Macbeth's Witchy Orgy

"Macbeth's Witchy Orgy"

by J. D. Savanyu

Macbeth rode his mighty horse Eimhir through the Scottish highland wilderness on a cool foggy Samhain afternoon in late October, weary and full of dread. The Thane of Cawdor was heading toward the Wyrd witch's coven for another divination about his increasingly bleak future. Three weeks ago, those strange sorceresses predicted Macbeth would become king, and that his friend Banquo would father a line of kings, but not become one. Lady Macbeth used that prediction to persuade her husband to murder King Duncan and seize his throne. She went mad after the foul deed was done, and so did her husband. He then murdered Banquo and Banquo's son Fleance to prevent them from revealing his guilt. The price of power kept rising higher and higher, and so did his hunger for all the decadent trappings of the crown.

Macbeth guided Eimhir up a long rocky slope in the misty air, feeling as though he were descending to the fiery depths of hell. "Conscience makes cowards of us all," he muttered to himself, steeling his resolve to become the greatest king Scotland had ever known. Meanwhile, the strong equine muscles heaving between his legs got him hornier and hornier. Lady Macbeth hadn't opened her legs for him since her nervous breakdown triggered by the political assassinations. That gorgeous redhead was once an insatiable nymphomaniac, demanding rough sex at least twice a day in their master bedroom at Castle Inverness. Now she just ranted and raved all day long, imagining Duncan's blood on her hands. Leaving her husband sex-starved to the point of lunacy.

The fog grew thicker as Macbeth neared the remote witch's lair, with twinkling haunting music playing in the near distance. Eerily similar to the music that was playing when he saw Banquo's ghost at a royal feast. Their coven was just around a bend in the road, behind several large boulders. A plume of sweet-smelling smoke rose from their campfire.

Macbeth tied Eimhir to a dead tree and slowly walked down the road. Peering around one of the boulders, he saw the three Wyrd witches performing a black mass for Samhain. They were all completely nude, dancing around a bubbling cauldron over a crackling fire. Caitir and Eubah were the ugliest old hags he'd ever seen, while Siùsan was the loveliest young woman he'd ever seen. Her long lustrous red hair flowed down her pale buxom white body as she danced around the flickering flames to fife music played by Caitir, with Eubah banging on a bodhran drum. The wiccan rite suddenly stopped as they sensed Macbeth's presence with psychic powers.

"By the pricking of my thumbs, something wicked this way comes," Caitir uttered in a creepy gravelly tone.

"I have arrived, you cunning midnight hags," Macbeth proclaimed, gazing longingly at Siùsan's radiant freckled face. "My kingdom has fallen into turmoil since my last visit, and my wife refuses to enter our marriage bed. I demand your honest counsel."

"Speak."

"Demand."

"We'll answer," uttered Caitir, Eubah and Siùsan.

"The spirit world is at closest proximity to the earthly plane on Samhain day, so all mystical knowledge is at our beck and call," Eubah continued.

"Reveal that knowledge to me, I beg of you," Macbeth demanded.

Siùsan returned his sexy gaze with a sweet smile, tossing her red bangs away from her large breasts for his unobstructed admiration. She joined her witch companions in summoning a shimmering apparition over the bubbling cauldron full of fragrant conjuring herbs and animal parts.

"Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth! Beware Macduff!" the apparition moaned plaintively.

Beware the Thane of Fife!"

"I'll be careful, thank you," Macbeth replied awkwardly. "You've stoked my fear quite well, but one more word please."

"He will not be commanded," Caitir grunted. "Here's another, more potent than the first."

The witches dispersed that apparition with a wave of their hands, and raised a scarier apparition of Banquo's murdered son, covered with blood.

"Macbeth! Macbeth! Macbeth!" it shrieked. "Be bloody, bold, and resolute! Laugh to scorn the power of man, for no one born of a woman shall harm Macbeth."

"Then I have no reason to fear," Macbeth snickered. "Everyone is born of a woman, so I'll sleep in spite of thunder."

"I love your confidence, sir Thane," Siùsan replied flirtatiously. They summoned a third apparition of a young man wearing a crown, with a tree growing out of his right hand.

"Be proud as a lion, never caring who shouts or conspires against you," it uttered ethereally. "Macbeth will never be vanquished until the Great Birnam Forest comes to Dunsinane Hill."

"Ah, that will never happen," Macbeth snickered. "The Great Birnam Forest is five miles away from Dunsinane Hill, and trees can never unfix their earthbound roots. But my heart yearns to know one more thing, witches. Will Banquo's descendants ever rule Scotland?"

"We can't tell you any more, Sir Thane," Eubah replied solemnly. "The spirit world refuses further revelations."

"An eternal curse on you if you're lying, hags!"

"We tell nothing but truth. Relax, Macbeth," Siùsan uttered seductively. She stepped toward him, rubbing the leather breastplate over his well-muscled chest. "You're raving drunk with power and lust, and you need relief. Come sisters, let us cheer him up, and show him the best of our delights."

