Esha -
The Haunting of Crowley Manor
Chapter
2 - Magda Crowley
by Soul
in Shadow (soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
The
hissing spray of the shower heads, coupled with the distant drone of the
television news, combined to make a pleasantly mindless cancophony in the
expensive marble bathroom of the socialite Barbara Cummings, otherwise known as
the master thief Esha. The statuesque blonde sighed contendedly beneath the
surging, steaming water, tilting her head back to allow the water to course
through her long hair and down the bow-like curve of her back. Countless
rivulets of water crisscrossed her naked body, from the swell of her
magnificent tits to her long, toned legs. Once again, Barbara congratulated
herself for the fantastic decision to install this oversized shower. It was
easily one of her favorite luxuries. The water felt delightful, and the drone
of the shower heads helped block out the world and all its insanities.
For
however long she wanted, she could enjoy precious moments of unconcerned bliss.
Today
though, her schedule demanded that she cut it a little short. She was expecting
a client.
Sighing
in resignation, she relucantly shut off the shower valves. Stepping out into
the steamy bathroom, she wrapped a thick, white towel around her body, cinching
it tight between her breasts. A second towel wrapped around her hair, and a
moment later she padded out into the luxurious bedroom of her skyrise
apartment. The wall was an almost seamless glass window that offered a
breathtaking view of downtown Delta City, shrouded in the dark blue hues of
twilight, flecked with countless, brilliant lights.
Like
jewels, she mused to herself; Delta City at night could be positively radiant.
The
soft glow of the standing lamps cast the room in warm tones, the only other
illumination coming from the massive flatscreen television that dominated the
facing wall. As Barbara moved to her expansive walk-in closet, she allowed
herself to think back over the events of the last week, and she quietly shook her
head at the madcap pace of it all.
She
paused as she reached for a short, black silk robe, and glanced towards the
carefully concealed panel nestled deep in the closet space. She slid back a
section of clothing, her fingers moving with familiar purpose along a hidden
seam, until they came to rest on the tiny biometric square one had to feel to
find. Silently the system read her thumbprint, and with the tiniest click, the
back panel popped up. She swung the door open, and felt to her chagrin a
sudden, unexpected nervous flutter in her stomach as a small black box came
into view.
She
frowned. Random bouts of uncertainty were entirely out of the ordinary for her,
she of the almost ubiquitous and unflappable sense of confidence, but as of
late, they seemed to be coming with troubling frequency.
Always
involving the box. Or more precisely, the precious, stolen thing the box
contained.
Impatiently
cursing her own ridiculousness--how many jewel heists had she perpetrated over
the years, and suddenly this stupid rock was giving her problems--Barbara
snatched the box from its receptacle, and set it momentarily on a deep red,
antique vanity.
She
toweled her hair dry, and slipped the silk robe over her naked form, her skin
erupting in tiny bumps as the cool material wrapped her flushed body in its
airy embrace. Thinking back to the museum, her thoughts were drawn irresistably
to the highlight of her caper, to that hot little utility room and her most
recent bout of sexual conquest. Her red lips curled into a self-satisfied
smile. Lovely little Carrie. What a delicious morsel she'd turned out to be.
Repressed, well-endowed, and oh so eager to please.
Barbara's
pussy moistened just at the thought.
That
one showed promise, Barbara thought with a chuckle, she'd have to find time to
pay the hot little co-ed a surprise visit soon.
But
that indulgence would have to wait. Right now there was business to attend to.
She glanced at a small ivory desk clock, and gauged the time. Eight thirty. She
was supposed to meet Magda Crowley in a little under two hours, and much of
that would be consumed by the drive. Magda had insisted, in her typical
better-than-thou attitude, that they complete the exchange at her family's
ancestrall home, Crowley Manor. The ancient heap was an annoying hour's drive
out into the middle of nowhere.
The
thought of the woman was enough to sour Barbara's mood. Magda Crowley, a
fifty-something member of the Old Estate, part of the stuffy burgoise that made
up the bedrock of Delta City's upper class. No relations, the heiress of a vast
fortune from old Europe who dallied in the same social circles Barbara often
had to frequent for the sake of public appearances. As much as she loathed the
cocktail parties and their riotously self-absorbed panderings, people expected
a woman of her prestige to mingle. She was young, beautiful, and famously
single; people expected her to be flirtatious, to date, perhaps even marry one
of the snotty little shits that pestered her for attention every time she
showed her face.
It was
maddening. Happily, she'd worked out her frustrations by stealing many of them
blind. It almost made up for the indignity of having drunken, stupidly vain
men's crudely attempt to get in her pants.
...almost.
But
Magda...she was different. clever. Too clever by half.
It had
all started so unassumingly, at a recent fundraiser for some new art
installation along the Delta City waterfront. Barbara had successfully managed
to thwart every attempt at snaring her for a date, leaving several would-be
suitors stinging from her disinterested rebukes. In fact, things had gone so
well that she'd been feeling uncharacteristically cheery as the evening drew to
a close. It might have helped that the insufferable Brenda Wade was still
incognito. That self-righteous bitch could really get on a high horse about
public responsibility and civic good will. It was enough to make Barbara want
to gag.
Maybe
the do-gooder had found some new cause to sink all her time into. Some
eco-friendly nonsense, from what she'd been able to gather. Why else would
anyone buy up a whole section of Whitestone Hills?
Barbara
could have cared less. Better she be out there, hip-deep in the wild, so long
as she was out of Barbara's hair.
