Korinthia Koire
1. The Bound Witch
I died.
It was the only explanation I could fathom back then as to what I became. We had all heard the stories, if one died a violent death or perished with the burden of some unspeakable sin thent he gods would see fit to curse us and have us rise anew as something inhuman until a hero puts us out of our misery. Of course, there would be no salvation in the form of a hero for the likes of me.
I would say it began as I approached our local prophet, back when I was still something of a human. Long ago, at a crossroads just outside our village, someone had seen fit to erect a hekataion, the triple maidens facing out to each road. As a youth I would frequently see offerings left there by travellers, hoping to appease the most mysterious of goddeses. But over time the hekataion grew weathered, less tended and the offerings more sparse. After one particularly bad storm, it slumped to one side, too stubborn to completely topple.
Then the one we called the Bound Witch came.
None knew where she came from, she seemingly appeared overnight. Word reached the village of a crazed woman, tied naked to the hekataion with the most complex and mind-warping knots. Her arms were tied behind her and her legs kept open so to as constantly display her sex to those passing by. She wore a strange, leather blindfold covered in runes and spurned all attempts to release her until people grew accustomed to the strange creature. She never seemed to eat or drink and could be found there in perfect health no matter the weather.
In time, people saw her as an avatar of Hekate herself and thought to leave offerings once more, the witch would laugh at their efforts and promise them nothing. That was, until it was learned she accepted offerings of semen. Men began to partake of her open loins and in turn she would whisper advice or visions to them that would change their lives, though not always for the better. Women would come and tip vials of seed into her open mouth, in trade for her wisdom.
I was such a woman. Clutching a hard earned vial I approached our depraved version of the Delphinic Oracle. The sun was setting and people were retiring to their homes after their day's labour, the perfect time not to be seen. I walked up the worn path and advanced to the crossroads. The witch had been there for a handful of years at this point, but this was the first time I approached her alone. She still looked every bit the same as when she was first discovered. Her grey hair fell around her ample breasts, and her loins glistened with the dampness of arousal.
Her face snapped to me, as though she could see me through her blindfold, "Ah, Pithos, you are here unattended at last."
I halted, thinking she had mistaken me, "My name is not Pithos."
She cackled, "Oh but it is, Apollo has Pythia, we have you, it is what you shall be and what you shall embrace. You are the reason I was placed here, after tonight I can finally return home." Her body shuddered with longing.
I swallowed dryly, unsure of myself, "I, I have what you like. I need your advice."
"You fear your husband is cheating on you and wish him back?"
Feeling that ache in y chest grow I mumbled, "Yes."
"Mortal problems for mortal people. A pithos like you should concern herself only with being full." She sneered, "Yet you are to be different from the others, that is why I am here, for the goddess has taken note of you."
I stepped back, this was not how I had imagined it going, though I was not sure exactly what I expected, "I don't understand." I held up the vial, "Do you want this?"
"I shall partake of nothing from you. It is you who must partake of me." She pushed her waist forwards slightly, indicating her dripping labia. "To become of us, drink from the chalice."
Wincing, I stepped back again, "You want me to-"
"Partake of us, and be as us. Or do you wish to return to mundanity? The choice is still yours. But know this, your husband is indeed weary of you and you shall be crushed like the ants you are soon enough. Unless you drink of us."
Looking around me to ensure no one was watching, I edged closer to the witch. I lowered myself between her thighs and inched myself closer to her vulva. I brushed my lips against her and started back. The witch hissed, "Be not coy child, drink!"
Taking a deep breath, I kissed her there, flicked out my tongue. The moment her fluids touched my taste buds my body convulsed with delight, there is no sufficient way to describe the hot flavour of her. All restraint left me and I pressed my lips to her greedily, my tongue lapping at her nectar as my own loins grew wet with excitement. A subtle heat crept along inside me, my breasts felt as though they were swelling. My mind and sight melted into a haze. As though from a distance, I heard the witch, "Pithos, you shall be more as you are less, let none have you see yourself as merely lowly, for you are and you are not."
Then I was struck with vision. I saw the Bound Witch's home, just as I knew that it was to eventually be my home, a place of infinite wondrous torment that I would dedicate my earthly existence towards for the thrill of the doom it offered. Screaming as I felt my sanity falter, all became black.