Chapter 69

Cassie had guessed right; she had to suffer a thorough examination by the family physician before she was allowed any respite. He finally left with orders for her to rest undisturbed for the remainder of the day.

She hurriedly changed into her night clothes, then grabbed her cell phone as she sat on the edge of her bed. She called first Jason's father, then the Sovert household, then the Gardner household. Two rings each time and hang up before someone picked up.

She uttered a deep sigh. It was all up to them now.

She pulled back the covers, but just as she was about to lie down, she gasped and spun her gaze around the room. She felt the Presence of the mysterious entity which had helped her as much as confounded her.

"Please help me," Cassie said. "I need all the help I can get right now."

To her relief, she sensed nothing but eagerness and sincerity from him. She slipped into bed and drew the covers over herself. In seconds, she was fast asleep.

Melinda knelt between her Aunt Jo's thighs, her mouth and tongue buried in wet flesh. She had let her enslaved persona take control, leaving the protected self to engage her mother's psyche, except she still had no idea how she was supposed to do it.

Her body shivered in helpless sexual abandon, and her protected self was forced to wallow in the same revolting swamp of incestuous lust. Jo's pussy was her world, as it would be for the rest of her life were she to be taken away.

Aunt Jo uttered a gasp, and she pushed Melinda's face into her mound. Melinda angled her head so she could catch a sip of air before her breath was cut off by wet and musky pussy flesh. She jerked her head up and down, lips and tongue stroking Jo's clit, her nose filled with Jo's overpowering arousal.

As Melinda's lungs strained, Jo shuddered and gasped. Her thighs tightened around Melinda's head, and sound joined the other senses which had been captured by Jo's cunt. Jo relented a few seconds later, and the pressure behind her head eased. Melinda drew back, panting to recover her breath yet still ministering to her aunt, drawing out Jo's orgasm.

Aunt Jo uttered a gusty sigh of approval as Melinda drew her head back and gazed up at her aunt in hopeful anticipation. Jo smiled as she looked down. "Mmm, very good, my little slut."

"I love your pussy," Melinda heard herself say. "Your pussy is so delicious. I could lick it all day."

Jo chuckled. "I just may have you try that some day. Now stand up."

Melinda obeyed. Jo slid her hands around Melinda's waist, eliciting a shudder and a soft moan. Her hands slowly caressed Melinda's sides until Melinda was panting.

"You just adore my touch, don't you?" Jo purred. "You could get off on me touching any part of you."

Melinda gasped as a spike of pleasure radiated from her pussy. She swallowed and closed her eyes, hips squirming.

"Wouldn't that be something? To be able to cum by simply caressing your cheek or stroking your foot? But then again, I rather like what you can already do."

Melinda gasped as Jo pinched her nipples. Jo rolled the hard flesh between her fingertips, tugging them until Melinda's breasts lifted from her chest. Melinda clenched her teeth as her nipples throbbed, her pussy climbing with excruciating slowness.

Jo relented, and Melinda's breasts bounced back into place, the nipples aching. Melinda's pussy steamed and oozed, her thighs damp. Jo slipped a single finger over Melinda's clit, and Melinda mewled with need and desire.

Dimly through the haze of lust came the ring of a telephone.

Jo spared it only a glance over her shoulder. When it stopped after two rings, she paid it no further mind. In the far corner of the room, Penny seemed lost in her own world, her legs spread, one hand stroking her pussy while the other pawed a breast.

"But we'll leave that for another time," said Jo. "I have a dildo that's just waiting to go up your twat."

Melinda shivered in anticipation as her protected self finally saw through the pall and realized what had just happened. Had that been the signal? Had she heard the second ring, or had that been her imagination? Or had the phone not rung at all?

By the time Melinda was ready to act, she was on all fours with Jo entering her from behind. Her body started to rock to Aunt Jo's forced rhythm when she gathered her wits and looked towards her mother.

What am I supposed to do now? Melinda silently pleaded. Do I just will myself into my mother's mind and--

A roar arose like a mighty wind, as if she had been caught in a tornado. Reality spiraled into incoherency, and she felt as if she were hurtling down an endless corridor. Something surged in the distance, and she came to a stop in total darkness.

Melinda heard nothing but her own hard breathing. She was still on all fours, but she was alone. She raised her hand to her face, but saw nothing but the featureless black.

Before panic could set in, light flared a short distance away, a spotlight shining down from nowhere into nowhere. Melinda turned her head towards it as she staggered to her feet, and she gasped at what she saw.

The spotlight shone upon a simple glass prison, no more than a rectangular box six feet high by three feet square. Standing within was her mother, but it was a Penny Sovert Melinda could scarcely remember. She wore a simple house dress, an apron tied around her waist, her hair arranged into a demure bun. Her hands were pressed against the glass, her head hung low, her eyes downcast.

