A Victorian Tale Pt. 23

A Victorian Tale!

Part Twenty-three - Imp Licked!

James, in the hag's house, watched as the imp flashed into existence. One moment he and Magdalena were alone then, with a sulphurous 'pop' there was a small bat-winged devil fluttering around the room. It descended on him and started to lick the hag milk from his still-erect manhood.

He was still befuddled by being hag-ridden and watched the process with only a slight degree of worry as the tiny, but horribly sharp, teeth got very close to his precious manhood. As the imp consumed the milk with its long, forked tongue, he saw he was quickly subsiding, his member no longer painfully erect. And, as he subsided, his thoughts cleared. Then he was completely flaccid and the imp, having finished its meal, was looking straight into his eyes. Its own red eyes had a vertical slit of a pupil, like a demonic cat, and a grin that would certainly granted it a place in Alice's Wonderland.

"Come James," demanded Magdalena. "We must not delay."

"Are you pregnant?" he asked, though why he made this query he couldn't tell.

"Yes," she replied. "Your child already moves within me."

"Mary and I have tried for a child but not been blessed," James said, sadly. It was true, despite much passionate lovemaking they had never managed to create a child.

"Wait a little, be patient, and a girl child may yet be yours," replied the hag, mysteriously. Then she cackled and the house seemed to shift. James hung onto the bed as the room seemed to spin and heave about. It was like one of those earthquakes that people in far distant lands suffered from. Either that or the whole house had lifted itself onto legs, turned around, and settled down again facing a different direction. But that would have been impossible.

"Guard!" she demanded of the Imp. "None shall enter, I command you. Especially those bloody pixies. You may eat any you catch inside the house!"

The imp looked very pleased with the bargain and fluttered through the bead curtain to perch on the cauldron edge. Magdalena took James by the hand and drew him through the bead curtain and up to the front door.

"Step though, and introduce me," she demanded.

"Sorry," he replied, confused.

"You would like to maintain the social niceties?"

"Well, yes, of course, Mistress."

"Then do as I say," said Magdalena, a worrying tone in her voice. James remembered this creature could be very dangerous. He decided that, if she wanted him to introduce her to the denizens of the forest before she stepped out her front door, then best to do what she asked. He opened the door and stepped through.

--o--

Jennifer was on her back under Gul, the youngest ogre. They had been pleasuring for an hour at this point. And what his thrusting lacked in sophistication he made up for with energy. Luckily it seemed to be an instinct amongst ogres that they knew how deep to thrust to avoid injuring their partner. She moaned and groaned her appreciation across the camp and into the night sky.

How had this happened? I shall explain...

Once camp had been made for the evening, and she had been uncoupled from Tak, she had received a visit from Pah. She had started to stand, obedient and ready to accept a good rogering from the tribe leader, but he had waved her down onto the furs and skins and knelt next to her.

"I would ask for help," he grunted. This was spoken very quietly so that no others in the tribe could hear except she and Tak.

"Ask," she replied. "I am here to be good for the tribe."

A favour done for the leader might be an excellent investment for the future, she thought, it might get a concession at a later date.

"The youngest, he struggles," explained Pah, looking over at Gul, who was lying in a grumpy heap. Gul looked, to Jennifer's eye, like her cousin Frances, who had visited the Manor about a year ago. He had been a few years younger than Jennifer and full of the angst and frustration of the typical teenage boy.

"He tried to kill Tak," Jennifer reminded Pah. This was a bit cheeky. The ogre was well aware of the incident. But it was a way of letting Pah know that she was not inclined to look upon the lad with any degree of friendship.

"Truth said," replied Pah. "But truth also that he struggles. He has no cocksleeve of his own. And he has done no great deed. He has no worth. And now he makes an enemy of Tak, who carries the cocksleeve he desires."

Jennifer had the distinct impression that a cocksleeve was not usually included in such discussions. She caught the phrase 'he desires', perhaps that was why Pah had approached her.

"Tak and I are... friends," she replied, aware that the concept might be alien to him. "I would not want to be carried by any other."

