Chapter 3

Frank Kaiser led the way into Donna's room. She appeared to be asleep. Her left arm was flung limply to the edge of her twin bed, the fingers slightly curled, twitching as if readying for typing. Frank whispered to the doctor, "She came home last night from a date—babbling and acting ... funny. Crazy. Her clothes were torn and it looked ... I thought she'd been raped."

It was a lame story. But the truth would be ridiculous. Doctor Holder wasn't the kind of man you could tell strange truths to—he was old, had always worn a vest, and snorted derisively at words like supernatural, psi, E.S.P. and the occult. The doctor glanced keenly at Frank. "Didn't call the police, though, did you?" He opened his bag and looked closely at the girl asleep in the bed. He took out his stethoscope.

Donna lay as if dead. There were no eye movements under her lids. Only her chest rose and fell slowly as she breathed; her twitching fingers had stilled.

"There wasn't any blood or ... anything. She wasn't scratched or bruised anywhere. But she raved ... "

"You examined her?" the doctor asked.

"I had to undress her and put her to bed. I noticed—"

Donna had opened her vivid blue eyes. She stared up at her father and the doctor. One corner of her full, petulant mouth smiled. She said sweetly, in a normal voice, "The girl was royally fucked last night. She didn't enjoy it much, but virgins rarely do. Her enjoyment is beside the point now."

Frank's chest tightened. Donna had spoken that way last night, too, after the weird power of the pentagram had somehow gone and he had been able to cross those blue chalk lines, lift her into his arms, and carry her back to her bed. He had been terrified, crying, as he slipped another nightie on her limp, exhausted body and listened to her voice speak of herself as another person.

Doctor Holder sat on the edge of the bed. He took her wrist in his hand and found the pulse. "How do you feel, Miss Kaiser?"

"She is locked away. The controls are in other hands now."

The doctor's eyes flickered. "Interesting. Mind if I examine your body?"

She chuckled lewdly. Her hand turned adroitly in his grasp and her middle finger tickled his palm. She kicked the covers violently away and revealed herself. Her pink nightie was rucked up about her slim hips. She spread her knees obscenely. "Fill the cunt with your wrinkled old prick, Doctor." She laughed dirtily. Her voice was deeper than normal, now. It was as if a foul-mouthed man were speaking with her larynx. "It's only good for fucking. It's still tight and new."

Frank said, "God, Donna—"

"God is dead, father of the girl. Don't you know that yet? God is dead and all's evil with the world."

Doctor Holder freed his hand and began a swift, gentle examination of Donna's exposed genitals.

She stopped speaking and watched, her blue eyes narrowed. "Lucifer's prick leaves no traces, does it, Doctor? Slide your hand in, feel around."

Holder had inserted a finger after having slipped on a thin plastic sanitary glove. He made no comment. He peeled it off. He pressed his stethoscope to her heart.

"Want me to speed it up for you?" The pulse in her throat speeded dramatically. Her eyes brightened. She studied the doctor intently.

He withdrew the listening piece from her soft young breast. "With a pulse like that, young lady, you should be in a hospital, under close observation. Tachycardia is a serious business."

She changed. Her pulse slowed. "No, I don't want to go to a hospital. I'll be good, honest." She turned worried blue eyes to Frank. "Don't put me away, Daddy. I've been nasty and I'm sorry." Her voice was normal.

Frank didn't know what to think. He said nothing. The old doctor sat studying her for long seconds. Finally, he reached down and drew the covers back over her nakedness.

She said, "Oh!" and drew the coverings higher, to her throat. She blushed. Her thighs closed under the bedclothes.

Doctor Holder stood up slowly. He rubbed his back and rotated his left shoulder. "Like to talk to you in the kitchen over some coffee, Frank." To Donna he said, "Stay in bed. I'm going to prescribe a tranquilizer for you."

"Can I watch TV?"

"Yes, do watch TV." Holder and Frank left the room.

In the modern, plasticized, blue and white kitchen, Frank and the doctor sat opposite each other in the breakfast nook. They sipped from hand-painted yellow coffee mugs. Sunlight poured through the curtained window.

Holder tapped his mug and pursed his lips. "Hysteria or she's playing a particularly vicious game with you."

"If she was raped last night—"

"You didn't wash her off last night?"

"No."

