The Witch's Graduation

"Will have to see him at the trial, if he doesn't plea his way out. Testify against him. Give him a chance to find out where I live, who I'm living with.

"No. I just want to be free of him. A restraining order is just fine. And there are penalties for violating it, right?"

Rawlings nodded again. "It's a misdemeanor. But there are fines attached. Maybe even jail time, depending on the severity. If that's what you want, Mr. Johnson, that's what we'll do."

"That's what I want."

%%%

Claire was quiet on the drive to the store, which suited Steve just fine. He didn't think she was terribly happy with him about his choice of action. But she had kept her peace as Steve and Lieutenant Rawlings filled out the mound of paperwork necessary to put a restraining order in place, and had smiled grimly when she promised to call back with confirmation that Grant had been served.

Steve relaxed back into the leather seats. He caught Claire looking at him and gave her a smile. "Sorry. This is the nicest car I've ever been in."

"Isn't it?" she replied. "When the Tesla came on the market, I couldn't help myself. I just had to buy it." They were at a stoplight, their voices the only sound. When the light turned green, Claire gave a quick look around, then grinned at Steve. "Check this out."

Her foot pressed the accelerator flat. Steve gasped, then gave a whoop of pleasure as he was pressed back into the seat by the force of acceleration. The car reached 50 miles per hour in what seemed to be an eyeblink, but then Claire pressed the brake and rapidly slowed down to a saner pace.

"One day I'll take you out onto the interstate, and show you what this baby can really do," she promised. They pulled up to the store and parked at the curb.

When they entered, Agatha smiled at them from the front counter. "Hi, Aunt Claire. Hey there, Steve-o. How did things go at the PD?"

Claire pulled a pad of paper off the counter and handed it to Steve. "About as well as could be expected. We have a restraining order against that bastard. Or, Steve does, I guess I should say.

"Steve, do me a favor," she said, passing him a pen. "I want every detail about you and your parents you can write down. Full names. Birth dates. The orphanage you stayed at. Places of residence. Date of death for your parents. Employers. Schools you went to. Schools they went to if you can remember. Your driver's license. Any other form of ID you have."

Steve cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Claire.

"Like I said earlier, I think your 'adoption' may not have been entirely legal. If I can, I mean to get to the bottom of it. It will give us one more card to play if things with Grant get nasty."

Steve nodded and drifted to the back of the store, pen already busy on the notepad.

"How bad is it, Aunt Claire?" Agatha asked softly. Claire looked at her, lips tight in outrage.

"That boy is striped like a Goddess-damned zebra," she said, voice thin with fury. "He didn't show me, but his calves and thighs are as bad as his back. Watch him walk and you can tell. When the time comes, Calvin fucking Grant is going to get no mercy at all."

Chapter 3

For John, the day was pure torment.

Before the last few days, he had not imagined how painful being separated from his family would be. But now he was trapped in school, with no choice than to wait out the seven hours of torture before he was freed. The Goddess had told him that today was the day he would mate with Eleanor, and he had told the rest of the coven the happy news with a text message while he was stopped at a light on his way to school.

He had eaten lunch with Susanna, but heeding their mother's warning, they had done no more than touch hands occasionally, afraid that anything else would lead to a display which would reveal their new relationship.

He had somehow managed to focus on class. Five days of classes. Two days of finals next week. Graduation. Freedom.

Baseball practice was even worse. His raging erection had refused every attempt to make it recede. He knew that to masturbate prior to mating with Eleanor would be frowned on by the Goddess, so he had resorted to the crudest of all possible courses.

He had pictured every presidential candidate, in order, naked in his bed. Making out with him.

It was Chris Christie that did it. Defeated, his phallus had sagged limply, and he had managed to dress in time to avoid being late for practice. He went through the motions, eager to be done with the entire charade. When the team was finally released to go to the showers before the last game of the year the next day, it was a blessed relief.

Now, he was on his way home. His mother had already left him a voice mail, telling him that she and Steve were at the store, following a trip to the police department. Susanna had told him that she would steer clear of the house, having made a date to go to the mall with some of her friends. His cock surged in his jeans, waiting to complete the ritual with the last member of his family with whom he had not mated.

%%%

John entered the warded room and stopped dead in his tracks.

