Heather plucked the bottle from its bed of ice in her white-gloved hands and tipped the neck over the rim of the glass, letting the golden wine flow in a gentle cascade. She leaned forward as the glass filled, her already straining breasts stretching the frilly lace until it pressed hard into her erect nipples, sending a shiver through her body and a wriggle into her hips.

She straightened as the glass became full, the flesh of her bosom rippling. The nipples were two ever-hard and aching points tenting the narrow trim at the edge of the lace, half-moons of areolae peeking out above it. She let out a husky sigh and shuddered once more as the panties of her skimpy French maid outfit again tugged into her already wet pussy, the exposed slivers of her ass cheeks quivering.

Heather set down the wine bottle and stepped back. She slowly thrust one lithe leg forward and tugged her garter until the tiny wrinkle in her black fishnet stocking vanished, leaving her leg silky smooth once more. Every movement was executed with poise and liquid sensuality, her pussy oozing and tingling with repressed sexual heat.

She drew her foot back and brushed a few stray red hairs out of her eyes. She tugged her long gloves until they were tight and wrinkle-free, letting out a soft moan as her pussy rose in gentle, rewarding pleasure at how pretty and sexy she would look for her Mistress.

She lifted the glass and flicked the edge with a finger to break a single bubble on the surface of the wine before setting it down upon a gleaming silver tray. She took care to poise the tray before her so as not to obscure her breasts or her hips before she advanced through the dining room, her legs moving with dance-like grace on her four-inch heels, her hips swinging in perfect sensual concert.

Just short of the threshold, she glanced down at Mistress' laptop, sitting at the end of the table facing the living room. The lid was lowered, the screen dark as it sat in hibernation mode. She remembered how she had first feared its ubiquitous presence, that Mistress would use its webcam to reveal her induced servitude to the world. Now she shivered with anticipation at the idea of posing for her Mistress, and felt a mild sense of disappointment when it never came to be.

As she crossed the threshold into the living room and her eyes fell upon her Mistress, warm and liquid pleasure flooded her pussy. Her thighs trembled, slightly disturbing the otherwise perfect cadence of her steps. Nevertheless, Laura's lips curled into a sly smile. She settled into a more languid pose upon her plush easy chair, her robe falling open and exposing one breast.

Heather wanted to beg for relief. Ever since waking that morning she had been driven to the precipice of climax. But no such requests or protests would be allowed her. Her own thoughts were little more than vague shadows in the fog-like thrall of Laura's control. She knew only who she was and what was happening to her. Everything else was an orchestrated play, her body a puppet to Laura's desires.

As she advanced, movement caught the corner of her eye as a gentle rush of heated air blew across her ankles. Curled on the floor between Laura's chair and a space heater was a naked young woman in the throes of unsettled slumber. Around her neck was a dog collar from which dangled a little metal heart with the word "MARCIE" stamped into it.

Marcie shuddered and whimpered, her legs shifting until Heather saw the moisture along her inner thighs near her bare, glistening delta.

Heather still wanted to shudder in revulsion, but under Laura's influence, she could only utter a sigh of envy. To be so enslaved as to have completely lost herself to sexual desire, to have no respite from unending lust and need until she became little more than sexual want personified, to ...

Heather moaned and her tray rattled.

"Easy now," Laura warned. "Don't make me have to punish you."

Heather swallowed and held her breath as another wave of pleasure drove her pussy to the straining edge.

Laura's mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "Say it. I know you want to."

"P-please punish me, Mistress," Heather said in a soft, breathy voice. "I deserve nothing less."

"What are you, Heather?"

"Your little wet pussy maid, Mistress."

"And is your pussy wet, my little maid slave?"

"Oh, yes, always nice and wet for Mistress!"

As the humiliation burned in the back of her mind, she briefly wished for the simple bliss which Marcie felt.

"Serve me," Laura said.

Heather stepped forward. She presented the tray ahead of her, bending over until her breasts dangled and nearly slipped out of her costume. Laura took the glass and settled back in her chair. She took a slow sip, watching Heather remain still. Heather did not dare straighten up until she was told.

"What a perfect position for you," said Laura. "Wouldn't you just love to be taken from behind right now?"

Heather let out a deep, husky sigh and trembled. Her pussy oozed through her panties.

"Can't you just imagine a nice, fat cock slipping into your cunt right now?"

Heather panted, and her hips writhed. A single drop of overflowing arousal trickled down her thigh. Pleasure rose unbidden, out of her control to either stop or ignore.

Laura took another drink as she watched Heather tremble. She placed her glass on a small table beside the chair and reached into a pocket of her robe. "I suppose we could do the next best thing."

Heather whimpered as Laura held up a long dildo, its gel-like surface gleaming faintly.

Laura placed the dildo on Heather's tray and swept up the wine glass. "Show me how you like it, slave."

Heather picked up the dildo and straightened up. She stared at it, licking her lips as if she held the most delicious cock in the world. She dropped to her knees, panting heavily and letting the tray fall with a brief clatter. She turned the dildo around in her hands, cradling its fake balls and sliding her fingertips along its shaft with teasing strokes.

With a deep moan of desire, Heather tilted her head and closed her eyes as she slowly ran her tongue down the underside of the dildo.

Laura grinned. "Oh, you definitely know what your 'man' wants, don't you?"

Heather shuddered, a quavering breath passing her lips just before she took the head into her mouth, sliding down the shaft in a slow, sensual glide.

Laura shivered and slipped her hand under her robe, her legs parting. "God, you can be such a slut, Heather," Laura breathed. "That's why I so wanted you like this. I just can't bear giving you up again."