"What do you mean... delights?" he uttered awkwardly in sudden arousal, with his massive manhood swelling beneath his breeches.

Siùsan's right hand drifted down between his legs, grabbing his rising manhood through his red plaid kilt. "This kind, Sir Thane. I know how much you want to fuck me. Ever since you first laid eyes on me."

"You speak the truth, wicked angel," Macbeth murmured with intense arousal. He grabbed her large lovely freckled breasts with both hands, squeezing them hard and making her moan. "I want to conquer you with my manly blade."

"And I wish to be conquered," she giggled. "But I'm on equal terms with my fellow witches. Whatever pleasures I partake of, they must share."

"Oh god," Macbeth groaned, glancing over at the shriveled, sagging, wart-riddled naked bodies of Eubah and Caitir.

"Yes, Macbeth!" the hags cackled in horrid unison. "Ravage all our bodies!"

"It's been so long since I fucked a fine young man like you!" Caitir cackled, licking her lips in desperate desire.

"I want to suck that big prick, and take it deep in my pussy!" Eubah groaned, rubbing her clit with her right hand.

"Come, Macbeth," Siùsan cooed, unlacing his leather breastplate. "We shall have a grand Samhain orgy, celebrating your divinely ordained rule."

"Oh fuuuck," Macbeth groaned, tilting his head toward the foggy sky in utter disbelief. His sex starvation was so strong, he could even fuck a billygoat. Any port in a storm, no matter how ugly those "ports" may be.

Siùsan unbuttoned his breeches and pulled out his long twitching member. The three witches sighed simultaneously out of their own sex starvation.

"Eat it, bitch!" Macbeth growled. He shoved Siùsan down on her knees on the rocky ground next to the bubbling cauldron. She grabbed the base of his shaft firmly and plunged the upper half deep in her mouth, gagging right away.

"Oooooh yeesss," Macbeth growled triumphantly. "Choke on my royal cock, you filthy ginger witch!"

"Mmmm-hmmmm," Siùsan moaned loudly against his throbbing meat. She twisted her back and forth, gagging six more times over the next minute. The hags masturbated eagerly nearby with evil expressions on elderly faces.

"Enjoy your youth while you still have it, Sir Thane," Eubah mused.

"Fornicate with as many damsels as you can, for your days are numbered," Caitir cackled. "Soon that innocence will be snatched away from you."

The old witches grabbed Siùsan's shoulders and yanked her sexy body away from Macbeth. They both dropped to their knees and grabbed his huge penis with withered warty hands. Eubah plunged it deep in her own mouth, gagging and moaning louder than Siùsan.

"Holy fuuuuck," he groaned in more disbelief. "You crazy hags make great oral revelations, without speaking a word."

"Give me my fair share, cunt," Caitir growled. She snatched his dick away from Eubah and devoured it greedily, slobbering every inch of that long thick rod. Gumming it hard in her toothless mouth.

"Fair is foul, and foul is fair!" Siùsan shrieked gleefully. "May the dark lord of Scotland smile on our hedonistic feast."

"I want to feast my mouth upon your red-haired cunt, bitch!" Macbeth barked.

"As you wish, Sir Thane," she giggled, sitting on a boulder and spreading her legs as wide as she could. Macbeth dropped to his knees on the hard rocky ground, stretching her labia taut, showing plenty of pink. He licked and nibbled those salty young folds while growling aggressively and stroking his cock. Siùsan moaned loudly while squeezing her big perky tits, utterly enthralled by Macbeth's machismo. He spanked her ass hard with both hands and clamped his teeth down on her throbbing clitoris, making her shriek toward the foggy sky.

"Oh fuck, yes! Just like that, Sir Thane! Treat me so rough, like your low-class chamberlains at Inverness!"

"Treat us rough too, Macbeth!" Eubah growled nearby. "Our cuntlips stand ready like two blushing pilgrims."

"Fuck you, hags," he grunted.

"Do as we fucking say, you murderous bastard!" Caitir roared. She pushed Siùsan aside and shoved her old shriveled pussy right in his face. He reluctantly licked her salty pink folds, groaning in disgust at first, but soon enjoying it. Oddly perverse pleasure on a mystical Samhain afternoon. Caitir cackled horridly in erotic delight as he nibbled her tiny pleasure center.

"Double, double, toil and trouble," Eubah cackled. She yanked her witch companion aside and buried her cunt in Macbeth's face. "Make my cauldron bubble," she moaned triumphantly. Macbeth kept slobbering her nasty old twat, not stopping until she squirted all over his face.

"Strike me down with manly lust, like Cupid's arrow on fair Hymen," Caitir snickered. She swooped in and face-fucked him eagerly. Spittle oozed down on Macbeth's leather breastplate as he slurped her old snatch. She pressed her withered breasts against his mouth, forcing him to suck her hard nipples while masturbating frantically.

