The Witch's Daughter

"Get. Your. Hands. Off . My. Daughter."

The tone brought Susanna back from the brink. Suddenly, in stark clarity, she saw where she was and what she was doing. She let go of John's penis with a cry.

"Momma? John? John, honey? What's going on?"

John, or the thing possessing him, gave no answer. Madness lurked in his eyes. He turned his head and growled at Claire. His hips drove forward, trying to impale Susanna on his cock. Faster than thought, another knife sprang to her hand.

This one was pointed at his groin.

"Listen to me, Dark One," Claire hissed to the being who had usurped her son's mind, "I am Claire Chamberlain of the Chamberlain Coven. I will chop off your dick and feed it to the cats before I let you use my son to break our covenant with the Goddess. I will let this coven die and be scattered to the four winds. But you will not have my son and you will not have my daughter. Get thee hence!"

And, suddenly, the beast was gone. The curtains in the kitchen billowed as a hot gust of foul wind blew through the room. Blinking like a man woken from sleep, John dropped Susanna to the floor and staggered backwards. He looked at his hands, then at his mother, shining like an angel, holy in righteous fury. Lastly, he looked at his sister, nude and weeping, shattered by what had almost happened. Memory returned to his face.

Ad them he staggered down the front hall to the downstairs bathroom and was spectacularly sick.

Chapter 4

Claire sighed, exhausted. She had felt the crisis building in her head during her mad dash across town. She knew for a fact that she had run at least seven red lights, and it was only by the grace of the Goddess that she had avoided a head-on collision when she moved into oncoming traffic to illegally pass a moving van on Twelfth Street.

John emerged from the bathroom, teary-eyed and red-faced from vomiting and guilt. And still, she couldn't help but notice, gloriously erect. She grabbed his arm as he came out.

"Upstairs," she ordered him. "Brush teeth. Mouthwash. Shower. Wash hair. Brush teeth again. Mouthwash again. Dry off. Shave. Brush hair. Mouthwash again. Downstairs. Thirty minutes. Go."

John smiled crookedly. It was painful. But it was there, and it was sane. Claire sighed in relief. Many had taken far worse from their first encounter with the Dark One.

"Not going to tell me how to dress?"

"Why bother? None of us are going to finish the night wearing anything." She smiled at his expression of numb disbelief, "Get moving."

John slowly walked up the stairs. Claire listened at the foot of the staircase until she heard water running in the shower, then nodded her head and went into the kitchen to care for her other child.

She found Susanna huddled nude on the floor, crying hysterically into a dishcloth she had pulled off the counter. Claire knelt beside her, gathering Susanna into her arms, feeling like her daughter was nine years old again and needing comfort because their pet hamster had died. Hocus, one of the two cats, poked her nose through the doorway. When she saw that there was nothing more serious than two humans sitting on the floor, she came in and sat in Susanna's lap.

"Oh, Goddess, Momma. What can you be thinking of me?"

"What do I think? I think that when you needed your family the most, you were left alone and unprotected, and it is only through a higher power than ours that you do not have a demon's seed planted in your belly right now."

"John is no demon!"

"And that was not John who wanted to rape you. And you were not yourself, because you would have given yourself willingly to the being who wore John's face."

"I don't understand."

"Of course you don't. How can you? We have kept you unknowing for so long. We used to argue about it, your Aunt Sybil and I. She thought you should know. I thought you were too young and we should wait. Maybe she was right.

"But right or wrong, we are not going to have this conversation on a cold tile floor. Let's get up," she said, levering herself to her feet. Reaching down, she drew Susanna up after her, dislodging Hocus, who trotted into the hall with a sniff. When Susanna stood, she found herself close to her mother.

Very close.

Of their own volition, Susanna's arms wrapped around her mother's waist, drawing her close. Her hand rose and cupped her mother's breast and she leaned in tight, nuzzling her neck. Drawing back a little, she looked into Claire's eyes. She saw nothing but love, and a sweet desire that was a shadow of her own.

Leaning in, she kissed her mother full on the mouth. Her lips were soft and warm. Her tongue darted into Susanna's mouth once, twice, teasing her with desire, then withdrew.

