Chapter 1

Heather plucked the bottle from its bed of ice in her white-gloved hands and tipped the neck over the rim of the glass, letting the golden wine flow in a gentle cascade. She leaned forward as the glass filled, her already straining breasts stretching the frilly lace until it pressed hard into her erect nipples, sending a shiver through her body and a wriggle into her hips.

She straightened as the glass became full, the flesh of her bosom rippling. The nipples were two ever-hard and aching points tenting the narrow trim at the edge of the lace, half-moons of areolae peeking out above it. She let out a husky sigh and shuddered once more as the panties of her skimpy French maid outfit again tugged into her already wet pussy, the exposed slivers of her ass cheeks quivering.

Heather set down the wine bottle and stepped back. She slowly thrust one lithe leg forward and tugged her garter until the tiny wrinkle in her black fishnet stocking vanished, leaving her leg silky smooth once more. Every movement was executed with poise and liquid sensuality, her pussy oozing and tingling with repressed sexual heat.

She drew her foot back and brushed a few stray red hairs out of her eyes. She tugged her long gloves until they were tight and wrinkle-free, letting out a soft moan as her pussy rose in gentle, rewarding pleasure at how pretty and sexy she would look for her Mistress.

She lifted the glass and flicked the edge with a finger to break a single bubble on the surface of the wine before setting it down upon a gleaming silver tray. She took care to poise the tray before her so as not to obscure her breasts or her hips before she advanced through the dining room, her legs moving with dance-like grace on her four-inch heels, her hips swinging in perfect sensual concert.

Just short of the threshold, she glanced down at Mistress' laptop, sitting at the end of the table facing the living room. The lid was lowered, the screen dark as it sat in hibernation mode. She remembered how she had first feared its ubiquitous presence, that Mistress would use its webcam to reveal her induced servitude to the world. Now she shivered with anticipation at the idea of posing for her Mistress, and felt a mild sense of disappointment when it never came to be.

As she crossed the threshold into the living room and her eyes fell upon her Mistress, warm and liquid pleasure flooded her pussy. Her thighs trembled, slightly disturbing the otherwise perfect cadence of her steps. Nevertheless, Laura's lips curled into a sly smile. She settled into a more languid pose upon her plush easy chair, her robe falling open and exposing one breast.

Heather wanted to beg for relief. Ever since waking that morning she had been driven to the precipice of climax. But no such requests or protests would be allowed her. Her own thoughts were little more than vague shadows in the fog-like thrall of Laura's control. She knew only who she was and what was happening to her. Everything else was an orchestrated play, her body a puppet to Laura's desires.

As she advanced, movement caught the corner of her eye as a gentle rush of heated air blew across her ankles. Curled on the floor between Laura's chair and a space heater was a naked young woman in the throes of unsettled slumber. Around her neck was a dog collar from which dangled a little metal heart with the word "MARCIE" stamped into it.

Marcie shuddered and whimpered, her legs shifting until Heather saw the moisture along her inner thighs near her bare, glistening delta.

Heather still wanted to shudder in revulsion, but under Laura's influence, she could only utter a sigh of envy. To be so enslaved as to have completely lost herself to sexual desire, to have no respite from unending lust and need until she became little more than sexual want personified, to...

Heather moaned and her tray rattled.

"Easy now," Laura warned. "Don't make me have to punish you."

Heather swallowed and held her breath as another wave of pleasure drove her pussy to the straining edge.

Laura's mouth twisted into a wicked smile. "Say it. I know you want to."

"P-please punish me, Mistress," Heather said in a soft, breathy voice. "I deserve nothing less."

"What are you, Heather?"

"Your little wet pussy maid, Mistress."

"And is your pussy wet, my little maid slave?"

"Oh, yes, always nice and wet for Mistress!"

As the humiliation burned in the back of her mind, she briefly wished for the simple bliss which Marcie felt.

"Serve me," Laura said.

Heather stepped forward. She presented the tray ahead of her, bending over until her breasts dangled and nearly slipped out of her costume. Laura took the glass and settled back in her chair. She took a slow sip, watching Heather remain still. Heather did not dare straighten up until she was told.

"What a perfect position for you," said Laura. "Wouldn't you just love to be taken from behind right now?"

