The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 6

  • Posted on March 1, 2022 at 3:13 pm

by BlueJean

They came upon her hut at dawn, with weapons in their hands and fear in their eyes.

And frightened men are dangerous creatures.

Witch, they named her.

She should have known. She should have run. A woman living in the woods with an illegitimate child, a maker of medicines, tinctures and remedies. All reason enough to paint her a target in this resurgence of superstition and fear.

Then a man had died. Not her doing — she had laboured to save him, using herbs and a little of the Earth’s magic, but he had been too far gone, infection and fever eating away at his life force. So she had tried to ease his passing as best she could.

But they needed someone to blame.

Witch, they named her.

“Isabel Laine! Come out!” the Witchfinder cried at her door.

“Mama? What do they want?” the child asked, cowering behind her mother.

Isabel knelt, took her daughter’s face in her hands. “Eliza, listen well. These men have come to take me away. They will speak lies, but truth will speak louder and all will be well, you’ll see.”

“I am scared, Mama!”

“There is no need for fear, my sweet. Stay here in the hut until I return, do you hear?”

The child wept and nodded her head. Her mother kissed her tenderly on the cheek.

When Isabel opened the door and stepped across the threshold, the men tensed visibly, increasing their grip on their pikes and flintlocks, fear coiling them tighter and tighter.

Do not show pride nor defiance, she told herself and made herself small and hunched, eyes towards the ground. Do not give them cause.

“Isabel Laine! Thou hath been accused of witchcraft and sorcery!” the Witchfinder decreed.

“I have done nothing, sir, practised no witchcraft nor sorcery, God be thy witness,” Isabel told them meekly.

“And God will be thy witness, woman.”

Away they took her. To the village to torture and interrogate and humiliate her. They stripped her naked – to check for a Witches’ Mark, they said, but truly it was just more humiliation.

Witch, they named her.

And it was true.

But Isabel was no fairytale witch. No cackling hag riding apon a broomstick, no daughter of the devil brewing foul poisons in cauldrons at dead of night, no murderer of newborn babes. Those were the conjurings of a hateful and guilt-ridden religion, of frightened men who saw shadows and shapes where there were none.

Isabel was a true witch. A mistress of herblore and nature. Descended from an ancient line of women who could tap into the Earth’s magics to heal and grant relief from pain, to ease birth, or sometimes prevent birth if there was a need.

And yes, the same power could twist the mind, or rot a person from the inside out, or even kill, but the Witch’s Oath forbade such abuse of nature’s gifts, unless the Witch’s life was in great peril — For all life has a right to defend itself.

But by the time they had found Isabel guilty and sentenced her to hang from the Ancient Oak, it was too late. For witchcraft is subtle, seeds of life and death nurtured over time, not the metal and gunpowder of men that snuff out life in a heartbeat.

In her desperation, she used fingers to scrape at the hard ground of her cell, collecting a small handful of earth, which she blew apon the man who was supposed to be guarding her as he snored away in a drunken stupor. A seed of infatuation she planted within him, in hope that he might pity her plight and set her free. But the soil was dry and barren, and not enough of the Earth’s magic remained in it to finish the task.

And then they came to take her to the tree.

A rope they placed round her neck, and as a priest spewed words of fear and hatred and ignorance, she saw her child amongst the crowd of baying villagers. Her Eliza. Her sweetness.

“No! Close your eyes, my sweet! Close your eyes!” Isabel cried out.


The holy man uttered some nonsense about hell and eternal damnation.

“Your god will not help you against a mother scorned, priest!” Isabel screamed as they hoisted her up, the noose tightening around her neck.

But something reached out to her in those last moments of her life. Something ancient that dwelled within the great oak. Something her kind had named sisters once, back in the distant past. And in her grief and rage and despair she grasped and clawed at the primaeval power and would not let go.

And into the tree she went. Down and down and down…



Menhirs, Dolmens, and Henges, it has been theorised, are spiritual conduits, beacons erected over places of power and concentrations of unusual energy within the Earth, places where the rules of the universe do not always apply, windows into past and future and perhaps even the dream realm itself.