Melinda swallowed and shivered hard. She was suddenly reminded of A Wrinkle In Time, when Meg found her father trapped in the room on Camazotz. That scene had chilled her to the bone as a child, and this was far too reminiscent of it.

Melinda had taken only a single step when she heard a slithering sound rising from all around her. She peered into the darkness until it took form. Countless tendrils writhed in a loose halo about her mother's prison.

Her heart pounded so hard that her chest ached. She slowly stepped forward, eyes and ears observing the Darkness. It made no move towards her, as if unaware of her presence. She stared at her mother's motionless form. Was this what her mother really wanted to be? Just a good mother and keeper of the household?

It helped her set aside more of her lingering resentments, but not all. She could not quite rid herself of the last, and that was what stopped her.

"Mom," Melinda called out. "Mom, I'll get you out of--"

Melinda stumbled to a stop as the Dark tendrils thrashed from the inky black, and a figure rose from nowhere before her, blocking her path.

"What the ... who are... ?!"

Melinda stared, and her mind sailed off the edge of reality as a figure stepped into a small spotlight of her own.

"Heya, runt," said Heather. "So just what the hell do you think you're doing?"

Richie did nothing halfway, regardless of the task or the purpose. When he fucked his mother, he fucked her good. Now she lay beside Cathy, still writhing in post-coital bliss, her eyes closed. Yet as the sounds of Richie fucking Cathy rose to a crescendo, Sandra's sighs of content became low moans of escalating desire.

Richie took it slow with Cathy, his thrusts methodical, his mind holding back both her rise and his. Cathy squirmed and moaned, pressing her hips to his in an unspoken plea for more. He granted her wish only in small increments, letting her rise to another plateau before holding her back again.

He heard his mother moan and felt her leg brush against his as she spread her thighs, her fingers sliding over newly aroused pink flesh. "Oh, Richie," Sandra said in a soft, husky voice. "I think I'm going to need another fuck."

"One fuck at a time, Mom, jeez," Richie said in a strained voice as he pumped his hips harder against Cathy out of instinct. When he realized what he was doing, he silently cursed himself and established a firmer grip on Cathy's pleasure.

Richie drew himself up and changed the angle of his thrusts so he had a little less direct contact with Cathy's clit. She whimpered and tried to angle her hips to compensate. Richie pressed her down, yet she tried again a few seconds later.

"Mom, go suck on Cathy's tits," Richie said.

Sandra did not hesitate, and soon Cathy squealed in delight as loud sucking and smacking sounds rose from his mother's mouth. Richie shuddered, enjoying the tableau despite the situation. Only staring at his mother's Aura brought him back down to Earth.

The Aura was still roiling, its tendrils caressing Richie's skin wherever they crossed paths and twining loosely around his waist and thighs. He could not feel them touching his skin, but a light pressure touched his mind. He knew the gentle treatment would not last. It had already made one attempt to overwhelm him when he had climaxed inside his mother's pussy.

He had drawn on the pooled energy to resist it, and now wondered if it would not have been better to let the potion protect him and make it think it had taken him. However, if he had done that, he wouldn't be Richie, always defiant in the face of danger.

Richie's rhythm faltered when the phone downstairs suddenly rang. His heart skipped a beat. Sandra did not move to answer it or even acknowledge that she had heard it. The second ring began then stopped a second later. Only silence remained save for moaning and the wet noises of sex.

Richie swallowed. This was it. This was where he fulfilled all his promises. This was where he made good. This was where he stopped being a total dick for all time. This was where he made up for all the bad shit he had ever done.

This was where he earned his father's respect.

He rearranged his mind, turning one part towards the continued sex act with Cathy and his other self towards his mother. Like Melinda, he had no idea what he needed to do other than think about entering his mother's head. And like her, he was not prepared for the cavalcade of motion and disruption of his senses as he was sucked down the mental vortex and deposited into the black void.

"What the fuck?!" Richie said in a gasping voice as he fought to catch his breath. For a panicked moment as he stared at the ground -- or what he assumed to be the ground, for he felt only pressure against his hands and knees and no real sense of touch -- he thought he had been struck blind. Only once his breathing had returned to normal did light suddenly spring from the blackness.

He lifted his head and scrambled to his feet, staring. "What the hell ... Mom?!"

Ahead lay a circle of light. Unlike Melinda, he saw no actual spotlight, no apparent source from any direction. It was no so much light as un-dark. Inside it was a large bed, and upon it lay the naked form of his mother.

