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Shadows From The PastChapter 30 free porn video
Cassie is once more drawn to the pit, but she turns away despite the urgent whispers which rise from within. She cannot understand what they say, but she somehow divines their meaning: she needs to practice.
She has more important, if reluctant, business to conduct tonight.
She confronts the veil to her mother's mind and steps through. The gray pall is absent, as she is not interested in her mother's memories. Instead, she wishes to delve into Dorothy's dreams.
Here is the only place where Cassie can influence a mind. She cannot simply impose her will, and she is grateful for that. She must instead take control of her mother's dream.
It still feels like a violation. She wonders how long she had this ability and never realized it. She had been content to observe both dreams and replays of daily life. She wonders now if the latter could be altered as well to plant false memories of...
Cassie shakes her head and frowns. She will not go there. Affecting dreams is bad enough.
Patterns and color swirl like an out-of-focus kaleidescope. Dorothy is between REM cycles, in the total quiescence of deep-wave sleep. In these cycles, Cassie can do nothing; the mind is effectively shut down.
She waits, and the colors spin and grow more vibrant as Dorothy rises from deep sleep. The shapes whirl around Cassie's head for another dizzying moment before coalescing and becoming the drawing room of her mansion.
Dorothy is here, wearing a bright blue suit with gleaming gold trim, her hair coiffed to solid, shiny perfection. Her ruby lips are curled into a radiant smile as she speaks with James, the head butler, resplendent in his best tuxedo, his shoes polished to a shine which reflects the contours of the window.
"Have all the guests arrived, James?" Dorothy asks in a voice of barely contained excitement.
"Yes, Mrs. Kendall," James says in a crisp voice, standing like a soldier before his commanding officer. "The President and the First Lady arrived just ten minutes ago."
Dorothy clasps her hands together and beams at him. "Excellent! I was so hoping he would take time from his busy schedule to attend. I have been waiting for this day for such a long time, James! This will be so good for her."
Cassie's eyebrows rise. She senses they are talking about her.
"Indeed, Mrs. Kendall," James says in a heartfelt voice. "We are all very grateful for this arrangement, as much as we will miss her."
Cassie tilts her head. Arrangement? Is this some sort of ceremony?
"I am sure he will take good care of her." Dorothy utters a relieved sigh. "Things will be normal again. Cassandra will become normal again. She will be protected."
"That is all any of us can hope for, Mrs. Kendall," says James in a far more personable voice than Cassie had ever heard him use with her mother.
"Very good, then. Please, carry on."
James snaps his heels together, bows, and heads out of the room.
Dorothy turns, and her eyes slide by Cassie. She has not yet made her presence known. After her first forays into Ned's dreams, she soon discovered she could control when she manifested, even if she were the subject of the dream.
"Such a wonderful day," Dorothy muses as she turns towards the window. "I have been working to this moment for years."
Cassie steps forward and peeks over her mother's shoulder, and her eyes widen as she looks through the window. Nestled in the valley is the town of Haven, but recognizable as such only from the landmarks. Hovering over it is a dark pall, like stagnant smog, the street lamps struggling to shine through it. Streets which Cassie recalls as being straight are twisted and crooked, and some of the taller buildings are bent at grotesque angles.
"And she will finally leave this awful place and never look back," Dorothy says with a relieved sigh.
Cassie wills herself to appear. "Mother?"
Dorothy whirls around and her eyes widen in shock. "Cassandra? Why are you not yet in your wedding dress?!"
Suddenly everything makes sense. Of course this would be what her mother wanted of her: a lavish wedding to someone of Dorothy's own choosing. "I'm sorry, Mother, I will dress in a moment."
"You will do so this instant!" Dorothy cries, stepping forward. "You have already delayed this ceremony, and I will not stand for it being anything less than perfect!"
"Mother, please, I need a moment of your time. I promise the ceremony will be fine."
Dorothy pauses, then sighs and folds her arms. "Very well, but make it quick."
Cassie's mind races. What she heard between Dorothy and James has piqued her interest. No, she has to stick to her original plan. She has a promise to keep.
