Conjuresses Ch. 01byicehead©
Editor's warning: this story contains incest content.
Lucia stopped the car, but Meagan didn't get out. "What's the matter?" Lucia asked. "You're going to be late for class if you don't hurry!"
Meagan sighed. "Mom, it's just..."
"Just what?" A mischievous smirk decorated her face. "The teachers don't like you anymore? Some boy in class giving you heartache?"
"Mom, ever since you got laid off, it's like you've been rushing me out the door every morning. It's like you're in a bigger hurry than when you actually had a job!"
Lucia frowned, and began struggling to come up with an answer. "I just have... I'm trying really hard, to find a new job, to support you and your sister..."
"Mom, I'm eighteen now, and Isabelle's twenty. We're old enough to support ourselves, and we don't need you shielding us anymore. You can tell me."
"There's nothing to tell," Lucia insisted, a little too quickly. "Just have a good day, okay?"
Meagan sighed again, and got out, not sparing a backward glance as she slung her backpack over her shoulder and shut the door behind her. Once she was gone, Lucia also sighed—in relief. Her little girl was getting a lot closer than she wanted her.
That thought was a dampener to her usual mood on the drive home. Usually just thinking what she was going to do once the girls were gone was enough to thoroughly moisten her panties by this point. But the worry of Meagan knowing too much was curbing her excitement a bit. Not that she wasn't still excited.
She'd at least managed to work up a decent lube by the time she pulled back into the driveway. But as always, she couldn't rush things. She had to make sure the house was empty first. As soon as the front door was shut behind her she called up the stairs: "Isabelle, are you up?"
"Yes, Mom," a voice from upstairs muttered back, moments before Isabelle appeared, descending the stairs in her work clothes with the usual dour look on her face. People were often surprised to learn that Isabelle and Meagan were sisters, given their obvious differences (though the fact that they were only half-sisters may have contributed to that). Isabelle was tall and athletic where Meagan was rather petite, and Meagan's hair was short and light brown while Isabelle's was long and a shade darker. But the part that really threw people off was the angelic sense of innocence Meagan conveyed that Isabelle just, well...
"All right, Mom, I'm leaving, so you can go ahead and fuck that bank teller you've got tied up in your study."
"Don't you talk to me that way!" Lucia snapped. "And I do not have a bank teller tied up in my study!"
"Maybe not, but I'm probably not far off. Bye Mom."
Again, once the door was shut, Lucia sighed, but for a different reason. She was still holding out some hope that sweet Meagan didn't see her that way, but there was no question that Isabelle considered her mother a complete slut.
Given what I do while they're away, she's probably right.
But even as she moved off to her private "study," Lucia knew she was thinking in the smallest terms. The simple fact that she was only thirty-six when her oldest child was twenty was basis for calling her a slut. But that was still just the beginning.
Her family had gone completely apeshit when she became pregnant at age sixteen; she thought her father was going to disown her. Despite the barrage of advice to put the child up for adoption, Lucia had insisted on keeping it. The family had all pitched in to help care for baby Isabelle, but her parents had made her promise to make more careful choices from then on. Then she got to be eighteen, and WHAM: Meagan was born, by a completely different father. She hadn't learned a damn thing. Her parents made her pack her bags, and her two bastard offspring, and booted her out.
Somehow she'd managed to get by thus far. Meagan's father, God bless him, had helped some with that in the beginning, but something about Lucia just wouldn't let him stay with her. Like maybe what she was now stepping up to the locked doors of her private "study" for.
Lucia picked up the key to the room from where she kept it hidden, and turned it in the door that concealed the room her daughters had never seen. And if she had any say in it, they never would. This is my pit that I've chosen to live in, and I can feel guilty about enjoying it as long as they don't have to, was her last thought before she stepped inside and shut the double doors behind her.
Isabelle punched out her card, breathing in the brief freedom that was her lunchbreak. She had only forty fleeting minutes to enjoy this escape from the store counter, and she intended to savor it. She probably wouldn't spend much of it eating, though. She never ate much anyway; just the contents in a small Tupperware container in the staff fridge that she was content to eat cold anyway. She was just going to use this time to relax.