It was
as she was polishing off her last cocktail, resting against the boardwalk rail
overlooking Delta City bay, that she realized she had company. Truth be told,
Magda Crowley's appearance had genuinely startled her; she hadn't heard the
woman approach, hadn't noticed her until she turned away from the water, and
nearly stumbled right into her.
"Fuck!"
Barbara started, jumping back. She glowered at the woman. She hated being
surprised.
Magda
Crowley might have been beautiful once, but time had taken its toll. She had
put on some weight, so what might have otherwise been a shapely figure was
rounded and soft. Her face was creased with fine lines, her silvering hair
pulled back in a proper, tight bun. Her countenance had a severity to it, an
almost regal gleam that bespoke old aristocratic heritage. Her cool eyes
conveyed a general air of contempt, and her thick lips always seemed to be
pulled in a bemused smirk. Her attitude chaffed Barbara severely; she was used
to being the alpha female in most situations, and with Magda, she had to
grudgingly admit she might have met her match. The woman was never out sorts,
never spoke inelegantly, and even now regarded Barbara's outburst with an
eyebrow raised in amused derision. Barbara felt her cheeks color. She really
could have cared less what the old bag thought of her colorful language.
"Lovely
night, isn't it?" she said cheerily, fixing Barbara with a steady, gray
stare. Her voice had the hint of an accent, implacable. Eastern European,
perhaps. The blonde bombshell would have happily stormed past her and avoided
the discussion entirely, but Magda had managed to corner her against the end of
the pier, her back to the rail. The walkway was narrow here, and the older
woman stood just a half-pace too close, leaving no gap for Barbara to slip past
without barging right into her.
How the
fuck did someone so old move that quietly, anyway?
Barbara
exhaled sharply, taking another draught from her cocktail, and turned away
again to face the water. "The weather is pleasant enough," Barbara
answered. "I wish I could say the same for the company."
If
Magda had detected the slight, she gave no notice. She surveyed the statuesque
blonde in front of her with brazen openess. Barbara had dressed purposely in a
slightly tasteless, overly revealing little black dress, hoping to stir up some
trouble between some of the married men and their jealous wives. The hem of her
dress rode dangerously high on her thighs, revealing her long, nubile legs and
emphasizing the tantilizng curve of her hips and waist. Her breasts threatened
to spill out the top of the tiny black number, and a fat sapphire necklace drew
immediate attention to the deep valley of her cleavage.
She was
dressed for sex, her outfit screamed, just not with any of these sorry clowns.
Normally
Barbara relished the attention her revealing attire earned her. She was totally
comfortable with her body, and was exceedingly adept at using it to put people
off balance. Suddenly though, Magda's eyes were making her feel uncomfortable.
Beneath her veneer of gentility was an almost hungry, predatory gleam. Barbara
could feel her eyes roving over her. She felt like she was being undressed.
Well,
the old dyke could go fuck herself.
Magda
Crowley stepped closer.
"I'll
keep this short, dear," she said, her voice low, "I find myself in an
unusual predicament. I could use your...services."
Barbara
glanced at her sideways, then scoffed. "Listen lady, if you're looking for
a good time I suggest the corner of Eighth and Broadway. I'm sure you'll find
someone your speed."
The
woman was unperturbed by the crass remark. "It has come to my attention
that you possess certain unique...talents. Talents that most people here might
find unseemly--perhaps even...criminal."
At
that, Barbara snapped her head around, her jaw taut. Emerald daggers glared
piercingly into Magda's smirking gray eyes. Barbara's voice was a threatening
growl. "I really hope you're not implying what I think you're implying.
It's a long drop to the water. It'd be a shame if a frail old lady would lose
her footing around here."
Magda
held up a hand, "I imply nothing," she said. "I'll state it
plainly. You are the masked thief Esha, are you not?"
Barbara's
stomach dropped, her eyes widening in disbelief. How did she know? Who the fuck
did this lady think she was, throwing it out there like that? But as Barbara
opened her mouth to demand an explanation, Magda cut her off.
"Never
mind how I know," she said, keeping her voice low. "Just know that I
do, and that I've taken some precautions before confronting you with it."
She smiled, her eyes narrowing. "Lay a finger on me and every police squad
in the city, and more than half of its criminals, will be on your pretty little
tail."
She let
the threat hang in the air a moment, enough time for Barbara to quell her
shock, to reassemble her frigid demeanor. When it was clear the shocked blonde
was waiting for her to continue, Magda went on, "As I was saying, you have
nothing to fear from me. I merely have a business proposition for you."
Barbara's
voice was ice. "And what the fuck makes you think I'd consider doing
business with you?"
"The
same reason you won't try anything stupid now," Magda answered cooly.
"You have too much to risk by turning me down, don't you?"
Barbara
fumed, but she was at a major disadvantage. The woman knew her secret identity.
She was completely blindsided. She was so careful, she was sure her trail was
impossible to follow. How the fuck had she been found out?
She'd
have to figure that part out later, and find some way of dealing with this
crazy bitch. Barbara couldn't stand the thought of someone like Magda having
that kind of power over her. She'd have to be dealt with, and soon. But for
now, she would have to play along.
She
forced herself to loosen up. She tossed her hair as the night breeze picked up,
only now it no longer felt pleasant. Cold beads of sweat had erupted in the
small of Barbara's back, and her stomach roiled with tight nerves. She refused
to let Magda know just how jilted she felt though, and so her voice responded
with careful, steady modulation. "Start talking. And don't waste my
time."
