Chapter 3 -
Dreams in the Witch House
by Soul in Shadow
(soul.in.shadow@gmail.com)
"Ughh...w-where,"
Barbara Cummings muttered groggily, "Where am I?"
The disheveled
blonde blinked hard, her vision blurry from sleep. To her surprise, she found
herself face-down in a large, plush bed of seemingly antique origins. Great,
embroidered pillows were strewn haphazardly about the bed, and the thick sheets
were in utter disarray, as if she'd been tossing madly all through the night.
The bedroom was richly decorated, but terribly anachronistic. The cannopy bed
she lay in was huge, with spiraling posts that climbed towards an even higher
ceiling, holding up a thick, velvet top cinced open at each corner. On a nearby
vanity, a tall oil lamp sputtered low, the only illumination in the room, as
the heavy drapes had been cast over the windows on the opposite wall. Raising
herself to a seated position, Barbara was shocked to discover that, beneath the
fine cotton sheets, she was completely naked.
"What the
hell...what happened? This has to be the Crowley house, but how...why...?"
She looked about
in confusion, her sleep-addled mind struggling to catch up. She thought back to
the events of last evening. She remembered arriving at the house, remembered
meeting with Magda in the...was it a library? She remembered a fire...and
warmth...
Suddenly, a wave
of intense drowsiness swept her up, making her head spin. With a groan, Barbara
was knocked backwards onto the bed, her vision swimming. She closed her eyes
and cradled her head in her hands gingerly. What the hell was that? God, it was
almost like she was hungover, but mercifully without the headache or the
nausea. She focused on her breathing, forced her racing mind to calm down, and
sighed gratefully as the feeling began to abate.
A few moments
later, Barbara tried sitting up again, and this time her eyes were able to
adjust to the gloom. What time was it? How long had she been sleeping?
Where the hell
were her clothes?
She grabbed hold
of the nearest bed post, and with deliberate slowness, slid off the bed and
rose to her feet. No dizziness threatened to knock her back down, and all
things considered...she actually felt more or less normal. Rested,
even...and...
Recognizing a
familiar but wholly unnexpected sensation lingering on her body, Barbara
allowed her hands to rise up and gently press against her heavy breasts,
confused, yet confirming the residual hum of pleasure that greeted her touch.
Slipping her hand lower, she traced a finger over her sex, and shuddered as a
thrill tingled up her spine. Her fingers came away trailing a thin thread of
wetness.
Barbara looked
back at the wrecked bed.
God, she must
have been having some crazy dreams.
Had she been
drinking? She seemed to remember seeing a liquor cabinet in the library, but
Barbara usually had no trouble holding her alchohol, and besides, she couldn't
imagine drinking that much in the pressence of someone like Magda Crowley.
Barbara's heart
skipped a beat. Magda Crowley! That old dyke, she had to be responsible
somehow. She had to have brought her up here, set her in bed. Barbara glowered.
The bitch probably even undressed her; she wouldn't put it past the musty old
lady to try taking advantage of her like that.
With anger
helping to banish the fog in her head, Barbara moved purposefully about the
room, searching the dresser drawers and the standing closet, and finding a
long, silk robe hanging inside. She slipped the garment on, noting absently
that it seemed exquisitely made, and very old. Alas, it also appeared to be
made for a woman lacking Barbara's considerable...assets...because with the
belt tied around her waist, the front of the robe was still split obscenely
wide, revealing her deep clevage and only barely covering her extended nipples.
Barbara was used to wearing far less, of course, and modesty was never a major
concern. It would suffice until Magda returned her clothes and she could
finally get out of this place.
Before she went
looking for the old woman though, she had to know what time it was. She needed
to know how long she might have been out. Barbara strode to the tall window,
and pulled open the curtain. She gasped, nearly jumping back.
She was greeted
by the sight of the moonless evening sky, her window opening onto a narrow
balcony several stories up. Below, a thick fog rolled along the sloping hills
of the sparse moorland, broken only by old, gnarled trees that rose up like
wrecked ships in the sea of white. Wordlessly, Barbara's mouth worked as she
struggled to comprehend what she was looking at.
Night time? How
could that be? It was night when she'd arrived! Had she really slept through a
whole day? It didn't make sense!
Just then,
Barbara heard the click of a latch. She spun to face the door of the bedroom,
and saw the old knob twisting open. The door opened with a creak, and in flowed
Magda Crowley, wearing her strange, black dress. She seemed surprised to see
Barbara awake, but immediately her face broke into a wide, white smile.
"Finally
awake I see! I was beginning to worry, Barbara dear. You sleep like the
dead."
"Magda!"
Barbara exclaimed, her temper rising. "What the hell is going on? Why am I
in this room?"
The older woman
closed the door behind her, and moved over to the vanity, where she turned up
the oil lamp, illuminating the dim chamber. Only then did she turn to Barbara,
her soft, manicured hands clasped at her middle. "Don't you
remember?" she said, quizzically, "Soon after your arrival, you fell
asleep in the library. You must have been terribly exhausted, my dear. Too many
late nights in the city, I take it." She furrowed her brow in
admonishment, "You young people are all alike. You really should take
better care of yourself..."
"I can
handle myself just fine," Barbara bristled, "And I certainly don't
appreciate having my clothes taken away."
Magda shrugged,
"In my country, it is traditional to sleep without clothing. As your
hostess, it was I who disrobed you for bed." The older woman's eyes
flickered mischeviously, "Though I confess, I wasn't quite prepared for
the full effect. You are quite a beautiful woman, Barbara."
"Now listen
here you old perv, if you even laid a finger on me, I'll--" Barbara
stormed toward her, but suddenly stopped short, her brow furrowing. "I...I'll..."
Magda's gray eyes
narrowed deviously, her lips curling. "Barbara dear? Is everything all
right?"