Heather let out a deep, husky sigh and trembled. Her pussy oozed through her panties.

"Can't you just imagine a nice, fat cock slipping into your cunt right now?"

Heather panted, and her hips writhed. A single drop of overflowing arousal trickled down her thigh. Pleasure rose unbidden, out of her control to either stop or ignore.

Laura took another drink as she watched Heather tremble. She placed her glass on a small table beside the chair and reached into a pocket of her robe. "I suppose we could do the next best thing."

Heather whimpered as Laura held up a long dildo, its gel-like surface gleaming faintly.

Laura placed the dildo on Heather's tray and swept up the wine glass. "Show me how you like it, slave."

Heather picked up the dildo and straightened up. She stared at it, licking her lips as if she held the most delicious cock in the world. She dropped to her knees, panting heavily and letting the tray fall with a brief clatter. She turned the dildo around in her hands, cradling its fake balls and sliding her fingertips along its shaft with teasing strokes.

With a deep moan of desire, Heather tilted her head and closed her eyes as she slowly ran her tongue down the underside of the dildo.

Laura grinned. "Oh, you definitely know what your 'man' wants, don't you?"

Heather shuddered, a quavering breath passing her lips just before she took the head into her mouth, sliding down the shaft in a slow, sensual glide.

Laura shivered and slipped her hand under her robe, her legs parting. "God, you can be such a slut, Heather," Laura breathed. "That's why I so wanted you like this. I just can't bear giving you up again."

Heather's head bobbed upon the dildo, her fingers wrapping about the shaft and pumping it as if it were the real thing. For all intents and purposes it was the real thing, her desires manipulated into wanting it as badly as she might want Jason's cock.

Laura's fingers worked back and forth under her robe to faint, wet sounds until she panted softly. "Mmm ... as much as I love watching this, I want to see that dildo where it will do the most good. Let me see you fuck yourself with it from behind."

Heather drew her mouth back slowly, as if reluctant to let go. Yet as the head popped from her lips with a smack, her pussy ached and begged for the dildo's attentions.

Breathing hard with growing lust, she dropped to all fours and turned until her ass was facing her Mistress, her hips squirming in anticipation and need. She bit her lip to suppress another whimper as she drew down her panties, exposing her sopping and helpless folds. Her hand trembled as it maneuvered the dildo between her legs, a feeble show of what little resistance she could muster against the Dark power.

On her first day as Laura's slave, she could see all the Auras. Around Laura, around Marcie, around herself, all constant reminders of her enslavement. She still could not decide whether what Laura did to her that first day was a mercy or a cruelty; she had Heather stare into Laura's eyes until all the Auras had vanished. At first it had made it easier to cope; now it made it all too easy to accept enslavement.

Heather gasped as she eased the head of the dildo past her slick folds. It became a ragged moan as the shaft disappeared with a faint squishing noise which rose above the hum of the space heater.

By the time the dildo was buried to its balls inside her, she was straining at the edge of orgasm, her fingers curling into the carpet. Her mind surged with energy, her pent-up sexual need like a churning vortex. But none of it was hers to command. She felt the energy drain away, only to return in the form of Laura's will, which now prompted her to pull and push the dildo, driving her to an almost painful need to cum.

Her link to the other Harbingers appeared as a distant, dim light. During her first days of enslavement, Heather had sensed Melinda trying to force energy to her. It had pained Heather to refuse it and frustrated Melinda to no end. Heather had not revealed the truth to her little sister, that Laura had implied she would bring Melinda into her harem if Heather resisted or refused.

Heather panted hard as she speared herself with the dildo in unceasing sexual self-torment, her hips rocking with trained precision to her thrusts. Moisture trickled from her folds and down her legs, and she gasped with unrelenting need.

Her own noises masked those of her Mistress, the robe having fallen away from Laura's own wet pussy, finger sliding in and out of her depths. Laura moaned softly, trembling with growing pleasure, her lips curling into a smile of wicked delight as she watched the dildo plunge into her slave's helpless cunt.

Laura stopped short of driving herself over the edge, easing her fingers back and letting her breathing settle before she announced, "Stop, but leave the dildo inside you."

