“Holy shit!” Mike tried to extricate himself, but she was too strong. Then the erotic euphoria took him once again, and he pushed Sarah off him, only to roll her over and take her from behind.
“OH, FUCK, FUCK, FUCK!” Sarah slammed her ass against him, her whole body shuddering. Mike was now in a frenzy, pounding her as fast as he could. The next moment, Sarah crawled away from him, kicking him back, only to fall under the spell of the Mandragora’s powder once more.
“I don’t understand,” Mike said the next time he came, trying to unwrap himself afterward. His legs were going numb, and his lower back was beginning to hurt.
“I’m going to rip off your face,” Sarah informed him, before pushing him back and throwing herself on top of him. In their frantic thrusting, Sarah lifted up too high and Mike’s dick popped free. In his rush to get back inside her, he missed the target and pushed his way into her tight asshole.
“Ow, fuck!” Sarah grabbed his hips and sank all the way down until his balls were squeezed by her ass cheeks. She rode him like this for several minutes, and he came again, filling her ass with his seed. Gasping for breath, he could only lie there in a daze until the powder took over once again, his entire world consumed by the desire to mate, to fuck, to pound her relentlessly.
How long had they been at this? Mike’s whole body hurt, yet his dick was doing all of the talking. Every time the powder took over, he sank even deeper into the euphoria of pure, unadulterated sex.
Sarah’s face twisted up, turning bright red as she experienced a string of orgasm all together. Eyes popping open, she stared down at Mike, opening her mouth to say something. Instead, a line of drool fell from her mouth, and she collapsed on top of Mike, gasping for air. The two of them had just been forced to run a marathon at a sprint, and Mike felt like his heart couldn’t take much more.
“I hate you so much,” Sarah told him, the anger now out of her voice. It had been replaced with acceptance, the realization that neither of them was going to survive.
“I’m not always a fan of myself either,” he informed her, coming again inside her. This time, his dick went soft and stayed that way, and Sarah fell off to the side of him, neither of them able to move.
Several minutes passed. Mike locked eyes with Sarah. She was breathing so hard that her breath had formed a channel in the dirt beneath her face.
“All we wanted was the house,” she told him. “This could have been so easy if you had just sold us the house.”
“I discovered something better than money,” he said, letting out a big sigh. It was hard enough just talking. “They’re my family.”
“They’re not even human.” Sarah tried to push herself away from him, but was unable to. “They’re monsters. Tools at best, ready to be used.”
“If you really believe that, then you are the real monster here.” Mike coughed, his lungs hurting. “This is not how I thought my day would go.”
Sarah laughed, a sound that was closer to a bark. “Me either. The Society thought you had gained some supernatural power here. It turns out you have the devil’s own luck is all.” Sarah was moving slowly away from him. Puzzled, Mike glanced down to see that the creeper vines had found her once more and were tentatively shifting her.
“I’m guessing my luck has run out.” Mike smirked. “But at least the others are safe.”
“To think that I survived two world wars and Salem, only to end up here with you.” Sarah took a deep breath, closing her eyes. “A curse on you, Mike Radley.”
“Time to feed the Mandragora,” Mike muttered as the vines wrapped around his waist and began pulling him across the ground too. His entire body was now numb, his muscles pushed past the point of physical exhaustion. He imagined this was how a marathon runner felt once they had finally run out of gas, dropping where they stood.
Sarah muttered to herself, the exhausted witch dragged toward the pitcher plant nearest them. The large leaves at the base of the plant reached for her and stroked her face gently, assessing its meal. The leaves in the clearing rustled their approval, and Sarah let out a sigh when she was pulled through the opening of the pitcher and down into its depths. With a loud creak, the pitcher lifted into the air, supported by several thick, curly vines. The light penetrated deep enough that Mike could see her silhouette, her limbs moving in slow motion as the pitcher filled with fluid. No matter how high she reached, she couldn’t get to the edge.
It was Mike’s turn. He was pulled closer to the plant, where the leaves stroked his body, first touching his feet, then his head. The plant shifted about, a suitably large pitcher selected to accommodate him. There was no malice in their touch, only instinct. When he was dragged toward the opening of the plant, one of the leaves stroked his cheek gently, like a mother would a child.
The memory came unbidden, from another time and another life. It was something Emily had said.
“Hey there, sweet pea.” The words came on their own, slipping free of him and vanishing on the wind.
All movement stopped. The plant shivered, thousands of leaves rustling all at once. Tiny creeper vines emerged from beneath the larger leaves and touched his face, then stroked his skin where he had been injured.
“I’m not even mad. Okay?” How could he be? The
