David Sovert peered over the edge of his glass. "Is everything okay, Heather?"

Heather sat at an awkward angle on her chair, her head propped up with one hand. The other hand fidgeted, sometimes pushing at an unused piece of cutlery, sometimes slowly drumming her fingers, sometimes spreading her fingers on the tabletop in a tacit admission of uncertainty.

She lifted her eyes and cast her morose gaze on her father. "Yeah, sure, of course they are."

"Is something wrong with dinner?"

Heather looked down, where more than half her dinner remained untouched, now a congealed, cold mess. "Just wasn't that hungry tonight, Dad, that's all."

Penny's gaze shifted between the two of them.

David smiled. "Miss Melinda already?"

Heather's head snapped up. "What?"

"I know you like to play at disliking your sister, Heather, but I think I know you a little better than that."

Heather snorted. Penny gave her a warning glance. Heather returned an icy glare. "Um, yeah, right, whatever, Dad."

"She'll be back tomorrow, I understand."

You don't understand a damn thing, Heather thought. She looked at her mother again. Penny's Aura had been surging since before dinner. When she had first noticed it, she had assumed it was just a projection of her own frustrations and growing enmity towards her mother. Now she was sure her initial assessment was wrong.

"I hope you're not too terribly disappointed," David said.

Heather gave him a cross look. "What are you talking about?"

"That you didn't get to go on the same camping trip."

"Oh, that," Heather said, her eyes sliding towards her mother. "Well, I'm sure another 'camping trip' is coming up soon for me, isn't it, Mom?"

Penny lay down her fork as if lowering a weapon. "I'm sure I know nothing about that, Heather," she said in a voice that even Heather could tell was one of forced calm.

Like hell you don't, Heather thought. She closed her eyes and opened her mind a crack to Melinda over the link. She suppressed a frustrated sigh. Every time she had checked, it was the same thing: a continuous stream of forced lust, arousal, and orgasm. A small shiver passed through her, and heat flashed in her pussy before she broke off.

"If you do, please be a dear and let me know," said David with a small, loving smile to his wife. He placed his hand on hers and squeezed. "I do like to know about these things ahead of time."

Heather wanted to gag. She felt sick at the thought that all his tenderness might be just more mind control. Melinda said she could sometimes see a faint Aura around him. Heather thought she could just barely discern it herself, but the more she stared at him, the more that maddening limitation of Aura viewing kicked in and obscured it.

Penny smiled. "I'll try. This came up sort of unexpectedly, and I really didn't want to tell her no."

"Yes, perish the thought at that," Heather muttered.

Penny ignored the barb, and David appeared not to hear it as well. Heather clenched her teeth when she saw a thin tendril of black twisting around his arm from Penny's Aura.

"You did see to it that she had enough blankets?" David asked. "It gets dreadfully cold in the foothills this far into October."

"She's fine, David. Don't worry about it. Everything was taken care of."

"Hey, Mom," Heather called out. "You tell Dad about that thing with me and Laura Bendon yet?"

Penny gave her a shocked look which quickly blazed into anger. Heather's lips twisted into a smug smile as David looked at the two of them in confusion.

"What is this?" David asked. "Isn't Laura Bendon your Principal?"

"David, let me--" Penny began.

"Yep, that's right," Heather said. "I'll be spending every other week with her starting the week after Halloween."

David furrowed his brow. "With her? As in after school? Tutoring you in--?"

Heather shook her head. "No, I mean living with her. But I'm sure Mom wants to tell you all the details, don't you, Mom?"

Penny's eyes became ice. Her Aura churned. "Heather, you will not say another word."

"Why? I mean, it's going to be so cool, isn't it? I'm sure that's what you'll say once you figure out what cover story you--"

"HEATHER!"

Heather fell silent. Her heart pounded. Tendrils of her mother's Aura snaked towards her. She refused to recoil from them.

David looked nonplussed. "Penny, dear, what exactly is this?"

Penny took his hand and squeezed it. Darkness surged up his arm and twisted around his body. "We'll talk about it later, David. Just don't worry about it."

David slowly nodded. "Of course."

Heather made a disgusted noise and stood. "Can I be excused?"

She felt something cool and dark slide across the surface of her mind. She swallowed, her hand clenching and unclenching once. She did not have much energy remaining, but what she did have she shoved against the Darkness to keep it at bay just a little longer.

"Go to your room, Heather," Penny said. "I need to speak with you after I clear the table."

"I can talk right now."

"Go. To. Your. Room."

Heather drew in her breath and tried to let it go without it becoming a sigh or a soft moan. A tendril of Darkness had wormed its way into her mind. It had seized on her thoughts about Laura Bendon and twisted them around so that they reminded her of all the wonderful, sexy outfits her Mistress would have her wear.

