The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 4 [MF] [fantasy] [magic] [succubus] [gentle femdom] [affection] [acceptance] [oral] [blowjob] [titty fuck] [facial] [ongoing story] [Msub]

Before you read this, consider reading;

[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bpqrk6/the_witchs_apprentice_part_1_magic_ffm_femdom/)
[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bprqmh/the_witchs_apprentice_part_2_femdom_fantasy_magic/)
[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/bq1086/the_witchs_apprentice_part_3_magic_mf_femdom/)

—

**The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 4**

—

Days passed. Markov and her apprentice fell back into their regular routine but with a new familiarity that hadn’t been there before. Markov no longer avoided him. In fact, she was closer to him than she had ever been. It was not unusual now for her to touch him casually; a hand on his back as she squeezed past him between the library shelves, or a brush on his wrist when he handed her some component or other. She did, however, refrain from making another overt advance on him, coming to the conscious decision that if he did want her, he would come to her on his own.

So it was not surprising that when she passed by him at the desk by the window in the library, pouring over a set of rather well made illustrations, she lingered long enough to run her fingers gently through a lock of his hair. Gaslight from the streetlamps outside dyed the pages amber and made clear the fine ink drawing of a woman’s figure. Skillful though it was, Lorelai’s ethereal magnificence couldn’t really be captured in ink. Markov’s touch jerked him out of his daydream, his heart racing for a moment only to settle when he realised who it was. The casual closeness the two of them had been enjoying made him feel far more at ease around her, with no less of the respect he had carried before.

“Ah yes,” she said, smiling. “She’s rather famous. Don’t let her apparent youth fool you. Lorelai’s been around for a long *long* time. You’ll find her likeness in more than one book.”

He cleared his throat and straightened himself up in the chair. “I was wondering about that, Messera,” he said. “I found a few records that seemed to match up, though the name changes somewhat depending on how old they are. Daemons seem… focused. On the affairs of mortals, I mean.”

She listened with a small smile. “Daemons, especially concubae, need us. They are like vampires, in a sense…” She had left the table, roaming the nearby shelves for something. Pulling down a book, she continued; “but unlike vampires, who keep their distance and visit us in secret, concubae make their reciprocal relationships with us explicit.” She selected another book from the shelf. “It is in their interest to establish long lasting affairs. Why stalk the globe for a willing stranger when you can rely on a few city regulars.”

She returned, laying out the books on the table. “This is a lovely little narrative I discovered after some detective work,” she explained. Opening one book, she showed him the watercolour render there. It was still obviously Lorelai, though the faded blue paint was to her actual skin like a dying candle to a sunset. “This was written about one hundred and fifty years ago. You see here, the description of his encounter with her – quite glowing praise, I think. And this;” she opened this second book. “This was written just two years later. It’s the same book, a revised edition. See how she is depicted here.”

Gaavi scanned the texts put down in front of him with some excitement. Messera had been fairly hands-off in her approach to recommended reading, so it was interesting to have her actively engage with him and the texts. He understood he was being taught, but the novelty intrigued him.

The second illustration, a sharp, angular ink sketch, had dramatically altered her features. Instead of a playful smile, there was an arrogant smirk. Horns, sharp teeth, clawed hands and narrow, all-black eyes made her look vicious and cruel.

“Same succubus, but the author seems to have soured on her. And the account is now almost comically bitter. What could she have done to be so maligned?”

Before he could answer, she put a third book in front of him. It was not a kind of bestiary, like the first two were, it was a journal. These was no illustration, but she pointed out a paragraph where Lorelai was once again described in loving detail. “See the name? I suspect these two authors were brothers.”

“I see… I never discovered this one,” he said, tapping the journal. “Do we know if she did actually appear ugly because the first author was angry at her? Or was he angry at her and so had the artist paint a monster? That is, do they appear to us as a mirror of our beliefs in them?”

“They can shapeshift. You saw Lorelai take my shape briefly when she was teasing you.” She said this casually enough, though a little colour rose to her cheeks at the memory. “However, they don’t tend to appear monstrous. Sometimes they can appear intimidating in order to seem powerful, but it is all part of being attractive in different ways. I think Lorelai would be perhaps a little offended by her jealous lover’s later depiction of her. I bring this to your attention because it is possible that Lorelai will want to visit you again. This author tried to hold on to her, tried to trap her. She spurned him for this, preferring his brother. Jealousy and possessiveness would sour you to her, and she would avoid you. Greedy hearts make them sick like bad food does a human.”

