tagIncest/TabooThe Chamberlain Coven Ch. 06-08

The Chamberlain Coven Ch. 06-08

byGlaze72©

Hello All:

Been a while since I have updated this story, but since I have "The Balance" finished, look forward to more stories in the tale of John and his horny coven. As always, your comments and votes are appreciated.


Chapter 6


"It began long ago and far away," she said, the old phrases falling like ritual cadences from her lips. "How long and how far is anyone's guess, and oral tradition is always remarkably inconsistent when it comes to exact dates and places...

"But it is told that the ultimate grandmother of our line met a High One in the woods. One of the ancient hunting gods, I venture to guess, though the stories are vague about which one it was. One story is that it was a female of our line who met a male being of power. The other goes the other way around. For myself I believe it was the first, simply based on the fact that our line bears so few male children, and that to this day the females of our line have almost no control when in the vicinity of men who have any power within them at all."

"Power, Mother? Power of what type?"

"The power of the mind, Susanna. You know what the women, aye, and some of the men of our line can do. Cast charms of finding and binding. Of health and of comfort. Even those which will help a man or woman cast off shyness and risk rejection to approach the partner they desire."

"Momma," Susanna asked, "now that we have crossed, when will we be joining the coven?"

Claire looked surprised, "You already have, child. Didn't you know?" At their look of confusion she said, "How did you know how to draw the charms you put on your legs when you were waiting for John to arrive, Susanna? Lust and fertility, weren't they? We never taught them to you. Once you crossed the knowledge entered your mind as a gift of the Goddess. Johnny, the same holds true for you. You had never seen a baldness charm in your life until Susanna drew it on your cock," she said, gently cradling the organ in question, "but you recognized it straight away.

"So we have power. And we desire those who have power. But we do not hoard it like a miser with a strongroom. That leads to cackling."

John smiled, "You stole that from Terry Pratchett."

"Theft is an even more sincere form of flattery than imitation. Pratchett may not have approved of our coven, but I think he would have understood our morals, such as they are.

"Witches who value their own power more than those they aid, who wish to dominate, to control others, risk falling into evil. To going over to the Dark One. That is what cackling is, children. When your power and what it can get you is more important than the people around you.

"And when it happens, we stamp. It. Out."

Susanna raised her head from John's shoulder, where it had been pillowed in contentment, and looked at her mother. She was no longer a parent telling a story to her children. Her face had gone grim and cold, and terrible deeds were written there.

"Not in our coven, Mother, surely!"

Claire's eyes softened as she looked at her youngest daughter, "No, Susanna. Not in our coven or in our line. For that is the bargain we struck with the Goddess these many centuries past.

"After your many-times grandmother lay with the High One, she brought forth a son. She had been a woman of power, and so was her child. And being what she was, when her child Crossed, it was to each other that they clove and mated.

"The Goddess did not look upon this pairing altogether favorably. The High Ones have always been jealous of their power, and do not share it happily with humans. Not that I can totally blame them. We do well enough in destroying each other with mundane means.

"So the Goddess sought to bind this power to the land. She came to our pair and offered them a bargain. In exchange for a continuation of their line, their power would be bound and made sexual in nature. There is great power in that act, as you well know.

"Every orgasm is a ritual, every climax a sacrament.

"But it has to be done in love and in cooperation with a willing partner. That is why what the Dark One tried terrified us so much, darlings. There was no love in John's heart when he came to you, Susanna. Indeed, John barely existed. The Dark One would have taken you, willing or not, and our bargain would have been undone. All the bright, shining power which we have wielded for these many centuries would have been as dust in our hands. We would have been broken and lost. And if he had succeeded in impregnating you, Susanna, who knows what terrible crimes would have been committed in our names.

"But think you no more on that. We have won. The ritual has been closed. While John is your mate, Susanna, any sexual energy you produce through orgasm will be transformed to power, even if it is not John who brings you to climax. Even if you choose to bind yourself to another to satisfy the good people of Des Moines. If you wish, you may learn to direct it, and use it for the good of nature or the community. Or you may choose to set it free and let the Goddess do with it what she will."

