Where has her mom been?

Becky woke with a start, the slam of the front door pulling her from the clutches of that wonderful dream. Hushed giggles preceded her mother admonishing her newest conquest, "Jerry! You Kinky Boy, my daughter is home...." Her mothers tone shifted into a saccharine innocence, "You wouldn't want her to walk in on you turning me into a mewling slut now would you?"

Another voice, presumably Jerry, responded, " Oh if she's even half the whore you are, she'd jump right in!" A titter of laughter and a flurry of poorly masked steps ended with the slamming of her mother's door.

Becky lifted her head from the cover of the leather bound book and took a moment to carefully wipe the pool of spit that had accumulated on the cover. She sat up, yawned and then contorted into a deep stretch, the old wooden chair creaking softly with every motion. If there was justice in the world her mom's new boo would be whiskey-dicked like the rest of them.

She pushed away from the desk and clambered into her bed in the corner. After a moment spent burrowing into her nest of blankets and pillows Becky took some deep breaths and tried to sink back into the comforting dream she'd been so rudely deprived of.

Becky felt her eyelids droop and imagined the irregular crackle and pop of a fire, the blankets matched the full body embrace of the fire's warmth. Becky could almost smell the smoke and felt herself sinking back into a deep and refreshing slum *WHAM*

Becky was pulled back from the comfort and security of that place. *WHAM* Becky screamed internally, her mother had found a game partner and wouldn't stop until she was a quivering mess. *WHAM* If Jerry couldn't get her there she'd get increasingly frustrated and finally take matters into her own hands with no regard for her daughter or the neighbors.

She stuffed *WHAM* her head under a pillow and began the ancient ritual of counting sheep to summon sleep.

120 sheep later Becky realized she'd stopped counting rams and ewes and had switched to the metronomic thrusts into her mom.

She *WHAM* added another pillow and started again. This time she couldn't even imagine sheep, her mind couldn't get rid of the image of her mom getting railed doggy style. With each squeal of pleasure that was fucked out of her mother Becky felt a new emotion build within her. With every thud an alien drive asserted its dominance in her mind.

Rage. *WHAM* Mind-Numbing Range. *WHAM* Mind snapping anger at that selfish bitch *WHAM* who didn't care one iota about the well being of her daughter.

Becky had suffered countless early mornings due to her mothers insatiable libido. *WHAM* Long nights cowering under her blanked with a flashlight keeping the spirits from breaking into her room bubbled up from long suppressed memories. *WHAM* These sounds put into context with her maturation.

Sleep forgotten, Becky felt her jaw clench and fists ball up. The blankets that only moments ago gave comfort and security were now a cage holding Becky back from acting on her new emotional state. She threw them to the floor and stood with feline grace, her entire being consumed by a molten rage.

She held her hand out and let a vicious smile cross her face when her worn leather tome flew from the desk to her hand with a satisfying slap. The book just felt ... right. She looked down, the pentagram on the cover was seeping an ethereal light out into the moonlit room.

The door to the hallway opened unbidden as if it were inviting Becky into the pitch darkness of the hallway. She crossed the threshold and let the inky blackness envelop her.