Witch's Cat

by Loki Renard

Published by Sappho's Brats

http://sapphosbrats.com

Copyright © 2011 Loki Renard. All Rights Reserved.

Chapter One

“No.”

“What do you mean, no?”

“I mean no.”

“You can't tell me what to do.”

“I just did.”

Anita's jaw dropped and her milky brown eyes filled with despair. “You can't be serious.”

“You're not going.” Georgia asserted, folding her arms over her chest.

Paused halfway through the door, Anita glanced out towards freedom. Cars streamed through the village filled with people off doing things. People who didn't answer to their partners the way she did. Lucky people. “Georgia, come on.” She pulled off the floppy crocheted hat that covered her mousy hair and tossed it on the floor in a show of pique. Georgia seemed unimpressed. Then again, Georgia was rarely impressed by any of Anita's displays of temper.

Georgia was Anita's antithesis. Where Anita was short and petite with choppy brown hair that scraped her shoulders and always threatened to fall into her eyes, Georgia was taller and her slick blonde hair would never have thought to cross her in that way. Even now it fell around her face in long, ponderous waves that perfectly framed her features. Her deep blue eyes were fixed on Anita with long suffering determination.

“Come inside and have a cup of tea,” Georgia said. If anyone else had said that, it would have been a polite invitation. With Georgia it was a warning shot fired over the bows of a recalcitrant girlfriend. Georgia had the blood of pirates flowing in her veins, or so she said. Anita believed her. It explained the light olive tone of her skin, which should have been pale in keeping with the naturally blonde hair and blue eyes. Instead it was Anita who was pale, it was she who burned the moment the sun reached its zenith, even on a cloudy day. Georgia could spend as much time in the sun as she pleased. On holidays her skin became so tanned it was almost golden. Lucky Georgia.

It was easy to tell at a distance who wore the pants in their relationship. Georgia was tall, assured. She moved through the world like she owned it. By her side diminutive Anita looked even smaller in contrast. People thought Anita was soft, delicate. They were wrong. She was tired of proving that. She was especially tired of proving it to Georgia.

“You're denying me the expression of my religious freedom,” Anita growled, pushing the door shut behind her with more force than was strictly necessary. She followed behind Georgia, glowering at the taller woman's back.

“Your expression of religious freedom is the reason we've had more exorcisms than most people have had hot dinners,” Georgia replied dryly, entirely unconcerned by the human rights violation she was allegedly committing.

“You have no proof that had anything to do with me. It's probably because you insist on living in the oldest shack you can find.” The harsh words spilled out of Anita vehemently. She was getting angry. There wasn't a lot of her to contain her anger, so she tended to buzz with it, a little ball of temper.

One of Georgia's perfectly plucked brows rose as she rolled up the sleeves of her white blouse and put the kettle on. “You love this house.”

It was true. Anita had fallen in love with the place the moment she'd seen it. It was a little Tudor cottage with white walls criss-crossed with dark support beams, lead light windows and a thatched roof. It was a house built just for someone her size too. Georgia sometimes had to stoop, but everything was made perfectly to Anita scale.

Anita threw herself into one of the wooden chairs around the circular dining table and put her head in her hands. Georgia leaned down and dropped a kiss on top of her head. The affectionate gesture was received with a grunt of anger.

“You might want to consider getting that temper of yours under control,” Georgia suggested mildly as the kettle started to whistle, well on its way to boiling already. That was because they'd only just had a cup of tea five minutes ago. It was supposed to be the last cup of tea before Anita caught a train for a weekend of ritual. She'd miss the train now. Bloody Georgia.

“You might want to stop interfering in my life. So bloody controlling,” Anita swore.

“We agreed it was best that way, did we not?”

Anita shrugged stubbornly. She didn't care what she'd agreed to. She wanted to go away for the weekend. She'd been looking forward to this for a very long time and now Georgia, stupid Georgia, was getting in the way of things.

“I think my little witch is forgetting her place. Do you need a reminder?”

“I need a lift to the station so I don't miss my train, that's what I need.”

Georgia's laugh was humorless. Her blue eyes had hardened and her lips were drawing thinner by the moment. “Oh I don't think so, Anita. I think you're going to spend the weekend remembering what your place is and why.”

The air around Anita almost crackled. She narrowed her eyes at Georgia and when she spoke her voice had an uncharacteristic low note in it, a hint of gravel that seemed out of place coming from such a delicate woman. “You cannot force me to do what you want me to.”

Ignoring the show of power, Georgia poured hot water into the ceramic tea pot. Anita was a witch, had been born a witch. Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter. Outside this house, amongst others of her kind, she was respected, sometimes even feared. Inside the house, in Georgia's domain, she was loved but never feared.

“They will be expecting me,” Anita tried another approach. “I made a commitment.” Georgia was big on honoring commitments.

“You made a commitment to me too, remember?”

Anita frowned, puzzled. “What?”

“You promised to take care of yourself, to submit to my guidance. You are doing neither.” Another woman might have said that in a snarky tone. Another woman might have been irritated. Georgia spoke quite calmly, matter of fact. In spite of having less spirituality than a pile of old tires, Georgia was one of the most grounded people Anita knew. She very rarely lost her temper, she was too single minded for that, too certain that she would prevail in the end.

“How am I not taking care of myself?”

Georgia counted the ways on her long elegant fingers. “You're tired. You've been up the past week until five o'clock in the morning. When you go to these things you come back in a worse than you left. You don't sleep, you don't eat properly.”

She was right, to a certain extent. Ritual took it out of you, but that was the nature of ritual. What was the point of tearing off one's clothing and dancing beneath the moon if one didn't put one's all into it? “I've been up until five o'clock preparing for this. If you don't let me go, it's all been wasted.”

“You're getting in too deep.”

“How would you know? You don't understand it. You don't understand anything.” Anita flung the accusations violently.

“I know you,” Georgia said simply.

Anita sat sullenly in her seat. Georgia wasn't going to let this go. Wasn't going to change her mind. Georgia never changed her mind once it was made up. Not about things like this. “Fine,” Anita said, scrabbling about in her pocket for her phone. She wrenched it out and dumped it on the table. “You call everyone and tell them I can't come because my girlfriend thinks I'm a big baby.”

Georgia was pouring two cups of tea. She added a lump of sugar to Anita's cup, then milk to both. Without responding to Anita's sullen taunts she carried the tea to the table and seated herself as if she were entirely immune to Anita's temper. She took a sip of her tea, then placed the cup down carefully before she spoke. “When we are done here, you are going to go to the bedroom and stand in the corner.”

“No!” Anita slammed her hand down on the table. Like the rest of her, her hand was on the small and slim side, but that didn't matter in the slightest. It shook the table hard enough to make her tea slop over the side of her mug. “You are not going to punish me for this! This is your fault!”

“Think very carefully about what you're doing,” Georgia cautioned her. It was part of Georgia's technique. You got warnings. Lots of warnings actually. If you heeded them, things went okay. If you blew by them all, you ended up paying for it. Anita knew that all too well. She'd been with Georgia for three years, lived with her for two. This wasn't their first showdown, not by a long shot. But it was different this time. Anita had been looking forward to this weekend for months. She'd been meditating, practicing her skills. Her throat was raw from chanting and she'd tied more little bows around little vials of this that and the other thing than she could count. Her bag was full of potions she wanted to experiment with around others of her kind. Georgia couldn't possibly understand. So Anita did something unthinkable. She defied Georgia.

“I'm leaving now,” she said determinedly. “I will see you Monday.” Without another word she got up, turned on her heel and walked back to the front door where her bags and discarded hat awaited her.

“Anita.”

One word. One word was all it took. Anita reached for the front door handle, but she found that she couldn't move her arm. She tried to step forward, but her feet felt like lead. Fear trickled down her spine, a type of fear she'd not felt before. She tried to shuffle back and discovered that she could. It was only when she went for the door that her body became heavy and movement was almost impossible.

She turned around to gawp at Georgia. She could see her quite clearly down the hall, she hadn't moved, she was still having a cup of tea quite calmly. The only thing that had changed was the glimmer of amusement in those deep blue eyes.

“How...” Anita was more cautious now as she returned to the kitchen. She hovered by the doorway, as if that would afford her some kind of escape if she needed to get away from Georgia quickly. “How did you do that?”

Georgia placed her cup of tea gently on the table and stood up. It was all Anita could do not to back away as Georgia moved across the room. She was different somehow, transformed in a way Anita could not explain. She still looked the same outwardly, same white blouse, same long brown hemp skirt, but something had changed. There was an aura of power about her. Anita would not have thought it was possible, but she had felt it with her own body.

Georgia reached out and caressed Anita's cheek gently. A sensation of tingling pins and needles radiated from the spot she'd touched. Anita gasped and pulled away. She'd never felt such power before. This was what she'd read of, what she'd dreamed of, what she'd aspired to for many years. Seventh daughter of a seventh daughter of a seventh daughter and still her magic was a mere trickle compared to what Georgia was showing her.

“How is this possible?” Anita breathed. Her fear was quickly giving way to curiosity.

“You're mine,” Georgia purred. “You've been bound to me for nine months, but you've yet to really scratch the surface of what I am.”

Anita remembered the binding ceremony. She'd prepared and conducted it herself. It was supposed to give her a little more power over Georgia. She was the magical one after all, she was the witch. At the time she'd taken Georgia's smirk as she performed the ritual for an expression of cynicism. Now she realized it was something else entirely. She'd thought she was cementing their relationship, but what she'd actually done was start a process that subjugated her all the more. She'd tied herself to a much greater power than her own without knowing it.

“Three years and you never suspected a thing, my little witch,'” Georgia's voice was whisper soft.

“You hid this from me.” Anita bit back a sob.

Georgia tipped her head to the side. “Did I?”

“You didn't tell me you had powers.”

“One doesn't go around announcing these things,” Georgia replied, her brows drawing together as she contemplated the possibility of such a crass breach of etiquette.

“One doesn't go around using them for one's personal gain either,” Anita reminded her.

A slow smirk crept across Georgia's face. “Who told you that? Your little Wiccan books?”

“It's the law.”

“What law?”

“The law,” Anita said lamely.

“All these meetings. All these gatherings. All these potions and charms and still you subscribe to a two bit theory someone scribbled on some forsaken web page.” There was more than a hint of derision in Georgia's voice and Anita recoiled from it. “Didn't you ever wonder why you were drawn to me? Why you ever agreed to submit to me when the very idea makes you tremble? Why I was never concerned by your little tricks?”

“No,” Anita said softly.

“Of course not. You were too consumed with your own sense of power.” Again, Georgia's fingertips brushed across Anita's cheek, but this time there was no tingling, it was a soft caress and Anita found herself longing to melt into it. “My arrogant little witchling.”

“You weren't going to tell me.”

“I knew you would discover it one way or another when the time was right. A lesson is best learned under one's own steam.” She took a step back and leaned against the kitchen table, seeming almost normal again. Almost. “Now, you can go to the bedroom and stand in the corner.”

Anita's eyes widened. “You're still going to punish me?”

“Most definitely,” Georgia nodded. “Defiance will not be tolerated.”

“You don't own m...” The sentence was almost fully out of Anita's mouth before she realized how untrue it was. Georgia did own her in a sense. The binding ceremony was designed to bind a lesser being to a witch. Anita had assumed that she was the witch, Georgia the lesser being. It had been a sneaky trap forged in a moment of fear and desperation when she thought Georgia might leave her. It was a way of making sure she could keep Georgia no matter what. Now she was thoroughly hoist by her petard.

Georgia's smile grew wider as the horror of what had happened spread over Anita's face. “Yes my little witchling. I know. I know all the little tricks you've played. All the times you've tried to influence me. All the times you've tried to pull the wool over my eyes.”

“But you let me! Why?”

It was Georgia's turn to shrug. “It was somewhat necessary to do so. It also amused me.”

“You've been playing with me this whole time,” Anita accused her, flaring hot with temper.

“You mean the whole time you've been trying to manipulate me? That whole time?” There was a triumphant smirk plastered across Georgia's face. Whatever Anita accused her of, she had a defense for. It wasn't fair.

Anita raised wide brown eyes to Georgia. “What are you going to do?”

“I'm going to punish you, little witchling.”

Punishment. That usually meant laying over Georgia's lap and being spanked or paddled. Georgia had a penchant for old forms of discipline. Spankings had always been part of their relationship one way or another. At first they were purely for erotic purposes, but over time they'd evolved into a form of dominance and submission play. At least, Anita thought it was play. She was no longer sure.

“Please, Georgia, I'm sorry.” She tried to appeal to Georgia's sense of mercy.

“Oh I bet you are,” Georgia said as she stepped forward and took Anita by the shoulder. “I bet you're very sorry indeed.” She leaned down and whispered into Anita's ear. “And you're going to be a whole lot sorrier when I'm done with you.”

Anita trembled in Georgia's grasp. She didn't struggle as she was lead to the bedroom they shared. She knew there would be no point. Even before Georgia had revealed her power she'd always had a way of making things happen the way she wanted them to. It all made sense now of course, she was subtly manipulating things, strengthening and weakening desire as she saw fit.

“Pile those pillows up in the center of the bed and take your clothes off,” Georgia ordered.

It was cruel, Anita thought. Cruel to make her prepare the stage for her own punishment. But she obeyed because she already knew what the alternative would be. The alternative would be Georgia sweeping all preparatory measures aside and heading straight into the punishment without any warm up at all. Anita had already learned that lesson and learned it well. So she piled four fluffy pillows into the center of the downy white coverlet and then undressed. It did not take long. First her cardigan slipped to the floor and it was quickly followed by the blue summer dress. She was not wearing any underwear. It got in the way of ritual, so she thought.

She stood in their bedroom with the sun's rays streaming through the lead light. They fell on her naked skin, her slim body, her small breasts. Her hips flared beautifully, making way for a full, rounded bottom and generous thighs that some would have said were out of place on her small frame. Anita was proud of her body. She might be short, she might not be well endowed in the breast region, but when her clothes came off there was no denying her femininity.

“Pretty witch,” Georgia purred. She'd not shed her own clothing, not yet. She liked to make Anita feel the effects of her nudity, the vulnerability of it. “Over the bed.”

It was Anita's cue to crawl forwards and lay over the pillows, her hips raised. Her bottom jutted skyward like a sacrifice. Georgia stepped forward and ran her hand over the rolling mound of flesh. “You know I love you, my little witchling?”

“Yes,” Anita spoke into the coverlet, her words muffled. There was never any doubt of that. She felt Georgia's love as a sheltering cloak wrapped around her. No matter what happened between them, it was always there, reassuring her.

“As this is a domestic punishment, I think I'll use a domestic tool.”

Anita knew what she meant. The cane carpet beater. Georgia had threatened to use it several times, but this time she was actually going to go through with it. It was a long handled implement with four intersecting 'petals' it looked like a flower, almost pretty, but when Anita saw it in Georgia's hand, she trembled with pure fear.

“Please Georgia, I'm sorry.” She tried to plead for clemency once more.

“What are you sorry for?”

“I'm sorry for being rude to you.”

“And?”

“I'm sorry for playing magic tricks.”

Georgia's laugh was dry. “Tricks? Is that what you call the power plays? The attempts to wrest control from me by magical means?”

She sounded mad to Anita's ears. No, maybe not mad. Indignant. Definitely indignant. “I didn't know you had the gift,” she said in her defense, squirming as Georgia's fingernails dug ever so slightly into the flesh of her bare bottom.

“All the more reason not to use yours so selfishly.”

“Why didn't you say something then? Why let me get away with it for so long?”

“I have my reasons for not flashing power about as you do. Keep in mind you never really tested me, Anita. You might have thought you were getting away with this and that, but you never defied me. You respected me enough to listen to me. Until today.”

“Defying you bothers you more than me sneaking magic on you?”

Georgia dealt a quick slap to Anita's left cheek. “Yes.” She did not elaborate as to why.

“Well I am sorry,” Anita tried squirming forward, but it didn't help her situation all that much. “It's not as if I was defying you just to annoy you. I was under the impression that I was a free, independent woman capable of making her own choices.” It was difficult to say something like that and not sound like a snotty little brat, but Anita tried her best.

“You haven't been free since your little binding spell,” Georgia smirked. She was enjoying their exchange.

“Fine,” Anita sighed, giving up her attempts to save herself. She let her body go loose and floppy on the bed. “Then just beat me. Enjoy your grand triumph.”

“Are you going to get snotty with me, witchling?”

“Yeah,” Anita said, lifting her head just enough to be understood. “You're going to thrash me for not being honest with you, but guess what, you weren't honest with me either. So I hope you're ready to go over this bed next.”

There was utter silence for a moment, then she heard Georgia chuckle. “You make a good point.”

“I know,” Anita said sullenly.

Georgia smoothed her hand over Anita's bottom, caressing the pretty curves. “Do you think that we are perhaps even?”

“More than even,” Anita said, lifting her hips almost imperceptibly towards Georgia's hand.

“Hm, perhaps you are correct.” The bed sank as Georgia crawled onto it. Her lips nuzzled along the side of Anita's neck, sending pulses of bliss shooting throughout her small frame. “I could punish you anyway,” she purred.

“You could,” Anita admitted. “But you'd only be doing it for your pleasure.”

Georgia smiled a wicked, wide smile. “It would be my pleasure indeed,” she said, laying down beside Anita and trailing her fingertips gently from the back of Anita's neck down her spine to her bottom. “I love marking this bottom.”

“A sadistic witch, that's just what the world needs now,” Anita teased.

“You are in a better mood already,” Georgia dropped a delicate kiss on Anita's nose. “I think I will give you a taste.” Her hand was molding itself to Anita's cheeks, squeezing, teasing. The slight dipping, thrusting motions of Anita's hips was enough to telegraph her arousal.

“You're going to beat me anyway?” Anita arched her back and looked over her shoulder as Georgia stood up from the bed. She watched Georgia pick up the carpet beater and swing it back and forth experimentally.

“I'm going to give you a taste, now put that pretty face down and lift that bottom up for me.”

Anita obeyed, feeling a thrill run through her body. She did not want to be beaten, did not want to feel pain, but there was something delicious about lying entirely naked before Georgia, open and vulnerable before a woman she knew was going to bring her pain. It was a helpless position, but some dark part of her reveled in that helplessness.

There was a swish as the carpet beater cut through the air and a meaty 'smack' as it made contact with her bare bottom. It was an implement designed to get the maximum impact with the minimum of surface area, and it certainly worked. Anita squealed and scrambled away immediately, clutching at her bottom. It was like being caned with multiple canes at the same time. Her entire bottom had erupted into heat and pain. She tried to ease it by rubbing, but it was still too raw for that. She hissed as her hand's touched the red striped skin.

“Well that is pretty,” Georgia said, ignoring Anita's discomfort. Her eyes were predatory, locked on Anita's reddened cheeks which now bore the mark of the carpet beater in looping red lines.

“No more!” Anita pleaded.

Georgia's grin was dark. “Perhaps not now, but I will certainly keep this in mind for the future.”

“Sadist,” Anita accused.

Georgia didn't deny it but she laid the carpet beater down and covered Anita's body with her own. Soon Anita was far too caught up in the caress and thrust of their lovemaking to concern herself with the red lines that curled so prettily over her hindquarters.

The sex had always been good between them, but with Georgia's power out of the closet, it was closer to mind blowing. There was more than hands and a mouth on her body, there was a warm sweep of power that explored her just as thoroughly and thrust deep inside her, exploring parts of her body and soul that had not been touched before.

Just as Georgia had brought pain, she brought pleasure to Anita's wanton arching body. Pleasure that rolled in waves, pleasure that tingled through her spine and curled in the bottom of her belly. Pleasure that exploded in a great crescendo of orgasm and took her into the darkness of slumber very well sated indeed.

Chapter Two

Anita huddled into her cardigan and spooned clotted cream onto her scone and into her tea. Outside the little tea house the sky was overcast, which wasn't at all unusual. The sky was overcast most days. It was drizzling, which was also not all that unusual. There were sunnier, drier places in the world to live, but she had chosen to live in Broadbean, a little village halfway between Liphook and Lickfold, which were both real places you could look up on a map. It was a quiet, sheltered nook about an hour's drive away from Stonehenge, which suited Anita's needs rather perfectly. In an unlikely twist of events, she'd met Georgia, her life partner here three years ago and they'd settled down to raise chickens, which were a poor substitute for a family but were frankly all either of them could be bothered with.

She was not on speaking terms with Georgia at that moment, and not just because of the magical surprise Georgia had pulled the other day, but for much more mundane reasons. Georgia was on a health kick so it was all carrot sticks and hummus at home. That meant it would have been a distinctly unpleasant time whether they'd been embroiled in a power struggle or not. Georgia needed her meat. Her attempts at fasting with vegetable matter never went well. She got cranky and anemic within days, yet she would not listen to common sense and just 'have a sausage' as Anita had suggested. She'd made some pretty frightful threats when she'd discovered Anita trying to grate some meat into the hummus, so Anita had scurried out to the furthermost of the two coffee shops in Broadbean for respite. Georgia wouldn't be pleased that Anita was off spooning cream into her face, but Anita wasn't much pleased with Georgia either. They were in a Mexican stand-off of displeasure.

Thinking of Georgia as a witch in her own right was a difficult adjustment for Anita. Accepting Georgia not only as a witch, but as a much more powerful witch than she was made it even more difficult. In all her thirty three years, nothing had defined Anita more than her witchcraft. Now, just like that, it was nothing special. In fact, it had never been special. Whilst she'd preened herself over little achievements, Georgia had been sitting on a whole pile of power without saying a thing.

Frowning to herself as she slurped her creamy tea, Anita tried to puzzle out a future. She'd been deposed from her position and that left her somewhat lost. Sure she could still gather herbs and make potions and salves, but what was the point? Georgia could do it better.

“Well good afternoon.” A deep voice rumbled somewhere above her. She looked up and into the twinkling eyes of Athelstan, the witch who had initiated her into the coven. He also happened to be the High Priest. He was of average height for a man, but he seemed taller thanks to the bushy beard and wild long hair he cultivated. There were streaks of grey through the black mass which usually gave him a wild appearance but today he'd scraped his hair back into a pony tail and tied his beard down. He looked almost dapper as a result.

“Hey Ath,” Anita moped.

Athelstan leaned against the gnarled staff he walked with. There was nothing wrong with his legs, it was an affectation.“Where were you the other day?” Was there a hint of reproach in his tone? Probably. You were supposed to inform the others if you couldn't make it, especially if you were a second degree witch like Anita.

“Georgia wouldn't let me come.”

“Oh?” A thick brow wrinkled at her. Anita wondered whether or not she should tell Athelstan what she knew. Georgia hadn't said she couldn't tell. “What's wrong, Anita?”

