The Battered Lamp Chapter Tweleve: The Peril of the Succubus - Sex Stories

The Battered Lamp Chapter Tweleve: The Peril of the Succubus

... Girl” written on it. Kyle grinned. Yesterday, his friend Corey had asked him to be hooked up with a submissive girl of his own and Kyle had pointed out Aleah. Looks like Corey had claimed the girl's affections. “Hey, Aleah,” Toni smiled. “Are you a concubine?” The girl flushed. “Yeah,” she admitted, then glanced at Christy's seat and her face fell. “Have you heard from Christy? They say she's missing.” “Yeah, she ran away from home,” Kyle answered, shifting. Her mother had called last night wondering where Christy was. “She left me a note.” “You don't think she's...dead?” Kyle shook his head. “Well, it was on the news this morning that Ms. Franklin and Karrie,” Aleah glanced at Karrie's empty seat, “and a few other girls were killed. They're all the girls in Christy's book club.” She chewed her lips. “And Phillipa's missing, too. What do you think happened?” Kyle's insides went cold and he tried to sound as casual as possible. “I'm sure she's fine. She...she left me a note and...” Some of the pain Christy had caused bubbled up and he pushed it back down. “It's okay, Master,” Toni whispered. “She'll come back.” “Well, I hope so,” Aleah said. “I need to get to class. I hope she comes home fine.” “Me, too.” ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ “I'm so sorry for you loss, Ms. Gore” Detective Donnar said as he sat down across from her. They were in the sterile waiting room of the Pierce County Medical Examiner's office, sitting on black, plastic, and very uncomfortable chairs. Ms. Gore ...

... stared at her hands, her face expressionless. “If you have a few minutes, I would like—” “What happened to her?” she asked, looking up. Her voice was small, quiet, almost childish. Her shoulders slumped, beaten down. “Who did this to her?” “That's what I'm going to find out,” Detective Donnar said. “Was she stabbed?” Ms. Gore's eyes were dark pools in a pale face. “That wound in her throat...” she shuddered. “I'm sorry you had to see her like that.” He gave her a moment. It was never easy seeing a loved-ones body splayed out on the table, but it was the fastest way to identify their victims. She was the last of the victim's guardians he had to speak to. “Do you know what your daughter was doing last night?” “Book club,” Ms. Gore answered. “At least, that's what she told me.” The parents of the other two teenage victims, Karrie Robertson and Rashawn Underhill, had said the same. “And did they regularly meet in a cabin in Graham?” “What? Graham?” “Where did the club meet at?” “Ms. Franklin's house, I think,” she answered. “I dropped her off there once. They usually meet on Saturday nights. Ms. Franklin, her biology teacher, really turned her grades around with this book club. She was accepted into Stanford...” Her face fell, stricken by horror. “And did you think there was anything unusual about your daughter visiting a teachers house?” “No.” Her eyes widened. “Did Ms. Franklin do something to her?” He didn't answer her; it was best to give as little information as possible so ...