Perceptions and Deceptions
Copyright© 2009 by A Strange Geek
Chapter 4
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 4 - The Harbingers are forced to realize they are changing, but is it all part of a master plan to fight the evil in Haven, or are they just succumbing to their own carnal urges? Meanwhile, a mysterious man returns to Haven to perform a strange ceremony on the night of Halloween as part of a shocking town legacy. Things will take an even darker turn in the form of a girl named Gina, putting him on a collision course with the Harbingers.
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Magic Mind Control NonConsensual Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Extra Sensory Perception Paranormal Incest Mother Son Sister Daughter Humiliation Light Bond Spanking Group Sex First Masturbation Oral Sex Sex Toys Squirting Teacher/Student Halloween
Sunday morning light leaked through the window over a tousled mess of brown hair at the end of a misshapen lump under the blanket. The figure at the door looked on in annoyance.
"Richie?"
The lump shuddered, uttered a muffled curse, and was still once more.
"Richie, get your ass out of bed now."
The lump grunted something that sounded vaguely like "whatever."
"I'm serious, Richie. I will not have us missing church because of your laziness."
Richie waited until he heard the thump of footsteps down the hall before he turned over and kicked off the covers, mumbling another curse.
He rubbed his eyes and sat up, pulling his feet under him. He was beginning to hate Sundays as much as Mondays. His mother's pointless pursuit of superficial piety dragged him into the longest and most useless hour and a half of every week. She was fooling herself along with half the congregation.
Once the grogginess of sleep started to lift, Richie sneered. His mother's real reason for this excruciating ritual was no mystery to him. It was just another excuse to flaunt herself at the guys, to spot new prospects willing to fuck her with no questions asked.
Richie yawned, his anger draining away with it. He refused to be upset with his mother anymore. The Darkness drove her. It was the way it got to other people, by making Sandra Gardner have sex with them so it could take them over in that moment of weakness.
He swung his legs over the side of the bed and paused. Frowning, he looked at the feeble sunlight streaked across his bed, then at the clock. "What the fuck?"
Richie shot to his feet and barreled towards the door, still in only his briefs. He burst out of his room, shouting, "Hey, Mom, what the hell?! It's only seven fucking o'clock in the morning! Mom? Where are you?"
"In the bedroom, Richie."
Eyes blazing, he dashed for Sandra's door. He brought himself up short after only a few strides, his foot thumping hard to the floor with the effort to stop.
Aw, fuck, on a friggin' Sunday?
Richie was not religious, but he wondered -- if there were a deity -- whether it would ding him for what his mother wanted to do with him that morning. He shook his head at the foolish thought. The choice had been taken from him.
Just refuse her. Just tell her no.
"Richie, get in here," Sandra snapped. After a pause, her voice became husky if hesitant. "I-I have something I want to show you. Something you'll like."
Richie swallowed and leaned against the wall, running a hand through his hair as his eyes danced. Yeah, right, tell her no, he thought, his teeth clenched. His cock stirred in anticipation and betrayal.
He wanted to believe it was the Darkness, that it induced arousal in him at will, that he could never be attracted to his own mother. Never mind her voluptuous figure or big boobs, or her shaved pussy, or her nice ass.
Richie clenched his hands into fists and wanted to pound the wall even as his cock expanded and hardened. It had to be some sort of dark influence. He was not so perverted that he would lust after his own mother! He didn't fantasize about her! He didn't go seeking it!
Yeah, but you don't refuse it, do you?
"Richie, get your lazy ass in here!"
He longed to hear more of that, more of the mother he knew, or thought he knew. He would rather argue with her. Every day it became harder to distinguish his real mother from his Dark mother.
As he started towards the bedroom again, he turned his head and looked over the railing into the living room. The house no longer was his own. Working so fast as if in some bizarre time warp, Sandra had managed to exchange most of the furniture for new. She had rid the old office of its accumulated storage of broken appliances and historical detritus, leaving it an empty husk. She was working on changing out even the kitchen utensils now.
He had even caught her on her computer pricing used cars.