Heather's head bobbed upon the dildo, her fingers wrapping about the shaft and pumping it as if it were the real thing. For all intents and purposes it was the real thing, her desires manipulated into wanting it as badly as she might want Jason's cock.

Laura's fingers worked back and forth under her robe to faint, wet sounds until she panted softly. "Mmm ... as much as I love watching this, I want to see that dildo where it will do the most good. Let me see you fuck yourself with it from behind."

Heather drew her mouth back slowly, as if reluctant to let go. Yet as the head popped from her lips with a smack, her pussy ached and begged for the dildo's attentions.

Breathing hard with growing lust, she dropped to all fours and turned until her ass was facing her Mistress, her hips squirming in anticipation and need. She bit her lip to suppress another whimper as she drew down her panties, exposing her sopping and helpless folds. Her hand trembled as it maneuvered the dildo between her legs, a feeble show of what little resistance she could muster against the Dark power.

On her first day as Laura's slave, she could see all the Auras. Around Laura, around Marcie, around herself, all constant reminders of her enslavement. She still could not decide whether what Laura did to her that first day was a mercy or a cruelty; she had Heather stare into Laura's eyes until all the Auras had vanished. At first it had made it easier to cope; now it made it all too easy to accept enslavement.

Heather gasped as she eased the head of the dildo past her slick folds. It became a ragged moan as the shaft disappeared with a faint squishing noise which rose above the hum of the space heater.

By the time the dildo was buried to its balls inside her, she was straining at the edge of orgasm, her fingers curling into the carpet. Her mind surged with energy, her pent-up sexual need like a churning vortex. But none of it was hers to command. She felt the energy drain away, only to return in the form of Laura's will, which now prompted her to pull and push the dildo, driving her to an almost painful need to cum.

Her link to the other Harbingers appeared as a distant, dim light. During her first days of enslavement, Heather had sensed Melinda trying to force energy to her. It had pained Heather to refuse it and frustrated Melinda to no end. Heather had not revealed the truth to her little sister, that Laura had implied she would bring Melinda into her harem if Heather resisted or refused.

Heather panted hard as she speared herself with the dildo in unceasing sexual self-torment, her hips rocking with trained precision to her thrusts. Moisture trickled from her folds and down her legs, and she gasped with unrelenting need.

Her own noises masked those of her Mistress, the robe having fallen away from Laura's own wet pussy, finger sliding in and out of her depths. Laura moaned softly, trembling with growing pleasure, her lips curling into a smile of wicked delight as she watched the dildo plunge into her slave's helpless cunt.

Laura stopped short of driving herself over the edge, easing her fingers back and letting her breathing settle before she announced, "Stop, but leave the dildo inside you."

Heather buried the dildo until the fake balls were shoved hard against her mound. Her hand dropped, and she panted hard, her hips squirming at the constant, thick presence inside her pussy.

Laura took a long sip of her wine and uttered a heavy sigh as she lowered the glass. "I suppose you will want to be freed this evening, if for no other reason than to obviate the need for your poor mother to conceive of an unbelievable excuse for your absence on Thanksgiving tomorrow."

For a moment, Heather was confused. During her weeks of slavery to her school principal, the flow of time became meaningless. Minutes ran together into hours, and the hours melted into days. Her Mistress cared not for her to understand what day of the week it was. For all intents and purposes, she was always Laura's good little wet pussy maid, and that was all that mattered.

"I suppose I should never have let your mother make me agree to wait one more week after Halloween to take you. Had I bothered to look at the calendar, I would have likely turned her down."

Heather closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to suppress a whimper. A glimmer of understanding came to her, and she finally did remember that it was Thanksgiving week.

The fact that Haven High School was decked out in Thanksgiving decorations had meant nothing to her. Even though Laura let her attend classes during a week of enslavement, she spent much of that time in a mental fog, unable to do much more than do her class work and think erotic thoughts about her wonderful Mistress. She could barely speak to her fellow Harbingers. After school, it was straight to her Mistress' house and into her sexy French maid outfit.

And what would being free on Thanksgiving even mean to her? It wasn't like life at home would be much better. Melinda's attempts to infuse her with the Harbingers' shared pool of energy had faded to nothing two days ago. She feared she had protected Melinda from Laura only to see her sister fall to their own mother.

"Very well," Laura said with another tired sigh. "I suppose I could do it this once. But you'll be back here bright and early Friday morning in time to serve me breakfast."

"Yes, Mistress," Heather said with quavering breath.

Laura pulled aside her robe and slid her hips forward, spreading her legs. "But not before you satisfy me, slave. Come lick me," Her lips twisted into an evil grin. "Leave the dildo inside you."

Heather crawled towards her Mistress, swinging her hips in time with the slide of her knees across the carpet, thighs quivering as they brushing against her swollen mound. The dildo twisted inside of her, slick flesh squishing with molten arousal. Her breasts spilled from her top, her pleasure spiking as her nipples brushed against the lace on their way out. They throbbed with her pounding heart, and she shimmied her torso to make them jiggle in just the way she knew her Mistress liked.

Her eyes rose to the prize, glistening pink folds oozing in anticipation of Heather's tongue. Laura let out her breath as a husky sigh of want, eyes dark and glittering. Heather felt nothing but intense excitement despite how many times she had been called upon to perform this duty.

A duty? No, an honor. She realized that again when her tongue touched Laura's beautiful pussy. She uttered a soft moan as she drew forward, closing her lips around the jewel at the top of Laura's slit. Her tongue lashed out, lapping Laura's delicious lust, as her hips writhed and her pussy ached from the tight presence of the dildo.

It became easier to slip into this role; easier to desire Laura's pussy as if it were an elixir of life; easier to become one with Laura's desires and do everything expected of her; easier to become Laura's obedient and loyal pet just like ...