“Georgia has power.”

It seemed as though he knew what she meant immediately. “Does she?” He nodded, his large head ponderous. “That makes sense.”

“I mean she has real power, Ath.” Anita lowered her voice to a conspiratorial whisper. “The kind you can do things with.”

“All power can be worked with,” he began, slipping into his preachy mode.

“No, Ath. Real power.” Athelstan looked at her blankly and it suddenly occurred to Anita that maybe he didn't actually believe in real power. Sure he was a third degree Alexandrian witch, but to a lot of people the craft was all ritual and chanting and hope and prayer. It was a nebulous concept, not an energy that could be grasped and channeled. “Never mind,” she muttered into her tea. “Sorry I couldn't make it.”

“No problem, just call next time, okay?” Athelstan wandered off to order whatever it was he'd come to order and Anita sat and sulked in silence. There went her chance of finding anyone to commiserate with. Even other witches didn't understand what she'd come up against in Georgia. Real power was almost unheard of.

Most Wiccans are not magically talented. They may be spiritual, they may have belief, but in truth they have little grasp of the threads of power that can be tangled and woven together to create change in the universe. Oh there are tales of course, there have always been tales of witches who could call the elements or fly on the raven's wing, but nobody actually ever seems to know such a witch personally. Unlike many of her ilk, Anita had always known that magic was real. She felt it as a tingling in her fingers and spine, sometimes like a wave washing over her. It could be played with, molded into a shield or directed like a laser. Most of the time it was best left to flow freely. Playing in power was a pleasant sensation, like standing under a warm waterfall.

She'd always prided herself on her grasp of magic, but the moment she'd felt Georgia's power for the first time she'd known that her own little skerrick of influence was miniscule in comparison. Of course nobody actually 'had' power, usually not much anyway. The most powerful magic was done when you acted as a conduit for the natural energies around you. Had Georgia been channeling some natural source Anita wasn't aware of? Or was she naturally just that powerful?

Holding Georgia in her mind, Anita puzzled at the question. There in the coffee shop she slipped into a meditative state, her head bowed over her half eaten scone. Georgia. Georgia the golden one. That was how Anita had always thought of her, though she'd never expressed the thought aloud. She had always known that there was something leonine about Georgia. Something about the wide-set eyes, the slightly flattened nose Georgia attributed to the interbreeding of her pirate ancestors who had cheerfully pillaged their way around the world, meeting and breeding with indigenous populations with admirable vigor.

Breathing out, Anita relaxed and let wisdom fill her. Sometimes, if you held a question in your mind in silence, you would find the answer. In her mind's eye the image of Georgia transformed into the shape of a lioness. No mane, but beautiful golden planes of fur. Animal magic. Or something more than that?

As Anita breathed in the image faded slowly. She opened her eyes and looked down at her scone. “Mmm scone,” she whispered to herself.

“Anita.” Ath was back, and now he looked pissed. There were traces of crumbs under his bottom lip, trapped in the hair of his beard. That was the problem with beards, they were very difficult to keep clean.

“Yeah?”

“Not in the cafe.”

She cocked her head to the side. “No scones in the cafe?”

He glowered at her. That was different. Athelstan didn't glower at anyone. He was the most even tempered guy Anita knew. But he was definitely glowering now. All the signs were there. The drawn eyebrows, the intense gaze, the hard set mouth. Yes. Definitely glowering. She gave him her best confused look. She was confused. What could he possibly have a problem with?

“You're buzzing,” he frowned the word.

“Buzzing?” She looked around and saw that Athelstan was not the only one paying attention to her. More than a few customers were giving her sidelong looks of confusion and mild disapproval.

He leaned down, placing his big hand on the table in front of her. “Keep the magic for the circle,” he said softly so that nobody else would be able to hear him.

“I swear I'm not...” Anita's denial fell on deaf ears.

“I don't know what trick Georgia has taught you, but I am sure she wouldn't appreciate you using it in public like this,” Ath cut her off. He was mad. Real mad. The whole thing was quite bizarre to Anita. As far as she was concerned, she'd looked a bit sleepy over her scone. He was acting as if she'd whipped off her clothes and sacrificed a bunny on the nice white tablecloth.

“Right, okay, fine.” Anita wiped her mouth and stood up. There was no point hanging about if she was being weird and she wasn't aware of it. That was how you got yourself committed by well meaning folk. Unfortunately that wasn't enough for Athelstan. He followed her out of the coffee shop, pestering her with annoying questions that made no sense. She finally managed to lose him by blaming the entire affair on her period. She wasn't on her period at all, but the mention of menses always made men uncomfortable and Athelstan was no exception. She left him blushing in the village square and made her way back home before he recovered from the shock of her rather lurid description of menstrual blood.

When she arrived home she noticed that there was a pile of dishes still sitting by the sink waiting to be done. Apparently the great witch Georgia didn't have it in her to get her hands sudsy. If Anita hadn't already been in a bad mood, seeing the dishes left undone would have irritated her. As it was it sent her into deeper, darker places in her moodscape.

“Where have you been?” Georgia walked out of the bedroom. A frown was settled on her features, making itself at home as it always did when she eschewed meat. She was wearing a neat blue jersey that showed off the color in her eyes, and a pair of black jeans that clung to her thighs, highlighting the femininity of her body. She was, as usual, entirely gorgeous.

“Out,” Anita said sulkily.

“Don't take that attitude with me.” Georgia was immediately on edge and Anita knew why. It wasn't her tone, or the ongoing argument they were having, it was the fact that Georgia was low on animal protein.

“Oh for goddess' sake, have something decent to eat. The celery is making you cranky.”

“Something is making me cranky, but it's not celery.” Georgia frowned furiously. Anita faint the faint crackle of her power. For years Georgia had kept it hidden away. That took effort, hiding energy was a drain in its own right. She didn't bother to hide it now though, and Anita felt it almost constantly. It wasn't a taste, or a smell or a sound, it was something that lurked behind all three of those things. Ordinary folk didn't feel it the way she felt it, they experienced it only as a kind of charisma.

“I'm going upstairs,” Anita scowled. She trudged up the rickety stairs to the attic, wanting nothing more than to get away from Georgia's foul mood. The attic was a warm refuge at the top of the house and had been fitted with floor boards, cupboards for storage and a little couch where Anita often retreated to read.

It would not serve as a retreat that day however. No sooner had she thrown herself on the couch than she heard Georgia's footsteps as she made her way up the stairs. There was to be no rest or escape for the wicked. When Georgia had ascended the stairs she stood at the top of them, glaring at Anita. “This is about the magic, isn't it? This little attitude you have going?”

“What if it is?” With her lower lip pushing past her upper lip, Anita looked as petulant as she sounded.

“You want to know one of the reasons I didn't tell you?”

“Yeah, I'd really like to know,” Anita said fiercely.

Georgia made a sweeping gesture with one hand. “Because of this. I knew you wouldn't react well to the news.”

“How do you know? If you'd told me back then I'd have had a chance to make a choice. Now I have no choice.”

“No,” Georgia shook her head. “I know you too well to believe that. You're talented, but your ego is stronger than your talent.”

Anita's jaw dropped. “That was mean.”

“It's true.”

“Fuck you, Georgia.”

They were fighting now for real. The gloves had come off. Anita was on her feet, her hands clenched at her sides, her body drawn up to its full height, meaning she came all the way up to just under Georgia's shoulder. “And now you resort to swearing like a child,” Georgia observed. She'd crossed her arms over her chest, it was a closed position, one that kept her power in tight around her. In Anita's eyes she was humming like a power pylon.

“In response to your patronizing attitude,” Anita defended her choice of words. “You think you're so much better than me.”

“I think I'm older than you. More experienced.”

“You're not that much older.”

“Seven years can be a long time. One can learn a lot.”

“It's seven years, Georgia,” Anita said, her voice dripping with derision. “Not seventy.”

Georgia simply shook her head. The gesture said what she would not. That she didn't expect Anita to understand, that Anita wasn't old enough, or wise enough, or talented enough to understand. It made Anita almost boil with rage. “What the bloody hell do you want from me?”

The answering look was cold. “You can stop speaking to me that way for starters.”

“Why don't I just stop speaking completely? I obviously don't have anything of value to say.” Anita tossed herself back down onto the couch. There was no point getting aggressive with Georgia. They weren't going to fight physically. She turned her head and looked out the window, staring out over the rolling farmland around the village. Tears threatened to fall, tears not of anger, but of betrayal. She loved Georgia more than she loved anyone on the planet and yet Georgia thought of her as nothing but a weak witch. She hadn't even trusted her with the truth of her true nature.

Georgia sighed. “I don't want to fight with you Anita. I'm sorry I didn't tell you.”

Anita glanced back towards her bitterly. “Are you?”

“Yes.”

“But that doesn't change what you think about me, does it? You look down on me.”

“I don't look down on you.”

“Yes you do. That's why you like this domestic discipline idea. It gives you the chance to treat me like the idiot child you think I am.”

“Is that what you think I think?”

“Yes that's what I think you think,” Anita grumped.

“What do you think?”

Anita turned and looked at Georgia incredulously. Had they devolved into petty nonsense now? “What?”

“What do you think?” Georgia repeated the question. “Do you think you're behaving in a mature, responsible way?”

“Yeah,” Anita lied.

Georgia shook her head. “I'd like nothing more right now than to take you over my knee and thrash your bottom.”

“Which only goes to prove my point.” There was more than a hint of smugness in Anita's tone.

“I'm not going to coddle your ego, Anita,” Georgia said firmly. “I am older than you, I am more experienced than you. My powers are more developed. You can accept that, or you can sulk. It's up to you, but either way, I'm taking this out on that ass of yours tonight.” With that said she turned and went back downstairs.

The definite way she'd spoken left Anita with a queer feeling in her tummy. Georgia had given up all attempts at being apologetic or sorry, she'd simply stated her position as dominant and left it at that. There was no doubt she'd follow up on her promise either. Anita started to get the trembling feeling that she was in serious trouble. Georgia had never forced anything on her, not really, but she was beginning to get the idea that wasn't because it was out of her power to do so.

Three years. Three years of loving one another, being together, making a life together. Three years and it was now being turned upside down by the discovery that Georgia was much, much more than just a pretty face, she was a very real power to be reckoned with.

A sudden sturdy knocking at the front door boded even more ill for Anita. She peered over the banister and heard Athelstan's deep baritone, then his heavy footsteps. Georgia had invited him in. Perfect. Just perfect.

“So sorry to intrude,” he was saying. “But I thought you'd want to know.”

“Of course, I appreciate you taking the time to inform me. Care for tea?” Georgia was the consummate hostess. There was always tea ready for any visitor who dropped by. Anita used to think it strange that Georgia seemed to know when people were on their way, but now the reason for her ability was obvious. She didn't seem to know, she did know.

“She was in the cafe channeling so much power the teaspoons were rattling. I put a stop to it and she acted like she didn't know what she was doing!” Athelstan's gruff voice conveyed surprise and doubt.

Anita caught her breath as Georgia and Ath passed below the stairs and went into the kitchen. That was one mystery solved anyway. She must have been drawing much more power than she'd thought in the tea shop. No wonder he'd been so annoyed. Rattling teaspoons were bad for business. Even in this enlightened, cynical age it didn't do to scare the villagers. Their homes might be bright and airy with open plan living spaces and satellite television, but there were still torches and pitchforks that could be taken up in times of need.

