Chapter 51

David Sovert peered over the edge of his glass. "Is everything okay, Heather?"

Heather sat at an awkward angle on her chair, her head propped up with one hand. The other hand fidgeted, sometimes pushing at an unused piece of cutlery, sometimes slowly drumming her fingers, sometimes spreading her fingers on the tabletop in a tacit admission of uncertainty.

She lifted her eyes and cast her morose gaze on her father. "Yeah, sure, of course they are."

"Is something wrong with dinner?"

Heather looked down, where more than half her dinner remained untouched, now a congealed, cold mess. "Just wasn't that hungry tonight, Dad, that's all."

Penny's gaze shifted between the two of them.

David smiled. "Miss Melinda already?"

Heather's head snapped up. "What?"

"I know you like to play at disliking your sister, Heather, but I think I know you a little better than that."

Heather snorted. Penny gave her a warning glance. Heather returned an icy glare. "Um, yeah, right, whatever, Dad."

"She'll be back tomorrow, I understand."

You don't understand a damn thing, Heather thought. She looked at her mother again. Penny's Aura had been surging since before dinner. When she had first noticed it, she had assumed it was just a projection of her own frustrations and growing enmity towards her mother. Now she was sure her initial assessment was wrong.

"I hope you're not too terribly disappointed," David said.

Heather gave him a cross look. "What are you talking about?"

"That you didn't get to go on the same camping trip."

"Oh, that," Heather said, her eyes sliding towards her mother. "Well, I'm sure another 'camping trip' is coming up soon for me, isn't it, Mom?"

Penny lay down her fork as if lowering a weapon. "I'm sure I know nothing about that, Heather," she said in a voice that even Heather could tell was one of forced calm.

Like hell you don't, Heather thought. She closed her eyes and opened her mind a crack to Melinda over the link. She suppressed a frustrated sigh. Every time she had checked, it was the same thing: a continuous stream of forced lust, arousal, and orgasm. A small shiver passed through her, and heat flashed in her pussy before she broke off.

"If you do, please be a dear and let me know," said David with a small, loving smile to his wife. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed. "I do like to know about these things ahead of time."

Heather wanted to gag. She felt sick at the thought that all his tenderness might be just more mind control. Melinda said she could sometimes see a faint Aura around him. Heather thought she could just barely discern it herself, but the more she stared at him, the more that maddening limitation of Aura viewing kicked in and obscured it.

Penny smiled. "I'll try. This came up sort of unexpectedly, and I really didn't want to tell her no."

"Yes, perish the thought at that," Heather muttered.

Penny ignored the barb, and David appeared not to hear it as well.

Heather clenched her teeth when she saw a thin tendril of black twisting around his arm from Penny's Aura.

"You did see to it that she had enough blankets?" David asked. "It gets dreadfully cold in the foothills this far into October."

"She's fine, David. Don't worry about it. Everything was taken care of."

"Hey, Mom," Heather called out. "You tell Dad about that thing with me and Laura Bendon yet?"

Penny gave her a shocked look which quickly blazed into anger.

Heather's lips twisted into a smug smile as David looked at the two of them in confusion.

"What is this?" David asked. "Isn't Laura Bendon your Principal?"

"David, let me--" Penny began.

"Yep, that's right," Heather said. "I'll be spending every other week with her starting the week after Halloween."

David furrowed his brow. "With her? As in after school? Tutoring you in--?"

Heather shook her head. "No, I mean living with her. But I'm sure Mom wants to tell you all the details, don't you, Mom?"

Penny's eyes became ice. Her Aura churned. "Heather, you will not say another word."

"Why? I mean, it's going to be so cool, isn't it? I'm sure that's what you'll say once you figure out what cover story you--"

"HEATHER!"

Heather fell silent. Her heart pounded. Tendrils of her mother's Aura snaked towards her. She refused to recoil from them.

David looked nonplussed. "Penny, dear, what exactly is this?"

Penny took his hand and squeezed it. Darkness surged up his arm and twisted around his body. "We'll talk about it later, David. Just don't worry about it."

David slowly nodded. "Of course."

Heather made a disgusted noise and stood. "Can I be excused?"

She felt something cool and dark slide across the surface of her mind.

She swallowed, her hand clenching and unclenching once. She did not have much energy remaining, but what she did have she shoved against the Darkness to keep it at bay just a little longer.

"Go to your room, Heather," Penny said. "I need to speak with you after I clear the table."

"I can talk right now."

"Go. To. Your. Room."

