"What the hell is your problem tonight?"

Richie poked a few pieces of Thanksgiving leftovers around his plate, his head propped up with his arm. "Can the act, Mom," he said in a tired voice.

"What the fuck are you talking about?"

Richie frowned and looked up. The Aura around Sandra seethed. "It's back. You don't have to pretend like you're my mother anymore. We had our fun, so now it's back to the same old shit. Might as well tell me how you want me to fuck you tonight."

Sandra's eyes widened slightly, and Richie almost dared to believe the gesture was real. He was tired of letting himself be fooled. He didn't believe a word anyone outside the Harbingers told him without proof, so why should this be any different?

As if to prove Richie's assertions, Sandra's eyes turned sultry, and her lips curled into a small smile. "There's always time for that. But you've been acting like you have a stick up your ass all evening."

Richie swirled his fork in a pool of congealing gravy. His mother's complaint did not have the same force behind it when spoken in a husky voice. Not that it would have mattered; he could think of nothing other than his earlier act of cowardice at the pay phone.

It had dawned on him shortly afterward that he had no idea what he had wanted Jason to do. Perhaps he really had expected Jason to say one day, "I've found your father. He'll be home next Tuesday." That's what he had wanted, a prepackaged solution. He did not want it to come "some assembly required."

"Well?" Sandra demanded.

Richie's fork clattered to the plate. "Shit, you're just not gonna leave it alone, are you?"

"Don't take that tone with me."

"Oh, yeah, I guess this is where I'm supposed to say 'I'll take any damn tone I want.' Sorry, not gonna follow this sorry excuse for a script. Just stop it. You can't be my mother and that Dark bitch's minion at the same time. Pick one and fucking stick to it."

Sandra's eyes shimmered for a moment, and Richie willed himself into standing his ground. She averted her eyes long enough to take a few quick bites of her dinner. "It's not that simple," she said in a low voice.

"Like fucking hell it's not."

Her head snapped up, her eyes blazing. "Don't you get it? I'm whatever it wants me to be. I can't change on your whim."

Richie was struck into silence. He believed someone with far more brains than he, like Jason or Cassie, could think of a dozen ways to interpret that, yet his meager senses could think of only one.

She was the Darkness' slave and nothing more. She had no fight left in her. He was talking to little more than a puppet. His earlier failure felt like lead bricks lining his shoulders. Panic and despair spawned the ridiculous notion that, had he talked to his father earlier instead of staying silent like an idiot, he would have somehow saved her from this final fall.

"Fine," Richie declared. "Then whoever the hell you are, what's upsetting me is none of your fucking business."

Richie had wanted to tell her. If he thought it could have hurt her somehow, he would have said it. It wasn't really hurting his mother, as that woman was gone. She was just a vessel. He tried to convince himself of that.

"You know you can't hide anything, Richie," Sandra said in a low voice.

Richie stared as her mother's Aura surged and swirled.

"Mistress will eventually know everything you do. Just like she knows everything I do."

Richie swallowed. Sandra was only confirming what he had already settled in his mind, but he could not rid himself of the small hope he had been wrong. He felt stupid for a false sentiment which remained no matter how much he fussed or cursed.

"Mistress will know all your secrets, Richie," Sandra said in a husky voice. "It's only a matter of time."

Richie forced down his fear and ignored the lingering compulsion to feel any sort of compassion towards his mother. The familiar and welcome anger which he found to be a convenient anchor grew more elusive each time he sought it.

He slammed his fist on the table, splashing soda from his glass beside his plate. "I'm taking my secrets to the fucking grave. You want 'em? You follow me there."

"So are you going to take Cathy there with you?"

Richie hesitated at the sudden twist in the conversation. "What the fuck does that mean?"

"I have to take her back to Randall tomorrow."

Richie was silent for a moment. He wanted to insist he didn't give a rat's ass what happened to her. "I thought you said you couldn't do that."

"She's going to remember what you did to her."

"She fucking enjoyed it!" Richie bellowed, but he did not believe his own words.

Sandra's eyes shimmered. "I don't want to see her hurt," she said in a quavering voice.

"You don't fucking mean that."

"I didn't want to involve her, but now ..."

Richie clenched his teeth and his hands. He wanted to punch his mother in the face, for it would not be her he would hurt. He could not bring himself to do it; he could not see past the facade. "She's at the Inn," he said tonelessly. "What the hell more do you want?"

I'm supposed to be the asshole, he thought. I'm supposed to throw her to the wolves to save myself. I have no conscience.

"Mistress does not want her," said Sandra. "Mistress wants to let her go, since she has served her purpose."

"No, she didn't! She didn't get at me! My ... I-I stopped it. Myself, alone!"

Sandra ignored the comment, and the implication was lost to Richie for the moment. "She'll feel so horrible when she realizes what she did with her own cousin."