Heather buried the dildo until the fake balls were shoved hard against her mound. Her hand dropped, and she panted hard, her hips squirming at the constant, thick presence inside her pussy.

Laura took a long sip of her wine and uttered a heavy sigh as she lowered the glass. "I suppose you will want to be freed this evening, if for no other reason than to obviate the need for your poor mother to conceive of an unbelievable excuse for your absence on Thanksgiving tomorrow."

For a moment, Heather was confused. During her weeks of slavery to her school principal, the flow of time became meaningless. Minutes ran together into hours, and the hours melted into days. Her Mistress cared not for her to understand what day of the week it was. For all intents and purposes, she was always Laura's good little wet pussy maid, and that was all that mattered.

"I suppose I should never have let your mother make me agree to wait one more week after Halloween to take you. Had I bothered to look at the calendar, I would have likely turned her down."

Heather closed her eyes and bit her lower lip to suppress a whimper. A glimmer of understanding came to her, and she finally did remember that it was Thanksgiving week.

The fact that Haven High School was decked out in Thanksgiving decorations had meant nothing to her. Even though Laura let her attend classes during a week of enslavement, she spent much of that time in a mental fog, unable to do much more than do her class work and think erotic thoughts about her wonderful Mistress. She could barely speak to her fellow Harbingers. After school, it was straight to her Mistress' house and into her sexy French maid outfit.

And what would being free on Thanksgiving even mean to her? It wasn't like life at home would be much better. Melinda's attempts to infuse her with the Harbingers' shared pool of energy had faded to nothing two days ago. She feared she had protected Melinda from Laura only to see her sister fall to their own mother.

"Very well," Laura said with another tired sigh. "I suppose I could do it this once. But you'll be back here bright and early Friday morning in time to serve me breakfast."

"Yes, Mistress," Heather said with quavering breath.

Laura pulled aside her robe and slid her hips forward, spreading her legs. "But not before you satisfy me, slave. Come lick me," Her lips twisted into an evil grin. "Leave the dildo inside you."

Heather crawled towards her Mistress, swinging her hips in time with the slide of her knees across the carpet, thighs quivering as they brushing against her swollen mound. The dildo twisted inside of her, slick flesh squishing with molten arousal. Her breasts spilled from her top, her pleasure spiking as her nipples brushed against the lace on their way out. They throbbed with her pounding heart, and she shimmied her torso to make them jiggle in just the way she knew her Mistress liked.

Her eyes rose to the prize, glistening pink folds oozing in anticipation of Heather's tongue. Laura let out her breath as a husky sigh of want, eyes dark and glittering. Heather felt nothing but intense excitement despite how many times she had been called upon to perform this duty.

A duty? No, an honor. She realized that again when her tongue touched Laura's beautiful pussy. She uttered a soft moan as she drew forward, closing her lips around the jewel at the top of Laura's slit. Her tongue lashed out, lapping Laura's delicious lust, as her hips writhed and her pussy ached from the tight presence of the dildo.

It became easier to slip into this role; easier to desire Laura's pussy as if it were an elixir of life; easier to become one with Laura's desires and do everything expected of her; easier to become Laura's obedient and loyal pet just like...

Just like...

Heather let out a ragged breath into her Mistress' pussy, and her ministrations faltered. She trembled and seized the link, mentally crying out her panic even as her body still complied with Laura's will. The distant light flickered, then flared to bright life. Yet when she tried to draw upon it just enough to remind herself who she really was and to convince herself she did not want to be Laura's slave forever, it became shrouded in a strange blue haze streaked with crackling white.

So shocked by the sight of something so alien and yet so familiar that her tenuous hold on the link slipped like an oiled rope through her fingers.

"Heather," Laura said in a curt voice.

Heather drew back and lifted her shimmering eyes to her Mistress.

"Do not do that ever again."

Heather's eyes widened.

"Yes, I sensed what you just did." Laura paused and tilted her head. Her lips curled into a wicked grin. "And it didn't work, did it?"

Heather said nothing; her trembling answered the question for her.

"Perhaps you can't anymore. Perhaps they're closed off to you now."

Heather swallowed. No, that was not possible. The link could not be broken that easily. She was just too used to being ... no ... that was an even more disturbing thought.

