The Battered Lamp Ch. 16

Two women were shouting inside the house, muffled by the door.

He knocked again. Harder.

The door yanked open, a middle-aged man stood there, his jowls ruddy. "Detective?" he blinked.

"Your wife called. Phillipa has turned up?"

"Yeah." Another loud yell echoed from upstairs.

"Is everything all right?"

"Phillipa is moving out," he answered. "Her mother is...discussing it with her."

"Has she told you where she's been?"

"Her girlfriend's house."

"Did you know your daughter had a girlfriend?" Donnar couldn't remember any mention of Phillipa having a boyfriend or girlfriend.

"She never told us she was dating anyone. She had band, really dedicated to playing the trombone, and her book club." Mr. Stoddard's eyes tightened. The Detective had informed Phillipa's parents some of the details of what really was going on in that club.

"So, who is this girlfriend?"

"She didn't say. She and her mother have been going at it since..." He shrugged. "I retreated downstairs and let them screech at each other. Safer that way."

Detective Donnar gave a snorting laugh. "Has your daughter ever disappeared like this before?"

"Never. She's a model student. Got straight A's in high school and averages a 3.9 in college. I don't know what's gotten into her."

Feet thumped down the stairs and Phillipa appeared, a heavy suitcase clutched in one hand. She was a beautiful, young woman, her skin pale-olive, vaguely Asian, with those slanted eyes. Her mother, a middle-aged, oriental woman was behind her, shouting loudly and rapidly in Korean.

"I'm eighteen and in college," Phillipa snarled. "I can move out if I want to!"

"Your father and I worried sick about you. And you just want to leave. Where were you?"

"At my girlfriend's! And it's where I'm heading to."

Her mother seized her arm. "You will not. My daughter is no...lesbian!"

"Well, I am! And Britney and I are getting married!"

"Britney?" the detective asked. "Britney Kingston?" How interesting. She's involved with Kyle's best friend.

Phillipa froze, gazing at the detective, then she looked at the ground. "Yes," she whispered.

"Can I ask you some questions? I'm Detective Donnar with the Pierce County Sheriff's department."

"I need to get to my girlfriend. She's expecting me." She didn't look up. Phillipa is neck deep in this mess.

"When was the last time you saw Rashawn Underhill?"

"Um, at college on Wednesday." She continued staring at her feet.

"And Lorrie Gore?"

"Same."

"Do you know where Christy Leonardson or Sable Purcell are?"

Phillipa shook her head. "I haven't seen them since, um, Wednesday."

"Where at?"

"The...uh...college."

"Have you ever been to Ms. Franklin's cabin?"

She looked up, making her eyes go wide, trying to look innocent. "She has a cabin?"

Phillipa was a terrible liar.

"Were you at the cabin?"

Her gaze dropped. "No." Her hand rubbed at her neck.

"Do you know what happened to your friends and your professor?"

"I heard...on the news"

"While you were at your girlfriend's?"

She nodded. "I need to get going. She's waiting for me."

"And where were you Wednesday night?"

"I went over to my girlfriend's house after classes. We never left her bedroom except to eat and, you know."

"And she can verify your story?"

She quickly nodded.

I leaned in. "Is Britney threatening you? Or Kyle Unmei? I can protect you."

She flinched, then shook her head vigorously, her hand reaching up to rub at her neck, the hem of her sweater slipping down and revealing red marks on her wrists--restraint marks. "Britney would never do that. She loves me. Can I go?"

"Are you okay?" he asked her, reaching out to touch her red wrist. "Did she abuse you?"

She yanked her sweater sleeve back down. "I'm fine. Britney and I were just...playing...with handcuffs and ropes." The heat in her voice wasn't fake, neither was the color in her cheeks "Bondage, you know. It's hot. I like to be...tied up."

Kids are so wild these days. He pulled out a card. "If you think of any reason why your friends and Ms. Franklin could have been at the cabin, let me know."

She took the card, pushed past the Detective, and headed out to her car. She threw her suitcase in the trunk. The detective watched her drive off, excitement churning inside him. Here was another connection with Kyle Unmei. That young man sat at the center of everything. His gut told him so. He almost had enough to get a search warrant for Kyle's house. He only needed those forensic reports on the shoe prints. One last piece of evidence to tie Kyle to the murder scene.

Slow and steady always wins the race.

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Kyle found himself sitting on the couch, trying to watch the playoff game. Seattle was fighting to go to the Super Bowl, but that hardly seemed to matter right now. His mom had left on her walk hours ago. He had tried to call her, but she wasn't answering.

