Thangaiku Theriyaamal Amma Magalai Oothen
- 1 year ago
- 183
- 0
Shadows From The PastChapter 62 free porn video
When she sees the ease with which she can slip past the veil of Heather's mind, she pines for her mother's instead. Heather has had everything taken away from her. She has little resistance to muster. Even her instinct to reject mental intrusion should have offered up something.
It is only once Cassie has penetrated into the void of Heather's psyche that she understands the real danger. Instead of the uniform gray of her mother's mind, thick tendrils of inky black twist and writhe within, forming a living, shifting matrix which she wishes to avoid at all costs. She has no idea if they would alert Laura, or if they could ensnare her were they to twist around her like so many snakes.
The gray lifts as Heather enters the dream state. The tendrils remain, looking like horribly bloated serpents. They form a loose circle about the center of the spawning scene, as if intending to control Heather's actions even in her dreams.
Cassie's heart thunders as she steps past the halo of black, giving her the disconcerting sensation of stepping into an arena. She utters a short gasp as her eyes behold Heather and her skimpy French maid costume and high heels. Impossibly high, such that they hold her feet almost straight down, her legs as shapely as a sculptor's ideal.
Everything about her is the idealized form Cassie suspects Laura wishes of her. Her hair is far more luxuriant, glowing faintly as if polished. Her bosom is more plump, her hips wider. Every article of silk and lace fits her body as if having been glued on like a dress upon a doll.
Heather stands before a chair, her arms lying at her sides. She moans and bends her knees, her hips rocking to an unheard beat. She gasps and sighs, swaying her torso and jiggling the round globes of her breasts to an almost audible bouncing noise.
Cassie shudders and utters a husky sigh as her own pussy warms and buzzes to the torrential waves of wanton desire and sexual pleasure which exude from this distorted visage of Heather. Her eyes widen as she gazes upon the supine form of Laura lounging upon the over-sized chair, its outline and gold trim suggestive of a throne. She, too, is idealized, looking far more voluptuous and sexy than her real counterpart.
Is this how Heather sees her Mistress? It must be, for when Laura rises and lets the robe slip from her naked body, Cassie cannot help but share in the perceived magnificence of Laura's nude form. When Heather drops to her knees and keens in orgasm, Cassie's pussy throbs faintly in sympathy.
"And you are so enthralled by my body that the mere sight of it makes you cum, my slave," says Laura in dulcet, melodious tones which cause Cassie's thighs to quiver.
"Yes, my Mistress," Heather says in a voice of utter husky calm despite her quaking form and convulsing pussy. "My pussy is yours. My body is yours. My mind is yours."
Cassie whimpers in both despair for how low Heather has descended and how exquisite are the little tingles of pleasure in her nicely warm twat from the mantra which part of her longs to speak.
Laura gestures, and Heather rises to her feet, still panting, her eyes smoldering yet obedient. "And what else, slave? What else shall become mine?"
With little preamble, she is suddenly there, fading in from total nonexistence to solid form in a blink of the eye. Cassie's mouth drops open; the last person she ever expected to see here was Melinda.
Melinda is dressed in a costume similar to what Heather had been forced to wear on Halloween night. She moves with the grace of a dancer and the lightness of a feather. She swirls her veils around her body as she spins and sways.
Melinda pants with growing lust, letting out little whimpers as her pussy throbs in a constant, soft rhythm, a never-ending orgasm impossible to ignore. Even when she comes to rest standing beside her sister, her hips still sway and her breath is still labored.
Cassie swallows. The orgasm continues, reminding her of what Melissa once did to Susan. While she realizes that this Melinda is only a projection in Heather's dreamscape, the feeling that she is nothing more than sexual lust and need personified is disturbing.
"My pussy is yours," Melinda intones. "My body is yours. My mind is yours."
"Oh no," Cassie murmurs in a shaky voice. "This ... Ms. Bendon never..."
Laura smiles. "Perfect." She steps forward and gives the crotch of each of their costumes a single light stroke. Both fall to their knees in intense orgasm. Cassie is forced to shield their feelings lest they overcome her, pleasure already rising in the center of her heat. "And who am I to depart from what you are used to? Slave Heather, you will be in charge of slave Melinda."
"Yes, Mistress," both girls chime in Stepford unison. "We are hot and wet and ready to obey you."
"Then play with your new toy, slave Heather," Laura says with a sly smile. "Feel what it's like to have her do as you say."
