Author's Notes: As is usual to state on Literotica, in case it is not clear enough from the story itself, all characters participating in sexual acts occurring in this story are at least 18 years of age.
As can be seen from the tags, this story is a bit weirder and more experimental than is the norm in this category. I started writing it in the middle of writing a few supernatural-themed stories, and so, perhaps inevitably, this one also ended up going in that direction. If you don't like stories like this, you've been warned. If you like them or don't care, then I hope this story won't disappoint you (much).
Please, don't forget to comment, rate and if you like it, favorite the story. Constructive critique and feedback are always welcomed.
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"The hell's taking her so long," the young, international Latin superstar, Camila Cabello, mumbled to herself, annoyed, as she checked the time on her phone.
For somebody like her, it was very hard to quote-unquote "disappear" and go somewhere truly incognito with no one following her. That was true even when she wanted to do something completely ordinary like simply taking a walk or going into the woods for a while, but when she wanted to do something like this, where a single photo of her standing and waiting where she now was could make her a target of mockery for years, the stress of her situation was barely manageable. The very last thing she needed was being forced to wait because the person she was supposed to meet with was late, and, of course, that was exactly what she now had to go through.
If this was just her idea of punishing her or something because of the way their last conversation went, then she'll make her wish that that was the furthest Camila could go verbally when being angry...
Thankfully for the celebrity, her torturous wait had finally come to an end. Just a couple of moments after swearing under her breath at her circumstances, she saw an old, beat-up, black car drive by the sidewalk, before stopping right in front of the shop she was waiting by with such suddenness and force that, for a moment, she expected the car to just break down into pieces.
Opening the creaky driver's door with what the young singer could clearly see was a considerable effort, a hooded figure of a female roughly her age, maybe a bit old, exited the car and loudly slammed the door behind her.
As the hooded figure walked around the car and started walking towards her, the superstar noticed with amusement just how much the approaching figure resembled the shop she owned. Where the woman had dark clothes, a dark hood, black hair, and make-up, the shop she owned was similarly covered in black paint, with dark, tinted windows, and a structure that seemed just as old, used-up, and half-broken as the car which she drove to get here.
"Well hi there, FeistyCubana97_3," the hooded woman said, somewhat mockingly, when she finally came just a few steps away from the famous singer, using the nickname she was using on her site to address her.
Camila just snickered when she heard it. It was still quite funny to her that she was somehow the third person who chose such a nickname on a semi-obscure occultist's website.
But then, it wasn't like there weren't weirder things happening in the world all the time. Such as a world-famous singer trying to buy spells from strangers online to improve her sex life.
"Hi there, Madame Beaumont," Camila replied, likewise using the nickname her conversational partner had been using on the website. Though, while "Beaumont" obviously knew who she was, she had no idea what her real name could've been. Not even the private detectives she anonymously hired could find out. But then, she wasn't there to talk about or learn names, anyway. "Your spells don't work," she dryly stated, looking into the woman's disturbingly empty-looking dark eyes.
"If so, then why are you here?" the supposed witch replied, in an unbearably smart-ass manner. "You came here specifically for me to use my magic to help you."
"Yeah, you already promised that once," Camila retorted. "Now, you're promising that this time it will definitely work, and all I needed to do was come here, risk my reputation, and pay you even more money."
"Well, ordinary spells sometimes don't work. I mention it multiple times on my page. And that's especially true when you try to use ordinary spells on extraordinary people," the occultist replied. "How many people watch, or even just think about you daily, Miss Cabello? Millions, easily, if I had to bet. That's powerful. All of that energy, all of those chaotic vibrations creating an astral image of you and trying to impose themselves onto your reality... I'm sure you understand that it's hard for the energy of an ordinary spell to penetrate through all of that, all of those subjective viewpoints, and become the one thing that changes its subjective reality into your objective reality."
Once again, Camila snickered at her words.
"So, basically, that's your explanation for why you charge celebrities and other wealthy clients of yours more than the people with less money," she said, the sarcasm obvious in her voice.
