Eight Maids A Milking Cursed Witch
By Lola Swain
Copyright 2012 Lola Swain and Pulp Friction Publishing, Inc.
Smashwords Edition, License Notes
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This is a work of fiction. Any similarity to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. All characters portrayed in this story of hot, taboo sex are eighteen or over.
Quote: William Makepeace Thackeray, Vanity Fair
This is Volume Four of A Very Wicked Steampunk Erotica Fairy Tale, Eight Maids A Milking--Cursed Witch
To read Volume One, Eight Maids A Milking, click here for Smashwords.
To read Volume Two, Eight Maids A Milking--Elizabeth’s Feast, click here for Smashwords
To read Volume Three, Eight Maids A Milking--The Maiden’s First Man, click here for Smashwords
To read other books by Lola Swain, click here for Smashwords
If you would like to chat with Lola Swain, send an email to: lolaaswain@gmail.com.
It was her life which the baby drank in from her bosom
William Makepeace Thackeray
The witch was born Alaria Crowley in the town of New Dresden Cove. Her mother, Veronica, promptly gave her infant daughter her breast to let her feed and Alaria, fed hungrily for many hours. Veronica, weak and drained, died the day after giving birth and Alaria was alone in the care of her father Robert, a lazy and short-tempered man. When old enough to ask about her mother, Robert told his young daughter that her mother was a swan who swam away down the channel after giving birth. Alaria, an extremely intelligent and inquisitive child, knew swans could not bear humans so she haunted her father with questions about her mother, nagging him until he was so enraged, he told her the truth: Veronica was the King’s whore whom he stole. Robert told Alaria she killed her mother with her greedy feeding and cursed Alaria for placing the burden of raising a child entirely on his shoulders. Alaria was not upset by the notion she killed her mother, quite the contrary, she was intrigued that she could have such power and as the years went on and her father became more hostile toward her, she wished upon stars and lily pads and mushroom caps that she could do the same to him.
Her father shied away from hard work, any work really, and spent his days dreaming up schemes and casting spells that never seemed to do anything. He fancied himself a warlock magician and held shows in the town square offering to curse or bless anyone for a hefty sum. The few takers he did have ended up running him out of the square after it was proven that his spells and curses did nothing to their intended recipients. Alaria studied her father’s practices and spent her days and nights reading his spell books and attempting to cast spells. She knew from childhood it was fated that she be a witch.
For all his fantastical schemes, Robert knew Alaria had the real gift and the little brat grew mouthier, more powerful and even more beautiful as the days wore on. He watched his brazen daughter dancing naked in the moonlight and was enraged that her once thin body was growing more plump and firm with each passing day--a sign of her infuriating greed. She ate constantly and it was time Alaria paid Robert back for the food and shelter he graciously provided her.
Robert visited his favorite whore at the village tavern twice a week religiously. Her name was Pilar and while Robert tried to convey nonchalance toward the beautiful Spanish maiden, he grew more attached to her as the months wore on. Pilar told Robert that she would have to return to London to seek out better work and in a panic, Robert proposed. Pilar cordially accepted his offer, mainly because he lied and claimed he was wealthy and they planned to move Pilar into the cottage in the forest. On his walk home that evening, Robert wracked his brain to come up with a solution to the problem of Pilar discovering that he was in fact, a lazy pauper. The answer came quite clear to him as he spied on Alaria washing her womanly body in the river: he would sell Alaria to the men in the village.
Robert neither explained Alaria to Pilar nor Pilar to Alaria beforehand and they were each presented to the other on the day that Pilar and Robert wed. Pilar was quite taken with Alaria, a beautiful girl with a beautiful womanly figure and Alaria saw much beauty in Pilar as well. What Alaria did not like, however, was her father’s demand that she service the men of the village.
“I am not a whore nor will I allow you to treat me as one, father!” Alaria screamed when Robert told her of her new job.
Robert grabbed his petulant daughter by the arm, excused himself to Pilar through clenched teeth and dragged Alaria off to the forest.
“Now you listen to me you bratty little bitch!” Robert shouted after pushing Alaria against a tree when they got out of earshot of Pilar. “You will do what I say, when I say it. I’ve provided for you for far too long, do you understand me? Now it is time you took care of me!”
“But why this?” Alaria cried. “Can I not be a wash woman or perform some other task in the village?”
“I need you to do something where you’ll make money, real money girl!” Alaria’s father said. “I’m sick and tired of providing for you for no return!”
“Providing?” Alaria said. “You call this providing? I never go school and I have no friends. I’m just a young girl and I’ve had to learn everything I know on my own! All the spells, trying to transform. If I could turn myself into a butterfly I’d fly away.”
“Yes, providing!” Robert said. “Let me ask you something girl, do you sleep in mud, under the stars or do you sleep under a roof? Your mother died and left me to raise you on my own, now I have Pilar and I need her to stay. You owe me! Do you think you’re too good for this work? Well you are not! Your mother did this work and she was a saint.”
Robert slapped Alaria across her beautiful face and when she did not even flinch and no tears sprang to her eyes, Robert became even more angered. He ripped his thick, leather belt from his waist and whipped her repeatedly across her legs. Her eyes never shied from his and Robert felt she was trying to curse him through her stare. He swung her around by the arm and commanded she grab the trunk of the tree. Alaria did as she was told and wrapped her arms around the great tree trunk and pressed her cheek into the cool, rough bark.
“Since you pointed out you are just a young girl, it’s occurred to me that you are not too old for a spanking. Make no mistake Alaria, when I am done with you, we will be going to the tavern where Pilar was employed and you will begin your work. You will be a whore!”
Robert cracked his belt across Alaria’s ample ass wildly trying to beat her into submission. Alaria held on to the tree tightly and begged the gods to make her one with the tree. When the stings soon turned into a fiery throbbing pain, tears streamed down her face and soaked the ground at her feet. She never gave him the satisfaction of crying out and she did not beg him to stop. Robert finally ceased his severe spankings when his arm gave out. He sunk to the ground and hung his head. He sat for a moment staring up at his daughter who did not make a sound and did not move. She had the power in her and Robert knew he was no match for her. His best chance with this girl was to break her mind and kill her will. Being a whore would do this and this was the best thing Robert.
Alaria turned and pressed her back into the tree, hoping the sap that coated and blackened her hands would seep into her dress and take the pain from her ass. She stared down at her father who outwardly seemed more affected by the beating he gave her than she was and tried not to convey the fear she felt deep within her. She was going to be a whore and there was nothing that could be done about it. For now.