“That doesn't sound like Anita,” Georgia said thoughtfully. “I wouldn't have thought her capable of channeling that much power.”

Anita went from being scared to smugly outraged in an instant. So nobody thought she was powerful. Well, weren't they just entirely wrong. Couldn't they just all go suck it. Yes they could. Athelstan and Georgia were still talking, but she wasn't really listening. She was putting all her energy into fuming as effectively as possible.

“... always been an admirer of yours,” Athelstan was saying. “Would be honored if you would join us.”

“I'm not of the Alexandrian tradition,” Georgia replied carefully.

“Well perhaps you would do us the honor of attending a gathering as a teacher? We honor and embrace all facets of the craft.” Ath was in full sycophant mode now. Maybe Anita had underestimated his ability to spot real power. Or maybe Athelstan just liked tall blondes.

Before Georgia could reply, Anita took the opportunity to stamp down the stairs and glare at both of the occupants of the kitchen. “Well hello,” she said as snidely as possible.

“Anita,” Ath said gruffly, nodding at her.

“What's all this then? A little bit of a bitch fest, hmm?”

Athelstan's eyebrows drew together like a malformed caterpillar. “Now there's no need to get testy, Miss Anita.”

“I disagree,” Anita said pertly. “I think there's quite a need to get testy when you go running to my girlfriend, complaining about me and begging her to come along as a guest teacher.”

“Anita, go to our room.” That was all Georgia said. Anita was going to refuse, but she made the mistake of looking Georgia in the face and the expression she saw there was so fierce, so determined that she thought better of mouthing off again. Cold power washed out of those blue eyes and gripped her with clammy fingers, pushing her back towards the bedroom. She went reluctantly, walking backwards and keeping her eyes on Georgia's face as she did. It was the one bit of defiance she could muster in front of Athelstan that wouldn't embarrass her further.

Once in the bedroom, she felt silly. She'd been sent to her room. She was too damn old to be sent to her room. Why was she letting Georgia push her around? Was it just because of the shock of finding out she had power? Or was it because they were both starting to take the kinky games a little too seriously? Months ago Georgia had introduced the idea of having a dominant and submissive dynamic in their relationship. Anita had resisted at first, but Georgia could be very persuasive. She knew just what buttons to press to get what she wanted. At first the dominant and submissive role-play had been just that – play. But it was quickly becoming obvious that Georgia took the whole thing very seriously indeed. She'd positioned herself as the authority figure in their relationship and now she was throwing her weight around. Anita did not approve.

Anita knew that witches were individualistic creatures that did not bend easily to authority. She considered herself entirely a witch by nature, but she was being forced to bow before Georgia. It was yet another assault on her perception of herself as a witch, another assault on her ego. But what could she do? She was helpless. Whatever source Georgia was drawing from seemed endless. She'd never be able to resist her. Unless... A smile spread slowly over Anita's face, a slow, devious smile. Maybe there was a way to keep Georgia's influence at bay after all.

Outside, the rain had stopped and shafts of sunlight were flitting in through the window. Sitting cross legged on the woven rug in a small pool of sunshine, Anita closed her eyes and drew her power around her, creating a shield. It was a basic tool of the trade. A shield kept you safe when you practiced magic, kept any psychic beasties at bay.

In her mind, Anita constructed a solid brick wall, complete with mortar. She laid the wall in her mind's eye, taking all the care of a master brick layer to ensure that it was solid and sturdy. The visualization was just a tool of course, but it helped focus the power, helped build it strong. Anita felt it growing around her, solid and secure. On a whim she added some additional protection to the very top of the shield, tossing circular coils of razor wire around liberally. It wasn't the prettiest psychic shield that had ever been created, it looked more like the wall of a prison actually, but it was solid and it would probably work. Hopefully work. She breathed out and relaxed, feeling the shield as if it were a real thing, something she could have reached out and touched.

When she opened her eyes, Georgia was leaning against the door frame, smirking. She hadn't felt her come into the room. That was a good thing. A very good thing. It meant that the shield was working, protecting her from Georgia's power.

“What are you doing, witchling?”

“You're the great dominant power, why don't you tell me?” Anita smirked right back. The electric tingle was completely gone. Her shield was holding very effectively indeed. Georgia couldn't touch her now, not with power anyway. Anita might not be the most powerful witch in the world, but she had a few solid tricks up her sleeve.

Georgia pushed off the door frame and took a step into the room. “Athelstan says you caused quite a commotion in town today.”

“Athelstan exaggerates,” Anita said simply.

Georgia's smile became rueful as she shook her head. “You're so much trouble, you know that? This would be so much easier if you'd just behave yourself.”

“It would be easier if you treated me as an equal and told me what was going on,” Anita replied snidely.

To her surprise, Georgia nodded. “Very well, what do you wish to know?” She walked into the room and sat down on the bed, forcing Anita to swivel around on her ass to look at her. Their relative positions put Georgia physically above Anita in a way that grated, but she couldn't be bothered trying to find a higher vantage point. She'd only end up sitting on the dresser or something silly. She was somewhat surprised by Georgia's offer of knowledge, but she wasn't going to turn it down. There was no point sulking because Georgia had secrets if she didn't ask questions when she had the chance. She asked the question at the forefront of her mind.

“What are you?”

“What am I?” Georgia's head tilted as if she didn't really understand the question, or as if the question might have several answers.

“What sort of witch are you?”

Georgia smiled. “What do you think?”

“Well you're not a ritualist, I know that much. You don't have any of the paraphernalia.”

Georgia nodded, lacing her fingers together around her knee. “That is true.”

“But you know magic.”

“I know power,” Georgia said. “Your coven magic is quite different from mine. Mine is more elemental.”

“More animalistic?” Anita suggested.

“Yes,” Georgia smiled, flashing white teeth and the canines that had always been a little too long.

An idea was tickling at Anita's brain. It had been there for a time, but now it was building evidence behind it. “Are you... could you...”

“Spit it out,” Georgia chuckled, easing down so that she laid on her side, her head resting on her hand, propped up by her arm.

“You're like an animal,” Anita blurted.

“I favor a totemic kind of magic, that is true,” Georgia laughed, thoroughly amused.

“You're a lion. Lioness.”

“Quite. And you...”

“I'm not anything,” Anita shook her head. Hers was an arcane ritual type of practice, stitched together from a hundred different traditions. She did what worked and dropped what didn't. The coven was of a similar style. It took on whatever traditions and style its members wanted to have. Anita wasn't sure that was a good thing, but it was all any of them had.

Georgia crooked her finger. “Come here witchling.” Anita hesitated a moment. Georgia did not seem mad at the moment, but the promise she'd made earlier that day still lingered in her mind. 'Take it out on your ass,' she'd said. That wouldn't be pleasant at all. “Come here,” Georgia coaxed in gentler tones. “Don't look so worried, my sweet.”

Taking that as some assurance that she was not calling her to be beaten, Anita crawled up onto the bed and allowed Georgia to take her in a warm embrace. The feeling of Georgia's body pressed against her own was, as always, instantly calming. No matter how stormy their relationship might be, the physical contact was always good, always healing. With Georgia's arms wrapped around her, all was right with the world.

Georgia smiled as Anita snuggled in closer. “Is that better?”

Anita nodded. “Much better.”

“What am I going to do with you?” Georgia posed the question, stroking Anita's hair gently.

“Nothing, just let me be,” Anita suggested.

“You get into trouble that way. I'm getting visits from the Headmaster about you.”

Anita giggled. “High Priest, not Headmaster.”

“Same difference really,” Georgia smiled. Anita enjoyed her irreverence. It would probably have offended other members of the coven, the ones who mistook the structure for the magic, the ones who wouldn't have known a source of real power if they'd tripped over and fallen into it.

“Well that was an accident. I didn't mean to do anything. I doubt anyone else really noticed anyway,” Anita shrugged. “Did you agree to come to a gathering?”

“You're changing the subject,” Georgia noted, dropping a kiss on Anita's nose. “But yes, I did.”

“Really?” Anita pulled away slightly. “I thought you'd rather jump into a pit of lava than attend a gathering.”

Georgia gave a slight shrug. “Perhaps it's time I got a better look at what you've been up to.”

“You're going to interfere, aren't you,” Anita groaned, flopping onto her back. Georgia followed, draping one jean clad leg over Anita's in a subtle statement of control.

“You don't want me to know what you've been getting up to,” Georgia smiled, brushing a few strands of mussed up hair out of Anita's eyes.

“No, if you must know, I don't.”

Georgia's chuckle was low, filled with humor and the rumble of creeping dominance. “You are such a naughty little witchling.”

“And you're the big bad witch,” Anita replied. “The coven won't know what hit them.”

“Probably not,” Georgia agreed, lowering her head and dropping a kiss on Anita's lips. Anita's psychic shields were still in place so there was no rush of power this time, just the warmth of flesh on flesh. That in was enough in itself. Anita reached for Georgia and drew her down on top of her, wanting more than just a chaste kiss. She growled with annoyance when Georgia pulled away. “Not so fast. I have a promise to keep.”

“What?”

“To take you to task for your behavior today.”

“No Georgia.” Anita was firm. “No.”

“So sweet,” Georgia smiled, flashing her canines. “You think you can refuse me.”

“You don't own me, Georgia. I'm still a person with rights,” Anita reminded her.

“Of course,” Georgia smoothed her hand under Anita's shirt and let her palm gently rest low on Anita's belly. “But you know you behaved badly, don't you?”

Looking up into Georgia's eyes, Anita felt herself becoming lost in them. They were mesmerizing, beautiful, and so very determined. “Perhaps,” she admitted softly.

“So there has to be some kind of consequence, don't you think?”

“Maybe.”

“Such a naughty little witch,” Georgia murmured, nuzzling Anita's neck. “You know you've been bad, but you don't want to take your consequences.”

“Of course not,” Anita smiled. “Not if I can avoid it.”

Georgia's hand curled into a claw as she dragged her fingernails lightly over the sensitive skin of Anita's stomach. “But you know very well that karma cannot be avoided. What goes around comes around.”

“You're just looking for an excuse to mark me again.”

The nuzzling stopped for a moment and Anita felt teeth gently against her neck. The sharper canines were very much in evidence, denting the skin. Georgia pressed down to the point where Anita whimpered in pain, then released the bite. “I can mark you when I please. I need no excuse.”

Squirming beneath her mate, Anita felt breathless and primal. Georgia was impressive with or without her magic. “Drop your shield,” Georgia whispered, licking the spot she'd just bitten.

“Why?”

“Because I told you to.”

Anita resisted a moment too long and Georgia began to push at the shield. It was not a comfortable feeling. The pressure made Anita squirm where she lay. “Don't resist me. Drop the shield,” Georgia insisted, hooking a single finger and miming a clawing movement. Anita squealed as a shaft of bright power sliced through the brick and mortar, cutting it like a laser. Georgia's ability to translate from the physical to the metaphysical was unbelievable.

“Stop it!” Anita clutched at Georgia's arm and forced it down onto the bed.

“Do as you're told,” Georgia warned her. “Or it's going to hurt.” Another bright gap appeared in Anita's shield as the mortar crumbled under the force of Georgia's will. Anita screeched with pain that stabbed through her mind. “I told you,” Georgia said coldly. “Drop it now.”

Defeated, Anita dropped her shields, whimpering in pain. Fortunately for her the pain only lasted for a second. With her shields down, Anita was unable to prevent Georgia's power flowing over her, flowing through her. It warmed her instantly and healed the hurt.