Just like ...

Heather let out a ragged breath into her Mistress' pussy, and her ministrations faltered. She trembled and seized the link, mentally crying out her panic even as her body still complied with Laura's will. The distant light flickered, then flared to bright life. Yet when she tried to draw upon it just enough to remind herself who she really was and to convince herself she did not want to be Laura's slave forever, it became shrouded in a strange blue haze streaked with crackling white.

So shocked by the sight of something so alien and yet so familiar that her tenuous hold on the link slipped like an oiled rope through her fingers.

"Heather," Laura said in a curt voice.

Heather drew back and lifted her shimmering eyes to her Mistress.

"Do not do that ever again."

Heather's eyes widened.

"Yes, I sensed what you just did." Laura paused and tilted her head. Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "And it didn't work, did it?"

Heather said nothing; her trembling answered the question for her.

"Perhaps you can't anymore. Perhaps they're closed off to you now."

Heather swallowed. No, that was not possible. The link could not be broken that easily. She was just too used to being ... no ... that was an even more disturbing thought.

Laura lay a hand against Heather's cheek. Heather moaned and leaned into the touch, both desire and relief flooding over her.

"You are my slave," said Laura. "That will never change. And before long, you won't want it to change. Perhaps you already don't want it to change."

Heather tried to summon the panic again, or the fear, or the rage. None of it would come. She shuddered and moaned, her pussy straining when one of her breasts was teased by Laura's toes.

"I will let you go this evening, but you will return Friday morning," Laura cooed.

Heather shivered. Something still wasn't ... the haze ... she had seen it before ... it had to be ...

"And you'll be ever so eager to come back to me, my slave."

Heather whimpered. Her pussy dripped between her legs. Yes, she wanted to return. She never really wanted to leave. She ... she had to ... the others ... they could tell her ... they would know what ...

Laura cupped Heather's face with both hands and lifted until Heather's gaze met hers. "Now, do you really see any need to discuss anything about this at all with your friends?"

Heather's lower lip quivered, the words a jumble in her head.

"Do you, slave? Do you see any point in talking about what you can't change?"

Heather's lips moved, and a single syllable breathed past her lips.

"What was that, my slave?"

"No," Heather whispered. "No, Mistress."

Laura smiled and withdrew her hands. Without further bidding, Heather brought her mouth to her Mistress' pussy, and subsumed herself to blissful obedience.

"Heather?!" Melinda cried out as she sat up in bed, her gaze whipping first from her sister's pristine bed to the open bedroom door. "Is that ...? What ...? Uhng, s-stop ..."

Nothing would stop her fingers as they stroked her slick pussy, her hips trying to rise in time to the digits which speared her tight tunnel with each down-stroke. She closed her eyes, her body rocking to her hand's movements, the large swells of her breasts bouncing and rippling with each stroke.

She tried to voice her thoughts again, but a needy whimper passed her lips instead. She fell back and gasped as she sent her fingers into a sharp plunge into her depths. She moaned and spread her legs, plump flesh rolling like jelly across her chest as her hips thrust against her hand. Her pleasure rose only slowly, settling like a foggy pall over her mind.

She could never desire to rush. Once she started, she wanted to revel in the hot, wet pleasure of her bare pussy. She cast her free arm over her pillow above her, her head lolling to one side amidst a tangle of long, reddish-brown hair. Her fingertips swirled against her clit, teasing it until she ached with unrequited lust, moving with a skill imparted to her from a source she despised but which slaved her body to her own sexuality until it was satisfied.

Her body heaved as it approached a crescendo of pleasure, fingers stroking hard and fast. Her body trembled as her hips thrust into her hand. She gasped as her fingers slowed, keeping her straining at the very edge until she uttered a distressed whimper.

Her orgasm overwhelmed her, and for a few seconds, she could not breathe. Finally, she let out a gasping moan and then a squeal as her climax reverberated through her body, hips jerking hard, taut nipples throbbing in time to it. Her fingers kept stroking, forcing every last bit of response until her pussy settled into a post-coital ache.

Panting hard, Melinda went limp, her hand falling to her side. She could not rise from the bed as her mind still floated in a misty sea of pleasure. She hugged her arms around herself and shivered, letting out a slow, husky sigh. Her hips writhed in memory of her lovely orgasm. She shuddered as she thought how wonderful it would be to feel this way all the time.

Melinda finally forced her arms back to her sides and let out a ragged breath. She resisted the urge to touch her pussy just to see how wet it remained. She sat up and glanced around the room as if expecting her sister to be there.

She stood and paused, her legs shaky. She took a step towards the bathroom, but stopped and shook her head until hair flew before her eyes. She grabbed some tissues from the box on her night table and wiped her fingers with them instead. The bathroom was what had triggered it this time. She had looked at herself too long, until she thought how sweet and sexy her nude body felt ...

Melinda raced towards the dresser. She yanked open a drawer and stared at the thick, neat piles of panties and bras. She picked up a pair of panties in her trembling hands, bit her lip, then lowered them into the drawer and slammed it shut. She leaned against the dresser until the top edge rapped against the wall and dropped her face into her hands.

God, it's just getting worse, she lamented in what she hoped was still the privacy of her own mind. On Monday I could at least put them on and ...

Her head jerked up when she heard the front door open and close. She bolted from the dresser, which thumped back down on its forward legs, tossing Heather's hairbrush onto the floor. She rushed out of the bedroom, down the hall, and bounded down the stairs, not caring how her breasts bounced uncomfortably without support. "Heather?! Heather is that--?"

She stopped, both in voice and step, halfway down the stairs. In the entry hall, her mother Penny Sovert looked up as she slipped out of her coat. "No, dear, it's not your sister."