Magda
seemed pleased with her response. The older woman reached into her expensive
suit jacket, and produced a small, unmarked white envelope, which she handed to
Barbara. "Everything you need to know is in there. I need you to retrieve
a family heirloom of mine, one that I feared lost forever. It is my good
fortune that it turned up again after all these years, but to my dismay, it
appears to fallen into the collection of most undeserving souls." Her gray
eyes swept down to Barbara's flushed cleavage, and lingered just a moment too
long, gleaming in the dark, before returning her cold stare. "Don't worry.
You will be rewarded...generously...for your difficulties."
Magda
had slipped away soon after that. She'd explained to Barbara about the Devil's
Eye Pendant, about the museum collection, and how Barbara's unique connections
at the museum, coupled with her reputation as a master thief, had made her the
perfect choice. She'd leave the details to Esha, her only requirement was that
the jewel be delivered to the Crowley Manor by Barbara herself. It was too
valuable to leave in the hands of anyone else.
"Can't
be too careful these days," the conniving woman finished with a sneer,
"You never know who you can trust."
----------------------------
A
little over an hour later, Barbara maneuvered her small, compact rental car
down an overgrown road barely noticeable from the main thoroughfare. Magda's
directions were exquisitely detailed, and now Barbara understood why; there was
almost no way to find the road to the manor without them. With some annoyance
Barbara had discovered her portable GPS had stopped working soon after she'd
left the city limits, and her cell phone had lost signal not long thereafter.
An electronic deadspot of some kind, which, upon inspecting her surroundings,
that wasn't entirely unsurprising. The Crowley Manor was situated in the rural
forestry far outside the city limits. The Crowley family owned much of the land
surrounding the manor, for no reason other than their apparent love of privacy.
The land was basically swampland, unfit for agriculture and held no other
discernable value, but their steadfast refusal to part with any slice of it
prevented the city from creeping growth in its direction.
here
were no other residents within miles of the house, but Barbara had opted for a
nondescript rental vehicle anyway. It offered her some anonymity as she left
the city (alas, even she was not immune to the occasional paparazzi tail), and
would spare her beloved Massaratti from the hellish condition of these rural
roads.
Great
black clouds thundered overhead, blotting out the stars and moon. The only
illumination came from the car's twin headlights. Barbara felt as though she
were riding into a pool of absolute night. Where her headlights hit the road,
Barbara could see a low, thick mist starting to swirl, growing thicker as she
drove on. It lent the entire ride an almost ethereal bent.
She
wondered idly if she'd be able to find her way back through the twisting turns
at night, but remained smoothly confident that she would. She had a unique gift
of direction sense. Despite the winding road, she knew that she'd been
basically moving northwest now for about half an hour. She spared a glance at
the small, black box nestled in the center of the passenger seat, and once
again, her stomach gave an almost imperceptible flip. She could swear, it
almost felt like there was a small, dangerous animal sitting in the car with
her.
It was
starting to creep her out a little. She'd be glad to be rid of it.
Soon
enough, Magda's directions led her to a pair of worn stone pillars, atop which
hung a great, black iron arch. The twisted metal letters were woven into an
ornate, cursive word: C R O W L E Y. At some point, Barbara could see that
there used to be a gate here, but the hinges had been stripped bare, leaving
only the open, gaping portal, and the rough gravel road beyond. Her tires
crunched through the grit as she rounded a final bend, and finally, Crowley
Manor reared into view.
Barbara
let out a long breath. "Wow...you've got to be shitting me..."
She had
heard rumors of the Crowley place, but even the wildest ones couldn't do the
real thing justice. It was a sprawling heap, rising up out of the mist-cloaked
moors like a mad child's twisted plaything. Ancient wood siding had blackened
with age so that the whole thing had the appearance of being covered in soot.
Steep rooftops capped the multiple levels of the structure. The central
building was the only one with any illuminated windows, and stretching out on
either side of it, long wings to ajoining structures further added to the
impression of a great, sleeping bat.
It
would have been perfectly at home on the set of some cheesy Hammer film,
Barbara thought to herself. Why someone of Magda's obvious wealth would leave
the place in such a state was just beyond her. Maybe being surrounded by
something so old helped the old bitch feel young.
Barbara
pulled the car to a stop beneath the awning before the main doors. She scooped
the box up in her hands and stepped out of the car, her heels sinking into the
ankle-deep mist, and sending it swirling. She shivered slightly. It was colder
than she expected it would be. She should have worn more than just the
buttoned-up silk blouse and black pencil skirt.
She
climbed the worn stone steps leading up to the massive wooden door. A lamp hung
on a wrought-iron hook, creating an island of illumination in the cloying dark.
She grabbed hold of an ornate metal ring, and swung it loudly against the heavy
wooden door, once, twice. The dull thud reverberated across the misty moors
eerily, and Barbara felt the hairs on her neck stand on end. She glanced over
her shoulder, steeling her nerves. She had the distinct feeling she was being
watched.
As the
moments wore on, a nagging voice in the back of her mind kept urging her to
turn around. Something felt off, it kept saying, something doesn't smell right.
What if this was a trap? What if, right behind those doors, Magda had invited a
slew of Delta City's least desireable scum, all of them itching to pay Esha
back for the money, and it was a lot of money, that she'd stolen from them over
the years. She was out here, in the middle of nowhere, and no one knew about
it.