“Why must you be so stubborn, witchling?” Georgia murmured, caressing under Anita's breasts. “Why do you always fight me?”

“Why must you always control me?” Anita asked in turn.

The response was more animalistic than she expected. Georgia took her by the hair and pinned her head to the bed as she loomed over her. “Because you are mine. Because I have claimed you. The sooner you accept that, the easier it will be for you.”

“I'm not something to be claimed. I am a witch, we are independent,” Anita argued.

“Something else you read on a website?” Georgia's laugh was derisive. “Nobody is truly independent Anita. If witches were independent, why would they form covens? Why would those covens have a hierarchy? Look at your own. You have initiates, first degree witches, second degree witches, third degree witches and a High Priest. That's an awful lot of hierarchy for a group of people who claim to be ruthlessly independent.”

Anita's argument lay in ruins, much like the rubble of her shields. “Still,” she said lamely, crossing her arms over her chest. It was an awkward movement to perform in a prone position.

“You're afraid of me,” Georgia said, lowering her lips to Anita's. “You're afraid of what I'll do if you submit to me.”

“No,” Anita denied the accusation immediately.

“No?” Georgia cocked her head, her blond hair sliding silkily to the side. “Perhaps you are right. Maybe it is not me you are afraid of. Maybe you're afraid of what you will do if you allow yourself to submit.”

That was closer to the truth. Anita's passions had always run hot and heavy, Georgia's even more so. The pretense of equality had kept their lovemaking in a safe zone for the past three years. But she often felt the unnamed desires that floated just below the surface. If Georgia had her way they would never emerge from their mutual debauchery, Anita was sure of it.

“Don't fear your passions, witchling,” Georgia said, gently uncrossing Anita's arms. “They are nothing to fear. They will lead you to new freedoms.”

“You say that, but passion can bind more than it frees.”

“You would know all about that, witchling,” Georgia smiled darkly. “You with your little binding rituals.”

“That again,” Anita sighed. “I said I was sorry.”

“Oh no need to apologize,” Georgia reached for Anita's hand and lifted it to her mouth, laying her lips on Anita's palm. “I was all too glad to participate.”

“Of course you were,” Anita remembered. “You knew it would only aid your cause.”

“Oh Anita,” Georgia shook her head. “You are so arrogant. Even now you think you know everything, but there is so much more for you to learn, so much more exists, beyond your imagination. I can show you these things. But you have to learn to put your assumptions aside and follow me.”

“And if I don't?”

Georgia shrugged. “Then you will probably discover what there is to be discovered anyway, but it will come as quite a shock. You've bound yourself to me without understanding what I am and in doing so you've bound yourself to forces beyond your control. Can you feel them? Can you feel our destiny drawing closer?”

Frowning, Anita tried to dismiss Georgia's words as drama. But Georgia wasn't given to drama. When she said something, she meant it. A slight chill passed through Anita. “Are bad things going to happen to me?”

“Not if you behave yourself,” Georgia said. “But if you insist on defying me, I may not be there when it finds you. This is not something you want to face alone.”

“What are you talking about?”

“I'm talking about a power that rules absolutely. A power that has you on its radar now. I have tried to hide us, but you went into the village and all but commanded it to come to us.” Georgia's face was deathly serious. “You owe Athelstan an apology. If it weren't for his warning, we would not be prepared at all.”

“Prepared for what? You tell me I have to listen to you, but you're not telling me anything, not really.”

“You will know her when you see her,” Georgia said. “Until then, any attempt to describe her will sound like bad fiction. Just trust me when I tell you to abstain from any more magic without me.”

“Fine,” Anita pouted. “We'll do it your way.”

“Yes,” Georgia growled. “We will.”

Chapter Three

Anita was hardly on board with the idea of Georgia coming to teach the coven, but everyone was so excited about it that it would have been churlish to veto to the idea, not to mention entirely pointless. Georgia had her heart set on attending the next gathering and the news was everywhere. Athelstan had probably been a bard in a previous life, he'd certainly done a good enough job of spreading the word about Georgia's impressive power. As a result there were more at the gathering than usual. In total nine bodies made an appearance, not including Georgia and Anita, who raised the count to eleven.

It was a fine mid summer's evening and the coven gathered in the forest that grew adjacent to the village. It was a perfect place for several reasons, the first of those being that it was within walking distance for pretty much everyone in the village, though that was not what Athelstan would have said if he was asked why they gathered there. No, it was the 'Goddess' Circle' that drew them, he said.

The 'Goddess' Circle' was a 'natural' circle of trees with soft grass growing between them. Athelstan claimed that it was a place of power. Anita was pretty certain it had been a council project at one time or another. You could still see the places where the barbeques had been erected before hooligans kicked them down. It might have been the 'Godesses' Circle' to the coven, but it was a lot of places to a lot of people, so the meeting began with several minutes of throwing away chip packets, empty beer cans and ubiquitous pornographic magazines that people had stuffed into the bushes.

Whilst Athelstan and Georgia conferred over some matter of advanced magic, Anita and Lith giggled together over one of the magazines. Lith was one of the initiates, an outspoken young woman of twenty five. She wore large rimmed glasses and kept her long red hair perennially scraped back in a harsh pony tail. Her penchant for knitted cardigans did not help her appearance. Lith did not seem to care much if she appeared dowdy, unlike other initiates who often did their best to seem dark and alternative, Lith would have blended in just as well at a quilting circle as she did at a moonlit meeting of the coven.

Lith was one of Anita's favorites for several reasons. She baked damn good chocolate chip muffins for starters, and always bought a flask of hot tea. That put her in Anita's good graces immediately. But above and beyond the tasty treats, Lith was a genuinely good natured woman who loved a joke. Her most recent trick of hiding frogs in the biscuit tin had not gone over well with all the coven, but Anita had rather enjoyed the ensuing hilarity.

“Come, let us form the circle,” Athelstan boomed impressively, interrupting Anita and Lith's speculation about the penis size of the porn star they were casually ogling. Anita sometimes thought that Athelstan was High Priest not because of his experience, but because of his dramatic flair. At his invitation, everyone dropped what they were doing and formed the circle. Athelstan was at the 'head' of the circle with Georgia at his right side and Anita sat to her right. The rest of the coven arranged themselves according to seniority.

“Our guest today needs no introduction. She is a practitioner of totemic magic and has offered to take us on a guided meditation,” Athelstan announced. “I give you into her capable hands.”

The coven looked eagerly at Georgia, who had gone out of her way to look the part. Anita wore a simple black tunic dress that just fell to her knees and was belted at the waist, but Georgia had gone for the full robe effect with a flowing dark dress that wrapped around her body and a hood that sat over her golden hair, creating dramatic contrast. She hadn't even opened her mouth and she already held them in thrall.

It was interesting to Anita that the moment Georgia took stock of the meeting, her gaze seemed to be drawn to the red head, who was blithely ignoring the growing silence as she flicked through the pages of the aptly named 'MASSIVE JUGS'. Anita felt a pang of jealousy as Georgia's blue eyes flickered with interest. Of course Georgia was interested. Lith was young, female and not unpleasant to look at. It would not have been fair to Georgia to say that she had a roving eye. It would have been more delicate to say that she had been something of a connoisseur of women in her time and old habits died hard.

Lith continued to browse the magazine, completely oblivious to the fact that they were trying to start the meeting. That was another of Lith's charming qualities. She had a focus so intense that she often blocked out the rest of the world without knowing she'd done it. It was a wonderful trait for a witch, not so much for someone expected to operate in a group setting.

After several attempts to get Lith's attention, Georgia had enough. “Put the magazine down Lith, before I thrash you with it.”

That got Lith's attention. Her head shot up and she thrust the magazine away behind her as a nervous titter ran around the group. Even Athelstan appeared to blush under his beard. “That's not the way we work around here,” he said, coming to Lith's defense.

“As far as I can tell not much work gets done at all,” Georgia replied smoothly. “Now let's close our eyes and hush for the guided meditation.”

Everyone hushed, clearly undesirous of being threatened with corporal punishment and Georgia began to lead the meditation, speaking in a calming, mystical tone that wrapped around the listening witches and transported their minds to the other realms. Anita kept one eye open during the meditation and saw that she was not the only one doing so. Lith was sneaking peeks at Georgia over and over again. Wonderful. A crush had been born out in the forest.

Fortunately, or rather, unfortunately, there was more to worry about that evening than the possibility of flirtation between Georgia and the younger witch. Throughout the course of the meditation, which struck her as inordinately long, Anita became aware of a presence. It was dim at first, a long way outside the circle, but it was drawing steadily closer. She glanced over at Georgia, whose voice gave no sign that she felt the entity, but the answering look told Anita that she was aware of it. Was this the power that Georgia had been warning her about? Was all hell about to break loose amidst a bunch of common people?

A warmth began to spread around the circle and Anita realized Georgia charging it, using what little power could be scraped together by the many novice witches and channeling it into a version of the psychic shield Anita used.

Still the thing came towards them. Anita reached out toward it with her mind and touched it. It was old. Old and powerful. What had they summoned? A trickle of fear dripped through her chest. Nothing like this had ever happened before with the coven. If anybody got hurt as a result of Georgia's magic, she'd never forgive herself.

Georgia took her hand and squeezed it reassuringly. Did she know what it was? Had she done this on purpose? There were so many questions and not a single one of them could be asked because it was imperative that the meditation continued, that the shield of power grew stronger. It was almost useless though. Whatever was approaching was far more powerful than their little circle of witches, Anita could sense that much even at a distance.

Finally, when Anita thought she could bear it no more, when she thought she might scream from the fear of the unknown, a figure emerged from the trees. Anita breathed a sigh of relief when she saw that it was just a woman in a skin tight white dress, not a fire breathing hell daemon or other dark creature. It was a woman, a woman of power to be sure, but a woman none the less. Her skin was pale in the moonlight and as she drew closer, Anita realized that it wasn't a white dress the woman was wearing. She was skyclad, entirely naked. At her appearance, the coven fell into stunned silence. Anita looked around at them, willing them to continue, but they no longer seemed aware of their surroundings. They were all staring off into the distance with expressions of ecstasy on their faces. Only she and Georgia seemed to be conscious.

As silence fell, the power of the circle dropped, leaving them unprotected as the woman drew closer. She had dark eyes and sensual features. Long, dark curling hair cascaded down her chest and Anita felt very strongly that the woman was of Greek descent. She also felt very strongly that this was the 'she' Georgia had warned her about.

The woman opened her mouth and it was not words that came out, but the low rumble of a beast. “Georgia,” the thing said, for Anita was no longer certain that it really was a woman she was looking at.

“Thera,” Georgia replied quite calmly, as if creatures commonly appeared out of thin air and addressed her by name.

Moonlight glistened off the creature. “I have come for you,” it said with dire authority.

Anita was horrified. It sounded as if the woman was there to take Georgia away. Anita wouldn't let that happen. “What's going on?” She hissed the question, grasping at Georgia's sleeve like a frightened child.

“She is the Potnia Theron, the Mistress of Beasts,” Georgia said, as if that explained anything at all. “She can call the beasts.”

“You are not a beast. You're a lady.”

“You noted yourself I am part beast,” Georgia said, smiling sadly.

“What does she want?”

“Come and speak with me Georgia,” Thera commanded. “Bring your consort.”

“Come,” Georgia bade Anita.

Anita was on her feet in an instant. She did not like this development. Indeed, she could barely believe that it was really happening, but she would not allow Georgia to go alone.

