Samhains Witch

When new witches were initiated in historical times, they were often blindfolded and a sacred ointment was rubbed into their skin that would confuse the mind, speed up the pulse and numb the feet. They were then guided onto a broomstick, and when told they were flying over land and see, the witch believed.

Ashlyn pulled the cloak tightly around her as she made her way carefully down the stone strewn path lit weakly by the new moon. Cool night air whipped at her fine sable skirts and long golden hair, the earthy scents of the forest teasing her nostrils.

She glanced once behind her at the dominating presence of the wooden towers of Owin Castle. Light from candles flickered in every window, guiding home the restless spirits who had passed into the otherworld during the long year. Behind one of those windows sat her husband of two months, deep in his cups. For the moment she would be forgotten, yet all too soon he would take the creaking steps to her bed chamber.

Silently she made her way through the village. It was deathly still and deserted, the shutters pulled tight. Muslin wrapped brannock was left in offering for the dead returning to visit their kin. She felt isolated, alone. She had never left the castle without an escort, and never at night. But it was Samhaim, when all things begin and end in darkness. No villager would leave the safety and warmth of their hearth on this eve, when the veils between the worlds was as its thinnest.

Ashlyn did not believe in darkly things, or if she did, she doubted it could rival what came to her bed chamber each eve. Her husband's lust for her was frightening. Obsessive. She lay still beneath him, yielding to him what was his right. Every time he took her, he sought to beget his child on her. And each time she prayed his seed did not flower in her womb, for surely that would bind her to him more than mortal vows ever could?

The hut she sought was apart from the village, nestled on the edge of the forest. As she moved toward it, her heart began to race. Maids spoke in hushed tones of the strange sounds and scents emanating from this hut, of the shadowed bodies coming and going during the night. Of pagen rites and witches.

Light flickered beneath the wooden door, as if beckoning her. No offerings laid before the door, no candles burning in the windows. Were the whispers true?

As she tapped tentatively on the wood, the door swung open beneath the force of her knuckles. Warm laughter teased her senses and drew her through the door. Two woman knelt on a rich rug spread across the wooden floor, yet her eyes were drawn to the one standing in their midst's, her dark wine red hair spilling down her back and brushing against the creamy heart-shaped bottom, her pale arms upraised toward the heavens.

A gust of wind swirled around her ankles and slammed the door home with a crash. Yet she could not move. Her golden eyes were drawn to the woman turning toward her. Ashlyn's gaze moved over the lush breasts with their large pink nipples, the soft curve of hips and thighs with a tangle of red curls at their apex. The woman's pale skin gleamed as though moonlight danced beneath her skin, and her fingers itched to touch her. As her gaze lifted to the triangular face with its strange beauty, she was mesmerized by eyes as dark as the midnight sky and glinting with jeweled stars.

The smoky scent of incense curled about her, filling the small hut with a dreamlike quality as the silence stretched.

"Leave us," the woman spoke softly, the husky tones sending a shiver down Ashlyn's spine. The pair rose and slipped behind the small curtained alcove as the woman slipped a silver wrap over her nakedness. Ashlyn suspected this act was more for Ashlyn's sensibilities than any embarrassment on the woman's part.

Ashlyn stood silently as the woman approached her, the silvery cloth shifting against her pale skin. Ashlyn offered no resistance as long fingers untied the ribbons at her throat and parted her cloak, letting it fall to the ground to reveal the simple gown beneath that clung to her small high breasts and tiny waist. They two were of the same height, yet the woman made her feel tiny in her presence. Goosepimples raced along her skin as fingers slid warmly along her cheekbones and into the tumbled golden locks above her pink ears, drawing back the fine shawl wrapped around her face and hair. The shawl slithered to the floor in a pool at their feet.

"The whispers of your beauty are true." It was stated factually, without admiration or envy, and for that Ashlyn was thankful. She sought this woman's help, and did not want her hatred. "They say the old men of the village weep as you walk by."

"Merely from the dust stirred up by my boots," Ashlyn replied equally lightly. She was drawn to the shadowy V between the lush breasts, yet forced her eyes to remain on the strange, intense face.

An eyebrow quirked, a glint of humour in those all seeing midnight eyes. "You may join us, or not." The woman shrugged.

Ashlyn was surprised at the rush of longing that filled her at the woman's invitation. "I can't, I'll soon be missed. I only came..." Her golden eyes rested hesitantly on the curtained alcove.