Gaavi felt his face flush as he listened, keeping his eyes on the books, not wanting to meet her gaze. “What… conditions would make a succubus want to return to a human?

“Gratitude,” she answered, leaning back in her chair, considering. “They like to be told they are enjoyed. Growth and change; they are curious about how humans change over time, being themselves ageless. Magical power; they got more sustenance from magic users, more still from more powerful practitioners. Overall psychic health; joy, confidence and curiosity are irresistible to them. And calling for them. Asking for what you want, when your heart is pure and honest, will likely get you what you ask for.” She paused, dipping her head to catch his eye with a knowing smile. “Why…? Would you like to learn how to call her?”

His cheeks burned. Still lacking the bravery to face her, he said, softly; “I… I don’t know. It feels a little… selfish? When you called her, it was to offer a bargain. Just… wanting to be with her, look at her, touch her… have her touch me… it can’t be a good enough reason, can it?” He had sunk a little lower in his chair with every word, ashamed of wanting to have her simply to play with her.

Markov chuckled. “Gaavi,” she began, trying to find a delicate way of explaining it to him. “Lorelai got far more from you and I than she gave. In exchange for her healing power, I intended to offer her an unspoken favour, to be paid at some later date. What she wanted was *you*, something she apparently wanted very much. Relief, euphoria, confidence, pleasure; they are her air and water. You’ll feed her by simply being happy to see her, and if she is hungry, she will hardly refuse you.”

Her words filled him with excitement and he straightened up as she spoke, finally catching her eye. “I… It’s not like it isn’t obvious to you, Messera. Yes, I would love to see her again.”

She nodded. “Yes… I think it would be good for you to know how.”

For a moment, she considered the best way to approach this, her hands steepled under her chin. “Thankfully,” she said at last; “we don’t need to draw a circle, or set aside a space. Think of the summoning circle as a polite, impersonal and highly formal summons from someone you don’t know. But she knows you – she *liked* you – so you’re going to call on her like you would invite a friend over for afternoon tea. Nothing fancy, just a casual request.”

She stood, gesturing that he do the same. “Close your eyes. I want you to concentrate on your breathing, on the temperature in the room, on my voice. I want you to sink into your body. You’ve practised meditation; this is similar, only you are not just looking to quieten your thoughts, but lean into sensation.”

Despite the direction of the conversation, it came as a surprise to him when she began instructing him then and there, but this was smothered swiftly by another wave of nervous thrill. He did as he was told, closing his eyes, steadying his breathing and focusing on her voice – an easy and familiar practise he had gone through a hundred times before – letting it fill his senses. He let his mind fall empty like a new journal, but this added element puzzled him. “Lean… into sensation…? Can you explain, Messera?”

“Your clothes against your skin,” she said. Her voice was now softer, gentler, as if she were reluctant to disturb the tenuous balance between them. “The way your heart beats in your chest; feelings that are unconnected to any thought…” She moved close to him, tentatively reaching up to touch him, her very fingertips on either side of his neck. Softly, feather light, she caressed him, running her fingers around to the back of his neck, into his hair. “Don’t rationalise how it feels when I touch you. Simply feel…” She took another step towards him, dipping her head to meet his lips, barely kissing him, no heavier than a breath. “Enjoy this… Let it stir something in you. Something urgent, some restless feeling that needs to go somewhere. Arousal is a potent focus, Gaavi… Let me bring it out of you…”

He listened; followed. Her fingertips left a trail of blue sparks on his skin, wrapping around the back of his head in a way that made his hair stand on end. The little flash as she kissed him, red sparks on his lips as she drew closer. Every breath, every heartbeat. He listened to his body, listened to the yearning that was rising in him, the yearning triggering his memory. A touch, an embrace, a caress, the eyes of someone from another world.

Markov pressed her lips to his in earnest, sensing the swelling of feeling in him and wanting to submerge him further. Her hands were first in his hair, and then travelling down his sides. The point wasn’t to seduce him, of course, just to lift out this warmth, bring up that well of power within him. It was with some regret that she withdrew. “You feel that?” she whispered. “Now reach out, hold it… and push it outward. Like creating a wave in a pool. Say her name.” For good measure, she closed the gap between them, kissing his jaw, her tongue touching his earlobe, before stepping away from him entirely, intending to leave him mildly bereft, to leave a vacuum between them for his intended lover to fill.