“I am afraid we will have to bid you all good eve,” Georgia apologized to the assembled Wiccans. The coven nodded almost as one. They had a glazed, spell bound look in their eyes. “You will awake in a few minutes having experienced the deepest meditation possible for you. You will feel energized and refreshed. You will see our disappearance as something to marvel at, something to aspire to,” Georgia droned the commands.

If it weren't for the otherworldly creature waiting for them, Anita would have laughed with glee. That had not been a meditation, that had been a long hypnotism. The coven really were under Georgia's spell, just not in the way they thought they were.

“They will not remember this, will they? The part with the naked lady?” Anita said, quite amazed at what was happening. Georgia had lead the coven into a trance that would probably not break until they were gone. When they snapped out of it it would look as if Anita and Georgia had blinked out of existence before their very eyes.

“Hopefully not, that would be rather awkward, wouldn't it?” Georgia took Anita by the hand. Together they walked through the woods towards Thera. With every step the Potnia Theron seemed to draw further away from them. The forest became denser, thicker, stranger. Anita had the idea that they were no longer walking in the woods beside the village. Where they were now was a completely different place outside of space and time.

They seemed to walk for a very long time indeed. Finally the forest thinned and they stood in a clearing. The moon was bright overhead, very full and ponderous and low in the sky. The Potnia Theron was waiting for them on a bench carved from marble. She sat with natural grace and perfect posture that made Anita quite jealous.

“I thought I had lost you, Georgia,” the creature spoke.

“I was not lost,” Georgia replied.

“You were hiding.” There was a hint of spite to the words, a spitting, biting note.

“I was not hiding. You found me. If I decided to hide, you would not find me.”

Anita looked from Georgia's face to Thera's. Georgia had an expression that Anita didn't often see – defiance. It was written in every line of her face, from the slight sneer under her nose to the glower in her eyes.

“You owe me service,” Thera spoke chidingly, as if reminding Georgia of something she should have known.

Anita turned to Georgia. It wasn't really the place or time, but she was tired of surprises. “What on earth is going on? What haven't you told me now?”

Thera's black eyes filled with cold interest. “Your consort is insolent.”

“She is,” Georgia agreed, her voice tight with anger. “Go sit down, Anita.”

“Yes. Go sit down, before you get hurt,” Thera agreed.

Reluctantly, Anita did as she was told. She moved away a few feet and sat down on a tree stump, which she was certain was not there a moment ago. It was not a fine a seat as the one provided to the Potnia Theron, but it would do in a pinch.

Thera laughed. It was a sound like broken glass being scraped over a city street. “You have been keeping secrets frpm everybody, Georgia. Your consort does not know that you are my servant. I did not know that you had a consort, much less a talented one. Did you hope to use her against me?”

Georgia's lips drew into a thin line. She did not reply. “You did,” Thera purred.

Anita stared at the naked woman. Long dark hair waved all the way to her waist, but her body was bare for observation. It was not as perfect as Anita had imagined a psychic creature's body would be. The breasts were quite wonderful, high and firm with perky nipples that would have made a plastic surgeon proud but the thighs were perhaps a little too full. The gentle outline of the muscle was too pronounced, Anita decided. The stomach was not perfectly flat, but there was a small pouch of fat underneath the defined abdominal plane. They were small imperfections, but they were imperfections none the less and they made Anita curious. It was curiosity, she told herself, not lust. No, it could not be lust. It would be mad to be sitting in a mystical glade out of space and time and be consumed with desire for a beautiful naked woman who was giving Georgia a hard time.

“My lioness has sorely betrayed me.” Thera made the accusation bluntly.

“I did not betray you. I sought my freedom.”

“Your freedom is not yours.” Thera's dark eyes slid across to Anita, who was leaning forward with her elbows on her knees, her fists bunched under her chin. “You have slighted me Georgia. You will have to atone for that.”

Georgia's voice was stone hard. However much the Mistress of Beasts thought she had the right to command her, Georgia wasn't showing any deference in her manner. “What do you wish?”

Anita glanced over at Georgia, surprise clearly written on her face. Georgia wasn't even arguing. She must be afraid of Thera after all. Or maybe Thera really did have the right to control her. It was difficult to believe that Georgia answered to anyone, yet at that very moment Anita was looking at the woman who commanded Georgia and wondering if her knees weren't perhaps a little too sharp.

“Your consort interests me,” Thera said, regarding Anita with the sort of mild curiosity a shopper might reserve for a can of beans. “Perhaps I will feed from her.”

Anita was on her feet in an instant. “You are not eating me!”

The Potnia Theron laughed that grating laugh whilst Anita looked over at Georgia. “What is she laughing about?”

“Feeding does not mean eating you,” Georgia explained with a hint of a wry smile. “The Potnia Theron does not feed on human flesh.”

“My lucky day,” Anita said dryly. “What does she feed on?”

“Pain.”

“Oh.” Anita found herself recoiling again. She could not begin to imagine the pain Thera could unleash with the power at her disposal.

“I will not let you feed from Anita,” Georgia said, finding some of her native backbone. “Not directly.”

“Not directly, what does that mean?” Anita interrupted their discussion again to be met with harsh looks from both women.

“I have a few scores to settle with my consort,” Georgia continued when Anita had fallen silent. “More than enough for you to feed from.”

“That does not surprise me,” Thera remarked. “She is almost as disobedient as you are.”

“I served you long and well,” Georgia said, her voice rising with a rumble of anger. “I have my own life to attend to.”

Thera's dark eyes became darker still as her power rose, whipping the wind around them up in fury. Leaves and bits of twigs swirled this way and that, lodging themselves in Anita's hair. “You are my beast, do not forget that.”

Anita was glad that they had both forgotten her in that moment. They were both very powerful, very dominant. Georgia was almost glowing with a golden sheen, and if Anita had not thought it impossible, she would have said that the canines were growing longer, more beast like. A bit of reading she'd done in the past came floating back to her. She'd read that people had two bodies, a physical one, and a psychic one. The psychic body didn't always match the physical. Looking at Georgia more closely now, Anita wondered if she might be seeing her psychic form. She was taller, and even under the loose clothing she seemed to have a more defined musculature. Not a masculine one, an animalistic one that allowed her to move with a grace the human form did not. Anita almost let out a cry of surprise when a long tail unwrapped itself from around Georgia's legs and swished with agitation. Was that always there? Was Georgia a cat underneath it all?

A snort of amusement from Thera distracted Anita. “Your consort looks at you as if she has not seen you before. You have not been very forthcoming with her, have you Georgia? Always secretive, always hiding.”

Anita frowned. “That's not it,” she said in Georgia's defense. “I just haven't looked this way before. With these eyes, I mean.” It was a clumsy way to explain it, but Thera seemed to understand what she meant.

“She is too powerful to be such a novice.” Thera was addressing Georgia again. Anita felt a surge of pride. Finally someone was acknowledging that she had power. Finally. She'd take the compliment even if it was coming from a psychic creature that wanted to feed on her pain.

“That is something I had planned to address,” Georgia replied.

“So my cat, we have a stand off, but perhaps we have a solution too. You wish for freedom and for time to train your consort. I wish for the service of my cat.”

Georgia nodded cautiously. “What do you suggest?”

“I could press you into servitude once more, but that would not benefit either one of us,” Thera mused, showing remarkable intellect and restraint. “But if I leave you to train your consort, I believe there will be plenty of opportunities for correction?” Thera's gaze ran over Anita, chilling her.

“No doubt about that,” Georgia agreed.

“So I will be a party to her punishments. In punishing her, you serve her best interests and you serve me.”

“Very well,” Georgia agreed immediately.

“What the hell! You can't agree to something like that without consulting me!” Anita was on her feet again. This time Thera and Georgia ignored her completely.

“The first feeding must take place tonight.”

“Hey! Listen to me!” Anita shrieked.

Georgia glanced over at her briefly before returning her attention to Thera. “That shouldn't be a problem.”

Anita was drawn to Georgia. Not taken by the hand, but literally pulled by an unseen force. They were in the realm of the spirit and the mind, she should have expected such things, but she did not. She squirmed and fought against the impulse, but it was to no avail. She was taken to Georgia's side and stripped bare. Or rather she felt the sensation of her clothing being peeled away. There wasn't any clothing to actually take off in the psychic realm, there was only the thought of clothing to remove. In spite of the clothing being a matter of pure thought, Anita still felt dreadfully exposed as Thera made a noise of approval at her naked thought form.

“Don't even think about trying to shield against this,” Georgia warned as she took Anita over her lap. “It will hurt much, much more if you do.”

Held over her lioness girlfriend's lap, Anita wriggled resentfully. “This isn't fair.”

“Hush,” Georgia slapped her bottom. The single slap was enough to make Anita yowl. It shouldn't have hurt to get spanked in psychic form, but it did.

“What a pretty bottom,” Thera noted. “Is it as pretty as this in the physical world?”

“It's prettier,” Anita said arrogantly. She didn't care for what was happening at all. If it weren't for the fact that Georgia was in trouble, she'd have told the beast lady to go sod herself. But Georgia was in trouble so she settled down over Georgia's warm thighs and prepared for a long overdue spanking.

“I am going to enjoy this immensely,” Thera said, her voice infused with glee.

The spanking began. Georgia's palm fell with the first of many sound swats as she peppered Anita's rear end. There was no opportunity to cry out or complain, the burning sting in Anita's bottom was powerful enough to make her forget about everything apart from it. Somewhere in the back of her mind she was aware of Thera nearby, but Georgia forced her to focus on what was happening to her, what was happening to her bottom.

In psychic form Georgia was as strong as ever, there was a slight touch of leather to her swats, as if she were spanking Anita with a glove on. The pad of her paw probably, Anita thought in between sharp jolts of pain.

It was a very sound spanking indeed, but it was not so terrible that she could not take it. Georgia expertly pushed her to the boundary of pain that made her feel safe, pain that reminded her she was owned now, but refrained from pushing her into pain for pain's sake, into the darker pain that created helplessness and misery. Throughout it all she was cradled over Georgia's lap and once Anita's bottom was warm, Georgia began to rub her in between swats, soothing her skin.

Anita was half afraid that Thera might object to the touch that stilled the pain, but she could feel that Thera was thoroughly occupied, thoroughly satisfied with the energy she was receiving. “So warm, so loving,” the Potnia Theron purred in the distance.

Craning her neck around, Anita saw that Thera's eyes were locked on her bottom. The woman seemed to jolt with pleasure as every slap landed. She truly was feeding off the pain and it was not as horrific as Anita had imagined it would be. It was just another form of energy, she realized as Georgia aimed low and dealt several firm blows to her lower cheeks, blows that made her hips lift up with the force of them.

If it were real, the spanking would have bought Anita to tears. But as it was, with Thera feeding from the pain, Anita was left with a spreading warmth that filled her body. She was being dominated, used, fed from and it was the most wonderful thing in the world. She was the sacrificial lamb, giving of her body so that others might have life and there was nothing but joy in it.

Tears began to well in her eyes, but they were not tears of pain but something else. “Anita,” Georgia said gently, brushing the tears away with her thumb. She did not need to ask if Anita was okay. All three women felt what Anita was feeling.

“That was wonderful,” Thea said finally as Georgia drew Anita up on her lap and wrapped a cloak of love about her. “Truly wonderful. The pain of love is the most delicious pain of all.”

Anita heard Georgia's voice above her, somehow high and distant. “I am going to take her back now Thera.”