But things were
most certainly not all right. Barbara staggered, her hand reaching out to grab
the closest object for stability, and closed in on the spiralling post of the
bed. She blinked, hard. Her face felt flushed. "I feel...strange..."
As soon as Magda
had entered the room, the weirdest feeling had begun to creep over her.
Unexpected, more than a little disconcerting, but not at all uncomfortable.
That was the problem, and precisely what was so disturbing about it. The
feeling was actually sort of...pleasant.
Barbara took in a
shuddering breath that made her barely-contained breasts quiver enticingly
before Magda's leering gaze. The befuddled blonde's free hand settled over her
belly, as if to try and calm the strange flutter that was making her breath
catch. When she had awoken, her body had merely been vaguely tingling, a weird
afterglow from the apparently riotous dreams that had consumed her restless
sleep, but now those feelings were getting stronger. She could feel, as well as
see, that her nipples had swollen to pronouced peaks beneath the thin silk of
her robe, poking audaciously through the fabric, while between her thighs, a low,
liquid throb began to pulse distractingly in her sensitive pussy.
God, what was
wrong with her? She was starting to feel kind of...turned on...
Magda watched
Barbara with barely contained glee. She had been eager to see how effective the
post-hypnotic suggestions would be, and to her wicked delight, it appeared that
Barbara was very receptive to her influence. Already she could see the color
blossoming on her cheeks, the growing distress in her breathing as her voice
took its sinister toll. The poor dear had no idea of the kind of peril she was
in.
The old witch
smiled. Good.
She left the
vanity, slowly walking towards Barbara where she stood grasping the bed post,
her face a mask of concern. "You're not looking well dear," she said,
"Perhaps you need to lie down for a while?"
But Barbara shook
her head, and immediately regretted it; the movement made her vision cloud up,
made everything hazy. She tightened her grip on the bed post, afraid that if
she let go, dizziness would send her tripping to the ground. "No, don't
need to rest," she insisted, as Magda slowly circled around her. Her
throat felt dry. "I'll be fine. I'm just a little woozy, that's all. It's
nothing." She swallowed audibly. "Where are my clothes, I need to
leave."
By now Magda had
slipped around the bed, and with careful slowness so not to startle Barbara,
began moving up behind her. "You shouldn't take these things so lightly,
my dear," she said, her thick, honeyed voice settling around Barbara like
a heady fog. "You don't look to be in any condition to drive."
Barbara's pulse
had quickened. She could feel her heart thudding in her chest like a small,
caged bird. She was feeling nervous, and weirdly expectant. As she closed her
eyes to clear the haze from her vision, a memory swam up unbidden from the
recesses of her mind. Suddenly she was back in high school, a rebellious, angry
teenager. She had always been in trouble, had always gone looking for it too.
So when the school's phys-ed teacher, an older, lecherous man, had offered her
a quick A if she agreed to fool around with him after hours, Barbara had leapt
at the chance. The feeling she'd had then, the anxious but exciting uncertainty
just before he'd put his hands on her in the dark equipment room, was suddenly recreating
itself now. Barbara had come a long way since then, had grown into a supremely
confident woman both in her professional as well as her sex life, so the sudden
sense of being out of control was something she was wholly unaccustomed to
dealing with.
Just then, cool,
soft hands settled on her shoulders, making Barbara jump. She glanced back to
see Magda standing right behind her, a sympathetic look on her creased face.
"Magda! What are you--"
"I'm just
trying to help, dear," the woman said, as her hands began to knead into
Barbara's shoulders. "You look so distressed. Whatever is the
matter?"
Normally Barbara
would have recoiled from such close contact by the strange woman, but the firm,
soothing pressure of her hands as they worked over the tense muscles of her
shoulders and neck was...nice. The protest that was forming in Barbara's mind
died before it ever reached her lips, escaping instead as an almost grateful
sigh. Her eyes shut, and her head leaned forward to allow the older woman unfettered
access to her shoulders. She did not see the sinful grin that split Magda's
ruddy lips. Just as she'd expected, Barbara did not flinch away from her touch.
The unsuspecting bombshell was falling right into her trap. She only needed to
exercise patience...and Barbara would be hers.
"You know, I
think you and I got off on the wrong foot," she spoke, her voice low,
intimate. The mesmerizing, lilting tone oozed over Barbara, dulling her
dangersense even as Magda's hands stroked away the tension in her shoulders.
"We aren't so different, Barbara. To the contrary, we are in fact very
much alike."
"Mmm...what
do you mean?" came Barbara's airy reply. She was trying very hard not to
purr; Magda's hands felt just wonderful. The tension was slowly draining out of
her knotted muscles, leaving them feeling warm and loose, but at the same time,
the rolling pressure was making it hard to focus on much else. She didn't
realize how close Magda was; the woman was nearly pressed up against the
sumptuous curves of her backside, and her breath alighted on the sensitive skin
of Barbara's neck with every word.
"I used to
be just like you, my dear," Magda whispered, listening to Barbara's
breathing grow heavier. Her hands began to slide outwards, moving away from Barbara's
neck towards the woman's shoulders and arms. She inched closer. "Young,
confident...beautiful. Yes, from the
first time I ever laid eyes on you, I must say that you've reminded me of years
long past." The woman chuckled, "I dare say I might have been more
than a little jealous."
"Mmm...mmhmm..."
was Barbara's only reply. Her eyes were closed, her head rolling. She was
feeling so relaxed. What was Magda talking about, again?
"You are so
vibrant, so fresh. And with a body like yours, you could easily bed anyone you
wanted, man...or woman. But there's something else, isn't there?
Something...missing. Something that leaves you feeling restless, unsatisfied.
You feel like no one understands you. No one knows what you want...what you
need..."
Her lilting words
were like a drug, they made Barbara feel so dreamy, so warm. Try as she might,
she could barely form a coherent thought to even utter a word in response.