Cassie takes a moment to collect her thoughts. She assumes that, in Dorothy's mind, this must be at least a few years later, since age of consent in that state is 18. "Mother, do you remember someone I used to know, a boy named Richie Gardner?"
Dorothy snorts and her nostrils flare as if something smelly passed under her nose. "I most certainly do. The day I stopped you from sneaking off to meet with that hooligan was the turning point of your life."
Cassie wants to ask what became of Ned in her mother's ideal universe, but it is another distraction. "He wasn't all that bad, Mother."
"He was a bad seed, Cassandra, from which nothing good could grow. He would have only held you back from reaching this very day."
"Mother, please, think for a moment: Did he ever do anything to me? Did he ever cause me any harm?"
Cassie senses a slight pause in her mother's response and hopes it means she is getting through. The pressure she exerts on her mother's mind is as strong as she will allow herself. If she applied all the energy she could muster, she could dictate the course of the dream like the director of a play; her mother would be no better than a marionette.
"Only because I put a stop to if before anything could happen," Dorothy responds.
"I went around with him for a long time before you stopped it. Nothing ever happened to me. I associated with him in school after that for--"
"What are you jabbering about?" Dorothy demanded. "I pulled you from Haven High after the semester was over and had you privately tutored, something I should have done a long time ago."
Cassie swallows. Is this the next thing her mother is planning for her life? "I meant all that time before you pulled me from the school. Not once did anything happen to me."
Dorothy again pauses, longer this time. "That may very well be true, but you must realize that I know what is best for you."
"I accept that, but only if you accept that Richie may not have been as bad as you thought."
Cassie pushes a little harder, and her mother's lips quiver. "M-maybe," Dorothy says, looking nonplussed. "But the fact remains that he was so far beneath your station that he was unworthy of you in any capacity."
Cassie utters a relieved sigh. This is a start. She will do no more tonight. She nods and forces a small smile. "Thank you, Mother. I will get dressed now and--"
Above their heads comes a thunderous romp of running feet. Cassie flinches when she hears several sharp retorts, like distant firecrackers, then shrill screams.
"My God, what--?!" Dorothy cries, running to the door. She is brought up short when James appears, his face a mask of horror which makes Cassie's blood run cold. "James, what's happening?!"
"It is utter chaos, Mrs. Kendall! It's happening again, just like it did before!"
"Oh dear God, no ... I heard a noise, James, it sounded like gunshots!"
Cassie gasps, her eyes wide and shimmering.
"Several Secret Service agents began firing at those who were affected before evacuating the President."
Dorothy raises her shaking hands and clenches them into fists. "Oh God ... oh God NO!"
James swallows. "M-Mrs. Kendall ... the door to the old playroom ... it's open ... it's..."
His eyes suddenly slide towards Cassie. His eyes glaze over in a look of stark terror that sends ice down Cassie's spine. Without another word, he flees, and Cassie hears his running feet down the long hallway.
"James, no! I need you!" Dorothy cries. "It can't be her, she's been here the whole time!" She pauses, then turns towards Cassie. "WHERE IS HE?!"
Cassie gasps and stumbles back a step. She looks into her mother's eyes and sees only blazing fury and stomach-clenching horror.
"YOU TOLD ME YOU HAD SENT HIM AWAY!" Dorothy screams, her voice betraying both rage and terror. "YOU TOLD ME HE WAS GONE FOR GOOD!"
Cassie's lower lip trembles, and she shakes her head, as no words would come to her. Suddenly her mother's fury breaks down, leaving only fear. Dorothy backs up, her eyes shimmering.
"Why did you have to bring up Richie?" she gasps in a half-sob. "Why did you have to dredge up the past? None of this would have happened if you had left the past alone!"
Dorothy dashes out of the room. Cassie takes a moment to recover from her shock and follows. She takes no more than a few steps into the hallway before she stops, confronted with a vision which defies explanation.
The hallway is dark and sepulchral despite the fancy chandeliers which have been installed just for the ceremony, as if a gray-black miasma is suspended in the air. The secret door to the playroom stands open, and the pall is thickest here, like smoke pouring from a burning room.
