The Witch's Daughter

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 passage, 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? 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 body 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's it, John. That's how I like it," 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, Momma. 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 hotly 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.

Overhead, 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 thousand 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 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. I mean, that really got out of hand."

The rest of the women ignored her, shell-shocked. "Well, fuck," said Sybil resignedly, after a long silence. "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.

Around her, the girls were doing the same, with varying degrees of embarrassment. Being who and what they were, none of them were strangers to the idea of same-sex experimentation, but none of them had been particularly attracted to any of the others before the tsunami of emotion from John and Susanna's crossing had hit them across the link which the Dark One had put in place. Horrified, they had striven to the utmost to hold back John as he crossed town and attacked Susanna, but had found their efforts as meaningless as a whisper in a hurricane.

Sybil had despaired, and had then screamed with triumph with her daughters and niece as Claire had beaten back the attack and had rescued Susanna and John from rape and insanity. But the power of the crossing was still in place, and as John and Susanna consummated their mating, and as John had in turn had made love to his mother for the first time, opening the conduit for her power, the shared link had driven them all into a frenzy of lust that none of them could resist.

"Shit," said Eleanor, and Sybil grinned at the unusual epithet coming from "Miss Ellie's" mouth. Eleanor was completely naked, and Sybil's eyebrows rose as she noted that her pussy was shaved bare. Apparently Ellie had a little bit more hell in her than some of them realized. She rubbed at a livid love-bite on her shoulder as she stuffed her underwear and clothes into a voluminous shoulder bag.

"Have you had all your shots, Hilda? Or should I get a tetanus booster?"

Hilda leered at Eleanor, completely unfazed. She cupped the solid globes of her breasts in her hands and waggled them at Eleanor, her wrecked workout outfit only serving to emphasize her magnificent body. "I'm drug and disease free, if that's what you want to know. Why so shy, Ellie? There's plenty more where that came from, and the night is still young."

"Goddess, you're shameless," said Eleanor with a loving smile, and Agatha muttered scowling agreement, "Aunt Sybil, can I steal one of the second-hand dresses? I'd rather not have the Des Moines PD pull me over and have to explain why I am driving naked at eleven o'clock on a Friday night."

"Go ahead, darling. In fact, I think all of us should do the same. The last thing we want to do right now is to draw attention to ourselves."

"So we avoid attention by all dressing as if we are refugees from the nineteen-seventies?" said Agatha sourly. "That's just crazy enough to work."

Sybil frowned at her youngest daughter. Despite the terror of earlier, Hilda and Eleanor were obviously, glowingly ecstatic by what had happened, and Sybil shared their joy. The unexpected all-girl orgy had only spiked their appetite for the release of their pent-up desires. Agatha, on the other head, had an attitude of barely-concealed resentment, overlain by fear.

I need to talk to her.

She spoke to Ellie and Hilda. "Girls, Aggie and I are going to clean up and lock up. I think we can all agree that the best place to discuss what just happened is at Aunt Claire's. Let's all meet there tomorrow morning. She fixed a firm look on Hilda. "However, no one is to be there before nine. I don't care how badly you want to mate with John, let's give him a chance to get used to what happened tonight before we all show up to screw his brains out, okay?"

"All right, Mom," said Hilda, and Eleanor nodded. The two of them quickly gathered their belongings and left the store, talking quietly. Sybil kept an eye on them until they safely reached their cars and drove off into the rainy night. Then she turned to Agatha.

"OK, Aggie. What the hell is your problem? We've been begging the Goddess for this day for the last two years and you look like someone threatened to cancel Doctor Who. Why are you so mad?"

Agatha looked angrily at her mother and seemed on the verge of a furious retort. Her mouth opened and closed. Her chin quivered, and, suddenly, she broke down bawling and hurled herself into her mother's arms.

Stunned and confused, Sybil held her youngest. Not knowing what had triggered this outburst of emotion, she could do nothing more than hold her and make soothing sounds.

Sighing, she led Agatha back to one of the overstuffed couches that ran against the far wall, there for those who wanted to skim some of the books in the shop before buying them.

