DISCLAIMER: The following is fiction. The characters in this story have been made up. The content of the story is not representative of the writer’s beliefs, opinions or attitudes. This is story is intended for adult entertainment only. All Rights Reserved © 2020 LITTLESALLY666.
STORY CODES: Historical (1970s), Demonic, Satanic, Incest, Hermaphroditic, Pedophilia, Sodomy, Abuse, Corruption, Evil, Sexual Demons, Devil Worship, NC, Rape, Molestation, WS, Scat, Sexual Sin, Sex Demons, Bestiality, Cannibalism, Ritual Murder.
CREATED: 21.08.2020 (FINAL)
AUTHORS NOTES: Loosely based upon the seventies porn movie of the same name—and like my version of “Black Candles”, I faithfully transcribed the entire dialogue from the original movie (which took some time)—as I loved its seventies tonality—However, I have reinterpreted the story line to be more about ‘pride’ and ‘self-love’ (rather than the original’s focus on Catherine’s obsession with her incestuous father)—as Saint Augustine said “It was pride that changed angels into devils”.
THANKS: Many thanks to Broken Grunty for once again being my editor-in-chief—appreciate the dedication to cause—to spread evil and darkness.
Through the looking glass 2
SYNOPSIS OF THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS:
Catherine Burgess, a rich upstate New York socialite, lives in her own a fantasy world. Ignoring her husband and preteen daughter, she talks frequently to herself and each night goes to the attic of her stately mansion to sit in front of a huge Gothic mirror which hung in her childhood room and masturbates. One night while engaging in this ritual, Catherine’s reflection tries to convince her to go through the looking glass. She does not go, but is soon plagued by ever-increasing visions of devilry as she slowly slips into a surreal fantasy world of sin—And her visions begin to twist her perception of reality.
Slowly she realizes that this relationship (with her reflection) has brought her into a malevolent realm—filled with depravity, incest, rape and sexual abuse. Close to loosing control of her own lusts, she is given an ultimatum by her ghostly reflection. She tries to deny this invitation to go through the looking glass by escaping to Europe. But her reflection tells Catherine that she knows that Catherine will return—as our protagonist always has in the past. Catherine is told that she must be in front of the mirror, at one in the morning. Will Catherine find the inner strength to resist these dark forces? Or will Catherine be lost forever in this supernatural merry-go-round of sexual depravity?
FILMOGRAPHY OF THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS:
This psychedelic seventies porn movie is stylish and oddly compelling. Director, Jonas Middleton, presents a beautiful package. “Through the Looking Glass” is definitely the most ambitious porno movie of the seventies, as it introduces a high social class family of three, living in a secluded mansion with a house staff. It seems like Catherine has it all made, including youthful beauty and wealth, but sexually speaking she’s an extremely frustrated and unsatisfied. During her lonely nights in the house, Catherine goes to the attic to masturbate in front of the ancient mirror.
Whether imaginary or supernaturally, the mirror ‘sucks’ Catherine into a dreamy dimension where she encounters the weirdest and most perverted sexual situations. Catherine descents in a world of lesbian sex, outrageous orgies and incest. As the title implies, this film is indeed an adult variation on “Alice through the looking glass”. Middleton hints at all the controversial themes, but there are never any genuinely shocking images on screen (maybe the woman bathing in piss and shit). The film does, however, feature some daring camera-work and several ingenious shots, like extreme close-ups of female genitalia and even a journey into the lower body of the main starlet.
CHARACTERS OF THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS:
- Catherine Burgess – our protagonist, rich socialite from upstate New York (36)
- Jennifer Burgess – Catherine’s miscreant daughter (12)
- Richard Burgess – Catherine’s elderly and distracted husband (46)
- Vetis Millington – Catherine’s incestuous father who mysteriously disappeared six years earlier (he was 52 at the time)
- Lisa Cousteau – Catherine’s French maid, Abel’s sister (23)
- Abel Cousteau – Catherine’s French driver and man servant, Lisa’s brother (25)
- Mr & Mrs Manchester – dinner guests of the Johnston’s (48 & 46)
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS – CHAPTER FOUR (3,158 WORDS)
Love of Self
Self is what destroys our relationship to God and to our beloved–if we put self first and say “My will be done” instead of “Thy will be done.” Love of self is what set the fallen angels against God. Angels are pure spirits who have no use for money. Love of money cannot be the cause of their evildoing. Adam and Eve had no money to gain by sin or to lose by obeying God. Their choice was strictly between self-love and love of God. The root of sin is in the heart of man, in his free will, according to the teaching of the Lord: “For out of the heart come evil thoughts, murder, adultery, fornication, theft, false witness, slander. These are what defile a man.” (Matthew 15:19-20)
It was a bright sunny day. Catherine wore her Foster Grants and she looked as chic and as elegant as ever. Dressed in her slim-waisted v-neck dress with its puffing princess sleeves, Abel opened the rear car door, as she stepped delicately out of the shiny red Rolls-Royce to meet her husband.
