Chapter 25

Victor rolled through the southernmost loop of the road that skirted the edge of Mesa View Estates. He held his eyes even and his face fixed as he turned the car down a private road and stopped at the gate, security cameras tracking his movement. He had just come to a stop when the gate buzzed, clicked, and slid open.

Victor urged his car down the narrow path. Juniper trees marched alongside the car in two perfect and well-manicured lines. The place had changed little from the last time he saw it some years ago. He knew it all too well from his many visits, when he had delayed important contracts and vital meetings abroad just to ensure that Lydia's transformation would hold.

As well as cleaning up all the loose ends of the debacle that necessitated that transformation.

Victor pulled his modest mid-size car alongside the stretch limos parked in a silent precession of wealth near the main entrance of the mansion. He counted himself fortunate to have someone with these resources at his beck and call.

The door opened as Victor approached, and he allowed himself a small smile as he stepped into the midst of another precession. On either side of the entrance hall stood two lines of maids, butlers, and other servants, arranged in the same perfect spacing and precision as the junipers outside. After the door closed behind him, the servant that had admitted Victor took position beside his comrades.

Victor raised his hands. "Sentr'enthra tal'alkqua ron'valtra."

The servants bowed their heads and chanted as one, "Toph'sentr'enthra zanthas ron'valtra!"

Victor allowed only one iteration of the devotion. He spread his arms out in blessing. The servants folded their hands in quiet subservience for a few seconds, then dispersed and went back to their duties.

Footsteps echoed before him, and Victor smiled as his eyes fell on the older, stately gentleman that approached from the other end of the hall. "Apologies, Victor, but the staff insisted on greeting you in the proper manner despite your claim of no cult business behind this visit."

Victor met the man halfway down the hall and clasped his shoulder. "Quite all right, Charles. It is best they remind me of their dedication and loyalty in these trying times."

Charles Remmer tilted his head, and his lips spread into a tiny sympathetic smile. "Troubles again this year?"

"A few. Nothing I cannot handle. I will not bore you with the details."

"Yet it was enough to compel you to check on Lydia."

"And I cannot be here simply to take advantage of her state? To allow myself a distraction from my trials?"

Charles allowed a soft chuckle. "That is nothing like the Victor I know. You are practical to a fault."

Victor granted a small smile in return. There were few in his cult with whom he could converse outside the trappings of the quasi-religion he had created. Fewer still could step outside the cult and speak of it as it really was. Charles was one of those few. "As I said before, you are quite perceptive."

Charles folded his hands behind his back. "If there is anything I can do to help make your annual endeavor a success, do not hesitate to call upon me."

"I would, Charles, if it were simply a need of more money or influence. I am hoping this visit alone will help."

Charles nodded. "In that case, please follow me."

Victor fell into step beside his companion. "I assume I will find everything in order or you would have contacted me."

"You assume correctly." Charles took them through a large, opulent living room and into another wide hallway. "She is virtually unchanged."

"Virtually?"

"She is doing nothing now that she does not do at this time every year."

"Ah. You speak of her disturbed sleep?"

"Yes. It starts a week before Halloween. She tosses and turns, and sometimes experiences several spontaneous orgasms. Sometimes rather powerful ones, which is how my servants know. Then it vanishes upon the conclusion of our ceremony on the evening of Halloween."

Victor nodded. "But no worse this year?"

"I don't believe so, no."

Victor remained silent. He had never formulated a proper explanation for the behavior. The closest he could come was a sort of lingering psychic resonance with the energies that tended to flow more freely upon the festival of Samhain. That same psychic link had rendered her unsuitable as a slave, yet too resistant to have her memory wiped or suppressed.

He touched his avatar within Lydia. It was still strong but stressed. This made sense to him if it had to counter the Halloween energies.

He could sense the flow from the line of force that brushed Charles' mansion. Here, the avatar could tap the line's energy to keep Lydia's perceptions molded to an artificial universe conceived out of convenience. Victor would never claim complete acceptance of this "solution."

"Her presence keeps the staff happy, at least," said Charles. "They are quite eager to assist in maintaining the fiction. Sometimes a little too eager. I tend to monitor them when I can. However, she is free now."

Victor again did not respond, causing Charles to turn his head in concern. Victor gave him a single nod, his eyes hard and level as they stared at the closed parlor door ahead of them, an image already seared into his mind.

Charles gripped the gleaming gold handle and swung the door inward.

The room beyond was arranged as any other sort of parlor in a wealthy man's house, with plush seating, soft pastel flourishes, and expensive decorations. From that point, it diverged from the norm. On a table near the center of the room lay an array of oils, lubricants, and sex toys. Beyond it, opposite the door, was the room's eternal prisoner.

