The Witch's Daughter

His cock was magnificent, she decided. Longer and thicker than poor Davey's the one time she had seen it. The head bobbed in time with John's heartbeat, slick with juice.

Just like my pussy, Susanna thought wickedly. With that thought, her hand dropped idly down to amuse itself yet again, gliding sensuously over her nether lips. Gazing at John's cock, she frowned disapprovingly at the tufts of black hair rising from his groin.

I am not getting that in my mouth, she thought. Raising her wet hand from her slick cleft, she drew a charm on the quivering underskin of his phallus. She then brushed her hands gently over the hair, which fell away to lie in a sad little pile at John's feet.

"Sis?" John's voice was amused. "Did you just draw a baldness charm on my dick?"

"Yes, I did. And now your cock pleases me even more," Susanna said with a smile. She moved in, secure in her own carnal wisdom, taken from generations of witches. She drew her tongue in a long, loving caress up his shaft, delighting in the taste of him, the velvet feel of skin overlaying blood-hard strength. One hand cupped his sack, gently teasing his balls. Her mouth opened wide and she took the first few inches of his length into her mouth, tongue swirling around the head, tasting his musky juices for the first time.

Above her, John threw back his head and gasped in pleasure. He had never thought such a feeling was possible. The hot, wet heat of her mouth around his cock became the center of his universe. His hands fell limply to the crown of her head, resting lightly on her angel-soft hair. He closed his eyes and gave in to sensation, reveling in the pleasure she was bringing him. His cock felt like a bar of white-hot steel, and her mouth was only intensifying his need. Seed surged within him, rising to the challenge of her mouth. His phallus jumped like a fish on a hook, eager to complete its task.

Susanna brought him to the brink. Then, guided by a knowledge that was less learned than instinct, backed away. With one last, lingering caress, she withdrew her mouth from his manhood. Sinking still lower, she mouthed his testicles, playing with the egg-shaped organs until the skin of his sack was slick with saliva.

That's where babies come from, she thought. From there, and from inside me. She had to close her eyes against a renewed jolt of lust. Rising to her feet, she looked at John's groin. It was delightfully messy. Her spit mingled with the oozing pre-cum leaking from his slit. Thinking for a moment, she thoughtfully wiped away the baldness charm she had drawn on his cock.

"Second thoughts, Sis?" John asked.

"Just being cautious," she answered. "I am not sure about the radius of the charm. I would hate for my...distaste...for cock-hair to cause our child to be bald."

Behind her she heard a muffled snort of laughter, but she ignored it. She laid her hand firmly against John's chest and gave him a gentle push. He backed up, and as the backs of his knees hit the edge of the bed, sat down. Susanna stood above him, raining kisses down up on his mouth, his cheeks, even his eyelids.

"I want you, Johnny," she said, "I want you so damn much."

Trying to ignore his beautiful cock, she linked her arms around his neck and sat on his thighs, legs folded behind him. She drew his head close to her chest, almost weeping with love and happiness and desire.

John found himself in an enviable position, with his head nestled near his sister's teardrop-shaped breasts. He gazed at them in wonder, scarcely believing that his shameful fantasy had come to life. Susanna's breasts were not huge, but perfectly formed and shaped, and flushed with arousal. The nipples were a strong pink color, slightly up-tipped, and enthusiastically hard, announcing their presence with happy vigor.

John's hands caressed Susanna's back, and his head sank towards her chest. He kissed the slope of Susanna's left breast, wondering in the softness, the slight give under his lips. His mouth opened, and his tongue drew a meandering path downwards towards her taut nipple.

Susanna's back arched, and she pushed her chest into John's face, eagerly thrusting her mounds toward his mouth. John circled her nipple with his tongue. Once, twice, then he flicked his tongue over her stiff bud. Susanna's mouth opened and she mewled in pleasure. More confidently, John opened his mouth wider and sucked on her nipple. Susanna's cries grew more frantic, her groin ground hard against his, and she lowered her head to pant hotly into John's ear, tongue emerging yet again to explore its hidden whorls, small teeth nipping sharply on the tender lobe.

John's uncertainty fell away. His left hand came up, and while his mouth continued its exploration of Susanna's left breast, he cradled the right, wondering in the delicious heft of it, thumb grazing the nipple over and over, playing it like an instrument. Pulling his head back, now cradling both breasts in his hands, he looked at his sister in joy and wonder, and saw the same emotions mirrored in her eyes.