"Loyalty in cocksleeve is good," Pah replied. "As far as it go. But there are times." He looked at her and then nodded in Gul's direction.

"You wish me to open my legs to the boy?"

"Yes."

"I will do this," Jennifer replied. "But Tak carries me, and you must find the boy a cocksleeve of his own." She remembered the plump girl from her vision a week earlier who enthusiastically, and noisily, rode her ogre with a big smile on her face.

* you have the power of summoning * whispered Miriam into Jennifer's head. * you could use the pleasuring to build up power and then call for a suitable cocksleeve *

"Agreed," nodded Pah. "If one presents herself, we will trade."

"I believe one will be found... soon."

Pah looked at her closely. "Vision?" he asked.

"Of a sort," smiled Jennifer. "A voice in my head that assures me it will happen. Now I must lay with the boy." She was thinking that she was an awful long way from a typical Victorian girl. "Does he choose me, or should I go to him?"

"Go him, ask for peace, open legs," grunted Pah.

And so it was agreed.

--o--

James stepped through the hag's front door and nearly fell over. He had entered the Professor's study, and there was the man himself, sitting at his desk.

"Mistress Magdalena!" he announced, recovering his composure, and then stepped aside. The hag slid past him, the Professor stood, and they embraced. James glanced back, and saw Magdalena's living room. One side of the door he was holding was fey cottage ash, and the other good solid English oak.

Then the view shimmered to be replaced with the normal hallway. The connection to the fey world was broken. James stepped from the room and headed to the kitchen to assure Mary he was okay.

The Professor grasped the hag's hand, "I am so grateful for you answering my call. I fear something very bad has happened to our mutual friend Jennifer."

Magdalena's red eye glowed, "I cannot scry her. She is not here."

"Agreed, she is not. She left to rescue a fey friend from Sir Rupert de Murlock."

"No," replied Magdalena. "She is not in England, or the fey lands behind England."

"Not in England?"

"Nowhere I can discover, have you a dagger?"

The Professor wasn't in the habit of carrying a dagger on him, but he did have a little penknife, for sharpening old fashioned goose quills. He took it off his desk and passed it to the hag who, with not a moment's hesitation, opened it and slashed the palm of her hand. She made a fist, and seven drops of blood fell.

That's going to leave a bad stain on my rug, thought the Professor. But the blood never hit the rug. It stopped in mid air, each droplet adding to the little sphere, which then pulsed as Magdalena passed her hands over it in mystical gestures.

"Reveal!" demanded Magdalena of the little ball of blood. It skipped around the room, hovered in the eastern corner, spent a brief moment at the study door, then returned to hover under her hand.

"She is east, beyond the seven crowns of the Norfolk coast," declared the hag. "But there is more."

"But east of Norfolk is the sea," gasped the Professor.

"Yes," replied Magdalena. "But she is not dead. Not drowned, or the blood could not find her. We must follow the blood. Bring paper and something to write with."

The Professor took up his portable writing slope and some paper, then added his finest propelling pencil. If he needed to write something outside of his study a pencil was the more practical choice.

The blood led them outside and then indicated a direction that was in the eastern half of the city.

"I cannot walk to Norfolk," laughed the Professor. "And I certainly cannot walk on water, once we get there."

"Closer we go than the death residences of ancient kings," cackled Magdalena. "I think blood leads us to a friend of mine."

The Professor looked around. Nobody in the street seemed to be at all bothered by the sight of Magdalena and her ball of blood. But then that was normal, only those who had been amongst the Grey Folk, as some called them, for a long time could see them as they truly were.

They set off through the streets as the sun started to set. Magdalena was quiet for a while and then grunted in satisfaction.

"As I thought," she said. "My friend, Jack Thompson."

The Professor had a vague recollection of the name. The man had been famous, years ago, but more would not come to mind.

"The name is familiar," he replied as he struggled to keep up with Magdalena's long legs.

--o--

Jennifer stood and walked towards Gul by the light of the setting sun. He watched her approach though narrowed eyelids, suspicion all over his face.