A middle-aged woman sat naked upon what to the two men appeared as a simple straight-backed chair with scarlet padding. Her hips writhed, twisting and grinding against her seat. Her soft breasts rippled with each movement, the nipples swollen and hard with permanent arousal. Between her quivering thighs, her pussy glistened and dripped. Her arms lay rigid and strained along the arm rests, hands clenching and unclenching as if her wrists were somehow caught. Her wavy dark blond hair hung in disarray about her shoulders and obscured her face.

Charles folded his hands before him and waited for Victor to make the next move.

Victor stared at the woman, taking a slow, deep breath and letting it go as a slow sigh. He connected to his avatar, and allowed himself to share the same illusion as her.

The chamber became dark and sepulchral, save for the crimson fires that burned in small alcoves hewed from solid rock walls. Lydia squirmed upon her Seat of Punishment, unable to escape the thick, relentless phallus that thrust into her helpless cunt from the seat, her arms bound with tight, heavy chains.

"Uhhhnn ... unngg ... uhhh..." Lydia moaned, quaking as the phallus throbbed with obscene intensity in her tight pussy. Her own orgasm was denied, her folds aching with swollen, unsatisfied lust.

"Lydia," Victor said.

She uttered a small gasp, and her head jerked up, tossing some of her recalcitrant hair aside. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

Victor stood before her as a demon, broad of chest and shoulder, flaming red skin taut with iron-hard muscle. His body was wrapped in rough leather, the piece covering his crotch just barely containing an ungodly long and thick cock.

He lifted a taloned hand and gestured. The phallus withdrew into the seat and the chains unraveled. Lydia uttered a surprised cry and fell from the chair to her hands and knees, where she remained panting and shivering at the cool touch of the stone floor.

Victor stepped over to her. Lydia lifted her head, then rose on her haunches and clutched at him, leering at the huge bulge of his loincloth in both intense lust and deep desperation.

She still remembered him, the one that had condemned her, an agent for a higher power that had judged her unworthy and consigned her to this terrible place.

"And how do you feel now, Lydia?" said the demon in a rumbling voice that made her shudder. "Do you still feel wicked and sinful?"

Lydia stared, eyes wide and dark. "I-I don't know, Master. How will I know?"

"Do you still wish to cum all the time?"

Lydia squirmed. She rubbed her thighs together in a vain attempt to send herself over the edge. "Yes, Master," she whimpered.

"Do you still want your pussy warm and wet?"

"Uhng ... Y-yes, Master, I still do."

"And can you cum except by the evil instrument of a demon?"

Lydia moaned, half in despair and half in wet desire. "No, Master."

"Then you are still quite wicked, Lydia. Your punishment will continue. Your sins are not yet forgiven."

Lydia panted as her pussy strained but would not release. Her fingers curled against his unyielding muscle. "I know, Master. Sinful in life, sinful in death." She looked up again, and then at the bulge in his crotch. "Please, Master, use your evil instrument on me again. Make me cum. Please."

Victor forced her to let go and stood back. "If I do, your wickedness will feed on itself. Your punishment may never end."

"I don't care, Master. I need to cum. I need my pussy wet. Please, Master."

Victor removed his clothes, and his cock sprang forth. Lydia licked her lips in anticipation.

Richie barreled into the house, leaving the garage door up to aid his escape. He had considered dumping his school books in the garage so he did not have to enter the house proper, but then his mother might not see them and think he never came home from school. Richie did not want to give his mother an excuse to sic the cops on him again.

Richie took the stairs two at a time on the way up to his room. He let only one foot cross the threshold and launched his book-bag towards the bed. He noticed the paper taped to the top drawer of his dresser just as the bag hit the bed, rolled, and thumped to the floor.

He peered at the note, but the writing was just small enough to prevent him from discerning it from the door. He glowered and muttered a curse as he stomped across the room. He snatched it from the dresser, leaving a torn corner still attached to the tape.

The note read: Don't be so quick to leave today.

Richie's fingers curled and crinkled the paper. He could guess who was standing in the doorway behind him before he turned around, but could not avoid a sharp intake of breath or a widening of his eyes at the nude figure that blocked his egress.

Sandra raised an arm and leaned against the door frame. She swung her hips in the other direction and planted a hand on her waist. She slid one leg out straight and let her pussy glisten in the light.

"I've been waiting for you, Richie," she said in a honeyed voice, her eyes dark and glittering. "I'm already wet for you."

Richie crushed the note in his fist. His cock swelled against his wishes. He forced out a breath and tossed the paper aside. "Sorry, Mom. Got things to do."

