THE WITCHFINDER'S TALE

By

Dr.Dorothy Strangelove,T.L.C., C.P.,B&D

In the garden of the cottage, as the birds sung in the trees and the summer morning warmed the soil, the young girl sat on the grass and looked again at the baby son who slept in her arms. Her husband sat beside her, still with a look of awe in his eyes. His mother came out to the garden and joined them, she smiled at the way her son was so stunned he could produce such a perfect child.

"I never thought you would be married by the age of twenty-two!" She said, "But Im so happy for you both...and your son will bring you so much joy. Children do."

Her three year old daughter was tugging at her skirt. As she handed her a flower, she looked back at her son's wife and added: "They bring so much love into the world.." And she placed her hand on her own growing bump beneath her long dress.

"Be my turn again soon. Im thankful that we live in less troubled times, it's so peaceful here."

The young woman laughed.

"It's always peaceful. I didn't know we ever did live in troubled times, Im sure the days gone by were not so bad.."

His mother gave her son a look that he recognised, and she said to his wife: "Eve, give your son to his father for a while..come and walk among the roses..I have a tale to tell you."

Eve handed the baby to her husband, got up and joined his mother, and they strolled towards the back of the garden, among the sweet scent of the roses.

Now alone together, she said to Eve: "This house holds secrets. Secrets from a time now gone, when life was very dark and troubled..but out of despair and sorrow hope can be born, it's only by surviving these storms that we grow strong and wiser.. and it's time you shared this secret too."

She rested her hand on her unborn child again. "In time, I'll be telling my children when they are old enough to understand,  I want my grandchildren to know as well... It happened in another time, much like this, but far more brutal and dark. When I have finished this tale you will see our tranquil world with different eyes.."

And Eve listened while her mother-in-law related the tale.

***************

It was a dark october evening in 1645. The tavern was filled with rowdy drinkers and the air was thick with the smell of ale and cider and drunks and whores. The night was leaning into darkness properly now, through the window black clouds seemed to chase away the last of the evening light and as the three people huddled in the alcove in a tight corner, no one noticed them at all. If they had noticed at least one of the party, a few men would have crossed themselves and perhaps those given to spite might have spoken to fire up a rumour or two in their enemy's direction, such was the effect of having a witch finder on the premises.

Adam Miller shivered as he passed the bag of gold over the table. The witchfinder stayed beneath a thick hooded cloak which kept out the cold and shrouded his face in shadow. The man sitting beside him was young, no more than eighteen, and judging by the way he was eyeing up the serving wench as she handed ale to the men at the next table, he was confident with youthful good looks. As the money slid across the table he turned his attention back to business.

"I trust now payment has exchanged hands we can begin business."Miller had addressed the young man, whose fine clothing matched his own, costly cloth. But the youth blinked, shook his head and glanced to his companion, the one clad in black leather whose cloak reminded him of the grim reaper. The witch finder's elegant hand closed over the money and tucked it beneath the cloak.

"My assistant Mr Swift is a mute."She told him, "Conduct your business with me.."

Miller stared...Witch finder Black was a woman? The witch finder pushed the hood back a little and in the dim light he was rather surprised to see a pale woman, who he guessed to be in her thirties, her chestnut hair was tied back, emphasising on her strong and beautiful features. Her voice was soft, her eyes as blue as the sky on a spring morning. She adjusted the hood, as if unwilling to take it down completely. Miller begun to explain, all the while finding it hard to look her in the eye for more than a moment or two. It seemed to go against nature that a fair and gentle woman should have such a brutal occupation..

"My name is Adam Miller."He told her, "I am a close associate of Lord William Morgan of Morgan Hall in the village of Thorny Brook...I am here by request of his Lordship. Two nights ago part of the village was set alight and sadly twelve people died. They were some of his best workers, his Lordship lost some fine men and now must find equally fine men to replace them before the harvest is spoiled..."

The witchfinder eyed him doubtfully. He seemed more distressed at the lord of the manor's loss of profit than the loss of lives.

"And you suspect the fire to be the work of the devil?"

He nodded.

"Oh, we know it was dark forces. We have the man responsible, Lord Morgan is holding him in the cellar. John Clover, a man well known about these parts, works with herbs and studies the planets..it was clear to see that it was only a matter of time before Lucifer made a pact with him...The day after the fire he walked into the church and told the minister filthy lies that only the devil himself could have put inside his head! His clothing stank of smoke and it was clear he was quite deranged. Of course he denies setting the fire and he denies witchcraft but both Reverand Green and his Lordship stand firm in their accusation." And Miller paused, lost in his own thoughts. Then he said: "He's guilty for certain, yes..guilty. All we need is a full confession, a public execution and this sorry matter can be put to rest. I trust you will ensure a full confession?"

The witchfinder smiled at his remark. There was no such thing as ensuring a confession. This man had heard of her by reputation only, he hadn't even known she was a woman until this meeting. Nor did he know her reasons for becoming a witchfinder.

"I can assure you a conclusion."She told him, "If he's a witch, I'll get the confession. If he's not, I shall release him. However, if he is a murderer or a rapist or any other kind of human monster and I find this to be fact, I shall burn him anyway, because that is my way."

"John Clover has never caused trouble before."He told her, "No trouble of any kind. He actually made quite a profitable living from his potions...but many have said for years, living alone in the woods and brewing strange herbs..it's not right, is it? "And he shivered. "Chills me to the bone to think of what that man must have got up to in the woods...at night..no doubt thats when the devil came to him!"

As he spoke the witch finder could feel a doubt nagging at the back of her mind. Already, this was sounding like someone pointing the finger at an innocent man simply because the ignorant would believe it.

"Does he have any enemies?"

"No,"Miller replied, "He's a strange sort, keeps himself away from the village. As I said, his potions sold well, he cured the sick..even cured his Lordship once when he had a chill. But the day after the fire he walked into the church and it was clear that he was owned by the devil himself...you will understand when you meet him."

The witch finder glanced at her companion. Mr Swift was looking at her, his pale eyes wide as if he wished he could speak and add something important to the conversation. She seemed to understand and she nodded.

"We shall go and clear this matter up, Mr Swift. I think you are in agreement our services are needed?"

And the young man nodded.

"Then I shall tell his Lordship to expect you in the morning."

"He will expect us by noon."The witchfinder corrected him, "Mr Swift shall make the carriage ready and we will leave in the morning. Tell him I will investigate the matter thoroughly and if this man is thought to be guilty I will use every method possible to extract a confession. You have my word on this."

There was something in the tone of her voice that made Miller go cold. Despite her gentle exterior, he could see it in her eyes - that woman knew how to use pain....

The morning that followed broke icy and stark with frost on the ground and a dead-white sky through which the sun sent little heat.  The carriage wheels rolled over mud and fallen October leaves and by the time Mr Swift drove the carriage through the gates of Morgan Manor the witch finder saw the big, palatial house far off at the end of the drive so shrouded in icy mist it looked as if it was rising out of the fog. She pulled her cloak tighter about herself and shuddered. Piled in the carriage on the floor and on the seat beside her were the tools of her trade, all wrapped in black velvet and freshly cleaned. She had never met John Clover in her life; now she was about to question him, interrogate him, terrify him and ultimately torture him, all for the bag of gold in her pocket. She closed her eyes, reminded herself why all this started...an evil many years ago had been repaid, she had seen that justice had been served. And the price of taking that justice had seen her forced to declare herself a witch finder... she considered herself more compassionate than most, more willing to see the truth than to play an innocent into the hands of a baying mob, but all the same, it was a horrible profession. She just hoped the man was either so mad that he would admit his guilt, or that she would find solid ground to declare him innocent. She did not believe in torture for the sake of it. Either way, there was little doubt the lord of the manor wanted to find a scapegoat for the fire and the man accused would probably die anyway just to satisfy that need.

