Chapter 7: Meet the Beckwiths

Zoe held Alison as she continued to sob quietly. The girl was so upset that her father could read in her thoughts that she would be incapable of following his instructions anytime soon. His connection to Zoe also informed him that she had no interest in him, in fact that was an understatement. His ghostly spirit departed, returning to his body which was lying on the sofa in the family room downstairs.

Zoe comforted Alison, continuing to question her softly as to how her little body seemed to have been so harshly treated. She thought that Alison appeared nervous and evasive and she certainly did not believe the explanation she was giving.

"Um, I guess I was really excited about you coming over tonight," she said. "I'm sorry but I have been thinking this way for some time now, thinking about sex, sex with daddy and with you too. I was lying here thinking about it and I must have got kinda carried away. Maybe I was a bit too rough when I was playing."

Zoe was sceptical but in light of her thoughts about her own dad she conceded that there could be some truth in what Alison was saying. Strangely, she was not feeling repulsed by Alison's admission that she had been thinking sexual thoughts about her too or about the fact that her friend had initiated something with her only a few minutes before. But it was clear the mood had been broken and a continuation of what she had started was not on the cards, "... at least this evening," Zoe thought.

"Zoe, do you think I am really bad for thinking about you and daddy like this?"

Zoe considered the question and decided that the best way to effectively comfort her friend was to share her own guilty thoughts with her.

"A friend told me recently that it was quite natural to think of my father that way," she said. "I've been thinking how handsome dad was." Alison felt her friend shiver but didn't realise it was because Zoe had realised this was the first time she had thought of Jason in the past tense. She continued, "I guess I've been thinking about sex a lot recently too, exploring, you know, reading stuff on the internet and, um, touching myself. My friend explained that as I had no experience to fall back on then and because I loved dad so much, it was only natural that my thoughts and emotions got all jumbled together. I still feel some guilt about thinking of dad like that but if you're bad then I must be too. I haven't ever thought about doing anything with another girl before but I'm not totally freaked out by it. I think I liked kissing you but I need some time to think about how I feel about it."

Alison flushed at the thought of being together with Zoe. She noted Zoe's reference to a 'friend' and wracked her brains to think who she might be talking about. To the best of her knowledge Zoe didn't have any other close friends apart from her. Neither had she missed the use of the word 'then' in relation to her friend's sexual experience. "Um, Zoe are you dating someone?" she asked.

"Of course not silly," Zoe replied defensively. She mistakenly thought she would never be able to explain Robbie's existence and what they had done together to her friend. It was still too bizarre for her to fully come to terms with, never mind Alison she thought. "If I was dating you would know all about it of course."

Zoe was still worried about the abuse evident on her friend's breasts and had one more try at getting to the bottom of it. "Um, Alison, has your father actually touched you sexually, you know like, for real?"

"No!" Alison responded quickly, too quickly Zoe thought. "But I do think about it a lot and wish he would maybe try something with me." The flat, almost dead, tone in which Alison said these words belied their truth. "Some of the other girls at school have been dating and doing stuff and I feel I am being left behind. I know no-one is going to be asking me out anytime soon, I mean, look at me, I don't exactly have the 'attractions' that all the boys seem to think are most important." Zoe looked her friend over. She was shorter than Zoe, with collar length black hair, large deep brown eyes and beautiful olive skin. Although her chest was small, Zoe still thought the overall package was way better than her friend was giving herself credit for.

"Don't put yourself down so much Ally, you are very pretty and I bet there are lots of boys out there who think so too."

"Fat chance," her friend disagreed, "but I know that dad loves me," she continued, again Zoe detected that flat tone. "I know he likes what he sees, I'm sure I've caught him looking at me and mom has been gone for some time so maybe there is some chance he wants to. He must be lonely. Don't you think he is handsome Zoe, wouldn't you like to do something with him?" Zoe was uncomfortable with the direction this was taking again - "Why is she pushing me towards her dad?" she thought. She still felt creeped out at the memory of him looking at her earlier. "Never going to happen girlfriend," she said with finality. "I suppose I just don't see him the way you do."

