My Witch Mom's Occult Tutor Ch. 01

NOTE: This is a cuckold-themed story about a wimpy son watching his beautiful witch mother having sex with strangers. There is no revenge, reclamation, or any form of incest. Enjoy!

***

There was a time when, at a great expense to our estate my mother, the future Great Sorceress, managed to procure tutoring from an infamous warlock called Gaenbeald the Merciless (1). In hindsight I realize how important his teachings were to mother's growth as a witch, but back then I was dumbfounded and dismayed.

This happened when I was twenty-two, mere weeks after my birthday, which is why I remember the year so exactly. As always, mother did not bother to warn me, her only male offspring, in advance, so I learned about the warlock's arrival when he was already crawling out of his carriage. Draped in grim black, the equipage looked like a hearse as its cadaverous passenger climbed out and prowled across the yard to the door of the house, where he was met but mother, my sisters, and the maids.

The man was a full head taller than my mother, herself a queenly, towering beauty. He wore a luxurious cloak of black and gold. Raven-black, his hair and beard were thick as bear fur, looking more savage than sage. The man soon dined with us mostly in silence and was escorted to his chambers - the best in the mansion - by the head maid, who bolted out of his rooms the moment she was dismissed, pale and anxious.

And so the arch-warlock Gaenbeald became a guest in our house. He spent most of his time in mother's underground laboratories, where some of his own implements were soon brought and installed, working on his frightening magicks. Daily my mother spent hours downstairs studying with him. I was, of course, strictly prohibited from entering.

(1) Over the years, the arch-warlocks other epithets have included Savage, Feral, and, over a century ago, Trollstrangler. The king of the ogres had famously offered his daughter, the half-dragoness Charlotte, as concubine to Gaenbeald, although I couldn't confirm if the warlock had made use of the offer.

One gloomy evening a week or so into the warlock's stay I was walking down the hallway when Ide, the head maid, rushed from around the corner and almost ran into me. Before I could question her, my mother appeared, and after her came the warlock. The head maid Ide pulled me out of their way, and mother ran past us - but tripped, and the warlock was immediately upon her. His face was wrathful, eyes murderous. In his hand he held a whip, which the warlock cracked loudly and struck my kneeling mother across the back.

She screamed and I screamed and tried to run up to mother and help her up, but Ide held me back.

My mother, prevented from standing up by the terrible lash, turned over to face the warlock and, crawling backwards, cried, "I beg of you, teacher! Please, please!"

Grunting in anger, as if incapable of speech, the warlock swung the whip and struck her once more.

My mother was wearing a most beautiful dress of sky-blue. The lash of the whip was so dreadful it tore through the thin fabric, revealing a bare shoulder, the breasts, and the right leg.

I could see Ide shrink, as if she, too, had received a lash on her mistress' behalf. Meanwhile mother shrieked as she was struck and, despairing of escape, turned away - to receive the next terrifying lash on the back rather than the front.

Mother, mother! Scared and crying and begging her "teacher" to hold his punishment, cringing in her beautiful dress! Squeezing my arm so hard it hurt, Ide the head maid whispered, "You mustn't meddle, young master! He would only get angrier... And what of it? That's how he teach 'em."

Meanwhile with a deafening crackle my mother received yet another lash across the back and wailed. Facing the warlock again, she now crawled towards him, grabbed his grand callous claw of a hand and, kissing it fervently while trying to catch the man's gaze, mewled, "Forgive me, teacher, forgive me! I swear, I swear: I will be good."

As her ruined dress barely covered her anymore, inexplicable dark-red marks on my mother's forearms and ankles became visible, as well as a long red line across her beautiful back just starting to flare bright pink. What a monster, a monster, to beat my mother so! Blinded by tears, I would have run to my parent to hold and comfort her had Ide the head maid not pinned me against the wall and all but immobilized me (2).

(2) This is, of course, the famous Ide the Enchantress, who started her learning while being a maid (and later head maid) at our mansion. Ide was not a large person, but neither am I, and being a working girl she was, and is, naturally fit and athletic - much more so than I.