Richie stepped into the bedroom doorway. His insides unclenched. He had expected to find her naked already. Instead, she was wrapped in a flowing white robe (also brand new), clutching it closed across her ample bosom and holding her legs clamped shut. It stood out in sharp contrast to the swirling black snakelike tendrils of her Aura.
Their eyes met. He saw the reluctance in hers. It helped him manage his emotions. The Darkness was forcing her. She had to obey or it would punish her. That's why he went along with it, so she would not get hurt.
Yeah, right, came his irritated thought. He glanced past her. The sheets and blanket were new as well. The bed itself was old, but likely would not be for long. "Okay, fine, I'm here," said Richie, trying to sound bored. "What the hell do you want?"
Sandra shuddered and let out a husky sigh. The reluctance disappeared from her eyes, and her hands loosened. "I bought something yesterday, something just for you."
Richie tried to think of a smart-ass comeback, but it died on his lips when Sandra let her robe drop to the floor.
This was worse than seeing her naked. Her breasts were pushed up in a lacy, black bra. The areolae surrounding her hardened nipples peeked through the thin fabric as it strained to contain the plump flesh. A matching triangle of black lace covered her crotch, pulled tight so that it outlined the labia in perfect relief.
She's even changing out her clothes, just to stop me from using my power, Richie thought.
Richie's power to see the past had revealed the Darkness taking his mother, and later driving his father from his life. The Darkness had put two and two together and understood what it needed to do to stop him from gleaning any more information.
Richie wished his father was there now, even if it were to rail against Richie for giving in to his carnal urges.
His cock became rock-hard, tenting his briefs. It would have appeared comical in any other context. Sandra started towards him with a provocative swing to her hips. She tugged at the straps of her bra, bouncing her breasts inside the flimsy lace.
"I know you like lingerie, Richie," said Sandra, her lips curling into a lusty smile. "Especially the black, lacy kind."
Richie tried to feel anger. His mother had to have dipped into Richie's hard drive to learn about that. Another mother would have screamed at him for having porn on his computer. He wished for that kind of mother at that moment.
Sandra's eyes slid over Richie's crotch. "Oh yeah, I can see you really like it."
Sandra's resistance seemed weak anymore. All her hesitation was already gone. The black lace over her pussy glistened. Her breath was a light pant, her breasts enticing him with each swell from her inhaled breath.
Tell her no! Walk away! Run! Leave the house!
And miss out on some incredible sex? That's not like you, Richie.
Richie gasped and staggered. He looked down. A thin wisp of Sandra's Aura had slithered around his wrist. He snatched his hand back and stared as the thin tentacle of Dark energy swirled in the air like smoke, then withdrew back to its host.
The Darkness had never tried to speak to him outside of the act before. He stared at his mother, his feet poised to retreat. Sandra stopped, her eyes clouded and her body trembling. It lasted no more than a few seconds. She took another step forward and reached for his crotch.
Richie shivered and watched the entrails of Darkness play about his mother's arm, swaying in perverted excitement. He always expected to feel something cold and clammy whenever any part of the Darkness touched him. He felt nothing each time, as if it were all in his head.
Sandra pulled down Richie's briefs and wrapped her fingers around his pulsing cock. Richie let out a ragged moan. Darkness slithered about his waist and hips.
Yes, that's it, you know you can't resist it. Why would you want to?
Richie closed his eyes. Sexual pleasure was not equal to working for the Darkness. He let that thought burn in his mind to avoid the trap. He could get all the sex he wanted on his own.
Oh, you mean Linda Davis? The Darkness sounded bored. Of course, you could. Feel free to use my power like that.
IT'S NOT YOUR FUCKING POWER! Richie screamed at it in his head.
He got no response. Instead, he was forced to open his eyes when he felt the soft, warm touch of Sandra's boobs against his face. His nose slipped into the cleft between them, drawing in his mother's lightly perfumed scent, his skin flushing hot in anticipation. Sandra stroked his cock with the slow, deliberate slide of fingers across firm flesh, drawing another moan from him.
