The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

A Fistful of Sand 3

Chapter 14: Power’s Exacting Toll

Natalie hummed a quiet tune as she walked casually down the street. Her outward calm was in stark contrast with the storm raging in her mind. She maintained the demeanor of tranquility despite the impotent rage she kept locked away in her head.

Her heavy winter coat seemed odd paired against her exposed legs and high-heeled ