Gretel hated goodbyes. Especially goodbyes that lasted a solid week.
"Bye-bye, sugar!" cooed the blonde sorority witch, planting a big, sloppy kiss right on Gretel's neck as she snuck up from behind. Gretel whimpered and cried out, the abjuration mage's mind filling with static as his sensitive, silvery magical mark was subjected to a merciless, indulgent makeout. "Mm... come back soon!"
He nodded and staggered away, trying to suppress a dumb, happy smile. "Y-Yes. Thank you, Abril. I will."
Why did I say that? Don't make promises!
"I mean, I've appreciated your... hospitality."
"Such a shame you've gotta leave us," murmured Maye beside him. The copper-haired witch grinned, patting him on the shoulder. "You know you're welcome to stay a li'l longer, if you please."
"Th-Thanks." Gretel nodded nervously. His eyes never left Abril, who watched him with a predatory gleam in her eye. He'd tried to get up early this morning so he could leave without too many of the witches at this little commune trying to 'persuade' him to stay, but Abril always got up early to bake.
And Maye never left his side, of course. He'd known he would face at least two temptresses—fit, lithe Maye and curvy, generous Abril were nigh-irresistible, but it could have been worse. Assuming Abril didn't wake everyone up with her high-pitched singsong.
The door was at his back. All he had to do was open it and walk out. His hand fumbled for the doorknob, watching Abril carefully. Abril waggled her fingers with a grin. Her only really dangerous magic was in her baking, and since whatever was in the oven wasn't close to being done yet, that at least neutralized her as an enchantress.
But the witches had only used a little magic on him, truth be told. The real danger was temptation. Gretel, a handsome fellow with light olive skin, pale green eyes, and fluffy pink hair, had learned quickly since his departure from the cloistered Mage Tower that it was nearly impossible to refuse a pretty girl anything. Or that, at least, it was impossible for
him
. Embarrassing, but unavoidable. Hopefully he'd get better at it when they weren't constantly barely-dressed in lacy lingerie designed to drive him crazy, clinging to him, cooing in his ears, dragging him back into one of their many big, comfy beds to pamper and praise him into obedient goo...
"But, um," he finally said, realizing he'd forgotten to respond, "I should really go. I think I've done all the r-research I..." He swallowed as Abril gave her wooden spoon, dripping with batter, a long, implicative lick. This was exactly why it had taken him a week to even get himself this close to the door since announcing he was leaving. "I should move on to the next town," he squeaked.
The doorknob finally turned. He opened the door and backed out onto the porch. Outside, the western horizon burned with the dawn, flooding the orchards and fields and forests with color tinged golden. Gretel winced slightly. It had been a long time since they'd let him outside unsupervised.
Though he wasn't exactly unsupervised right now.
"The summer goes by so fast," Maye purred, taking his hand and closing the door behind them. He flushed at even that little contact, her warm, soft, delicate hand holding his. "Where to next, sugar?"
"I... I'm heading south. That's the way to the main village where your family lives, right?"
"South?" She raised an eyebrow, resting her chin on his shoulder with a plaintive look. "Ooh, you might wanna be careful. That stretch of wood's got a bit of a reputation."
"R-Right." Gretel nodded, shifting away from her far-too-welcome touch. "Well, um... I'll be careful."
"Especially after dark," she purred, running a finger over his shirt buttons. "And it's already so close to nightfall."
"What? B-But it's..." Gretel blinked, his eyes widening, as he realized what direction the burning sun lay in.
"We witches sleep during the day!" Maye giggled. "Well, I don't sleep much at all. Catnaps." She licked her hand like a cleaning cat, her eyes glimmering with innuendo. "We just magic the lights to match it. You ain't been outside much lately."
"R-Right." Gretel laughed nervously. "Well, um, I'm sure I'll be fine. Abjurer, you know." He pulled his hand away with a smile. "Thank you very much for the warning, though, and your hospitality. I've learned a lot about witch covens from you."
"Oh, yes, you have!" Maye giggled. "But are you sure you wouldn't be safer..."
"Goodbye, Miss Maye," he said firmly, mustering some fresh willpower as the fresh air gave him courage.
Maye trailed off, then beamed. "Goodbye, my li'l pillow prince!" she cooed, patting him on the head. "Come back soon."