Dorothy suddenly heaves a sob and collapses to her knees. "Oh God, not again..." she moans. "Not again ... please, no ... no! ... NO! ... I ... uhng..."
Dorothy is suddenly very still, and Cassie hears her own heart hammering. She recoils when her mother slowly stands. All the emotion which has been roiling like a boiling pot of water has abruptly trickled to nothing. She is utterly blank to Cassie now, as if she were no more than a mannequin.
Her mother turns, and Cassie's eyes widen in shock. Her mother's eyes are empty, just like Heather and Diane when Melissa had trapped their spirits in the box.
"What do you wish of me, Cassandra?" Dorothy says in an emotionless voice.
Before a horrified Cassie can say a word, the scene abruptly dissolves, and she is thrown back through the veil with such force it leaves her senses reeling. When she tries to pierce it, it will not yield, having become a solid wall.
The only explanation is Dorothy is awake, thus Cassie wills herself to be as well.
Cassie bolted upright in bed, threw off the covers, and dashed for the door to the bedroom. She opened the door a crack and peered down the hallway. She crept out of her room and tip-toed to the other end of the hall, crouching to avoid being seen over the railing which overlooked a large anteroom below, where a night-shift maid dusted furniture.
Cassie paused outside the wide double-door of the master bedroom and pressed her ear to it. After a few moments of hearing only her own thundering heart, she heard a faint sob and a sniffle, followed by the unmistakable baritone of her father. "Shh, Dorothy, it's okay, it was just a dream. Everything's all right now."
Cassie withdrew her ear and sat on the floor with her back to the wall. Everything was about as far from all right as they could get. She had not expected to find out something about the past. She was convinced now that something bad had happened when she was a child, and she was somehow a part of that, if not the cause.
Heather's eyes flew open at the first glimmer of dawn, panting as if still caught in the throes of her dream. She writhed and uttered a soft, ragged moan as moisture squished between her thighs, her pussy hovering halfway to orgasm. For a moment, she could not comprehend her surroundings, and in her mind's eye she was in her Mistress' bed.
She rolled onto her back and sat up, blinking rapidly. She ran a hand through her disheveled hair, her pussy still aching and wet. Her eyes sought Melinda's bed and stared at the peaceful form bundled under the covers.
Heather swallowed as she watched the slow rise and fall of Melinda's bosom. Her sister was still sound asleep, and Heather could keep her that way. Mistress would allow Heather just enough of her old power to keep Melinda quiescent. The rest would be easy. Aunt Jo had Melinda sleeping in the nude now (because that's how all slutty little girls sleep). She could slide the panties up Melinda's legs and over her hips before she could rouse.
Heather had grasped the edge of the sheet and blanket and started to pull it away from herself before her hand began to tremble. She forced herself to let go and dropped her face into her hands. She shivered as she realized what a bad girl she was for continuing to defy her Mistress' desires.
Heather lifted her head. Her pussy pulsed with her heartbeat, still warm and wet at the vision of Melinda writhing as her new panties fucked her over and over without letting her cum.
Heather clenched her hands into fists and pounded them once against her thighs. The flare of pain pushed back the urge for now. She looked towards the window and sighed. She dared not try to go back to sleep now.
Keeping her eyes averted from her little sister, she slipped out of bed and padded over to the bathroom. She paused at the threshold, her fingers curling around the frame as she heard a light snore from Melinda. The setup was perfect. She would not have another chance that morning.
Heather forced herself past the threshold and flicked on the light. She lifted the toilet seat cover, paused, then flipped it up hard, where it banged against the tank and made her ears ring.
"Whu... ?" Melinda's groggy voice mumbled.
Heather closed the bathroom door just as Melinda stirred. After a few seconds she heard an irritated voice say through the door, "An elephant would've made less noise, bubblehead."
Heather let out a relieved sigh even as guilt clutched her. She understood what had happened. The urge had been building up all week; only the constant adrenaline rush of everything else which had happened had kept it at bay.