Yet...what
choice did she have? If she did not do as Magda requested, her secret truly
would be blown, and the life she'd carefully cultivated for herself would be
totally undone. She couldn't risk that. No matter how risky it might be, she
had no choice but to play along, at least until she could guarantee that Magda
was no longer a threat to her.
If that
meant violence, Esha would be more than happy to oblige, she thought grimly.
The bitch would have it coming.
Just
when the last of her patience had worn through, and she reached to swing the
knocker a third time, she heard metal rustling on the other side of the door as
chains, deadbolts, and locks were disengaged. With a loud creak, the door swung
inward, revealing the mistress of the house holding onto a silver candleabra.
Magda's thick lips pulled into a smile as her gray eyes settled on Barbara.
"There
you are," she said, "Right on time. I appreciate your punctuality.
It's virtue is often lost on your generation."
"Cut
the chatter," Barbara snapped. She held up the box. "I've fulfilled
my end of the bargain. I've come for my payment."
Magda's
eyes lit up when they saw the box, firelight glinting greedily in their watery
pools. She seemed barely able to contain her excitement. "Yes of course,
as agreed. But come in, come in, a threshold is no place to conduct business
between friends."
"We
aren't friends."
But
Magda ignored the rude remark, opening the door wide, and bidding Barbara
enter. "Enter freely and of your own will," she said, somewhat
theatrically, "Warm yourself by our fires and drink of our wine, for as
they say in my old country, the night is dark, and full of terrors."
Barbara
gave her a strange look as she followed her inside. The woman was clearly
unhinged. Best to get this over with and be back on her way.
Magda
waited until she had fully crossed the threshold, then quickly swung the door
shut behind them. Her lips curled into a wicked little smile.
"This
way," she said, gesturing for Barbara to follow her. They moved down dimly
lit corridors lined on either side by tall walls, and a vaulted ceiling.
Ancient decor filled the space, from carved iron sconces and furniture made of
lustrous, polished wood. The floor was an ancient oak, worn smooth by years of
maintenance and the pounding of passing footfalls. They passed a great, winding
staircase that lead up to an unlit landing and second floor, and despite herself,
Barbara couldn't help but marvel at the atmosphere of the old place. It was
almost cinematic. She half expected a butler named Igor to round the corner
with a jar of brains clutched in his dirt-stained hands.
There
was none of that, of course, only the silence of the house, and the strange
company of her host. Magda's dress was long and flowing, as anachronistic as
the rest of the estate. It was almost as though she'd stepped back in time a
hundred years.
"How
old is this place?" Barbara wondered aloud, looking left and right as they
ventured deeper into the house.
"Crowley
Manor has been in my family for generations," came the woman's proud
reply. "We trace our ancestry back to the first settlers in this part of
the country, pioneers attempting to escape the persecution of New England. We
go back further still than that of course, to the old world...to a simpler
time. But enough of that, we have arrived."
She
opened a hallway door, and swept a slightly hesitant Barbara in before shutting
it with a click. They had reached a plush parlor, with a long settee in place
of a couch, and two wingback chairs flanking a great, flickering fireplace.
Barbara was grateful for the fire, as it drove away the cloying dampness of the
moors, and cast the room in an almost cheerful, orange glow. The walls were
decked floor to ceiling with towering bookshelves, while a small nook to one
side housed an old rolltop desk and a glass cabinet filled with bottles of
stoppered spirits and gleaming, quartz glasses.
Magda
did not appear to walk so much as to glide over the thick oriental rug lying
the the center of the room to place the silver candleabra atop the stone mantle
over the fireplace before finally turning to the still-hesitant Barbara, an
expectant smile on her face.
"There,
I think you'll find these accommodations to be much more welcoming. You'll have
to forgive my hospitality, we have not had a guest in Crowley Manor for many
years, and I am often content to keep to certain rooms rather than keeping the
whole house lit. A house this old abhors a carelessly abandoned flame, and I
simply can't abide the glare of electric lights. I find firelight to be much
more relaxing...don't you?"
"Um,
sure," Barbara agreed, looking around with thinly veiled suspicion. She
approached the bookshelves, but the spine titles were written in a language she
did not recognize, and some merely had strange symbols carved into the old
leather covers. God, there had to be hundreds of books here. Barbara circled to
the glass case, noting that none of the decanters were labeled. She recognized
the color of some of the contents as likely being whiskey, vodka, and an
emerald green fluid that had to be absinthe. The age of the place was just
amazing. So consumed she was in observing her surroundings that she didn't
notice the dark, hungry look that had crossed her hostess' face, the way her
gray eyes eagerly followed the sway of Barbara's hips, and traced the generous
curves of her breasts beneath the tight silk blouse. The older woman's bright,
red tongue slipped out to whet her broad lips.
"Can
we get on with this?" Barbara said testily as she turned back to face
Magda, "I really want to try and leave before that mist gets any worse out
there."
"Of
course," Magda smiled that strange, mirthless smile again. She gestured to
the box Barbara held in her slender hands. "May I see the stone? I need to
be sure it's authentic..."
Barbara
approached the woman, noticing, perhaps for the first time, how unusually pale
she looked. Maybe it was just the firelight, but her skin was almost alabaster,
except for two blossoms of color high on her weathered cheeks, and the
unnusually ruddiness of her lips. She hesitated slightly before sighing, and
passing the small black box into Magda's waiting hands. She eyed the woman
warily. "It's the real thing. I kept my end of the bargain."
