Wrath of a Wonderfully Wicked Witch (Return to Oz With a Vengeance Book 2)

by Warren Thomas

  The door opened and a Sa'Kor in tight black leather rushed up to whisper in General Kahlan's ear. The spy master glanced at General Alizan, then looked Glinda in the eyes.

  “Mistress, my spies say the Imperial Grand Army is on the march,” Kahlan said.

  Chapter 4

  Dorothy gasped and stirred, but didn't quite awaken. She felt…odd. Tingly. Back in the Kansas of her youth, she might say she felt hot and bothered.

  Baby blue eyes fluttered open. Instead of darkness she found incredibly bright moonlight. Indeed, the moon looked huge behind the towers of the Emerald City off in the near distance. Dorothy sat up and frowned at the sight.

  “I left Emerald City two weeks ago. How did I get back here?”

  When she went to sleep, Dorothy was hundreds of miles northeast of the city, way up in the wooded mountains between Munchkinland and Gillikin Country. They'd made camp below Deathknight Castle, right at the edge the Warlord's domain. Lion claimed that land now, and his beastmen warriors defended it jealously.

  Musical, feminine laughter filled the air. At first she thought the Wicked Witch of the West was back. That was impossible, but her heart still raced. Dorothy bit her thumbnail as she looked all around.

  “How lovely,” she said, noticing she was in the middle of a field of red daisies. Dorothy discovered she was wearing a tiny blue gingham mini-skirt and matching midriff bustier. She vaguely remembered seeing her granddaughter in that outfit once. In addition, she wore ruffled white socks and the ever present Silver Stilettos. “Is this a dream?”

  Dorothy looked around, noticing the sky might be bright, but greenish-gray. Emerald City appeared a little further away than before, and it was the city she remembered from her first visit a lifetime earlier.

  “Hello, Miss Gale,” Glinda purred.

  “Oh!”

  The former Good Witch came toward her through the daisies. Dorothy never recalled seeing her in all black before. Indeed, she looked like a sexy babe off the Internet or something, wearing shiny black thigh boots, black latex opera gloves, and what looked like a strapless black latex thong leotard. The only way that leotard could stay up and push her big boobs up like that was by magic. And a large, black Cardinal Witch hat sat on her head.

  “I have to be dreaming. God, I hope I'm dreaming.”

  It was not starting out as the kind of dream Dorothy ever wanted to have.

  Glinda bit her glossy red lip, gave Dorothy a sultry look that curled her toes, and continued walking toward her. The sexy Witch's hips swung wide, while their shared gaze sizzled and scorched Dorothy's soul.

  “Stay away from me,” Dorothy begged.

  “Is that anyway to greet an old friend?” Glinda asked in her sexy, sultry voice.

  A chill slithered up the brunette's spine. She shuddered. Worse, her tits and pussy began to tingle. Memories of her last encounter with Glinda filled her mind.

  Dorothy's insides heated up, quickly becoming a hot mess. Her pussy felt slick and achy with need. Was it Glinda's magic, her own dark sexual needs, or just part of a nightmare?

  “Please, leave me alone,” Dorothy whispered breathlessly.

  She never felt so weak and helpless as the Witch pressed up close, and kissed her long and passionately. Released from the kiss, Dorothy fell back into the daisies. The sexy Witch dropped to her hands and knees. Glinda crawled over her, face filled with dark desire.

  “You look so beautifully vulnerable, my dear,” the witch purred. Dorothy turned her face away when Glinda tried to kiss her again. “Aww. So sexy and ready to be taken.”

  Dorothy pulled a knee up between them. The witch pushed that leg straight up, forcing it back against the farmgirl. Dorothy realized her mistake, because now she was forced into a dramatic split, and wasn't wearing panties. That wicked witch's pussy pressed against hers a moment later, and felt just as hot and wet. Then Glinda intertwined her fingers with Dorothy's, forcing Kansas girl's hands to either side of her head. Glinda ran her tongue up the back of the Silver Stiletto.

  “Mmm,” she moaned. Glinda locked fierce eyes with Dorothy. That gaze made her feel so weak. “Give me your shoes. I want them.”

  Dorothy knew better than to obey. Fear made her want to give the witch the shoes so she'd leave her alone, but Dorothy knew the shoes were protecting her. Though, more often than not they didn't seem to do much protecting. Yet, everyone agreed they were one of the most powerful talismans in Oz.