She fled and raced up the stairs. By the time she entered the bedroom and shut the door, her pussy tingled. She pressed her hands to her temples and squeezed her eyes shut as she fell to a sitting position at the foot of her bed. No no no no no NO!

She tried to focus on Melinda, or Jason, or Cassie. Anyone or anything. Just nothing that had anything to do with Laura Bendon.

Heather opened her eyes and brushed strands of stray red hair from her face. Her mind was hers again for the moment.

Her head jerked up, and she bolted to her feet as the door opened. She fixed her eyes on her mother and reminded herself how angry she was. "You could knock before you enter," Heather said in a lofty voice.

Penny paused, letting out a slow breath through her nose. She gently closed the door behind her and fixed her hard but troubled gaze on her daughter.

"Or am I not making things any easier again?" Heather said. The Darkness was slithering into her mind again, and this time she could not push it back. She focused her thoughts as best she could even as the Darkness snaked around them.

"Heather, I want to apologize," said Penny.

Heather flinched. "What?"

"For everything that's been happening. You deserve a lot better."

The words were spoken in such a soft, contrite tone that it distracted Heather for a moment. By the time she saw past it, she shivered as her thoughts led her again to someplace she did not want to go.

"I got you a present earlier," said Penny, stepping forward.

Heather backed away. "Wait, what? A present? What are you--?"

Penny crouched at the foot of Heather's bed and reached under it. Heather drew in her breath and held it, steeling herself. She knew what it had to be, her thoughts becoming wrapped in lace and silk in anticipation. Heather wanted to avert her eyes, but she stared instead as the gold-trimmed, heart-covered box was laid upon Heather's bed.

She finally managed to force the words from her mouth, "I don't want it, Mom, take it back."

Penny smiled, hands poised at the ends of the box. "But honey, you haven't even seen it yet."

"I don't want to!" Heather cried. "Mom, no, stop it. I'm not going to do this."

"Yes, you will, dear, because I know what my daughter likes."

Heather swallowed again and shook her head.

"My daughter likes sexy things against her skin," Penny said. She began to lift the cover.

Heather shivered. "Mom, I-I can make you ... like before, I ..."

"No, you can't," Penny said as she lifted the cover and set it aside. Black lace lay in neat folds within. "You caught me off guard earlier, that's all. Please, don't try it again."

Heather wanted to try anyway, but by the time she could focus her mind enough to attempt it, her mother had lifted her "present" from the box. She stared at the beautiful, silken black teddy and matching panties, their delicately woven patterns sheer and hypnotic. "M-Mom ..."

"Isn't it lovely, Heather?" Penny said, stepping towards her daughter. "It should look very good on you. Very sexy."

"Stop it ..."

"It's so light it will feel like it's caressing you."

Heather let out a husky sigh and squeezed her legs together. No no no think of something else think of Jason Melinda Cassie Diane Ned Richie ...

Penny flipped the teddy around and held it against her daughter's body. It brushed against Heather's arm; a shudder wracked her body and a sultry sigh blew past her lips. Her nipples hardened and tingled, longing for the touch of the soft silk and lace.

"See? It should fit you perfectly," Penny said. "Try it on."

Heather's pussy throbbed with her heartbeat and forced her to ease her legs apart. She gave her mother one final pleading look, hoping for some flicker of sympathy in her mother's eyes. She wanted to see that her mother was doing this only because she was forced. She wanted to justify the times she had attempted to tame Melinda's vitriol towards this woman.

Instead, Penny's Aura roiled with perverse excitement. Heather felt the dark tendrils invading her emotions, wrapping themselves around the seed that Laura Bendon had planted. She had stripped off her shirt and bra before she was even conscious of what she was doing. By the time she stood naked before her mother, she was panting.

"I'll help you into it," Penny said, her voice soft and tender.

The lace drew across Heather's skin like a light breeze, sending little tingles of pleasure through her body. She felt so sexy and warm as its sensuous touch wrapped about her waist and torso like a lover's embrace. The panties drew against her sex, sending her intimate folds into swells of aching delight. A breathy moan rose from her lips as Penny buttoned the teddy, drawing the material snug under and across her breasts. The nipples tented the yielding fabric, her areolae two shadowy circles beneath its sheerness.

Penny took Heather's hand. Heather pulled it away, but Penny simply took it again. She coaxed Heather into taking a few steps forward. Heather shivered in delight at the teddy's sensuous touch against her skin.

"It looks very good on you, Heather," said Penny. "So sweet and sexy."

"Mom, I can't wear this," Heather said in a weak voice.

"Yes, you can, and you want to wear it."