Magda's hands continued to move across her shoulders and back, but now instead
of kneading, her sharp nails traced endless, nonsense trails that made her skin
tingle. A breathy sigh slipped from her lips. She shouldn't be letting her do
this, her mind tried to protest, things were getting too weird, too...intimate.
Magda's insight into her innermost thoughts was disconcerting. Could the woman
really read her so well?
"But I
understand, Barbara," the sonorous voice wafted, "I too was beautiful
once. I'm no stranger to the games young people play. I pursued and was myself
pursued by my fair share of lovers -- more than my share! I can be such a
glutton, you see. More, more, always wanting more. Never satisfied. I see the
same drive in you, Barbara. What you don't realize is how this strength is the
very root of your disatisfaction. You're always in command, always in
control...but I know what you really need..."
Then, Barbara
felt Magda's lips brush against the nape of her neck, making her skin erupt in
goosebumps, and jarring her out of her hazy reverie like a splash of cold
water. Her eyes shot open, and she spun in shock, only now realizing how close
the older woman stood to her. "Now hold on just a minute! What do you
think you're doing?!"
Magda's lips
bowed into a mischevous smile. "I'm sorry dear. I must have gotten a
little carried away. It's a rare occassion that I have someone as lovely as you
in the mansion." Her gray eyes glittered, "Besides...you seemed to be
enjoying yourself..."
Her eyes dropped
suggestively towards Barbara's chest, and when the befuddled blonde followed her
glance, she gasped. Her nipples stood at rigid attention, tenting against the
black silk robe in lewd peaks. The lapels of the robe were stretched
dangerously wide, barely clinging to her creamy shoulders. The soft pink of her
areolas peeked out from just behind the robe's silky edge. Barbara flushed,
stammering. "What? No, I'm not--you don't understand--I wasn't--!"
Magda shushed
her. "Now, there's no need for embarassment, Barbara," she breathed,
"I'm a woman too, and more than familiar with how a woman's body works.
And yours is so..."
Her voice trailed
off as her gaze lingered on Barbara's deep cleavage, before flowing down, lower
and lower. Her pale hand rose up suddenly and took hold of the trailing belt
chord cinching Barbara's robe together. Barbara started, her heart skipping a
beat as she felt the barest tug...but Magda simply let the chord slip from her
long fingers, the knot at Barbara's waist intact.
She gave Barbara
a lingering, smoldering stare, her gray eyes boring into Barbara's own, before
she turned away and began gliding back towards the door.
Barbara's heart
was hammering. Why was she feeling so nervous, so anxious? She felt totally off
her footing, like that awkward, uncertain girl in that dark gym locker again.
Her throat was parched, her cheeks hot. The feeling as Magda dropped the sash
was one of imminent relief, but twinged with...disappointment? What? Why would
she feel that?
"I'll have
your clothes placed outside your door," she said, as if the exchange had
never happened, "You are free to leave whenever you like."
She opened the
door to leave, but Barbara stopped her, suddenly remembering. "Wait! You
haven't fulfilled your end of the bargain yet." She tried to steel her
voice, but could only manage so much; her stomach was fluttering horribly.
"I want the evidence you have on me. All of it."
But Magda only
shrugged. "It's already been taken care of. You burned them all last
night, in the fireplace, right before you fell asleep," she said
matter-of-factly. She tilted her head inquiringly at the flushed blonde,
"Or don't you remember?"
Barbara's brow
furrowed. "I..did? Last night, before I fell..." but she stopped, her
voice catching. The wave of dizziness, of drowsiness, suddenly swept back up,
making her sway and nearly stagger. She grabbed the bedpost to steady herself.
What the hell was wrong with her?
Magda looked at
her again with that guise of concern. "You don't, do you? Mm, poor
darling, you must have been far more tired than you realized." She opened
the door, turning in its frame one last time. "You have nothing further to
fear from me, Barbara. You've done me a tremendous service, and I am wholly in
your debt. You have my word, your secret will never leave the walls of Crowley
Manor."
She nodded a
farewell to the flustered blonde and shut the door. Her face twisted into a
wicked grin, and she added quietly, "And neither will you."
-------------------------
True to her word,
Barbara's clothes had been promptly returned to her soon after her departure, a
sharp rap on her door announcing the arrival of the clean, pressed garments on
a silver trolley. Glancing up and down the long hallway, Barbara saw no sign of
the person who delivered it; they had apparently vanished into the mansion's myriad
doorways just as quickly and as silently as they'd come.
Come to think of
it, Barbara thought as she quickly dressed herself, besides Magda she had seen
not one sign of anyone else living at the Mansion, but surely a place so large
had to have a considerable waitstaff. Yet the halls of Crowley Mansion were
almost uniformly silent, oppressively so. Occasionally a sound would drift
through the vacant corridors; the creak of a door, the sound of steps on the
hard wood, and a strange low...groan, almost, like the old bones of the house
were still settling into the soggy moorland beneath it.
It gave Barbara
the creeps.
She still didn't
know if she could trust Magda; the story was plausible enough, she supposed,
but she wished she could remember more of last night...
At this point
though, she had a choice: she could press the issue and try to get to the
bottom of things, or simply leave and deal with the consequences. Given the
increasingly distressing condition she found herself in physically, the
decision was easy. She was getting out of this weird house. She needed time to
mull things over, to plan. If she came back--
--no, when. When
she came back, she would be prepared, and if Magda was somehow lying to
her...well, she'd have Esha to answer to then.
With her resolve
helping to boost her spirits, Barbara dug into the pile of clothing, eager to
get dressed and get out of Crowley Manor. A moment later though, her brow
creased in confusion. Where the hell were her panties? Her skirt was there, her
blouse, and her expensive black heels...but her underwear was nowhere to be
seen.
Barbara frowned.
