The Magic Ring, Part 9 - Battle
By Plowjack



In her bonds and shackles, pressed in the Baron's device, bruised and
determined, Suzanne sought a bit of rest and strength in sleep. Her spells
percolated through the Baron's keep even as she sought fitful rest. Bereft of
her greatest weapon, she would use the strength and wisdom she had won, and
she meant to triumph.

After a while, a time filled with sleep and pain, and seemingly unending, Emma
and Tereza returned. With them was a different burly guardsman, but the same
two strong serving women - Derek's sweethearts, in fact. Once again the two
Norman women taunted Suzanne, and lightly tortured her flesh, pounding her
body and making occasion to tighten the bar across her chest. Both women
seemed to very much enjoy their work, and as they became more engaged they
revealed that they were the 'little sisters' of Baron Robert, the Ladies of
the Keep. They snorted and laughed at this, and worked the harder to soften
Suzanne's flesh. Once again they poured a little water down her throat, but
there was nothing to eat before they strode out, followed by the serving
women, who gave no indication that anything was different from the day before.
Once again Suzanne sought the peace of her inward mind, but once again her
joints and muscles had taken an awful beating.

The band of witches, amazon warriors and their men was making good progress
through the forest. As the band of rescuers passed, the word went out among
the Saxon folk of the Barony - the Witches were moving! Pikes and apple-hooks
were hastily sharpened and the men, and a few women, set out in ragged bands.
Some were young and fast, and reached the Witches' band and kept pace. Others
just straggled toward to keep. Waking the countryside had never been part of
Suzanne's plan, but now it was rolling, and wouldn't be stopped. At the
half-way mark the band had an additional 50 young, strong farm folk in its
train.

As night was falling, the unsuspecting keep fell into quiet. Derek arrived in
the kitchen to eat with his two friends, as was their frequent custom. In a
natural way the talk turned to the special prisoner in the cells below. In a
natural way Derek talked of how he admired a woman like that, and his strong
friends agreed. In a natural way they quietly hid long knives and mallets in
their clothes, and set off down the stairs from the kitchen.

Father Reynard sat alone in the Baron's great room. The high seat at the front
was empty - the Baron had stalked out, earlier, scowling, followed by his evil
sisters. Reynard's eyes kept being pulled back to Emma and Tereza - the two
big sisters of the hugely-built Baron. They were as big as some of the Amazon
witches, both taller and heavier by far than the little priest, though they
lacked the thick hardness of those touched by the ring. Sometimes, when they
were relaxed and laughing, it was all he could do to keep from trying to rest
his cheek against one hard thigh, and press his lips to a belly. Of course
that would have gotten him nothing pleasant - he was not really welcome in the
Baron's hall now. His time among the witches, and the strange sullenness he
had shown since returning, made him a lonely figure in the corner of the hall.
He found the image of Tereza, the bigger, blonde sister, entering her mind,
the wide hips and thick arms ... the image seemed to transform into the demon
Suzanne - who had held him helpless to her breast like an infant, then given
him to his demonically-transformed lover as a plaything. Reynard's cock rose
under his garments, and he hung his head in shame, only to feel his limbs
tremble with lust, feeling as soft as he had in Anna's arms, his cock rigid,
his shame hot. He fled the hall, and, driven by demons, found a door to the
cells below.

In her cell, Suzanne had found her mental center again, and had risen, in her
witch's vision, to see the keep and its folk. She saw her plan unfolding - she
didn't have to use any further influence on the priest - his broken, weak mind
was enslaved to the lust she had already incited in him, and her suggestion of
yesterday was working nicely. She used just a bit of her skill to nudge the
dull-minded Derek, and found that the two kitchen women were quite ready to
come along - in fact ready to join the witches, based on what they had heard
of the rumors that attended the captive's arrival. Now she watched them, misty
shapes filled with a flickering warm flame of her power, as they made their
way down into the dungeon's lower places.

Father Reynard commanded one of the guards to open the door to Suzanne's cell,
and entered, beholding her naked and helpless on the table before him. Her
bosom was mostly hidden by the crushing restraints, but her huge shapely
thighs flexed, and he saw her arms swell and ripple as her eyes caught his. He
looked into her eyes and he felt his mind turn to jelly, his anger shriveling,
his lips moist, cock springing to life. "Come to me, little father" the big
woman's voice crooned, and he rushed forward and buried his mouth between her
legs. He felt his will dissolve as he delighted in her flesh, and heard the
guard exclaim loudly as Emma and Tereza strode into the room in what seemed to
be their nightclothes - light shifts that did little to conceal their bodies.
"Saints John and Martha!" Tereza laughed as she took Father Reynard by the
arms and dragged him from Suzanne, "Look at this Emma, the little girl- priest
really is a pussy for the witches!" The 6' tall blonde easily wrestled the
smaller priest into a full nelson hold, stretching him across her broad chest
as he kicked and screamed, his voice incoherent. "He's a worthless little
eunuch, surely, Tereza," the black-haired woman growled. Her bare arms rippled
with muscle as she slammed a fist into the priest's face, then hit him again,
crushing his nose in two blows. The blonde captor slipped her big thigh
between his kicking legs and spread them, rubbing her thigh under his balls.
"I don't think he's a eunuch, dear - he's rock hard under those robes." Emma
drove three hard blows with her full weight into the priest's belly and ribs,
and Suzanne heard ribs crack. Blood poured down the man's face and his
struggles turned to whimpering pleadings. Tereza said "take him from me before
you kill him and spoil my fun". Emma took the priest by the hair and by the
arm and flung him to the filthy floor, then dragged him up to hold him by his
neck, twisting an arm behind his back. Tereza drove a big fist deep into his
gut, the stepped up and kissed the priest hard on the mouth, torturing his
bruised lips as she tore aside his robes to find his stiff member. She roughly
squeezed and twisted his cock, but it seemed to stay hard. "I think he likes
our muscles, sister," the blonde laughed as she took his free arm and twisted
it painfully, tearing the shoulder beyond repair and causing the priest to
howl with pain. "Too bad he's already broken, then," Emma replied. "Yes, no
special place in our rooms for him ... " Tereza drove a full-strength punch
into Reynard's balls, and the priest seemed to lose consciousness.

