Secret Sins Ch. 11

It didn't really bother me as much as it used to, though it did bother me a little that it didn't bother me as much, if you know what I mean. I was aware that the repeated sexual incidents might well be desensitizing my moral reaction but, more realistically, I knew that if I were sober, I'd be feeling a lot differently, would probably be drowning myself in my own bathtub at that moment. I also knew that alcohol had actually enabled a lot of the sexual incidents that I'd been involved in. But not all of them. I hadn't been under the influence when I masturbated for the Major, when I seduced Donna, (or, did she seduce me?) when I took part in the kitchen scene with her, Haley and Darren, or when I took part in 'lesbiana'.

Was I only responding to convenient sexual situations that my sexuality found desirable and even irresistible, or... was Donna controlling my mind? Was all this, my rapidly changing life and the precarious sitting of the new Queen upon her throne, the result of Donna's insidious influence?

But it then occurred to me that Donna wasn't even present during the incest orgy, nor at Sumitra's house when she and I had tortured and raped her husband. They'd done what I told them to do, as highly unlikely as that would seem to be. I closed my eyes, trying to turn this right side up so it could make sense for me. Could she have just left our neighbours in what's been called a 'psychologically vulnerable state' that I'd naturally (too naturally) exploited? Had I been conditioned to exploit them? After all, this was a person who'd had Joel tear walls out of his own house in order that I could have an office. A person who'd somehow brainwashed the Rahmans into donating their living room set to the Mission, though the poor woman probably couldn't even afford to replace it. What were Donna's limitations? Perhaps the bigger question was whether or not I was touched in the head for even thinking Donna could be capable of controlling people's minds to begin with. It still seemed so crazy, but...

But, wasn't it obvious at that point?

I dunked myself in the hot water, holding my breath with my eyes still closed as I slowly rubbed my face, rinsed the sweat and cum from my hair until I could hold my breath no longer.

Resurfacing, pulling my wet hair back, I reached for my glass, took a healthy slug of vodka and orange juice, and settled back to think further, my cleaned face seeming to refresh my mind a little as I closed my eyes again.

Assuming Donna could control minds, (and I was fairly certain that she could, no matter how crazy it seemed) and assuming that she was messing with mine as well as others, then that would mean that all the life changing events I'd been experiencing, the sexual escapades and my recent lack of surety in my own salvation, all of it... was not of my choosing. Sure, I'd made mistakes with Major hurdle from the outset, but would they have gone as far as they had? Would my behaviour at the Funraiser have been different had I had some assistant other than Donna Liski? If I'd never met her, would I still respect myself as a Christian, still view my life and career, not to mention my salvation, with clarity?

She loves you.

I sat forward, then suddenly stood up, hot water and bubbles running down my body as I got out of the tub. Without drying myself, I walked out of the bathroom, down the short hall and then descended the stairs to the main level and opened the basement door under the stairs. Flipping on the basement light, I stepped onto the landing and spoke firmly.

"She's controlling my mind."

But, she loves you.

"My life is my own. I make the decisions, not her."

Your life is mine.

"No!"

Come down the stairs...

"No!"

Taraaa...

"No, stop it!" I said, though I felt a frightening temptation to go down the stairs anyway.

Turn out the light... come down the stairs...

I hesitated and, in sudden confusion, I reached around the wall, turning out the light.

Taraaa...

Realizing I was horny, I became less confused about what I wanted and began moving forward, making my way to the edge of the landing, allowing my foot to find it before stepping down.

Yesss... Ohhh, Taraaa...

I descended another step in the darkness, and then another, my pussy suddenly aching for whatever it was that awaited me, and that's when I began to realize what I was doing, pausing my downward progress in my returning confusion. I stood there for a second before letting out a shrill scream that startled even me. I turned and, in a total, mindless panic, skipped up the three steps I'd descended, catching my foot on the landing and tripping. With my forward momentum, I slammed into the wall opposite the top of the stairs, knocking my head and falling to the floor, but not staying there. A second later, I was on my feet and out of the stairwell, screaming again on my way out of my unfinished office and towards the kitchen. Seconds after that, I was bursting through the back door and out into the backyard, running full tilt towards the rear alley until some shred of sanity reminded me that I was about to run, soaking wet, through the hood while wearing nothing but bright red garters and dark stockings.

