Mrs. Braithwaite, Part 2 free porn video

Another in the series of tales about magic books. Simon becomes Simone, a pawn in the power struggles of a witches' coven. MRS. BRAITHWAITE II ? by: Geneva When I was fourteen, my mother died and I was left an orphan. Well, perhaps that wasn't really true, but my father had disappeared soon after his brief liaison with my mother, barely taking long enough to impregnate her. I had no idea whether he was still alive, and I never cared much about it anyway. I lived with my mother in a flat above the small grocery she had inherited from an uncle. A month previously my mother had complained of stomach pains, and by the time she got to a doctor and was rushed to hospital, it was too late. I vaguely remember the funeral as a simple affair, just me, some neighbours, the undertaker's crew, and the parson, standing in the drizzle that April morning. I was grateful the parson was there, as Mum and I had not been churchgoers. In fact Mum and the parson had barely spoken, perhaps stemming from his barely hidden disapproval of the manner in which I was conceived. I stood numbly, only watching as the interment proceeded. I did notice however, standing alone at the edge of the bleak cemetery, Mrs. Braithwaite, dressed in a black outfit, suit, hat, and gloves. It was rumoured that Mrs. Braithwaite was a rich widow. Thinking back on it, she must have been her mid thirties. She lived in a house called Highdale on the edge of the moors, above our small village. In some ways she was a bit out of place, here on the edge of the Yorkshire dales. She had appeared in our area about five years ago, maybe in the early fifties, and bought an old farm house. Then there began to be reports from some of the local tradesmen she was fixing it up and doing some additions. Her comfortable circumstances, shown by her car, a powerful Rover, usually driven by a female chauffeur called Dora, and the smart manner in which she invariably dressed, might have explained why she did not join our little group at the grave site. Her voice always sounded pleasant, but definitely posh, with a different accent and style from the locals. Our acquaintance had begun one afternoon when Mum had left me in charge of the shop while she went to see one of the local tradesman to pay a bill. There had not been very many customers that day and feeling bored, I had rummaged in a back room. I found an old set of encyclopaedias belonging to my mother's uncle and I began reading them to while away the time. Then Mrs. Braithwaite had come in to get a few supplies, and she had commented on my reading material, not unfavourably. I think she was pleasantly surprised I was not reading some comics. Once I got over my awe of her I enjoyed chatting to her when she came into our little shop. She always seemed interested in my progress at school. After the funeral the undertaker drove me back to the shop. Although the parson had muttered something about help on its way for me, I felt a deep depression. The reality of now being alone hit me like a dull ache and I had no idea what would now happen to me. At last, to occupy my mind, I began to tidy the shelves in the shop. A few customers came by, clucking their sympathy, until I got fed up with it and closed the blinds. I set a 'Closed' sign in the door and retreated to an inner room with a lemonade and a packet of potato crisps. There was a knock at the door. Wanting to be left alone I ignored it but then it came again, louder than before. "Go away!" I shouted. "Leave me alone!" "Simon?" I heard. "It's Mrs. Braithwaite. Can I speak with you?" I was in no mood for company. I had enough to think about, but as she had always been nice to me, I got up to open the door. She stood at the door, her head slightly to one side. "Simon, how are you?" At that my determination melted away and I dissolved into tears. I felt her take hold of me. Even in my misery I noticed how nice she smelled. I was embarrassed at crying, and in front of a woman, and I fought to control my tears. "There, there, Simon, just let it go, lad," she said, and it was several minutes before I was coherent. "Simon?" she said at last," you have had a terrible shock, but you have some important decisions to make. However, lad, I don't think today is the time. I'll leave you alone now but, can I see you tomorrow? I want to talk about your future. I'll send Dora with the car for you tomorrow, about ten? Is that all right?" In truth I should have been going to school, but my attendance the last two weeks had been erratic, first with my mother being in hospital and then the funeral arrangements. Another day would make no difference so I nodded. She gave my arm another squeeze. "Righto then, I'll see you tomorrow." She climbed into the Rover and drove off. I was awake early the next day, too early in fact, but after some tossing and turning I got up and did some more tidying in the shop and Hoovered the floor in our flat. I kept thinking about what Mrs. Braithwaite would want with me. I wondered too whether I would be able to keep the shop. Just after opening time several customers came by the shop and I served them, but I discovered we were out of some things, and it made me realise that I did not know much about running the shop, other than selling over the counter. Suddenly I noticed the time was about ten, so I rushed upstairs and put on a clean shirt and trousers. I wondered about a tie, so I grabbed my school one and hurriedly put it on. I had barely time to get a jacket on when the Rover rolled up. I waved to Dora and, hanging the 'closed' sign in the door, I locked up. Dora had opened a back door for me, so I climbed in the back and sat down on the leather seats, feeling slightly pleased, and slightly embarrassed, but very important. I had never ridden in a car before. Any traveling Mum or I did had been by bus or train. Dora hardly spoke, When I tried to make conversation about the weather she only gave curt answers. I got the impression she did not approve of me. "Do you know what Mrs. Braithwaite wants with me?" I asked. "She will tell you herself, I'm sure," was the cool reply and I retreated into silence. I watched the countryside as the car drove up into the hills. We were soon off the main road and onto a side road. The trees were coming into leaf and the sheep were out with their lambs. Once we had to wait for a ewe and her two lambs to get off the road. After some minutes the car turned into a narrow road leading up a treed valley, and I could see the farmhouse at the end. Before I could get out Dora opened the door for me. I had never seen the place up close, but it was obvious that Mrs. Braithwaite had spent a lot of money on it. It was a traditional old farmhouse, fairly big, and the stonework was in good order. There were new slates on the roof, and it even looked as if there were two or three large new additions to both the house and the outbuildings, done in the same local stone. All was freshly painted and neat. The large courtyard was freshly covered with tarmac. There were even some flowerbeds at the side of the door with daffodils in bloom. As Dora led me to the front door it was opened by Mrs. Braithwaite's housekeeper. She was a stoutish grey haired woman, in her late forties, I guessed. "Hello Simon," she said. "I was sorry to hear about your mother. How are you?" Her questions were polite, but her tone was slightly cold. "Anyway Simon," she added, "Can you come this way? Mrs. Braithwaite is waiting in the conservatory at the back. Oh, by the way, I'm Susan Fell. They call me Sue." "How do you do?" I said politely, remembering my manners. She led me through a hall with a polished wooden floor and into a large room with enormous windows looking out over the dale beneath. The room had a tiled floor, and was furnished with white wicker furniture, several chairs and