The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 10

  • Posted on June 23, 2022 at 2:40 pm

 For a brief summary of this story’s plot, please consult Chapter Links.

by BlueJean

A little human hand upon an ancient tree.

A ripple in the water.

A catalyst. A machine in motion.

I summon the child to the Midnight Garden. To take measure of her. To warn her of the darkness ahead.

She sits amongst the emerald grass and watches the bees with great delight.

Aren’t they pretty?

“Yes, but real bees aren’t blue, and they’re definitely not that big. These ones are like… as big as tennis balls!”

Why do you say they are not real?

“Because… because they’re just dream bees, aren’t they? This is a dream, isn’t it?”

This realm is no less real than the place you call home, little one.

Child… come to the tree…

“Are you a Dryad?”

I am.

“My name’s Millie. What’s yours?”

I am Astris.

“I’m seven. How old are you?”

I am… very old.

“Why are you green, Astris?”

Why are you pink?

“I’m not really pink.”

Then I am not really green.

“Is the other lady a Dryad too?”

Come to the tree… I have so much love for you…

Do not heed the shadow, Millie. Your place is with your mother and your sister.

“But it sounds quite nice, living in a tree.”

Do you feel your wolf’s heartbeat against your chest?

“You mean Bee? It makes me feel safe when she cuddles up to me in bed. Like… like before I was born.”

It is Life you feel – the rhythm of all things living. Embrace it, allow its current to take you where it will. There is nothing for you in the shadows.

“Do you know Mr. Dalliard?”

Young Raymond? I know him well.

“Do you know how old he is? ‘Cause he told me to ask you.”

I will love you forever… Come to the tree…

Do you see the white deer over there, Millie?

“Ya.”

She is my friend. Come and greet her.

“Wooow! She’s so soft!”

Place your head against hers. Touch her mind, as she touches yours. She cares not for tomorrow. Just today. Just for the moment. Do you feel it? Do you understand?

“So soft… I love her…”

Come to me, child…

Beware the darkness, Millie Newton. I am too weak to help you further.

Come to the tree…

Is the child a wolf or a deer, I wonder? Time will tell.

Perhaps this is the way of things. A chain of events that cannot be stopped. A larger picture that has yet to reveal itself.

Come to the tree

Come to the tree

Come to the tree

COME

TO

THE

TREE

***

The storm arrived in the early hours of the morning – Eighty mile an hour winds, thunder, lightning, torrential rain.

The treehouse was one of the first casualties, its wooden planks ripped apart and scattered across the garden. Fences came down too, and the flimsy corrugated plastic roof atop the shed hadn’t stood a chance.

But it was the bees I was mostly concerned for. The high winds buffeted me around as I did my best to secure the hives with straps and emlocks, my beekeeping suit providing little protection against the stinging rain. I wondered why I’d even bothered putting it on – the bees were unlikely to emerge in weather like this.

I hoped the colonies would be spared. The fruit trees would give them some shelter against the storm, true, but I expected at least a few casualties.

When the hives were battened down as well as could be expected, I closed the orchard gate and hastened back to the cottage.

Freya met me at the back door. “Will they be okay?”

I unzipped my veil and pulled it off. “Yeah, I think so. They’ve weathered a few storms before.” Taking my suit, I hung in on the hook behind the door.

It was getting near dinner time but I was in no mood for cooking, so I heated up some tins of soup. God, I missed the days when I could just order a takeaway, but living way out in the sticks has its downsides.

Freya cut, then buttered slices from a fresh loaf of bread for us.

“Call your sister down for something to eat,” I said to her.

Millie had been in her room with Bee most of the day. Ever since Mr. Dalliard had passed away, she had been distant and withdrawn. I’d hoped attending his funeral would help her to come to terms with her grief, but something wasn’t right.

It was my fault.

She had reacted badly to her friend’s death and what had I done? Smacked her for it. I’d never done that before; never would again. I hated myself for it. I wouldn’t blame her if she hated me for it too.

Freya came running into the kitchen in tears. “M-Mum! We have to go! NOW!”

“What’s wrong? Why are you crying?”

“Millie’s gone to the big tree!”

“The oak? Why?”

She handed me a note. It was Millie’s handwriting, written in yellow crayon.

dear mummy and freya
gone to live in the big tree with the dryads
thank you for having me
love from millie
xxx

“What’s this? Why would she go out playing in the middle of a storm?” I said.

Freya grabbed hold of my arm. “No, you don’t understand! She’s in big trouble, Mum!”

I took hold of her shoulders. “Hey, calm down. We’ll go and find her. No need to cry, okay?”

We threw on our boots and raincoats and Freya all but dragged me out the door. We ran through the fields towards the tree, the storm raging all around us. I tried to stop and catch my breath a couple of times, but Freya would have none of it. I couldn’t account for her frantic behaviour.

Until we arrived at the great oak and my sanity deserted me.

Millie thrashed and screamed as thin, spindly roots held her in place against the massive trunk of the old tree. “Mummy!” she wailed as we ran over to her.

“Millie!” Freya sobbed.

“Oh, my God!” I cried, yanking the snaking roots away from her.

Bee was snarling in fury, attacking the vines wrapped around Millie’s legs with frenzied bites. The pup’s wet fur was matted with blood, as if something had lashed out at her, but still she fought on.

Away! a voice seemed to hiss at us, the sound strange and distorted, coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. I told myself it was just the howling wind.

I felt a sudden sharp lash against my face, the pain hot and stinging. I touched my cheek and my hand came away bloody. Ignoring it as best I could, I laboured to pull the roots away from my little girl. “It’s okay, Millie! Mummy’s here now!” I told her.

“Mummy…” Millie whimpered. “I don’t want to fall asleep. D-don’t let me fall asleep…”

Freya was venting her outrage – perhaps at the tree itself. “Leave my sister alone!”

“Freya! Help me pull these roots away!” I yelled and together we tore the vines away from Millie’s body, only to witness them grow back in mere seconds and wrap themselves around her bedraggled form again.

I couldn’t believe what I was seeing. “What the hell is happening?!” I shrieked, near hysterical. I redoubled my efforts, tearing at the roots; ripping them away.

Freya yelped as something whipped against her hand, drawing blood.

“Don’t stop, Freya!” I yelled. “Keep pulling!”

She is mine!

Something struck out at me again, whipping against my chest. I gritted my teeth against the pain and focused on freeing Millie. “Fucking Dryad!” I growled through gritted teeth.

“It’s not the Dryad, Mum!” Freya cried. “It’s Isabel!”

I didn’t have the energy to ask who the hell Isabel was.

Somehow we finally managed to clear the roots away faster than they could grow back. I wasted no time in snatching Millie away from the tree before they had a chance to entangle her again.

No! Give her back!

Some great force of energy barreled into me, knocking me backwards. I hit the ground with a thud, Millie clutched tightly to my chest. I wasn’t letting her go. Not ever.