"Why the fuck should I care?!" Richie roared. "Did I give a shit when I enslaved a teacher? A freaking teacher! I didn't keep her just so she wouldn't feel so fucking bad about it. I let her go! I didn't give a flying fuck what she felt, so why would I now?!"

Richie did not bother mentioning he had used a spell from the Book to make her forget her slavish devotion, and he had to hope the Darkness had not learned of it by other means. The gambit was smashed anyway with Sandra's next statement, delivered with the same maddening calm induced by the vortex of writhing Dark energy in her Aura. "I really hope she doesn't go the way of that poor girl Ann Went, the one who committed suicide."

Richie bolted from his chair, his legs tensing as if he were about to flee. Instead, his hands remained clamped to the edge of the table, as if stopping him from running away.

He waited for the inevitable suggestion that Sandra bring Cathy back home. She looked at him with slightly shimmering eyes, no doubt an induced effect, yet effective. It filled his head with images of Cathy laid out at a funeral or being laid to rest in a graveyard like the girl they had once thought was Stephanie.

She was going to force him to be the one to make the suggestion. Hatred rose like bile in his throat. Perhaps this was for the better. He could not fathom having sex with his mother anymore, not after knowing how far she had fallen.

He waited a little longer, hoping his father's voice would come forward and decry him for the foolishness of his reasoning. Nothing came to him except more morbid memories of the visions he had endured at the graves.

"Fine," Richie said through clenched teeth. "Bring the little bitch over here instead."

"I don't think that will be enough," said Sandra after a moment's pause.

"All right!" Richie shouted, throwing his arms to either side. "She can be my fucking slave, okay?!"

Sandra let out what sounded like a sigh of relief. Richie refused to believe any emotion she expressed. "That's really for the best, Richie, all things considered."

"But not right away."

Sandra paused. "What?"

"You heard me. She'll be my slave, but not right away."

"You can't do that."

"Why the fuck not? So long as she's here and the Dark shit is making her all horny and happy, she won't be looking to jump in front of the next bus."

"That's not a nice way to put it," Sandra said in an irritated voice.

"Whatever. If she's gonna be doin' this permanently, I wanna know what I'm getting."

"Mistress can provide her with whatever--"

Richie snorted. "You think I'm going to believe that sack of shit? I can fucking throw that Inn further than I would trust it. No, you want this done, you do it my way. My way or the highway back to Randall."

Richie was not sure what he had hoped to gain. Perhaps he was pinning his hopes on Jason finding something in the journal. If Jason were half as obsessed with it as he had been about finding that phone number, he was guaranteed success.

Jason always pulled through. Always. All Richie had to do was stall long enough to make it happen, and he had his father.

He slipped his hand into his pocket, where his fingers curled around the wadded post-it note. His heart pounded. "Don't worry," Richie said, forcing his voice to as casual a cadence as he could muster. "If she can suck and fuck as good as she did over Thanksgiving, I'll take her." He smirked, though his lips quivered. "Maybe I'll ask for a collar for her for Christmas."

Sandra paused, her Aura writhing as if in debate. Finally, Sandra nodded slowly. "All right, fine. I'll go get her tomorrow morning. We can go to church together."

Richie rolled his eyes. "Oh, joy."

Sandra slowly smiled and stood. She drew in a slow, deep breath, swelling her plump breasts against her shirt. She swayed her hips in her skin-tight jeans as she leaned forward. "Now, about that fuck with your mother you mentioned ..." She said in a husky voice.

Richie recoiled. "Sorry, got things to do, Mom," he said as he turned away.

"But, Richie, my pussy--"

"Some other time!" Richie shouted as he fled, cursing the swell of his cock in his jeans.

Audrey had remained silent through much of dinner, watching her husband with wary eyes. He engaged in idle conversation with Jason, who chatted back in a tone that, if not exactly friendly, was no longer as hostile as their relationship had been for the past few months. She witnessed what seemed to be a rapprochement which she had hoped would happen for so long, yet now it made her uneasy.

Her gaze shifted to her son and lingered, tracing the contours of his arms and his torso. She imagined him without the shirt and let out a small husky sigh as she saw his smooth, youthful skin in her mind. She shuddered and averted her eyes, contemplating another bite of her dinner as they continued to ignore her, as if she were just another fixture.

After tomorrow, that will all change.

Audrey let out another slow sigh, grateful for the voice which was the only thing which soothed her. Her remaining doubts about this new course were ebbing away, consumed by the pleasure of the revelation that she not only knew what was best for her son, but that she had the means now to see it happen.