Melinda swallowed, her eyes darting over the inky-black tendrils of her mother's Aura. She stared at it as if to convince herself it was still there and still real. Despite Penny's attempts to steal that perception from her, Melinda maintained the reality.

Melinda finally found her voice when her mother turned to put the coat in the closet. It was always easier when she didn't have to see her mother's eyes. "Where is she? Why isn't she home yet? Why didn't you pick her up?"

Penny paused after she closed the closet door. "Her Mistress is not finished with her yet, honey."

"Stop calling her that!" Melinda piped. "And don't call me 'honey,' either."

Penny turned her head and smiled softly at her daughter. Melinda's eyes slowly widened as Penny advanced up the stairs. "You're right, I shouldn't call you that," Penny said in a soft, breathy voice. "You're my sexy little girl, aren't you?"

Melinda opened her mouth, but the words of protest would not come. Her eyes flicked over her mother's body, watching the swing of Penny's hips and the jiggle of her breasts under her tight dress. She turned and stumbled up the stairs. "I'm going back to my room," she said in a faint voice.

"No, Melinda."

Melinda made it to the upstairs hallway, then stopped and shuddered as she let out ragged breath. Her hands clenched into fists and trembled as she heard her mother's heels reach the top step.

"Come with me into my bedroom," Penny said, her hand alighting on Melinda's shoulder. "I want to talk to you."

"No," Melinda grunted.

Penny slid her fingers slowly down her daughter's back and caressed one of her ass cheeks. "Be a good girl, Melinda. Be a good little sexy girl for me and do as I say."

"I-I ha ..." Melinda breathed, but the remaining words would only barely shape her lips. Moist heat trickled from her folds.

Her mother stepped past her. Melinda watched her mother's ass dip and sway, smooth stocking-clad legs gliding. Melinda bit her lip and tried to seize the link to the other Harbingers. What little energy she found felt diffuse, like light forced through thick glass blocks. Trying to project anything was worse, like pushing through a wall of cotton candy, a wall which seemed closer every time.

She trotted after her mother and stepped into the master bedroom. The air felt thick, as if giving form to the suffocating presence of the Darkness which exuded from her mother. She refused to look directly into Penny's eyes, even if it meant letting the rest of her mother's body send tingles of unwanted desire trickle in her pussy.

"I'll pick up Heather shortly, Melinda," Penny said with a small sigh. "I wanted to come home and change out of these clothes first."

"Let me pick her up!" Melinda suddenly blurted.

Penny started unbuttoning her blouse. "Don't be silly, Melinda, you can't."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because you can't very well go outside naked."

"I'm naked all the time only because you won't let me wear anything around the house!" Melinda cried. "You're just doing this to ..."

Penny shed her blouse, and Melinda stared at her mother's ample bosom, the nipples tenting the fabric of the bra cups. She barely noticed the gold-colored, heart-shaped pendant which Penny removed and set upon her dresser. "But you're just so sweet and sexy, Melinda, why wouldn't you want to be naked all the time?"

Melinda shivered and squeezed her legs together. "Stop it."

Penny tugged her skirt from her hips. Melinda averted her eyes as Penny stepped out of it, skimpy panties hugging her mother's mound, outlining the labia in perfect relief. "You looked so adorable when you were coming down the stairs, the way your plump little boobs bounced and swayed."

Melinda hugged her arms around herself, her breath a ragged pant as her stiffening nipples throbbed with her heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the slide of cloth against skin. A shadow passed before her, and she smelled the faint remnants of perfume on her mother's skin, mixed with the musky odor of arousal.

Melinda gasped and stumbled back until she fetched up against the wall when her breasts were cupped and gently fondled. "You're getting almost as big as your sister now."

Penny stroked her daughter's nipples. Melinda whimpered and grasped for the link again. The energy settled around her like a light mist when what she wanted was a torrent, but it was enough. Her nipples throbbed in pleasure as good as stroking her clit, but she did not fall into her mother's arms.

Penny withdrew her hands. "But you like to look at them, too, don't you?"

Melinda shook her head, though it was weak.

"Be a good girl, Melinda. Be a good girl and don't lie to me."

"I-I'll do whatever I want. I don't have to tell you a-anything. You can't make me--"

"Melinda, open your eyes and look at me."

Melinda kept her face averted, but her eyelids fluttered as if struggling to resist her mother's desire.

"Look at mommy's boobs," Penny cooed. "Like I know you want to."

Part of Melinda wanted to react with utter revulsion, and it helped her pull more energy from the link, but it was like trying to draw a frozen drink through a thin straw. Melinda's eyes fluttered open, and she turned them towards her mother. Two plump, round breasts hovered just at eye level, the flesh firm and supple, the nipples thick and erect. A smattering of freckles near the top betrayed their age.

Melinda shuddered with pleasure when she beheld their ripe maturity, her folds growing slick and achy as her mother's bosom swelled with each breath and rippled with every movement.

Surrounding them was the ever-present Aura, and Melinda tried to force herself to look at it instead, to remind her that this beauty was wrapped in a foul and ugly evil. Instead, her pussy ran molten with the thought of licking and sucking those nice, hard nipples.

Penny stepped back and pushed her panties down her legs. Melinda's gaze fell upon her mother's thighs and bare mound, her tongue curling and flicking inside her mouth as if wishing to do the same inside Penny's cunt.

Why is she doing this? Melinda thought, trying to project what was happening over the link and again feeling like she was pushing against a wall. Why is she pouring it on so--

"Uhng!" Melinda cried as her mother's fingers gently stroked her needy pussy. She closed her eyes and panted, shaking with the desire to fall against her mother and revel in the feel of Penny's mature, naked body against hers. All sense of rationality shattered as lust boiled up from her pussy, and she pulled on the link like a drowning man upon a rope.