It all began to fade. The woods, the woman, all became fuzzier and more distant until Anita opened her eyes and they were in their house. She was being carried in Georgia's arms. She wondered why for a moment, and then a feeling of overwhelming weakness swept over her. She groaned as Georgia laid her down on the bed. “I'm tired.”

“You will be,” Georgia soothed her, stepping away for a moment to shed her coat, then returning to gently undress Anita. “Thera fed on your energy.”

“But I'm not sore,” Anita mumbled. It was true. Her bottom didn't hurt at all. After the spanking Georgia had given her, she expected to be in pain, but she was not, not at all.

“Because I never touched you physically,” Georgia explained, helping Anita under the covers, then cuddling up with her. Anita sighed pleasantly, snuggling into the sheltering curve of Georgia's body.

“I like that kind of spanking,” she said dreamily.

“I bet you do,” Georgia chuckled, resting an arm over her. “Now sleep, you need your rest.”

“Yes Ma'am.” Anita barely finished mumbling the words before she fell asleep in Georgia's arms.

Chapter Four

It should have occurred to Anita to be angry about being the spanked sacrificial lamb, but it did not. She was far too excited about the new realms that had been opened to her. “It was like being in a whole other world, with whole other rules,” she enthused over a cup of tea.

Georgia smiled indulgently. “That's precisely what it was.”

Anita snorgled into her tea, bubbling it with laughter as memories returned. “You have a tail. I saw it!”

“You have a tail too, and it's going to be nice and red if you keep teasing me.” Georgia was smiling, but there was a glint of warning in her blue eyes that Anita paid heed to. In an odd way, having Thera barge into the gathering was the best thing that could have happened. For one, Anita had gotten some serious cred out of the magic disappearing act. Secondly, after stepping outside the meatspace it no longer made that much sense to her to deny that Georgia had some claim to seniority. She hadn't admitted that aloud as yet, but already that there was much less conflict between them.

Anita still didn't understand everything that had taken place in Thera's glade, as Georgia had dubbed the place, but she was keen to learn. She fizzed with questions day and night and for the most part, Georgia answered them willingly.

“So how old is Thera?”

Georgia smiled. “That's a good question and yet, not one that can be easily answered. She does not walk in time as we do. She is outside of it.”

“Are you outside of it too?”

“No. I am here with you my witchling, getting grey hairs,” Georgia smiled indulgently.

“But you serve her.”

“ Yes. I always have.”

“How long is always?”

“Many lifetimes,” Georgia replied.

Anita pushed her tea cup around, making what was left of the brew slosh around in the bottom. “And she comes and finds you in every new life? How annoying.”

“There is only one life really, especially to those like Thera. They do not see the cycle as important.”

“They would if they were subject to being born every few decades,” Anita grumped.

“Probably,” Georgia agreed. She tipped her head to the side as she looked at Anita. “You're taking this all rather well you know.”

“Because it's awesome. I met a woman who doesn't exist in time,” Anita grinned. “Best Tuesday ever.”

“Fair enough,” Georgia smiled and slid a piece of paper across the table. “Now it's time to attend to the mundane. Get off that cute little ass of yours and run these errands, would you please?”

It seemed dull and boring to run errands after having taken a stroll in another dimension, but Anita was in a good mood and she didn't want to spoil it with churlishness, so she agreed without much fuss at all.

The errands weren't too tiresome. Go to the post office, drop off some eggs to Mr Salisbury, buy some thread and cloth. All could be accomplished on foot within an hour or so. Anita set off into the village with a wicker basket over her arm containing the eggs carefully stacked in a cardboard container. She delivered those first and was quite tickled when old Mr Salisbury tipped her a pound note. The haberdasher was next. She picked out some white thread and a small roll of white cotton cloth for Georgia. The post office was the final stop on her trip and one stamp later, she emerged into the afternoon sun having achieved all she'd set out to do that day.

“You look pleased with yourself, little one.” A rich voice rolled over her.

Anita whirled about, dropped her stamp and stared so hard it felt like her eyes might pop out of her head. It was Thera, there in the village. She did not look as she had done on their first meeting. She was no longer naked and mystical. She was very solid, very clothed, very real. Her dark curls were swept up into a complicated hairstyle and she was wearing a starkly modern outfit, a long caramel colored coat with matching pants, a white blouse and leopard print boots. She positively reeked of wealth and class. Anita looked at her with wide eyes, stammering incoherent words that made no sense at all. The woman was stunning. Drop dead gorgeous. Lust shot through Anita like an arrow, addling her mind and muddling her senses.

Thera's painted lips spread in a wide grin. “You are surprised to see me.”

“Y..yes.”

“Come,” Thera said, taking charge. “Let us go home to your Mistress.”

Anita nodded in agreement. What else could she do? She could hardly ditch her basket and run home without Thera. That would create a scene and she was sure that some kind of punishment would ensue. “You are just as pretty in the real world, and even more delicate,” Thera said, looping her arm around Anita's.

Glancing over at the woman, Anita saw something like desire in her eyes. Thera was taller than her and she loomed in a way that Georgia did not. It wasn't a physical thing, it was a vibe thing. Power rolled off Thera. As they walked through the village arm in arm they drew interested looks from many people. This was going to be something people gossiped about, Anita knew it.

She couldn't get home fast enough, and the relief she felt when she finally scuttled across the threshold was palpable. “Georgia! We have a guest!”

“We do?” Georgia stepped out of the kitchen. When she laid eyes on Thera, her expression darkened. “To what do we owe this corporeal honor?”

Thera smiled a wide, blazingly white smile. “I wanted to see you and your pretty little consort, my cat.”

“I bet you did,” Georgia shook her head. “This is against the rules, Thera.”

“Rules are meant to be bent, if not entirely broken,” Thera purred, rolling her words as if they were a delicacy. “Has she been naughty?” The question was directed at Georgia, but it was Anita who took a quick step back from Thera.

“She has not been naughty,” Georgia said, giving Thera a shrewd look. “Did you take earthly form in the hopes that Anita would be punished?”

Thera's smile remained wide and unapologetic. “She was so pretty over your psychic lap, I knew she would be even more delightful in person.” The dark eyes swept over to Anita, who was hovering nervously in the doorway. “She is more timid than I thought.”

“I am not timid,” Anita answered for herself. “I just don't know what you are.”

Thera was enjoying herself immensely, that much was obvious. “I am flesh and blood, dear girl, just as you are.”

“How can that be?”

“It is possible for the Mistress to take human form,” Georgia tried to explain, but was swiftly interrupted.

“Have you not read the myths, child?” Thera spoke chidingly. “We can take the form of whatever we wish. Swans, bulls, people...”

She was referring to Greek mythology, in which gods and goddesses often seduced mortal women and men. “You're not a goddess,” Anita said bluntly.

Thera's face became horrid with anger. “Am I not?”

“Anita, hush now,” Georgia said hurriedly. “Thera, I apologize, she is young, she has not learned well.”

“That is quite obvious,” Thera growled, her eyes flashing darkly towards the hapless Anita. “Not a goddess? I will show you...”

“Please don't,” Anita squeaked, cowering away. Thera was doing an excellent job of appearing human, so much so that Anita had been fooled at first into thinking that perhaps Thera was only human after all. But the power that surrounded the woman now, the seeping power propelled by rage was more than enough to frighten her.

Her fear seemed to appease Thera somewhat. “She is insolent, Georgia.”

“Yes,” Georgia agreed.

“I want to punish her.”

“Join the queue,” Anita muttered.

Thera rounded on her. “What did you say?”

“Er, I...Well.” Anita held her hands up as Thera advanced on her. It was not the wisest thing to do, because it gave Thera the opportunity to grab her by the wrist. Anita squealed the moment Thera's fingers closed around her arm, knowing that she was trapped. The woman's touch was more than warm, it sent thrilling jolts of electricity through Anita's body. Goddess help her, she was so aroused.

“She is like a spoiled child,” Thera said, pulling Anita toward her.

“They don't raise them like they used to,” Georgia agreed dryly.

“Help me, Georgia!” Anita pleaded. Georgia was taking this all very calmly, as if it was an everyday thing for a goddess to storm into her home and take her girlfriend.

Thera's eyes flashed down at her. “So, so very naughty. She cannot help you now. You have crossed me. It is I who will determine your punishment.”

Pulled hard against Thera's body, Anita whimpered helplessly as Thera reached down and patted her bottom. “An unusually full bottom for such a small woman,” she noted. “Almost as if she were made to be disciplined.”

“Please don't punish me,” Anita pleaded.

“Oh yes,” Thera made a sound of satisfaction, as if Anita's plea alone had been pleasant. “Rebellious little one. You will be punished.”

Thera dragged Anita to the bedroom, kicking and squealing the whole way. How she knew the layout of the house well enough to do that was beyond Anita, but she had bigger things to worry about, like the way she was quickly tossed over Thera's lap as if she weighed nothing at all.

She tried to escape by using her power, putting up shields, but she couldn't. Every attempt made her skin prickle uncomfortably. Thera was suppressing her power and doing so with terrifying efficiency. “Do not try to raise your talent against me,” she warned. “You do not have the skill. Besides, it is best that you come before me naked in power and body.”

With that, she began to strip away Anita's clothing whilst Georgia stood at the door and watched. “Georgia, help!” Anita pleaded. Georgia could only shake her head.

“You called down the fury of a goddess, witchling, beg her for mercy, not me.” Anita's jaw dropped. Georgia was truly going to leave her to her fate.

Thera laughed a dark laugh. “Yes, witchling. Such a very good name for one like this.” She ran a hand over Anita's bare thigh with an admiring touch. “I can see what attracted you to her, Georgia.”

Stuck over Thera's lap, Anita wriggled furiously. She was scared, very scared. The only comfort came in the fact that Georgia wouldn’t stand by and let her get hurt. Probably.

“Lift up your bottom for me,” Thera commanded. Anita did as she was told. She wanted nothing more than to appease the immortal who had decided that she must be punished. As she raised her hips, she felt the light brush of fingertips between her thighs. With her knees up on the bed, her head pressed down by Thera's palm, she was laid out like a naked and vulnerable offering. Thera's fingers brushed against her sex once, twice more, then she slapped Anita's bottom with a powerful smack that made her cheeks jiggle.

“Ow!” Anita whimpered. The fingers returned to their work, skating lightly over the soft down, teasing her womanhood.

“I can't decide whether to fuck her or thrash her,” Thera confided in Georgia.

Anita looked over with wide eyes. Surely she woudn't let Thera fuck her? But already her pussy lips were parting around Thera's fingers, already her natural moisture was betraying her body. She wanted it, she wanted to know what it was like to be fucked by a goddess.

“That is always the dilemma with Anita,” Georgia commiserated.

“You can't do that! Please!” Anita begged. She begged in spite of herself. From the moment she'd laid eyes on Thera, she'd been burning with lust. The fingertips that brushed her sex came away with an eager moist dew upon them.

“What can I not do?” Thera uttered a low chuckle.

“This, it... it isn't right,” Anita moaned as Thera cupped her mound and rubbed it affectionately.

“Isn't right?” Thera looked at Georgia. “Have you filled her head with this nonsense, or is it just another product of this prudish yet permissive age?”

“Anita is the product of her time,” Georgia replied, as if she was somehow not.

“Well she will have to learn the old ways sooner or later,” Thea said, patting Anita's nether lips gently.

Discussed as if she were not even in the room whilst Thea's fingers worked their magic on her body, it was tempting for Anita to just give in to the pleasure, to let herself be carried away by Thea's talented touch. It was clear that Georgia did not object, she was standing by, watching it happen.