Freya grabbed Bee and stumbled towards me, and together we scrabbled towards the muddy track. I found my feet and pushed myself up. “Run, Freya!” I screamed, thinking we could get away, but the invisible force that harried us slammed into me again, and I went down.

The terrible voice rattled out a command. Give her to me!

My fragile mind could deny it no longer – Something was here with us. Something not human.

“You’re – not – having – her!” I screamed back. I unzipped my long coat and pulled Millie against my breast, zipping it back up around her. Freya sat between my legs, clutching Bee. “You can’t have her,” I quietly sobbed.

The hairs on the back of my neck stood up. Some part of me knew the thing was circling us, a sixth sense awakened by my adrenaline-panicked state. It was looking for a way to get at Millie. “D-do you know what it is, Freya?”

“It’s – it’s Isabel,” she told me in a small voice.

That name again. “Who’s Isabel?”

“She’s Sadie’s, um, what did she call it? Ancestor. Sadie’s been trying to send her away.”

I tried to process that information, but none of it made much sense. “Why does it want Millie?”

“I don’t know. Sadie didn’t tell me that bit.”

I looked down at my youngest daughter, her head poking out of the top of my coat. “Are you okay, baby? Are you hurt?”

Millie shook her head. “Mummy?”

“Yes, sweetie?”

“I’ve changed my mind. I don’t think I want to live in the big tree after all,” she told me weakly.

I kissed the top of her head. “Freya?”

“Yeah?”

“Pick Bee up. We’re gonna make a run for it again, okay?”

“Okay,” Freya said and hoisted the puppy up in her arms.

I got my feet underneath me. “On three.”

I put myself in a squat, ready to leap into action. “One.”

Gripping Millie’s bum, I lifted her up. “Two.”

“Three!” I sprung up and bolted away.

I felt something crack against my face, almost knocking me unconscious. I fell back down to the muddy ground with a grunt.

Freya scrambled towards me and pushed herself against my body, her eyes wide with fear. “Leave us alone!” she screamed.

It wasn’t going to let us go.

Would it kill us? Could it kill us? I didn’t even know what it was.

I didn’t want to try running again. I couldn’t risk it hurting the girls. Someone would come soon. A dog walker, a tractor, one of those plonkers whose sat nav took them on a little detour. Anyone.

I glared at the great oak. I didn’t know what the hell was going on with that arsehole of a tree, but I swore if we ever got through this, I was going to have the fucking thing cut down. Then I was going to petition to have a McDonald’s built over its stump. And finally, I would take great delight in eating burgers from cardboard cartons made from the big leafy bastard. Ha!

I giggled to myself and then wished I hadn’t. The sound came out shrill and hysterical.

Freya looked back at me. “Are you okay, Mum? ‘Cause I really need you to be okay right now.”

I stroked her wet hair. “I’m fine. We’re fine.”

At least, I thought I was fine until something in the tree caught my eye. The large growth in the trunk, the one that everyone said looked like a figure – suddenly it moved, undulating; writhing; convulsing beneath a skin of bark. A green hand emerged, fingers splayed out, beckoning or perhaps summoning, either way straining at the apparent effort. It disappeared back into the tree again.

I rubbed my eyes with the back of a hand and did my best not to completely lose it. “I did not just see that,” I whispered.

Freya pointed to something in the sky. “Is that smoke?”

A strange black cloud was moving towards us fast, and as it twisted and turned I almost mistook it for a flock of birds, until my ears picked up the accompanying droning sound, becoming louder and louder the closer it came.

“Bees…? Are… are those our bees?” I said, confused.

They flew over us at full speed and slammed into some invisible wall, buzzing angrily. A thin, reedy screech filled the air, the sound terrible and primal. The bees surrounded our attacker, hammering into it again and again. An angry bee was something to be respected –  a combined swarm of thirty colonies was an unstoppable apocalypse.

I could see the thing’s shape inside the attacking maelstrom as it thrashed about, its limbs crooked and wiry, movement harsh and mechanical, like some malevolent wooden puppet. It lashed out, knocking scores of the brave insects dead to the ground, only to be replaced by scores more.

Thunder cracked directly overhead, causing Freya and me to flinch. Seconds later the rain lashed down harder than ever. I knew the bees couldn’t cope in a deluge like this for long.

I stood up and pulled Freya with me. “We have to go. Now!”

But it was too late.

The bees broke off their attack and headed back the way they had come, to the safety and shelter of their hives, huge drops of rain pelting them as they went.

“Don’t go!” Freya called after them.

The creature was scuttling towards us, a terrible four limbed spider, still mostly invisible but for the dead bees hanging from its body by their spent stingers, giving me some sense of its shape and form.

I sat back down on the wet ground and pulled Freya with me. “W-we’re not going anywhere, okay?” I told the wretched thing. “Just don’t… don’t hurt my babies.”

The pounding rain began to wash away the dead bees from the creature’s body, and suddenly the thought of it becoming invisible again filled me with terror. It seemed to squat down a few metres away, appraising us perhaps, looking for a weakness, a way to get to Millie. But what was stopping it from attacking us and taking her?

A mother’s unbreakable bond…

I wasn’t sure if that was my own thought, or if something had planted it in my head.

The rain wouldn’t let up. I considered taking off my coat and using it to shelter the four of us, but I wasn’t letting Millie go, and although I could no longer see our attacker, not being able to see anything would’ve been even worse.

We sat on the muddy track with the rain pelting down on us for what seemed like an age, too terrified to move, too scared to call for help. Not that anybody would have heard us out there.

“Next year we’re going to Disney World for the summer holidays,” I said. Freya gave me a weak smile.

My eyes were starting to feel heavy. I might have drifted off. For seconds? Minutes? Hard to tell. My mind and body were doing their best to cope with the stress, trying to shut me down.

“I’m cold, Mummy,” Millie whined.

“I know, baby. I know.”

Was the thing still here? Was it still watching us? Were we going to die?

I wanted to break down and cry, but I needed to be strong for the girls’ sake.

I don’t know how long we’d been sitting there huddled together – wet, shivering and afraid – before I noticed a dark shape moving through the blanket of rain.

Something was coming up the track towards us – a black apparition, indistinct but undeniable. The creature again? Or some new terror come to torment us?

As it approached I could see it more clearly. It wore a long multi layer wax raincoat, the collar pulled up tightly round its neck. Upon its head a wide brimmed rain hat, and black boots on its feet.

The dark spectre came to a halt a few feet away. It opened its arms wide and spoke. “Oh my God! It’s absolutely pissing down!”

Sadie.

Sadie was here.

I burst into tears. “Sadie! It wants Millie! It’s trying to get Millie!”

My friend squatted down next to us and pushed her hat up. I was never so glad to see that beautiful face in all my life.

