"Oh yeah," Brad moaned. "Oh man ..."

Brad sat on the edge of his bed, his legs spread apart and stretched nearly straight. He leaned back, propping himself up with his arms, fingers splayed and curling into the blanket. Gina knelt between his legs, her head bobbing, her lips clamped around his cock.

"Fuck, yeah ... damn, that's good ..."

Gina's thighs quaked, her pussy hot, wet, and helpless. She dared not touch it. It was only for him to do as he wished. Every stroke of his cock against her tongue, every whiff of the musky aroma from his thatch of pubic hair gathered more steamy heat in her sex.

She slowed her pace, but drew him in deeper. She slid her mouth down his cock to nearly his balls, then eased off with her head tilted back until he popped loose from between her lips. She thrust out her tongue and teased the spot just behind the head.

Brad let out another deep, guttural moan. "P-play with your tits," he breathed. "I wanna see that."

Gina lifted her hands to her breasts. She panted through her nose as her fingers fondled and squeezed the soft flesh, nipples hard and tingling. She flicked them with the sides of her fingers and uttered tiny gasps at the little bolts of pleasure that shot through her body.

Heather had never done it like this for him. She had never knelt before him, and he never got her to play with her boobs, either. He was hoping Gina would go steady with him. To get sex like this just by asking was too good to pass up. He had no idea why he had ignored Gina for so long.

Gina drew back and let him again emerge from her mouth. She turned and tilted her head, sliding the flat of her tongue down the underside of his shaft, then wriggled her tongue as she drew it back up.

"Jesus ..." Brad groaned.

Gina was ecstatic that he was pleased.

She considered herself fortunate to have done this with him before. She would never forget the taste of his cum. The more she recalled it, the more her pussy dripped and ached. It became as much a burning need as the unsatisfied heat in her sex.

Yet she could not rush it just for her own needs. That would not be right. Slow and steady. Giving him pleasure was the priority. She offered and he took.

"Yeah, that's it," Brad moaned. "Squeeze your tits like that. Now start sucking me again, harder this time."

Gina wrapped her lips around him and pistoned her head against his cock, falling into a steady, smooth, and quickening rhythm. His breath became heavy, and his balls rose towards his body. His hand landed behind her head and pushed her harder onto his cock, shoving his length well past her eager lips. She let him set the pace, offering no resistance.

She wanted his cum. She needed to taste him in her mouth again. It would be a wonderful sensation, exactly like last time.

Brad's balls tugged upwards once more and his thighs clenched. In his mind, he exulted that she was going to take it in her mouth and swallow it all. His thoughts dissolved in his next breath as his cock erupted in Gina's mouth, throbbing hard and spewing his seed against her tongue and the insides of her cheeks. He clenched his teeth as his orgasm endured past when the well had run dry.

Gina let out a deep breath through her nose as he came, sending the strong, wonderful aroma of his hot cum through it. She drew her next breath as a very small but sharp intake of surprise.

It was not the same taste. It was still delicious, and she milked his cock with her tongue and fingers to suck every drop from him, but it was still not the same. The difference was subtle, so it could be just in her head ...

No, it wasn't. The taste difference was real.

"O-okay," Brad said in a shaky voice as he pushed her away.

Gina obliged and drew back, keeping her lips firm around his shaft, closing her mouth as his cock left her. She swallowed and leaned forward to lick him clean. Brad felt one last abortive throb and allowed himself a small, smug smile as Gina cleaned his flagging cock with her tongue.

"Wow," he said.

Gina paused to inspect him to make sure she had left nothing. She swallowed once more and looked up at him. "Have I pleased you?"

"Oh, man, yeah. Wow. How'd you learn how to do that so fucking great?"

Gina hesitated. How should she answer? She was not sure herself. If it was not Brad that had been her first, then ...

... then it must have been Victor.

It had to have been Victor.

Did it matter? It shouldn't. It only mattered that she had done what Brad wanted of her.

Brad grinned. "Never mind, I shouldn't ask you about former boyfriends." He gestured, and Gina stood up. He eyed her pussy, his grin widening. "Got you all horny again, huh?"

Gina swallowed and nodded, her eyes shimmering with desire. She gasped as one of his hands touched the inside of her thigh, a deep sigh passing her lips as it slid to her sex, his fingers squishing against her wet flesh.

"Yeah, you really are," Brad said. "Damn. Never had a girl get this wet twice in a row. I mean in the same session."

Gina was too overcome with need to respond. Her hips trembled with the urge to thrust against his hand. A fingertip teased her clit with tiny, quick strokes. She panted, her eyes half-lidded as pleasure engulfed her. She went limp and leaned into him, letting him control her pussy.

Oh, man, Brad thought. She's so fucking easy.

Brad withdrew his hand and stood up. Gina pleaded with her eyes.

"Get in bed," Brad said. "I want a taste of that sweet little cunt of yours."

Jason thumped his fist on the desk as he waited for a webpage to load on Richie's ancient computer. He was going to do this on his own PC, but he had nothing else to do while he waited for Richie to return. Heather had no desire to return home and felt in no condition to walk all the way back, but they had only one bicycle between the three of them. Richie rode with Jason to let him in the house, then took his own bike to fetch Heather while Jason cleaned himself up.

Jason was further hampered by the lack of his normal hacking tools. However, after some false starts, he had managed to recall the SQL injection attack required to get into the motor vehicles computer system. A quick search (or as quick as it could be on Richie's computer) turned up the owner of the license plate number that Cassie had given him: Charles Remmer, with an address in Mesa View Estates. In fact, the address was not more than a ten minute walk from the meeting house.

He heard the garage door go up and tensed until he heard the voices of Richie and Heather. He bolted from the chair and out of the room.

"But how do you know?" Heather demanded.

"Look, I don't fucking see the future, that's your shit," Richie snapped. "But it doesn't take someone like the nerd wonder--" He looked up and smirked at Jason after spotting him at the top of the stairs "--to figure it out."

"What are you two arguing about?" Jason asked.

"Richie thinks this is just to mess with us," Heather said. "That Victor wants us to stop trying to free Gina."

"And you don't agree?"

"My point is that we don't know!" Heather cried. "Maybe he thinks he missed getting me because Ms. Hollis screwed up, and now he's trying to take Melinda!"

"That doesn't fit with what I found out about Mann," Jason said as he walked down the stairs. "His victims are exclusively sixteen year old girls. Melinda's only fourteen."

"What if he changed his mind this time because we screwed up his plans?"

Jason did not reply. He did not want to consider that as even a remote possibility.

"C'mon, my idea makes more sense," Richie said. "He finds out that Cassie's been fucking with Gina, and he gets back at us like this."

"But you can't know that."

"Then you make with the freaking visions again and find out!" Richie shouted, turning away.

A red-faced Heather was about to retort when Jason cut her off. "Heather, I think Richie had a point that Melinda is not one of his normal victims. But I don't think he knows about what Cassie's doing yet, either."

Richie turned around. "How you figure that?"

"Considering his powers, it would be easier for him to let Cassie into Gina's head and then attack her there. We already know Cassie's vulnerable that way. Look at how Melissa blocked her from seeing that vital clue about the Book after Cassie got into her head."

"Then he must be planning to take Melinda!" Heather cried.

"No, there's another possibility. He wants the Book."

"He's wanted the fucking Book since this started," Richie said.

"Yeah, and he's failed to get it, so now he's going to ransom Melinda for it," said Jason.

"Shit," Heather said in a small voice. She covered her eyes with her hand and turned away, trembling as she fought back tears.

"Then why didn't he just force you to give it to him?" Richie demanded.

"We've been over this," Jason said in a tired voice. "There's something about how this Book works that requires me to give it to him of my own free will. It's probably because I created a link to it with the pendant Mrs. Radson gave me. I found out later that I had said something to Diane when she took the fake Book from me."

"What the fuck do you mean you found out later? You don't remember your own freaking words?"

Jason slapped his hands against his thighs and failed to suppress a sigh, which hissed through his clenched teeth. "The Book has some sort of rudimentary intelligence. It sort of made me say something to Diane."

"Sort of made you say something?" Heather said.

"Look, I don't know how to explain it, and don't ask me to figure it out now!" Jason exploded. "All I know is that I said that Mann couldn't do what he wanted with the Book without the link. And lately the Book has been, well, talking to me."

Richie and Heather exchanged a look.

"I'm not crazy, and it's not mind control!" Jason shouted. He caught their shocked faces and forced himself to lower his voice, though not his agitation. "The Book just wants me to use it. It keeps telling me how I can use its spells to destroy the entity at the node."

"Wait a minute!" Richie cried, stepping up to Jason. "Wait just a fucking minute! We can use that thing to destroy the Darkness? As in get rid of that cocksucker for good?"

"No," Jason said through clenched teeth. "We are not going there."

