As I sat submerged in that heavenly bath, relaxed from my climax, I let my thoughts drift. It occurred to me that I'd been delivered here by a devious player on a dark stage, to be held hostage in the home of a wealthy, wickedly erotic man of animal passions, and I hadn't brought along so much as a change of underthings. Aunt Margaret would be mortified--and that thought made me laugh out loud for the first time in weeks! It seemed a sign my life was about to change dramatically, and I welcomed such a metamorphosis with every pulse of my warm, wet body.

It wasn't all roses, however. Now that I had a chance to think, I realized the past two days presented questions only a naive fool wouldn't ask. Why had Ferral Graves deceived me last night? What secrets compelled Aaron Lovejoy to bring me here and set off a fresh round of animosities? And what sort of woman had the beautiful Ravenna Graves been, to inspire such obsessive love and possessive hatred between these two men?

A raising of the hairs at my nape made me open my eyes. Even though the bathroom door was shut, I knew damn well someone was standing on its other side listening to me...keeping track of my every splash, or perhaps making sure I hadn't fallen asleep.

I would have to toe the mark at Raven Crest, that much was certain. Both Dr. Graves and Subi were capable of a passionate fury that could catch me up in a maelstrom of stormy emotions--extreme jealousy being the least of them. And if things here became intolerable, it was a long walk back to town. I had no doubt Ferral Graves wouldn't allow my escape, anyway. Far too powerful, that man.

And, deep down, I didn't really want to leave. Beneath my tingling skin, and muscles slack from their exertions with the Geisha and her master, the secrets of this house and the man who ruled it were far too intriguing to walk away from. Much more compelling--more real--than the revelations I'd heard from sitters, and the ones I'd pronounced myself, around a seance table.

Feeling that mental prod more strongly now, I stood up and dried myself. No sooner had I stepped onto the floor, which was wet from our cavortings, than the door eased open on silent hinges. My host stepped in and draped a voluminous dressing gown on a peg by the door. Then he looked at my bare body as though he'd acquired that right simply by letting me into his house. When I opened my mouth to challenge him--to ask why he'd presumed me to be finished bathing--the deep lines alongside his sensual mouth flickered.

"There's no hiding from me, Caressa," he replied with a chuckle. "You're so sensually attuned--so innately horny, if you will--that I'll smell you before I see you. I'll hear you, or just sense your presence, no matter where you are in this house. No matter how quiet you try to be."

Those feral eyes narrowed, though he continued to smile. "And when I want you, Caressa, there'll be no turning away. No resisting my call. I'll see you downstairs when you've dressed." He stepped into the hall, but then turned back to me. "Leave your hair down.

The door shut firmly behind him then, and his footsteps faded into the tomblike silence of the house.

I stood with my towel draped over my breasts, in awe and fear of Dr. Ferral Graves. Was there not a thought in my head he couldn't ascertain before I knew of it myself? Yet it was extremely flattering, to have this fascinating man paying such close, intimate attention to me.

Graves wasn't the only one who had a sixth sense about people, however. From the moment he'd first stuck his head out into the storm last night, I'd noted the overwhelming force of his aura; evidence of the painful secret he was running from but refused to admit. And when I'd wrapped myself in the lovely dressing gown of deep green silk and allowed him to seat me at his massive table in the dining room, I became even more aware of the potential beast lurking beneath Ferral's tightly-controlled surface.

Or was it simply because we were being observed by nearly a dozen preserved animal heads--souvenirs of his safaris? Dr. Graves was opening a folder filled with circulars of some sort, but I was riveted by the trophies looking down at us from along the mezzanine. Above the table, the room was open for a full two stories to allow the massive chandelier to hang in its center, while making the hallway on the second floor visible from the spindled railing that formed a square above us. A Bengal tiger, a male lion, an elephant, a rhinoceros, a bison, and an elk were among the creatures who gazed at us...perhaps studying the hunter who'd brought them down, and who was considering his next conquest?

"Recognize these?" Graves had spread the papers on the table, watching my reaction.

I focused on what my host was showing me, and my heart went still.

"You must have every show bill and pamphlet Uncle Ludlow ever had printed," I murmured as I fingered them. Most showed a photo of me with an ethereal glow spotlighting my eyes--a photographer's way of lending his subject a visionary sense of mystery--and featured headlines with the towns and dates where I'd be appearing, either in opera houses or on a makeshift stage attached to the wagon. "Some of these date back to when we first went on the circuit, nearly ten years ago."

"That's nearly half your life, Caressa."