I ended up in the rear corner, huddled up against a wild rosebush that we'd decided to leave as part of a natural border between the yard and the alleyway. I was out of anyone's sight, but as far from the house as I could possibly get. In the hot sun, I shivered with fear, knees drawn up and hugging myself as I stared at the back of the house, sobbing and trembling, unable to comprehend what had just happened, or to even think rationally for at least a half hour.

It was longer than that before I was able to start moving towards the house. I didn't want to but, after all, I had to. I was naked and, as private as the backyard was, I simply couldn't stay there, could I? In fear and paranoia, I actually crawled the first ten or so feet, making my way on hands and knees. I suppose my animal instincts had kicked in, telling me I was less detectable this way, but I soon got to my feet, warily approaching the back door.

Breathing heavily, every sense and nerve at attention, it took a few minutes to find the nerve to step inside. From that position, I could see the open office door, set in the unpainted drywall bulkhead that Donna and Joel had built.

Nothing spoke to me from the basement.

It was the hardest thing I've ever had to do, making my way to that office, carefully peering around the jamb to look at the basement door. It was still open, the maw of darkness beyond it threatening my very sanity, but I had to get past it in order to get upstairs.

Would the office door slam shut behind me, barring my escape so whatever it was that was down in the basement could come up the stairs, grab me by my ankles and drag me back down there to the inky, horrible darkness where it could-?

I forced these frightfully illustrated fears from my mind, knowing that these thoughts would never get me by that door and up the stairs. That's when my eye caught Joel's air compressor and nail gun. As uncomfortable as I was with the thing, I was then glad that Donna had taught me how to use it, just as glad to see that the gun was still connected to the air hose, because I'd had trouble with connecting it when she showed me how.

Before I could change my mind, I hurriedly stepped into the room, grabbing the gun from the floor with a prayer to the God who probably no longer loved me, if he ever had, that there would be enough air left in the compressor's tank for what I needed. Chest heaving with my fearful, laboured breathing, I quickly stepped to the basement door, slammed it shut and, with a panicked sound, began driving nails through its edge and into the solid old jamb in order that it would stay that way. And I kept on driving nails until the gun's magazine ran out of them. I'd guess I drove about twenty, maybe twenty-five before that happened and, in my mind, it wasn't nearly enough.

A minute later, I was upstairs again, hurriedly getting dressed in the tight jeans I'd been wearing a few days before and white, backless halter top because they happened to be lying handily about. No panties, no bra, no problem. Stepping into a pair of low heeled shoes for the same reason, I grabbed my wallet and keys before going back to the bathroom for my phone.

Even though I would have heard the door breaking open from the inside, I still hesitated at the top of the stairs, staring down them for long seconds before I could convince myself to descend, hurrying out of the office without so much as looking at the awful basement door. In fact, I had to force myself to close and lock the front door before hurrying to my car.

I'd managed to get as far as the Cree Land Mini-Mart, quickly pulling into the lot and parking against the side of the building. With 'fight or flight' time over, my body had to have a little time to violently shake while I cried.

Not quite forty-five minutes later, one trembling hand on the wheel and one nervously rubbing my thigh, I contemplated Donna's front door from my parking spot at the curb across the street. All the good reasons for not seeing her there still existed, but there I was just the same, mostly because there were now equally good, opposing reasons for a frank discussion with her.

The thing in the basement had said that Donna loved me which, in my mind, pointed to a connection between it and her. Events regarding the Major and the 'donations' of the Bennetts and the Rahmans, while still an issue, weren't a present concern. I'd just had the life practically scared from me, and while I admittedly had to wonder if I was losing my marbles, that was a fact that couldn't be ignored. Because, if I wasn't losing my marbles, it was pretty clear that I was being messed with and, if Donna was involved, I wanted to know what was going on. Yes, I was still afraid of how she'd react to me following her there, but I was a lot more afraid of going back to the Mission.

