A Queen in Need - a Halloween Story

This short story takes place around Halloween, or as it was called in the old days, All Hallows Eve. Many people, especially those who lived in the Emerald Isles, believed that on that night witches gathered to dance around their bonfires and worship the old gods. Because of the significance of the day and the fact that there was often extra effort to root out witches in the days before All Saints Day, All Hallows Eve was also commonly a day on which women accused of witchcraft were put to death, usually by burning at the stake.

This is the story the Pixies finally decided should be my Celtic Halloween story for this year.

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WARNING! This warning is possibly not needed for this particular story, but I am including it because it is needed for most of my stories.

If you decide to read other of my stories make sure that you read the disclosures and warnings at the beginning of each story.

All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2017 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.

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Halloween was approaching, but the days were not growing cold. That was because I was in a campground in southwestern Texas where winter doesn't show up until February and even then it doesn't get below forty unless the local weather people are screaming about record lows.

I decided to go hiking out through the scrubbrush. The maps warn not to hike alone on a lot of the trails, but I wasn't going up into the mountains or anywhere really difficult or dangerous. This was such a simple trail that it didn't carry any warnings on the map except to remember to bring water and to not disturb the local vegetation. Maybe things would have happened differently if I had someone walking with me, but I really doubt it.

I had been walking for about an hour when I heard someone behind me calling my name. I turned around and there was no one there. I slowly turned completely around checking out every rock and shadow but there was no one visible for miles. Then I heard my name being called again and something green and shimmering began to appear on the path in front of me. As it continued to shimmer, it slowly started to take human form.

The green was a diaphanous dress that covered, but did not conceal, a very muscular and powerful, but still very curvy and beautiful, body. Her hair was a very dark auburn with orangish highlights. Her lips were redder than anything I had ever seen at the lipstick counter in Macy's. Her eyes were sky blue and were looking straight at me. My own eyes were a little lower, checking out the dark triangle which was clearly visible through the diaphanous green.

She called my named once again and my Weird Shit Meter rose to about 5. For some people that would be the time to run screaming down the trail. But I've seen weirder. A couple of nines and tens come immediately to mind. I try not to think of those times when the meter went totally off-scale. Compared to those times, five wasn't all that bad. For me, five means it is time to be careful, but not scared shitless.

She spoke again. "My name is Eithne," she said. She pronounced it "en-ya" but somehow I knew it should be spelled Eithne when I wrote out this story.

I walked up to her and we stood silently staring at each other for several moments. I was still carefully inspecting her marvelous body. She was gazing at me as if she was trying to evaluate me for some purpose or another. Finally she sighed and said softly, "I guess you'll have to do."

I bristled slightly at her negative evaluation even though I didn't know the criteria by which she was judging me. I think I said, "What?" or something like that. Whatever it was, it didn't matter, because she ignored my response and said, "Walk through me."

It wasn't much louder than what she had spoken before, but it was much more firm and crisp, like an order. I continued to stand there staring at her for a moment. Then her eyes bored into mine and inside my head I heard her loudly command, "I said... Walk through me!"

I did, and suddenly I was standing in a beautiful glen. The sky was a totally different shade of blue and everything around me was green and alive. The sudden change from the dusty brown of southwest Texas was jarring. I quickly looked around. A small stream meandered down the center of the valley where we stood and, high up on the hill, I could see a large castle watching out over the surrounding area.

I shook my head and asked, "What are you?"

"I am one of the Fey," she replied calmly, "and I have chosen you."

"Chosen me?" I sputtered. "For what? Why? Where are we?"

She laughed slightly. It was a beautiful silvery laugh. "You call this Ireland," she said, "but where we are is unimportant. What is important is when we are here and that you are... adequate... for the task at hand."

I grimaced at the second negative evaluation of my ability, even though I still had no idea what she wanted me to do.

She laughed again and smiled sweetly at me. For some reason I suddenly thought of Glinda, the Good Witch from Wizard of Oz. Only I never worried that Glinda might turn someone into a frog... or worse.

"As to why you are here," she continued in her cheery voice, "it is simple. You are here to save a wise woman from an unjust death. The Queen has declared her to be a witch and she will burn at midnight on All Hallow's Eve... unless you intervene."

I looked at her in silence as I tried to comprehend everything she had just told me. Finally I took a deep breath and asked, "Why was I chosen? How am I supposed to save her?"

She touched me in the center of the chest and said, "You were chosen because you are sexually open and are more adequately endowed than average." She paused and then said, somewhat less cheerfully, "You are also not overly old or ugly."

I took it I was not her first choice. Maybe I could still get out of whatever it was she had drafted me for. "A lot of men," I replied, "have better equipment than me... and greater stamina. Why me?"

She paused. It was obvious she was debating whether or not to tell me something. She started to speak several times, but said nothing. Finally she grimaced and said flatly, "Yes, there are many other men who would be better suited to the task. But the woman who is to be burned is your" -- she began counting on her fingers-- "great, great, great, great"-- she threw up her hands in frustration -- "... great... something grandmother."

