European Delight
Simone stared wistfully over the railing of the cruise ship, watching azure waves crash against the not-so-distant shore ahead. The emerald skinned witch might have been a woman-eater, and cruel hex caster, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate beauty. Indeed, beauty was one of the biggest driving forces behind her cannibalism. With any luck, within a few short days she’d be enjoying a succulent Spanish maiden on the gorgeous Arenas Doradas beach. It was only a matter of time and effort now.
The ship and its crew took their time docking, and relaying to the local authorities the information on all the guests that were being temporarily released into the coast. Simone couldn’t help but grow a bit restless. Still, it gave her the time to exchange her poison violet swimsuit for her more traditional witch’s hat and dress. The black was slimming, not that she needed it really. As much as she loved good meat she also liked to keep in shape, which was more than half of her coven could say. What was more, the customary attire advertised her magical heritage to any and all nearby. Some might have scolded her for being so flagrant, especially on vacation, but what could she say? She just loved her culture, and honestly, she was never one to care about what others thought…
It took some hours but, just in time for the sun to begin setting over Portugal to the southwest, Simone was finally back on land after days of the first half of her cruise. She didn’t mind the waning light really. She was, after all, a creature of the night, of a sort at any rate. What she did mind however, was that she needed to catch a cab this late in the day to her real destination. Arenas Doradas was a beautiful resort, but if she was going to have a meal to remember this trip by, she’d need to travel a bit further. She wanted a real local delicacy. Not the kind of schlock one might find at a tourist trap. The village of Anamas would likely be an excellent hunting ground. She just needed to get there. Certainly she could have flown, air broomstick, but the point of all this was to see (and taste) the local color. She didn't threaten the captain with an iceberg curse to be let on for nothing.
However, when the cab finally did arrive, some thirty minutes later than reported, she found herself more than a little irked. The young driver had a careless attitude to match his lack of professionalism, and Simone made sure to quietly cast a delayed incantation that would hopefully remind the cabbie never to disappoint a witch again. The next morning he’d find his manhood missing, replaced with a pair of… lower lips his girlfriend would likely be jealous of, as well as a plump pair of breasts that would probably delight some local witch with a pleasant, self-basting dinner some day. All in all, Simone was quite unimpressed with mortal transportation, and definitely with mortal crowds. There was a reason she typically liked to remain in her cabin, she was rediscovering… For now though, she needed to find a place to spend the night. She could do her hunting the next day.
After a bit of walking, and scouting out the few options that were present, it was at a lovely, quaint little place called El Posada de los Santos that she caught the delicate scent of her next prey. There were simply some times that a witch knew what she wanted without even having to see it, and this was one such occasion. A soul that smelled kind, innocent, and to top it all off, devout, had passed by the inn’s lobby some few hours ago. It was always a delight to corrupt these individuals in one way or another, or just to abuse their naivete. Tomorrow, Simone would have to find the right buttons to push, to somehow get this sweet thing on her plate. It would be an excellent highpoint to her vacation…
—
The next morning, the witch was quick to get to work. From the scent of that soul, this poor woman was delectably untouched. Her sweet nature would be easy to exploit, all the witch needed to do was make herself known really.
Just outside of town, far enough away from the road, in a small little cave near the lazy beach waves, Simone summoned her favorite cauldron from the pocket dimension she frequently stored her favorite implements in. There was a heavy scent of sulfur in the air, as the cast iron vessel hopped up from a hole in the ground. One that made the witch somewhat nostalgic for home, in a strange way. Nonetheless, she was quick to get to work. Finding the right alchemical ingredients in an unfamiliar land might have been difficult for a novice, but Simone had years of practice and familiarity under her belt. Sure, the sagging, depressed gungeflower, and its melancholy magical pollen was nowhere to be found here, but by combining the pallid European frog’s toothpick herb with the moderately rare green toadstool, she could produce a similar enough effect. Add to it the dash of snake sweat that she always carried with her, and a bit of her own hair, and she could produce a fast acting bad luck brew to curse the town with.
Within hours, she could already hear the first fender bender in the nearest intersection. If she’d managed her mixture perfectly, this wouldn’t be a simple case of exchanging insurance information… To her delight, a few panicked words very quickly devolved into angry accusations, and to top it all off, a minor scuffle, as thought the men involved had just emerged from the tavern. Delicious~
Shortly after, this was all followed up with a discovered leakage in the town’s water supply, and a brief blackout when said water shorted a central conduit. Sometimes, Simone amazed herself. No-one could manage a hex quite as efficiently as she could. For now, she’d simply find a local place to haunt, making herself known, until the local congregation decided to get involved. Taverns were horrible dens of iniquity, where unsavory sorts gathered and generally made nuisances of themselves. It would be perfect for her, and be an excellent place to increase her visibility, making it easy for her prey to find her~
—
Fortunately, for the typically antisocial witch, she didn't need to wait for long. Before even two rounds had been passed around, there was word of the town's old church steeple collapsing. Bad luck, of course, regarding a hairline fracture in one of the supports, which had gone unnoticed for years. That was the final straw. Immediately after, there were priests, parishioners, and sisters galore in the streets. They were quick to call the town to repentance of course, but also to warn that an evil air might be vexing the city.
The tavern, naturally, was one of the first places to be put under the holy assault, and to Simone's great pleasure, one particularly voluptuous nun arrived shortly after everything had begun. Despite her best efforts, the woman's attempts to preserve modesty by wearing a habit two sizes too big, somehow only called attention to her sinful shape all the more. Of course… Simone didn't make matters any better. With a twirl of her fingers, and a hastily muttered magical word, a sudden gust of wind pushed in from the outside, circling the holy woman and causing her loose fabrics to push in against her curvaceous form. Yes… this was the one~
No sooner had the sister even entered still fluffing out her, than Simone was immediately at her side, smiling maliciously. “What brings a woman of the cloth here? Here to this room of violence and beer?” The witch chuckled to herself. There was really no need to put on the rhyming theatrics, but she enjoyed the way it tended to put people off. “The town must be in quite a state. For you to preach in a place you hate.”
The poor nun's face contorted into an uncomfortable, almost fearful wince. “Th-the Lord's love extends t-to all.” she insisted, struggling to keep her composure under Simone's unapologetically predatory gaze. She had a perfect, charming accent. It was clear that she wasn’t the most confident with English, but nonetheless she was able to speak it and be easily understood, in response to Simone’s. “A… little wine is good for the soul… Some argue…”
“Wine for the soul for some, you say?” Simone put a finger to her chin as though deep in thought. “So progressive, if the church is this way. Tell me dear, if you'll enter this bay. Would you imbibe with us, this day?”
Before the woman could even give a gesture of answer, Simone gave a flick of her wrist, and suddenly a glass mug from a nearby table was enveloped in a thick purple mist. As if lifted by a ghost, it then flew slowly into the air, making its way to the witch's beckoning hand. The amber drink inside always threatened to spill over the sides as it tipped this way and that, but Simone's control was well practiced. In the end, barely a bubble of froth was missing, as she grabbed the mug, and offered it to the now shivering nun.
“I… What?” The holy woman seemed more confused than taken aback, at least in that moment. Simone’s intense forwardness was so brazen. So aggressive that she didn’t even comprehend what the witch was going at.
This, of course, didn’t deter Simone in the slightest. With a snap of her fingers, the mug dropped unceremoniously onto the nearest table. For all the effort not to spill it a moment ago, this was enough to leave beer splashing all over. In truth, it wasn’t about the beverage at all. It was about the showmanship of it all.
“You got a name, sweetheart?” The witch asked, dropping her rhyming scheme for a more… sensual tone. She then reached up to softly, violatingly, caress the nun’s cheek.
“Y-you may call me… Sister Camille will do, a-and I’m going to need to ask you to stop… touching me…” The woman wanted to bristle, but she couldn’t manage even to look at Simone while she spoke. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or… something else. No matter how offended she wanted to sound… she couldn’t help but give the supernatural woman a sort of respect.
“I’m going to have to decline, deary.” Simone unblushingly answered. “Let me get down to the… biter herbs, my sweet. I know why you’re here…” She whispered the words, softly, yet domineeringly into Camille’s ears. “No amount of fervent teaching is going to save your little village from all the… unpleasantness befalling it.” Simone pulled her head away to look Camille directly in the eyes, and gave a long, taunting smile, her eyes narrowing in a certain smugness. “But… a bit of… sacrifice might.”
Camille squirmed slightly. She’d had her suspicions the moment she entered, but it would have been unbecoming, rude, and ungodly even to accuse, and judge someone simply because they were… different. Now, she knew exactly what had happened. “Y-you’ve cursed this town.” she finally observed, speaking English so as not to frighten any of the patrons. At least… not any more than they already were…
Simone’s smile only grew more pronounced, and more malicious. “Bravo, my sweet, innocent darling~ You’ve figured me all out. It only took a few blatant hints for me to drop.” She chuckled. “Now the question is… What will you do about it, deary?”
