Sitting cross-legged on the floor of her tiny cabin, Solene squinted down at an enormously thick book in her lap. The pages were yellowed with time and, in the first few hundred chapters, parchment or stretched leather pages were used rather than more modern paper. One page was even made from human skin, scrawled with necromantic spells. Thick curly hair spilled over her shoulders and pooled atop the bottom edge of the book, and as she moved to sweep her hair behind her, the exact section she'd been searching for finally jumped out at her!
Excitedly, her pale blue eyes scanned the paragraph, index finger tracing the edges of the dingy page it was written on. An ancestor she'd never met had invented and recorded the spell, an invisible link to an intricate family history. Once she was confident she understood the steps, Solene sat the tome to the side and shook her hands to dispel her nerves. Despite being a naturally talented witch, she could always feel the weight of her predecessors eyes on her when performing one of their incantations. The pressure to get it right was always at the back of her mind. Frogspawn witches were renowned for their mastery of magic, and Solene had always felt that her own skill was lacking compared to the rest of her family. Not to mention the way they looked down on her for her chosen path.
Doing her best to push her doubts to the back of her mind, she focused her attention on the object before her.
A clay cock, freshly painted with painstaking detail, sat proudly before her on the woven rug stretched across the wooden floor. Its surface was smooth from the varnish she'd swept over its deep purple length; under her fingertips, it was glossy and solid in a reassuring way. Solene imagined the type of man it might belong to. Perhaps some kind of orc or elf, or a human hybrid like herself. Her own skin was a light shade of pink, just a bit too vibrant to look entirely human.
Brows furrowed in concentration, the witch held her hands over the cock, just a few inches above its flared purple head, and chanted the ancient words. The air stilled. Magic swirled around her hands, a pale yellow glow akin to first morning light, and seemed to move in a siphon from her overheated skin into the disembodied organ. The room filled with the thick scent of cinnamon, the signature smell of Solene's particular brand of magic. Staring into the sun would've been better than keeping focus on shaking, cramped hands, but she persisted for she could feel something happening. A bit of energy traveling down the strands of light from a place deep inside herself.
Dry mouthed, she sat back on her heels long enough to wipe sweat from her brow. Curly fringe stuck to her forehead. She'd done it. There was no way it could've gone wrong. Her first real enchantment. A tentative brush of her knuckle along the bottom ridge of the cock instantly set her heart to pounding. Rather than the slick surface of finished pottery, velvet purple skin greeted her touch. Wrapping her hand around it, fingers just barely able to meet, Solene couldn't help but gasp at the realism of it. The flesh pulsed in her fist. A dot of what could only be precum welled at the tip.
From a young age, Solene had been, to put it delicately, sexually open. Her family hated it, unable to escape the tales around town about their already shameful half-breed daughter doling out hand jobs behind the community center. She loved to make people feel good. In a way, it bolstered her magic. To her parents, she was a succubus. There were worse things to be.
She freed her tits, nipples already hard and jutting away from the heavy swells of flesh. Pulling roughly on each one, Solene chewed her bottom lip and pressed her legs together. The simmering arousal that always followed her was quickly blooming into rampant lust. Soon, she'd all but be in heat. Pussy clenching around nothing, she leaned down and popped the head into her hot mouth. Plush curls fell around her cheeks, her eyes losing focus as she pressed the inches into her mouth until the heavy press of a cock against her throat stopped her.
The cock was lifelike and throbbing. Juices ran down the insides of her thighs and just as she was about to attempt to deep throat it, it wriggled and yanked itself free of her mouth with a pop. Staring in shock, she made eye contact with it floating in front of her, suspended in midair. Solene hadn't counted on it having a mind of her own. It pulsed dangerously, giving her the feeling it was somehow sizing her up. She couldn't resist dipping her fingers beneath the waistband of her skirt, jamming three fingers into her begging, burning cunt.
In a flash it slipped through the air under the pooled fabric of her skirt, ramming home into her pussy right next to the fingers already crammed there until she saw stars. The witch groaned and fell forward, bracing on her hands in a four legged position. The cock showed no mercy as it pounded into her, attached to an invisible force that showed no signs of flagging. Sounds of its heavy sack slapping against her thighs bounced off the walls in the tiny cabin and she was absently very glad that her family had outcasted her from the main manor.
"Oh, g-o-o-ods,"