The carriage rolled to a halt. Swift opened the door and she got out.

"Best bring the tools of the trade with us."She told him.

Servants opened the door, ran to fetch his lordship. While she waited she cast a glance around the grand hallway and felt a bitter sickness twist in her gut as she reflected this was the life she could have chose...if marriage to a brute had been to her liking....she drew in a deep breath and pushed away the memories that now only haunted her darkest nightmares at the worst of times.

Lord Morgan was older than she imagined, a greying, portly man whose life consisted of good food and much drink and little excercise.

He bowed briefly, at least acknowledging the fact that she was a woman first and a witch finder second.

"I requested your presence because your reputation is well regarded around these parts."He told her, "I trust Mr Miller has explained everything?"

"He had explained everything apart from what John Clover has actually said to implicate himself. What did he say?"

The lord shifted uncomfortably and looked away for a moment.

"Terrible things.. could never repeat them in front of a lady..ravings of a mad man..accusations at everyone in sight...terrible things said in the church, too.."

And he lowered his eyes as if afraid god would strike him dead just for recalling it all.

"All I can pray is that you extract a confession from this man. You and your assistant shall stay here as my guests and enjoy the comforts of my home..and please think of the payment as a mere advance..I shall pay you double that sum when Clover burns."

Lord Morgan spoke with desperation. The witch finder glanced at Swift, then said: "While my assistant gathers up all the tools we shall need I would like to speak with this man - immediately."

Morgan wasted no time leading the way, down the corridor to a locked wooden door. As he unlocked the door, he gave it a push and it swung open. Cold stone walls and a staircase which led down deep, lit by dim candle light beckoned.

"I wish to speak with the accused alone."She announced, "But please allow Mr Swift to follow in a little while. We work together."

Lord Morgan had already caught sight of some of the nasty looking devices the mute was unloading from the carriage and he had decided there and then that he would not watch any of this unpleasantness unless his presence was called for.

"He is guarded." He told her.

"Then call off your guards. My methods are perfectly effective."

Lord Morgan obeyed her. When the two armed guards had left the cellar, she stepped inside, waited for the door to close and the lock to turn, and began the journey into the deep, gloomy cellar.

The room the stairway led her to was lit by candles, the only natural light came from high above in a small barred window. There was a scattering of straw on the floor, a table was against the wall, on the other side of the small room stood a big, wooden seat that she realised due to its size and structure would make a very effective torture chair. The man she was here to torment was already secured to it, leather straps around his wrists held his arms to the arm rests. More straps secured his ankles to the base of the chair. She guessed this little downstairs hide away was not the main cellar, it was more like a dungeon and seemed to have been designed with prisoners in mind. There was a small fireplace and in the grate a weak fire flickered, barely enough to heat the room at all, but certainly enough to make the tips of pokers and branding irons glow, she noted. The man who sat in the chair was stripped naked and his body was firm, under other circumstances he was the kind of man she would long to take to her bed to run her hands all over him. The way his legs were tied forced them apart, her gaze moved downwards instinctively. Although his cock was not hard she could tell it was a good size, as were his perfect balls. His dark pubic hair looked soft and his skin seemed flawless in the candle's light. His head was bowed and he made no attempt to look up on hearing her approach. She took a candle from its holder and used it to light three more candles that stood on the table. It lent more light to the room. She put the candle back in its place and stood before the accused.

"John Clover."She said, "I am Witchfinder Black. I am here because you stand accused of murder and witchcraft and my task is to extract the truth from you. Be aware that my methods will cause you extreme pain."

John raised his head. Before him stood a woman dressed in black. As she took off the hooded cape he blinked, looked closer at her: Had he looked up before she spoke, he would have seen a figure he would have taken to be a man clad in black leather, dressed, he would have assumed, for several day's ride on the open road. But without the cape he saw how her shirt fell low and revealed cleavage that was tightly laced in place with a bodice. Her long hair was tied back and he found himself thinking his torturer was beautiful.

"What made you become a witchfinder?"He wondered aloud.

She looked into his eyes. John Clover was a handsome man no older than she was and his eyes were kind and intelligent, there was a gentleness about his voice. And instinct told her: This man was no witch. His eyes were reddened and a tear stained his cheek.

As she stepped closer he realised her beauty was marred by a single scar that snaked down the left side of her face. It looked like a knife scar.

"That,"She said coldly, "Is not a concern of yours. And do not stare at my face!"

Fear flickered in his eyes.

"I'm not a witch, you must believe me! I saw the fire and I came down to the village to try and help but there was nothing I could do...I was told by a woman who died from her burns the fire was set by Morgan's men at his command! There was plague in the village. He wanted to wipe it out before the plague destroyed his business! "

He was breathless, looking at her pleadingly. Truth and desperation shone from his eyes.

"Please,"He begged her, "You must believe me!"

Fear often made the accused desperate, they would say anything to profess innocence. But on hearing his words, more doubt crept into her mind. Deep inside she knew her heart was in danger of becoming soft towards this man, she was already finding room to let some belief into her mind and it was his version that made sense more than the lord of the manor's.

"Have you ever spoken with the devil?"She asked him.

He sighed. "No, of course not.. I'm no witch! My mother was a wise woman. She taught me about plants and herbs. She taught me how to cure ailments. I make a living from it..." His voice trembled. "I would never harm anyone.."

She inwardly cursed the path of her life that had brought her to this moment. But she had no choice but to continue.

She moved closer, leaned towards him.

"I am forced to torture you because of your refusal to speak the truth."She told him. She ran her fingers through his dark hair and tightened her grip, forcing his head back so that he was looking into her eyes.

"What I personally believe can only be clarified by applying the pressure of torture that I must apply to all accused witches."

He gave a sob and tears filled his eyes and every instinct in her body told her even more that this man was wrongly accused. Emotion rarely came into her work this way, but there was something different about John. She did not want to hurt him..

"I must interrogate you,"She told him, "I have no choice..." And her grip loosened, she let go of him and gently stroked his hair wishing she could take them both out of this situation.

" Your body must be searched for  the witch mark,"She told him, "From what I see you have no scars or evidence of a bite from the devil but I must expose all of your flesh. Your head will be shaved..and down here.."And she slid her hand between his legs and tugged gently at his pubic hair. "I will have to pierce your body in many places..I have a selection of needles I use for this process. It will be painful."

"No, please.."He begged her, and started to sob. She let go of him, feeling a turmoil inside that was twisting her insides tighter than any torture device ever could: This man was innocent. To proclaim him so would bring Lord Morgan's wrath upon her and Swift, not to mention the angry mob that would want to see them burn alongside the accused. Procedure had to be followed. She decided, she would prick him. Deprive him of sleep and with hold food. She was sure a man like Clover would not break so easily and give a false confession, and as she looked at him she tried to convey her thoughts without spelling it out too plainly.