"Yes, I was only fifteen," I whispered, subdued even now by the memory of those circumstances. "I was having visions, saying and seeing things my Aunt Margaret believed could only be inspired by the devil, so she threw me out. Uncle Ludlow was an enterprising sort. He saw a way to showcase my talents to lucrative advantage and leave behind the shrew he married. So off we went."

"And how did you say he died?"

Those bottomless blue eyes registered a suspicion I couldn't ignore. "Why do you think I killed him?" I demanded in a low whisper. "I told you before--he ate some tainted food a few months ago, and refused to see a doctor."

It was Ferral's turn to blink, for I'd fixed my own inscrutable gaze on him. His teeth flashed white in his shadowy face, a conciliatory grin as he reached for my hand. "My dearest Caressa, I would never accuse a young woman of your--"

"You already have, sir. And I'll warn you again--if this sort of hostility continues, it will be useless for me to summon your Ravenna's spirit."

His large hand enfolded mine for a moment, and I became aware of the alluring pattern of hair on the backs of those fingers...could've sworn that his sideburns had lengthened and closed in on his face since last night, and that his silver-splayed hair came farther down into a widow's peak than I remembered. But this was no doubt my imagination coming into play, spurred on by the intimate contact he'd initiated.

"Point well taken," he commented, releasing me to sit back against his tall-backed chair. "It behooves me to behave as though you, too, can read people and their innermost fears and desires. Shall we call a truce?"

I was about to answer, when Subi glided silently from the direction of what must've been the kitchen, bearing a large tray that held a platter of roasted meat and potatoes, and plates and utensils for two. Ferral and I sat silently as she placed our midday meal before us, and although he kept his eyes on me I couldn't help but notice the Oriental's tight, white expression as she dispatched her duties.

"Perhaps I should reserve my reconciliation until after we eat," I replied when the Geisha had left. "Your servant appears to be pouting--still angry because I upstaged her in the tub. For all I know, she's tainted my food."

Graves let out a laugh that resounded around the dining room walls, and then helped us both to large portions of the succulent meat and vegetables. "You women dwell on your failures and disappointments too long! You should chalk them up to experience and move on--live your life without regrets!"

He took a large mouthful of the meat, as though to prove the food from our common platter was not only safe but quite tasty. His exuberance was only a mask, however: his deep-set, shadowy eyes betrayed more regrets--probably about his young wife and her demise--than he would ever admit aloud. Especially to me.

I followed his lead, and indeed the roast was tender and well-seasoned, the best cut of meat I'd enjoyed in weeks. We ate in silence for a few minutes, as though allowing our previous contentions to settle before continuing our talk. Yet even as we sat there--Ferral at the head of the table, and I to his left--I felt a power so dark and potent and dangerous, I could barely keep still in his presence. He wasn't touching me now, yet he dominated the room...controlled the very air, with the prowess and power that had felled the majestic beasts displayed around the second-floor railing.

"About these pamphlets," he finally said, riffling them into an untidy collage on the table between us. "I've followed your career for years, Miss Caine. Not only because Ravenna was deeply interested in the spirit realm and your seances, but because I myself have sat at the tables of some notable European mediums. You've heard of D. D. Home, I assume?"

My eyes widened and the bite of meat I was swallowing stuck in my throat. How was it this man knew exactly which remarks would stop my heart?

No point in avoiding his question, however, for Graves would keep prodding until he got answers. I set down my fork and focused on those probing cerulean eyes.

"From different things Mama said before she passed on," I began quietly, "and from allusions my aunt was so fond of making about her sister, I suspect Daniel Dunglas Home was my father. He was married. But not to Mama."

Ferral had leaned closer, as though to absorb every possible nuance of my words. "Ah. An indelicate situation," he replied quietly. "No doubt another reason for your Aunt Margaret to resent your upkeep after your mother died, and to send you packing when you displayed similar...unsettling abilities and characteristics."

I shrugged, trying not to soften with this man's sympathies. He sounded like a compassionate physician now, concerned for his patient's emotional well-being. But I could not afford to fall under his spell.

"I am who I am," I said, separating the pieces of colored paper that advertised my years on the road. "It galled Margaret Pratt that Mama was adventurous enough to visit the Continent, instead of settling into a conventional life with a husband. And when she returned in the family way, proud rather than penitent, her older sister saw that she never spent a day under Uncle Ludlow's roof that didn't include bowing and scraping. Reminders of her sinful nature.