The
older woman nearly snatched the box out of her hands, clutching it tightly to
her chest. Magda turned to face the fireplace, her back to Barbara. Her hands
trembled with barely contained excitement. Could it be true? After all these
years...!
Her
pale fingers slowly opened the box, and the weathered woman sucked in a ragged
breath as the glimmering jewel of the Devil's Eye winked up at her from inside
its velvet case. Flecks of firelight danced in its endless facades,
illuminating Magda's wide, leering face in a deep, hellish crimson.
"Ohh!"
she could only gasp, a shaking finger tenderly stroking across its meticulously
carved face. "It's just how I remember it...! How long have I
searched...waited..."
Barbara
felt a strange prickle of uncertainty on the back of her neck. The tone of
Magda's voice had changed, sounded off. Her instincts were sounding alarm bells
in her head. She needed to get out of there, now.
"I've
made good on my end of the bargain, Magda," she said, putting as much
authority into her voice as she could muster. "It's time you fulfilled
yours."
The
older woman turned her head just slightly, glancing back at Barbara over her
shoulder. Her lips curled into a smile. "Why of course, dearie. I always
keep my promises, and I have your reward...right here!"
She
turned to face Barbara, the crimson stone glinting in her raised hand, which
she suddenly allowed to slip from her pale fingers. Barbara started, part of
her relfexively wanting to reach out and grab the falling stone, but as it fell
a shimmer of thin silver trailed behind it, and suddenly it stopped taut. The
pendant bounced wildly at the end of the long, thin chain Magda had looped
around her fingers.
The
effect of the firelight on the stone was infinitely more dramatic than the
clinical lighting of its display case, and despite the utter strangeness of the
situation, Barbara couldn't help but utter an astonished gasp as the deep
crimson jewel caught the flicker of the bright orange flame and seemed to
resonate with it. The startled blonde watched as the smoldering jewel settled
at the end of its tether, and with the slightest of gestures from Magda's hand,
it began to swing in slow, ponderous arcs. Every swing caused the fire to
flicker and flash, reflected a thousand times, so that the heart of the stone
seemed to hold a glowing ember itself. It was so...pretty...
Barbara's
brow creased, and she looked back at Magda's serenely smiling face with
mounting annoyance. "What the hell are you talking about? We had
an...agreement..."
But
even as she spoke, her eyes kept getting drawn back to the slowly swinging
pendant. The way it flickered and shone, how it almost seemed to trail an
orange afterglow as it moved was simply...fascinating. Attractive. Barbara's
voice trailed off. She'd lost her train of thought.
"Don't
worry, my dear," Magda said, her voice honey-thick, almost lilting,
"You've done such a good job. Such a good girl. Good girls deserve their
reward..."
Her
words were nearly nonsense, but their tone, their cadence, had sinister
purpose. She watched with a predatory keen as the flecks of ember light danced
across the eyes of the beautiful blonde, eyes that hadn't blinked in long
seconds. She began to slowly raise the swingning pendant, keeping the arc long.
Slow. She watched with satisfaction how Barbara's eyes followed the movement.
"S-stop
wasting my...time..." Barbara grumbled, but the fire in her voice was
dwindling, and her furrowed brow had started to relax. The pendant was so
distracting. The way it kept flickering firelight in her eyes was making them
feel heavy. The room suddenly felt warmer somehow, or maybe it was just her.
She could feel heat rising in her cheeks.
"There's
no reason to rush," Magda droned, "The hour grows late. You've
traveled so far. You must be feeling tired, dear. So, so tired..."
The
words wafted over Barbara in slow, easy waves, each syllable seemingly
accompanied by the metronomish swing of that devilish jewel. She was suddenly
aware of a growing lethargy in her limbs, and the weight of her eyelids was
getting worse. She blinked heavily. Something wasn't right. She shook her head,
trying to clear the warm fog that was settling over her, but it didn't seem to
help. The pendant kept catching her eyes, drawing her attention. The rhythmic
swinging made it hard to think about much else. "Tired...no, not
tired...should...leave..."
Magda
took a small step towards Barbara, and another, but the drowsy blonde didn't
seem to notice. Good.
"Oh,
but you are Barbara. You are tired. I can see how heavily you blink. Your
pretty eyes are feeling heavy, aren't they? Heavy and drowsy...heavy and
drowsy..."
With
terrible slowness, Magda circled around her dazed prey, carefully maintaining
the steady rhythm of the pendant, the even, soothing tone of her voice.
Unconsciously Barbara shifted her footing, turning, so that the captivating
gleam of the gem stayed in her vision. Magda only stopped when she had
successfully maneuvered Barbara so that the buxom blonde faced her, while her
back was towards the long, plush settee near the fireplace.
Barbara
swayed on her feet, each blink growing longer, and when her eyes did manage to
drift open, they remained hooded, distant. Why was she feeling so tired all of
the sudden? The fireplace nearby was wrapping her in a soothing haze of warmth,
exacerbating her lethargy. Her breathing had slowed, and the periphary of her
vision was slowly being encroached by a flickering dim. Something was terribly
wrong. She shouldn't be feeling this way. The heat in her cheeks was spreading
lower, across her chest, down her back. She wore no bra, and she was becoming
increasingly aware of the sensation of her silk blouse as it shifted against
her naked breasts.