Richard was attending a briefing at the construction site of one of their new projects. Seeing Catherine arrive, he broke off his discussion with his construction site foreman and one of the hard-hat wearing engineers. With a large roll of plans beneath his arms he turned towards her.
“Lunch was about two hours ago,” exclaimed Richard as he squinted in the brightness.
He looked slightly fed-up, but warmed to the sight of his attractive trophy wife. Her slicked back hair showed off her elegantly long neck accented by her shiny Gucci earrings. They had made an arrangement to meet at the Westside hotel for lunch at one o’clock in the afternoon. It was now almost three. Catherine had go missing in action again. Nothing new, but these situations kept reoccurring in increasing frequency.
“Something is wrong, Richard,” said Catherine without a word of apology to her unexplained lateness.
“I know. You haven’t been feeling well for the last few days. That’s why we’re going to Europe. In just three more days, you’ll be far away.” Robert finally looked more understanding and somewhat sympathetic. “Come on, let me take you to lunch.”
They kissed momentarily and then both got into the back of Catherine’s Rolls.
Back at the house, Catherine and Lisa had been busy packing her things in preparation for the couples’ up and coming trip to Paris and Rome. After lunch with Richard, Catherine had been on a short buying spree, to enhance her wardrobe in anticipation of their travel. Catherine’s twelve-year-old daughter had begun looking through her mother’s clothing that were laid out on the bedding ready to be packed for the impeding adventure.
“Jennifer, while we’re away don’t go near the attic. OK?”
“Yes, Mother,” replied Jennifer as she examined a pair of her mother’s new Iris Lingerie intimate apparel. She held up a pair of panties to the light and noticed how see-through they were.
“Mother, how come you can see right through these—how come?”
“Well that just the way they’re made, darling,” replied Catherine, as she stood statuesque, while Lisa, made the adjustments to Catherine’s new outfit. The bronze satin dress with its billowy sleeves seemed to shimmer in the late afternoon light as the maid fussed at the hemline.
“Can I have some like these?” asked Jennifer cheekily.
“No sweetheart,” Catherine answered.
“Why not—you wear them?”
“No—now just put them back in the suitcase.”
Lisa helped Catherine put on the matching shawl to complete the bronze and gold ensemble.
“It felt so good to buy these new things,” explained Catherine. “And Lisa, don’t let me forget … would you run up to the attic and get me the silver mirror and hairbrush set—the one grandpa gave me … I just can’t bear to travel without these precious things.”
“That door is always locked, Madam,” the maid reminded her.
“The key is above the ledge in the hallway,” replied Catherine.
Before Lisa could react. Jennifer jumped at the opportunity to help.
“I’ll get them mother—” interrupted young Jennifer.
And without another word, Jennifer was gone.
“Jennifer—” called Catherine after her daughter had ran off to do the errant. Catherine was not pleased. She went to stop her, but was caught up in her new outfit.
“Please stay still, Madam,” asked Lisa as she tried to adjust the hemline of shimmering dress.
“I told you,” bemoaned Catherine to Lisa. “I didn’t want her to go up there.”
Lisa pretended to be busy and didn’t respond.
Jennifer opened the attic door.
The room was dark and dingy. It smelt kind of funky too. She fumbled around until she found the lamp switch. Now at least she could see.
Being in this place, with all her mother’s most treasured past possessions, felt special. Like her mother’s underwear, there always seemed be new delights to discover. Jennifer took the opportunity to look around. Opening up the cupboards and draws—poking around nosily—her natural curiosity aroused by the fact that the room was usually out-of-bounds. She felt the sheer fabric of her mother’s outfits—even more sheer than the translucency of her mother’s lingerie that she’d asked her about downstairs.
The deviant Mirror watched the invader closely as she poked around. It was horny and the sight of such a young tender thing—aroused it to extreme. The Mirror growled to itself.
Jennifer walked over to the huge oval mirror and looked at her reflection. There on a small round, lace-covered, table she found the silver hairbrush that she’d been sent to fetch—it was an heirloom from her grandfather’s days. There was something about the mirror. She wasn’t sure what it was, but all of a sudden she strangely felt sexual before it. She picked up her mother’s prized silver brush and then began to brush her hair with it as she watched herself in the mirror’s reflection.
Without realizing it, she found other hand stroking her nipple-line through the light fabric of her pale blue halter-neck. It felt naughty do such a thing, but Jennifer liked it. Putting down the hair brush, she untied her halter-neck top and examined her hard little nipples. The Mirror whispered, “Yes,” as the young girl began to rub her coin-sized aureoles. It felt good. She thought her nipples looked suckable. Jennifer wondered what her mother’s nipples looked it. Would her breasts develop to be exactly like her mother’s. It would be nice, she thought. So sexy.
She hadn’t thought of her mother as sexy before. But now she thought about it, it was true, there was a strange attraction to her glamorous mother—be it just admiration or sometime else. “Yes,” was the answer to Jennifer’s unasked question. She felt an inexplicable, yet overwhelming desire to be naked before the mirror—to take everything off – even just for an instance. Her mother and Lisa, were busy downstairs. Just for a moment, she thought as she slipped out of her halter-neck dress to stand there and look at herself in only her knee high stockings.