a large low table. The rest was filled with flowering plants. Something had a very sweet smell. Mrs. Braithwaite had been sitting at the low table, some papers in front of her, but she rose to greet me. She held out her hand to mine." So glad you came, Simon. Please sit down." She gestured to one of the chairs. As usual, she was well dressed. Today she was wearing a slim tweed skirt and a matching twinset with tan stockings and pale tan leather shoes. Round her neck was a single strand of pearls and in her ears were matching pearl earrings. Her hair looked like she had recently been at a hairdresser. Her simple elegance made me feel ill dressed. I wished I had tied my tie a little more carefully and put on my school jacket. "How are you today, Simon?" she asked. I shrugged. "Better, I suppose." "Would you like some tea?" "No, thank you, Mrs. Braithwaite." "Then how about some hot chocolate?" She smiled at me encouragingly. "Yes please." "Sue?' She called."Can you make some chocolate for us? And bring some biscuits." She looked at me." Have you thought any more about your future?" "Just a little bit. Maybe I could keep on running the shop, or get a job at something. I'm old enough to leave school now." "You don't have enough knowledge to run the shop. And maybe people would try to take advantage of you." "Yes. I know, but I don't think I have much choice, or "... another thought occurred to me.., "maybe I could start an apprenticeship in Leeds or get a job in a mill." Mrs. Braithwaite looked at me steadily. "That is what I wanted to see you about. Maybe I can give you another choice. You're a bright lad. I could see it in what you read, and when I've been talking to you. I know you have your head screwed on the right way. I think you should keep on at school. Maybe even go to university after that. I think you've got brains. It would be a pity to waste them." "That's impossible! I've no money," I blurted out. "Actually you would have something. You could sell the shop and that would give you a bob or two. I've been asking around and I know that Jack Sykes, who farms up this way, wants to get out of it. He says he is getting too old. He might make you an offer for the shop and the flat. But that's only part of what I wanted to tell you. If you want, Simon, you could come and live with us here. Mind you, that's conditional on you keeping on at school and working for your leaving certificates. Once you have these, if you want, you could go to a college or university. Well, we'll see about that when the time comes." "But I can't do that. It's very generous of you, but I can't take advantage of you like that. " "Don't you worry about that lad. No one takes advantage of Martha Braithwaite. Well, no more than once. Anyway, I'd be glad to give you help at this time in your life. I'm sure you'll become an independent sort of man, but at this time you're just a lad. What do you say?" "Well...," I was weakening, "I'll do it if you make sure I earn my keep." She laughed. "Oh, there's enough odd jobs around here need doing by a man. You've noticed, I'm sure, that there are only us women here?" I had noticed. It made me feel just slightly uneasy, but she didn't seem to notice. "Now," she went on, "As I said, I expect you to keep on with school. I know it's quite a bit away, but either me or Dora will drive you down to the main road and you can take the bus into the school from there. Or in Summer you can ride your bike down to the road. There's a little hut there you can hide the bike in. So what do you say?" "Yes, if it's all right with you," I nodded, "But how do I go about selling the shop?" "Don't you worry about that. I'll speak to my solicitor. That's Mr. Netherby, and he will arrange it all. Do you know if your mother left a will?" I thought carefully. "Yes, she talked about it last year." I wondered if she had had a premonition. "I think it's in her drawer. Actually, I think Mr. Netherby was her solicitor too." Just then Sue brought two cups of hot chocolate and a plate of biscuits. Mrs. Braithwaite offered me one. I thanked her politely, remembering my manners. "Then that will make things so much easier. So when do you want to move in? Oh Simon, I'm sorry. I should show you what will be your bedroom. It's fairly self-contained, its own bathroom and so on. We'll finish our chocolate first, then you can come along with me, it's upstairs." It was a smallish bedroom, and the wallpaper was a bit too flowery for my taste, but it was sparkling clean and neat, with a comfortable looking single bed. Under the window, showing a glorious view of the dale below, was a chest of drawers, and on the other wall was a large oak wardrobe. Off an adjacent door was a toilet and a small bath. It looked great to me. It was more than I had at home. "Oh that's very nice, Mrs. Braithwaite, but are you sure I won't be in the way?" "No, not at all. I have my own rooms downstairs, and Dora and Sue have rooms at the other end of the upstairs. There's a connecting door but we will keep it locked to give you and them some privacy. When do you want to move in?" I was a bit overwhelmed. My life would be turned upside down. I thought carefully. "Two days, if that is all right with you, Mrs. Braithwaite. I'd better get all of my stuff packed and tidy up the shop and the flat." Dora's brusque manner did not seem to have improved when she drove me back to the shop, but as she dropped me off, she said. "Well, Simon, see you in two days. Do you have much stuff?" "No," I replied. "I don't think so. It will probably all go in a large suitcase." "What did Mrs. Braithwaite say about your mother's stuff and the furniture? I shook my head. "She didn't tell me." "Then why don't you pack your mother's clothing up in some cases or boxes. Then go and see the parson. There might be some of his parishioners as needs it. All right, Simon. I'll see you the day after tomorrow, about ten." Indeed, it did not take long to pack. I looked through the worn furniture and my mother's personal belongings. There was a small necklace she had worn on special occasions and a ladies watch. I put them in with my stuff. In fact I was ready to go the next day, but I spent it idly wandering from room to room checking things out. I knew it was the last time I might see the place, and that my life would have many changes. Dora arrived just before ten. She opened the car boot and helped me in with my solitary case. She watched as I put the 'closed' sign on the shop door and turned the key for the last time. "Here lad," she said, not unkindly, as she held out a handkerchief to me. "Now we better drop off the shop key at Mr. Netherby's." So began my life with Mrs. Braithwaite at Highdale. All was a bit strange at first, but I soon settled in. I usually ate breakfast alone, and lunch as well on days that I was not at school, but I joined Mrs. Braithwaite and the two other women at dinner. I was never able to quite break down the reserve of Sue and Dora, but Mrs. Braithwaite was kind and attentive to me. There was only me and the three women at Highdale, and every month they would go off on a trip for one or two nights, leaving me alone. They said it was for meetings of a women's club they belonged to. I did not mind as I had quite a bit of homework for school, although I was a good student and usually finished it quickly. I was given some jobs around the farmhouse, but that first summer, during the school holidays, I was free to roam the countryside around. I especially loved walking up on the moors, watching the landscape and the wildlife with a pair of old binoculars that had belonged to my mother's uncle. It was about that time I began to notice my body changing. I began to eat more and began to grow out of my clothes. It needed quite a few trips to Leeds to get me new stuff. My voice had broken some months earlier, and I began to notice hair