  Glinda shifted, straddling Dorothy's other leg, and started grinding her pussy into her captive's. Dorothy gasped when the witch began kissing her neck. Suddenly, it felt like her top was barely clinging to her boobs. She worried that any movement would leave her tits completely exposed to Glinda's tender debaucheries.

  “What?” Dorothy asked, eyes huge. Glinda ground her sex into Dorothy's with relish. Their hot, wet folds slid sensuously across each other, sending the most wonderful sensations rippling through her overheating body. “W-What are you doing?”

  “In your world I think they call it tribbing,” Glinda purred. She kissed Dorothy's lips. “Or scissoring. Lesbian sex. Nice, isn't it?”

  Nice wasn't the word Dorothy would use, but she really liked it. Maybe too much.

  “Yes. I mean…” Dorothy said, head spinning. “Oooh. What have you done to me? Why am I so weak?”

  Dorothy's hips thrust upward. She ground her pussy against Glinda's. The witch adjusted slightly and their clits ground into each other. The farmgirl turned Empress of Oz cried out. Intense pleasure spiraled through her overheated body. She felt so sexy, and so overwhelmed.

  “Oh god! Oh god!” Dorothy cried. Glinda rubbed harder, even as she claimed her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. “Mmmgh.”

  Giving as good as she was getting, Dorothy reveled in the sensuous glory of it all. Girl-on-girl was so different than boy-girl. Maybe not better, but wonderful in its own way. Glinda knew what she was doing, pushing her closer and closer.

  Writhing, moaning, and groaning, Dorothy felt her body rising to the occasion. Soon she was bucking, back bowing up dramatically. She felt as if she was out of control, and then that rush to climax hit her hard.

  “Ugh,” Dorothy grunted when her insides exploded with pure euphoria.

  “No,” Glinda cried.

  Rough hands grabbed Dorothy. She was yanked away from Glinda. It was pure chaos, as light and darkness warred. Bestial faces flashed before her eyes. The witch screamed and was whipped away as darkness crashed down on Dorothy.

  “Who? What are you…Aaggh, let go of me!” Dorothy shouted, struggling to break free of too many hands, grabbing her in too many places. Her thin silken nightgown was ripped off her hot, sweaty body. “Who are you?”

  Someone turned up an oil lamp. She cried out and cringed away. They were in fact beastmen. Lion's men? They all had thick, muscular bodies of men, but the heads of lions, tigers, wolves, and boars.

  Dorothy quickly assessed the situation. She was back in her camp tent, or “pavilion” as Nick put it. Her chief advisor and lover wasn't in the bed with her, so must be out checking the perimeter. He was obsessive compulsive about checking security around her.

  Glinda. It was just a dream, she thought, still hot, sweaty, and panting lightly. What a dream!

  She licked her lips, and looked the beastmen over. They were impressive. She had a thing for broad, thickly muscled shoulders, and they all delivered in that department.

  “I am Dorothy, your Empress,” she said. “It is your sacred duty to assist and protect me at all times.”

  It was unlikely that would dissuade the raiders, but she needed to stall. Dorothy needed time. With the larger force, time was her friend.

  “Shut up, Empress Dorothy,” a wolfman commanded. She arched a brow at the unkind way he said her title. “You are our prisoner. The Warlord will decide your fate.”

  ~**~**~

  Back in Glinda's conjuring chamber…

  “Aaiiee,” Glinda cried, staggering back from the crystal ball. �
��Ohh, that hurt.”

  Uma and Isobel looked shaken as well. Though they were only watching via a magic link, the spell's backlash affected them as well.

  “Fucking beastmen,” Glinda muttered while rubbing her temples. “Looks like Lion beat me to her.”

  Annoying setback, but it was better than Dorothy hiding inside the Emerald Palace's wards. Unfortunately, Glinda had an extremely bad relationship with Warlord Lion. Locasta, the fallen Good Witch of the North, belonged to and served Lion. She was quite powerful, so the Warlord was well-protected from magical attack.

  “A minor setback,” Glinda replied.

  It hadn't been easy to wiggle past Dorothy's protective wards. The Silver Shoes weren't perfect, so she found a backdoor that let her sneak into her prey's dreams. But that was probably her only chance. The Silver Shoe's magic “learned” with every failure, and would close that way in.