Just
like in the museum, she felt magnetically drawn to the pulsing diamond. It
seemed to be beating, like some kind of weird disembodied heart, and with every
throb it bade her gaze deeper into its burning core. Her eyes followed the
long, slow swings obediently. The feelings enveloping Barbara were familiar,
comforting. She felt almost as one did after waking from a pleasant nap, every
inch of her felt like it glowed. The friction of her hardening nipples against
the silk of her blouse was setting off little sparks of excitement in her
belly, while lower, she could feel the blood swelling in her suddenly
sensitized pussy. It was almost like she was getting...aroused...
She
struggled to gather her thoughts. "Wait...this...isn't right...what are
you...doing..."
Magda
smiled, her teeth gleaming white. "Why isn't it obvious, darling?"
she said, pausing ominously. "I'm hypnotizing you..."
Hypnotized?
That was crazy, just some stupid parlor trick. She was out of her mind. A
swinging pendant, that's all it was. And yet...why was Barbara finding it so
hard to look away?
She
shook her head, blinking heavily, staggering slightly on her feet.
"No...no! I won't just...let you..."
"Oh
but you will, Barbara. You already are. You're being such a good girl. Just
keep watching my pretty pretty stone. Watch it swing slowly, back and forth.
Back and forth. So easy to watch. So lovely. So hard to look away."
Barbara
tried to ignore her sonorous words, tried to pull here gaze away from that
flashing stone, but she couldn't seem to muster the will. She was feeling so
tired. Her eyes felt so heavy. She just wanted to rest them a moment, just for
a moment. Suddenly her stomach knotted, a sense of danger flaring, but she
perceived it only through the cloudy, hazy warmth that pervaded her senses. She
stepped back, instinctively trying to distance herself from Magda and her
strange, compelling voice. "S-stay back..."
But
Magda followed after her, moving closer. "Oh it's too late now, honey. I
can feel you falling under my spell. Yes, that's it. Let yourself drift on my
voice. So sleepy. So warm. Watching my pretty stone makes you drowsy and
relaxed. Drowsy and warm. Back and forth..."
"N-no...stop..."
Barbara almost pleaded, staggering back, furiously trying to resist the tide of
Magda's honeyed voice. With every long blink, her head would start to loll
forward, before jerking back up like a drowning swimmer gasping for air as
Barbara struggled to keep her sinking eyes open. Magda stepped closer, now
nearly within arms reach. So close now. So deliciously close. She now held the
stone almost directly in front of Barbara's drooping eyes, every sweep flashing
them with compelling brightness, urging them lower...lower...
"Every
swing brings you closer," she whispered, "Every swing draws you
deeper. Into the pretty stone. Into the warmth. All around you now. No need to
fight it. No need to resist. So warm. So relaxed. All you have to do now is
close your eyes, darling. Close your heavy, heavy eyes...yesss...sleep for me,
my pretty...ssleeeeep..."
Barbara's
lips parted, as if they meant to utter some final denial, some final
resistance, but all that escaped was a weak moan. The beautiful blonde's glazed
eyes blinked once, twice...and did not open again. A weary sigh slipped from
her lips, and she suddenly sagged on her feet. At once, Magda moved forward,
slipping an arm around Barbara's slim waist, pulling the spellbound woman
firmly into her vile embrace.
A low,
victorious chuckle tittered in Magda's throat as she slipped the now
unnecessary diamond into a pocket of her dress. With surprising strength for a
woman of her age, Magda held Barbara's swooning body in a firm, controlling
grip, her arms hanging limply at her sides, her head tilted back. Magda could
see the flutter of her eyelids as a whimpered "no....no..." came
weakly from her parted, full lips. The stone had done its job perfectly. Now it
was time for Magda's other talents to do theirs.
With
her free hand, Magda reached around the curve of Barbara's shapely hip to find
the zipper on her short, black skirt. With practiced ease, the older woman
pulled it down, loosening the garment, then easing it over the enticing swell
of Barbara's ass so that it fell to pool at her ankles. Magda's lustful eyes
took in the tiny, black lace panties that barely covered Barbara's vulnerable
sex, and noted with satisfaction the way her pussy lips pressed against the
fabric, puffy and swollen.
Suddenly,
to Magda's utter surprise, Barbara shifted in her embrace, a shaking hand
coming up to grasp weakly against her disrobing arm. The blonde's eyes remained
closed, but her brow had furrowed, and beads of perspiration had sprung up on
her heated forehead. "N-no...don't...don't touch...me..."
Such
strength! Magda was genuinely impressed. The statuesque blonde clearly had a
stronger will than she had anticipated. Good. Magda loved it when they
struggled.
She
pulled Barbara closer, so that her red lips could graze along the pale slope of
her neck until they came to rest beside the helpless blonde's left ear.
"Still
trying to fight, are we?" she breathed, letting her hot breath slip
teasingly into her prey's sensitive ear. She felt Barbara shudder in response,
her breath catching. "Fight as much as you like, but I know the truth. The
stone made you so tired, didn't it? So sleepy...warm...and something else,
too."
Her
pale hand came up between Barbara's parted legs, and pressed up against her
panty-covered sex, eliciting a shuddering sigh from the entranced woman. Magda
groaned as the sensation of those swollen, bare pussy lips beneath the lacey
texture of her panties thrilled through her. It had been so terribly long since
she'd last felt this. She meant to savor it.
A deep
blush crept up Barbara's face, and suddenly her nipples hardened into stiff
peaks beneath the smooth silk of her blouse. Magda gently began to stroke her
sex through her panties, long fingers caressing her covered slit, tracing it teasingly.
Barbara gasped, and her legs began to part reflexively to the pleasure of
Magda's cunning strokes.
"Oh!
Oh don't...no..."