growing under my arms and around my penis. Less welcome was a case of acne that seemed to last for months. When school started again that autumn I was especially aware of girls. The lads I was friendly with had acquired a large repertoire of jokes about sex and girls, but a lot of it made me uncomfortable. I also began to see Mrs. Braithwaite in a new light. Certainly she was a bit older than me, but I began to notice her figure, and the way her body fitted into her frocks, especially the tighter ones. Mrs. Braithwaite usually got the local paper every day, and on Sundays a selection of the national papers as well. I was idly reading through a paper one day when an advertisement caught and held my attention. It was from a girdle company, advertising what they called 'a fitting week' at one of the big London department stores. The advertisement had a picture showing a young woman being fitted for a bra and girdle. The assistant was kneeling behind the woman, apparently fastening a back suspender to her stocking. Her front suspenders were already attached to her stocking tops, pulling then into graceful arcs. The woman's face carried an expression of joy, if not ecstasy. I was completely fascinated by it. In someway the woman looked slightly familiar. I knew the picture was posed, but still I found it strange that a woman with such a nice body should find pleasure in being fastened into what was an intimate and confining garment, and by a stranger. I kept turning back to the advertisment, strangely attracted by it. I even quietly removed it from the paper later and kept it in my room. I forgot about it one busy week and when I remembered about it again I could not find it. I supposed I had been thrown it out accidentally. But from then on I could not help notice the succession of girdle advertisements in later papers and in the women's magazines that Mrs. Braithwaite also brought home. The models all seemed so slim, poised, and pretty. I began to notice more closely how Mrs. Braithwaite dressed. Sometimes I could detect the ridges of her underwear under her knitted outfits. Then one day I had to go into the kitchen for some water, only to find a basket with some of her underwear fresh out of the laundry. Sue must have been interrupted in putting it away. I had often seen nylon stockings, but this time there was a white nylon slip, a pair of knickers, two bras and a girdle. No one seemed to be about, and fascinated, I picked up her slip, feeling the smooth soft material, examining the lace at its hem and top. It was so delicate and pretty. I looked at her knickers. The material was soft and shiny. I wondered how it would feel on my hips. I took one of her bras, looking at the intricate sewing on the cups, the fastening at the back, and the strap adjustments. What would it be like to wear such a garment, to have breasts, then feel them enclosed and lifted by it. I picked up her girdle, feeling the stiff fabric, examining its construction, the embroidery on the front panel, its zipper and the mechanism of its suspenders. I almost died when I heard a small cough behind me and turned to see Mrs. Braithwaite looking at me. I blushed deep red and dropped the girdle as if it was red-hot, but she did not seem annoyed. In fact there was almost a hint of a smile on her face. "Yes, that's a pretty girdle, isn't it?" I was unable to reply. My throat was dry. "It's one of my favourites." "I'm sorry," I blurted, finding my voice at last. "It was rude of me to look at your stuff." "Apology accepted, Simon. It shouldn't have been left there. Besides, I had younger brothers. I know what growing boys are like. I remember catching them peeking at my stuff. I know most men are interested in women in their underwear. That's all right." "It looks awfully rigid," I replied . "Oh, it's not so bad if it is properly fitted." I was still red with embarrassment as she grinned at me and lifted her lingerie away from my eyes. Later, my mind went back to what she had said. She had mentioned being fitted for her girdle. So she too had someone help her choose new underwear. My mind went back to the girdle advertisement in the paper and the pleasure on the customer's face. How pretty the girl looked. No, even her underwear was pretty. Women were fortunate to be able to wear such pretty clothes. I envied them. Later that year, in November, I was sitting with Mrs. Braithwaite, Sue and Dora at our evening meal when she said, "Simon, I'll be having a group of women visitors at the weekend. This will happen every month or so from now on. It's definitely women only, so I'd be grateful if you kept in your room. Some of them don't like men." "All right," I said. I thought no more about it at the time, as my mind was on an Algebra test the next day, but later I got to thinking her request was strange. Why would some women not want to see me? After all, even if they did not like men, they must have had to deal with men in shops, or at work. Next Friday evening I watched from my room window as a number of cars drove up to the farmhouse and women got out. I even saw some walking up the road from the bus stop. I counted about thirty women in all, of all ages. A few were girls hardly older than me, and some very old white- haired ladies, but most looked as if they were in their thirties. I saw them welcomed by Mrs. Braithwaite and idly I wondered where they would all sleep. I was studying some physics for yet another test, holding my hands over my ears to shut out the faint sounds of the women talking when there was a knock at my door. It was Sue. She was holding a mug of something. "I brought a mug of chocolate for you , Simon. You'll be feeling a bit neglected here on your own. Now drink it up right away and I'll take it back down." I thought there was no reason she could not have picked up the mug the day after, but I drank it fast and handed it back to her. Something was not quite right. She seemed slightly apprehensive, but she smiled when I had finished. "Now Simon, why don' t you get ready for bed? See you tomorrow." She was right. It was getting late and I had studied enough. As I remember, I had barely put on my pyjamas and climbed into bed when my eyes felt very heavy and I was fast asleep. It was bright daylight when I awoke. By the position of the watery sun I could see that it was away past my usual time. My alarm clock said it was after eleven. I washed my face, put on my clothes and looked out. I blinked. All of the cars were gone. I went downstairs to the kitchen. Mrs. Braithwaite was speaking to Dora. "Good morning," I said, "I'm sorry I'm so late. I almost never sleep in." None of the women looked annoyed. "Oh, that's all right, Simon. You are allowed to sleep in at weekends. How do you feel?" "Oh fine, but it's funny, my mind seems slightly fuzzy. I must have slept awfully soundly." "In that case we should make sure you have some chocolate every night," she smiled. "Uh, where are all your visitors? Have they gone?" I asked. Mrs. Braithwaite enchanged a quick glances with Dora. "Oh yes," she said. "We got all of our business completed last night. Some left in the night. The rest left early this morning." "Where did they sleep? You must have been very crowded." "Oh, some didn't get to sleep at all, but there is a big room and we have a number of beds there. Anyway, Simon, what would you like for breakfast?" I wondered briefly why the visitors might not have slept at the house, but I thought no more about it until a month later, in the middle of a really frosty spell in December when Mrs. Braithwaite announced that the women would be visiting us again. As at the previous time she warned me to stay out of sight. Sue appeared at my room with a mug of chocolate in the evening. Again she seemed concerned that I drink it right away. Yet again I slept well, so that all visitors were gone by the time