At that moment the guard at the door shouted, then make a sharp small noise.
Suzanne saw Derek standing over the fallen guardsman, removing the keys from
his belt and dragging him into the room. The two serving girls that had
previously brought her food came in and Derek commanded them to close and lock
the door. They did so, carrying large sacks and dropping them on the ground.
The Norman women exclaimed in surprise, and Emma simply twisted the neck of
the priest, causing a loud snapping and cracking, then allowed the corpse to
fall to the floor. "Look, Dolly, it's the two evil Fitzgerald bitches," said
one big Saxon woman, slapping a tenderizing hammer into her open hand. "And
they've done murder, Hilda, right before our eyes", said the other. Both
kitchen women were straw-blonde, over 6" tall, and probably weighed 250 lbs
each. "That makes them fair game, in my accounts, Dolly," Said Hilda, stepping
toward the women in their rich night-shifts. The Norman women started to yell,
but Dolly just shook her head, "There's nobody alive and conscious and
unfettered between here and the top of the stairs, M'Lady, just us in this
cell." Then Dolly drove a ham-sized fist at Tereza, but the blonde woman
dodged and drubbed the peasant soundly with a blow to the side of the head.
Dolly's neck didn't move, and then she had the blonde in her grip,
bear-hugging her, arms pinned to her sides. The aristocratic Amazon struggled,
but she looked slight in the servant's meaty arms. Soon Emma had received a
sound blow to the jaw from Hilda, which sent her spinning to the floor
senseless. In turn Hilda simply squeezed the air from the other, her huge arms
swelling with muscle, until the Norman woman dropped limp at her feet.

Derek used the keys, and slowly freed Suzanne from her bonds. He removed the
crushing chest-bar first, raising it and swinging it away, then her leg-irons,
finally releasing her wrist-irons and letting her slide to the floor. Derek
tried to catch her, but her great weight was too much for him, and he could
only ease her to the floor, trembling and moaning as she stretched her arms
and legs. She had taken a bad beating, though her hard flesh showed few
bruises, and she was sore and stiff from some 40 hours of close confinement.
She took deep breaths and applied the skills of her mind, and soon she was
feeling some life in her limbs. She was ravenously hungry and thirsty, and
Derek brought out a loaf of heavy bread and a big bottle of ale from the
sacks, watching Suzanne (his Suzanne) wolf them down in a minute as she gave
orders. "Bind those two bitches and bring them, girls, if you please - we may
have use for them. Derek, what else have you got for me?" Rope came from the
bag and the kitchen women trussed the nobles up like squabs. Derek brought out
a big leather tunic, left-over from one of the largest of the guardsmen.
Suzanne managed to get to her knees, and slipped it over her head. It barely
fit her shoulders, and when she shrugged it split down the front and sides to
make room for her breast and back. From the back came a long dirk and a rope
belt, which Suzanne girded around her. The tunic came almost to her knees, but
there were no leggings or skirt - Suzanne borrowed an underskirt from one of
the kitchen women, and was adequately dressed - her hardened feet needed no
shoes in the stone keep. As she finished her preparations, she saw Derek
staring at her, his lips slack and moist, his little 5'9" body trembling a
little. Suzanne ripped aside her tunic a little more and displayed one breast
to the little guardsman. He fell against her, his lips fastening on her
nipple, arms thrown around her waist as her 6'6" body towered over his.
"Mistress", said Dolly, as the pair stepped forward, "he's our little man -
don't you take him from us, for that would be ill-return for the help we're
givin' you." Derek had draped himself across Suzanne's body, his mouth
fastened to her bosom. The feel of a submissive little cock at her mercy
brought new strength to Suzanne, but she knew she must keep her new allies
happy. "Listen my friends, I am so very pleased to have your aid in this. You
are clearly women of my kind, and if any of us survive this scheme I will
welcome you into my friendship if you wish it." She pressed Derek's face into
her big tit, completely smothering him for a moment. He pressed himself
against her, big cock pushing out the front of his breeches. "This little
fellow is enchanted, made my slave by the power of the Lady Maeve - but I have
seen into his thoughts, and he has a great affection for the two of you. Here,
come and take him from me ... " Dolly took Derek's shoulders in her hands, and
pulled him to her - he looked up into her eyes, and his lips were soft and
moist. "Give him your tit to suck. Dolly," Suzanne said, and the Saxon woman
opened her blouse to spill out a huge breast. She took Derek's head in her
hand and pressed his mouth to her nipple, and he sucked and sighed, his arms
going around Dolly as far as they could. Suzanne put her big hand on the back
of the guardsman's head, and did what was needful, with her mind. She said,
"Hilda, flex your muscle for him." The other blonde - just slightly slimmer,
but no less tall, pulled up her sleeve and walked over to her sister and
Derek, then flexed her arm, making knotted, rock-hard muscle swell. Derek
groped out a hand to squeeze ineffectually at the pile of hard flesh. He slid
his face toward Hilda, and the three embraced, the two women crushing the
smaller man between them for a moment. "Never let it be said that I took what
another would not give, my girls - maybe you'll share the little cock with me
some day," Suzanne laughed as she gathered up the leather bags in one hand.
"That's as may be, Mistress", Hilda, said, smiling, "but there's nothing
little about that bit of our puny Derek." "Oh no", said Dolly, "that bit's big
enough for a grown woman." "Oh, yes", Hilda said, sliding a hand down Derek,
"That bit's a right good drill, it is." "Alright, friends, let's save our
pleasure for safety, shall we. Take up those two bitches, please, my women,
and let's go quickly." Suzanne said, as she headed for the door. "Wait,
Mistress - we would dress your wound," the two Saxon women said, but Suzanne
replied, "Too long here already dears - we must move. Derek knows a
hidey-hole, don't you my boy?" "He does ... " "I do!" Derek said. The Saxons
threw the well-bound Emma and Tereza over their heads like sacks, the two
still mainly unconscious, mumbling. "Then lead on at speed, and let none
witness our passage"