The energy suddenly flared in the distance, yet she could not draw it towards her, nor pull her thoughts away from being her mother's sexy good little girl. She rocked her hips against her mother's hand, panting hard. Something was wrong. The energy was there, but she could not reach it.

Wait ... this is not ... this is more like ...

"Be my sexy little girl, Melinda," Penny purred. "My sexy little obedient girl."

Melinda tried to shake her head, but managed only to turn it to the side for a moment. Pleasure rose and flooded her mind, threatening to drown out everything else.

"And you can do one little thing for mommy if you want to keep being good."

Without Melinda realizing it, her mother had led her away from the door and towards the bed. Penny sat upon the edge of the mattress and drew her daughter to her. Melinda whimpered in protest but did not resist when Penny gathered her into her mother's lap, fingers still buried in Melinda's dripping pussy.

"While Heather is home for Thanksgiving, don't try to contact your friends from school."

Melinda squirmed, but Penny pulled her closer and rested Melinda's face upon her breasts. Melinda let out a husky sigh, her pussy straining as her mother's fingers pumped.

"That's all mommy wants. Can you do that for me?"

Melinda did not answer, and Penny did not need to hear it. She needed to hear only the keen of her daughter's orgasm and feel the shudder of Melinda's body in the throes of helpless pleasure.

Everything about the moment felt wrong to Cassie Kendall. The timing was wrong; the place was wrong; the mood was wrong. She was not even sure the need which drove her was all her own. She had been forced to deny not just herself but her lover as well, and the guilt had not set well with the other emotions which whirled like a tempest in her troubled psyche.

Nevertheless, the thrust of her hips was no less ardent than the pounding rhythm of Ned's cock into her slick and needy depths. Her intent to remain as quiet and unobtrusive as possible had evaporated once her pleasure had finally overpowered her disturbing thoughts. Her pants became breathy and noisy, her body rocking hard enough to make the bedsprings squeak.

When Ned "the Nose" Lussander briefly slowed his thrusts to adjust his position on the bed, Cassie wrapped her arms around him and drew him closer, jamming her hips to his as if afraid he was going to stop. She very nearly begged him not to in so many words when his cock pistoned in and out of her at a frenzied, almost desperate pace.

Cassie's fingers curled into his shoulders, and she squeezed her eyes shut, letting nothing but lustful pleasure fill her mind. For a frightening moment she felt envious of Heather; how easy it was for her to forget all her problems and subsume herself to another's desire. She uttered a quavering moan, and her movements faltered, distracted by patterns of thought she did not want to bear.

And now even her motivations were wrong.

She wrapped her legs around him, tightening until her thighs ached. For the moment she had anchored herself once more. He deserved nothing less than to have all of her. He had been so patient waiting for something to fix what had gone so terribly wrong soon after the mess of Halloween. Now, finally, it was fixed, at least for the moment.

It was the thoughts of her "fix" she could not bear.

Cassie's pleasure suddenly rocketed towards a peak. With a distressed whimper she clamped down on her pussy muscles, trying to stave off climax for a few moments longer. Yet Ned was almost there, his body trembling as it always did right before he came. She clenched her teeth, holding herself at the straining edge, and in that moment she finally managed to forget everything except the touch of her lover's body against hers.

Ned's cock throbbed hard in her tunnel, and she burst over the edge seconds later. Their orgasms remained synchronized even after having gone so long without, which was a small comfort to her. She pulled herself tight to him, keening her pleasure into his shoulder.

Cassie was unaware of how much time had passed before Ned let her spill gently back onto the bed. Cassie let out a breathy sigh as she stared at the ceiling. She snapped her eyes closed and turned her head, trying to ignore with little success the fact that they were in the guest bedroom of Debby Radson's house.

Cassie felt the bed thump as Ned fell to his side. She opened her eyes, focusing her cloudy, slate blue gaze on her lover's face. Ned ran a hand through his disheveled and damp hair. "Wow, babe, that was ... that was epic," Ned gasped as he caught his breath.

A tiny smile tugged at Cassie's lips. Words formed in her head, something tender and gracious, but she could not bring herself to give voice to them.

Ned gave her a lopsided grin. "An' here I thought I was doin' ya too hard at first, but I was jus' tryin' ta keep up by the end."

Cassie's smile widened slightly. For a moment she felt a true sense of satisfaction. She could forget all the wrongness.

"Don't know what kinda magic ya worked on yer mother ta get her to change her mind."

The moment was shattered. Her smile froze, her eyes shimmering.

"Heh, why do I keep thinkin' of ya pullin' a Jedi mind trick on her?" He waved his hand. "This is not the boyfriend yer lookin' fer."

Cassie burst into tears.

Ned blinked, his hand still in the air. "Er ... I ... what?"

Cassie rolled onto her front and cried into the pillow until her body shook.

"Oh, Jesus ... Babe, I'm sorry, I didn't ..." Ned trailed off. Cassie felt his hand alight on her shoulder, her body trembling at both his tender touch and her own tortured thoughts.

She sensed no surprise in him, and that was something of a relief. He must have realized Cassie seemed a little off that evening. She had been unusually quiet at the restaurant, and she had given no hint at any thoughts of intimacy until she had ordered Harry to take them to Mrs. Radson's house. Yet even then she had barely spoken to him, betraying her need only when she had grasped his hand and practically dragged him up the stairs.

Ned slapped his forehead and sighed. "Dammit. Mebbe next time my head will be faster than my libido."

Cassie heaved a sob and lifted herself from the bed. She sniffled, her eyes still dripping tears which splashed to the side when she shook her head. "Ned, i-it's okay," she said in a strained voice. "It's not you. You didn't do anything wrong."