Her arms and legs were spread in a wide "X," hands and feet lashed to the bedposts with chains and heavy padlocks. Inky black tendrils extended from outside the circle of un-dark and slithered around her thighs, teasing her pussy with furtive touches. Other tendrils swirled around her breasts and slid over her erect nipples. Sandra whimpered and moaned, her body trembling hard enough to rattle the chains.

Richie swallowed as he heard a sound like that of a thousand snakes slithering around each other from all around him in the blackness.

He stepped closer to the bed. What was he supposed to do? Open the locks? Break the chains? He had neither the keys for the former nor the strength for the latter.

Richie shook his head. No, this wasn't reality. This was some sort of representation of his conflict with the Darkness. He and his adversary made the rules. The Darkness had already done so by setting the scene. Richie would do so by fulfilling a role.

His role would be Superman. He would have the strength to break the chains and free his mother. It was that simple. It had to be, for he had no other options.

He started forward. The slithering grew louder until it drowned out the sound of his pounding heart. Did the Darkness sense what he was doing? Good. Let the Dark bitch know. He was about to clean its clock just like he had with Melissa. It wasn't going to have his mother as its stooge any longer.

"And just where the FUCK do you think you're going?!"

Richie nearly jumped out of his skin. He let out a yelp and spun around in place looking for the source of the voice. He staggered and fell hard on his rear, panting, his eyes glazed over in fear.

A huge shadow separated itself from the darkness and approached him, looming over him like a golem. It took the shape of a man, two thick arms crossed over a broad chest. He stepped into the un-dark, and Richie's eyes widened.

"D-Dad?!" Richie croaked.

The image of Mike Hendon glared down at his son, face red with fury, eyes blazing points. "I asked you a fucking question, you stupid little shit, and I expect a goddamn fucking answer!" he roared.

"This is not what I had asked of you, slave," Laura said in a dark voice.

"I-I know, Mistress, and I am terribly sorry for disobeying you," Heather replied.

"Who is it I asked you to get for me?"

"Melinda, Mistress."

"Is this Melinda?"

"No, Mistress."

"Is this even remotely like Melinda?"

Heather whimpered. "No, Mistress."

"How could you have possibly conceived of the idea that I would accept a substitution?"

To this, Heather had no reply.

It would have pained Diane more to hear this conversation had the panties been removed from her. Instead, Diane lay on the floor, writhing in sexual torment as another phantom cock fucked her long and hard. This time it belonged to someone she had never met. Not that it mattered; she felt every long, thick thrust as if he had been her lover all along.

She closed her eyes, and the experience became even more real. Her pleasure rose towards another crescendo, and she silently begged to be allowed to go over. In the back of her mind, line energy seethed, ready to be released.

But it would not gain release until she did.

She heard Laura utter a heavy sigh, and was then aware of a shadow passing over her. Diane opened her eyes and saw Laura standing over her with hands on hips and robe parted. Diane caught a glimpse of Laura's bare pussy and fought the impulse to look away.

"Do you expect me to take her as my slave instead?" Laura asked without taking her eyes from Diane.

"I ... p-please ... if you would, Mistress."

Laura whirled around, and Diane was treated to an equally unwanted view of Laura's ass when the robe fluttered. "What?"

"Mistress ... Diane is ... we're lovers."

Laura paused. "Really."

Diane let out a shaky breath when the fucking abruptly stopped, and the cock ceased to be. She writhed, achy and needy, trying to get the now inert dildo to send her over the edge. It was to no avail, her pleasure already retreating from the brink.

"Diane is a lesbian, Mistress. She was attracted to me. She loves me. I love her."

Diane clenched her jaw to suppress a sob, but her eyes misted just the same.

"Well, that is unfortunate."

Complete silence descended for the next few moments.

"I am not going to get into this 'power of love' nonsense," Laura said as she turned towards Diane. "Get up."

Diane took a moment to realize that the order had been directed at her. She quickly stood while she was still in the brief respite between sensual assaults.

"Not that it should matter to me, but what do you want out of all this?" Laura demanded.

Diane looked past Laura, where a naked Heather was on her knees with her eyes downcast. Diane turned her gaze back to Laura's hard eyes and said, "I-I want to be with Heather."

Laura raised an eyebrow.

"I ... I did this willingly."

Laura looked at Heather, then back to Diane. "If I didn't sense anything other than unquestioned loyalty from my slave right now, I'd say you were up to something."

Diane had no idea what Heather had told Laura about her, so she had to take a gamble. "I don't have any powers, not like some of the other Harbingers."

"And you'd still be willing to disrupt your merry little band just to be with Heather?"

Diane gasped as the dildo became a cock again, and yet another stranger became intimate lover. She fought the urge to drop to all fours so he could take her from behind. "Uhng ... I-I love her..." she moaned.

