Shadows From the Past
Copyright© 2012 by A Strange Geek
Chapter 33
Mind Control Sex Story: Chapter 33 - The Harbingers have little cause to celebrate either their recent victory or the coming holidays. Jason is beside himself, desperately searching Elizabeth's journal for clues to combat the Darkness and fulfill a promise to find Richie's father, all while Heather falls deeper under Laura's control and Melinda to her own mother. Little do they know they will soon be confronting something even more difficult than the Darkness itself.
Caution: This Mind Control Sex Story contains strong sexual content, including Ma/Fa mt/ft Ma/ft mt/Fa Fa/Fa ft/ft Fa/ft Mult Consensual Romantic Mind Control Magic Slavery Lesbian BiSexual Heterosexual Fiction Extra Sensory Perception Paranormal Incest Mother Son Sister Daughter Cousins Aunt Humiliation Oral Sex Masturbation Sex Toys Squirting Exhibitionism
Suddenly, Cassie is standing in the grand hallway, just outside her old playroom. For a moment, she is convinced she has awoken after a bout of sleepwalking. It is only when she sees the door to the playroom is open that she realizes this must be another scene from the past.
She remembers nothing of passing the veil surrounding her mother's psyche, nor does she recall stepping into the dreamverse itself. She is simply here, with no explanation or warning.
Cassie shivers as she is reminded of her mother's nightmare of the night before. The door had stood open just as it does now. Absent is any sense of foreboding other than her own wariness towards the unknown ground upon which she is about to tread. She sees no darkness emanating from within. If anything, the light which spills into the corridor is warm and inviting.
Cassie hears something in the distance, like the low murmur of conversation mixed with the same slow, sleepy music that her mother tended to prefer for her gala social events. She hears a spate of carefully controlled laughter and realizes this is exactly what is happening.
She is confused. Is this a memory from her mother? Why does she not remember crossing the veil?
Cassie whirls around to face the open door when she hears a little girl's delighted giggle from within the playroom. Her eyes widen as she realizes she is in her own head again. She had no intention of being here, yet if this is a memory which she can reclaim, she is not so quick to leave.
She approaches the playroom, steeling herself against the unease which had greeted her on Thanksgiving day, but the flood of exuberance and playfulness which pour from within make it difficult for her to see the room as anything but a sanctuary.
She recognizes herself in those emotions, and wonders if she had indeed considered this a place of protection, though perhaps not in the way her parents had intended.
Cassie approaches the entrance, and just as she is about to cross the threshold, she is confronted with a vision of herself so clear she feels an uncanny sense that this is the real Cassie and she is somehow the doppleganger.
The little girl could not be more than six, her hair a thick mess of curls. Cassie's lips twitch into a smile, as she cannot get over how adorable it looks. She wonders if her mother had not considered her old enough to have her hair styled like...
No, that was not it at all.
Cassie blinks. The thought did not come from her or her past. It is simply there, as if it had sat in some recess of her mind waiting to come to the fore, or had been planted there moments before.
Little Cassie smiles, her face radiant, her eyes sparkling. She raises a tiny teacup to her lips and pretends to take a delicate sip of its imaginary contents. As she puts it down, she glances off to the side for a moment, then thrusts her chin in the air and says in an exaggerated, lofty voice, "I am so quite glad you have, um..." She looks to the side again and appears to move her lips as if repeating something to herself. She nods once and turns back to her companion. "Have taken time from your busy schedule to have tea with me, Your Majesty."
Cassie blinks. Your Majesty?
"The pleasure is all mine, I quite assure you," comes a response in an elegant voice. Cassie's eyes widen, and she steps further inside to find that her younger self's companion is her own mother.
Dorothy is dressed in her finest entertaining attire. Her dress sparkles from the tiny gemstones woven into the seams. Her arms are covered in gleaming white gloves.
"I do hope I am not taking you away from anything important," little Cassie asks, maintaining the play-acting haughty princess voice.
"Oh, not at all, darling," Dorothy replies, her own voice descending into the same surrealistic theme. "They can be so DREADfully boring. I so would much rather spend the time with you, my dear."
