Her lessons learned turned her into a murdering Dark Mistress with no
conscience…now she must be stopped before she kills again.
Debra Mason was abducted as a young girl by a sadistic pedophile. He
held her captive and through abuse, punishment and isolation, turned
her into a mirror image of himself…to a point. Psychiatric treatment
and a return to normal life let her grow into a woman little knowing
that inside her mind lurked the horror she was doomed to unleash on
men of the same ilk as her abuser. Her world disintegrated, her
marriage was lost, and everything she had gained shattered as she fell
into the deviance she had once escaped…now she is lost within it.
The lessons she learned at the whim of a madman cast her into the same
madness with the power to excite or kill. Twenty five years later she
chose to kill.
She wore a mask of golden thread, stripped with white, red and black
silk. Upon her smooth shoulders was a hooded cloak of pure, black
silk, with a golden silk inner liner. She let it hang open in front,
covering her breasts and exposing her cleanly shaven mons veneris.
“Seal the chamber.” She ordered.
Daphne chanted. “Across the threshold of this chamber, the world is
left behind. Before us lies both the future and the past, we are no
longer the same. The time has come to renew ourselves. The chamber is
“Very well My Lady. Cast away those ghastly garments and mask yourself.”
Daphne slipped the knot on her amber robe, letting it fall away from
her body. She donned a snow white mask of lace and silk.
“Who are you?” The question shouted; echoed off the stone.
“I am Justine, Lady of Virtue.”
Catherine flung her wine colored robe open and let it slide off her
shoulders. Her mask was bright red, trimmed in black.
“Who are you?” Again the sound reverberated.
“I am Medina, Lady of Lust.”
Cassandra wore pure white. When it dropped to the floor, she paused
for emphasis. The sight of that tiny body always excited the
gathering. Her mask was jet black silk, with raven wing extensions
flowing back into her platinum hair.
“Who are you?” The question was offered quietly, almost a whisper.
“I am Tamara, Lady of the Night. Virtue was taken from me. I was
denied my own yearnings. I am a vessel, nothing more.
"Who are you?”
“I am Mistress…Lady of Light; I see what can’t be seen, I know what
should never be known, I shed
light in the darkest recesses of the soul; you need know nothing more?
May we be enriched and gratified, one to the other, tonight.”
In unison the three young women whispered; “Yes Mistress.”
Each in turn approached, supplicating themselves before their
Mistress, who laid a gentle touch of the Cat upon their nude backs,
thereby ending the short ceremony.
The Mistress placed a hand beneath the jaw of each and drew them,
again in turn, to their feet. She matched face to face with them and
offered a loving kiss. Once done, she moved to the open portal that
beckoned all four to chambers beyond. Over her shoulder she offered a
“Prepare My Ladies —it is time.”