“Wh-why would you do such a thing?”
Simone tilted her head and looked upwards, as if in thought. “Hmm… Boredom, tradition, sadism.” She then looked back into Camille’s eyes, smiling cruelly once more. “Hunger… I have a veritable cornucopia of reasons hon.” That word ‘hon’ was honeyed with the most disrespectful lust anyone could possibly give to a nun. “And if you want this to stop, you’ll meet me at… Hrm… How about the little cave just outside your town along the beach hmm?” She paused, if only for dramatic effect. “And I do mean you, specifically, deary. I was going to offer a quaint little room in the inn, but I think I’ve had enough of city life for the day. I much prefer the solitude of a little shack or cave to mortal lodgings… I’ve found. I honestly don't know what I was thinking.” She then gave a slight, concessionary shrug. “What can I say? As I already mentioned, I'm a traditional girl~”
Camille pondered this for a moment, but before she could continue the conversation, Simone had sidestepped around her and skipped backwards through the doors, snapping her fingers to close them without another word.
—
Once back in the familiar cool dampness of the little cavern, all Simone had to do was wait. Though the location muffled out the vast majority of the noise, the bubbling violet brew in her cauldron told her that her little curse was still in full effect. Quaint marriages would be divorcing. Old buildings would be failing. It did her moldy heart good to think of all the chaos she'd wrought.
Time passed, and for a brief passage Simone began to fear that her threat had fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps the church thought they could end the curse elsewise. Perhaps the maiden was simply too afraid.
Just as Simone began to ponder adding a bit of frenzy to the hex however, she noticed a certain… shapely shadow darken her little stone room. A quick glance opposite its direction showed that there stood her quarry, still clad in holy, modest robes. They'd have to change that, but there was plenty of time, and Simone did enjoy playing with her food…
“So enters the nun, into my new lair. So begins my fun, so brave that she'd dare.” Simone shook her head. That… wasn't her best work, but nothing could hamper her good mood right now.
“Y-you swear on your honor witch… That you'll drop the curse now?” asked the sister in meek, timid tone.
Simone raised an eyebrow, though she never once dropped her smile. “Dear, I'm a witch. Honor is beneath me.” She then shifted behind Camille, rubbing her shoulders softly. “But if I don't fulfill my promises, then people would know not to give in to my demands, wouldn't they?” Her sharp tongue flitted out to taste the woman's cheek. “I'll remove the hex, dear, and I'll have you, for the rest of your life…” She thought for a moment before continuing. “Which might not be for much longer, but still.”
With that, Simone shoved Camille forward, sending her stumbling into the rocky wall ahead, then produced a small ball of incense from behind her back. With a loud plop, she dropped the ball into her cauldron. Instantly the mixture began to fizzle and foam angrily, almost like an animal in its death throes. Then, in a final gasp, a cloud of purple smoke erupted, before it all went utterly still.
Camille laboredly took in a deep, steeling breath. “Then… what is it you wanted from me?” The woman wasn't sure what she expected, in actuality, but she was certain that her stoic virtue would carry her through.
Simone gave a familiar, impish smile at the question. She was quite familiar with rooted, self-righteous types like this, even though they were a rare treat. There was always a secret button left unguarded. One even they were likely unaware of. With a bit of prodding… A few, exploratory pushes… She could always find and exploit it, making them betray their holiness.
“First…” the witch began. “An assurance that you won't leave.” She circled around the nun like a snake coiling about its prey, then patronizingly pinched her cheek. “You're smart enough to know dear, that if you attempt to flee, there's little to stop me just making another, much worse brew, yes? Good…” The green woman's lips then moved to whisper once again into Camille’s ear. “Then we'll start with your clothes, hmm? No buts, I want you to discard them on your own…”
Camille stiffened up, equally in response to the domineeringly sensual tone taken by the witch as to the command. Had this been any drunkard or common sinner on the streets, she would have been perfectly within her rights to slap them into next Sunday. Simone, however, very much had authority over her right now. She closed her eyes, telling herself this was a personal sacrifice. One she'd be rewarded for later. For now, she could endure it.
Lifting her hands up, slowly, as if they were heavy with shame, Camille first removed her habit, revealing her beautiful, earthen brown hair, currently pulled into a tight, flat bun. It was surprisingly well cared for, judging from its healthy sheen. Despite the fact that she was probably the only person who'd seen it for years.
Simone's grin continued. That was clue number one. She took some amount of pride in her appearance and health. The nun had a bit of an ego, it seemed…
“Put your hair down, deary.” commanded the witch. “I won't abide any modesty.”
“Wretched pervert…” Camille muttered under her breath, before reaching back to pull out the pins that kept her locks in place. Just like that, her auburn hair fell to just below her shoulders.
Simone only nodded in approval. She'd heard the remark, though it didn't bother her one iota. The woman was right after all. She was a pervert, and she was proud of it. “The robes next. Chop chop.”
Camille sighed heavily, before pulling her arms inside the long sleeves that covered them.
“And while you're in there, the undergarments as well.” Simone's instructions were like little pebbles tossed. “I'm not feeling terribly patient today~” In all honesty, she adored a long, bitter striptease, but she was also fond of not allowing her prey a moment to find an emotional balance.
A slight whimper parted Camille’s lips. The pressure and realization of what she was doing hit her hard in that moment. Still, she obeyed, still under cover of her robes, she unbuttoned her blouse, slid her tights down, and finally unstrapped her extra large bra. In a single, fluid, albeit slow motion, all of the above dropped gracefully to the floor, leaving only her frilled, black panties over her unused womanhood…
Simone shook her head at this. “I'd thought it was clear that I meant everything, my disobedient flower.” She sighed dramatically. “Tsk tsk. Well, don't trouble yourself over it now. Allow me~”
Before Camille could even think, the witch leaned forward to forcefully tug at the last vestige of decency, then lifted one of the nun's scandalously exposed ankles to retrieve it. This, naturally, left the holy woman utterly nude to be examined…
The nun really was every bit the catch Simone had hoped for. She sported a proud bust that any lewd actress would have killed to have, and for a virgin, Camille had delectably wide, berthing hips that could have easily bore triplets. Just above her legs was a completely untouched patch of chestnut pubic hair that would have to go. It wouldn't do to have strands of that in her favorite cut, when the time came. Finally, Camille’s naturally hourglass shape caused the tiny bit of pudge she had on her waist to be rather adorably fetching. Perfect~ Just a little bit of marbling like that made for Simone's favorite type of meat.
The predator’s motions were almost disturbingly fluid and serpentlike as she proceeded to circle Camille, drinking in her form. “You know, deary, I dare say you're in the wrong line of work.” she contemplated aloud. “Churchlife is… such a waste of a body like yours.” With that, she leaned her head over Camille’s shoulder to once again Whisper harshly in her ear. The intense, breathy way she spoke was very nearly overwhelming to the girl. “Not that I'm complaining… I particularly enjoy breaking sweet, innocent things like you.”
Camille gave every effort to remain strong, but her facade cracked a little more with every word. “D-do whatever you wish to me… but please… spare the people of my town…”
“Oh don't be such a stiff, dear.” Simone scoffed, pulling her head back. “Seems I have my work cut out for me.” The witch completed her lap, coming back around to look her prey in the eyes. “But never let it be said of me that I turned down a challenge. Shall we?”
The question, of course, was entirely rhetorical. Camille once again barely had time to process what was said before, with a snap of her fingers, Camille sent her flying against the wall with her ankles and wrists pulled into magical shackles.
“Whoever said one shouldn't play with their food was a fool. It's half the fun~” said the witch. She slowly sauntered up to the girl, now pulled into a helpless X pose. “Now. How to begin?”
“F-food?!” Camilles's eyes widened. “Wh-what do you mea… Mmph!”
Simone didn't even bother to look her in the eyes this time. With another snap, a violet, ethereal gag slithered over Camille’s mouth, leaving her only capable of a few simple grunts. Simone then ran her hands over Camille’s sides, seemingly mapping out her ridiculously perfect curvature by touch.
“Such wide hips~” observed the witch. “Perfect for filling with a good amount of stuffing.” she mused. “And if I'm right… you'd quite enjoy that part, were I using such a recipe, but I think it's most important that we preserve your… pureness.”
Camille wasn't sure if she should feel thankful or insulted by that.
Simone then paused. It was easily evident that some welcome intrusive thought had jumped into her head. In one moment, she was standing there, smiling evilly to herself. In the next, she reached up to harshly pinch Camille's nipple, then twist it to one side. “And I'm never wrong, deary.”
“MNNNNGH!” Even gagged, Camille's cry of pain could be easily heard by anyone just outside the cave. To say that hurt her inexperienced body would have been an understatement. She felt the sensation rush through her whole side like an electric shock…
Why then, did she… want more? Why was her initial reaction disappointment when it was over just as soon as it started? Something was very wrong. Had the witch… enchanted her?