"Maybe she did during the night. There was no evidence of secretions ... male secretions. Her hymen has very recently been torn open, however." He sipped coffee noisily. "She should have felt that examination. She should have jumped when I touched those torn membranes. For that matter, there should have been at least traces of blood." He shook his head. "The mind can use the body in strange ways."

Frank remembered Donna in the pentagram. He closed his eyes and saw her gaping vulva, the terrifyingly real illusion of intercourse—of rape! He rubbed his eyes. "Doctor, is it possible for the mind to command genital muscles ... I guess vaginal muscles ... to the extent of tearing a hymen like that?"

"I've never heard of it having been done. It would have to be an extraordinarily deep hysterical conversion: I'm an old-fashioned doctor, Frank. You're asking psychiatric questions. Not in my line. I've seen girls go blind, paralyze themselves, develop ulcers, suffer hearing loss, you name it, through repressed emotions. Psychic and physical energy combined with guilt or shame or fear ... God knows what can be done."

Frank watched Holder write a prescription on a pad. "Should I take her to a shrink?"

"I would." Holder smiled. " 'Shrink.' I like that." He slid out of the breakfast booth. "Have you talked with the young man she was out with last night?"

"Oh, yes! I ... I called him right after I put her to bed. Came close to calling the cops on him, but she was so clean ... He denied anything beyond kissing her a few times. He's a good boy. I know him, and I believe him."

"Well ... then a psychiatrist. This probably has something to do with your wife's death last year."

"I suppose ... yes." Frank remembered Donna's hysterics. She had found Ellen.

Doctor Holder arched his back slowly. He picked up his bag. "That prescription is for a mild Valium. Three times a day. Don't let her go out."

Frank nodded. He asked, "Can you recommend a good shrink?"

"I suppose Granger is about as good as they come. Beverly Hills, of course."

When he had seen Holder to the door, Frank turned to go to the phone. He had to make an appointment with the shrink, had to call his factory and tell Babs to route business around him for a few days, if possible. Jenks could take over operationally.

"Daddy ... Daddy ... " Donna's sweet, too-childish voice called. Siren-like, wheedling.

He didn't want to go into her room. He was suddenly afraid of her. He stood indecisively in the house entrance way and stared at the hallway that led to her room.

"Daddyyyy ... "

Frank limped across the living room—across the still visible chalk markings on the carpeting—and into the hallway. As he entered the bedroom, Donna's kitten, Tribble, trotted down the hall and entered with him. It was a cute gray and white Persian. It mewed softly and crossed to the bed. The girl lay as he and the doctor had left her, but with the covers pushed down to her waist. She had slipped down her nightie and was examining her left breast. Frank stopped just inside the door. He didn't like his inability to look away from that luscious flesh. He said harshly, "What are you doing?"

"Examining. This is a lovely body, isn't it?" Her blue eyes rose to his. They were alien, somehow. "You lust for it, don't you ... Daddy?" She laughed.

"Don't talk that way, Donna." He kept his distance. He was sick at how she talked and acted. She did need attention! She was deranged.

Tribble gathered himself and jumped up onto the bed. He made a small half mew and walked onto Donna's hip, expecting to be petted. The girl made a face and casually, brutally, knocked the kitten off the bed to the floor. The kitten didn't understand. He jumped up onto the bed again.

Donna watched the kitten innocently move toward her chest. "Kitty want to suck tit?" She offered a breast to the small Persian. Tribble, as if it understood, put a soft paw on her naked chest and licked the white, globular side of her right breast. Abruptly Donna seized the kitten by the throat. "I do not like cats!" She threw it across the room. Tribble squalled and twisted in mid-air—but hit the side of the walnut-finish pine student desk and dropped to the carpet. It raced out of the bedroom.

Then Donna experimentally stroked her left nipple with her left palm. Her right hand cupped the full, firm breast. She said, not looking at Frank, "What did you think of what happened inside the pentagram last night? Did you think your innocent, virginal daughter was being fucked by an invisible being?"

"I don't know what to think. Except, Donna, I want you to see a psychiatrist."

"A Freudian witch doctor or a Jungian witch doctor? Perhaps a Reichian? Would you go along with orgasm therapy, Daddy?"