"Why the fucking hell not?!"

"Because some of the things we have to do to accomplish those spells are almost as bad as the Rite of Power!"

"Who cares?!" Richie bellowed. "The Darkness has fucked with plenty of people to get what it wants! What's the big deal if we fuck with a few people to get rid of it?!"

"How the hell can you say that after what just happened to Melinda?"

"How the hell can you not say it after what just happened to Melinda?!"

"YOU'RE NOT HELPING!" Heather screamed. "Never mind about this shit, all right?! Just focus on Melinda!"

Jason and Richie stared at each other for a long moment. Finally Jason took a deep breath. "Sorry," he said, a lingering edge to his voice despite the more contrite tone.

Richie let out a breath through his nose like a bull snorting. He relented and muttered a curse. "Yeah, fine. Forget it."

"We're going to use the Book," Jason said. "But not against the Darkness, not now. Let's just keep it out of Mann's hands. We can figure out about the other spells later."

"If we can keep it from him," Heather said.

"We don't have a choice. We can't let him give that Book to the Darkness, not with the kind of power that would give it."

"And what if you're right and that's why they took Melinda? How do we get her back without giving him the Book? We don't even know where she's been taken."

"Actually, I think we do," Jason said, sounding a little less despondent. "I already traced the license plate number on Richie's computer, as much of a clunker as it is."

Richie shrugged. "So long as I can still fetch porn with it, I'm happy."

"Yeah, that figures," Heather muttered, folding her arms and falling into the sofa.

"Anyway, I traced it to someone in Mesa View Estates close to the meeting house," said Jason.

"You got the exact address?!" Richie said. "Let's go over there and fuck this guy over!"

"Richie, would you just stop and think for two seconds?" Jason snapped. "Mann's people are not stupid. They'll be more of them guarding Melinda, and someone that lives in Mesa View Estates is not about to be without some sort of security system. We held out against his people as long as we did only because they didn't expect physical violence."

"Yeah, I'll give them all the fucking violence they want," Richie grunted. "I did pretty good against them at first."

"Yeah, you did," Jason said. "I'm dead serious, you really did. You were the right person to help protect Melinda."

"But I let the fuckers take her."

"You hurt them. I saw what you did to that woman."

Heather shivered as she remembered the sight of the woman's bloodied face, though she cast an admiring glance at Richie.

"I got the guy that was on the ground holdin' his nuts, too," Richie said with a smirk. "Guess how that happened."

Jason stepped forward and clapped Richie on the shoulder. Heather approached and squeezed his other arm, the corners of her mouth twitching upward. "Thanks, Richie," she said.

Richie rolled his eyes, but fought the urge to grin himself.

Melinda paid little attention to the world outside of the spacious back seat of the limo. She was too warm and cozy to worry about anything, seated between two women who whispered words of encouragement to her. She could not have wished for any place more safe and secure. Her worry and panic were no more than flickers of muddled memories.

The women placed their hands against her arms, her shoulders, her hair. Their touch made her smile, sending waves of sweet contentment through her mind. She could sit in that seat for hours if needed, all snug and warm. She should thank them for their kindness, but she had no urge to speak. It just didn't seem appropriate.

Now the women began to whisper other words into her ears. Their hands descended. One alighted on a thigh. Another brushed by the side of her breast. The warmth flowed again and gathered in her sex. Pleasure rippled through her body as a small, slow sigh escaped from between her lips. It felt nice. It felt natural.

"What are you doing?" Charles demanded from the front seat.

Kelly looked up. "Preparing her, Prophet."

"We are arriving at the mansion only now."

"The Glorious One wishes her prepared and taken in the traditional manner."

Charles frowned. "She is not to be taken unless it is commanded!"

"It will come. He will desire someone as pretty and as clever as she in his ranks."

Charles sighed as what he had feared came to pass before his eyes. The cult had more volition than Victor gave them credit. He had to rely on their fealty to prevent them from going too far, that they would not move too fast without Victor's order. "Until then, be mindful of what you do."

"Of course."

Melinda felt her legs nudged apart. She let them. She had nothing to fear. Her zipper was pulled down. Her shirt was lifted. Pleasure tingled through her as gentle fingers pressed into the crotch of her panties and squeezed her breasts through her bra. She moaned and yearned for them to touch her bare flesh.

The two women smiled as they sensed Melinda's reaction. "She will be quite ready for the others," said Kelly.

"Oh, definitely," said Lynn with a small giggle. "How old is she, anyway?"