"I have explained that I must interrogate you."She said, "And I shall indeed exert pressure upon you to confess. However I am not a monster and I suspect, neither are you, good sir..but these times in which we live call for certain measures and if you are innocent I am sorry but it will take your screams to prove this.."She lowered her voice and although in her heart she knew she was doing the right thing, her mind was questioning her own sanity to lead the accused in this way.

"When I search your body for the devil's mark I am searching for an area that feels no pain when the needle goes in. Some witch finders use retractible needles, a trick just to proclaim guilt, but I ensure certainty, I use a set of sharp needles of different sizes and these needles are no trick. They will pierce your flesh and you will bleed."

As he looked at her, John understood the message she was trying to convey. This was a warning. He blinked back tears and she saw gratitude in his eyes.

"You can be sure I will scream,"He told her, "I detest pain."

Hearing the fall of Swift's heavy boots on the she turned away from him and met her assistant halfway up the stairs. He was carrying a a large bag full of the kind of devices she was sure would put fear into John simply by letting him watch it all be laid out on the table.

She gripped Swift's arm.

"We have a problem..this man is innocent."

His eyes grew wider, he glanced down the steps and back to the witch finder, his mind ticking over.

"If we refuse to torture him it will place our lives in danger."She told him, "So I have decided we will proceed with pricking and light torture..I cannot break his bones, Swift.."

Tears were forming in her eyes. He reached up and brushed them away, kissed her cheek and nodded. The look that passed between them told her he understood. It was rare for him to see her cry and when he did he always comforted her because he loved her.

"Prepare him for the needles."She told him, "He won't give you any trouble..and be gentle with this one, he's a good man."

Swift was still looking at her. She knew that look well and she composed herself quickly to reassure him.

"Go about your work, I shall return shortly."

She returned to the upper part of the house, where in the guest room, she stripped off her heavy clothing and bathed her skin with warm, clean water, washing away the dirt of the road. Then she untied her long hair and washed it slowly, feeling the silken tresses reviving. When she was done she stood before the mirror and saw a body that had firm, high breasts, a slight fullness about her waist but the shaved lips of her cunt were pink and plump and she smiled as she reflected she was still desirable beneath the severe exterior she presented to the world.

Alone in this room, with the door locked, she looked back at her reflection and for a moment saw another scene: The scene she had tried so often to erase from her mind, as a sixteen year old virgin, when her skin was soft and her step was light and she knew no shadows in her world...the sun had been high in the sky on a summer's day as she walked through the field just beyond her parent's farm. He had seen her there in her white dress, walking barefoot among the wildflowers. And she had walked past him, recalling how she had rejected his advances only the day before. And suddenly he was upon her, strong arms that threw her to the ground, a hand clamped over her mouth to stifle her screams. He reached between her legs and she kicked and fought, she bit his hand until she tasted blood. Then he brought his fist down, slamming hard into the side of her face. As she went limp he reached down and forced his fingers into her virgin cunt, her scream ripped through the summers day as her flesh tore and kept tearing. When he drew his fingers out they were crimson and the stain was spreading to her clothes. He pressed the blade of his knife against her cheek and with every thrust it bit sharper into her face. By the time he shot hot semen deep inside her cunt that felt like nothing more than a throbbing wound, she was numb inside, as if her spirit had left her body an empty shell to escape the insanity of the moment...that single act of violence had decided the course of the rest of her life... She blinked away tears and studied her reflection some more: He had perished, and men like him...perished at her hand. But not John Clover, he would not die..he couldn't die, she would not allow it...She closed her eyes and pictured him here, now, gently kissing her face, then her mouth, kissing her deeply as he drew her into his arms, pressed his firm body against her, owning her, opening her legs and thrusting hard into her. She knew her body would welcome this man. She shoved two fingers inside her cunt and gasped as she wished his cock was in there. He would fuck her hard, his cock filling her up all the way inside, while he passionately whispered her name and she would kiss his wounds, his bruises, the flesh made so tender by the needles. When he shot his semen white and hot he would lie back exhausted and she would tell him he was safe forever, as she spoke her hand was gently stroking his tender, bruised balls and the come was dripping from his still-pulsating cock, throbbing in time with his heartbeat as spots of blood oozed rhythmically from his open wounds as he whispered he loved her and thanked her for sparing his life..She stifled the urge to cry out as her fingers rubbed harder on her swollen clitoris and orgasm swept through her body. As she came back to earth her reflection came into focus, her face was flushed, her eyes glazed, juices flowed from her parted cunt lips and clung to her glistening fingers. All the rush of tension was gone, thoughts that had been desirable now flowed away like the last drop of blood from a slashed artery. With a heavy heart, she began to dress and prepare herself for the task that lie ahead.

An hour later, she entered the cellar to find a reluctant Lord Morgan was already waiting. With him stood  Reverand Green, an old man who clutched his bible close to his chest as if the pages could shield him from all malevolence. She noticed he stood closely to Morgan, almost emphasising the fact the pair of them desperately wanted to see Clover found guilty...because they had got away with murder. She noticed they had appointed Adam Miller to take the official notes that would no doubt be used at the sentancing. She had already realised any kind of court Morgan put together would be a joke - a few of his closest friends he held in high esteem, a small gathering upstairs in the large hall, where they would agree that John should be put to death. With every beat of her thudding heart she knew this was wrong. But to speak out would mean certain death for her and Swift and that was a thought she could not entertain. But all the same, it was difficult to harden her heart as she looked at John. He was strapped to the chair and additional straps had been put in place to further immobilise him, a choking metal band had been locked to the chair to secure his neck and force him to sit up straight,  leather straps bit deep into his thighs and forced his legs further apart. His head was completely shaved, as was his cock and balls.  As she looked down between his legs at the now exposed skin she had thought so strongly about covering with tender kisses, he suddenly seemed so vulnerable. Her instinct was to rush to his side and untie his bonds, to cover his nakedness, to protect him from his accusers. Yet this was the man she was being forced to torture. A thought flashed to mind that he was not the only victim of torture in this room. Her heart and soul were screaming to stop, to spare herself the pain of harming a man she wanted to protect. And yet she had no choice, much like John Clover.

For John, fear was numbing his emotions now. He had resigned himself to the fact that he would be tortured against his will and all he could do to get through it was to suffer pain and show every place the needles entered caused him pain to prove there was no witches mark. He could not think beyond this moment, knowing there was little hope of surviving at the end of his ordeal. The men who stood before him plotted against him and wished him dead and would have their way because they could. He had prayed and in his heart he knew Witchfinder Black was not to blame. As she stood before him and their eyes briefly met he read her expression, she was silently saying, I'm sorry.. and he knew if he had met her under any other circumstances, he would have told her he thought she was beautiful, that the dress she was wearing right now, a gown of black velvet, made her look beautiful, the way it clung to her waist and emphasised her perfect breasts would have filled him with desire. But the way he had been positioned in this chair made him wonder if he would ever be able to experience desire again, if, by some miracle, he escaped from this situation. As Swift held out an array of long,sharp needles set in a satin-lined case, he closed his eyes tightly but as he opened them again he found he was compelled to watch, needing to know his tormentor's movements.