"Yes, Mistress," Heather says. She turns on her heel and faces Melinda. "Dance for me, baby sis."
Melinda's eyes slide closed as she moans in orgasmic delight, her body returning to its sensual undulations.
Suddenly, Laura is gone, fading away like a ghost. Heather watches her little sister, her glistening ruby lips curling into a smile, her breath becoming a soft pant.
Cassie glances around. She has no idea if the Laura of this dream is still watching like some avatar of Laura's mind, but she has little choice. She takes deep breath and steps into the scene. "Heather."
Heather turns around as Melinda continues her sensual dance. "Cassie?" she says, sounding only mildly surprised. "Funny seeing you here."
Cassie had feared that her presence would be so incongruous that the dream would break up. When she had stepped into Ned's dreams months prior when she was testing her ability, she had let Ned supply the context, and she simply filled whatever role he had chosen for her.
Cassie forces a smile and steps forward. "I came to see what became of Melinda," she says in a bright but shaky voice.
Slowly, the look of surprise fades, and Heather nods. "Of course. Mistress wanted her, so I gave her to Mistress."
"You gave... ?" Cassie pauses as her throat closes up. She swallows and forces the words from her mouth. "When did you do that?"
Heather pauses, and Cassie grows concerned. Heather's dream is working from a "future-past" perspective, where she is dreaming of things she has yet to do as if they are already done. Anything which forces dates or times upon such things threaten to disrupt the dream.
"Monday," Heather says. "On a Monday."
Cassie stares. "Not this coming Monday!"
Heather smiles and nods. "The Monday she would have gone with Aunt Jo."
Cassie gasps. "But ... h-how can you... ?"
"With something Mistress gave me."
The dancing form of Melinda suddenly stops. She shimmers, and her costume is replaced by a pair of black panties. She suddenly moans and whimpers in distress, falling to her knees and then to the floor, squirming with legs spread and hips bucking, as if receiving an invisible lover.
Cassie's eyes widen as she realizes this is exactly what is happening. She is wearing the same panties Heather had been forced to wear as punishment.
"Only Mistress can remove them now," Heather says. "And not before she becomes a good little girl for her Mistress."
Cassie is beside herself. She had never expected to happen upon yet another plot against one of the Harbingers.
"It's better this way," Heather says.
Cassie realizes this is the first thing Heather has said in a tone other than complete and utter obedience. She even senses some reluctance.
"This is better than leaving her to mother or Aunt Jo," says Heather.
Cassie wants to use this angle to help unravel some of the tendrils of control over Heather's mind, but dreams last no more than fifteen minutes at most, and she does not have time.
She looks across the room. The doorway to what she thinks is the dining room fades into the gray, as Heather's dream is not focused upon it.
"Yes, she's right," Cassie says as much as it turns her stomach to do so. Her mind races as she struggles to work her influence into the dream.
"I thought so as well," Heather says. "I wasn't sure for awhile but ... but now I am."
"Yes, of course. Sometimes ... sometimes that happens. Things you're not sure of become clear later. Things ... things you're afraid of are suddenly not as scary. Or that you even like them."
Heather's smile widens. "Yes, you DO understand, Cassie. I used to think I would hate being Mistress' slave. Now I live for it."
"Y-Yes of course. And you ... you were once afraid of your Mistress' laptop."
Suddenly, the gray in the doorway is replaced with a dining room, and upon the end of the table is a laptop with a closed lid. Heather turns towards it. "The laptop?"
"Yes, the laptop. The webcam."
Heather starts towards it, and Melinda vanishes. "Yes, the webcam. I remember. I was afraid Mistress would use it to take pictures of me."
"And you're not afraid of that anymore."
Heather smiles at Cassie. "Of course not. I would adore posing for my Mistress."
"You need to show her that."
"Show her?" Heather says, cocking her head. "Shall I say something to her?"
"No!" Cassie explodes. She glances around her. The edges of the scene are growing gray and indistinct, slowly being absorbed back into her psyche. Heather's dream is about to end. "No, Heather, a ... a good slave SHOWS her Mistress."
"How shall I do that?"
"Mistress leaves her laptop lid down when she's not using it, is that right?"
Heather nods.
"When she's not looking at you ... when you're about to go and ... and service your Mistress ... lift up the lid of the laptop."
Heather ponders as she stares at the laptop even as the gray encroaches upon it.