"Wait a minute!" I exclaimed as I held up my hands. "This isn't one of those time loops, is it?.. where I end up being my own grandpa... or great, great, great, great... something grandfather?"

I could feel my Weird Shit Meter start moving toward eight and I really didn't like it. But then she shook her head.

"No," she answered with her silvery laugh. "You are not expected to make love to her."

"Then who?" I asked rather heatedly.

"The Queen, of course," she replied. Her chirpy voice sounded as if I should have already known that and was being silly for asking.

"How will that save my.... great something grandmother?" I asked slowly. My Weird Shit Meter was continuing to climb.

"The Queen will be coming out to speak to her in just a few moments," Eithne began to explain. "She will ask her once again to renounce the Devil and accept the judgment of the Crown. If your grandmother agrees, they will burn her immediately." She cocked her head, smiled at me once again, and said firmly, "So I will tell her what to say."

She looked up at the castle on the hill and started to get agitated. "Time is passing rapidly," she said quickly. "Come with me. For the moment they can't see you. We must hurry."

I had to hustle to keep up with her as she hurried up the steep hillside. I was wondering how she was able to run so quickly through the slippery foliage, but about half-way up I realized that she wasn't running. She wasn't even walking fast. She was floating over the grass like some sort of hovercraft. I was huffing and puffing and she was still smiling serenely when we got to the castle gate. Sometimes working with magical creatures really gets annoying.

The big gates were closed and barred, but there was a small door open in the main gate. A heavily-armed guard stood on either side of the small opening. Through the opening I could see at least two others also standing guard. I felt a little vulnerable walking between them in nothing but a pair of walking shorts, T-shirt, and sandals, but evidently we really were invisible because they continued to glare out at the surrounding glen as Eithne and I walked between them.

"There she is," she said softly once we were inside the courtyard. She then beckoned me to walk beside her as she floated up to a large, wooden stake set upright in the middle of the courtyard.

A naked women was bound to the stake with her arms stretched high above her head. Her hands were lashed to a chain which went up over the top of the post and then back down to a stake where it was held tight. Her light auburn hair was twisted into some kind of a knot and tied to a rod sticking out of the post above her head so that she had to remain facing outward and couldn't bow her head to protect it from the sun. Her ankles, knees, and waist were bound directly to the post with coarse rope. It was obvious she had been there for some time. Her skin was very sunburned and she was peeling badly on her face, breasts, arms, and legs.

I was surprised that I had to look up slightly at the woman until I realized that she was standing on a small platform attached to the stake about three feet off the ground. Beneath that, piled up almost over her feet, were small limbs, twigs, and kindling chips ready for the fire. Larger pieces of wood were stacked nearby so that they could be set in place when it came time to burn her or perhaps just thrown into the fire once it was going.

Eithne approached the woman and said firmly, "Maoliosa,"-- she pronounced it "male-eeesa," but again somehow I knew how it should be spelled when I told my story. "Maoliosa," she called out, "when the Queen asks you to confess, you must tell her that you are not a witch and that you practice no magic. Tell her that God has revealed to you that if she burns you she will have lost her last chance for something she has sought all her life. If you wish to save your life, say no more than that and no less. If you understand me, nod your head, but say nothing."

I watched Maoliosa look around in confusion and then slowly nod her head, or at least as much as she could with her hair tied tightly above her. She wasn't the only one who was confused. I looked at Eithne with obvious surprise on my face. I was going to give the Queen something she had sought all her life?

Before I could ask my question, Eithne said to me. "Be patient. All will become known when it must be known."

I hate working with magical creatures. They don't exactly lie to you, but they tell you the truth in ways that you don't understand until it is too late. I started to ask her to explain things, but she shushed me and said, "Be quiet. The Queen is sensitive to the presence of the Fey and may feel that we are about if we disturb the ether too much."

I wasn't sure what in the hell she meant, but I shut up and stayed very still. It was only a moment later when the rattle of armor announced the presence of the four guards who were accompanying the Queen. All four were carrying short swords, drawn and ready for use. Their armor looked like it had once been worn by Roman soldiers, which was quite likely the case. Two walked in front of the Queen and two walked behind her.

The Queen herself looked like something out of Irish folklore-- a Celtic Queen in all her power and beauty. She was wearing close fitting leather armor which accentuated rather than hid her voluptuous body. Beneath a short leather corslet, her legs were bare except for sandal straps which wound up her legs almost to her knees. She had very muscular legs, but they still had enough feminine fat to be curvy. Unlike Eithne or Maoliosa, her hair was not dark, but instead was the color of orange flame. It hung down out of her helmet onto her back well past her waist and rippled slightly in the wind as she strode across the courtyard and stood before the bound woman.

She pulled her sword from her back scabbard and reached out and up so that the point of the sword rested on Maoliosa's chest just above her sunburnt breasts a little beneath her throat. "Confess your crimes, witch," she called out loudly, "and accept the justice of the Crown and of the Lord."