I awoke. This happened over the next year or so at monthly intervals, the only difference was that Sue got used to leaving the chocolate with me. I had studying to do and I promised I would drink it before I went to bed, so she took to leaving it in a thermos for me. One of these nights I had been engrossed studying a chemistry problem, and stayed up later than usual. I became aware that the distant sounds of the women talking had stopped. Instead, there began a strange, shrill musical sound in the air. It seemed to pulse and throb. I was fascinated by it, but remembering the warning to keep out of sight, I downed my chocolate, and climbed into bed. Next morning all the women were gone, as usual. And again I woke late. I puzzled about this as I was usually an early riser. Then finally it dawned on me. Perhaps something had been put in my drink to keep me asleep. Obviously Mrs. Braithwaite did not want to run the risk of the other women seeing me. Or perhaps there was something she did not want me to see! The next time that I was warned there would be visitors I pretended to be studying hard. In fact this was true. I had important exams coming up, my A levels. When Sue brought up my drink, I was in my pyjamas. I pretended to be engrossed in a French translation, and waved absent-mindedly at her. I heard little until midnight, when the distant chatter of the women stopped and the strange shrill music started up again. I carefully opened the door to my room, then crept down the stairs and along the hallway towards the sound of the music. It was coming from a big room on Mrs. Braithwaite's side. The door was closed, and when I tried it I found it was locked. The noise now sounded loud and overpowering. I tried to see through the keyhole but it was blocked with something. Then I remembered that the room had a high window. I crept outside and climbed one of the trees outside to see in. Fortunately it was a warm night and I was not cold. I could see fairly clearly. The women were standing around the perimeter of the room, some beginning to gyrate to the throbbing music. Then to my total shock, several began to disrobe, leaving their clothing in piles on the floor at the sides. Young and old, poorly and richly dressed, they slipped off their clothes until they were all completely naked. I even saw Mrs. Braithwaite briefly in bra and knickers before she too stripped completely. The women linked hands, moving in a large circle, anticlockwise round the room, swaying and dipping, then released hands and danced individually, gyrating. I could clearly see erect nipples on their swaying breasts, and the triangles of hair at their groins. Some were streaked with perspiration. It was becoming more and more difficult to tell them apart. All now seemed like young women, all dark haired, with pale, almost white skin. Then it almost seemed like an aura now rose from each, each a slightly different hue. The witches-I now realised they were all witches- all seemed to become less substantial, almost wraith-like, as if I could almost see through them. Their auras seemed to drift to the middle of the circle, to a large black rock. Then it began to flash and narrow brilliant rays of light hit the women. They began to leap with renewed frenzy. The eroticism of the spectacle of the naked dancing women became too much for me. I slipped my hand to my penis and began to masturbate. I had scarcely taken ten seconds when the sight below me began to change. The rays from the rock darkened to an angry red, then dissolved into lilac auras that fled back to the women. Several of the women collapsed, and the others began a desperate wail. Some even looked in my direction. I jumped down from the tree and raced back to my room. I downed the chocolate and slipped into bed. I could not sleep at first and it was about a half hour later when I heard the door open gently. Terrified, I pretended to breathe deeply as if in a deep sleep, but my heart was thumping. After about a minute I heard the door gently close again. I had passed inspection. I must have finally fallen asleep from the drug in my drink as it was eleven when I woke the next morning. Mrs. Braithwaite was sitting at the kitchen table when I went down stairs. "Good morning, Simon. Did you sleep well?" "Yes, thank you." "Tell me Simon, When did you get to bed last night?" "Oh, about ten, I think," I lied. "I had some studying for an exam." "Did you hear anything in the night?" "How do you mean? Not after I went to bed." That part at least was true. She looked at me intently. "I just wondered, Simon. Someone interrupted our meeting last night but we don't know who." "A prowler you mean, or a burglar or trespasser?" "Perhaps," she said. "I see the ladies are all gone. What is it you meet about?" "Oh, we are all members of a society. We meet to discuss policy every month or so. Just to warn you again, Simon. Some of these ladies do not like the idea of a man around. They would not like to be seen." She stared at me. "Yes," I mumbled. I heard no more about it and life settled to normal. My exams had gone well and I knew I would have no difficulty in getting into a university. The witches met several more times since my scare, but I paid close attention to Mrs.. Braithwaite's advice and kept out of sight. With it being a nest of witches, I suppose I should have been more careful and left the place, but in fact I liked being there. I was comfortable, I had little to bother about, other than school, and I enjoyed Mrs. Braithwaite's company. Even Sue and Dora had mellowed and I thought we were friends.But mostly, I still remembered the erotic sight of the witches dancing. I hoped I could have one more view of them before I went off to university. The next opportunity came that May. Again I was warned to keep out of sight of the women for the next meeting. I pretended to sleep until I heard the women's chatter fall away, and the shrill music starting. I crept out of my room and into the tree to watch them. It was as before. The women, one by one, disrobed and started the swaying dance. Once more the older women began to look younger. I was enthralled with the swaying of the pert breasts, the flashes of their dark pelts. I could not help myself this time either. The temptation and stimulation were too much and I began to masturbate. The auras seemed to be growing darker, but I paid no heed, until suddenly the weird music stopped and they ceased their dance. All were now staring in my direction, hidden as I was in the tree. In a panic I dropped from it and ran to my bedroom. Thankfully I heard no sound behind me, but when I opened the door to my room, there before me were four of the women, stark naked, but implacably hostile. I turned to run, but I was caught by another two behind me. I was young and strong, but no match for the six of them. "Let go!" I shouted. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to spy on you. I meant you no harm." But they were holding me, tearing off my clothes until I was as naked as they. I felt my feet tied, then my hands pulled behind my back and tied also. I was shouting and screaming, until a gag was thrust in my mouth and a hood was tied over my head. I do not remember much of the next part. Something had hit my head and I was dazed. There was a confused cacophony of shrill voices and screaming. Later I heard cries of pain, and sobbing, in a woman's voice. There was a blindfold on my eyes. The woman's screams stopped and my hood and blindfold were whipped off. I blinked at the sight. When I tried to move I found my hands and feet were still tied and I saw I was on my knees on a small platform some feet above the floor. Even worse, there seemed to be a kind of collar round my neck, connected by a short chain to the platform, so that I could barely raise my head more than a foot. The witches were now all facing me, in a semicircle, all still naked, but now in their normal shapes. I recognized Mrs. Braithwaite, but I could not read her expression. Then I saw her back and breasts were striped with scarlet, as if she had been badly scratched. Her face was tear stained, her eyes puffy. Sue was looking fearful, but Dora was looking furious. I realized I felt very uncomfortable at my privates and I bent my head to look at my belly. I was shocked to see a thin steel wire tied round my scrotum. The other end of the wire was tied around a large smooth stone at the side of my head, the one that they had been dancing around. I was shrunken with fear, so that even a slight movement was painful. "So Simon," I heard. I looked in front to see an old crone addressing me. She was holding a carved wooden staff. "I see you are now awake," she began. "My name is Lady Dierdre. I am the head of this coven. Remember my name and fear it. I see you have noticed how you are fastened. I advise you to keep very still. That is a very fine wire round your privates. Much wriggling and you will geld yourself. You have been very foolish to spy on us." "Please," I began. I tried not to whimper. "Please let me go. I'm sorry." "It is too late. You have seen our rituals and you might tell others. In the past we have eliminated people who spied on us." She picked up a large knife. "I could slit your throat like a goat." I shrank back in terror. "You would be a suitable sacrifice. I can tell you we have done so in the past, but my sisters and I have come to a decision. We will permit you to live, but in a way that you will be perpetually punished yet not tell others of our activities." "Our sister Martha should not have permitted this." She gave a malevolent look to Mrs. Braithwaite. "We have rebuked her. We have chastised her with a whip, and we will review her rank in the coven. She was very foolish to take you in in the first place, but that cannot be remedied. Now, for a punishment, we want something that will be appropriate, to make you regret forever what you have done. We have questioned Martha about you. We searched your room. We found this." In front of my nose she thrust the girdle advertisment that I thought had been lost or thrown out. Even in my terror I cringed with shame. Dierdre shook me by the hair, sending stabs of pain at both of my tethers. "She tells me you are very interested in women and their underwear. That gives me an idea for our punishment for you. We are going to turn you into a woman, so then you will have first hand experience of women's clothing. You will serve part of the time as a maid here, to sisters Martha, Dora and Susan. then once you are properly trained, you will be sent to help in an establishment near here. One in which I have a financial interest. " Even in my distress I wondered how it would be to be a woman, but I knew that was impossible. "You are mad," I snorted, "I am a man. You cannot turn me into a woman." She smiled evilly. "We will see about that. But first, if you are to be a woman, you have no need of some of your anatomy. That wire is connected to the stone at your head. All we have to do is tip it off your platform, and we will have some nice objects for a sacrifice. It's nice to have the real thing, I mean men's testicles, for some of our spells, but as you will understand, they can be a bit hard to come by." I saw Mrs. Braithwaite flinch, as did some of the other witches. Others leaned forward eagerly. "Ahh!" I screamed, but I saw her, all the time grinning malevolently, push the stone with her staff. I saw it disappear off the platform, then I felt a sudden wrenching pain. I was shocked with pain and horror. I was screaming as the crone waved her hand imperiously, and all of the witches save she filed out. Was it my imagination or were some looking at me in sympathy? Next, she stood before me and began to recite some strange words. It took a minute then she looked at me expectantly. Even through my agony I felt my skin begin to prickle, then a strong flush suffused my body. I was whimpering, both from my injured body and my terror. I began to shake so much that even the chain on my neck shook the platform. Then I fell unconscious. I do not know how long I was unconscious this time. I awoke gradually, vaguely kept thinking I should feel pain from my mutilated genitals, but my body only had a vague uncomfortable heavy feeling. Once I heard someone mutter something over me. It sounded like, "Take your time wakening, Lass. The days ahead of you will be long and hard enough." I wondered what they meant, then I must have fallen asleep again. When I woke once more I felt more alert, but still heavy and sluggish. The room was at first dark, then someone must have thrown back the blinds. I cried out in pain as the light hit my eyes. My voice was a high pitched croak. I was back in my own room. Mrs. Braithwaite was looking at me. her expression was a mixture of horror and sympathy. Dierdre was standing at the back, smiling evilly. "Time to get up Simone!" said Mrs. Braithwaite, "Yes, we are going to call you Simone now." "No!" I muttered, again in that strange croak. "I am a man. My name is Simon." She pulled me from bed and held me in front of the mirror. "Open your eyes. Look at yourself." I struggled to open my eyes in the light, then I screamed in horror. Facing me in the mirror was the naked figure of the ugliest woman I had ever seen. She was short,with a heavy slack figure, pendulous lumpy breasts and a protruding belly. Her skin was rough and and wrinkled, coarse black hair showed on her arms and stubby bowed legs, but her face was the worst. It was spotted, with warts and blotches. Her hair was coarse and stringy. "No! Please, I beg you," I howled. "You cannot have me like this." "Unfortunately for you. Yes. This is your punishment for spying on us." In panic I felt under my swollen flabby belly to between my legs. My penis was gone too! In its place was some folded skin with a cleft, surrounded by coarse black hair. "Please don't leave me like this!" I babbled. "We will leave you this way as long as we want, perhaps for ever. Accept it. Lady Dierdre also decreed that you were to be given only women's clothing, but stuff appropriate for your appearance and your status as a drudge. She sent me out shopping for you. Time to get dressed, Simone." I saw an expression of glee on Dierdre's face. Mrs Braithwaite shook out a bag onto my bed. I looked at it in horror. There was a heavy girdle, more like a corset, with a myriad of buckles, laces, hooks and bones. There was a heavy pink garment, with bag-like cups, that I recognized as a bra. There were thick tan-coloured cotton stockings, a sacklike slip in grey cotton and a black dress in a coarse wool. Even the shoes were a heavy lace-up style "What are these for?" I cried. "You are to dress in them. You will be a maid for me here, and at further meetings of our circle you will serve all of the sisters as a maid. You will also help in an establishment down in the valley. That will have its own special punishment for you." "No! I'll run away! I'll tell the police. You can't make me." "Run away if you want. No one will believe your story. They would think you are babbling. And how would you live? With your appearance you would get menial low-paying jobs, if any. We will make you work here, but you'll actually be better off with us. Come on now. Let's get on with it, Simone. Stand up straight and we will help you dress." "No!" I shouted desperately, I struggled as she took my arm, but then she touched her hand to my head and I felt a sharp pain. I shook my head again, and once more she touched me. My knees were shaking with pain. "Stand straight. I tell you. Do what I say." She gripped my arm. "I have suffered enough because of you. You know I was whipped for my carelessness, and your stupidity!" "I'm sorry. I meant