“Feels strange, doesn't it dear?” Simone placed her hands behind her back and playfully stepped from side to side. “Are you curious for more?” She then cupped her hands in front of her and breathed into them. Just like that, a softly glowing flame, like that of a candle grew in her hands.
“Mmmph!” The next thing Camille knew, Simone was callously holding the flame up to her crotch, searing her unshorn bush and smiling while she did so. The heat was very nearly unbearable and yet… she found herself leaning forward into the little yellow light, as much as her bindings allowed. One by one, those numerous short hairs singed away in a stinging sensation that was positively exciting for her in a bizarre way.
“I find innocent flowers like you tend to be positively corrupt with long repressed desires.” Simone explained. She then waved her hands to fan the embers in them away. “You think abstinence makes you more holy, but all it does is age your untasted sexuality like a fine wine~” Simone then proceeded to give a hearty slap to the the side of the nun's ass, pulling another grunt from the girl. “Camille, my dear. You're nothing short of a closeted masochist~”
Camille's eyes narrowed at the accusation. How dare this witch accuse her of such a deviant fantasy? What she was doing here was nothing short of… a personal sacrifice! Right?
Simone didn't need the nun to say anything. She could practically sense Camille's thoughts just from her actions. That angry indignance dissolved instantly like cotton candy in a river, the moment the witch mirrored that spanking with another on the other side. The witch really did love this part…
“Mnnngh! Mhhh… mhhh…” Camille’s had drooped as she fell further into the witch's stimulation. This was… unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of.
“Tsk, tsk…” Simone feigned judgement as she shook her head. “How sinful, to rendezvous with a sorceress in this hidden place, just to fulfill a dirty fantasy.”
Initially, Camille furrowed her brow as though she wanted to give a stern lecture, not that she could manage a word, magically silenced as she was. It only took several seconds for her to lose that righteous fury however. When Simone responded by playfully stepping back, taking her body and stimulation away, that face quickly transitioned to a pleading pout.
“Oh my. Deary, am I not playing into your heroic script anymore?” The witch gave her own false pout. “I could make you beg for it, but I think it's more fun to play this game after all.”
At that, Simone bent a finger inward, with her palm upturned in a “come hither” motion. Before Camille even knew what was happening, her restraints gently flew from the walls, carrying her forward until she was once again in Simone's reach. “Now, let's not forget all the dining essentials.” The witch bent forward, digging something out of an old fashioned looking leather backpack.
”Let's see here. Some oil… my favorite herb mixture… and… Where is it?”
Camille couldn't help but watch in guilty fascination as her captor's black dress tightened against her rear. Stretched and bent over as Simone was, how could she focus on anything else in the room? Truly this woman was a terrible witch, placing such sinful thoughts in her mind… It was only partway through these thoughts that Camille really considered what she was saying. Oil? Herbs? It sounded like she was putting together a recipe, rather than more, simple torment. That food statement earlier wasn’t just poetry… She wasn't… really going to…
“Ah! Here we are. Venezuelan ghost salts, for that recharging magical aftertaste.” With that, Simone shot back up, swung around, and reached forward to pinch Camille's nipple once more, rather enjoying the adorable squeak that followed. “Such a dreadfully bright day, but that does mean it's perfect for a bit of outdoor cooking. Don't you think dear?”
Simone then proceeded back towards the mouth of the cave, with the bound nun gingerly hovering just behind her. Camille couldn't help but wonder where they were going now, as the magical bindings shifted her hands behind her back, and her feet back against her thighs.. Why had Simone even made her come to the cave if… Just then the woman's eyes widened in realization. Was she… doing this to humiliate her? To publicly make a display of how she'd been conquered?
The rocky outcropping of the cave gave way to the soft sands of the beach. Camille hadn't been prepared for the sensation of the warm sun contrasting with the cool breeze on her bare flesh. It was positively overwhelming to a woman of the cloth such as herself, but Simone was far from done. The trek soon took her up a dusty path, and finally back to the lazy fields just outside the town. Not quite within easy viewing distance of the folk, but just close enough that the threat of one of them wandering up to see was very real.
This, of course, resulted in a near constant embarrassed anxiety for Camille. Something the wicked Simone was well aware of. She'd continue to push the boundaries of her prey's sensual limits, and be sure to stop just at their border, leaving the nun confused, miserable, and yet also aroused at the same time. The cocktail of emotions and the mark it left on the soul was…absolutely gourmet.
“Yes, I think this will be ideal for a picnic~ Don't you think so deary?” Simone asked rhetorically. “So scenic~” She waited for a moment, then took a deep breath. “And we wouldn't want to suffer from smoke inhalation, as quaint as that little cave was, would we?”
Camille felt something twist in her stomach. A picnic? More evidence of the witch’s cannibalistic intent… Deep down she never doubted it. Witches weren't exactly known for having banal appetites.
“Let's see… I know I saw one around here somewhere…” Simone's casual demeanor stung Camille like a whip's lash. “Ah! There we are!”
Camille felt herself dragged along as Simone approached a large public grill, the ashes of its previous use still blowing out in the wind. It seemed a bit… mundane a place for a witch, Camille thought, but maybe that was the intent. Maybe Simone was enjoying making her sacrifice this… casual.
“Oh bother and doldrums… I forgot my griddle!” Simone theatrically snapped her fingers in frustration. “I swear deary, if my head wasn't attached to my shoulders, I'd lose it as well.”
Camille was far too busy with her own rising panic to respond to her captor's goading insouciance. Whatever the witch was going to do, it was going to happen soon. She'd been building up this little act for so long, it was due for its climax.
“Oh I've already used so much magical energy in all this I just hate to perform another summon but…” Simone once again placed a finger to her chin as she thought. “Oh Azazel damn it. I'm on vacation. Why not?” She then added, smirking in Camille's direction.
Before Camille could so much as grunt in reply, Simone had already begun chanting something in an unholy tongue. Once again, a red wound opened up in the earth, and a massive heap of iron slowly lifted from the burning hole. There was a twist in Camille's stomach, which became a full fledged knot at the unholy display, and it only tightened all the more when Simone directed the pan onto the grill. In an instant, the portal sewed itself shut, and Simone was blowing a few candle embers into the it all to get it started.
“Now then. Are you ready? My pretty piggy?”
Camille simply shook her head. Very nearly the only option her magical bindings afforded her. Not that her response mattered in the slightest. With a now familiar beckoning gesture, the witch directed the bindings to carry Camile over to her waiting hands.
The moment she landed in Simone's waiting arms, the distinct magical glow of her ropes faded, resulting in what both looked, and felt like simple, thick cooking twine, still holding her in the same disgraceful pose. Simone was… surprisingly strong. Plenty capable enough to hold her adult prey in both hands without even flinching. Whether it was magic or… that witches were more capable than humans didn't matter. Understandably, Camille had other concerns at the front of her mind. She couldn't hide in denial any longer. The witch really was going to cook… and devour her like some common sow…
“Whew… That took a bit more out of me than I expected.” Simone gently peeled the lingering magical gag off of Camille's lips. “But we're finally ready for the big event! Aren't you excited, dear?” The witch let out a hearty, mocking laugh after asking. She knew very well what was going through poor Camille’s mind.
The nun couldn't even speak, initially, despite her mouth being free. There was a lingering warmth as Simone held her so close to everything, and Camille was certain that the witch was drawing out every moment as long as she possibly could. Still, even from this distance Camille could tell that the heat wasn't from the grill just yet. It was a lingering magical energy from the place it had spawned from.
“W-wait!” After some time the word threw itself from her mouth. Every inch that Simone took forward made the heat feel all the more real. “You're… really going to… eat me?!”
Simone frowned for a bit. “Dear… you wound me.” She said with thick, faux empathy. “What do you take me for? A troll?”
For the tiniest fraction of a second, Camille felt a drop off relief, but it was all shattered when the witch spoke again.
“I always cook my food before eating it, like a civilized person.” With that, she proved her strength once more, hefting Camille to one side and freeing up a hand. She then proceeded to reach for the oil she'd grabbed earlier, and draw little, decorative swirls into the pan with it.
Camile could only watch, wide eyed, as the cannibalistic sorceress next sprinkled her herbs, and the beloved occult salts into the quickly sizzling mix. She had to admit that some part of her enjoyed the little flame at her groin before but this? This was too much… “Please… no…” The short little prayer was barely audible to anyone but herself.
“And now~” Simone was practically singing as she spoke. “Time for the main ingredient~” With just as little effort as the last time, she once more shifted Camille to both hands, and held her ominously over the cackling cookware. “Mhhh… Oh yes… One pan roasted, plump and succulent piece of meat~” The witch had dropped all pretense now. Speaking like a starving animal getting its first food in weeks.