"I was very young when Mama fell sick and died, but even then I realized it was her only chance for personal peace," I continued, encouraged by Ferral's intense expression. "And then, when Mama began appearing to me, encouraging me to develop my own inner powers, it was more than Aunt Margaret could stand. She tossed me out before I could wreak similar scandal upon her, claiming I'd never amount to more than a whore."

"A fate you didn't deserve," Graves murmured, taking my hand in his to emphasize his convictions. "And I can only imagine the ways your uncle capitalized on your unique skills...your radiance and inner light...when he took you on the circuit."

He studied my face, apparently fascinated by the pale skin and scattered freckles I'd always found unattractive. "Pardon my saying so, but Ludlow Pratt had an unsavory reputation as a huckster. I now suspect his trickery was a desire to get in on your act, because Ravenna collected articles about Home and other notable mediums, and after attending your seance, she remarked at how you reminded her of him. I sat with Home myself, in England, and I certainly see the resemblance."

My mind was spinning around these unexpected revelations, because if Mama had met my father on the Continent, back before I was born--

"How old are you?" I blurted.

Ferral grinned. "Did you inherit all of his talents, Caressa?"

I fell back back against my chair, trying to catch up with what had been said--and not--in the past few moments. My host's inscrutable expression as he stretched across the table, maintaining his grip, told me there'd be no quizzing him about such personal matters. Yet I found his lighter mood appealing enough to play along with it.

"You haven't seen the furniture moving of its own volition, have you?" I teased, glancing around us. "I seem to have my father's talent for connecting with the dead, but not for telekinesis. Although--" I leaned forward, coyly glancing toward his lap, "--who knows what I might levitate, if I put my mind to it?"

Laughing, Ferral wrapped his other hand over mine, completing a cocoon around fingers that felt tiny and insignificant in comparison. His eyes followed the flow of my hair over my shoulders, as though his hands wished to get lost in it. "Will you excuse my accusations then, Caressa? Will you forgive me for humiliating you?"

Back to utter seriousness, without warning. As Graves gazed at me with those earnest blue eyes, his lithe body stretched submissively across the table, I would've forgiven the sins of his entire lifetime. Before I realized it, my other hand sat atop our knot of entwined fingers, like a symbol of ties that would bind us no matter what I said or did to assist his quest for Ravenna. While my rational mind warned me against such a show of united intents, my heart and that deeper, inexplicable sixth sense told me there was no going back: this man had attracted me with an animal magnetism I didn't want to deny. And this had been my destiny all along.

"What are you thinking?"

Such a worldly man could read yearnings on my plain little face I myself didn't recognize, so it was pointless to lie. "Intuition tells me you and I have been brought together to--"

"Don't!"

It was more a bark than a command, and once again his mood changed like quicksilver. Springing from his chair, Ferral landed on his knees between mine to yank open my robe.

"Falling for romantic fantasies could be a fatal mistake, Caressa," he hissed. "Just as you are innately good, I am inherently evil--a wolf without benefit of sheep's clothing. Once I've gotten what I want from you, you'll be gone. Ruined. Never forget that."

He might as well have thrown cold water in my face. Yet his mouth ignited the breast he'd bared, and as his rough tongue laved my nipple, I squirmed with a sudden rush of desire. "Dr. Graves--please! We can't just--"

But can't wasn't in this man's vocabulary. With a low grunt he continued to suckle my sensitive flesh, his lips pursing with the suction that tugged my entire breast into his hot, wet mouth. When I cried out, Ferral cupped my bare bottom and crushed me against his chest, spreading my legs to rub my cunt against the front of his shirt. His buttons gave, and the coarse hair beneath the silk slithered against my slit. Already the inner springs were tightening--already my senses were running amok. Despite the protests I should have been making, my fingers speared into his raven waves and my head fell back.

Effortlessly, he lifted me onto the table top, flinging aside our plates. Flatware clattered to the floor and china shattered around it. When I hit the hard surface, I saw stars...or was it the millions of prisms in the crystal chandelier, quivering above me? The silk robe whispered beneath my writhing body as Ferral splayed my legs. He tasted every inch of my exposed flesh as his mouth trailed below my breasts, but his haste was evident: he was moaning now, driven by the carnality that defined him. Without further ado, he pulled apart my pussy lips and stuck his tongue inside me.

My screams echoed in the open room. As my head rolled from side to side, I caught glimpses of those animals gazing down with their shiny glass eyes, drinking in the sight of my demise--for surely I would fall beneath the force of this man's will, just as they had. The rhinoceros with his single horn mocked me...called to mind the cock I'd seen plunging into Subi on the stairs, which only increased my agitation.