She knelt down next to him and gently lifted the furs to see his phallus.

"Peace," she said. "Peace and... "

The word reconciliation came to mind but she decided the long phrase in ancient fey was too complex for this lad. Better to be simple and direct.

"Be friend," she glanced back at Tak who nodded solemnly. Gul saw him agree, and was suddenly all alert, quivering in anticipation.

An ogres phallus is too thick in girth to take into a human's mouth but Jennifer did the next best thing. She licked and kissed its length until the angle changed and Gul was ready to pleasure his first human. He lifted himself over her carefully, aware he was unskilled, and placed his phallus between her wide-spread, welcoming, legs. As he pressed Jennifer reached up to grasp his neck and stroke his shoulders. A clumsy push brought a gasp from her as his phallus head spread her entrance and pushed her vulval lips apart, they in turn pressing on her clitoris.

He paused, uncertain.

"Take me Gul," Jennifer whispered. "Slow and long at first, let your phallus learn my limit. Then use me, make me shout out my happiness."

The feeling as he slid into her was as delicious as anything she had experienced in her new life. She felt so full, so connected, yet so vulnerable. Gul was as strong as an ox, if he had wanted to crush her into the furs, squeeze the life from her, only magic would have saved her from a grisly end. But he wanted pleasure not pain and soon he was thrusting away with gusto. And she was singing out her joy.

Around them the tribe watched, every member aware that this was a ritual of forgiveness that was very much needed. All eyes were on T' and Gul, as he plunged into her, grasped her around the waist, then lifted her from the furs. He proceeded to stride around the camp lifting and lowering her on his phallus, her arms waving and her legs kicking out with pleasure. Gul showed her off to each group in turn, and even the male thralls were given a close look.

I'm a trophy cocksleeve, thought Jennifer, which is something I never imagined I would be while sitting on the bench in the graveyard reading my romantic novels. Nothing like this ever happened in Middlemarch!

--o--

"I give in," said the Professor. "I confess I know the name Jack Thompson, but cannot recall his profession. I know he is not an archaeologist, that is all."

"Jack is a human," said Magdalena, as if it was important to establish the fact that he wasn't fey right at the start. "Not particularly tall, but very strong. He was a bare-knuckle prize fighter in his youth."

"Oh," said the Professor. "Now I remember him. Did he not have an appellation?"

"He was famed for defeating men much taller than himself," replied the hag. "They called him Jack the Giant Killer! After the folk tale."

"And why are we visiting him, he must be forty years old by now?", asked the Professor. "And forty year old prize fighters tend to show the effects of their fights in a broken body and confused mind."

"True," replied Magdalena. "But Jack is exception. Was wise with his prize money, avoided drink and gambling, and was his own man. There were no paid hangers-on to drain his fortune, which he invested wisely."

"How did you meet him?" Asked the Professor.

"I watched him fight one evening, and was filled with lust for him," replied Magdalena. "He was perfect of body and both cunning and clever. His opponents never stood a chance, being brutal but unthinking. I sat next to a thin waif of a young woman, as slim as myself, and discovered she was his wife."

"His wife?"

"Yes, she was as beautiful as a dryad and devoted to him. Even though it pained her to see her husband hurt, she wanted to support him. She felt she had to be there but she spent much of the time hiding her head on my bosom, unable to look, while I gave her comments on his progress. And, as women will do when together in a hard place, we talked deeply. She confessed her desire to give him a child."

"Understandable for a new wife," replied the Professor.

"True," agreed Magdalena. "But I could see that it would not be, the grim reaper was only a few steps behind her, she was not long for this world. And she knew it. So we made a plan. The waif and the hag, though she did not know my nature. I would provide him with the child he and his wife so desired."

The Professor glanced over at Magdalena. She was speaking like a refined countess, no cackling, no haggish phrases. This was a fey with deep feelings. He decided he still had a lot to learn about fey.

"That night I crept into their bed disguised as his wife. I think she thought I would simply fornicate with him in the dark but I could do better. I took Annabelle's shape and appearance. It was easy, she was very close to my own form, and then all I had to do was wear one of her nightdresses for the disguise to be complete."