Their speed was only as good as it might be - Suzanne was not yet ready for
running, and the two Saxon women were burdened with their captives. Derek went
ahead, and once, when another guard appeared, he greeted him loudly in plenty
of time to warn the others. Suzanne broke the unarmored man with two blows of
her massive fists, and they hurried deeper down, to a place where Derek pushed
a stone aside and caused a heavy wooden wall to clatter open. Within was a
staircase, leading up, and so they latched the door behind them and headed up
the stairs. Two flights up there was a room, and a stair that lead further up.
Derek said he believed it lead right to the entry-hall of the keep, but he had
never come further than this. In the corner was a big pallet bed, and bottles
and a food tray lingered - it was plain what Derek had used the place for.
There they rested, and Dolly and Hilda carefully cleaned and dressed Suzanne's
wound. Dolly had brought a small plate of iron, and they wound that into
Suzanne's bandages, a little ploy to make up for the wound in her mighty right
hand. They ate more of the food in the sacks, and Suzanne rested a while,
letting her strength build as she gently stretched and flexed.

In the Forest, the band of Witches had arrived at the edge of the woods near
the keep. They had fought two skirmishes with patrols of the baron's guards.
The red rage of the women had swept them aside like children, breaking and
crushing them with feet, hands and hammers. None had escaped, and the Witches
felt sure that the keep was not warned of their coming assault. It had been
almost two days since the coven had made contact with Suzanne. The Priestess,
the Captain and Fergus could only hope that Suzanne had her plans in motion,
and that they could be let in at the appointed hour.

The coven met as the sun was setting, and made their circle. This time Fergus
sat among them as an equal, his arms gripped by the Priestess and the new
member Hildara, whose huge thighs were as big as Suzanne's own, despite her 6"
smaller height. The coven sang their spell, and rose into the sexual energy of
their rite, then men's cocks rising and the women's cunnies dripping, but this
time there was no consummation - the power was turned inward, to allow Fergus
to once again find the link with his Suzanne. He sought her eyes, again, with
the eye of his own inner vision.

Suzanne, resting in the secret room of the keep, heard the whisper of her
beloved's voice, almost a sound this time. She was so much stronger and
clearer-minded than the last time they had contacted, and it seemed to her
that Fergus was much closer. They seemed to nearly meet in their minds,
exchanging a sensual imagined kiss. Then Suzanne told Fergus of her final
plans, and bade them be ready an hour after sunset. Then she proposed a
special bit of sorcery. The Witches thought it a fine idea, and it set them to
a more active generation of sexual power, the women taking the men in their
hands, and turning their helpless lust into magical power for the spell.

As the sun set, and twilight obscured the shadows of the forest, the folk of
the castle were treated to a strange sight. The clouds of the sunset,
illuminated by the strange red light of the sun's last rays, seemed to take on
the form of a huge, naked woman. Towering over the forest, all who looked
toward the sunset beheld the form of a huge, strong goddess, her face a
knotted scowl of black cloud, her bosom round and pink-tipped, her huge legs
set well apart, a ray of golden sunlight shining at the place where her thighs
met. The reaction in the keep was various. Some women screamed, and some men
cried out - it was a blasphemous image of the witch, towering over the hall of
their Baron. Some seemed transfixed, standing in the yard outside the castle,
or on the walls, staring and pointing, some even plainly smiling. As the
twilight settled into darkness the figure became a dark, shadowy form, cloaked
in cloud, finally vanishing in the wind's whims. As the night fell, the bands
of armed Saxon peasants began to emerge from the forest and march on the gate
of the keep.

In the keep, before sunset, the alarm was being raised. In the hours following
Suzanne's escape the facts of the strange events of the day were being put
together. The disappearance of Father Reynard and the Baron's sisters, the
several missing guardsmen, kitchen women and one slopman eventually made a
trail that led to the empty cell in which Suzanne had been captive. Then the
hue and cry was raised, but searchers found no trace of the giant witch.
Several bodies were found, and a couple of head-busted men awoke, but they had
seen nothing of their attackers. Neither Hilda and Dolly, nor Derek were
expected to be on duty at that time, so they were not really missed, nor
searched for.

In the secret room, Suzanne had completed her spells. To the little band she
had assembled it appeared that she simply sat cross-legged for an hour, with a
moment toward the end when she seemed to moan and gasp as though she were in
the throws of love. She fell back panting, then shook herself and set her band
to work. The two Norman women were coming to, but Suzanne pounded their faces
and heads until they stopped moving. Their ropes were bound to bars on the
wall of the secret room, and the little band ceased to consider them.