Not now, darling," Claire said, her voice cheerfully indulgent. "This night is not for us, but for you and John."

"But you said..."

"I said I would not allow you to fuck a demon. And I am not about to apologize for that. I said nothing about not allowing you to screw your brother." Claire took up the dishcloth and soaked it in warm water at the sink. She then knelt in front of her middle child. Her inner sight saw the sigils and runes Susanna had drawn on her flesh. Hissing angrily, she wiped all sign of achma away, but left the charms for lust and fertility. No harm there, as long as the act was done in love. Carefully, so carefully, she dipped her fingers into Susanna's moist folds and gathered wetness for her task. In the place of achma, she wrote the rune galen, symbol for birth and beginnings and forgiveness.

Susanna leaned against the kitchen counter, feeling warm and safe and protected. When she felt her mother's fingers enter her, she showed no fear, but instead shifted to make it easier. All was well, she knew. All was well. Her mother was there to care for her and no evil thing would dare her anger.

Not now.

Claire brought Susanna into the living room, deposited her onto the couch, and then went quickly back into the kitchen, where she made a tray of sandwiches and chips. She poured three glasses of milk and brought it all back into the family room. What she saw there made her raise her brows. Her daughter was facedown on the floor. Her hard little nipples were scraping the carpet as she shifted back and forth, and her right hand was cheerfully exploring the depths of her vagina

Oh, to be eighteen again.

"Don't soak the carpet, dear," she said mildly. "We just had it steam-cleaned last month." She set the tray down on the coffee table. "There's sandwiches if you are hungry."

"Starving," Susanna said. She reached up with her left hand and grabbed a ham and swiss with onions on whole wheat. From the floor came the busy sound of chewing. A moment later the hand reappeared and grabbed a glass of milk. Shortly thereafter, the empty glass was set back on the table with a thunk.

"Momma?"

"Yes, dear?"

"I can't seem to...um...ohhh Goddess..."

"Stop?"

"Mmmmm...yes."

"No. Neither could I, when I first crossed. Or your sister. Or your aunt or cousins. When our line crosses over, we pretty much lose all control. However, as cute as your ass is, I don't feel like talking to it. Do you think you could turn over?"

"Of course, Momma." Susanna rolled over, her stroking fingers never leaving her pussy, her face flushed red. Claire knew she could not have climaxed, not now, not with her first time still before her, but she seemed to have relaxed slightly. There was less frantic desperation. More of a sense that she was calming a beloved pet. Her thighs sagged apart, allowing Claire to see into her hidden folds. Her scent, a combination of musk and arousal and her own special tang, carried over to Claire, and she had to stifle an urge to kneel in front of her daughter and plunge her tongue into her silky depths.

Luckily for her, John chose that moment to come downstairs. He had washed and shaved and brushed his hair, and when Claire came over to hug him, she noted with approval that she could find no hint of barf-mouth on his breath.

They won't be able to help themselves, once the ritual is begun, poor children. But the least I can do is make sure it is as pleasant as possible.

John had also put on a bathrobe. Whether because he was shyer than his sister, or because he wanted to prove to himself that he still had a measure of self-control. However, it was readily apparent that his time upstairs had done nothing to diminish his ardor, as his phallus was still well and truly erect. When John sat down with a sandwich and a generous handful of chips and a glass of his own, the bathrobe fell open, and his hand gripped his cock and gave it a gentle stroke.

Susanna, meanwhile, had stopped stock-still when John entered the room. Her eyes gleamed as she drank him in, and the light from the candles Claire had lit gleamed off her sweat-slickened breasts.

"Susanna, come over here." Claire's words were strong as iron.

Tearing her eyes away from John, Susanna sat by Claire on the couch. Shifting her body slightly, Claire drew her into her lap, where she could stroke her gently with her hands, all the while keeping her under control. She smiled with remembered fondness as Susanna's thighs opened yet again, wantonly displaying her pussy to her brother's eyes.

By the Goddess. Were we ever so far beyond control? She asked her long-dead husband. I don't remember being this brazen.

No darling, his voice came back to her. If I recall, we were far worse. These children have had eighteen years to get to know each other. If I remember correctly, we met at a 9 AM biology seminar and were humping in an empty classroom by 9:20.