Jennifer posed like a starlet before it. Examining her nudity carefully. Her slender hips, flat stomach and puffy little chest. She thought she looked very pretty. Her eyes watched herself closely, not as her reflection, but as if she was looking at another naked young female. She found the thought of lesbianism not unappealing. She’d secretly wondered about other young girls in her class at school … wondered what it would be like to kiss another girl. But here, looking in the mirror’s reflection of herself, she wondered about a lot more than just kissing.
“Yes,” whispered the Mirror again as Jennifer touched herself between the legs. She found herself getting wetter thinking of Sapphic love, touching, kissing and licking this delicious young girl she saw in the mirror. No doubt her mother would berate her taking her time … but she didn’t care as she picked up the silver brush and pressed its long slender handle inside her hairless little slit. Masturbation wasn’t new to Jennifer, but to use her mother’s precious hairbrush was an extra thrill – and to watch herself do it, here in this enchanting place seemed to greatly enhance the experience.
“Mmmmmmm,” she moaned, as she literally danced on the silver handle of hairbrush, thrusting it in-and-out of her hairless vagina. “Show me,” whispered the Mirror as Jennifer fucked herself faster and faster, acting increasingly more lewd as the girl in the mirror began to reach her climax.
When Jennifer hadn’t returned promptly, Catherine began to act even more aggravated.
“She should be back by now—Lisa I told her!”
It had been quite some time, but Lisa pretended to be preoccupied. Finally Jennifer finally appear with the silver brush and mirror set in her hands.
“I got your things mother, I saw—”
“I never want you to go up there again! Never—do you hear me!” snapped her mother. Catherine felt violated. She did not like how she felt. It was almost like nausea. She couldn’t explain the overwhelming desire to be alone.
“Leave me alone, please,” Catherine said to her daughter, “You too Lisa, leave me alone!”
Both Lisa and her daughter left.
Catherine took a couple of pills from her bedside table and poured some water from a glass jug into a glass. She swallowed them. She picked up a picture frame on the side of bed—it contained an old black and white photo of her and her father, Vetis, as they stood arm-in-arm. She looked at his masculine face. His voice echoed in her mind. She heard her own childish voice reply to him like an joyful echo. Was it her father’s voice? She looked around. It felt so real.
“Richard?” she called out, thinking it maybe she’d heard the voice of her husband.
There was no answer—yet the muffled sound of distant voices still reverberated in her mind. Catherine made her way up to the attic. Though highly unlikely—it seemed to be the source of the voices. She entered the attic, closing and locking the door behind her.
It was then she remembered her father, standing in her bedroom, as a much younger twelve-year-old Catherine, admired the silver brush and mirror set.
“That was your mother’s,” her father said as he stood behind her, “and your grandmother’s set, before that—it’s time you had them.”
“Oh, Papa, I love you so much,” replied the excited young Catherine, “Doesn’t mommy want them anymore?”
“She doesn’t need them,” her father replied.
The young twelve-year-old Catherine wore one of the ‘special dresses’ that her father had given to her—it’s translucency showed off most of her blossoming young body—only her most intimate parts remained concealed. She walked gracefully over to the large oval mirror that was the centerpiece of her bedroom. She sat down and began to to brush her hair. Her father stood besides her and watched.
“Does this mean that I am all grow-up papa and grandma’s things become mine?” asked the young Catherine.
“It means that you’re very beautiful,” replied her father, “It means that it gives me pleasure to look at you … like now and it makes me excited …”
“Oh papa … do you really like to look at me?”
“Stand up Catherine,” he said.
“I am all grown up, ain’t I? All of a sudden, I looked in the mirror one day and I—” she paused.
“What is it Catherine?” asked her Father.
“Nothing papa. I have to go to bed now—I have to get up early,’ said Catherine went to get undressed.
As she turned away, her father suggested, “Let me help you with that,” he said helping her with the zipper in the back of her long white dress. “You are grown up. Soon you’ll be able to do what you want to do.”
“Do what father?” she asked.
“What you feel … when you’re all alone … when you look in the mirror…” he explained.
“I don’t know what you mean?” young twelve-year-old Catherine lied.
“Go to the mirror Catherine,” her father strongly suggested as his hand slid the zipper to it’s base—opening the ‘special dress’ at the back.
And Catherine did. They both stood before the mirror. The room seemed to buzz with a strange electricity—there was something unnatural about Catherine’s reflection as she gazed upon her reflection.
“Show me what you do when you’re all alone,” he ordered. “Do you touch yourself?”
“Do you want me too, father?” asked her reflection.
“Do you want me to see?” he asked—her reflection could see the unmistakable bulge that had risen beneath and pressed outwardly against is thin robe. The Mirror wanted to see his cock.
She let the special dress slip from her shoulders to fall to her waist—she was naked beneath it. Her tiny twelve-year-old breasts where nothing more than tiny white cones, crested with pinkish nipples.
“Are they beautiful, father?” her slutty reflection asked.
“Yes—very,” he responded, “What else do you want me to see?”
Her reflection allowed the dress to fall to the floor—displaying her tiny hairless pussy. Young Catherine’s breathing had become short gasps as she stood fully naked before her lecherous old father, who was getting off on this.
“Do you touch yourself Catherine?—” he asked.
She looked nervously into the mirror, “Should I?”
“Yes!” he replied, “I want you to.”
“I don’t know how,” she lied.
Her father began to touch her cunt. “Look into the mirror. Put your hand here—do as I say Catherine.”
Catherine’s reflection began to rub her clitoris and play with her own mons. Catherine looked on nervously. Her voice betrayed her naivety. Her father drawled as watched his twelve-year-old daughter begin masturbate herself to his command. It was a pedophile dream come true – even more so, knowing it was his own kin. He kissed her soft skin—she tasted divine. He could devour here. Here and now. His cock drooling with precum.
“Now lie down,” her father said.
Young Catherine did as her excited father instructed. This was not the first time she had done this—but of course, it was the first time that anyone, besides the Mirror, had watched her touch herself. She lay on her back and slid her eager fingers into her sopping wet pussy, with one hand she penetrated herself and with the other, she played with her erect clitoris. As her father watched her, he pulled his robe aside and began to toy with his erect cock. It looked so big. Its fat red head was glistening with precum wetness and excitedly she watched his fingers slide over it, rubbing it, caressing it. It looked like snake. Hard and wet. She wanted to taste it—to put it in her mouth—to suck it. Catherine looked up and saw the desire in her lecherous father’s eyes as they both masturbated themselves.
Her reflection watched too. “This is what I have always wanted,” her reflection whispered with panting breath. “Oh papa,” groaned young Catherine.
She moaned out loud as watched her father’s hand move faster and faster as he rubbed his engorged flesh. Her father’s fat cock looked delicious. Young Catherine sat forward, unable to control her overwhelming feelings of incestuous lust for her wicked father. She took his erect cock into her mouth and began to suck it ravenously like a young hungry whore.
”Aaarghhhhh!” groaned her perverted father.
Vetis began to fuck her face harder—holding the back of her head, gripping her hair, as he thrust back and forth—approaching orgasm. He gasped and withdraw at the last moment—his cock ejaculated over Catherine’s childish face. White spurts of creamy semen shot across her tongue, lips and over her angelic features—a huge load of salty semen. Catherine licked her lips and tasted her father’s cum. She wanted more. She resumed sucking her father as his spent cock became limp in her mouth. Still she sucked it’s shriveling length. Tears rolled down her face as her reflection smiled wickedly.
Young Catherine buried her face against her father hairy chest and she began to cry.
“I’m vile,” said Catherine—as she looked into the mirror, “I’m vile—I know it.”
“It’s what you wanted … And no … you’re exceptional. Yes you are … and always have been,” said her reflection, “If you come with me you won’t be lonely, eternally.”
Catherine shook her head at the darkened Mirror.
“Very well Catherine,” said the Mirror, “Stay here with these dull, common place people in this ordinary place … grow old and wither!”
Her refection turned away from her.
“Where are you going? Wait …” asked Catherine. “Who are you?”
“When you come with me, you will be done with these fools … your tedious husband … these insufferable pricks!”
“No … I am going away with Richard!” she responded.
“But you are exceptional Catherine,” argued the Mirror, “I thought you had longings—”
The Mirror’s words hung and then it was as if her secret lover had gone. And then all that was left was Catherine. Alone. Her reflection looked no different, but no longer separate—just her. She gently touched the mirror’s surface with her finger. It was suddenly cold and flat. Inanimate.
“Are you there?” she asked in a panic, desperate to know if her demon lover would return if called. “Have you left me? Please … where will you take me?”
Her question seemed to reignite the Mirror again.
“Where your beauty will glow everlasting—” replied the Mirror, “Where your senses will be filled—that marvelous white flesh of yours will be bathed, lavished with the adoration and love that you deserve—”
“But it’s not real?” answered Catherine touching the Mirror’s surface with the pads of her fingers.
“What is real? That world out there?” her reflection sounded determined, “Listen to me Catherine … leave this place … you will come to me tomorrow night at one o’clock … that will give you enough time …” her reflection began to masturbate, “Jennifer—give her the key to the attic to allow her to come and visit me—she’s growing so beautifully … so exceptionally.”
“No. I won’t,” lied Catherine (to herself).
“Yes you will,” said her reflection fingering herself unseen in the darkness, “You will always come back to the Mirror and I will always be here.”
Just then, sounds from outside the attic caught Catherine’s attention. She heard Jennifer’s voice calling out to her father. Catherine looked out of the attic window to the driveway below. She saw them hug. Richard asked Jennifer where her mother was.
The clock said five in the afternoon.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS – CHAPTER FIVE (2,060 WORDS)
Richard and Jennifer had been waiting in the lounge when Catherine finally emerged from the attic. She appeared shaken.
“Catherine,” said her husband as he poured himself a whiskey, “What’s the matter,” he asked as she approached.
“Help me Richard,” she answered meekly, “Please help me, you got to take me away from here—tonight—I’m already packed.”