He advanced, hoping she would just take the hint and step aside. Instead, her smile grew more wicked, her Aura swirling in black more inky than he had ever seen.

She did not move. Richie stopped several feet before her and tried to stop his eyes from drinking in his mother's sexy body. He failed, his control over his gaze as good as that over his cock. The latter lay cramped in his briefs, pulsing with his pounding heart.

"I'm thinking of going around the house like this all the time, Richie," Sandra cooed. "So I'm always ready for you. You can fuck me whenever you want as much as you want."

Richie swallowed hard. He forced his gaze upward. He recognized nothing in her eyes. She was a complete puppet.

"I'm all you need. Have me any way you want. Use me."

Richie panted. The words bored straight past his brain into his raw libido. Tendrils of black slithered like tentacles towards him, writhing in the air in unholy anticipation.

"I can't," Richie finally croaked. "I told you, I got things to do! Just ... get out of the way."

Sandra paused a long moment, then finally let out a small sigh, though her smile never faltered. "I suppose you'll just have to push past me and be about your business, then."

Richie's eyes burned. He wanted to rush her, one hard shoulder and pointy elbow leading the way, but the body he would leave hurt and bruised was still his mother even if her mind was not.

"Fine, I will," Richie declared, and surged forward.

He grasped his mother about the waist, intending to shove her backwards out of the doorway. A sudden warmth enveloped his entire body, making him shudder and his cock twitch. He ignored it long enough to push her back a step, until something splashed over his sneakers and jeans.

"Uhhnng! Uhnnnn!" Sandra moaned, writhing hard under Richie's hands. Richie's eyes went wide as they stared at his mother's now dripping pussy, fluid still trickling down her thighs.

"Oh, Richie!" Sandra gushed. Her hands slid along his arms and coaxed them forward. "I'm so hot for you that you made me cum just touching me."

Richie's moment of shock let his arms be drawn around Sandra's waist. He held her delightfully warm and naked body, her tits swelling against his chest. Her hand rubbed his cock through his jeans.

Her voice was a hot breath in his ear. "I can even squirt for you, Richie. Just like that Sovert girl. I can even do that for you. I can do it every time. Make me cum again, Richie, and I'll show you."

Sandra's Aura cocooned them both, holding Richie in its dark embrace. Richie felt it close in around his mind as well, his heart thumping against its cold control as much as with hot lust. His cock was so hard it hurt. He tried to push her away, but his hands instead slid up her sides.

Sandra moaned and trembled. "Uhhn ... mmmm ... that feels so good ... But you won't make me cum again like that ... you'll have to do something else..."

Richie squeezed his eyes shut and tried to call on the same help that Heather had, but either he didn't know how to do it, or he was being blocked.

Or they just really don't care and have given up on you.

His emotions were in such turmoil that he could not tell if that thought came from the Darkness or the depths of his own lingering doubts.

But he didn't just have his fellow Harbingers, he had whatever was protecting him before. He just needed to figure out what it was so he could tap into it again.

A memory flickered across his mind and gave him his first clue. His mother had tried to stop him the night he had to help the Harbingers against Melissa. She had almost succeeded, until he had touched her panties and had the vision of...

His thoughts stopped. His hands groped his mother's body, as if searching, and he tried to ignore her coos of erotic delight in his ear. He encountered nothing more than smooth skin, his touch giving rise to mounting moans of excitement from Sandra. He did not know exactly where his hands were until his fingers sank into something very wet and very warm.

"Ohhh! ... Oooo, Richie! ... Mmmm!"

Sandra ground her hips against Richie's hand. He wanted to pull back, but his fingers acted of their own accord and sank past her tight folds, leaving them swimming in hot liquid lust.

... man what a hot bitch in heat she...

Richie's eyes snapped open. The thought had faded in and out like a radio being tuned past a station.

A past vision? But he wasn't touching anything except...

Sandra shuddered and gasped, panting as if her own hot desire had stolen her breath. "Uhnng ... R-Richie ... I need your cock ... your nice hard cock up my twat..."

"Yeah," Richie breathed. "Yeah, okay. In the bedroom."

Sandra nudged Richie back, but he stiffened.

"No, your bedroom," Richie groaned. "Wanna do it in your bed. Bigger than mine. Lots more room to..."

Richie trailed off. He was losing the battle. In another few seconds he wouldn't care if they dropped to the floor and rutted in the hallway like two dogs in heat.

"Okay, Richie," Sandra finally said. She unzipped his jeans, her fingers sliding over the contours of his cock through the stretched fabric of his briefs. Richie panted and rubbed his crotch against her hand. "Then you can use your cock on me however you please..."

Heather feared she was going to be too excited to control herself.

