Black Magic (Patreon)

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The winning couple was Hazel and Runa with the theme Black Magic! Here's a little story to go along with it:

BLACK MAGIC

Runa had been told stories about the hedge witch of Zeyrie since she was a little girl. Often, they started with small children lost in the woods who found refuge from a storm in a log cabin. When the children awoke, the ground shook. Thinking it was an earthquake, they looked out the windows only to see the trees and landscape streaking by. The house had come alive and was carrying them far, far away, deeper into the woods and away from home. On stilt-like legs of wood and vines, it whisked them off on an adventure, only the adventure would come to an abrupt and terrifying end. When the house finally stopped, in a swampy glade, they would emerge to the sight of her descending spider-like from the trees. The witch was hideous to behold – a black cat with bony limbs and mangy fur. Her eyes were blind and beset with black film. Mites infested her coat. Following her were swarms of flies and the smell of rotten meat. She would be the last thing the children saw, before she ate them alive, finger by finger, piece by piece.

The people in the big cities didn’t believe the stories. They thought the very concept of witches in walking huts who ate children to be nothing more than a joke.

Runa knew better. When she was little, her neighbour left to hunt the witch, and never returned. When she was a little older, her brother left too. He was also never seen again. Now it was her turn, to avenge the people of her pack and keep the world safe from the wrath of the witch. She had trained, and learned all she could from the village people. It was an honor to die this way, but what an honor it would be to succeed. She would be a legend.

With her bow and a dagger she carved herself, she left home and ventured into the dreaded Zeyrie wood. The trees were tall and thick with moss and foliage – so thick it blotted out the sun. Always dark, the forest seemed to watch and listen to her every footstep.

It was three days before she found the witch’s hut. Enshrined in vines and fauna – it seemed unlikely to ever move, as if it had sat there for ages long past. Bright green smoke that smelled strongly of lemon grass rose from its chimney. Hanging from the trees were glass orbs containing plants and herbs. It would have seemed very peaceful, but for the bones of animals which littered the floor around the hut.

Readying her dagger, Runa made her way towards the hut. As she crept closer, a strange melody reached her ears. A song sung on a husky, lyrical voice. A thick rug obscured the entrance to the hut. Runa stealthily slid a finger along the hem and drew it back.

Inside, the witch sung her strange song whilst filling a glass orb with soil. Several bare-rooted plants lay on the table beside her. She had her back to the door and hadn’t noticed Runa.

She didn’t resemble at all the witch from the stories. A black cat she was, but her fur looked sleek and soft as velvet. Her long hair was pulled back into a pontytail, with a wreathe of leaves and flowers decorating it. She wore nature with the comfort and regality of a queen in an exquisite gown, though it covered very little of her. On the fire next to her hung a cauldron, but it didn’t boil with blood and bones, just a stew seasoned with lemon grass. The fire made the air cloying and oppressively hot, but the witch did not seem to mind. She sung idly and the plants in her hut seemed nearly to dance to the tune.

Taken aback by her beauty, Runa was not prepared for the moment she turned around. The witch’s eyes were not blind or filmy, they were vibrant orange and regarded her without shock or malice. Just curiosity.

“A visitor,” the witch said. “Come in. Food is almost ready.”

Runa hesitated, but found herself compelled to lower her guard and enter the tent. “What’s your name?” said the witch.

“Runa,” she answered without hesitation.

“Runa. My name’s Hazel. Won’t you put down the dagger and bow? You won’t be needing them.”

She sounded so sweet, but Runa felt a twinge of worry, even as her body – as if of its own volition – set her bow and dagger on the table beside her.

“How are you feeling, Runa? You must have come far,” the witch said, turning to her stew and stirring it.

“I feel…” Runa said haltingly. “Hot. Too hot.”

Hazel smiled. “Then feel free to disrobe. I don’t mind. Us cats love the heat, but then I don’t wear much,” she said. The vines wrapping her body were strung with fangs and animal skulls, but Runa found them oddly pretty rather than unsettling. After a moment of unabashed staring at Hazel’s own nakedness, Runa took off her leathers and furs and lay them on a chair.

“Would you like something to eat?” Hazel asked.

The smell now was overpowering and mouthwatering. “I’d love some.”

Runa, in the back of her mind, wondered how she could do this. Disrobe and eat supper with the witch who very well might have murdered countless members of her pack. But looking at her, it was difficult to imagine her eating anybody. None of the skulls decorating her hut were large enough to be that of a person, either.

They sat down to eat. “You aren’t really a witch, are you?” Runa said as she sipped her soup.

“Oh yes, I’m a witch. Just not the kind you expect.”

“What kind are you?”

“A hedge witch, like your stories say, but that means something very different here. I don’t hurt things. The bones you see are from animals I’ve hunted for food, and I use what I don’t eat for my spells. Spells to make it rain. Spells to help my crops grow. Spells to keep me safe from those who would harm me.” She smiled mischievously. “You don’t want to harm me anymore, do you?”

Runa blushed furiously. “No, I’d never!”

Hazel smiled. “Good. Then the spell is working.”

Runa looked shamed. “The stories lied about you.”

“That’s alright. It’s better if people are afraid and stay far from me. People tend not to like what they don’t understand.”

Runa nodded, but still, the shame clung to her. Hazel finished her soup and set the bowls in a washbasin to clean later. Then she returned to take Runa’s hand in hers. “Would you follow me? I’d like to show you something.”