They had both flunked that class, Claire remembered. But Eleanor had been planted in her belly sometime in those first, frantic days of lovemaking.

"Mother." John's voice interrupted her thoughts. "We need to talk."

"Indeed we do. And first I must apologize to you both. If I had any idea the risk we were taking..." She shuddered. "I was wrong. And I admit it. I should have warned you what to expect. But I did not think the pull would be so damn strong! And I had no idea the Dark One was lying in wait for you. If I had, I would have warded and bound you both so tight he would not have dreamed of approaching your minds.

"But tell me, children, what happened to you this evening."

John and Susanna told Claire of their experiences, and Claire nodded when what she was told matched her suspicions.

"Damn me, but we were fools. We spent all of our time wondering when John was going to cross, that our eyes were blind to Susanna. If we had spent but a moment thinking about it, we would have guessed it would be on the same day, triggered by the same event. Twins, bound by blood and love and shared experience in the womb, what choice did you have? When the full moon rose this evening, you crossed. And then you were manipulated. John, you helped win a baseball game. That was an emotional event for you. And then you got in a fight and struck down your enemy. Even more emotion. Your glands were running full tilt, your mind distracted. You were an easy target for the Dark One to invade.

"Susanna, please know that he never fully controlled you. The simple act of crossing was enough to spike your lust. He simply drove you to acts where it would be impossible for you to deny John once you saw him.

"If he had succeeded, our bond to the Goddess would have been broken. Centuries ago, we made a pact with her. As long as all our sexual acts were done in love and kindness, with all partners willing, the energy from those acts could be used for our good and for those we loved. Increased fertility in women or men. Good crops in bad times. Rain in droughts. Sunshine when all around was flooded.

"If he had broken that bond, we would have been dragged down into darkness. And he may have succeeded in planting a demon in you, my daughter.

"I can only beg your forgiveness."

"Mother? Can I ask a question?"

"Yes, John."

"What exactly is 'crossing'?"

Claire snorted and Susanna giggled under her hands, still softly stroking, calming the terror of the evening away.

"Crossing," she mused. "It might be easier to tell you all the things that crossing isn't. It is not the ability to bear or sire a child. You both reached that milestone years ago. It is not even the first time a man or woman of our line lie with another. All of the rest of us did that without crossing.

"The best way to put it, darlings, is to state that, for our kind, when we cross, the need to sire or bear a child is less a desire than an imperative. Your own body will take over your mind. Look at the two of you. Susanna has been readying her body for sex for the last hour and more. And John, you look like a Viagra ad that would be banned by the FCC. You literally can not stop the need to either impregnate your mate or be impregnated in turn. It cannot be stopped. However, it can be delayed."

The look she bent on John was frank, "John, your Aunt Sybil and I crossed many years ago. But we each lost our mates. Your father was killed. Your uncle," she snorted, "Found he could not handle a woman whose cheerful capacity for lust far outstripped his own. He fled.

"However, of your generation, all your female relatives have crossed. And none have found mates."

Susanna gasped. "Mother, how are they bearing it? You said..."

"I said the need to bear a child is imperative, but that it also could be delayed. Eleanor and your cousins have tried to find mates. They have failed. Not enough men of power in Iowa," she said sadly, shaking her head, "and the ones who are here don't advertise. For the last six years, ever since Hilda crossed, and then Eleanor and Agatha, we have been fighting a rear-guard action against our own needs. We have grounded power wherever we could. We have drugged ourselves to make the need bearable. We can delay no longer."

John frowned, remembering the "special potion" his mother had begun preparing for Eleanor every morning before she went to school, starting in her senior year. His heart ached for his sister and cousins. To need what he and Susanna would shortly have, and to deny themselves for years? How could that curse be averted?

Claire looked at John. She wondered when the penny would drop. She saw his agile mind work the problem. Six women, four unmated, needing to sire children or go slowly mad with unslaked desire. No prospects for finding new mates. One man, just crossed, with the imperative to sire...

One child? Or many?

John looked his mother in the eyes, "You want me to be their mate as well."