Little Cassie hesitates before her lips slowly curl into a smile. Present Cassie feels a twinge of uneasiness from her counterpart, at least until the child looks off to the side again, pausing as if listening, and the feeling eases. "I must say, Your Majesty, that your kingdom can spare you for a little while now and then."
Dorothy pauses to take a tiny sip of her own nonexistent tea. "Oh, quite right, quite right. I daresay it runs itself."
"Indeed! Ever since you rid yourself of..." Little Cassie pauses, as if searching for the right words. Her eyes dart to the side. "Of those awful barbarians you so went on and on and on and on and on about."
"Oh, but I would not have done so had it not been for your brilliant suggestion..."
Cassie watches this role-playing tea party continue and grows ever more confused. She never recalled her mother ever doing anything this involved with her, and certainly nothing which would take her mother out of a social engagement.
And yet it happened, and she should be grateful for it.
Cassie stumbles back, her eyes wide. It happened again, a thought which was both hers and not hers. This time it emanates from somewhere within the room.
Little Cassie again pauses in the conversation and looks to the side. She is using more and more words which present Cassie is sure would be beyond her age. She takes another step around the tableau and finds a third place has been set at the table, complete with cup, saucer, and spoon, yet the chair remains empty.
Cassie's heart thumps. The more she stares at the apparently empty space, the more she feels she should see something here. If this is her memory, even if her companion were indeed in her own mind, she should at least see how he had manifested in her younger self's perceptions.
Dorothy sets down her cup. Cassie has lost track of the conversation, but freed from its distraction she notices how her mother's hand trembles, the cup rattling against the table for a moment. Her mother rises, her movements uncertain. Little Cassie gives her a concerned look, but glances towards the empty chair before she says, "Must you leave so soon?"
Dorothy pauses, her mouth working as if needing to force the words out. When she finally speaks, her voice quavers. "I fear I have duties to attend to in the kingdom."
"Aww. Well, um... " Little Cassie tosses her head back and assumes the haughty voice again. "Do come back and visit soon. I am sure this is better than meeting with a bunch of fuddy-duddy businessm ... er, merchants."
Dorothy's lips curl into a tremulous smile. She looks about to say something, but abandons it and turns on her heel. She heads out with a slightly unsteady gait.
Present Cassie follows her mother out. Dorothy takes several crisp steps down the hallway when she suddenly shudders and stumbles. Cassie rushes forward as if to catch her, stopping herself when her mother sinks to one knee.
"What just ... how did..." Dorothy rasps in a dazed voice. She struggles to her feet, draping a hand over her forehead and closing her eyes as she takes a deep breath. She straightens as she lets it out in a slow, controlled sigh. She raises her head high, her hands clenching into fists at her sides before slowly relenting.
Dorothy glances back at the playroom. Cassie cannot mistake the raw terror which cascades from her mother before she can bring her regal bearing to the fore. She sniffs once, cool eyes still shimmering in lingering fear before marching away.
Was it really as bad as your mother makes it out to be?
"Who said that?" Cassie calls out. "Who's there?! Who are you?"
"That was nice!" she hears her younger self say.
Cassie barrels into the playroom. She stares as she watches little Cassie turn towards the empty chair.
"But that's all I want," little Cassie says in as stern a voice as a six year old can muster. "I just want her to play with me some more." She pauses, as if listening, and lets out a flurry of giggles. "Yes, that was so funny when you did that! But ... oh ... I didn't know that! It really is just like playing, isn't it? It's all pretend, right?"
Little Cassie suddenly pouts. "I told you, don't use big words like that. It's not me, it's you! I'm not--" Little Cassie suddenly gasps. "Nonono, I'm sorry! I didn't mean it! Please, don't go." She sighs. "Okay, fine, it's me. Now, let's go do something else."
Cassie stares at the empty chair, willing something or someone to appear. She can feel a presence just at the edge her perception, just like she had when she witnessed her sexual awakening. Its emotions are too fleeting for her to focus on.
Cassie bursts out of the room. She has a sudden burning need to see if her mother is okay. She races through the hall and is halfway up the stairs when she suddenly stops and gasps. Ever since this vision began, she felt there was something very wrong. Now she understands what it is.
If this is indeed a memory of hers, how is she able to move about in areas she herself had not been when that memory was created?
