The Witch in the Woods
By Misty Morgan
Copyright 2012 Misty Morgan
Published by Crossroads Publishing
Smashwords Edition
The following is a work of fiction. All names, characters, locations, and incidents are either products of the author’s imagination or used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual events or locales or person, living or dead, is entirely coincidental. The work is presented as fantasy and does not reflect reality. It is intended for adults only. It contains sexually explicit language and scenes that may be considered offensive by some readers. Store your files where they cannot be accessed by minors. All sexually active characters in this work are 18 years of age or older. The publisher does not condone or encourage violence or illegal sexual acts.
For my parents…none of this would be possible without you…
Once upon a time, in the years following the Times of Trouble and before the New Age of Man, there lived a woodsman named Tamron, his young new bride, and his two teenaged children, Hansel and Gretel. Like most of the survivors of the Times of Trouble, they lived far from the nearest village and made a meager living on what they could hunt or gather.
The tiny cottage fashioned of stone and mud in which they lived was huddled at the western edge of the Great Woods. It was close enough to the Great Woods to ensure that they went unmolested by raiders and thieves, but far enough from the Great Woods that the dark creatures that made their home under the canopy of trees could not reach them. The thin whorls of smoke wafting from the chimney were the only signs of life for many miles around. There were no pigs in the pen. There were no chickens in the coop. There were no horses in the stable. Even the tilled earth in the garden was mostly barren and lifeless.
The Great Woods itself was dark and oppressive. It loomed over their small cottage like an oncoming storm ready to consume it. By day, it was merely threatening. The tangled trees filtered out all but the most persistent beams of light, leaving the ground murky grey, and a hushed silence hung over the ground like a bank of fog. There were no birds singing. There were no woodland creatures frolicking. By night, however, it was much worse. At night, evil oozed from the woods like an infection. The stunted trees seemed to blot out – even absorb – the light from the stars and moon. In the inky darkness, creatures out of nightmares emerged from their lairs and roamed the forests and surrounding lands seeking prey.
In the nearest villages, men whispered stories around banked fires. It was said that a powerful witch had lived in the Great Woods before the Times of Trouble. Prior to her defeat, she had placed a curse on the woods, leaving them haunted and devoid of life. The woods had remained desolate in the many years since. Few even lived within sight of the cursed forest.
The woodsman was stubborn, however. The farmland at the edge of the woods had been passed down through many generations and he was not going to be the one that abandoned it, despite the many hardships he was forced to endure. Not the least of which was the loss of his wife to the Dark Fever the preceding summer. He had been heartbroken after her loss and, when he met Dascha far afield one cold winter day, nearly frozen, he had been enchanted. He warmed her and nursed her back to health and, when she had regained her health, he married her. Now he clung to her like a drowning man clings to a piece of wood.
The woodsman was seated at the kitchen table with his beautiful young wife, his heart heavy and his stomach empty. “I can’t, Dascha,” he said, shaking his head.
“You must, my love,” she said. “We cannot continue to care for them as things are.”
“They are my children. They are all I have left.”
“I am not asking you to abandon them. I am only asking that they do their part. It is time they provided for themselves and their family.”
“You are asking me to send them through the Great Woods, Dascha. That is folly.”
“It is not folly,” Dascha argued. “They will be fine. Hansel is an experienced hunter. He is adept with both the sword and bow. And Gretel knows much of healing.”
“No one is fine in the Great Woods. It is a dangerous place.”
“You have taught them well, my love. They can do it. And we have no choice. We are running out of food. We will starve.”
“I will go myself.”
“No!” she cried. “I need you here!”
“I cannot ask them to do something I will not.”
“My love…you have me to care for now. You cannot go.” She kissed him lightly on the neck. “And I would miss you so.” Her hand rubbed his cock through his trousers. It throbbed in her response and began to fill with blood. She stroked it gently as it hardened.
“Ohhh, baby…I can deny you nothing. I will talk to them tomorrow.”