"Fourteen," Charles declared. "Be mindful of that as well."

"If she is for us, her age matters not," Kelly said.

"She's kind of cute, anyway," said Lynn. "May I have her lick my pussy when we get to the mansion?"

"You most certainly may not," Charles grunted.

"That is up to the cult," said Kelly. "And The Glorious One," she added when Charles turned to glare at her.

"Vic ... The Glorious One has put me in charge of this operation, please kindly remember that. What's important is that she be kept sequestered."

"Prophet, she must be broken down."

Melinda squirmed as Lynn slipped her fingers under Melinda's panties. "That's it, Melinda. Be nice and wet for us. Just like you want to be."

"She does not appear to be offering any resistance," Charles said in a flat voice.

"For now," said Kelly. "She has not yet faced the others. We must lift our reality from her when we do."

Charles sighed. It would have been simpler to keep the girl in this state, but Victor wanted to make a point. The simple act of subsuming her will to theirs would be insufficient. But no intercourse, not unless Victor ordered it.

Yet, still, something about Victor's plans smacked of cruelty to Charles.

The mansion should have been a welcome sight, but it loomed over him like a brooding monolith as the driver brought them around to the servants' entrance. When the limo pulled over and stopped, Charles had to force himself out to avoid hesitation.

The two women climbed out of the car, Melinda between them, her clothing restored. Her breath remained a soft pant, her nipples two visible bumps on the swell of her breasts against her shirt. Her hips swayed, her eyes half-lidded as soft pleasure throbbed in her pussy.

"Take her to her room immediately," Charles ordered. "Do not let the rest of the staff touch her until I have had a chance to talk to them."

The two women nodded and headed inside, Melinda trotting between them like an obedient child following her parents.

Charles watched them go before withdrawing his cell phone and hitting the speed dial. "Victor? This is Charles, we--"

"Idiots."

Charles paused. "You heard?"

"A broken nose," said Victor. "A cracked rib. A ruptured testicle."

Charles winced.

"Not once since Stephanie Fowler has violence been committed in the course of my work. Not. A. Single. Time."

"Victor, it--"

"Do you really wish to bring back the mistakes of the past? Do you wish to repeat them?

"With all due respect, Victor, you are not being very fair!" Charles cried.

The silence was stony and unnerving.

"We did not perpetrate the violence," said Charles, holding his voice steady with some effort. "It was that Richard Gardner. He caught them flat-footed."

"And why is that, Charles?" Victor demanded. "Why would people that can sense and alter thoughts be flat-footed by simple hooligan tactics?"

"I have no more information for you. I have no excuses. I can only tell you what happened."

"What happened was a debacle. I should be astonished that the entire neighborhood was not alerted."

Charles frowned. "It was not the preparations that were at fault. I oversaw them myself. All the residents were properly molded. The one person that proved difficult was sent away on an extended errand by the relatives that we could control."

"Difficult? Explain."

Charles sighed. "Victor, you know we sometimes get the odd person that is harder to affect with your power, whether through latent psychic abilities or connections to the supernatural. It was dealt with as we always--"

"Enough," Victor said.

Charles paused to collect himself so he would not sound flustered when he spoke again. "The point is, we have the girl safely at my mansion. She's being taken to her room now."

Victor was silent.

"We did what you wanted."

Again, no response.

Charles gripped the phone tighter. "It was uncanny, Victor. It was as if they knew we were coming for them. Others of her peers showed up at the end just as we were about to leave. There is no way they could have responded that fast unless they were already on their way. The fact that Melinda already had the boy protecting her when--"

"Who showed up?" Victor snapped.

"I don't know all their names. One had glasses and dark hair."

"Jason Conner. Go on."

"A redheaded girl."

"Heather Sovert. And?"

Charles paused. "A girl with curly brown hair in a limo."

A sigh at the other end. "Cassandra Kendall."

Charles' mouth dropped open. "Dear God, not the Kendalls?!"

"She is of no concern. But if her driver--"

"No. We took care of him before we left. He perceived only a quiet, empty street and a few teenagers at play. He was not very strong-willed, so it was relatively easy."

"At least that went right."

"What do you want us to do now, Victor?" Charles said. "The cult wishes to prepare and take her. I need to confirm that you wish only the preparation."

Victor remained silent through an anxious march of seconds. "She needs to be made an example."

"But we don't take her yet, correct?"

Another pause. "For now."

Charles wanted to feel relief, but it would not come to him.

"Any resistance must be broken, that much is sure," said Victor.