Claire paused. John thought about what she said. "Mother, if that is true, then when I become Eleanor's mate, and Hilda's and Agatha's, we will be releasing a tremendous amount of power."

"That is true, John. Your sister and your cousins have been mateless. Every time they have brought themselves to orgasm, or have laid with a man that pleased them, they have generated energy which was denied a natural outlet. It has manifested itself in a series of ever-stranger ways. Remind me," she said sourly, "to tell you about Hilda and her microwave, or the real reason why Eleanor couldn't keep that damned Toyota of hers running.

"And keep in mind, children, always, that the power flows both ways. We direct it, when we choose. But it also directs us. We can choose to control it or let it flow free. But it also has a stake in the game, and directs our minds and choices."

"Like the crossing," said Susanna. Her hand tickled John's scrotum playfully, then twitched upwards onto his growing cock, urging it to fullness.

"Like the crossing. Stop that, Susanna," she said, slapping her hand away from John's phallus.

Eyes angered, Susanna drew herself to her knees and faced her mother across her brother's body. "He is mine!" she growled.

Claire did not lower her eyes or give way. She met Susanna, glare for glare, asserting her authority as her parent. Slowly Susanna's shoulders sank and she looked down, shamefaced.

"I'm sorry, Momma. I don't know what came over me."

"I do. It is the power. You have just crossed. It is a strong force now. It wants you to be with your brother and to conceive. Enjoy the pleasure it brings to you. No one in this family will begrudge you that.

"But you will have to learn to share, just as you did when you were a child. The power will wish for you to keep John for yourself. Do not listen to it. If it has its way, it could drive you to jealousy and anger.

"And that is not the only way it can play with your minds. John, after you crossed, did you have any thoughts that fucking your sister was wrong?"

John's forehead furrowed. He thought back to those last sweaty hours before he crossed. They seemed to belong to someone else. Someone weaker, slower, stupider.

"No, Mother, I didn't. And don't," he turned his head and kissed Susanna tenderly on the lips, "It seems like the most natural thing in the world."

"And what about screwing Eleanor or your cousins? Your Aunt?" her voice roughened, "Your mother?"

John shook his head again.

"You see? Six hours ago you would have been horrified by the thought of shagging members of your family. But now you have crossed and the power is raging within you. So you can lie here, with your sister on one side and your mother on the other, covered with sweat and love-juice, and think it the way things ought to be.

"It may be natural for us. But always, always remember that what is now natural for you does not extend beyond the doorways of our houses. Here we are warded and guarded. Out there," she jerked her head, "there are those who would happily reenact the witch-hunts of the middle ages if it provided them with an target to hate.

"But now," she said.

"Now, my son, it is time for you to take me."

************

Susanna swallowed the sick tide of jealousy that rose within her. She and John had just screwed for the first time. Despite the mind-blowing orgasms which she had experienced, her cunt was hot for her brother's cock again. Why did her mother get a turn? She wasn't John's mate. And she was old. Over forty. She wouldn't be bearing any witch-children for the line or the coven.

Remembering what her mother had told her, she forced down the anger. She got out of the bed. John and Mother were lying next to each other, hands softly stroking sides and flanks. Walking softly, she moved to the door. Hopefully the dildo that Hilda had bought her for her last birthday would help quench the craving in her pussy.

Claire saw the movement out of the corner of her eye. Without moving, she asked, "Susanna, honey, where are you going?"

"I....I...thought..." Susanna gave up and waved her hands helplessly, eyes filling with tears of bitter shame and sorrow.

"You thought I would kick you out of your mate's bed on the night you first crossed?" Claire's voice was disbelieving, "What sort of monster do you think I am?"

"John, do you want your sister to leave?"

"Hell no," said John, lifting his face from Claire's neck, which he had been licking eagerly.

"And I certainly don't want you to leave. Come on back here and help an old lady out."

Her face shining with joy, Susanna hopped back into bed. She knelt at the foot and watched her mother and John.

Her mother was certainly built well for a woman her age, she admitted to herself. Her breasts were nearly the size of Susanna's own. Perhaps even slightly larger. And if they had a slight sag from nursing babies, or if her softly rounded tummy bore a few stretch marks, these were marks of accomplishment, not blemishes.