In the blink of an eye, the scene collapses into utter darkness, and she feels herself spiraling up and out of the void.
Cassie sat up in bed, the room still dark save for the reflected glow of the town lights against the clouds as snow drifted down past her window. She took a deep breath to try to calm her racing heart.
Cassie shook her head and uttered a despondent sigh. She felt like her power was betraying her, that she could no longer trust what she saw in her own mind. If what she had just experienced had indeed been faked, then doubt could be cast on everything she had seen to date.
Cassie felt the impulse to sneak down the stairs and enter the playroom. Something told her that the doll house held all the answers, despite it being the one puzzle piece which did not fit with the rest.
Cassie shook her head again. If Haven had taught her anything, it was that the moment she had the impulse to do something despite all evidence suggesting it was either pointless, dangerous, or both, that was when she should avoid it at all costs.
She laid down and closed her eyes, putting the doll house out of her mind. The maddening empty chair filled her thoughts instead, until in her final hypnogogic moments before passing into slumber she imagined a presence brooding in silence next to her bed.
Heather writhed under the covers, panting softly as her body trembled in the throes of a dream which refused to relinquish her to wakefulness. Her pussy steamed, aching for release which would come only one way. Once she did her Mistress' bidding, her pussy would gush in sweet orgasm, and she would be Mistress' good girl again.
Inside her dream, she let out a husky sigh of both desperation and anticipation, pulling the covers from her quivering body. She slipped out of bed and gazed through the fog of desire at the sleeping form of her little sister.
Heather crossed the room, her steps deliberate and silent. She shivered as a single drop of moisture trickled down her thigh. She gazed at her little sister, who lay curled up in a loose cocoon of blanket. Heather watched the slow rise and fall of Melinda's sides and listened to the peaceful sigh of her breathing.
Heather sat down on the edge of her sister's bed and lay a hand against Melinda's hip. Melinda moaned and began to stir, her breath quickening as she rose towards wakefulness. Heather slid her hand down Melinda's leg in a slow, sensual glide. Melinda shivered and uttered a long sigh as she rolled onto her back and sank into deeper slumber.
Heather reached for the edge of the blanket and paused, her hand shaking. Everything swam in and out of focus for a moment, as if someone were trying to wake her from this wonderful dream. Her hand finally steadied, and she pulled back the covers.
She gazed at her sister's nude body, watching her breasts swell with each intake of breath. Heather slid her hand up Melinda's side until she was rewarded with another little moan and a shiver of pleasure, Melinda's bare pussy now glistening in the faint glow of pre-dawn winter clouds. Heather slid her hand between Melinda's thighs and teased her little sister's folds with a single fingertip. Melinda squirmed and whimpered, her now oozing pussy coating Heather's finger with moisture.
Heather withdrew her hand and stood. Her breath quickened as she stepped towards where her jeans lay draped across the back of a chair. She again felt as if everything were blurry and indistinct, and her next step faltered. She stumbled, and her bare foot fetched hard against a leg of her bed.
"Ow!" Heather cried, collapsing to the edge of her bed and grabbing her hurt foot, wincing as she massaged the bruised toes. The fog vanished, and she blinked rapidly as if coming out of a waking dream. She looked across the room and gasped in horror.
Her little sister lay splayed on her back, the covers pulled from her nude and aroused body. Her breathing was slow and steady in the depths of unnaturally deep sleep.
"Oh my God," Heather moaned, dropping her face into her hands. "I wasn't dreaming. I almost ... I could have..."
Heather forced herself to raise her head. She swallowed hard and stood, wincing as she hobbled over to her sister's bed, her pussy still aching with the desire to obey her Mistress' wishes.
Heather shook her head. "No ... no, I can't..."
(How long before your mother turns her over to the Darkness?)
Heather shuddered and stared at Melinda's nude and helpless body. Every day, Melinda was subjected to yet another demeaning perversion from Aunt Jo, with her mother joining in just to get herself off. How long would it be before Heather came home one day to learn that Aunt Jo had taken Melinda as her sex slave? Or captured her for the cult, this time permanently? What recourse would she have?
(Perhaps your sister would be better off somewhere else)
Heather moaned and squeezed her legs together, but this made it easier to feel the throbbing of her thundering heart within her folds. She panted as she envisioned bringing Melinda to her Mistress and hearing her sister's cries of sexual release when Melinda was finally allowed to cum while kneeling at her Mistress' feet.