“What?” answered Richard. He didn’t know what to make of his wife’s strange request. He looked around at his daughter Jennifer and then back at his wife. “What the hell are you talking about?”
“I saw something Richard,” she replied.
“What did you see that was so terrible?” he asked setting down his drink.
He really didn’t know what to make of Catherine’s escalating strangeness. Her bizarre moods were sometimes too much to take. She seemed lost in her own world – she seemed so dreamy and disconnected from reality. He didn’t pretend to understand it. In fact, in many ways he resented it. The poor little rich girl routine really was getting on his nerves. Was she losing her mind?
“If you cannot tell me, how do you expect me to help you,” he said.
“I just cannot explain it. Just believe me … I … there is evil in this house … I’ve got to leave tonight.” Catherine looked desperate for Richard to understand her—without an explanation—he had to understand her.
“Catherine, we’re leaving in the morning. Now what the hell is the matter with you?”
“I cannot explain it,” she said looking even more despondent by the second. “I have to leave—I will stay at the Westside Hotel.”
“No you can’t!” ordered Richard, his frustration was boiling over and getting the better of him, “Now, will you tell me what’s going on?”
Catherine picked up the phone in the sideboard and began to dial, calling the local hotel.
“I came home to celebrate something with you and Jennifer—” protested Richard.
The receptionist on the end of the line answered Catherine’s call. “I want to make a reservation—Yes—my name is Catherine Burgess—I have flights tomorrow morning to Boston with connections to Paris—What? Can’t you help?”
Catherine sounded desperate. The voice on the end of line sounded much like her own—like her reflection—”There’s no flight tomorrow—but your reservation is confirmed for tonight.”
Tonight? One o’clock at the mirror? Catherine hung up the phone.
“Catherine, for God’s sake. Will you tell me what’s going on? Take a look at yourself,” he said pointing to her reflection in the sideboard mirror.
Catherine looked and saw herself—but it wasn’t her—her hermaphroditic reflection was there—naked and masturbating its she-cock—her perverted reflection looked at her hungrily—wild and animalistic. She grabbed a paper weight (that lay across the mail) and throw it at her reflection. There was an almighty crash of broken glass as the mirror’s surface smashed into tiny pieces.
Richard recoiled. He then grabbed Catherine and yelled at Jennifer, “Go into the kitchen and tell Lisa to call the doctor—”
Catherine screamed and fought against him hysterically. Didn’t he understand? Didn’t he know how she felt—she was being hunted by something preternatural? She felt completely helpless. She couldn’t control these things. They were evil, demonic—her reflection was a sexual demon. The Devil was real. She was caught in the Devil’s perverted web. Incest. Abuse. Pedophilia. Richard had to trust her—but it sounded so implausible and he would think she was just making the whole thing up—seeking attention for her dull and unhappy existence here. Why didn’t he understand? Catherine crumbled in a heap to the floor—crying and sobbing uncontrollably.
It was eleven-twenty in the evening.
“You’re going away, and you never taught me how to put on make-up,” said young Jennifer to her mother.
Catherine lay in bed. The doctor had been and gone. Now, she needed rest. The stress had got to her, he had concluded. Pills. He had given her more pills. Now at least things felt a little more quite. Her eyes were fixed in a distant stare.
“Honey,” said her father, “Your mother has taken some pills to put her to sleep.” Richard bent down and gave Catherine a kiss on the forehead, but she turned away from him for his lack of understanding. But how could he understand her predicament? How could anyone truly understand?
“I have some more work to do. I will be downstairs in a while—” he added and then walked out of their bedroom, leaving Catherine and Jennifer alone.
“Stand straight, Jennifer,” said her admiring mother, as she sat up in bed and took her daughter by the hands.
Jennifer was glowing. Beautiful. Bewitching. Catherine felt a jolt of unrequited sensuality towards her daughter. It was so much like looking in the mirror at her younger self. Dare she say, that her sexual attraction to her daughter was but another form of her self-love?—it felt so erroneous—yet it made her so wet and horny. Even now, her cunt longed for masturbation. She had been spying on young Jennifer. Well, it hadn’t been on purpose—just opportunistic—and when Catherine realized that her daughter had been using a crucifix as her choice of masturbation tool—her dark heart had jumped with villainous joy. They had so much in common.
“I’m growing up, aren’t I mother?” Jennifer asked.
“All of a sudden—one day—you wake up,” replied Catherine, “And you’re old enough to have the silver brush and mirror set—the one grand papa gave me—it’s always been in the family.”
“Oh mom, I love you so much,” cried little Jennifer, overwhelmed with love for her beautiful and glamorous mother. Her sexy mother.
“You can go to the attic—whenever you want!” announced Catherine as she smiled at her tiny little daughter.
Catherine wondered what pleasures lay ahead for the both of them. She was, in a way bringing her daughter, into her midnight world. The mirror had been a catalyst. But she had been the one to seal the deal with the Devil. After this, there was no turning back.
“Really—but you must promise to tell no one—it’s our secret,” emphasized Catherine with an evil grin, “Just you and I—your eyes are so lovely.”