In and out he thrust his tongue, and then he circled my clit with it until I was about to explode. At that moment of crisis, he delved inside my wet passageway again, squelching with an eager hunger. His hot breath fanned the flames he and his maid had kindled upstairs, making the fire flare inside me.

"Please!" I cried. "Dear God, Ferral--take me! Fuck me now!"

He hauled himself up to look directly down at me, wiping his mouth on his sleeve. His chest heaved with his rapid breathing, and his eyes glowed like coals from Hell. "You don't know what you're asking, sweet creature. Sometimes it's best not to get what we wish for."

He rammed his thumb inside me then, twisting it until he hit a spot that sent fireworks shooting off like rockets. I screamed, convulsing as I grabbed for him. Clutching me against his massive chest, Ferral rocked me relentlessly, pounding my pussy to reach the inner recesses no man had plumbed before, until my entire body began to shudder. I erupted like a volcano, spewing juice and babbling incoherently until all my energies were spent.

When I regained a sense of what had happened, I felt the after-twitch of muscles strained to their limits...a shiver of gooseflesh on my suddenly-bared body...a copious wetness between my legs that was puddling on the table, saturating the silk dressing gown. I caught a glimpse of an indignant white face and knew that Subi had witnessed her master's attack--and my unabashed reaction to it.

But my eyes instinctively sought those of Ferral Graves, for if I avoided them--if he thought I was one bit cowed by what he'd just done to me--there would be no dealing with him. I would be his doormat, his witless slave, and this would put me too much under his control as I sought to contact Ravenna on Saturday night.

He was indeed gazing at me, defying me with dark, dilated pupils rimmed in blue, beneath arched brows that brooked no argument. In this room of cobalt walls, gloomy even at noonday, his feral face reflected the bleak light of the chandelier and I realized he was a man possessed. Driven by his madness, just as he'd warned me at the cabin.

He let out his breath. His body relaxed, and he rebuttoned his shirt. But as he allowed his gaze to roam over my half-naked body, spread before him like the remains of a previously-eaten feast, I knew this was a tactic to keep him from touching me. He seemed to lose all control when we came into contact.

"I'll take you to your room now. You'll be safer there."

I swallowed the questions popping into my mind. My limbs felt limp, and I wondered if I had enough strength to climb the stairs--and if I'd be able to hide myself from the wickedness he hinted at, even behind a closed door. Ferral stepped back, composed now, surveying the mess on the floor as though he wondered how it got there. His irises regained their icy hue, and although I sensed no anger in them, I knew better than to expect his assistance. Clumsily I wrapped the gown around me and sat up.

He walked briskly ahead of me, giving me little chance to look through doorways of the other rooms flanking the entryway. Up the right side of the double, curved stairway we went, our feet thumping against the carpet, past the haunting portrait of the windswept Ravenna lit by the full moon. No time to ponder the mysteries behind those painted eyes; no inclination to ask him about the rest of his magnificent, if shadowy, abode.

Ferral led me past the bathroom, beyond closed, double doors I sensed were his own. At the next doorway, he paused to give me an ominous look. "This was my wife's room, and her studio. It's been locked since her death, and under no circumstances are you to enter it. Do you understand me?"

"Yes. Of course," I murmured, for in the dimly-lit hallway Ferral Graves seemed even more menacing than he'd been downstairs.

"Subi's quarters are across the hall here. Also private."

"I wouldn't dream of intruding," I breathed.

It was a relief to keep moving, for this passageway, painted a deep maroon with only the occasional table to hold a flickering lamp, seemed filled with phantasms just waiting to accost me from the shadows. I chided myself for allowing my imagination to overtake rational thought again, but I'd had enough surprises for one day. And who could tell what Graves might do once he showed me my room?

At the end of the hall, he swung open a door. "You'll be quite comfortable here, Caressa, but for everyone's sake I advise you to remain in your room until morning. Subi will bring your supper tray."

Just like that, he was dismissing me; expecting me to obey without protest or question. We stood together in the gloom, only the sound of our breathing between us, until Ferral impatiently pointed through the doorway. Like a recalcitrant child I entered the room, already plotting how I'd slip away later. When I turned to bid my host a pleasant afternoon, I was met with the closing door and then the snick of the lock.

"You'll thank me for this later," came his low voice, and then his footsteps disappeared down the hallway.

I felt anything but thankful, however. And far from safe.