– Graham Figgins, Ley Lines and Places of Power


Sadie was a ten minute drive away from us and lived in one of the oldest and most unusual buildings in the area. Unlike our cottage, hers was an Anglo Saxon style roundhouse. The mossy, pointed thatched roof, having warped and twisted over the centuries, sat crooked on top of the structure like a witch’s hat, lending it a unique and quirky charm. The windows were circular; the white painted walls covered in ivy and carefully trained climbing roses. At some point in the recent past, a glass conservatory had been added to the rear of the building, which Sadie had turned into a comprehensive herb garden.

Freya and Millie called it “The Magic Cottage.”

The girls and I had come round to visit, and as Sadie and I sipped tea from fine bone china cups and browsed through glossy magazines full of horticulture and home decor, Freya inspected the lush herbs, smelling each one and doing her best to impress her teacher by naming them correctly. Millie sat on the ornately tiled conservatory floor, trying to introduce Bee to Sadie’s black cat, Billy Buckham. The puppy desperately wanted to be friends with the big tom cat but Billy — being older and wiser — saw no common ground between them, and made this known by hissing and swatting the air in front of the naive pup.

“Now you be nice, Billy,” Millie said, trying to convince the grumpy cat. “Bee’s still little and doesn’t have many friends, so she’d be ever so pleased if you added her to your friend list.”

“Aww, that’s sweet, Millie,” Sadie said. “But Billy Buckham hates everyone, I’m afraid.”

“Do you have trust issues, Billy?” Millie cooed and tickled Billy under the chin. Billy responded with a low growl which, roughly translated, meant, Touch me again and I will kill you.

“Ooh, mini fruit trees in pots. They look nice,” I said, looking at pictures of pristine miniature trees full of lush fruit.

“I’ll bet that’s not how they look in real life. You’d end up with a spindly stick in a pot and a single shrivelled lemon the size of a golf ball,” Sadie said.

“So cynical,” I told her, laughing.

“Um… sage?” Freya said as she smelled the next herb.

“That’s correct, Freya Newton. And can you tell me what sage is good for?” Sadie asked, going into teacher mode.

“Sage and onion stuffing!” Millie exclaimed, her hand in the air.

“Sadie was asking me, not you, Millie!” a frowning Freya told her sister, then managed to compose herself. “Uh… it’s good for the brain and… diabetes, and also if you’ve got a runny tummy.”

“Shall we send some to Mrs. Jeffries?” Millie said, and both girls giggled at some private joke.

“And what about the herb next to it?” Sadie asked Freya.

“That’s easy, I don’t even have to smell this one,” Freya replied, but sniffed the leafy herb anyway. “It’s basil. I love basil.”

“And what can basil help with?” Sadie said.

“Oh… ah… there’s actually so many things basil can do, I forgot them all,” Freya said, screwing her face up in a wince.

“You could have made something up and probably would have got it right,” Sadie told Freya. “Muscle pain, tiredness, depression, indigestion. It can treat infections, mosquito bites, sore throats. It’s good for the skin too. Basil is basically a super-herb.”

Millie was doing sit-ups on the floor, giggling as Bee kept poking her with a paw. Her short skirt had ridden up, revealing her pink panties which, pulled up tightly, had created a little camel toe.

Billy Buckham jumped up onto the arm of Sadie’s tatty couch next to his mistress, watching the foolishness below with disdain.

I gave Sadie a little look. She nibbled her bottom lip and smiled at me, idly caressing her inner thigh through the skirt she wore. I held my magazine up on my lap, so only Sadie could see what I was doing, then put a hand between my legs, slowly rubbing myself through my trousers.

Freya — her back turned to us — was still busy sampling all the herbs, oblivious to what her naughty teacher and mum were doing a few feet away.

Sadie and I stared between Millie’s legs and touched ourselves as discreetly as we could, our eyes meeting every now and then in a knowing glance.

How had we arrived at this mutual understanding, Sadie and I, that we both found my girls sexually attractive? Honest words had been exchanged in the heat of the moment, and those words had become confessions of a sort. And together we’d reached this strange new landscape, unafraid and unashamed.

Now there we were, stimulating ourselves with the girls present in the same room. More barriers broken; more walls come crashing down. New possibilities.

“I have another story to tell you,” I whispered to my friend.

“A naughty one?” Sadie whispered back as she gazed between my younger daughter’s legs.

Extra naughty,” I told her. I wanted to put a hand down my trousers, but didn’t dare risk it.