First Magda had undressed her, and now her underwear was missing. Barbara
wasn't stupid. The woman clearly enjoyed taking advantage of her. Her pride
raged inside her, demanding that she confront the sly older woman about her
unwelcome intrusions, yet part of her hesitated. Unbidden, an image was forming
in Barbara's mind. She imagined Magda leading her stumbling, half-asleep, into
this very room, until the two of them were standing beside the broad canopied
bed. She imagined Magda behind her, reaching around to unbutton her silk
blouse, imagined her long, pale fingers grazing against the skin of her neck
and chest as she slipped the garment away. The Barbara in her mind stood mutely
swaying as Magda loosened her pencil skirt, letting it fall around her ankles
until she was only in her heels and black lace panties.
Barbara's pulse
began to quicken.
She imagined
beind made to lie back onto the silk sheets so that Magda could undo the thin
straps on her tall heels, imagined the long, expectant pause before the older
woman finally reached up, took hold of her flimsy underwear, and began sliding
them slowly down her long, slender legs. Then, once she was fully naked and
vulnerable, she imagined Magda's hands returning...stroking her...caressing
her...
Baraba had to
shake her head hard to dispell the suddenly erotic fantasy, her heart pounding,
and that maddening, all-too-pleasant warmth spreading through her all over
again. That her feelings could vascilate so rapidly between distrust
and...desire...made her intensely confused. This wasn't like her at all. She
needed to get away, needed time to focus.
Unable to fully
stop her shaking hands, Barbara got dressed quickly with the items she had
left. Beneath her clothes, the nakedness of her braless tits and uncovered
pussy was intensely distracting. She felt every step as she moved out into the
hallway and began striding towards the broad stairway that led down to the
entrance hall.
She found Magda
waiting for her at the foot of the stairs.
The woman's cool
eyes fell palpably onto Barbara as she appeared at the top of the landing,
making her stop short. she took a deep breath to calm the nerves that suddenly
started jumping in her then. What was it about this woman that made her feel so
anxious all the time? As Barbara descended the staircase, she was painfully
aware of how short her pencil skirt was. Magda almost certainly had quite a
view from where she stood.
Barbara descended
as quickly as her heels would allow.
"It appears
like it might storm," Magda cautioned her as she escorted Barbara to the
doorway. "You're quite sure you are feeling well enough to drive?"
She opened the
heavy door, and the cool night breeze, pregnant with the damp smell of the
coming rain, sent Barbara's hair tossling. It was a refreshing change from the
stagnant air of the mansion, and already Barbara could feel her spirits
lifting. She nodded to Magda, "I'll be fine. Goodbye."
She pushed past
the black-clad older woman, relieved to see the old rental still waiting for
her at the bottom of the stone steps. Magda stood in the doorway silently,
watching with an implacable expression as the lovely blonde made her departure.
Barbara glanced back only once, an irrational fear sparking inside her. She
almost expected Magda to leap from the doorway and descend upon her like some
infernal bat...but the woman stood stone still, watching her.
Barbara
shuddered, and slid into her car. The key slid into the ignition, and a turn
later, the car grumbled to life. The night was even darker thanks to the
rolling stormclouds overhead, and the occasional lash of lightning made the
ever present, rolling mists flicker with borrowed luminecense. She put the car
into gear, and pulled away.
The sound of
gravel crunching beneath her rolling tires and the sight of Crowley Manor
growing ever more distant in her rear-view mirror did wonders for Barbara's
mood. Her headlights cut through the swirling fog far enough that she could
easily follow the worn stone roadway as it wove and twisted around copses of
sagging trees and expanses of dark moorland. Above her, the clouds thundered
ominously, but Barbara paid them no heed. Soon she'd be back in the city, in
her own apartment, and she could put this whole strange affair behind her.
She'd only
managed a few minutes of travel, one or two miles of twisting road at most,
when she felt the car give a sudden lurch; the gas pedal sank uselessly toward
the floor, the engine sputtering in protest. She slammed on the brakes, cursing
loudly, swerving off the road with a spray of gravel. The car rolled to a stop,
and died, the sudden loss of her headlights plunging her into deepest night.
Barbara gripped
the steering wheel, her heart pounding, looking down at the dashboard with
dismay. She tried turning the key. The engine whined, but she didn't even hear
the sound of it attempting to turn over. Her battery might be dead, or God
knows what else. She hit the steering wheel in frustration, her stomach sinking
in crushed disappointment as the freedom that had been dangling so close
evaporated into the thick fog swirling outside the car windows.
This sucked. This
so totally fucking sucked.
Barbara wasn't
unfamiliar with the mechanics of a car engine, having spent quite a bit of time
on her own roadster back home, but out here, with no tools and no illumination,
her odds of locating, much less fixing the problem was next to nil. She reached
into the glove compartment and found her cell phone, but a quick glance at her
reception meter confirmed her fears. Dead zone. No signal at all. She couldn't
even call for a tow truck. The only recourse was an obvious one, but she
despised it nonetheless. She turned to look through the back window at the
gravel road that unwound behind her.
She didn't have
much choice. She would have to walk back to the mansion, and see about calling
a cab.
Above her,
lightning cracked loud enough to make the car roof shudder. Drops of rain began
to pepper the windshield.
Just fucking
great.
Pausing only long
enough to mutter a long string of curses at her luck, Barbara opened the door
to the rental and stepped out into the foggy night.
The rain
thankfully was as yet only a very light drizzle, but Barbara knew that if she
didn't hurry, it was liable to switch to a full on downpour at the drop of a
hat. She had quite a ways to go too; the mansion itself had to be at least a
mile back the way she'd come. She knelt down to unstrap her shoes. Heels would
just make the whole thing worse. She'd stick to the grass beside the road, it
seemed thick enough that she'd be able to walk quickly and not totally wreck
her feet. Thunder cracked threateningly overhead, an unecessary reminder of the
urgency of her predicament. Steeling herself as best she could, Barbara began
to walk.
