Victor rolled through the southernmost loop of the road that skirted the edge of Mesa View Estates. He held his eyes even and his face fixed as he turned the car down a private road and stopped at the gate, security cameras tracking his movement. He had just come to a stop when the gate buzzed, clicked, and slid open.

Victor urged his car down the narrow path. Juniper trees marched alongside the car in two perfect and well-manicured lines. The place had changed little from the last time he saw it some years ago. He knew it all too well from his many visits, when he had delayed important contracts and vital meetings abroad just to ensure that Lydia's transformation would hold.

As well as cleaning up all the loose ends of the debacle that necessitated that transformation.

Victor pulled his modest mid-size car alongside the stretch limos parked in a silent precession of wealth near the main entrance of the mansion. He counted himself fortunate to have someone with these resources at his beck and call.

The door opened as Victor approached, and he allowed himself a small smile as he stepped into the midst of another precession. On either side of the entrance hall stood two lines of maids, butlers, and other servants, arranged in the same perfect spacing and precision as the junipers outside. After the door closed behind him, the servant that had admitted Victor took position beside his comrades.

Victor raised his hands. "Sentr'enthra tal'alkqua ron'valtra."

The servants bowed their heads and chanted as one, "Toph'sentr'enthra zanthas ron'valtra!"

Victor allowed only one iteration of the devotion. He spread his arms out in blessing. The servants folded their hands in quiet subservience for a few seconds, then dispersed and went back to their duties.

Footsteps echoed before him, and Victor smiled as his eyes fell on the older, stately gentleman that approached from the other end of the hall. "Apologies, Victor, but the staff insisted on greeting you in the proper manner despite your claim of no cult business behind this visit."

Victor met the man halfway down the hall and clasped his shoulder. "Quite all right, Charles. It is best they remind me of their dedication and loyalty in these trying times."

Charles Remmer tilted his head, and his lips spread into a tiny sympathetic smile. "Troubles again this year?"

"A few. Nothing I cannot handle. I will not bore you with the details."

"Yet it was enough to compel you to check on Lydia."

"And I cannot be here simply to take advantage of her state? To allow myself a distraction from my trials?"

Charles allowed a soft chuckle. "That is nothing like the Victor I know. You are practical to a fault."

Victor granted a small smile in return. There were few in his cult with whom he could converse outside the trappings of the quasi-religion he had created. Fewer still could step outside the cult and speak of it as it really was. Charles was one of those few. "As I said before, you are quite perceptive."

Charles folded his hands behind his back. "If there is anything I can do to help make your annual endeavor a success, do not hesitate to call upon me."

"I would, Charles, if it were simply a need of more money or influence. I am hoping this visit alone will help."

Charles nodded. "In that case, please follow me."

Victor fell into step beside his companion. "I assume I will find everything in order or you would have contacted me."

"You assume correctly." Charles took them through a large, opulent living room and into another wide hallway. "She is virtually unchanged."

"Virtually?"

"She is doing nothing now that she does not do at this time every year."

"Ah. You speak of her disturbed sleep?"

"Yes. It starts a week before Halloween. She tosses and turns, and sometimes experiences several spontaneous orgasms. Sometimes rather powerful ones, which is how my servants know. Then it vanishes upon the conclusion of our ceremony on the evening of Halloween."

Victor nodded. "But no worse this year?"

"I don't believe so, no."

Victor remained silent. He had never formulated a proper explanation for the behavior. The closest he could come was a sort of lingering psychic resonance with the energies that tended to flow more freely upon the festival of Samhain. That same psychic link had rendered her unsuitable as a slave, yet too resistant to have her memory wiped or suppressed.

He touched his avatar within Lydia. It was still strong but stressed. This made sense to him if it had to counter the Halloween energies.

He could sense the flow from the line of force that brushed Charles' mansion. Here, the avatar could tap the line's energy to keep Lydia's perceptions molded to an artificial universe conceived out of convenience. Victor would never claim complete acceptance of this "solution."

"Her presence keeps the staff happy, at least," said Charles. "They are quite eager to assist in maintaining the fiction. Sometimes a little too eager. I tend to monitor them when I can. However, she is free now."

Victor again did not respond, causing Charles to turn his head in concern. Victor gave him a single nod, his eyes hard and level as they stared at the closed parlor door ahead of them, an image already seared into his mind.

Charles gripped the gleaming gold handle and swung the door inward.

The room beyond was arranged as any other sort of parlor in a wealthy man's house, with plush seating, soft pastel flourishes, and expensive decorations. From that point, it diverged from the norm. On a table near the center of the room lay an array of oils, lubricants, and sex toys. Beyond it, opposite the door, was the room's eternal prisoner.