"John Clover,"The witch finder said, "I shall ask you once more, do you admit an alliance with the devil?"

Fear made his mouth dry. He spoke with a shaking voice, but spoke clearly, determined if he was destined to die, he would do so with honour.

"The only alliance with the devil in this room stands before you in the form of Lord Morgan and Reverand Green! Men who burned plague victims to spare loss of profit.."

Witchfinder Black glanced at John's accusers and saw before her two very guilty men who sweated profusely and shook in their boots as the truth was flung in their faces. She turned back to the accused and said quietly: "As you have refused to confess I must now apply torture. Because you have no obvious sign of a devil's mark I shall prick you in the most sensitive areas of your body to see if you feel pain..and in the hope that this mild torture will make you confess your guilt."

On hearing those words a sick sense of dread washed over him. If this was considered mild, he knew what ever followed would be far worse. She drew a thin, sharp needle from the case. It's point glinted in the flickering candlelight. As her hand reached between his legs and briefly felt his cock and balls, he was horrified to realise a flicker of arousal pulsed through his body, even travelling the length of his cock and making him feel the stirrings of an erection. It was the whole situation, the hopelessness of it all, the only way he could make sense, draw some comfort..if he was to die, it would follow this, being naked and tied down, his legs spread while his bare body was pricked by a beautiful woman while strangers stood by and watched....  Just as the pleasure began to spread and start to harden his cock, the witch finder loosened her grip, realising he was becoming aroused. Their eyes briefly met, then she pinched the shaved skin just above his penis, and firmly drove the needle in and out the other side.

Sharp, white hot pain tore through his body and he screamed. She took another needle and paused, noting the exit wound was leaking blood. He was already delirious with pain, sobbing and begging her, "No, no, no, please, no.." Through the pain there was a brief moment when the arousal returned, as she took his cock in her hand. Then she pushed the needle across the skin that covered the shaft of his cock, it slid in easily and came out the other side and he screamed and screamed.

His groin seemed to be covered in blood, the puncture wounds were bleeding and the metal in his flesh burned with agony. Her assistant took a damp cloth and pressed it against the injuries. For a brief moment he wondered if it was over, if he was being offered some kind of relief from the pain. But the witch finder was drawing out a larger, thicker needle. And as the cloth was pressed down harder, he realised this was to lift his cock out of the way and keep the blood flow to a minimum..so she could set to work on his balls...  she took a pair of small metal pincers and grasped the thin, tender flesh between his balls. As she stretched it out he screamed and sobbed and shouted he was innocent. But she still took the needle and pushed it into the skin, as the room began to fade from view and the pain made him black out, he felt the fire pass through his skin, heard a pop as the needle's point came out and knew the largest needle was in his skin and right between his balls, and out the other side.

Ice cold water in his face shocked him back to consciousness. Swift threw more water and it hit him hard, he coughed and gasped and as his senses returned he gave a cry of pain. Looking down he saw the needles were still in his groin, pain throbbed and blood trickled from the wounds.

"This can stop if you confess."Said Morgan.

Hearing his voice leant him the strength and anger to endure this.

"You're a liar!"He gasped, "I am no witch.. I have no alliance with the devil..."

And then the pain weakened him, his eyes closed as he drifted in and out of awareness, brought back only by the burning pain between his legs.

The witch finder was gripping his face. She said his name twice.

His eyes rolled and closed once more.

She turned back to his accusers.

"This man can stand no more today."She told them, "To torture him now would be meaningless..he's incoherent. You will not get your confession today. I will wake him through out the night and of course he will not be allowed food or water. I will remain with him at all times. And fetch him some clothes."

"Clothes?"Said Lord Morgan doubtfully, "Whatever for?"

"We want him alive for the burning when he does confess."She explained, "Keep him naked in this cell and he will die quickly. I do not think the villagers will settle for less than a live burning.."

The fright she saw in his eyes at the picture that sprung to mind of angry villagers storming the manor was enough to make Morgan agree.

"And pillows and blankets."She added, feeling a warm satidfaction that John would at least have some comfort, "It will give him a false sense of security..I shall wake him constantly, dragging him out of that sense of security. It will wear him down."

He had fallen for it. Morgan smiled.

"Excellent thinking, Witchfinder Black...I hope in the interval at some time this evening you will be able to dine with us.."

"My work is not yet done. I shall work through the night, alone with the accused..I trust you will provide Mr Swift with a fine meal. All I ask is that he brings me some food before nightfall."

As Swift glanced at her she saw the look in his eyes as he nodded in agreement; he understood her plan. Now John would also have some food. Although she was yet to know what the next daybreak would bring, she did at least know the next few hours would hold no suffering for him...

She threw more wood onto the dying fire and smiled as the flames took hold and a little more heat crept into the chilly room.  The guards were upstairs, on the other side of the locked door. Now she was alone with John Clover, who was free from his bonds and laying on a blanket on the floor. She had spread his legs while he was still senseless and quickly removed the needles, bathing his groin before covering him with a second blanket. At last he was warm, the pain was fading and she could be easier in her heart knowing she had provided him with what little comfort she could give. As he slept on, she sat down beside him and watched as the firelight flickered and in its glow she reached out and tenderly placed her hand on his cheek. She knew this man had certainly left an impression upon her heart, and as she considered it was most likely he would be burned at the stake regardless of the outcome, she leaned over him and softly kissed his lips.

"If it was possible I would love you, John Clover."

He moved, caught his breath as pain registered between his legs.

"I know that."He replied. As he opened his eyes and looked up at her, the craziness of the situation made him laugh softly.

"All my life I waited to find a woman who I would feel this kind of closeness with and now I have - on the eve of my death."

She slid her hand under the blanket, ran it down his naked body. He tensed as her fingers stroked his tortured flesh, then his balls were in her hand, she was massaging him firmly.

"No, stop.."He said weakly as pleasure and pain shot through his groin and hardened his cock. The pain of the wounds seemed to sharpen his senses, heightening the pleasure as she started to massage his painful erection.

"It hurts.."He murmured, "Stop..I'll - " And he gasped, past the point of fighting the wave of pleasure that surged through his body. He trembled and his aching cock throbbed hard as he shot hot semen over her hand. His balls ached and as the pleasure left him a sense of relief began to take hold.

He lay back on the blanket with the woman he had met under such strange circumstances beside him, he kissed her gently and she laid her head on his shoulder. Knowing this could be the only night they spent together, she recalled the question he asked her when they met.

"My name is Sarah Black....I became a witch finder to save my grandmother. She was a wise woman. When I was a girl there was this man..a man like Lord Morgan..thought he could take anything he wanted. He took me. And many years later he came back but this time his wife was dead and he wanted me to replace her so he could take me as often as he liked. I refused him and he tried to have her burned. I accused him of practicing the dark arts. I planted some evidence and they believed me and he went to the stake."

Hearing her confession, he held her closer. He had known from the moment he looked into her eyes that she had not chosen this path in life of her own free will.

"Im glad you burned him."He told her.

"I condemned him."She replied, "But Swift burned him." Her voice trembled as she continued: "He took a knife and ran it down his face and he whispered in his ear: 'I am the seed you planted but I am my mother's son.' Then he spat in his face and lit the fire. That was two years ago. He was only fifteen."

