Is True Love Stronger Than Witchcraft? [A Conscious Erotica Story]

Synopsis: Ella is a white witch. Her husband recently found out and is trying to cope.

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The water was cold as it slid through my toes and rushed down the creek. My feet were almost numb, but it was a welcome distraction, considering Thomas and I still weren’t speaking to each other.

It had been three days since he found my stash of herbs, gemstones, and crystals, and the tapestry depicting a cosmic connection to the Divine. “You’re going to get us killed!” he yelled, before upturning a table and storming out of the cottage.

Again, that had been three days ago. Recollecting the events made my eyes water and I turned my attention back to the stream. Perhaps it will be okay, I thought. I wasn't convinced.

As I pondered this, a truth came back to me. He was mine, and I was his. Three years ago, we promised to love each other until death did us part.

I had only ever had one passion in life, and that was my connection to Spirit. Though “witchcraft,” as they called it, was forbidden in our land, I felt called to help people see the truth of this world. If that ended with me being burned at a stake, so be it. As I thought this, a pang flashed through my heart. No, I couldn’t do that to Thomas. The feeling was as icy cold as the creek, so I pulled my feet out of the water.

Three hours later, I knew what I had to do. Love, that’s worth more than gemstones, papers with scribbled notes, and decorative artwork. To keep him, I would get rid of it all, and that was that.

With gentle ease, I slipped my slippers back on. Then, I began the long trek back to our cottage. Hopefully, he would be there.

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As soon as I reached the top of the hill overlooking our abode, I caught a glimpse of Thomas’ white shirt and Adas, our dapple gray horse. Instantly, my heartbeat quickened. With haste, I ran the rest of the way.

When I finally approached, my breathing was heavy and a my forehead glinted with sweat. My long, blonde hair stuck out around my face. Thomas heard me before he saw me. The unexpected noise caused him to turn, and the look on his face was one of surprise.

“Where have you been, Ella?” he asked. Guiltily, I looked toward my feet — still pink from the water, and confessed, “near the — our — creek.” He smiled in response, then walked toward me. This caught me off guard and I froze.

“Been doing some thinking, eh?” he said. I braced myself as he leaned in and wrapped me in a hug. “I’ve been missing ya, lass.”

“Really?” I replied. My voice came out weak, similar to a child’s. He pulled back, his arms still around me, and said: “Absolutely. I’m not going anywhere, though your collection of materials caught me off guard.”

“I had to do some thinking, ya know,” he continued. “Rode 30 kilometers to the nearest town, just so I could talk to a priest and figure things out.”

The mention of a priest caused me to freeze, and I pulled away. “You didn’t — Thomas!” But before I could finish telling him off, he pressed his lips to mine and all the worry and fear I had been holding onto these past three days melted away.

“Don’t ya worry now,” he confided. “I didn’t let nothing slip. I just wanted to form my own opinions. And you know what I decided? There isn’t nothin’ wrong with using what God gave us. If you find peace in rocks and herbs, who I am — or them — to judge?”

I couldn’t believe it. Without any hesitation, I jumped back into his embrace and pressed my entire body against his. Suddenly, the pent-up angst in both of us turned into a fierce, fiery passion. After several minutes of kissing, Thomas bent down, picked me up, and carried me into our home.

“You are my wife,” he whispered in my ear. “And as such, I am here to love and protect ya until the end of my days. That won't ever going to change.”

“I love you so much,” I whispered. “Thank you.”

Thomas lowered me to our bed which was covered with a quilt stitched by a monk from France. Then, he began to slide my dress off. My chest was heaving as he pulled the garment past my ankles, leaving my body bare and exposed. With my knees splayed, I watched as he stood up and pulled his shirt over his tan, brawny muscles. After this, he lowered his trousers.

Passion flooded both of our senses. Before I could blink, he was on top of me, my body pressed beneath his. He smelled like pine and dust — the scent of travel. And, I loved every bit of it.

My hands caressed his dark, curly hair as one of his slid between my legs. He rubbed slow circles against my mound, then
separated two fingers and inserted them into the warmth between my legs.

Something erupted in me just then. At this moment, I was completely bare and exposed. Not in a sense of nakedness — that was nothing new. But now, he knew the secret I was harboring. Most importantly, he accepted me as I am. This caused wetness to seep from the center and before long, Thomas’ fingers were covered.

This aroused him further. I could feel his hard cock bulging against my thigh as he teased my wetness further. The entire time, we continued to kiss. I kept one hand wrapped around his neck as I lowered the other… and began to pleasure his enlarged shaft.

In response, he moaned. “Ahhhhh, Ella, I need ya,” he whispered into my ear. “I’m yours,” I echoed. He liked this and flipped me over so suddenly, I nearly missed it. Thomas moved his body over mine and began to caress my cheeks.

The tip of his penis was now rubbing against my opening, and it was causing me to buck slightly. He chuckled and said, “Easy sweetie, you’ll get it soon enough.” My husband lowered his mouth to the side of my neck and, slowly, sucked at the sensitive skin. This caused light to flash before my eyes.

“Mmmmmmmmmmmm,” I moaned once again. I really wanted him — inside me, right now. He sensed this but resisted. One hand slid up and cupped my breast. The other supported his weight. “Thomas….” I whimpered.

He chuckled again. But then, his face turned serious. Apparently, he had teased me enough. With a swift motion, he entered me from behind.

Time stopped. There was only us, moving as one, on top of that silly quilt from France. If there is one thing that's true, it's that he is enrapturing. During our embrace, I could focus on nothing except the way he felt each time he pumped deeper and deeper into my abyss.

Thomas continued to kiss the side of my neck as his pace increased. He was thrusting harder now, and I was loving every. single. second.

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It could have been five minutes — or maybe it was an hour. But after my fifth orgasm, he flipped me over and we became one once again. My hands were pushed against the wall, my legs wrapped around his waist, as our gazes connected.

Nothing needed to be said. I could feel from the way he pleasured my body that he was back and that nothing would ever again separate us. He didn’t know how much I needed him, but I hoped he did.

To prove my affection, I halted his rhythm… long enough to wiggle out from underneath him and point to the bed. He gave me a quizzical look, then obeyed. “Darling, I want to take care of you now,” I whispered breathlessly.

With disheveled hair and flushed cheeks, I lowered my mouth to his cock and began to suck. I took him all the way in and didn’t stop — even when he lost control and his life essence flowed down my throat and into my belly.

There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for this man. And now, I know he feels the same way about me.

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Scarlet Becker is an amateur erotica writer who seeks to inspire a new genre: conscious erotica. If you liked this story, please consider following her and upvoting this content. Thank you!