A middle-aged woman sat naked upon what to the two men appeared as a simple straight-backed chair with scarlet padding. Her hips writhed, twisting and grinding against her seat. Her soft breasts rippled with each movement, the nipples swollen and hard with permanent arousal. Between her quivering thighs, her pussy glistened and dripped. Her arms lay rigid and strained along the arm rests, hands clenching and unclenching as if her wrists were somehow caught. Her wavy dark blond hair hung in disarray about her shoulders and obscured her face.

Charles folded his hands before him and waited for Victor to make the next move.

Victor stared at the woman, taking a slow, deep breath and letting it go as a slow sigh. He connected to his avatar, and allowed himself to share the same illusion as her.

The chamber became dark and sepulchral, save for the crimson fires that burned in small alcoves hewed from solid rock walls. Lydia squirmed upon her Seat of Punishment, unable to escape the thick, relentless phallus that thrust into her helpless cunt from the seat, her arms bound with tight, heavy chains.

"Uhhhnn ... unngg ... uhhh ..." Lydia moaned, quaking as the phallus throbbed with obscene intensity in her tight pussy. Her own orgasm was denied, her folds aching with swollen, unsatisfied lust.

"Lydia," Victor said.

She uttered a small gasp, and her head jerked up, tossing some of her recalcitrant hair aside. Her eyes widened, and her mouth dropped open.

Victor stood before her as a demon, broad of chest and shoulder, flaming red skin taut with iron-hard muscle. His body was wrapped in rough leather, the piece covering his crotch just barely containing an ungodly long and thick cock.

He lifted a taloned hand and gestured. The phallus withdrew into the seat and the chains unraveled. Lydia uttered a surprised cry and fell from the chair to her hands and knees, where she remained panting and shivering at the cool touch of the stone floor.

Victor stepped over to her. Lydia lifted her head, then rose on her haunches and clutched at him, leering at the huge bulge of his loincloth in both intense lust and deep desperation.

She still remembered him, the one that had condemned her, an agent for a higher power that had judged her unworthy and consigned her to this terrible place.

"And how do you feel now, Lydia?" said the demon in a rumbling voice that made her shudder. "Do you still feel wicked and sinful?"

Lydia stared, eyes wide and dark. "I-I don't know, Master. How will I know?"

"Do you still wish to cum all the time?"

Lydia squirmed. She rubbed her thighs together in a vain attempt to send herself over the edge. "Yes, Master," she whimpered.

"Do you still want your pussy warm and wet?"

"Uhng ... Y-yes, Master, I still do."

"And can you cum except by the evil instrument of a demon?"

Lydia moaned, half in despair and half in wet desire. "No, Master."

"Then you are still quite wicked, Lydia. Your punishment will continue. Your sins are not yet forgiven."

Lydia panted as her pussy strained but would not release. Her fingers curled against his unyielding muscle. "I know, Master. Sinful in life, sinful in death." She looked up again, and then at the bulge in his crotch. "Please, Master, use your evil instrument on me again. Make me cum. Please."

Victor forced her to let go and stood back. "If I do, your wickedness will feed on itself. Your punishment may never end."

"I don't care, Master. I need to cum. I need my pussy wet. Please, Master."

Victor removed his clothes, and his cock sprang forth. Lydia licked her lips in anticipation.

Richie barreled into the house, leaving the garage door up to aid his escape. He had considered dumping his school books in the garage so he did not have to enter the house proper, but then his mother might not see them and think he never came home from school. Richie did not want to give his mother an excuse to sic the cops on him again.

Richie took the stairs two at a time on the way up to his room. He let only one foot cross the threshold and launched his book-bag towards the bed. He noticed the paper taped to the top drawer of his dresser just as the bag hit the bed, rolled, and thumped to the floor.

He peered at the note, but the writing was just small enough to prevent him from discerning it from the door. He glowered and muttered a curse as he stomped across the room. He snatched it from the dresser, leaving a torn corner still attached to the tape.

The note read: Don't be so quick to leave today.

Richie's fingers curled and crinkled the paper. He could guess who was standing in the doorway behind him before he turned around, but could not avoid a sharp intake of breath or a widening of his eyes at the nude figure that blocked his egress.

Sandra raised an arm and leaned against the door frame. She swung her hips in the other direction and planted a hand on her waist. She slid one leg out straight and let her pussy glisten in the light.

"I've been waiting for you, Richie," she said in a honeyed voice, her eyes dark and glittering. "I'm already wet for you."