I came from there, she realized, looking at her mother's cleft as John kissed his way down her neck to her breasts. The lips shone with dew, and the brown hair was neatly trimmed. And I nursed at those breasts. They gave me milk when I was hungry. They are so beautiful. She is so beautiful. I wonder if she would like to fuck me when she is done with Johnny? She remembered their moment in the kitchen and a surge of desire hit her. She realized she was gently masturbating again, one hand frigging her clit softly, the other kneading her breasts and nipples.

I'm not a lesbian. Am I? She thought of her friends at school. Tricia and Naomi and the rest. Though they were all attractive girls, especially Elizabeth with her exotic (for Iowa) Philippine heritage, nothing answered within her. Then she looked at her mother, and she had to force herself from stuffing her hand wrist-deep in her cunt, so fierce was her lust for her. She cast her thoughts to her older sister, Eleanor with her long black hair. How would it look, she imagined, if she had a handful of it in each hand like a set of reins, and was driving a strap-on into her twat? Or her aunt. She would like to peel that flower-child dress of hers off and maul her breasts with her mouth. Or Hilda. You could bounce a quarter off that ass, and by remarks Hilda had let drop, Susanna knew that her urge to rut was always on a hair-trigger. And what about Agatha, she moaned to herself. She acted so pure, with her milk-maid looks and her conservative clothes, but Susanna bet there was a horny college slut underneath. Someone who watched so many super-hero movies couldn't be kink-free.

Oh, Goddess, the power, she thought, and came onto her hand, breathless with desire. Despite her release, her pussy did not cease throbbing with need. Her orgasm had not quenched her desire, but had instead increased it.

If this keeps up, I am going to have to start wearing skirts to school. Easier access will be important if my cunt is always so horny.

Near her on the bed, Claire and John were entwined together. Their motions seemed gentler than the frenzied fuckfest which Susanna and John had recently completed. Concentrating, Susanna could see how Claire gently guided John, directing his hands and lips to those places where they would give her the most pleasure.

Claire expertly rolled John onto his back and straddled him. Leaning down, she gave him her mouth while her hips slowly rose and fell, gently grazing the sensitive skin of his cock with the equally sensitive skin of her pussy, teasing him into a frenzy. His hips twitched upwards, trying to enter her, but she drew back just enough to deny him entrance. Leaning forward, she urged his mouth to her breasts, sighing in approval as he drew on them like a nursing babe.

"More, sweetheart, just a little more," she moaned, "just a little bit with the teeth, oh, well done, darling," she continued as his teeth gently scraped her sensitive nipple, sending yet another surge of pleasure through her body. She pulled her torso upright again, and his hands followed her, cupping her breasts, eyes wise with wicked knowledge as they gave one of her nipples a little pinch.

"Yes, that is it, my son," she said. Truly, my husband, she said to her long-dead lover, your son is proof that old Gregor Mendel wasn't a complete idiot. You have passed your inheritance on to him, and I am full grateful. It was time.

Disdaining the need that younger women have to guide a cock into themselves with their hands, Claire paused. Moving her hips purposefully, she ran her pussy up John's cock one last time, coating her son's phallus with her own sweet nectar. Canting her hips at a different angle, she sank down, and John's eyes widened as she impaled herself upon him.

Claire could have wept for joy when she felt John enter her. For the first time in six long years she had a man inside her. Pussy lips stretched wide, she mashed her groin onto his, twisting her body as she rose and fell, delighting in the long-lost feeling of sex.

Suddenly she felt a presence at her back. She started violently, then relaxed as she recognized Susanna. She had almost forgotten they were in the same bed.

Foolish to expect her to stay uninvolved, Claire, she thought. It's a miracle she held out this long.

Susanna's hands gently stroked her, then curved around Claire's torso to cup one of her breasts. At the same time, John's hands were everywhere on her front, then curled behind her to grasp her buttocks, seeking to control the rhythm of their lovemaking.

