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Shadows From The PastChapter 43 free porn video
Cassie again stands before the softly glowing pit, its pale blue light giving her nightgown its own glow. She folds her arms and frowns as she senses that odd Presence again, just at the edge of her perception, enticing her. It would mean another trip through the mesa and into the line, something which she has no intention of doing.
She wills herself to her mother's slumbering and vulnerable mind, but the dreamverse remains unchanged. The Presence grows stronger, and an eerie sense of recognition reaches her from the past. She is almost sure this is the same entity which plagued a childhood she struggles to recall.
"Whoever -- or whatever -- you are," Cassie announces in a firm if quavering voice. "I will not let you take control of me here."
She receives no response, and the Presence remains distant. She stretches her empathic senses and closes her eyes. It flits away from her reach, as if intending to frustrate her.
"What are you afraid of?" Cassie calls out.
The Presence grows still. She shivers as she senses curiosity, not for the emotion itself, but the fact that it is of such strength she can no longer deny she is facing a very real entity.
She remembers her conversation with Debby and the inconvenient truths it had revealed about herself. However much she chooses to accept, one thing is clear: if she cannot at least claim power over her own mind, she cannot trust herself with power over anything else.
"I want to know who you are," Cassie says, her voice betraying the uncertainty in her conviction. "But it has to be on my terms."
She senses a subtle change to its emotions, but can discern nothing beyond that. The energy in the pit suddenly swirls faster, the patterns extruding themselves into the distance, as if symbolically sucking her inside. If she has to guess as to what it is feeling, she would say anticipation, perhaps defiance as well.
"No," Cassie declares. "I am not Projecting tonight."
The Presence remains still, as if intending not to budge in its convictions. The energy swirls with greater insistence within the pit, and she can almost discern the strange shapes which gather about the descending portal.
"NO," Cassie cries. "And if you force me, I will be no better than a slave."
A pause, and then a sense of wonder.
"I'm not sure why you want me to keep Projecting." Cassie's voice is less anxious, the total lack of outright hostility or malevolence from the Presence putting her more at ease. "Unless you want to show me things like you did last time. Is that what this is about? Are you giving me clues to some sort of puzzle or code?"
For a brief moment, she senses amusement, then negation. She tries not to think of it as making fun of her.
Cassie sighs. "I really wish you would just talk to me."
The amusement fades. It becomes curious again, but it has a different feel, as if it wants to know as much about her as she does about it. There is an undertone of seriousness, its ultimate intent hinting at something of great importance.
Cassie realizes the more she communicates with this entity, the more of an enigma it becomes. "I won't budge. Give me back control of my dreamverse." She pauses. "I promise I will Project myself again very soon."
She does not like the idea of negotiating for control over her own mind, but she does not think it would acquiesce if she had not. For a moment she fears not even her concession will be accepted, until the Presence vanishes from her perception. She blinks and reels as she stands before the glowing, ethereal veil standing between her and her mother's mind.
Cassie has no words for the relief she feels. A minion of the Darkness would never have yielded. She is at least assured that this Presence has no association with it.
Yet now she faces a quandary. She knows she needs to convince her mother to lift the edict concerning Richie, but she burns with the need to know more about her past. She hates relegating Richie to skulking the back alleys to come to Harbinger meetings. Then again, she is supposed to be the one making these difficult decisions.
And not knowing her past would eventually drive her to distraction and make her an ineffective leader.
She makes her decision and steps through the veil. The brief chill gives way to the omnipresent gray void, and to her surprise, she at once sees a vague shape in the distance. Has she become more adept at penetrating her mother's secrets, or is her mother somehow more willing to reveal them?
Without the loss of sense of direction which usually afflicts her voyage into her mother's subconscious, she rushes towards the figure, which resolves itself into her mother. She is turned away, staring at something in the distance, regal and erect.
The rest of the scene bursts into existence, and the sudden transition from featureless gray silence to bright azure skies and banging tools sends her senses reeling. She squints and shields her eyes as she brings her gaze to bear on her mother. Dorothy stands pensive and troubled, looking towards a familiar edifice.
At least it is familiar at first glance. She is looking at her own mansion, but half covered in scaffolding. Workers bustle about, sawing and hammering. A cement mixer rumbles as its tank rotates, a stream of liquid gray splashing into molds which would eventually become the driveway.
Dorothy utters a sigh, and Cassie's eyes widen as she looks at her mother. Or rather, her mother-to-be. The much younger Dorothy lays a hand over her swollen belly, her face far less lined and angled, her eyes misty.
A shadow crosses the ground, and a strapping Robert drapes an arm around Dorothy's shoulders. Dorothy lays her head against him as a bulldozer ambles by, raising a cloud of dust. Dorothy wrinkles her nose and waves the air. "All this can't be good for the baby, Robert."