"She's fine," Aaliyah assured him for the hundredth time.

"She's been gone for hours," he muttered as his wife lay cuddled on his lap. They were in the living room, not his bedroom, and his concubines were scattered on the floor, cheering at the game. There were a surprising number of Seahawk fans among his women.

"You made your wish, my love. I'm aware of her. She is fine. I can summon her if you want."

"No," he sighed. "She needs time to think. But she is fine, right?"

Aaliyah gave him a patient smile. "She is. I bet she'll be--"

The front door opened. Kyle sat up, hope burning that it was his mother.

"Boy it is really raining out there, Kyle," Britney called. His hopes crashed and burned. "I am not a fan of it."

Britney walked into the bedroom, wiping her glasses on the edge of her baggy sweatshirt, her dagger Waterclaw tucked into her sweatpants. Her normally bushy-brown hair was a sodden mess matted to her head and shoulders. Behind her, Phillipa tottered in, her hands clasped, looking down at the floor.

"Don't be shy," Kyle told her. "You're one of us now."

Phillipa gave him a shy smile. Then she saw Aaliyah. "I'm so sorry. We had to obey Ms. Franklin. None of us joined up to...do those things."

Aaliyah nodded her head. "Are you truly sorry?" His wife had her dark eyes fixed on the witch.

"With all my heart. It was terrible what we did." A tear ran down Phillipa's cheek.

"Then you are forgiven."

"We have a problem," Britney said, sitting on the couch next to Kyle, water dripping off the end of her hair.

Aaliyah gave her a frown. "You're dripping water everywhere."

Britney blushed. "My apologies, Aaliyah."

"I wish Britney and Phillipa were dry to keep the house clean," Kyle said.

"Done."

Britney's hair was suddenly its normal, bushy self. Britney didn't even flinch. "Thank you, Aaliyah."

"You're most welcome."

"So, what's the problem?" asked Kyle

"Detective Donnar accosted Phillipa today. I do not think your interview on Friday went as well as you had hoped."

Kyle blinked. When he had spoken to the Detective at school on Friday, Kyle had thought it went great. Last night, he had chatted with Britney in a Google Hangout about the interview, catching her up on all that had happened while she had been cooped up with Phillipa. "No. It went fine. I'm sure of it. He never even accused me of anything."

"Well, he seemed quite interested in you. When he learned that Phillipa was dating me, he instantly brought your name up. He asked Phillipa where she was and, I suspect, he will be contacting me to verify her alibi."

"Fuck," Kyle muttered. "Other than Christy, how did they even connect the dots?"

"We must have missed some clue we left at the cabin. We did leave in a hurry, and modern forensic techniques are not to be scoffed out."

"Great. One more thing to stress about."

"And have you had coitus with your mother yet?"

"Geez, Britney, you always find the way to take the fun out of anything. Even sex."

"So that is a no?"

Kyle sighed. "She's been on a walk for hours thinking."

"Perhaps you should make a wish. I am sure your wife can help smooth things out."

"Definitely," Aaliyah nodded. "But Kyle has such modern notions of free will. I haven't fully corrupted him yet."

"That's the line," Kyle reminded his wife.

"Yes, yes. Being a man of principle is also a good thing," she smiled, leaning over to kiss him on the cheek.

Britney pulled a textbook from her backpack, opening it up.

"Really? Studying? The game is on."

"This is far more interesting."

Kyle turned back to the game. It was a close one. Normally, he'd be on the edge of his seat, his heart in his throat, but he could only think about Fatima, Fumi, and Christy. He wanted his wives back. All of them. He felt so helpless. He had finally seized the initiative, learning a way to heal his wife, and now he was back to waiting again.

It's so damned frustrating.

Be patient, my love, Aaliyah whispered in his mind. You will not have long to wait.

He turned to Aaliyah. "What does that mean?"

"Mother is walking up to the house. My homunculi see her."

Kyle was on his feet, heading to the front door when it opened and there was his mom, wet and lovely. She wore her jogging outfit, purple sweats, a clear, vinyl poncho draped over her clothing. Her black hair was matted to her face, water running down the beauty of her face.

"Mom..." His heart beat faster. Hope burned.

She looked at him for a moment. And then, like some spring snapped inside her, she shot forward, her arms wrapping around his neck, pulling him to her. Her mouth was hot and spicy, her wet poncho pressed against him, soaking through his shirt as her lush body writhed against him. His cock was hard in an instant as he kissed her back. His mom was a great kisser.

