Chapter 5
Frank dreaded entering his home late that afternoon. He had been in a turmoil all day. In the safety and familiarity of his office at the brickyard the happenings of that morning and the previous night became impossible, weird, nightmares, delusions ... He had to keep reminding himself that it had all happened. He had to relive the bizarre, loathsome, incestuous acts he had engaged in. He tried to concentrate on business and tried to decide what was real and what was fantasy. He wondered, for one moment, if perhaps it was he who was insane, suffering from awful hallucinations.
Was Donna possessed? Was she inhabited by a demon from Hell? He wanted to believe it! Jesus God, if only her lewd talk and degraded behavior were the result of an inhuman monster roosting in her mind. But if that were true—The implications were awesome. Reality—the precious reality of science and rationalism—was a sham, a skim on the surface of supernatural void. Mankind became a plaything, Earth became an arena. Two vast entities—God and Satan—played a million-year game for mastery.
It couldn't be! Donna was mad. She had to be. She had sunk into a complicated paranoid schizophrenic system of delusions. God knew what powerful psychic forces were at work in her mind. Ellen's death must have triggered. But he kept hearing that altered voice, seeing the eerie shift of personality. And the horrible change in her face as that other took over.
Frank had stewed all day. He had come so close to calling a psychiatrist ... even to calling the police, though that would have been idiotic.
That butcher knife. She—or it—had scared hell out of him with that knife. He had believed her. She would have mutilated herself—and him, too!—had he not obeyed. Whatever the truth, possession or madness, that threat had been real.
He stood on the gravel path leading to his porch and hesitated. His attaché case was heavy. What was waiting inside? The setting sun reddened the surface of the ocean beyond the house. The surf thundered on the rocks below. There were no lights on in the house. His leg was bothering him again. It made his limp more pronounced as he walked forward and unlocked the front door. He shut the door and called apprehensively, "Donna?" His deep, penetrating baritone voice was loud in the silence.
No answer. He switched on a light in the sunken living room and limped into his den. He put his attaché case on the modern walnut desk and went back across the living room toward the long hall that led to Donna's room. As he passed the basement door he noticed it stood ajar. He opened it further and looked down the angled stairway. The basement lights were on. He called, "Donna?"
She answered, "Come down here, Frank." It was the "new" Donna's hard voice.
His stomach sank. He awkwardly lurched down the steps. She was standing in the party room, stark naked, with a sketch pad in her left hand, a red Crayola in her right hand. She was staring at the long bar that filled one end of the low-ceilinged, paneled room. His daughter's physical beauty made Frank's throat tighten and his belly muscles tense. She caught his expression and grinned. "You liked what we did this morning, Mr. Kaiser? Doesn't it bother you that I'm a male demon in your daughter's body? Doesn't that make you some kind of double pervert?"
She laughed harshly. "Don't worry, you'll get an encore tonight. I have plans. I enjoy sex. I dip into her shame and horror, and yours ... oh, it's delicious. That part is as good as the actual physical pleasure."
She stroked her right palm over her full, pointed breasts. She used the red Crayola to draw an uneven circle around the pink nipples. "Target, Frank."
He sat in a bamboo-frame chair. His mind was swirling with shameful desire for her and with a gritty remorse. He waited for her to tell him what the sketch pad signified. She had made a drawing. He couldn't see enough to make sense of it.
Donna made a few more Crayola lines on the pad. "You will have built—or build it yourself, I don't care—an altar like the one I'm drawing. Put it where the bar is." She looked around. "I want this cold tiled floor covered with thick, deep red carpeting. The ceiling painted black. And this south seas furniture— get rid of it. Cover the walls with black velvet. And I want thick sponge rubber pads four or five feet wide along this wall. And have them covered with crimson velvet."
Frank raised his head as the instructions continued. "What—?"
"Find some candleholders—old ones—and some old cabinets and have them enameled—black. You'll have one week to do these things or cause them to be done."
She finished the drawing and handed it to him. "This room will be our place of worship. Here the Horned One will be adored. Here we will perform the Black Mass. Here the coven meets."
