Widower Wagner had managed to sneak up to Sister Jones' hovel without making too much noise, even half drunk he was still quiet as a hunter stalking a deer. He found the shuttered window with one of the slats starting to sag, no surprise she'd let her house's maintenance slide after the passing of her husband, and made he way up to have a peek inside. The women had been indoors for only the briefest time before he arrived, so he was quite surprised to see the scene of Orphan Prudence cast asunder on Mercy's bed. The girl had her dress hiked up and the Widow Jones was working her hands in the young girl's undercarriage. He could not hear what they spoke of but all the same his mind raced.<br/><br/>'Dear God....Are all the women in this damnable village witches?" He asked himself silently. 'No, surely not, but these two certainly are up to the devil's business." He watched some more, seeing now that Mercy must have pulled the young girl up on top of her and were mimicking some sort of pagan sexual position. His mind reeled, and his body stiffened, all at once the memories of his own wife's nightly activities came flooding back. It was then that the thought occurred to him, Mercy Jones had sold his late wife sundries, she is the cause of his woes and responsible for the temptations of his wife. Of course it all made sense now, that's why Mercy wasn't at the trial or in attendance while the court carried out it's final judgement on her, she was the witch, and now she is seducing this poor orphan. He wondered if she might have had some hand in her own husband's death.<br/><br/>He was terrified and slightly aroused, having to force himself to think of only pure thoughts and block the images of the women pleasuring themselves. It was then the witch Jones must have cast some spell upon the orphan Prudence because she laid her down in her bed and set to the work of knitting. Alvin almost decided to leave, but held off a while longer, he wanted to see if she was going to actually converse with the devil this very evening , if so he'd have proof to take to the high council. No such luck though, soon Mercy stripped  to her bedclothes and joined the young girl in the very same bed the widow Jones had shared with her own late husband.  It wasn't long before the two shapes under the quilt began to shift, and he could see the rhythmic motions of pleasure taking place. Alvin felt his trousers stir once again and when he looked down he saw that they were propped up like a tarpaulin tent.  This was not good, he would be able to walk home in this state, so he reached down and began to tug at his chubby little pecker till it released it's overflow of fluid onto Mercy's flowerbed.<br/><br/>What ever spell of lust this Witch had placed on her dwelling was overflowing onto him and he knew he had to make a hasty retreat. Tomorrow come first light he would go and take a meeting with the town elders, and tell them of what he'd seen this night. Surely a day in the stocks for peeping would be worth clearing his poor departed wife's good name. Alvin tucked his pecker back away and crept back off into the night.<br/><br/>He would have done just that too, if not for stopping out at his root cellar and drinking several more casks of mead before the night was through. Instead he drank himself unconscious and fell asleep down there in the cool confines of the earthen cellar.<br/><br/><br/>****************<br/><br/><br/>Meanwhile, Damian watched through his new concubines eyes as she molested Mercy Jones, his smile was sinisterly wide, showing the large fangs that dominated his mouth. The girl had done well, waiting for Mercy to sleep before setting upon her.  He commanded Prudence to taste Mercy's juices, and when the young woman placed her musk covered fingers in her mouth, Damian could taste Goodwife Jones as well. Soon he wouldn't have to use a surrogate, soon he would be tasting her himself.<br/><br/>It was then that Damian sensed another presence there at Mercy's home, a watcher, an interloper. This would not do at all, he thought to himself. Damian pulled his mind back out of Prudence and regained himself whole once again. He strode out into the night and took the form of a bat, which soared up through the foggy night, searching for whichever foolish mortal had warranted a visit. He saw Alvin Wagner lurching down the forest path and at such an hour. 'Oooh poor Alvin has your family not suffered enough this day? Must you bring damnation down on your own head as well?" Damian mused to himself, watching as the man dipped down into the root cellar just outside his house. No need to be invited into a root cellar, he grinned and descended.