“Like yours mommy.”
Jennifer loosened her hair that was tied up in a bun, so that her long blond hair fell over her shoulders, just like her mother’s. She tossed her head like a starlet. She was gorgeous—after all, beauty was in the eye of the beholder.
“Like mine,” Catherine answered, “You are growing up Jennifer—soon, you will be able to do whatever you want to do—your body is changing isn’t it? It will be like mine.”
Catherine held up the key and then gave it to her.
As the drugs began to take effect, Catherine felt herself slipping into darkness. Her daughter’s words reverberated in her sub-conscience—“… I love you, mommy … I love you, mommy … I love you, mommy … I love your cunt, mommy … I love to lick your cunt, mommy … let me lick your cunt, mommy … lick my cunt mommy …” Her voice changed from a sweetness to something slutty and whorish—she saw her masturbating with the thick arm of her crucifix—The body of Jesus pressed upwards against her oily little clitoris. Jennifer begin to urinate, but the crucifix only moved faster and faster as it sawed in-and-out of her daughter’s hairless slit. Jennifer groaned in private pleasure. “Look mommy … I’m fucking God … I’m fucking Jesus Christ,” she laughed blasphemously over and over. “Hail Satan! Hail Lilith!” Catherine knew that she was offering herself to the Devil—she wanted to be fucked by sex demons—how she reminded Catherine of herself.
It was dark throughout the mansion.
The clock said eleven-forty-five. Richard was fast asleep in their bedroom.
The clock read midnight—Catherine stood by the fireplace in the lounge. She sipped on a large glass of whisky. It wasn’t her drink of choice, but she really needed to take the edge off. She looked up despondently at the painting of her infamous father—her incestuous father. Her recall of his seduction of the young Catherine raced through her head. She remembered every microscopic detail. How they had masturbated together. How his semen tasted in her mouth. That had been only the start. His cock had been in all her holes—even sodomizing her in front of the evil mirror. Had she wanted it? Had she in some way been responsible for their incestuous love affair? What of her poor mother?
Lightning flashed and thunder rumbled on the distant horizon. Richard was still fast asleep—and so was young Jennifer. The clock read twelve-fifty. The thunder sounded much closer—much louder.
Catherine stood in her long robe inside the attic. She let the silky fabric fall from her shoulders. She gasped as she finally stood naked—she threw her head back and let out another long desperate sigh—”Aaaarhhhhhhhhhh …”
Catherine sat down in the low-backed chair that she’d positioned in front of the dark surface of the old baroque mirror. It had called her and she had come to its final summoning. Regrets? She felt nervous, but excited. Catherine picked up her silver brush and began to brush her long blond hair as she watched her reflection. There as another rumble of thunder followed by a sharp stab of lightening.
Catherine urinated into her wine glass and then began to rub it over her groin paying special attention to her horny cunt. She loved the smell of her own urea. It’s distinctive smell gave her attic its all-to-familiar odor. She drank from the glass—tasting her salty piss. She felt hot and frustrated as she watched her fingers touching herself. She knew she shouldn’t be there, but she was drawn to—it was like a splinter in her mind—driving her crazy with wanton lust. She moaned as she touched herself. Lightning lit up the night sky with a flash and another loud clap of thunder.
Catherine constantly moaned out loud as she touched her breasts … her stomach … her thighs … and her dripping cunt-hole. Yes. She wanted it. Yes, she could not deny herself … she could not refuse it. Oh yes. Oh yes. She watched with perverted excitement—watching her evil reflection teasing her. Her reflection’s body was covered in the glow of sexual perspiration.
The clock chimed one o’clock.
Catherine knew there was no turning back as she masturbated herself with even more gusto—filling her mind with wickedness. Oh come ye devils, she thought. Maybe she’d known it all along. A game of cat and mouse with her own reflection—the demon in the mirror called upon her. As Catherine lay back in the chair, her reflection stepped forward through the mirror’s surface and into the attic. The demon smiled at her conquest over the reluctant woman. No longer just a reflection, the demon looked identical in every detail, except that her clitoris pocked outwards passed her parted labia—like the thick head of an erect cock.
Catherine stopped masturbating and watched curiously as the demon’s clitoris began to grow as it pressed forward even further—expanding and curving upwards to become a fully formed phallus.
“Just as you dreamed,” groaned the hermaphroditic demon as she stroked her long phallic appendage—stroking it hard with her closed fist—its bulbous head drooled with fluids as the demon grabbed Catherine, forcing her to kneel whilst facing the dark mirror. The demon wasted no time mounting her, pressing her she-cock against Catherine’s puckered rectum.
Lightening flashed and the thunder clapped loudly. Maybe this was a mistake? Maybe she shouldn’t go through with it? Catherine was in two minds—but as the demon began to rape her—Catherine began to scream loudly—but it was too late, the demon held her fast and rammed her she-cock deep into Catherine’s bleeding bowels. The pain was intense. Catherine was overcome by the sensation of being literally ripped open—She screamed over and over … but the sheer pain turned to intense pleasure—Catherine’s screams of agony became scream of ecstasy.