"Y-you're making me want it!"

Penny shook her head. Her eyes shimmered. "I didn't do that part. I just--"

"I hate you."

Penny hesitated, her lips parted in mid-syllable. She slowly closed her mouth. She regarded her daughter with simple equanimity, though her eyes glistened.

Heather squirmed and moaned, her pussy growing wet. "Wh-why are you doing this? It won't accomplish anything! They already have Melinda!"

"Just enjoy your present, Heather," Penny said. She turned towards the door.

"I wish for once you'd just tell me why you do anything!" Heather called out, though her voice was quavering and husky. She tried to approach her mother, but after only a single step she had to resist the desire to dance about the room so she could feel the delightful touch of her gorgeous outfit on her breasts and her slit.

"Stop fighting it," Penny said without turning around. "Just this once, Heather, don't fight it. I'll check on you later in case you need anything."

Heather watched her mother leave and close the door. She lifted her trembling hands into her sight. The faint wisp of her Aura was darker now, more tangible like a swirling fog that clung to her skin.

She raised her hands to her teddy and willed herself to undo just one of the buttons. Her fingertips brushed by it and slid down her body, little tingles of pleasure radiating over her skin where the lace touched her. She hugged her arms about herself, moaning in mounting pleasure.

"Stop," she whispered. "Stop it."

Heather forced herself to lower her arms. She tried to return to her bed, and instead stepped past it, swaying her hips and tilting her torso so that her breasts jiggled under the silken material.

She again tried to raise her hands to remove the teddy and instead tugged the panties into her slit as she gyrated her hips, uttering a deep moan as steamy pleasure flooded her pussy.

God, I feel so incredibly sexy, Heather thought. No, wait, stop, I can't ... this is just a distraction ...

She tried again to return to her bed and managed to crawl atop the mattress, holding her ass in the air as if inviting a lover to take her from behind. She collapsed on her side, moaned, and rolled onto her back, then her other side as the movement sent waves of sensual heat rolling over her body.

I have to get this off! Heather thought. But I don't want to, it feels so wonderful!

"Uhnngg!" Heather moaned as her pussy strained, then retreated from the edge, leaving her trembling. She wanted to pull the crotch of her panties aside so she could touch her steaming folds, but that would mean removing even the smallest part of the material from contact with her skin.

She grabbed the teddy just above her delta and pulled, yanking it into her slit. She twisted her hips until the fabric stroked her clit with wet sounds that accompanied her lusty pant. Her mind reeled from the sensation of the silk against her slick flesh, pleasure rising and straining again until she thought she would burst.

Orgasm still eluded her.

(I'll check on you later in case you need anything)

"D-Damn you, Mom ..." Heather moaned.

Richie rushed into his room, tossing the door closed behind him. He helped it along with a kick, rattling some of the baseball pictures that adorned his walls. Every movement was done with a stomp, a throw, or a slam, his emotions working their way out of his head.

He had been pissed about failing to protect Melinda, and dinner had not helped. His mother had insisted on preparing it that evening dressed in little more than lacy black bikini underwear. Worse, he had to watch it against a backdrop of a even darker than usual Aura. Sometimes it was hard to tell where the underwear stopped and the Darkness began.

Richie was also in desperate need of a shower.

He stripped off his clothes, tossing them towards the hamper. He glanced at his jacket and the bulge in its right pocket. His lips twitched into a small smirk.

Richie was not a violent person, at least not the kind that wanted to draw blood in a fight. Even in fist-fights he tended to go for blows that knocked the wind out of his opponent or knocked him to the ground. The blow that he landed with his baseball was relished not for the shattered nose but for the symbolism. He had gained the upper hand, albeit briefly, against a superior opponent.

His smile faded when he thought how it had not helped the end result. He wondered what his father would think of that. The voice of his conscience was silent on the matter.

Maybe it thinks I did everything I could, Richie thought.

Richie looked down and cursed. His cock was still semi-hard from watching his mother parade about the kitchen in her underwear. He stomped into the bathroom and set the shower going before he turned to the mirror and glared at himself.

His face sported a few scrapes, crusted-over jagged lines of blackish-red. He had done that to himself against the sidewalk when he had thrashed in the grip of Victor's goons. Still, he viewed them as a badge of honor; he had gone down fighting.

His mother had not even asked about them.

Richie hopped into the shower before it was ready and braced himself against the cold. He did not linger; he was done just as the water was finally hot. By the time he had dried himself, he saw he had left tiny spots of fresh blood on the towel where some of his scrapes had reopened.

Mom's gonna ream me for that, Richie thought, and found that he looked forward to it. He even hung the towel so the spots would be easy to see, instead of turning them to the wall like he would normally do.

