Chapter 21

Heather welcomed the slow return to lucidity which accompanied her waning hours at Laura Bendon's house every other Sunday evening. The jeans and shirt felt strange at first, as did the underwear beneath. In her twilight state between slavery and freedom, she felt lingering shame that she was not dressed as her Mistress would have liked.

"Are you quite done?" came Laura's sharp voice at the door.

Heather spun away from the mirror. Her eyes shimmered, and for a second time she almost begged her Mistress to keep her. As she stood before Laura, more of the icy tendrils of control eased, and she let out a shaky breath as the urge passed. "Yes, I'm dressed," Heather said in a flat voice. Her lips remained parted after the last syllable, and they trembled with the need to follow with the word "Mistress." She slowly closed her mouth instead. "I-I'm ready to head home."

"And you can still call that a home?"

Heather hated discussions like this, while enslaved or otherwise. She wanted to remain silent, but the need for continued obedience compelled her to respond. "I want to see my sister."

"I've already told you of a way you can see her all the time."

Heather tried to think of her sister's welfare as a means to push back the Dark presence in her mind. A sly smile touched Laura's lips as it surged forward instead. She shivered when her pussy tingled, and her legs trembled with the desire to kneel before her Mistress.

"Don't ever think you can escape, slave," Laura said in a silky voice, Heather's pussy aching in response. "I'll be a constant presence in your mind. You'll always be thinking about what you could do to please me."

Heather clung to her uncorrupted core like a boat to an anchor, the tempest of Laura's power trying to carry her along its crashing waves. They did not rise as high nor tossed her as hard, as if Laura were tiring of the struggle.

Laura uttered a small sigh as if to prove Heather's speculation, even as her lips curled into a sly smile. "You don't believe me, of course. In that case, I would like you to have this."

Heather gave her Mistress a quizzical look as Laura reached into the pocket of her robe and withdrew something black. Heather's eyes widened when the object was brought into the light, and she nearly recoiled.

"Take it," Laura said.

Heather took a tentative half-step forward but would not lift her hand. She stared at the crotch of the panties, the short and squat dildo thrust upward like a perverted monolith.

"I said take it, slave," Laura said in a warning tone.

Heather swallowed and grasped the panties. A rush of heat wrapped itself around her. She shook her head as an image of a helpless and writhing Melinda flitted through her mind.

"Yes, I know," said Laura in a flat voice. "You somehow rejected the idea when you should have begged me for the opportunity."

Heather thrust the panties back at Laura. "I-I'm not going to do it," she said, her voice shaky from the effort. Already she craved her Mistress' punishment for her disobedience. Only the thought of her sister's safety stopped her.

Laura coaxed Heather's fingers into curling around the panties and gently pushed it back. Heather shuddered as the enchanted sex toy was pressed to her bosom.

"You will keep it with you at all times," Laura purred. "And you will think about how much it would please me to use it on your little sister."

Heather stared at the item and willed her hand to let it fall to the floor. Instead, it guided her hand to her pocket, as if it somehow had a mind of its own. Another few seconds passed before she could let go of it.

She let out a sigh like a balloon deflating. She felt drained, as if she had just fought against something trying to steal more of her mind.

"I'm not sure who is helping you or how," Laura said. "But it cannot help you every minute of every day. You'll want to obey my wishes eventually."

Heather staggered as her head cleared, the rush of warmth into her mind almost as overwhelming as the icy chill of Laura's power had been. She placed a hand over the bulge in her pocket and vowed never to use it. It would remain hidden and untouched until the evening she returned to Laura's house.

The faint sound of a car approached the house and stopped, followed by the blare of a horn. Laura looked at her watch and sneered. "Your mother is ten minutes earlier than last time. I'll have to have a chat with her about that." Laura smiled. "You remember her, don't you? The one who sold you into a life of sexual slavery?"

Heather could think of no one she wanted more to see. She clung to the thought that Laura could say anything she wanted to further her own agenda despite the rush of guilt at the idea of doubting her Mistress.

The horn sounded again, longer this time.

Laura stepped to the side and swept her arm down the stairs. "Go. But do ask your mother how Melinda has been treated while you were gone. I'm sure she's found all sorts of interesting things for Melinda to do."