He focused on the red energy of her kiss and the blue glow of her touch and drew them to his center. He sensed, as if with the fingers of his mind, the edges of that well before reaching to mold them. He had done this before in a very mild, very conscious way, but this felt potent. Not volatile, but brimming, threatening to spill over, seeking an outlet. He took a deep breath and then exhaled her name, releasing the power.

“*Lorelai.*”

Markov almost laughed with pleasure and pride. How many times had she sat in an empty room trying and failing to do what he had just done? But he was young. His inhibition was only his own and he was fighting nothing but slight nerves. She felt the power in the word, making it more than the individual sounds that composed it. Holding her breath, she waited. Neither of them to compel the succubus to answer, and it would be sorely disappointing if she heard and chose not to.

Then, she saw a shadow at the window and felt the air change. There was now a sparkling electricity, expectant and full of potential. A pair of starlit eyes watched her from the other side of the glass. Markov bowed to the succubus, then, striding past Gaavi on the way out the library, she squeezed his shoulder. “Open your eyes.”

Gaavi was still in his tenuous meditative state, and he was very aware of the pleasant weight of magic that was now flowing about him, like being waist deep in a river. Instead of fighting it, he carefully allowed it to pass through him until it dissipated and he was able to open his eyes, finding and fixing on the celestial eyes of his guest. He moved fluidly as he threw the latch and opened the window, stepping back and bowing. As he raised his head, he couldn’t dispel the smile on his face.

“Please, enter. It is so wonderful of you to heed my shaky summons…” His heart was racing, but he was not under stress, simply heady with the spark of magic in the room.

When Lorelai returned his smile, it was like the glitter of gold at the bottom of a riverbed. She slid through the open window, the flowing movement of her dress spilling into the room like spun sunlight. “I was hoping you would call me again,” she said. She perceived something different about him, something that caught her curiosity. He seemed taller, somehow. She could now taste his excitement unfiltered by any fear or hesitation, and it made her flush with pleasure. “You’re beaming,” she remarked. “I can feel it… You’re growing brighter.” She moved towards him; her hand extended. “Is that what you called me here to show me?” she giggled, the sound maddeningly seductive. “I hope so.”

He took her hand, leading her further into the library, bringing her a little closer to himself, as if about to begin a dance. “I think so. It certainly feels… refreshing to greet you this way. You’ve been in on my mind a lot since we first met. I’ve been seeking you out in books…”

“Those poor artists,” she said. “They tie themselves in knots to put a little bit of me onto paper. It is a tragedy that you had only that and your memory to comfort you.”

“I was encouraged to request a visit.”

“And now I am here… All yours for the night.”

His innocent affection flattered her and she enjoyed his honesty. He was no less formal than she remembered him, but now his emotions were bubbling close to the surface. She followed his movements, subtly walking past him and turning on her heel to that he came towards her, into her arms. She laced her fingers around the small of his back as if he were a familiar lover. She paused here, letting him react to her long, slender body, her soft breasts pressed against his chest, the brush of her thigh. The way his heartbeat jumped thrilled her, but the sudden intimacy was sweet, the urgency making it no less comfortable.

He had followed her flow, embracing her and burying his face in her shoulder. He breathed deep, her honey smell filling his lungs and spreading an electric warmth throughout his body. His embraced tightened a little as he focused on the delightfully soft resistance of her breasts, then he was kissing her neck, once at the base, one closer to her ear, before lifting his head to face her, admiring the elegant horns that framed her head like a crown. She hummed with appreciation and let out a sweet little sigh when he kissed her neck. Even this simple, affectionate gesture was enough to make her skin prickle and her body-heat to rise. Their eyes caught, and he leaned in slowly, pressing his lips against hers in a shy kiss. She squeezed him close, enjoying feel of the subtle muscles of his back and how they responded to her. She wanted to dig her nails in, to make him moan, to play him like a violin, but she resisted. For now. Instead, she rewarded him with hungry, inviting murmurs.

“What is this feeling…?” He sighed. “I know what arousal feels like, but this… this familiarity, this warmth I feel from you. I want to hold you close and have you stroke my hair, and at the same time I want to rip your dress from you with my teeth and plunge my face in between your breasts – and it all feels so good… so *right*.” It was as wonderful as it was overwhelming and he hid his nervous laugh in her neck.