The statuesque
blonde unhappily trudged along the roadside, her useless heels dangling from
her left hand. The moorland stretched out around her, desolate and quiet, the
only sound the occasional rustling of an old tree and the her own footfalls on
the soft ground. The drizzle had only seemed to exacerbate the fog, which lay
like a great blanket of mist as far as she could see. Walking through it was both
slightly unnerving but also strangely beautiful. It lent a gauzy screen to
everything around her, and when the lightning would flash overhead, the
brightness would flare in the pale fog, illuminating everything almost the way
a blanket of snow would.
It was almost
like walking through a dream. Had the circumstances not been so miserable,
Barbara might even have enjoyed the experience. She'd never seen fog quite like
this before. It flowed and curled in an endless, languid dance of whorls and
spirals. It rippled away from her as she walked, only to rush back in the wake
of her passing.
It was, however,
growing thicker by the moment; with every minute that passed, and every yard
she closed towards the mansion, her visibility was only getting worse. It
wasn't long before Barbara found herself totally engulfed in the pale mist; the
cool dampness was soaked into her skin, and the gathering moisture made her
silk blouse cling to her shapely form in enticingly revealing ways. She felt
trickles running down the supple curve of her back, her long neck, and the deep
cleft of her cleavage. The way the mist seemed to lick at her legs as they
strode forward made her accutely aware of how sensitive her bare skin had
become. She felt, or rather imagined, the faint brushing of ghostly fingers up
the backs of her calves, and along the curves of her thighs. It was getting
kind of distracting, but Barbara couldn't let herself lose focus; she had to
keep on following the road. If she got too far off course, she doubted that
she'd be able to find her way back in the thick fog.
But as she
walked, the rhythmic repetition of her footfalls in the soft grass and the
gauzy, obscuring haze of the mist began to dull her concentration. With nothing
much to look at, her mind began to wander. How long had she been walking? She
couldn't be that far away from the mansion, surely she'd have noticed some sign
of it by now?
Thoughts of the
mansion immediately brought to mind all the strangeness of the last few days.
The museum, Carrie, the strange, blood-red diamond...and Magda.
Barbara felt the
butterflies in her stomach again.
What was it about
the woman that Barbara found so...compelling? No, that wasn't quite right; it
was more than that. while their previously brief interactions had only left her
feeling a sense of antagonism towards the haughty woman, since coming to her
mansion, Barbara couldn't deny that being in her pressence had an almost
intoxicating effect on her. She was used to men (and women) staring at her; indeed,
she often relished the attention. She dressed scandalously on purpose, to amuse
herself at the way her body made people react. It was a tool of power for her,
one she usually wielded with confident skill.
But Magda...Magda
was different. The way the older woman's eyes roamed over her, confidently,
openly ravenous, blatantly predatory, was so unlike anything Barbara had ever
encountered before. When Magda oogled her, Barbara could just feel the woman
undressing her with her eyes. It made her skin prickle, made the small hairs on
the back of her neck stand on end...and made her feel other things, too. And
her voice...!
Barbara flushed.
The smooth,
liquid rhythm of her voice was so undeniably alluring. It could disarm her,
make the words catch on her tongue. Only a few moments of that low, confident
purr was enough to turn Barbara's convictions to jelly. She'd never encountered
a person who could make her feel so...vulnerable...so easily. And as much as
Barbara wanted to deny it, from the way her body reacted it was clear that,
subconsciously, she found the whole thing to be a ridiculous turn on.
God, what was
wrong with her? It wasn't right...so why was just thinking about it making her
all hot and bothered?
As her mind
drifted further and further into her heady daydream, Barbara's steps through
the dense fog had become almost absent-minded, automatic. She ceased to really
pay attention to the winding road, dwelling instead on the increasingly lurid
images that were playing across her mind's eye.
She thought back
to their encounter in the bedroom. She remembered the way Magda had snuck up
behind her, how her cool hands had caressed and massaged her shoulders until
the steady pressure and the lilting sound of her voice had lulled her into a
sleepy daze. She couldn't even remember what Magda had been talking about--all
she could recall was the sensation of her muscles melting under her stroking
hands.
As if responding
to the memory that danced in Barbara's mind, the fog behind her began to swirl
with preternatural focus. As it revolved, the dense mist coalesced into two
long, sinuous tendrils. Weaving their way forward, they arched over Barbara's
back, and slithered like phantom snakes down the back of her collar. They
spread out, coiling across her shoulders, their feather-light, ghostly touch
barely registering to the statuesque blonde. Yet as they roiled beneath her
clothing, their ethereal touch seemed to reinforce the sensations in her
memory, until Barbara let out a drawn sigh. She could almost feel Magda's cool
hands on her skin, rolling away her tensions, her cares.
And just like in
the bedroom, a lapping tide of warm lethargy began to batter her consciousness.
As the stroking hands drained away the knots in her muscles, they also siphoned
her strength. Barbara remembered how she began to sag into Magda's hands, how
her knees just seemed to wilt. At the same time, the nonsense whispering, and
the sensation of her warm breath flowing across the sensitive skin behind her
neck, had caused her nipples to spring to eager attention. Looming over her
from behind, Magda would have had an almost unobstructed view of them as they
tented the slim fabric of the black robe away from her curvacious tits. God,
even now, the thought of those stormy gray eyes staring hungrily at her
barely-covered breasts was enough to make her nipples throb.
Beneath her
blouse, the tendrils of mist pushed down past her shoulders, curling under her
arms, where they began to slowly wind themselves around Barbara's full and
sensitive breasts. With impossible lightness, the hazy plumes wound in endless
spirals over her heated skin, while ghostly fingers plucked and tweaked at her
aching nipples. Barbara staggered slightly, her eyes drifting shut as a sharp
breath pulled across her lips. As she steadied herself, her hands rose almost
of their own accord to take hold of her suddenly tingling tits. She shuddered,
gasping in astonishment as her rock hard nipples pressed into her warm palms.