Houses have their habits; souls they will reveal to those who listen to their silent stories with sympathy and patience. Raven Crest told me a tragic tale, indeed, for in the sonorous ticking and bonging of its clocks I heard the pulse of a pair death had separated. As afternoon settled into evening, so did this house--resigning itself to another night bereft of joy or purpose or even the simplest of pleasures. Out my window, to the east, the shadows fell over the mountains and imparted an eerie gloom from which this residence longed to be liberated.

That was why I'd come, of course. The estate would never rise from its funereal curse until Ferral Graves knew the whys and hows of his lovely wife's death. Until I persuaded her to speak her grief and free us all from its heart-rending grip.

Subi knocked and quickly set a tray on the floor before locking me in again, around seven. She didn't look at me, and I didn't touch her food. Our mutual distrust was a shame, for she could impart a great deal of wisdom and insight about her master and mistress, just as I could assure her I'd come with the best of intentions.

Ferral Graves stood between us, however. Even now, I felt his presence from the depths of this house--his control over our very oxygen, and the thoughts he allowed us to have, and the fates we hoped to live out. Ironic, that a man of such power was enslaved to a secret I had yet to ascertain--a quirk of birth or personality or blood that ruled his mercurial moods and made him impossible to live with. His Turkish tobacco permeated the air, and I sensed he was brooding in his room, smoking that pipe because it fostered thoughts of my own emotional scars.

How like me, to be so attracted to a soul that needed healing. Graves was a man who lived for his wounds, for these inner injuries gave him enough pain to remind him he was alive. Sad story, that. And as I sat watching the dusk settle into the canyons before it darkened the sky, I knew in my heart I might not be strong enough, skilled enough--stable enough, in mind and spirit--to conquer his demons before they devoured me, as well.

I lit the lamp on the bedside table. To reassure myself, I reached into the valise Subi must have carried up, to touch the only mementos of my earliest life: Mama's lace handkerchief, her Bible, and a small ambrotype of her head and shoulders. These were the objects I focused upon before each seance, to establish my contact with Mama and to draw upon her abundant faith in my abilities. As I held the translucent print before the flickering flame, similar to viewing a glass negative with an orange-sepia cast, I smiled at her likeness. Through thick and thin these past twenty years she'd been with me, and I took courage from knowing that if I didn't survive this venture, I'd be with her, too. It made Dr. Graves a far less ominous opponent.

I found a warm nightgown among the clothes in the highboy--garments I sensed had belonged to Ravenna--and after pulling the heavy velvet draperies shut, I climbed into the four-poster for the night. My quarters were as comfortable as Ferral had said, as the room was furnished in warm cherry wood with a green and gold decor that felt less oppressive than the other rooms I'd seen. I had books on my shelves, a writing desk by the window, and an overstuffed chair that invited reading or a nap. A cozy fire was burning low, making the white marble tiles and hearth glow with its warmth. It had been no real hardship to remain sequestered here, after two grueling days, and I said my prayers with anticipation of the first good night's sleep I'd enjoyed in weeks.

I should have known better.

After drifting off, I was awakened--had I slept three minutes, or three hours?--by a sense that odd phenomena had started. At first I could reason them away: the scraping of tree limbs against the stone exterior; cold air whistling through cracks in the windows and walls; the creaking of the massive house as the temperature dropped. I lay quietly in the darkness, my eyes adapting to the shadows and identifying them in relation to the furnishings.

When the heavy draperies began to move, however, I clutched the coverlet around my chin. This was no draft from the window, for the rippling began at the right side of the curtain and slowly, methodically, proceeded all the way across it! My body stiffened and I clenched my eyes shut, fearing some evil force in the house had come to claim me.

"Mama?" I whispered, hoping her spirit was here, yet knowing her presence never made me shake so badly.

No response. Just the continued sway of those draperies, which were far too long and heavy to be moved by air coming in around a loose pane of glass.

"Uncle Ludlow?" I muttered. I had no reason to believe this man would present himself to me from the other side, after all the unpleasant ways he'd haunted me while alive. But I couldn't rule out any possibilities.

The curtains stilled then, leaving me to wonder what remained in this room with me. Gooseflesh prickled my skin, even under the warm nightgown, and my mouth was so dry I couldn't swallow--didn't want my throat to click and obscure any possible clue. I lay utterly silent and still for what seemed an eternity, and then I heard strange strains of music...like some disembodied soul keening in the distance.