"Yesss..."
Magda hissed, feeling Barbara's wetness begin to soak through the flimsy
fabric, "That's it. I can feel you weakening, Barbara. Your sweet little
pussy is getting so hot. Feel my fingers caress you. Excite you. I know how
good little girls like to be touched."
Her
deft fingers moved up, feeling for the small, sensitive nub of flesh nestled at
the top of Barbara's slit, and gently rolling against it in small, quick
circles. Barbara let out an unwilling moan, and she lost her trembling grip on
Magda's caressing arm. Her head fell back, and Magda began planting hot, wet
kisses along the length of her exposed throat. Barbara's quivering thighs
continued their slow, obedient spread beneath Magda's seductive, knowing touch.
Her trecherous clit swelled eagerly under the patiently circling fingers of the
vile seductress.
Magda
was in no hurry. As her fingers continued their devious work, she slid her
other arm up from Barbara's waist, around her back, and seized her left breast
in a firm, possessive grip. Barbara gasped. Gently, Magda lifted her heavy
breast, caressing her through the soft silk blouse, massaging the huge tit with
expert familiarity. She rolled her palm across Barbara's stiff nipple,
eliciting a helpless moan.
"Such
beautiful breasts!" Magda sneered, revelling in their exquisite softness.
"Big tits like yours can be more than most men can take. But I know what
to do with them. I know how to make them sing..."
And she
was right. Barbara couldn't believe how amazing Magda's hands were making her
feel. The sensation of the silk gliding across her heated flesh, the firm,
confident pressure of her hand, it made her knees tremble. In mere moments,
Magda had her panting. At the same time, Magda's fingers continued to dance
erotically over her rigid clit, stoking the flames of her arousal. Pleasure licked up her spine as that knowing
caress slowly, irresistably, set her on fire. She groaned, "Oh...I
feel...so...OH!"
Feeling
her prey slipping further and further under her sexual control, Magda grinned
deviously. She let her stroking fingers slip up across Barbara's swollen mound,
her nails raking the soft flesh of her belly and making it jump, before they
wormed their way under the low band of Barbara's panties, and plunged down.
Barbara
moaned uncontrollably, her eyes fluttering, as Magda's fingers dove into her
hot, slick pussy. With merciless skill they slid along her swollen labia,
dipped teasingly into her sex, and spread her wetness all along her throbbing
cunt. The pleasure was intoxicating. Soon Magda's wet fingers had her pussy
spread wide, her caress making Barbara ache with need. Her rigid clit was
teased out of its protective hood, and slender digits swiftly moved to trap it
between them. Magda rocked her hand against Barbara's pussy, her fingers
weaving an erotic spell every bit as potent as the mesmerizing flicker of her
accursed pendant. Barbara swooned.
"Do
you feel that Barbara?" Magda whispered into her moaning victim's
sensitive ear. Her voice had resumed the hypnotic, honeyed cadence she'd used
to snare her unsuspecting prey. "Do you feel the way your pussy yearns for
my touch? Do you feel the way my fingers play with your clit? Feel them sapping
your strength. Weakening your will. It feels so good, doesn't it? So, very,
very good..."
Barbara
couldn't help herself. The part of her still trying to fight was slowly falling
prey to the languid, delicious stroking of Magda's devilish fingers. The
pleasure battered her resistance, dragging her in, leaving her mind dangerously
open to the compelling, suggestive words Magda breathed into her ear. She felt
so sleepy, so aroused. It was so easy just to spread her legs, to lean back,
and let Magda's wicked fingers work their evil magic on her throbbing, aching
clit.
"I-I
feel...it feels...good..." Barbara repeated weakly, falling hopelessly
under the leering lesbian's sapphic spell. Her hips rocked against Magda's hand
with a will of their own. "Ohhh! Yes! It feels...so good!"
"That's
it Barbara," Magda cooed, feeling Barbara's conviction melting away,
"Let yourself go. Sink into the pleasure. You're too hot. Too aroused. You
cannot resist me anymore..." Her fingers began moving faster against
Barbara's rigid clit, coaxing her higher and higher, driving her towards that
precipice of unspeakable pleasure that would seal her fate.
Barbara
was losing herself. Magda's control over her clit was total. Helplessly, the
buxom blonde could only moan in submission, as the last of her willpower was
drained away by the skillful manipulation of her pussy. "More...please
more..." Barbara gasped, her voice rising sweetly in pitch, "Oh god,
I can't stop! Oh god you're making me--"
"Come
for me Barbara," Magda commanded, masterfully assaulting her clit,
"Come for me...now!"
Barbara
could hold back no more. A final, dominating stroke across her engorged love
button sent her over the edge. With a strangled moan, the overwhelmed
villainess exploded under Magda's vile attentions, her pussy gushing with
honeyed nectar, soaking through her panties to coat her trembling thighs. The
tide of pleasure sweeping up from her orgasm was too much, it overwhelmed her,
drowned her. Her eyes fluttered rapidly one last time, before at last falling
terribly still. A blissful, mindless sigh escaped Barbara's lips as the release
plunged her into a deep, deep trance. Her body went limp.
Magda
eased her back onto the plush settee so that she lay prone. Her lace panties
clung wetly to her swollen, overheated sex, and her rigid nipples tented her
tight silk blouse in hard, enticing peaks. The older woman chuckled in
satisfaction to herself at the successful seduction, licking at her slick
fingers and relishing the taste. It had been so long since she'd had such a
delicious morsel in her grasp. The sight of her, lying open and helpless on the
couch, was enough to drive a woman mad with lust.