She squeezed her thighs together and enjoyed the warm buzz of sensual delight in her pussy. She looked up when Jason excused himself to get more juice from the kitchen. She watched him walk past, her gaze roaming about his hips, flicking down to his crotch before it drifted out of sight. Wet warmth flooded her pussy, and the buzz became an ache of need. She would again need some time to herself after dinner in the sewing room.

She had spent the day convincing herself this was right. Her "desire" for her own son was harmless. She would never need to follow through. She could entertain her "perverted" thoughts and express them in nothing more than self-pleasuring. She could keep the line separate between her fantasies and reality.

And yet, what harm would come from bridging one to the other, especially when you would both enjoy it?

Audrey shivered. She could almost believe that in her most lustful moments. She could see Jason's cock easing into her willing pussy, her body rocking to his gentle and loving thrusts. It would indeed be the ultimate expression of her love for her son. She could almost see it. Almost.

Give it time. No need to rush.

Audrey looked up and caught Henry staring at her, his brow furrowed. He scrutinized her as if he had just seen her do something bad. She gave him a small frown in return. She hated it when he stared at her like that. Little wonder she never felt the urge to relieve her sexual desires with him anymore.

Jason passed as he returned from the kitchen, and he briefly stared at her as well. He always appeared to look all around her and never right at her. Now he seemed suddenly angry. Audrey was tired of that, too. She was going to insist on a far better attitude in the near future.

Oh, yes, you will have everything you could want very soon.

Jason's head whipped towards her the moment the words slid into her head. Audrey sighed and declared, "Is there a reason you're looking at me as if I had just canceled Christmas, young man?"

Jason paused and shook his head. "No, Mom, sorry. Just thinking about something else."

"What would that be?"

"Um ... it's kind of private."

"'Private' is not a magic word intended to cover up things which would get you in trouble if I found out."

Jason sighed. "It's about school, Mom. Just ... worried about exams and all that."

"Especially if you hold him to getting a job," Henry commented without looking up from his meal.

"Don't you start again, I'll have none of it," Audrey declared. "I've already made my decision and there's no point in trying to change my mind. Jason, if you've done well all year, you'll do fine like you always do. If that's what's really on your mind."

Jason did not respond. He turned his attention back to his plate, but did little more than poke the pieces around.

Audrey sighed. "Very well." She wiped her lips with the napkin and stood up. "Henry, please clean up when you're done and get the dishwasher started. I have some work to do in the sewing room."

Henry raised an eyebrow. "Again? We can't possibly have that many clothes with holes in them."

"Nevertheless, I have work I need to do and I do not want to be disturbed."

Audrey marched out of the dining room and tried not to rush, but desire had become a steamy heat in her pussy. She felt the moisture squishing in her folds as her thighs slid past each other. Two bumps rose on her blouse, her nipples tingling with each jiggle of her breasts.

She closed the door behind her and flicked the lock on the doorknob. With a husky sigh she sat down in the chair and swiveled it away from the sewing table, grabbing the waist of her sweatpants. She yanked them down her legs, squirming as her damp panties remained plastered to her sensitized folds.

She uttered a soft moan as she peeled her panties away from her pussy, shivering as she caught the heady scent of her arousal. She was amazed that only a few days before she was still embarrassed and hesitant about her own needs. She had Debby Radson to thank for helping her shed the last of her inhibitions. Talking about Jason had forced her to confront her feelings for him, and the hour she spent masturbating after Debby had left had convinced her just how much she had worried over nothing.

Audrey kicked the panties from around her ankles and spread her legs, uttering a quick sigh of pleasure as her fingers sank into her wet slit. She closed her eyes and leaned back, fingers swirling around her clit in alternating soft and firm strokes. Her pleasure rose like the incoming tide, surging in and pulling out, inundating her senses more each time. She imagined her son's fingers teasing her pussy in the same manner, making her beg for more with each rise and retreat.

She felt giddy and nearly giggled. She had not felt this much sexual freedom since she first started dating Henry. He was the first boy with whom she had had any sort of serious intimacy, and she had gone a little crazy with it when she had realized how much she enjoyed it.

Audrey eased two fingers past her slick labia, imagining Jason's cock sinking slowly into her willing depths. She unbuttoned her blouse in a frenzy and yanked one of the cups of her bra up until her breast spilled out. She pinched her nipple and tugged, shuddering as pleasure flooded her pussy. In her mind, Jason was doing it instead in the same way Henry used to do that drove her wild with desire.

Imagery romped through her head with abandon. Her cheeks glowed as she saw herself atop her son, her hips bobbing up and down in quick thrusts. She bit her lip and tried to think of something else, as if she had just gone beyond a line which she dare not cross.

She pumped her fingers harder, willing her pleasure to consummate so she could leave behind her disturbing thoughts. She would not rise further, as if her fingers had suddenly become inadequate for the task. She glanced at the closet next to the sewing table and let out a quavering sigh.