Claire smiled with joy. "Yes darling, I do. And so do they. They love you so much, John. They want to mate with you and bear your children. By the Goddess, you should have seen them in the shop when the power of your crossing hit. I thought Hilda and Agatha were going to fight each other for the privilege of being your first. And sweet little Eleanor was ready to do anything to be your mate. Even Aunt Sybil was eager to taste your goods.

"But bear in mind, child, that matings are not always permanent. We do not keep to the Christian customs. A mating may be lifelong, or it may be for only the span of a season. You will have four mates for now, but your sister may choose to leave you and spend her life with another. Or," she said with a gentle smile, as Susanna stirred with a protest, "She may ask you to share her with another, as she will now share you with her sister and cousins. And the attempt itself will alleviate most of the stress. You don't actually have to get Eleanor or Hilda pregnant. The mere fact that you are trying will act as a release valve.

"Will you do it for us, my child?"

John stood up. The robe slipped off his shoulders. A man of medium height or a little more. Clean-limbed, black-haired, green-eyed, slim, supple body roped with muscle, with his prodigious cock jutting upwards like a living embodiment of manhood.

"Mother, I will."

"But not before you fuck me," Susanna said fiercely. "I was here first, before all of them. I was with you in our mother's body, John. We are going to fuck tonight, or by the Goddess, I will cut off your balls myself!"

"Goddess yes," he groaned. "Mother, is it time?"

"It is time, my son. Come with me."

Chapter 5

She took them to the guest bedroom, the one with the layout which she refused to change. Soft lights, covered by heavy shades, glowed in the corners. In the middle of the room, touching none of the walls, was the bed, on top of an immense rug, white except for three concentric circles. From inmost to outmost: blue, green, and red.

"White, for purity," said Claire.

"Red, for passion," said John.

"Green, for fertility," moaned Susanna.

"Blue, for protection and trust," smiled Claire. "It took a family of Persian witches six years to make that, and you do not want to know what I had to pay to get it." She knelt on the edge of the rug. "To the bed, children."

Hand in hand, desire a flame between them, John and Susanna walked to the bed. Despite his brave words below, John was trembling in fear. He was afraid to show himself an inexperienced fool beside his sister.

My mate, his mind whispered.

With a soft word, Claire activated the wards. A half-dome of light sprang up, then faded from view, leaving all as it had been before.

"I set this up seven years ago," she said in response to her children's surprised looks, "and have renewed it every month since. No evil thing will disturb you while the wards are in place."

"Any spells, Mother?"

"Only your love, dearest. That is the mightiest spell of all. And aren't you two the living proof of it? Go on now, Susanna, kiss him before he faints."

Susanna gazed at John, mouth dry with desire and longing. He really is quite beautiful,she thought, taking in all of him. The shower had cleaned off the dirt and dust of the baseball field. His black hair, clipped short, was a single dark wave over his forehead. His eyes, no madness in them now, gazed into hers, green as spring leaves.

Stop cataloging him as if he is an item to buy at the store, Susanna! She told herself impatiently. She stepped closer to him, raised her hands to his face, and gently cupped his cheeks. Drew his mouth down to hers, and kissed him.

The kissed lasted a moment. And a lifetime. The aching, throbbing need of her pussy, which had been a torment to her, backed off slightly, no longer so insistent. Her nipples peaked merrily, and the muscles of her womb clenched suddenly, preparing the way.

John's arms came gently around her as they kissed. Susanna opened her mouth, and their tongues met for the first time, a shy introduction that quickly became a spirited conversation. She pressed her body close to his, nipples scraping on his chest hair, feeling the strong muscles of his thighs against hers, the hot length of his cock trapped between their bellies.

Breaking the kiss, she slowly sank down the front of his body, planting soft, gentle kisses on his neck and chest as she descended. She laved his nipples, tongue delicate as a cat. All the while her hands were stroking, stroking his chest, his thighs, the soft white skin of his back, the curve of his ass. Arching suddenly, John gasped as his nipples contracted into tiny buds on his chest, and he gazed down at Susanna wonderingly.

"You didn't think it could happen to men as well?" she asked teasingly. "Silly boy."

Emboldened, she sank lower, tormenting him with gentleness. She blew hot breath on his belly, and smiled as the muscles of his stomach jumped in response. Finally she reached her goal.