Taking back control

Genevieve couldn't keep her hands from roaming over the slight swell of her sculpted stomach. Whenever her concentration faltered, they returned there as if to try and lovingly cradle the child growing within her womb. The witch could feel her baby's desire to be loved and protected. And how she also timidly reached out to influence her mother's thoughts.

She felt the little hellion's feet exploring the womb's confines with a short series of kicks before falling asleep once she had exhausted herself. She was growing unnaturally fast, and who knew how long it would be until she was born. Even released from the mental tug, Genevieve kept making lazy circles around her bellybutton. A wan smile painted her dark lips.

The witch's skin was as pure as snow, with a waterfall of blood falling in thick and layered cascades down the sides of her sensuous, and sinfully voluptuous teen body gifted to her after her accidental ascension. Within, wicked sorcerous power surged to the very tips of her fingers, thrumming and begging to be used.

None of that mattered as she kept her hands wound tightly around her stomach. The radiance and warmth of her feelings of motherhood shining through the icy and hauntingly beautiful exterior.

But it fell away when she felt her arch-demon-come-daughter stirred underneath her. Her green-eyes were immediately lidded, hazy with lust. Genevieve purred like cat as she spoke, fingers reaching down to trace Lily's soft manhood that had given her such a wonderful gift. “Sweetie, Mistress, Lily, Lady, Love” she cycled through the names and titles, still unsure what she should call her firstborn child and master. The tone, however, was unmistakable.

The same tendrils of influence as her baby had tried to use to use on her, slithered through the air and carried by Genevieve's sultry and ethereal voice into Lily's ears. The compulsion was easily swept aside by the arch-demon. The attempt to spellbind her was not by any conscious effort or choice by her mother. She was a creature of dark magic as much as Lily was one of hell.

And for that, she had two people to thank, “...Luna and Mary.”

“You used to play with Mary when you were younger, didn't you. Luna is another of your friends at school?”

Lily would never call that prissy, flat-chested goth her friend, although she didn't bother to correct her mother who now only seemed to listen with half an ear.

The rest of Genevieve's attention was focused on tending to the still slack cock. The witch's movements becoming increasingly elaborate as she tried to coax it to erectness by turning her decades of experience with pleasing her husband to her daughter's cock. Since receiving the thing between her legs, Lily couldn't remember at time that she had felt empty but she certainly was after pouring everything into her mother. She savored the slow and aching waves of pleasure coming from her crotch.

“They are responsible. Somehow.” Lily very, very much wanted to figure out exactly how.

“Mgghhph,” Genevieve only paused for long enough to grunt in agreement before returning to licking her master's shaft. There was no hesitation or guilt showing in her lustful expression.

There was still so much Lily didn't know about what was going around her. Nothing about Agent St.Jean, Jillian, and Mary's plans. Luna and the book's fate. The imp's former patron, Lady Midday, and her interference. Or even the effect her cum on her friend Helen.

She had been swept up in everything without having any control of her fate.

That would change.