Heather gasped and smacked her forehead when she realized it was Thursday. She had forgotten she was supposed to go to Diane's for dinner that night, and she had yet to ask her mother for permission. At least now she had a new anxiety to occupy her mind and help keep her demons at bay a little longer.
"This was supposed to protect Melinda, dammit," she said in a urgent whisper. "Mistress was not supposed to t-touch..."
She trailed off and nearly sunk to the floor when her legs gave out. She clutched the edge of the counter and struggled to lift her gaze to the mirror. She wondered if her mother had ever felt like this. If her mother had truly given herself to the Darkness not for power but to protect her daughters, had she faced a moment like this as well? Had her mother been played for a fool by the Darkness all this time?
Heather used the toilet and emerged from the bathroom feeling a little more in control of her emotions. She saw Melinda sit up in bed, the blanket slipping enough to catch a glimpse of her little sister's bare breasts. "You always bang around like that in the middle of the night?" Melinda snapped.
"It's almost dawn, runt," Heather grumbled as she headed towards her bed.
"That's not the point. Why are you awake?"
"News flash, Melinda: my bladder is not infinitely large."
"You almost never get up before the alarm goes off." Melinda paused, then in a more concerned voice said, "Are you okay?"
Heather sat down on the edge of her bed and let out a noisy sigh. "Yeah, I'm fine."
"You don't sound like it."
Heather looked at her little sister. Her pussy still buzzed with the desire to carry out her Mistress' wishes and effectively collar Melinda, but she could ignore it for now. "It's nothing you can do anything about," Heather said in a low voice. "And I should be asking you if you're okay. You hardly spoke a word to me last night."
"I know," Melinda said in a small voice. "After Aunt Jo and Mom are done with me, I don't feel like talking. Or thinking. Or doing much of anything." She sighed and tossed the blankets aside, drawing her knees to her chest. "I can't even wear anything to bed anymore! I don't know what else she could do to me except..."
She trailed off, and in light of the shimmering look in her eyes, Heather let it remain unsaid: it had to be only a matter of time before Aunt Jo wanted to take Melinda away.
"I still say things would be better if Jason would--" Melinda began.
"Don't you dare say that again," Heather snapped.
"Get bent, Heather. I don't care what either of us is going through. You don't control what I can and can't say. If I'm going to wind up being someone's sex slave, I might as well be Jason's slave."
Heather bolted to her feet. "Stop talking like that. You sound like you're just waiting for Jason to fall."
"I don't want it to happen!" Melinda cried in a shrill voice. "But if it does, I'd rather give my body to him than--"
"Melinda, stop thinking it's going to be like your little slave games you used to do with him."
Melinda stared at her big sister, eyes glistening. "I know it won't be," she said in a tiny, quavering voice. "I don't want to be a slave. But if I have to be, I want some kind of choice. I want to feel like I was able to make my own decision."
Heather was torn. She wanted to make Melinda see the fallacy in her argument, but if this were the only thing which kept Melinda from giving up, she did not want to quash it. "All right, I really don't want to argue with you anymore this morning. I have my own worries."
"What worries? Oh, wait, this is Thursday, isn't it?"
"Brilliant deduction, runt."
"What's the big deal? You're just going over for dinner."
"Diane's mother is starting to suspect something is going on in Haven," Heather said. "And that she knows something is going on between me and Mis ... you know."
Melinda's eyes widened. "Maybe she can help us!"
"No, Melinda. Diane doesn't want to involve her, and I doubt she could do anything to help anyway. To be honest, I'm not as nervous about that as I am about impressing Diane's parents."
Melinda rolled her eyes and climbed out of bed. "You worry too much. So long as you and Diane don't start boinking each other right in front of them, it'll be fine." She trotted towards the bathroom. "If I'm going to have to be up early anyway, I'm going to get a shower. Maybe I'll finally get it hot enough so I don't feel like ice needles are coming out of the shower head."
"Stop exaggerating, runt," Heather said, but Melinda had already closed the door behind her.
