The Reawakening of a Witch

It was beautiful. Even though I beg forgiveness as I write my account, understand that I feel the love for both of my women harden between my legs. It should not be, of course, but it is truth. I am a sinner. I enjoyed all the time we three made love together.

When finally I finished within her, I was exhausted. It was not from the effort and exertion of our incest, I am sure. But something else had drained from me. My wife and daughter had both climaxed simultaneously, and the three of us fell asleep after. We slept together in that bed most nights after that.

It was not just confined to the bedroom either. I had woken up one morning first, and had returned with water from the well to find my two loves waiting for me. As soon as I had closed the door, Sarah was kissing me. Whilst I was distracted, I felt my daughter’s hand pulling the belt off and pulling my clothes down to my ankles. Then there was a most beautiful sensation. I broke the kiss to look down.

My Elizabeth was on her knees and had her lips around me. It was pure bliss. I stiffened inside her mouth, swelling to my full length, as the young woman’s head bobbed back and forth. My daughter was pleasuring me with her mouth. I gasped and grabbed the edge of the kitchen table, shocked at the audacity. I cannot explain to you how incredible that sight is. The pure beauty of your daughter, your own flesh and blood, on her knees like that. She was an angel. It was that perfect.

Sarah was whispering something as this went on. I did not yet know the words she spoke, and to his day, i do not know what they mean.

My daughter was expertly working herself upon my length. Taking me deep within her mouth, her hands cradling my balls. I held her head with my hands then, taken by an urge. I held her there, and began to thrust into her mouth. I felt both wrong and right, as I took her face as I had done her womanhood. I thrust into her. All the time my wife’s whispering continued.

Then it happened. I let out a grunt, as I let my seed out into my daughter’s mouth. I watched with pride as she swallowed, yet some still dribbled down her chin, which she wiped away with the back of her hand.

This was the way it was with us three. There was a beautiful night when I lay me wife down naked on the kitchen table and me and my daughter pleased her with our tongues and our fingers. I wanted release myself, but that night was about worshipping Sarah.

The bible says that we are not to practice sodomy. But we did not follow that either. It is a different sensation, if you have not experienced it. I have taken both my wife and my daughter from behind, pushing deep into the place where for some reason we are told not to. I would recommend experiencing it. As I would recommend being on the receiving end as well.

You have seen the various wooden items I have made. Of varying sizes and girth. As a man, it is not something that you would necessarily think of. But I promise you, lying on your back, your legs raised up, whilst your wife pushed a wooden phallus into you, whilst your daughter strokes your manhood is a pleasure everyone should experience.

I am sorry. I was supposed to be begging forgiveness, and instead I have written down the sins that I have committed without any indication that I have done wrong. I do not regret my actions. I feel myself fully hard as I relive this perfect time. I want you to spill onto this page the lurid detail of our incestuous lust. Of the debauchery that we have partaken of.

How can I ask for forgiveness when I am so far gone that I do not believe what I did was truly wrong?

It all came crumbling down, when the young Edward saw us. We had gone for a walk into the woods, and our passions had overtaken our sensibilities. I was making love to my daughter out there amongst the trees, bending her over so I could take her from behind. Sarah was sitting on a tree, her dresses pulled up, and satisfying herself when we heard the gasp from the side.

It was the boy. He had seen us walking, and with suspicion in his mind, had followed us. I acted instinctively. I chased him down, and tackled him to the ground. One hand I placed over his mouth, as I climbed over him. The other hand found the rock. With three quick blows it was over.

We hid his body, and I returned that night with a shovel to hide our evidence. I wish I could say that the murder stopped us. Alas, it did not. We made love that very night.

It was Elizabeth’s pregnancy that changed everything. It was inevitable, I suppose. My daughter would always end up bearing my child, given how often I had planted my seed within her.

It was within a day of us finding out she was with child, that the hunt for the missing boy found his body. Suspicion fell on us when a witnessed had seen us and him walking into the woods not long apart on that fateful day. The rest is a matter of public record.

I can only pray that you do not find Elizabeth. That she remains free. Sarah and I go to the gallows tomorrow. In our last hours together, she had promised me she would name her son Charles, in honour of me. Her father. Her son’s father. I do not know how she knows it is a boy. Nor do I regret our love. I do not regret what we did. I know I should be praying for my soul. But i cannot. I am a witchfinder. I am a witch.

Yours,

Charles Temple Stalworth

Tibi corpus meum do, tibi familiam meam do, te adoro per peccata carnis

—

By the time I had finished reading the letter, I was panting. Exhausted. I had climaxed, and my fingers felt slick with my juices, and worn out. I felt sick however, and I staggered to the bathroom to throw up. How could I have gotten so turned on, by the confession of a father who had fallen to such incestuous depravity? But I had. I felt alive. Something had been awaken in me. I did not yet know what. There were a few things that gradually I became aware of.

My ancestor was Elizabeth Temple. In her box she had a letter of a Charles Temple Stalworth. This must be her father. And if that is the case, then her father is also the father of her son. Who was also named Charles. My ancestors were witches who partook in incestuous satanic rituals.

I became obsessed after this. Many nights I sat in my study, the door locked as I came whilst reading the letter. And every time I finished, I would stare at the Latin at the end. Longer and longer I would look at those words. I would read them out loud, practicing each syllable in turn. It is peculiar how I never even thought of trying to translate it. I suppose, now I know what I know now, maybe it isn’t.

I did also learn as much as I could about Elizabeth Temple. There is a record of the birth of her son, Charles Temple. And, when I first discovered it, I had thought it tragic, a death certificate of Charles aged 1.

But over time i began to suspect differently. Elizabeth married a Charles Smith, twenty years her junior, who would become Charles Temple. I once would have thought it mere coincidence, but now I see something more significant. It is my utter belief that the young Charles Temple, who she married, is none other than the son of Elizabeth and Charles senior, her father. Elizabeth continued her incestuous ways by marrying her own son.

For months I was obsessed over this. My life began to fall away. And all I could think of is how wonderful it must have been. How perfect the three of them were. How society had rejected what they had. Of the pure love that they shared.

Tibi corpus meum do, tibi familiam meam do, te adoro per peccata carnis.

I learned this off by heart. It became my mantra. I would find myself repeating the phrase over and over when my mind was elsewhere. And still I did not search for a translation.

I suppose it was inevitable. I was married to Charles. My name is Sarah. Our daughter is Elizabeth. It was fate. It must have been. I was Sarah returned. Sarah who was a witch. Sarah who slept with her daughter and her husband together. My husband and daughter both were not aware of their true selves. It was my duty to start everything again. I needed to wake them up. I needed them to remember the love that has been suppressed.

I knew the order it would need to go. Elizabeth would need to be first. I needed to make my daughter mine.