The First Disciple


By Kingmaker

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This was originally the epilogue from Witching Day, but since I loved how succinctly that story ended, I decided to cut it out, but by the time I had done that, I had already written a fair amount of content so I reworked it for its own submission. This very short story requires no prior knowledge of any other stories in this universe.


Ingrid clutched her cloak close, seeking warmth in the shadowed wood of Castle Revinor.

Her warm breath added to the mist of the clawing trees, their branches cruel and sharp from the presence of evil. She had heard a great battle had been fought here, a battle of witches. She was eager to see if she could pick up any arcane secrets left in the aftermath of their duel.

She cast a quick spell, illuminating the tip of her wand as she trudged through the haunted wood. It was dangerous to go alone they said. But she forged on, this is what separated the truly talented from the chaff. Moments like these. Then she heard the clopping of hooves, the snort of a horse in the distance.

She held her wand forward, illuminating more of the fog. “Hello! Is anyone there?”

The sound of hooves grew closer and closer. Until she saw the beginnings of a horse cantering through the fog, with what was clearly a witch on top, if the hat was any indication, and it usually was.

Ingrid gulped, her mouth becoming dry, nervous if she would have to defend herself from a rival witch also hunting for more power. She was at ease the moment she heard a sonorous voice like velvet honey flowed into her receiving ears.

“Greetings fellow traveler!” she called, her hand waving amiably in the fog. “What brings you hither? Such a pretty thing in so dreary an abode!”

She thought honesty was the best policy, witches were known for many things, stupidity not chief among them. It was not terribly believable a girl like her would simply be out for a stroll.

“Well, curious you should ask because…I…uh…” she trailed off, lost in her thoughts as she saw the approaching rider, her eyes were like stars, violet orbs glowing against her silhouetted form.

The rider strolled up right beside Ingrid, now in the flesh, no fog concealing the work of art that was her body. Her dress plunged down in a v-shape, her opulent breasts barely held back by two vertical straps of black silk, her pouting globes so pert they seemed to be the only things holding the dress up. Ingrid’s eyes drifted down, taking in her smooth legs, on full display as they splayed out from the slits in her dress, her pale, creamy skin contrasted by her pitch black thigh high boots.

The rider cleared her throat. “Yes? Continue?”

Ingrid broke out of her daydream, looking up into the rider’s hypnotizing eyes. “Oh yes…well I heard there was a great battle here, of sorcery! With no survivors…”

The rider grinned, jumping down from her horse, her bust jiggling beautifully as she completed the movement. “In a manner of speaking yes, all true.” she said, putting her delicate fingers just under Ingrid’s chin, tantalizing her.

Ingrid gasped, both at the revelation and at her touch. “You were there!? Tell me what happened! I must know!”

The rider closed the difference between them impossibly fast, her face now intimately close to Ingrids. Ingrid was surprised at how aroused she had become, how warm the rider’s eyes were, and how inviting her bouncing cleavage seemed, as it glittered with twinkling dust, emphasizing the pale swell of her breasts.

The rider leaned in, licking her neck, her hot breath making Ingrid moan as she whispered into her ear. “I can give you all that you desire but…” she pulled back, running her hand through her blonde hair affectionately, before continuing, “You must join me. Abandon your coven and follow my teachings alone.”

The demand was quite easy for Ingrid, her coven being full of wastrels and dregs at the very bottom of the magic pile. “Yes! Yes I’ll do it! Now tell me what I must do!” she pleaded, her eyes wide, searching for any sort of comfort in the rider’s gaze.

“Only…this!” said the rider, as she shot her hand behind Ingrid’s head, gripping her by the hair as she mashed down into her lips. Ingrid’s muffled panic soon turned to muffled moans of pleasure, loving the rider’s lips and her amazing breasts squishing into hers.

Her head was left in a cloud as she felt herself leaning back, supported by the rider, her eyes glazed over in lust. When the rider pulled her back up, her skimpy top was now hanging by her waist. Ingrid’s vision was filled with the rider’s spectacular globes, so upturned, soft and begging to be sucked. She shoved her face in, sucking madly upon a turgid, pink nipple.