Not a little reluctantly, her suddenly shaky hands let go of her jutting
breasts, revealing the rigid peaks pushing obscenely out beneath her silk
blouse. She could almost see their needy throbbing--she could certainly feel
it.
"Get a hold
of yourself, Barbara," her mind scolded, "Get your mind out of the
damn gutter. Concentrate. You need to get back to the mansion and call a
fucking cab. Walk."
Trying her best
to push the the distracting sensations from her tits out of her mind, Barbara
continued forward. But now, she was acutely aware of how the silk of her blouse
felt as it brushed against her with every step. For a few minutes, she
successfully managed to stay on the task at hand, had even managed to increase
her pace, but presently, the monotony of the landscape and the implacable haze
of white once again took its toll.
Barbara's mind
returned to the brief, feather-light brush of Magda's lips against the back of
her neck. The mist was more than happy to supply a fresh tendril to help her
relive the moment.
Fresh goosebumps
erupted down her spine in the wake of an unwilling, all-too-pleasant tingle.
The tendrils of fog chased after it, their touch as fleeting as the barest
breeze, but just perceptible enough to keep jarring Barbara out of her attempts
at concentration. Unable to focus her thoughts for more than a few moments at a
time, just long enough to reorient herself on the winding gravel path, they
inevitably resumed their tawdry wanderings.
The kiss. It had
shocked Barbara, had cut through the dreamy massage, as alarm bells began
sounding in her head. Don't let her touch you like that, her mind screamed,
don't let her fool you; you know how this game works! Of course she did;
Barbara had done it herself, countless times, only it was always her
administering the sinister kiss, her hands and lips relentlessly seducing some
unsuspecting victim into her sexual control. She refused to let the same thing
happen to her, much less at the hands of some unhinged recluse. She remembered
her anger as she'd spun around to face Magda, only to be greeted by that cool,
gray stare, as the woman's slender hand suddenly grabbed hold of the chorded
knot at her waist.
Barbara's heart
had skipped a beat then, the anger in her diffusing almost immediately into
mute anxiety. After a long, pregnant moment though, Magda had simply let her
go.
But...what if she
hadn't?
Around her
ankles, long serpents of mist began to slowly snake their way up Barbara's long
legs. They hugged to her skin, coiling around her in slow, searching undulations
as they inched closer and closer to the hem of her short pencil skirt. The haze
was so thick about her now that Barbara might not have noticed them even if
she'd actively looked, but her mind was somewhere else entirely.
Barbara stopped
in mid-stride, breathing heavily. She brushed the hair out of her face with a
tremulous hand. Her heart was fluttering, but not from excertion. Her breasts
were positively throbbing, and her face felt like it was on fire. Her black
pumps slipped from her fingers to fall onto the grass with a muted thud. She
pressed her palms against her heavy eyes, the coolness of her touch soothing
against her feverish skin. God, how much longer was there to go? She was
getting so tired; even the weird creepiness of the mansion was starting to seem
appealing if it meant she'd be able to lie down a minute. Her head was
spinning, and her tits...!
Almost unbidden,
Barbara felt her hands glide down her face, her neck, until they finally came
to rest on the massive swells of her breasts. The disheveled blonde shuddered
as her hands pressed into the heavy, soft mass, her nippled pressing hotly into
the palms of her hands. Just having them held felt like such a tremendous
relief, they were getting so sensitive that just walking was driving her crazy.
What the hell was wrong with her? She shouldn't be feeling this way...and
yet...
Her aching tits
demanded attention, and Barbara was finding it harder and harder to ignore
them. Her ginger explorations began to grow bolder, her hands moving as if with
a mind of their own. She almost whimpered as they rolled her tits beneath the
smooth silk of her blouse, her nipples thrilling at the knowing pressure of her
fingers. Barbara moaned, her eyes glazing, as the incessant tingling of her
breasts gave way to the heady satisfaction of feeling her breasts massaged.
God, it felt amazing.
Is this what it
would have been like, her fevered imagination wondered, if she had torn away
your robe, and seized your heavy breasts like this? Could you have stopped her?
Would you have
wanted to?
"Oh...no..."
Barbara groaned, her head rolling back. She didn't see the way the mist had
curled around her fingers, her wrist. Their ghostly touch seemed to be guiding
her hands, urging her to touch herself more. Barbara sighed as she squeezed at
her own breasts, but in her mind, it was Magda's hands that played with them
now. It was her slender fingers that milked her aching tits, that pulled at her
rigid nipples. Pangs of pleasure raced through her body, while below her waist,
the slowly encroaching tendrils of mist began to quicken their pace.
They slid up past
her knees, twining around her legs, and slipped beneath Barbara's black skirt.
They traced the thin rivulets of tell-tale wetness running down her thighs towards
her hot and defenseless pussy. Barbara shivered as goosebumps erupted on her
legs beneath the phantom caresses of those devious tentacles. She shifted her
legs together unconsciously as the first airy appendage slipped into the
dripping folds of her labia, gliding against her swollen netherlips in long,
sinuous strokes.
More joined in,
grazing across the swell of her mons, licking against her weeping pussy, and
encircling the prominently-swollen bud of her clitoris. Barbara barely realized
any of it, so fleeting was the sensation of their touch, but her body reacted
powerfully. The wispy tendrils wove a tantilizing spell between her legs,
coaxing her bare pussy to blossom beneath their ethereal touch. Insidiously,
they stoked the fires of her arousal, driving her desire to new heights, until
the ache in her pussy made her thighs tremble and her knees shake.
Barbara clutched
at her desperately quaking breasts, moaning uncontrollably as the strength
drained out her legs, and she crumpled to her knees on the soft grass, dazed.