She had stroked the nipple to full, wrinkled prominence. "That feels nice, that tickling. It's been well over a thousand years since I've had possession of a young female body. Demons of my class aren't given the opportunity much during this so-called rational age. Our time is coming back, though. As soon as you run through the major, easily acquired minerals. Your vaunted scientific civilization will soon crack and crumble and then ... the Old Truths and the Old Ones will return."

Frank limped a step closer to the bed. He scowled. His stomach was in knots. "What's happened to you?"

The girl's face rippled and sagged—then seemed to reform to a mask of stricken terror. Her eyes were pools of weeping blue. Her voice came pure and real: "Help me, Father! It's like being in jail. I can't control anything! There's a monster in my head!"

Frank knew that was his daughter speaking, the real Donna. He went to her. He sat on the bed and took her into his arms. He held her and soothed her. "I love you, honey. I'll help you. I'll help you. Fight the monster, Donna. Fight hard!"

She clutched at him. Her arms went around his neck. She sobbed brokenheartedly. "Daddy, it's horrible! He makes me say things, and do things ... "

They were both not recognizing the heat of her breasts against his shirt. Frank felt the soft, warm pressures but ignored them. Abruptly, seconds after they had embraced, Donna jerked and emitted a weak scream that faded ... as if she were receding, falling away from him down a deep, dark well. He pulled from her arms. Her face had wiped clean of emotion. Then it set into the subtle alienness of a moment before. The soft mouth twisted cynically, the appealing gaze narrowed. Frank shivered. A different, evil intelligence seemed to look out at him. The transformation was so convincing ... so horrible.

She smiled lopsidedly. Her voice was different again. "Kiss me, Daddy." She lifted her mouth. Her arms crept around his neck again and tightened with incredible strength. She whispered harshly. "I want you to fuck me, Daddy. Fuck your sweet, innocent daughter."

Frank's stomach roiled. He tried to draw back. Her arms tightened—her soft, hot lips pressed against his mouth. He turned his head. He reached up to pull her arms away from his neck: He grunted as he had to exert all his strength to break her hold. She possessed maniacal strength!

"Stop it, Donna!" He held her wrists in his powerful hands. It had only been three years since he had stopped working at the kilns. He still occasionally put in an hour in the yards working up a good sweat, keeping in condition. He knew he was a strong man. He knew a slight fifteen-year-old girl could not normally have the strength he had just fought. He felt a very fast, heavy pulse in one of her wrists.

She tore her right hand free of his grip. She arched her back and cupped her left breast invitingly. "Come on, Frank, suck the tit. Do what you really want to do for once." Her thumb stroked over the erect, flushed, button nipple.

He gritted, "Stop it!" He dragged his gaze to her amused, calculating young face.

Suddenly, her hand dove to his crotch and groped for his genitals. "Got a hard-on, Frank?"

He leaped up, away from the bed. He listened to her laughter. What could he do? What would she do next? What would it do next?

"Well, shit, it you don't want to play—" She threw the bedclothes aside and slid from the bed. She pulled the long nightie up and off. She was startingly, beautifully naked.

Frank said helplessly, "Donna, get back in bed. You can't go anywhere."

She walked sensuously to her closet. Her hips waggled enticingly. Her large, round breasts swayed and jiggled slightly as she moved. Her long, honey-blonde hair rippled over her shoulders. She slid open the closet. "If you won't fuck me, I'll find someone who will. The first walking prick I come to. I'm not going to waste any time. This body is ripe for sex." She took a pair of orange hip-huggers from a hanger and a blue-striped t-shirt from a drawer.

"You're not going out!" Frank thought he'd have to tie her down. God ... God ... He turned and headed for the utility room. He had a work bench there, tools, twine. He limped heavily across the kitchen toward the utility room door. He heard a faint slap-slap of bare feet behind him. Frank turned and saw Donna, still stark naked, a blonde young goddess, pulling open the knife drawer in the work table beside the tall, modern, white chrome-trimmed stove. He froze as she drew out a long butcher knife.

She faced him, an alien smile twisting her mouth. "No, father-of-the-daughter. You don't tie up this nice body. You don't call a psychiatrist. You obey me if you want to stay alive. You obey me if you want this daughter's face to stay as beautiful as it is." She placed the steel blade between her pink, full lips, razor-edge inward. "One slice and her smile will be very wide—and bloody."

Her strange blue gaze riveted Frank. He licked his lips. "Don't." His voice trembled.