Starting it off with Sean's hand making sudden unexpected contact with her ass and the words "Shall we?" whispered in her ear was not exactly what she had in mind.
"Hands off," she said sharply. "We're not there yet."
His hand recoiled. "You could've fooled me," he said. "Or did I imagine what we've been doing for the last week-and-a-half?"
"That's one thing," she said. "I'm not talking it to the next level yet."
He shrugged, looking very puzzled. "I don't get it. What's the big difference?"
Isabelle rolled her eyes, and pulled him by the arm into the empty changing room and locked it behind them. "Try to understand this, Sean: a few blowjobs, which I'm only giving to bribe you, is not the same as actually having sex, which I am not prepared to do with you now. Especially since you've still got a girlfriend. So if you want to actually do me, then you can break up with Shelly and ask me out properly and maybe we'll get there. Otherwise just shut up and let me work."
With that she dropped to her knees and unzipped his fly. The thing in his pants sprang forward as if it were spring-loaded. She fisted the stiff member without a second's hesitation and plunged it into her mouth. She'd been working on perfecting her technique with him; she rotated her head around while sliding back and forth, moving her tongue in circles around the helmet, and periodically moved off to the side using only her tongue.
And as she thrust is cock in and out of her mouth, one particular thought kept echoing in her mind: why do I keep doing this? At first, it was true that she was just trying to bribe him; some of her friends enjoyed playing hockey with her in the store's back alley on her off days, and these blowjobs were her way of persuading Sean, who personally knew the owner, to get the man to keep letting them do that. But now she trusted him to keep doing that anyway; she considered him her friend, after all. She didn't think the oral service she gave him was still necessary.
As horrible as it was for her to admit, she sucked him off because she liked it. It wasn't that she found the act itself especially pleasant—at least not totally—but the act of giving pleasure to someone she personally knew just made her happy. It excited her. And God help her, sometimes when she did it she really did want to just forget about her personal ethics and let him fuck her. But she never crossed that line with him; not here, not like this.
She got all the right sounds from him that he made to tell her she was doing a good job, though as always he made sure to keep those noises down. He was also good enough to stroke her hair during the act; always a point-winner. Under different circumstances, she'd do it with Sean in a heartbeat.
Thus far there had been three guys Isabelle had had sex with. The first time had been on the night of her junior prom, her one and only time with Derek Weston on her one and only date with him. The dance ended, they got in his car and he drove to a lookout. Since then she had reviewed the sequence of events in that care with him millions of times, and to this day she still couldn't figure out how she ended up with her dress on the floor and his dick inside of her. She considered it the biggest mistake of her life, which she told him the next day, perhaps a little too adamantly.
The door had been opened, however, once she started her relationship with Paul Gunnerson during senior year, and after three weeks with him they started having sex regularly. It ended up being her most serious and longest lasting relationship, which lasted all through the school year until graduation, when he was ready to go off to college which Isabelle just couldn't afford to do yet. The best sex she'd had yet was the night of graduation before they finally went their separate ways.
After that there had been a brief fling with one of her coworkers, who was no longer working here now, shortly after she finished high school. The guy's name was Trevor; she honestly couldn't remember his last name. She was only with him for a few weeks; he was really just a rebound guy who she only got with in an effort to get over Paul. She hadn't dated anyone since.
At last Sean grunted his warning, and she sealed her lips around his shaft. This was her least favorite part, but she always made sure to do it well. His salty mass exploded into her mouth, and she tried her hardest to gulp down every drop, not letting the slightest bit escape. She stroked and tongued his cock until she was sure she had taken every drop down her throat before finally releasing him. "So you'll make sure we have permission to use the alley on Tuesday?"
"Yeah," Sean nodded. "But I still don't really understand. If you're so willing to take it in your mouth, why are you so unwilling to..." he left the sentence unfinished, letting the rest say itself.
Because I'm afraid of turning into my mom, she wanted to say, but didn't. Some part of her feared to say it out loud. "It's different," was all she ultimately said, rising to her feet.
"Whatever," Sean shrugged.
Isabelle put her hand on the door, but paused before unlocking it and sighed. "Six more months."
