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I don’t know how to handle this revelation with any kind of grace. Never had I expected that Analise was Tasia’s daughter. I’m especially surprised that I hadn’t guessed it, but there is no resemblance that I can find between the ethereal sprite of a girl and the demonic Tasia—except for their ability to manipulate. I wonder if she tells me the truth.
She sees my surprise since I can’t hide it. “I didn’t think she’d tell you. Better to let you think that she’s a veteran in the sexual games we play here. You could say this was her coming out party, her debutante ball.” There’s a flash of anger in her, anger at Analise. “She’s behaved like a total whore, bed-hopping, clamoring for attention. Like most children, she was trying to rebel against me. She probably told you I feed her bread and water and chain her to the bed in the attic.”
“No, she only told me that you spanked her.”
Tasia chuckles. “I’ve never laid a hand on her, though I’m sure in her mind she thinks she’s been terribly abused.”
“I find it hard to believe that you haven’t punished her harshly,” I say, thinking of the brutal whipping that morning.
“Yes, there was today. I gave in to her longings just as you did. You played my role with her when I could not. Isn’t that interesting? I guess that makes us alike,” she suggests.
“Alike? You’re dreaming, bitch!”
“Ha! Who fucks her with a fist up her ass? Who, with more than masterful determination, violated her virgin loins? You wonder why I want revenge?”
She sounds like an angry mother, and who would blame her? I think she cackles like an old hen—like “Dorothy’s witch”. All she needs is a long pointy nose. Yet even I know that half of my malice for her is misplaced. My evaluation of her physical appearance is also skewed, for on another occasion I might find her haunting beauty mesmerizing.
“But, Cassidy, my dear, despite my maternal conflicts regarding you and Analise, I have an even better reason to have you bound before me.”
“What is that?” I ask.
“It’s what you want,” she says simply.
“I don’t believe you,” I reply.
She laughs. “Of course you do, you’re just avoiding the truth. Tell me, what is it that you want from me? Why do you take my beads, and assume my identity on the beach, and end up here with your arms bound? What do you want?”
“I want nothing,” I tell her, with as much conviction as I can possibly muster.
“Would that either of us believe that,” she says. She gets up from her chair, and strolls about the room, lighting candles, putting a match to more incense, which weaves strange smoky trails about the room, clouding clear perception.
She stands in front of me, with her eyes glimmering darkly into mine. Then she begins to disrobe, first dropping her skirt to the floor, revealing dark muscled thighs and legs much more shapely than I imagined. She removes her blouse, and except for chains about her waist and around her neck, she’s completely naked. Her body is glorious. Two enormous breasts lay passively against her chest. I wait for her to move to see them sway. Her waist is slim and her hips bloom wide and full. Unmarked thighs come together where a soft bush of trimmed curls cover just the upper triangle of her sex. Bare labia lips show below, where she’s shaved them clean. And right at the same spot where Peach had me pierced, where Analise is pierced, there’s a glistening gold ring, of roses, I think.
I know she’s nearly forty, if not older, but the eroticism and vitality of her body vibrates as if she were her daughter’s twenty-two years.
Unlike Analise, she’s as full as harvest wine’s full bodied flavor, as fiery as if she were a bride of hell, and as substantial as the rich plowed earth of springtime.
“What do you want from me?” she repeats.
I’m speechless, but as clear in thought as I’ve been for some time, all traces of anger, jealousy and revenge have fled, though I’m still not certain that there are not some last vestiges of those passions at work in the dark woman before me.
“I want from you, whatever you want from me,” I finally say. It’s yielding. It’s total surrender. Would she beat me, fuck me, enslave me to her, I will agree to anything she designs, without a prayer for release.
She pulls me to my feet, standing close to my thrust out breasts. She’s like a demon from the underworld teasing me, as she rubs her swelling bosom against my own. She pins me with her eyes as she moves against me. Her nails scratch my arms and shoulders lightly. I sense that she’ll suddenly take her talons and run them cruelly down my torso, but for the moment, she’s gentle.
“I knew you were coming to me, Cassidy,” she says. “You feel these things, you sense the way a woman feels towards you and how it changes from distaste to fascination. Every day that you’ve been here, you’ve come closer. You’ve run from it, you’ve tried to block it from your mind, but it’s always been there.”
She takes my neck in her hands, and pulls me to her so that our lips are pressed tightly together. She opens my mouth with hers, forcing her tongue inside mine. Then she backs off.
“There’s a dark mistress in you, and I don’t mean a dominant one… Ah! You may have dominated my daughter all to good intent, but that was easy; the little slut could have been plucked off the vine by anyone. No, you tried getting away from this, but your attempts were doomed.”
She presses her hand to my belly, where the ache has been, and is now, where the hollows threaten to swallow me up.
“You ran from that other woman, but she’s caught up with you now.” She presses her hand still harder, like she’s punching me in the stomach.
“You know about Elizabeth,” I murmur.
“Elizabeth? Ah yes, our dark sister has a lovely name.”