"Basically," was the witch's reply.
"So, you're just a scammer," Camila said.
"That may be so," Beaumont conceded. "Why don't you let me open the door then and let me do the job I promised, so you can see for yourself."
"Of course, you're free to do that," she replied, moving out of the way for the witch, her words reminding her of the fact that she really needed to hide behind those dark windows as soon as possible lest some stray paparazzo snaps a picture of the year.
Fiddling with her keys long enough to make the nervous celebrity suspect that she could read her mind and knew how paranoid she was about being in the open like this, the dark-haired mystic finally opened the heavy-looking door, a dusty smell hitting both of them in the face after she had done so.
"When was the last time you vacuumed this place?" Camila asked, a bit shocked, waving her hand in front of her face as she did so.
"I do that often enough for the place to keep its atmosphere," she replied as she looked at the Latina, her black lips curling into a grin as she said so. "Anyway, follow me."
She did.
Walking right behind the hooded spell-seller, she was surprised to see that, despite the gloomy, gritty exterior and the dusty smell everywhere in here, the inside of the magic shop was quite clean and modern-looking. This was yet another way in which the shop had resembled its owner, because, behind the dark clothes, make-up, and general attitude, the supposed witch seemed to be quite a normal, even attractive, young girl.
Passing by some tables, chairs, and through one other room, the two of them walked into a small room hidden way back from the entrance door to the shop. If Camila had to guess before they entered it, this would be where the safe was, and, indeed, her intuition was correct. In the corner of the room, hidden under a chair and multiple articles of clothing was a medium-sized black safe box, which Beaumont had immediately reached down for.
A cold chill ran across the celebrity's spine as she looked at the box. She had no idea what could damage such a durable-looking coffer, but something was able to carve out an uncanny-looking and creepy pentagram all over the front side of it. The pentagram had the face of Baphomet in it, and she could swear that its eyes, which seemed to almost shine, were looking straight at her.
"Could you look somewhere else?" Beaumont asked. "Not that I think you need my money or anything, but there's not a single shopkeeper who'd let a customer, or anyone not working for them, to see the safe combination."
"Of course," the Latina replied, happy to have a reason not to look at the creepy carved-out goat face.
After a couple of tense, silent moments interrupted only by a few clicks, she heard the unmistakable sound of a safe opening and turned around to see the few stacks of cash and a dozen or so transparent, test tube-like bottles filled with similarly transparent liquids, which filled the safe's inside.
"You have the money I hope?" the dark-haired witch asked.
"Of course," Camila bitterly replied, before reaching into her purse. Being reminded of just how much money she had to waste on this wasn't the nicest feeling.
If, before she had fallen into this rabbit hole, anyone would've told her that she'll be carrying 15,000 dollars while sneaking out of her home and past the various paparazzi waiting to get incriminating shots of her, to give that fat amount of cash to an owner of a run-down shop on the outskirts of a medium-sized town who claims to be a witch to improve her sex life, she'd call that person a loco, and most likely call the cops on them.
"Bruja de mierda," she spat out through gritted teeth as she handed the cash to Beaumont, a shit-eating grin on the witch's face as she took it. Sure, she still had A LOT more money in her bank account, but still, 15,000 dollars was 15,000 friggin' dollars, no matter how wealthy you were. "This better work."
"Don't worry, it will," Beaumont assured her, as she handed her one of the small bottles. "This doesn't have just the invocations powering it. To multiply its power and make sure that the intended mystical effects will manifest, those potions have been filled with some of the most well-known hallucinogens used in mystical praxis."
"Aaaah, I get it now!" the star replied, laughing, as she looked the bottle over in her hand. "So, it's just drugs?"
"I highly prefer using just the term hallucinogens. ´Drugs´ implies that there is a risk of either addiction or negative effects on your organism, of which there is zero with this," the gothic witch assured her. "All this will do is open your mind to higher spheres, and allow the incubus bonded to the bottle to interact with you, and satisfy your unfulfilled desires, easier."
