This story was inspired by the events of the Salem Witch Trials of 1692. Thus, while this is a work of (hyperbolic) erotic fiction, the witch "tests" and the motivations for accusing one for being a witch did exist. Some of the characters, notably Elizabeth Hubbard, also are documented characters.
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Salem, Massachusetts. 1692.
Mary Best hummed a tune to herself as she mended a garment for her husband. It wasn't a psalm or a prayer as was expected of her. No, it was a song of hope and of love. She was certainly a pious individual and dedicated church goer, but as a 30 something year old hopeless romantic, she could not help it. Will was out on business elsewhere in the county, which meant that the only man in her life at the moment was her loyal doggy who lazily lay by her side.
But before she could finish sewing the breaches and singing her tune, she was interrupted by great rumblings coming from the outdoors. Even the dog, who had been napping, got up to see what was happening. "My, what could that be at this late hour?" she said to herself as she got out of her seat. She dropped the pants and headed to the door. The commotion appeared to get louder and louder. There was chanting, yelling, and howling.
Mary opened the door to what looked to be all of Salem outside her doorstep. Her straight blonde hair flowed in the slight breezy air as she took in the scene before her. Many of the faces she recognized as people she'd conversed with at the market or at church. They waved flaming torches and hurled holy phrases at her. Front and centre was the Reverend Samuel Parris and the 18 year old orphan Elizabeth Hubbard, Mary's very own servant! "There she is," the maidservant called out, "the witch!"
Mary was quite taken back by that word "witch" and by the fact that it was her own servant girl, colloquially known as Betty, making these wild claims. "Elizabeth? What words to you speak? I am no witch," she replied.
"Her spectre came to me last night and attempted to persuade me to do the dark one's bidding. When I refused it choked me around my neck," Betty said while clutching her neck. "If not for the repulsion of my crucifix, I would have passed on prematurely."
The mob gasped before proceeded to taunt Mary Best.
"UNHOLY!" cried one.
"HEATHEN!!" uttered another.
"WITCH!!!!" yelped an additional soul.
"Mary Best, you are charged with the vile offense of witchcraft and entering into covenant with the devil. How do you respond to the affliction of this poor girl?" asserted Parris.
"I know not of what this girl speaks Reverend," Mary outraged. "I was in my home last night praising the good Lord."
"She sings songs of the devil!" the young accuser cut in. "Many a night I have heard her voice lure and corrupt the children...and those eyes! Those devilish eyes." She shuddered while covering her face in the Reverend's body. The crowd howled and hissed at this new piece of information.
"HAVE HER HEAD!" they resumed.
"SHE CANNOT BE SAVED!!" they claimed.
"HANG HER!!!" they finally said.
"Why, this is preposterous! I do not know what this girl speaks of!" she addressed the crowd as the wind picked up slightly. Her homemade dress flowed in the breeze, exposing the bottom portion of the slender woman's lengthy yet pale legs. The men in the crowd, some with their wives by their side, secretly gawked with amusement at the tiny peek. She looked to Parris for sympathy. "Reverend, I am no witch! By the grace of Mary and Joseph I am not a witch!!"
"The evidence is overwhelming, Mary" Parris said rather unsympathetically. "But there is one more indicator to be witnessed. Seize her!"
With that two men marched up to Mary and firmly grabbed her by the arms. "Please, no, I swear to you, I am not a witch!" she pleaded as she was brought into the crowd.
"Well then," the reverend addressed her, "if that is the case, you will not bear the marks of the devil. Disrobe her!"
Much to her protests, the oafs did not waste any time when they mauled at her clothing. Soon enough her wool gown, which she spent many hours making, was in tatters in front of her. She kicked and screamed and lamented at the state of her clothing but she could do nothing to overpower them as they exposed more and more skin. The men took many liberties in groping her by clutching her modest breasts and full ass. And why wouldn't they? Mary Best was a lustful woman. Her slim yet desirable form had the male population of the town in awe, and some women in jealousy. Many men in the crowd, including these two, knew this fact. They'd be a fool to pass up having a moment with her body. "This is unnecessary! I am innocent!" She squirmed.
With her clothing in a puddle on the muddy ground, the chill of the sea air hit her body strongly. Mary cowered to protect herself from not only the cold, but the embarrassment of being exposed to the entire town.
"Do not attempt to cover yourself, witch!" the clergyman commanded.
Mary reluctantly dropped her arms at her sides. The mob hollered at the nude form in front of them. They laughed at her predicament.
"Look! The devil commands her breasts at attention!" one cried, noting that her nipples had gone erect.
"Only the devil suckles at the witch's teat! She is calling him to her!" added another.
Her legs quivered in anxiety. Her pussy began to tingle.
The reverend called over a pair of midwives to examine her. They were both women Mary recognized. "Margaret...Susannah...do not go through with this!!!" she tried to plead with them. Her appeal, however, fell on deaf ears to even the women she considered friends.
The women, like the males before them, handled her in a similar fashion, only more gentle. But this did not mean the desire to see her exposed as a witch wasn't tamer. They knew Mary's appeal. Their own husband s made eyes at her and spoke of her needlessly around the house. This was their shot at redemption. They ran their hands all over her looking for an irregularity in her appearance, something miniscule to nail her on. They tweaked her nipples and pinched her breasts. Their roaming fingers actually felt good against her soft skin. She was actually enjoying this whole process. Could it be that her forced exposure, her humiliation, was of excitement to her?