Over the past several days, he had seen his female relatives in every state. From Susanna he had seen a lustful, teasing voyeur. From his mother, the relaxed sensuality of a confident woman. Agatha had shown him the need to praise even the most lovely of women, while Hilda had driven him beyond what he had thought the male body capable of.

None of them had prepared him for Eleanor.

She was dressed in a schoolgirl outfit. Rather, John thought numbly, the ultimate schoolgirl outfit. She wore sensible black shoes, but there any hint of modesty ended. White stockings clad her legs, delicately outlining their beauty. A red-checked skirt was wrapped around her waist, but was so short it barely covered her crotch, and did absolutely nothing to disguise the elegance of her slim thighs or her shapely ass. A button-up white shirt was covered by a sinfully tight gray button-up sweater, which only served to draw attention to her full, perky breasts, which were obviously bra-less. A small green tie hung from her neck in a mockery of school dress codes. Her long black hair fell unbound down her back.

Oh. John thought. Oh my.

"You wanted to see me, Mr. Chamberlain?" she asked, and even her voice was different, both husky and innocent at once.

John's mind raced frantically. This was not what he had expected, but he knew that to question what was going on would disappoint Eleanor terribly.

Run with it, he decided.

"Yes, Eleanor. I did want to see you. I am glad that for once," he said, making his voice stern, "you were able to follow a simple direction. Have a seat," he continued, pointing at the bed. He leaned back against the wall, arms folded.

"What do you have to say for yourself?" he asked.

Eleanor sat down, legs crossed demurely, eyes wicked. "I don't know what you mean."

"I think you do," John said. Inside his jeans, he was growing harder. For once he did not try to hide or disguise it. In moments his cock was fully erect and tenting his pants obscenely. Eleanor glanced at it once, then again, licking her lips seductively.

"I am tired of this, Eleanor. You are a bright young lady, but you cannot seem to pay attention in my class. What is your problem?"

Eleanor looked shyly away.

"I don't know, Mr. Chamberlain. When I see you...I feel all...funny inside." Her thighs rubbed against each other, then uncrossed. She unbuttoned her sweater and stood to lay it carefully on his desk, bending over to do so, showing him the lips of her bare pussy.

John swallowed. "Eleanor, I am not very interested in how I make you feel. You have a responsibility. To your parents. To your classmates. To me. If you want to graduate, you need to pass my class."

"But your class is so boring!" Eleanor whined. "I want to do something more fun." Now her painted fingernails were at the buttons of her shirt, and she lifted a breast away from the confining cloth, fingers pulling lewdly at the pale nipple. "Don't you want to have fun, Mr. Chamberlain? Fun with me?"

John's stomach clenched with want, but he held true to her game. "Eleanor, this is...completely inappropriate. Please, put your clothes back on. If someone saw us...I could lose my job."

Eleanor ignored his statement, and kicked her shoes off daintily. "I've dreamed about you, you know," she said. "Alone in my bed, naked, all soft and bare, with my lips wet and slippery. Thinking about you. No one but you, Mr. Chamberlain."

Her hands drifted low, pulling up the hem of her non-existent skirt, flashing her cleft at him. "Don't you want to touch it, Mr. Chamberlain? To feel how hot it is for you? To put your big fat cock inside my tight teenage pussy? That's what you want, isn't it? That's what all men want.

"But you're the only one who will get it. All you have to do is say yes." She shrugged out of her shirt, exposing her tits. Her skin was pale as milk, contrasting vividly with her coal-black hair. Her nipples were a delicate coral, standing erect, offsetting the pink of her breasts as they flushed, growing slightly as blood rushed through her body. Her navel was pierced, John noted vaguely, and a silver pentacle hung from it on a short chain. Her finger traced the outline of her valley, then dipped eagerly inside. She hunched in pleasure, savoring the feel, then pulled out. She licked her finger, delighting in her own taste, then glanced at John with knowing eyes.

John felt like his pants would burst. His phallus, mindless, pulsed hotly against his thigh, urgent for release.

Somehow, he held back his passion and kept his place on the wall. His voice cracked as he said, "Eleanor, please stop. You're embarrassing yourself."