Millie suddenly bounced onto her feet, and Sadie and I quickly pulled our hands away. “Shall we go and play in Miss Laine’s garden, Freya?” she asked her sister.

“Why don’t you both go play near the Menhir Stone for a while?” Sadie told the girls, and they scampered off with Bee in tow. Billy Buckham sauntered after them as well, presumably to see them off his property.

Sadie ran both hands through her long chestnut hair. “Shall we go to my bedroom?” she suggested. “Then you can tell me your story.”

“If you like,” I replied and we padded barefoot across the floor into Sadie’s room.

If it wasn’t for the double bed, I could have easily mistaken the room for a library. Rows and rows of books lined the curved walls from floor to ceiling. A few stray volumes were scattered across her bed:

Witchcraft For Beginners by Agnes Munt; The Wiccan Handbook by Carlee Carmichael; Ley Lines And Places Of Power by Graham Figgins; A Concise History Of Witchcraft by Prof. Jeanne Bleu.

“I’m detecting a certain theme here, Miss Laine,” I teased my friend. “Are you teaching my kids witchcraft?”

Sadie smiled as she switched on her oil diffuser. “I don’t think my superiors would be very happy if I was, but Wiccan is just a belief system like any other, really.”

“You like to read about this stuff?” I asked her, idly flipping through the pages of one of the volumes.

“I like to read about everything. I’m hungry for knowledge,” Sadie told me as I leaned over her bed, and suddenly I could feel her breath against my neck. “And I’m hungry for you, Georgia Newton,” she growled in my ear, and then she was upon me.

Her hands reached around to grab my tits as she grazed my neck with her teeth.

“Oh!” I gasped, surprised, and arched my body back against hers, tilting my head to the side so she could ravish me freely. “But… we’re best friends,” I could hear myself protest unconvincingly as Sadie sucked my ear, squeezing my breasts through the cool linen shirt I wore.

“I know… but I want you so badly,” she growled at me.

I turned to face her, fumbling at the buttons on my trousers, pushing them down and then nearly tripping up on them as I frantically tugged at Sadie’s skirt.

Lacy knickers. Always with the lacy knickers.

Sadie ripped her t-shirt off, and her perky tits sprang free. I grabbed one, rolling the swollen nipple between finger and thumb. She kicked her skirt away and pushed me back against the bed. “I want to fuck you. I want to rub my cunt on yours,” she told me, leaving no room for argument.

Our mouths met in a sublime exchange of tongues, eager and greedy.

“Is this what a little pair of pink panties does to you?” I teased, snatching Sadie’s knickers down her legs with one swift tug. “Did you like looking at my little girl’s pussy through her pretty panties? Is that what got you so horny?”

“It was such a turn-on,” Sadie moaned as she ground her pussy against my thigh. “Is that okay, Georgia? To look at Millie and think those naughty thoughts? Do you mind?”

I ripped my own knickers off and grabbed her arse, pulling her tight against me, our pussies pressed together. “No, I don’t mind. Fuck me, Sadie!”

And fuck me she did, our cunts grinding against each other with an urgency I don’t think either of us knew we possessed. The very air around us was infused with the musky, primal scent of our frantic lovemaking.

We came together loudly, baptising each other with our wetness, sharing a deep, lustful gaze as we rode those stormy orgasmic waves.

But I wanted more. And evidently, so did my best friend.

“I want you to tell me the story now… the extra naughty one,” she murmured in my ear. “And while you tell it, I’m going to lick you out, okay?”

“Okay, Miss Laine,” I panted, pushing her away. Scrambling back on to the bed, I shoved her books to either side of me, then I spread my legs apart as lewdly as I could. “Come and stick your tongue in my cunt… and I’ll tell you what I did with Freya the other night.”

Sadie crawled across the bed towards me like a wildcat stalking its prey. Dipping her face between my legs, she breathed in my aroma, then began to kiss and nuzzle my inner thighs, first one and then the other. Finally, her mouth latched on to my cunt.

“Oh, God,” I moaned, grabbing her hair. It had been a while since I’d been eaten out. I unbuttoned my shirt, my tits spilling free so that I could massage and knead them. “Remember that night you stayed over, when we masturbated for each other after the girls had gone to bed?”

“Of course,” Sadie said from between my legs.

“Freya saw us. She was hiding at the top of the stairs, spying.”

