The Third Daughter Ch. 05

I couldn't tell Eleanor about the dress. I would, I decided, tell her later it didn't fit.

Having re-packed the box, I went, the following morning, straight to the charity shop.

"A friend bought this for me, to wear at a party tomorrow evening but, to be honest, I'd prefer something a bit less dramatic." There was no point in telling the rather county lady serving that it didn't fit, she'd soon realise it was, in fact perfect which was no surprise. "I don't want the money back, but do you have anything else that might do?"

The fact I didn't want a refund seemed to cheer her up and she busied herself going through the racks, eventually seizing upon a rather gorgeous, gun metal grey silk dress. It had straps that crossed over at the back with a very low waist that would reveal a lot of my back. The front was a plunging V with a small lace trim in deep purple.

I tried it on, it fitted me well and I bought it. I had black heels that would look good with it so that was that.

As I was paying, the shopkeeper's assistant was unpacking the red velvet dress. "Oh," she exclaimed, "I think you must have left this with it by mistake."

She held up the silver locket. I think I gasped. It was the one that Clemency had made disappear and then, miraculously re-appear around my neck that first time I had met her in Denise's bar. I had absolutely no idea how that could have got there. I took it from her and felt it, hot in my hand. I thanked them, dropped the locket into the bag with the new dress and left the shop. I hesitated. Then I went back in.

"Can you tell me who donated the red dress?"

"Sorry, dear, people can leave them outside any of our shops and they all go to the warehouse for checking and cleaning. Could have been any one of our shops. We've got two hundred odd, nationwide."

Disappointed, I left the shop and made my way, late, to work. I didn't dare open the locket even though it was in my mind all day long. I was still clinging to the theory that Clemency had, somehow, hypnotised me.

That night I went to bed early after speaking to Eleanor to confirm the arrangements for the following evening. She asked me if I'd like to come to her place to change and relax before going out and I agreed.

Eleanor Torven stood, naked, behind a large sheet of glass set into a wall. I was pressed against the glass looking at her. My arse was pulled back by hands that I could neither see nor feel but they were as real as any other hand. As my face slid down the glass, Eleanor squatted so her face was always directly in front of mine. The palms of my hands were on the glass and so were hers. It was there again, that dildo, touching my cunt lips. Eleanor's mouth was open as if in a scream although her eyes, those beautiful green eyes were smiling.

The voice in my head was Clemency's. "Push back onto me, Maggie. Show her you want me inside you. Show her the mystery, the different, the fear." I heard myself say no, no, no but, may the gods forgive me, I did. I felt myself open and that thing was in me. Eleanor's eyes never left mine as the invisible Clemency fucked me but then, dear God, Eleanor's tongue came through the glass, as if it was a curtain of water and entered my mouth. I could see it's tip between her lips, just as I had seen Clemency's in that dream but it was in my mouth as Clemency fucked me, hard, relentlessly until my orgasm came and, mouth and throat full of that tongue, I screamed in ecstasy but also in fear.

The vision of Eleanor faded. It was as if she dissolved until only her green eyes were there and slowly, they too faded away.

"I can't come tonight, Eleanor." I had phoned her as soon as I woke up. My dark blue nightdress was, as the others before it, soaked at my crotch. My nipples were still as hard as they had been when Clemency fucked me.

"Why not? Are you ill?"

"Yes, I think I am. Eleanor I..." I started to cry, my eyes misted over then the tears ran, small, down my cheeks until I started to sob uncontrollably. The crying racked me, my body heaved and I threw the phone down. I curled myself into a ball and held myself.

I was calmer an hour later when my doorbell rang. I dragged on a robe and cautiously opened the door.

Eleanor stood there. "Let me in?"

I stood back, hiding myself from the street behind the door and she came inside. Quietly, calmly, she closed the door and took me in her arms. I cried again then, the same whole body crying that leaves you drained, exhausted. She said nothing, just held me for, it seemed, hours, until there were no tears left. She led me through to my kitchen, sat me on the Windsor chair with a padded cushion that stood in one corner. She said nothing but put the kettle on in the time-honoured English tradition that, whenever something dreadful happens, the first recourse is to make tea. Between the duties of tea-making, she squatted beside me and held me, stroked my face, my arms and softly kissed me.