Billy Buckham strolled over and sat down next to his mistress, my stressed mind barely registering the fact that he was wearing a little tartan raincoat. The big black tomcat leaned forward and gave Bee a single lick on the snout. The puppy shrunk back, unsure what to make of that.

“Isabel’s here, Sadie,” Freya told her teacher.

“I know,” Sadie replied. “I’m going to send her on her way.”

Grateful as I was to see her face, I suddenly realised she couldn’t help us. She was just a school teacher. “Sadie, listen. You have to go and get help. Bring the police. Bring everyone!”

“It’s okay, Georgia. I have this under control.”

“No, no, you don’t understand! It’s a thing. It’s… a fucking poltergeist or something!”

Sadie put her hand on my shoulder. “I’m a witch,” she told me, quite seriously.

I stared at her. “I mean… you can be a bit of a cow sometimes, but ‘witch’ is a bit harsh.”

She smiled at me. “No. I’m a witch. An actual witch. Self-trained, of course.”

Freya gazed up at her teacher with a look of awe. “Are you? Really?”

“Yes. I know it’s hard to believe.”

I took in the sight of Sadie dressed all in black, a wide-brimmed hat perched on her head, black cat by her side. Did she even realise how she was dressed? A hysterical little giggle escaped my mouth.

“Keep it together, Georgia. You’re the only thing protecting Millie right now,” Sadie told me and stood up. Extending her arm, she gestured to the great oak. “Billy. Go!”

Billy Buckham sprinted towards the tree and leaped onto its trunk, clawing his way up and then bounding from branch to branch. I heard an alarmed squawking somewhere amongst the leafy bough and then suddenly it was raining down black feathers.

Our attacker hissed its outrage and adrenaline rushed through me at the sound. It was still here.

Billy jumped down from the tree and calmly strolled back to his mistress.

Sadie approached the ancient oak. “Isabel! Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú! I bind thee! I send thee!” she shouted, bringing her arm downwards in a graceful arc.

I found my feet and stood there, mouth agape. “Oh, this is new. She’s gone completely mad.”

Millie looked back at me with a dopey grin on her face. “Miss Laine’s a witch. That’s so cool!”

“Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú!” Sadie chanted.

“My daughter gets abducted by a demonic tree-dwelling poltergeist, our bees attempt a rescue mission, and now Sadie’s turned into Gandalf with tits. I knew I should have stayed in the city,” I mumbled.

“At least the rain’s stopped,” Millie offered.

“Yeah, every cloud…” I told her.

“Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú!”

Save your words, little witch. Your magic is weak.

Sadie took a step back. “Whoa! She spoke to me.”

“I think she’s over here, Sadie!” Freya cried out.

I couldn’t see it. I could feel it, though – a dark presence all around us. The hairs on the back of my neck stood on end.

“Forget about Millie, Isabel,” Sadie told the creature. “Focus on me. Billy’s already killed your familiar. Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú! Bogadh ar aghaidh, spiorad!”

“Are you sure you’re saying it right?” Freya asked.

Sadie gave her a look that could peel paint. “No, Freya Newton. I’ve misread the manual and I’m actually saying, ‘How much is the chicken?’ Yes, I’m saying it right!”

“All right, I was only asking,” Freya grumbled under her breath.

“She’s too focussed on Millie. I can’t bind her like this,” Sadie said, pacing back and forth; chanting her weird chant – Elvish or Klingon or whatever the hell it was. At one point she pulled a small bottle of green powder from her pocket and used it to draw strange symbols upon the tree trunk.

Billy Buckham paced around us all the while, our very own feline sentry. Who on earth takes their cat out for a walk in the middle of a rain storm anyway?

I could hear a faint rumbling in the distance and assumed it was thunder until I narrowed the sound to the field next to us. It was getting louder. Something was headed our way. Something big.

“Get behind me,” I told Freya.

It could have been the Moscow State Circus or a horde of Vikings rushing towards us and I don’t think I would have been any more surprised. My sanity had just about reached its limit.

It was almost as strange.

A huge herd of deer came crashing through the hedge on the outskirts of the field.

“Oh, shit…” I mumbled and hoped to hell they would go around us instead of through us.

They did neither, slowing to a trot and surrounding us instead.

“What are they doing?” Freya said, her arms above her head as the animals brushed past her.

A familiar face approached us and sniffed at Millie: the white roe deer she had met in the forest.

Millie popped her hand out of my coat to stroke its head. “Hello.”

The herd came to a standstill and parted to reveal a large, majestic stag. It stood three or four metres away, appraising us with intelligent eyes, its huge antlers festooned with bracken and moss and fern. The proud creature hoofed the ground and snorted, steamy breath billowing from its nostrils.

“Mr. Dalliard…” Millie whispered, and any other time I might have thought to ask her what she meant by that.

“You need to go, Georgia!” Sadie hollered across the herd.

“I can’t!” I told her. “It attacks us if we try to leave.”

“The deer will protect you. Nothing has more resolute strength than the herd. It’s an impenetrable wall.”

“We can’t leave you here alone!”

“Don’t worry about me, I know what I’m doing. Probably. Now go!”

Give her back to me! 

I took a few tentative steps away from the tree, then a few more, the deer moving with us. The ones on the outskirts kicked out their hind legs at something, and I knew the creature was trying to force its way in. “You better be okay, Sadie!” I shouted to my friend as we moved down the muddy track with the herd.

“Trust me, I’m a witch!” Sadie yelled back.

“Mummy, can I ride on Mr. Dalliard’s back?” Millie asked me from inside my coat.

It was kind of cute she had thought to name the impressive looking stag after our recently departed friend, I guess.

“Let’s not push our luck, Pixie,” I told her.

The herd ushered us down the track towards the main road that ran from our cottage and all the way up to the village green. I won’t lie, they weren’t the most pleasant smelling creatures. Freya held her nose shut the whole way home. Millie surveyed our furry honour guard from the cocoon of my coat with wide eyes, making various chuckles and squeaks of approval. I welcomed her good mood – it told me she was coping with her ordeal. And that, in turn, helped me to stay strong.

I was beyond tired. It seemed as if it were more the deer driving me onwards than my own momentum. Freya looked dead on her feet too – I swear she briefly closed her eyes and fell asleep as she shuffled along with Bee in her arms.

As we moved down the road with the deer, I could see Roy Sutton walking towards us in the opposite direction.

“Oh, great,” I mumbled. It was the very last thing I needed, having to explain why we were caked from head to toe in mud, being escorted by a large herd of deer. “Act naturally, girls.”

“Yeah, he might not notice the massive herd of deer,” Freya replied sarcastically.

I put a friendly hand up and forced a smile. “Evening, Roy. Out for a stroll?”

Roy liked to come round for tea every now and then. I think he fancied himself quite the fashion designer, and often gave the girls woolly hats and cardigans that he’d knitted himself. Sadie and I found his camp humour absolutely hilarious. Understandably, he seemed rather at a loss for words right now, though. He came to a halt and pushed himself up against a hedge as the herd ushered us past. “Uh… yeah. H-how are you?” he asked me with a look of abject confusion.