Tears were filling up in her eyes. At last she told her secret...Swift was her son?

"I thought he was a mute?"

That remark made her laugh. It brought to mind her fiery young son letting rip a filthy stream of abuse at a church official who had made an unwanted pass at her during a witch trial. After that day, she had decided to set some rules. She still smiled at the memory, the look of indignation on his face as she had introduced him for the first time and said, "This is my assistant Mr Swift..he's a mute.."

"Swift is very protective of me. Sometimes his temper gets the better of him..so we say he is mute. It makes him behave!"

Upstairs, her son was far from behaving. He had gone to the kitchen with the intention of taking some food to the cellar and be come distracted by a pretty servant girl who had smiled at him. Her breasts were big and full and seemed to bounce when she walked. It put an image in his mind of huge tits flopping up and down almost hitting her in the face during sex, and Swift desperately wanted to know if this would come true when he fucked her. He watched her leave the kitchen and wander out into a small garden that was surrounded by a high stone wall. The garden was filled with herbs and he guessed this was a small area for the staff to enjoy as well as being the place where some of the herbs were grown for cooking. Despite the chilly weather the air still smelled of parsley and mint. 

He ducked back behind the door as the girl glanced around, then he realised the blonde girl with the big tits was talkking to a friend. She wasn't quite as pretty, but her tits were even bigger.

He stepped back in the kitchen, swigged some wine from an open bottle on the table and walked with borrowed confidence into the garden.

The girls stared at him. "That's Mr Swift." The blonde  said to her companion, "Shame hes a mute..he's very handsome.."

Swift was leaning in the doorway smiling, his eyes sparkling.

The girls exchanged a glance and giggled. Noticing the way his eyes kept wandering to her bosom, the blonde girl untied her bodice and let her breasts fall free. Her companion laughed and did the same, and Swift stood there staring at the two girls, the blonde with the big, bouncy tits and the darker one with the long, wide breasts and huge nipples that he longed to suck on.

"I'm Jane."Said the blonde, "And she's Mercy.. I do wish you could talk.."

He laughed.

"Nice tits."He replied, "Can I suck them?"

And as he lunged forward, he buried himself in a smothering soft world of sweet smeeling mountains and valleys, rubbing his face over their tits as he held them both close, nipples slipped in and out of his mouth as he sucked. A hand was reaching down and grabbing his cock, freeing it from his clothing and rubbing it hard. He didn't know which girl was doing it, and didn't care, as he sucked on Mercy's tits he realised it was Jane who was working on him, and he pushed her to the ground and raised her skirt. Her cunt was shaved and sticky with arousal. He pushed his cock inside and she cried out with bliss as he started to fuck her. Mercy sat astride her face and groaned with bliss as Jane began to lick her cunt, as she ground her hips and trembled on the point of orgasm Swift ground harder into the woman beneath him and covered Mercy's lips with a hard kiss. Locked to the two women, he pumped harder, shoving it deep, making Jane screech loudly as he shot his load. Then he drew out of her, wiped his cock on the hem of her skirt and got up. Jane was still on her back, breathless and glowing. Mercy had climbed off her and was sitting beside her, leaning against the wall, her skirt up, legs apart, cunt swollen and running with juices. He straightened his clothing up.

He was grinning as he looked at them.

"Thank you."He said, "And do spread the word that Swifty Black is a fine fuck.."

With that he turned back to the kitchen to fetch food for the cellar.

She had spread his legs again and gently bathed away the remains of semen, carefully cleaning wounds that were still leaking blood. He was sleeping when Swift came in with the food. As he set it down on the table she was sitting beside him on the floor.

"He knows everything."She said, "I told him. And I want you to saddle a horse and leave tonight. Go to your grandmother."

Her son stared at her.

"I'm not leaving you alone here!"

"You must."She told him, "Because I am going to save this man's life. I love him, Swift."

She got up, placed her hands on her son's shoulders.

"We never intended to keep this life as it is forever. And Ive now found a man who I cannot torture, and if I watch him die I shall want to be dead as well..I have to get him away from this place. I can not risk your life, son."

Swift stood his ground. He loved his mother, respected her, wanted to protect her from the evils of the world that had once harmed her so.  To leave now was unthinkable.

"I burned my own father at fifteen."He told her, "Everything I have witnessed since has opened my eyes. Everything I witnessed before then also opened my eyes. I shall always share your pain. I became a man many years ago."

One look at her son told her he would not change his mind. He was right, he had become a man long ago, by neccessity of the world they lived in.

"I'll help you."He told her, "We will find a way."

Then he said good night, kissed her cheek and went back up the stairs. As she heard the heavy door lock once more, she gently shook his shoulder.

"John,"She said, "Wake up..I have some food for you."

As he woke, he felt the nagging pain return and sat up with some difficulty.

"I'm going to try and save you."She told him, "I don't know how yet but I will find a way!"

Those words had been the answer to his prayers, but as he considered the reality of the situation, he knew if she helped him, she would be caught. She would die.

"They will put you to death alongside me! I'll not allow that! I think you have suffered enough in this lifetime, Sarah."

"No,"She told him, "I will save you..I must.."

He drew her into his arms and held her close, kissing her deeply, cutting off the words he couldn't bear to hear. His emotions had gone from fear for his life to a cold and dreadful acceptance that he was to die. He had never expected to meet this woman who he would feel so much for. And he knew the sacrifice she was making was too great. As they kissed he rolled on top of her, slid his cock slowly inside her, all the way up, struggling to make love quietly when all he wanted to do was cry out with bliss. It no longer mattered that the wounds in his groin hurt so much; if this was his last night on earth, he would spend it making love with Sarah Black.

She clung to him and her lips traced soft kisses all over his body, as tears ran from her eyes he fucked her slowly, deeply, his own tears mixing with her's as he wished he could spend forever inside her. When he came he held her tightly and whispered that he loved her.

"I shall save you."She promised him, "You must live.."

And in that moment, as he thought of the flames and the pain and the screaming        while the villagers laughed and danced and drank around the fire, he found a moment of clarity and silently made a vow.

Many hours later, Sarah woke with a jolt as the heavy door was opened and several footsteps sounded on the stair.

She had fallen asleep in the chair after John had finished his meal and as she opened her eyes, she was stunned to see he had dressed and was standing calmly beside the dying fire.

Swift entered the room, followed by Morgan and three guards.

"What is this?"She demanded, "I have not finished questioning the accused!"

Morgan smiled.

"Well it seems your interrogation has made progress..the prisoner has informed me is ready to speak before the judge."

As she looked at John, who had dressed immaculately in his fine clothing, she felt a sense of dread sweep over her..there was a determined look in his eyes. She knew whatever he was about to say in the makeshift court would only worsen the situation. Even if he accused Morgan in front of the judge, Morgan was the law around here, the judge was on his payroll. It would make no difference.

As two of the guards approached him, he held up his hands and smiled, a dark gleam was in his eyes.

"No need for chains."He told them, "I come with you willingly.."

As they escorted him from the room and Morgan followed, Sarah turned to her son and whispered:"What is happening?"

Swift shook his head.

"I don't know..I don't like it."He said under his breath.

