Chapter 1
The Witch leaned forward slightly, her voice low and teasing. “You sure you’re ready for this? Once this game starts, I won’t be able to hold back.”
“Taskmaster,” I replied, smirking. “You hired me to run the game for you. Strange to think that I’m going to have to tell you exactly what to do while filming you. You sure you really want to play this game? Because I can read the magical book of tasks you gave me. Crazy to think I’m the only one who can. But some of these tasks are... extreme.”
I let out a sharp laugh, shaking my head as my fingers drummed on the table. “Extreme? Fuck, that’s the whole point, isn’t it? My coven friends back home wouldn’t shut up about how this game separates the real witches from the posers. I didn’t hire you to be my fucking conscience, Kal. I hired you because you can read the goddamn book, and I can’t.”
Leaning back, I crossed my legs, letting my skirt ride up just a bit. “So yeah, I’m sure. Hit me with the first task. Let’s see what’s so ‘extreme’ that it’s got you sweating before we’ve even started.”
“Okay, Giselle,” Taskmaster said, “the first task seems simple enough. You must tell me your sins—your worst and favorite ones. The ones that truly humiliated you.”
I ran a hand through my hair, a slow grin spreading across my face. “Oh, you’re starting with the confessionals? Alright. My worst sin... fuck, that’s easy. I once hexed a rival’s prize rose garden because she insulted my potion-making. Turned every bloom into a twisted, thorny mess that smelled like rotten eggs for a full lunar cycle. The humiliation wasn’t the act—it was getting caught. Her husband saw me through the window, cackling like a madwoman while the roses writhed. He told the whole village. I had to apologize publicly, kneeling in the damn mud while she poured a bucket of pig slop over my head.”
I shifted in my seat, my tone dropping lower. “My favorite sin, though... that’s different. I let a young apprentice watch me summon a pleasure spirit. I made him kneel right there in my workshop while the spirit... well, it explored me. Every gasp, every tremble, every fucking wet sound—he heard it all. I didn’t touch him, but I let him see everything. The humiliation was unbearable, knowing he was witnessing my body being teased and fucked by something invisible, my ass clenching with each wave of magic... but god, it was a turn-on. I still think about his wide eyes when I get lonely.”
I glanced at Taskmaster, who was scribbling in the book. Nothing appeared in the book, and the writing vanished. I looked up. “Is that all?”
I uncrossed and recrossed my legs, feeling a flush creep up my neck. “No, that’s not all. There’s... fuck. The one that still makes my stomach twist. A few years back, at a midsummer gathering, I got drunk on faerie wine and bet my entire stock of moon-blessed silver that I could seduce the visiting high priestess’s stoic bodyguard. In front of everyone. I stripped down to nothing, walked right up to him, and started grinding against his leg like a cat in heat. He didn’t move a muscle. Just stared straight ahead while my body rubbed against his armor and my bare skin slid against his greave. The whole circle was dead silent, just watching me humiliate myself for a man who acted like I was a fucking ghost. I lost the silver, obviously. But sometimes, when I’m touching myself, I remember the cold metal against my clit and how hard I came later that night, alone in my tent, replaying the shame.”
“Now that’s more what we are looking for,” Taskmaster said, taking a minute to write it all down. “Be sure to confess throughout the tasks when something reminds you of a past humiliation. We will begin the next task once we walk over to the swamp.”
I stood up, smoothing down my skirt with a smirk. “Confess throughout, huh? You’re gonna get real tired of my voice. Lead the way, Taskmaster.”
I followed him out of the cottage, the humid air of the swamp immediately clinging to my skin. “So what’s the plan? Am I wrestling a gator or something? Please tell me it’s wrestling a gator. I’ve always wanted to try.”
“Yes, but that’s not all,” he said, guiding me to the edge of the swamp. “First, you must strip yourself bare and rub the mud closest to the swamp all over you. Next, you will look for the gator deep in the swamp that is wearing a crown made of fish bones. You will wrestle the crown from him and return here wearing it.”
I let out a bark of laughter, already peeling off my shirt. “Fuck, okay. Mud and gator wrestling. Not exactly the spa day I was hoping for.”
I kicked off my shoes, then unbuttoned my skirt, letting it fall to the damp ground. I stood there bare for a moment, the swamp breeze chilling my skin. “You’re getting a real eyeful, huh? My body isn’t exactly perky anymore, but they’re still fun to play with. And my pussy’s already getting excited—this humiliation shit really does it for me.”
I knelt down, scooping up thick, cold mud from the bank, smearing it over my arms, my chest, my stomach. “God, this feels disgusting. Cold and slimy... but it’s covering everything. My nipples, my belly, even my ass. I’m basically a mud monster now.”
I stood up, fully coated, and looked toward the deeper swamp water. “Alright. Crown-wearing gator. Let’s see if I can get that fucking crown without getting my pussy bitten off.”
“Good luck,” Taskmaster said, hovering over the swamp as he continued to write my actions down in the book.
I waded into the murky water, the mud on my body mixing with the swamp. My feet sank into the soft muck with each step. “Fuck, it’s deeper than I thought. And cold. My tits are practically numb.”
I scanned the water, my heart starting to pound. A ripple caught my eye near a fallen log. “There. I see him. Big bastard, too. That’s definitely a fishbone crown on his head.”
Taking a slow, deep breath, I felt a mix of fear and arousal clench within me. “Hey there, handsome. Mind if I borrow your hat?”
The gator swam away another hundred feet into the swamp. I let out a frustrated groan, slapping the water’s surface.