Heather drew in her breath and tried to let it go without it becoming a sigh or a soft moan. A tendril of Darkness had wormed its way into her mind. It had seized on her thoughts about Laura Bendon and twisted them around so that they reminded her of all the wonderful, sexy outfits her Mistress would have her wear.

She fled and raced up the stairs. By the time she entered the bedroom and shut the door, her pussy tingled. She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut as she fell to a sitting position at the foot of her bed. No no no no no NO!

She tried to focus on Melinda, or Jason, or Cassie. Anyone or anything.

Just nothing that had anything to do with Laura Bendon.

Heather opened her eyes and brushed strands of stray red hair from her face. Her mind was hers again for the moment.

Her head jerked up, and she bolted to her feet as the door opened. She fixed her eyes on her mother and reminded herself how angry she was.

"You could knock before you enter," Heather said in a lofty voice.

Penny paused, letting out a slow breath through her nose. She gently closed the door behind her and fixed her hard but troubled gaze on her daughter.

"Or am I not making things any easier again?" Heather said. The Darkness was slithering into her mind again, and this time she could not push it back. She focused her thoughts as best she could even as the Darkness snaked around them.

"Heather, I want to apologize," said Penny.

Heather flinched. "What?"

"For everything that's been happening. You deserve a lot better."

The words were spoken in such a soft, contrite tone that it distracted Heather for a moment. By the time she saw past it, she shivered as her thoughts led her again to someplace she did not want to go.

"I got you a present earlier," said Penny, stepping forward.

Heather backed away. "Wait, what? A present? What are you--?"

Penny crouched at the foot of Heather's bed and reached under it.

Heather drew in her breath and held it, steeling herself. She knew what it had to be, her thoughts becoming wrapped in lace and silk in anticipation. Heather wanted to avert her eyes, but she stared instead as the gold-trimmed, heart-covered box was laid upon Heather's bed.

She finally managed to force the words from her mouth, "I don't want it, Mom, take it back."

Penny smiled, hands poised at the ends of the box. "But honey, you haven't even seen it yet."

"I don't want to!" Heather cried. "Mom, no, stop it. I'm not going to do this."

"Yes, you will, dear, because I know what my daughter likes."

Heather swallowed again and shook her head.

"My daughter likes sexy things against her skin," Penny said. She began to lift the cover.

Heather shivered. "Mom, I-I can make you ... like before, I..."

"No, you can't," Penny said as she lifted the cover and set it aside.

Black lace lay in neat folds within. "You caught me off guard earlier, that's all. Please, don't try it again."

Heather wanted to try anyway, but by the time she could focus her mind enough to attempt it, her mother had lifted her "present" from the box.

She stared at the beautiful, silken black teddy and matching panties, their delicately woven patterns sheer and hypnotic. "M-Mom..."

"Isn't it lovely, Heather?" Penny said, stepping towards her daughter.

"It should look very good on you. Very sexy."

"Stop it..."

"It's so light it will feel like it's caressing you."

Heather let out a husky sigh and squeezed her legs together. No no no think of something else think of Jason Melinda Cassie Diane Ned Richie...

Penny flipped the teddy around and held it against her daughter's body.

It brushed against Heather's arm; a shudder wracked her body and a sultry sigh blew past her lips. Her nipples hardened and tingled, longing for the touch of the soft silk and lace.

"See? It should fit you perfectly," Penny said. "Try it on."

Heather's pussy throbbed with her heartbeat and forced her to ease her legs apart. She gave her mother one final pleading look, hoping for some flicker of sympathy in her mother's eyes. She wanted to see that her mother was doing this only because she was forced. She wanted to justify the times she had attempted to tame Melinda's vitriol towards this woman.

Instead, Penny's Aura roiled with perverse excitement. Heather felt the dark tendrils invading her emotions, wrapping themselves around the seed that Laura Bendon had planted. She had stripped off her shirt and bra before she was even conscious of what she was doing. By the time she stood naked before her mother, she was panting.

"I'll help you into it," Penny said, her voice soft and tender.

The lace drew across Heather's skin like a light breeze, sending little tingles of pleasure through her body. She felt so sexy and warm as its sensuous touch wrapped about her waist and torso like a lover's embrace. The panties drew against her sex, sending her intimate folds into swells of aching delight. A breathy moan rose from her lips as Penny buttoned the teddy, drawing the material snug under and across her breasts. The nipples tented the yielding fabric, her areolae two shadowy circles beneath its sheerness.

Penny took Heather's hand. Heather pulled it away, but Penny simply took it again. She coaxed Heather into taking a few steps forward.

Heather shivered in delight at the teddy's sensuous touch against her skin.

"It looks very good on you, Heather," said Penny. "So sweet and sexy."

