Witch Switch

*Image owned by the magical May More*

After many (ye gods, far too many) months of not being able to do words, I’m finally back with a quickie for Halloween. This is a fun one but, with any luck, I’ll be back to my spooky self with the next 🦇

Wild winds howl through the narrow spaces around me. Nails creak and bend, sliding slowly from splintering beams. I flutter my lashes to ward off clouds of dust, catching glimpses of twisted foundations inches from the hook of my nose, and feel a fury unlike any I have ever felt before.

Mostly it’s directed inward. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t heard the stories. It’s not as if my kind aren’t warned from birth that no good ever comes of venturing to this, the farthest end of the Road. It’s just that I never believed it could happen to me.

Yet here I am, trapped beneath a shabby old shack with my legs sticking out all over the place and my skirts blustering in the breeze. Even so, I do consider myself lucky. Even so, I do consider myself lucky. The last time it rained a house the poor soul caught in the storm landed awkwardly beneath a heavy beam and, well, that was the end of her. Nobody missed her; not even her own sister. Oh, Westie got mad alright, but that was more to do with the fact that some upstart had snatched the very shoes right off of poor Eastie’s feet before her legs were even cold.

But me? I’m shaken but quite alive, and my shoes aren’t worth stealing, so I guess I’ll have to wait until someone comes along to release me.

While I wait, I watch spiders start to set up home above me. Skittering and weaving, their glassy-eyed stares making a few curious flies nervous. I tell off a snake for swallowing a mouse right by my face without offering to share, and advise a few squirrels that beneath a broken old house is no place to store their wares for the winter… they should find a bonfire and hide them in there.

As I’m busy giving a frog instructions to retrieve a jar of batwing soup from the basket I dropped, I smell it.

Sunshine. Sugar. Sweetness. The air reeks of it. Glimmers with it. I hear the twinkling of stars in the swish of taffeta, the singing of birds in an unsurprised sigh. My nose wrinkles in protest, my hackles rise and my toes curl.

Why couldn’t the dim scarecrow have found me? Or the scaredy-cat, or the heartless, metal menace. Even the old charlatan with the balloon would have done, but no. Of all the people in all the land, I had to get rescued by this bitch.

She doesn’t speak, all she does is giggle. Her laugh is a tinkling of bells that stabs at my ears, pierces my brain and makes me want to scream. Threaded through those infuriating sounds is a barrage of questions, messages and suggestions.

Why did you come to the end of the Road?

Don’t you ever tire of being one of the wicked?

You could do so much good in the world if you would only change your ways.

Let me help you see the light.

Filling my lungs with as much grimy air as they’ll hold, I open my mouth and release an almighty cackle. The tinkling of bells is drowned out by the screeching of birds, the howling of wolves, the chirping of bats.

“I am darker than night, blacker than pitch, as wicked as those who went before me,” I caw from my prison beneath the battered old hovel. “What do you imagine you can do to me?”

Everything becomes still and quiet. Glittering particles dance with dust motes above my face. This assures me that she has not gone, so this new silence is almost as eerie as her laugh. I still don’t fear her, though, for there is nothing she can do to alter me. I am unmoveable, unchangeable, impervious to…

What is that?

Something hard and spiked is touching my knee. It’s cool and light, but despite that, I start to burn. I can almost hear the sizzle of my tights fraying and the pop of my skin blistering. But this is goody-goody Glinda, so somewhere deep inside of me, I know that I must be imagining it.

Still, the heat is real. It spreads up my thigh, sets fire to my skirts, flashes over my hips, down my waist, licks the curves of my cheeks. I refuse to scream, I bite my fist to hold it inside. I know that it isn’t fire that’s consuming me, it’s goodness. Pure, unadulterated good magic and I know now what the hard, spiked thing is. It’s the star atop her bloody wand!