Heart pounding, she stood and opened it, peering at a wooden box on the top shelf. She shuddered as she stared at it, her fingers still lightly stroking her clit in her still-aching pussy. She dragged the box forward with her free hand, then lowered it to the floor, crouching beside it.

She had found it at the bottom of the bedroom closet while Jason had been out and Henry had been preoccupied with chores. She was not sure what had possessed her to clean it and tuck it into the closet here.

She lifted the lid with a trembling hand and picked up the long, purple dildo inside. She swallowed as she stared at the shaft while the Jason of her mind's eye stripped himself of his jeans and briefs so she could see the prize they hid.

Audrey glanced towards the door. She knelt on the floor, spreading her knees, her breath becoming a ragged pant as her pussy ached for attention. She leaned forward and positioned the dildo under her, its head nestled in her glistening folds. She closed her eyes and saw her hips bobbing upon Jason's cock. She gasped and tried to push it away, but it surged back stronger. Her hand trembled, the tip of the dildo lightly flicking her clit until she shivered with increasing desire.

Audrey held her breath as she eased her hips down. "Oh ... my ..." she gasped as the dildo slid slowly inside her with soft, wet sounds. She shuddered as it filled her tunnel, the first time anything had done so in what seemed an eternity. "Uhng ... oh God ..." she breathed as she buried it inside her, body trembling, moisture oozing from around the shaft and dripping onto her fingers.

She swallowed and grasped the dildo by the base as she slowly lifted her hips. Audrey let out her breath as a ragged sigh, pleasure unlike anything she could do with her fingers spreading like a warm flood. She felt as if it were all new to her again, as if her pussy had never felt the penetration of a man's cock.

She started to hump the dildo, and now the vision of Jason's hard cock would not leave her. If some part of her still felt the icy chill as the Darkness twined more of its tendrils around her mind, it was drowned in the flood of sensation and lust. She panted as she fell into a rhythm. Memories of doing this for Henry when they were first married devolved into more thoughts of Jason. She would so love to do this for him, to give him pleasure as well as satisfy her own long-denied need.

Audrey threw her head back as her pussy throbbed, a small burst of fluid squirting from around the shaft and running down her fingers. She held back the cry that wanted to erupt from her throat at the sweet orgasmic delight, finally emerging as several explosive sighs. She twisted the dildo inside her and was rewarded with another brief surge of climax and a smaller squirt of hot moisture.

Panting hard, she raised her hips and eased the dildo from her pussy, her hips jerking as a few lingering throbs were sparked by the head brushing her clit. She settled back on her feet and uttered a long sigh of relief as well as joy, able to do little else until her climax had faded and she eased down from her orgasmic high.

Audrey raised the wet dildo and gave it a forlorn look. She wondered how long it would be before she would need the real thing. Her lips twitched into a tiny smile. Would it be all that bad if she did?

Melinda ran into her room and slammed the door behind her, tensed as she expected to hear her mother's footsteps on the stairs coming to admonish her for doing something she and her sister were told many times not to do. She leaned her back against the door and dug her heels into the carpet with the crazy notion that she could bar her mother from entry. Instead, the rest of the house remained as silent and subdued as dinner had been that night.

Melinda frowned as she stepped away from the door and threw herself onto the bed. She eyed the sweater draped over the foot of the bed and contemplated donning it. She was not cold, but it would take her further away from being nude.

She knew exactly what Heather would say to their mother's brooding silence over dinner: their mother was upset at what happened, pained at what she was forced to do to prevent worse horrors from befalling her children.

"Bullshit," Melinda muttered as she rolled over to the side away from the door and fished under the bed. Melinda believed her mother was just in a quandary over how to keep hiding this from her father. He had been left bewildered through much of the meal as to why everyone seemed upset.

Yet he still did not question Heather's absence.

She muttered a curse before her hand finally found backpack. She pulled it out and hauled it onto the bed. She slipped her arms through the straps and stood to test its weight. She nearly tipped over, and when she hunched her shoulders forward, she winced as the straps pulled tight against her upper arms.

"Shit," she declared as she dumped the backpack onto the bed. She had not used it since her last year in grammar school, but she did not think she would have outgrown it in so short a time. She sighed as she stared at it, still wondering what she was thinking.

Better than freaking out, Melinda thought. After the sexual euphoria had worn off in the wake of Aunt Jo, she had almost burst into tears. Could she expect more of their family to be part of everything that was bad in Haven?

Melinda gasped when she heard a soft knock at her door. She scrambled to shove the backpack under the bed, her heart pounding. She froze when her visitor spoke. "Melinda, you have a minute?"

Melinda stared at the door. "Daddy? I ... um ... just a minute." She pushed the backpack under the bed before flipping herself back onto the mattress. The bed was still bouncing from the impact when she called out, "Come in."

