Chapter 15: The Circle's Approval
The fire crackled, a cheerful, normal sound in a room that had just been stripped of all normality. Mildred sat back on the plush sofa, a faint, satisfied smile playing on her lips as she watched her words sink into the two other women. The scent of bergamot from the steaming teapot between them suddenly seemed cloying, too sweet for what had just been shared.
The two women were stunned from the events that Mildred had just described. Betty hid her gasping mouth with her cup of tea. Angela downed hers like a shot of whiskey.
"Are they still, drugged, now?" Angela asked, her voice a notch too high. She leaned forward, her thin frame tense. "I saw Betty giving you another couple of doses."
Mildred simply shook her head in condescension. "No, dear Angela." She reached out and gently refilled Angela's empty cup from the floral porcelain pot. "I used those doses in your cups of tea."
Mildred's expression turned dark. The pleasant hostess veneer evaporated, leaving something ancient and calculating in its place. Her eyes, which usually fluttered with a performative nervousness, were now flat and still, like deep water.
Betty’s teacup rattled in its saucer as she set it down with a clumsy clatter. A small, dark stain of tea spread on the linen tablecloth. "Mildred, what have you done?" she whispered, her olive skin paling.
"What was necessary," Mildred said, her voice low and even. "What you both wanted. You leaned in, Angela, so greedy for the gossip. And you, Betty, you licked your lips and asked when you could meet them. Well." She gestured with a sweep of her hand toward the hallway that led to the bedrooms. "They're ready for you now. No more talking."
Angela tried to stand, a sharp, jerky movement. Her legs buckled, not from weakness, but from a sudden, heavy warmth flooding her veins. The world tilted, the edges of the family photos on the wall beginning to swim. "You bitch," she slurred, her quick wit turning to mud.
"It's just a little something to help you... connect," Mildred said, rising from the sofa with an unnerving grace. She loomed over them, her massive curves blocking the firelight. "Betty, you always did have a taste for young, fit men. Sid will be so eager for you. He's learned so much lately."
Betty shook her head, but the motion was slow, dreamy. Her protest was a weak murmur. "No... this is..."
"And Angela," Mildred continued, her gaze shifting to the struggling redhead. "So fiercely straight. So sure of your tastes. My Destiny is a brilliant girl. She'll... convert you." She smiled then, a true, chilling smile. "Consider it a lesson in broadening your horizons."
Mildred moved to the living room doorway and called out, her voice sweet and carrying. "Sid? Destiny? Our guests are ready."
There was a moment of silence, broken only by the pop of the fire. Then, footsteps. Shuffling, unsteady, but deliberate.
Sid appeared first, his face a blank mask, his eyes glazed and fixed on some middle distance. He was shirtless, the defined muscles of his chest and abdomen looking like a sculpture under the soft light. He moved like a sleepwalker, his focus shifting slowly to Betty, who shrank back into her chair, her small frame seeming to disappear.
From the other side of the hall, Destiny emerged. Her long, straightened hair was a mess, and she hugged her arms around herself. Her gaze, sharp and sarcastic just hours before, was now clouded with a deep, bewildered shame. She looked at Angela, and a single, lucid tear welled in her eye before the drug smothered the emotion, leaving only a hollow compliance.
"See?" Mildred whispered, her voice thick with triumph. "They're so welcoming."
Sid took a lurching step toward Betty, his hand outstretched. Betty whimpered, a pathetic sound, as his fingers brushed her shoulder.
Destiny moved to stand before Angela, who was trying and failing to push herself up from the sofa. Destiny’s hand rose, trembling, to touch Angela’s cheek.
Mildred watched from the doorway, a queen surveying her domain. The fire cast long, dancing shadows that twisted and merged on the walls, erasing the faces in the family photos, transforming the cozy room into a stage for her perfect, terrible family.
Sid’s fingers, warm and insistent, closed around Betty’s wrist. Her hand was small and limp in his grasp, yet she didn’t pull away. The drug humming in her veins blurred the edges of protest into a thick, passive acceptance. He guided her palm firmly against the rigid outline straining against his sweatpants.