She untied the rope at the waist of his trousers, her hand slipped inside, and she pulled his long, thick cock free. Her cool fingers closed around it softly and her hand slid up and down its length slowly. The loose foreskin covered the head with each upward stroke and, with each tantalizing downward stroke, the swollen head popped free. A drop of thick, clear pre-cum leaked from the tip. She slid down onto the floor between his legs silently, and her face dropped toward his groin slowly, her moist lips parted to accept him.
“Just…promise…ohhh…promise…ohhh…don’t stop!” He closed his eyes and sat back in the chair, his head lolling and his lips parted.
Hansel and Gretel lay on a thin straw mattress in the dark, a tattered blanket covering them. From where they were lying, they could see the main living space of the small cottage. And they could hear everything. Hansel lay with his arm over Gretel, their bodies almost touching. Gretel was crying softly and her body shook gently.
The teenagers had been found several days apart as babes by the woodsman and his wife on the bank of a stream bordering the Great Woods. Each had been found in a small wooden box and their place of origin was not known. After several weeks of searching for the rightful parents of the infants, the woodsman and his wife decided to raise the two children as their own.
It was not known for certain that they were siblings, but, from an early age, they were similar enough in appearance that they were considered to be twins. They were tall, thin and fair of skin, with hair so blonde that it was almost white. Their features were angular and harsh. Each of the children had high cheekbones and wide, thin lips that curled upward slightly, giving them a perpetual look of good-natured amusement. Their ice-blue eyes were deep and troubled, as if they had seen and felt too much. The overall impression was one of bemused sadness. Despite this, the pair was physically attractive and drew stares wherever they went, though whether it was due to the fact that they were attractive – or different – was open to debate. The twins were generally regarded as either threatening or a curiosity by the locals, and had few friends as a result. Consequently, they were very close.
“Don’t worry, Gretel,” Hansel said. “Everything will be all right.” He rubbed her shoulder softly. His eyes were glued on his stepmother’s kneeling form. She was between his father’s legs and her head was bobbing up and down in his lap. Father’s eyes were closed and he groaned softly.
“How can I not worry, Hans? You heard them!”
“Because I am here, my dear,” he replied. He kissed the back of her head. Her long blonde hair smelled clean and flowery, and it tickled his nose. “I will always take care of you.”
“Will you?” she asked, her voice a soft whisper.
“Always,” he said. There was a long pause. The only sound was the rhythmic sound of their stepmother’s lips sliding up and down their father’s shaft. And his soft moans.
“But what are we going to do?”
“We are going to the gathering,” he said. “We will collect our things and leave before first light.”
“Through the Great Woods?” she asked and shuddered.
“Yes,” he said. “It is the only way.”
“Hans,” she whispered. “I’m scared.”
“Don’t be,” he said. “As long as we are together, everything will be all right.”
“I love you,” she said. She kissed his fingers gently.
“I love you, too,” he said. “Now get some sleep. The morning comes too soon.”
Hansel and Gretel watched in silence as their stepmother stood up, hiked up her skirt, and straddled their father. The white globes of her ass stood out starkly. They caught a glimpse of dark hair and pink skin between her thighs before she sank down atop him and her skirt settled around their bodies. Their stepmother began to rock atop their father, her hips swaying back and forth and her hands clutching at his tunic. Their father’s hands slid under her blouse. They watched as they moved upward, causing a bulge under the material, and cupped her full breasts. They moved and the coarse material rippled. His eyes were closed and his lips parted in rapture.
“Oh…oh…oh,” their father gasped with each thrust.
Their stepmother increased the tempo, riding him faster and harder, thrusting her hips forward sharply with each stroke. Her skirt jerked with each movement. Within moments, their father’s body stiffened, his lips pulled back in a snarl of pleasure, and then his hips thrust upward spastically. She bounced atop him, her moist lips parted. Soft mewling sounds emanated from deep in her throat.
