will end. There’s nothing that appears a danger and I can see no one in the windows. The only light shines from the second floor, one room is in use.
On reaching the deck, I check under it. All clear.
I step on the deck and approach the back door. Now I spot a problem. There are squiggles of some obscure pigment drawn on the floor just behind the glass. I can’t recognize if they are a written language, but I can guess their purpose. So instead of trying the door, I examine the kitchen window. The unfathomable runes form a barrier here as well.
With extreme caution, I investigate each side of the house. Every window is similarly warded. I don’t go to the front. It would be too obvious what I was up to if observed and my veil won’t shield me from intense scrutiny.
It’s then I recall what my surveillance had told me earlier. Mandy had warded the floors used for living. She never went near the attic, so far as I know. So I withdraw to a corner, far from the light. It’s only two stories to the roof. So I crouch and jump.
As I land I freeze, waiting for a response from within. None comes. After a five minute wait, I silently slip across the roof to one of the dormers. My surveillance missed something. This spot is warded as well. But I can see that only the windows are so guarded.
I climb to the apex of the roof and move to the center of it, keeping low. Then I lift shingles from it with care. Once the wood underneath is revealed, I dig with my claws. Soon I have an opening big enough to squirm through
The attic is dusty and long unused. Fiberglass insulation lies between the wooden beams that support the ceiling beneath me. I can see the only entrance to the main house from here, a small trap door. The grime on it shows that it has sat undisturbed for quite a while. There is a tiny mound of dust on the pink wool next to the opening, showing where Mandy moved it when she entered earlier. With great care I step from rafter to rafter. Fortunately, they are all solid and no creak sounds to betray my presence.
The small door comes free with only a tiny scraping noise. I freeze again once finished. Sounds come faintly to me now. They are familiar. Mandy’s at play with her victims. I grin at that. Her activities should keep her distracted. Then I choke back a snarl as I remember who she’s playing with.
There is a closet under the trap door. A shelf blocks easy access, so I bend, slither past it and twist the knob to open the door to the hallway. I don’t push it far and wait for a reaction from within as I do.
Nothing comes. The sounds of Mandy’s entertainment grow louder. Gasps, moans and inarticulate voices full of passion become clearer. My fury spikes for a moment but I push it down. Mandy’s death has to look somewhat natural and small pieces of her spread around wouldn’t appear that way.
I push the door open all the way, fall to the ground and roll to my feet. Instantly I return to the closet, closing the door behind me and wait for trouble. There’s no interruption in the erotic cries coming to me.
After several minutes I open the closet again and check the hall. One door is open and light floods from it. When I check the other direction, I see the stairs to the main floor. All’s clear. With soft steps I walk down the hall towards the illuminated opening and peek in.
There’s another menage et trois on the large bed in the room.
Mandy is on her knees, wearing her harness and with a very large implement in black, larger even than her last one, is protruding from it. She’s driving it with great force into the woman kneeling in front of her. That woman is Diane, my Diane.
My lovely woman works her hips back, obviously overjoyed at the ecstasy created by being so filled. Whimpers and moans sound from her mouth, vibrating the swollen flesh of the vulva it’s attached to.
Helen is the person that Diane is licking. Her thighs are locked on my woman’s head. Her fulsome breasts heave with the
On reaching the deck, I check under it. All clear.
I step on the deck and approach the back door. Now I spot a problem. There are squiggles of some obscure pigment drawn on the floor just behind the glass. I can’t recognize if they are a written language, but I can guess their purpose. So instead of trying the door, I examine the kitchen window. The unfathomable runes form a barrier here as well.
With extreme caution, I investigate each side of the house. Every window is similarly warded. I don’t go to the front. It would be too obvious what I was up to if observed and my veil won’t shield me from intense scrutiny.
It’s then I recall what my surveillance had told me earlier. Mandy had warded the floors used for living. She never went near the attic, so far as I know. So I withdraw to a corner, far from the light. It’s only two stories to the roof. So I crouch and jump.
As I land I freeze, waiting for a response from within. None comes. After a five minute wait, I silently slip across the roof to one of the dormers. My surveillance missed something. This spot is warded as well. But I can see that only the windows are so guarded.
I climb to the apex of the roof and move to the center of it, keeping low. Then I lift shingles from it with care. Once the wood underneath is revealed, I dig with my claws. Soon I have an opening big enough to squirm through
The attic is dusty and long unused. Fiberglass insulation lies between the wooden beams that support the ceiling beneath me. I can see the only entrance to the main house from here, a small trap door. The grime on it shows that it has sat undisturbed for quite a while. There is a tiny mound of dust on the pink wool next to the opening, showing where Mandy moved it when she entered earlier. With great care I step from rafter to rafter. Fortunately, they are all solid and no creak sounds to betray my presence.
The small door comes free with only a tiny scraping noise. I freeze again once finished. Sounds come faintly to me now. They are familiar. Mandy’s at play with her victims. I grin at that. Her activities should keep her distracted. Then I choke back a snarl as I remember who she’s playing with.
There is a closet under the trap door. A shelf blocks easy access, so I bend, slither past it and twist the knob to open the door to the hallway. I don’t push it far and wait for a reaction from within as I do.
Nothing comes. The sounds of Mandy’s entertainment grow louder. Gasps, moans and inarticulate voices full of passion become clearer. My fury spikes for a moment but I push it down. Mandy’s death has to look somewhat natural and small pieces of her spread around wouldn’t appear that way.
I push the door open all the way, fall to the ground and roll to my feet. Instantly I return to the closet, closing the door behind me and wait for trouble. There’s no interruption in the erotic cries coming to me.
After several minutes I open the closet again and check the hall. One door is open and light floods from it. When I check the other direction, I see the stairs to the main floor. All’s clear. With soft steps I walk down the hall towards the illuminated opening and peek in.
There’s another menage et trois on the large bed in the room.
Mandy is on her knees, wearing her harness and with a very large implement in black, larger even than her last one, is protruding from it. She’s driving it with great force into the woman kneeling in front of her. That woman is Diane, my Diane.
My lovely woman works her hips back, obviously overjoyed at the ecstasy created by being so filled. Whimpers and moans sound from her mouth, vibrating the swollen flesh of the vulva it’s attached to.
Helen is the person that Diane is licking. Her thighs are locked on my woman’s head. Her fulsome breasts heave with the
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