"She has not shown any since we brought her here."

"She will. If they did know about this ahead of time, then they will be prepared to assist her in some way."

"But how can--?"

"They are linked. Melinda, her sister, and the others of their circle of friends."

"A psychic link? Like the one you thought Lydia was doing with Gina?"

"It is similar, yes."

Charles forced his voice to remain calm. "Why didn't you tell me any of this?"

"I did not think it would be of consequence. They were not strong enough. But if one of them has had visions powerful enough to alert them of my plans, then we must assume that this was achieved via their shared power, and that they may channel it into Melinda."

Every one of Victor's answers poised a half dozen new questions for Charles. In a small way he felt betrayed, or at least as much as he was willing to allow himself.

"Let the cult start on her," Victor said. "The sooner her friends know what I am willing to do to her, the more likely they will give me what I want. I will contact one of them later once we have made headway with her. Good day."

The call was ended before Charles could say another word.

Heather felt foolish. Only a few days ago, she had chastised Melinda about a lack of maturity. Now, when that maturity was needed, all Heather could manage was hysteria and a plea for someone else to fix the problem.

"Jason, will you need to go back home to get the Book?" Heather asked in a steadier voice.

"Yes, but things aren't that great at home at the moment," Jason said.

"Your parents don't know about the Book, do they?"

"No, and I want to keep it that way. Both of them are home, so I'm not sure I could get out of the house without one of them seeing it."

"Your bedroom faces the street, don't it?" Richie asked.

"Well, yes, but why?" asked Jason.

"Just toss it out the window and I'll catch it."

"That Book is heavy, Richie," said Heather. "You might drop it."

Richie snorted. "So? It's fucking indestructible."

"It can land on your head or your foot," Jason said.

Richie rolled his eyes. "Uh, hello? Baseball player here! I play shortstop and second base. I sometimes get the ball right off the crack of the bat. I don't get outs by dropping the fucking ball no matter how goddamn fast it comes at me."

"All right, we'll try it," Jason said. "I don't have any other ideas. We'll just have to hope my Dad is not working in the garage. Let's go."

The phone rang just as they reached the door.

"Aw, fuck it," Richie grumbled as he headed towards the kitchen.

"Can't you let that go?" Heather said in annoyance.

"Not if it's my mother, I don't want her getting on my freaking case." Richie yanked the phone from the hook. "Yeah, what?" He paused, looking surprised. "Oh, okay, yeah, sure." He poked his head through the doorway. "Jason, for you!"

Jason frowned. "Who would be calling me here?"

"Ned the Nose, that's who."

Jason stepped into the kitchen and took the phone from Richie. "Uh, hi. What's up, Ned?"

"Get yer butt and yer Book down here, ol' hoss," drawled Ned. "Like, now."

"Are you already there?" Jason asked.

"Yep. An' I got our li'l willin' slave here all primed and ready ta go."

Despite his knowledge of Ned's actions with Diane, a look of mild shock crossed his face. Richie narrowed his eyes. "You mean Diane, right?" Jason said in a resigned voice.

"Ayep."

"Did you at least ask her first if she--"

"Nah. I told her. She's our slave. She does what we tell her."

"So you enslaved her without--"

"Huh?" Richie said, his eyebrows rising.

"Yer splittin' hairs, dude," Ned said. "Kinda moot now, ya know?"

Jason glanced at the others. Richie frowned in confusion. Heather looked on with false equanimity. "What about Cassie?"

"I already had a li'l talk with her about it," Ned said. "So she's cool with it."

Jason doubted that. She was being made to be "cool with it," but he didn't want to be accused of "splitting hairs" again. "Cassie is at some luncheon with her parents right now. We'll have to wait until she gets there."

"I'll betcha we can get started 'fore that."

Now Jason could feel his thoughts sliding in line with Ned's perceptions. Diane was a slave anyway, so they should use her as they saw fit. He was too tired to fight it. He had hoped to talk to Mrs. Radson first so she could remind them to free Diane when it was over, but he never had the chance. It was too late now. "I'm going to get the Book now, then we'll be over."

"I'll make sure she stays nice and wet fer ya," Ned said.

Jason was unsure what disturbed him more, the relish in Ned's voice or the stirring of his own cock. "See you later," Jason said before hanging up the phone. He turned to the others. "Ned's already at the house with Diane."

"So we're gonna use her for the spell?" Richie asked.

"Yes. We have to treat her as our ... as if she were our slave," Jason said.