The hearing was held in the ballroom, before a panel of hastily assembled men, all of whom were employed by Morgan, who sat beside the judge. As John sat down and waited for the hearing to start, Sarah noticed his hands were trembling. He glanced over at her, gave her the briefest of smiles and then looked away. As he rose from his seat, the judge asked him if he was willing to confess to being a witch.

At first, he stood silent, then he looked the judge in the eye and said calmly:

"No, your honour. I am not a witch...I am a warlock!"

A hushed silence came down upon the room. As Sarah caught her breath and whispered "John, no.." her son gripped her arm tightly, willing her to control herself before emotion gave her away.

He was still calm, resigned to his fate as much as he was resigned to burning alone and refusing to allow Sarah to place her life at risk.

"I practice the dark arts and the devil is a close companion."He stated, "I made a pact with him so many years ago I can not recall where he bit me. I have dark powers and I use them for evil purposes. But I did not burn the houses in the village. Lord Morgan burned them to ensure a family afflicted by plague did not ruin his tiny empire. He saw fit to blame me for the fire because I am in league with the devil. And I use my dark powers now to curse you all...And I say that the man who condemns me shall burn in flames of retribution brought down by the devil to pay for the life of his servant!"

Lord Morgan's eyes were wide with terror.

"Take him back to the cell!"He screamed in anger, "He will burn for this.."

The judge spoke up as the guards siezed hold of him.

"John Clover, "He said, "You are a wicked man and you shall be put to the stake tomorrow at dawn.."

As he was marched from the room, Sarah realised he had dropped the act. He was trembling and tears ran from his face. He refused to look at her.

Once he was out of the room, Morgan breathed a sigh of relief.

"Well thats settled then."He said to the witch finder, "Excellent work, thank you."

He slid two bags of gold across the table. Knowing his mother was too numbed by John's sacrifice, he lived up to his name and swiftly scooped them up.

"I trust you will stay another night I'm sure there is more you would like to do with that demon..in light of the curse he just uttered."

She nodded.

"Yes, "She replied, "I certainly need more time with this beast.." As much time as she could buy, she thought to herself, another precious moment with him, enough time to find a way to spare him. His self sacrifice had left her devastated. He would rather pay with his life than risk her's?  Even now she could'nt accept his decision.

After the hearing she went to her room, slept, bathed and changed her clothes. Rested for a while and ran the thought over and over in her mind, There had to be a way to save him..

Swift left his mother to rest and went down to the cellar. John sat alone in the chair that only a day before had held him firm as he was tortured. He was weeping quietly.

On seeing Swift, he composed himself, wiped away his tears.

"I could'nt let her help me she could have been killed. You too...enough people have died because of Morgan. It ends here, with me."

"You're giving your life to protect her."Swift said, "I respect you for that. You're a good man. My mother says all she's learned from being a witchfinder is people are easy to break but much harder to mend." Emotion crept into his voice as he recalled the haunted look in her eyes, the way she still cried over the wrong that was done to her so long ago.

"I think you could mend my mother." And then he told him: "If I can get you out, I will. No promises, I like my life too much to lose it..but I will try.."

And with that, he hurried back up the stairs.

He went to his mother's room. Sarah was sitting by the window, lost in her thoughts. As her son placed his hand on her shoulder, she turned to him and he could see she had been weeping as much as her lover.

"We still have time."He promised her, "Time to think of a way..and John Clover will be free..free as a bird in the sky.."

As he spoke, a black bird fluttered down to the window, perched on the sill, flapped it's wings and flew away, leaving a feather behind. And Swift's eyes lit up.

"That's it!"He exclaimed, "That's it!"

Sarah was utterly confused, having no idea what her unpredictable son was raving on about.

"What do you mean?"

"He said he's a warlock. So he turns himself into a bird and flies out of the window..."He picked up the stray feather. "A few of these placed below the window...and a note..magically left in the cell...all we need is a diversion...leave that to me...Go and tell John, we do it tonight..best way, under cover of darkness."

Sarah threw her arms around her son and hugged him, kissed him, thanked him. This could work. She knew it!

"When we are away and safe I shall use this gold to buy you the finest gift - "

He laughed darkly.

"I'll settle for a prostitute with large breasts.."

"I said a gift, not syphillis."She corrected him. And then she laughed.

"Oh my clever son...my clever boy.."

"Go and tell him."He said, "I'll do the rest."

Sarah went back to the cellar, as the guards let her in she smiled and told them the witch was about to suffer more torments. As soon as the door was locked behind her, she dashed down the steps and hurried to him, greeting him with hope in her eyes.

"We leave tonight."She told him, "This not my doing, it is Swift's. Please have faith."

"If you fail we all die."He told her, "This is what I wanted to avoid..I confessed to spare you this danger."

She kissed him and hope still shone in her eyes.

"No, "She said, "Your death would be meaningless. You are innocent. And tonight you will be a free man. Morgan paid me a small fortune. We can go far from here."

"And if we do not survive?"

"Do'nt think that way. We will."She promised him.

"We need to make the most of these hours."He told her, "And what ever happens, know that I love you. I need you, I want you. There are things you have done..you can't imagine how I feel about it.."

He stopped there, felt awkward.

"What things?"

He had no idea if this was his last day on earth. He wasn't going to hold back.

"The needles..down there..when I think of it I picture you tormenting me, not to the point of torture but sweet pain..pain that you reward with kisses.."

She understood.

"Pain can be pleasurable."She said, "If you want me to...take off your clothes and lie down on the table."

John took hold of her and pushed her slowly backwards.

"I was thinking more of trying it out on you,"He told her, " Think of it as my last wish should anything go wrong tonight."

Her heart began to race as she laid back on the table and opened her legs. Fear was overwhelming her that the guards could come in unexpectedly. If they were caught now, they would both die tomorrow..

He ran his hand down her cunt, his touch made her gasp and beg for more. He drew a needle from the satin case and as she closed her eyes he dragged its point slowly downwards, across her flesh, as it scraped she felt like she might explode with the uncertainty of pleasure, pain, or both. Just as the needle's point teased at her flesh, about to pierce it, he stopped and licked the wetness from her. As his tongue touched her clitoris she stifled a cry and he licked her again, and again and she shook and trembled as the orgasm took hold of her, using all her willpower not to cry out. She had scarcely got her breath back when he whispered:

"I'm really going to pierce you with something now..bigger than your needles..."

And he slid his cock slowly, deeply inside her. He pinned her down and started to thrust.

"Tell me you like it!"

"I like it.."She gasped, "I love it.."

He fucked her harder, harder still.

"Beg me.."

"Fuck me... Fuck me harder, please don't stop.."

He shoved it in deep, throbbed wet and hot inside her and thrust into her body one last time as the last of his come emptied into her.

"I love you Sarah." He said softly, and kissed her. "I think you should have left me to die and saved yourself, but I do love you.. I just pray that we don't fail tonight."

She sat up weakly and lowered her skirt. As she stood up his cum was wet and running down her thighs and she wished it would remain there forever.

"We won't fail." She promised him, "We shall have a long journey but we will go to my grandmother's cottage. After the witch burning I moved her away, far away and the locals know her only as Elizabeth the healing woman. I shall say I am Sarah White. And you are.."

"Your husband."He said, "I think I would like that."

She felt her heart miss a beat.