Suzanne, Derek, Dolly, and Hilda made their way up the stair. After another
flight they came to a panel with a tiny grate set low. Derek, peered in and
said, "Here's the way out to the courtyard of the keep, and the main gates."
"Now I see that the stair continues up from here ... do you know where it
goes?" Suzanne asked. "We does," said Dolly "It goes up to the private
chambers of the Baron hisself" said Hilda. "He believes that only he knows of
this little by-way, and to keep it secret he never uses it from year to year,
though we does, and a couple of others." He's been so bothered lately I'll
guess he never thinks of it." "It is our fortune, or the Lady's blessing, that
he hasn't thus far," said Suzanne, glancing up the stairs, "So then, here's
how it will be ... :"

The passageway was growing dark, and just then a commotion seemed to come over
the keep. "That will be our distraction," chuckled Suzanne, "Now go, you
three, and make sure you do not fail, for if you do it won't be me who takes
your life." Suzanne turned and headed up the stair. Derek turned a looked at
the two big Saxon girls, neither above 40, both round and hard and ... He
threw himself against them, one, then the other, and they all embraced.
"Alright, little man," said Dolly, "you're the guardsman, you first," and
Derek undid the latch on the door that opened in the deep storage alcove of
the courtyard.

When the Witches' band had fought their way to the gates, they found them
open. They emerged from the wood with the fall of night, as the holy eidolon
of the mistress and goddess was vanishing from the night sky. Here is how they
came. Fergus, the Priestess and the Captain were the leaders. Fergus wore a
shirt of chain and a good helm, with a cloak of green. He carried a sword and
a small hammer, but he also bore a staff of blackthorn crowned in antlers,
carved with spells. Aedwinna the Priestess was the crow witch, a 6'3" Amazon,
bare arms terrifying to a foe, her garments a calculated tatter of rags,
bones, feathers and charms. She bore a long bow and two quivers of long
arrows, and wore no armor at all. The Captain, Alfwyn the smith, eschewed
magic for full war gear - a light breast-and- back of plate over mail,
greaves, gauntlet and helm he wore. He carried a slashing spear and a
longsword, with a mace slung behind his back. Sigreda the red witch went naked
save for painting in swirls and magic spells that hardened her flesh even
beyond its normal strength. Her perfectly cut, heavily muscled, high-breasted
body was her adornment, but she wore nine javelins on her back and bore a
longsword. The other witches and their men mainly went in war gear, lacking
the high magical skills of the leaders, and they were a fearsome lot, adorned
with skins and bones and spikes.

As they emerged from the forest they assembled into widely-spaced groups and
began to head for the gates at a run, the rabble of the farm- folk behind
them. The attackers went silently, but before they had covered a quarter of
the open space around the keep they heard a mighty horn sound from above, in a
high window of the keep, and a bull-bellowing voice calling the alarm. Before
they had covered another quarter of the space a side door opened and two
mounted knights emerged, along with ten well-armed footmen. The footmen
arranged themselves in formation before the door, and the knights snapped
their reins and galloped at the front of the attacking band.

Witches from the two flanks of the charge fell in to guard the front, and set
their heavy spear-butts to the ground. The first knight pulled up short, his
horse reared and the heavy iron-shod hooved flashed, breaking spears as the
war-horse walked slowly into the six defenders. The first took a hoof to the
head, her death, and the rest fell back, but the knight's momentum was, at
least, broken. He began to lay about him with his sword as the witches' charge
surged around him. The second knight avoided the knot of defenders, heading
straight for the strange figures of the witches. As he approached, he saw that
where the smaller man had been there was now a charging figure - an imp with
gangly, hard-muscled limbs and huge antlers, dagger claws and teeth as long as
fingers. Fear filled the stalwart knight, and more telling, filled his horse
as well, who smelled snake and wolf and fire all in one. The horse reared and
the knight fell, cringing, to take Fergus' sword through his neck. The
Priestess gentled the horse with a word, blinding it to Fergus' spells, and
swung herself into the saddle. There she saw the first knight in mortal
struggle with the amazon warriors. The knight had two long spears working
their way under his armor, trying to pry him from his horse, but he was
dealing fearsome blows, and another Amazon took a harsh wound in the shoulder.
The Priestess sat firm on the horse and drew her longbow - heavier than most
could pull, with a yard long shaft and a chisel point. Her arms rippled with
muscle as she gave a mighty pull and the arrow punched through the knight's
armor like woolen cloth, sinking into the side of his chest. A second arrow
followed swiftly under the arm, and the knight was dragged from his horse by
the warriors who had him speared. He fell beneath blows on the ground, and did
not rise.

Inside the keep, Derek had already stationed himself at the gate. He had found
hauberk and helm, and now resembled any guardsman in the keep as he quietly
called to a fellow guard who was keeping the post by the latch. Heavy blows
from kitchen hammers and he was pulled into the shadows, Derek taking his
place.

The ten men before the gate were swept aside like wheat for the scythe. The
witches had lost 3 women to the knights, but none fell to the puny guardsmen.
Several men broke and ran in fear, and the huge women caught and killed the
others without mercy, using their bare hands and fists when they could. "Don't
stop to play girls," the Captain's roar sounded, "we're at the Gate."