Laura said in a low voice, "I suppose you do."

Diane could no longer fight it. Her phantom lover wanted her from behind, and she had to oblige. She dropped to all fours, and her body rocked back and forth to his quick, hard thrusts.

"You realize that, if I agree to this, you would become my slave," Laura said in a sly voice. "And your time with your so-called lover would be at my discretion and to my amusement."

"Uhng! Uhng! Y-yes! Uhng!" Diane moaned.

"Do not think, either of you, that this still excuses Heather from taking Melinda for me!" Laura snapped. "I still want her, and I will have her. Yet I will take Diane for now."

Diane panted hard as she was again brought to the edge of orgasm. Line energy roared just behind an invisible barrier, one which would not be breached until her pussy crossed the same line. It was denied yet again.

"Up."

With difficulty, Diane stood, panting hard.

"This is going to have to be a part-time arrangement for now, until I can deal with your parents." She tilted her head and slowly smiled. "I suppose having you will not be bad at all. You're a little skinny for my tastes, but I do like the faint Asian look." Laura stood back. "Strip."

Diane did not hesitate. She pulled off her clothes quickly, and even reached for the panties by instinct. Only when she could not slip her fingers under the band did she remember.

Laura's lips curled into a wicked smile. "That's right, my would-be slave. You can't remove it. Only I can."

Diane's eyes widened as a cock again began a slow slide into her pussy, her legs bending at the knees.

Diane gasped. She felt a sudden pressure against her protected self and shivered as the all-too familiar cold touch of Dark power tried to worm its way into her head.

She didn't know what to do. If she switched to her enslaved persona, it would act loyal to Jason, yet she could not let Laura get into her real self!

The tendrils did not penetrate far, slithering against the surface of her mind. Was this the potion's doing? Was it actually shielding her protected self? She had to hope so.

"No sense in resisting me if this is what you really want," Laura said in a silky voice.

Diane moaned as lust made it hard to think, her pleasure again rising to excruciating proportions. The line energy was chaotic, building ever more as she had no idea how to close the channel once it was open. She had to release it, or it would pool and burn in the back of her psyche.

Diane whimpered as her pussy strained and fell back. The line energy went on straining. She could not tolerate another tease. It was now or never.

She felt Laura's hands touch her hips, then tug the panties down. Diane let out a quavering sigh as the nub parted from her labia, her pussy dripping and musky. The panties fell down her legs.

Diane thrust her hand between her legs and rubbed her clit furiously. She soared up and over the top, crying out her ecstasy at the same time the line energy burst forth into her mind.

Blue-white abruptly spun and spiraled around her into gray and then black as she hurtled into the void. Before she could catch her breath, she was on the ground in complete darkness with her gasping breath the only sound.

Dim light suddenly glowed in the distance. Diane looked up, and her eyes widened. She stood and stared.

Heather appeared naked and kneeling inside a soft light which just barely distinguished her from the dark. It grew more distinct as Diane approached, and she saw light glint off steel. A collar was fitted to Heather's neck. Attached to it was a gleaming chain wrapped around the top of a post.

"H-Heather?" Diane called out, her voice echoing into the distance, as if she were standing at the bottom of a gigantic cistern.

"I am slave," Heather replied in a monotone that made Diane shiver.

Diane ran up to her and crouched by her side. "Heather, I ... wait." She paused and looked around. She saw nothing in the featureless dark, eerily silent save for the lingering echo of her own voice. "I-I'm going to free you, Heather."

"Slave is not free," Heather said. "Slave obeys Mistress."

Diane swallowed and held back a sob. She lifted her shaking fingers to the collar and felt around its circumference. She found no latch and no hinge, as if it had been cast as one piece. Nor did the chain have a lock. It simply linked back to itself atop the thick metal post.

Diane grabbed the chain. She could not give up now. She felt the line energy still flowing through her in a torrent, even if she could not see its blue-white glow. She started to pull.

She pulled until she clenched her jaw. She pulled until her arms ached. She braced her feet against the post and pulled until her legs ached. Finally, a link began to stretch.

"Yes, that's it," Diane whispered. "I-I can do this ... I can do it ... I..."

A sound in the distance startled her, and her grip slipped. The stretching link closed as the chain went slack.

Diane swallowed and stepped back, listening. Footsteps, distant but growing closer at a steady, crisp pace.

Diane's heart pounded. This was where she would confront her greatest fear. She had spent the better part of the day at school going over it in her head, all the possible things he might do and how she might counter them. She reminded herself that he was only a mirage, an illusion sent to frustrate her.

She stepped away from Heather. She did not want this confrontation to involve her lover. This had to be between Diane and Victor and no one else. She had to confront her remaining fears over him.