He scooped her in his arms. She was light, her arm tight around his neck. She never stopped kissing him. His dad had been dead for five years, and she had not been on a date or taken a lover in all those times. All her bottled up desires seemed to be burning out of her as his mother submitted to him. He heard his concubines and wife cheer as they headed upstairs for her bed.

He sat her down when they entered her room, pulling the drenched poncho off her. Even in baggy sweats, his mother was gorgeous--Fatima matured to full beauty. He grabbed the hem of her sweatshirt, pulling it up over her wet hair. Her breasts were heavy, trapped in a cream bra.

"This is so wrong," she whispered, reaching behind her to unclasp her bra, freeing her wonderful, large breasts, dusky and topped with fat, brown nipples.

"I don't care," Kyle groaned, leaning down and sucking one of her nipples into his lips. He sucked like he was a hungry infant, loving her fat nipple between his lips. She moaned, cradling him.

"That's it. Love Mommy's tits. How I missed nursing you and your sister."

His hands slid down to shove the bottoms of her sweatpants off her hips, the loose material sliding to the floor, and he squeezed her panty-covered ass. She was plump and wonderful, groaning as he sucked and kneaded her. His fingers dipped into her panties, touching the bare flesh of his mother's ass.

"I need it," she groaned, pushing away from him. "I need a man so bad! I miss him, Kyle."

"I know," he whispered.

She touched his face. "And you've grown into a handsome, young man."

"And you're gorgeous, Mom."

Their lips met again, her hands pushing beneath his short to run across the muscles of his stomach and chest, then she dipped down to his jeans, fumbling at the button, pushing inside his boxers to grip his hard cock, stroking him, her thumb running across the tip of his cock.

"Fuck me, Kyle," she moaned, pulling his cock out. "Fuck your naughty mother!"

He ripped off his shirt. "I'm going to, Mom."

She shuddered, falling down onto her bed, her lovely breasts jiggling, her lithe legs stretching. He pushed his boxers and pants down, his cock pointing ahead, straight at her pussy. He reached out, sliding down her lithe legs to her cream panties, pulling them down her legs. He could smell her tart arousal, similar to Fatima's musk, but stronger. Her pussy was surrounded by a forest of silky-black hair, her pussy pink and inviting. He lowered his face, licking through his mother's slit, savoring the taste of her. He dived back in, exploring every part of her.

"Oh, Kyle! You've been practicing. So good!" Her thighs tightened about his cheeks as his tongue probed her deep hole, his nose nuzzling against her clit. Her body shook, her hands pulling his head tight against her pussy. "So good! It's been so long since anyone touched me down there. Oh, Kyle! Yes, yes, yes!"

Her hand shoved him tight against her pussy. Her hips bucked, smearing her tasty cunt across his lips. He drank the flood of her climax down, savoring every tart drop. He was smothered by her motherly love.

"Fuck me," she moaned. "I need your cock. I need my son's big cock inside me. Mommy's been so horny. Give it to me!"

Kyle rose up, his cock throbbing, and crawled up her body. He buried his face between her tits as her hips humped him, rubbing her hot pussy against his stomach. Her hands gripped his shoulders, pulling him up until his cock nudged her pussy lips. Faiza kissed him, moaning into his lips as he reached down to guide himself into her hole.

He teased her pussy, then dove into her.

She was so hot and wet. And it struck him. This was his mother's pussy he was fucking. His wife's mother. This was so wrong. His hips pumped as they kissed, driving his cock in and out of the most taboo hole he could possibly fuck. His mother was hot and wonderful, her hips writhing, her cunt squeezing about him.

He was lost to the sensuality of her forbidden hole, matching her rhythm, moaning into her lips as they made love to each other. Her arms wrapped around him, hugging him with the fierce love of a mother. His hands roamed her body, sliding up her sides, squeezing her breasts, exploring her thighs. She was silky smooth and so hot beneath his touch.

"Kyle," she gasped as her body quaked beneath him. Her pussy convulsed, milking his cock.

The Panacea! He had forgotten to grab the stone in his haste, so caught up in the eroticism of his mother. He tried to pull back, to fight off his release, but Faiza's pussy was milking his cock, her limbs holding him tight.

"Cum in me, Kyle," she moaned. "Let Mommy feel your love!"

His balls tightened. His cock throbbed. His release was moments away.

I wish the Panacea was here so I can fix Fatima.

The Panacea's light flooded the room, painting their naked bodies with rainbow. The Panacea lay next to them. Kyle grabbed it, holding it to his mom. She grabbed it with her hand. He stared into his mother's eyes and exploded into the very pussy that had given birth to his wife.