Heather hesitated for another second before she bounded down the stairs, fleeing before she could heed the voices in her head whispering with sultry abandon for her to stay.

Richie gripped Cathy's waist as she bounced in his lap, her ass slapping against his thighs, his cock spearing her tight tunnel. She panted almost in time to the noise, which elicited a smirk from Richie.

"Shit, you're really horny tonight, huh?" Richie said.

"Oh God ... yes, Richie ... so horny ... oh God don't stop..." Cathy moaned.

"Stop? You're doing all the work. Guess your pre-dinner fuck wasn't enough."

Cathy panted harder, Richie's fingers curling tighter as she stepped up the pace. "Uhng ... I could do this ... all night..."

Richie's breath quickened only slightly. He focused all his will into holding himself back, wanting to extend her pleasure as long as possible.

Multiple orgasms in quick succession is a wonderful way to weaken her will. You'd slip into her head so easily after that.

Richie clenched his teeth but otherwise did not react. It had been goading him ever since he had given in to Cathy's advances. It would not work; he had a higher directive.

(Don't be a dick)

Cathy leaned forward, her breasts swinging with each slap of her body against his. He removed his hands from her hips long enough to play with them until she shivered and moaned, her fingers digging into his shoulders.

Richie panted as his pleasure escalated beyond his ability to control. His aching cock speared her hard and fast, her moisture oozing down his balls. He loved the faint tickle they left against the sensitized flesh.

Cathy had not bothered to dress for dinner. She had remained naked through the meal, squirming as if she had not even noticed the two orgasms she had by his cock before dinner. Richie was tempted to enter her mind just long enough to plant the idea that she liked to be naked all the time.

Temptation was as far as it went.

(Don't be a dick)

Cathy was not his slave and would never be. Whatever she did was at the Darkness' bidding, and he was simply the recipient of her affections.

How do you know you haven't already enslaved her?

Richie wanted to laugh. He knew far more about what it felt like to control someone than he thought the Darkness would ever realize. He knew the exultation of leaving nothing to chance and the triumph of having the ultimate predictability in his life.

"Oh God!" Cathy cried. "I'm gonna cum ... oh God!... Ohhhh! Uhhng! ... F-fuck ... keep fucking ... yes, please ... make me cum like that again..."

Richie grasped her hips, slamming her down atop him with each thrust as his pleasure approached its peak, his muscles already straining in anticipation. He held himself back as long as he could stand, even as he felt the writhing tendrils of Dark power sliding across the surface of his mind, their icy touch leaving an almost tangible glaze.

He sensed Cathy rocketing towards another climax. She gasped and trembled, every muscle tensing. When she let go, he knew it would be mind-blowing, or could be if he let it; if he let her will leak out her ears as she throbbed; if he slid down the channel of their shared lust and emptied her head of all other concerns.

(Don't be a dick)

Richie threw his head back and clamped down on his thoughts, letting himself ride the orgasmic wave. Cathy squealed, and his thighs dripped from a short burst of fluid from her throbbing pussy. His cock pulsed inside her tight cunt, some of his seed tricking out and down his balls.

By the time his eyes opened, the moment had passed, and he let out a long sigh as his orgasm waned. Cathy ground her hips against him as if needing more, her eyes half-lidded and dazed. Still staring at him with sultry, wanting eyes, she slid to the floor. She took his flagging cock into her eager mouth and sucked a few last lingering drops before licking him clean.

Richie heard a moan and a wet noise next to him on the sofa. He turned his head to see his mother with her hand thrust down her panties, moaning and writhing.

"Shit, Mom, you spent your whole freakin' day with cocks stuck up your twat," Richie said.

"I-I can't help it," Sandra moaned in a shaky voice. "I love watching my son fuck."

"Mmmm," Cathy murmured as she drew back, his cock leaving her lips with a faint smack. "He's so good at it, too," she cooed, massaging his balls.

Richie aborted his smile, his lips twitching into a facsimile of one.

(Don't be a dick)

Cassie had given him leave to fuck his cousin, not take some perverse liking to it. He had likely said too much during their tryst. Maybe if he did not betray any enjoyment and relegated it to a chore or a duty, it would reduce whatever trauma she suffered later if the Darkness let her go.