"Yes, I would like that too." She told him, not daring to think any further ahead until this day was over and they were free. Her heart ached as she was forced to leave him and go back upstairs but she knew if she stayed with him any longer there was a possibility Lord Morgan would ask to join her and that would mean more torture for John.

Swift had sought out the two girls who he had shared such pleasure with in the garden. He drew them out through the kitchen and talked quietly in a shady corner.

"It was Morgan who set the fire in the village....you need to say this has been said on the authority of the witchfinder and the judge and Reverand Green. Go to the village and tell them. They will believe you. Bring everyone back here..there will be a sign by nightfall..."And his eyes glittered. "There's going to be a fire..a big one!" And then he went back inside to gather as many bottles of wine as he could find. As an after thought, he stuck his head out of the door and the two girls looked at him with such awe and respect.

"One more thing.."He added, when this is over, you tell them Swifty Black was a hero..and tell them all he is a fine lover and his cock is very large!"

The girls giggled and nodded.  Then he was gone, to creep about the house and set his trap.

By the time evening began to cast shadows over the sky, John Clover was ready to face whatever happened next, he stood by the dim fire and warmed his hands and waited for Sarah to return. As he heard the heavy door creak open his first thought was that it was too early, she had said nighfall.

And as Lord Morgan entered the room with two guards he realised her plan had come too late.

"Think you can curse me like a fool?"He demanded, "I know you are not a witch...but you'll burn tomorrow. And you will suffer tonight.."

As the guards roughly took hold of him, Lord Morgan said:

"Give him a beating the witchfinder would approve of!" 

Unable to fight back, as a fist slammed into his face and he fell to the floor, he tasted blood in his mouth. As they began to kick him the air was knocked from his lungs and he heard his ribs crack. Before the room went black, his last thought was for Sarah and her son.

As nightfall came, Sarah and Swift approached the cellar door. The guards were gone and she unlocked the door, thinking maybe they had been called away, not caring why, it just made things a little easier. Their plan was set, Swift would go back upstairs in a moment, light the fire, then hurry to the carriage and wait for them to come outside, unnoticed in the panic.

As she walked down the stairs she stopped, stared ahead. Swift also stopped, took a step forward and realised what she was staring at. John was lying on the floor, blood running from his mouth. His shirt was stained with boot marks and spotted with blood. His lip was split, his eye was swollen.

"No.."Sarah said, and hurried over to him. As she knelt beside him she stared in horror at the blood that was leaking from his mouth.

"Is he dead?"

Swift had seen his mother torture men to far worse extremes than the beating that had been given to John. But he had never seen her so tearful or afraid before. Her hand shook as she ran her hand over his head and traced the outline of another swollen bruise.

Swift got down beside her and began to use his expertise that he had picked up in two years of professionally torturing strangers. He knew how to take them apart, not to heal them. But he also had a good idea what kind of damage had been inflicted.

He carefully felt with his fingers along John's neck, then turned him on his side and felt down his back. He lifted his clothing and saw the deep purple bruising on his skin. He felt down his legs.

"How bad is he?"She asked him.

Swift wanted to say he would be fine, but he could not lie to his mother, now or ever.

"I think the bruises are bad, I don't know if his guts are damaged. He has broken ribs. I think the backbone could be damaged as well, it does'nt feel right." And he cautiously poked at the bruise on his head.

"I can't feel a dent but Im not sure because of the swelling."

The desperation he saw in her eyes broke his heart.

"Please, son."She said, "Tell me if you think he will live.."

Swift looked her in the eye and gave her the truth.

"I don't think he will live."He said honestly, "If he does he will never walk again he's too damaged..We must leave, Ive already spread word to the village. I'll set the fire and come back for you both.. I can carry him."

And then he reached inside John's mouth and retrieved a tooth from the back of his jaw. The root was intact and he tossed it aside.

"Well that's where the blood was coming from."He remarked, and he took the note from his pocket and left it on the table, before scattering bird feathers below the tiny window.

When he turned back to the stairway she saw a look in her son's eyes she had never seen before.

"Wait here, stay with him."He said, "I've got to go and set something alight.."

Lord Morgan was ready to retire for the night aiming for an early start for the burning in the morning. He had already instructed the guards to tie John Clover to the stake at first light in case he died before the fire was due to be lit. As the door was kicked open, he looked at Mr Swift questioningly. Then he saw the rage in his eyes and the bottle in his hand. Either Swift was given to dark rages when drunk or...he wanted to kill him? He knew murder when he saw it in a man's eyes and it turned his blood to ice. He came towards him, eyes fixed on him all the time. Then he grabbed him by the throat.

"My mother the Witchfinder,"He said coldly, "Loves John Clover. And I have just found his broken body.."

He tipped the wine over Morgan's head. As the Lord spluttered he ran the trail of alcohol across the room and emptied the last of it across the threshold. As Morgan's vision cleared he saw the young Mr Swift standing just outside the doorway with a demented look on his face.

"This is'nt just for the twelve people you burned alive, or for breaking John Clover's bones..but she loves him.." Swift's face darkened.

"This is for making my mother cry.."

And Morgan realised to his horror Swift had plucked a burning candle from the candleabra. He held it aloft, grinned manically as the fire flickered, then tossed it to the floor. Flame chased through the room, igniting everything it touched, engulfing the floor, the furniture, and Lord Morgan.

As Morgan thrashed around and flames licked into the hallway, Swift remembered he had soaked much of the house with wine and it was only a matter of time before it spread rapidly. He turned and ran for the stairs, shouting FIRE all the way.  The flames took hold far quicker than he expected, by the time he reached the bottom of the stairs he looked up and saw thick smoke billowing over the balcony. People were running, there was shouting and screaming and more chaos than he expected. He reached the cellar door and wrenched it open.

"We're leaving!" He called out.

His mother was on her knees cradling John's head. Tears were running down her face.

"I think he's dying."

Swift lifted him up and made for the stairs. "Well he won't die a prisoner."He vowed, and they made for the door. The smoke was travelling down the stairs now and in the panic as the flames took hold, they reached the door and fled unnoticed. Swift laid John across the seat of the carriage.

"Keep him still."He told his mother as he closed the carriage door, "I'll be driving like the devil."

Moments later he cracked the whip and the horses were running, as the carriage bumped over uneven ground she held onto him, but no matter how uncomfortable their journey became, John Clover lie still as death, knew nothing of their journey, and showed no sign of waking. The carriage rode through the night, at some point between midnight and sunrise Sarah slept, sitting on the carriage floor, her arm around John.

She woke at daybreak, cold, salted air kissed her face and as she opened her eyes she realised they were much closer to their destination. While the horses rested, Swift was fetching water from a nearby stream. Sarah watched as the sun rose in a blue sky. There were trees and hedges and fields and far beyond that, the blue sea sparkled as it caught the sun's rays. She got up and sat on the edge of the seat, afraid to find that he was dead. She cautiously touched his hand and softly spoke his name. His hand felt a little cold and he gave no response. Swift opened the carriage door and handed her some water. She took a handkerchief and dipped it in the water and began to carefully bathe his wounds. His bruises looked darker and the swelling seemed worse in the harsh light of morning.

"He looks bad."Sarah said anxiously.

"It's bruises coming out."Her son said, "Maybe it means what can heal is healing."

Sarah continued to gently bathe his wounds.