She took the knife from her mouth. "I am master of this body and I am master of you, Frank Kaiser. You'll obey me or this knife—" She placed the long, glittering blade against her chest, under the smooth, soft thrust of her left breast. She cupped and lifted the breast gently. "Would you like to see your Donna with a left tit? Would you like to see her cut it off and eat it?"

"No—Jesus, God ... " A terrible sinking sensation claimed the pit of his stomach. She was insane! Insane ... or ... actually possessed by a demon.

"I am here, having been legally Summoned, with your full permission and assistance—" She laughed. "—and I have been given this body, this sweet young daughter of yours, with your full permission and assistance ... you did take her from her bed, did you not, and persuade her to enter the pentagram? ... and I will use this body and this opportunity, to do my master's will."

She used the knife to make a cabalistic sign in the air. She muttered throaty, guttural words. Her eyes glowed. She stepped slowly toward Frank. The blade gleamed in the morning sunlight. She grinned. "Now a bit of incestuous evil to start the day right. Yes. I'll grant your secret desire, Frank, and hers."

The butcher knife weaved before Frank's face. He was hypnotized by her eyes, by the force that poured from her. He barely heard her words. "Into the master bedroom, gimpy father. Move!"

He lurched out of the kitchen, across the sunken living room, and up to the angled passageway that gave onto the double doors of the large bedroom. He knew she followed. He stopped beside the massive king-size bed and turned. His daughter's exquisite tan and white nakedness was like a physical blow.

"Strip!"

Frank felt his face twitch. He tensed. Could he grab the butcher knife away? She was insanely strong ... probably her reflexes were faster than his ...

"Strip, or six inches of this knife will be buried in your gut!"

He pleaded, "Donna, don't do this to yourself."

"You still haven't accepted me, have you? You will." Her electric blue eyes locked with his.

Frank felt himself sinking back into his brain, retreating before the power of her ... of its will. He felt dizzy. Her voice echoed in his skull: "OBEY ME! OBEY ME IN ALL THINGS!"

He nodded. His hands began to unbutton his shirt. Two minutes later he straightened after having stepped from his white briefs. He felt foolish, embarrassed, and scared. As long as Donna held that butcher knife she was dangerous to herself and to him.

She lounged on the big bed, her tanned thighs casually open. "Well, well, Frank. You are a stud, aren't you? Make it hard."

"I ... can't."

She pricked the chocolate and raspberry striped bedspread with the blade. "Here, beside me. Doesn't the prospect of fucking your daughter excite you?"

"You're not my daughter."

She chuckled. "True, 'I' am not. But this—" She caressed her naked breasts and then cupped her lightly fuzzed mound. "—is." She never let go of the knife. It was always gripped tightly, alertly, in her right hand.

Frank had no choice but to lie beside her. He stretched out on his back. He couldn't get an erection, not under these conditions. There was no way ...

She put her soft, curious left hand on him. His stomach muscles went tight. He closed his eyes as she manipulated his soft penis. She whispered, "Donna is curious about her daddy. Let it get hard, Frank. She wants to see it hard."

He lay as if dead. He didn't answer. Her hand, he had to admit ... her hand was clever and knowing. Her hand was warm and soft and skilled. Her fingers caressed the sensitive underside of his glands. She squeezed and pulled gently. He clenched his teeth. No, damn it, NO!

On a purely physical level his body was responding. He felt the slight initial stirring of his penis, the first flow of hot blood into the soft, shrunken, spongy length. He groaned. He kept his eyes closed. He heard her lewd chuckle. His penis was growing now ... filling dramatically, tingling from her expert fondling. She was slowly pumping him, finger tipping the glands with brief, exciting touches. He knew she was seeing the full eight and a quarter inches of his full erection. Her hand swept up and down in triumph. She said huskily, "This will be fun! I'll let her feel this in all its glory."

Frank felt the knife point dig into the side of his chest. "Climb on, Daddy. Fuck your daughter now. Give her a thrill."

He gritted his teeth and shook his head. The razor edge of the butcher knife came cool and deadly to his throat. It began to saw gently. He felt a line of terrifying pain cutting across his Adam's apple. He croaked, "All right." He rolled over on top of her, blindly. He crouched on knees and elbows. Unwilling to see. He knew his erection was leaving him. He felt her legs part, her knees raise and spread wide. His genitals touched her center.