Terrified out of my wits, I hid in my chambers, where I spent a sleepless night and didn't come out until the next morning. At breakfast the horrid warlock towered over his plate of rare roast like he always did. Mother was sitting demurely and eating, wearing a different dress (which was just charming) and an even prettier hairdo. The maids, all disciplined and reserved like never before, were serving the viands.

When Ide appeared with tea on a tray, mother leapt up, took the tea out of Ide's hands and served it to the warlock herself. Such a pretty dress she had on, and so flatteringly it clung to her figure, that, when mother walked back to her chair, the warlock, I thought, followed her with his gaze and half-smiled with the edges of those cruel lips on his grim face.

What a villain, I thought! Mother, mother! Could his tutoring truly be worth it?

***

In due time mother said sweetly, "Does my teacher enjoy the hospitality?" to which he replied, "The maids are unhandy, slatternly, and plain. The food will do."

A few hours later I was dressing up for a little walk in the sunlight with one of my friends from the town which I decided on to distract myself from the warlock's oppressive presence in the house when Ide the head maid entered my chamber with barely a knock and no pause for me to react, as she would when in a hurry.

"Walking or riding?" she said, holding two bulky sets of clothes in her hands. "Because your riding jacket has not yet been..."

I wanted my walking suit only, but more importantly, what was she wearing?! Instead of her lovely long frock of black cotton and white half-apron, which had always flattered her so, she had a smock of wispy black fabric so fine it did not quite conceal what lay underneath: as she moved in the sunlight, I could tell the contours of her undershirt and the little cotton pantaloons she was wearing.

"Ide," I said, stuttering, "what are you wearing? It is very pretty, but why?" As was mentioned, I was stuttering badly.

"Lady's orders," she said. "Walk or ride?"

As Ide turned to leave, I noticed that though her hair was still in a smart, proper bun, two elegant braids were added, encircling her head.

Lady's orders my tushy, Ide! Oh you must have cooperated with mother at this! Rather than order you around, she'd sooner consult with you on such things. And I knew full well what, or who, had been the reason for this change of wardrobe, and it filled me with shame, loathing, and not inconsiderable fear.

As I made my way towards the back door of the house I encountered another maid, Luzia, a wispy blonde daughter of a merchant, employed at my mother's in hopes of learning some practical glamours (3). Much like Ide, she wore a new uniform of thin, smoky fabric and a bunch of bright makeup to boot. Her elegantly petite features, tightly hugged by the shirt and the pantaloons, were visible through the smock as she walked.

"Luzia, who ordered a change of uniform?" I stammered awkwardly.

"The Lady and Ide, who else?" she said. "Do you want anything from me? I am in a hurry."

Her reply was so curt, I couldn't help but reproach. "What are you so busy with?"

"The new master's dinner."

"The new master?! Are you talking about the warlock? He is a guest, not a master!"

"As you say," she said, turned away and hurried on.

"The masters are mother, my sisters (when they are home), and I!" I cried out. "Guests aren't masters! The lady and her children are. Why do you think they call me the young master?!"

She looked back sardonically and turned the corner.

(3) She readily did learn the "glamours." Today you may know Luzia as Klara Lucia Horgen-Schwarre, head of the largest textile mill in the land, famous for employing spirits and daemons instead of women and offering to teach the latter the spirit-summoning crafts for free - that Luzia. At the time of this story she was but nineteen.

Now I couldn't control myself and, although I had no business whatsoever there, I passed by the kitchen and the scullery.

The girls were all wearing the dresses like Ide's, at least to some approximation. The sisters Koray and Melody stood against the fire, their figures clearly visible in stark silhouette. Marieke the washing girl did not even seem to be wearing an undershirt - the shape of her breasts were half-visible through the fabric, trembling as she scrubbed up and down. Three new girls were studying each other's smocks before spotting me, at which point they curtsied and dispersed to "work" elsewhere. Ide was not there, but would have fit in perfectly.