Frank was caught by her fierce blue gaze. The power in her eyes seemed to hit like a sledgehammer. Her force of will was stronger now. She seemed to blaze from within. He could not resist in her presence. He felt hypnotized.
She shifted her gaze to the party room again. "Red leather for the altar top. Real leather! And black velvet draping for the altar. Yes, the Old Ones will be well served here. They will approve. I will be given greater powers. This body is young and well formed. It is a tool I will use skillfully."
Frank sat stunned. He looked down at the drawing. It was astonishingly well done—the work of a talented professional. Yet Donna had never exhibited any talent for drawing. She had always echoed Ellen in saying she couldn't draw a straight line.
The pictured altar was even provided with dimensions and some technical specifications such as would have been provided by an architect or draftsman. Frank's skin goose bumped and he shivered. He began to breathe shallowly as fear sickened him. Donna suddenly was standing before him, facing him, close, her tan and pink and white nakedness ... her slender, nubile, lush beauty overwhelming. He raised agonized eyes to her smiling face. "Put those shaking hands on these breasts, Frank."
He was a prisoner of her will. He put the sketch on the gray and blue tiled floor, leaned forward in the creaky bamboo chair and placed his trembling, sweaty hands on his daughter's magnificent breasts. The pale, taut, rounded flesh was very warm. The violently pink, erected nipples protruded against his sensitive palms.
"Play with them, Daddy." She grinned lewdly down at him. "But gently. Don't bruise the fruit. The body has to be perfect to attract other worshippers to the Master."
Frank fondled his daughter's jutting breasts. He caressed. His breathing became even more shallow and fast.
Imperceptibly, in the heated, sibilant moment that followed, her back arched and thrust her breasts closer to him. She whispered roughly, "You will obey me in all things. You will be my acolyte. You will serve without question."
Her eyelids drooped, her head tilted back and her mouth was drawn open as she stared at the ceiling. Her breath surged. Her breasts moved against his clinging, stroking fingers. She whispered unevenly, "The body loves this." She continued, "My acolyte, my slave, my body's father ... you will be rewarded for your service. Richly rewarded. There will be great wealth. There will be immortality!"
She clutched his head. She pulled his face to the soft, deep gorge between her breasts. "You must be loyal and true to me and to Lucifer. I have powers now and I will have more!"
She dug fingers into his thick, brown, graying hair. Her nails cut into his scalp as she warned, "If you resist me—if you disobey—if you scheme against me and against our ultimate master, Lucifer—you will suffer the unbearable agonies of the Utterly Damned. You will see your daughter ravished in unspeakable ways, her body torn, her soul shattered and consumed by Furies. And more ... and more."
Her terrible gaze swept down and transfixed him. In that awful moment he was convinced his daughter was in the fiendish grip of a demon. He knew pure Evil existed, and that Lucifer lived—a horror from another plane of existence. The fabric between the universes could be penetrated ... portals could be opened.
Her hands came to his loins, kneading him. She commanded, "Be naked, Frank. We will consecrate this room now. It will echo with the passionate screams of your daughter—and your groans of ecstasy—as you fuck her! Father and daughter in unholy incestuous union. The walls and floor and ceiling will absorb the sounds and will be tainted by your agony of spirit and by hers."
Frank nodded. She didn't need a knife. Her will, her eyes—he was unable to resist. He believed. It was so real ... vast wealth ... immortality. Frank came to know what it must be like for Donna—to be powerless to control her body, to be a horrified, shrunken self huddling, cowering in the brain, an observer, a viewer through cavern windows, a puppet whose body was operated by another. He experienced that in minor degree. Part of him wanted to run, part of him feared and lusted for her body. The lust and the fear were master. And he admitted greed ... and a hunger to live forever. Any sacrifice, any crime, would be worth immortality.
He stripped off his clothes as she stood, hands on naked hips, watching. When he stepped out of his briefs, he was ashamed of his massive erection. Frank stood and he shook.
She gestured to the bamboo furniture. "Throw all those cushions and pillows on the floor—on the rug."
There was a large, oval braided rug, nine by twelve, covering most of the cool, tiled floor. He obeyed.
"Lie down, Daddy."
He went to his knees on the edge of the pile.