"Well, uh, okay ... but I'm sure I don't remember ya cryin' after sex before."

Cassie took a few deep breaths until the last one no longer sounded like a sob. When she started wiping her eyes, Ned yanked a tissue from the box on the night table and thrust it towards her. "Thank you," she said softly as she accepted it.

Ned sighed. "It's all the crap goin' down with Heather and Melinda, ain't it?" Ned said. "Ya can feel all the stuff they're bein' made ta do an' it--"

Cassie shook her head. "No, that's not it. Goodness, I wish that were it. I'm wishing for the days when I could never block out their emotions over the link. Now it's ..." She trailed off and closed her eyes, holding her hand to her cheek. "My mind is just racing right now, Ned, p-please, give me a moment."

Ned nodded, but his eyes remained riveted with concern on Cassie. It pained her to worry him like this. They knew things had taken a turn for the worse over the past few weeks, and it showed in everyone. Jason had become more snappish, Richie more sullen, Diane more withdrawn. Cassie had become Ned's last bastion of calm, despite having to limit his association with her to school and the phone when her mother had forbid her to associate with him soon after Halloween.

Cassie slowly opened her eyes and raised them to Ned's. "My mother allowed me to see you again because ..." She stopped, her eyes tearing again. She wiped them and sniffled once, her voice catching when she spoke again. "B-because I made her."

Ned stared, nonplussed. "Ya made her? Ya don't mean like ...?"

A tear ran down her cheek. "I-I mean like, I got into her dreams and ... a-and influenced her." More tears streamed down her face. "I-It took two weeks, because I wanted to be gentle, but I still did it, I still mind ... m-mind controlled my own mother!"

"Oh, babe," Ned breathed, holding Cassie to him as she wept into his shoulder. "I'm sorry. Shit, I know how ya feel 'bout that."

"I said I would never do it, but I did it anyway!" Cassie cried.

Ned hugged her. "C'mon, babe, don't do this ta yerself. Ya know she had no right ta come down on ya like that."

"That's not the point." She pushed herself out of the embrace. "Please, don't justify it for me."

"I'm not! I mean ... well, c'mon, we gotta keep seein' each other. With all the shit goin' down, we can't be kept apart."

Cassie nodded halfway through his statement and dabbed her eyes with the tissue. "I keep telling myself that. I keep telling myself that I can't let the Harbingers fall apart just because my mother thinks you're 'beneath my station.'"

Ned smirked. "Heh, that's better than a lotta things I've been called."

"Please, it's not funny at all. This wouldn't be so bad if Stephanie hadn't given me all her powers. I had to work at it not to change my mother's mind too much."

Ned's eyes widened. "Wow. Yer that powerful now?"

"I don't understand it, Ned. I knew after Halloween that my abilities were given a boost, but it's like in the last week it's gone into overdrive. And then there's ... the other power."

Cassie was grateful when Ned held his tongue. Cassie was so spooked by the extra ability Stephanie had given her -- that of Projecting her spirit along the lines of force -- that she cringed at any mention of it.

"I haven't tried it yet," Cassie said, her voice quavering. "But it's like ... it's like it's calling to me. And that's really scaring me."

Ned hugged her again, and this time she did not pull away.

"Maybe I wouldn't be so scared if Heather and Melinda's presence in the link wasn't so weak," Cassie said into Ned's shoulder. "Something's happening, and I don't think any of us knows what it is."

"Jason didn't say nuthin' about it?"

"He's so wrapped up in trying to decipher Elizabeth's journal and making good on his promise to Richie. I don't think he's getting much sleep these days."

Ned sighed, blowing out his lips. "Crap. He's prolly freaking out 'bout Melinda and Heather, too."

Cassie eased back, brushing strands of curly brown hair from her eyes. "He thinks we should have done something sooner," she said in a forlorn voice.

"But what? I mean, c'mon, we all tried ta get Heather out from under the Principal o'Doom. It's like she wouldn't let us."

Cassie sighed and nodded. "I know. But just when we started our lovemaking, I felt first Heather reach out to Melinda, and then Melinda reach out to the rest of us. It was like something was blocking them." Her eyes threatened to mist again, but she blinked a single tear away. "I sh-shouldn't have done this with you, but I felt like it would protect me somehow."

"Well, we're s'posed ta be doin' the fandango to keep up our energy. Mebbe that's what's causin' the works ta get gummed up."

"I thought that too, but I've ..." Cassie's cheeks pinked, and she lowered her voice. "I've been h-having sex with Jason as much as I could."

"Heh, at least that gave him some stress relief."

Cassie managed a tiny smile, grateful that her empathic sense detected not a hint of jealousy. Though her blush deepened when she added, "And Diane and Richie a few times. At least until my mother thought Richie was too far beneath my station as well."

"So now what?"

Cassie climbed off the bed and picked up her underwear. "We talk to Mrs. Radson, because right now, I am all out of ideas."

Jason Conner forced himself to sit up in bed and open his eyes when his attempt to rest threatened to drift over into full slumber. He sighed and slipped off his glasses, placing them among the schoolbooks, notebooks, and looseleaf binders arrayed around him on the bed. He wiped his face with his hands and yawned.

It was all for show in case his mother walked in. She was less averse to him holing up in his room when she thought he was doing homework. She had even seemed pleased when he had first claimed several weeks ago that he was getting a lot more homework assigned to him.

Unfortunately, it had done nothing to stop her from barging into his room whenever she liked. That had started soon after Halloween, when rumors began to circulate that something odd had happened that night involving several high school students. Jason had never been confronted, but where his mother was already leery of Jason's activities of late, either real or imagined, it was enough to heighten suspicion.