"She is our slave, Jason," Heather said. "That's what she's supposed to be."

Richie stared at her. "Okay, wait. She's gonna be my slave, too?"

"She already is. I don't know why that's so hard to understand."

"Guess I musta missed the memo. But she'll do whatever we want?"

"Yes."

"So she turned in her lezzie card? I can fuck her, too?"

"Of course!"

Richie grinned. "Cool. I'm in."

"What, that's it?" Jason said.

"Yeah, that's it," said Richie. "If this is gonna happen, it's gonna be because I said so in my own head, not because the School Tool says so. My own terms, man."

Jason could not argue with that logic at all. He simply nodded without another word.

"Then let's go, please," Heather said. "Can I ride with one of you? I don't want to go back home to fetch my bike."

"You can ride with me," Jason said.

They headed towards the door. Heather stopped short and brought them to a halt. Richie was about to complain when he turned his head as if he had heard a distant sound. Jason's eyes shimmered, and his stomach churned.

"I-It's starting," Heather said in a shaky voice. "Whatever they're going to do to Melinda, it's started."

The two women held Melinda's hands as they led her through the mansion. Servants paused in their tasks and lined the corridors to see her. Their faces beamed with eager anticipation and undisguised lust. They knew that a potential new slave had been delivered to them. It had been too long since they had one of their own to play with.

If her youth had any effect on them, none of them showed it. Her age was irrelevant if the Glorious One had decided this was their prey.

Melinda's gaze slid over their faces, seeing them but not yet perceiving them. She gripped the hands holding hers, enjoying the soft pleasure that radiated from the touch. Her pussy felt so wonderfully warm and damp, her nipples all tingly, and her mind at ease.

She was taken into a spacious bedroom, with a large bed framed by four brass posts and topped with a canopy. Her feet sank into the plush carpeting. The women let go of her hands, and she glanced up at them in mild disappointment.

"You need to be more comfortable," said Kelly. "You don't feel at all right in those clothes."

"Nudity is so much more natural," said Lynn with a tiny, lascivious smile.

Yes, it made perfect sense to Melinda. She stripped off her clothing, feeling more relaxed and normal with each piece shed. As more skin was bared, her benefactors' fingers followed, sliding down her sides, her back, her legs, around her hips and her rear. She shivered as her panties dropped to her ankles. She stepped out of them, and the soothing comfort of her nudity swaddled her like a warm, thick blanket.

"It is too bad we will have to release her when the brethren are cleared to prepare her," said Kelly.

"Can we play with her until they arrive?" asked Lynn. "Please?"

Kelly shook her head. "No, we should not disobey. The Glorious One will be most displeased with the trouble we had capturing her. We must not compound the error."

Melinda appeared not to notice their conversation. She simply stood, enjoying her repose, her wetness, and wishing for more.

"It's been too long," Lynn said.

"I know."

"We do his good works. We obey. Why should we not be rewarded more often?"

"Hush. Do not go there."

"But others have!"

"They should know better," said Kelly. She issued a slow, breathy sigh. "I get the urges as well. But we have a holy purpose. To go against that..." She let her words hang.

"I know. I'm sorry. It's just after what happened to Sarah, I mean, all that blood!"

Kelly's eyes narrowed. "I know. I wish retribution as well, but we cannot act until given sanction."

The door behind them opened, and the women turned.

Six people in long red robes and hoods stood in a rough line. The one in the front stepped forward, his hands folded before him, holding several coils of rope. His voice was low and sepulchral when he spoke. "We have been given leave. We may prepare her."

A wicked smile twisted across Lynn's lips. Her companion nodded once and said, "We will lift our reality from her. Shall we leave her horny?"

"Yes. Do not relent in that regard. We will join."

She nodded once more, and she and Lynn stepped to the side.

Melinda's lips parted as she watched the cultists. Whatever flicker of understanding had gone through her mind, it was not enough to prompt escape. She watched as they surrounded her, their robes swishing around their bare feet. Two took her arms and pulled her towards the bed.

Her feet moved with them at first, then stumbled and dragged. Her soft, pleasured panting grew heavy and fearful. Her eyes widened and her muscles tensed. Several more cultists reached for her. She opened her mouth, but only a ragged moan emerged when many hands teased her breasts, caressed her thighs and her ass, and fingered her pussy all at once.

Lynn stepped over to the dimmer switch near the door and lowered the lights as Melinda was brought to the bed. Melinda gasped and resisted. "N-no, wait, stop ... s-stop!"