Richie crushed the note in his fist. His cock swelled against his wishes. He forced out a breath and tossed the paper aside. "Sorry, Mom. Got things to do."

He advanced, hoping she would just take the hint and step aside. Instead, her smile grew more wicked, her Aura swirling in black more inky than he had ever seen.

She did not move. Richie stopped several feet before her and tried to stop his eyes from drinking in his mother's sexy body. He failed, his control over his gaze as good as that over his cock. The latter lay cramped in his briefs, pulsing with his pounding heart.

"I'm thinking of going around the house like this all the time, Richie," Sandra cooed. "So I'm always ready for you. You can fuck me whenever you want as much as you want."

Richie swallowed hard. He forced his gaze upward. He recognized nothing in her eyes. She was a complete puppet.

"I'm all you need. Have me any way you want. Use me."

Richie panted. The words bored straight past his brain into his raw libido. Tendrils of black slithered like tentacles towards him, writhing in the air in unholy anticipation.

"I can't," Richie finally croaked. "I told you, I got things to do! Just ... get out of the way."

Sandra paused a long moment, then finally let out a small sigh, though her smile never faltered. "I suppose you'll just have to push past me and be about your business, then."

Richie's eyes burned. He wanted to rush her, one hard shoulder and pointy elbow leading the way, but the body he would leave hurt and bruised was still his mother even if her mind was not.

"Fine, I will," Richie declared, and surged forward.

He grasped his mother about the waist, intending to shove her backwards out of the doorway. A sudden warmth enveloped his entire body, making him shudder and his cock twitch. He ignored it long enough to push her back a step, until something splashed over his sneakers and jeans.

"Uhhnng! Uhnnnn!" Sandra moaned, writhing hard under Richie's hands. Richie's eyes went wide as they stared at his mother's now dripping pussy, fluid still trickling down her thighs.

"Oh, Richie!" Sandra gushed. Her hands slid along his arms and coaxed them forward. "I'm so hot for you that you made me cum just touching me."

Richie's moment of shock let his arms be drawn around Sandra's waist. He held her delightfully warm and naked body, her tits swelling against his chest. Her hand rubbed his cock through his jeans.

Her voice was a hot breath in his ear. "I can even squirt for you, Richie. Just like that Sovert girl. I can even do that for you. I can do it every time. Make me cum again, Richie, and I'll show you."

Sandra's Aura cocooned them both, holding Richie in its dark embrace. Richie felt it close in around his mind as well, his heart thumping against its cold control as much as with hot lust. His cock was so hard it hurt. He tried to push her away, but his hands instead slid up her sides.

Sandra moaned and trembled. "Uhhn ... mmmm ... that feels so good ... But you won't make me cum again like that ... you'll have to do something else ..."

Richie squeezed his eyes shut and tried to call on the same help that Heather had, but either he didn't know how to do it, or he was being blocked.

Or they just really don't care and have given up on you.

His emotions were in such turmoil that he could not tell if that thought came from the Darkness or the depths of his own lingering doubts.

But he didn't just have his fellow Harbingers, he had whatever was protecting him before. He just needed to figure out what it was so he could tap into it again.

A memory flickered across his mind and gave him his first clue. His mother had tried to stop him the night he had to help the Harbingers against Melissa. She had almost succeeded, until he had touched her panties and had the vision of ...

His thoughts stopped. His hands groped his mother's body, as if searching, and he tried to ignore her coos of erotic delight in his ear. He encountered nothing more than smooth skin, his touch giving rise to mounting moans of excitement from Sandra. He did not know exactly where his hands were until his fingers sank into something very wet and very warm.

"Ohhh! ... Oooo, Richie! ... Mmmm!"

Sandra ground her hips against Richie's hand. He wanted to pull back, but his fingers acted of their own accord and sank past her tight folds, leaving them swimming in hot liquid lust.

... man what a hot bitch in heat she ...

Richie's eyes snapped open. The thought had faded in and out like a radio being tuned past a station.

A past vision? But he wasn't touching anything except ...

Sandra shuddered and gasped, panting as if her own hot desire had stolen her breath. "Uhnng ... R-Richie ... I need your cock ... your nice hard cock up my twat ..."

"Yeah," Richie breathed. "Yeah, okay. In the bedroom."

Sandra nudged Richie back, but he stiffened.

"No, your bedroom," Richie groaned. "Wanna do it in your bed. Bigger than mine. Lots more room to ..."

Richie trailed off. He was losing the battle. In another few seconds he wouldn't care if they dropped to the floor and rutted in the hallway like two dogs in heat.