The door opened, and David Sovert stepped inside. He paused just past the threshold, as if distracted, and glanced at Heather's bed before turning his soft gaze towards his younger daughter. "Hi, princess. Am I interrupting anything?"

Melinda shook her head, unable to find anything to say. She heard a faint voice downstairs and peered past him towards the hallway.

"Your mother is on the phone," David said. His lips twitched into a small smile, as if forced. "With your Aunt Jo, no doubt. They've been thick as thieves lately."

"Is something wrong, Daddy?" Melinda asked.

"Huh? Oh, well, no. That is ... I guess I need to ask you that."

Melinda looked askance at her father. "What?"

"You just seemed ... well, a little withdrawn at dinner. You and your mother, but Penny won't tell me ... well, never mind."

Melinda leaned forward. "What won't she tell you?"

David paused. His eyes shimmered, then blinked rapidly and darted towards the hall for a moment. "It's not important. I just want to make sure you're okay. I only realized tonight it feels like ages since I've really talked to you."

Melinda's heart leapt. "You just realized that now?" she demanded in an excited voice.

"Yes, I know, I apologize if you feel I've ignored you, but--"

"Is there anything else you've noticed?"

David's eyes flicked towards Heather's bed again. "Noticed? Um, like what, princess?"

A thousand examples spun through her head: how he had not noticed her missing while she and her cousin had sex; how he had not seen Melinda strutting around naked; how he had not seen her and her sister masturbate themselves silly while he sat just across the room in his easy chair; how he had not questioned Heather being gone for a week at a time.

Her eyes roamed over his outline as they did countless times, yet she still saw nothing. If her mother really were blinding him to reality, how was she doing it?

Melinda sighed and fell back onto the bed, her head plopping onto the pillow. "Nothing, forget it," she muttered.

Yet David remained where he was, his hand playing with the doorknob. "Well ... I guess I think things have been a little tense around here. Or at least that's what I sense from you and sometimes Heather."

Melinda shot up to a seated position again. "Yes, that's right, Heather. Where is she right now, Daddy?"

David looked surprised, yet he hesitated in his response. "Um ... she's staying at Ms. Bendon's place, of course. She'll be back tomorrow night."

"What do you think she's doing there?"

"Doing there? Well ... um ..."

"What did Mom tell you?"

David turned his head, and his gaze lingered on Heather's bed. "Well ... she needed some tutoring in a few subjects she's really been struggling with this semester."

Melinda snorted. "And she has to stay at Ms. Bendon's house for that?"

"Your mother said it was easier that way, so she could spend more time learning."

"Daddy, does that make any sense to you at all?"

David hesitated. "I guess I never stopped to think about it."

"Well, think about already!" Melinda cried.

"Princess, are you upset about her being gone? It won't be forever, just--"

"Are you upset about her being gone? Come on, Daddy, please. Think about it. Does this make any freaking sense at all?"

David stared, his eyes slightly glazed. "I'm not ... well, I ... I questioned it at first, but ..."

"But what about now?"

David finally let out an exasperated sigh. "To be honest with you, princess, I wonder about it sometimes. I mean, it is rather odd, isn't it? I don't ever recall having a student actually live with--"

"David!"

Melinda flinched. David was taken aback as well, turning around and retreating a step as Penny appeared at the threshold.

"Yes, dear?" David said. Melinda thought she heard a slight quaver to his voice.

"I overheard some of your discussion," Penny said in a soft voice. "We've been over this before about Heather. You agreed with me that it was for the best."

Melinda held her breath, her eyes darting between her parents. She let it out as a disappointed sigh as her father slowly nodded. "Yes, I do remember that."

"Melinda just misses her, that's all. We all do."

"Yes, of course, dear. I just wanted to make sure it wasn't upsetting her too much, especially after seeing how much closer she and her sister have been lately."

Melinda's eyes widened. He had noticed that? she thought. Now this seemed double the tragedy. Her eyes roamed in fruitless search of an Aura. How the FUCK is she doing this?!

Penny smiled. "It will be okay, David. I'll look after Melinda. I understand her a little more than you do."

Melinda wanted to gag on that last statement, or hope that her mother would.

"You're probably right," said David. "You were always better with our daughters than I was."

Melinda clenched her hands into fists and wanted to pound them against the mattress. That's a fucking LIE! she shouted in her head what she would have rather screamed into the room. Her father had been a refuge in the days when her sister had been an intolerable bitch. He had stood up for her on the few occasions Melinda could goad him into going against her mother.

Penny placed a hand David's shoulder, and Melinda shivered as she watched tendrils of her mother's Aura slither around her arm and brush her father's body. "You're a fine father, David, but there are some things another woman would understand better."