"Lost it, haven't you?" She was contemptuous. Her free arm went around his neck and drew his head down. Her soft, warm mouth pressed against his tight lips. Her tongue flicked enticingly, seeking entrance. He refused. The knife tip pricked the side of his back. Gradually, the pressure behind it increased. The point entered his flesh. It was a deepening agony. He opened his mouth slightly. The knife retreated, and her tongue slipped into his mouth. Her lips were sweet and yielding and now hot. Her tongue fluttered devilishly ... yet he was turned off. It repulsed him.

She sensed this and stopped. She released his head. "Open your eyes, Frank." Her gaze smote him, held him. Her pupils were dilated. "You will fuck Donna, sooner or later. You will obey me in all things! You will not resist my will!"

He fought the slave words that formed in his mind, on the tip of his tongue.

She smirked. "If it's too soon for you to fuck your precious daughter, you can eat her. That should make you both happy." She cupped her right breast. Her hand coned the white flesh to greater prominence. "Suck her tit, Frank." The knife weaved menacingly.

He obeyed. He rationalized. At least he had avoided intercourse. He refused to think of what was to follow. He closed his eyes again and let his mouth find the offered breast. The pink, button-like nipple seemed to pop into between his lips. It was crinkled and stiff.

Without realizing it, he slipped into his usual lovemaking techniques. His tongue rolled the nipple, flicked it, grazed it. He sucked it deeper into his mouth. Frank became aware of his daughter's sighs, of her restlessness under him. He stopped.

She whispered throatily, "You're good. Now the other one." She shifted and pressed her left nipple against his wet lips.

Reluctantly, he began kissing and sucking again. He didn't enjoy it ... yet he did. And when she commanded, "Use your hands on them," he obeyed her immediately.

Donna's breasts were incredibly smooth, the skin like warm, taut silk. He couldn't resist their perfection, their full roundness, the sensual beauty of their youthful, upward thrust. Her body was so ripe ... so ripe ... so well developed. Frank almost succumbed. His erection began to return, then faded. The knife cut in his back stung too much to be ignored. The agonizing knowledge that this was his daughter—Donna!—overlay his mind like a black fog. The situation was impossible; it couldn't be happening! Yet when he took his hands from her lovely breasts and took his mouth from her nipples, she growled, "Don't stop!" in that strange, ruthless, alien tone.

He crouched over her and filled his hands with those twin, arching mounds of white flesh, and drew first one stubby pink nipple, then the other into his mouth. Frank had secretly fantasized this situation a few times ... he conceded many times since Donna had begun to develop physically in her twelfth year ... but now that it was reality it wasn't exciting. It was ruined ... by his conscience and by the awful circumstance of her derangement.

She squirmed under his hands and mouth. She whispered, "She likes it, Frank. Now ... now lick down the body. Eat your daughter, Frank. Lick ... drink from her sweet cunt!"

He moaned, "Oh, Christ—" He reared up to lunge off the bed—

Her blue eyes drilled him. Her left hand clamped on his right arm with steely strength. The point of the butcher knife was suddenly weaving a fraction of an inch from his left eye. "You will obey me in all things!"

Where did this terrifying force of will come from? He couldn't resist it. He felt in the presence of pure Evil and total bestiality. He believed she would plunge the knife into his brain as casually as into a grapefruit. He was not worth anything to her. She was no longer human. She was no longer his daughter.

Frank licked dry lips. It wasn't worth getting killed over. "Okay ... I will." He moved backward down the bed like a great white beetle. He dipped his head and tongued her sunken, tanned belly. He tasted the salty residue of her sweat from the night before, from the time in the pentagram. Her thighs opened for him. Her knees rose and the pink and white lips of her vulva parted stickily.

Frank settled down. He lowered his head into the soft V of her thighs. His arms slipped under her lifted thighs and embraced them. He stared at the pouting, moist vertical slit and saw the tiny glistening pink pea that was her clitoris peeping out at him.

He closed his eyes. He hesitated. Then he pressed his mouth against the musky lips and licked his tongue between the flushed labia. She tasted acidy. He sent his tongue deep to the opening of her vagina. He felt her loins surge against his open mouth.

In spite of himself, Frank experienced a thrill. He loved to do this for young, slim women. He loved to give pleasure and to receive it. He loved the interaction of lovemaking, of feeling a woman tremble as he plunged his large penis into her and the uninhibited shaking of a woman in orgasm.