  Glinda took a deep, steadying breath. It was never good when a spell was interrupted like that. The more powerful the spell, the harsher the backlash. Since it was a seduction and sex spell, it hit her hardest in her sex. A magical low blow.

  She noticed Uma breathless, flushed, and squirming. Rubbing her thighs together. The dark-skinned, raven-haired Lady's nipples were rock hard and erect. Isobel looked just as aroused, if not more so.

  “You ladies look especially sexy and naughty tonight,” Glinda purred, voice low and husky. She gave them a sultry look, biting her lip. They nodded their heads eagerly. “Shall we retire to my bedchambers? I want to show you a few especially sexy things Wanda taught me.”

  Chapter 5

  The screams of men and beasts filled the night air. Fires blazed brightly, casting the shadows of mortal combat on the sides of her pavilion. Dorothy faced the beastmen within who wanted to kidnap her.

  “If Lion violates the truce, then neither he nor any of you have honor!” Dorothy cried, eyes flashing. Nick had briefed her about Lion and his warriors while they travelled. And he emphasized that they were undisciplined warriors as opposed to well-trained soldiers. Bravery and honor were foremost in their thoughts and actions. The way the beastmen threatening her recoiled said Nick's words were true, and her insult stung deep. “Begone. I do not treat with men without honor.”

  They hesitated, but then one of the beastmen snarled and stepped toward her. Dorothy swung her feet to the floor. His eyes locked on her feet, a curious look crossing his bestial features. Yes, she was completely naked, save for the Silver Stilettos.

  “Hey, they're magical,” she said, and lifted one foot to show them the soles. “See? Red soles. Where I come from, that's very important.”

  That just confused the invaders more, giving her time and chance to slip a hand under her pillow. Her hand wrapped around the pistol, and her finger went straight to the trigger. And then she swung it out to threaten them.

  “Leave now, or suffer the consequences.”

  “Get her!”

  Pap-pap-pap! Pap-pap-pap!

  Six of nine bullets expended immediately. Dorothy kept count in the back of her mind, as she darted to the side. One of the wounded beastmen plowed into her bed, spreading bright red blood all over the fine white sheets. Everyone of them was wounded. Three were stretched out on the ground, two down on one knee, and the last sprawled across her bed moaning and growling.

  Dorothy took that moment's respite to strap her katana across her back, and buckle her double holster pistol belt around her naked hips. She had nowhere to put spare magazines, since she was otherwise nude, so ejected that first one and slammed in a full one.

  All six beastmen began to stir and glare murderously at her. Dorothy noticed their wounds were healing before her eyes.

  “Holy crap,” she muttered.

  A deep bass half-growl, half-roar sounded through the camp. All of the beastmen looked up at the sound. Was that Lion? Dorothy didn't think twice about it. She turned and raced out of the pavilion to find a scene of utter chaos. Tents were on fire. Soldiers, beastmen, and beasts ran in every direction. Everywhere she looked her men were engaged in mortal combat.

  To her left, Nick's steel body shone brightly in the firelight. He was surrounded by beasts and beastmen, but he was more than holding his own using his huge two-handed sword. She noticed the three beheaded beastmen were completely dead, while all wounded were quickly healing.

  “No wonder everyone's so afraid of Lion's army,” she muttered. “His warriors are ten times harder to kill outright.”

  Her soldiers outnumbered the invaders by a large margin, but they were fighting out of their comfort zone. Soldiers needed disciplined ranks. Melee combat favored the warrior, one-on-one nature of the attacking beastmen.

  With the need to conserve ammo, Dorothy holstered her pistol and drew the katana.

  “Lion!” she shouted. “Show your cowardly face!”

  Dorothy had to bring the fight to a quick end. Too many of her men were dying, or being brutally mauled and disabled.

  A beastman with a boar's head appeared out of the darkness, armed with a boarspear. That made her pause. He thrust at her heart, and Dorothy blocked with her sword. Then she flattened the blade on the spear's long halt, and sliced viciously toward his hands. The beastman screamed shrilly when she chopped off a few fingers. Amazingly hot blood splattered across her nakedness. And then she silenced him with a thrust through the heart.