“Yep. We’re good, thanks. Just… you know… stretching our legs before bedtime.” I did a little jog on the spot to emphasise the point. “You must pop round for tea sometime!”

Roy watched us go by with his mouth open. “Okay, then. That’d be… lovely…?”

“Phew,” I said under my breath. “I think we got away with that.”

We finally made it to the cottage and trudged up the garden path to the back door. One by one, the deer began to break away from the herd and make their way towards the fence that normally enclosed the poppy field but now lay collapsed in a shambles, an early casualty of the storm.

The great stag was the last to leave. As it headed after the rest of the herd, it came to a halt on the edge of the fields to look back at us, then raised its head skywards to let out a deafening bellow. There was triumph in that cry – a celebration of life. And then he was gone – galloping through the red flowers and off into the setting sun.

“Bye, Mr. Dalliard,” Millie said in a quiet voice.

We pulled off our muddy boots, leaving them under the porch, then staggered indoors, coats scattered haphazardly upon the floor. I pushed the girls upstairs and into the bathroom, then cranked on the antiquated shower that hung over the tub. The three of us stripped naked and climbed in, all of us too tired for words. The hot water felt so good I almost cried. Freya slumped down and closed her eyes as I shampooed her hair, and it wasn’t long before a bedraggled looking Millie joined her sister.

Once we were free of mud and grime and the shower had warmed us up somewhat, I dried us off, then ushered the girls into my room, pulling back the quilt so we could climb into bed. They curled up either side of me, and I enfolded them in my arms, kissing each one on the brow. “I love you both so much,” were my only words before sleep took me.

***

I watched Georgia and the girls disappear down the track with their deer escort and shook my head in amazement. “Well, would you look at that, Billy.”

Billy wasn’t easily impressed, though. Besides, he seemed more interested in the huge oak tree.

“Yeah, you’re right. We have a job to do, don’t we?”

I held my arms out and spoke in the Celtic tongue of my ancestors. “Isabel Laine! Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú! I bind thee! I send thee!”

Nothing.

I could feel her near me, taut and spiky, the loss of her crow familiar preventing her from leaving the confines of the great oak.

“Tá bearrán thú! Tá sheol thú! It’s time for you to move on, Isabel.”

What was I doing wrong? True, I hadn’t attempted a sending before, but I was pretty sure this was how you invoked the incantation. The hexes I’d inscribed on the trunk should have helped draw her spirit towards the tree, too. Maybe this was out of my league. I was a self-taught witch, gleaning my knowledge from books, manuscripts and what little information I could obtain from accounts of the golden era of coven-trained professional witchcraft.

“Isabel?”

Silence. I could feel her watching.

“Don’t want to talk to me?”

Maybe it was time to try a different approach.

“Do you know who I am?”

No answer.

“I’m your descendant, Isabel. I’m one of yours.”

She didn’t trust me, I knew. But I did get some sense of her curiosity.

“Let me tell you about Eliza.”

Sorrow at the mention of her little girl’s name. And rage too, that I would dare to utter it.

“They sent her away to become a maid for a wealthy family. Those years were hard for her. But later, she married a blacksmith. He was a good man, kind and loving. They had nine children together, Isabel! Can you imagine such a big family?”

I could feel the sharp edges of her being pulsate with heartache and grief.

“She was happy, Isabel. She had a good life. She found a way to move on. Do you understand?”

I knew this to be true. I’d meticulously researched my family history, but that was only part of it. The ancestral memories of every family member that came before me were locked inside my DNA. All animals have ancestral memories, though most humans are no longer aware of theirs. My Wiccan lineage allowed me to tap into mine, though.

“One of your grandchildren went to live in America and became a great healer. She was a witch too, but I don’t think she ever realised it. Do you know what her name was? Her name was Isabel. Eliza named her after you.”

The pain poured out of her. I couldn’t hear it, but I knew she was sobbing her heart out.

The stormy weather had abated a little and the sun peeked through grey clouds. I took my coat off and used it to kneel on, then removed my rain hat.

“Then there was Aunty Joyce. She was a right tomboy! She used to ride motorbikes and fly aeroplanes. She actually flew in The First World War.”

I felt the edges of her spirit soften slightly.

“Oh, I almost forgot Muriel! She really was a witch. Fully trained and member of a Scottish coven. I loved to hear about her adventures when I was little. She came back here to try and send you on, but I guess she didn’t manage it. Do you remember her?”

She hovered close now, smelling me, tasting my energy. I could feel her touch tingling through my skin, my blood, my bone marrow. She was taking measure of my soul. I’d never felt anything like it.

“And then there’s my mum. She’s… well, she’s Mum. She doesn’t have a clue about her heritage, but I still love her to bits. She makes a mean shepherd’s pie, too!”

Blood of my blood… Bone of my bone…

“Yes, that’s right. I’m one of yours. We all came from you, Isabel. Now shall I tell you about me?”

I glanced down at Billy sitting next to me. You’re doing fine. Carry on, I’d like to think he was saying.

“When I was growing up, you were an amusing little family secret. Old Isabel the witch, hung from a tree, ooooh! Spooky! But I didn’t find it funny at all. I thought it was so sad. I could feel your pain, you see. And Eliza’s, too. And I knew something was wrong, so I came here to look for you. I took back the old family name and taught myself witchcraft. I found your old cottage in the woods, where you and little Eliza lived together. And I tried to send you on. Not to punish you, Isabel. Not to hurt you. I tried to help you move on so you could let go of that pain and sorrow – So you could be free of it.”

Eliza… my sweet child…

“You weren’t at your cottage though, were you? You were here, locked inside this tree. I’m not sure how you managed to tether yourself here, but it’s time to let go now, Isabel. Eliza moved on. She was happy in her life. And now she’s out there somewhere waiting for you. So let go, Isabel. Let go. Tá bearrán thú… Tá sheol thú… Mother, Sister, Daughter… be at peace…”

I felt her anger and grief evaporate, and suddenly I saw an image in my mind’s eye: Isabel and her little girl Eliza hanging out the washing together, laughing and chatting. Then the memory was gone.

Isabel’s spirit drifted away from me and towards the tree, binding itself to the great oak’s structure, intertwining with its atoms. Then all at once, she rose up through the great trunk, out into the branches and up again into its leafy canopy before finally dispersing into the sky, up and up to wherever it was the spirit goes.

And then she was gone. I couldn’t feel her presence anymore.

I wiped tears from my eyes. “Did we do it, grumpy boy? Did we send her on her way?”

Billy meowed at me.

“Yeah, I think we did.” Letting out a big breath, I gazed up into the sky. “I hope you find each other.”

I didn’t know what was waiting out there for Isabel. The universe was as much a mystery to witches as it was to regular folk. “Let’s go and see if Georgia and the girls got home safely,” I said to Billy, and was about to head down the path towards the Newton cottage when something stopped me in my tracks.