"Lift the lid so the webcam is exposed," Cassie says with increasing desperation. "Do you understand? When she's not looking, lift the lid. Expose the webcam."
"Yes," Heather whispers. "Yes, I see. I understand."
Cassie stares. Did she just sense something beyond just being a good slave, as if on some deep, untouched level of her mind, Heather has put two and two together and knows?
Cassie will never know, for the scene dissolves into featureless gray surrounded by the undulating halo of black. She looks around and suddenly wonders if she had misinterpreted the positioning of the tendrils. She had assumed they were poised simply to manipulate Heather's dream. Yet here the dream has ended, and the tendrils advance no further.
Cassie understands, and she feels a surge of something she has not felt in a long time: hope. She is standing in the very center of Heather's psyche. Laura's Dark power has yet to breach it. It is trying. It forces it to play out dreams of blissful obedience in hopes of weakening it. Yet here it remains, and along with it, the core of Heather's being.
Cassie wishes she can revel in this, or wait for the next dream sequence so she can contact Heather's mind once more, but she knows she has worn out her welcome. The tendrils become agitated as she threads her way among them, as if they have somehow sensed her presence. Perhaps they have become aware of the aberration in the dream, and are seeking to reassure themselves that no outside force is to blame.
She plunges back out through the veil, and lets herself be sucked out of the dreamverse and into her own body.
Cassie's eyes blinked open, and she sat up in bed. She glanced towards the window, where the coming dawn forced the deep velvet twilight into retreat. The snow had stopped sometime overnight, and the skies had cleared, which meant the day would be bright and cold.
She felt it quite apropos given what she was feeling.
She slipped out of bed, not wishing any more nocturnal pursuits for what remained of the morning. As she prepared herself a cup of tea, she shook her head and sighed, closing her eyes for a moment as she realized just how much everyone had been ignoring Melinda's plight.
Cassie had to warn someone about what Heather was planning. If she managed to go through with it, it would make freeing Heather all that much harder. Or worse, they would free Heather only to leave Melinda enslaved to Laura instead, and if Ned managed to get the evidence Seeger sought, Laura could very well move away and take Melinda with her.
She leaned against the door frame, sipping her tea. Her eyes roamed around the room and back into the bedroom. Somewhere close was the spirit which had shadowed her.
"So what do you think of all this?" Cassie asked, not expecting an answer.
She got one anyway. She straightened up suddenly as something impinged on her senses for a moment. It felt faintly like approval.
Approval of what?
Before she could press the question, he was gone, but now she had the disconcerting sense that he was watching her. Or maintaining a vigil. Neither sounded promising.
Melinda stood in the middle of the living room, trembling with slowly rising desire as Aunt Jo circled her. Jo's hands would alight on her to adjust some part of her dress that needed no adjustment, her hands lingering and sliding over light cotton which clung to Melinda's flushed and tingling skin. A tug at the shoulders would slide the material against her swollen nipples, making her shudder. Heat would gather and steam in her pussy as Jo's fingers spread over her shoulders and down her back.
Melinda had been allowed the concession of no ring-clamps, but that was all. She wore nothing under her Sunday dress save for her oh-so-sexy white stockings and matching heeled shoes. Yet her nipples still ached for the tight pinch of the clamps, throbbing faintly with her heartbeat.
Jo tugged at the waist and let her hands slide down and over Melinda's hips and ass. Melinda let out a quavering sigh, her thighs trembling. The dress reached just short of her knees, but she may have well been naked for as much as her pussy oozed and swelled.
Melinda cast a languid gaze across the room. Her parents stood in their Sunday best. David paused in his conversation with Penny and turned towards his daughter. He folded his hands before him and smiled, seeing nothing out of the ordinary.
Melinda wanted to end this. She wanted to take control and lash out first at Aunt Jo for doing this to her, and then at her father for refusing to see. She still wondered where the hell his Aura was, for his mother had to be controlling him into not seeing his daughter acting like a slut right before his eyes.
Behind her, Jo placed her hands on Melinda's shoulders and whispered into her ear, "So your mother is still stringing along your father after all this time, hmm?"
Melinda swallowed and let out a short, husky sigh. Jo's hands slipped down and cupped her breasts through the dress. Melinda closed her eyes and moaned, writhing and twisting as if she wanted more and wanted to pull away at the same time.
"Wonder what he's being made to see now?" Jo purred. "Certainly not me fondling your nice big titties."