Richie reminded himself that the influence he still held over his teacher was not the doing of the Darkness. It was a moot point, anyway; he had stopped, just as he had promised the other Harbingers. He even used the Book to make her forget that she ever wanted to be his slave.
"I want your cock inside me, Richie," Sandra moaned into Richie's ear. Her fingers tightened. "Come and fuck me now ... I'm so wet for you..."
Cassie stands before the veil with trepidation. Penetrating the subconscious sanctum of Melissa did not feel quite the same. There she was unwanted, an intruder, someone performing the mental equivalent of breaking-and-entering. This veil shimmers translucent. She sees shapes moving beyond it, like a movie that has started without her.
It is the ease in which she can pass that worries her.
She raises her hand and reaches forward. The veil parts like flowing water around her hand. She feels no touch upon her skin. Only when she steps through does she feel a momentary chill, but her shiver is gone as quickly as it came. The mind still has an innate reluctance to her presence, despite Ned's willingness. She is still an intruder to his subconscious, and that was its token resistance.
The veil closes behind her like a stream around a rock, and she is inside. Her senses assail her, more vivid each time, despite her wish for the ability to dampen it.
Ned is arguing with his father. She should be used to it by now. She wrinkles her nose at the smell of sweat, cigarettes, and stale beer from the big, pot-bellied bear of a man that looms over his son. The man sways with the beginning haze of intoxication.
Cassie alternately wants to cover her ears or break down in tears. They're arguing about her. The epithets Ned's father hurls at her mean little. She has heard every one of them before. He favors "little Miss Rich Bitch," far more mild than others heaped on her by her peers. It is the trouble she is causing for Ned that tears at her heart.
Cutlery banging in the kitchen startles her. That is all anyone will hear from Ned's mother. The more Ned and his father argue, the more she bangs around in the kitchen. Cassie wants to scream at her to be a proper mother, but checks herself when she realizes her own mother is no resource for what a proper mother is supposed to be.
The argument ends, and the scene shimmers. Now Ned is in his room, reading a magazine. She edges closer and sees it is National Geographic. The door bursts open and Ned's mother enters, a leathery woman with scraggly, graying hair. She berates Ned for picking fights with his father.
Cassie wants to slap this woman, and then blushes at her own vehemence. She did not see the start of the argument, but she senses something from Ned, that his father was the aggressor. She shivers. Now she could read Ned's thoughts and emotions, even from his memories.
Ned is tuning out his mother, but he turns the pages with such violence he almost tears them from the spine. Cassie feels the repressed fury coming from him in thick waves. Finally, Ned's mother gets frustrated and leaves.
Then Ned does something that nearly makes Cassie shriek in shock.
He kicks out his foot and somersaults one of his slippers into his waiting hand in a very liquid movement. His hand rises just as the door is closing behind his mother. A split second after the slam of the door comes the thump of Ned's hurtled footwear. Where it strikes the door are many other rubber scuff marks.
Cassie tells herself that this woman must truly be frustrating to rile someone as easy-going as Ned. She tells herself that he would never mean to harm his mother in the least.
An odd shimmering around Ned distracts her from her disturbing thoughts. She approaches, and her eyes widen as she realizes it is a sparkling curtain, like the veil she had first stepped through. Without thinking, she parts it with her hand...
... and suddenly she is somewhere else.
She stands atop a low dais, and before her lies a cavernous room of opulent splendor, with a high, vaulted ceiling like a cathedral. A wide carpet of purple edged with gold stretches towards two towering, gilded doors, standing open. Between them stands a figure in light chain mail armor. In one of his hands is a large, round shield, and inscribed upon it is a stylized dragon with glowing red jewels for eyes.
The room is incomplete. Far corners to either side of the door, as well as parts of the ceiling above it, lie in impenetrable darkness, even though the rest of the chamber seethes in brilliance.
Cassie understands. She is witnessing a dream. Dreams contain only those details that the mind would deem necessary. Anything else is left blurred or an empty void, filled in only if the mind's eye turns to it.