"But I need your cock, Mr. Chamberlain." A few tugs, and her skirt and tie were off, and the only thing that was left were her stockings. They only served to accentuate the raw splendor of the rest of her body. She lay back on the bed, legs flung apart shamelessly. Her buttocks clenched, driving her mound off the bed, thrusting towards him. John scented the tang of her arousal in the air.

"You'll never know, Mr. Chamberlain," Eleanor said dreamily, eyes blank with lust. "Never know what it is like. To know that there is one cock that can quench your fire. One body that is your match. One soul which is the mate of yours."

She got off the bed and walked to him. She bowed her head and looked up at him through the curtain of her hair. Slowly, she ran her fingers under the hem of his shirt, palms flat against the muscles of his belly and chest, pushing the shirt up and over his head. Next, the belt, and John willed himself to utter stillness. Eleanor cast it aside without a glance.

She knelt, and his shoelaces were suddenly undone, her clever hands lifting and pulling off his shoes with barely a motion lost. She rose, breasts heaving, damp with perspiration. She pressed her chest against his, fingers working at the button of his jeans. Suddenly it was undone, and her fingers stole inside his waistband, somehow pushing his jeans and boxers down to the floor and off his legs without touching his savage erection.

Shy now, she stood before him, flushed and ready for their joining. She shook her hair back and gazed at him with all the love in the world.

"Johnny, will you be my mate?"

"Yes," he replied, and laid his hands lightly on her waist, claiming her, body and soul.

She rose up to him, flowing up his body, boneless as a hunting cat. He felt the tips of her breasts brush against his chest, and then her lips touched his briefly, the merest peck. They returned quickly, tasting of lip gloss and musk. Under his mouth, they opened and her shy tongue darted out and met with his, touching it softly, then hiding away inside her own, daring him to enter.

He did so, softly invading her mouth, stroking her lips and tongue with his, while his hands roamed her sleek hips and the fan of her ribcage, then up to cup her beautiful breasts, their weight a sweet delight in his palms. She pressed closer, his cock trapped between them, a bar of heat which made them each groan in ardor. He left the wall, slowly pressing her back across the room until her knees hit the bed and she sat on the comforter.

Dropping to his knees, he parted her thighs and knelt between them. He kissed his way up her legs, cheeks scraping on the fabric of her stockings, until he was inches from her center. Using the skill Susanna had taught him, he used his fingers to part her folds, then bent to her valley, tasting his sister's essence.

He kissed her like he would kiss her mouth, tongue plunging deep within her, licking and stroking her innermost depths, her salt-tart smell filling his nostrils, a tang on his tongue. Her hips jerked, bucking sharply, and her pubic bone caught him a smart blow on the chin before she was able to wrestle herself under control.

"Mmphh!" she moaned, and leaned back on her elbows, hands pulling her thighs even further apart to give him more room.

John braced an arm on her thigh, the other reaching up to palm her right tit, fingers groping for her tight nipple. His tongue found her clitoris, and he sucked the erect bud into his mouth, tongue lashing it softly, lips pulling at her nubbin of pleasure.

Eleanor quivered under his beloved assault. Goddess, he is beautiful, she thought. And skilled. So skilled. Only days from losing his virginity, and he was already a better lover than any she had taken to her bed over the past seven years. She clenched her mouth shut on another groan, then thought better of it, and gave release to the full voice of her delight.

"Oh, Johnny. Oh Goddess. Oh Johnny!! More!" she begged, her pubis humping his mouth urgently.

Fearing for his mouth and tongue, John retreated slightly, eliciting a wail of loss from Ellie, before getting a firmer grip on her hips and surging forward into her sex once again. His tongue darted over her lips and then sank lower, greatly daring, to plant a kiss on the puckered rosebud of her asshole as his fingers replaced his tongue in her vagina.

At this unexpected invasion, Eleanor went wild under his touch. Her hands clamped around his wrist, and she pulled at him until he thought his arm would break, frantically sawing his fingers in and out of her soaking-wet cleft. At the same time, she ground her ass into his face, humping urgently into his tongue and mouth.

"Oh Goddess! Oh Johnny! Mpphh. Urrphh! NNNgghhhHHahhahHHHHH!!" she screamed, and he felt the walls of her womb clamp down on his fingers as her legs shook spastically. His hand was soaked in her juices as she convulsed under his loving tongue and hands.