Some of the girls seemed more graceful, as if inspired by the elegance of their outfit (4). Only Mabelle, the other scullery maid, blushed and covered herself as if she were naked (which, with those gauzy smocks, the girls might as well could have been) when she noticed me looking in.

(4) Remember that those were the gutsy, confident girls who would choose to find employment at a sorceress' mansion.

Having seen enough, ashamed and anxious, I left the mansion and walked down to town, where my childhood friend Pandlech, a minor baron of similar rank, joined me for a stroll. I didn't dare tell about the villain my mother decided to study under, but I did eventually let slip about the maids' new uniform. Pandlech was intrigued and insisted on making a call to see for himself, which made me regret the loose tongue - what if he had seen the warlock mistreating one of them, let alone mother? I would die of shame. I promised to invite Pendlech at the first opportunity, determined to keep him away until the loathsome warlock was gone, and returned to the mansion by sunset.

The hall was empty, but as I was walking up the stairs, mother appeared through the great double doors ahead. For a moment the golden light of the setting sun, coming through a far-off window in the chamber she'd come from, surrounded mother as she stepped onto the stairs above.

That evening she wore a loose, long chemise-like dress of pure white. Her luxurious hair cascaded down the shoulders and back and down below her waist. Tall, regal, and queenly, the future Great Sorceress stepped forth, as it were, silhouetted against the golden glare. Passing by me, she smiled with her eyes and brushed my wrist with the tips of her fingers in place of a greeting.

"Good evening, mother," I said, breathless and proud of being the great woman's only son (5).

"Evening," she said and continued down the stairs.

(5) I have five sisters, but no brothers.

Now I saw that the dress really was a chemise, snow-white, beautifully embroidered, covering mother from neck to ankle, long enough for the hem to almost brush against the floor. Mother seemed barefoot but was actually wearing very light sandals, which were no more than a piece of cloth and some string. The sumptuous treasure that is her hair was unadorned and loose. In fact, she was wearing nothing but the chemise and sandals, the former as ephemeral as the latter. Much like the maids' new dresses, the precious chemise - a nightgown - was fine enough to be almost see-through, and it already being an undergarment, there seemed to be nothing else further down. In fact, the hair projected a chaster cover from behind than the chemise, and from the from I imagine there must have been almost nothing between the eyes and the object. Thank you, glorious Sun, you magnificent star, for showing mother in silhouette instead of in full - for it is not for me, the son, to see her true beauty in full...!

Then I became apprehensive. It was only sunset, and wasn't that much too early for bed-clothes? And mother was going downstairs, while her bedchamber, like mine, was upstairs. Most importantly, that despicable warlock, her tutor, was stalking the halls, and what if he'd seen her like that?

Suddenly too worried to keep quiet, I said, "Mother! Are you going to bed? Isn't it early? Where are you going?"

With me calling after her, mother walked on silently, but since the questions kept coming, she finally said, "I am going downstairs to continue my studies."

"Studies? In bed-wear?"

"The lesson is complex and likely to extend into the night."

"M-mother...!" I said.

"Also, I wear whatever I like."

Conversation apparently over, she continued on her way. Grasping for words, I said, "Mother, dear! How long... how long will that villain stay with us?!"

She stopped in her tracks and turned towards me. First mother gave me a blood-curdling look. Then she abruptly re-ascended the stairs towards me, and every step that she took she looked twice angrier. Soon standing before me, tall and regal and beautiful as she was, she gave me a look of such wrath that I trembled.

"Mother, forgive m--"

"Silence!" she said. I fell silent. "If he had heard you say that, he would have ground you to dust." I trembled visibly. "Do you know how much effort and money and wiles it cost me to procure the tutor?" Wiles, I thought? She continued, "This should have gone without saying, but since you're clearly stupid, I will order in plain words: you will not interfere with my studies."

Trembling all over like a lap-dog before a great snarling mastiff bitch, I whispered, "I would never dare, mother... But... but what if he..." I felt that I wouldn't be able to finish, but suddenly memory filled me with more shame than terror, spurning me to continue, and I blurted out, "What if he hurt you like yesterday?!"