He emerged from the bathroom and snatched a fresh set of briefs from the drawer. He pulled them on as his eyes scanned the room, his face twisting into a scowl. Something was not right.

His gaze swept the room one more time, gliding past his jacket and then snapping back. His eyes narrowed as he shot towards it. He plunged his hand into the empty right pocket, rooting about in vain for a few seconds before searching the floor, the bed, his dresser, and then the same sequence all over again.

"What the fuck?!" Richie cried. "Where--?"

His eyes fell on the door. It was cracked open.

Richie clenched his teeth until his jaw ached. He yanked open the door, letting it crash against the doorstop where it shattered the cheap wallboard, and burst into the upstairs hall. "MOM!"

"In here, Richie," came her husky voice from the master bedroom.

Red-faced, Richie stalked into the doorway and bellowed, "Give it back! You fucking give it back to me! You don't have a fucking right to it!"

Sandra regarded her son with a gaze that was both sultry and sheepish. The skimpy black bikini bra molded her breasts into two swollen round mounds of flesh. The panties stretched tight against her labia, glistening with moisture that had seeped through. "I can't," she said in a breathy voice. "Not yet."

Richie's eyes widened. He had hoped that his mother would at least attempt to feign ignorance. His eyes darted around the edge of her mother's body. The Aura pulsed and writhed, inky blackness that made the underwear bright by comparison.

Richie gritted his teeth and began searching the room, yanking drawers open and rifling through them without really seeing their contents, and slamming them shut again. He searched the top of the dresser, then swept all the items atop it to the floor in his frustration.

"It's not here, Richie," Sandra said.

"Like fucking hell it's not!" Richie shouted, yanking open the closet door.

"Richie, stop it, please. You won't find it."

Richie spun around. "If I tear the goddamn house apart I'll find it!"

"You won't," Sandra said, her voice pleading. "Richie--"

"YOU HAD NO RIGHT TO TAKE IT!" Richie screamed. "Dad gave that to me! It's mine! It's ...!"

Richie trailed off. He swiped at one of his eyes as he realized he was giving the Darkness exactly what it wanted: an unthinking, whining brat.

Richie clenched his hands until the nails dug into his palms. It didn't matter. The baseball was his, not just by virtue of his father giving it to him. He had twice made it his. Its absence was like taking his father away a second time.

"It's safe," Sandra said, taking a few tentative steps towards her son. Richie raised a fist as if intending to strike her, but slowly lowered it. His eyes strayed to her hips as they swayed. "I'll give it back to you eventually."

Richie could not speak without yelling. He bit back his next response, shaking with the effort.

"I didn't want to do this, Richie, but I had no choice."

Richie forced his eyes to meet hers. He stared until he thought he could see something of his real mother in them. For once he did not have to convince himself that his real mother would never have done such a thing. Sandra had never begrudged him anything concerning his father, even when all he had were memories.

He saw something shimmer in her eyes, and the Aura around her faded. He knew it was an illusion; staring into the eyes negated the sight of the Aura for awhile.

Sandra's lips quivered as they curled into a small, sultry smile. "I just couldn't stand you denying me anymore, Richie," she said, her hands sliding down her sides. "You keep denying me your cock."

Richie averted his eyes before the Aura could vanish from his sight. He felt a growing pressure in his crotch.

Sandra advanced. Richie kept his hands at his sides, but backed up a step before she could come within arm's reach. She stopped and let out a husky sigh. "I'll keep the baseball safe. Just go back to fucking me."

Richie's gaze snapped back, hard and blazing. The Aura had surged back again into view. It made no motion towards him. He heard nothing in his mind, not even his conscience.

Sandra took another tentative step towards him. Richie did not draw away, but his body remained tensed. Her eyes glistened, but Richie could not tell if the anguish he saw was real or not. "Richie, I-I can't cum unless you fuck me."

Richie frowned. "Huh?"

"That's what I've been told. No orgasm except with your cock in my twat."

"And why the fuck should I care?"

Sandra looked hurt, and for a moment Richie dared to believe that it was a real emotion. Her voice quavered when she spoke again. "I-I have to cum. I can't be denied it anymore for very long or it'll drive me insane. Please, Richie, I've seen it happen to other women that it takes!"

Richie swallowed. He had no way to tell if this were a lie or not. He wanted to think that the Darkness would not let any real harm come to his mother.

If it still needed her.

"If you don't fuck me, Richie, I swear, I'll throw the baseball in the garbage!"

The voice was more like the mother Richie had known for many years, the one that always yelled at him for everything. It remained at odds with the soft shimmer in her eyes. He stared at them, letting the Aura drift away again. "Yeah, like you're just gonna hand it to me soon as we're done fucking," Richie muttered.