My tights have sizzled to nothing and I feel a warm rush of air in a place that hasn’t ever seen the light of day before. I know Glinda can hear my thoughts, so I think the word, spitting it at her with glee.

“That’s right, it’s my cunt. You’re looking at my cunt in all it’s unshaved, unseen glory. It’s always wet so I bet it glistens almost as much as you do. Take a deep breath, Good Witch. Do you smell me?”

Glinda makes a sound halfway between a sigh and a groan and I grin, delighted to have made her uncomfortable.

But wait…

The hardness of the wand is back, but instead of being spiked it’s smooth. Rounded. Inching closer, closer, skimming one plump lip then the other. I thrash my legs, hiss through my teeth, ball my fists and pound the ground in defiance of the waves of heat that sink into my skin.

Blood fills my mouth and tears blur my vision as Glinda strokes the end of her wand over my cunt, skimming the nub at the top with maddening softness until I’m grunting and growling. I drag images of my past misdoings to the front of my mind and try to wrap myself in them, a blanket of malice to protect me from her loving touch.

All too quickly I realise that the wickeder my thoughts are, the firmer her touch becomes. Strokes become harsh rubs, taps become slaps, and glitter swirls so thickly around me I start to choke on it.

Thoughts of excitement try to force their way into my mind, but I bury them deep. Smother them in delightful memories of cruelty and torture, some of which I performed on Glinda’s very friends.

With an anguished cry, Glinda drops to her knees beside me and I start to laugh, sure that I’ve won, but the sharp sting of her wand jabbing into my cunt freezes my mirth in my throat. She is no longer treating me with the gentility of a Good Witch.

The wand jerks in and out of me, sometimes shallow and fast, other times deep and slow. She twists it, angles the tip down so I feel a throbbing ache in my anus. Twists again until it’s rubbing the same spot over and over until my muscles stiffen with tension and I come perilously close to shattering my own jaw when I clench my teeth.

“What can I do to you?” Glinda says in a voice too gravelly, too deep to belong to her. “I can fuck the badness out of you, you wicked little witch!”

Filling my mind with hate, with aching need, with vicious thoughts and bilious words, I pull her mind closer. My body works in time with hers, lifting to draw her wand deeper, grinding when I feel the heel of her hand rest against my clit.

And then I’m melting, trembling and twitching, panting and rocking as I come for Glinda. Malevolence bleeds from my body with each pulse of my cunt and gathers in murky, roiling pools that slither and bubble towards the witch on the other side of the rotted wall.

I try to listen but my own blood pounds in my ears, shutting off all sound. But I feel the shaking. I feel the air warping, see little sparkles of glitter expand before disappearing with the dazzling flashes of a billion stars all blinking out at once.

The house that imprisons me explodes and once the dust settles, I find myself lying at the end of a broken yellow road, legs wide, cunt still twitching. A dark-haired witch stands by my feet with a gleaming black wand in her hand. Though she is different, I still know her. And I think I’m going to like this version of her much more than I did the other one.


Week 267

The Things We Do for Love

The high-pitched, whining buzz drowns out the quiet music, just for a few seconds, and I stiffen. I search his face and find nothing but patience in his eyes, an encouraging smile tilting his lips. He raises his brows, a question, my answer is a nod. Satisfaction. That’s what his smile is showing now.

I don’t watch as he smooths his fingers over my skin. Don’t flinch when his bike chain bracelet clinks against my belly bar. I just look at the light blinking in the window, reading the neon words backwards. One of them is his name. It’s a palindrome. No matter which way you look at it, it’s his. I focus on it, face neutral, but I’m gnawing away at the inside of my cheek, concentrating hard on remaining still. Continue reading “The Things We Do for Love”

Vixen Creations Maverick Dildo Review

Though I’d long been after the Vixen Creations Maverick, it came to me in the end by chance. The fab folks at Betty’s Toy Box slipped it into a review parcel as a surprise and it’s one of the best sex toy surprises I’ve ever had. Why? Because it fits my anatomy (and needs) so perfectly it’s almost as if it was made specifically for me.