Inside the keep two more tens of men were setting themselves to burst from two
side gates at either side of the big main gate. A few men kept the gate
itself, but then a huge pounding, like a knocking, came upon the gate, and
Derek swiftly and simply unlatched the gate and pushed it open. It was quickly
grasped from the other side and pulled wide, while Derek ran for his life from
the small group of guards, ducking into the alcove where Dolly and Hilda
waited - they had armed themselves with maces and iron cudgels, and they held
the door of the little gateroom, where the guards could come only one at a
time. The first took a cudgel across the face, driven by a hard, thigh-sized
arm, caving in the front of his head and blocking the door with his corpse.

As the door opened a hail of arrows flew in from the witches' bows, and
cleared the back line of guards. The witches poured in and the two squads in
the sortie rooms were confused, trying to get back out and into the fight. The
Amazon warriors engaged the men, finding them no more formidable than those at
the gate.

Fergus released the imps of his staff, causing panic and terror among the
guards, making them easy prey. The Priestess did a deed which made her famous.
She stripped the tatters from her chest, exposing her massive bosom, and she
began to sing. Her hair rose around her head and her tatters blew as in a
wind. Every man who gazed upon her sprang hard with lust, his arms and knees
made jelly. The Priestess dismounted smoothly from the horse and walked,
singing, among adoring, drooling guards, her hammer rising and falling,
muscles pumping, blood splattering her white, round breasts and wild-eyed,
singing face. Sigreda was nearly invulnerable. Her hardened flesh took arrows,
three in the chest, but none reached her lungs or lights. She plucked them out
of her thick muscle like thorns and cast her javelins to slay archers. As the
witches pounded the Baron's men to pulp, the folk of the barony burst in
behind them, and swept through the first floor of the keep. A great cheer went
up, and not all of it was from the invaders. At that moment a thunderous fall
of rocks came from above, bouncing down the side of the keep walls, peasants
and warriors barely ducking the stones. The stones were followed by a small
figure falling by torchlight to smash upon the flagstones.

*** *** *** ***

Before sunset, Baron Robert Fitzgerald DuBois sat in his dayroom and toyed
with the witch's ring. The strange object was carved from the antler of a stag
- there was no silver in it, nor gold. There was a high round bezel of red
stone - carnelian, he guessed - and some clever carving of the thick antler.
The ring seemed to vaguely shimmer, especially the stone, and he had trouble
focusing his eyes on it - just looking at it seemed to stir his cock. He
slipped it on and off his ring finger, surprised that a ring that a woman had
worn would fit him. His mind was a stew of rage and lust simmering behind his
concerns of the day. He had captured the leader of the brigands, thanks to the
stratagems of the vile little priest. The Baron didn't believe the priest's
wild stories of witchcraft and devil-women, but the brigands' chief bitch was
certainly a sight to behold. The Baron had overseen her bringing in and
binding in the deep cell. She was the finest specimen of womanhood he'd ever
seen. The Baron was, himself, 6'4" tall, heavily muscled and heavier-bellied
than in days past, but not yet gray, and still vigorous and potent. It was his
plan to soften the big peasant up for a while, then bring her here and make
her his doxie for a week. He'd probably have to beat her into her first
fucking, but he was looking forward to that. She looked plenty strong, but she
couldn't have the hardened flesh of a warrior, and she certainly had the
breasts and hips of a real woman. The Baron stared at the ring, and the image
of Suzanne bound to the boards came into his mind, stirring his cock. The
image of Suzanne on her knees, bloody lips swollen, came to him, and his cock
stirred the more, under the Baron's rich dressing gown. He sipped his evening
wine and rose from his chair to gaze out the window.

The image of the woman in the sunset had been a good trick - these witches
clearly had some power, given to them by their devils. No doubt Suzanne had
seemed a demon to the cowardly little cleric, and now the Baron might agree,
after his sniveling servant had brought him word of the killing spree and
escape in the dungeons below. He was angry and anxious - he hated to lose
control of anything in his house - but he expected his knights and houseguards
to handle the problem. He gazed out at the tattering figure of the cloud-witch
dissolving in the night sky, and looking down from his window, he saw the
armed figures begin to emerge from the forest. He swiftly reached and
retrieved a great sounding-horn from a place on the wall and returned to the
window. With a deep breath he blew a great blast on the horn, then bellowed
for his men to act, his great voice echoing over the courtyard. He turned to
reach for his breeches, but just then a thunderous pounding shook the wooden
panel that led to his secret escape, and it burst inward, latch and one hinge
breaking with a shriek of wood, and the brigands' woman strode into his room.

Suzanne reached the top of the stair just as the Baron sounded his horn. Her
knees were aching, her body still not really recovered from her captivity. She
stopped to fumble a minute with the latch, then her rage took her and she
began to kick at the latch with one big bare foot. On the third kick the panel
flew open, pulling the tapestry that hid it to the floor. Suzanne strode into
the fire-lit room, candelabras and the fireplace providing a good deal of
light in the evening gloom. Across the room stood Baron Robert ... the
bogeyman of her childhood, who had burnt towns and killed men and raped
mothers and daughters, and taken the wealth of clans for his foreign William.
She herself had escaped his clutches one day, and she imagined that he had
never forgotten, but she certainly had not.