Melinda panted and leaned into the touch. She forced her eyes open a crack. Her father was looking right at her and not batting an eye, the same maddeningly pleasant smile etched into his face. Next to him, Penny stood with her hands folded tightly before her, swinging her hips slowly from side to side. She looked on with a shimmering, troubled gaze.
Or Melinda only thought it was troubled. Look at her. Look how she moved. She was getting off on her own daughter being made into a sex slave.
Jo's hands dropped from Melinda's breasts and slid over her hips. Melinda squirmed in her aunt's grip as if in silent bid to have Jo touch her aching pussy.
Perhaps she really did want to be touched. She had sensed the growing pool of energy just before going to bed the night before, her pussy still aching from how much the strap-on had been rammed into it. Each orgasm forced upon her by her aunt and her mother had added to it.
What was she supposed to do with it? Eventually it would be full. Then what?
"We better get on to church," Penny said in a husky yet listless voice as she turned away.
"Right you are, love," said David as he followed her towards the garage with a spring in his step.
What was he seeing? The perfect family? It seemed to Melinda that he became more chipper the more Melinda descended into full sexual enslavement. Did it take more effort now to make him not see?
Jo removed her hands from Melinda's hips. She stepped alongside Melinda and draped an arm around Melinda's shoulders, pulling her close. Melinda moaned softly as she felt the press of Jo's warm and wonderfully mature body. Jo pulled her closer, until the side of one massive breast pressed into her arm. Melinda shuddered and snuggled against her aunt.
"Bet you're already getting sooo very wet, my slutty little Sunday girl," Jo said as she directed her charge towards the garage. "So very wet and horny."
Melinda heaved a shaky sigh and clung to her aunt.
"Maybe so horny you'll cum for me in the pew," Jo whispered, her hot breath against Melinda's ear just as they reached the door. "Then you'll really be a hopeless slut."
Melinda trembled as she was put into the back seat of the car. Her protected self railed. She could stop it from happening, but it would be one more orgasm to add to her pool of energy.
There had to be a reason. Heather must have known this would happen. Wait until Monday. Monday was the day. Heather would do something which would rescue her from this fate. In exchange for that, she thought she could live with the humiliation.
"I'm sorry, Diane," said Janet as she hit the button to close the garage door. "But the answer is still no."
Diane gave her a forlorn look, and Janet had to buck up her courage not to give in. She stepped forward and draped an arm around her daughter's shoulders. "You saw what the roads looked like this morning. Do you really think you can bike in that?"
"I just wanted to go out with my friends today," Diane said in a low voice.
"I know you do, honey, and I'm glad to see you finally coming out of your shell."
Diane gave her a mystified look as she backed away from her mother in order to take off her coat. "Shell?"
Janet gave her a small smile. "Well, maybe that is a bit strong a word, but you were never much the social butterfly."
"That's just how I am, mother."
"Oh, I know, darling, and I would never criticize you for it." Janet took Diane's coat and hung it and her own in the hall closet. "But I do like you being around a somewhat larger crowd."
Diane tilted her head. "Why is that?"
Janet had hoped Diane would just accept it like she did a lot of things her mother said. Or at least that was the way she used to be. She realized she should be glad that her daughter was finally showing some independence, but the timing felt off, like Diane still needed her protection.
Protection from what, she was not sure and cared not to speculate.
That only led her thoughts around in circles. She could no longer shake the sensation that something was fundamentally wrong in Haven, and somehow her daughter was in the middle of it. She had no evidence, only a gut feeling and a desire not to see her daughter hurt.
"If you want to take a walk around the neighborhood, that would be fine," Janet said as the phone rang. She turned towards the extension in the kitchen, but Ralph waved her off and jogged up to it. Janet turned back to Diane. "So long as you wear those weatherproof boots I bought you last year that you begged for and never wore."
Diane drew in her breath, caught herself, and simply nodded, but Janet heard the breath escape her nose. Janet held her tongue. At least she could be thankful that Diane was not playing the part of the totally rebellious teenager.
Now the same motherly instinct which had hinted at danger caught the fact that Diane was more upset about this than Janet thought warranted. Should she press her daughter on the issue and take shameless advantage of her daughter's meekness? She wondered how much she had done just that while Diane was growing up just for the sake of having an obedient child and thus doing more harm than good.
Lianne
- 09.12.2021
- 16
- 0
Shadows From the PastChapter 24
- 3 years ago
- 15
- 0
Shadows From the PastChapter 41
- 3 years ago
- 13
- 0