Sandra moaned and spread her legs as she fingered herself. "Mmm, Richie, please," she breathed. "Give me some cock before you go to bed. You've got me so horny again."

Richie sighed and watched her Aura churn. "Yeah, fine, but you gotta let me recover a bit."

Sandra smiled and slid closer to her son. She withdrew her glistening fingers from her sex and caressed his soft cock, drawing slick moisture around his shaft. "Oh, I can get you back up real fast, Richie," she purred.

Richie's hands clenched into fists. He had not asked Cassie if this were okay. But wasn't this the same thing? If he refused, the Darkness would just let her masturbate herself senseless and never let her cum.

(Don't be a dick)

I'm not! Richie cried. I'm not being a--

He clamped down on his thought, but curiosity brushed the edge of his perception. Not being a what, Richie, hmm?

Richie clenched his jaw and thought of nothing. He focused his attention on his mother, her gorgeous plump tits, her nice rounded ass, her skilled fingers pumping his now slowly hardening cock.

"Yes, that's my boy," Sandra cooed. "Always ready to give his mother a nice fuck."

Richie let out a husky sigh as his cock expanded. His balls ached in protest, but it did nothing to stop his recovering erection. Her fingers wrapped about his now hard member and gave it several slow strokes. Cathy settled back on her feet, watching with rapt interest and sultry eyes.

"Come upstairs with me," Sandra whispered in Richie's ear as she snuggled her bosom against his arm.

Richie swallowed as his mother's fingers worked his cock in a slow tease, the pad of her thumb swirling slowly against the spot just under the head. Richie quivered and writhed. "No, we stay down here," he moaned.

"It's more comfortable upstairs. We can--"

"No. Down here or nowhere."

Sandra paused. Her grip on his cock loosened. "I could just stop and--"

"And you get no cock in your twat tonight."

Sandra hesitated again, then let out a small sigh and resumed stroking him. "All right, Richie," she said in a subdued voice.

Richie felt the Darkness was somehow stronger in the master bedroom, as if it had latched on to that room as its anchor. The more distant he remained, the less it could affect him. He knew he had none of Jason's fancy logic behind it, and he was likely wrong, but the bedroom was tied too much to the awful past which had led them to this nightmare present.

Sandra slid off the sofa and onto her knees. She pulled off her top and crawled between Richie's legs, lifting her lust-filled eyes to his. Richie looked back in what he had hoped was the attitude that he could care less what she did. Still gazing at his face as if daring it to maintain its stoic look, she took his cock into her mouth, massaging it with her tongue, her cheeks dimpling as she drew her mouth back in a hard, slow suck.

A rush of hot breath passed between Richie's parted lips, his fingers curling into the edge of the cushion. He heard a slide of cloth and tilted his head to see Cathy helping Sandra remove the rest of her clothes. Sandra let Richie drop from her mouth to cast off the jeans and panties, then enveloped his cock in soft boob-flesh.

Richie never got tired of that, nor did he mind when Sandra spread her knees apart as Cathy reached between them, sinking her fingers into his mother's soaked slit.

(Don't be a dick)

Richie swallowed and forced his face to a mask of stone. This was a duty. This was a necessity. This was the lesser of two evils. If he thought it long and hard enough, he was sure he could convince himself.

Diane lay on her side on the bed, staring at the phone. The lamp was on its lowest setting, the lighting as subdued as her optimism. Diane wanted to call Heather, as she should be home by now, despite knowing full well that she was often a little out of it for a few hours after her release.

Diane tensed and let her frustrations out as a slow sigh. That was all the emotional response she would allow, lest she open the floodgates and cry all evening until she went to bed. Her abortive attempts to call finally ended in a fast-busy when she hesitated too long with her finger hovering over the speed dial. She hung up and flopped onto her back, staring up at the ceiling.

Diane had felt Heather take some of the energy she had channeled, but she had no idea if it had had any effect. Success was as much a fear as failure. What if she had helped Heather disobey an order and earn a severe punishment? What if Heather had not been allowed to go home?

Her thoughts were interrupted by a floorboard squeak. She glanced towards the open door as she grabbed the magazine at her side and held it as if she were reading it. Her mother appeared at the threshold a second later. "Diane, can I talk to you, please?"