Maoliosa trembled in obvious fear, but then answered clearly, "Your most royal highness, Queen Aideen, I am not a witch. I know no magic. But the Lord has revealed to me that if you burn me on All Hallow's Eve you will have given up your last chance for something you have sought throughout your entire reign."

"You have proved you are a witch by falsely prophesying the future," the Queen said almost angrily as she jabbed her sword into the ground in front of the stake. She then spat out in a voice of measured anger, "The fire will be lit at midnight on All Hallow's Eve... so all your sister witches gathered that night throughout the kingdom can hear your screams as you burn." She then picked up her sword, slipped it back into its scabbard, and strode back into the castle itself.

As her guards clanked along behind her, Eithne floated closer to me and said softly, "The Queen always rests in the afternoon. No one may disturb her while she sleeps. But often times there is very little actual sleeping involved in her afternoon naps."

I wanted to ask what she meant, but she grabbed my hand and instantly we were standing in the Queen's bedchamber. Popping around like that is disturbing, but at least I didn't have try to keep up with her as she floated up the stairs.

Two ladies-in-waiting were standing by the door as the Queen entered. She took several steps into the room, stopped, and held her arms out to her sides. They rushed to unfasten the various straps, hooks, buttons, and sewn closures which held the armor and other clothing on the Queen's body. Soon the Queen was standing in just a heavy corset-- or perhaps it was actually an inner layer of her armor. In any case it stopped at her waist and it was obvious that it was all that she had on beneath the other clothing and armor. I perhaps should have been surprised that she was not wearing anything between her legs, but a Queen going commando is fairly low on the list of things that can surprise me.

Once the Queen was totally naked, the two ladies bowed and left. Padding barefoot over to the door, the Queen threw the bolt which locked with a resounding, "Thump!" She then walked over to the bed and pulled a fair-sized box out from beneath it. At first I thought it might be a chamber pot, but when she lifted it and set it on her dresser, it was apparent that the box held three drawers. The top drawer was about an inch and a half deep, the second drawer was a little deeper, and the bottom drawer was closer to five or maybe even six inches.

From the second drawer the Queen drew out a rather accurately-carved ivory dildo about nine inches long and at least two or three inches around. That made me wonder what might be in the large drawer. She then walked over to the bed and lay down on her back.

She kissed the dildo and began sliding it over her body. At first, she was mainly using the ivory to stimulate her nipples, but soon she began sliding it lower and lower until it was dipping between her legs and sliding along her slit, which was becoming wetter and wetter.

"Time for you to appear," Eithne said as she pushed me toward the center of the room. I felt a coldness over my body and suddenly realized that I was naked. I also realized that the show which the Queen had been putting on in the bed had definitely had an effect on my manhood which was standing out proud and stiff in front of me.

I was also now visible.

The Queen gave a small squeak of shock when she saw me, but immediately recovered and asked angrily, "How did you get in here?"

"That is not important," I replied. "I am not here to harm you." I gestured at my naked body and said, "It is obvious that I am carrying no weapons. I am here to grant you that which you have wished for throughout your reign."

I'm not sure why I said that, but I am pretty sure that Eithne had something to do with it. That's another thing about working with magical creatures. They can-- and often do-- put words in your mouth.

Queen Aideen sat looking at me from the bed. She was lying back slightly against her pillows. The ivory dildo was still peeking out of her slit where she had left it when my appearance surprised her. "Come to me," she said and gestured with her hand for me to stand next to the bed.

I stood next to her bed and she reached out and stroked my raging hard on. She then reached under me and felt my balls, hefting them like she was checking out a breeding ram or bull or stallion. After a few moments she pulled her arm back and looked up into my eyes. After lying back fully against her pillows, she said, "If you do know what I want as you claim, come into my bed and give it to me."

"Showtime!" I thought as I crawled up onto the sheets. I've never done the gigolo bit before, but I guess this didn't really qualify as sex for money anyway. This was not for money. How well I performed didn't determine the tip left on the bedside table. It determined whether or not my great whatever grandmother lived or died. And if she died, I would never exist. The stakes were my life and to win I had to give Queen Aideen the best sex she had ever had. No performance pressure in that, is there?

Since the ivory prick was still firmly ensconced in her love canal, I figure I would begin by concentrating on her breasts. Like many red heads, her nipples were a bright pink rather than the more brownish colors found on darker-haired women. I tweaked and twisted while I listened to her pant and moan.

Once those pink nipples were standing fully at attention, I took one of them into my mouth and suckled for just a moment. Her gasp and moan of pleasure told me I was on the right track. I switched tits so the other nipple wouldn't feel neglected and kept switching back and forth as she urged me on with moans and soft cries of "Yes, yes, yes."

Once she was panting heavily and starting to undulate on the bed, I kissed my way down her stomach to the fiery red triangle between her legs. With my hands still massaging and tweaking upstairs, my tongue started seeking out the pleasure point between her legs. Her very surprised cry of "Oh, my God! What are you doing!?" caused me to realize that perhaps oral sex was not well-known in old Eire. At least she had never experienced it before. She started arching and slamming into my face as the first orgasm tore through her.