When Jason had politely asked Audrey to stop walking into his room without first knocking on his door, he got the terse reply, "There will be no secrets under this roof. You should be doing nothing I can't see."

Jason closed his eyes and pressed his hands together under his nose as if praying and sought the link. Once he had determined that the mind could shape the representation of the link to anything it desired, Jason had made his look like an open jumpgate from the science fiction series Babylon 5. He could stare into the swirling, cone-shaped energy and see the other Harbingers rush at him through the gate when they were actively using the link.

He tried to see Melinda again. He had sensed something earlier, which had prompted him to pause in his task. Now he saw nothing but the maddening haze which had settled across the gate over the past few days and disturbed the usually smooth energies surrounding it.

He thought about seeking Heather, but shuddered and opened his eyes instead. The last time he had tried that, his mind shaped his perceptions too much in the Babylon 5 theme, and she had appeared as if encased by one of the Shadow ships.

Jason rubbed his eyes and climbed off the bed. His problems with the link had to be fatigue. He had slept poorly the past week, as obsessed as he was in reading the rest of Elizabeth's journal, now that he had finally reached the point where her musings and research were actual useful to him.

He glanced at the door and then at his computer, where a small applet in the lower right corner of the screen labeled "Intrusion Alert" glowed green. He reached under the bed and pulled out the yellowed, crinkling pages of the journal, the page he had been perusing still on top of the pile. He fell into his chair before the computer as his bleary eyes struggled to comprehend text written in a cursive and flowery script:

February 27th, 1974 - I came to a most disturbing conclusion today, one wish makes me wish I had the past thirty years to live over again. My attempts to understand how the Darkness is usurping human will through the corruption of sexuality have been hampered by the blinders I had placed upon myself. I had refused to believe that I had done anything to help the Darkness gain power.

I had a dream last night. It was about my last confrontation with the Darkness, when I had siphoned energy from it for Mara. Something the Darkness had said to me which I had conveniently forgotten came surging back to me in painfully sharp clarity. I will not repeat it here, for thinking of the words makes me shake and unable to write. But suffice it to say that the very techniques I had doled out in hopes of allowing people to generate healthy energy from sex and direct it to constructive purposes were the very instruments the Darkness uses to accomplish its control over its victims.

I had refused to see how closely entwined sex and power were. Even for partners for whom their sexuality flows from their mutual and intense love for one another, it is there. Our egos are fragile, and none of us are immune to dark thoughts and desires. It is these the Darkness exploits, using the baser aspects of sexual need as a conduit into the spirit.

This is why it is so hard to fight the Darkness. The source of the energy which can be pitted against it is the very thing it attempts to turn to its own purpose. I was very lucky that day. Only my intense fear of what would happen to Mara's spirit if I had failed sustained me. But that will not work again. It's grown more powerful thanks to one who would think to ally himself with it.

I need another way to block the Darkness from the mind. Willpower and purity of thought cannot do it alone. I must (again) delve into magicks no self-respecting Witch should touch. I have no choice. I have dedicated myself to this task, for the sake of Mara's memory.

The entry had excited Jason, as there were still almost six years of journal entries after that one. Surely she made some sort of breakthrough, or at least laid a groundwork the Harbingers could follow. Mrs. Radson was a Witch, and she could likely follow whatever instructions Elizabeth may have given. While she claimed not to be as powerful as Elizabeth once was, he believed he needed only remind her how she had almost single-handedly pulled the Harbingers out of Victor's clutches.

Jason thumbed through the previous pages and sighed. A journal entry dated around mid-1967 ended in the middle of a sentence at the bottom of the page and the next one picked up in the middle of a journal entry from early 1971. Nearly four years had been expunged from the journal, the pages simply discarded.

He knew this was where Elizabeth had detailed the technique she used to fuse Mara's Presence with the House, but he assumed it also contained details of Elizabeth's great confrontation with the Darkness. Even though she had not set out to defeat it, she had managed to drain it of energy. Jason would have given anything to see those pages, if only to take away the energy the Darkness had gained from the destruction of the Book and reestablish the status quo which had existed before Victor's machinations.

His computer warbled. The "Intrusion Alert" applet glowed scarlet. That had been his response to his mother's destruction of his privacy: the innards of a garage door safety infrared beam and detector hidden on the sides of the bottom step, a button cell, a wireless transmitter, and a few hours of programming.

Jason shoved the journal under the bed and jumped atop the mattress. He picked up a pen and poised himself over a notebook, one with a purposely unfinished sentence written upon it so it would look like he was in mid-task. He placed his pen to the page just as he heard footsteps in the hall approaching his room. On the computer, the applet slid down behind the task bar and the screensaver activated.

Jason began completing the sentence in the notebook just as the door opened. The petite, auburn-haired Audrey stood in the doorway for a moment, one hand still on the doorknob, her face set hard. Her eyes flicked first to the computer monitor and then to the bed, and her expression turned to one of both admiration and bemusement. "Are you still doing homework?"

"Just a sec, Mom," Jason murmured and completed the sentence he was writing before he looked up. "Extra work for the holidays. Getting a head start on it now so I don't have to be stuck in my room on Thanksgiving."

His last sentence appeared to galvanize his mother. She stepped inside and closed the door behind her with a thump. "That is precisely what I wanted to talk to you about, young man. I do not want you spending any time up here in your room tomorrow. Goodness knows I have enough trouble getting us all together just for dinner. Thanksgiving is for family."

"No problem, Mom," Jason said, as he had already expected this would come to pass.

Audrey paused a moment, as if not expecting agreement so easily. Her eyes flitted around the room, betraying both concern and suspicion. Her gaze finally landed on the computer monitor. "And no computer. At all."