"Okay, Richie," Sandra finally said. She unzipped his jeans, her fingers sliding over the contours of his cock through the stretched fabric of his briefs. Richie panted and rubbed his crotch against her hand. "Then you can use your cock on me however you please ..."

Heather feared she was going to be too excited to control herself.

She and Melinda arrived at the house at the same time as Jason. By then, Heather had worked Melinda into a wet and horny frenzy. At Heather's bidding, Melinda and Jason pawed at each other in panting sexual heat.

She watched them writhe on the floor locked in a frantic sixty-nine. She would not let them get too close to orgasm. They had to save it for when the others arrived. There could be no release to be had until they could achieve it together.

Watching her little sister and her boyfriend was enough to soak her panties. Her fingers skirted the waist of her jeans and flirted with the zipper. She had promised herself she would try to ease Cassie into her sex circle. Seeing a naked and dripping Heather would not be conducive to those plans.

A husky sigh met her thoughts of Cassie, and her pussy throbbed with her pounding heart. Her thoughts drifted to Ned as well. Would he feel intimidated by having sex with her? Would having him do it with Melinda make him feel too awkward afterward? Or should she just let him do it with Cassie?

No, that wouldn't work. People had to choose different partners. She didn't know why. Everyone had to enjoy it as well. She didn't know the reason for that, either. Cassie could not be so shocked or repulsed that she could not respond; Richie could not be denied the control he wanted or he would resent his involvement.

She tugged her hand away from her blouse, where she had undone several buttons without realizing it. The others could not arrive soon enough for her.

Richie lost all focus in the time it took Sandra to guide them into her bedroom. Her fingertips brushed the strained cotton of his briefs to keep his cock in aching hardness. When his legs bumped against the side of the bed, a glimmer of comprehension returned to him, and he remembered what he was trying to do.

She tried to ease him onto the bed, her on top. He twisted them around and forced her onto her back. Her hands clamped around his arms, as if suspecting an escape attempt.

The Darkness squeezed around Richie's mind. He was losing ground fast. His mother undid his belt. Once his cock was out, he would want nothing more than to plunge it into her depths.

Disjointed, vague images and sounds batted against his consciousness like a kitten playing with a toy. Finally, his hand moved, and his fingers buried themselves in her slick cunt.

Reality shifted.

"Oh Dan!" a suddenly ten years younger Sandra gushed. "Oh that feels so good, but I sooo want your cock in there!"

She swam in and out of focus. Another image was juxtaposed around his body like a TV ghost signal.

Goddamn, her cunt is so fucking tight!

Richie reeled from the strength of the thought as he realized that he was superimposed on the figure from the past, as if he had wrapped the man's skin around his own body. He was aware of the man's every sensation, even down to the small crick in his back and an ache from an old sports injury in one knee.

"Sandy, are you sure this is okay?" Richie heard in a voice that seemed to come from his own mouth.

"Yes, I'm really wet and hot for you, Dan!"

"No, I don't mean ... oh man, Sandy ... wow ..."

Richie resisted the urge to draw back. His past mother had curled her fingers around the man's cock, stroking his rock-hard erection. Richie felt it as if it were his own cock.

Fuck, never thought I could get this hard with the damn blood thinners.

"Fuck me, Dan ... fuck me now ..." Sandra cooed.

Richie's vision blurred as Dan descended. Richie felt Sandra's fingers gripping his cock -- Dan's cock -- and guiding it to her willing pussy. Instead of her wet cunt, he felt a tug as Dan resisted the final plunge.

Shit, it's hard for me to think. "Sandy, what about Mike? And Richie?"

Sandra gave him a wicked smile that made Richie's blood run cold. "Don't worry about Mike. The divorce was final last week."

"Sandra, he threatened me just the month before if he ... oh man ..."

Sandra stroked his cock hard with her fingers. "Dan, it's okay. I have some ... friends ... on the police force. We're well-protected."

Protected.

The word hit Richie's head like a lightning bolt.

"And Richie's out playing," Sandra said.

"You sure he won't walk in on us while--"

Sandra giggled. "Not while he's playing baseball. I can hardly get him to stop anymore. You remember, I told you about that baseball he got on his last birthday."

The baseball.

Another electric shock passed through Richie's psyche and reverberated down the tendril of time.

"Really?" Dan said, sounding surprised. "But you said he hardly ever uses it. I thought maybe he didn't really like his father and ..."

His father.

Dan trailed off. Sandra tugged his cock and giggled again. "Now will you fuck me?"

Dan groaned, his remaining thoughts slipping away as his cock slid into her cunt with a wet, slick sound.