Looming
over her helpless victim, Magda Crowly hungrily unbuttoned her straining top,
staring lustfully as Barbara's prized tits spilled into the open. Her eyes
followed every creamy curve as they travelled the length of her captive's
amazing body. Her fingers played idly with the thin straps of Barbara's lace
panties, before a sharp tug with her surprisingly sharp nails sliced through
the delicate material. Almost like she was unwrapping a present, Magda slid the
torn fabric away, revealing Barbara's hot, glistening pussy to her ravenous
gaze. Clear, thick moisture ran in tiny rivulets from between her swollen pussy
lips, and the turrid nub of her clit visibly throbbed in the firelight. Licking
her lips in anticipation, Magda hurled the now-useless panties into the roaring
fireplace.
Now
almost totally naked except for her expensive high heels, one leg still on the
ground while the other rested against the soft back of the settee so that her
legs were spread obscenely wide, Barbara was completely at Magda's mercy. Magda
crept to kneel beside Barbara's head, crouching over the sleeping blonde almost
ghoulishly. She tenderly brushed aside a stray lock of Barbara's
platinum-blonde hair, a gesture that might have even been loving, had Magda's
face not been contorted into a demonic grin.
"Barbara..."
the evil woman whispered, "Listen to my voice, Barbara. I want you to
focus on the soothing sound of my voice..."
On the
settee, Barbara stirred, but here eyes remained closed. Magda's fingers drew
small circles around her temples, stroking down her cheeks. Then, her voice a
distant whisper, Barbara responded. "L-listen...to your v...voice..."
Magda's
hands began to slide lower, massaging her neck, tracing the delicate lines of
her collarbone and dipping into the hollow of her throat. The hypnotized woman
sighed, her skin erupting in goosebumps.
"Such
a good girl," Magda smiled, "So pretty...so obedient...just listen to
my voice Barbara. Let my words wash over you. So easy. So relaxing. You were so
sleepy, Barbara, so tired. My voice will help you rest..."
Her
long fingers peeled away the open flaps of Barbara's blouse, fully exposing her
magnificent breasts as they rose and fell with Barbara's slow, deep breaths.
"Yes,
you were so tired. You came into my home, and the warmth of the fire made you
so drowsy, didn't it? You brought me my pretty stone, just like I knew you
would. You're a good girl, Barbara...and good girls do as they're told..."
Her
fingers stroked along the soft top and sides of Barbara's breasts with an
almost ghostly touch, barely there, but enough to send little shivers of
pleasure into Barbara's open, vulnerable mind. The pleasure would dull her
memory, making the false thoughts Magda planted easier to accept, to believe.
Barbara's lips parted in a dreamy sigh, "Do...as I'm told..."
"You're
going to forget, Barbara..." Magda whispered, "You will remember
nothing of what happened after I showed you the diamond. Trying will make you
feel sleepy. It will all seem a dream to you, my sweet. Nothing but a hot, sexy
dream..."
Now,
she allowed her fingers to trace up the slopes of Barbara's conical tits, until
they reached the wide circles of her pink areola, and the hard, swollen peaks
of her nipples.
"You
will remember only one thing, Barbara," the honeyed voice whispered into
her unresisting mind, "You will remember...this..."
At
that, Magda's fingers closed in on Barbara's stiff nipples, and gently began to
squeeze. The entranced blonde gave a startled gasp, but remained deeply asleep,
while a fresh rush of color blushed across her cheeks. Magda's devious fingers
began to tweak and twist, sending jolts of pleasure coursing through the
sleeping blonde's helpless body. She whimpered in her trance as Magda's fingers
did horrible, wonderful things to her rigid nipples.
"This
is the pleasure that comes with my voice, my sweet. Your mind will forget, but
your body will not. This arousal you feel is mine to command...and you will
find yourself unable to resist..."
Barbara
was panting, her nipples aching with delight in Magda's skillful hands. Her
back arched, pushing more of her sensitive tits into the evil witch's clawing
hands. Magda chuckled at the reaction. Such a saucy little tart. Oh, Magda had
such plans for her! All her patience, all her planning, would soon bear fruit,
and the hot little minx lying before her would be the key to it all.
But for
now, Magda had other needs to fulfill. Other appetites. Only one thing would
satisfy her.
Rising
from beside the settee, she kissed her way slowly down Barbara's feverish body,
letting her thick lips linger hungrily on her quivering breasts before she
began inching lower. She kissed a path down Barbara's firm belly, pausing to
let her hot, red tongue slip into the small dip of her bellybutton, making
Barbara gasp sweetly. Lower, and lower. Finally, her eager mouth hung over the
slick, swollen lips of Barbara's pussy, and the small pool of wetness between
her legs. The scent of her arousal made Magda's head spin.
"Remember
this, my pretty," Magda hissed, her lips splitting as a long, inhuman
tongue spilled out to lap up the copious juices that coated Barbara's smooth,
creamy thighs. "Remember only the pleasure...and sleep..."
Unable
to hold herself back another moment, the thing that had been Magda Crowley fell
upon Barbara's helpless form. And as that long, monstrous tongue began its evil
work, the dark, ancient halls of Crowley Manor were soon filled with the sweet
cries of her hapless victim as she was plunged into the depths hellish ecstacy,
as well as the hungry cackle of the hag between her legs.
Ravenously,
she would feed from Barbara long into the cold, moonless night.