"On your back, slave. You'd like to be the active one, wouldn't you? You want to be on top." She knelt and skillfully handled his erection. "Look at this monster, Frank. All this in your daughter's virgin cunt. Shall I let her come up and tell you what she's thinking? Shall I?"
He licked his lips. "No. Don't. It's too ..."
"Too much for your conscience?" She smirked. "You'll have to kill that conscience of yours. Bury it. Everything you've seen taught is good and right and virtuous is wrong. Based on lies. Evil is good. Good is evil. It is time to admit the seven deadly sins rule men and women, not idealistic illusions and self-deceptions. Your God has always held the losing hand. His bluff is being called."
She had him at full erection. She chuckled and bent over. She filled her mouth. She sucked. Her long blonde hair sifted down to form a silken, shimmering veil before her lovely young face as her head bobbed.
Frank waited in a dread anxiety for the fiend in her mind to let Donna's true self emerge for a few seconds. He cringed from that scene. He selfishly wished it wouldn't happen. The suspense was torture. What could he say to her? A gut-seething glow of pleasure was building in him. The demon was using Donna's mouth and tongue and throat with unholy skill.
She stopped sucking. She tossed her hair back. "Now I get this body hot." She straddled his chest. She inched forward, peering down, eyes glowing, moist lips quirking.
Frank liked the weight of her and the rounded walls of her silky thighs like a vise enclosing his head. Her vulva—a pink-lipped slit surrounded by a pale blonde fuzz—almost was pressing against his mouth. He couldn't resist putting his hands on her velvety, rounded buttocks. He pulled her that last inch closer and kissed. He probed with his tongue. He felt her muscles tighten. His penis throbbed, unattended, rock hard, jerking in the air with his heavy pulse.
"Ohhh ... you have a fiend's tongue, Daddy. This is your best talent." She undulated her humid crotch against his face.
Frank began to lose himself in the act. His tongue snaked and slithered in her vulva. His eyes were closed. The cushions and pillows on which he lay cupped and cradled him. He was almost able to forget who he was loving. He could almost forget everything but the acidly tang of the girl, her soft groans and gradual approach to orgasm.
Her thighs tightened on his head. The large muscles in her buttocks flexed as she rocked against his mouth. Then she stopped and shifted back, away from him. Looking up, he saw she was glaze-eyed with passion, her full-lipped mouth was parted. She was breathing fast. But when she spoke—the demon's persona controlled her voice and showed in her face. "Now, Frank ... now you both get your secret wish." She cackled with amusement, her words a ghastly reminder of alienness and evil. She slid down his body. Her crotch left a sticky trail. She lifted up over his pulsing, iron-like erection. She reached under and held him. She captured his eyes as a hawk captures a sparrow. She feasted on his helpless lust and shame as she lowered herself.
He clamped his jaw tight as he felt the penetration. Hot—tight—like a fist of jelly, like liquid velvet, like nothing in the world! His belly sucked in and locked. He gasped—as she gasped. He could not escape the blue diamond's that were her eyes ... the demon's eyes, as it fed.
Her feral smile broadened into a leer of triumph and mastery. "She's screaming inside, Frank. She can't face it. She won't admit how many times she's wanted this to happen."
Frank fought to look away. The changed, possessed face of his daughter held him. He felt the inexorable engulfment continue. Her weight pressed down until he was buried in her, until her vagina spasmed from the engorgement.
Then, from her grinning, unmoving mouth, from her throat, came a tiny, shrill, human girl's voice ... distorted, weak, but Donna's voice! "Please stop it, don't let it go on, oh please, Daddy, stop it, make it stop, I can't stand it, I hate it, I hate it, I want out, I want free, I want to die, I want to die." The frail voice faded away. The grin continued. The demon controlling Donna's naked body began rising and falling on Frank's shrinking penis.
Frank was shaking with horror. He was panting, his mouth dust-dry, eyes so wide his vision was blurred. He threw an arm across his eyes and wept. "God—no more! Leave me alone!"
She laughed derisively. "You're so gutless, Frank. You're hardly worth using. You're only convenient at the moment."
"Enslave someone else ... use someone else."