When I willed my pulse not to pound so loudly in my ears, I realized this unsettling song was coming from the room next to mine--the room Ferral declared had been locked since Ravenna's death! I listened more intently then, and I was sure of it. Someone--or something--was moving around in the dead woman's chambers, accompanied by an unearthly harmony that filled my mouth with the coppery tang of fear.

Had Ravenna's spirit returned to her room? Or--and this was a far-fetched notion brought on by adrenalin and wayward imagination--was Mrs. Graves actually there? What if her death, or at least the stories of it, had been carefully contrived to cover some awful secret? Or were they merely a hoax to lure me here, so Ferral Graves could expose me as a fraud?

My body throbbed with this awful thought. The shuffling and singing in the next room sounded far too real to be made by a ghost.

I licked my lips, contemplating my options. It seemed I could either lie here and be taken advantage of during my immobile, frightened state...or I could defy orders in the interest of self-preservation. I'd never been one to cower in the corner--at least not without being driven there during a fight--and this was no time to start.

Slowly I rose from the bed and slid to the floor. With every step, I searched the dimness but saw no sign of whatever had moved my draperies. I fumbled in my valise for a ribbon to tie back my hair, and then fished out a hair pin. The hallway was silent, so I quietly worked the rounded end of my universal key into the keyhole.

Click.

Still I heard no sign of anyone outside--only the continued keening in the adjacent room--so I cautiously opened my door. No one was about. As I stepped out on bare feet, however, something swished past the hem of my nightgown and I had to cover my mouth to keep from screaming.

Fu, the cat, loped along the carpet toward the stairway. At least my phantom had revealed himself, but the mystery of how he'd gotten into my room would have to be solved another time. When I could breathe evenly again, I proceeded along the dark wall toward the door I'd been forbidden to open.

As I bent low to find the keyhole, those strains of music sent a fresh wave of gooseflesh up my spine. I saw no light, so I shifted my hairpin inside the opening until I found it--the keyhole cover put in place from inside the room. A few deft prods moved it aside enough that when I peered through the small opening, I could see the dim flickerings of candles--dozens of candles!--lit around the fireplace located on the opposite side of the wall from mine. Incense tickled my nostrils until I feared I might sneeze, but I held my breath, gazing intently into the room my host had declared off-limits and unoccupied.

A life-sized shadow caught my eye, dancing to the dissonant harmonies I heard more clearly now...a twanging of some foreign stringed instrument. When Subi moved into view, I nearly yelped in exasperation! She was naked, swaying seductively as she plucked something that resembled a guitar, facing the candles on the mantel and the hearth as though dancing a ritual or a religious ceremony. Her song rose to a melancholy wail in a language I didn't understand--just as I wondered why she was in Ravenna's room, causing such an eerie commotion in the middle of the night. She turned, and as though sensing my presence, she undulated like a snake rising from a basket, mesmerized by the spell of her own music.

Her hips swung lush and full, and when she parted her thighs the blue-black bush between them wriggled with its own rhythm. Above the strange guitar, her breasts bobbed, with distended nipples riding the waves of her butter-colored flesh. Her white face looked as unlined and lifeless as a plaster mask, except for eyes closed in something akin to religious ecstasy as she continued to swing her body. Her rhythm quickened, and she appeared to be fucking a phantasm, in the final throes approaching climax.

I was so engrossed in watching Subi's erotic Oriental ritual through the keyhole, I didn't realize I was no longer alone. A hand caught me at the hip and another clapped over my mouth to muffle my surprised shriek, and then Ferral Graves pulled me back against his taut body. His beard teased my cheek with its delicious silkiness, but the rest of him was very hard...very insistent, indeed.

"Best not to roam these halls after dark, Caressa," he growled against my ear. "Here at Raven Crest, things get wicked at midnight."

He slung me over his shoulder then, chuckling at my kicking and pounding on his back as though I were a little girl due for a spanking. "Why do you defy me, naughty angel?" he teased as he swung the door open. "Don't you know every crime has its punishment? Every action brings my reaction?"

At this interruption of her dance, the Geisha glared at us and stopped twanging on her instrument...although I swore her opaque white makeup hid a smug smile for having lured me here as part of some malevolent plot.

"Set aside your shamisen, Subi. Let's strip her down and bind her to the headboard," Ferral said as he dropped me unceremoniously on the high, canopied bed. "If our guest insists on peeping, by God, we'll give her something to watch!"

Before I could wiggle away, I was caught on my hands and knees between the two of them. My nightgown flew up over my head and a hand gleefully smacked my backside. When I reared up with a yelp, Subi caught my arms and tugged the soft nightgown over my head.