"Hello bitch," the Baron said calmly, taking a small, heavy sword from behind
his seat, "They call you Suzanne ... I'm Robert, dear ... lie down for me, and
you'll live through the hour!" "You'll be lying down forever tonight, you
pig," Suzanne growled as she stalked toward the shorter but plainly powerful,
man, "give me my Ring!" The Baron stepped quickly toward her and delivered a
sudden uppercut with his right fist solidly into the big woman's gut, saying
"Here it is, dear." The Baron grunted as his big hand bounced off of Suzanne's
stony belly. Suzanne *ooffed* a little, her gut sore from her captivity, but
she wasn't really slowed. She quickly seized the man's beefy wrist and pulled
his arm out to the side. Suzanne hadn't met a strong man in many months, and
she was surprised to find that she might not have met one now - his arm pulled
with ease, even as he struggled. She pulled his right hand, with the Ring on
its finger, before her face and squeezed. The Baron raised his sword but as he
brought it down Suzanne caught his left arm in her right, at the elbow. He was
left-handed, and his left arm gave her a little fight, until she twisted his
elbow hard with twist of her wrist, and his joint snapped like a chicken-leg
in her mighty hand. The Norman howled at the top of his lungs, the sword
falling from his hand. Suzanne dropped the useless arm and squeezed hard on
the wrist of the hand with the Ring. The bones cracked beneath her hand like a
bundle of twigs, causing a further crying from the Baron, and the fingers went
limp. She plucked the ring from his finger, dropped his hand and delivered a
backhand blow to his cheek that drove him to the floor. Suzanne was amazed to
see his long cock sticking straight out from his open dressing gown.

In seconds Suzanne had found her revenge. There at her feet lay her enemy,
broken and unable to rise, cock hard from the sight of his destroyer. She felt
the Ring grow warm in her hand and she slipped it on the first finger of her
left hand. Immediately she felt a flow of strength and healing flow through
her, healing her bruises and hardening her flesh, making her clit and nipples
hard and making her pussy open and clamp down. She felt the fire in her mind,
like a flame rising from her brow, and the Goddess was present behind her
awareness, smiling and flexing her warrior's arm.

Suzanne fell upon Robert's loins with both knees, cracking and breaking his
hips. She grasped his cock, keeping it hard through his pain and ripped aside
her tunic, exposing her bosom. She grasped his neck - more gently - and lifted
his head to her bosom, pressing his lips to her nipple. "Suck, you worthless
weakling," she growled, and he did, and his cock went off in her hand,
spurting his last orgasm onto his chest. "Oh you Norman filth, your dick is as
worthless as your strength!" Suzanne knee-walked her way up the man's torso
and chest, her huge legs driving into his body, ribs cracking. She tore away
her skirt and planted herself on his mouth, her hard clit pushing his lips
apart. "Suck, my little pansy, and perhaps the Ring will heal you." She drove
a light punch with a fist half as big as his face into his eye and screamed
"Suck, or die right now!"

Robert sucked. In seconds Suzanne was coming, the power of the ring flowing.
Robert felt a kind of tingle flow through his flesh, but then his mind was
blanked by the sight of his torturer beginning to grow. He sucked at her
lovely, sweaty, dusty, juicy pussy and she came again, and he watched her body
lengthen, her arms become mountains of muscle and her legs double in thickness
around his helpless head. His body was wracked with agony, twitching and
broken, but he now seemed unable to pull his lips from the big, hard clit of
the demon giantess. But she stood up from him, and his heart broke as this 8'
tall perfection of womanly power gazed down on him.

Suzanne gazed down at the broken man, and then felt a shift in the power of
the Ring. The Goddess had not spoken to her since that fateful day when she
made the ring, but now that bronze-hard, mead-sweet voice filled her head.
"All things come from somewhere, my witch, and time is not a river but an
ocean going in all directions ... " Suzanne reached down and lifted the fallen
nobleman by his robe in her four-fingered right hand, and held the ring up
upon her left. "Take what you have given, my witch, from him and until we are
finished!" The Ring then lit with a thin aura of a new light, deep purple and
disturbing, filled with the atmosphere of decay and loss. This was an ill
thing to Suzanne, who had, until now, only given blessing with the power of
the Ring, only made people stronger. Now, however, a hunger filled her, and
her left hand reached out to grasp the Baron by his shriveled cock.

Robert felt two things ... first, it seemed to him that his bones knit a
little, the pain decreasing. Then he felt a great weakness fall upon him, and
he felt as though his substance was departing through his loins into the hand
of the demon. And so it was, for he felt his chest and shoulders diminish, his
thinning body falling into the robe, held only at the armpits, even his feet
rising from the floor. The demon shook the robe and he slid to the floor, too
weak to rise.

Suzanne looked down at the remnant of the Baron - barely 5' of thin flabby
flesh and bone, all his might taken into the ring, even as it saved him from
immediate death. "Well, she saved you for a reason, I'll guess, little
Robbie," and Suzanne picked him up and again planted him against her huge
pussy, his toes just brushing the ground, and he again helplessly suckled her
to orgasm, releasing the Ring's new black light. Suzanne thought about keeping
the ruined Baron in the forest, in a hole, to use on occasion. Instead she
closed her legs around his head. The Goddess laughed wildy in her mind and red
light flowed with the black as Suzanne did a fire- dance shimmy that snapped
Robert's neck and jaw. She gave a cracking squeeze as she stood straight and
let the little corpse fall to the floor.

Just then a squad of five men burst in the door of the Baron's room, pausing
with terror at the sight of the naked 8' image of Suzanne. She caught the
first one by the throat and let the light of the ring shine on them all. Even
as they ran they stumbled. Their muscles simply became smaller and weaker,
thinner and softer, in seconds, their bones and flesh shorter, their strength
and stature vanishing into the black light of the Ring. They stumbled over
armor much too big and heavy for their little bodies to lift, and fell
helplessly to the floor.