"There should be no secrets among women." The woman turned, and stepped over several candles as she moved toward a low table upon which rested an intricately carved wooden chest. The woman lovingly touched its lid before flicking a seeking glance at Ashlyn.

A delicate blush bloomed in Ashlyn's cheeks. "I sought a drought to aid sleep. I-"

"Say no more, lest the darkness carry tales." Her blush deepened at the amusement in the woman's voice. "Your husband's affection is well known among the village keep."

"You mistake me-"

"Do I? What a shame."

Ashlyn did not know how to answer. The woman withdrew a delicate bottle with a stopper, its frosted blown glass intricately woven with fiery colours. The woman crossed to stand before her. "This is a special potion. It is to be smeared upon your breasts or neck or even lips if you are careful. As soon as one tastes it, sleep comes almost instantly."

Ashlyn accepted the bottle, feeling a tingle as warm fingers brushed against hers. Unable to meet the woman's eyes, she lightly traced the whorls on the bottle. It was strangely difficult to lie to her.

"Thank you," she said softly. She did not need to ask if the secrets on this Samhain eve would be kept. Her trust of this woman was instinctive.

"There is something I ask of you in return."

"Anything within my power," Ashlyn replied without hesitation.

"That you enjoy our festivities on Samhain night."

"I –" the thought of her husband flashed through her mind, of the jealousy and suspicion twisting the handsome features at not finding her waiting. "Yes."

The woman smiled, a seductive, luring smile that teased at Ashlyn's senses.

"Ferehar, Giolla, come see to your mistress." The two women stirred from behind the curtain, their glowing faces flushed.

"Your name?" Ashlyn asked after her.

"I am Rhiona," the woman said over her shoulder. Her hips swayed beneath the silvery cloth with each step.

Rhiona. Queen. It fitted, Ashlyn mused. Then caught her breath as the woman let the wrap slide from her body. She was lush and womanly, vastly different from the willowy curves of Ashlyn's pale gold body.

Ferehar and Giolla stepped easily from their gowns and knelt on the floor. Both woman were small with light hair, yet Giolla possessed an earthiness whereas Ferehar held a more subtle grace.

The three women knelt naked around a circle marked in precious salt. Witches. Ashlyn had heard many tales of witches and broomsticks, of flying above villages with blood curdling cries as Samhain reached its zenith. Her sisters and her would huddle beneath bed covers to hide the glow of the candle as one by one they would make up stories more terrifying than the last. Yet this was no tale. These woman possessed an aura, a feminine knowledge that defied the authority of men.

Of their own accord her shaky fingers slowly untied the ribbons of her bodice. Ashlyn wanted this. Wanted a taste of the forbidden, to escape her isolated world. To explore possibilities on an eve when darkness and light entwined at summer's end.

She drew the silver combs from her golden tresses, letting them tumble heavily over her shoulders and catch the firelight. Head lowered, she slowly eased her gown down her arms to reveal her tiny mounds with their rosy crowns. The material slipped down over her hips to pool at her feet with the hush of fine cloth. Her shift soon followed before she crossed to kneel at the edge of the circle, blushing to the tips of her breasts beneath the intensity of their eyes. Ashlyn was long used to the gazes of others, but this was different. They asked of her nothing, demanded nothing, simply acknowledged her for who she was.

Candles surrounded them; on tables, chairs, nooks, the wooden floor. The hut, though small, was a cosy sanctuary of exotic scents, luxurious fabrics and dark wood. Taking a deep breath, her lashes fluttered close as she drew in the exotic incense. It felt as though whispering darkness coiled itself around her, sinking into her blood.

"Drink," Rhiona murmured, pressing a goblet into her hands. Ashlyn gazed down into the dark depths before raising it to her parted lips. The heady wine flowed easily over her tongue, tingling all the way to her belly. The goblet was filled from a skin, and passed around the circle many times as the candles flickered and burned.

Only mildly shocked as Ferehar and Giolla kissed greedily, Ashlyn laughed for the sheer joy of laughing. Her young body felt heavy and languid. Her nipples ached and a pulsing warmth thrummed between her thighs.

From somewhere appeared pots of oils in ruby, brown and gold. The women surrounded her, their feminine scent seductively sweet. Fingers dipped into the pots and drew swirling patterns over Ashlyn's soft skin of her shoulders and throat. She gathered up her silky strands in a pile atop her head, allowing the hands to roam freely over her body. Fiery heat swirled low in her belly as fingers traced tantalising patterns over her breasts and belly. Soft moans escaped her as they explored her body, the oils warming on her flesh.