The girls' conversation tapered off as they grew increasingly tired and eventually they slept, still hugging each other and still with the bedside lamp burning brightly.

Downstairs Doug Beckwith was sitting up, staring blankly at the TV screen but not seeing it. He was deep in thought about his second unsuccessful attempt at gaining some control over the Gray family. Doug had become obsessed with Amanda Gray after seeing her from a distance at numerous school events. Doug had a number of ghastly secrets and he thought back on the events of the past year.

Doug was a mean bully, as simple as that. His family was wealthy and he was spoilt. A bully throughout school, this continued into his early adult life. His personality had led to an interest in dominating women and to sadism. He had spent many hours surfing web-sites to fulfil his extreme tastes. Although he dreamed of having his very own slave-slut to meet all of his demands, his terrible attitude to females meant that he rarely convinced a girl or woman to go out with him, and even more rarely to go out more than once. He had met his future wife, Caroline, at a keg party while in college. She was a natural submissive and somehow the pair, who outwardly seemed a complete mismatch, formed an unlikely couple. They married quietly, he had no friends to speak of and hers were dismayed at her choice and didn't attend the wedding as a consequence.

Alison had been born only eighteen months after the marriage by which time Doug's treatment of Caroline was already brutal but she submitted to his increasingly sadistic sexual treatment and outright humiliation of her. His family's wealth allowed him the luxury of not having to keep down a job, instead he filled his time devising elaborate dominant games he could play with his wife-slave. He also found his interests becoming ever more extreme, he became interested in satanism, obsessed with power and his web searches frequently included obscure subjects and research into ritualism.

Just over a year ago, Doug had stumbled over one such obscure site featuring a ritual that claimed to invest the practitioner with power and control over others. The ritual involved the incantation of an ancient form of words while subjecting a victim to a particularly violent sexual act. The description of the act itself was enough to catch Doug's interest and he would have been content simply acting it out with Caroline as part of his 'normal' regime of brutality. While he laughed at the claim the site made as to gaining power over others, the possibility still piqued his curiosity and he knew he would try the ritual with Caroline as soon as possible.

He had prepared everything that very night. Alison was sleeping over at the Gray's. Caroline was stripped naked and tied tightly, both hand and foot, to the marital bed. Doug climbed onto the bed and kneeled between her obscenely stretched legs. He was already panting heavily with lust as he fisted his cock to hardness and, with no preamble, positioned the mushroom head at the entrance to Caroline's ass and thrust powerfully into her. Caroline screamed as his penis stretched her beyond belief. Without lubrication her anal passage was ripped terribly and Doug actually thrilled to the feel of her blood beginning to ease his continuing thrusts. Caroline's screams had subsided and Doug couldn't believe that she seemed to be starting to get into what he was doing, thrusting her ass back to meet each of his thrusts, grunting in time and pulling her lips tightly across her clenched teeth in an erotic rictus.

Doug picked up a small paring knife that he had placed on the bedside cabinet in readiness. He used the knife to cut deeply just below each of Caroline's nipples his arousal soaring as he watched the ruby coloured blood immediately leak from the wounds, running over Caroline's breasts, down over her ribs to stain the sheet below her. Caroline had watched as the knife descended towards her. She had been surprised that the pain she felt was not sharp but rather dull and throbbing, as if she had been punched in the chest, the throbs were in time with her pulse. It was perhaps a measure of how far Caroline had sunk in responding to Doug's brutal games over many years that she seemed to become more aroused at the sight of her own blood. Her eyes widened and she thrashed anew below him.