Without speaking their weight shifted, and they half-fell, half-turned, until they were lying on the bed, John on top, Susanna cradling him lovingly between her thighs. John rose up on his arms, looking down at his sister. In answer to his unspoken question, she smiled and nodded.

Susanna reached down between them, grasping his cock gently. Shifting her hips slightly, she pulled him forward until she could feel the pulsing slickness of the head nestling snugly against her cleft. For the first time, she felt the heat of a man's cock against her pussy.

If her arousal before had been a flame, this was a firestorm. Her mind narrowed to furious, primal instinct. Looking up, teeth bared in a rictus of passion, she saw the same emotions mirrored in John's eyes. His mouth came down on hers, and with a movement as inevitable as the tides, her brother drove his cock into her steaming, fertile core.

Susanna threw her head back and shrieked with joy as he entered her. Goddess, it was too much! Hard as an iron bar, hot as the sun, loving as a mother's kiss, John slowly moved within her. Susanna brought her legs up and wrapped them ferociously around his waist, heels digging into the small of his back. Her hands dug into his buttocks, urging him on.

Suddenly the pleasure peaked, and her mind exploded into orgasm, the muscles of her sex spasming around John's beautiful cock. Her hips bucked and lifted off the bed as she ground herself against her lover.

Her brother.

My mate.

John watched with wonder as his sister came. He had never seen anything so beautiful as her face when her orgasm hit. Her face flushed, and her eyes were lit by a fire of passion. He moved more swiftly within her, his pace quickening. Still locked within the sweet prison of her thighs, the sweat of passion a lubricant for their lust, he thrust himself into his mate, reaching for a moment which had been his fate since the hour of his birth.

Suddenly, the moment came. The feel of the slick, wet flesh of his sister's pussy became a goad to his lust. Driven by need, his pace quickened, and quickened again.

He looked down at Susanna. Coming down slightly from the peak of her orgasm, she met his eyes and understood his need.

"Do it, Johnny. Continue our line. Give me a child. Fuck a baby into me." Her hands cradled his face lovingly, and she drew him down into a kiss, tongue passionately entwining with his.

John's cock seemed to expand within Susanna, and with a shout of triumph he emptied his cock into his sister's body, flooding the walls of her womb with his seed.

Exhausted, he collapsed onto her. Overcome by the stress and emotion of the evening, he found himself weeping. After a moment he rose to his elbows. He looked at Susanna and saw tear-tracks on her cheeks as well. He put his arms around her and hugged his mate.

"Thank you, Susanna. Thank you more than I can ever say."

"I love you, John."

"I love you, too."

They drew slightly away from each other. They were unsurprised to find their groins a delightful mess of sweat, spit, vaginal juices, pre-cum, and semen. John slumped back on the pillows, his mind a whirlwind. Susanna thought vaguely of going to the bathroom to get a towel to clean up a bit, but it seemed like far too much effort for the time being. Instead, she cuddled to John's side, hair kissing his temple, left hand cupped protectively over his cock. Considering for a moment the heat of her pussy, which had been muted but not silenced, she threw her left leg over his thigh, so she could grind her clit against his leg when the need arose.

John was considering what to say next when he felt a sharp crack across his buttocks. Yelping in surprise, he turned his head to see his mother Claire standing next to the bed. She had shed her clothes and was looking down at them in approval.

"Well done, children. John, move over."

"Um...what?"

"I told you earlier this evening that none of us were going to finish the night with our clothes on. You have done a reasonably good job in deflowering your sister. After you have had a few minutes to recover, you're going to fuck me," she said matter-of-factly.

"Ummm...can I ask why? I thought the purpose of crossing was to have sex with Susanna and sire a child. And with Eleanor and the cousins as well, I suppose. Why are we going to have sex? Not that I have anything against it," he hastened to add, as he saw his mother's eyes narrow, "but I am still a little confused about the entire thing. Can't you explain how it works?"

Claire sighed. She supposed that she had not done much of a job of explaining things to them. But how could she, when they were caught in a web of lust and she had to keep their minds occupied long enough to get them into this room, safe from the Dark One's stratagems? Once they were protected and the ritual begun, they had performed admirably. She could already feel the bleed-off from Susanna's power radiating outward. Somewhere nearby, a couple were going to find themselves overcome with passion and sire a child this night. And the nearby flower beds would find themselves just a little bit more lush and bright in the morning.

She lay down and cuddled against John's opposite side. "Very well, children. Since we are all in bed together, let me tell you a bedtime story."

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 family bears so few male children, and that to this day the females of our clan 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, Mom, 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 homes. 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 a 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 orgasm which she had experienced, her love tunnel 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 her 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."