Camile too was rapidly losing her mask. Simone could feel the nun’s heart begin to beat at an increased pace. Tauntingly, the witch held her prey just over the pan for several long fretful seconds. Letting her feel the droplets of sizzling oil as the pan picked up heat. Letting her experience every spatter and further driving home exactly how hopeless her situation was. It was working. Camille’s front of bold sacrifice was giving way to a much more basic reaction. She was only human, after all. Delicious, virginal human. Sprinkle a bit of fear, and a touch of arousal in it all, and there was nothing quite like it.
Slowly, the girl began to twitch and squirm in Simone’s grip. Soft, pathetic little whimpers parted her untouched lips, and before she knew it, something had snapped.“N-n-noooooo!” Now, she was given to an unavoidable primal fear. “Please! At least chop my head off! I-I don't want to cook alive!”
Naturally, the witch had no such mercy. Satisfied now that her meal had run the full gauntlet of emotions, she simply plopped Camille onto the searing metal, smiling gleefully as she instantly began to buck and squirm.
“GYAAAHHH! I-It’s so hot!” The poor thing instantly began sobbing. “Please! Kill me first! I can’t take it!”
“Oh stop thrashing…” Simone said in the tone of someone who was scolding a child. I need you to cook evenly. Wouldn’t you feel horrible if your death was all for naught because you got burnt on one side and undercooked on another? Humans these days… I swear.”
“B-but it hurts! I can’t take it!”
“Frankly, deary, I don’t care how painful it is. Your flavor is all I’m concerned with.” Simone reached for her salt-shaker, and dabbed a generous amount on the frying nun’s tits. “Now, be a good piece of meat for aunty Simone, and try your best to be delicious. If we had time to develop your little bit of curious masochism, you might have even enjoyed this. Alas, I’m quite peckish right now.”
Despite Simone’s stern insistence, Camille was utterly writhing about in the throes of painful panic. How could any of God’s creatures be this horrible? This sadistic? If she arched her spine, her rear and shoulders were given to scalding pain, and if she relaxed it, the small of her back took the brunt of it all instead. There was no comfortable position. Not an ounce of relief to be found. It was utter agony, and yet… her sinful, most carnal body part felt a very different kind of tingling. “No… No! NO!” The witch couldn’t be right! She wasn’t some pervert! Not like this! Truly, she did want to survive, but this pain. As much as she wished for it to end… It was… thrilling, if nothing else. More exciting than anything she’d ever done in a library. More… real.
—
Camille wasn't sure how much time had passed. She knew that her entire backside had finally… blessedly gone mostly numb to the heat. All that remained was a dull warm aching sensation, which was almost nice after all that searing pain. “Please… make it stop…” Her plea was directed both in Simone's direction, and God's.
Simone was the first to answer. “I'm afraid I can't do that, deary.” She stepped forward, grinning like a cat. Then used a massive wooden spoon she'd conjured some time ago to slide her over towards the fresh oil she'd just poured. “You're only about halfway done you see, and after spending so much magic in all this, I've just got to restore my strength with a nutritious meal.” She cocked her hips to one side, somewhat seductively. “And sweetheart. You look absolutely scrumptious.”
There was a long pause before Simone spoke again. “But you know… I know how to make you look even better~” She then produced a large, bright red tomato. “These things just grow wild around here. Did you know that? Anyway…” She then slid the fruit carefully between Camille's lips. “You'll look so tasty with this in your mouth. Don't you think? It's a traditional garnish after all~”
Briefly, Camille considered biting down hard on the soft fruit. That was what she thought of the witch's “tradition”. In the end, however, she decided that resistance wouldn't get her anywhere. She was doing this for her village… For a short while, she stared at the tomato, a symbol of her conversion to nothing but meat, then simply leaned her head back.
“Oh, don't get comfy, my dear. I figure it's just about time to cook your other side. Don't you?”
Camille braced herself for a new bout of intense heat, as Simone used her large spoon as something of a spatula. Lifting Camille only to drop her back down onto her enormous breasts, to the renewed, loud sound of meat sizzling. Much like before, her initial reaction was to flail about wildly, letting her boobs flap and squash around on the metal surface. This time however, she lost her energy much faster than before, and could only lay there, reduced to little more than bacon over fire…
“Oooohhh! Such a perfect golden brown! I'm a queen at this, if I do say so myself~”
Camille didn't bother herself with considering the witch's self praise. All she knew was that she was in pain. It was wretched, and… delightful. Instinctively she proceeded to press her crotch hard into the pan, both craving more stimulation, and wanting it to end. She was left, absently wondering how she'd remained alive all this time. Even as Simone poured an inordinate amount of rice and stock into the pan beside her, she couldn't muster the effort to react any more. It didn’t matter where she’d gotten it all. What mattered was that the end was getting closer, and closer.
“With all this, I bet you'll be wrapped up in about half an hour, sweety.”
Camille groaned weakly. Half an hour? She could only hope she wouldn't last even that long, as well as hoping she would be enough as Simon's meal…
—
In time, Even Camille’s shallow breathing came to a gradual stop. The little motions she'd made to attempt to find some semblance of comfort grew still, and the only sounds that came from her were the satisfying sizzling and popping noises of her marbled meat, crackling in the pan. For the nun, it was no doubt a blessing that her torments were finally over. For Simone, however, it was a sign that dinner was almost ready.
It only took a few seconds to rifle through her pouch for her set of carving utensils. A knife and fork she'd obtained in San Angelo from a lovely would-be witch. The gullible dear had been told that if she allowed Simone to eat her, she'd be reborn as one of the magical folk. Utter hogwash of course, but the gothic dear did have a lovely, somewhat gamey flavor, and her utensils were absolutely top notch. It didn't take a TV chef to sell it to her. Already a great deal on its own. One young meal, and carving equipment all for the low, low price of… free!
When she was certain her latest catch was finally done, following a few more flips for good measure, Simone flicked her wrist at the flames underneath the pan, as if commanding them to begone. The flickering heat obediently snuffed itself out, and then came the most agonizing part of the process. That was… waiting for the food to cool down while being assaulted by its mouthwatering scent. Of course, Simone might have cast a little something to speed up the process, but she'd learned that one simply couldn't rush art if they wanted the best possible product. Camille could use a bit longer to finish cooking on the inside, and Simone decided to rest, for the first real time since she'd been on that boring boat.
Europe really did have lovely countryside, she was loathe to admit, but she did miss her isolated forest cabin already. She'd have to be certain to hex that sweet librarian girl again when she got back. The two had a bit of a repoire. Flustered as the little thing got, she enjoyed the magical attention, and Simone loved teasing her constantly, threatening to snatch her up from her room one day for a bit of bookworm stew.
Finally, after some time, the sizzling noises had completely stopped, which meant the sweet little pain slut of a nun was probably safe to eat~ Somewhat impatiently, the witch used the carving knife to slice through the twine that bound one of Camille's shapely legs. She then, somewhat indelicately, proceeded to slice through just above the girl's knee. With a single, satisfying tug, she managed to wrest the drumstick free after that, before taking a generous bite. It was… heavenly, or hellfully, or both, given its source, and its cook. A delightful savory longpig, seasoned to perfection after marinating the soul in a razor's edge balance of fear and sexual rousing.
Though Simone initially told herself that she'd save them for last, after all this play she just couldn't wait any longer. With a few swift slices, one of poor Camille’s considerable breasts was severed, and ready to be nibbled on. The fatty tissue instantly melted in her mouth, and was an excellent compliment to the more meaty bits of her leg.
Had the nun still been alive, she wouldn't be for much longer. Simone's next step was to sever that pretty little head, complete with its carefully maintained hair, to set beside herself as she ate. Truthfully this accomplished nothing, but Simone liked to think of it as one final degradation. Removing the thing that most made her appear… human. It was simple… but delightful.
Camille's well rounded backside was next on the witch's menu. She made a point of slicing off thin little cuts, dangling each one playfully over her mouth before folding the whole piece into her. Once again, Simone was struck with just how perfect the young nun's body would have been for… a certain industry, if her life had gone down a different path…
Not that she was complaining.The old witch’s wisdom was true. Virgins really did taste the absolute best. That added magical taste of aching desire in Camille's dainty flower was absolutely exquisite. Simone had taken extra care in carving it out. Even for an impish woman like her there were some things that one just didn’t make light of. There was only one such cut on each longpig. She let the taste linger on her tongue for some time, only chewing now and again to let a new burst of flavor out, before finally swallowing. She was… an artist, if she did say so herself~
Simone allowed herself some time to eat her fill, before storing the leftovers for the next few days. After all, there were still a number of countries and cultures to visit here. Even on vacation, she was a busy witch~
Simone stared wistfully over the railing of the cruise ship, watching azure waves crash against the not-so-distant shore ahead. The emerald skinned witch might have been a woman-eater, and cruel hex caster, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t appreciate beauty. Indeed, beauty was one of the biggest driving forces behind her cannibalism. With any luck, within a few short days she’d be enjoying a succulent Spanish maiden on the gorgeous Arenas Doradas beach. It was only a matter of time and effort now.