"John.."She said gently, "Please, wake up."

As Swift watched her trying in vain to revive him, he considered at least they had tried, he felt sure that John was dying and he wanted to scream and shout but held it in because he did not want his mother to cry even more than she already had. He had seen men die from beatings before. And so had his mother. But it was different when it was someone like John, someone she loved. Someone he respected and liked. It made him wonder about the world, but this was their world. Torture. Burnings. Crowds of people holding them in high esteem...and then he realised something. And he knew it couldn't get any worse..

"We've lost everything..I left the tools in the cellar!"

Sarah glared at her son. He was only seventeen. He had seen horror in his young life. But it had brought him a taste of glory and importance and had become his world.

"Swift, we can never go back to that life again."She told him, "Your clever plan meant we had to make it look as if the warlock turned into a bird and flew away, you even left a note that said he cursed the house and everyone in it! Assuming it works, it ruins our reputation as witchfinders because he got away! And some people will see the truth and say we rescued an innocent man..either way, it's over. Witchfinder Black and Mr Swift have to disappear. And I'm glad. I am done with this way of life, I never burned an innocent person but I've seen enough suffer...Look what these dark times do.." And Sarah continued to bathe John's bruises.

Swift kicked the wheel of the carriage.

"If I'm not the Witchfinder's assistant I'll lose out, "He was whining, "There are girls who want to fuck me just because they've seen me light the fire..Because I'm the Mr Swift..."

"Well you're not now and no one knows us in these parts."She told him.

Swift was still sulking.

"No one will ever open their legs for me again!"

John stirred, felt something cool and wet on his face, soothing away the pain. He struggled to come to his senses and blinked, his vision cleared and he realised Sarah was bathing his wounds. He felt comfortable lying on the seat of the carriage and through the open door he saw the blue sky, the fields and the sea far beyond.

"John,"She said softly, "You're free."

He struggled to sit up but his head pounded and his legs wouldn't move.

"I can't get up."He said weakly, "Can't move my legs.."

On hearing his words, Swift climbed back on the carriage and sat staring at the road ahead. It hurt him to think John was crippled. He still doubted that he would live. And suddenly it seemed far more important to Swift than the fact that his own life as he knew it as a randy torturer was over with.

In the carriage, Sarah softly kissed John's face, willing him to stay awake.

"Please, my love, stay with me..it's over, you are a free man.."

"Thank you."He whispered, "You're a good woman, Sarah Black.." And he rested his head on her shoulder as she embraced him.

Then he fell limp in her arms, his eyes closed. She shook him but he remained still.

As she said his name over and over, Swift climbed down from his seat and looked in the carriage. His mother was cradling John Clover in her arms and sobbing.

Swift climbed back into his seat. He drove off at lightening speed, driving the horses to their limit and didn't stop until they reached the big old cottage far beyond the woods, where Sarah Black at least knew she had found sanctuary at last.

But when Swift opened the carriage door Sarah was still holding John in her arms, holding him tightly as tears ran down her face.

"He's gone." She said, "It's too late."

***************

As her mother-in-law finished speaking, Eve stared at her in amazement. She had always wondered why Swift's mother had a scar on her face.

"You was a witchfinder?"

"Like I said,"Sarah replied, "It seems like a lifetime ago. But it was just five years ago.." She looked over at the old woman who was watching her tiny daughter run about the herb garden and her voice warmed with gratitude.

"I really thought John was dead by the time we got here. But Swift carried him in the house and he said his heart was still beating. My grandmother did all she could and I cared for him night and day and he recovered..my husband lived."

Eve looked towards Swift, who was walking around the lawn as he rocked his baby son to sleep... Her Swift, who she had met one night in the local tavern, who had said rather drunkenly : "There was a time when every girl in this room would have wanted me..but not now.." And she had laughed at this handsome young man who felt so sorry for himself, and then she had fallen for him..Her Swift had been through such dark times..and risked so much to save a man's life?

"My Swift did all that?"

Sarah nodded, once more feeling such pride in her son. And then her thoughts turned to John, who was still asleep, having been kept awake half the night by Swift's crying son.

"I think I'll just go and speak to my remarkable husband."She said, and Eve saw tears in her eyes. She had no doubt that relating this tale had been painful for her.

"Thank you, Sarah."She said warmly, "And I think I shall never see my remarkable husband in the same light again!"

Then Eve walked over to her husband, who was lovingly cradling their son. As their eyes met she saw he was wondering what she thought of him now..

"You was a witchfinder's assistant?"She said, "Swifty Black is a fine fuck and his cock is very large?" She giggled. "The girls used to line up to fuck you?"

Swift's face grew red. "I was young.."

She was still laughing.

"The night you met me you ripped my bodice apart! You had all the charm of a rabid dog!"

As ever, her husband missed the point and took it as a compliment.

"Well, some things never change,"He bragged, "I'm still Swifty Black.."

Eve laughed, then leaned forward and kissed him, her eyes glowing with pride. He had risked everything, even after the terrible life he had lived, all to save one man's life.

"You're a hero."She told him, "I'm so proud of you."

Sarah let herself into the bedroom quietly and locked the door. John was still in bed but he was awake and when he saw the look on her face, he realised at once that Eve knew.

"So you told her, then..how did she take it?"

She sat beside him.

"She is quite amazed and loves Swift all the more for it."

John slid the covers back.

"I'm glad you came up here when you did because I need some help with this.."

He spread his legs and she saw his cock was firmly erect. She hadn't told Eve everything, not the part about how she had helped John recover all his sensations, especially the feeling between his legs. It wouldn't have been right to tell her son's wife that she had applied needles to John's cock and balls, teasing and twisting them, saying the kind of things that a witchfinder would say to the accused, pausing only to lick him here and suck him there, until his cock had been so hard all he could do was beg her to make him come. This little kink had helped in the time during his recovery, now it was something they used sometimes just because they both enjoyed it.

John looked at his beautiful pregnant wife and said:"I can't possibly get up yet..I need some stimulation.."

Sarah took a small case of needles from the dresser. He felt a rush of pleasure and excitement run through his body.

She took his balls in her hand and squeezed them.

"I know what you need."She said sharply, and pushed the needle through the skin, just below his pubic hair. He gave a gasp and fluid began to leak from his cock. He was already near orgasm.

She took another needle and slid it just above his cock, lightly under the skin, causing pain but not drawing blood.

"Where shall I put the next one?"She wondered aloud, "Through your balls, perhaps?"

He gave a gasp and closed his eyes. Every time she said that, it always put him closer to the point of orgasm, even though after the torture he had suffered in Morgan's cellar had put him off the idea of pain in his testicles for the rest of his life..

"Suck it..suck it hard!"He begged her.

Sarah took his cock in her mouth and sucked him, hard and fast.

As he trembled and cried out and filled her mouth with cum, she swallowed all it down. He was still throbbing as she drew out the needles.

Then she lay beside him and he kissed her, held her tightly and rested his hand on her growing bump.

As they embraced, she once again felt  peace surrounding her, the one thing she had sought in vain for so many years. Somehow she always seemed to find peace in his arms.

Her son had been right, John Clover did mend his mother. His love had mended her, heart and soul. And now she was Sarah, wife of John and mother to his children. Witchfinder Black was nothing more than a far-off memory, an echo.

The End