Of the four women who had stayed in the store, only Agatha had managed to keep most of her clothes on. Her t-shirt was rumpled and had undergone a few strategic tears as others fought for access, and like everyone else, her panties had been removed as desperate fingers and mouths had sought the treasure they hid, but she could actually have gone out in public without getting arrested.

Unlike me, Sybil thought comfortably. She had not initiated the orgy, but she had not fought it, either. Unlike her sister, she had been sexually active prior to tonight, with a couple of older male friends happy to come to her small house whenever she felt like making a booty call.

Agatha sniffled and wiped her nose with an indelicate snort as she got herself under control. A terrible thought struck Sybil. Had Agatha been an unwilling participant in the orgy? It was not unknown for a member of the coven to draw back against the desire which compelled them during a crossing, but it was almost vanishingly rare. Sex had defined them for so long that to have one of their number who actually disliked it was almost a tragedy.

"Agatha, honey? Are you all right? We didn't do anything you didn't like, did we, darling?"

Agatha grunted and shook her head. She rubbed a hickey that someone (Ellie? Hilda? Sybil didn't remember doing it) had raised on her neck.

"It's not that, Mom. I guess I'm just being stupid." She tried to stand up, but Sybil's grip on her wrist kept her seated.

"I'll be the judge of what is stupid and what isn't. You haven't broken down like that in years. I thought you'd be happy. No more drinking a potion that tastes like ass. No more being careful about what you say around Johnny and Susanna. The chance to finally let your inhibitions go and give in to your needs. Bear a child for the coven, if you wish."

"Get the leftovers," and Agatha's voice was filled with unutterable bitterness. "Watch while Susie and Eleanor and Hilda screw themselves silly with my best friend. While I wait to see if the ugly duckling will get a sympathy fuck. John was my friend. He understood me. We talked. But now he will have three hot young women to hump, and two sexy milfs. There won't be anything left for me!"

Sybil gaped at her daughter. She could not believe the self-loathing and despair she heard in Agatha's voice. What was wrong with her? Did she really think so little of herself?

"Aggie, that's ridiculous! What makes you think you will be left out? John loves you just as much as he does the rest of us."

"Right," Agatha said contemptuously. "Like he is going to have any time for me when my playboy-hot sister is shaking her ass in front of him. Or his twin, who looks like a horny angel. Or his other sister, who is so kinky she could walk through a corkscrew sideways, despite the good-girl act she puts on.

"Let's not forget that he has already fucked his mother tonight. He isn't going to give that up. He's a man, isn't he? And then there's you, the hot yoga-teaching aunt who he's probably been beating off to since he was fourteen."

Sybil looked at Agatha in desperate worry. Her mind ticked through a series of facts, accumulated over the last several years.

The youngest child, aside from the twins, who had always had each other. Wore glasses since she was ten, didn't get laser surgery until after she graduated high school, when we finally got better insurance. Seemed to have the easiest time with the crossing. Didn't complain about the potion that kept her sex drive under control. Not many boyfriends, even after she crossed. Bookworm. Graduated second in her class and on a full academic ride at Drake, in a major where there are hardly any other girls, and sexism runs rampant. No girlfriends to help her with her hair or makeup or clothes, or to talk to her about men, aside from her sister and cousins, who she envies. Jealous of anyone who might come between her and John, even family. Always in the shadow of her sexier, more successful older sister.

And the clothes. Why didn't I understand that before? She wasn't wearing them to avoid attention from the boys in her classes at Drake. She was wearing them so she wouldn't have to compete with the other members of her family!

Good Goddess, she thought with amused horror. She actually doesn't think she is attractive!

"Stand up," she said, and drew Agatha to her feet to stand beside her. Pulling on her wrist, she guided her into the back room, where one their most precious and dangerous artifacts hung on the wall.

The Mirror of Truth was no one's idea of a toy. On first glance, it seemed nothing more than a simple silver-chased mirror, draped with black cloth, about seven feet high and five wide.

On second glance, the power made itself felt. Looking too long into it unprepared was to invite madness. In it, if the spells which controlled it chose, one could see every flaw, every moral fault and personal blemish. Every lie, every ill thought, every thoughtless deed. Everything that a person did not wish to know about herself would be shown to her.

And you could not forget what you saw. The lies that one told oneself to stay sane would be stripped away, and you would see yourself for what you actually were, not how you wished to be.