I regarded the ancient tree and the strange human-shaped growth in its trunk, the one that local legends told was a Dryad. Somewhere in the deepest recesses of my ancestral DNA, an elusive memory resided, just out of reach. Or if not a memory, then the echo of one. I had known of these tree nymphs once.

I cleared my throat and put on my best telephone voice. “Hello? Your Ladyship?” Quite honestly, I felt a bit daft talking to a tree.

Either I wasn’t worthy, or the Dryads were long gone from this world. If she was in there, I wondered why she hadn’t helped us. Perhaps she had in some way – something had warned me that Georgia and the girls were in trouble, after all.

“Fair enough, then,” I conceded.

Billy and I left the great oak and its elusive nymph alone and made our way towards Beekeeper Cottage.

***

I opened my eyes to find Sadie perched on my vanity chair. I exhaled a startled gasp and sat up in bed.

My friend put both hands up, as if surrendering. “Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I let myself in.”

I shook my head, trying to clear the cobwebs away. “How long have you been there?”

“Oh, all night. I didn’t want to wake you.”

“What time is it?” I asked her.

“Early morning. The sun’s not up yet.”

The girls were still tucked under my arms and fast asleep, their heads against my breasts.

“I’m glad you’re okay,” I told Sadie. “I was worried.”

“I’m fine. How’re you all doing? Anyone hurt?”

I shook my head. “Some cuts and bruises, nothing serious. Bee’s injuries looked worse than they were. I’ll need to take her to the vet to get her checked over, though.”

“That’s good to hear.”

There was more to say, of course there was. But I didn’t know where to begin, and my mind didn’t want to go there. So we just kind of stared at one another until Sadie, clearly feeling awkward, stood up. “I… I should go. Could do with some shuteye myself.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” I told her.

“I’m not?”

I pulled back the quilt, inviting her into my bed. “I want you here. We want you here.”

“My clothes are all mucky.”

“So take them off.”

She rolled her eyes at me, then shed her clothes. Letting her knickers drop to the floor, she climbed in next to Freya. “It’s a bit of a squeeze, isn’t it?”

I kissed her on the mouth. “Did you get rid of it? Is it gone?” I needed to know.

She nodded at me. “She’s gone. I’m so sorry, Georgia. I should have told you. I should have explained. If I’d known Millie was in danger—”

I touched her lips with my fingertips and shook my head. “I wouldn’t have believed you – not until I’d seen it with my own eyes.” Another thing occurred to me. “How did you know we were at the tree?”

“Something told me you were in trouble. The Dryad, maybe. I’m not sure.”

That led to more questions, and Sadie did her best to explain it all to me. How she came from an ancient line of witches who could use the memories of ancestors to keep their gifts and skills alive. About how her family had almost forgotten its heritage, until she taught herself the Wiccan arts and changed her name back to Laine – “There’s power in names,” she told me.

And about Isabel and her daughter Eliza, her ancestors from the 17th century. How they fell foul of the witch hunts of the time. How they took Isabel away from her little girl and hung her from the old oak tree.

She told me about Millie’s gifts, too. Of her natural affinity with nature and her ability to communicate with animals on some level. And how she could tap into places of spiritual energy and see things others couldn’t. Sadie told me my daughter needed help to control those powers.

I stroked my little girl’s hair as she slept. “Oh, Millie. Why couldn’t you just have head lice like all the other kids?”

It was all so much for me to take in. But I knew one thing: I needed Sadie. I felt safe with her around. And she had gone and made me fall in love with her, the cow. Dirty trick. Never saw that coming.

Even with all that to think about, somehow I drifted back to sleep again. When next I awoke, I found Millie sucking on my nipple like a baby.

She gave me an abashed glance. “I was going to ask… but you were asleep.”

Sadie was propped up on an elbow behind Freya, watching us. I could see her hips moving against my older daughter’s bum.

“Mum, look,” Freya said and craned her neck back to share a very grown-up kiss with her teacher.

I spat on the palm of my hand and reached down to spread the saliva over my mons, then Millie’s. Pulling her on top of me, I cupped her bottom and let my pussy glide against hers while she suckled on my breast.

Sadie reached round to explore Freya’s folds with her fingers. “Well, someone seems to be getting excited,” she murmured, and nuzzled my daughter’s neck.

Freya succumbed to a fit of the giggles, squirming against her teacher’s touch but then surrendering herself back into Sadie’s embrace.

I wasn’t sure if this was a good time to be doing this with the girls, so soon after the trauma we had experienced the night before. Somehow it felt right, though – a sexual healing, a reaffirming of bonds.

“Put a finger inside her,” I told Sadie. She opened her mouth in mock surprise, then slipped her middle finger into my daughter’s cunt. Freya raised one knee, giving her teacher full access and me a better view.

As I watched Sadie having fun with my eldest, I began grinding myself against Millie, her puffy mound exquisite against my hot cunt. Licking a finger, I pushed it between her arse cheeks and discovered a moist little pucker. I gently teased my way in, probing tentatively to see how she would react.

Millie pulled her mouth away from my nipple with a pop and gazed up at me, a surprised look on her face. “That’s my bum.”

“I know it is. Shall I stop?”

Millie shook her head.

“Can I put it in a little bit more?”

A little grin and a nod of the head gave me my answer. I eased my finger further inside, up to the first knuckle. That was enough for such a little girl, I decided, and began sliding it in and out.

“So nasty,” Sadie groaned as she spooned Freya, her fingers gliding through my older daughter’s slit.

“Let me taste her,” I told my lover.

Sadie  withdrew her hand from between Freya’s legs and brought it to my mouth. I could detect the faint aroma of my little girl on her fingers as I sucked them clean.

I kissed Millie, my tongue parting her mouth gently, and when finally I broke away, my seven-year-old declared, “You’re getting quite good at that, Mummy!”

Sadie brushed her lips across my daughter’s ear. “Freya…”

“Hmm?” Freya replied, still pushing her bum back against her teacher’s groin.

“Feed me your pussy,” Sadie growled, lying back as Freya climbed over her. “No – the other way, honey.”

Freya twisted herself round and slung a leg over Sadie’s head, then both of them were mouth to pussy. Sadie prised my daughter’s bum cheeks apart and held them open, her eyes hungry for the hot pink treasures on display.

“Goodness me,” my friend gushed. “Such sweet little confections.”

“Are you gonna lick me?” a grinning Freya asked her teacher.

“That’s exactly what I’m going to do, Freya Newton. And you can lick my pussy while I lick yours.”

My cunt throbbed to hear my friend speaking so lewdly to my little girl. I pulled Millie against me, grinding myself on her with increased urgency. “Look what Miss Laine’s doing,” I murmured as Sadie snaked her tongue through Freya’s slit and up further through her anus, where she lingered, flickering over the taut rosebud. “They’re being very naughty, aren’t they?”