From the tone of voice and the way her mother had already stepped into the room, Diane knew there was only one right answer. She sat up and set the magazine aside. "Um, sure. What is it?"

Janet glanced about the room. She flicked the switch on the lamp to its brightest setting. "First off, if you're going to read, don't strain your eyes trying to do it in the dark."

"Sorry, mother," Diane said in a tight voice.

Janet sat at the edge of her daughter's bed and tilted her head slightly. "Diane, are you all right?"

"What? Yes, of course I am."

"You've been a little distant the last few days. Is everything okay with Heather?"

Diane honestly did not know, but she could not tell her mother that. "I ... yes, I suppose so. I'll see her in school tomorrow."

Janet paused, her mouth twitching as if in several abortive attempts to speak. "Is tonight ... is tonight when she's returned home?"

Diane's eyes widened slightly. "Well, yes, but how did you--?"

"Just thinking back to how you've acted towards the evening every other Sunday."

God, am I that obvious? Diane thought.

"Are you worried about her?"

Diane drew her knees towards her chest. "I guess I am, a little bit. I mean ... not ... not that anything bad happens to her while she's there."

Janet gave her daughter a speculative look which Diane was unsure how to interpret. Diane was still surprised she had managed to speak such a blatant lie without her voice becoming unsteady. From the way her mother looked at her, however, she doubted she had been very convincing.

"Um ... is that all you wanted from me, mother?" Diane asked, trying not to sound like she wanted her mother to leave (and failing).

"No, that's not what I came up here for, I just happened to think about it. I wanted to know if you considered inviting Heather over for dinner one night."

Diane drew her knees closer, wrapping her arms around them. "What? Dinner? Over here?"

Janet smiled and brushed a stray strand of hair from her daughter's eyes. "Yes, honey, right here. We do have only one house."

Diane blushed, and her lips twitched into a tiny smile. "Why do you want her over? I mean, not that there's anything wrong with it."

"Because she seems to be a very important part of your life, and your father and I would like to meet her." Janet paused and took Diane's hand. "It's the same thing I would do if you had a boyfriend you were so close to."

Diane's smile widened. That sort of acceptance meant more than words. She thought she heard an undertone of anxiety, as if it were her mother who was worried more. "I really appreciate that, thank you."

Janet squeezed her hand. "So will you invite her?"

"Um ... sure, I'll ask her."

"I'd like her to come over this week." Janet paused. "Since next week she'll be back with Ms. Bendon. So could you ask her tomorrow?"

"Tomorrow? But--"

"Wednesday or Thursday would be best."

Diane saw and heard an urgency to her mother's request. "This is very important to you, isn't it?"

Janet paused, her eyes taking on a faraway look for a moment. "Yes," she said in a low voice.

"Why?"

Her mother looked taken aback, as if not expecting to be questioned. Diane was no less surprised to have heard it come from her own mouth. She was a split second from withdrawing it when her mother spoke. "I'm worried about her as well." Her eyes glistened. "I can't tell you exactly why. I'm sorry."

Diane wanted to press on. What exactly did her mother know? What did her mother remember of the incident with Laura Bendon? Diane aborted the idea when her mother averted her eyes rather than be subjected to her daughter's stare.

Janet stood and turned away. "It has nothing to do with your relationship with her. I want to make sure you're clear on that."

"Yes, mother, it's okay. I never thought it was that."

Diane actually would like Heather over for dinner, but worried that the conversation would turn to the subject of their principal. Did her mother suspect the truth and simply wanted to grill Heather herself? Would she stop Diane from seeing Heather to protect her from Laura's influence?

Janet headed for the door but stopped at the threshold. She let go her breath as a slow sigh, as alarming to Diane as yelling would have been. "And I don't want you acting any differently towards her than you normally would."

"I'm sorry? I don't understand."

Janet turned towards her daughter. "If you had a boyfriend over, I'd expect a little, well, open affection. I don't want you to feel like you have to suppress it just because your lover happens to be female."

Diane's eyes widened.

"Naturally I wouldn't expect it to get explicit," Janet said, her voice quavering. "Just..."