"You were the one who wanted to see it, dear," Robert says in a gentle voice.
"I really don't understand. Why here?"
Robert pauses. "I take it you don't mean why Haven?"
"That itself is another discussion," Dorothy says in a tart voice. "But not one I feel will get me anywhere."
Robert steps in front of his wife, looking off into the distance. Cassie follows and sees the familiar sight of Haven stretched out in the valley below. "Maybe because I feel like I can keep an eye on things from up here."
"I'm sorry, but that sounds silly."
Robert turns to Dorothy and smiles. "Perhaps. But I need every psychological advantage I can get."
Dorothy slides her hand over her pregnant swell. "I don't want my child born here."
"We hardly have control over that."
Dorothy casts a sharp look at her husband.
Robert holds up his hands as if in surrender. "In that we won't be able to predict what particular day you'll give birth is all I meant."
Dorothy narrows her eyes, and now the familiar hard angles appear. "I do not intend to do any traveling in my final month. I will stay in New York."
Robert gives his wife a sad look. "I would not want to be by myself here."
"And you cannot give up this ... this obsession of yours for a mere month? And do you assume I would want to come down here for half a year at a time while I am raising our child?"
Cassie's eyes widen. This could not possibly be the same thing they were talking about in the last memory she had witnessed. That would mean he had been pursuing this for fifteen years!
"Your stated intent had been that this was to be a summer home, yet every time you talk about it now, you sound more like you want us to live here permanently," Dorothy continues. "And you would find some excuse to do just that were I to give birth here."
Robert raises his eyebrows and steps towards his wife. "What are you talking about?"
"Don't think I don't know who you've been talking to when you were dealing with the government for this slice of worthless land in the middle of nowhere."
Robert scratches the back of his head, and Cassie knows her mother had caught him in a lie. Dorothy steps up to him, placing her hands over her belly as if protecting the unborn Cassie. "What do you expect will come of this? I found the recording you made of one of your discussions and listened to it. Do you believe half the claptrap that witch doctor--"
"Shaman, dear," Robert says in a tired voice.
Cassie stares. Shaman?
"Whatever you want to call him, it's just another word for charlatan."
"Dorothy, please do not take me for the fool," snaps Robert. "I spoke with the man not as a spiritual adviser but one knowledgeable in the history of this area. They were here far ahead of us, if you recall."
"And do not patronize me," Dorothy says in a huff.
Cassie takes a step closer, utterly fascinated. Debby had spoken of the possibility of spiritual energy in this area. For some reason, Cassie finds the idea of those spirits being of more ancient origin to be more palatable. She is not sure why.
"I would not dream of it," Robert says in a serious but gentle voice. He approaches her cautiously, Cassie sensing his fear that he may be rejected. Dorothy tenses at first, but lets out a sigh and leans against him when he wraps an arm around her waist.
Dorothy closes her eyes. "I'm sorry I harp on you so much. I know how important this is to you. But realize that this child is important to me."
Cassie is shocked by the flood of affection from her mother-to-be. "Why do I keep underestimating her?" Cassie says in a low, shameful voice.
Robert drapes his hand delicately over his wife's belly. She sighs and places her hand over his. "Dorothy, I will do nothing that would harm our child." He utters a slow sigh. "I will try to arrange things so you are in New York when your time is close."
Dorothy gives him a weak smile and squeezes his hand. "Thank you, Robert. That's all I ask."
The two lean into a kiss, and Cassie is thrown back and through the veil.
Cassie's eyes blinked open, and she sat up in the dark. Outside the window, no telltale signs of the approach of dawn appeared in the heavens. The skies were crisp and clear, though a dusting of fresh snow covered the bushes.
Cassie uttered a sigh and rubbed her temple. She was grateful for something a little more sedate than previous forays into her mother's mind. The clarity of the memory and its unbiased perspective meant she must have channeled the same memory from both.
Yet again, more questions had been raised than had been answered. It also introduced a new element. Until then, she had not feared for her parents concerning Haven. She had felt they were somehow protected from it. Perhaps she had been guilty of the very thing of which she often silently accused her mother: of hiding behind the money and the privilege in the foolish belief it would give her everything she wanted.
All Cassie wanted for her parents was safety, and she was no longer convinced it would remain within reach for very long, not if her father had been pursuing this for more than fifteen years.
Jason awoke to a nice hard-on, as he did most mornings anymore. He recalled it had distressed him in the past, but he was no longer sure why. He rolled onto his back with a smile, draping his hand across the bulge in his briefs. He closed his eyes and let out a slow sigh as the remnants of his last erotic dream played out in his head, his fingers slowly stroking the swell of his cock through the cotton.