Slap! She slapped me across the face. A sound not dissimilar to the crackle of the whip. I whimpered.

Looking angrier than before, mother snarled, "No matter what you see, it is your fault for being there to see it. And you should know better. My order is simple: you will not interfere with my studies. Am I understood?"

She stood in front of me, two steps below and still half a head taller, in that beautifully obscene nightgown, her full breasts visible as thought through white smoke. Large nipples. Her waist, and the barely-visible belly-button. The gorgeous curves of her hips. The delicate patch of dark hair over the place I was born from.

"Am I clear?" said mother.

"Mother!" I whimpered at last. "You are more precious to me than anyone. And if that vil-"

Slap! Slap, slap - her delicate palm struck me again, and the back of her hand on the way back.

"Am I understood?" she all but roared like a lioness ready to brutalize.

If you haven't seen the Great Sorceress' wrath, you may not be able to appreciate my terror. Imagine a storm or an earthquake - and it is angry at you.

"I understood, mother! I promise! I'll not interfere!" I cried out, covering up my face - more so to hide tears than to protect myself from the strikes.

"Not only would you ruin my studies, but he wouldn't slap you like I did. He'll turn you into a lizard and kick you into the fireplace."

"I understand that, mother, I do!" I said, whimpering.

"Good. Finally."

"He is a terrifying man..." (6)

"Exactly."

"It's just that..."

"I have never seen you disobey me this much. You will obey. Say, 'yes mother.'"

"Yes, mother," I said.

She extended her hand. I knelt to kiss it. Her palm was burning just like my cheek. Barely visible under the sleeve, there were reddish marks around the wrist. I kissed her hand and pressed it against my cheek. I kept calling her and kissing her hand, and I didn't look up, but I knew she was smiling.

Finally mother gently withdrew the hand and, without saying another word, turned, her hair swirling around beautifully, and walked down the stairs, crossed the hall, and disappeared behind one of the side doors, which I knew led to her subterranean laboratory, the library of the occult, and the study.

***

APPENDIX to Chapter 1.

(6) Here is a true story about Gaenbeald the Warlock that will make your blood curdle.

A petty king was once unwise enough to offend Gaenbeald. Promising vengeance, the warlock disappeared, only to reappear soon afterwards - in a different guise. Over the months Gaenbeald seduced the king's young daughter (she was only nineteen) and whispered lies into her ears until she despised her father and mother and hated the entire kingdom. At the same time he cursed the king to gradually transform into a dog. The transformation, which happened across three agonizing months, was kept from the subjects and even the princess and ended in the king turning into a mutt.

But the warlock still wasn't done. The kingdom decapitated, and with the young princess's help, Gaenbeald's army of creatures stormed the city and put it and the castle to the torch, while the warlock carried away the triumphant princess, celebrating the fall of "evil" kingdom. Eventually they came to a spot in the forest where they stopped to rest. There already was a fire, some food, and good wine prepared, and a dog guarding it - an ugly old mutt tied to a tree nearby. Of course, it was the king.

Long-time lovers at that point, Gaenbeald and the princess quickly succumbed to passion, and the warlock's unholy potency was matched by the princess' youthful energy. He took her from the front and the back, seated the princess on top of him and made her hop and made use of her mouth, too. And all the while the old dog kept barking and yapping until the princess said, "My love, he is so annoying. Can't anything be done about the dog?" The warlock said, "What should be done about the dog, my pretty?"

This story has two endings, and biographers disagree which one is more historically accurate. In one, the princess orders the warlock to kill the dog, which he does. The dog reverts to its real form - that of the old king - and the princess, distraught, curses the warlock and runs back to her city, now reduced to ashes. The other ending maintains that the princess took pity on the dog, and the two of them kept the mutt for a pet for almost three decades, until the dog finally succumbed to old age, having shocked everyone with its un-canine longevity.

Either way, that was the man that was teaching magic to my dear mother, and I couldn't be more apprehensive.