So, I got out of the car with no plan whatsoever as to how I'd explain to my beautiful and possibly dangerous assistant the reason for how I knew where she lived. Walking up the driveway and to the front door, I didn't even hesitate long enough to allow myself to think about it before I pushed the little doorbell button and waited.

When the door opened, my mind fell on its tushie as I recognized the woman who regarded me with a curious expression as Donna Liski. No, not my assistant, Donna Liski, but the Donna Liski from the Facebook profile, the person I'd run across while trying to research the Donna Liski I knew.

My lower jaw hung as I stared at this woman in a decent, dark brown summer dress, totally dumbfounded while my brain tripped over itself in an effort to make sense of this development.

"Are you alright?" She asked with an odd mixture of positive concern as she seemed to look closely at me.

" ... I..."

"Do you need help?"

"I'm looking for..."

" ... Yes?"

"I'm sorry, I... must have the wrong house..."

"Are you alright?" she asked again, this time adding, "You seem to have bumped your head."

"What?"

"Your head," she said, gesturing to it. "There's some blood at your hairline. It looks dried. Are you alright?"

Still in a stupor, I raised a hand to my forehead and soon found a bump where she'd indicated I would, my hand coming away with dried blood on my fingers. Of course, this was from when I'd hit my head in my panicked flight from the basement stairwell, but I didn't remember that as I stood there in front of the other Donna Liski, and this only added to my confusion.

"I'm not... I don't know what happened."

" ... O-kay. Um, are you feeling alright? Maybe a little dizzy? Nauseous? Are your eyes focusing properly?"

Just then beginning to come back to my senses, I realized that she was trying to ascertain whether or not I had a concussion.

"No, I- I'm alright. I just... hit my head. On the way over here."

"Were you in a car accident?"

"No," I replied, forcing a smile over my confusion as to how this Donna Liski could be here. "It's just- it's nothing, I just... um, I was looking for a woman named Donna Liski."

"Well, that's me," she admitted.

"No, I mean a different Donna Liski. I thought she lived here, but I... I guess I was mistaken."

At this, she frowned, her eyes casting themselves at my chest, but she wasn't actually looking at my chest. She seemed to be contemplating something, and I could practically hear the gears of her mind grinding away before she looked back up at me with her confused frown.

"I'm not sure I can help you. Goodbye."

And with that, my brief meeting with the other Donna Liski was over. I remained there, on her front porch, gathering my senses for long seconds before I was able to turn and make my way back to my car. Once there, I checked my forehead in the rear view mirror and indeed found an injury at my hairline. There was a short line of blood that had run from it before it stopped, drying to mostly flake away, and it took me some moments before I could remember how I'd gotten it.

At the moment though, neither this nor the mess that my hair was in bore any real weight in my mind and, as I went about trying to clean myself up a little, I returned to the mystery of the Donna Liski I'd just met. I didn't have to ponder this long, though.

I'd just finished tying my hair into a ponytail with a fuzzy red elastic that I'd had in the console when I looked up, startled to find Donna's silver Acura pulled up beside me, driver's side to driver's side. She simply sat there with her window down, staring at me from behind a pair of large, black sunglasses with no discernable expression.

I had no idea what to do. I felt as though I'd just been caught rummaging through her purse while she stared as though waiting for me to explain myself from behind my closed window. I started by lowering the glass between us.

"Aren't we clever?" she commented, her tone as expressionless as her features, her manner frightening me just a little.

"We need to talk," I told her, managing not to sound frightened, at least not much.

"Yes, we do. Come on, in the house."

Throwing her car into reverse, she backed up for twenty feet before pulling ahead and into her driveway. I watched, hesitant to follow, but I'd gone there for a reason. I'd wanted answers and I still did, my fear of her and whatever was going on with the other Donna Liski notwithstanding. So I put the window back up and got out, meeting her at the front step where she opened the door and walked inside.

"Mistress!" the other Donna excitedly expelled, "We're so glad you're home! We've been waiting and wait- ting..."

Seeing me, the other Donna's excited, practically worshipful verbal gush died off before she began again, this time in a worried, almost fearful tone.