Her pussy was throbbing. She could feel the wetness soaking her thighs. She
couldn't understand what was happening to her, or why she seemed wholly
incapable of stopping her roaving hands from delightfully mauling her purring
tits. Her legs felt like jelly. Her heart raced. She couldn't remember the last
time she'd felt so turned on. What the hell was happening?
You have to stop,
her mind begged. You have to get up! Something's not right! Get UP!
But the mist
manipulating her hands refused to let her stop. Their silent urging kept one
hand busy playing with one swollen tit, while the other began to slip down,
stroking over her tensing belly, over her rocking hips, and towards the hem of
her skirt as it rode high on her slick thighs. With agonizing slowness, her
fingers traced up along the hot skin of her inner leg before slipping beneath
the hem of her skirt. She marvelled at the wetness she felt already coating her
thighs; she was completely soaked.
Her fingers stopped
expectantly, quivering just inches away from her throbbing clit. Stop Barbara,
you have to stop, a small, dwindling voice kept begging...
"I just...I
can't stop..." she whimpered, her eyes sinking shut, "Just a little,
I just need a...little...oooh!"
She gasped. Her
fingers slipped into the slick folds of her pussy with practiced familiarity.
She moaned as they danced along her labia, tracing a seductive, wet rhythm that
made her hips rock uncontrollably. It was her hand between her legs, touching
her just the way she liked to be touched, and yet at the same time it didn't
feel like her hand at all; it felt detached, possessed, like a puppet dancing
to invisible strings.
It's Magda's
hand, that shrinking voice in her mind realized, not yours; she's the one
touching you. Making you ache. Making you squirm. You can't give in,
you...can't...!
But then her
fingers closed in on her clit, pressing against it with exacting pressure, and
blossoms of pleasure exploded behind her closed eyelids. The pleading
resistance was drowned out by a long, helpless moan as Barbara thrust her hips
into her curling hand, while her fingers seized her taut nipple in a sharp,
vice-like grip. The pain was delicious contrast to the waves of pleasure
crashing between her legs. It heightened it, sent her soaring. She arched her
back, her face turning up at the dark, fog-shrouded sky, as the pleasure
climbed irresistably.
I'm going to
come, she thought in reluctant, blissful misery. Right here, right on the
grass, I can't stop. It feels too good, it's coming, it's...!
Just then,
Barbara felt something brush against her face. Her wet, emerald eyes blinked in
confusion...and she felt it again, tracing along her cheek, licking across her
parted lips. A sudden movement in the fog startled her, but she was sure she
saw--there! Her eyes opened wide in shock as she saw the sinuous wavering of a
thick fog tendril as it tried to vanish back into the mist, just a second too
late. With a start Barbara looked down at her body...and screamed.
The tendrils
roamed over her openly. They wrapped around her arms, her neck, her chest. They
encircled her heaving breasts through her blouse, her slim waist; they coiled
around her legs in undulating, serpentine motions.
"W-what the
HELL!?" Barbara cried, the seductive spell broken. She wrenched herself to
her feet, staggering, brushing at the seizing wisps of fog that clung to her
thrashing limbs. They quivered and dissolved as she struck them, but reformed
almost as fast as she could bat them aside. Barbara backpedalled, twisting away
from their grasping embrace. Almost in a panic, she followed the lengths of the
grasping tendrils as they led away from her, into the mist, where they seemed
to be conjoined in a great, roiling mass of animated fog. Even as she stared in
utter disbelief, more tendrils snaked out of the nebulous cloud, reaching
towards her hungrily. Barbara screamed. She spun, and forced her leaden limbs
into desperate motion.
She ran.
Barbara plunged
through the thick fog in a reckless dash. She couldn't see but a few feet in
front of her, wouldn't be able to avoid a sudden hole or tree branch, and a
fall would certainly break a wrist, an ankle, a leg...but she didn't care. Her
mind recoiled at the utter impossibility of what she saw, terror lancing
through her like shards of molten glass. She ran. She dared not look behind,
certain that the writhing, insane mist-thing would be right behind her. She ran
faster.
Her lungs burned,
her legs felt like they were moving through quicksand, but still she pushed
forward. Just when she was certain she would give out, would fall, she saw
something in the mist. A flicker of light appeared in the distance as she
rounded a bend in the road, and her heart surged with blind hope. She raced
towards it, and with every step, the hulking, decrepit mass of Crowley Manor
slowly swam into view. The torch sputtered in its sconce beside the wide
doorway, but even its feeble light was enough to spur Barbara on. She mounted
the steps to the door two at a time, practically slamming herself against the
heavy oak before striking furiously at the heavy iron knocker.
"Open the
door!" she screamed, "For the love of god open the--"
The massive frame
groaned in protest as a latch was thrown on the inside, and suddenly the door
swung inwards. Barbara threw herself into the opening, slammed the door shut
behind her.
She collapsed to
the ground, shaking, swallowing loud gasps of air into her burning chest.
"Barbara?
Barbara what in the world...?"
She looked up,
blinking away the panicked tears that had welled in her eyes, and saw Magda
standing over her. The woman's face was creased with concern as she bent down
to steady Barbara's trembling shoulders. The words began spilling out of
Barbara's mouth before she could stop them.
"Something--something
in the fog. Car broke, tried to walk back...Oh god, something was there!
Something--!" she stammered, tripping over her words. Her heart hammered.
"I...I can still feel it...touching me...oh god...!"
"What? What
are you talking...oh dear, hush, it's alright now. It's alright..." Magda
soothed, circling her arms around Barbara's sobbing shoulders and pulling her
close. The simple comfort of the embrace overwhelmed Barbara's inherent
suspicion towards the strange older woman, and with a grateful sob she allowed
herself to be pulled to her feet. She rested her head against Magda's shoulder,
wilting. She couldn't stop from shivering.
"It was just
the fog, dear," Magda whispered, stroking her fingers through the thick
waves of Barbara's hair. "It can play tricks. The moors at night are a
terrible place. It's alright now. You're safe..."