"We made love all that night and I was able to control my hag nature enough that he survived. And I permitted him to lead, another thing that is hard for me. He put me on my back, bent me double and thrust hard, he sat me on his lap and lifted and lowered me upon his magnificent manhood, and we fornicated like the beasts with me on knees and elbows. He seeded me many times and I became with child."

"I could not offer him a son, we hags do not make males, but a few months later his daughter was ready to be birthed. I attended his house cloaked as a midwife and birthed little Bettina. He was downstairs, as is tradition, pacing the carpet in his study and consuming several cigars. He never questioned the birth, either he was ignorant of the details, as most men are, or he was too clever to challenge something that would bring happiness to their house."

"Annabelle saw her daughter grow to three before the Grim Reaper finally caught up with her. Leaving Jack to bring up his daughter on his own. He never remarried. Bettina will be eighteen now, and I believe she is a bit of a handful. She will feel the call soon."

The call was, the Professor knew, the moment when a changeling, a hag child, felt the urge to join her mother. If she answered the call then she would transform into a hag herself, and join her mother's coven.

Then he could see her, this changeling, this child of fey and human. She was standing inside the door of a shop, and about to turn the card from Open to Closed. She was slender and beautiful and her eyes were large and oceans deep, and one was brown and one was green.

The blood sphere was bobbing around by the door, waiting for entrance to be granted.

--o--

As the moon rose over the palaeolithic landscape Jennifer was gasping out her third orgasm. Gul waited until she had finished writhing about then lifted her from his phallus. He turned her so she was facing away from him, and thrust home again, letting her fall towards a little. Now she was horizontal and her arms and legs swung under her with each thrust. After a good ten minutes of this Gul approached Amu, the next most junior ogre. He shifted his hold, putting one arm around her waist, grasped her breasts with the other and lifted Jennifer up so that her back was against his chest and her pudenda was exposed. Amu smiled and reached forward to stroke her clitoris as she rose and fell.

"Aaaah ooooh... Oh fuck, fuck fuck!" gasped Jennifer. The F word was one she considered only for the working classes, but there was nobody here to point out she was being uncouth, she was thousands of years away from polite Victorian society so she let the word out. And when Amu started to use his tongue upon her she raised the volume to a scream.

After her fourth orgasm which involved Jennifer coating Amu with copious secretions, he backed away, slapping Gul on the back in a show of comradeship. Gul continued to wander through the camp. He headed for the skins laid on the highest stone, then paused. He looked at Pah, who nodded in agreement. The young ogre was to be permitted to use the pleasuring stone. The centre of attention of the tribe.

Jennifer found herself placed on the stone but, unlike Pah who had laid her on her back and covered her, Gul knelt and put her down so that her head was in the furs and her bottom was raised up. Jennifer's breasts touched the fur bed and her nipples, hard and long, tingled with the sensation. She was, she knew, about to be plundered from behind with considerable energy.

As Gul shuffled around, adjusting his position, she grabbed a handful of fur in each hand and braced herself.

--o--

"We need to talk to your father," said Magdalena.

The girl continued to turn the sign until it read closed, but then opened the door and gestured for them to enter.

"Thank you my dear," said the hag. There was a warmth in her voice, as a mother for her daughter.

They followed the girl through into the gallery where her father was preparing to hang a new picture. This was where he had invested all that prize money, into art.

"Jack has a most wonderful collection in his gallery, but also more specialised artworks in store for the connoisseur," explained Magdalena.

"Have you been here before?" asked the girl, puzzled.

"Oh yes, my dear," replied the hag. "Many times. But you wouldn't have recognised me."

That made the girl even more puzzled.

The Professor looked around, there were a lot of Pre-Raphaelite pictures, elegant ladies in silken costumes either draped over marble benches or standing on battlements staring out into the distance, yearning for the return of their lover.

There were landscapes rendered in subtle shades, almost an impression of the scene, though full of the essence despite lack of detail. And there were classical scenes where breast, vulva, and manhood were on full display but completely acceptable, due to the historical nature of the subject being so exposed.