David nodded again and smiled. Melinda averted her eyes when he hugged Penny, unable to bear the sight of the blackness enveloping her father, even if it appeared to have no effect. "I'll leave this to you, then," he said. "Sorry for getting a little jumpy."

"It's okay. Just come to me next time if you're feeling uncertain."

"Of course." He edged past his wife. Penny turned her head to watch him leave, keeping her eyes on him as the stairs creaked under his feet a few moments later.

"Yeah, I'm sure you'll straighten him out, won't you?" Melinda muttered.

Penny turned her gaze towards her daughter. "That's quite enough."

Melinda frowned, just to help keep her anger going. "How are you doing it? How are you making him not see what's going on?"

Penny tilted her head. "Why is that important to you?"

"Because he never has an Aura, but he does everything you want him to do like he's your slave."

"He is not my slave," Penny said in a firm, almost indignant voice.

"Then how is he--?"

"And he does not take orders from me. He doesn't see anything because ... because he doesn't want to. Your father doesn't really want to see anything of what's going on, and I encourage that by supporting the opposite view. That sits well enough with him that he tunes it out."

Melinda paused, then shook her head. "That doesn't make any sense at all."

"It would if you knew more about how the human mind worked. Or your father for that matter."

"I know as much about ... wait, what did you mean about--"

"Melinda, don't antagonize me tonight, please. I'm rather tired."

Melinda opened her mouth to protest, but slowly closed it when she felt a tingly heat growing in her pussy. Her eyes flicked to her mother's breasts and hips.

"Go on to bed, please. Or just sit in your room quietly."

Faint images of her mother's wet and aroused pussy flickered through her head. As much as she wanted to keep arguing with her mother, she knew she would be just as likely to want to lick her pussy instead. "All right, fine," she said in a lower but no less stubborn voice.

"Thank you. I'll see you in the morning." Penny started out, then paused and said, "And when you get up tomorrow, make sure you put on your finest dress. Aunt Jo will be accompanying us to church."

Melinda frowned, but her hips squirmed as her mother retreated and closed the door behind her.

November 18th, 1976 - I've done it. May the Goddess have mercy on me.

It sits at the corner of the desk as I write this. It looks so innocuous. It even smells good. Yet it represents terrible power. Were I to have mixed it differently -- and such a small difference it would require -- it would have turned from defense to weapon. Instead of freeing a mind I could enslave it. Utterly. It would have been more powerful than even (the rest of the sentence was slashed out).

I've tried it, just enough to see if it works. It betrayed its origins at once when I began storing sexual energy in preparation of using my technique. I had never felt so sexy, so filled with lust, so needy. Thank the Goddess for my lover, but I fear I will wear her out if I continue at this rate.

When the time came, I withdrew my spiritual center into the protected recess of my mind with an ease that was as astounding as it was frightful. I felt as if I were two different people. This was born out further when I confronted my erstwhile "nemesis," the man who bested me last time and forced me into an evening of mindless sex.

This time, not only could I resist his attacks, I could be selective. I could "let" him arouse me, or "allow" him to compel me to kneel before his feet as he unzipped his pants. And even when his Dark power was swirling in my head, I could take control again, and he would never notice until I decided he should. This time when he tried to twist my mind into believing I would just love to perform oral sex on him, I bolted to my feet and slapped him across the face instead.

And that night, I had the most peaceful night's sleep in many months.

I am eager to use the rest. Not for the confidence or the inner strength it gives me, but so I can get this over with and never have to create such an abomination again. I have the vague sense I am cheating somehow. We have our faults for a reason, and I fear I am tampering with forces that I do not understand. Yet my conscience and the memory of Mara will not let me turn away. If I stop now, I will bring even greater anguish upon myself than any divine retribution could possibly do.

Now I must plan, more carefully than I have ever done before. I will have only one chance to do this right, for the Darkness will learn of what I have done if I fail. I must have everything in place when I confront it. There is one saving grace: the old tavern has been abandoned for years. The Darkness has had no real focus since the Loner was killed.

Finally, I can use its weakness as an advantage.

Jason put down the page, his hands shaking. His vision blurred until he removed his glasses and wiped his eyes. He took a deep breath to rein in his emotions, letting it go as windy sigh of relief. He felt like he had just wandered the desert for a hundred miles with salvation always just out of reach only to stumble into the oasis.

Stumble he did, as his rising anxiety and panic with deepening twilight forced him to skim entries like mad, knowing he would never sleep without knowing for sure if her efforts ever came to fruition. In his panic he had skipped past the entry, and only the radical change in tone had forced him to go back.

He had read enough of those later entries to know that Elizabeth would continue to be coy about revealing the exact nature of her invention, yet he could make some good guesses. He remembered Mara had said Elizabeth was extremely good with herbs. Everything in Elizabeth's journal suggested her knowledge was quite extensive.