Slowly, her trembling eased, and he eased up her body until they were face to face.

"Fuck, Johnny, where did you learn to do that?" she asked.

"I've had some good teachers the past few days," he smiled.

"I guess you have," she agreed. She kissed him deeply, then hissed as his cock brushed her cleft. "Not quite yet, honey. I'm way too sensitive down there to take your dick inside me right now."

"No problem," he said cheerfully. "How about those lovely boobs of yours? Are they too sensitive too?"

"Not in the least," she said happily. She smiled as he bent down to her mounds, then caught her breath as his skillful hands and knowing mouth made love to her heated tit-flesh, kneading and caressing her mammaries as his tongue and lips pulled at her turgid nipples.

"Oh, John," she sighed. "You are going to be a stupendous lover for us. Never let anyone tell you otherwise."

"Why is that?" he asked, nuzzling her neck with his cheek, breathing hot breath into her ear. His hips sank the merest fraction of an inch, and she could sense the heat of his cock, radiating warmth towards her mons.

"Because of what you did right there," she said with a knowing smile. "You don't demand. You ask. If not with your voice, with your body. Most boys...no. Most men your age would either be pissed that they couldn't fuck right after giving me such a awesome orgasm, and would try to force the issue, or they would demand that I give them a beej or a handy or something else so they could get their rocks off.

"You, on the other hand...you accept the fact that I'm not ready for sex, so what do you do? You try to make me feel even better. You kiss my titties and my nips and my neck, and you put your dick right there," she said, her hand closing around the organ in question and stroked it gently, fingertips spreading pre-come over the head and down the shaft. "Right where I can sense it, where I can choose when I am ready." Her ankles hooked behind his knees, and she drove her pubis up, the slick valley of her sex coating his length with her essence, preparing his way into her.

She looped her arms around his neck, smiling into his eyes. "I'm ready now. Be my mate."

John sank lower on to the bed. The underside of his cock rubbed softly against her petals. Without a word, she tilted her hips until his head was pressed against her opening.

Slowly, so slowly, he entered her. Her sex was like a flame, searing him with passion, goading him to please her. Carefully, he reigned in his need, his urge to pound her mindlessly until he came.

He bent his head down, teasing her lips with his tongue while his first long stroke plunged into her depths. He felt his groin mold itself to hers, and the hairless skin of his crotch pressed against her silky-soft wetness.

"Oh," he said, voice soft with wonder. "Oh, Eleanor."

Her hands cradled his cheeks, face warm with love. "I've waited for this for years, Johnny. I knew you'd be the one."

He withdrew slightly, then surged forward again, the delicious friction of their sex a wonder to them both. Slowly they fell into a rhythm, Eleanor's hips rising to meet John's as he surged forward. He braced himself on his elbows as he rocked to and fro against her, kissing her, his free hand sliding from her hip to her breast to her hairline, tenderly learning the secrets of her body.

He closed his eyes. His entire body, no, his entire being was a prayer, sent up to the Goddess in thanks and in thanksgiving, praising Her for Her blessings, and asking for Her guidance and protection. Not just for himself, but for his entire family in the days that lay ahead.

You have it, young one. All of you. Even the damaged one whom your mother has taken under her wing. You all please Me greatly. A Voice echoing within his mind.

He sought frantically for the connection, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

And a good thing, too, he thought shakily. Humans are not meant to converse with Gods.

He caught the rhythm of their lovemaking again, concentrating on the glorious feel of Eleanor beneath and around him. His sac rose up, tightening. Below him, Ellie grinned, knowing what was near.

"Ready, little brother?" she teased, hands lifting her tits up for his eager mouth.

In response, he dropped his head down to nurse. At the very instant his lips closed around her nipple, he exploded into her.

%%%

Forty miles away, a new factory farm, destined for pork production, was nearing completion. The project had been protested for months by local environmentalists, stating that the farm and the resulting manure ponds were too close to the watersheds of the Des Moines and Raccoon Rivers.

Suddenly, a hitherto unknown fault in the limestone bedrock opened, and fifty million dollars in farming and construction equipment collapsed into a sinkhole two hundred feet deep.

The farming operation went bankrupt.