Lenora's Control

Lenora's Control
The anger had always been there.
Lenora, regardless of which body she occupied held the same impulsive rage and lust for organized chaos that she’d held since she was an antebellum woman rushing the streets of New Orleans. Hustling her carnal interest in the new magic she’d only begun to learn at the hands of the sorcière.
It had been so long since Lenora had seen her youngest sister Ellie. The fateful night. Lenora wished she hadn’t left. She wished she’d been there to save her. But now, so many years later Lenora was only plagued by her sister’s misty vestige. That was the catalyst for much of Lenora’s anger. The death of her sister, innocent, and remaining in purgatory. Lenora’s leaving. And the century that passed sneaking, hiding, and finding love in nefarious endeavors.
Waiting... festering deep within her soul, aching to be released. The emotions swelling within Lenora were quite different than her older sister. Bridgette has always been there to reel her back into the moment. Bridgette was always the one to keep Lenora lodged into a mindful practice. Though, those moments only seemed to last just that - like moments. The loss of Ellie was seemingly more than she could bear when Lenora arrived back at Bellafont days after last seeing her little Ellie. It was Bridgette who allowed Lenora to explore further. Lenora’s obsession with bringing back the dead overcame her through much of the Victorian era. Of course, then, the occult and Lenora’s decades of experience were popular. Parlor games. Divination. Prophecy. The reality of unexplained spirit behavior. These were all welcome plights for the Victorian elite. Lenora had found a world she could belong to.
She and Bridgette and Jackson held the secrets of Arcadia and the surrounding bayou. There were no others who knew, let alone lived the secrets of the land. That’s what pressed Lenora onward. That feeling is what titillated her inner feelings and temptations.
With Junior at the bar, Lenora touched the lively sensitivity between her legs. She would not only live forever, but she held secrets that even Bridgette did not. Admittedly, that was dangerous.
But then there was that asshole, Evan. She’d had many a man. She’d never considered a man more than their sexual worth. Evan, as messed up as he was drew emotion she’d never experienced. He was nothing more than a low-life swamp redneck. He was no better than the next Arcadian thibodeaux. Maybe even stupider. But there was something. And she’d considered welcoming Evan into her small coven. Then he fucked up. She knew he would.
It wasn’t the first time she had killed a man. Certainly it wasn’t the first time she’d killed a lover. In fact, many had died in the heat of passion. Her rage mingling with her appetite. But Evan was different. Lenora cared about him. To see him fucking Bridgette churned the inner lacing of her stomach. It pulled an anger from her that even she hadn’t known. Prior to Evan, resentment wasn’t something that welled within Lenora. Who would be stupid enough to anger her on purpose. She knew the rumors circling around her. And she knew they were paltry compared to the truth.
That is why Evan died. One thrust. Then another. Another. Another. And she couldn’t count how many times she’d shoved and pulled that knife form him. Only that she she was done, his body was beyond saving.
But the pain was still there.
Fucking Chase was her retaliation against Evan. She was disassociated with Evan’s death. It had happened before and she no longer held emotion with someone’s blood on her hands. Chase was attractive. He had passion. He willingly took Lenora despite having a woman. That gave Lenora power. That made Chase expendable once she was done with him.
Junior meant little to her. He was a cock to replace another. He wasn’t his brother, Evan. Though, in her mind she tried to make him that way. And where Evan seemed immune to her witchcraft, Junior was anything but. Junior was subservient. Always looking for acceptance from his mother. He was easy to manipulate.
Junior...
Big, strong and not so bright. That was an easy manipulation. She only needed to slip him a few drops of her elixir. The potion learned from the sorcière would occupy his mind for and hour. That, she thought was all she needed. Unwittingly, his mother, Swell - that bitch - and her controlling nature fluffed Junior for Lenora’s needs.
It wasn’t until Evan that Lenora realized her sexual prowess would take her only so far. She needed more. She needed a returned heart to stabilize her. Even should have filled that notion. It wasn’t to be. Now what? Evan is dead. Chase should be dead. Junior was taken in by her elixir, yet she would never consider him any more than the servitude she intended to use him.
So that left Jackson. Handsome and trustworthy Jackson. He would love her, and her sister. True, they were raised in the same household. But she would make sure her sister always came second. Bridgette loved sex and nothing else. Lenora realized the uncomfortable reality that she wanted and needed to be loved. The depths to which she would go were unknown. If necessary, she would force Jackson into her whims. Was that wrong? She did not care. Would Jackson comply? Her elixirs had never failed. Would she kill Jackson? That too she did not know.
She loved to watch Junior’s face as he pumped her with his manhood. He had certainly similarities to his brother. The same jaw line. The same stupid look on his face. The same lips. He had the same lack for sensitivity. He approached sex like a brute. Fumbling and pummeling. It was almost whimsically funny.
She closed her eyes and reveled in the feel of his cock inside of her. Her mind bounced from one partner to another and another. Evan toyed in her thoughts as she came close to climax. The missing person in her fantasy was the man hovering above her. His intentions smelled of an unreciprocated mesh of emotion. That was propagated by the few drops of her “love potion” moments before. He felt the emotions coursing through him. As his eyes fogged over and the gentle brown transitioned to hazel she knew she had him.
As his cock entered and left and she could feel the recoil of her ass in each thrust she set her mind right. There was a woman locked away in Bellafont. There were others of this new clan to enter Arcadia. What were their intentions? It had to be more than a woman in search of her man. No man was worth that much effort. There was more to this Willow, the self-proclaimed photographer. She snooped too long. Dug into things she should not dive into. There was much to be considered. Arcadia was changing. And then Swell’s family. It was true that Lenora hadn’t crossed deep into Evan’s family. There was unwanted trouble there. Lenora preferred to cause quiet trouble. Trouble only she and her sister and at times Jackson managed together. Evan was a stupid move.
So as Junior continued to lovingly thrust himself into her she let her mind roam. Thoughts of Evan, Chase, and even her youngest sister began to plague her.
Then Lenora heard the noise. Bridgette was back and with her that douche Cutter. Lenora already had Junior in her grasp. She closed her eyes and began her slow chant. The room became a fog. The condensation of glistening skin, and humid Arcadian air filled the room. Junior’s inhibitions grew. His protection of Lenora grew. Nothing would take her from him. Lenora chanted faster and with each spoken word Junior was more caught in her spirit.
Her motions being taken from behind flowed rhythmically. The subtle change in her movement would go unrecognized by Junior. Yet, each stroke pulled him deeper into an ethereal cell he would never understand.
Junior cried out his love for her. He professed. Lenora did not roll her eyes but rather she focused on creating the illusions surrounding them. She focused on changing Junior’s perception. When cutter finally entered the bar, Junior would not recognize him. Junior would be frightened of the shadow hidden in the mist. Junior would be engulfed in his need to protect Lenora.
A smile came across her face. Understanding her powers over Junior began to fill her with a sensitive intensity. She tightened around his head and shaft. Her juices boiled and soon she released her anger in a fitful explosion. That’s when the yelling began. That’s when Lenora, her senses occupied, could feel Cutter nearby. His fear was palpable. His swampy vernacular more low brow than she could have imagined.
She had Junior. He would do the work for her. He would handle Arcadia’s newest trespassers for her. Junior would gladly accept that role. Including the murder of his own mother, Swell.
And then Cutter showed up and ruined everything...