While Jason normally did not believe that mere herbs could allow such fantastic feats, there was the special ingredient she had mentioned. Again, he thought he should know what it was, but he could no longer think clearly. His pursuit of this entry had sustained him, but now his body and mind were shutting down. He still had to decipher the details and hope she left behind a clear formula or other instruction, but not until after his eyelids no longer felt as heavy as his limbs.

He grabbed the journal pages and shoved them under the bed, not bothering to tie them into a neat bundle as he usually did before going to bed. He stripped himself down to his briefs without leaving his bed, tossing his clothing over the side.

Usually his mind would race with the possibilities of what he might read next after finding such an entry, but he was too giddy with relief and too tired to speculate. He needed the short vacation he hoped his first full night's sleep in a week would grant him.

He flicked off the lamp on his night table, plunging the room into darkness save for the cool glow of the LEDs from his computer. He took solace in that gentle illumination before he settled down and pulled the covers over him.

I'll be able to make it all better now, came his last fading thought as sleep stole over him as soon as his eyes had closed. And I won't need Dad's help ...

Heather trembled and panted at her Mistress' feet, her head level with the floor. Her raised ass rocked to the hard thrusts of the large dildo strapped to Marcie's waist and thighs, each wet plunge sinking deep into her cunt with a squish of moisture and a slap against her ass cheeks. Her breasts swung under her, nipples brushing the carpet until they throbbed with her pounding heart.

Heather turned her head and glanced at the maid costume which lay in a heap a few feet away. She preferred nudity to that costume, even when it meant being fucked like a bitch in heat. She moaned as her pleasure rose only slowly, pussy already aching for release. Behind her, Marcie panted hard, her pussy oozing and dripping down her thighs.

"Mmm, I so love watching my pets fuck," cooed Laura's voice from her chair.

Heather heard Marcie gasp and whimper, her thrusts faltering for a few seconds, fingers curling into Heather's hips. Marcie regained the pace, still panting from her small orgasm.

Laura chuckled. "The silly thing probably believes she's feeling that pleasure from her fake cock. That would be so much like my empty-headed Marcie."

Heather felt Marcie's hands grip her hips tighter, and she was pulled with greater force onto the dildo. Heather grunted with each impact, the dildo sinking even deeper, her pleasure spiking before reaching another plateau. Her hands curled into fists as her body trembled with never-ending need.

"Or does it have a certain appeal to you now, slave?"

As if in response to the challenge, Heather closed her eyes and tried to think of anything that didn't relate to her predicament. Instead, the slap of Marcie's body to hers became an all-consuming cadence in her mind, and she panted in time to the thrusts as the rhythm permeated mind and body. Her pleasure started to rise again, and she shivered at the thought of the last of her will slipping away forever, squirming in hot lust and anticipation.

Heather suddenly trembled and voiced a very faint "no."

"Your resistance was a real turn on for me at first, slave," came her Mistress' voice, all amusement gone. "Now it is becoming a bit of an annoyance."

Marcie squealed as she came again, her thrusts pausing with only the head of the dildo nestled in Heather's folds. Heather gasped when the dildo impaled her suddenly as Marcie fell forward, still in the throes of orgasm. Heather's hips writhed and her thighs quivered, her pussy desperate for the fucking to resume.

"Stay," her Mistress said just as Marcie started to draw back.

The dildo sank back inside, and a still-panting Marcie kept herself pressed to Heather's ass. Heather squirmed, her nipples throbbing, seeking to enhance the pleasure in her sex but stopped just short of the prize. Heather whimpered and clutched the carpet, fingers curled like claws.

"So very desperate now to be fucked, aren't you?" her Mistress purred. "How long now until you beg me to have Marcie continue?"

Heather gasped and closed her eyes. She tried to draw her hips back, but Marcie's hold was too tight. As if on some unspoken order, Marcie ground her hips against Heather, twisting the dildo inside Heather's cunt. Heather uttered a shrill moan at the sensual torture, her pussy dripping to the towel placed under her.

"Really, you should be glad to be here, considering what you have back at home."

The words sank into Heather's mind. Her beliefs about her mother's protection had already been so badly shattered by her Mistress' supposed revelations that they could not stand against her Mistress will.

At Mistress' command, Marcie once more thrust hard into Heather's pussy. Heather gasped first in relief, then in growing ecstasy as her pleasure soared. The pace intensified until Heather was straining at the edge.

Marcie plunged and stopped. Heather writhed in slow convulsions of aching lust, her pussy hanging almost painfully at the edge of climax. She arched her back and thrust her ass against Marcie to achieve one last slide of hard dildo against her swollen clit, or the tiny bit more pressure she was sure would send her into orgasmic bliss.

"Now I want you to think about what really worries you," Laura said in a soft voice.