you no harm." I stood as straight as I could despite the weight of my belly and breasts. "Then your bra first." It was in a heavy pinkish fabric, with enormous cups for my breasts, and heavy wide shoulder straps. "Hold out your arms." She commanded, holding it up for me, and meekly I slid them between the heavy straps and the cups. "Now, fasten it in the back. There are ten hooks." I was unused to fumbling at my back and it took a while. "Please, can you help me?" I gasped. "No, you might as well get used to it. It will become faster, well, a bit anyway." When it was done I felt harnessed, bound in the garment. At least the enormous breasts no longer swayed to where my waist should have been but now they jutted out in front of me. Despite the width of the bra's shoulder straps, I felt the weight of my breasts on my shoulders. "Now your girdle." The girdle advertisements that had caught my adolescent attention, and helped lead me into this trouble had shown light garments, worn by slim and pretty young women. This must have been the complete opposite. It was more like a corset, a heavy ugly garment. I could see the ridges of its steel bones even without feeling. It was also in a pinkish fabric, fitted with lacing, hooks, even buckles to a dozen extra bands at its rear, and eight heavy suspenders, four each side. I squirmed as she wrapped it on me, and fastened the hooks. It covered me from well down my thighs, to above my waist, such as it was on my barrel shaped figure. If my bra was a harness, this was a cage. "It also laces in front." "Make sure she tightens the laces herself." It was Dierdre. In some way she seemed to be admonishing Mrs. Braithwaite. Dierdre loomed over me, threatening me with her hand and I desperately pulled at the thick laces. I grunted as I pulled them in two inches. "That's not enough! More!" Desperately I pulled again until the garment closed completely. I was hardly able to take a breath. "Now tie the laces. Tightly!" I did so and she opened a packet. Out fell a pair of heavy tan coloured cotton stockings. Dierdre held them to my face. "Now your stockings. You are not to show any wrinkles." She shook her head in irritation as I struggled to pull the stockings onto my feet and legs. "Bunch them up, girl, then unroll them onto your legs." I did so, blinking through tears. "Now fasten your suspenders. I suppose you know how women's suspenders work? Tightly, No wrinkles." The front were difficult enough, the back were worse and the two side ones put me in tears. I could hardly bend with the steel bones of the girdle. Finally I managed to get the last suspender button caught on the stocking top and pushed through its metal loop. I paused to take a breath. There was a sharp pain to my rear and I almost fell. She had hit me with her staff. "They are not tight enough!" screamed Dierdre. She appeared to have taken charge of my dressing. "They are baggy at your knees. Adjust your suspenders! With the buckles!" In tears I did so, tightening them so that the stockings were pulled taut. Now it was even more difficult to bend. I was humiliated at this heavy female attire. "That's better. Make sure you keep them that way." She stood back to look at me. "Yes, That looks better. You even have the beginnings of a figure. Now the rest. First, your knickers." My heart sank when I saw what they had for me, no brief sexy piece of lingerie, not that I could have worn such anyway, but a long legged old- fashioned bloomer style in a dull purple colour, and elasticated at the waist and legs. They covered most of my girdle and stocking tops. They were enormous. I had all the grace of an elephant. "Now your underskirt." This was a slip in a plain grey flannelette. I pulled it on over my head. Part of it got wet with my tears. It came to my knees. At least it covered up most of the ugly other stuff. "Now the rest. We have got you a maid's outfit, with an apron. All the time you are here at Sister Martha's you are to wear it unless we order you otherwise. Put it on." I hesitated and she repeated the command, more menacingly. The dress was black, in a scratchy woolen fabric. I pulled it over my shoulders and almost immediately felt its coarse scratchy material irritate my shoulders. It reached to a dowdy mid calf length. "We have got you several of each of these garments, so you have no excuse for not looking smart. Well, change that. You will never look smart. But you will be tidy, or it will be the worse for you. Sister Martha, get her the shoes!" Mrs. Braithwaite handed them to me. They were of black leather, thick soled, with heavy semi-heels and thick laces. "Lady Dierdre's orders are to keep your shoes perfectly polished. Always. You can do them when you do ours. That is one of your new duties." "Now, let me see you stand over in the light," Dierdre cackled. "You are one ugly woman. Of course, that's the idea of your punishment But at least we have your body looking less of a freak so you will be less painful for all to look at you. Sister Martha has even got a wig for your head." She pulled a wig over my head and tucked my own hair, now stringy and coarse, under it. She stood back to examine me. "And let's see. What make-up can we try? You will need some makeup to improve your ugly face, if that's possible. Sister Martha? I have to leave now. But I leave this wretched girl in your hands. Be sure you treat her as I ordered." Mrs. Braithwaite bowed slightly. "I will do as you said, Lady Dierdre." She grimaced as Dierdre left. Mrs. Braithwaite set me down in front of a dressing table. She tried some powder and shook her head. Next she used some other stuff and powder. Still she shook her head. Only when she plastered some heavy stuff on me was she satisfied. "Here, pancake makeup to disguise the blotches and spots on your ugly face." She turned me to a mirror. "Sorry Simone, that is the best I can do." I shook my head at the sight, then I burst into fresh tears. Facing me was a freak. A woman obviously, but heavy figured, with garish makeup on her grotesque face. Even the heavy tight underwear failed to disguise the coarseness and lumpiness of her figure. "And just so you are continually reminded of your new appearance and your new clothing, Dierdre commands you to hang this in your room. Next to the mirror." It was the girdle advertisement that had so caught my attention. But it was now enlarged, mounted and framed. I shuddered at the difference between the poised young woman and myself. "Please," I sobbed, "You can't have me looking like this. Have mercy." She shook her head. "You were warned. This is your punishment. It was devised by Dierdre herself. Although, some would have been more merciful. They would just have killed you." She patted my hand. "Have courage, Simone. Nothing is forever." I had a sudden desperate hope. "But my proper name and sex will be in the birth records, and yes, if I don't go to university they'll be after me for my army service." She gave a wintry smile. "That has already been attended to. Some of the sisters have access to public records, and have already changed them. So, it's as if Simon never existed. We also let it be known at your school that you have moved away from here. You are now Simone. Accept it. Now, up with you. Get your shoes on, and Dora and Sue will start training you on the running of the place. From now on you are now to do all the washing and house cleaning." The rest of that day I was kept on my feet sweeping the rooms, dusting, scrubbing the floors, then taken to the kitchen and set about helping with the cooking and serving. I was unused to the heavy underwear and felt it chafing my shoulders and thighs, getting worse and worse as the day went on. By the time I washed the dishes I was exhausted, but a pile of laundry was thrust at me and I was ordered to wash it all by hand. I barely had enough strength to