“Don’t do a fart on Miss Laine!” Millie squealed.

I gave her bum a light swat. “Shhh. Don’t spoil the moment.”

Freya feasted on her teacher’s cunt, pausing once to thrust a finger inside. She seemed to take great pleasure in the sight of it sliding in and out.

“Gosh, your daughter smells incredible, Georgia,” Sadie told me as she supped from my daughter’s holes.

“Hey, Pixie,” I said to Millie, “why don’t you lie on top of me like Freya’s doing with Sadie, but the other way round?”

“On my back?”

“Yeah, that’s it.” I had her recline against my body, pulling her up far enough so her pussy was in my face. Holding her legs apart, I licked up and down her bare slit, the taste deliciously sweet and sour against my tongue.

Millie sucked her thumb as she watched me eat her out, seemingly unaware of how that innocent gesture added fuel to the fire.

“Give your sister a nice kiss,” I told her.

She broke into a grin. “Freya? Mummy wants us to do a kiss, okay?”

Freya looked up from between Sadie’s legs. “Huh? Oh, okay,” she said and leaned over towards her sister.

They both giggled, then poked their tongues out comically. But as they gazed into each other’s eyes, their smiles evaporated and I observed some emotion pass between them, until Freya wrapped her arms around her little sister and declared, “I love you so much, Millie! I’m really glad the tree didn’t eat you, okay?!”

“Th-thanks?” a surprised Millie replied, then the two of them met in a passionate exchange of kisses.

Sadie and I kissed too. I thought I could detect the subtle mushroomy notes of my little girl’s arsehole on her tongue.

“I can taste Miss Laine’s kitty,” Millie told her sister, mirroring my own thoughts.

I needed to taste Millie’s arse for myself. Lifting her legs up, I spread the cheeks of her bum apart. Her little rosebud winked at me, inviting me to play. I bathed it with my tongue, exploring my seven-year-old’s most private of places, then drew the coppery taste back into my mouth.

“Dirty mummy,” Sadie hissed at me as I rimmed my little girl.

“Let’s make them come,” I said to my friend and lover. We lashed our tongues against the girls’ hairless pussies, spreading them open, nuzzling on their clits until the both of them, writhing against us, burst into spasms of ecstasy.

Freya cried out as she rode her climax to its inevitable conclusion.

Millie squirmed against me as I teased out her orgasm. “Mmm… I just luuurve wriggly little pink cuties for my breakfast!” I cooed at her, rubbing her tummy.

“I think it’s the big girls’ turn to come now,” Sadie declared.

We got the girls on all fours while we rubbed ourselves against their bums, me with Freya and Sadie with Millie.

Sadie humped my youngest, slapping against her backside. “Yeah, gonna fuck you, little girl. Gonna rub my cunt on your sweet little arse.”

The aroma of our lovemaking hung heavy in the room – a potent, heady musk that seeped into my very being, fuelling my arousal. I breathed it in, grinding my sopping bush up and down Freya’s bum, eyes glued to Sadie as she fucked my seven-year-old.

“Say it, Millie. Say ‘Fuck me, Miss Laine’,” Sadie told my daughter.

Millie looked to me for approval. “Am I allowed to, Mummy?” she asked, her voice a comical warble as Sadie rode her.

“Yeah, say it, baby. I bet you’ll make Sadie come nice and hard if you do,” I told her.

Millie looked back at Sadie and grinned. “Fuck me, Miss Laine!” she shouted and then poked her tongue out at her teacher.

“What a naughty little girl,” Sadie whimpered. “I – I should give you detention. But I think I’m going to come all over your cute bottom instead. Ah! Fuck!” She ground out her orgasm, leaving a portion of Millie’s bum glistening with a milky glaze. Drawing my youngest close, Sadie planted tender kisses upon her neck. “Oh, Millie Newton… you’re such a little sexpot.”

Raising myself from Freya’s bum, I shoved two fingers into my cunt and hammered them in and out, using the other hand to strum my engorged clit. “Mummy’s gonna come on you!” I cried, then exploded into a shuddering climax, spraying fluids over my older daughter’s arse and lower back.

Dazed and out of breath, I offered my wet fingers to Freya, who took them into her mouth. “Taste Mummy’s pussy,” I murmured. “Good girl.”

As the four of us collapsed in a tangle of sweaty limbs, I turned to Sadie and kissed her passionately. “Thank you,” I told her.

“What for?” she asked, her breathing laboured.

“Everything.”

***

We all dressed and headed downstairs to find Billy Buckham sitting in Bee’s bed in the kitchen. The puppy sat a safe distance away and whined as she regarded the big tomcat mournfully. Billy stared back with hard eyes that clearly conveyed, This is my bed now. Deal with it.

Sadie touched me on the shoulder. “I need to make one last visit. Will you and the girls come with me?”

“To the tree?” I slowly shook my head. “I can’t go back there, Sadie.”

“Not the tree… though you will need to face it one day. I meant Isabel’s house in the woods.”

“I really don’t want to,” I told her. “I won’t put the girls in any more danger.” All the awful memories of the night before came rushing back to me.

Sadie held my hand. “She’s gone, Georgia. I promise you she has. I need you to see who she was. And you need to face your fears while they’re still fresh, otherwise they’ll fester inside you.”

I looked into her eyes. She was right. If I didn’t venture out now while the trauma was still raw, I might be stuck in this house forever, a frightened recluse.

Steeling myself, I gave Sadie a single nod before my courage could fail me.

She nodded back. “Good. Wellies on, girls! We’re going for a nice walk.”

We headed out and strolled through the poppy field. The storm had done a fair amount of damage, and what the storm started the herd of deer had finished, flattening many of the red flowers when they stampeded through. It suddenly occurred to me – I didn’t have a clue who actually owned the field. Was it part of our land, or one of the neighbouring farmers? I couldn’t recall anyone planting them. Presumably someone would come to harvest what remained of the poppies at some point.

It was a beautiful day. Last night’s storm had blown over and the sun blazed overhead, evaporating puddles and infusing the surrounding countryside with its life-affirming glow. If it wasn’t for the broken tree limbs and occasional toppled fence, I never would’ve believed there had been a storm at all.

I was glad I’d decided to come out. I could feel my spirits lift. The girls ran ahead as we strolled through the forest, wood pigeons and cuckoos filling the air with their sweet summer songs.

We found our way to the remains of the old hut. I hung back and put my arms round the girls, my protective instinct kicking in.

Sadie inspected the brown mushy remains of the toadstools that, not long ago, had festooned this place. “This is good. The mushrooms dying means there’s no magic left here to sustain them.”

“Scarlet elf cups aren’t supposed to grow in the summer,” I told her.

Sadie grinned at me. “Exactly. It was Isabel’s power keeping them alive. Some small part of her still inhabited this place. It was home, after all.”