Doug snapped out of the trance-like stupor that had come over him watching the twin streams of Caroline's blood drain over her flanks, puddling, at her sides, glistening in the light cast from the overhead lamp. He knew he had to move quickly now. The onrushing orgasm he felt was accelerating due to the feeling of total power over her, fed by the tangible smell of her blood. He dipped his fingers into the blood on her left breast and daubed it across both her cheeks and her forehead. He began to forcefully chant the required words and squeezed both of her breasts, covering his hands in fresh blood before savagely grabbing her by the throat and squeezing with all his strength. The ritual called for them both to orgasm simultaneously and by the sounds and actions coming from Caroline she was close too. The website had referred to this as 'auto-erotic asphyxia', denying oxygen to the brain during the sex act. It was supposed to heighten sexual pleasure and Doug noted in an almost detached way that Caroline was indeed thrashing with renewed vigour. Whether this was due to increased pleasure or terror that she could not breathe, he would find out shortly as still continuing his thrusts into her ass and his chanting, he slowly throttled all the air from her.

He felt his climax sweep over him, stronger than anything he had felt before. Still he maintained the chant, driving his cock deep with each stroke, feeling Caroline gasping to take a breath but also convulsing under him in a powerful climax of her own. They came together. His breathing was ragged, gasping. Her convulsions stopped. Her breathing stopped. He felt a raw blast of power, her entire life-force, exploding out of her and covering him with its energy and he collapsed onto her limp body, smearing her crimson blood yet further with his chest.

He lay atop her. Dare he believe that the energy he had felt meant that the ritual had in fact worked? He shook himself, looking down at his blood smeared body and the body of his now dead wife, her skin already taking on a pale and bloodless hue. He found that he was entirely calm, dispassionate, in control. Having gone much further than the ritual demanded by actually killing his wife, he knew he would need to wait to find out what effect his actions had generated. "Clean up first," he thought. Quickly showering, he dressed and determined how to dispose of Caroline's body and erase the mess in the room before his daughter returned. Doug knew he needed to invent a story covering Caroline's disappearance for Alison. Caroline's isolation from friends and family over the years should mean that it would be a while before anyone else missed her.

Bundling the body up in the blood-soaked bedclothes he noted that the mattress was stained too. It would need to go, he could not afford to take chances. He had a large yard and determined that he could bury the body meantime while he thought of how to rid himself of it permanently. As dawn broke he had finished digging a deep hole towards the back of the yard. The high privacy fence hid him as he dragged the sheet wrapped body out and dumped it unceremoniously down into the hole. He quickly shovelled the soil back into the hole, siting a youngish shrub squarely in the centre of the disturbed earth. Dragging the mattress out next he pulled it onto the site where he normally burned garden rubbish and set fire to it, feeding the flames with some spirits he had brought from the garage.

Satisfied that he had done enough for now he had showered once again and waited to tell his daughter that her mother had run out on them with her long-time lover.

Over the course of the next few months he occupied himself planning and building a raised decking area to the side of the pool. Preparing the hard core layer, he exhumed his wife's body from the soil, covering it instead with rubble and then pouring concrete over it all. Once the concrete foundation was set, he contracted with a local joiner to finish the decking, happy that no-one would now ever uncover the truth.

Still staring blankly at the TV screen, Doug recalled what had transpired next.

Putting his concerns over disposing of the body behind him, Doug had at last turned to the intriguing prospect of finding out whether the ritual had worked or not. His review of the website had provided only scant details to work with. What little he could gather was that he was supposed to be able to exercise his power in one of two ways. He could take control of an individual by mentally attacking directly into someone else's mind. This apparently required splitting a piece of his new found power (if it was there at all!) and implanting it into the mind of the target. "Sounds risky," he thought. The second method involved him seemingly being able to leave his body and being able to interact with an individual to a lesser degree. This method was dependent upon the target 'wishing' for an interaction with him. He thought this sounded easier and safer and decided that he would try this method first. If that was successful then he would know whether there was actually anything in this mumbo jumbo or not.