I held the hot mug of tea to my breast as if it were a protection.

"Tell me." I said that I couldn't. "Yes, yes you can. I wont judge you, or blame you. Just tell me."

Standing, I put the tea down on the kitchen table I went through to my little home-office and took the notebook from the desk drawer; the notebook in which I had written everything. Despite my conclusion that Clemency had somehow hypnotised me, I had continued to make the record and, as time went on, I had included the darker, deviant details. I was relieved that I had not had time to record the scene from that last night, the glass screen and Eleanor's tongue.

I drank my tea, wordless as Eleanor read the journal. I could almost recall every word I had written and, somehow, see them reflected in her facial expression. The dread of her discovering my secret mingled with relief that, at last, I could share it with someone.

Closing the book, Eleanor sat, silent for a few moments. "The dress in the charity shop."

"I took it back."

"You bought it?"

"No! you did. I found it on my doorstep with a card from you."

Her face was unreadable, her voice low. "Maggie, I didn't buy it for you."

But it had been there. The card! In my bin. I rushed to my kitchen bin, pulled all the rubbish out of it, searching frenziedly for the card but it wasn't there. I banged my head against the wall in frustration and slumped to sit on the floor. "There, there was a card, from you. When I read it the second time, it was from her."

"Clemency?" I nodded.

"What has happened to me?"

"I don't know. But we'll deal with it together." She tapped the book. "Is this everything?" I shook my head. "What else?"

So, haltingly, ashamed and embarrassed I told her. I told her about the sheet of glass, of Clemency fucking me while Eleanor watched. I told her how her tongue had come through the glass.

"I'm mad, aren't I?"

"How do you explain it?"

"I thought she'd hypnotised me. She had a mantra."

"Mystery, different, fear."

"Yes! Yes, that's it, how did you know?"

She tapped the notebook. "I don't know anything about hypnosis, nor about mental illness but you don't strike me as mad. You've written it all down lucidly. This notebook isn't the ravings of a lunatic, it's someone trying to get to terms with what is happening to her. I do know you shouldn't be alone. Come home with me. I'll look after you."

She led me to my bedroom, helped me pack a suitcase, sat on my toilet while I showered. She helped me dry myself. I pulled some clean knickers out of a drawer and put them on, then took a dress from my wardrobe and slipped it on. She brushed my hair. Her car was outside and she helped me in, putting my case in the back and then we drove the few minutes to her house.

We sat in her kitchen. She made tea again.

"What about the Mayoral Ball?"

"There are more important things to deal with. Like looking after you." We sat and talked about anything, everything except Clemency. We talked about the library, her job as a councillor, her family, my family, the weather. We rambled until later, she took me to bed.

"Don't be afraid to go to sleep. I'm here and I wont leave you." We lay on our sides, facing each other, our mouths close. "Maybe it's just nightmares."

"But what about the cards, the locket, the dress? I didn't dream them, I didn't." I was getting agitated.

Eleanor held me close to her and kissed my forehead, my eyes, my lips. She stroked me. She turned me around so my back was to her and she enveloped me in her arms and nuzzled my neck. I could feel her untamed pubes against me, her leg against mine, her breasts. She kissed my neck. Her hands covered my breasts. She was warm, safe and, like a little child, reassured by the presence of her mother, I slept; a long, dreamless sleep.

Her arms were still around me when I woke. She was awake. As I stirred, she kissed my neck. "Morning. You slept well."

"Yes, I did, thank you."

She got out of bed and found two robes. She helped me into one and took me down to her kitchen, brewed coffee and sat with me at her kitchen table. "Stay with me for a few days?"

"I'd like that. I feel bad you missed the ball."

She smiled. "I'm sad I didn't get to take you but there will be others." We talked for a bit, then she got up and stood behind me, her hands on my shoulders. "Let's go back to bed?" I looked over my shoulder at her. "Just a cuddle if that's all you want." I nodded.

But it wasn't just a cuddle I wanted. I wanted her to take me, prove to me that she wanted me, that she wasn't just humouring me. Or, perhaps, I wanted to prove to myself that I could give myself still. Who can tell? I was wanton, hungry, urgent, maybe even a little frantic.