The ship and its crew took their time docking, and relaying to the local authorities the information on all the guests that were being temporarily released into the coast. Simone couldn’t help but grow a bit restless. Still, it gave her the time to exchange her poison violet swimsuit for her more traditional witch’s hat and dress. The black was slimming, not that she needed it really. As much as she loved good meat she also liked to keep in shape, which was more than half of her coven could say. What was more, the customary attire advertised her magical heritage to any and all nearby. Some might have scolded her for being so flagrant, especially on vacation, but what could she say? She just loved her culture, and honestly, she was never one to care about what others thought…
It took some hours but, just in time for the sun to begin setting over Portugal to the southwest, Simone was finally back on land after days of the first half of her cruise. She didn’t mind the waning light really. She was, after all, a creature of the night, of a sort at any rate. What she did mind however, was that she needed to catch a cab this late in the day to her real destination. Arenas Doradas was a beautiful resort, but if she was going to have a meal to remember this trip by, she’d need to travel a bit further. She wanted a real local delicacy. Not the kind of schlock one might find at a tourist trap. The village of Anamas would likely be an excellent hunting ground. She just needed to get there. Certainly she could have flown, air broomstick, but the point of all this was to see (and taste) the local color. She didn't threaten the captain with an iceberg curse to be let on for nothing.
However, when the cab finally did arrive, some thirty minutes later than reported, she found herself more than a little irked. The young driver had a careless attitude to match his lack of professionalism, and Simone made sure to quietly cast a delayed incantation that would hopefully remind the cabbie never to disappoint a witch again. The next morning he’d find his manhood missing, replaced with a pair of… lower lips his girlfriend would likely be jealous of, as well as a plump pair of breasts that would probably delight some local witch with a pleasant, self-basting dinner some day. All in all, Simone was quite unimpressed with mortal transportation, and definitely with mortal crowds. There was a reason she typically liked to remain in her cabin, she was rediscovering… For now though, she needed to find a place to spend the night. She could do her hunting the next day.
After a bit of walking, and scouting out the few options that were present, it was at a lovely, quaint little place called El Posada de los Santos that she caught the delicate scent of her next prey. There were simply some times that a witch knew what she wanted without even having to see it, and this was one such occasion. A soul that smelled kind, innocent, and to top it all off, devout, had passed by the inn’s lobby some few hours ago. It was always a delight to corrupt these individuals in one way or another, or just to abuse their naivete. Tomorrow, Simone would have to find the right buttons to push, to somehow get this sweet thing on her plate. It would be an excellent highpoint to her vacation…
—
The next morning, the witch was quick to get to work. From the scent of that soul, this poor woman was delectably untouched. Her sweet nature would be easy to exploit, all the witch needed to do was make herself known really.
Just outside of town, far enough away from the road, in a small little cave near the lazy beach waves, Simone summoned her favorite cauldron from the pocket dimension she frequently stored her favorite implements in. There was a heavy scent of sulfur in the air, as the cast iron vessel hopped up from a hole in the ground. One that made the witch somewhat nostalgic for home, in a strange way. Nonetheless, she was quick to get to work. Finding the right alchemical ingredients in an unfamiliar land might have been difficult for a novice, but Simone had years of practice and familiarity under her belt. Sure, the sagging, depressed gungeflower, and its melancholy magical pollen was nowhere to be found here, but by combining the pallid European frog’s toothpick herb with the moderately rare green toadstool, she could produce a similar enough effect. Add to it the dash of snake sweat that she always carried with her, and a bit of her own hair, and she could produce a fast acting bad luck brew to curse the town with.
Within hours, she could already hear the first fender bender in the nearest intersection. If she’d managed her mixture perfectly, this wouldn’t be a simple case of exchanging insurance information… To her delight, a few panicked words very quickly devolved into angry accusations, and to top it all off, a minor scuffle, as thought the men involved had just emerged from the tavern. Delicious~
Shortly after, this was all followed up with a discovered leakage in the town’s water supply, and a brief blackout when said water shorted a central conduit. Sometimes, Simone amazed herself. No-one could manage a hex quite as efficiently as she could. For now, she’d simply find a local place to haunt, making herself known, until the local congregation decided to get involved. Taverns were horrible dens of iniquity, where unsavory sorts gathered and generally made nuisances of themselves. It would be perfect for her, and be an excellent place to increase her visibility, making it easy for her prey to find her~
—
Fortunately, for the typically antisocial witch, she didn't need to wait for long. Before even two rounds had been passed around, there was word of the town's old church steeple collapsing. Bad luck, of course, regarding a hairline fracture in one of the supports, which had gone unnoticed for years. That was the final straw. Immediately after, there were priests, parishioners, and sisters galore in the streets. They were quick to call the town to repentance of course, but also to warn that an evil air might be vexing the city.
The tavern, naturally, was one of the first places to be put under the holy assault, and to Simone's great pleasure, one particularly voluptuous nun arrived shortly after everything had begun. Despite her best efforts, the woman's attempts to preserve modesty by wearing a habit two sizes too big, somehow only called attention to her sinful shape all the more. Of course… Simone didn't make matters any better. With a twirl of her fingers, and a hastily muttered magical word, a sudden gust of wind pushed in from the outside, circling the holy woman and causing her loose fabrics to push in against her curvaceous form. Yes… this was the one~
No sooner had the sister even entered still fluffing out her, than Simone was immediately at her side, smiling maliciously. “What brings a woman of the cloth here? Here to this room of violence and beer?” The witch chuckled to herself. There was really no need to put on the rhyming theatrics, but she enjoyed the way it tended to put people off. “The town must be in quite a state. For you to preach in a place you hate.”
The poor nun's face contorted into an uncomfortable, almost fearful wince. “Th-the Lord's love extends t-to all.” she insisted, struggling to keep her composure under Simone's unapologetically predatory gaze. She had a perfect, charming accent. It was clear that she wasn’t the most confident with English, but nonetheless she was able to speak it and be easily understood, in response to Simone’s. “A… little wine is good for the soul… Some argue…”
“Wine for the soul for some, you say?” Simone put a finger to her chin as though deep in thought. “So progressive, if the church is this way. Tell me dear, if you'll enter this bay. Would you imbibe with us, this day?”
Before the woman could even give a gesture of answer, Simone gave a flick of her wrist, and suddenly a glass mug from a nearby table was enveloped in a thick purple mist. As if lifted by a ghost, it then flew slowly into the air, making its way to the witch's beckoning hand. The amber drink inside always threatened to spill over the sides as it tipped this way and that, but Simone's control was well practiced. In the end, barely a bubble of froth was missing, as she grabbed the mug, and offered it to the now shivering nun.
“I… What?” The holy woman seemed more confused than taken aback, at least in that moment. Simone’s intense forwardness was so brazen. So aggressive that she didn’t even comprehend what the witch was going at.
This, of course, didn’t deter Simone in the slightest. With a snap of her fingers, the mug dropped unceremoniously onto the nearest table. For all the effort not to spill it a moment ago, this was enough to leave beer splashing all over. In truth, it wasn’t about the beverage at all. It was about the showmanship of it all.
“You got a name, sweetheart?” The witch asked, dropping her rhyming scheme for a more… sensual tone. She then reached up to softly, violatingly, caress the nun’s cheek.
“Y-you may call me… Sister Camille will do, a-and I’m going to need to ask you to stop… touching me…” The woman wanted to bristle, but she couldn’t manage even to look at Simone while she spoke. She wasn’t sure if it was fear or… something else. No matter how offended she wanted to sound… she couldn’t help but give the supernatural woman a sort of respect.
“I’m going to have to decline, deary.” Simone unblushingly answered. “Let me get down to the… biter herbs, my sweet. I know why you’re here…” She whispered the words, softly, yet domineeringly into Camille’s ears. “No amount of fervent teaching is going to save your little village from all the… unpleasantness befalling it.” Simone pulled her head away to look Camille directly in the eyes, and gave a long, taunting smile, her eyes narrowing in a certain smugness. “But… a bit of… sacrifice might.”
Camille squirmed slightly. She’d had her suspicions the moment she entered, but it would have been unbecoming, rude, and ungodly even to accuse, and judge someone simply because they were… different. Now, she knew exactly what had happened. “Y-you’ve cursed this town.” she finally observed, speaking English so as not to frighten any of the patrons. At least… not any more than they already were…
Simone’s smile only grew more pronounced, and more malicious. “Bravo, my sweet, innocent darling~ You’ve figured me all out. It only took a few blatant hints for me to drop.” She chuckled. “Now the question is… What will you do about it, deary?”
“Wh-why would you do such a thing?”