“We are creatures of passion, all of us, Anita,” Thea spoke directly to her. “Passion is in our hearts, our blood, our minds. It is right and proper that it be expressed physically.” With that, she penetrated Anita, her fingers sliding into Anita's silky depths.

Gasping as Thera's fingers sank inside her, Anita did not know what to do with herself. She was being taken by a goddess, fucked right in front of her partner. The fingers withdrew and several hard slaps landed low and hard across her bottom, then the fingers seated themselves back inside her, as if she were a sheath and they belonged there. Thera pumped them gently in and out of Anita, fucking her with tender strokes that made her moan with pleasure. “You see that your girlfriend does not mind me doing this to you, little witch.”

Georgia snorted. “It's such a hardship watching her spread around your fingers, Thera, I can't tell you.”

“Georgia's a pervert,” Anita gasped, grinding her hips with pleasure.

“And what are you?” Thera asked, lowering her head to lay a swift, painful bite on Anita's shoulder.

“I'm the innocent she loves to corrupt,” Anita squealed. Sex hormones had flooded her body, enhancing pleasure and turning pain into pleasant sensation. When Thera began thrusting her fingers harder and faster, she pushed back against them, riding the goddess.

“This will not do,” Thera growled, pulling her fingers away. “She is enjoying it too much. It is supposed to be a form of punishment.”

Anita mewled with need, her bottom squirming as she sought Thera's touch once more. “She is difficult to punish,” Georgia agreed somewhat smugly.

“I can be inventive,” Thera growled. “Do you have any sex toys?”

They had many sex toys as it happened. An entire drawer full. Ordered to wait on the bed on her hands and knees, Anita watched as Thera went through them and selected a strap on with a thick dildo. “We will see how gleeful you are now,” she told Anita, her eyes flashing with thwarted lust.

As Thera shed her clothes and donned the dildo, Anita's heated gaze swept over the goddess incarnate's body. It was just as attractive in reality as it had been in the glade. Her body was feminine, but not soft. She had gentle muscle definition across her shoulders and arms and down her belly. As Anita's gaze dropped lower she saw the dildo. It swung between Thera's legs, low and threatening. Without any ceremony at all Thera mounted the bed behind her and unceremoniously thrust the thick toy straight into Anita's tender pussy.

“Now this is a fuck, isn't it,” she growled, leaning over Anita as she thrust deep and hard. “This is the punishment fucking you need.” With her hands clamped hard on Anita's hips, Thera fucked the younger witch hard, slamming the plastic rubber cock inside her body with merciless thrusts.

Anita squealed with pleasure and desire and Georgia's eyes were filled with a dark glee as she looked on, watching Anita's breasts sway with every thrust. Whimpering and moaning, Thera rode Anita down to the bed, fucking her until her arms no longer held her and she collapsed face first, her bottom still stuck up in the air, her pussy taking every rough thrust.

“It hurts,” Anita whimpered.

“I know,” Thera growled. “Its supposed to hurt your pussy when I fuck you hard. You're not going to walk straight after this, you're going to feel me between your legs for days. Whenever Georgia slips her hand between your thighs, you're going to wince and remember this, remember that you were bad and I fucked you for it.”

Perhaps it was the lust that clouded her mind, perhaps it was the physical pounding that urged Anita on and on, or perhaps it was the chill in Thea's voice, the deliberate ache she was inflicting between Anita's legs. Whatever it was, it pushed Anita over the edge and she cried out in ecstasy and pain as an orgasm unlike any other ripped through her. It was like being bathed with pure light that emanated from her core and pounded through her body. It was a connection with a higher being, a higher being that rode her throughout the orgasm. At the peak of ecstacy, Anita connected with Thea, faded away and became part of her. She was lost for a time in that bright place between life and death, and it was almost a regretful sensation to feel her body heavy and fleshy again as the pleasure faded, leaving her with a throbbing ache between her thighs.

“Wow,” she breathed when Thea eased the toy out of her and allowed her to collapse onto the bed. “That was worth it.”

Georgia's laugh bounded around the room whilst Thea looked positively stricken with disappointment. “She enjoyed it.”

“Yes, I'd say she did,” Georgia smiled down at her naked girlfriend who was still panting slightly from the force of her orgasm. “You're not the only one who feeds on pain, Thea.”

“You have tricked me,” Thea smiled slightly.

“I did not. I told you she was hard to punish.”

The smile grew wider as comprehension dawned on Thea. “A masochist for a lioness, it makes sense.”

“I'm not a masochist,” Anita objected.

“Oh hush, you have no idea what you are,” Georgia waved her objection away.

“Well, I suppose I cannot object too much to such a pleasant experience,” Thea mused, trailing a fingernail down Anita's thigh.

“Are you satisfied now, Mistress?” Georgia was smirking unapologetically.

“I am, though not in the way I expected to be.” Thea's dark eyes slid between the still naked Anita and Georgia. “I'm beginning to think that my presence here is not an accident.”

“I should hope not, you decided to come, did you not?” Georgia spoke with a perfectly straight face. A face so straight that even Anita wondered if she was up to something. This had all gone far too smoothly. Georgia had calmly stood by and watched as Thea wandered in and had sex with her. Different relationship paradigms aside, it was odd.

“Not what I meant, my cat.” Thea's eyes narrowed with suspicion. “I had not felt you in many years. Then one night, there you are. Calling me.”

“I did not call you.”

“You gathered enough power that I could not help but feel you. I was looking for you already, but I think you were aware of that. When you gathered the witches your beast roared to me, lioness, as you knew it would.”

Georgia shrugged casually. “You commanded me to come and I obeyed.”

“Yes. I commanded you. As you knew I would.” Anita shifted in bed, drawing the covers around her. Thea was starting to get mad for some reason. “Then you presented me with this little tit bit and allowed me to take her,” the goddess said it as if it were an accusation.

“Age is making you paranoid,” Georgia said dismissively.

Anita wondered how Georgia dared to speak to a deity that way. Then she remembered that Georgia had known Thera for hundreds of years. Familiarity almost always breeds contempt, even if the familiar person is a goddess.

“I wonder,” Thera said. “I wonder, and I promise you this. If I discover that you have been trying to trick me in some way, I will be back for you – and your consort.” With that she stalked out of the room dramatically. A moment later however, she popped her head back in, a lecherous smile spread across her beautiful face. “Actually, I rather think I'll be back for both of you regardless. I haven't enjoyed myself this much in a long time.” She disappeared from view once more and this time the front door slammed behind her dramatically as she made her exit.

“Well,” Georgia smiled, sitting on the bed. “That was interesting, wasn't it?”

Anita looked at Georgia with suspicion. “Are you messing with her?”

Georgia shook her head. “No. But she is a Greek deity. They are accustomed to tricksters. They expect to find them everywhere.”

Anita frowned. One of Thea's questions remained in her mind. It was a good question, one Georgia had not properly answered yet. “Why did you let her find you? ”

Georgia shrugged. “It was only a matter of time before she found me anyway. One cannot live on carrots forever.”

“Huh?”

“I told you I tried to keep us shielded. That meant not using my power when it wasn't necessary and a vegetarian lifestyle keeps my bestial energies low, makes me hard to find.”

“And harder to get along with,” Anita said.

“That too.” Georgia leaned over and dropped a kiss on Anita's cheek.

“So where does this leave us? Anita asked.

“Where does what leave us?”

“Georgia, I just fucked another woman in front of you.”

A sexy smirk spread over Georgia's lips. “I know.”

“You liked it!” Anita laughed. “You actually liked it!”

“You're beautiful when you're aroused,” Georgia smiled, tracing Anita's jaw with her fingertips. “Why wouldn't I like it?”

“Most people are more possessive than that.”

“Not me.”

“Does this mean you want to sleep with other people too?” Anita frowned. The idea did not fill her with joy, especially when she remembered how Lith had been looking at Georgia.

Georgia shook her head. “Unless there's a deity you owe a debt to, you can count on my faithfulness.”

“Hardly seems fair,” Anita mumbled, curling up in the bedclothes and laying her head on Georgia's lap.

“Life is very rarely fair.”

They cuddled in silence for a time. The ache remained between Anita's thighs, reminding her over and over again of the way Thera had taken her. Georgia had not minded in the strictest sense of the term, but there was a certain disrespect in the way she treated the deity that made Anita think there was still animosity between them. “You do not like Thera, do you?”

Georgia took a moment before she replied. “There have been worse Mistresses of Beasts.”

It was a diplomatic reply, even for Georgia. “But?” Anita prompted her.

A sad smile appeared on Georgia's face. “If I tell you, you must not use this against me in our arguments.”

“Okay,” Anita agreed. She was not the type to use information as ammunition anyway.

“I do often wish that there was no Mistress of Beasts, or that her control over me was more limited.”

“Ah,” Anita said. She now understood why Georgia had asked for the information not to be used in arguments. Georgia hated having anyone in control of her, in much the same way Anita professed to hate the way Georgia controlled her. “It's not the same though, is it?”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean, well, obviously you think there's a parallel between how you are with me and how Thera is with you. But it's not the same thing.” Anita knew she was mad for making the argument for Georgia, but Georgia didn't seem to see it herself. “Thera has power over you simply because you happen to have a touch of the beast about you. You have power over me because you love me and I love you. What we have is based in love. What she has is based in... something else.”

“You may have a point,” Georgia nodded slowly.

“Of course I have a point,” Anita said. “It's not the same thing at all.”

Georgia quirked a brow in Anita's direction. “Does this mean you accept what we have? That you accept me as dominant?”

A naughty little smile spread over Anita's face. It was an instinctive reaction to Georgia's stern expression, a reaction based on the tingle she felt in her belly. “I suppose I have to. You can tear down my shields with a crook of your finger, your Mistress is my Mistress.”

“Is she?”

“I think so. I could not have resisted her even if I'd wanted to.”

“But you didn't want to.”

Anita shook her head. “She has some sway over me. I don't know how to describe it, but my body responds as if it is hers to call.”

Georgia nodded as if she understood. “Wait,” Anita said suddenly. “Has she ever... done that with you?”

“Many times. In the old days she would assemble several of her cats and have us mate with one another for her pleasure.” Georgia kept her expression as serious as possible, but Anita saw the slight glimmer of a grin around her lips.

“So you partook in ancient Greek orgies. And you remember them.”

“One of the perks of being a beast,” Georgia winked.

“You filthy wench,” Anita teased.

“Says the woman who just arched for an almost complete stranger like a cat in heat,” Georgia teased right back. “You little slut.”

The word could have hurt, could have cut Anita to ribbons, but it was said with such affection, such warmth that it made her smile. “If I am, it is your doing.”

“So it is my fault, I see,” Georgia laughed, drawing Anita into a closer embrace. “I will have to be very, very careful with you indeed, won't I?”

“Yes you will,” Anita agreed, moaning softly as Georgia claimed her mouth in a deep, thoroughly possessive kiss.

As Georgia began to make sweet, patient love to her, Anita realized that although this was hardly the life she'd planned for herself, all was as it needed to be. Georgia's beast had been unleashed so she no longer needed to hide what she was. The big cat had come out to play, claws and all. That alone was worth a hundred erotic run ins with an oversexed Greek deity.

Joined in love and bonded by a new sense of trust, Georgia and Anita explored one another with tender touches. Their powers played off one another, curling and caressing with new found intimacy. Thera could fuck Anita until the world ended - but only Georgia could claim her heart.

Fin. For now.