The giant woman kicked out the side of the keep wall in 6 well-aimed kicks,
and hurled the corpse of the Baron down the four stories to smash against the
cobbles below. With another series of barefoot, iron-hard kicks she made an
opening big enough for her to stand in. She gazed down on the battle engaged
below. *** *** *** *** ***

In the courtyard, the battle had come to a sudden, remarkable silence. All
eyes seemed to turn to the figure of the giant naked woman in the broken wall
of the tower, shining with strange light, hair flying in an unfelt wind. A
great cry went up from the Witches, and a gasp as Suzanne lithely leapt from
the tower, crashing squarely to the flagstones, her great thighs absorbing the
shock easily, her feet breaking the stone. She noted that she hadn't landed on
the Baron's corpse - ah well, perhaps enough was enough ... She raised her
left hand and the light from the Ring fell on the combatants, but the Goddess
was called for justice, back when Suzanne made the spell, and only the Baron's
bullies and brainless lackeys felt the awful curse of the Ring. There were
three such right nearby, and they shriveled and fell in their weakness. The
men of the Baron broke and ran, trying to get away through the gate, or into
the keep. Suzanne strode after the nearest runners, and four more fell in a
tangle of armor.

Fergus watched all this in wonder and terror. Here was his Suzanne, falling in
triumph from the sky - how could he have doubted her strength, her wisdom? She
was transformed, 8' tall, huge-bosomed and mare-hipped, and the strongest
person on the isle of Britain, surely, yet she wielded a terrible magic. The
light from her ring made him hear crows and laughter, and he could feel what
the Ring did, how it drank the strength of the guardsmen. Suzanne laughed
aloud in echo of the Goddess, and Fergus felt hands upon him. It was the
Priestess and Hildara, surrounded by an awe- struck guard of amazons, pulling
off his helm and shirt of chain-mail. "This is weighing you down, pretty one,"
Hildy's deep voice said. It was true, his hard cock, could only rise about
halfway against the weight of the chain and padding. When they lifted it and
tore away his padded skirt his huge cock stood at full rise, his eyes full of
nothing but his woman's huge form. He dimly heard the captain crying "after
them," and the Amazons trotting off in pursuit of fleeing soldiers and Norman
servants, but he only had eyes for his Suzanne. He ran fleetly after her,
catching her in mid stride, still bearing his antler staff, but otherwise clad
only in a short shirt and short underpants. He caught her and threw himself
upon her huge thigh, as they had often done in play, and called, "Suzanne,
it's me ... "

Suzanne looked down at her Fergus, and a feeling of warmth and love flowed
through her enchanted mind. She was the engine of her spell now - she must
feed the spell as she had used the spell, or risk the failure of all. But
Fergus was her beloved, her toy, her Pretty Man who served her. She swept his
5'9" body into her arms, but she raised her left fist and called, in a
terrible voice "Stay". Seven of the Baron's fleeing men stopped in their
tracks, and turned to gaze upon the naked Witch. She gathered Fergus further
into her arms. He said, "Lady, this frightens me," and he wasn't sure whether
he was addressing his Mistress or the Goddess herself. "Nothing comes from
nothing, my toy," Suzanne's deep transformed voice said, sounding rather like
herself. "I have new skills, Fergus, from the Lady" She drank Fergus' little
stature, making him a three-foot dolly tucked in one huge arm, his cock
standing huge, and pressed him to her tit. He protested in terror, the
laughter of a dark cloud in his heart, but Suzanne said "Suck when I give you
my tit, little boy," and she sounded like she meant it, so Fergus, as always,
did as she told him. Her bosom was amazingly big in his tiny hands and mouth,
and he was raptured by her body as never before.

As she got her little man settled Suzanne was drawing the seven men to her.
They stood blank before her, and Suzanne said, "Shall I use your mouth or your
cock, sweet heart?" "Please use my cock, Suzanne, please ... " "Yes my sweet,
since you're such a helpless little thing it does no harm to please you,"
Suzanne rested herself on a heavy trestle-table and spread her legs, easily
lifting Fergus' diminished body and plunging his huge cock into her. She let
him set on one hand, subtly taking away his weight until she could hold him
easily. She orgasmed as soon as she rubbed his cock against herself, and the
black light from the ring flowed out. She brought the soldiers forward one by
one, and Fergus shared in her hunger, felt the substance of the men be taken,
felt their terror and despair as their strength ended. Seven more men the Ring
took thus, and it was not enough. Suzanne released the imps of Fergus' staff,
and sent them to drive soldiers into the courtyard. She sat surrounded in her
nimbus of power on her make-shift throne, and drank the strength and stature
of 30 more grown men that day. All the Norman garrison were reduced to
groveling weaklings that day, save Derek. From Derek she took only a quarter
of his strength but none of his stature, and gave him back to Dolly and Hilda
as a toy. It was quickly revealed that Hildara was the sister of the two, who
had gone to the greenwood months ago.

Fergus drifted in a haze of erotic domination, his mind barely able to hold a
thought, ever returning to the supreme fact of his mistress' body as she used
him. She was like a mountain above him now, he felt as if his nose were
battering her belly as she drove him into her - that could not be so ... Her
breasts seemed high above him, like perfectly round cliffs. In his trance, he
seemed to hear the voice of the Goddess ... was it her, or was it the honey
and gravel of a male voice ... the Pretty Man ... the God that Fergus
manifested in their work. "Only you can turn her," it whispered, "make the
black into silver", it whispered, "she'll lose herself in this, and you'll
lose her too ... "

Fergus focused his mind and reached upward toward Her bosom, finding that he
seemed to be able to reach it, then to lay his head open her bosom, even
sucking her nipple again, even as she pounded him into her with one hand, arm
rippling as she held his weight. "Suzanne," he said, "remember silver,
remember shining," he pressed himself into her to bring a pause, and pressed
his head between her huge bosoms. "Remember growing, remember sweetness," she
paused and looked into his eyes.