Sandra took another step. Richie did not move. His eyes remained locked with hers, and she trembled. "I don't just want you once. I want you to fuck me every day. I'll do it in whatever position you want, but it has to be in my cunt."

Richie's cock strained and pulsed against his briefs.

Sandra's hand reached down. Richie nearly drew back again until he was forced to drop his gaze when he did not feel her expected touch. She grasped her panties and slowly pulled them down, letting out a tremulous sigh as the fabric peeled away from her sopping mound. She slid her feet apart, thighs parting and revealing her swollen folds.

"I-I've never been this wet," Sandra said in a shaky voice. "I'm not joking, Richie. My p-pussy almost hurts. Please."

He stared at her dripping mound. He never wanted a pussy more that he did at that moment, and he did not have the Darkness as an excuse.

In the back of his mind, his conscience stirred.

Fine! Okay! I like my mother's pussy! I enjoy fucking her! SATISFIED?!

There was a pause, and then a sedate and very faint reply: At least you fucking admit it now.

He tore his eyes from his mother's pussy and looked her in the eyes again until the rest of the Aura had vanished. Richie realized now what really frightened him. It was not that his mother would never be free from the Darkness, but what would happen to their desires if she were. He dreaded the scenario where his mother wanted to return to a normal mother-son relationship but his own mind was still twisted into lust for her.

Yet he could not bear the thought of losing the baseball. He felt stupid and sappy, but, dammit, it was his. It was the only thing he owned he could claim was rightfully his.

"Yeah, okay, fine," Richie grumbled. He yanked down his briefs and stepped out of them. "Get in the fucking bed and spread your legs."

Heather discovered that the only way to deal with her plight was to stop resisting it, and she resented the fact that this was exactly her mother's advice.

Her pussy still ached and remained hot and wet, but the need was no longer as staggering. Instead of straining just short of climax, it retreated to a constant, gentle pleasure that left her wanting. The teddy became a part of her, a second skin that transformed her whole body into a single large erogenous zone, the slightest touch sending waves of erotic delight rolling over her.

She tried to distract herself. She sat at the computer and surfed the web, but squirmed in her seat just to feel the silk slide and stretch against her body. In exchange for her sanity, she gave up control of her desires, and her mouse-clicks brought her to sites featuring gorgeous models in sexy lingerie.

She imagined herself in each outfit, modeling it before her Principal. When she resisted, her need rocketed, and she tugged her panties and wriggled them against her clit to no avail. When she let go, the urgency eased, but her lust for Laura Bendon surged until she looked forward to her first week with her temporary mistress.

Heather tore herself away from the computer, trembling. She could not let go. If Ms. Bendon was going to have her, so be it, but she refused to help it along. She allowed herself a small amount of remaining enmity at the cost of a distracting, aching cunt.

Heather tried to think of her fellow Harbingers, but her thoughts spiraled into the erotic as they paraded before her lustful mind's eye.

Jason had a wonderful cock and was always willing to stick it in her pussy. She didn't need to seduce him anymore, though it was so much fun and so hot when she did.

Richie was not as endowed as Jason, but made up for it in enthusiasm and energy. He had the most sheer endurance and could fuck her until she was limp and weak.

Ned was so skilled it was shocking. She could not remember his size because it just didn't matter. He knew where to put it and how to use it.

Sweet and soft Cassie, so demure and innocent in those brown curls, but with a body so sexy, smooth, and perfect.

And wonderfully obedient Diane, lanky and flexible, with a tongue that she swore contained additional muscles that no one else had.

And Melinda, her baby sister, a spitfire of barely restrained passion ...

Heather moaned and turned over on her back. She had somehow made it to the bed during her sexual musings. Her breasts rose and fell, the nipples brushing against the silk and teasing her without mercy.

She imagined Jason licking them, but the Dark fog in her mind seized and twisted the thought until it was directed at her Principal instead. She grasped her breasts, intending to stop the stroke of the teddy against her nipples, but the touch sparked new shivers of raw desire. She kneaded her breasts with her fingers, moaning and writhing as her pussy begged again for release.

The door to her room opened. Heather's eyes widened as she watched her mother approach the bed, no more than a robe adorning her body. In one of her hands was a towel.

"Mom, g-get out," Heather said in a weak voice. "Just get a-away from me."

Penny sat on the edge of Heather's bed. She put the towel down and took Heather's hands, tugging them away from Heather's breasts. Heather's pussy once more strained at the intolerable edge of orgasm when her breasts rolled under her teddy.