He supposed he had also felt distressed over enjoying the absolute obedience of his slaves, at how they would respond to his every sexual whim. The hot sessions he had with them over the weekend had helped put him more at ease. After all, they were enjoying it, too. They were happy and carefree, fully enjoying their wet pussies instead of causing trouble for others. Why should he not enjoy what he had had every right to do in the first place?
Jason turned his head and sighed as he looked at the clock. As much as he would enjoy a nice orgasm right now, he had to get to school. Besides, he had two willing sex slaves waiting to service him at the Inn that afternoon.
He tossed the blankets aside and stood. He glanced towards the bedroom door when he heard muffled voices from the hall. He sighed and shook his head. His parents were arguing again. They seemed to do that all the time now. He would not feel so bad if it were not for the fact that they were likely arguing over him.
He wondered if his father should just leave things well enough alone and let him sort out the rest. He stripped off his underwear and stepped towards the bathroom, his fingers playing with his still rock-hard erection.
Jason was sure he could handle whatever the Inn threw at him. If anything, he had come out ahead. He had learned how to use his power properly, and he had not had it turned against the Harbingers, though he had been given something interesting to contemplate.
Jason stepped into the shower, still idly caressing his stiff cock as he recalled a memory which kept him hard. He remembered when Diane had been the Harbingers' slave, albeit unwittingly playing to Victor's agenda. He had quite enjoyed that, even when it seemed wrong once Debby had freed her from Victor's grip. Why should he not have enjoyed it? Furthermore, it had allowed for her energy-channeling ability -- albeit imparted by a spell at the time -- to be properly controlled and applied.
His mind came back around to Stacy's last parting words. He realized just before going to bed the night before that Diane did tend to fit the profile Stacy had laid out. She now had a rather formidable power which could be abused. She was quite submissive, which could allow someone to take control of her and hence her power. If her power were usurped for malevolent intent, she could indeed do harm to others.
Jason paused and shook his head. No, she did not deserve to be enslaved, nor was it required to protect others. The Harbingers could protect her, and Debby was teaching her to control her power better.
He would resist any attempt by Stacy to send him after her. If he did anything, it would be because it was reasonable and prudent.
Nevertheless, the thought of having a third girl at his sexual beck and call made it impossible to rid himself of his erection by anything other than direct means. He stroked himself to a quick but nice orgasm, recalling the pleasure Diane had given him as the Harbingers' temporary slave. He told himself he derived his enjoyment from the memory and not anticipation.
He stepped out of the shower, his cock at half-mast and satiated for now. He dried himself and stepped into the bedroom, hesitating when he saw his father standing just inside the room, his back to the closed door.
"You think it wise to go around like that considering what your mother's been like lately?" Henry said in a flat voice.
"I thought you said you'd be protecting me from that," said Jason as he headed towards the dresser.
"Or protecting her from you."
Jason said nothing as he plucked a set of briefs from a drawer.
Henry raised an eyebrow. "Has it gotten to that point?"
Jason shook his head. "Maybe I was too worried about that after all. I don't have any reason to, well, 'go after her, ' as it were."
Henry let out a slow sigh through his nose. "That's not very reassuring, especially considering how you've gone to being freaked out to fairly complacent."
Jason stepped into his briefs. "Just choosing my battles, Dad. Why are you in my room, by the way?"
"Because I've been called to the hospital early and wanted to make sure your mother did not try to see you while you weren't decent."
Jason rolled his eyes and pulled his briefs into place, letting the waistband go with a snap. "There, that should be decent enough. Though I'm sure seeing me naked is nothing new to her considering she's my mother."
Henry frowned. "Son, think about this for a minute. You're very good at that if your grades for the last ten years are any indication. Given what is influencing her, do you really think she would see your nudity in the same light as she would have before Thanksgiving?"
Jason paused as he stopped by his closet. "I suppose not," he said in a softer voice.
"And do you really want something to happen of that nature between the two of you?"
Jason withdrew a pair of jeans from the closet. He glanced at his father and shook his head. "It's not that I want something to happen, Dad," Jason said as he put on his jeans. "But I can handle it better now if it comes down to that."
Henry narrowed his eyes. "And what is that supposed to mean?"
Jason paused to secure his jeans and turn towards the closet again. "Just what I said. I could handle it better now with what I've learned."
"You don't mean ... you'd take control of her?"
"Well, not enslave her if that's what you mean." Jason took a flannel shirt from the closet and threaded his arms through the sleeves. "But I'm sure I could influence her enough to fend her off."
"Isn't that a little like fighting a house fire with a flamethrower?"
"Wrong analogy. More like fighting a forest fire with a backfire."
"I'm not going to argue semantics with you," Henry said as he opened the door behind him. "I should have been at the hospital by now. Just go directly to the bus stop, Jason, please."