He wondered, if Donna had an orgasm, would the shock of it, the turmoil ... be enough to bring her back to sanity? Did she need this incestuous trauma to drain her of an adolescent sexual madness? He hugged her smooth, slim thighs more tightly in his arms and burrowed his tongue into her vagina. He heard her soft gasps, her swift exhalations, and felt their jerky tensions in her belly and thighs.

Frank existed in a dual role—lover automatically doing his job, using his knowledge and skills—and horrified father forced at knifepoint to sexually service his daughter. He licked upward in the warm, wet pink gorge of her vulva and grazed the tiny, swollen knob of her clitoris. It was a remarkably well-developed clitoris, he thought, almost clinically, as large and protruding as Ellen's had been.

He tried not to think of his dead wife. He still wasn't over her completely. An ache was reawakened.

When his tongue slid over her clitoris, Donna gasped loudly and her loins spasmed against his mouth. "There! Eat there, more!"

The guttural, lewd command shook him. He obeyed. In the moments that followed, she became more and more agitated. She moaned and panted. Her body writhed, her belly fluttered and she spasmed. She loosed full-throated cries of ecstasy. Her loins bumped furiously against his clinging mouth. She quieted. He lifted his wet mouth from its long, gaping contact with her pulsing center. She grabbed his hair and roughly pulled his head down again. Her thighs closed in. "More! This time for Donna!" She laughed evilly.

His jaws and his tongue were tired. But he delved into the juicy pink wound again and soon she was gasping and moving again. He could hear her approach another orgasm. He could feel the gradually increasing tension in her muscles.

As she panted into the irreversible torrent of a powerful climax she abruptly went loose for a split second—

Then a huge, wrenching convulsion wracked her body as she sobbed and screamed, in her true voice, "OH! OH, DADDY! DADDY!" She howled with shame and rapture. "I CAN'T HELP IT! I DIDN'T—"

Frank went into shock. He jerked his head up. He stared into the hysterical eyes of his daughter—her normal, fifteen-year-old self was there, surfaced, trapped in a humiliating orgasm, knowing how she had been brought to it. She flushed violently as the pleasure ran its course. She turned her face away. She panted helplessly.

"Donna," Frank croaked. "Oh, Jesus, baby—" How could he explain? But if she were herself now—

A rippling spasm shook her. She began to shake. He thought she was sobbing silently, but her head turned toward him and a terrible skin-crawling horror goose bumped his skin. She was laughing. The demon was back in her eyes, in her mind. The shaking broke into sound. Peals of derisive, mocking laughter hammered at him. Frank bowed his head. He wept. She wasn't through with him. When the laughter subsided she commanded, "Now over onto your back!"

The knife. He had no choice. He turned. The bedspread was initially cool against his back and legs. The small wound between his shoulder blades stung. He felt exposed. His penis was limp between his thick, well-muscled thighs, but he was afraid she would be at it again. He closed his eyes tightly. He was right. She quaked the bed as she moved around. He felt her straddle his right thigh. A cold, slimy knot formed in his gut. He felt her soft, warm, cunning fingers touch and toy with his genitals. He felt the wet, hot lips of her vulva crushed down on his hairy leg.

She chuckled and gathered his genitals in one hand, as if they were a fleshy plant she was about to pull from his body. He felt the cold, chill length of the butcher knife against his pubes. He lifted his head, eyes wide. She seemed about to cut off his manhood. A queer, twisted smile was on her lips. "This gets your attention, doesn't it, Frank? Did you enjoy eating your daughter? I thought it a nice touch to let her out and know what it's like to come from your tongue. You're an excellent tongue man, Frank. I'm sure Donna will want more of it."

He lay rigid, barely breathing.

"No, I won't do it. I have plans for you. I've killed so much in the past—it's no great thrill anymore. I enjoy using people against their will. That's the delicious tang of power."

He could say nothing. He relaxed as she took the knife from his scrotum.

"Now let's see ... let's see how good a cock-sucker your lovely Donna is."

"No—"

But she bent over and scooped the whole of his softness into her mouth. The evil smile lingered as her lips and tongue gently, with incredible lascivious skill, began an irresistible, warm, liquid, caress.