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS – CHAPTER SIX (2,059 WORDS)
Richard awake abruptly at the sound of his wife screaming.
Something wasn’t right. He’s thought about her strangeness that evening—but had discounted it as just feminine insecurities. She had been constantly disassociated with him and with their daughter Jennifer. Richard jumped out of bed and walked briskly towards the source of the sound that seemed to be coming from upstairs in the attic. Before he could be sure, the screaming stopped. Everything was quiet again—except for the persistent sound of distant thunder.
“Catherine!” he shouted aimlessly into the darkness. No answer.
He arrived at the top of the attic steps. Richard tried to open the locked door to the attic. He rattled the door knob, over and over.
“Catherine!? Catherine are you in there?” he shouted again.
The solid door wouldn’t budge an inch. And there was still no answer. Just silence. Richard turned away from the door and made his way back down the curving staircase. Thinking that may be he had misread the source of the screams, he decided to keep looking. Just then, Lisa and Abel arrived. Richard demanded they search the house for his wife—she must be there somewhere? Was she in some kind of trouble or just having another of her episodes?
As he came to the top of the landing, he yelled down over the balcony, “Well, don’t just stand there. Catherine is gone. Go find her!”
Lisa and Abel went separate ways, searching enormous mansion and its grounds for the mistress. Abel when outside to the grounds. He took a torch to search the lake boathouse and even the grotto cave; while Lisa searched all the upstairs guest rooms; and Richard when downstairs rushing through every room (even their ten car garage).
Some time later, without any success, they all converged back in the living room. Abel re-entered the house. He was out of breath from literally running several miles back and forward across the property. And all that time he had not seen anything of is mistress. Lisa arrived too empty-handed too. Nothing. Catherine was nowhere. She had literally vanished—just like her father.
“Catherine,” cried Richard, his heart was heavy with disbelief.
Jennifer was awakened by the distant sound of her mother’s shrill voice—or, at least, what she thought could be her mother’s voice. The thunder boomed outside her bedroom window and shook the panels of glass.
She blinked in the darkness of her bedroom as she tried to work out if she’d heard the scream in a dream or in reality or whether it was a trick of the severe weather conditions. She lay on her back as her fingers absentmindedly toyed with her hairless little slit as she lay completely naked beneath her bed covers. She remembered her strange experience in front of her mother’s mirror. The thought of being naked among her mother’s things now seemed bizarre—but at the time she had felt an uncontrollable urge. She had masturbated herself, and reached a satisfying orgasm, using the handle of her mother’s precious hairbrush. It was almost as good as using the crucifix her father gave her. It had felt such a vulgar thing to do at the time—and to think, she’d watched herself do it in the mirror—turned on my her own reflection.
Again she heard distant voices—she thought she heard the sound of her father’s voice—angry—as he calling out in the dark. Jennifer got up and pulled her nightdress back on over her head. She walked out of her bedroom and peered over the upper floor balcony to find out what all the commotion was about. It was dark and the thunderstorm sounded even fiercer outside.
Now Jennifer could clearly make out the voices of her father, their maid and chauffeur—as the three adults seemed to be frantically looking for her mother—who was nowhere to be seen.
Jennifer turned away and made her way through the dark corridors and found herself at the bottom of the stairs to the attic. She called out to her mother. Nothing. Then she ascended the curving staircase. The sound of the rumbling thunder seemed relentless and the stairs creaked and groaned as she approached the attic door.
She retrieved the hidden key and unlocked the attic door. Inside it was very dark—but using her sharp young eyes, Jennifer could make her way to the Gothic mirror—spikes of lightening intermittently brought bright flashes that lit up the entire attic space. It gave her a fright—but maybe more of a thrill. She switched on the small lamp and saw her reflection looking back at her.
“Mommy,” she said to her reflection, “Mommy!”
There was no answer. Not right away.
Catherine heard a distant echo. Like thunder. Was it her daughter’s voice? It sounded as if Jennifer was trying to summon her. But Catherine turned away as she had already chosen to shun the world.
“Having second thoughts?” asked the beautiful demon with a theatrical bow, “But, Catherine—paradise awaits—where no temptation, lust or evil desire is forbidden.”
Catherine’s mind was already a turgid cesspool of all the filth she had been denied—all the lust she was yet to experienced—all the evil desires that remained unfulfilled.
She remembered the timid young eight-year-old girl that had looked so much like Jennifer had, at that tender age. Evil desires welled up inside her dark heart. The evil desires—like incest, abusing, raping and murdering for her own venereal pleasure.
She was vile—how could she ever be capable of such evil—how could she? Catherine had once fought against it—trying to deny it—but the truth was that she wanted it all—her paradise would be hell for others. She realised now that this was a one way ticket. This was for eternity.
“Make me like you,” Catherine begged the demon.
“All in good time,” answered the demon, “First you must meet your coven.”
The demon held her arms aloft and a large bonfire burst into life. A hellish fire of inverted crucifixes. Dozens and dozens of them. And upon each was nailed the crucified body of a naked baby. Pagan drums beat loudly as the flames and sparks leapt upwards into a crimson sky. Catherine looked on, half in horror, half in exaltation.