The confession, said so blatantly, made her shiver. “It is affirmation, sweet boy,” she told him, her voice soft. “You know the anxiety that comes with pursuit? Yes, there is a rush in the uncertainty, in the challenge of it, but it is a risk, and there must come a time when you stand in front of the one you want and bare to her your most tender vulnerabilities. That is a solely unique fear…” She ran a few gentle fingers through his hair. “But I feel your need, your aggression, your desire, your affection, all as if it were my own. I reflect them back at you not as vulnerability, but as strength. That is the privilege of my kind…” She kissed him, parting his lips with her tongue. “There is no contradiction here…” she whispered into his mouth. “That is why it feels right…”

He could not resist her kiss, nor did he want to, and a moment later his hands were travelling up her waist, his fingertips brushing the sides of her breasts before resting on her face as he drowned in her, laying long lustful kiss after kiss on her lips, growing hungry. Whatever restraint had been in him, whatever wonder or lingering hesitation, cracked and somehow, she was pressed against the bookshelf, arching against him and he did, indeed, capture the top hem of her dress in his teeth, dragging it until it disintegrated like spider’s silk, revealing her perfect breasts. He dipped his head to roll his tongue over one of her nipples, drawing a deep, musical moan from her. His hands raked down her spine, his sudden casting aside of patience and comfort in exchange for heat causing her hands to ball into fists in his hair. Immediately her arousal became searing need and it was all she could do to give him the freedom to explore her body when all she wanted was to pin him to the floor and drag him into manhood. Instead, she pressed him tight to her, whispering words of encouragement, gasping out lurid whimpers as he licked and suckled her.

He moved his mouth to the other nipple while his hands slid down her waist, her hips, and around to her backside. As he did this, he sank down onto his knees, planting avid kisses on her stomach down to her hip bone. Delicately, he probed with his tongue and fingers, caressing her thighs, nudging them slightly open. At that moment, he looked up at her with large eyes. “We can call this payback, if you like…” he murmured, his lips twitching with a hint of laughter.

There was no denying him. His playfulness was a delight, his sudden confidence – so wonderfully different from the hesitant object of pleasure she had made of him during their first encounter – made her bite her lip and squirm under his touch. Settling herself down against one of the lower shelves, she spread her feet a little wider, her hands still in his hair, and took a moment to enjoy the exquisite rush of such an eager, handsome boy kneeling before her. “Alright then,” she breathed, her voice like silk. “Let’s see what you can do.”

The challenge made him grin and he dipped his head, his lips meeting the curve of her sex, his tongue touching her slick and swollen labia, making her shudder as his breath tickled her sensitive skin. She drew in a hiss that became a soft moan, tilting her hips for him as he began to taste her, running his tongue through the center, dipping into that burning wetness, and then focusing his attention on her clitoris. He dragged his tongue across it once and then sank into her, kissing and sucking, letting out little murmurs of satisfaction.

He quite obviously lacked technique, but his intent was honest and with guidance, he gradually picked up the subtleties that took his partner in the direction of pleasure. There was a savour, a richness in this moment of selflessness, of offering as well as the warm, strong strokes of his tongue on her that made her toes curl. The alternating tension and release of his hands as he explored her, the way she could sense his potent arousal, forced her to keep her hand on his shoulder for support, the other grasping the bookshelf. The temptation to pull his head back by the hair and grind her sex against his tongue was powerful, but there would be time for rough play later, she told herself, when he was ready.

*When he was ready…* she giggled to herself, the sound lost in her gasps and whimpers of ecstasy. She was already planning their third encounter. There was so much that she wanted to cultivate in him, see grow and thrive.

The taut tension in her body was coming to a head. She was made for this, so there was no difficulty; no stress or strain. Her orgasm came to her like a bird takes to wing, and she let out a deep, growling groan. “That’s it…” she panted. “Just there… Don’t you dare stop, boy…!”

He was flicking his tongue against her clitoris rapidly, pressed tight against her as her thighs locked around him, quivering. A hot spike of heat raced through her and she threw her head back, her sex twitching and her insides contracting in a series of shivering shocks that left her suddenly limp. Gaavi slowed, taking his time kissing and drawing on her body with his lips and tongue until she was left panting and weak, before getting to his feet and hugging her tightly, catching his breath as he kissed her chest, her neck, her face.

“I wasn’t sure I could pull that off. I’ve only ever read about it…” He felt his cock throb. He’d been feeling it for a while, but the ache returned in a heady surge as he felt it trapped against her stomach.