"You won't be able to sleep like this," Penny said. She tried to place the towel between her daughter's legs. Heather whimpered and pushed Penny's hands away. She did not want her mother separating even a small part of the teddy from her body.

And what was still Heather's own will did not want to cross this line.

Penny gently batted away Heather's hands and situated the towel under her daughter's thighs and delta. She pulled aside the crotch of the panties from Heather's soaked slit with one hand and swirled a single fingertip against Heather's swollen clit with the other.

"N-no, stop ... s-stop, don't ... uhhn ... Unnngg! UHNNNG!"

Hot cum burst over Penny's hand and splashed against Heather's thighs. Heather gasped and arched her back as her mother's fingers pressed harder against her clit with firm, skilled strokes. Heather's pussy throbbed hard and deep, until she let out a second cry, tossing her head back as her pussy squirted a second time.

Heather's fingers curled into the sheet as her body shuddered through her orgasm, gasps becoming pants, and then low moans and whimpers as it finally faded. Penny withdrew her fingers from her daughter's slit, pulling the panties back into place. She patted down Heather's thighs with the towel before withdrawing it.

"That should help you sleep," Penny said as she stood up. "You'll still wear the teddy overnight, but it should just give you erotic dreams now."

"I hate you," Heather moaned in a barely audible voice.

Penny regarded her daughter with the same neutral look as before. "I'm sorry you feel that way, honey," she said in a toneless voice as she turned away. "Good night."

When Richie descended on his mother and speared her willing pussy with his cock, he decided this was going to be more than just an obligatory fuck. If the Darkness was going to bait him, he was going to do it like everything else: on his own terms.

Richie stared into her lust-filled eyes to keep the Aura from appearing as his hips pumped against her body. With as much sex as he had that day, he would be slow to rise, and he intended to use it to his advantage.

His mother moaned in soaring need, her legs trying to wrap themselves around him and pull him closer. Richie resisted and maintained the pace the way he wanted it. He was under no illusions about his own prowess. He knew others had a lot more finesse than he did. It would work to his advantage anyway.

Sandra's Aura was gone from his perception, allowing him the illusion of his real mother under him. He still thrusted into her slick pussy and draped himself over her so he could feel the swell of her boobs against his chest.

Richie dared his conscience to say something. He was doing everything wrong. He was not just failing to resist temptation, he was abetting it, taking it to the next level. He was fucking his own mother and loving it.

"Oh Richie!" Sandra moaned. "Fuck me harder ... please, fuck your mother harder ..."

That's right, remind me who I'm doing this with, Richie thought. Keep doing it!

Richie did drive his cock deeper into Sandra's tight cunt, but the slow pace crept on. Sandra gasped both her pleasure and her still burning need, her eyes both shimmering and pleading.

He stared into them. The Aura remained at bay. Nothing impinged on his mind, nothing whispered in his ear. The silence was worse than anything the Darkness could have said at that moment.

And what of his conscience? It must have something to say. What would his father think if he were here?

Richie finally did let his control slip. His body slapped against hers in a rising rhythm. "Oh yeah," Sandra breathed. "Oh Richie ... you really know how to fuck your mother good ..."

Richie faltered. The thought shadowed his mind that perhaps his conscience -- and his father -- had abandoned him. He had finally gone too far, finally favored his libido over what was "right." His father had given up on him. He was not meant to get the baseball back.

Richie clenched his teeth and fell atop Sandra, wrapping his arms around her and slamming his cock home as fast as he could, the bedsprings creaking with each thrust. Sandra squirmed under him, her panting breath hot in Richie's ear.

I'm fucking my own mother ... I'm fucking my own mother ... Richie let the words echo in his head until he could hear little else.

Sandra suddenly gasped and tensed. Her hips rose, and Richie felt a tiny squirt around his cock. She let out a shrill squeal, her cunt squeezing around his shaft. Richie let go several long, ragged breaths, pressing his body to hers so he could cum deep inside her. His cock throbbed hard against the tightness of his mother's pussy until he was spent.

The two of them lay panting for another minute. Richie stirred first, pulling himself from his mother's body, refusing to rush. He drew back without a word until he had climbed off the foot of the bed and stood staring at his mother's body, her legs still spread, his own cum dribbling from her pussy.

Sandra sat up. "That was wonderful, Richie."

Richie took a deep breath and let it go. He could think of nothing to say.

"Come by my room tomorrow morning when you wake up. Let's have a nice fuck before going to church."

Richie just stared. He had fucked his own mother -- or at least what he had held in his head as his own mother -- and not the Darkness-controlled thrall. He had sent it away, even if only in his own perception.

He had fucked his mother, and he had enjoyed it. If the Darkness freed her that moment, he would want to do it again.