Heather sighed and sat down on the edge of her bed. She stared at her closet, where the jeans she had worn the day before sat on a hanger hooked to the doorknob. One of the pockets bulged. She thought about how Richie had been tasked to stop Jason from doing anything bad. She wondered if she needed someone to stop her from doing the same.
Jason wiped away the steam from the mirror over the sink and stared at himself, still naked and dripping water onto the bath towel under his feet. He let out a slow sigh. He could see it now. The swirls of inky black slithered around the outline of his body, slow and placid, as if dormant at the moment.
He tried to study the patterns, but their meaning eluded him. Either he was losing that ability, or he had encountered some sort of mental blind spot. At the moment, it did not matter. He almost wished he had been rendered blind to his own Aura. It might make events easier to accept.
His thoughts led him back to the Inn, and the Inn led him to Cindy.
The tendrils of his Aura swirled faster as they snaked around his hips and between his legs. His cock swelled as he contemplated what Stacy might have him do to Cindy next. He entertained every logical argument he could muster against it, but he loved having the chance to manipulate Cindy again.
He felt the head of his cock brush the edge of the sink and saw it had swelled to a full erection. He shook his head and frowned. Cindy was going to lose her boyfriend over this. He was ruining her life. She could be traumatized if she ever came out of it.
Yet thoughts of her obedience aroused him further, even as terrible as it felt to desire it.
He closed his eyes and let out a shaky breath. "I'm over-thinking this," he said in a soft voice. "This is no different from getting aroused at cheating on a wife or girlfriend. You just don't act on it. Whether I want to act on it or not is irrelevant."
He had taken to talking to himself, as he no longer trusted which thoughts were his and which were planted. He thought perhaps forcing it through his speech center would help him sort between the two.
Jason's head whipped around as he heard a sound in the bedroom. His eyes widened, and he braced himself for his mother opening the bathroom door. Instead, he heard another soft and distant movement, a click like a door bolt engaging, and then silence.
Jason had remembered to bring a fresh pair of briefs into the bathroom, but they did nothing to hide his still rock-hard erection. He waited a little while longer, trying to distract himself with other concerns. His cock had begun to flag, but sprang back as soon as the Inn wormed its way into his thoughts again.
He sighed and emerged from the bathroom, his heart pounding. He paused with his hand still on the doorknob as he looked towards the closed door of his room.
"Good morning, son," said Henry in an even voice, standing with his back towards the door. He kept his eyes level with Jason's when he added, "If you would like to get dressed first before we talk, be my guest."
Jason gave his father a look of thanks and rushed to don his jeans. He abandoned all the usual barbs; he saw his father now as neither enemy nor ally, just an interested spectator who had delusions of involving himself. As he donned his shirt, he discovered he could still see the patterns in his father's Aura in every detail. Apparently, the limitation was applied only to his own.
"What is it, Dad?" Jason asked in what he hoped was a neutral voice.
"I just want to know how you are doing," Henry said. "This is the first time in a few days I could talk to you without your mother overhearing."
"She's probably not exactly happy about you closing the door. You know how she feels about that."
"I'll deal with the flak." Henry paused. "Is there anything you can tell me about what's going on with your job?"
"My job? What about it?"
"What are they having you do over there?"
Jason wished he had Cassie's ability to sense emotions. Maybe that would give him a clue as to his father's intentions. "Why do you want to know?"
"Please, stop answering questions with..." Henry trailed off, then let out a noisy sigh. "All right. Part of the reason is I am your father, and I care what happens to my son, as hard as you may find that to believe."
Jason took the statement at face value. He no longer had the righteous conviction to dispute it. "So what's the other part?"
Henry paused for a long moment. "Research."
Jason frowned. "What kind of--?"
"I cannot answer any further, and with that one word I have already revealed far more than I should. Perhaps you can consider that while you are weighing whether I am a caring father or heartless monster."
Jason's mind raced, and his erection ebbed, though he barely noticed the latter. He had already suspected his father was involved with the government. Were they studying what was happening in Haven? Was this just some big experiment? Was his family just another bunch of test results?
"So, please, tell me: what are they doing to you, son?"
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