“Redheads are evil,” Finn said from between the woman’s legs.
She moaned softly and ran her fingers through his hair. “Are they now?”
Finn bit softly the patch of red hair over her clitoris, and kept on talking, breathing and brushing his lips on it. “Yes. Didn’t you hear? It says so on the videos.”
She threw her head back on the bed and moaned louder, pressing her thighs together on his cheeks. “Mmm… I see. But aren’t you the one making them? What do you call them, propas?”
“Propos,” he corrected her, then dove inside her juices with his nose and tongue. The fact that it was au naturel down there made him grunt and bite, wanting her, needing her like an animal. It must be those pheromones, those primal urges.
See? It wasn’t all nonsense, these blasted redheads did have some sort of enchantment on them.
“Finn, Finn…” she moaned his name in increasing tones.
He continued his work down there, licking his way through her intimate areas. Her legs, her thighs, her buttcheeks pressed on the mattress, they were all his to nibble and tease. Her skin was like pink marble, pale, never kissed by the sun. Those little spots in patches made him want to explore every last centimetre of it. He kissed and rubbed his chin all over her, she shuddered and moved under his touch, writhing on the bed, pushing his head down on her flesh, her mouth open in the ‘o’ that spells orgasm.
She came in waves, he could feel her juices running down his chin. He stuck two fingers in there to assist, just a little bit. He knew not to jam things inside, he wasn’t a teenager.
Circe grabbed the bedsheets in each hand and her knuckles turned whiter.
“This is your punishment, witch,” Finn said and kept rubbing her devil’s purse.
“Oh, yes, oh, yes. OH YES!” she shouted, her body tensing up, her back arching, her waist still pushing against him, grinding her pussy on his nose.
“I will tap your magick energies, drain them completely,” he said, pushing her back down on the bed. He was erect now, and with a push his pants fell on his knees.
The witch smiled wide at him, her eyes dreamy. She slapped his balls as they hanged.
“Stop that,” Finn demanded, climbing on top of her.
“I love how it irritates you. Every single time, without fail,” she said and smirked. Her red hair was cut short, barely down to her neck but as she lay back on the bedsheets it spread around her head. It caught the light in the most magnificent way, and Finn had to admit that the temptress was very pretty indeed.
“Shut up, witch,” Finn said and placed his knees between her legs, kicking them away.
Circe resisted only for a second, made sure she had his gaze locked with hers, and then spread them. The temptress even wiggled her butt and repositioned herself on the bed to allow him to enter her at a better angle.
He rested the tip of his cock between her pussy’s lips. They were scalding hot and wet, he could feel it with the sensitive hood. “Prepare yourself, witch,” he said, disgusted.
Circe bit her lip naughtily. “Oh, I’m prepared, my Propaganda Master. Mmm, yes. You made damn well sure of that,” she said, cooing.
He reached down with his mouth and nibbled along her neck. She was shorter, so he had to bend his body sideways. He made sure to rest his cock on her bush while he moved his lips around. He licked his way to the left and found her armpit, there was the slightest presence of hair there as well. It was red and whispy, it made him mad, absolutely mad. He licked and ran his teeth through it, smelling her lovely sweat and body odour. It was one of the witch’s finest charms, few men knew that.
“Hmm,” she complained, moaning. “Finn, enough with the teasing, take me.”
“I’ll never understand why you flaunt your red hair, witch,” Finn said, switching to the other armpit.
“It’s my power. Why should I be afraid to show it?” she said smugly, lifting her waist to brush up on his cock. She reached down with her other hand and aligned it properly, then pushed herself down, hugging his manhood.
Circe grunted and moaned when he entered her.
Finn sighed. He was in there, he might as well finish the job. He pushed her back down and fucked her properly, trying to take as little satisfaction from this act as possibly.
Alas, his body betrayed him.
Her scent and smell was still on his lips, on the tip of his tongue. Her pussy felt warm and inviting around him, her body soft and perfect underneath him, her lips parting, moaning his name again and again, ‘Finn, yes, like that, harder Finn, harder, yes,’ and her hands holding the back of her neck, exposing the little bushes of heresy.
He fucked her as hard as he could. The little witch even wrapped her perfect legs around him, pushing her closer to her, deeper inside of her.
She lifted her head to kiss him, Finn pushed her face away, holding it to the side with his hand. He was fucking her hard now, grunting, sweating. He had given in to the witch’s spell completely now, just taking her like an animal. The fact that the witch screamed in delight as he did so made it clear for him that it was a sin.
What else could it be, if the witch wanted it that much?
He felt that familiar pain down low and grunted in one final thrust. He came inside her, and as he was vulnerable like that, the witch snuck in a kiss on his lips. He couldn’t push her away, he was panting, barely holding on, his heart beating out of his chest, spent.
He breathed hard, diving his nose in her armpit, taking in her wonderful scent.
She brushed his hair while he caught his breath and regained his strength. They stayed there embraced for a long while, his cock still hard inside her, asking for another round.
He pulled himself away from her and fell next to her on the bed.
Circe turned to him, resting her head on his arm. She twirled her finger in the hairs of his chest. They contrasted completely, matte black on her pinkish-white skin. “Why are you the one to come and drain me every week, Finn?”
“What are you talking about? It is the Propaganda Master’s duty, of course.”
“Mmm, yes. Duty, of course. But you do have subordinates in the Propaganda Ministry, do you now?”
“We do. What are you asking, witch?” Finn turned to her. Her hair caught the light and made her face look incandescent.
“I’m asking why don’t you send some of your men in your place. You know, to drain me,” she said, pressing her lips together.
Finn looked back towards the ceiling. “I cannot leave this heavy burden to another. I, as the Propaganda Master, have to endure this.”
“Mmm,” she moaned, snuggling inside his arms. “Yes. Endure.”
“Don’t mock me, Circe. I have drained you of your magick power, have I not, witch?”
“Oh, most definitely.” Circe wiggled her toes.
Finn stood up, naked. “It is a task that must be done,” he said firmly, putting his pants back up.
Circe just turned in her bed, naked. She didn’t show any inclination to get dressed. She stretched and smiled wide. “Mmm, this was perfect. Let’s do it again, next week, Finn. Okay?”
Finn put on his belt and looked down at the naked witch in disgust. “Yes. Next week, I’ll be back to drain your magick.”
Finn delivered the words exactly like a threat, but the witch’s eyes glistened, opening wide in expectation.
He left her room.
The two guards stationed at the door with rifles looked tense.
“The witch is drained of her magick,” Finn assured them.
The guards visibly relaxed.
“For now,” he added with meaning. “Lock up behind me,” he ordered and they did so.
“I don’t know how you do it every time, Sir,” one of the guards said to him, shaking his head. “Such a dangerous task.”
Finn puffed his chest and straightened his uniform. “Yes, it is. However, that is how the Ministry protects everyone from these vile creatures.”
The two guards nodded in agreement.
“As you were,” Finn said and turned away to leave. Despite his aversion to the witch’s guiles, he felt better after the task was well and done.
They couldn’t let witches roam free and undrained, after all. That’s what the ministry said, and that was the truth for them all.