“She lived here with her daughter?” I asked, recalling what Sadie had told me earlier about her ancestor.

“Yep. Just a mother and her little girl. Cooking and cleaning, tending to their vegetables, making herbal remedies,” Sadie told me. She smiled, but I saw sadness there. “Hanging out the washing together…”

I let the girls go, and they went to inspect the old fireplace with Bee and Billy.

“She was just a normal mum, Georgia. She didn’t deserve what happened to her. It wasn’t her fault.”

I nodded. I had no sympathy for the thing that had tried to hurt my little girl, but I could empathise with Isabel the mother, trying her best to etch out a life for herself and her little girl in a harsh, less forgiving time.

Sadie gave Millie and Freya each a single poppy. “Place them inside the fireplace, girls,” she told them and they made an offering of the crimson flowers, carefully laying them down. “Who can tell me another name for ‘fireplace’?”

“Radiator?” Millie offered.

“Good try, but no. Freya?”

“Um… stove?”

“Another good effort, but not quite. ‘Hearth’ is another word we can use. And I bet you can guess where the word ‘hearth’ comes from.”

“Heart,” both girls chimed together.

“That’s right. And we call it that because the fireplace is the heart of the home. That’s why we place the flowers here, as an offering to the heart.”

“Are you really a witch, Miss Laine?” Millie asked her teacher.

“I really am, Millie Newton, although ‘Witch’ seems a bit old-fashioned. I was thinking of something a little more up to date. How about ‘Special Earth Magic and Mystic Arts Operative’?”

“I like ‘witch’ better,” Freya decided.

“Me too,” agreed Millie.

“Uh… yeah, I’d stick with the old favourite, I think,” I concurred.

“Can I be your apprentice, please?” Millie inquired politely.

“Hmm.” Sadie put a hand to her chin to ponder that little bombshell. “I’m quite a new witch, you know. Not sure I’m ready to train anyone just yet.” She looked Millie up and down, appraising her. “Someone needs to give you some guidance, though. Those powers of yours are going to get you into trouble otherwise.” Hands on her hips, Sadie gave Millie a single nod. “Very well, Millie Newton. You can be my witch’s apprentice. Just don’t tell anyone.”

“Oh, yay!” Millie squealed, jumping up and down.

Freya looked a little crestfallen. I put my arm around her. “Do you want to be Sadie’s apprentice, too?” I asked her.

She shrugged and gazed forlornly down at her feet. “I’d like to, but I’m not really good at anything, am I?”

“Freya Newton!” Sadie boomed.

“Yes, miss!” Freya responded, standing to attention.

“Parsley. Tell me what it’s good for.”

“Er… it’s good for bones and eyesight and… it’s also antibacterial. It can help prevent cancer as well, I think.”

“Correct. Herbs are a vital tool in the witch’s arsenal, and you’re becoming quite the expert. I think I’ll take you as my apprentice, too.”

“Oh. Thanks,” Freya said, trying to play it cool, as if somehow we couldn’t all see the huge delighted grin on her face. I swept my daughter’s hair back and smiled at her.

As the girls chattered away excitedly, we left the remains of the old hut behind and made our way back home.

“School starts again Monday morning, girls,” Sadie told them. “I’ll expect you there bright and early.”

“Yes, Miss Laine,” the girls chanted.

The summer holidays were almost over. What a strange few weeks it had been. Tree nymphs and dark spirits, ancient oaks and mysterious ruins in the woods.

And sexy games. Wonderful erotic sexy games with my kooky, witchy friend and my two beautiful little girls.

As we strolled down the track towards home, I glanced back at the forest. Isabel had moved on. I think it was about time I did too. No more guilt. No more mourning the past.

I touched the back of Sadie’s neck, stroking her there. “Hey.”

“Hmm?”

One final leap. Do it. No regrets. “Um… D’ya wanna be my girlfriend?”

Sadie came to a halt with a look of comical surprise etched upon her face. “Oh. Well. I’ve never had a beekeeper girlfriend before.”

I shrugged. “That’s okay, I’ve never had a witch girlfriend.”

She kissed me on the lips. “Yes, Georgia Newton. I think I’d like to be your girlfriend very much.”

I put my arms around her, and together we shared a deep, affectionate kiss, and in that kiss I knew we were bound as lovers.

“Ooooooooh!” the girls cooed at us, and Millie cried, “Mummy and Miss Laine, sitting in a tree! K-I-S-S-I-N-G!”

“Come here!” Sadie cackled, chasing after them. “I’m gonna turn you both into newts!”

We ran after the giggling girls. Down the dirt track and through the field of poppies. Back to the wildflower meadow where the bees and the butterflies toiled away. Back to the orchard and my beloved apiary. Back to our little beekeeper’s cottage.

Back where the honey flows.

The End

                                                     

Millie and Freya Newton opened the garden gate and strolled up to their cottage after a busy day at school. It was their first day back after the summer holidays, and the first day was always tiring.

Their mother Georgia opened the door for them, as she did every school day. “Yes? Can I help you?” she asked them.

Freya sighed. “Not this again.”

Millie giggled. “We actually live here.”

Georgia frowned and put a hand on her chin. “I think you must have the wrong house. I don’t remember sharing my cottage with two little girls.”

“I’m Millie and that’s Freya,” Millie explained.

“Nope, it’s not ringing any bells,” Georgia insisted.

“Well, can we come in for a bit and have some dinner?” Freya asked.

Georgia thought about that. “Hmm… I suppose you can stay for an hour or two.”

“That’s very kind of you, madam! Fank yoo!” Millie said, prancing indoors.

The girls put their school bags down, took their shoes off, and then made their way into the kitchen for a pre-dinner snack.

Millie picked something up from the dining table. “Mummy, what’s this?”

Georgia inspected the object. “It’s an acorn. A very large acorn. Good find, Pixie.”

“I didn’t find it. It was on the table.”

“Well, I didn’t put it there. Freya?”

“It wasn’t me,” Freya replied. “Is it supposed to be that big?”

“I’ve never seen an acorn that big, I have to say. It’s such a deep green, too,” their mum told them.

Wearing frowns, Georgia and the girls regarded the impressive-looking acorn and then each other. Soon enough, smiles slowly crept onto their faces.

The Dryad was finally free of the dark power that had infested the great oak tree for nearly four hundred years. Surely, this was her gift to the Newton family and the young witch, Sadie Laine: this jewel of an acorn. New life, new beginnings – a seed of possibilities.

“Oh…!” the three of them chorused together in amazement.

 

24 Comments on The Beekeeper’s Daughters, Chapter 10

  1. BlueJean says:

    Beekeeper Timeline:

    200,000 BCE (Before Common Era) – Neanderthal hunter gatherers discover the Dryads, ancient forest spirits who inhabit great trees. The Dryads recognise the latent power inherent in Neanderthal women and help nurture it, ushering in the first age of witchcraft.