  Kicking him off her blade, Dorothy spun around looking for her next opponent.

  “Lion! Stop hiding behind your warriors, you coward!”

  He responded with an angry roar.

  A roguish smile tugged at her lips. “Yeah, you didn't like that, did you?”

  Making her way toward Lion, she hacked, thrust, and sliced in every direction as she went. The battle was astonishingly fluid. No one seemed to stand in one place to fight. Even her soldiers were caught up in the melee.

  A long, sleek black puma emerged from the nightshadows, hissed at her, and leapt. Dorothy spun off to the side, receiving a bloody slash across her breasts, and then lunged back in to thrust her sword into the puma's side. The big cat growled and pounced again. All she had time to do was swing her sword like a bat, and caught the beast in the throat. In a moment of rage and fear, she hacked and the puma's head came off.

  “There. Stay dead.”

  “You'll pay for that, woman,” a deep, raspy voice said behind her.

  She turned to find a dozen beastmen lined up and growling at her. Two carried spears, one a great battle axe, and the rest held swords. Dorothy looked at her sword, then at their weapons, and then her left hand dropped to a holstered pistol.

  “We have you outnumbered,” the wolf-headed beastman continued. He was a particularly shaggy fellow, with light brown fur and a bushy tail. He was the only one in that group with a tail. “Drop your sword and yield.”

  Every one of them bared their teeth at her. Were they smiling? She thought it looked more intimidating.

  “Outnumbered?” Dorothy asked. She shook her head and pulled the pistol, holding it up for them to get a good look. “This is called a pistol where I come from. It is also referred to as the 'Great Equalizer. '“

  She pointed the gun at their spokesman, and then shot him in the chest.

  “Bang. You're dead.”

  The beastmen scattered after she shot two more. When the first wolfman shot started to rise, though struggling, she rushed him. He lunged at her, so she decapitated him. Hot blood fountained out of his neck, showering her. Nausea overwhelmed her for a second. All she wanted to do was drop to all fours and puke her guts up, but shadowy shapes moved all around her.

  “Maybe I'm not as badass as I thought,” she grumbled, sucked it up, and continued toward the last place she heard Lion.

  A fireball thundered past her. She spun around to find a dark-haired woman stalking toward her. Nothing bestial about her; she was gorgeous. The woman held a dark-wooden wand in her right hand. Even without the fireball, Dorothy would've recognized her as a witch. Th
ere was a look of arrogance about her, and she wore a skimpy little purple and lavender outfit: purple corset under a short lavender jacket with long tails, purple leather pants stuffed into lavender lace-up thigh boots. A shiny silver choker encircled her neck.

  “Who the hell are you?”

  “I am Locasta,” she sneered. “Lion's witch. And you must be Dorothy. I have to admit, I was expecting more.”

  It was the former Good Witch of the North, captured and subjugated by Lion. The fact her old friend did that to a GOOD Witch still boggled her mind.

  Dorothy pointed her pistol at Locasta. “This weapon is called a pistol. Think of it as Witch Bane. Don't make me kill you.”

  A beastman battled two soldiers as they passed between the two women. The tides of battle brought men and beasts close, then took them away. Dorothy feared concentrating too much on Locasta left her vulnerable to an attack from the rear.

  Locasta stopped and cocked her head, a curious look on her face. “Is that what you used to defeat Glinda up on Oogaboo?”

  “That was Glinda? I thought it was the Wicked Witch of the West.”

  “No. It was Glinda,” the debased witch said. She scowled at Dorothy. “You failed to finish her off. That was unwise.”

  “Oh well, my good nature will be the death of me one day,” Dorothy replied. Her eyes narrowed, finger tightening on the trigger when the witch took another step forward, balls of purple fire around both hands. “But not before I'm the death of you. Don't move. I won't miss at this range.”

  “Neither will I.”

  Dorothy smiled. “Bet I kill you first.”

  Locasta's eyes narrowed, the fires around her fists brightened. Dorothy frowned. She had a bad feeling killing his witch would ruin any chance of an alliance with Lion.

  Shadowy figures plowed into the witch. Beastmen were forcing soldiers back in a long line. Dorothy had to scramble to the side to avoid being bowled over, too. Then she pumped three shots into the beastmen, disrupting their line of battle, and it returned to pure chaotic melee for the combatants.