“What a naughty girl,” Sadie growled. I could feel the vibrations of her voice against my cunt.

“So the next evening, I invited her to my bedroom to watch me again, up close and personal, so she could really see what was happening.”

“God, Georgia, you’re so fucking wicked,” she murmured, then went back to licking me.

“B-but I didn’t just want her to watch me masturbate, that wasn’t enough. I – I wanted to see her play with herself, too. I wanted us to watch each other.” I groaned, stroking my friend’s hair as her tongue flickered and lashed against my pussy. “Oh fuck, that feels so good, Sadie.”

“Tell me the rest,” Sadie said, her lips glistening with my juices.

“We stripped for each other,” I continued. “First our pyjama tops, then the bottoms. And then I took my panties off for her.”

“Did she take hers off, too?”

“Yes. I had her stand up on the bed and pull her panties down, nice and slow. It was so erotic, Sadie.”

“I wish I was there to see it,” Sadie moaned as she trailed her fingers up and down my pussy lips before returning her mouth to my cunt.

“So we played with ourselves in front of each other. Freya diddled herself while she watched me stuff my panties into my pussy.”

“You dirty girl.”

“And then I got her to stand over me and, and finger herself while I made myself come… Sadie! Oh! I’m gonna come in your m-mouth!”

Sadie attacked my throbbing cunt as I clutched her hair and thrust against her, my climax exploding outwards.

“Come on me, Georgia!” she hissed, then lapped frantically at my convulsing pussy, my creamy nectar smearing her lips and chin.

When I had partially recovered, Sadie flipped me over onto my stomach and mounted me. “I need to come, too,” she told me, grinding her cunt against my arse.

“Did you like my story, then?” I asked her as she kissed my neck with her sticky mouth.

“So deliciously naughty,” she said. “Why didn’t you invite Millie?”

“I don’t know, I think she’s too young. I don’t want to scare her,” I told my friend as she humped against me.

I wasn’t being completely honest with myself, though. True, Millie was very young, but after spying on my daughters in the poppy field and later in their bedroom, it was clear to me that she’d been enjoying their sexual play as much as Freya. But kids experimenting together is one thing — when Mummy gets involved, the dynamic shifts entirely. Freya had taken to it, sure, but Millie? I won’t lie, the idea enticed me — I just needed to get my head round my recent rendezvous with my eldest daughter first, and this quite sudden and alarming development in my relationship with my best friend.

Sadie shook her head. “You shouldn’t exclude her. Division between a mother and child can create a void, and… oh, fuck, you smell so nice… a void can be filled with unwelcome things,” she told me, as if she knew what I was thinking.

“Did you read that in one of your books, Miss Laine?” I purred, and turned my head to kiss her. I could taste myself on her lips.

“I think it would be wonderful for all three of you to play naughty games together,” Sadie growled, her words slurred and lusty.

“Wouldn’t you feel left out?” I teased.

“I… I could join you,” Sadie moaned, the wet suction of her shaved pussy lips making wonderfully erotic liquid sounds as she slid her cunt up and down my arse.

“You could,” I told her. “Freya would love to see her teacher’s pretty pussy.”

I felt Sadie shiver. “Would she?”

“Yes. After I’d gotten myself off, I pulled my wet panties out of my pussy and sent her to bed with them. And do you know what she told me?” I said.

“Georgia, I’m going to come,” Sadie whimpered.

“She told me she was going to sniff them while she humped her pillow, and imagine that she was licking your pussy.”

“I’m – I’m coming!” she cried.

“Fuck me, Miss Laine!” I snarled as my best friend ground out her orgasm against my bum cheeks.

Finally spent, Sadie lay on top of me, breathing heavily, her head resting against my shoulder. “Oh, Georgia… oh, my goodness. We’re so naughty… really, really naughty…”

I reached back behind me to caress her arse, and she kissed me deeply.

“Is this what best friends do these days?” I asked her.

“Yes, I think so. It’s very in vogue,” Sadie informed me.

“Oh, good.”


There’s this big barley field next to Miss Laine’s house and right in the middle of it, on a big patch of mowed grass, sits the Menhir Stone.

Now, the Menhir Stone was really old.

Actually, all stones are really old, aren’t they?