Laura lay a hand against Heather's cheek. Heather moaned and leaned into the touch, both desire and relief flooding over her.

"You are my slave," said Laura. "That will never change. And before long, you won't want it to change. Perhaps you already don't want it to change."

Heather tried to summon the panic again, or the fear, or the rage. None of it would come. She shuddered and moaned, her pussy straining when one of her breasts was teased by Laura's toes.

"I will let you go this evening, but you will return Friday morning," Laura cooed.

Heather shivered. Something still wasn't ... the haze ... she had seen it before ... it had to be...

"And you'll be ever so eager to come back to me, my slave."

Heather whimpered. Her pussy dripped between her legs. Yes, she wanted to return. She never really wanted to leave. She ... she had to ... the others ... they could tell her ... they would know what...

Laura cupped Heather's face with both hands and lifted until Heather's gaze met hers. "Now, do you really see any need to discuss anything about this at all with your friends?"

Heather's lower lip quivered, the words a jumble in her head.

"Do you, slave? Do you see any point in talking about what you can't change?"

Heather's lips moved, and a single syllable breathed past her lips.

"What was that, my slave?"

"No," Heather whispered. "No, Mistress."

Laura smiled and withdrew her hands. Without further bidding, Heather brought her mouth to her Mistress' pussy, and subsumed herself to blissful obedience.

"Heather?!" Melinda cried out as she sat up in bed, her gaze whipping first from her sister's pristine bed to the open bedroom door. "Is that... ? What... ? Uhng, s-stop..."

Nothing would stop her fingers as they stroked her slick pussy, her hips trying to rise in time to the digits which speared her tight tunnel with each down-stroke. She closed her eyes, her body rocking to her hand's movements, the large swells of her breasts bouncing and rippling with each stroke.

She tried to voice her thoughts again, but a needy whimper passed her lips instead. She fell back and gasped as she sent her fingers into a sharp plunge into her depths. She moaned and spread her legs, plump flesh rolling like jelly across her chest as her hips thrust against her hand. Her pleasure rose only slowly, settling like a foggy pall over her mind.

She could never desire to rush. Once she started, she wanted to revel in the hot, wet pleasure of her bare pussy. She cast her free arm over her pillow above her, her head lolling to one side amidst a tangle of long, reddish-brown hair. Her fingertips swirled against her clit, teasing it until she ached with unrequited lust, moving with a skill imparted to her from a source she despised but which slaved her body to her own sexuality until it was satisfied.

Her body heaved as it approached a crescendo of pleasure, fingers stroking hard and fast. Her body trembled as her hips thrust into her hand. She gasped as her fingers slowed, keeping her straining at the very edge until she uttered a distressed whimper.

Her orgasm overwhelmed her, and for a few seconds, she could not breathe. Finally, she let out a gasping moan and then a squeal as her climax reverberated through her body, hips jerking hard, taut nipples throbbing in time to it. Her fingers kept stroking, forcing every last bit of response until her pussy settled into a post-coital ache.

Panting hard, Melinda went limp, her hand falling to her side. She could not rise from the bed as her mind still floated in a misty sea of pleasure. She hugged her arms around herself and shivered, letting out a slow, husky sigh. Her hips writhed in memory of her lovely orgasm. She shuddered as she thought how wonderful it would be to feel this way all the time.

Melinda finally forced her arms back to her sides and let out a ragged breath. She resisted the urge to touch her pussy just to see how wet it remained. She sat up and glanced around the room as if expecting her sister to be there.

She stood and paused, her legs shaky. She took a step towards the bathroom, but stopped and shook her head until hair flew before her eyes. She grabbed some tissues from the box on her night table and wiped her fingers with them instead. The bathroom was what had triggered it this time. She had looked at herself too long, until she thought how sweet and sexy her nude body felt...

Melinda raced towards the dresser. She yanked open a drawer and stared at the thick, neat piles of panties and bras. She picked up a pair of panties in her trembling hands, bit her lip, then lowered them into the drawer and slammed it shut. She leaned against the dresser until the top edge rapped against the wall and dropped her face into her hands.