We kissed, hard and briefly but then I was down between her legs, where I wanted, needed to be. I forced her knees apart and feasted on her, using my tongue and fingers to stimulate her, her cunt, her arse. I felt like a whore, a hungry, reckless tart. I sucked her clit, fingered her, licked her, pulled her lips with my teeth until she arched her back and screamed as her cunt flooded on my face. I wasn't done. I climbed up, straddled her stomach and pulled her face up to mine, kissing her as I ground myself down onto her untamed pubic mound.

She wrestled me aside and strapped a dildo that she had retrieved from her bedside table, her eyes on mine all through the palaver. "Get on your back," she hissed. I was still hot, fevered and I obeyed her instantly, offering my arse and cunt to her. One hand covered my throat as she positioned herself. She hesitated then drove into me. She squeezed my neck but gently. I fought her, pulled her down so I could bite her lips then, as one, we rolled so she was under me and I rode her cock, bouncing, kissing her, licking her mouth.

I was right on the edge of orgasm but the scream that came from my mouth was not ecstasy but terror.

"Hello, Maggie." She, Clemency, was there, sitting on the deep window ledge, in a long, black dress, her hair loose and like a silk curtain around her face. Her voice was low.

My scream startled Eleanor. "What is it? What's the matter?"

I'll let Eleanor tell you what happened next.

Maggie had been frenetic, crazed almost in her sexual excitement. It was like fucking a feral cat, she was scratching and biting and fighting me but it was hot, hot as hell and I was, despite having cum once, with her on the edge when her scream brought me to a stop.

I asked her what was wrong. Her eyes were filled with dread. They were also the brightest blue! Dumbly, still with my dildo deep inside her, she pointed to the window.

"What is it?" She shook her head. I managed to get her off me and I pulled her to me despite the fact her body was rigid, stiff, unbending. "Tell me, Maggie."

"She can't see you, can she?" She wasn't talking to me. I knew it was Clemency. "Let her see you, please. I beg you, let her see I am not mad."

My gasp came when Clemency appeared, sitting in the window, dressed in black, knees drawn up to her chin, her arms around her shins. Later, I reflected just how beautiful she was, but then, at that moment, I could barely breathe, let alone think cogently.

"Hello, Eleanor." Her smile was that of a big, predatory cat. "So, now you know. She's been telling you the truth. Tell her, Maggie, tell her about your real mother." Maggie seemed to have no idea what she was talking about. She remained mute, rigid as I held her protectively as if I could, somehow keep her safe.

Clemency uncurled like a ballet dancer and stood. "Her mother, Prudence, was my aunt. We are cousins. Prudence had three daughters. Maggie was the third." As she spoke she came close to the bed and stroked Maggie's hair. I turned to prevent her touching Maggie. "Prudence was gifted, we all were. But Prudence was wild, absolutely not as her name suggested. She died when Maggie was a year old. We never knew her father." Her lip curled. "I don't imagine Prudence knew him either. The other sisters were much older. You were adopted, weren't you, Maggie? I came to bring you back into the family. You knew, didn't you?"

Maggie, to my horror, nodded.

"Come home, Maggie. Let Patience and me look after you, love you." She extended her hand. I knew, in my heart, that I had lost Maggie when she pushed me away and stood beside the bed, on the opposite side of it from Clemency. Maggie kissed my forehead.

"Leave." She said it low and I started to get off the bed. "Not you, Eleanor." She placed a restraining hand on my shoulder then pointed at Clemency. "You leave. Yes, I knew. I knew. I knew you and your mother took her children.."

"They came because they loved us."

"They went because you seduced them, young, naïve girls, into your, your coven or whatever you call it." Her voice was getting louder. "I never knew them. I never knew my mother. You drove her mad, just as you're trying to drive me crazy."

Clemency shrugged. "You cannot deny your destiny."

"I will make my own destiny." Maggie's voice was steady, and she seemed to find serenity. "I wont come with you. I'm not like you, I'm not. Leave."

Clemency turned and walked to the bedroom door. Looking back, directly at me, she said, "Well, you seem to have won," then ominously, "for now." She went through the door and, seconds later, we heard the front door close with a soft click behind her.

Maggie was as still as a statue. Her breathing was shallow. Then, her eyes back to their normal colour, they rolled upwards in their sockets and she slumped in a dead faint to the floor. There was a silver locket around her neck.