"I-I'm sorry, Mistress, she was just here, at the front door, and I didn't know what to-!"

"Shut up and get me lemonade," Donna droned.

"Yes, Mistress, right away, Mistress!"

She practically fled from the very nicely appointed Livingroom I'd found myself in, and that's when I noticed a man in the kitchen doorway towards which she was hurrying. He was of average height, attractive, seemed to be in good shape and looked successful, like the other Donna, but also nervous and unsure of himself, like a kid whose parent was busy deciding whether or not punishment was due. Standing there in dark blue designer jeans and a yellow polo shirt, he brushed a lock of stylishly cut blonde hair from his attractive face as he stood aside for the oncoming, other Donna Liski.

"Get out of here, Roman," my Donna tersely directed at him.

"Yes, Mistress!" he piped before receding to the kitchen along with the other Donna.

I'm sure you can understand how, standing there, I was having a hard time with this, not to mention a sudden new wariness of my 'assistant', a title that now seemed utterly ridiculous as I watched her walk further into the expensively furnished Livingroom.

"Have a seat, Tara," she sighed, loosely gesturing to the dark blue, soft leather couch. "You want something to drink? Eat?"

I couldn't answer, finding it to be all I could do to walk to the couch and take a seat at one end, keeping a very wary eye on her the entire time.

"Oh, for Christ's sakes, Tara, will you loosen up?" she scoffed as she sat at the other end of the couch. "You know you're safe with me. Now, do you want anything, or not?"

I shook my head as she made herself comfortable, laying her leg up on the seat between us, bent at the knee. She looked as appetizing as ever but, at the time, I had no interest in her perfect body anymore than her offer of refreshments.

"Suit yourself," she said as the other Donna quickly approached from behind, adding, "If you change your mind- Donna, this is Tara. Whatever she wants, you and Roman get it for her, pronto. That clear?"

"Yes, Mistress, crystal clear!" the other Donna cheerfully assured, handing a tall glass of lemonade to Donna before turning to ask me, "Tara, would you like anything? Anything at all?"

"No, I-I'm fine," I assured her.

"Maybe you'd like to use me, or my husband? Maybe both of us? We'll do anything, Tara. Anything at all."

"Uh... nooo, I'm really fine."

"Okay," she joyfully accepted before removing herself from our presence.

After watching her go, I looked back around to Donna as she put her glass down on the expensive coffee table before us, milky white rings from glasses without coasters all over its otherwise perfect, polished wood surface.

"So," she said, breaking the ice. "How'd you find this place?"

" ... I followed you. From Spices of Punjab."

"And why in hell would you ever do that?" she asked, obviously irritated about it.

"Because... because I started noticing some... odd things about you. About how people act around you. And I realized that, as close as we'd become, I really knew nothing about you, so I wanted to see your home because one can get a good sense of a person from his or her home," I warily explained.

"Of course."

"Trouble was, when I drove to the address that you put on your resume..."

She nodded, a barely tolerant grin emerging, and was about to say something when a calico cat hopped up into her lap.

"Mimsy!" she exclaimed, her face lighting up with simple pleasure at the sight of the creature. "Oooh, Mimsy moo, how are you?"

The cat obviously loved her, purring loud enough to be heard from the street as it turned constant circles in her lap, Donna lovingly petting it.

"I love cats," she needlessly said. "I don't have to ask if you do."

I also loved cats, though my life had never allowed for one. I did have to wonder at how she'd know this about me, as that particular subject of conversation had never come up between us before.

"Dogs, on the other hand..." she added with a sneer. "Almost nothing makes me happier than when I kill a fucking dog, especially when I run it down with a car because the dirty bastards usually take quite a while to suffer before they kick. Don't they, Mimsy moo? Don't they? Yes, they do."

Okay, I didn't much care for dogs either, but that was a bit chilling.

"You go now, Mimsy. Tara and I are having a chat."

With that, the cat hopped down and wandered off. I watched it go in the silence it left until I turned back to her to lay the cards on the table.

"Donna... what in hell is going on?"

Sitting back, she took a moment to run her eyes over my body with an appreciative expression before replying with, "I think you already have a pretty good idea of what's going on."