"Six more months until what?" Sean said.
"What?" Isabelle looked up. "Oh, did I say that out loud?"
"Yeah, you did."
Isabelle let go of the door, and slumped against it. "I was referring to how long I have to wait until I can leave for college. And you know, I should've been there a long time ago, like right after I finished high school, but I didn't have the money. And now I finally do, but I still have to wait until it starts in the fall, so in the meantime I'm still stuck here in this damn store, living with my crazy slut-brained mom who'll fuck anything with a pulse."
Sean seemed to be staring off into space. "Sean?"
"Uh, yeah, that's a... real nightmare..."
Isabelle scoffed, clearly seeing where Sean's head was. "Oh, whatever. I'm just gonna go have my lunch while I still have time."
At a little after 7 p.m. that evening, Lucia left to do a little grocery shopping. Meagan dutifully informed her that she was planning on going to study at her friend Shannon's house, and would likely be gone when Lucia got home. Isabelle responded by muttering something under her breath that Lucia didn't hear, and didn't bother asking to her to repeat before she walked out the door.
She was in the beer and wine aisle looking for a case of Corona light when she stopped, intrigued by what was now in front of her. A man dressed all in denim with a rustic pair of boots was crouched to look at the bottom shelves, bent over so that his eye-catching backside was thrust right in her direction. "Hello gluteus maximus!" Lucia couldn't help but blurt out.
The man stood up instantly and turned around. Lucia made a conscious effort not to drool when she saw his face. He was about the same age as her, with well tanned skin, sandy blonde hair, a light mustache and facial features that looked carved out of stone. "I'm sorry miss, but was that a compliment on my backside?"
"Oh, I'm sorry, should I not have done that? Is there something else you'd rather have complimented instead?" Her eyes trailed suggestively downward, although she did glance to his hand to check for a wedding band, which she happily didn't find.
A slight smirk appeared on the man's well-chiseled face. "Oh it's not that I minded. It's just not an everyday occurrence."
"Really? I find that hard to believe." She gave her eyebrows a suggestive raise. "I'm Lucia."
"Mark," he said back, quite clearly checking out her figure by this point.
"So Mark, what were you looking at?"
"You mean besides your boobs?" he said with a big grin on his face.
He's daring. I like that. "Before that," she smiled back.
"I was just bending down to pick up some Corona light."
"Really? Well isn't this a coincidence, that's my favorite beer."
"Yeah. So are you planning on drinking with anyone tonight?"
"Not tonight, no," he said. "Tomorrow though."
"So do you have any plans tonight? You going to be alone for the evening?"
He looked her up and down again. "If this conversation is headed where I think it is, I hope not."
"Ooh, I don't think you're going to be disappointed," she purred, tantalizingly tracing a finger over her nipple through her blouse.
Meagan had left by now, and Isabelle had the house to herself. She looked to the clock, and couldn't help thinking she should have gone with her mom just to keep an eye on her. Sometimes that woman needed to be kept on a leash or she'd go chasing after anything that had a penis. Something told her Mom would likely be late getting home.
She brushed the thought from her mind, and sat curled on the couch in front of the TV with a box of leftover Chinese. But then she got to the end of her show and the bottom of her box, and Mom still hadn't returned. It was official: Mom was off with a man again. Can't she ever just grow up?
She wasn't sure why, but as soon as she stood up her eyes started drifting toward the hall to Mom's private study. Just what did Mom keep in there that she didn't want Isabelle or her sister to see? And why am I suddenly so curious about it? She wandered in that direction, and slowly approached those ominous double doors. She stood staring at it for a long time, and she put a hand on the wood. Something... She couldn't begin to describe what she was feeling right now, but she couldn't help but think she wanted to get inside that room. It felt as if whatever lay behind these doors was calling her to enter.
But of course, Mom always kept the room locked.
It took some willpower, but Isabelle got herself to start turning away from that door. Not altogether gracefully, though, as she stumbled over her own foot. Her flailing arm collided with the vase that stood on the end table next to the doors, but she managed to catch it before it hit the floor and broke—but not without something falling out of it. Isabelle held her position for several seconds staring at the key that had landed on the floor. Still staring at it, she slowly set the vase back and picked up the key.