She and Melinda arrived at the house at the same time as Jason. By then, Heather had worked Melinda into a wet and horny frenzy. At Heather's bidding, Melinda and Jason pawed at each other in panting sexual heat.

She watched them writhe on the floor locked in a frantic sixty-nine. She would not let them get too close to orgasm. They had to save it for when the others arrived. There could be no release to be had until they could achieve it together.

Watching her little sister and her boyfriend was enough to soak her panties. Her fingers skirted the waist of her jeans and flirted with the zipper. She had promised herself she would try to ease Cassie into her sex circle. Seeing a naked and dripping Heather would not be conducive to those plans.

A husky sigh met her thoughts of Cassie, and her pussy throbbed with her pounding heart. Her thoughts drifted to Ned as well. Would he feel intimidated by having sex with her? Would having him do it with Melinda make him feel too awkward afterward? Or should she just let him do it with Cassie?

No, that wouldn't work. People had to choose different partners. She didn't know why. Everyone had to enjoy it as well. She didn't know the reason for that, either. Cassie could not be so shocked or repulsed that she could not respond; Richie could not be denied the control he wanted or he would resent his involvement.

She tugged her hand away from her blouse, where she had undone several buttons without realizing it. The others could not arrive soon enough for her.

Richie lost all focus in the time it took Sandra to guide them into her bedroom. Her fingertips brushed the strained cotton of his briefs to keep his cock in aching hardness. When his legs bumped against the side of the bed, a glimmer of comprehension returned to him, and he remembered what he was trying to do.

She tried to ease him onto the bed, her on top. He twisted them around and forced her onto her back. Her hands clamped around his arms, as if suspecting an escape attempt.

The Darkness squeezed around Richie's mind. He was losing ground fast. His mother undid his belt. Once his cock was out, he would want nothing more than to plunge it into her depths.

Disjointed, vague images and sounds batted against his consciousness like a kitten playing with a toy. Finally, his hand moved, and his fingers buried themselves in her slick cunt.

Reality shifted.

"Oh Dan!" a suddenly ten years younger Sandra gushed. "Oh that feels so good, but I sooo want your cock in there!"

She swam in and out of focus. Another image was juxtaposed around his body like a TV ghost signal.

Goddamn, her cunt is so fucking tight!

Richie reeled from the strength of the thought as he realized that he was superimposed on the figure from the past, as if he had wrapped the man's skin around his own body. He was aware of the man's every sensation, even down to the small crick in his back and an ache from an old sports injury in one knee.

"Sandy, are you sure this is okay?" Richie heard in a voice that seemed to come from his own mouth.

"Yes, I'm really wet and hot for you, Dan!"

"No, I don't mean ... oh man, Sandy ... wow..."

Richie resisted the urge to draw back. His past mother had curled her fingers around the man's cock, stroking his rock-hard erection. Richie felt it as if it were his own cock.

Fuck, never thought I could get this hard with the damn blood thinners.

"Fuck me, Dan ... fuck me now..." Sandra cooed.

Richie's vision blurred as Dan descended. Richie felt Sandra's fingers gripping his cock -- Dan's cock -- and guiding it to her willing pussy. Instead of her wet cunt, he felt a tug as Dan resisted the final plunge.

Shit, it's hard for me to think. "Sandy, what about Mike? And Richie?"

Sandra gave him a wicked smile that made Richie's blood run cold. "Don't worry about Mike. The divorce was final last week."

"Sandra, he threatened me just the month before if he ... oh man..."

Sandra stroked his cock hard with her fingers. "Dan, it's okay. I have some... friends ... on the police force. We're well-protected."

Protected.

The word hit Richie's head like a lightning bolt.

"And Richie's out playing," Sandra said.

"You sure he won't walk in on us while--"

Sandra giggled. "Not while he's playing baseball. I can hardly get him to stop anymore. You remember, I told you about that baseball he got on his last birthday."

The baseball.

Another electric shock passed through Richie's psyche and reverberated down the tendril of time.

"Really?" Dan said, sounding surprised. "But you said he hardly ever uses it. I thought maybe he didn't really like his father and..."

His father.

Dan trailed off. Sandra tugged his cock and giggled again. "Now will you fuck me?"

Dan groaned, his remaining thoughts slipping away as his cock slid into her cunt with a wet, slick sound.

Reality crashed back to the present. The haze of lust suddenly fell away, and his mind came into sharp focus. He flexed his arms, his hands having planted themselves on the bed on either side of his mother's body during his vision, and bolted off the bed. He thrust a foot out just in time to turn a fall to the floor into a stumble, his cock bobbing over the waistband of his briefs.