Simone tilted her head and looked upwards, as if in thought. “Hmm… Boredom, tradition, sadism.” She then looked back into Camille’s eyes, smiling cruelly once more. “Hunger… I have a veritable cornucopia of reasons hon.” That word ‘hon’ was honeyed with the most disrespectful lust anyone could possibly give to a nun. “And if you want this to stop, you’ll meet me at… Hrm… How about the little cave just outside your town along the beach hmm?” She paused, if only for dramatic effect. “And I do mean you, specifically, deary. I was going to offer a quaint little room in the inn, but I think I’ve had enough of city life for the day. I much prefer the solitude of a little shack or cave to mortal lodgings… I’ve found. I honestly don't know what I was thinking.” She then gave a slight, concessionary shrug. “What can I say? As I already mentioned, I'm a traditional girl~”
Camille pondered this for a moment, but before she could continue the conversation, Simone had sidestepped around her and skipped backwards through the doors, snapping her fingers to close them without another word.
—
Once back in the familiar cool dampness of the little cavern, all Simone had to do was wait. Though the location muffled out the vast majority of the noise, the bubbling violet brew in her cauldron told her that her little curse was still in full effect. Quaint marriages would be divorcing. Old buildings would be failing. It did her moldy heart good to think of all the chaos she'd wrought.
Time passed, and for a brief passage Simone began to fear that her threat had fallen on deaf ears. Perhaps the church thought they could end the curse elsewise. Perhaps the maiden was simply too afraid.
Just as Simone began to ponder adding a bit of frenzy to the hex however, she noticed a certain… shapely shadow darken her little stone room. A quick glance opposite its direction showed that there stood her quarry, still clad in holy, modest robes. They'd have to change that, but there was plenty of time, and Simone did enjoy playing with her food…
“So enters the nun, into my new lair. So begins my fun, so brave that she'd dare.” Simone shook her head. That… wasn't her best work, but nothing could hamper her good mood right now.
“Y-you swear on your honor witch… That you'll drop the curse now?” asked the sister in meek, timid tone.
Simone raised an eyebrow, though she never once dropped her smile. “Dear, I'm a witch. Honor is beneath me.” She then shifted behind Camille, rubbing her shoulders softly. “But if I don't fulfill my promises, then people would know not to give in to my demands, wouldn't they?” Her sharp tongue flitted out to taste the woman's cheek. “I'll remove the hex, dear, and I'll have you, for the rest of your life…” She thought for a moment before continuing. “Which might not be for much longer, but still.”
With that, Simone shoved Camille forward, sending her stumbling into the rocky wall ahead, then produced a small ball of incense from behind her back. With a loud plop, she dropped the ball into her cauldron. Instantly the mixture began to fizzle and foam angrily, almost like an animal in its death throes. Then, in a final gasp, a cloud of purple smoke erupted, before it all went utterly still.
Camille laboredly took in a deep, steeling breath. “Then… what is it you wanted from me?” The woman wasn't sure what she expected, in actuality, but she was certain that her stoic virtue would carry her through.
Simone gave a familiar, impish smile at the question. She was quite familiar with rooted, self-righteous types like this, even though they were a rare treat. There was always a secret button left unguarded. One even they were likely unaware of. With a bit of prodding… A few, exploratory pushes… She could always find and exploit it, making them betray their holiness.
“First…” the witch began. “An assurance that you won't leave.” She circled around the nun like a snake coiling about its prey, then patronizingly pinched her cheek. “You're smart enough to know dear, that if you attempt to flee, there's little to stop me just making another, much worse brew, yes? Good…” The green woman's lips then moved to whisper once again into Camille’s ear. “Then we'll start with your clothes, hmm? No buts, I want you to discard them on your own…”
Camille stiffened up, equally in response to the domineeringly sensual tone taken by the witch as to the command. Had this been any drunkard or common sinner on the streets, she would have been perfectly within her rights to slap them into next Sunday. Simone, however, very much had authority over her right now. She closed her eyes, telling herself this was a personal sacrifice. One she'd be rewarded for later. For now, she could endure it.
Lifting her hands up, slowly, as if they were heavy with shame, Camille first removed her habit, revealing her beautiful, earthen brown hair, currently pulled into a tight, flat bun. It was surprisingly well cared for, judging from its healthy sheen. Despite the fact that she was probably the only person who'd seen it for years.
Simone's grin continued. That was clue number one. She took some amount of pride in her appearance and health. The nun had a bit of an ego, it seemed…
“Put your hair down, deary.” commanded the witch. “I won't abide any modesty.”
“Wretched pervert…” Camille muttered under her breath, before reaching back to pull out the pins that kept her locks in place. Just like that, her auburn hair fell to just below her shoulders.
Simone only nodded in approval. She'd heard the remark, though it didn't bother her one iota. The woman was right after all. She was a pervert, and she was proud of it. “The robes next. Chop chop.”
Camille sighed heavily, before pulling her arms inside the long sleeves that covered them.
“And while you're in there, the undergarments as well.” Simone's instructions were like little pebbles tossed. “I'm not feeling terribly patient today~” In all honesty, she adored a long, bitter striptease, but she was also fond of not allowing her prey a moment to find an emotional balance.
A slight whimper parted Camille’s lips. The pressure and realization of what she was doing hit her hard in that moment. Still, she obeyed, still under cover of her robes, she unbuttoned her blouse, slid her tights down, and finally unstrapped her extra large bra. In a single, fluid, albeit slow motion, all of the above dropped gracefully to the floor, leaving only her frilled, black panties over her unused womanhood…
Simone shook her head at this. “I'd thought it was clear that I meant everything, my disobedient flower.” She sighed dramatically. “Tsk tsk. Well, don't trouble yourself over it now. Allow me~”
Before Camille could even think, the witch leaned forward to forcefully tug at the last vestige of decency, then lifted one of the nun's scandalously exposed ankles to retrieve it. This, naturally, left the holy woman utterly nude to be examined…
The nun really was every bit the catch Simone had hoped for. She sported a proud bust that any lewd actress would have killed to have, and for a virgin, Camille had delectably wide, berthing hips that could have easily bore triplets. Just above her legs was a completely untouched patch of chestnut pubic hair that would have to go. It wouldn't do to have strands of that in her favorite cut, when the time came. Finally, Camille’s naturally hourglass shape caused the tiny bit of pudge she had on her waist to be rather adorably fetching. Perfect~ Just a little bit of marbling like that made for Simone's favorite type of meat.
The predator’s motions were almost disturbingly fluid and serpentlike as she proceeded to circle Camille, drinking in her form. “You know, deary, I dare say you're in the wrong line of work.” she contemplated aloud. “Churchlife is… such a waste of a body like yours.” With that, she leaned her head over Camille’s shoulder to once again Whisper harshly in her ear. The intense, breathy way she spoke was very nearly overwhelming to the girl. “Not that I'm complaining… I particularly enjoy breaking sweet, innocent things like you.”
Camille gave every effort to remain strong, but her facade cracked a little more with every word. “D-do whatever you wish to me… but please… spare the people of my town…”
“Oh don't be such a stiff, dear.” Simone scoffed, pulling her head back. “Seems I have my work cut out for me.” The witch completed her lap, coming back around to look her prey in the eyes. “But never let it be said of me that I turned down a challenge. Shall we?”
The question, of course, was entirely rhetorical. Camille once again barely had time to process what was said before, with a snap of her fingers, Camille sent her flying against the wall with her ankles and wrists pulled into magical shackles.
“Whoever said one shouldn't play with their food was a fool. It's half the fun~” said the witch. She slowly sauntered up to the girl, now pulled into a helpless X pose. “Now. How to begin?”
“F-food?!” Camilles's eyes widened. “Wh-what do you mea… Mmph!”
Simone didn't even bother to look her in the eyes this time. With another snap, a violet, ethereal gag slithered over Camille’s mouth, leaving her only capable of a few simple grunts. Simone then ran her hands over Camille’s sides, seemingly mapping out her ridiculously perfect curvature by touch.
“Such wide hips~” observed the witch. “Perfect for filling with a good amount of stuffing.” she mused. “And if I'm right… you'd quite enjoy that part, were I using such a recipe, but I think it's most important that we preserve your… pureness.”
Camille wasn't sure if she should feel thankful or insulted by that.
Simone then paused. It was easily evident that some welcome intrusive thought had jumped into her head. In one moment, she was standing there, smiling evilly to herself. In the next, she reached up to harshly pinch Camille's nipple, then twist it to one side. “And I'm never wrong, deary.”
“MNNNNGH!” Even gagged, Camille's cry of pain could be easily heard by anyone just outside the cave. To say that hurt her inexperienced body would have been an understatement. She felt the sensation rush through her whole side like an electric shock…
Why then, did she… want more? Why was her initial reaction disappointment when it was over just as soon as it started? Something was very wrong. Had the witch… enchanted her?