(Your mother can claim to protect you, but only I can truly do it)
"Yes," Heather moaned, then shook her head violently. She closed her eyes and pressed her palms against her temples as if believing she could squeeze the thoughts from her head. "No, that's not ... I-I mean ... yes, Mistress could..."
She stepped forward on trembling legs. She pulled the covers over Melinda and lay a hand against her little sister's cheek. Melinda murmured something in her sleep and turned over on her side. Her breath remained quickened, her legs occasionally twitching under the covers.
Heather stumbled back and fell to the edge of her bed. She let out a ragged sigh and felt as if she had achieved some sort of small victory, even as guilty as it made her feel.
Heather draped a hand over her eyes for a moment. What did she just save Melinda from? And how was the alternative better? What if her mother...
(The one who sold you into a life of sexual slavery?)
"Stop it," Heather growled, her hands slowly clenching into fists.
(she submitted to it of her own free will)
Heather turned her head and stared at the bulge in the pocket of her jeans. She thumped her fists against the bed. The anger towards her mother would only lead her right where Mistress wanted her to go, but anger was easier to pit against the relentless lust and desire to obey.
She wanted to demand of herself what difference did it make if her mother gave herself willingly to the Darkness, but it would be a trite and useless gesture. The answer meant the world to her. Giving oneself willingly was to admit defeat without even trying. To fight and fall was a better end. She could then at least sympathize with her mother and use it as a bulwark against Mistress taking Melinda.
(she submitted to it of her own free will)
"I don't know that, " Heather hissed through clenched teeth.
She could know. She held the idea in her mind that she would soon know the truth. Mistress could not turn her against her mother if she had seen the past unfold for herself. There would be no creative interpretation or faultiness of memory. She would know.
Melinda stirred again, rolling onto her other side as she rose from tranced slumber to normal sleep. She uttered a husky sigh, her hips writhing for a few seconds before becoming still.
Heather wondered if she had accidentally induced an erotic dream in her little sister, perhaps one in which she was wearing a pair of very special panties, begging to be allowed to cum.
Heather shuddered and stood. She stripped off her night clothes, her gaze still darting between the jeans and her sister. She stepped out of her damp panties and headed towards the bathroom to get her shower. She lingered near the chair for a moment, her fingers caressing the bulge in the pocket, thinking how it could make everything so much easier by removing the burden of learning her mother's past.
She glanced over her shoulder at Melinda, the one who had already decided to hate their mother. The thought triggered a sudden sensation of falling, and she staggered when her senses winked out for a moment. She swallowed and let out a noisy sigh, barely suppressing the urge to utter a loud curse.
She almost had a vision, like the one which had helped her break the ice with Diane's father. It was as if her power had tried to manifest itself again, but something held it back. What would she have seen? Something to do with Melinda? Was she about to see what would happen to her sister if she discovered the truth?
Or would it have been little more than a showcase of her little sister's future life as a sex slave, no matter who wound up owning her? Perhaps that was inevitable, and all the difference anyone could make was in choosing the one to hold her leash.
Heather let out a forlorn sigh and headed into the bathroom.
Audrey stepped out of the bathroom, a few lingering wisps of steam swirling about her legs as she strode into the bedroom. She stepped over to the closet and stood before the full length mirror mounted on the inside of the door.
She gazed at her naked body, turning it one way and the other. She ran her hands down her sides and around her hips. She turned around and looked over her shoulder, giving her buttocks a light slap and watching the flesh ripple. She tilted her hips and watched her ass sway, her lips curling into a sultry smile.
As she faced the mirror again, she remembered how foolish she used to be about her body. She had been so quick to jump into her clothes as soon as she had showered. Now she wished she could strut about nude and let everyone know how much she loved her body.
She tilted forward and let her breasts dangle, then drew herself straight and spread her legs. She giggled as she ran a hand over her newly shaved sex. She teased the exposed pink folds with her fingertips and shivered with pleasure.
I'll bet Jason likes his girls shaved, came the thought into Audrey's head as she slipped a finger into slick, hot moisture. Her next breath came out as a husky sigh as she pumped her finger into her tunnel, her hips rocking as if to the thrusts of an invisible lover.