Jason sighed as he finished buttoning his shirt. "Stop worrying about me, I'm fine."
Henry cast a lingering look of both concern and doubt before he rushed out of the room.
Jason glanced at the open door before heading towards his bed to get his backpack sorted out. He looked towards the bathroom for a moment and wondered if perhaps he had been acting a little careless. Perhaps the Inn had given him a sense of overconfidence.
He still did not want his mother to experience the trauma of being forced into sex with her own son.
Jason made haste and did not try to get everything as neat as he usually did. He shouldered his backpack and rushed out of the room as he heard the garage door go up. He paused at the top of the stairs when he saw his mother waiting for him at the bottom. She leaned over the banister, her bra-less bosom swelling against her blouse, the top few buttons of which were undone. She crossed one ankle over the other, drawing attention to her legs below a rather short skirt.
"Good morning, Jason," Audrey said in a sweet, husky voice as Jason heard the garage door rumble back down. "I would have come up to see you, but your father was being quite obstinate this morning."
Jason bounded down the stairs. "I need to get to school anyway, Mom," he said, putting a faint emphasis on the last word.
His mother touched his arm as he passed. He took another step before he turned around.
"Don't you want to give me a kiss before you go?"
Jason swallowed, his eyes darting towards her exposed cleavage. Her fingers toyed with the next button, which would have afforded him a view he believed no teenage boy should have of his mother. "I don't think that's a good idea," Jason said in a quavering voice.
Audrey stepped out from behind the banister. She undid the button before her hand fell away. Her breasts jiggled as she approached, the folds of her blouse only an inch or so away from revealing her nipples.
Jason stumbled back a step. "And you shouldn't be doing that, either."
Audrey blinked as if in innocence, then glanced down. She let out a shaky sigh and re-buttoned her blouse just enough to keep her breasts contained, but only barely. "I'm terribly sorry, Jason."
Her voice was contrite, but still sultry. Her Aura still churned as it always did. "Thank you," he said in a relieved voice, though some of the damage had already been done, as his cock had swelled in his briefs.
"That was terrible of me to do that to you," Audrey said. "You're just ... just such a handsome boy. Such a handsome, attractive teenage boy."
"You can't think of me like that."
"Why not?"
"It's ... it's just wrong, that's all."
Audrey paused. "They're teaching you to influence people, aren't they?"
"What? You mean at the Inn? Well, yes and no. They're teaching me how to use ... um ... my natural abilities."
Audrey took a step closer. "You can tell me, Jason. I know something about it, though I'm not sure how. I guess it's mother's instinct. They're teaching you how to control people."
Jason said nothing. His heart thumped, and he was not sure why.
"I've had these feelings about you that I can't control," Audrey said. "Maybe you can help me with that."
"I ... they didn't show me how to teach others..."
Audrey shook her head. "No, I mean you could ... control me. If you needed to."
Jason's eyes widened. "You want me to do that to you?"
"If it means preventing ... well, whatever you don't want to happen."
Jason was caught in a bind. He had just espoused this approach to his father, but now it seemed wrong. He looked at her Aura to remind himself who really controlled her. Surely it was not intending him to work at cross-purposes to it? Or could some small part of her have broken away and wanted Jason to help push it back?
"Let me think about it," Jason said before turning on his heel and rushing out of the house.
Melinda's heart pounded as the school bus pulled up to the curb. She again resisted the urge to glance towards a sister who was not there and was gone for another week, by which point she might be gone as well, only permanently.
Melinda had pinned her hopes all weekend that Jason would fight off the influence of the Darkness and be back to his normal self. Then he could help Melinda resist the cruel trigger planted in her by the cult.
She shuddered and swayed her hips, the distraction of her anxiety not enough to stop feeling so very sexy in her white stockings and garters. She shifted her weight and took a half step back, lifting one side of her short skirt to flash her garters at whomever may be watching.
The chill of the icy air against her legs did not bother her. Her skin flushed hot as she imagined the boys seeing her sexy stockings. She climbed the steps into the school bus, her thighs rubbing against one another and exacerbating the heat in her pussy. She slowed her ascent as she cast her eyes upon Jason, and her hope was dashed.
Jason's Aura was as dark as Heather's had been while under Nyssa's control. More disconcerting was his smile. It was no different than his normal smile, but it was very out of place given his Aura and his dismal outlook the week before.
"Jason, a-are you all right?" Melinda asked in a quavering voice.
"Yes, I'm fine, Melinda." He patted the seat next to him. "Going to sit down?"
Melinda paused, staring at the churning tendrils of inky black. She nodded and glanced towards the proffered seat, then scrambled back towards the seat in which Heather usually sat.
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