Scandarella's Vixen Creations Maverick Dildo Review, image showing a tanned, caucasian skin toned silicone dildo on its side, on a cream, gold star scattered background

Vixen Creations is one of the best silicone toy makers out there. They produce some gorgeous dildos, butt stuff, wand attachments, and penis extender sleeves, as well as a relatively new prosthetic for gender expression. Their original formula silicone dildos are good and lovely and firm, but their VixSkin dual density dildos are where it’s at. And that’s what the Maverick is. Dual-density heaven. Continue reading “Vixen Creations Maverick Dildo Review”

Elust #119

Photo courtesy of Floss Does Life

Welcome to Elust 119

The only place where the smartest and hottest sex bloggers are featured under one roof every month. Whether you’re looking for sex journalism, erotic writing, relationship advice or kinky discussions it’ll be here at Elust. Want to be included in Elust #119? Start with the rules, come back June 1st to submit something and subscribe to the RSS feed for updates!

~ This Month’s Top Three Posts ~

Poly wobbles

Friendly Concern

Unmentionable

~ Featured Post (Molly’s Picks) ~

Breakthrough

Wait Silently

~Readers Choice from Sexbytes ~

Sensual Indulgence, Familiar and New

*You really should consider adding your popular posts here too*
All blogs that have a submission in this edition must re-post this digest from tip-to-toe on their blogs within 7 days. Re-posting the photo is optional and the use of the “read more…” tag is allowable after this point. Thank you, and enjoy! Continue reading “Elust #119”

Chaos [Horror Erotica]

When I saw that the prompt for this week’s Wicked Wednesday was ‘Twisted’ the first thing that popped into my head was one of my semi-abandoned works in progress. A while back, I decided to try my hand at writing a book’s worth of horror erotica (or horrotica), but I couldn’t get my story straight in my head so I whacked it on the back burner. It’s been there, simmering away, for some time now.

In recent weeks, though, I’ve turned my attention back to it and it’s been taking up a sizeable chunk of my writing time. This (unedited) excerpt is a wee sample of what I’ve been working on while I’ve been neglecting the blog. It’s priddy nasty, so arm yourself with this (consensual) sexual violence CW before you go in…

Zaimi appeared in front of me. It was the first time I’d seen him in days. The others took one look at him and scurried away like deer fleeing from a wolf, but he didn’t even spare them a glance. His eyes, as black and intense as ever, were fixed on me. As he studied my face, his brow furrowed, his gaze focusing on my cheek. With the backs of his fingers, he stroked the spot where the flying lung had hit me, smearing blood down to the corner of my mouth. I wasn’t even tempted to slip my tongue out for a sneaky taste. Not this time.

“I don’t even need to bother punishing you, do I?” His tone was as intimate as a lover’s, and it made me sick. “You’re doing my job for me.” Continue reading “Chaos [Horror Erotica]”

Sugar Lips

“You ready?”

Curtis had June’s chin clamped between his thumb and forefinger. He tugged a bit, lifting her head so he could stare intently into her glassy eyes. She was fuck-tired, floppy, probably close to the point where he’d safeword on her behalf. But she made the effort to hold her lids open, nod her head and slur a single word.

“Green.”

Curtis hesitated, watching June carefully to ensure she really was still in the game. Certain that she had a little bit of life left in her, Curtis pulled her jaw until she parted her lips. Her tongue automatically snaked out and pressed against her chin, suck-job ready. Curtis hesitated again. Did she have enough energy left? Could she stay with him while he used her mouth the way he’d been using her cunt for the last hour? Continue reading “Sugar Lips”

A Gift to the Gods


Image owned by The Barefoot Sub

On the face of it, today was a day that began much like any other. Jessa rose with the sun, smiled down upon the small, round faces of her still sleeping siblings as she slipped on her often-mended dress. She breakfasted with her father, then joined her mother at the door of their clay and stone hut. As always, they waited there for the rest of the village women to join them on their walk to the river to bathe.