"This gown Missy Ravenna's!" she informed me with an evil hiss. "Seance lady got no right--"

"I had no choice!" I spat back, but all it earned me was a ride backward against the spindled headboard, where Ferral quickly slipped black velvet bands around my wrists and tightened them. This left me with my arms extended above my head and my breasts sticking out in a lewd position.

"Back away!" Graves then commanded his housekeeper, and he began to unbutton his shirt. "If we give her nothing to kick, she'll either wear herself out struggling, or learn to behave herself like a lady. Meanwhile, Subi-san, I request the honor of this dance...the pleasure of your most intimate company. I believe we got interrupted earlier today, and I intend to compensate you for that, my dear."

A streak of green took me by storm, and by total surprise. Why should I care what this man did to his servant? So what, if Subi was now purring like a cat and swaying those hips at him in triumph? As Ferral's silk shirt fluttered away and his pants puddled to the floor, I ogled his muscular body. A pattern of fine black hair covered his chest and limbs, catching the candles' glow as he moved with uninhibited grace toward his partner. His cock led the way, jutting forward and growing taller and prouder with each step, until I had to suck in my breath at the sight of it.

He turned from Subi to flash me a grin. "Hungry, puss? Should've eaten your dinner. Disobedient guests get to watch but never touch. Do you suppose one could starve from lack of...loving?"

I suspected Dr. Graves had just named his own malady, but I was too engrossed in his actions to comment. Although Subi had set aside her Japanese instrument, she led her master in the same swaying dance I'd eavesdropped on, and the imaginary twanging seemed to vibrate in the air around them. When she dipped back, he leaned forward, his agile body following her steps without touching her. He was her mirror image, his arms extending and rising with hers, his legs crossing and then advancing in an intricate pattern they knew well...so well, my heart balled up like an envious fist as I followed them around Ravenna's spacious chamber.

As a diversion, I glanced about the room and found it airier and more welcoming than those downstairs, in shades of fuchsia and cream and plum. Her fireplace was flanked by shelves, as was mine, but where I had books, Ravenna had displayed delicate figurines and glass pieces similar to the fine crystal I'd seen in the front parlor. French doors led out to what appeared as a solarium--all I could see at this hour was the suggestion of potted plants and a room composed mostly of windows. Her studio, no doubt. Situated to afford a painter the best light and view Raven Crest had to offer, with the mountains as a backdrop.

A languorous gasp drew my attention back to the dancers, who were now entwined like amorous asps, with Ferral wrapped around Subi from behind. When they turned, I saw the tip of his cock sliding in and out at the apex of her legs, like a tubular tongue beneath a black mustache. He held her arms above her head, stretching her on tip-toe before him, and the Geisha's expression was nothing short of euphoric. Her pear-shaped breasts fluttered and bounced with a beauty that made me ache: I'd never in my life appeared so feminine...so free. Or so empowered, when it came to controlling a man while giving him the illusion that he led the steps.

With a grunt, Graves bent forward and entered her. All pretense at rhythm and music flew aside as they coupled, bucking wildly, as though already at the brink of orgasm. His hands cupped the undersides of her breasts, offering them to me, and then he turned slightly--just enough that I could see the length of the shaft he was sliding in and out of her willing pussy. Those haunting eyes locked into mine, taunting me as he humped the Oriental before him.

Subi began to sing, a high whine that made my own insides clench with her impending release. Her juice was splattering at each smack of their bare bodies, and her skin quivered with her pent-up desire. She slid her hands over Ferral's, rubbing her breasts as she thrust back to meet his shaft's advances. With a desperate cry, she surged forward, gripping his arms for support as he carried her into a cacophony of spasms and squawks that filled the room.

Graves kissed the nape of her neck tenderly, but then pulled out and sprang onto the bed with a suddenness that took me aback. Kneeling before me, he began to rock the bed so the creakings sounded like we were crazed, rutting animals--and indeed, the cock he pointed at me was still as rigid and large as a draft stallion's. He pumped it with one hand, so fast and furious I wondered if it must hurt, but the narrowing of his eyes and the pinching of his nostrils warned me that the upcoming pain might be my own.

"Spread her legs, Subi," he rasped. "I'll mark my territory now, before that jackass Lovejoy returns tomorrow night. Just so Miss Caine fully understands who she is. And whose."

The housekeeper's brow flickered with resentment, but then she, too, hopped onto the bed. She straddled me, facing Ferral and pushing my legs apart at the knees, which opened my quivering slit to his inspection.