She hesitated, holding the key and staring at the door. Knowing her mom, she wasn't totally sure she wanted to know what was in this room. But ultimately she couldn't deny that part of her that was begging to find out. Her heart practically skipped a beat when she turned the key in the door, and she swallowed down the lump in her throat as she pushed it open.
As soon as the door was opened, Lucia rushed inside, pulling Mark in by the hand. The door was closed by Mark being forcibly shoved up against it and aggressively kissed. Lucia was like a sparking livewire, with every muscle in her body moving, grabbing and kissing him. Mark had to pry her away from in order to get enough air to say, "You really aren't the kinda chick I'd expect to meet every day!"
"Baby, you have no idea!" She almost jumped right back to what she was doing, but then got another idea. "Revilu," she whispered under her breath.
As she could hear it playing in her head, porn music suddenly filled the air.
"Whoa, where's that music coming from?"
"That's one of the many mysteries about me that you will just have to find out," Lucia grinned, before grabbing him by his denim coat, throwing the both of them to the floor and shooting her hand to the zipper of his pants.
Isabelle wasn't sure what she expected to find when she stepped into the room, but whatever it was she expected... in a word, the room was weird. The only thing that didn't look in any way strange was a perfectly generic, but comfortable-looking sofa. In a way it resembled a place of satanic ritual, but with no pentacles or skulls, just arcane designs drawn everywhere and lots of candles, that startled Isabelle when they all seemed to light on their own when she entered. Mom must have some kind of motion sensor wired to an igniter system... but how the hell could she afford that?
She stepped up to a small table positioned in front of a large circle on the floor that was roughly in the center of the room. A large old book was propped open on it, and a small flat stone with a strange pattern etched into it, that Isabelle picked up to examine. Then her eyes tracked to the open page of the book, and was instantly piqued—and more than a little perplexed—by what was written on the top: "Creating A Lover." There was a set of instructions, plus a drawing of a stone with a pattern like the one she held in her hand, and then an incantation of some strange words:
"Tauri escelei, Otaur a kajei bo, Tauri escelei, Otaur da kajar en, Tauri escelei."
Isabelle didn't even realize until after she finished that she'd read the words aloud. As soon as the last word left her mouth, the stone in her hand suddenly shot out a brilliant ball of light that flew to the center of the circle on the floor, and a brilliant flash nearly blinded her.
She blinked to clear the spots from her eyes—and continued blinking when her vision cleared. She couldn't possibly be seeing the ridiculously attractive and very naked man standing in front of her. He looked about thirty, with the bluest eyes she'd ever seen, impossibly sculpted muscles, and when she looked down lower... holy shit!
"Hello, Isabelle," he said.
Look at his face... "Who the hell are you?" Look at his face...
"Your mother calls me Six."
"Yes. Because I am the sixth conjured lover she has created."
"Created? Conjured lover?"
"She never told you, but now that you've found me, you ought to know: your mother is a witch. She has been practicing magic like you will find in that book since you were little."
Isabelle only stared at him, saying nothing.
"I see you're finding this hard to grasp. But I myself am a product of your mother's favorite spell. I am a being created for the sole purpose of satisfying your mother's sexual needs."
That sounds like Mom all right.
"But this time, Isabelle, it is you who've summoned me, not your mother, and so for now, I am here for your pleasure."
Isabelle took an instant step back. "Whoa, whoa, whoa, I didn't come in here to do... anything like that..."
"You must have some desire," Six said, "or you would not have succeeded in summoning me." He was slowly drawing nearer as he spoke. "I exist solely to serve the sexual needs of my mistress. I can do anything you wish me to do to you, with no fear of consequence, and I will disappear again once your desires are satisfied. Just tell me what you wish me to do."
Isabelle stood in mute apprehension, staring at him as he came within touching distance. He's wrong! I don't want this! I don't want to become my mother! I don't want to do what she does every day when I'm away... when I'm in the back of the store giving Sean blowjobs, wishing I had a lower moral standard so I could just let him cheat on his girlfriend with me like he wants to... like I want him to...