Melinda yelped as she was lifted off her feet and placed on the bed. She squirmed and fought, but hands pinned down her legs and her arms, tugging them into a wide "X" against her straining muscles.

"Let me go!" Melinda cried. "Let ... unnnggh!"

Lust crashed over her, her pussy glistening and oozing. Her back arched, and her hips rose as if to meet an invisible lover. Her nipples were so hard they ached.

Melinda whimpered as she felt something wrapped around one of her wrists. She tried to pull her arm free, but her body became immersed in hot, liquid desire, drowning out her thoughts. Her wrists were secured and her arms drawn taut. By the time she could perceive what was happening to her, more ropes were wrapped about her ankles.

Melinda gathered her wits and thrashed, yanking one ankle out of the rope before it could be secured. Suddenly, she needed to cum, as vital as taking her next breath. She panted hard and shallow as if she were suffocating.

"Remain still and you will cum," said Kelly.

Melinda quieted herself, and her pussy throbbed in reward. Her need eased. The ropes were tied about her ankles and her legs drawn taut. She whimpered as her orgasm faded and the cultists stepped back.

Melinda's head snapped to one side and then the other. The cultists stood three to each side, as still and silent as statues. The light dimmed further, and they became little more than shadows. Her heart hammered so hard that she thought it would burst.

Any of them could do what they wished with her, regardless of whether her mind was under their control. That scared her far more than just taking her mind.

She squirmed, the ropes tight and unyielding. Her pussy was still hot and aching for more. No one moved towards her. No one would touch her. The unquenched slow burn in her sex began to feel worse than any violation of her body that she could conceive.

Cassie stepped across the ballroom floor as if walking on eggshells, reminding herself to hold her head up and not dart her eyes about quite as much. She had already received one dark look and a single shake of the head from her mother, the all-too-familiar sign that she had failed to carry herself with the proper poise expected of a Kendall daughter. Her steps were unsteady atop her heels despite having grown used to wearing such things since she was twelve.

Some people drifted her way. She recognized a crook-nosed man as a very important client of her father's. Then again, she was told to consider everyone that did business with the Kendalls as "a very important client." Clasped to his arm as if afraid he would drift away was a shrewish woman that Cassie assumed was his wife.

They looked towards her. Cassie smiled as best as she could and curtsied, carefully picking up her gleaming white, sparkling dress so not a single thread brushed the floor, and no more than six inches of leg showed above her shoes. They nodded as if one beast with two heads and continued onward.

Cassie let her gaze follow them before she remembered she was not supposed to do that. She snapped her eyes forward and caught sight of a dreaded figure at the edge of her vision. She turned her gaze towards a hawk-faced woman with jet black hair and penetrating steel gray eyes standing by one of the decorative columns, as still as a statue herself.

Cassie swallowed. The woman stared at her for another few seconds, then turned and headed away.

Cassie let out her breath as a ragged sigh. She hoped this would be over soon. With her newfound powers of empathy, the atmosphere was more oppressive and alien to her than ever. It was not the guests' feelings that disturbed her so much as how obviously phony their outward appearance was to her now. She had always assumed that they tended to wear an emotional mask, but now their true emotions lay stark and bare before her senses.

It did not help that the emotions coming over the link were distracting her.

Cassie avoided entering Melinda's mind. She almost had to ignore Melinda, the beleaguered girl's mind a black hole that would suck Cassie in if she ventured towards it. Cassie managed to keep her distance by sheer force of will until the cult began to prepare Melinda.

First came fear. She sorted Melinda's emotion from her own, yet Melinda's situation was similar enough to Cassie's -- in the presence of people that were both unfathomable and intimidating -- that it was impossible not to share in the feeling. When another guest started towards her, she pretended she didn't see him and trotted away.

Then came intense arousal. With her mind opened by the fear, it rushed in like a dam bursting. She stumbled, recovered, and felt her pussy grow warm and damp.

Oh goodness, not here, not now, she begged.

She was accosted by another couple. She could not curtsy and get away this time. They forced her to engage in idle conversation. Cassie stumbled her way through it, her hesitations and stuttering raising an eyebrow at least once. When they finally left, she fumbled the departing curtsy, her pussy throbbing with the movement of her thighs. She straightened up and let out a quaking sigh, her hand held against her breast above her pounding heart until her faint orgasm abated.

"Cassandra."

Cassie spun around. The hawk-faced woman peered down at her. Cassie swallowed.