Betty’s eyes widened, a flicker of panic cutting through the haze. "Mildred, please," she whispered, her voice cracking. "I'm a virgin. A lesbian, yes, but still, a virgin..."
Mildred chuckled, a low, rich sound that swallowed the plea whole. "Oh, don't you worry about that, Betty. Sid is an expert at gently taking virginity." She smiled, a gleam of possessive pride in her eyes. "You'll be fine."
Across the room, a sharp, strangled gasp tore from Angela’s throat. Destiny’s head was buried between her thighs, her long hair cascading over Angela’s lap. Destiny’s hands, with a practiced efficiency that belied her drugged state, had already hooked under the hem of Angela’s skirt, yanking it up to her waist. The delicate lace of Angela’s panties was tugged aside, exposing her to the fire-warmed air. Angela’s body arched, a violent shudder of lust-filled horror wracking her frame as Destiny’s tongue found its mark with unnerving precision.
Angela’s back bowed, a strained wire of conflicting instincts, her fingers scrabbling uselessly against the sofa cushions. A high, thin keen escaped her throat, her body convulsing under the foreign, expert ministrations she was too drugged to truly fight. "St-stop... oh god..." she whimpered, her head thrashing side to side, her perfectly styled red hair a chaotic mess.
Her pleas were swallowed by the sounds from the other side of the room. Betty gasped as her hand touched bare flesh. Sid had lowered his pants, pooling them at his feet. Betty tried to crawl up the sofa, but her skirt crawled up with her, exposing her control-top covered sex and putting her waist into position. "No, not like this," she slurred, her words thick, her hands pushing weakly at his hips.
He was an immovable object, a warmth and weight that pressed her down into the cushions. His breath was hot on her neck, his own movements sluggish but determined, a puppet following its strings. "Mom said..." he murmured into her ear, the words devoid of all charm, just a flat recitation.
Mildred watched from her post by the doorway, her arms crossed over her silken chest. "It's easier if you stop fighting it, Betty," she said, her voice a low, hypnotic drone. "The tea makes it feel... inevitable. Just let it happen."
Betty’s struggle weakened, her arms falling limp to her sides as a terrifying lassitude bled through her muscles. The firelight gleamed on the sweat beading on Sid's back as he positioned himself, the coarse fabric of her control-top pantyhose a fragile, ridiculous barrier. A single, sharp tear traced a path from the corner of her eye into her hairline.
Across the room, Angela’s protests dissolved into a guttural, shuddering moan. Her hips stuttered in a frantic, tiny rhythm against Destiny's face, her betrayal of herself complete and audible. Destiny’s hands tightened on Angela’s thighs, holding her in place, her own shoulders tense with a revulsion that the drug could not entirely erase.
The sound of rending polyester filled the space between Angela's moans. Sid, with a dull, practical force, tore through the gusset of Betty's pantyhose. The sound was crude, final. Betty cried out, a short, choked sound of surprise and ultimate violation.
He entered her with a single, unstoppable thrust. Her whole body seized, a silent scream locked in her throat, her eyes wide and unblinking, fixed on the ceiling. There was no pleasure in it, only a shocking, mechanical invasion, the feeling of being unpacked and remade into something broken.
Mildred took a slow, satisfied step further into the room, her shadow falling over them. "There now," she cooed, her gaze drifting from Sid’s rhythmic, vacant-eyed movements to Destiny’s buried head. "Isn't this better than talking about charity galas and stock portfolios? This is real."
Angela’s body suddenly went rigid, then slack, a long, wailing sigh pouring out of her as she collapsed back onto the sofa, spent. Destiny pulled away, wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, her expression a cavern of shame. She wouldn't look at anyone.
Sid finished with a grunt, his body slumping heavily onto Betty, who lay perfectly still beneath him, her eyes still open and staring at nothing. The only sounds were the crackling fire and their ragged, overlapping breaths.
Mildred smiled, a genuine, warm smile that was more terrifying than any scowl. "See?" she whispered into the heavy, sex-scented air. "We're all just one happy family now."
She picked up the teapot. "I'll make a fresh pot."