"In time." She sat on his limp genitals. She mockingly rubbed herself on them. "And it amuses me to see you so broken and sad because I'm using this body and giving you the opportunities you've dreamed of. As a fellow male, Frank, I'm surprised at your lack of enthusiasm. Do I have to force you to do everything?"
"Yes!"
"Then you're a fool!" She glared. "Lose those idiotic morals of yours, or you'll end up like—like all stupid mortals who oppose the Old Ones."
"Get out of Donna. Leave us alone."
"I was Summoned. I cannot leave. I will not. I must not. You're indulging in wish. You are to serve me in any way I say. You are convenient to me and you are necessary to me at the moment."
"I will say this once more ... and never after: Put aside all the social rules and religious thou-shalt-nots you have learned. They are feeble delusions, a net of lies over the true nature of mankind."
"Serve me willingly, with zeal, with intelligence, without remorse or scruple, and you will be richly rewarded on this Earth, and you will be made immortal on the instant of Lucifer's final victory."
Frank listened. But in his mind he also heard Donna's despairing cry, I want to die ... I want to die.
The party room extension phone buzzed. It was on the left end of the bar. She turned her head and looked at the phone as it buzzed again. She closed her violent blue eyes for a long second, as if communicating, somehow, then said, "Answer it." She slid off Frank and lay spread-legged on the cushions. "Tell her to come over."
Frank struggled to his feet and limped to the bar. He lifted the receiver. "Hello?"
"Hi, pooky. How's your little girl? Are we still 'on' tonight for din-din?"
It was Holly, his girl friend. A tall, loose-jointed, red-haired, slender girl in her mid-twenties.
"Hi, honey." He swallowed a tightness in his throat. He turned and looked at the naked, sprawled abandon of his daughter. "Donna ... I had a doctor look at her this morning. She's ... fine now. Hey, I hope we didn't spook you too much last night."
"Frank, you spooked everybody. Or—she did! That performance was very realistic. That Webster freak and his witchcraft number. Wow. I had goose bumps on top of goose bumps."
"Well, she ... I guess she wants to be an actress."
"She'll make it big. How did she manage that illusion of no-sound? I mean, it was so real, like there was a barrier that stopped us from hearing her."
"I don't know. I guess she practiced it in front of a mirror," he speculated.
"And the way site used her body ... no modesty there! You'd better watch that girl, Pooky —she'll be into stag films when word gets around."
"I don't think she—"
"I have to admit she's built! I never realized your little daughter was so well-developed! Makes me green in the bust department."
"Holly, you have nothing to be ashamed of."
"Right, damn it, I have nothing, and I'm ashamed."
He laughed. "Come over and we'll have something to eat here." He looked again at Donna and she was smiling, nodding approval. He experienced a shiver of happiness at having pleased her. He said to Holly, "You're only fishing for compliments."
"Right! And when a girl has to fish for them she's in trouble."
"Honey, your breasts are like cherry-tipped mangos. They—"
"Thank you, pook, but we both know my titties are like fried eggs. When will the food be on the plates?"
"You mean you expect me to cook?"
"God, yes! You're a good cook."
"In that case—about seven-thirty."
"I'll be hungry as a bear. 'Bye."
"Later." He put the down the phone. He was astonished at himself. The conversation had been about normal. He had carried it off while standing naked a few feet from where his fifteen-year-old daughter lay naked, just after they had been—
Donna said, "Very good, Frank. See how easy it is to lie convincingly? But you're a successful businessman; you already know how to do it."
He sat on one of the cushioned bamboo bar stools. "Why do you want her here tonight?"
"Holly will be my first convert, after you, of, course. The coven will be three, after tonight. Tomorrow I will recruit more. Special members. I'll need your help in that." She smiled and sighed. She got up from the cushions and pillows. She picked up the sketch pad and Crayola. She flipped the altar drawing and began printing a list. "Get dressed. I need some things. I'll need them tonight."
Frank obediently went to gather his clothes. "What are you going to do to her?"
"Oh ... a kind of free-style initiation. I will require your services, acolyte." She finished the list, ripped off the sheet and handed it to him.
Frank read the list. His eyes widened. "Some of these things ... "
"Better hurry, Frank. You haven't much time." She went, naked, up the stairs.