Jason nodded. "I won't be up in my room anyway, so--"

"I don't even want it on, Jason."

Jason hesitated. "I'm sorry?"

"Turn it off tonight before you go to bed and leave it off through tomorrow."

"But I usually check my email in the mornings. I can do that and just--"

"I said no. No email. You're going to learn how to talk to people in person again."

Jason wanted to protest, but the look on his mother's face told him it would be a losing battle. She had expressed her wish to curb Jason's computer use about a week prior, and he had responded by designing scripts which could troll the internet for him for the information he wanted. They could run in the background while the screensaver was on and thus looked as if the computer were idle to his mother's nontechnical eye.

"All right, I'll leave it off," Jason said, though he was unable to leave the exasperation out of his voice.

"Don't take that tone with me, I'll have none of that anymore," Audrey declared. "You're going to learn some more responsibility. You're almost sixteen now, but if the past six months have been any indication, you're not acting like it."

Jason gave his mother a nonplussed look despite knowing she would likely misinterpret it. Why was she being this hard on him? Jason had been doing his best to fly right by her since Halloween. He had not stepped out of line even once.

Audrey folded her arms. "Don't look so surprised. I have not forgotten the grief you put me through concerning that Melissa girl."

Jason blinked. Fatigue let his resentment get the better of him. "Wait, what? I thought we had that settled!"

"Maybe in your mind it was 'settled,' but not in mine, not when I found out that the poor girl is now in a mental hospital and one of the other girls involved committed suicide!"

Jason blanched. He had known what had happened to Ann, but not Melissa.

"Now do you think you can tell me what really happened?" Audrey demanded.

Jason wondered why this was this coming up now. The knowledge of Ann's suicide was two months old. Surely his mother did not just hear it now, considering how quickly she had taken him to task for all the other rumors she had heard.

"Well?"

"Mom, are you all right?" Jason asked.

Audrey's eyes widened, and she appeared flustered for a moment. "I ... well, if you must know, Jason, no, I'm not. I haven't been sleeping well the past few days. I'm ... worried about how tomorrow will go. I don't know how much the rest of the family has heard about what you've been up to."

Jason nodded slowly, but something didn't feel right. He was getting a very disturbing sense from her, a feeling he usually received only when ...

"What is it?" Audrey said.

"Huh? I'm sorry?"

"For a moment you looked ... shocked. Like I had just said something that--"

"No, it's fine, Mom," Jason lied, his voice quavering slightly. "Okay, more responsibility, got it. What do you want me to do?"

"We'll talk about this in more detail after Thanksgiving, Jason." Audrey lifted her gaze to the computer. "And turn that thing off now."

Jason stared. "What? Now? But--!"

"No buts, Jason! You're obviously not using it now, so what's the point in wasting the electricity when the heating bill is already high enough as it is?"

Jason sighed and climbed off the bed, averting his eyes. "All right. But let me check my email first and--"

"Now, Jason."

Shit, Jason thought as he dropped into the chair. As he deactivated the screensaver with a slide of the mouse, his gave one of the command windows a forlorn look. It had been running his latest script which trolled various telecommunication sites looking for ones with common exploits and using them to extract information which normally did not face the public eye. It had been running for hours. If he shut it down now, he would have to ...

Suddenly the script output the text "Processing completed - output log file size 5.62MB," and the command prompt returned.

Jason let out a sigh of relief.

"I said now, young man!" Audrey declared.

"Shutting down," Jason said as he rushed to comply.

Audrey waited until she saw the monitor go blank and heard the computer's fans wind down. She stepped forward and extended her hand. "Give me the power cable for the computer."

Jason shivered. This was too much like when his mother had unplugged the cable modem to force him off the internet, leading him and his friends to discover the House. Not that he would have to resort to the same tactics to retrieve the power cord as he had back then to restore his internet -- as he had spare power cables in his closet -- but the memory disturbed him, and he was not sure why.

He pulled out from under the desk, stood up, and turned to face his mother. "Okay, here ..."

He trailed off, and his heart leapt into his throat.

It appeared for only an instant, like the flickering of a light bulb loose in its socket. It was faint and diffuse. Had it been any other color except the deepest inky black, he may not have noticed it.

Had he been thinking more clearly, he would have averted his eyes from hers. Instead, his gaze snapped up to them, and the Aura vanished as if it had never been there. Perhaps it had not. It could not. His mother had never had any contact with anyone remotely associated with the Darkness. It made no sense.

Audrey uttered a tired sigh as she stepped forward and snatched the power cable from Jason's frozen hand. She fidgeted with it for a few moments before giving Jason a forlorn look. "Jason, I ... I don't want to do this, but you're not leaving me much choice."

Jason finally lowered his arm and swallowed. He forced himself to nod and his voice to work. "It's okay, Mom, I understand."

Audrey's eyes shimmered before she turned away. Jason's eyes roamed over her body, trying to make the Aura come back and trying not to see it at the same time. He saw nothing, but he felt like the room had become chilly in her wake.

Audrey opened the door, paused, and turned around. "You'll get this back by the weekend, Jason," Audrey said, though the conviction in her voice was weak. "Sooner if I can."

"It's fine, Mom," Jason said in a flat voice.

Audrey paused, still playing with the cord, looking as if she wanted to say something else. She finally turned away and left, pulling the door closed.

Jason collapsed into the chair and dropped his face into his hands. He might have been mistaken after all. He was so exhausted he often saw little sparkles or floating dots at the edges of his vision. This may be something similar.

Jason narrowed his eyes and glanced at the dark space under the bed. But if it was not that, he was not going to let anything happen to the one person who was his last bastion against everything that was bad in Haven.

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