A faint smile greets Ned as he steps away from the door and strikes a wide-footed dramatic stance. He often idealized himself in some of his dreams. This one is broad of shoulder and hard of muscle and sinew. Yet the nose is the same as reality, as it he had accepted it as unique to him, as his signature.
Ned lowers his shield and raises his other arm, pointing. "And now, o foul and evil witch, I have vanquished your poor, enslaved minions and given them back their minds. Begone to the deepest levels of hell with you!"
For a worried moment, she thinks he is speaking to her. When she realizes he is pointing just to her left, she turns her head and nearly bolts.
Melissa!
Cassie forces herself to remain calm. This is not the real Melissa, only a representation of her in Ned's head. Her non-reality is emphasized by the rather interesting costume that Ned has imagined. Tight leather wraps a body far more curvaceous and voluptuous than Melissa ever was. A long cloak of inky black swirls about legs clad in boots laced up the length of her calves.
Melissa tosses her head back and utters a mocking laugh. "You think you can best me armed with nothing but a simple shield? You are truly the fool!" She raises her hands above her head and is enveloped in an acid green glow. Cassie shivers at how reminiscent it is of what she witnessed at the Rite of Power. "And now, you will bow before me as my total slave!"
Cassie gasps as Melissa levels her arms and fires an orb of poisonous green towards Ned. He drops to one knee and raises the shield. The orb explodes to harmless sparks upon impact.
Melissa gasps. "No! How can this be?!"
Ned stands and advances, brandishing the shield before him as if it is a weapon as well as a defense. "This shield holds the same power of the mind as you wield yourself, sorceress! It is how I have freed all your hapless minions. Now, you will release your hold on the Queen and remove your evil presence from this land."
Cassie puzzles over this. Queen? What Queen?
"No! Never!" Melissa screams, and renews the assault. Ned advances, leaning into the shots as he approaches, as if walking into a rising gale.
Cassie tries to take a step back, but her foot fetches up against something. She turns her head. It is a throne. She looks down at herself. Flowing, bejeweled robes of blue and purple adorn her body. As she tilts her head, she feels something encircling it. She raises her hand, and her fingers trace the fine gold and glittering jewels of a crown.
"I cannot be the Queen," Cassie murmurs before she can catch herself.
There is a bright flash of light. Melissa lets out an anguished cry as her last attack explodes at her fingertips. She staggers until Ned backs her up against a column. Melissa gasps and lifts her arms as if to ward off a blow as Ned raises the shield.
"You will be Queen again, Your Majesty!" declares Ned. "You will no longer be slave to this foul wench!"
Cassie's hand flies to her breast. He HEARD her?
"YOU RUINED EVERYTHING!" Melissa screams.
Cassie feels a chill. Those were the exact words that the real defeated Melissa said.
"Only your evil plans, demoness." Ned swings the shield like a sword, and Melissa vanishes in a flash of green light.
Cassie's heart pounds by the time Ned turns to her. He places one step on the dais and gazes up at her. "Your Majesty, I have vanquished the sorceress for all time. Please, tell me that her evil enchantment has been lifted from your mind."
Cassie can only stare, wide-eyed, her lips parting but no words coming forth.
Ned steps fully onto the dais, raising his shield. "Or has she left some final spell in you, to attack me when my guard is down? Has she possessed you with some sliver of her spirit in hopes that--"
"No!" Cassie finally blurts. "I-I mean ... no, my ... my knight ... I am unaffected by her, um, her enchantment."
Her mind reels. This should not be happening. She never could participate in someone's dream before this. She could only observe.
Ned bows his head. "I am honored you would consider me a knight, Your Majesty, but I am but someone fortunate enough to have the Shield of Power bestowed upon me in hopes that I will use it wisely."
Cassie smiles, and tries to guess what Ned is expecting to hear. "And you have, um, done your task admirably. I thank you for your, um, your service to me and to the kingdom."
Yet Ned keeps his shield raised. "I am sorry, Your Majesty, but I must be sure you are completely free of any lingering influence. Please, look at the shield. This will not take long if you indulge me for but a short time."