"Oh god, oh god, oooooooWAAAAAAAAAH!" she wailed to the misty air while spraying his muscular body with feminine fluid.

"Step aside, you foppish crones," Siùsan growled. "I wish to ride the Thane like a noble Scottish stallion."

"Fuck yes, ginger," Macbeth growled back. "Slam my royal prick up your tight little cunt."

She mounted his huge manhood on that hard boulder, groaning harshly as it stretched her labia to the limit. She bounced up and down rapidly on his rock-hard thighs, with her big pale freckled tits jiggling hypnotically.

"Oh fuuuuck, your big cock feels so good, so deep in my cunny!"

"Faster, you foul harlot!" Macbeth barked, spanking her ass again for emphasis. She picked up the pace, pounding her pussy on that giant prick. Black crows squawked loudly overhead, matching her sexual fury.

"I bet you never fucked Lady Macbeth that hard," Eubah remarked. "Back when she still spread her legs whenever the fancy struck you."

"Shut the fuck up, you goddamn crone!"

"Fuck me, Thane of Cawdor!" Eubah growled, bending over against a dead tree and smacking her dripping wet pudendum. Macbeth pushed Siùsan aside and marched over to that much older witch, recalling Banquo's drunken remark at a midsummer night's dinner party: "If a maiden be pretty, fuck her in the pussy. If a maiden be ugly, fuck her in the dark."

Broad daylight illuminated her ugly body, but he was too horny to give a shit. He grabbed Eubah's sagging ass cheeks and rammed his penis up her ancient vagina. Fucking and spanking her aggressively in a thick haze of insanity.

"All hail Macbeth!" Eubah wailed ecstatically. "Conquer these wicked Scottish sluts!"

Caitir bent over next to her companion, wiggling her sagging ass eagerly. "My turn, Sir Thane. Share the wealth."

He pulled out of Eubah and plunged into Caitir, fucking her just as hard. He grabbed her gnarly black hair like a horse rein, yanking her head back and spanking her repeatedly with his other hand. Siùsan masturbated nearby with a bemused expression on her radiant young face.

"You truly are a desperate man, Macbeth," Siùsan mused. "I pity your plight."

"Soothe me not with sympathy, but with your snatch," he grunted.

"As you wish, Sir Thane. Ravage me like your wedded lady."

She lay down sideways on a boulder, tilting her right leg up in the air to form a tantalizing o-< shape. He abandoned Caitir like a sack of garbage and eagerly mounted that gorgeous ginger sorceress.

"Oh god damn, that feels so good!" Siùsan growled. "Fucking break my wicked pussy."

"Fuck yes, you filthy young crone! I love the way your big tits bounce when I fuck you sideways."

"We love her just as much," Eubah mused. "She was a harlot in Glasgow until we took her under our wing."

"You're still a dirty fucking whore," Macbeth growled. He smacked Siùsan's milky heart-shaped ass until it turned beet-red, rapidly approaching the point of no return.

"On your knees, bitch! I shall issue my royal seed all over your pretty face."

"Cum on all our faces!" Caitir ordered sternly. The three Wyrd witches lined up on their knees in front of the crackling fire and bubbling cauldron, with Eubah and Caitir pressing their ugly faces against either side of Siùsan's lovely face. Macbeth aimed his cock toward Siùsan's big green eyes, pumping his huge prick in a frantic blur.

Her face transformed to Lady Macbeth's face in his mind; contorting with psychotic remorse over the brutal murders she persuaded her husband to commit. Frustration increased his kinky pleasure, quickly reaching a staggering climax. Howling toward the early rising moon, blasting her emerald eyes with gobs and gobs of royal seed.

Siùsan grabbed his long cock and flicked it from side to side, spraying her elderly wiccan compatriots with plenty of splooge. They groaned loudly in ecstatic harmony, then they licked that nasty white gack off each other's faces and kissed each other in a pleasant afterglow.

"What a fine carnal Samhain celebration," Macbeth uttered dreamily. "You dirty devils seem so heavenly."

"Heaven and hell go hand in hand," Siùsan giggled.

"Nothing is but what is not," Caitir added slyly.

"A false face hides what false hearts know," Eubah mused.

"You bear a charmed life, Macbeth," Siùsan continued. "But there's daggers in men's smiles."

"And women's smiles," Caitir snickered.

"When shall we meet again?" Eubah uttered poetically. "In thunder, lightning, or in rain?"

"When the hurly-burly's done," Caitir replied.

"When the battle's lost and won," Siùsan added, winking at Macbeth. The Wyrd witches clearly knew much more about his future than they let on, frustrating him yet again.

The Thane of Cawdor stuffed his cock back in his breeches and mounted his trusty steed Eimhir. Leaving those slutty naked witches without another word or glance. He slowly descended a rocky slope, heading back toward his troubled royal palace with a renewed sense of dread. A murder of crows cackled madly overhead, flying toward the Great Birnam Forest on the horizon.