He nearly melted far more than she knew from that touch as he, at long last, made his departure from the village's friendly local witch commune.
~ ~ ~ ~
Gretel had to admit, the old wood was a lot scarier in the dark than he'd expected. The trees were covered in hanging moss and lichen that hung off the branches like sinister curtains. Chittering and skittering sounds came from the treetops. A colony of cat-toy spiders crawled over the old rotting stump they resided in, the glow from their shimmering silk just barely visible from within. They were each the size of a human eye, white and bristly. Gretel hurried past.
The Cloistered Lands weren't always dangerous, but everyone knew travelers were gambling a lot—especially lone travelers, who could tempt all sorts of attentions. He feebly wished he'd asked Maye to elaborate, even though he was pretty sure she'd been lying—and positive that she was just trying to get him to stay longer.
It wasn't called the Greatest, Darkest Forest, for nothing, either.
Gretel bit his lip. He needed a light.
Reaching up into the air, Gretel concentrated on the silvery tattoo-like mark on his neck, humming at a low pitch that slowly rose. The air before him started to spark and crackle, and with a jolt, a little glowball appeared in front of him.
He shivered as his mark tingled with magic. Oh.
Oh, dear.
Gretel stood still for a moment, feeling his little cock tingling. He suppressed a needy whimper. Over the summer, those wicked witches had positively delighted in his magic mark's sensitivity. They had kissed it, licked it, tickled it, stroked it—anything to draw the cute little moans out of their boytoy, anything to make Maye's pillow prince happy.
He reached up, lip quivering, and felt it. It was warm from the lingering spell and tingled to his touch.
The witches' endless delicious torment had created a rather unfortunate association between his magic mark and... and pleasure, much to his embarrassment.
He brought his hand back down, clearing his throat, trying to dispel the sensations—and the memories' sensations, the phantom touches he couldn't help but think about.
But it wasn't much more fun to focus on the path ahead. He concentrated on the light, feeling the tingling return as he willed the orb to glow brighter and bounce ahead, lighting up a deerpath laden with copper-red fallprims—a type of vibrant primrose that changed color with the seasons, infamous for growing near the lights created by... what was it, again?
He hurried onward after the glowball, trying not to tread on the rather pretty flowers. Some sort of fey, no doubt. What if Maye had been telling the truth?
He couldn't stop thinking about the witches. He remembered Abril, the curvy blonde who had so loved to settle in his lap and hand feed him, popping treat after treat into his open, drooling mouth, sweetening him up—all while gently stroking his mark, occasionally leaning over to plant long, wet kisses on it.
He remembered Jane and Juuni, who'd so loved to take turns sneaking into his bed while he and Maye slept and tenderly suck and kiss him all over, slowly reducing him to a needy boytoy so they could carry him off to their own room, where they would mercilessly lick and kiss everywhere
except
the mark until he was begging for them to kiss his brains away.
He remembered Claire, the gentle brunette, who'd been so gentle and tender as she taught him to help her spin... well, she'd mostly just put him to work spinning. Claire was very tasks-oriented. But he'd always ended the spinning sessions in her bed, somehow.
But worst of all, he remembered Maye. He bit his lip, trying to focus on the glowball and the path, trying to ignore how his mark seemed to tingle as he thought of the lovely redhead, who would tease him all day with thoughts of what they'd get up to at night. She'd so loved to interrupt him while he was...
Gretel whimpered. He could almost
feel
her fingers delicately stroking his mark, almost inquisitively, as if totally unaware of the effect it had on him. Oh, if only he hadn't allowed them to find out just how sensitive it was. She'd loved to interrupt him in the middle of his chores, to torment him, whispering promises in her pillow prince's ear for if
only
he'd get his work done early for once. And around and around and around her finger would go.
Unbidden, his hand slipped down between his legs, and he began touching himself. Just a little. Just... just little strokes. With his fingertips, really. He wasn't going to go crazy. He'd just... stay a little on the edge...
He'd always tried so hard to focus on his tasks. But always, another sorority witch—or two, or three—would notice his desperation and decide to toy with him. And he could never resist a pretty girl's advances. They would soon have him in their arms, in their bed, begging to be pampered. And later, Maye would...