“Feels strange, doesn't it dear?” Simone placed her hands behind her back and playfully stepped from side to side. “Are you curious for more?” She then cupped her hands in front of her and breathed into them. Just like that, a softly glowing flame, like that of a candle grew in her hands.
“Mmmph!” The next thing Camille knew, Simone was callously holding the flame up to her crotch, searing her unshorn bush and smiling while she did so. The heat was very nearly unbearable and yet… she found herself leaning forward into the little yellow light, as much as her bindings allowed. One by one, those numerous short hairs singed away in a stinging sensation that was positively exciting for her in a bizarre way.
“I find innocent flowers like you tend to be positively corrupt with long repressed desires.” Simone explained. She then waved her hands to fan the embers in them away. “You think abstinence makes you more holy, but all it does is age your untasted sexuality like a fine wine~” Simone then proceeded to give a hearty slap to the the side of the nun's ass, pulling another grunt from the girl. “Camille, my dear. You're nothing short of a closeted masochist~”
Camille's eyes narrowed at the accusation. How dare this witch accuse her of such a deviant fantasy? What she was doing here was nothing short of… a personal sacrifice! Right?
Simone didn't need the nun to say anything. She could practically sense Camille's thoughts just from her actions. That angry indignance dissolved instantly like cotton candy in a river, the moment the witch mirrored that spanking with another on the other side. The witch really did love this part…
“Mnnngh! Mhhh… mhhh…” Camille’s had drooped as she fell further into the witch's stimulation. This was… unlike anything she'd ever dreamed of.
“Tsk, tsk…” Simone feigned judgement as she shook her head. “How sinful, to rendezvous with a sorceress in this hidden place, just to fulfill a dirty fantasy.”
Initially, Camille furrowed her brow as though she wanted to give a stern lecture, not that she could manage a word, magically silenced as she was. It only took several seconds for her to lose that righteous fury however. When Simone responded by playfully stepping back, taking her body and stimulation away, that face quickly transitioned to a pleading pout.
“Oh my. Deary, am I not playing into your heroic script anymore?” The witch gave her own false pout. “I could make you beg for it, but I think it's more fun to play this game after all.”
At that, Simone bent a finger inward, with her palm upturned in a “come hither” motion. Before Camille even knew what was happening, her restraints gently flew from the walls, carrying her forward until she was once again in Simone's reach. “Now, let's not forget all the dining essentials.” The witch bent forward, digging something out of an old fashioned looking leather backpack.
”Let's see here. Some oil… my favorite herb mixture… and… Where is it?”
Camille couldn't help but watch in guilty fascination as her captor's black dress tightened against her rear. Stretched and bent over as Simone was, how could she focus on anything else in the room? Truly this woman was a terrible witch, placing such sinful thoughts in her mind… It was only partway through these thoughts that Camille really considered what she was saying. Oil? Herbs? It sounded like she was putting together a recipe, rather than more, simple torment. That food statement earlier wasn’t just poetry… She wasn't… really going to…
“Ah! Here we are. Venezuelan ghost salts, for that recharging magical aftertaste.” With that, Simone shot back up, swung around, and reached forward to pinch Camille's nipple once more, rather enjoying the adorable squeak that followed. “Such a dreadfully bright day, but that does mean it's perfect for a bit of outdoor cooking. Don't you think dear?”
Simone then proceeded back towards the mouth of the cave, with the bound nun gingerly hovering just behind her. Camille couldn't help but wonder where they were going now, as the magical bindings shifted her hands behind her back, and her feet back against her thighs.. Why had Simone even made her come to the cave if… Just then the woman's eyes widened in realization. Was she… doing this to humiliate her? To publicly make a display of how she'd been conquered?
The rocky outcropping of the cave gave way to the soft sands of the beach. Camille hadn't been prepared for the sensation of the warm sun contrasting with the cool breeze on her bare flesh. It was positively overwhelming to a woman of the cloth such as herself, but Simone was far from done. The trek soon took her up a dusty path, and finally back to the lazy fields just outside the town. Not quite within easy viewing distance of the folk, but just close enough that the threat of one of them wandering up to see was very real.
This, of course, resulted in a near constant embarrassed anxiety for Camille. Something the wicked Simone was well aware of. She'd continue to push the boundaries of her prey's sensual limits, and be sure to stop just at their border, leaving the nun confused, miserable, and yet also aroused at the same time. The cocktail of emotions and the mark it left on the soul was…absolutely gourmet.
“Yes, I think this will be ideal for a picnic~ Don't you think so deary?” Simone asked rhetorically. “So scenic~” She waited for a moment, then took a deep breath. “And we wouldn't want to suffer from smoke inhalation, as quaint as that little cave was, would we?”
Camille felt something twist in her stomach. A picnic? More evidence of the witch’s cannibalistic intent… Deep down she never doubted it. Witches weren't exactly known for having banal appetites.
“Let's see… I know I saw one around here somewhere…” Simone's casual demeanor stung Camille like a whip's lash. “Ah! There we are!”
Camille felt herself dragged along as Simone approached a large public grill, the ashes of its previous use still blowing out in the wind. It seemed a bit… mundane a place for a witch, Camille thought, but maybe that was the intent. Maybe Simone was enjoying making her sacrifice this… casual.
“Oh bother and doldrums… I forgot my griddle!” Simone theatrically snapped her fingers in frustration. “I swear deary, if my head wasn't attached to my shoulders, I'd lose it as well.”
Camille was far too busy with her own rising panic to respond to her captor's goading insouciance. Whatever the witch was going to do, it was going to happen soon. She'd been building up this little act for so long, it was due for its climax.
“Oh I've already used so much magical energy in all this I just hate to perform another summon but…” Simone once again placed a finger to her chin as she thought. “Oh Azazel damn it. I'm on vacation. Why not?” She then added, smirking in Camille's direction.
Before Camille could so much as grunt in reply, Simone had already begun chanting something in an unholy tongue. Once again, a red wound opened up in the earth, and a massive heap of iron slowly lifted from the burning hole. There was a twist in Camille's stomach, which became a full fledged knot at the unholy display, and it only tightened all the more when Simone directed the pan onto the grill. In an instant, the portal sewed itself shut, and Simone was blowing a few candle embers into the it all to get it started.
“Now then. Are you ready? My pretty piggy?”
Camille simply shook her head. Very nearly the only option her magical bindings afforded her. Not that her response mattered in the slightest. With a now familiar beckoning gesture, the witch directed the bindings to carry Camile over to her waiting hands.
The moment she landed in Simone's waiting arms, the distinct magical glow of her ropes faded, resulting in what both looked, and felt like simple, thick cooking twine, still holding her in the same disgraceful pose. Simone was… surprisingly strong. Plenty capable enough to hold her adult prey in both hands without even flinching. Whether it was magic or… that witches were more capable than humans didn't matter. Understandably, Camille had other concerns at the front of her mind. She couldn't hide in denial any longer. The witch really was going to cook… and devour her like some common sow…
“Whew… That took a bit more out of me than I expected.” Simone gently peeled the lingering magical gag off of Camille's lips. “But we're finally ready for the big event! Aren't you excited, dear?” The witch let out a hearty, mocking laugh after asking. She knew very well what was going through poor Camille’s mind.
The nun couldn't even speak, initially, despite her mouth being free. There was a lingering warmth as Simone held her so close to everything, and Camille was certain that the witch was drawing out every moment as long as she possibly could. Still, even from this distance Camille could tell that the heat wasn't from the grill just yet. It was a lingering magical energy from the place it had spawned from.
“W-wait!” After some time the word threw itself from her mouth. Every inch that Simone took forward made the heat feel all the more real. “You're… really going to… eat me?!”
Simone frowned for a bit. “Dear… you wound me.” She said with thick, faux empathy. “What do you take me for? A troll?”
For the tiniest fraction of a second, Camille felt a drop off relief, but it was all shattered when the witch spoke again.
“I always cook my food before eating it, like a civilized person.” With that, she proved her strength once more, hefting Camille to one side and freeing up a hand. She then proceeded to reach for the oil she'd grabbed earlier, and draw little, decorative swirls into the pan with it.
Camile could only watch, wide eyed, as the cannibalistic sorceress next sprinkled her herbs, and the beloved occult salts into the quickly sizzling mix. She had to admit that some part of her enjoyed the little flame at her groin before but this? This was too much… “Please… no…” The short little prayer was barely audible to anyone but herself.
“And now~” Simone was practically singing as she spoke. “Time for the main ingredient~” With just as little effort as the last time, she once more shifted Camille to both hands, and held her ominously over the cackling cookware. “Mhhh… Oh yes… One pan roasted, plump and succulent piece of meat~” The witch had dropped all pretense now. Speaking like a starving animal getting its first food in weeks.