Their father grunted aloud and thrust his hips upward with tremendous force, and then went still, his breath caught in his chest and his body quivering. His body shook several times in quick succession and then, after a long pause, he exhaled and relaxed. His hips sank back to the bench, carrying their stepmother with them. His breathing was labored. She continued to ride him until he was completely spent, and then she leaned forward and kissed the top of his head.
“That was wonderful, dear,” she said softly.
As their stepmother stood, she looked in the direction of their room, a predatory smile on her lips. Hansel and Gretel shrunk back into the shadows. Her smile broadened as she straightened her clothing, as if she felt their eyes upon her. And then she turned her back on the pair, took her husband by the hand and led him toward the bedroom.
Hansel awoke in the middle of the night with fevered dreams lingering in his brain and a thin sheen of sweat covering his brow. His cock was hard and demanding between his legs. He reached down and squeezed it roughly. Moonlight streamed through the window, bathing the room in cool, blue light. Hansel glanced over at Gretel. She had kicked off the thin blanket in the night and her lithe, shapely body was clearly visible through the gossamer nightgown.
She was lying on her back with her hands resting on her stomach. Her breath came deep and regular and her face was placid and serene. His eyes swept over her lovely face and followed the curve of her delicate neck to the bony protrusions of her collar-bone and across both shoulders – well-defined and muscular from years of hard work – and, finally, onto her torso. They lingered on the swell of her young breasts. They sloped upward gently from her chest, firm and conical, and the creamy white skin shone like a beacon through the nearly-transparent material. Her pale areolas were barely discernible smudges at the tip of each breast.
His eyes crawled over the flat plane of her stomach to her groin. Her mound, covered with soft strands of pale fur, swelled atop it like a gentle knoll. It looked soft and inviting. Between her thighs, he caught a glimpse of her virgin pussy. Unfortunately, most of the space between her thighs was shrouded in shadows and remained hidden from his eyes.
Lying on his side facing her, Hansel untied his trousers, slipped his hand under the waistband, and gripped his cock. It throbbed in response. He stroked the long, hard length of his cock slowly and quietly, his eyes not wavering from Gretel’s beautiful body. When she did not stir, he became emboldened. He pushed his trousers down over his cock, freeing it, and resumed the stroking of his turgid member. He gripped the thick length of his cock tight in his hand and stroked slowly up and down, drawing the foreskin over the head with each deliberate movement.
As he stroked himself, he fantasized about kissing her lips passionately, tearing her gown from her body, and cupping her budding breasts in his palms. In his mind, he kissed his way down her neck and took one small breast into his mouth. Her nipple hardened. His hand slid up her inner thigh and cupped her mound. His fingers delved into the cleft of her pussy, finding her wet. He sucked hard on her erect nipple as his finger slid deep into her tight, wet passage. In response, Gretel groaned and pulled him closer.
Hansel’s hand slid up and down his shaft faster, the foreskin stimulating the ridged crown with each movement of his hand.
He released her nipple and kissed his way down her quivering stomach, through the soft blonde hair on her mound, to her pussy. Sweet, fragrant juice wept from her body. He licked up and down the enflamed slit, collecting her juice on his tongue and pleasuring her beautiful body. She cried out and her hips jerked each time his tongue flicked her clitoris. He sucked it into his mouth and she locked her thighs around his head, grinding her pussy onto his face.
His fist pumped up and down his cock, a blur of motion, and his hips jerked uncontrollably.
He crouched between her legs, the head of his cock wedged into her virgin pussy. He drove forward and his cock inched into her. Her tight passage gripped him like a glove. He pushed harder…harder…harder…until finally he was buried inside her beautiful, young body. She wrapped her long legs around his waist and he fucked her…hard!
