burst out laughing.
"So that's why you were sweating like a sinner on judgement day." Brutus snorted. "Better let him go Father before nature shouts."
His friends laughed with him. Father Blaise snapped at them to be quiet and asked if they were still schoolchildren. I blushed a little with annoyance but knew it was the only way to get him off my back. Who knows what Brutus would have done if he discovered I had a sexy witch imprisoned in my room. A jealous brute is what he'd become. I was excused and made my way around the dining hall at the back of the kitchen.
"Brother Francis."
"What do you want?"
He was a grumpy old man. Well, I guess all the old friars here were grumpy.
"I need to ask a favor. I can make up for it ten times fold if need be."
He was putting away the leftover food ready to give the leftovers to the stables. Our horses and other farm animals had all been brought by the nearby villages. Brutus oversaw them for now. Those poor animals.
"Please give me another portion of food. I will do any favor you ask of me. I will even skip my meals tomorrow."
"For what young man." He looked me up and down. "We haven't even begun the hardest part of working in these dumps and you're asking for more?"
"Its..." I tried to come up with a lie that was believable enough for him not to care anymore. I tried the fasting lie I had thought of earlier when I couldn't think of anything else. "I'm fasting this week. It will be the longest I ever fasted. And that pottage was so good I may never have another quite like it."
He gave me an odd look like I was asking him to kiss me on the ass.
"Get out of here." He said slopping the pottage all over the ground. I winced at this. Okay, then no pottage for the witch. But I had my bread. Just as I turned to go, I saw that he had not thrown out the rest of the bread. He was scrapping at the pot furiously outside. I quickly stuffed my pockets with bread and hurried outside to my end where I tended to the garden. I found my pail of rose milk I had concocted that morning. I grabbed a few other needed items and headed to my room quickly before anyone could see me.
I had made it to my door unseen. I was still so fucking horny. I couldn't wait to enter her holes again.
[The Witch POV]
He came back with an armful of things. A basin, pails, cloth rags, a jug, and loaves of bread. At the table he set the things down, lit the lantern, and came over to me with the basin filled with water and the rags.
"Spread your legs for me."
I felt blood rush to my sex. It was like my body had already been conditioned to be fucked by him.
I was slightly disappointed that it wasn't meant for his cock but rather to wash me down with. He wiped firmly at my sex, cleaning all the residue from earlier that day. It smelled of something. Something pure and sweet all at once.
"What is that?"
"Speak more softly please." He whispered. His voice made me internally swoon.
I asked again but he didn't answer.
"If I untie you, will you run or scream?" he asked.
"Will you let me go back home?" I tested him.
"We can discuss that as long as you don't run or scream or do both."
I nodded. He untied me and took my hand making me stand up. I saw the pail was filled with a pink milky substance. Whatever it was, it was the most floral and fresh water I had ever seen. Pink droplets ran down my skin as he gently circled at my flesh, lifting my hair and cleaning the back of my ears and neck. I had always bathed in the stream, so I didn't feel dirty but now I felt even cleaner than before. I wanted him to kiss me as he scrubbed me all over, but he was more focused on moving my limbs around and turning me around to wipe at every crevice on me.
Once he patted me dry, he folded the rags and brought me the jug and bowl.
"Sit down. You must be hungry and thirsty."
I was but I was surprisingly hornier than both of those things.
"All you eat is bread?" I asked.
"I tried to get you our supper but..." he nodded at door. "Old man in the kitchen got too suspicious of me asking for seconds."
He handed me a plate of crumbled bread lightly seasoned.
"You weren't missing out on much anyways. Terrible soup."
"So, I'm your slave now." I said looking down at my plate before looking back at him. He paused.
"I never said slave."
"What did you say? Personal slave?"
"Personal slut."
To hear him say those words again in his brown potato sack of a uniform was odd. He was a friar. Friars don't fuck.
"Did being a man of god finally break you into doing this?"
"I've fucked before." He stated. "But when I saw you, I had to have you. It's as simple as that."
My heart froze. He had felt the same as me when I saw him.
"Seeing a beautiful woman walking around naked in the woods isn't exactly the easiest thing to forget when you're supposed to be a married to god."
"How did you see me?"
"I go to the stream that leads into the little river where you bathe sometimes -- you bathe there by yourself. I was startled to see you because I figured you were one of them. I know where the coven is too because I had followed you there and memorized the area."
"Are you even a friar?"
"No. I have to be. But I don't have a belief."
I remembered that one day I saw him arguing with another friar and him being very upset afterward. I gazed at his golden brown skin which looked even darker by the lantern.
"You're not from here, are you?"
His eyes slightly concerned lit up at this. "How did you know?"
"Come on...you're a little darker than any Italian man I've seen. And me...I sort of..."
I trailed off not sure if I should tell him of my own background.