Breathing heavily, her face flushed as if kissed by lamplight, she soothed him, stroking his hair. “Yet you had the boldness to try,” she told him, and kissed him long and sweet, tasting herself on his lips and quivering. “The courage to persevere…” She went on to kiss his neck. “And the wherewithal to listen to my body…” Her teeth grazed the sensitive skin between his neck and his shoulder, as one hand rose to cup and press against his erection. “You did well.” She smiled mischievously. “Now shall I return the favour? Or is it tonight that I teach you how to please a woman with this cock…?”

Her offer sent his thoughts running, causing a minor overload of anxiety and desire that proved to him, quite clearly, that he wasn’t ready. “I… I don’t think we need to go that far.” He remembered what Messera had said about asking for what he wanted. “I mean,” he said, a little firmer. “I don’t want to go that far. Not tonight.”

His hands went to her breasts again, and she smiled at him, laying her hands over his, guiding him to press them together and up, approving of his assertiveness. Already, she was fresh and hot with arousal as if the night had only just begun. The succubus never had to worry about sleep, let alone a refractory period, but if he did not wish to have her, then… She listened to him, letting herself sense his desire, feel his craving.

“Ah,” she said eventually, her voice soft. “Gaavi, dear…” She took his hand, heading out from between the shelves and to the little alcove where Markov liked to read, indicating that he sit in the massive armchair. He couldn’t pretend there wasn’t a thrill in commandeering Messera’s reading spot for such carnal purposes. Unbuttoning his short with a few uncoordinated swipes and throwing it off, he sank down into it. Once he had settled, she knelt before him, looking up at him with her dazzling eyes. “I already know what you want,” she told him. “But I want you to say it. I want to hear you ask me…” She licked her lips, waiting, her hands on his knees.

Articulating his desires was a bit of challenge, but once more catching the unbearably seductive expression on her face, he was brought back to the sense of safety and liberation. He took a deep breath.

“I want you to use your hands, and… and your mouth, on my cock again. And… And I want to put my cock between your breasts, and I want to cover them when I cum.”

She raised her eyebrows at him, triggering a sheepish grin in response, but she didn’t refuse. Instead, she ran her nails down his thighs, her touch electric, the move very much designed to remind him who held control here. With slender, dexterous fingers, she unfastened his trousers, her palm pressing on the hardness she found there. Threading her hands beneath the hem, her fingers made contact with satin skin and she applied a little more of her Charm, just enough to cause a feverish rush in him as she freed his manhood from its confines. “Didn’t your Messera warn you to be careful what you wish for?” she muttered, wrapping her fingers around the shaft and squeezing. “You might just get it…”

She bent her head down, her hot breath on the head, planting a sweet kiss on the very tip, wetting it with her tongue. He felt a shiver run from his hips, up his spine, right to the base of his skull. “Oh… Oh I think I trust myself to know what I want…” His breathing hitched, becoming shallow and rapid as she teased him.

The little pauses, the slight catch in his breath; she wanted to make him howl and plead. The sudden urge to drive down on his cock to the hilt surged through her, but she resisted once more. The kind of pleasure she wanted from him would mean taking her time. So, smiling like a smug cat at a bowl cream, she licked him, the pad of her tongue painting his shaft until it was slick and glistening. Her hand slipping up and down his length, she took the head into her mouth, sucking softly, before withdrawing, lifting herself up only to sink back down again, taking more of him as her hand followed her lips, feeling his pulse beat against her fingers.

His breathing was getting loud, interspersed with groaning sighs, but there was no shame in it. He knew he was getting a rare treat and was intent on letting himself enjoy it. His hand went to her hair and he let his head drop back, eyes closed, focused on the sensation of her warm mouth and tight grip.

She had been discreetly working his trousers down to his ankles, moving herself over them so that she could press in close between his legs. Kneeling upright, she used her hands to lift her soft breasts, pale blue like the rest of her body with darker, flushed nipples, so that they nestled on either side of his member. It didn’t take very much for him to happily find himself between them, her previous attention leaving him slick enough to slide against the smooth, silky skin. Then, tucking her elbows and squeezing her breasts together with her hands, she rocked her torso against him, causing his cock to emerge from her cleavage before being swallowed once more.