Heather's mind was so addled with her body's want that it was sluggish to obey. She saw her sister in her mind's eye, naked and wet at her mother's feet. Heather moaned as she tried to quell the thought, but it grew more vivid until she witnessed Melinda licking her mother's pussy.

"Of course. Your little sister. Always your little sister."

Heather's pants became gasps, and it felt as if she were fighting for breath. The ache in her pussy reverberated with her heartbeat, nipples so hard and sensitive that just the flow of air across them from the nearby heating vent sent them into miniature paroxysms of delight.

She saw Melinda again, trotting after her mother like a puppy as she mewled with lust and need. Her hips swayed as her pussy glistened and dripped in wet heat.

"How long before your mother turns her over to the Darkness, hmm?"

Heather tried to shake her head, her lips mouthing the word "no," but little conviction remained. Her own mind triggered memories of betrayal with each new immersion into sexual depravity triggered by her mother, all in the shrill claims of "protection" from the very thing to which her mother was already enslaved.

Marcie ground and twisted the dildo inside Heather. Heather heaved a sob and a tear dripped to the carpet.

"Perhaps your sister would be better off somewhere else," Laura said, her voice as smooth as oil.

For an instant, an icy chill passed through Heather. She saw Melinda again, but now she trotted alongside Laura. She grew wet and wanting for Laura. She knelt at her feet and licked Laura's pussy.

"N-no ... no, please ..." Heather gasped.

"But wouldn't it be so much better? Then you never have to worry about her."

As thoughts of her sister's enslavement to her Mistress played with cruel vividness, her pussy oozed, and moisture trickled down her thighs. Her hips jerked as her pussy gave a single abortive throb, the ache for release so bad she was sure it would drive her insane.

Marcie pounded into her again. Heather rocketed up and over, her body wracked with the intensity of her orgasm as her pussy gushed around the dildo. Her thoughts at climax were swept up in the vortex of sensation, driving them down into her subconscious. Rivulets of cum ran down her thighs. She gasped for breath as her orgasm seized her entire body, briefly forcing even her diaphragm into its staccato rhythm.

Marcie's thrusts did not abate, Heather's orgasm first fading and then re-surging in another smaller burst. All her strength left her when Marcie finally pulled out. Heather collapsed onto her side, hips jerking as a few remaining throbs spiked through her pussy. For a few minutes she could do little more than pant, the remnants of her climax becoming a deep ache.

She heard nothing for another few minutes, as if she had been left in her own universe. Her breathing settled to normal, but she did not stir. Her mind remained blank and blissful from the pall of ecstasy which had smothered it.

She heard movement, and a shadow passed over her as Mistress crouched near. Heather's eyes opened when a hand lay against her cheek, soft and gentle. She let out a slow, quavering sigh.

"Think about your sister for me again, slave," Laura whispered.

Heather shivered and drew her knees towards her chest. Images danced through her mind, her sister wet and naked, squirming in rising lust as her new Mistress teased her until she would beg for relief were she allowed to give voice to her need.

She felt the touch of Laura's mind against her own, and now Melinda was dressed in a diaphanous outfit similar to what Heather had been forced to wear at the school Halloween party. Melinda danced and swayed in sensuous form, her movements exciting herself as well as her audience, until she was panting and wet.

Heather shuddered and uttered a soft moan. She had no strength remaining to excise the thoughts. Her pussy tingled in renewed arousal until she was shivering with desire yet again. Her Mistress touched her pussy, and she gasped as it again convulsed in a small orgasm.

The hand was withdrawn, and she whimpered. She saw her Mistress stand and her feet walk out of sight. "I am sure you'll see that it's the right thing to do," said her Mistress in a soft voice. "Your mother can claim to protect you, but only I can truly do it."

Heather could not think. Only the thoughts of her sister as her Mistress' obedient slave and her own raw emotions could stand against the lingering haze of lust. Anything negative she ever felt about her mother over the past few months spewed up from the inner recesses of her mind like a geyser. No thought would come to her to dispute her Mistress' assessment.

Heather could have her sister with her at all times. Heather would always know where Melinda was and how she was doing. She would never have to leave her little sister alone ever again.

Heather closed her eyes and let out a husky sigh. Something in the back of her mind dared to venture the idea that she may feel differently once her lust had cooled. She had not lost herself like Marcie, as much as part of her still yearned to be. That would make all this so much easier.

Having Melinda with her at all times would make things easier as well.

"You're quite tired, slave," said Laura. "Take a short nap before you come lick my pussy before heading off to sleep. And think good thoughts about your little sister."

Heather let out another slow sigh, her limbs going limp, her senses retreating as she fell into slumber. Her last coherent thoughts of Melinda descended into erotic dream, Melinda squealing in delight as she came by her Mistress' hand.

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