"Do you like it, John? Do you like fucking your Mommy?" Susanna's voice was thick with longing. Outside, thunder rumbled, and a flicker of lightning briefly brightened the dimness of the room. "Does it feel good?" She ran a series of kisses across Claire's shoulders, pausing to flick her tongue along the nape of her neck. Frowning slightly, she drew away for a moment. She leaned over to open the bedside table and smiled as she found what she sought. Working quickly and taking care not to disturb her mother's motions, she bound Claire's hair in a simple hair-band.

"There, Mother. Now you won't have to worry about your hair when you should be fucking your son. And neither of you have answered my question. Do you like it? Are you enjoying your little taste of incest? Johnny, are you going to fuck a baby into your mother? I thought she was too old before, but now I know I was wrong. She has a seed right here," she laid her hand on her mother's trembling belly. If you do your job right, you can give me a little sister."

John trembled with desire as Susanna's dirty talk filled his ears. Claire was affected as well, gasping lewdly as she lowered her head to kiss him, tongue darting between his teeth to mate with his. Driving his hips up, he frowned slightly. There was a new feeling where their bodies joined together. A hot wet feeling, almost like someone was licking...

"Susanna!" he said, shocked.

For a moment, his mother paused. He looked down the length of his body to where she had stopped, halfway down his pole. In the dim light he could see the shining crown of Susanna's pale blonde head. She shifted, and he felt her tongue ride up his phallus and then disappear, obviously licking the folds of his mother's pussy.

From above there was a quiver and then a full-on shout of laughter.

"Oh, well done, my daughter. If anyone ever doubted you were of our bloodline, you have proven it now. Oh no," she purred happily, "don't stop. You have begun this game. Now you must see it through to the end." She started moving again, this time keeping her body low and her strokes high to give Susanna the best possible access to their groins.

Claire draped her body across John's chest. Their mouths kissed frantically, tongues and teeth invading and nipping. John's hands were flat on Claire's chest, kneading her breasts and rolling her nipples between his fingers. Suddenly Claire's pace increased. She bucked backwards, thrusting her pussy against Susanna's mouth at the same time she ground herself forcefully down onto John's cock. The muscles of her pussy spasmed, clenching hard around his dick.

"Oh...ohhhh... ohhhhGoddess!" she screamed, and the pent-up fury of six years of chastity broke within her, climaxing so hard she barely felt John's orgasm rip free in turn. At the foot of the bed, Susanna gave a muffled shriek as the energy of their orgasms crashed through her body and triggered her own.

Outside, the thunderstorm, which should have faded out over central Iowa, received a new impulse of energy. Picking up steam, it grew and formed a squall line which moved east north-east and held together until it had dumped a half-inch of rain into a drought-stricken area in southern Wisconsin. Two hundred square miles received badly needed moisture.

Claire, John, & Susanna collapsed in a sodden, sticky heap on the bed. Susanna disengaged her hands from her pussy and crawled up to where Claire and John lay entangled. Smiling, Claire shifted to make room for her. Draping her body across John's chest while his left arm curled protectively around her, she whispered a charm, and the lights in the room obediently turned themselves off.

"Welcome to the coven, children. Sleep well," Claire said, and leaving them sleeping, went to seek her own bed and her own rest.

Chapter 7


Seven miles to the west, at Chamberlain's Antiques, Used Books, and Oddities, the four other members of the Chamberlain Coven staggered to their feet. Anyone who had seen them enter the store several hours before, or who knew them in public life, would have been shocked at their appearance. Gone was the attractive matron and her three well-groomed relatives. Drenched with sweat, clothing in tatters, Sybil and the girls looked like refugees from a trailer park that had been hit by a particularly well-hung tornado.

"Boy," said Hilda, trying to keep a sense of humor in the face of the storm of emotion which had battered them for the past few hours, "That escalated quickly."

The rest of the women ignored her, shell-shocked.

"Well, fuck," said Sybil resignedly, "This dress is ruined."

Indeed it was. The loose collar had been ripped from neck to waist by someone (Eleanor? Sybil couldn't remember). She tried to get the shoulders to stay in place, but they kept slipping down her arms, exposing her chest. She winced as she picked up her bra and panties, scattered by persons unknown. Yoga kept her fit, but the recent gymnastics had stretched even her limber body past its usual limits.

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