“Oh… Oh fuck! That feels… so *good*…”

Then words were lost to him. He reached out, gently touching her cheek. He didn’t consider it; it was just the only way to express his gratitude as she robbed him of breath and coherent thought. She reached up and let her fingers brush his knuckles in a small acknowledgement before continuing. Moving slowly at first, she squeezed his cock, trapping it between her breasts, his pleasure washing over her like a wave, making her ache. Rubbing her thighs together, she encouraged him to lean forward, to take her breasts in his hands, her hands over his, showing him how to run his thumbs over her nipples, causing her to let out small, needful mewls. Her tail, long and invisible until now, was swaying back and forth restlessly as she picked up the pace.

Her voice made him twitch, and he was aware of the throb of his cock every time he pushed upwards. He had to say something, had to warn her, but the words came out slurred and foggy through his moans. “Lor… Lorelai… Oh… I can’t… I can’t go on for much longer… I… It feels…”

But she already knew. It was rolling off him in pulses of heat that she felt reflected in her own body, his words sending sparks down her spine. She could feel her body preparing for him. Like the smell of cooking food might make someone hungry, his rising need made her insides squirm and coil. Lowering her head, she parted her lips and licked him, tasting his precum as he thrust through her cleavage. With her powerful body and excellent balance, she was able to remain upright, able to grind and roll her breasts over his member, feeling it steel-heart and throbbing. He was close now.

Using her Charm, she pushed him further towards the edge, creating in him a sense of falling, and kept him there, panting hard, hovering on the edge so she might savour the delectable taste of his sharp pleasure. When she felt him slipping, she let out a sweet, throaty groan as if she were about to come with him. Indeed, she shared the rush, shared the wonderful, vision blurring sensation of his orgasm, feeling her arousal drip down her thigh as he came hard. He cried out and hot seed hit her face first, painting her cheeks in a diagonal brush stroke from forehead to chin. A second spurt hit her neck, before seeping into her cleavage, hot and stinging.

As the tension left him and he melted into the armchair, he opened his eyes. The view of her covered in his semen filled him with a strange mix of mirth and triumph.

“Sorry… I… I lost control…”

She used a finger to dab a little from the edge of her eyelid and put it in her mouth, licking her finger with a playful grin, before spreading her arms so he could see what he had done to her. She didn’t seem to be in a hurry to clean herself off, though. Her body now flush with new energy, she rolled her shoulders as she stood. Her tail lingered, wrapping around his shin fondly and she was regarding him with those large, inscrutable eyes. Slowly, her expression softened as her thoughts turned to the quality of the power she had taken from him. It wasn’t the most potent, but it was bright hot, like a smarting ember in her palm.

Bending down to kiss his forehead, she said, almost more to herself than to him; “I’m happy that Markov is taking care of you. Anything else would be a waste…”

Still breathing heavily, he awkwardly rearranged his clothes. “So, is this… it?” he asked, his voice soft with awe. “Is that what being a witch’s apprentice is…?”

“It’s what being a witch is,” she said, lowered herself down onto the arm of the chair. She crossed her legs, and her dress seemed to have reappeared, only enhancing the shape of her hip and thigh. Furthermore, there was no trace of his mess on her skin. “Don’t worry. You’ll soon be able to take it in your stride. Surrender is the first step. It is where you garner and cultivate power… and then you’ll soon before to forge, wield and share that power. Concubae begin the same way.”

“What do you mean?”

“We learn to kneel before wise and powerful humans before we grow to conquer and feed.”

He sank a little lower, overwhelmed. “I can’t…” he said, his voice a little shaky. “I don’t know how…”

She put her hand on his head. “You are surrounded by good teachers, boy. You’ll learn.”
—

If you enjoyed this, consider reading;

[The Bargain](https://www.reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/c2ez53/the_bargain_mfincubusfantasygentle/)

If you would like to hear me read these stories as an audio book, consider;

[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 1](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildaudio/comments/c2tyn8/f4a_the_witchs_apprentice_part_1_magic_fantasy/)
[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 2](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildaudio/comments/c39toe/f4a_the_witchs_apprentice_part_2_femdom_fantasy/)
[The Witch’s Apprentice – Part 3](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildaudio/comments/c4mqrg/f4a_the_witchs_apprentice_part_3_magic_gentle/)

If you would like to hear more audio from me, consider;

[I Can’t Help it.](https://www.reddit.com/r/gonewildaudio/comments/bsmszv/f4m_i_cant_help_it_selffill_script_fill_fantasy/)

Source: reddit.com/r/eroticliterature/comments/c7fnlo/the_witchs_apprentice_part_4_mf_fantasy_magic