Runa followed Hazel out of the hut and toward a huge tree with curving branches reaching high into the canopy. Hammered into its trunk, at regular intervals, were wooden boards that formed a ladder. Hazel started to climb, and Runa followed. From her position below, Runa could see up the grass and leaf skirt Hazel wore. She felt too hot again, like she was still inside the hut.

They reached a thick, mossy bough and Hazel climbed deftly across it. Hanging around them on beaded strings were many glass terrariums filled with plants and flowers. They seemed to glow in the dark with their own life and light. Hazel plucked off a large one with a golden spout out the top and held it out for Runa to smell. It had a floral aroma, but something earthier too, like roasted hazelnuts. Runa edged closer to sniff and her hand brushed against Hazel’s thigh, but Hazel didn’t move it.

“What kind of spells do these cast?” Runa asked.

“No spell,” Hazel said, looking into Runa’s eyes. “They’re just beautiful.”

Hazel’s eyes captivated Runa, their depths like twin fires. That anyone could have described the witch as the stories did was inconceivable. Here eyes took in all of Hazel and found not a hair out of place that did not make her all the more charming. Her body was lithe and long, her pert breasts small but perfectly shaped. When she looked back up to Hazel’s face, it was to the knowing smile of a witch who was certain what affect she’d had. With a slinky motion of her shoulder, Hazel invited Runa not just to look, but to touch.

Her hands started out on the cat’s hips, sliding higher. Over her slim ribs and shoulders, down her arms. With trepidation, she slid them across to cup each breast. Hazel’s purr thrummed between them like the bass line of a rapturous melody. Runa massaged the witch’s breasts and smoothed over her stiffening nipples. Hazel’s breath whispered against Runa’s lips, soft as butterfly wings.

“I’d like it very much if you kissed me now,” Hazel whispered, tongue darting out just barely to wet her lips.

Runa pulled Hazel closer still to plant a chaste kiss to the cat’s waiting lips. Her heart waged war against her ribs. It was not chastity she yearned for now. She drew apart only barely to breathe, then pressed into the second kiss, and a third. She opened her mouth, a little thrill pulsing through her when Hazel reciprocated. She turned fully into the kiss, swept up, bodies aligned breast to breast.

Runa leaned forward until Hazel’s back hit the curve of the tree branch, trapping her there. The cats thighs spread invitingly, a sultry expression the only encouragement Runa needed. She lay sprawled across the branch and licked a spot just on the inside of Hazel’s knee. The feline’s purr deepened, her chest rising and falling faster now. “Yes,” she said in a quivering voice.

Runa left a hot, wet stripe along the cleft of Hazel’s pussy first. It drew a low sound of pleasure from the cat, so Runa continued. She pressed her muzzle between Hazel’s thighs and lapped until she was slick as a seal. As Hazel’s noises grew louder and more desperate, Runa drew her clit against her lips and sucked. She moved her head just the tiniest amount, letting her wet nose and tongue simulate the motion of a slow, rhythmic fuck. Hazel’s moans filled the silent aura of the forest, rising like the crescendo of a song. Runa’s tongue worked her until she felt dizzy. The ecstasy built and built. Finally, she could resist no more, and orgasm shook her slight frame like a hurricane. Shivering and clutching onto Runa, Hazel came down from her high one wave at a time.

Once she’d recovered the use of her limbs, Hazel and Runa climbed down and retired to Hazel’s bed, which was in a separate hut a few meters away from the one in which Runa had found her. Runa had no sooner stepped foot inside than Hazel’s slender hands were around her waist, venturing down, touching with exquisite gentleness the slick slit between her legs. Hazel fucked her just as thoroughly, kneeling on the bed with Runa’s hands against the wall, begging for more until Hazel had four fingers inside and Runa was cumming harder than she ever had.

They reveled in one another for hours until they felt boneless and tired. Cradled against Hazel’s breast, Runa sighed wistfully. She wanted to enjoy this moment forever, but with the haze of lust removed, fear had room to creep in.

Whatever had happened to the first witch hunters? The ones she’d never seen since? Why hadn’t that occurred to her earlier? Had the heat of the hut, or the scents, or the stew been a secret spell meant to entrap her mind and make her compliant? Had Hazel lied?

With a hand sliding through Runa’s fur, Hazel said, “I get the impression you’d like to ask me something.”

Runa nodded. “I feel terrible to ask… and even more terrible not having asked sooner. Many of my friends and family were lost in the hunt for you. We thought you’d killed them.”

Hazel smiled as if that was very funny. “No, I didn’t kill them. In a way, the forest is what kills them.”

“The forest?”

“Yes. It’s very protective of me, you see. It doesn’t need to be. Once they meet me, none of your people have ever wished harm on me. But you see, time moves much slower here than it does out there.” She drew a circle in Runa’s fur with one finger. “How long have you been in the forest?”

“Four days,” Runa said.

“A day to the forest is a decade to the world outside it. You’ve aged forty years. Stay another three days, and returning to the real world will almost certainly kill you. Of old age.”

A bolt of shock went through Runa at those words. So they’d all lived out full lives and died here while the world outside passed them by? Hazel was either immune to the magic, or she was very very old.

Hazel smiled knowingly, as if reading her mind. “Witches don’t age the way of mortals. This used to all be common knowledge, but we are a rare and solitary few now. It’s no wonder the world has forgotten about us.”

Runa nodded, but something else now bothered her. If she could not return home… “Where should I go?”

“You can stay here with me, as long as you want. Feel free to live out your years here,” Hazel said. Then, after a moment. “I… do get lonely.”

Runa held Hazel tighter. “Even if I could return, I’d still want to stay here with you.”

Hazel’s smile seemed almost tearful. “I’d like that very much.”