Her drowsy mind wandered as they eased her onto her back in the centre of the circle, her golden mane a pool beneath her. Fingers moved over her hips, belly and thighs. Teasing, caressing, tormenting. But never touching the aching core of her.

She offered no resistance as they eased her feet wide. The fingers of her right hand were curled around a witch's broom, and she clutched it for dear life. Blood pounded in her ears, her breathing came in small pants. Hands massaged the oils into her body, slippery against her wanton flesh.

"Hollantide Oiche Shamhna Samhain," the voices chanted, over and over as Ashlyn felt herself soar.

Hands tugged and tweaked her tight nipples, molded the firm peaks. Fingers swept down over her belly and thighs, achingly close to the melting core of her. Her heart felt as though it would escape from her chest, her skin felt afire. The small hut whirled and disappeared to reveal a dark inky sky blazoning with stars. "I'm flying" she whispered, before darkness stole over her.

She woke sprawled before the hearth, wrapped in soft fur. She rolled onto her back, her eyes widening as they locked with midnight blue ones. Rhiona lay alongside of her, her head propped up on her hand. This close she could see the dusting of freckles across Rhiona's nose. Ashlyn ached to explore them with her tongue.

Her heart began to race as Rhiona leaned close, her breath warming Ashlyn's face. Soft lips brushed hers, then again. Gently they settled against Ashlyn's, unmoving. Moments passed before Ashlyn's sighed, tentatively kissing Rhiona.

They lay side by side for an age, exchanging soft caresses with their lips and tongues. Seeking, exploring. Their lips clung, melded.

"I never knew," Ashlyn breathed, reaching up to brush back a red curl, "that another's touch could be so gentle." Ashlyn stilled. Culain. "I must leave."

She rose gracefully to her feet and swiftly found her shift and gown. There was nothing to be done about the scented oils rubbed into her flesh. She dressed beneath watchful eyes, unable to look upon the silent woman.

She gathered her cloak around her and collected the fragile bottle. She paused at the door, looking back upon the woman sprawled naked on the furs, the dark red hair vibrant against her pale skin. "I must go."

Rhiona smiled slightly, running her fingers over her breast temptingly. Ashlyn turned and stepped out into the frigid night air, the darkness enveloping her.

~*~

Ashlyn woke, her body tender. Silently she slipped from the bed and padded across to her chest where she withdrew the tiny bottle from the folds of her hastily stashed cloak. With her back to the bed, she lightly rubbed the unscented oil into her rosy nipples, feeling them pucker and tingle. Then she climbed back into bed and anxiously waited for her demanding husband to wake.

~*~

Winter's solstice arrived, and with it rebirth. As the mild summer days passed, the tension in Ashlyn grew. The glass bottle was almost empty, its contents too precious to use until Samhain. With every rise of the moon, Ashlyn counted the days.

On Samhain eve, she made her way slowly to the village, careful not to fall along the path.

This time when she pushed on the door, there was no waiting circle of witches. Candle light flickered softly in the tiny hut. The familiar scent of burning incense drew her in, and she closed the door softly behind her.

The curtain slowly drew open, and Rhiona stood silently, her midnight eyes watchful. She wore a wrap the colour of her eyes, stark against the paleness of her skin.

With a thrill of nervousness, Ashlyn slowly withdrew the empty bottle from her cloak and set it on the wooden table at her side.

Dark eyes rose from the bottle to clash with Ashlyn's measuringly. "There is a cost."

"I will gladly pay it," Ashlyn murmured, slipping her cloak to the floor. She was naked beneath, and Rhiona's breath caught at the terrifying perfection of her beauty.

Slowly Ashlyn slid the slippers from her feet and crossed to Rhiona. Gently she brushed the silky red strands over a pale shoulder, revealing the full luscious swell of a breast to her curious gaze.

Pale fingers cupped her face as a warm mouth pressed hungrily against her own. Ashlyn's lips parted beneath the silent demand, opening herself up to the new sensations. A sigh escaped her at feeling Rhiona's soft breasts pressing against her through the wrap, of the hands caressing her tiny waist, of thighs touching hers. Ashlyn's fingers tugged at the ribbons of Rhiona's wrap, drawing it apart and exploring the softly scented curves beneath.