Jack put the painting down, carefully, and turned to greet his visitors, then grinned in delight and astonishment.

"Magdalena," he cried. "You have not aged a day!"

He rushed forward to grasp the hag's hand and addressed his daughter, "Bettina, please welcome Magdalena. She is the midwife who birthed you. Gently drew you from your mother's slender form to bless our lives."

Bettina gave a curtsey.

"I must confess," continued her father. "I did not realise your mother was with child until she and Magdalena announced that it was due that evening. There was a great storm that night and I nearly wore out the carpet in our parlour with my pacing. But, near midnight, your cry rang out in the house and you had arrived."

Bettina looked at Magdalena. "What brings you here, my lady? It cannot be to bring a child from me, for I have been most careful."

Her father gave an exasperated sigh. The Professor noted it. Magdalena had been right when she said that the child was a handful. It seemed likely that Bettina was precocious and, possibly, amoral. But the daughter of a hag should not be judged by the same standards as a human child.

"We are following clues," replied Magdalena. "We need to see your father's collection of paintings by... er... Sir Walter Ricket." She was watching the ball of blood, which was hovering around one of the doors from the gallery, and seemed to be trying to sense what was beyond the door.

"We will be delighted to show you what we have," said Jack, moving towards the very same door. "Come daughter, bring our guests refreshment."

The ball of blood slipped through the opened door, like a little dog that desperately wants to go out for a walk, then hovered in the room, uncertain for a moment. Then it split into three parts. One part flew at Jack and splashed onto his forehead. He did not wince or pull away, it was evident he could not see or feel it. The second part did the same for Bettina as she entered the room carrying a tray with glasses and a decanter. She, in contrast with her father, did seem to see something at the last moment for she put the tray down on a side table and, with a puzzled expression, rubbed her head.

The third part hovered near one of the frames that occupied a full half of the room. There were a dozen of these. They ran on runners top and bottom and were designed to store many paintings. Each frame could be pulled out to allow a visitor to view the pictures, then pushed back into place to store them away. The Professor was most impressed. Most galleries stored paintings in heaps on the floor and you had to spend considerable time and energy to view them all. This mechanism made the process easy, and kept the paintings in excellent condition.

Magdalena indicated the frame that should be pulled out and Jack strode forward to oblige. There were a dozen paintings each side of the frame and Magdalena started to peer closely at each one in turn.

The Professor was about to join her when his attention was pulled away. Jack and Bettina were standing next to each other, or rather she was standing in front of him, facing away so they both looked in the same direction, he looking over her shoulder. The blood swirled and moved on their foreheads as if it was a living thing, a little blood red snake, and both of them had a strange expression on their faces.

"Magdalena," he called out. "Jack and his daughter look most strangely. Should you not dismiss the spell?"

"The blood has still much to tell," she replied, not looking away from her study of the paintings. "I think we should leave things be, for the moment."

"Very well," replied the Professor. It was usually a wise decision not to cross a hag.

He turned back to Jack and Bettina only to see that the daughter was now half naked. She was removing garments at pace and her father was reaching around her body to assist. On the floor there was a growing pile of female accoutrements.

"Oh daddy," the girl gasped. "I feel so warm. Help me with these things."

"With delight, daughter. But you must help me in turn."

Bettina was, to the Professor's eyes, a perfect youthful Magdalena. Slender limbs and torso, small but very pert breasts that jiggled as she moved, and her raven hair fell from her head in waves all the way to her waist. Between her legs she had similarly dark hair but only a thin triangle that seemed to point downwards to potential delights below. As her father removed the final cloths over her breasts he mauled them with his rough hands, the produce of many a bare-knuckle fight, and she pushed her shoulders back against him and writhed her hips from side to side.

It was the most erotic thing the Professor had seen for some time. "Are you sure, Magdalena?" he called out. "I think things are about to get very incestuous here."

"No harm will come of it," came the reply. "Watch closely... the blood is trying to tell us something, I am sure."

To be continued...