Well, what I mean is, people from thousands of years ago moved it here and then carved weird writing called runes on it and it’s been here ever since. It was about six feet tall but apparently there was another six feet of it underground, so it was actually twice as big!

Me and Millie ran through the field with our arms held out, so that the soft green stalks whipped against our hands. Bee chased after us and every time she bounced up over the barley stalks to see where we were, it would make us laugh.

“Let’s play Jurassic Park,” I suggested.

“Okay, I’ll be a felocifafaptor,” Millie said.

“Velociraptor,” I corrected her.

“That’s what I said. Felocifafaptor.”

“No, velociraptor!”


“Vell-oss-ear-rap-tor! It’s not hard to say!”


I covered my head with my hands and sighed. “Unbelievable. Okay, I’ll be the woman who runs around a lot and you be… whatever you want to call it.”

Millie, method actor that she was, hunched herself over, brought her hands up to her chest and began snapping at me with her eyes crossed. “Rargh!” she screeched and I couldn’t help but laugh. She looked like a mentally challenged person. (Mum says we’re not allowed to call them nutters.) Bee pricked her ears up at my sister’s odd behaviour.

I ran through the barley and Millie chased after me screeching and snapping, with Bee bouncing after us. “Alan! Alan!” I shouted.

“Wait,” Millie said and we both came to a halt. “Who’s Alan?”

“Alan’s the main dinosaur man,” I explained. “The woman runs round shouting his name. She literally does it for the whole movie.”

“Oh, okay,” Millie said and off we went again.

“Alan! Alaaan!” I shrieked and ran through the barley as fast as my legs would carry me.

It wasn’t far behind me, I knew. And there were probably more of them stalking me, too. They always hunted in packs. At least one of them was small and furry and looked suspiciously like a puppy.

“Alan! Alaaaaan!”

It was close now. I could feel its reptilian breath on my neck. If I could just make it to the building that was cleverly designed to look like a gigantic stone, I would be safe.


Where the bloody hell was Alan when you needed him?

“Alan!” I cried as I finally reached the building and burst through the door, slamming it shut behind me.

The deadly raptor pushed open the door and stepped across the threshold. It stared me down menacingly.

“Clever girl…” I mumbled.

“I’ve eaten Alan!” the dinosaur informed me.

“Velociraptors don’t talk,” I told Millie.

“They can open doors,” Millie said.

“But they don’t talk.”

“I know.”

We sat down on the grass next to the Menhir Stone to catch our breath.

“I wonder what the writing means,” Millie said, studying the runic symbols carved into the stone.

“I’m not sure, but Miss Laine would probably know.”



“Do you want me to lick your kitty?”

I stood up and had a look around to make sure nobody was about. The coast was clear. “Yeah, okay,” I said and pulled my shorts down.

“Shall we take all our clothes off?” Millie suggested.

“We could, but if anyone comes, we’ll have to run into the barley and hide, okay?” I told her.

“All right” Millie said and began pulling her clothes off.

Soon we were both naked. I slapped Millie on the bum and she jumped.”Stop it!” she protested.

I lay back on the grass and spread my legs open while Millie knelt down and put her face between them. She poked her tongue out and made blub blub blub sounds as she licked my kitty.

“Don’t make silly noises, just lick it,” I told her and twirled my fingers around locks of her hair as she licked me out.

Bee sat watching us, her ears pricked up.

Millie raised her head. “Am I doing it right?” she asked.

“Yeah, you’re doing really well. Lick this bit at the top more, though,” I said and pulled my pussy lips apart so she could get to my sensitive little lump. “Good girl,” I praised my little sister as she licked me there. “Make me do an orgasm and then I’ll lick yours.”

“Am I old enough to do an orgasm?” Millie said.

“I’m not sure, but we’ll see. Keep licking me, please. Really hard and fast, okay?”

I held the back of her head and pushed my kitty up against her as I watched what she was doing. She kept at it for a while until I started getting that familiar feeling.

“You’re getting… really good at this, Millie,” I gasped and felt my orgasm bubbling between my legs. “K-Keep doing it like that. Aah!” It burst to the surface and exploded out of me. “Oooh! St-stop… stop! Just… just hold your tongue there while I… Oh! That’s really nice. Oh, good girl…” I groaned, my body trembling.

Millie looked up at me and grinned. “Was it good?” she asked me, her mouth all wet.