Reality crashed back to the present. The haze of lust suddenly fell away, and his mind came into sharp focus. He flexed his arms, his hands having planted themselves on the bed on either side of his mother's body during his vision, and bolted off the bed. He thrust a foot out just in time to turn a fall to the floor into a stumble, his cock bobbing over the waistband of his briefs.

He backed away until his hip banged the edge of the dresser, the pain helping to crystallize his thoughts. He understood now. He knew what had been protecting him all that time. Somehow he had a link to his father through the baseball.

It made no sense. His father left. He walked away. No, he was driven away. No, he left on his own.

Richie slammed his hands against his temples and clenched his teeth until his jaw hurt, as if the conflict threatened to detonate inside his brain.

Sandra sat up in bed. Her Aura twisted and churned, and tendrils snapped at the air. You little fucking bastard. You didn't even know until now. You hadn't a fucking clue. Yet you somehow ...

The voice of the Darkness faded away to nothing.

Richie lowered his hands. He let fury flow over him like lava, scorching the conflict from his head. He bared his teeth and yanked up his briefs and jeans over his now flagging cock. "Yeah, that's right, I know now!" Richie roared. "I didn't before and I still kicked your sorry ass with it!"

The Darkness raged around Sandra's body. Confusion crept into Sandra's eyes, as if she had not been aware of what she had been doing.

Richie redid his belt. "That's it. That's fucking it! No more of this shit! You're not going to make me fuck my Mom anymore! You're--"

Richie stopped. He was going to boast that after that day, it wouldn't be able to touch him anymore. He had no idea if Heather could work such a miracle with her planned sex-fest, and he did not want to give the Darkness any more information.

"And you're not fucking getting in my head anymore, you get me?!" he screamed.

Richie fled. He burst into his room long enough to grab his jacket. His fingers curled around the baseball jammed into the pocket as he bounded down the stairs. He blinked away a few tears as that birthday morning came to him strong and clear, along with his father's face for the first time in years.

His gaze fell on the boulder across the street as he entered the garage. He vaulted onto his bike and rocketed down the driveway. He swerved into the street, his eyes still on the boulder until he could no longer turn his head around far enough to see it.

Cassie stared at the back door to the house as the wind blew her skirt around her legs. Her skin prickled against the cold, but she barely noticed, and a squeeze of her fingers had to remind her that she was still holding Ned's hand. In the quiet, she could hear Heather calling to her in her head. Her pussy would not stop tingling, and she was sure her panties were wet again.

Ned stood at her side, his eyes darting about as if not knowing where to look. "Um, well, guess we should go an' join the party, huh?" he finally said, wondering if it had sounded as lame to her as it had to his own ears.

Cassie finally acknowledged him with a hard squeeze of his hand as he started forward. He swung around to face her instead.

"Let me go in first," Cassie said. "I need to do this part alone."

"Um, yer hardly gonna be alone, babe. Diane went in jus' before us an' I'm sure--"

"I know, I don't mean it quite that way."

"Oh? Oh."

Cassie sighed. "I know, it sounds foolish, that I'd feel embarrassed about this in front of you when you've already seen me naked more times than I can count, but--"

"No, I get ya, it's cool. Jus', um, tell Heather to let me know when I can come in, 'kay?"

Cassie looked at him and offered a weak smile and a nod of her head. She held his hand a few seconds longer before she let go and headed inside.

Stepping into the house felt like walking into a warm and muggy summer day. It had to be in her own head, as if the wetness of her pussy had somehow spread through the rest of her body.

No one greeted her as she entered. She ventured further into the house, until she came to the archway leading to the living room. She stopped and gasped at the sight before her.

Melinda lay on the carpet on her back. Jason was on his hands and knees straddling her head, his cock dipped into her hungry and eager mouth. Diane crawled forward and nestled her head between Melinda's legs as Heather spread them. Melinda squirmed and squealed through her nose as Diane licked at her wet folds. Heather smiled and caressed Diane's upthrust rear. She slid her hand down towards Diane's thighs, and her fingers slipped into Diane's slick and helpless pussy, sending a visible shiver through Diane's body.

Cassie swallowed and raised a trembling hand to her cheek.

Heather looked up. She withdrew her hand from her lover and stood. "Just keep going, everyone," she cooed. "Just don't cum yet. Nobody cums yet."

Cassie let out a ragged breath. The power Heather had over their sexuality was as arousing as it was frightening. Her eyes struggled to leave the scene as Heather came up to her.

"Sorry, Cassie, I meant to meet you in the next room, but Diane showed up and ..." Heather glanced behind her. "We better head over here for a moment."