God, it's just getting worse, she lamented in what she hoped was still the privacy of her own mind. On Monday I could at least put them on and...

Her head jerked up when she heard the front door open and close. She bolted from the dresser, which thumped back down on its forward legs, tossing Heather's hairbrush onto the floor. She rushed out of the bedroom, down the hall, and bounded down the stairs, not caring how her breasts bounced uncomfortably without support. "Heather?! Heather is that--?"

She stopped, both in voice and step, halfway down the stairs. In the entry hall, her mother Penny Sovert looked up as she slipped out of her coat. "No, dear, it's not your sister."

Melinda swallowed, her eyes darting over the inky-black tendrils of her mother's Aura. She stared at it as if to convince herself it was still there and still real. Despite Penny's attempts to steal that perception from her, Melinda maintained the reality.

Melinda finally found her voice when her mother turned to put the coat in the closet. It was always easier when she didn't have to see her mother's eyes. "Where is she? Why isn't she home yet? Why didn't you pick her up?"

Penny paused after she closed the closet door. "Her Mistress is not finished with her yet, honey."

"Stop calling her that!" Melinda piped. "And don't call me 'honey, ' either."

Penny turned her head and smiled softly at her daughter. Melinda's eyes slowly widened as Penny advanced up the stairs. "You're right, I shouldn't call you that," Penny said in a soft, breathy voice. "You're my sexy little girl, aren't you?"

Melinda opened her mouth, but the words of protest would not come. Her eyes flicked over her mother's body, watching the swing of Penny's hips and the jiggle of her breasts under her tight dress. She turned and stumbled up the stairs. "I'm going back to my room," she said in a faint voice.

"No, Melinda."

Melinda made it to the upstairs hallway, then stopped and shuddered as she let out ragged breath. Her hands clenched into fists and trembled as she heard her mother's heels reach the top step.

"Come with me into my bedroom," Penny said, her hand alighting on Melinda's shoulder. "I want to talk to you."

"No," Melinda grunted.

Penny slid her fingers slowly down her daughter's back and caressed one of her ass cheeks. "Be a good girl, Melinda. Be a good little sexy girl for me and do as I say."

"I-I ha..." Melinda breathed, but the remaining words would only barely shape her lips. Moist heat trickled from her folds.

Her mother stepped past her. Melinda watched her mother's ass dip and sway, smooth stocking-clad legs gliding. Melinda bit her lip and tried to seize the link to the other Harbingers. What little energy she found felt diffuse, like light forced through thick glass blocks. Trying to project anything was worse, like pushing through a wall of cotton candy, a wall which seemed closer every time.

She trotted after her mother and stepped into the master bedroom. The air felt thick, as if giving form to the suffocating presence of the Darkness which exuded from her mother. She refused to look directly into Penny's eyes, even if it meant letting the rest of her mother's body send tingles of unwanted desire trickle in her pussy.

"I'll pick up Heather shortly, Melinda," Penny said with a small sigh. "I wanted to come home and change out of these clothes first."

"Let me pick her up!" Melinda suddenly blurted.

Penny started unbuttoning her blouse. "Don't be silly, Melinda, you can't."

"And why the hell not?"

"Because you can't very well go outside naked."

"I'm naked all the time only because you won't let me wear anything around the house!" Melinda cried. "You're just doing this to..."

Penny shed her blouse, and Melinda stared at her mother's ample bosom, the nipples tenting the fabric of the bra cups. She barely noticed the gold-colored, heart-shaped pendant which Penny removed and set upon her dresser. "But you're just so sweet and sexy, Melinda, why wouldn't you want to be naked all the time?"

Melinda shivered and squeezed her legs together. "Stop it."

Penny tugged her skirt from her hips. Melinda averted her eyes as Penny stepped out of it, skimpy panties hugging her mother's mound, outlining the labia in perfect relief. "You looked so adorable when you were coming down the stairs, the way your plump little boobs bounced and swayed."

Melinda hugged her arms around herself, her breath a ragged pant as her stiffening nipples throbbed with her heartbeat. She squeezed her eyes shut when she heard the slide of cloth against skin. A shadow passed before her, and she smelled the faint remnants of perfume on her mother's skin, mixed with the musky odor of arousal.