“Yeah, thanks,” I panted and stroked her hair.

“My turn now, please!” my sister said and sat up.

“Okay, but let’s kiss first,” I told her and we did a really wet, messy one with tongues. I could taste my kitty on her mouth. “Let’s do it differently this time,” I suggested. “I’ll lay back and you kneel over my face so I can lick you.”

“Okay,” Millie said. She got up and stood over me, spreading her legs and lowering herself down so I could see her kitty coming towards me.

“Argh! The Puffy Pussy Monster’s coming to get me!” I said dramatically.

Millie laughed and squatted down over my face, her kitty only a couple of inches from my mouth.

“Pull it open,” I told my sister.

“You always say that,” Millie said, rolling her eyes.

“I just like it when you spread it,” I said and licked the inside of her pussy as she held it apart for me.

Most times when I licked my sister’s kitty, it was at bedtime after we had a bath or a shower, but sometimes, like now, when we had been running around all day, it tasted different. Not as clean but not exactly dirty either. It tasted… sexier.

Millie rocked backwards and forwards, sliding her pussy over my mouth. “This is fun!” she squealed.

“Stop moving around so much!” I told her and she slowed down so I could lick her properly.

I sucked on her little bump and tried to push a finger into her hole. It wouldn’t go right in but I got it up there enough that I could move it in and out a bit.

She gazed down at me with her mouth wide open and a really drowsy look on her face. “Freya… it’s making me feel all funny. I think I’m gonna do a wee or something.” She leaned forward and put her hands on the Menhir Stone to steady herself.

And then we weren’t in the barley field anymore.

I felt my ears pop and there was a weird odor, like how it smells when it starts to rain. I pushed Millie off me and sat up.

We were in a dark, lush forest, and I had no idea how we got here. “Millie, what did you do?!”

“I didn’t do anything! The stone just sucked me in!” Millie shouted at me.

“You’re gonna be in so much trouble when Mum finds out!” I told her. I looked around me. “Where are we?”

Wherever we were, the Menhir Stone had come with us too, but it looked cleaner than it had before, and the runes had disappeared.

“Freya, look,” Millie whispered to me, pointing at something.

All I could see were trees. “What?”

“There. Between those two big trees.”

Then I saw it. Saw her.

“Green lady…” I mumbled.

She was standing a few metres away watching us, her long walnut brown hair swept behind her pointed ears and down across her bare breasts, a single blue jewel on her forehead, strung from a thin vine. Other vines were wrapped around her arms, legs and midriff, and leaves covered her private bits. She was beautiful. And green. Really green…

“It’s the Dryad,” Millie said.

I felt like we were dreaming and wondered if we had fallen asleep in the barley field. “What is this?” I whispered, confused and scared.

This is where it begins, the Dryad said to us in a language I’d never heard, but somehow I could understand every word.

“Where what begins?” Millie asked her.

Where the Tuatha Dé Danann reveal themselves to humanity.

I could hear voices all around me and suddenly we were surrounded by ugly-looking people wearing animal skins and furs. They were short and stocky, had protruding brows and big wide noses, and their hair was shaved into mohicans and tufts, with feathers woven into them. The women were bare-chested and had painted their hair red. They wore colourful beads and stones strung into necklaces, bracelets and earrings.

They reminded me of those cave people we had learnt about in school that had become extinct thousands of years ago.

“Freya, I’d quite like to go home now,” Millie told me and held on to me tightly.

I was aware that we didn’t have any clothes on, but the people didn’t seem to notice us anyway. They were busy talking to a group of Dryads that were standing nearby.

The green woman spoke again. Two hundred thousand cycles ago, the Mammoth Hunters find us. We sense the potential in their women; primitive enough to remember the gifts nature granted their ape ancestors; evolved enough that they might manipulate those gifts: The first witches.

The women were reaching up to touch the Dryads’ hair, laughing and babbling to each other.

“Th-that’s nice and everything, but we’re just kids, really,” I said to the Dryad. “If you wouldn’t mind sending us home now, please? Our mum will be worried about us.”

I did not bring you here, Freya Newton, the Dryad told me. If you wish to leave, go back the way you came.

How did she know my name?

“I’m gonna put my hands on the big stone again,” Millie said and reached out to touch it.