He wanted to hear his father's voice-by-proxy, but it remained silent. It had not abandoned him, for Richie was sure it would have told him off before leaving. That could only mean that he needed the baseball; his father's presence would remain silent until he got it back.

"Yeah," Richie finally said in a low voice. "Okay."

The phone rang downstairs. Jason sighed, shook his head, and stood up.

"Jason!"

He grabbed the phone. "Got it, Mom."

"This is the last call you're taking after dinner, young man," said Audrey over the extension. "I'm tired of this place becoming a telephone switchboard every night!"

A loud click, and the LED went out. "Hello?" Jason said, too tired to work up any indignation against his mother's decree.

"Oh, crap, did I jus' fuck things up fer ya?" said Ned.

"No, don't worry about it." He turned his head as he heard a conversation downstairs escalate into shouting. "I think my Dad is taking care of it right now."

"Huh? Yer Dad? Isn't he the same one ya said--"

"Never mind, Ned. What's up?"

"I checked out some things fer ya on the internet since I had some time ta kill after the orgy earlier."

"Where did you get hold of a computer? I thought the library closed early on Saturdays. Unless you have one of your own now?"

Ned snorted. "Nah. When the parental units still think computers are those things that go 'blip' and 'boop' on the bridge of the Enterprise, they be hard ta come by under this roof."

Jason shook his head. He could not comprehend being without a computer for a single day let alone never having one.

"I hung out with Richie fer a bit 'til his mother came home. His 'puter is a freakin' dog walkin' in molasses with velcro on his paws, but it was enough."

"You find anything?"

"Eh, yeah, but prolly ain't gonna help. The coroner at the time of Stephanie's so-called demise has since retired and left Haven. No idea where he's at. The funeral director was some dude named Walter Newland. He still lives in Haven but I think he's done flown the coop fer the season."

"Why do you say that?"

"We found an email address fer the guy and wanted ta see if it still worked. We sent him an email and got a vacation auto-reply."

Jason sighed. "So we have nothing new."

"Heh, well, there was one thing that popped up. Stephanie's parents got some sorta windfall 'bout two weeks after the burial switcheroo went down."

"Windfall? You mean financial?" Jason asked.

"Yep. Anonymous, too. Big enough ta make the local papers. Something else: I poked around the archives fer that same newspaper fer the next few days and Mr. Anonymous struck again. He donated ten gran' to some charity for runaway children in the Fowlers' name."

Jason was silent as he contemplated.

"Now, I know that don't sound like it can help defeat Victor or nuthin', but the Nose smells something fishy. Think about it, dude. A runaway child charity. An' we think the poor girl buried in Stephanie's grave was a runaway. Mebbe it was ol' Victor with a guilty conscience, hard as that is ta believe."

Jason's eyes widened. "Ned, Victor was here at my house today."

"Holy shit. Ya okay? Yer family okay?"

"Don't panic, he didn't do anything, he just ... well, let me explain what he said and did, or more importantly, what he didn't do ..."

Jason recounted the incident as Ned listened in silence.

"So I'm with you," Jason said. "Why is he still pussyfooting around like this? If he decided to keep Melinda, we'd be screwed. I mean, yes, he probably doesn't know we can augment our power with the spell, or that we need everyone for it, but why not hold her hostage until I give up the Book? Is he giving her back just to be chivalrous?"

"Bingo," Ned said.

Jason frowned. "Huh?"

"Ya jus' nailed it. He's got ethics."

"Ethics?"

"Well, a kinda warped set of 'em, but yeah, I think that's it. I mean, come on, think 'bout it, kemosabe. He carries out his 'evil plans' in total secrecy, he does everything he can ta keep it that way, he waits 'til only now ta snatch one of us ta force the issue, an' if he's the one that's behind the mystery gifts fer the Fowler family--"

"But that's just--"

"'An if ya say 'circumstantial evidence' or 'that doesn't make sense' again, I'm gonna hafta hurt ya."

Jason let out an exasperated sigh. "But that's too simple!"

"Well, mebbe it's not the whole enchilada, but it's gotta be in the ballpark. It jus' fits with what he's been doin'. Don't call it ethics if that seems too strange fer ya. Call it playin' by some sorta twisted rules."

"That's ... that's sick!" Jason cried. "He preys on a different sixteen year old girl every year, makes her into a complete slut, rips her away from her family and friends, and yet he quibbles over taking a fourteen year old girl that wasn't part of his original plans?"

"Dude?" Ned said, his voice suggesting forced patience. "Victor is warped. Yeah, he can change people's perceptions, but he's got a pretty fucked up one himself. He works ta some play-book he invented himself."

"That just sounds ..." Jason said, trailing off.