climb the stairs. I was ready to tumble into bed, but I was roused to get my clothes ready for the next day. I swore in frustration as I tried to undress. But at least it was easier than dressing. Someone had laid out a long large white flannel nightdress. I hurriedly pulled it over myself to hide my ugly body. I fell asleep weeping for my lost male body. I was awakened the next morning by the alarm clock at six am. Dora was standing at the bed. She pulled me from it and pointed to my drudge's clothing. I put it on as fast as I could, minding the menacing looks she gave me. The rest of that day I was also kept busy. Whenever I flagged. I was given a stern warning. I barely had enough strength that night to undress myself and put on the nightdress before I collapsed in bed. This continued for days. I was still exhausted each nighttime, but gradually I began to get more stamina. I even got used to the confining garments, but not to my appearance. It was not that I had a different anatomy, that I had to wear female clothes and that I had to sit down at the toilet, but rather that I was so ugly. I avoided looking in mirrors as much as I could, except for the times I was ordered to put on that dreadful pancake makeup, and to take it off at night. Even then I shuddered at my appearance. I tried to avoid looking at the picture hanging by my mirror. I would have hidden it but I was afraid of the consequences. Sometimes I got careless with my appearance, wrinkles in my stockings, seams crooked, or makeup or stains on my uniform. Then I was given extra work. Two weeks or so later I did not feel well. My stomach and back hurt. I mentioned it to Sue, hoping for some relief, but she just gave a faint smile. Later that day when I went to the toilet I found blood on my underwear. My screams must have been heard. Sue found me, white faced. "I wondered if that was it," she said. "It's just your period. So even creatures like you can get them." I suddenly understood what she meant. I had heard of women bleeding each month. That was part of my punishment too. Sue returned with a kind of pad, with cords attached. "Tie this so it lies between your legs, to soak up the blood," she ordered. "I'll give you another so you can alternate them. Now, back on your feet. There is work to be done. And make sure you clean the blood from your clothes." Some weeks later Mrs. Braithwaite called me to her office. "I will be having the sisters here again this weekend." "Then I will keep out of sight," I said hurriedly. "No, far from it. You are to be the star guest, if that is the word. The sisters will be wanting to see you in your new state, and we have a little ceremony planned for you. Of course, you will be absolutely neat in your appearance. You will be at the call of the sisters too. You will act as a maid for all of them. Be sure you do it correctly, demurely, politely and quickly, or it will be the worse for you." I stood trembling beside her on the Friday night as the women arrived. I was dressed as usual in my maid's outfit. Most of the women looked me over, many with amusement, some even with glee. "Oh yes, very smart," said one, "Almost elegant." Then she broke into giggles. I felt my face redden with shame. At the end I was almost in tears. Mrs. Braitwaite was gripping my arm. Otherwise I was sure I would have collapsed. I saw Dierdre climbing out of a car. She gave me an evil smile. "Stand straighter, girl." She flicked a piece of dust from my maid's uniform. "You're not letting her be careless are you, sister? You are not looking for more chastisement?" she said to Mrs. Braithwaite. I felt Mrs. Braithwaite tense. "No, Lady Dierdre, we are very firm with her, as you ordered." I was kept busy rushing to serve all the women drinks and snacks, then later at a meal that had been provided. I knew the time was approaching for their ritual and I tried to excuse myself, but I was stopped. My arms were held and I was led to the large room. "Stand there," I was commanded, at the dark rock in the middle of the floor. I saw a bronze brazier filled with charcoal set on some tiles, then ignited. In a minute the shrill music started. The women began to disrobe until they were all naked then began to circle round me, swaying and undulating. Dierdre broke the circle to stand in front of me. "Strip!" she commanded. "Please," I said, "I cannot." I was ashamed to show my ungainly body, and my clothes, ugly and confining as they were, gave me a little security. "Do as I say, girl, or it will be the worse for you," she screamed, and held her hand menacingly. As fast as I could, I unbuttoned my dress and pulled it off, then my coarse slip. I heard the women's titters as my ugly underwear came into sight, but Mrs. Braithwaite was biting her lip. There were screams of derision and hoots of laughter as I removed my knickers and stockings and began to undo the myriad of fasteners to free myself from my bra and corset. Finally I stood as naked as they, but far more ugly. "Come before the fire, girl," said the crone, "They call her Simone." She announced to all. "I hope you are a good girl. I hear you have even had your first period." I heard a fresh swell of derision. "Yes," I whispered. "You obey orders?" I nodded my head. "Then perhaps sister Martha has trained you well after all. So Simone, take these and throw them on the fire." There, on a plate, were two objects, bloodied, and ovoid. I stared at them in bafflement, changing to horror. "I see you recognize your testicles. We saved then in a freezer for today's ceremony. In fact I must thank you, a little. Their burning will give us more powers for the next year or so. Some of our sisters say there is nothing like the smell of roast testicles." I was so sick with horror that my hands were shaking violently . "Do not drop them!" she warned. "Now do as we say, cast them on the fire. Burn them." I was crying, but through my tears I stumbled to the brazier and threw them in. Then I could stand no longer. I fell to the floor in a heap amid the witches' cackling. I caught the stench of burning flesh, my own, even though it had been separated from me some weeks. I almost vomited. I was roused by a kick. "Get up!" I heard." Dress yourself. Properly!" Again I had to endure the derision of the witches, the catcalls and taunts as I fastened hooks, buckles, zippers until I had dressed again completely. "Now get out of here, you ugly wretch!" Dierdre waved her hand in dismissal and I stumbled to my room in tears. I heard the witches' revels well into the night before I fell into a disturbed sleep. I was wakened in the morning by the alarm clock. With a feeling of dread I washed, then dressed. I wondered how I could serve breakfast to all of them, but thankfully I saw that most cars were gone. Only a few came to breakfast. Most were coldly polite to me, except Dierdre, who snapped at me, and roundly criticized my appearance. With overwhelming relief I saw them all depart at ten. Dierdre was driving her car, with another crone in the front, who I understood was her deputy. This was the pattern for the next six months. I was kept as a maid at the farmhouse, and each month, on their meetings of their coven, I was expected to serve all of the witches. Yet, gradually things relaxed, either that or I was getting more skilled. My life was far from comfortable, but I was no longer subject to continual harassment. Even at the coven's meetings, most gradually tired of their sport with me, other than Dierdre. I tried to keep out of her way, but often she called for me and demanded some service, usually with insults and cutting remarks. I was usually in tears after her visits. I had served some months when, after one of the meetings, I was called to Mrs. Braithwaite. "Simone, I have had a meeting with Dierdre about you. She has some changes for you." She must have seen the expression