Believe it or not, magic is real, and so are the rumors of a war raging for the heart and soul of Humanity for countless eons. You may have heard a few, tales of two opposing ideologies squaring off in the night. On one hand, the defenders of the supremacy of male birthright, and on the other, the worshippers of the Divine Feminine, determined on eroding their false sense of power and creating the foundations of a perfect Femdom society. They are Brothers and Sisters locked in a game of chess. Sometimes, the pieces move, slowly. Sometimes, they do not move at all. There are occasions though when events unfold in unexpected ways, turning an impasse into an unlikely win or an untimely defeat.

Alicia Flanagan entered the tribunal, hands tied behind her back, and fresh cuts stretching from her curved forehead to her plum cherry lips. At age twenty-three, the olive-haired beauty with medium-sized breasts that looked good on any dress, and a peculiar birthmark shaped like a devil’s horn on her left clavicle, was the first woman in ages to receive the “honor” of being called a “living incarnation of Evil”. The illustrious Mayor Robert Flanagan, her foster father, and known to all for his never ending parade of flamboyant attires had chosen her to be the battered face of his new power play, a feat that would secure his rightful position as the undisputed leader of all.

“You’re right,” Alicia replied, a confession that, more than elicit surprise, made him rub his hands with glee. There stood the perfect opportunity to further control and dominate the sheepish mass of minds, just like they had foretold. The young woman was arrested on the spot and beaten to the ground until the spectacle of mass propaganda was put together. In a little over twenty-four hours, the stage was lit, the curtains spread wide open. Fiction was about to play the role of Justice.

A round of applause intertwined with loud whistles and exaggerated foot stomping caused the main chamber to tremble. The gullible populace was as excited as it could be to blame it all on the female scapegoat, not so long ago one of the most esteemed members of the community, and now a pariah everyone wanted to spit on. Behind the Mayor, sat three Councilmen wearing black long shirts with a silver buckle strapped around their waists. Two of them were also Brothers, and the other was the most simpleton of simpletons, whose only job was to nod and corroborate the decisions they made. Alicia kept quiet while her surrogate father talked, a hint of a smile blooming in her lips. She was enjoying the show.

It was Matthew Stillwater, caretaker of the Flanagan Estate for over twenty-years. The late fifties man was as God-fearing as one could be, never leaving the house without her mother’s old cross hanging from his elongated neck and he had horrible stories to tell about spiraling lights in the dead of the night coming out of her bedroom, combined with the sounds of uncanny incantations that made his knees tremble.

“Thank you for such a powerful yet dreadful account, Matthew, and may your soul remain safe from evil influences,” The Mayor said before summoning the next witness, one of Alicia’s closest friends.

“Remember a few weeks ago when old Matthew babbled nonstop nonsense like ‘the Goddesses are coming for us all’?” He asked. “Alicia was there when his tongue became unclean. It’s obvious she cast a spell on him. because he refused to satisfy her lewd desires. She’ll do the same to all of us if you don’t put an end to her wickedness today!”

“Dreadful, I know,” the Mayor proceeded with the charade backed by the three Councilmen in their wooden seats. “It’s dreadful to hear these accounts knowing extra vigilance could have prevented them and yet, despite the fairness that guides us, it’s becoming increasingly clear that young Alicia is nothing but a devilish tool!”

“Did she…? Blasphemy!” the audience shouted, feverish voices amplified by unnatural hatred. “Kill her! Kill her now!”

“And why not if it’s as fair as you say it is?” she grinned. “Am I to assume your concept of fairness does not include giving the accused the chance to speak for herself to repel these atrocious claims?”

“That is true. I am a witch, and the Coven of the Crimson Robe sends its regards to you all!” Alicia replied, tapping her left foot. The ropes binding her turned loose and slithered away as if they had been hissing snakes all along. Everyone gasped and shuddered, suspended in the realization they had just witnessed a real display of magic. Alicia smiled at them, a dancing fire emerging from her fingertips. “One moment, please.”

“Seize her now!” The Mayor commanded. “Don’t let the witch perform any more of her foul tricks.”

“How’s she doing this?” Peter Mahoney, the oldest Councilman, muttered.

“Fear not, good people of Boxtroth, for unlike what they have told you, we are here not to doom, but rather enlighten. For far too long, you’ve been the victims of a foul deed, an experiment orchestrated by a sinister group of men who stop at nothing in their quest for absolute power. Your crops are dying and your rivers are being poisoned because of said experiment, but the worst part is that you too are dying or, at least, a part of you, is These men have been keeping you sedated, submissive, using panic and mass hysteria as tools of your undoing. The good news is that you can be free. Our Coven is here to offer you this freedom.”

Alicia produced a vial filled with a semi-transparent purple substance and made it spin in the air.

“Silence!” The Mayor screamed only to be the one muzzled. A wave of bliss traversed the stagnant air and, upon contact with his cracked lips, caused them to glue to one another. He tried to gasp, but no sound came. The only thing he felt was the energy tendrils of the spell gliding down his throat and wrapping themselves around his genitalia. The sudden sexual outburst almost made him lose his balance and kneel before her.

“We’re all going to die,” someone bawled.

“Janice is a witch, too?” a mass of confused voices mumbled. The situation on the inside was close to explode so the other members of the Coven in disguise made themselves known. There were ten, strategically placed inside the room, with Alicia at the center. A once invisible combination of earth, salt, and ash, materialized with them, forming a magic circle like no other for the ultimate conflagration of Power.

The visual phenomenon that followed was hard to describe. For every ten different people, there were ten different versions to what was going on. Some claimed they saw a massive pulsating rose irradiating from young Alicia’s body and touching everyone else at once in a single burst of light. Others described a mass of crimson clouds hovering over their heads before raining down in a deluge of delight. Muffled moans were everywhere, and orgasms rioting from inside out.

Janice and Alicia rejoiced when the spell phased out, the stringent odor of the Brotherhood’s brainwashing drug fading with it. The older woman reached for her protégé to plant a languid kiss on her eager lips. “You did well, my dear. I’m proud of you.”

“Tempting but there’s something we must tend to first, don’t you think?”

The two witches moved towards the Mayor, now shivering with ecstasy from the top of his glistening bald skull to the tips of his hairy toes. He was in no different state from all the other men, their minds betrayed by their bodily urges, foul desires of masturbation and undeserved ejaculation. His mouth quivered, his chest wobbled, his cock hardened. It would always do that at the sight of crimson.

“I… I don’t know what you’re… talking about…” Robert Flanagan retorted.

Robert sank to the ground, a single tear rolling down his left eye. It was the product of a mix of sadness and joy, kneeling at the threshold of devotion. Once a slave to false ideals, he had received a chance of redemption under the Coven’s watchful crimson eye. Deliverance had never felt so contradictory, and yet so overwhelming.

It would be a night to remember.