She turned her head when she heard water rushing through the pipes. Jason was in the shower.
She shuddered in anticipation as she withdrew her finger. She contemplated the glistening moisture for a moment before popping her finger in her mouth and pulling it out slowly. She licked her lips and headed to the dresser.
Audrey considered slipping out of the room as she was now, but she had yet to hear the garage door go up. Henry was still puttering around the house somewhere. She sighed and wished things would go back to the way they were, when she barely saw him except when they went to bed at night.
Audrey pulled out a pair of skimpy silk panties from the bottom dresser drawer, wishing Jason were behind her so he could catch a glimpse of her shaved pussy between her thighs. She stepped into the bright pink panties and tugged them up her legs, shimmying her hips as if putting on a show. She let out a long sigh of desire as she tugged the smooth silk against her mound until her labia stood out in relief.
She put on a matching bra, her stiffening nipples two prominent bumps. She stepped back to the mirror and teased them as she admired herself, until her hips swayed and her breath grew short, her pussy warm and moist behind the silk. Audrey returned to the dresser and looked down in chagrin. It seemed like such a waste to put a house dress over all this sexiness.
She turned her head when she heard the rushing of the water change. Jason would be done with his shower soon and she needed to get to his room before that. She threw on the dress, smiled, and stepped into the hallway, but soon stopped short and uttered a small gasp.
"Good morning, Audrey," said Henry in a level voice, his arms folded across his chest. "And where do you think you're going?"
Audrey glanced to where the water still rushed through the pipes. "And since when do I need to clear everything I do with you?" Audrey said, and sidestepped past her husband.
She marched down the corridor, Henry's footsteps right behind hers. As she turned towards Jason's bedroom, Henry stepped in front of her. "Again: where do you think you're going?"
"Honestly, Henry, why are you being such a pain this morning?" Audrey demanded. "If you must know, I need to speak with Jason before he heads off to school."
"You can wait downstairs until he's about ready to leave."
"He's always in a hurry these days, and he'll need extra time as the streets are snowy."
"Audrey, Jason is not even finished with his shower yet. You could at least give him enough time to put his clothes on."
"For goodness' sake, I've see my own son naked more times than I can count," Audrey paused as a shiver of anticipation flitted through her body and left her skin flushed. "Now stand aside."
"I'm sorry, but you're not in the right mindset to see Jason right now."
Audrey's pussy throbbed with her heartbeat. The image of a naked Jason walking out of the bathroom, his cock hard and ready, would not leave her head. "You're not one to tell me about proper mindsets, not when you always see your job as more important than family."
Henry shook his head. "Nope. Not going to be baited by that. Not today. It's irrelevant anyway."
"You don't have the right to dictate what happens in this house!" Audrey declared.
"Neither do you, nor do you have a right to dictate Jason's life, but you have done that anyway."
"Do not start with me on that again, Henry. We've already had it out about his job."
"Then consider this as me trying to help him keep what little control he does have."
"You know nothing about control," Audrey said in a low, husky voice. "But Jason does. He knows all about it."
Henry frowned. "What the hell are you talking about?"
"It's what he's learning at that job. How to be in control. How to... dammit!"
The shower had shut off.
"Jason is gaining more responsibility than he has ever had in his life," Audrey continued, her lips curling into a small, sultry smile. "He'll be more in control than he could have ever hoped for."
Henry narrowed his eyes. "Just who am I speaking to right now?"
Audrey flinched. "What?"
"Are you channeling someone else's words? Is that how it works?"
"Henry, have you taken leave of your senses?!"
"I could ask you the same thing."
"This is ridiculous," Audrey said, shoving her husband to one side. "Out of my way and let me see my--"
Henry pushed her hands from the doorknob. "Audrey, no, you are not--"
The door swung open. A fully dressed Jason looked from one to the other. "What's going on?"
Audrey let out a disappointed sigh. Her eyes slid down to her son's crotch, and she felt a tingling in her pussy when a distinct bulge appeared under the denim. "Good morning, Jason," she said in a soft, breathy voice. "You're looking quite..." Her gaze lingered on his crotch. " ... handsome this morning."
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