"Yes," she shuddered, another orgasm roiling through her. "That's it!"

The stone flared blindingly bright for a moment, and he could feel something change inside it. The Panacea was ready. He shoved it between their thighs, pressing the warm stone against her pussy and the shaft of his cock, letting it drink in their mix of cum and pussy juices.

He collapsed on his mother, nuzzling at her neck.

"That was amazing," his mom whispered.

"It was," he agreed.

"This was the only time it'll ever happen," she whispered.

"I know." He stroked her face and kissed her lips. "I love you, Mom."

His mother smiled. "I love you, too."

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

Mount Asashi, Hokkaido, Japan

The sun had set hours ago by the time Fumi reached the hot spring. She was a Yuki-onna and the mountains of Hokkaido where no hindrance to her. She raced through the blizzard that had descended, holding her path with unerring direction. It was slow going slogging through the snow, but she was fueled by poor Ando's life force.

And Yukishoujo-no-onsen, the hot spring, beckoned to her. The higher she climbed the mountain, the stronger it pulsed in her mind, guiding her, drawing her. It was a place of power, and it wanted her to find it. The fear of her pursuer dropped away as the hope blossomed inside her.

I'm going to be with Kyle fully. No fear.

It was a small, green pool bubbling on a rocky shelf surrounded by snow. The waters seemed to glow faintly, lighting up the darkness. Steam danced on the surface and she could feel the heat from ten meters away. She stripped naked, carefully setting her clothes on the rocky shelf before slipping into the warm waters.

She relaxed in the hot water, letting it drain the ache out of her muscles as she floated on the steamy depths. Her hair fanned out as she drifted, staring up at the dark skies and watched the heavy snow fall down, landing on her naked body, the flakes melting on her lithe flesh.

A great desire stirred in her loins, hot and demanding. Her hand slid down to her pussy, lightly playing with her pussy lips. Her lust grew as she teased herself, running up and down her slit, growing wet with more than the spring's water.

It felt right to touch herself. She could almost feel something watching her. A kami, a divine spirit, inhabited the spring, and a naughty thrill went through her. It wanted to watch her, and she burned to be watched. Her finger slowly entered her tight hole, setting off the nerves buried inside her.

"Aren't I beautiful?" she purred to the voyeuristic entity as she stirred her pleasure.

The warmth soaked through her, mixing with the pleasure her probing finger generated. Such wonderful bliss. Her other hand slid up, the water rippling around her, to grasp her small breasts, pinching her small-olive nipple. Cold snow landed on her breasts and face, kissing her. This is where she belonged. This is where her kind were from--the snowy mountains of Hokkaido.

But Kyle was where she wanted to be. Needed to be.

She pictured his handsome face, his skin light-brown, his dark eyes slanted like a Japanese man, his chin rugged and strong like a Middle-Eastern. His strong body pressed against her, his rough hands stroking her. She pushed a second finger into her pussy and a third, pretending his cock was inside her, pumping away, flashing back to that magical, dangerous night he had actually entered her.

"Kyle," she moaned to the snowy night. "My love. I need him!"

Her orgasm built, churning inside her. Her body shuddered in the blissful water, the scent of lilies filling her nose--her pheromones. Her gasps grew shrill, her fingers pumping away with the same vigor Kyle had fucked her. She groaned his name as molten heat rushed through her, her muscles clenching as rapture flooded her entire body.

She spasmed one last time, her pleasure retreating, her breath coming in ragged gasp. She opened her eyes, smiling, bringing her damp fingers to her lips and tasting her delightful flavor.

Something touched her ass, caressing her. The watching kami of the hot spring whispered in her mind, My Yuki-onna...

~ ~ ~ ~ ~

South Hill, WA

The man who called himself Dean Burke pulled his cell phone out of his pocket, holding his red, leather whip between his arm and side. The lovely Professor Skinner gasped and moaned as she shuddered in the chains. She taught math at his college, and her students included Kyle and Aaliyah. Her husband, who taught computer science, sat in the corner of his dungeon, blindfolded, listening to his wife's pleas and cries while he blubbered for mercy. Two members of Burke's coven, Shadow and the Vicar, watched the sobbing couple.

Burke smiled at the caller ID, and handed the whip to Shadow. The dark-skinned woman smiled as she took it, cracking it down on Mrs. Skinner's back. Burke climbed his stairs at a hurried pace, the phone ringing and ringing. He shut his basement door behind him before he answered it.