"Mom, I can't wear this," Heather said in a weak voice.

"Yes, you can, and you want to wear it."

"Y-you're making me want it!"

Penny shook her head. Her eyes shimmered. "I didn't do that part. I just--"

"I hate you."

Penny hesitated, her lips parted in mid-syllable. She slowly closed her mouth. She regarded her daughter with simple equanimity, though her eyes glistened.

Heather squirmed and moaned, her pussy growing wet. "Wh-why are you doing this? It won't accomplish anything! They already have Melinda!"

"Just enjoy your present, Heather," Penny said. She turned towards the door.

"I wish for once you'd just tell me why you do anything!" Heather called out, though her voice was quavering and husky. She tried to approach her mother, but after only a single step she had to resist the desire to dance about the room so she could feel the delightful touch of her gorgeous outfit on her breasts and her slit.

"Stop fighting it," Penny said without turning around. "Just this once, Heather, don't fight it. I'll check on you later in case you need anything."

Heather watched her mother leave and close the door. She lifted her trembling hands into her sight. The faint wisp of her Aura was darker now, more tangible like a swirling fog that clung to her skin.

She raised her hands to her teddy and willed herself to undo just one of the buttons. Her fingertips brushed by it and slid down her body, little tingles of pleasure radiating over her skin where the lace touched her. She hugged her arms about herself, moaning in mounting pleasure.

"Stop," she whispered. "Stop it."

Heather forced herself to lower her arms. She tried to return to her bed, and instead stepped past it, swaying her hips and tilting her torso so that her breasts jiggled under the silken material.

She again tried to raise her hands to remove the teddy and instead tugged the panties into her slit as she gyrated her hips, uttering a deep moan as steamy pleasure flooded her pussy.

God, I feel so incredibly sexy, Heather thought. No, wait, stop, I can't ... this is just a distraction...

She tried again to return to her bed and managed to crawl atop the mattress, holding her ass in the air as if inviting a lover to take her from behind. She collapsed on her side, moaned, and rolled onto her back, then her other side as the movement sent waves of sensual heat rolling over her body.

I have to get this off! Heather thought. But I don't want to, it feels so wonderful!

"Uhnngg!" Heather moaned as her pussy strained, then retreated from the edge, leaving her trembling. She wanted to pull the crotch of her panties aside so she could touch her steaming folds, but that would mean removing even the smallest part of the material from contact with her skin.

She grabbed the teddy just above her delta and pulled, yanking it into her slit. She twisted her hips until the fabric stroked her clit with wet sounds that accompanied her lusty pant. Her mind reeled from the sensation of the silk against her slick flesh, pleasure rising and straining again until she thought she would burst.

Orgasm still eluded her.

(I'll check on you later in case you need anything)

"D-Damn you, Mom..." Heather moaned.

Richie rushed into his room, tossing the door closed behind him. He helped it along with a kick, rattling some of the baseball pictures that adorned his walls. Every movement was done with a stomp, a throw, or a slam, his emotions working their way out of his head.

He had been pissed about failing to protect Melinda, and dinner had not helped. His mother had insisted on preparing it that evening dressed in little more than lacy black bikini underwear. Worse, he had to watch it against a backdrop of a even darker than usual Aura. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the underwear stopped and the Darkness began.

Richie was also in desperate need of a shower.

He stripped off his clothes, tossing them towards the hamper. He glanced at his jacket and the bulge in its right pocket. His lips twitched into a small smirk.

Richie was not a violent person, at least not the kind that wanted to draw blood in a fight. Even in fist-fights he tended to go for blows that knocked the wind out of his opponent or knocked him to the ground.

The blow that he landed with his baseball was relished not for the shattered nose but for the symbolism. He had gained the upper hand, albeit briefly, against a superior opponent.

His smile faded when he thought how it had not helped the end result.

He wondered what his father would think of that. The voice of his conscience was silent on the matter.

Maybe it thinks I did everything I could, Richie thought.

Richie looked down and cursed. His cock was still semi-hard from watching his mother parade about the kitchen in her underwear. He stomped into the bathroom and set the shower going before he turned to the mirror and glared at himself.

His face sported a few scrapes, crusted-over jagged lines of blackish-red. He had done that to himself against the sidewalk when he had thrashed in the grip of Victor's goons. Still, he viewed them as a badge of honor; he had gone down fighting.

His mother had not even asked about them.

Richie hopped into the shower before it was ready and braced himself against the cold. He did not linger; he was done just as the water was finally hot. By the time he had dried himself, he saw he had left tiny spots of fresh blood on the towel where some of his scrapes had reopened.