Hansel stopped stroking, his fist pulling the foreskin back from the head of his cock, and squeezed the base of his cock tight in his fist. His breath caught in his chest. A grimace of ecstasy flickered across his face. And then he grunted and climaxed. His seed burst from his body in a long white ribbon, landing just above the girl’s mound and forming a thick wet stripe on the thin nightgown. His fist twitched up and down his cock with short, barely discernible motions that stimulated the ridge at the head. Another powerful ribbon of his seed burst from the tip of his cock and landed across Gretel’s thigh, just below her groin. He groaned softly. A third spasm rocked his body and his seed spilled across the side of Gretel’s hip.
Hansel stroked the length of his shaft slowly as his climax subsided. The remainder of his seed flopped weakly from his cock and landed on the bed between them, forming a wet pool. When he finished spending, he tucked his cock back into his pants and pulled the blanket up over her wet body. She stirred briefly and then dropped back into a deep sleep. He rolled over onto his back, his face clouded with shame.
It is not right that I lust after you so, dear Gretel, he thought.
Hansel sighed and closed his eyes. His softening cock twitched at the thought of the girl’s lovely body.
Alas, I am powerless to stop it. You are akin to the moon…beautiful and pale and ever-changing, and you draw me to you like the moon draws the tide.
Hansel opened his eyes and turned his head to look at the girl. Her face was bathed in soft light. She looked perfect, like a statue. His heart ached for her.
I should leave now and find my way through the Great Wood on my own. It is too dangerous. And we should not be together.
He rolled over onto his side and gently stroked her face and hair with his fingertips, a sad smile on his lips.
But I am weak. I cannot stand the thought of leaving you. I love you too much. So we shall go together. I will simply have to protect you…and temper my immoral desires. That is all.
With that decision, he fell into a fitful sleep, his hand resting on Gretel’s stomach possessively. Visions of her body followed him into the land of sleep, tormenting him. It was a long time before he was rescued by the coming dawn.
Just before first light, Hansel gripped the girl’s shoulder and shook her awake. He was already dressed, his sword strapped around his waist and his bow in his hand. Gretel opened her icy eyes and regarded him coolly. When they focused on him, they melted and a worried smile flickered across her lips.
“It is time,” he said. “The sun rises shortly.”
“Okay,” she said bravely, nodding.
“I have gathered your things. We leave as soon as you are ready.”
Gretel threw off her blankets and rose gracefully. Her nightgown was nearly translucent in the moonlight, and Hansel’s eyes wandered up and down her long willowy body furtively, quickly taking in the swell of her small breasts, her flat stomach, gently curved hips, and lean legs before tearing his eyes away from her and focusing on tightening his bowstring. He heard the rustle of fabric as she slipped the gown over her head and looked up.
Gretel was facing away from him. Her long blonde hair hung in a thick wave down her nude back. His eyes followed the spray of loose hair. Her pale skin glowed in the moonlight and he could see the bony knobs of her spine and the ridges of her ribs through it. Further down, his eyes settled on the globes of her buttocks. They were firm and muscular, forming perfect semi-circles atop her long legs. A dark line ran down the center of the otherwise perfect white flesh. What lay between was hidden deep in shadow.
Hansel licked his lips subconsciously. He wanted to forget the quest, bury his face in her soft skin, run his tongue up and down her slit and pleasure her until the sun set in the west. But that was impossible.
She is your kin, he reminded himself. She cannot be yours.
He sighed and tore his eyes from her body just as she bent to pull on her skirt, intentionally averting his eyes and busying himself with packing their bags.
Gretel felt his eyes upon her. A shiver ran up her spine, causing the skin of her arms to break out in goose pimples and her nipples to stiffen atop the sharp slopes of her breasts. She rubbed her arms with her hands, attempting to warm them, and fought the urge to do the same with her breasts. She bent at the waist and stepped into her skirt, wondering if he was still watching her and, if so, how much of her sex he could see. The thought made her feel funny inside, like when she entered the Great Woods…but in a good way.
Gretel and Hansel had shared a room for eighteen years and, in that time, there had been very few disputes or arguments. They could be twins, after all. They looked alike. They acted alike. And they thought alike. In all ways but gender, they were each other. Theirs was the perfect relationship.