"No, no, you
don't understand!" Barbara pleaded weakly. She turned her face to look up
into Magda's cool, gray eyes, her red lips trembling. "I saw it, I know I
did! I'm not making this up, I--mmph?!"
Her stammer was
cut short as Magda suddenly pulled the distraught blonde towards her, silencing
her with a hard, commanding kiss.
Barbara's eyes
shot open in shock, and she made to struggle, but Magda's arms held her
fast. She moaned in protest, her arms
flailing uselessly, but Magda would not relent. She gripped Barbara firmly by
her thick blonde tresses, while her other arm slipped around Barbara's slim
waist to pull her even closer. The soft, insistent pressure of Magda's lips
sliding against her own was so confident, so intimate, that despite her shock
Barbara felt the fearful panic in her chest slowly drain away, and with it went
the little strength she had left. She sagged in the older woman's arms, her
struggles fading. As Magda's dominating kiss did its wicked work, Barbara's
eyes fluttered heavily, and slowly, irresistably, sank shut.
With practiced
finesse Magda's lips dueled with her own, until their will-sapping pressure
slowly coaxed hers to open, to part. When Barbara felt the velvelt thrill of
Magda's tongue as it forced its way into her mouth, she groaned, and yielded
completely.
She hung limply
in Magda's embrace, her heart throbbing, as her overtaxed body suddenly surged
anew with the hot, smoldering arousal that had assaulted her in the grasp of
the fog. Her nipples swelled to rigid attention, and her breasts tightened as
they pressed enticingly against Magda's own. Beneath her skirt, her pussy ached
with unsatisfied need. Her clitoris throbbed. Magda's tongue totally dominated
her own as they writhed together like amorous snakes.
When the kiss
finally broke, Barbara was panting. She struggled to open her eyes, and found
herself staring as Magda's deeply ruddy lips curled into a smile.
"There
now," the older woman whispered, "That calmed you down, didn't
it?"
"W-what...?
I--I don't know...the room's...spinning..." Barbara groaned, her eyes
hooded, glassy. When Magda's hands traced down the supple curve of her back to
sink possessively into the soft globes of her ass, Barbara moaned...but did not
resist. "Ooh, wait...what are you...?"
Magda's gray eyes
glimmered hypnotically. "I'm merely trying to comfort you, dear, the best
way I know how...come, let me kiss you again..."
"N-no, wait,
I--mmmmf," Barbara whimpered, as Magda's lips captured hers again. This
time, Barbara's mouth parted immediately under the irressistable pressure of
Magda's lips to allow that long, serpentine tongue to slide erotically back
into her eager throat. The dazed blonde moaned around the impossibly thick
member as it plundered her mouth in slow, deep strokes, filling her mouth as if
it were a long, hot cock. Without thinking, Barbara instinctively began to suck
at the meaty appendage dancing with her tongue. Her arousal jumped to dizzying
heights, wetness spilling from her overheated pussy to run in shining rivulets
down the inside of her thighs.
For the second
time that night, Barbara felt an orgasm welling up inside her. She was rapidly
approaching the edge and Magda had only kissed her. But that tongue, oh god
that tongue...! What would it feel like...down there...?
But just as
Barbara reached the precipice of her ecstacy, Magda wrenched herself away from
the blonde's hot, pouting lips, her own breathing heavy and labored. Barbara
groaned in disappointment, chasing after the retreating tongue to try and draw
it back in, but she wasn't nearly fast enough. Her impending release
immediately began to ebb, until her throbbing clit and dripping pussy merely
smoldered in unsatisfied need.
"So
sweet...! Dear gods, you are delectable...!" Magda marveled breathlessly.
Releasing Barbara from her dominating embrace was a significant struggle, but
reluctantly, the black-clad woman did. She held onto the staggering blonde's
trembling hands as much to steady her as it was to satisfy her own terrible
need to keep touching her.
Magda's gray eyes
shone hungrily as she stared into Barbara's glazed, half-lidded eyes. She's
weak, vulnerable. It would be so easy to...but no, she musn't. Not yet. Soon,
the time would come...but for now she needed to wait...
"Come with
me, Barbara," Magda said, her tone low and compelling. Immediately, her
voice took hold of Barbara's battered will, enveloping it in warm, seductive
drowsiness. The busty blonde swayed on her feet, instantly succumbing to the
witch's sonorous words and falling into a deep, heady trance.
Wordlessly, she
allowed Magda to lead her up the wide staircase, back to the dark canopied bed
where she awoke just hours before. Standing behind her entranced victim, Magda
reached around to undo the buttons of her silk blouse, and the silver zipper of
her black skirt. The clothing fell aside uselessly, and once more, Magda had to
suppress the almost overwhelming urge to ravage the dazzling beauty standing
helpless before her.
Wait, she hissed,
you must wait. Already, she falls deeper and deeper under your spell. You need
only wait...and she will be yours forever.
Magda guided
Barbara to lay back onto the cool sheets, her ravenous eyes lingering on the
blonde's turrid nipples, her sopping cunt. She groaned miserably.
"Soon, my
sweet. Soon, you will be all mine," she whispered, breathing the words
into Barbara's sensitive ear. "But for now, sleep deeply. Forget the
terrors of this night, and dream only of your desire. Let it consume your
dreams, even as it shall soon consume your every waking thought..."
She allowed
herself one indulgence. She let her hand slip between Barbara's parted legs,
and slid one, then two slender fingers into the sopping wetness of her
womanhood. Barbara moaned softly, her eyelids fluttering as Magda worked those
long fingers in and out of her tightening pussy, coating them in her juice.
Magda pulled her hand away, and eagerly sucked her fingers into her hot, wet
mouth.
She purred as the
taste of Barbara's sex flooded her mouth, her gray eyes rolling back. Oh how
she would savor this.
She chuckled
evilly down at the entranced blonde. "Sleep for me, darling...and
dream..."