"Sometimes ya think a little too logically," Ned said. "Yeah, the logical thing is ta keep Melinda 'til he gets the Book. People don't always act logically. Which means if ya ever turn evil, you'd prolly rule the world."

"Stop it, this is hardly funny."

"I ain't laughin'. The point is, we gotta figger out a way ta use this."

"How?"

Ned paused. "Ya ain't gonna like it."

"You mean any less than anything else that's happened?" Jason replied icily.

"Victor's got some kinda strange code o' conduct, so we screw with it. Let's fight dirty.

Jason frowned. "What?"

"Ya heard me. Ferget the fucking rules. He's assumin' we're playin' by some rules cuz that's the way he thinks. So chuck 'em."

Jason felt a chill. "You can't mean you want us to ... I don't even know what you want us to do!"

"I jus' mean we gotta stop worryin' 'bout everyone else. If we hafta ... well, if we hafta use someone ta get at Victor--"

"No!"

Ned sighed. "Dude, chill. I'm not sayin' we go enslavin' everyone we meet."

"But isn't that what you're suggesting?" Jason said, his voice rising. "You're saying if we find someone we need to enslave, we should just go ahead and do it. We already have a slave, anyway."

"Yeah, but Diane already has a use so she's not available fer anything else. Takin' another would be no different."

"It is different, Ned. Diane is just ... Diane. She's supposed to be our slave. Not anyone else. Anyway, what good would that do? It wouldn't give us anything. I spoke with Mrs. Radson earlier. It sounds like there's more to Victor's power than we realize. It's the kind of power that he wields that's the problem. We don't have it ourselves, so it's difficult to fight."

"Then we find someone that does and enslave 'em."

Jason gaped. "You can't be freaking serious! The only ones that have that sort of power are Victor's people. We'd never get one alone long enough to--"

"Ms. Hollis."

"What?!"

"Ms. Hollis has that same power. We do it ta her. We'd hafta wait til Monday, but I bet we could do it."

Jason wanted to protest. He wanted to shout how wrong this was. "I don't like this," was all he could manage in a weak voice.

"Jason, Ms. Hollis ain't exactly an innocent li'l peach of a teacher. She put Heather through hell. She's a total bitch. This ain't jus' practicality, it's payback. What've I been sayin' 'bout gettin' more proactive 'bout this sorta thing? Think about it. We control her, and use that little power-boost spell ta rev up her engine--"

"If it even works that way!"

"Then we take the fuckin' chance. What the hell else do we have ta lose at this point? Look, I'm not sayin' we go attacking Victor directly. But if we use that power boost ta help Cassie get Gina outta Victor's control, he's gonna be pissed, and he jus' may play dirty, too. Then we gotta be ready to go on the defense. Terri Hollis would make a real nice shield."

Jason clenched a hand into a fist. He recalled what Terri had done to Heather and what was happening to Melinda. Part of him screamed for the revenge that Ned had suggested. All his frustrations were reaching the boiling point.

"Ya want more convincin'?" Ned said. "I talked ta Cassie jus' before I called ya."

"I already know what's happening with Melinda, Ned, I don't need a play-by-play."

"It ain't that, it's Heather an' Richie."

Jason was silent. His fingers curled around the phone.

"Ya musta sensed something yerself."

"Yes, I did," Jason said tonelessly. "Are they all right? I'm not seeing the energy patterns from Victor's power."

"Nah, it's not him. At the risk of soundin' like some B-movie, it's our old nemesis the Great Black Kahuna of Haven Evilness itself. And yeah, they're all right, mostly. From what Cassie could tell, the Darkness is jus' stirrin' the pot. Heather had that little thing for lingerie put in her head by Haven High's Great Evil Poobah, and the Darkness decided ta play with it fer shits and grins. As fer Richie, uh ... let's jus' say his baser instincts concernin' his Mom have been--"

"I get it," Jason snapped. "This has to be just another distraction. Maybe the Darkness is hoping we'll think this is another threat and waste our energy on it."

"Yer prolly right, kemosabe," drawled Ned. "But guess what? That means the Darkness jus' handed us an opportunity. The Darkness has got limited resources cuz of what we did ta it with Melissa, right? Ya think it's gonna spend much time messin' around with Ms. Hollis or botherin' ta protect her?"

"Ned, if we try to take her, and she has even a little bit of an Aura, the Darkness will know about it," Jason said.

"Yeah, I know, but it can't do nothin' about it."

"We'd have to do it late, as close to his final plans as possible. If the Darkness finds out, Victor will, too. We can't give him enough time to strike back at us."

"Heh," Ned said. "I think ya jus' decided that we're gonna do it."

Jason set his face hard. "Yeah. We're going to do it."

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