in my face, but she shook her head. "No, you are not to be at liberty. Dierdre says you are now trained enough to be given special work. And unfortunately, Simone, this may be the hardest to bear. You are to spend several evenings each week at an establishment in which Dierdre has some interest. There you will serve as the lady in charge sees fit. There is a clientele, mainly businessmen, some minor politicians and some government people, but some others as well. Some can be a rough lot. They will be demanding. But the worst part is that you will now see men. You have not seen any since we changed you. Be warned. Your greatest humiliations may be yet to come." I wondered what she meant. It would be a relief to see other people. Maybe they might have pity on me and treat me well, but I was soon to be disillusioned. The next afternoon Dora delivered me to a big house set in the country. It had a large parking lot half-filled with cars. She led me inside and introduced me to a flashily dressed woman called Samantha. Through a doorway I saw several other women, younger, wearing what appeared to be flimsy revealing dresses. I gasped. It was a brothel, and the flashily dressed woman was the madame. I was set to work, tidying rooms, laundering and ironing the girls' clothing, and occasionally taking hats and coats. I saw the horror on the faces of the girls at my appearance and many of the the customers gave me stares and jeers. But I was given no opportunity to hide. Then something began to stir inside me. The customers were the first men I had seen since my change. Once, a few months ago, I had been a man, but it now mattered little. I felt something inside me almost seize me. I was fascinated my them. I wanted to sit and look at them but I was kept on the run. My feet were hurting, I felt perspiration soak my uniform, and my heavy underwear began chafing me. But there was no let-up until I was dismissed at midnight. Dora was waiting for me with the car. "So how was it?" she asked. I was taken aback. Her tone was, if not friendly, at least missing its usual bark. I hardly knew what to say. I was tired out, but I did not want to seem to complain in case I was given even more work at the farm. "I was busy," I said hesitatingly. "You know, it's a brothel. It has prostitutes, with men customers." "And what did you think of the men? Did you like them?" "I think so. But they make me feel funny inside." She looked at me strangely. "You know, it can be a rough place, Simone. Be careful." The next morning, back at the farm, I was actually treated with consideration. "Simone," said Sue. "I see your shoulders are red where your bra straps have been rubbing. Here's some talcum powder for them. You just sit for a bit and rest this morning. Here's another cup of tea. I'll clean up the dishes. There's a pile of washing and ironing to do later, but I'll make sure the water's hot this evening. Then you can have have a bath before you get to bed" As I lay in bed that night I felt confused. I wondered why I was finally being shown a slight bit of kindness. Were they playing with me? And then I thought of the brothel, with growing excitement. I had been told to report there for work the next day. Despite its labour, I was looking forward to it, not for the work involved, but to seeing the men! I hardly slept, and I was even up early, getting dressed. I tried to tidy myself especially well before Dora took me there. This time I was set to serving drinks and snacks to the customers, and then clearing the empty glasses in the lounge. Frequently I brushed against the men. Each time it gave me an electric thrill, although most customers tried to avoid my touch. One large fat man even patted my rump. I flushed with pleasure, even though I blushed at his comment about an "iron- plated arse." I was even more desperate the next working day, brushing my thighs and hips against the men whenever possible, deliberately swinging round so that my breasts, rigidly held in the bra cups, rubbed against them. I felt a thrill of pleasure from my sensitive nipples. That I had once been a man meant nothing now. I relished the smell of these men, their touch, the sounds of their voices, even the smell of their perspiration. Surely one of them would take me into one of the rooms! Yet, the torture of it was that all ignored, or shrank in distaste at me. I was desperate for one of them to touch me, but I was left alone. I was burning with desire, but it was not to be satisfied. The next weeks were the same while I suffered the torture of this part of the witches' spell. It came to a head one day. One of the frequent visitors, a large heavily muscled man, called Fred, was drinking in a large group. As I bustled around them I heard their crude talk, a not too quiet or subtle description of their sexual stamina and conquests. Fred was especially loud. "Tell you what, Fred," said one to the large man. "Here's a fiver saying you couldn't shag any female." "You want to lose your money?" said Fred. "No doubt about it. Anyone!" He gave a great belly laugh. "Then here's a fiver saying you couldn't shag Simone there." He pointed to me. I saw Fred gulp, but he stood up and took my arm. "How about it, Simone, you're desperate, aren't you. There's half of it for you if you want to." I did not resist when he took my arm and pulled me into one of the rooms. I saw Samantha watching intently. I was in ecstasy as I saw him remove his jacket and waistcoat. My desire was to be satisfied at last! Then my hopes came crashing down when I began to pull up my slip. A look of disbelief and disgust passed over his face. "Jeez, I must be bloody mad. I'm not that desperate," he muttered. He began to pull his clothes back on and I sank to the floor in tears. Surely I was not so ugly as that! I squealed as he kicked me. "Shut up, you ugly sow!" Dimly I heard the others jeering at Fred as I lay in misery. In a minute Samantha came for me. "Come on Simone," she said roughly, but with a trace of sympathy, "There is work to do." She helped me to my feet. "Why don't you help with the dish washing in the back, away from them all." I never saw Fred or his group again and, despite the man-hungry fever that was burning inside me, from then on I forced myself to quell my desires, or at least keep them hidden. I forced my mind to ignore everything except the work, but still I cried each night in frustration. Eventually the girls at the brothel got used to me, and treated me well, but I was jealous of them, their pretty breasts, slim waists and voluptuous hips, their pretty faces, their attractive clothing and most of all, that men would want them. This was the worst of the witches' punishment. They filled me with a raging desire for men yet made me so ugly that my desires would never be met. I would be continually tortured. More and more, whenever the witches met at the farmhouse, Mrs. Braithwaite sent me to serve Dierdre, who seemed to take a special delight in criticizing my appearance, and finding more and more trivial things to occupy me. Even my best efforts at attending to her wants, ironing her clothes, and polishing her shoes, were met with criticism. Just as at the brothel, I forced myself to hold back my tears and keep an outwardly impassive manner. That seemed to irritate her more and more, and it became a silent battle to see how long I could keep from breaking down. As the weeks passed by I got more and more skilled at keeping calm. Gradually I began to be treated better. Mrs. Braithwaite, Sue and Dora found less for me to do and there were even simple acts of kindness, like in the old days. Still, I dreaded each monthly meeting of witches. Several times before coven meetings Dierdre herself collected me from the brothel, and drove me to the farm. Her deputy sat beside her in the front of the car, while I tried not to cringe in the back. E