The obvious target for him was Alison. She had believed Doug's story about her mother's departure. She had been upset for weeks at the thought that her mother didn't love her, was willing to simply abandon her for some stranger, perhaps had never loved her. She lived in constant fear that her father would also desert her and worried about what she would do if he did. She had taken to lying awake for hours worrying, crying quietly to herself, missing her mother. She had told her friend Zoe about the desertion and she had been supportive and comforting but Zoe couldn't be with her every night when the panic set in. When her worries were at their worst.

Doug played on the young girl's obvious emotional distress. He made sure to be extra attentive to her, sharing time with her, hugging her when she occasionally broke down, generally just being there for her. This went on for a number of weeks and Doug's impatience and frustration were growing at the pace his plan was moving with no results yet. He began to believe that the ritual was indeed rubbish until late one night only a few months previously something dramatic had happened. Doug was dropping off to sleep in his bed, hearing the not unusual sound of Alison crying softly in her room. Alison had appreciated the attention her father had been paying her recently and as her worries re-surfaced she had whispered out loud, "oh daddy, I wish you were here to hug me, to make me feel better."

Doug felt a strong tug and found himself floating above his daughter as she lay in bed crying. He held his arm and hand up in front of his face and could see that they were ghostly in appearance. He floated towards his bedroom, halted momentarily by the sensation as he passed through the wall of Alison's room. He experienced a similar feeling as he passed through his own bedroom door to gaze at his 'normal' body lying on the bed. Doug got really excited as he realised the ritual had worked. He returned to his daughter's room and floated over to her sobbing form. He reached out to grab her shoulder and felt his hand sink into her tissues. She shivered and immediately he was bombarded by her voice and a stream of raw, deep, emotions.

"Am I reading her thoughts?" He wondered. "Daddy, is that you?" He heard. He backed off and watched as his daughter sat up, turning her bedside lamp on. She sniffled as she looked fearfully around her bedroom. "Daddy, are you there?" She asked quietly. Doug watched her shoulders slump as she sank back onto her pillows and resumed her sobbing. He floated towards her once more, placing his hand on her shoulder more gently this time. Alison flinched less violently this time but Doug could tell she was aware of the touch and concerned by it. He stroked her shoulder softly and floated down behind her whispering in her ear.

"Shhhh baby, you're okay, daddy will look after you."

Alison didn't understand how her father could be behind her, soothing her, whispering words of comfort, yet she had just looked and he wasn't there. She sat up and walked out of her room, down the hallway, and knocked quietly on his bedroom door. Not hearing a response she tentatively opened the door and peered in, seeing her father lying in his bed asleep. She shivered once again and retraced her steps, snuggling under her comforter. Doug snuggled up behind her and recommenced his stroking and whispering. Alison knew she should be freaking out but in her need she felt the contact and the words in her father's voice a godsend. For the first time in weeks she felt herself relaxing and falling asleep.

Doug spent the next few weeks trying out his new ability with Alison. It was clear that he couldn't use his 'spirit' body to interact with anyone else but he had fun approaching Alison and gently stroking her, completely inappropriately at times. He had calibrated how much pressure he could use when touching his daughter and recognised the limitations this brought. He devised a plan to entice her into accepting his flesh and blood body touching her more intimately. In her current emotional state and age of sexual development he thought she would be ripe for the picking.

At night he began a combined assault, calming and helping her get to sleep and then stimulating her young body once she had dropped off. He traced a pattern over her little titties, amused as her breathing deepened in her sleep, amused as her nipples popped up quickly, a sure sign that she was responding to his touch. He was ecstatic to see her instinctively spread her coltish legs, leaving him open access to her teen pussy. He bided his time, giving her developing breasts more stimulus, believing that this would eventually pay dividends. Alison murmured in her sleep "Mmmmmmmm, mmmmmm." Doug could sense her thoughts/dreams and thrilled to realise that his plan was working better than he could ever have hoped. He let his hand drift down to her little pussy, again delighting in the fact that it was already leaking juices, another sign that his attack was working well.