Camile too was rapidly losing her mask. Simone could feel the nun’s heart begin to beat at an increased pace. Tauntingly, the witch held her prey just over the pan for several long fretful seconds. Letting her feel the droplets of sizzling oil as the pan picked up heat. Letting her experience every spatter and further driving home exactly how hopeless her situation was. It was working. Camille’s front of bold sacrifice was giving way to a much more basic reaction. She was only human, after all. Delicious, virginal human. Sprinkle a bit of fear, and a touch of arousal in it all, and there was nothing quite like it.
Slowly, the girl began to twitch and squirm in Simone’s grip. Soft, pathetic little whimpers parted her untouched lips, and before she knew it, something had snapped.“N-n-noooooo!” Now, she was given to an unavoidable primal fear. “Please! At least chop my head off! I-I don't want to cook alive!”
Naturally, the witch had no such mercy. Satisfied now that her meal had run the full gauntlet of emotions, she simply plopped Camille onto the searing metal, smiling gleefully as she instantly began to buck and squirm.
“GYAAAHHH! I-It’s so hot!” The poor thing instantly began sobbing. “Please! Kill me first! I can’t take it!”
“Oh stop thrashing…” Simone said in the tone of someone who was scolding a child. I need you to cook evenly. Wouldn’t you feel horrible if your death was all for naught because you got burnt on one side and undercooked on another? Humans these days… I swear.”
“B-but it hurts! I can’t take it!”
“Frankly, deary, I don’t care how painful it is. Your flavor is all I’m concerned with.” Simone reached for her salt-shaker, and dabbed a generous amount on the frying nun’s tits. “Now, be a good piece of meat for aunty Simone, and try your best to be delicious. If we had time to develop your little bit of curious masochism, you might have even enjoyed this. Alas, I’m quite peckish right now.”
Despite Simone’s stern insistence, Camille was utterly writhing about in the throes of painful panic. How could any of God’s creatures be this horrible? This sadistic? If she arched her spine, her rear and shoulders were given to scalding pain, and if she relaxed it, the small of her back took the brunt of it all instead. There was no comfortable position. Not an ounce of relief to be found. It was utter agony, and yet… her sinful, most carnal body part felt a very different kind of tingling. “No… No! NO!” The witch couldn’t be right! She wasn’t some pervert! Not like this! Truly, she did want to survive, but this pain. As much as she wished for it to end… It was… thrilling, if nothing else. More exciting than anything she’d ever done in a library. More… real.
—
Camille wasn't sure how much time had passed. She knew that her entire backside had finally… blessedly gone mostly numb to the heat. All that remained was a dull warm aching sensation, which was almost nice after all that searing pain. “Please… make it stop…” Her plea was directed both in Simone's direction, and God's.
Simone was the first to answer. “I'm afraid I can't do that, deary.” She stepped forward, grinning like a cat. Then used a massive wooden spoon she'd conjured some time ago to slide her over towards the fresh oil she'd just poured. “You're only about halfway done you see, and after spending so much magic in all this, I've just got to restore my strength with a nutritious meal.” She cocked her hips to one side, somewhat seductively. “And sweetheart. You look absolutely scrumptious.”
There was a long pause before Simone spoke again. “But you know… I know how to make you look even better~” She then produced a large, bright red tomato. “These things just grow wild around here. Did you know that? Anyway…” She then slid the fruit carefully between Camille's lips. “You'll look so tasty with this in your mouth. Don't you think? It's a traditional garnish after all~”
Briefly, Camille considered biting down hard on the soft fruit. That was what she thought of the witch's “tradition”. In the end, however, she decided that resistance wouldn't get her anywhere. She was doing this for her village… For a short while, she stared at the tomato, a symbol of her conversion to nothing but meat, then simply leaned her head back.
“Oh, don't get comfy, my dear. I figure it's just about time to cook your other side. Don't you?”
Camille braced herself for a new bout of intense heat, as Simone used her large spoon as something of a spatula. Lifting Camille only to drop her back down onto her enormous breasts, to the renewed, loud sound of meat sizzling. Much like before, her initial reaction was to flail about wildly, letting her boobs flap and squash around on the metal surface. This time however, she lost her energy much faster than before, and could only lay there, reduced to little more than bacon over fire…
“Oooohhh! Such a perfect golden brown! I'm a queen at this, if I do say so myself~”
Camille didn't bother herself with considering the witch's self praise. All she knew was that she was in pain. It was wretched, and… delightful. Instinctively she proceeded to press her crotch hard into the pan, both craving more stimulation, and wanting it to end. She was left, absently wondering how she'd remained alive all this time. Even as Simone poured an inordinate amount of rice and stock into the pan beside her, she couldn't muster the effort to react any more. It didn’t matter where she’d gotten it all. What mattered was that the end was getting closer, and closer.
“With all this, I bet you'll be wrapped up in about half an hour, sweety.”
Camille groaned weakly. Half an hour? She could only hope she wouldn't last even that long, as well as hoping she would be enough as Simon's meal…
—
In time, Even Camille’s shallow breathing came to a gradual stop. The little motions she'd made to attempt to find some semblance of comfort grew still, and the only sounds that came from her were the satisfying sizzling and popping noises of her marbled meat, crackling in the pan. For the nun, it was no doubt a blessing that her torments were finally over. For Simone, however, it was a sign that dinner was almost ready.
It only took a few seconds to rifle through her pouch for her set of carving utensils. A knife and fork she'd obtained in San Angelo from a lovely would-be witch. The gullible dear had been told that if she allowed Simone to eat her, she'd be reborn as one of the magical folk. Utter hogwash of course, but the gothic dear did have a lovely, somewhat gamey flavor, and her utensils were absolutely top notch. It didn't take a TV chef to sell it to her. Already a great deal on its own. One young meal, and carving equipment all for the low, low price of… free!
When she was certain her latest catch was finally done, following a few more flips for good measure, Simone flicked her wrist at the flames underneath the pan, as if commanding them to begone. The flickering heat obediently snuffed itself out, and then came the most agonizing part of the process. That was… waiting for the food to cool down while being assaulted by its mouthwatering scent. Of course, Simone might have cast a little something to speed up the process, but she'd learned that one simply couldn't rush art if they wanted the best possible product. Camille could use a bit longer to finish cooking on the inside, and Simone decided to rest, for the first real time since she'd been on that boring boat.
Europe really did have lovely countryside, she was loathe to admit, but she did miss her isolated forest cabin already. She'd have to be certain to hex that sweet librarian girl again when she got back. The two had a bit of a repoire. Flustered as the little thing got, she enjoyed the magical attention, and Simone loved teasing her constantly, threatening to snatch her up from her room one day for a bit of bookworm stew.
Finally, after some time, the sizzling noises had completely stopped, which meant the sweet little pain slut of a nun was probably safe to eat~ Somewhat impatiently, the witch used the carving knife to slice through the twine that bound one of Camille's shapely legs. She then, somewhat indelicately, proceeded to slice through just above the girl's knee. With a single, satisfying tug, she managed to wrest the drumstick free after that, before taking a generous bite. It was… heavenly, or hellfully, or both, given its source, and its cook. A delightful savory longpig, seasoned to perfection after marinating the soul in a razor's edge balance of fear and sexual rousing.
Though Simone initially told herself that she'd save them for last, after all this play she just couldn't wait any longer. With a few swift slices, one of poor Camille’s considerable breasts was severed, and ready to be nibbled on. The fatty tissue instantly melted in her mouth, and was an excellent compliment to the more meaty bits of her leg.
Had the nun still been alive, she wouldn't be for much longer. Simone's next step was to sever that pretty little head, complete with its carefully maintained hair, to set beside herself as she ate. Truthfully this accomplished nothing, but Simone liked to think of it as one final degradation. Removing the thing that most made her appear… human. It was simple… but delightful.
Camille's well rounded backside was next on the witch's menu. She made a point of slicing off thin little cuts, dangling each one playfully over her mouth before folding the whole piece into her. Once again, Simone was struck with just how perfect the young nun's body would have been for… a certain industry, if her life had gone down a different path…
Not that she was complaining.The old witch’s wisdom was true. Virgins really did taste the absolute best. That added magical taste of aching desire in Camille's dainty flower was absolutely exquisite. Simone had taken extra care in carving it out. Even for an impish woman like her there were some things that one just didn’t make light of. There was only one such cut on each longpig. She let the taste linger on her tongue for some time, only chewing now and again to let a new burst of flavor out, before finally swallowing. She was… an artist, if she did say so herself~
Simone allowed herself some time to eat her fill, before storing the leftovers for the next few days. After all, there were still a number of countries and cultures to visit here. Even on vacation, she was a busy witch~
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Mischievous witch Simone takes a sightseeing vacation in Spain, where she encounters one of her favorite delicacies~ This was a fun commission for PristineCheesecake. I don't think I've ever done a magical predator before. I got evil Genie vibes writing it~
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Posted by morsfinem 1 year ago Report
Very amazing story! I really like how your portray Simone mischievousness and Camille's inner desire. 10/10 on the story ;)