The Dryad tilted her head and looked at Millie curiously. Strange…Your journey does not begin nor end, Millie Newton. It coils in on itself like a Möbius strip, independent of the universe’s cycles. I have not seen one like you in millennia.

Millie looked at the Dryad, then at me, then back at the Dryad again. “Um, yeah, okay. Bye, then!” she said and grabbed my hand. She stuck her other hand on the Menhir Stone.

My ears popped again and both of us fell over and landed on our bums.

I looked around me and the forest had vanished, replaced by the familiar sight of barley fields. Bee was standing nearby wagging her tail, one of Millie’s shoes in her mouth. Billy Buckham sat next to the puppy and gave us a really disdainful look, as if he thought we were idiots.

We were back.


I picked Sadie’s lacy panties up from the floor as she stepped into a fresh pair. They were damp to the touch.

“I think I’d like some sexy underwear. Maybe some nice stockings, too,” I said, more to myself than to my friend.

“You go, girl!” Sadie whooped.

“Think I can pull it off?” I asked her, holding her panties up against my waist and wiggling my bum.

“Well you certainly pulled mine off,” Sadie quipped, glancing over her shoulder at me. She gave me a wicked look. “So Freya likes to take your dirty knickers to bed with her?”

“Yeah, she’s a little perv.”

“Do you think she’d like those?” she asked me, looking at her panties in my hands.

“Oh yes, she’d have hours of fun with them.”

Sadie sauntered over, took her knickers from me and stuffed them into my trouser pocket. “A token of esteem for my favourite student,” she murmured, then kissed me on the lips.

“You’re a very naughty schoolteacher, Sadie Laine,” I told her.

Once we’d dressed and cleaned ourselves up, we headed back to Sadie’s conservatory. Not long after, the girls came bounding in, all wild eyes and rambling words.

“Mum! Millie touched the Menhir Stone and sucked us back in time!” Freya told me, her eyes huge.

“Oh, that’s nice,” I said, browsing through my magazine.

“I didn’t know it was going to do that, Mummy! Someone should put a warning sign next to it!” Millie protested.

“I’m not joking, Mum! We saw cave people! And Dryads, too! I thought we’d be trapped there forever!” Freya explained.

“Well, thank goodness you weren’t, because I need you both to help me cook dinner tonight!” I told the girls. They rambled to Sadie about runic symbols and who had carved them and why.

Billy Buckham strolled in and sharpened his claws on Sadie’s couch, daring us all to tell him he wasn’t allowed to. If he knew something, he certainly wasn’t telling.

What a strange day, I mused as we pulled up to the cottage in the beetle. I’d slept with my best friend, and wasn’t sure where that left us. Was she still my best friend? Was she my lover now? Both? I didn’t know how it would all work out, but I knew one thing: I didn’t want to stop.

As the girls and I strolled up the garden path towards the house, Freya pointed to something in the sky. “Look!” she cried.

I looked up and saw a little yellow shape swooping through the air near the girls’ bedroom window. I was puzzled at first, then realised that it was Millie’s canary.

“It’s Nigel!” Millie shouted, jumping up and down. “He’s flying!”

On to Chapter Seven!


8 Comments on The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 6

  1. Bryan says:

    Great chapter

  2. Steve says:

    Very good story

  3. kinkys_sis says:

    My kind of story, I loved it.

  4. cherryco says:

    What a masterful story! Keeps getting hotter with each new chapter, too. Thanks a million, Blue Jean!

  5. David says:

    Great chapter BlueJean, well written and detailed. Can’t wait for the next chapter. Anxious to hear how Freya reacts with Georgia give her, her teachers panties! I am sure it will get them both playing together again.

  6. BlueJean says:

    Thanks for all the comments.

    This was probably my favourite chapter to write, although I get the feeling the sudden shift towards fantasy put a lot of people off. That’s okay – I’m aware it’s a niche within a niche. But yeah, it was fun to write.

    In the next installment, Millie tames a crocodile, Freya learns to fly, and Georgia accidentally sets the vicar on fire!

  7. Bniv says:

    Great Story. Good character development and good story. Wish chapter’s wold come faster. But we’ll worth the wait.

  8. Kim & Sue says:

    Another very interesting and very hot chapter. Haven’t peaked at the other site where this story already is. Waiting to see it here as we like not having it end to fast for us.

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