Melinda gasped and stumbled back until she fetched up against the wall when her breasts were cupped and gently fondled. "You're getting almost as big as your sister now."

Penny stroked her daughter's nipples. Melinda whimpered and grasped for the link again. The energy settled around her like a light mist when what she wanted was a torrent, but it was enough. Her nipples throbbed in pleasure as good as stroking her clit, but she did not fall into her mother's arms.

Penny withdrew her hands. "But you like to look at them, too, don't you?"

Melinda shook her head, though it was weak.

"Be a good girl, Melinda. Be a good girl and don't lie to me."

"I-I'll do whatever I want. I don't have to tell you a-anything. You can't make me--"

"Melinda, open your eyes and look at me."

Melinda kept her face averted, but her eyelids fluttered as if struggling to resist her mother's desire.

"Look at mommy's boobs," Penny cooed. "Like I know you want to."

Part of Melinda wanted to react with utter revulsion, and it helped her pull more energy from the link, but it was like trying to draw a frozen drink through a thin straw. Melinda's eyes fluttered open, and she turned them towards her mother. Two plump, round breasts hovered just at eye level, the flesh firm and supple, the nipples thick and erect. A smattering of freckles near the top betrayed their age.

Melinda shuddered with pleasure when she beheld their ripe maturity, her folds growing slick and achy as her mother's bosom swelled with each breath and rippled with every movement.

Surrounding them was the ever-present Aura, and Melinda tried to force herself to look at it instead, to remind her that this beauty was wrapped in a foul and ugly evil. Instead, her pussy ran molten with the thought of licking and sucking those nice, hard nipples.

Penny stepped back and pushed her panties down her legs. Melinda's gaze fell upon her mother's thighs and bare mound, her tongue curling and flicking inside her mouth as if wishing to do the same inside Penny's cunt.

Why is she doing this? Melinda thought, trying to project what was happening over the link and again feeling like she was pushing against a wall. Why is she pouring it on so--

"Uhng!" Melinda cried as her mother's fingers gently stroked her needy pussy. She closed her eyes and panted, shaking with the desire to fall against her mother and revel in the feel of Penny's mature, naked body against hers. All sense of rationality shattered as lust boiled up from her pussy, and she pulled on the link like a drowning man upon a rope.

The energy suddenly flared in the distance, yet she could not draw it towards her, nor pull her thoughts away from being her mother's sexy good little girl. She rocked her hips against her mother's hand, panting hard. Something was wrong. The energy was there, but she could not reach it.

Wait ... this is not ... this is more like...

"Be my sexy little girl, Melinda," Penny purred. "My sexy little obedient girl."

Melinda tried to shake her head, but managed only to turn it to the side for a moment. Pleasure rose and flooded her mind, threatening to drown out everything else.

"And you can do one little thing for mommy if you want to keep being good."

Without Melinda realizing it, her mother had led her away from the door and towards the bed. Penny sat upon the edge of the mattress and drew her daughter to her. Melinda whimpered in protest but did not resist when Penny gathered her into her mother's lap, fingers still buried in Melinda's dripping pussy.

"While Heather is home for Thanksgiving, don't try to contact your friends from school."

Melinda squirmed, but Penny pulled her closer and rested Melinda's face upon her breasts. Melinda let out a husky sigh, her pussy straining as her mother's fingers pumped.

"That's all mommy wants. Can you do that for me?"

Melinda did not answer, and Penny did not need to hear it. She needed to hear only the keen of her daughter's orgasm and feel the shudder of Melinda's body in the throes of helpless pleasure.

Everything about the moment felt wrong to Cassie Kendall. The timing was wrong; the place was wrong; the mood was wrong. She was not even sure the need which drove her was all her own. She had been forced to deny not just herself but her lover as well, and the guilt had not set well with the other emotions which whirled like a tempest in her troubled psyche.

Nevertheless, the thrust of her hips was no less ardent than the pounding rhythm of Ned's cock into her slick and needy depths. Her intent to remain as quiet and unobtrusive as possible had evaporated once her pleasure had finally overpowered her disturbing thoughts. Her pants became breathy and noisy, her body rocking hard enough to make the bedsprings squeak.

Chapter 2 »