"Oh Fergus, it's you," she said. "Of course it's me, plowgirl, come to rescue
you," he said, and turned his lips up to her. She laughed like a demon again,
and he felt some of his size slip away, her cradling arms seeming to grow
thicker and longer. She brought his little face to her huge soft lips and they
embraced his arms around her neck.

Fergus felt the light turn. The black-purple eerieness vanished to be replaced
with a gentle version of the silver light, shining out over the courtyard. The
garrison was either dead or rendered helpless, their puny bodies dragged away
by Saxons, some by women, some by men, and it's hard to say who had it worse.
Suzanne spent the next hours healing those who needed healing, while the
Captain and the Priestess organized the occupation of the castle. Fergus
remained pressed into the pussy of his Mistress, bringing occasional orgasms
to strengthen her power, feeling the delightful strength of the Ring healing
his worn body as he clung to her huge muscles. At last she gave Fergus her
permission to come, and he exploded, his strength, as always, draining into
her powerful body.

Dawn was coming, and at last the courtyard settled into some order, and the
wounds were treated. As she had often done, she sighed, stretched, and removed
the ring. Fergus startled and cried, "Wait, love," for he was still
well-reduced from his former size. "Oh darling," she answered, and then she
noted that she was not shrinking, not returning to her common size. They
stared at one another - Fergus standing barely over 4" tall, though
firmly-muscled and with a huge swinging cock. Suzanne stood over him, an 8'
mountain of perfectly curved muscle.

Suddenly there came a wind in the dawn, and a gathering of clouds in the gold
and purple rays of morning. Once again the figure of the cloud Goddess
appeared, but this time she was animated, stepping forward and down from the
sky on a beam of dawn, growing smaller and clearer as she came, until a
shining figure stared down at Suzanne.

"Daughter, you have gained the good you sought, is it not so?"

"Oh Mother of Strength, it is surely so," Suzanne replied, and all the
Witches, kneeling or supporting one another, cried out their thanks.

"That pitiable rag of a man was your enemy, and I have given him to you,
daughter," said Maeve the Mighty, her eyes flashing with dawn.

"You have Lady, and for this I thank you with a whole heart."

"Listen daughter - not all can be as it was. Time is moving, and your folk
will struggle to keep what you've gained. You have slain many in my name, used
sorcery to bring death, and this is no little thing. So you were taught," the
Goddess said, and she turned and addressed the Priestess, "Is it not so,
Aedwynna?"

"It is so in our teaching, Shining One," the Priestess answered, trembling
before this manifestation. "But we have all taken the magic to work the work
of death in this fight, not Suzanne alone."

"And it is a just fight," the apparition said, "For the Normans will bring the
last end of the old order if we allow them. Yet there are customs about these
things, and you must get your due for the ill you do in service to the good."
All the Witches had returned to the courtyard now. Most of the peasants did
not dare to watch, and had fled, looting and rooting out the last of the
Norman servants. The Witches listened as the Goddess spoke.

"The Ring's work is done," she said, and the Ring crumbled in Suzanne's hand,
like ash it blew away in the wind.

"All of you shall remain as you are. Your changes are your will, and you shall
live with your will for the rest of your lives. You shall bear children and
they shall bear some of your blessing and curse - time will tell how the magic
will affect your flesh. Suzanne and Fergus, you shall never return to the life
you knew. You shall keep your forms, and be as the presence of my power to
your people." The figure held out a hand and another form appears, a small,
shapely man that she gathered to her bosom with one arm. "May your punishment
be sweet to you, my darlings. My blessing be upon all who keep the Old Ways in
these days of ill." The figure seemed to be just a shape in the clouds ...
what had they been watching? *** *** *** *** *** *** ***

So it was in the months that followed. The Normans eventually heard tell that
a keep on the Welsh border had been overcome by insurrection, and sent scouts,
who never returned. After a year, William the bastard, so- called King of
England sent another minor knight to be his Baron. That whole party, with 6
well-mounted knights and many footmen, never returned. Not long after, William
died, and it was some years before his son sent another effort to reclaim the
Saxon wealth of Merrivale. By that year they found the keep deserted and the
valleys filled with prosperous farms. The tales of that business are for
another time.

The witches went to their farming and husbandry, and began to bear big, strong
girl children, who often outstripped the boys in strength and stature. Girls
were trained in war-skill, and encouraged to become strong, though they bore
only a trace of the truly magical hardness of those touched by the ring. They
learned to train and keep men, and how to enslave them to their strong bodies
without the power of the ring.

The Way of Maeve went on, deep in the forest, in the great high- roofed house
that had been built for Suzanne and Fergus. They lived in love together, he
too tiny and weak to do much but please his Mistress, she the giant presence
of Maeve to all her folk. Some of the single witches always lived at the
House, serving them and helping in the rituals, and keeping the oversized
furniture in repair. She hunted and studied, and wrote, as time went by, for
she learned to read and write. He was her constant toy and companion, living
like a little child in the huge world of his Mistress, and when they worked
the rituals she often gave his tiny, well- endowed body to the other women to
play with, while she dallied with another.

It was a good enough life, and the blessing of the Goddess would carry down
the ages, in the strong women that grew from the lines started there in the
little valley.