As she stood quietly beside her mother, tracing swirling shapes into the dry, dusty ground with her bare toes, Jessa tried hard to convince herself that it was just another spring day. But although her breakfast of eggs and fish was routine, her father’s uneasy silence was not. Although she was used to her mother casting her gaze around the village to note who was on time and who would be late by the colour of smoke puffing through chimney holes, she was not used to her shifting her weight from foot to foot, or chewing her nails to the quick in agitation. Continue reading “A Gift to the Gods”

Imaginary Self-Destruction

Okay, so this is possibly my weirdest personal ritual and I confess that I don’t feel particularly comfortable sharing it because it’s kinda fucked up. While it’s something I’ve done almost my entire adult life, it isn’t a physical thing. It takes place entirely in my head and I do it whenever sadness, frustration, resentment, fear and rage combine to overwhelm me to the point of sobbing exhaustion. Basically, I systematically destroy myself, and when I’m finished I feel oddly at peace.

Be aware that I talk about pretty much everything that ever required a content warning, so if there’s any subject that triggers you, proceed with caution.

When things get too much for me and the part of me that the world sees shuts down, the part that only I know awakens. It’s the part of me that offers up cinematic responses to overwhelming situations, almost like mental self-defence. I see myself getting up and walking away from people – mid-sentence – when I don’t want to hear whatever it is they have to say. I see myself screaming, throwing things. And yes, sometimes I even see myself smacking certain people right in the mouth. My mind shows me reacting to things in ways that would provide the most satisfaction in the moment, but I’m always left feeling worse once that moment is gone because this is the point where guilt and shame at my own violent impulses set in. Continue reading “Imaginary Self-Destruction”

JimmyJane Focus Sonic Vibrator Review

Even though I’ve been reviewing sex toys in some capacity or another since 2014, my experience with JimmyJane products remains limited and largely negative. On the face of it, their stuff looks classy, well designed, and well deserving of its high-end status. But when it comes down to it, the power payoff just isn’t worth the financial outlay. For this reason, I’ve actively avoided the entire brand. Then I spotted the JimmyJane Focus Sonic Vibrator – their answer to the Zumio – and decided it was time to give them another chance.

Scandarella's JimmyJane Focus Sonic Vibrator Review, image showing white packaging with an image of the product on the front cover

It wasn’t because I love the near laser accurate stimulation offered by this type of toy because, on the whole, I don’t. I discovered with the Zumio that there is such a thing as too pinpoint when it comes to my clitoris. I chose to check out the JimmyJane Focus because it had something the Zumio didn’t, something I’ve thought the latter might benefit from. Sleeves. Three silicone attachments that slip over the stimulating tip to change the type of stimulation on offer. Continue reading “JimmyJane Focus Sonic Vibrator Review”

Supernatural Erotica – Nemesis

This little tale was supposed to have been the next instalment in the A to Z Challenge I took part in (and failed) in April. I may have abandoned the challenge, but I love writing supernatural erotica so couldn’t abandon the story.

It had been said that, when Fame came to men in their dreams, she brought beauty, comfort, and warmth. Some reported that she had the face of an angel, the body of a Goddess, others that she was indiscernible, unknowable. They claimed to have felt real love pouring from her heart into theirs, they swore that she’d revealed mysteries and secrets of the world but that, once she was gone, they couldn’t hold onto anything more substantial than the knowledge of her visit.

The only thing they all agreed on was that, for her, they would continue to fight consciousness, would even drug themselves in their desperation to return to and remain in the hazy world she inhabited. For her, men would embrace ruin.

Slipping through the crack of an open window, Fame shook her head in amusement. To them she was everything, but to her, they were little more than food. Continue reading “Supernatural Erotica – Nemesis”