Cassie's legs would not obey her, forcing Heather to touch her arm and side to coax her back. "I-I'm not so sure this can be done so gently after all," Cassie said in a shaky voice.

Heather removed her hands and backed up a step. "I'm trying, I really am. Where's Ned? No, wait, I think I can sense him. He's just outside, isn't he?"

"I had to do this part alone."

Heather sighed. "I guess I just don't know what I'm supposed to do to make this any easier on you."

Cassie took a few deep breaths. She was under no illusion that they would calm her, but it would help her focus. "Maybe you can tell me why you're so ... s-so attracted to me now. Why do you want me? Is it just whatever's driving you?"

Memories rose like specters in Heather's mind. She no longer recognized herself in some of them, when the House at the end of the street was just some odd curiosity in which her little sister had taken an interest. She saw her struggles in the wake of Nyssa and Melissa to remake herself and stop being the shallow thing that Melinda hated. She recalled the tongue-lashing she had given Melinda about maturity and wondered if she ever had any right to claim such a lofty perch.

Heather glanced behind her again and lowered her voice. "This is going to sound really weird coming from me, but I guess I admire you."

Cassie stared in surprise and could find no words of reply.

Heather rushed on into the stunned silence. "You don't want any of what you have, do you? I mean the money and the rich parents and the big mansion up on the mesa. But you can't just get rid of it. You have to ignore it."

"I try to ignore it," Cassie said, her voice bitter.

"Yeah, like I try to ignore the total bitch that I was."

"Oh, but you weren't--"

"Yes, I was, Cassie. I treated Melinda like shit. I treated a lot of people like that."

Cassie sighed. "I don't know what to say."

"Well, you wanted to know why I like you, and that's it. You're better at dealing with stuff you want to ignore than I am. You can go past it. You don't act like the little rich girl at all when you're around us, but I can still act the bitch."

Cassie was speechless. She had no idea that Heather struggled with such things. She saw only the "new" Heather, and had little concept of the old save for what she saw in her dreams.

Heather smiled. She stepped forward, hands alighting about Cassie's waist. She traced her fingers up the sides of Cassie's body.

Cassie drew in her breath and let it go as a ragged, husky sigh. Her skin flushed hot, her nipples aching as they stiffened against her bra cups. The raw desire that flared inside her did not seem quite so alien anymore. Or unwanted. She looked into Heather's eyes and felt a connection she had not before.

"Did that help?" Heather asked in a soft voice.

Cassie nodded, not trusting her voice. Her lips twitched into a small smile of appreciation.

Heather lifted her hands and drew her fingertips around the contours of Cassie's breasts. Her thumbs flirted with the two swelling bumps of Cassie's nipples, feeling them harden under her touch. She teased them with little flicks of her nails.

Liquid warmth flooded Cassie's pussy, and her feet slid apart without a second thought. She blushed as she discovered herself wanting to beg Heather to touch her in the center of her heat.

Heather drew close and whispered, "Do you think you could strip for me, Cassie?"

Cassie's blush deepened, but she nodded.

Heather stepped back. Cassie fumbled with the fastenings of her blouse and skirt, her breath a deep pant. By the time she was standing in her underwear, she was trembling, a dark and glistening stain on her panties.

Heather helped Cassie off with the bra, and Cassie sighed with relief at the release. Heather cupped Cassie's petite mounds and kneaded them, pressing the pads of her thumbs hard against the nipples. Cassie whimpered, moisture squishing as she clamped her legs together. For a moment she was sure she was about to cum right then.

Heather's smile widened as she grasped the waistband of Cassie's panties. Cassie suddenly covered one of Heather's hands with her own. "W-wait."

"Something wrong?"

Cassie looked past Heather, her eyes shimmering as they found Jason. "When we go inside ... when you put me with the others ... i-if you're not going to just keep me for yourself ..." She moaned and squirmed, Heather's fingers still in the waistband of her panties. "S-sorry, it's hard to think straight when you're ..."

Heather let go of Cassie's panties and backed up a step.

Cassie let out a breath. "Thank you. Something I overheard from Jason earlier ... I ... I-I wouldn't mind if you wanted me and him to ..."

She couldn't bring herself to say it. She felt like she was being unfaithful to Ned. She had to tell herself that her feelings for Jason were not the same as those for Ned.

"I think I understand," said Heather. "Now ... I want to see the rest of you."

Cassie surprised both herself and Heather when she pulled her panties down her legs and stepped out of them in a single smooth motion. She did not back away when Heather approached, shimmering eyes flicking down to the hand that reached for her nether regions. Cassie bit her lip as Heather's fingers slipped into her, then moaned as her pleasure soared. She strained at the edge, gasping and trembling in a silent plea for release.