"Come with me," said Dorothy Kendall, turning on her heel.

"Yes, mother," Cassie whispered.

Cassie trudged after her mother until they reached the parlor. Dorothy pointed inside and waited for her daughter to enter before closing the door behind them.

Dorothy folded her arms. "First of all, I need to mention that I find your demeanor at this function to be totally unacceptable. Actually, the word reprehensible comes to mind."

Cassie cringed. "I'm sorry, mother."

"You should not need this lecture, Cassandra. You know the proper way to carry yourself. You are a Kendall. Act like it."

Cassie clenched her hands and let go a second later, quelling her anger before it could show in her eyes. She nodded once.

"That is not why I called you in here, however."

Cassie looked up.

"I want to know what manner of insane lark you believe you are planning for this Halloween party at school."

Cassie panicked. For a moment she believed that her mother had found out about everything that was wrong with Haven, and somehow it would be Cassie's fault.

"Or did you not think that Armando would have the good sense to call me to insure that I approve of your costume selection?"

Cassie blinked. "What?"

Dorothy wrinkled her nose. "You have been associating with people below your station for too long. How many times do I need to explain this to you, Cassandra? Every moment you are awake, you represent the Kendall name. Kendall is synonymous with refinement, poise, and above all else, good taste."

Cassie wanted to laugh out loud. Of all the things for which she could be admonished, and it was this? She had worried that Harry was going to complain to her parents about her tirade in the limo, but now she wondered if the mind-wipe that Victor's people had done had purged that incident from his memory as well.

"I'm sorry, mother," Cassie said again, this time in a brighter voice.

"I sincerely hope that Armando was mistaken. I do not want to believe that my daughter would request to be costumed in something so ... so vulgar."

Cassie kept silent. Her mother would not press her if she did not protest. That way, Dorothy could avoid dispelling the illusion of a daughter of perfect refinement. Especially when that daughter was standing before her with a pussy growing warmer and wetter each minute that passed.

"Thus I took the liberty of correcting him on what would be an appropriate costume. He assures me he can find a very lovely and well-crafted princess costume in time for the party." She uttered a sigh engineered to sound dramatic. "I daresay you will be the only one at that event that will not look utterly ludicrous and repulsive."

"Of course, mother," said Cassie in a neutral voice.

"Now, do you have anything to say on your behalf, or should I consider this sordid matter closed?"

"I have a question, mother. It's about Mr. Charles Remmer."

Dorothy blanched. "And what would he have anything remotely to do with this conversation?"

"He doesn't. But ... I heard the name earlier and wished to ask you about him."

Her mother narrowed her eyes. "Were you eavesdropping on important conversations, Cassandra?"

"Absolutely not!" Cassie declared. "I didn't hear it here, I ... a-anyway, I wanted to ask you about him."

"There is little I can say," said Dorothy.

Cassie felt rather than heard the disdain. "Father had dealings with him at some point in the past, isn't that correct?"

"Yes. And that is what it is: the past."

"Did something happen that--"

"Cassandra," Dorothy said. "Have you ever seen him at any function at this mansion for the past five years?"

"Not that I can recall, mother."

"That is your answer."

Cassie repressed a sigh and nodded. "Thank you, mother."

Dorothy frowned. "Just what is wrong with your voice, Cassandra?"

Cassie had not noticed until then that her voice had become breathless and husky. Her anxiety in her mother's presence had lowered her ability to shield out Melinda's emotions. Her pussy ached, and something trickled down the inside of one thigh and into her stockings. "N-nothing, mother."

"Now, you will handle yourself in a far more proper and fitting manner for the remainder of this luncheon. I do not wish to warn you again. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes, mother. May I use the bathroom first?"

Her mother sighed. "Very well."

Cassie left the parlor and tried not to run. By the time she reached the bathroom, she was ready to burst. She slammed the door shut and flicked the privacy lock tab on the doorknob. She lifted her dress, yanked down her panties, and rubbed her clit with wild, broad strokes. She bit her lip hard to stop her from moaning when she heard footsteps pass in the hallway, her breath a strained and heavy pant.

It would hold her for only a short while. Some of her need originated from the link, as if in summons to provide it more energy. Her thoughts drifted to Diane, and how wonderful it would be to have her here now on her knees licking Cassie's pussy.

"Unngh!" Cassie cried in a strangled groan as her pussy throbbed hard. Her back fell against the wall near the toilet, and she slid downward as her knees gave out.

Please let that be enough to get me through this luncheon! she pleaded in her head.

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