Only recently had things begun to change. It had started when their mother passed into the Golden Lands and their father brought home Dascha from the Wastelands far to the south. Gretel did not know for certain that there was a connection between the two events, but it seemed there was, for Dascha exuded a raw sexuality that had infected them all. It had definitely claimed their father. He was entranced by the young woman and her openly wanton ways. At the same time, it seemed to have ignited something latent in Hansel as well. Whereas before she came, he looked at her with warmth and familial tenderness, his looks were now blazing hot and predatory. And, in truth, she did not mind.
The way he looked at her had a profound effect on her psyche. The pair were, at best, considered oddities in these parts so it was not often that she felt desired as a woman. Hansel, however, wanted her. It was in his eyes. She did not know what to do with it, but she was not about to smother it, either. Not only because she enjoyed the attention, but because she, too, felt the attraction. She often dreamed of him and, when she could do so undetected, she watched him. Earlier that summer, she had hidden behind a fallen log and watched as he bathed in the pond, transfixed by his muscular build and the appendage dangling between his thighs. It had made her stomach flutter, and her sex had grown hot and moist between her thighs. She did not understand why. Or what should be done about it. She had no experience with such things. Her talent was healing.
Gretel sighed. They would just have to figure it out. She loved Hansel, and wanted nothing more than for him to be happy. If she were ultimately to be what made him happy, she would be extremely pleased. But only the Gods knew where that road would lead…or how it would end.
She finished dressing, stepped into her boots, and wrapped the threadbare traveling cloak around her shoulders. She attached the small pouch filled with healing herbs wrapped in supple leaves to her belt and turned to face him.
“I am ready,” she said.
Hansel handed Gretel a small leather pouch. She untied the cord holding it closed and opened it. Inside the pouch were small white stones.
“What are these?” she asked.
“Our way back,” he replied.
Gretel looked at him quizzically. “How do you mean?”
Hansel explained. “We will drop the stones at regular intervals, and then we can follow them back should we get lost. They are white and should be easy to see – night or day.”
Gretel nodded. “With luck, they will not be needed.”
“True,” he agreed. “But it is better to be safe.” He hefted the pack containing their meager supplies and grabbed the bow. “Let’s go before we are missed. We will use the window.”
They were far from home by the time the sun rose above the horizon. They followed a small game track in silence, Hansel in the lead and Gretel following closely behind. The Great Woods loomed on the horizon like a foreboding storm cloud, dark and oppressive. They could feel it in their bones.
By the time they reached the edge of the dark forest, there were still several hours remaining before mid-day. Hansel called for a halt.
“We’ll take a short break here,” he advised her.
Hansel sat on a fallen tree and pulled a crust of bread from his pack. “Do you think the stories about the Woods are true, Hans?” Gretel asked.
Hansel nibbled on the crust of bread and chewed thoughtfully. “I think they were true at one time,” he said finally, “but now they are simply legend.”
Gretel nodded. “That’s good,” she mumbled.
“Don’t worry, Gretel,” he said. “Everything will be fine. I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you.” His voice was reassuring.
Gretel nodded. “Okay.”
The woods were thick with twisted undergrowth that obscured the game trail they followed, and progress was slow. At times, Hansel had to create a passage through the underbrush with his sword. It was grueling work. And, despite his efforts and his skills as a tracker, they lost the trail on several occasions and were forced to backtrack to relocate it. By late afternoon, he was exhausted. Thus, when they unexpectedly came upon the small clearing in the trees, he immediately called a halt.
“I can go no further. And we are unlikely to find anything better than this,” he said, glancing up at the small circle of sky visible through the thick, dark foliage. “We’ll stop here for the night.”
“Thank the Gods,” Gretel said. She dropped her small pack and sank to the ground. She lay on her back, her eyes closed and her chest rising and falling deeply. Trails of sweat broke ran down her face, breaking a trail through the grime. Hansel knelt and produced a full skin of water from his pack. He extended it to her.