    40,000 BCE – Modern humans discover Britain after the last Ice Age. Most of the ancient trees have perished in the inhospitable conditions and the remaining Dryad have barely survived. Mutual cooperation between humans and Dryad begin.

    2000 BCE – The Celtic people of Britain live in harmony with the Dryad. Great stone monuments are erected across the country and witchcraft flourishes.

    43 CE (Common Era) – The Roman Empire invades Britain, cutting down ancient trees and killing Dryad. The remaining Dryad go into hiding and vow never to reveal themselves to humanity.

    1652 – Isabel Laine is arrested and charged with witchcraft, and subsequently hung to death from the village of Derwold’s ancient oak, but the Dryad Astris reaches out to comfort her during her final moments, enabling Isabel, in fear and desperation, to tether her spirit to the tree and feed off the nymph’s power.

    1903 – Ten-year-old Raymond Dalliard is seduced and almost killed by Isabel. Astris heals the boy, saving his life and granting him an extended lifespan in the process.

    2015 – Sadie Simmons moves to Derwold to discover more about her ancestor Isabel. She adopts her ancestral family name, Laine, teaches herself the Wiccan arts, and takes a job as the local school teacher.

    2016 – Georgia Newton moves to Derwold with her two young daughters after the death of her husband.

    2021 – The events of The Beekeeper’s Daughters take place.

  2. Bryan says:

    Absolutely fantastic started off with a bang super hot in the middle and a beautiful ending

  3. SugoiiKacey says:

    I have to say… Wow.
    As a Wiccan I love how all of the supernatural aspects were described and played out.
    Neat also to finish it timed here around Midsummer..
    (I saw someone commented it was elsewhere before here at JS but still neat timing).

    A lot of stories in a place like JS end up being the “extra plot” to give reason for the sex. Sure the sex is well written but overall plot lacks. Here it feels the reverse in a way.
    The sex, then full family relationshipping, supported the build up of an epic story outside of it.

    All in all, an awesome writing and thanks for it!

    Obviously now is a stage where I’d love to know how well Millie does later on in life with her mystical aspects.
    Freya, the goddess of love fertility & sex namesake, has a different path somewhat…but feel the name certainly suits her.

    • BlueJean says:

      Well, I’m honoured to have a real witch read my story.

      I must admit, I didn’t do a great deal of research into Wiccan, but rather built my own mythology based on some of those ideas and other pagan belief systems.

      When you incorporate elements like that into erotica it can be very divisive, I’ve discovered, so when I get comments from people who enjoyed that aspect, it kind of makes my day. Thanks for that.

      I suspect Sadie and the Newtons will be back at some point, although I’m not quite sure where their paths will take them yet. Actually, I didn’t know where this story was going until I sat down and wrote it, so maybe that’s what I need to do again.

  4. Erocritique says:

    .
    A thrilling and satisfying conclusion Blue Jean!!!! The level of creativity was sustained right through to the end. Incredible. I was amazed at the resiliency of the girls after all they had been through; but kids are funny like that. Of course having a sexy mommy and their sexy teacher to “distract” them from the chaotic events certainly helped. I don’t know what you’re eating that fuels your imagination, but please don’t change your diet. Thank you Blue Jean and all at JS for this delightful tale. ❤️❤️❤️❤️❤️

    • BlueJean says:

      When I was little, the vicar used to come to our school and hand out those little Gideon bibles. The pages were so thin, me and my friends used to tear them out and eat them. I’ve been eating books ever since, and credit my overactive imagination to my unique diet.

      Of course, all I would say is, if you’re going to eat books, try to read them first.

      Thanks for your comments throughout the ten chapters!

  5. Kim & Sue says:

    We found the bee keeper timeline very helpful. A real gem of a story.

  6. JetBoy says:

    This story was a blast and half to edit (just as pleasurable as working on the Tequila Kid sagas, which is really saying something), and even better to read. An erotic masterpiece. BlueJean is a writer to watch, no question.

    • BlueJean says:

      It was kinda fun to work on, wasn’t it?

      I’m pretty sure I spent more time revising and tweaking the story for JS than I did actually writing it. It was worth it though.

      • Sapphmore says:

        Yup, he does have a way of getting you to do that.

      • Purple Les says:

        I know just what you and Sapphmore are saying. And it’s well worth it. Great story BlueJean, and well done as always JetBoy.

        Like David says below, a story with a plot is very enjoyable. I have nothing against just a sex story, I love them, but stories like this add a rich deep dimension that make the sex even better.

        So hope to see more from you BlueJean. Many great stories these days. BlueJean and KinkyChic, special shout outs to you, as well as all the authors here. And Keiko hope to see more from you as well. And a shout out to JetBoy again.

        • BlueJean says:

          Thanks for the kind words, Purple Les.

          By the way, it was your My Family, Friends and Sex that made me realise erotica could invoke more than just arousal. Katy’s mother dying absolutely destroyed me, and I think it was probably the inspiration behind me killing a character off in a previous series of mine. I say “I think” because try as I might, I simply couldn’t get away from the fact that she was going to have to die. And it hurt like hell writing it. By the time I started writing Beekeeper, I knew erotica could be more than simply sex, even if stories with plots are not always as popular as fuck stories.

          • Purple Les says:

            thank you so much, BlueJean, for the very kind words. I still feel like the new kid here even though I’ve been here awhile now. I had no idea I’d influenced anyone, so thanks for letting me know. It really touched me.

            Cheryl took a chance on me and helped me and guided me very generously. I take a moment here to thank her again, and still miss her.

            Thanks also to Poppa Bear, sadly missing, and thanks again to JetBoy and Naughty Mommy and Amanda Lynn, and all the writers and readers.

  7. David says:

    As most good stories I hate to see it come to and end, even though I know they have too at some time. This was a very good, well written and researched story. A story with and actual plot besides just sex is more exciting to read then just having sex over and over. Thanks BlueJean for writing and submitting it. It has given me many hours of pleasure.
    I look forward to reading more of your future stories.

  8. kinkychic says:

    My sister and I have been following this story more or less together. We are both fantasy/scifi fans.
    This is fantasy at it’s best – utterly riveting. Most of it I would have enjoyed without the erotic interludes. A skilled fantasy writer turns the unbelievable into the believable if the reader has the right kind of receptive mind. What is gibberish to some, is a work of art to others. For us, this is indeed a work of art.
    Thank you for the pleasure.

    • BlueJean says:

      Thanks so much to you and your sister.

      If just a few people have enjoyed the fantasy parts, it makes me feel it’s been a worthwhile endeavour.

      Not sure about a work of art, though. I suppose it could be a Jackson Pollock – words splattered haphazardly across the page. 😋

  9. cherryco says:

    Beautiful. Totally beautiful. One of the best erotic stories ever! Great job, Blue Jean!

  10. Brianne Sheely says:

    What a great story Blue Jean. More please!

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