Witch Glamour Novels & Stories

Tears were running down my cheeks, the pain was so intense. “You will see every part, that's what I get paid for.” said the witch. “She wants you to see her making love to your lover.” “I do not care what she wants, I will not watch anymore.” I said and looked away again. “When the mirror turns purple, he will confirm that he has penetrated and the spell will be complete. He will be in love with Karly as soon as his manhood penetrates her. It's very simple...”

Leina collapsed to her knees, gasping for breath, her entire body shaking from the ordeal. "It is done," the witch said, her voice carrying across the clearing. "You have your mark. You have given up your true scent. The bargain is complete." Leina looked at her wrist, at the crescent moon glowing there. It looked real. It looked perfect. It looked exactly like what she needed to convince everyone that she and Lanvin were meant to be together. But the witch was not finished speaking.

she whispered, though her voice cracked like a dropped glass. The transformation was remarkable, eerily so. She wore a handcrafted wig of jet-black strands, identical to Izora’s cascading waves. Her eyes, once hazel, now glimmered with green-gold contact lenses. A subtle, expertly drawn cut rested beneath her left eye, mimicking the faint scar Izora had carried for years. Her dress was a duplicate: the champagne silk gown Izora had worn to their last royal gala, hugging Rita’s slender curves like it belonged to someone braver. A delicate gray shawl draped over her shoulders, whispering against the silk as she walked.

I felt a tingling sensation upon hearing the word 'crush'. "Sorry! Just wondering coz you're blushing!" Dakota still insisted. "Champagne effect, darling. C'mon! You should greet mom and dad first!" I told her as we both strode to our table. I saw Warren dancing with a socialite on the dance floor, I remembered the woman. She was one of our clients. Her name was Zelda.

Diana let down her long hair, and her white shirt was deliberately opened with two buttons on the top to reveal her collarbone and seductive cleavage, she was very confident with her beautiful appearance to all men. If you compare Gemma and her, she never can overcome Gemma's goddess-like beauty, but now Gemma's mind is not normal, her scandalous and lethargic appearance is no longer the arrogant goddess of charm in the eyes of all as before. “Mr. Thompson…” A sweet, seductive voice called out Jethro's name.

“Now, get the fuck away from me. Iggy may be into gerontophilia, but not me.” Her nose wrinkled. I wonder if it is because she is pissed that I know it’s her. Or maybe her stomach is churning about the fact she’s fucking Iggy. I guess even an ancient hag like her has a standard, and Iggy is considered slumming it. I don’t care. Just care that it got her to take a few steps away from me. I don’t need her that close to my face. “Fine…” Shit Witch sneered as she wiped away my spit. And as if doing that was all it took, the wipe of her hand and the glamor was gone. I was looking at the mirror image of Katrina’s Bisnonna, the supposed good witch.

I growled, “and you, where will you be?” She wrapped her arms around my neck, “where ever you are, standing by your side, so what do you think? We have till the fireworks, so wherever my hologram is, that’s where they will focus on.” I wrapped my arms around her waist and kissed her forehead, “that’s not a bad idea actually, so the witches agreed to do this?” Her cheeks reddened, “for a price they will make millions of me.” I arched a brow, “and what is their price?”

Lore had it that the first witch had been blessed by Hermia with powers which had then passed to her descendants. As we neared, I spotted three of my strongest wolves standing guard. I nodded in silent approval as they stepped aside to let me into the cabin. A young woman rose as I entered, turning towards me. I took a moment to study her - long raven colored hair, high cheekbones, porcelain skin and a killer body. She was beautiful in a way that was meant to stun and seduce, but I was willing to bet an arm that that wasn’t what she really looked like. Underneath that glamour spell, she could be a seventy year old with false teeth.

“No one can. Unless she carries it. Find it. Tear it from her. Do not fail me, Tremaine.” I reeled back, the blood draining from me. Spells. Stones. Bewitchment. Witches. The word clicked into place like a blade into flesh. They were witches. They all were. Tremaine, Anastasia, the whole lot of them. And my father—my father who had married her—what had she done to him? I stumbled, the floor groaning underfoot, and panic drove me to flee. But something anchored me there. A need to see, to know. My hand closed on the knob and turned, inch by inch.

I wanted to be anywhere but sitting at that table. “My apologies to my lovely companion,” Jack bellowed for the vampires at the end of the table to hear, “I was so occupied with our very special guest, Prince Mandrake of Kurr, that I neglected to see to her wardrobe. Please join me in making her welcome at this table, for she is perfect just as she is. As for tomorrow, it is my sincerest hope that one of you lovely ladies will see your way to introducing my princess and love to our Dresser.