"Grab her ankles and stand up," he instructed. "I want to watch her face when I shoot my seed into that hot little twat."

Subi swiftly obeyed, and I gasped with the force of her handling. Up flew my feet and forward I slid, totally exposed while being pulled tight against the bindings at my wrist. Through the A the maid framed with her firm legs, I saw Ferral's silver-splayed hair waving wildly around his head as he rocked faster and harder. The bulbous tip of his cock was purple now, and the vein on its underside throbbed visibly. A drop of fluid oozed out.

"Do you want me, Caressa?" he whispered.

I swallowed hard, already bracing against his impact. Again I distracted myself by finding other things to look at--yet the most immediate view was the underside of Subi's ass, where the full, yellow moons met in a raven nest of curls that clung wetly to her cunt. The pink lips still quivered from her climax, which made the honey run in rivulets along her inner thighs. When a glob of it dropped onto my bare stomach, I writhed.

"Do you want me, Caressa?" Ferral repeated, more loudly this time and in a voice that was strained nearly to its limit. "Open your hole. I want to watch it flex, want to see the lips move as you open and close...open and close...."

Against all rational thought, my nether lips responded to his hypnotic command. With each clenching of my love muscles, I grew more agitated--not from fear of his cock's penetration, but from the desires rising ever since he'd caught me peeking through the keyhole. Yes, I craved his invasion, in the worst way. But dammit, I didn't want to beg! And I didn't want to succumb before he forced me to!

"Open wide, Caressa...open very, very wide," that low, gravelly tone continued. "Open your cunt so wide, you might expel your wetness--and then keep it open! Now!"

At the crack of his command, my eyes widened like my hole. "But I--I--"

"Don't try telling me otherwise, little imp, because you've been wet since the moment I caught you spying!" he taunted between ragged breaths. Still he pumped that cock, and he was creeping forward on his knees. "Bear down! Open so wide your clit sticks out at me like a finger!"

With that, Subi jerked my legs farther apart and I convulsed, squirting jism at him while I wondered if the Geisha might yank my thighs from their sockets. Ferral roared then, angling his head back as though in agony, and cut loose with a torrent of cum. It splattered my ass, but then he regained his focus and shot it directly into my cunt. He was only inches away, so I felt the heat and force of his seed entering me while he deprived me of the bodily contact I craved.

I thrashed in my wrist bindings, kicking against Subi's grip. "Damn you, Ferral!" I hollered. "Damn you to hell for--thinking you're too good to fuck--"

The woman holding me captive seemed equally peeved at him, yet her wrath took an avenue I never expected: she stepped between my spread, extended legs and then squatted, placing her ass on the backs of my thighs. At the first rub of her curls against mine, I railed. Subi was spreading Ferral's spunk into my pussy with hers, positioning herself in earnest now to find the angle of best contact.

The very idea of this woman venting her frustration this way repelled me, yet with each angry stroke she kicked up a wet, creamy heat that made me open myself and wiggle to assist her. Why did my body betray me this way? The dark amusement on Ferral's face made my degradation that much worse, and as his maid's slick folds slithered quickly against mine, I felt a murderous rage rising within me.

Seconds later, however, as my muscles constricted in spite of my better intentions, I gave myself over to the first twitchings of my climax. Subi, too, was snorting, crazed with the need for release she wanted at my expense. Her backside jiggled and flexed as she began to bounce against me, kicking up the heady essence of Ferral's seed between our heated slits. She settled into a spot she found advantageous then, and rubbed herself into a frenzy against my sensitive folds until her whole body rocked.

Her cries filled the room, mingling with mine as my hips convulsed against her wet heaviness. Trapped beneath her, driven to complete myself, I opened as Ferral had commanded: with my clit sticking out, like a match head rubbing briskly against flint, I ignited. On and on the wildfire raged--with Subi staying put only because her master held her shoulders down so he could watch me surrender to every last spasm.

I collapsed, limp and sweaty, my thighs aching and my slit filled with ooze. Just as I sensed Ferral staring at me, willing me to look at him, I knew it was useless to ignore his silent command. And indeed, he was leaning over his servant's curled body to hover above me, driving me to do his bidding with eyes as primal as a panther's.

"Go back to bed now, Caressa," his voice slithered like a serpent around my ear. "Rest and be ready for tomorrow night, when you'll summon my wife without any tricks--no tilting tables or tambourines floating overhead. And never forget that although your powers are prodigious, my power rules like the moon."