Heather eased off, and so did Cassie from the excruciating edge of orgasm, leaving her quivering and clutching at Heather for support.

"I'm going to have to call Ned, but I'll get to you right after that," Heather said, her own voice heavy with desire. She withdrew her hand, then took one of Cassie's and guided it between Cassie's legs. "Until then, stay wet and horny for me."

Cassie moaned and delivered light, teasing strokes to her own pussy as Heather guided her into the living room.

Victor seemed impassive as he rocked his hips against Lydia's rear, her ass cheeks rippling with each slap of his body against hers. His cock made a faint wet sound with each thrust into her needy pussy. Muffled grunts of pleasure rose from around her mouth and nose as her head bobbed, Charles sitting in Lydia's normal seat, allowing his cock to be swallowed up by Lydia's obedient mouth.

Through her perception, Victor could see her writhing between the great brick-red phalluses of two powerful demons.

Victor controlled his rise so he could keep Lydia going as long as possible. She had cum once, her fluid trickling down her thighs, hips raised in a silent plea for more.

Victor hated this arrangement. She had to believe herself dead, existing only in some form of afterlife where she made penance for the "sins" of her life. If she were allowed to believe herself alive, she might develop her psychic abilities, escape her confinement, and reveal his mistake.

In a way, she was dead. He had erased her previous life.

You worry too much over her, the Darkness chided. Better to just wipe her useless little mind and fill it with whatever you desire. I could do that for you.

Victor had not expected to hear from the Darkness, and from its tone, Victor could guess that its plans had gone awry somewhere yet again.

The Darkness could indeed do more with Lydia than he could, but he did not want its help. He wanted to avoid the taint at all costs.

Your worry is unfounded, anyway. Presence does not work for the living.

Victor noted how that had become a mantra now. Who was it trying to convince, him or itself?

Charles shuddered as his cock throbbed. One corner of Victor's mouth rose. Charles was never as good at self control as Victor.

Lydia devoured his cum. His demon seed felt hot as it slid down her throat and added to the great burden of her wickedness. She licked his cock clean, though in her mind it never flagged, always stiff and ready as it would be for any proper demon. She was grateful for the pat on the head he gave her as he stood.

She lowered her shoulders to the floor, letting Victor impale her with his great demon cock. A lustful sigh passed her lips as powerful talons gripped her hips and slammed her against him with each thrust. She issued a grunt with each strike against his rock-hard body, a sensation akin to being spanked at the same time she was being fucked.

Her cunt clenched around his engorged member and let go, a shrill cry loosed from her mouth and rising to a banshee wail. She loved orgasms like this, the kind that washed over her mind and stopped her from reflecting on her sinful deeds.

Her climax left her weak and trembling. He withdrew and lay her down to the floor. She curled up and moaned as her pussy still throbbed, as it would for another good hour or so. Or so she guessed, as she had little sense for the flow of time anymore.

Victor dressed, remaining quiet. Charles joined him as he left the room and closed the door behind them. He turned to Victor. "Well?"

A small sigh passed through Victor's nose. "She is fine. Do you object to keeping her for another year?"

"I see no reason why not. I am not going anywhere."

"I just wanted to reaffirm your commitment. You have had her for so long. It would be within your rights to request--"

Charles held up a hand. "Be realistic, Victor. There is no one else you would trust."

Victor nodded. "Yes, you are correct."

"I do admit, there is some attraction to having someone like her around. To couple both sexual lust and religious guilt to trap her, then to turn her own psychic energies into herself to fuel it, is both brilliant and nothing short of highly erotic when you consider--"

"Stop it. Now."

Charles fell silent.

"What I did was for expediency and nothing else. I will never do this again because I will never let myself make the same mistake again."

He peered at the door. Lydia's psychic link was powered by sex. In the act of trying to condition her, Victor had awakened it. His only recourse was to turn it back on itself, to use it to power her own imprisonment. It was the likely explanation for her aberrations at Halloween. She yearned to link to the power that the thinning of the veil provided, but could not reach it.

Victor turned back to Charles, his face hard. "I believe I have worn out my welcome. I will see you Halloween night."

"Of course," said Charles to Victor's receding back.

The connection that Cassie made with Heather had helped ease some of her fears but would not vanquish them. As the sights, sounds, and smells of intense sex rose around her, she felt overwhelmed. Heather nudged Cassie's hand away and eased Cassie onto her back. As soon as Cassie was no longer touching herself, she whimpered and trembled with need and knew she could no longer resist.