“Hail Lilith!” cried the demon as she stroked her long she-cock.
There was a resounding roar from the blackness. “Hail Lilith!”
Then, Catherine saw that around the huge fire there gathered the naked witches – just like Catherine they too were very excited. They had all gathered to fulfil their evil wanton desires. And the demon’s black magic had made each and every one of her coven like her – hermaphroditic – their slender white bodies glowed in the flickering orange and vermillion flames. Their small pert breasts, dripping cunts and erect she-cocks all exposed as they each eagerly masturbated before their demon.
From beneath the sandy floor that surrounded the fire, emerged dozens of coupled phalluses. Each pair stood seven or eight feet tall – each pair being parted by the distance between one’s outstretched arms.
“Let the dance begin!” cried the demon.
And dance they did. Like a thunderclap, the roaring pyre seemed to spontaneously erupt into a new kind of perverted devilry. The whirlpool of nakedness encircling Catherine as countless possessed souls began the dance hypnotically around the evil bonfire. The witches whooped and screamed as they thrust their narrow hips back and forth in time with the pagan drums of hell. The witches looked beautifully grotesque—everywhere Catherine looked she saw breasts and she-cocks—malevolently erect and stroked in rhythm of their crazied masturbation dance—these beautifully evil creature crackled in laughter as they chanted blasphemously to the praise of Lilith.
The hermaphroditic witches dragged dozens of naked young children before the demon’s burning fire and secured their tiny arms and legs, so that each terrified child was now spreadeagled between the upright phalluses.
”Are you ready to dance?” asked the beautiful demon.
Catherine looked upon her self and saw how the demon had transformed her – Catherine liked her new appearance. Her she-cock demanded to be stroked. Her mind filled with demonic thirst – that could only satisfied by the most vile of perverted acts.
Catherine finally let go of her life and joined the witches tempest in their frenzied pandemonium. The witches began their orgy. The witch-dance. The incest dance. The molestation dance. The cock-worship dance. The copulation dance. The sodomy dance. The rape dance. The necrophiliacs dance. Catherine’s ears were filled with musical cacophony of screams of the terrified child that were to be sacrificed by rape, murder and eaten by the coven.
Catherine was suddenly ravenous.
Jennifer stood before the mirror. She untied her hair and let it fall loosely around her shoulders. Jennifer picked up the silver-handled brush of her mother’s and used it to brush out the tangles from her restless sleep—her dreams lately had been so bizarre. Crazy. She’d been possessed with a strong desire to masturbate incessantly. And even now, she felt the strange tingling sensations that she’d felt the first time that she had been in the attic—near the mirror—gazing into the mirror.
“Jennifer,” she said to her own reflection (mimicking her own mother) , “You have such beautiful eyes.”
The young girl that stared back at Jennifer seemed to know more than she was telling. Maybe she too had a deep, dark secret too? Jennifer wanted to share her secret with someone that would not be judgmental about her wicked thoughts and sexual fantasies. Could she talk about her evil dreams?
It all felt a little like make-believe. Like a strange dark fairy tale – one where the wicked witch gets to reign supreme. No happy ending. Only wickedness triumphs. Yes, thought young Jennifer, this was all just a naughty game. Like using the large crucifix her father gave her for masturbation. It gave her a huge kick. So blasphemous. She loved the whole idea of occult. Dark things did fuel her fantasies.
Jennifer really didn’t have any friends to play—well, not in the way that she wanted—not playing the nasty games that seemed to be on her mind lately.
She had been secretly playing with their pet Doberman. She liked to touch the animal’s long knot making the dog hard as she rubbed its pinkish flesh. She wanted to crawl beneath its belly and let it fuck her—but she didn’t want to get caught by Lisa or Abel, who were always lurking around. She’d been spying on them too—brother and sister—incest, that’s what it was called. She wanted to join in their love making—but still hesitated to take the next step. And then there was her father. He was always drawing her close—maybe too close—maybe he longed for the affection that her distant mother failed to provide.
Again she mimicked her missing mother, “Now, I must dress for dinner—I wander what I should wear?”
THROUGH THE LOOKING GLASS – EPILOGUE
After the tragic events of that stormy night back in 1976, Richard Burgess suffered a severe mental brake down. He was frequently in-and-out of treatment until his premature death some years later. Like her father before her, Catherine Burgess remains a person of interest and is still missing. Her mysterious disappearance remains an open case with the authorities. No one was charged in relation to these unexplained events.
Lisa and Abel Cousteau remained in the employ of Ms Jennifer Burgess, who dropped out of school in favor of private tuition. She remains at the Burgess Estate. There are many wild rumors about her and her eccentric lifestyle. Some speculate that she continues to pursue her artistic talents; there are those that even claim her work is dark and pornographic; other say she, like her mother, she spends most of her time with her mother’s heirlooms in the attic—but that is a story for another day.
The end? What you like more of this. Write and let me know, either in the blog for to my email address email@example.com