The rider held her head in like a vice like grip, moaning quietly as her prey nursed on her lavish flesh, unknowingly delivering herself into the clutches of darkness. It aroused her that she was ruining this innocent flower, who might have gone on to do noble things were it not for her.

Ingrid groaned in pain and pleasure as the rider’s hot ambrosia scalded her tongue but filled her body with warmth and bliss, finding some respite from the cold at last. The outside world ceased to exist for her as she clutched onto the massive swell of her lover’s breasts, barely aware of the rider speaking softly into her ear as she gulped down more of the forbidden nectar. She then choked and gurgled the hot fluid in horror as she realized she had been tricked.

She was given a vision of all that had transpired in Castle Revinor and the ultimate fate of its hero, Morgana, who had fallen into the shadow of darkness. She trembled in arousal and terror that the very same Morgana was damning her soul now. Her eyes welled up at her impending fate and made a token effort to pull away, but the rider’s grip was too strong. She didn’t really want to leave anyway, her new master’s soft embrace was too sweet to abandon.

If this was what evil tasted like, then no wonder Morgana gave in, it felt wonderful. Ingrid felt her loins explode into orgasm as the vile nectar flooded into her body and soul, twisting her from the inside. With each beat of the heart, the corrupting essence pushed further into her being, making her enjoy it even more as her searching hands groped for Morgana’s ample ass, her fingers running underneath her silken outfit and squishing around her soft cheeks.

With a great moan she surrendered, forcing more of Morgana’s shuddering breast into her mouth as she felt her soul scream out at her betrayal, to be lost and tainted for all time. Morgana on the other hand, merely cooed, stroking the hair of her first disciple as she whispered into her ear.

“Drink it all in my dear…all in, wouldn’t want to have that pesky conscience coming up later…oh feels so good…join me…”

As she uttered her encouragements, she gasped as Ingrid humped against her thigh, pushing her head further into her pillowy chest. She let out muffled moans as her body convulsed underneath her volcanic orgasms, her love juices streaming onto Morgana as she gorged herself on the witch’s evil essence, having more than enough, but kept on drinking to ensure her soul would be as black as pitch.

Morgana’s moist, ripe breasts shuddered, she herself suffering an orgasm of her own, the sucking of her nipples sending an orgasm to her core, her nerves intoxicated with the sheer pleasure of transforming an innocent. With a deep moan she leaned against a tree, her climax having robbed her of her strength. She looked back to her convert, the blonde witch had had her fill, her head rolling back, gurgling in ecstasy as steam rose out of her mouth, completely overtaken by her evil essence.

Morgana let her convulsing body drop to the ground, as her foul sorcery changed the poor girl from the inside. She smiled as she watched Ingrid’s kindly hazel eyes grow lighter and lighter, until they brightened into a crystalline grey, her veins momentarily turning black for a moment before disappearing, hiding her corruption while her light blonde hair shifted into golden-red tresses, radiant yet emitting a sorcerous light.

Ingrid’s hands clawed into the dirt, her back arching as her form remolded itself into something built for sin, her modest breasts blossoming and ripping through her cloak and robes, while surges of euphoria shot through her nerves, her mind blank from wanton pleasure. Her eyes glazed over as she stared off into the sky, her body paralyzed with bliss as she let Morgana’s essence infest and rework her body, embracing her destiny.

Morgana stood over her squirming convert, licking her lips as the girl grew more voluptuous by the second. Radiant, amber hued peaks jutted from the girl’s chest as she tore away her robes, revealing a ripe and round bottom, filled with the vigor of unholy youth. It struck her that she was remarkably ‘normal’ looking for a servant of darkness, luscious figure aside, there was nothing about her that screamed ‘evil witch’, her ingenue face hiding the twisted soul that lay behind. Already her mind went into overdrive, thinking of how best to use her for methods of deception, but that could wait.

Her pendulous breasts shook to her evil laughter as she gazed into the sky, dreaming of the chaos she would sow. Her dreams were closer than ever to becoming reality, now as her coven began to take shape. A coven that would number as many as the stars.

Now was the time to make a name for herself.

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