Ashlyn's hands fell to her sides as Rhiona moved from her. With her back turned, Rhiona poured two goblets of wine with a trembling hand. "Here." Rhiona held a goblet aloft, and Ashlyn accepted, her fingers closing around the stem. She took a long draft, feeling the spicy, tangy wine spill down her throat. She drunk it greedily, feeling it spill over her lips and the graceful column of her neck. Rhiona moistened her lips as she watched the trickle of blood red wine over Ashlyn's golden skin.

"More," Ashlyn breathed, holding out her goblet. Rhiona did her bidding, before setting wine skin down and moving close. Her pink tongue darted out, following the trickle of moisture before circling the hard crest of her rosy nipple.

Ashlyn clutched at the table behind her. Her back arched, pressing the aching tip against the moist, seeking lips. The wine burned a fiery path to her belly, generating a delicious warmth that rippled through her like a stones scattered over the surface of a lake. The flesh between her thighs melted, coaxed into life as Rhiona teased her breasts.

Slowly Ashlyn sat on the table's edge beneath the pressure of Rhiona's hands. She was guided onto her back on the smooth wood warmed by the fireplace. Her young body arched over the table as her hands were guided above her head to grab a window ledge. She moaned as fingers trailed down the inside of her arms and over the rise of her breasts.

Scented oil was rubbed into her breasts and belly with deft fingers. Moans escaped Ashlyn as her gleaming skin burned with sensuous heat beneath the lustrous dark eyes.

Fire scorched through Ashlyn as she felt herself begin to soar. Soft hands soothed down over her belly, to comb through the sparse patch of golden curls that afforded the throbbing heart of her little protection.

Disappointment whispered through her as the hands glided further down her inner thighs to slip beneath her knees. "I have dreamed of you nightly, of tasting you here," Rhiona murmured, easing Ashlyn's legs wide apart so that her feet dangled inches above the stone floor.

Ashlyn quivered as her the seductive midnight eyes gazed upon the secret heart of her. She knew her pinkness glistened with need, beckoning temptingly like a moth to a flame. Rhiona knelt before her as though in worship, smoothing her hands up and down her spread golden thighs. Rhiona leaned forward and pressed her lips against Ashlyn's inner thigh, her tongue flicking out lightly. Ashlyn's belly tensed, her breath caught. Her body quivered as Rhiona's lips moved teasingly over her flesh until they settled against the heart of her. Her lashes fluttered close and her knuckles turned white where they gripped the ledge as an artful tongue darted out, licking delicately along her cleft.

Her young body bucked as the tongue lazily circled the throbbing pink nub, the frustrated tension coiling tight in her belly. Never had a lover explored her body so knowingly, so gently. Her husband was intoxicated by her beauty, intent on possessing her body. Her young lover sought to please her, yet their interludes were brief and far between.

Gasping moans escaped her as the tongue stabbed and swirled in her dewy valley, teasing her into a frenzy of need. The breath shuddered from her lungs as Rhiona sucked on her, her bottom lifting off the table. Teeth scraped her, delicately nibbled her.

Lightening stole through Ashlyn as the tongue pushed up inside her tight channel, plundering her silken depths. Ashlyn bucked and writhed as ecstasy tore through her, her body clutching at the tiny invader as she flowered against the mouth pressed to her dewy gate.

Ashlyn collapsed on the table, her golden eyes slumberous, her glistening breasts swiftly rising and falling. Slowly she came back down to earth, quivers still racing through her as the tongue delved between her folds, seeking every last drop of her desire.

Leisurely she roused herself so that she sat on the table's edge. She cupped Rhiona's face, drawing it up to hers. Ashlyn settled her lips over Rhiona's, tasting herself on the trembling lips beneath her. Her hand slipped between the woman's soft thighs, discovering the damp curls there. She parted the lush plump pink lips to find the hard pearl hidden in their depths. She stroked Rhiona, watching the woman shudder and whimper, her fingers digging into Ashlyn's shoulders as she swiftly reached her zenith. The woman's head fell back, soft moans escaping her. Slowly Ashlyn withdrew her glistening fingers and brought them to her mouth. She licked them, tasting the woman's pleasure, a sensuous smile curling her lips.

"I must go," Ashlyn murmured, looking to her cloak.

"Stay." Ashlyn knew how much that had cost the independent Rhiona.

"Do not ask that of me." Ashlyn turned away, not wanting to see the sadness in those midnight eyes. A sadness she had placed there. She slipped from the table on slightly weakened legs, her breasts brushing against Rhiona.