Cassie levels her eyes with the shield. The eyes of the dragon glow, and her mind is filled with new purpose: submit and obey. Or rather, it wishes to do so. She can resist it if she chooses. She is still in control.
Curiosity overcomes shock. Now she wants to see what will happen. She allows herself to be affected by the magic of the shield.
The words rise to Cassie's mouth: "I will obey."
Though she speaks them as she was compelled to, she feels she can wrest herself from it at any time, as if she is still just playing a role.
Ned's voice grows soft. "Some evil enchantments and curses leave marks of their master upon the body. I must search for these. You will remove your clothing."
Cassie undoes each layer of her clothing, letting her movements be dictated by the "enchantment." The underwear he envisions for her is decidedly not with the medieval theme, all sparse and delicate lace. Her body flushes with pleasure as she removes it and stands nude before him.
"My apologies for this violation of your body, Your Majesty," says Ned as he sets the shield aside. "But it is necessary. I will make it pleasant for you."
His hands slide over her body, first up her sides, then down to her hips and legs. Cassie squirms and moans as each touch sends tiny shivers of pleasure through her body. Heat moistens her sex as his hands cup her breasts.
"I find no marks upon you, Your Majesty," says Ned from behind her, his hands still squeezing her breasts and stroking her hard and erect nipples. "But for the good of the kingdom, I must maintain my influence over you until we are sure you are free of any taint from the sorceress."
One of his hands leaves her breasts and slips between her legs. Cassie gasps as his fingers touch wet folds. The power from the shield compels her to submit to the waves of sexual delight.
"We will seal it thusly." His fingers stroke her slick womanhood. Cassie writhes and pants as her pleasure inexorably rises at his touch. "I must share your bed frequently, Your Majesty, as repeated sexual pleasure will surely drive out any remaining curse."
Cassie spreads her feet apart. His fingers enter her. She moans and leans into him, his free hand still squeezing one of her breasts. Her pleasure soars, her eyes closing as the sexual rapture envelops her, forever sealing her will to his...
Cassie's eyes snapped open, and she drew her breath as a massive gasp. She let it go as a loud moan, shivering and writhing under the blanket as her pussy burst into orgasm.
Her moan became a hard pant as her climax swept over her. The imagery of the dream was slow to fade, breaking up only when it did in Ned's mind. The last vision she saw was of Ned carrying her naked and still lustful body towards the bed chamber.
The thought of Ned consummating the act in a much more direct manner set her off again. She rolled onto her back, helpless to do anything but let her pussy throb. For a very brief moment, his every wish was hers, her own pleasure second to his.
Cassie covered her face with her hands and forced herself to take a slow, deep breath. She pulled herself completely into the real world again only when her climax ebbed. She waited another minute before she pulled the covers back and sat up.
Her nipples still tented the fabric of her nightgown, but they no longer tingled with desire. Part of it was the cold. She glanced towards the window and saw the light dusting of frosty snow deposited overnight. A baseboard heater ticked as it activated.
Cassie stood up. Goodness, that couldn't have been his actual dream. I couldn't have participated in it. That's never happened before!
Cassie sighed and wrapped her arms around herself and shivered as if cold. Her denial stopped. All that remained now was to determine the extent. Could she have controlled Ned's dream if she had tried? Even Ned's "control" over her was only at her discretion. She could have rejected it, or so she hoped.
She started towards the bathroom. Her eyes fell on the calendar and stared at the date: October 23rd, a full week and a day before Halloween.
Cassie let out another short sigh, this one of satisfaction. At least this kept her other visions at bay, the frustrating ones that always started about this time. Perhaps she would not hate Halloween so much this year.
Sandra lay sprawled on her back, her body trembling with need. Her pussy ached for release, straining ever closer to orgasm without reaching it. Her moans became cries, her breath a frenzied pant. Her hands slid along the sides of Richie's body like the touch of an intimate lover.
Richie's rear clenched as his hips dove against her with a slap of their bodies and the creak of the bedsprings. His cock speared her slick folds with a wet sound that could be heard over their lustful moans.
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