Mom's gonna ream me for that, Richie thought, and found that he looked forward to it. He even hung the towel so the spots would be easy to see, instead of turning them to the wall like he would normally do.

He emerged from the bathroom and snatched a fresh set of briefs from the drawer. He pulled them on as his eyes scanned the room, his face twisting into a scowl. Something was not right.

His gaze swept the room one more time, gliding past his jacket and then snapping back. His eyes narrowed as he shot towards it. He plunged his hand into the empty right pocket, rooting about in vain for a few seconds before searching the floor, the bed, his dresser, and then the same sequence all over again.

"What the fuck?!" Richie cried. "Where--?"

His eyes fell on the door. It was cracked open.

Richie clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He yanked open the door, letting it crash against the doorstop where it shattered the cheap wallboard, and burst into the upstairs hall. "MOM!"

"In here, Richie," came her husky voice from the master bedroom.

Red-faced, Richie stalked into the doorway and bellowed, "Give it back! You fucking give it back to me! You don't have a fucking right to it!"

Sandra regarded her son with a gaze that was both sultry and sheepish.

The skimpy black bikini bra molded her breasts into two swollen round mounds of flesh. The panties stretched tight against her labia, glistening with moisture that had seeped through. "I can't," she said in a breathy voice. "Not yet."

Richie's eyes widened. He had hoped that his mother would at least attempt to feign ignorance. His eyes darted around the edge of her mother's body. The Aura pulsed and writhed, inky blackness that made the underwear bright by comparison.

Richie gritted his teeth and began searching the room, yanking drawers open and rifling through them without really seeing their contents, and slamming them shut again. He searched the top of the dresser, then swept all the items atop it to the floor in his frustration.

"It's not here, Richie," Sandra said.

"Like fucking hell it's not!" Richie shouted, yanking open the closet door.

"Richie, stop it, please. You won't find it."

Richie spun around. "If I tear the goddamn house apart I'll find it!"

"You won't," Sandra said, her voice pleading. "Richie--"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO TAKE IT!" Richie screamed. "Dad gave that to me!

It's mine! It's... !"

Richie trailed off. He swiped at one of his eyes as he realized he was giving the Darkness exactly what it wanted: an unthinking, whining brat.

Richie clenched his hands until the nails dug into his palms. It didn't matter. The baseball was his, not just by virtue of his father giving it to him. He had twice made it his. Its absence was like taking his father away a second time.

"It's safe," Sandra said, taking a few tentative steps towards her son.

Richie raised a fist as if intending to strike her, but slowly lowered it. His eyes strayed to her hips as they swayed. "I'll give it back to you eventually."

Richie could not speak without yelling. He bit back his next response, shaking with the effort.

"I didn't want to do this, Richie, but I had no choice."

Richie forced his eyes to meet hers. He stared until he thought he could see something of his real mother in them. For once he did not have to convince himself that his real mother would never have done such a thing. Sandra had never begrudged him anything concerning his father, even when all he had were memories.

He saw something shimmer in her eyes, and the Aura around her faded. He knew it was an illusion; staring into the eyes negated the sight of the Aura for awhile.

Sandra's lips quivered as they curled into a small, sultry smile. "I just couldn't stand you denying me anymore, Richie," she said, her hands sliding down her sides. "You keep denying me your cock."

Richie averted his eyes before the Aura could vanish from his sight. He felt a growing pressure in his crotch.

Sandra advanced. Richie kept his hands at his sides, but backed up a step before she could come within arm's reach. She stopped and let out a husky sigh. "I'll keep the baseball safe. Just go back to fucking me."

Richie's gaze snapped back, hard and blazing. The Aura had surged back again into view. It made no motion towards him. He heard nothing in his mind, not even his conscience.

Sandra took another tentative step towards him. Richie did not draw away, but his body remained tensed. Her eyes glistened, but Richie could not tell if the anguish he saw was real or not. "Richie, I-I can't cum unless you fuck me."

Richie frowned. "Huh?"

"That's what I've been told. No orgasm except with your cock in my twat."

"And why the fuck should I care?"

Sandra looked hurt, and for a moment Richie dared to believe that it was a real emotion. Her voice quavered when she spoke again. "I-I have to cum. I can't be denied it anymore for very long or it'll drive me insane. Please, Richie, I've seen it happen to other women that it takes!"

Richie swallowed. He had no way to tell if this were a lie or not. He wanted to think that the Darkness would not let any real harm come to his mother.

If it still needed her.

"If you don't fuck me, Richie, I swear, I'll throw the baseball in the garbage!"