Frank's mind swirled with conflicting emotions. No inexperienced teenage girl could suck like this! Where could, Donna have learned? NO! She—It had to be a malevolent spirit—Fantasy! God—it was impossible to keep from enjoying.

He began to breathe faster. His hands lay palm up at his sides, then slowly closed into fists as he fought the gentle sucking that was eroding his self-control. His penis began to fill and lengthen. He gasped and gritted his teeth. He tried thinking of work ... of Ellen ... But it was useless. She had conquered him. His full eight and a quarter inches towered up from his loins, held by her hand at the base. Her fingers squeezed rhythmically as she sucked. She somehow was taking more than half of it ... to the back of her throat ... long gliding strokes of her mouth and slithering tongue. He watched, like a rabbit hypnotized by a snake. Her blue eyes watched his expression, fed on his emotions. Her head dipped and rose slowly, exquisitely, tantalizingly. Now the tinglings of pleasure gathered like trickles of sweet hot syrup in his loins. He fought the rising tide of sensation. He couldn't let himself come!

She chuckled and smiled around the thick hot bulk in her moving mouth. She saw the torment, the struggle reflected in his expression. She tightened her mouth on him and subtly speeded her motion, and her tongue danced against galvanizingly sensitive tissues.

Frank threw his head back. His throat worked. He gasped. His belly tightened. The heavy muscles of his thighs hardened. I can't ... I can't ... I mustn't ... Oh, Jesus, please, no ... no ... not in her mouth ...

He tried to pull his penis free. She emitted muffled, wet laughter and crammed even more into her greedy mouth. He couldn't escape. It was going to happen! He groaned. His face worked. His belly ridged. He began to tremble. His breath rasped in his throat.

His head lifted, shaking, and his agonized gaze fastened on his daughter's bobbing head. She was making shameless gobbling, liquid sounds. Somehow she was able—or the thing who possessed her wets able to command it—to let his glands enter her throat beyond the palate. Her full, wet, pink lips clung to his throbbing, rigid shaft, and swept down farther ... farther.

It was inhuman. It couldn't be done. Yet before Frank's horrified, dazzled, ravished eyes she engulfed the whole of his massive penis. Her throat spasmed, clenched, convulsed ... Her hot blue alien eyes sucked at his soul! He gave a wailing, stricken cry. His loins seemed to expand in a golden explosion of boiling ecstasy—and contract—and pump a jet of semen into her throat. He was beyond thought, beyond shame and guilt. He jolted her head with primitive coital thrusts. He spurted violently, again and again.

Endless seconds later he went loose and relaxed. He lay drained, dull-eyed, breathing deeply. Her mouth still claimed his shrinking organ. He tried not to think. Then suddenly she gave a strangled cry and jerked her head away. His penis fell juicily to his belly. Frank raised his head quickly to see ... Donna was herself again! She crouched, her face a mask of horror and revulsion, her mouth open, contorted, thick dribbles of semen running from her lips, down her chin ... His heart almost stopped. He paled. Donna began to heave. A spew of brown vomit splashed on his left thigh and onto the bedspread, rapidly soaking into the fabric.

Frank instinctively pulled his leg away. Then he recovered and moved to take her into his arms. "Donna, I'm sorry. I couldn't help it. I didn't—"

The heaving had changed character. It was ... laughter. Her face came up. Glowing eyes. "Kiss me, Daddy!"

He recoiled from her. He realized he should have had the presence of mind to grab the knife while the demon had momentarily stepped aside in Donna's mind. Now it was too late—her hand was again tight around the polished walnut handle. She brought her free hand up and coated her fingers with the remnants of semen on her face. She captured his eyes with hers and licked her fingers clean. "Ummm. I like your scum, Daddy."

Frank's stomach turned. He almost vomited, too. "Stop it. Leave me alone."

"For now. You may shower and dress and go about your business. When you leave here you will not contact a psychiatrist about me, you will not go to the authorities. You will return before sunset. I have plans to make." She brandished the knife. "Disobey and your daughter will be disfigured in ways that will make even you cringe and turn away at the sight of her."

He could only nod. He was in a state of shock. He lurched off the bed and limped heavily into the master bathroom.

She smiled and found his coat. She took out his wallet and took two fifties and two tens. She went to the large mirror and, using a finger dipped in the slimy vomit, drew an occult symbol on the clean glass. Then she left the master bedroom.