Cassie drew in a ragged gasp as Heather spread her legs, then let it out as a deep, lustful sigh as Heather's tongue slid over her aching flesh. She panted hard as Heather's tongue dove past her folds and rolled about her entrance, then lashed at her clit until she squirmed with mad, urgent desire.

She rose, fell, rose again, growing more desperate for relief each time. From the strained moans and shrill cries around her, everyone was being held back from final orgasm.

Cassie had no concept of time. She turned her head and was astonished to see Ned's naked body not three feet from her, humped by a frantic Melinda. She glimpsed Richie behind Heather, slamming into her from behind.

Heather lifted her face from between Cassie's legs. Cassie whimpered, her pussy still swollen and unsatisfied. Jealousy touched her for just a few seconds as Heather turned over on her back so Richie could couple with Heather face to face. Cassie overheard a whispered "thank you" from Heather as Richie descended.

A shadow passed over her, and Jason loomed.

For a second, the painful memory of the Rite tried to sound a call to panic in Cassie's mind. She pressed her hands to his shoulders as he descended, the muscles on her arms twitching with indecision. Her gaze was drawn between their bodies. His cock pulsed thick and damp, pointed at her wet pussy, hovering and bobbing with his trembling body.

She already sensed what he wanted to say. She knew as they all did. They had to do it this way. They could not confine themselves to their normal partners.

Cassie's hands fell away. She tilted her head back and uttered a low, shrill moan as Jason's cock slid into her. Suddenly it was all right. Her fears melted away as her pussy rose in response to his thrusts.

Ned moved across her vision and disappeared behind Jason. Heather's moans became muffled, overlaid with Ned's pleasured noises. Heather must have his cock in her mouth, even as Richie still fucked her. More muffled, wet moans rose from Diane and Melinda as they sixty-nined.

Questions floated like driftwood in the torrent of emotion in her head. Was Ned really enjoying this? Would he want to do this again? Would either of them regret it when it was over? Could she ever look at the others the same way again? Could she forget what she had almost done to Richie if she had to do it with him?

The sexual tide roared over her, and her musings vanished under the waves. Her emotions became liquid, flowing and mixing with those of the others, as if she were in their dreams even then. Jason eased off. Diane came to her instead, and she was again lost in paroxysms of sexual bliss as Diane's skilled tongue plied her folds.

Jason straddled Cassie's head. All hesitation was gone. She accepted his cock as soon as the swollen head touched her lips. She thought nothing of the taste of her own pussy still clinging to the shaft.

Heather was indeed holding everyone back from orgasm, but it did not feel like it was her own doing. As overwhelmed as her emotions were, she trusted everything to whatever force was guiding her, hoping she was not being played for the fool.

She never received any sort of conscious signal. She simply arranged herself to create the final chain, and the others followed. It had to be a chain, with a start and a finish, and unbroken along its length. No weak links. No one could waver.

Somehow it worked out. Richie kept fucking her. Diane straddled Heather's head and dropped her pussy to Heather's face. Diane licked Cassie's pussy. Cassie sucked Jason's cock. Jason buried his face between Melinda's legs. Melinda sucked Ned's cock as if starved.

Everyone was on the edge. Bodies trembled and quivered for relief. Heather felt their minds opening up like flower blossoms. Their emotions and vague snippets of thought rushed through her, zipping by her consciousness so fast that they were only ill-defined blurs.

Heather let go, and everyone with her as well.

A single, rolling orgasm flowed from one end of the chain to the other, like a single large wave that washed over all of them in turn. The wave crested and broke, crashing against one another and washing up around Heather. Her pussy gushed until both her thighs and Richie's were dripping. The torrent of sexual pleasure gathered under her, propelling her up in her mind's eye like a geyser, her surroundings shimmering as if viewed through curtains of water.

The others faded away from her in a physical sense but the mental link to them was as steel. She spun upwards through a blue-white rippling eternity until color and substance slammed into existence from the void.

Suddenly, she was standing inside a room.

Weathered hardwood floorboards creaked under her bare feet. An overstuffed chair, small throw-rug, and hassock gathered in one corner near a door. An ornate table of solid oak stretched before a wide sofa opposite the large stone hearth of a fireplace. A century-old clock ticked away the seconds in sedate precession above the mantel, next to the oval-framed portrait of a raven-haired beauty with penetrating violet eyes.

Heather gasped and stumbled back a step, heart thumping. She was standing inside the House at the end of the street.

"Hello, Heather."

Heather spun around, and her breath caught in her throat as the vision from the picture stood before her at the foot of the stairs.

Heather stepped forward and nearly fell to her knees as she croaked, "Mara ..."

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