Free Witch Hunter by Willow Sears Page B

mouths. He is really big and has eyes like ice. They can turn you to stone, apparently. But it’s his sexual power we are here to worship, not his eyes.’
    So it
was
all just a load of rubbish: ice-eyed classical gods who happened to have shifted their heavenly realm to deepest Buckinghamshire. It was a pity to break the spell, especially since all the girls here were so obviously transfixed by it. Mimi wondered how the so-called Priestess, still happily proclaiming ‘Elixir!’ to each newly measured girl, profited from the whole charade. She hadn’t even charged Mimi an entry fee for tonight.
    It seemed like an elaborate fabrication to enable a bum-obsessed, clearly deranged (if rather delicious) female to play at being a witch, to let her strip a few chosen young females to their knickers and deal out an impromptu spanking here or there. Yet the girl had said others had seen these slaves, and the word ‘kept’ had been used, suggesting the slaves were there under duress. But how could these supposedly local males possibly be held there without anyone in the vicinity noticing their absence? Suddenly her blood ran cold. The Missing Lads Case – the story she thought was not a story.
    ‘Purging!’ Morgana loudly announced, cutting through Mimi’s latest onrush of thoughts. The happy chatter all around died instantly and was replaced by gasps. The atmosphere of nervous excitement was instantly palpable. The girl at the front had not turned with a smile as all the others had done. She was standing with her hand over her mouth, looking shaken and pale. Yet
all
the girls looked pale – how had Mimi not noticed this before? This one definitely had the widest hips to have been measured that night. Her bum was pronounced, though not as much as Mimi’s own. Whatever this ‘purging’ meant, the bottom seemed to be the offender. By the look on the girl’s face she was to get something much less pleasurable than the elixir promised to the others.
    A hush had descended. The last girl had not returned to her seat but had gone to stand in front of the witch’s desk, her back to the class. She was in trouble for sure, and all the others were glad about it. Mimi was going to ask her neighbour what was going on but Morgana was suddenly right there in front of her, bending forward to say in measured tones that class for her was over and that it was time for her to go. The witch backed her statement with a little smile and a nod, to show there was no room for negotiation. Despite the strangeness of this gathering, all Mimi wanted to do was stay and find out what was coming to the chosen girl, what other bizarre rituals were due to be played out that night.
    As Mimi reluctantly left the room, her bottom seemed to her miraculously unharmed, merely glowing with residual pleasure. She knew her departure was being monitored so she duly got into her car and drove off some hundred yards or more until she was around a bend and covered by a stand of trees. There she pulled over, got out again and hurried through the blackness back towards the small square of light showing from the single small window at the rear of the clubhouse. Despite her earlier exertions, her need to witness proceedings got her there quicker than she could have hoped. The window was too high but an upturned discarded beer crate proved an adequate booster. She tentatively peered in, getting a view almost identical to the one she would have had from her desk, and almost fell off her perch with surprise.
    In her absence the girl at the desk had been bent over it, her tracksuit and knickers in a heap on the floor. Standing on one side of her fat, stuck-out rear end was one of the other girls, holding a large pewter jug. On her other side was Morgana, the long red robe she had been wearing now pulled up around her middle as she placed what seemed to be some long object into a harness at her crotch. Mimi had seen strap-ons during her internet searches, so there was no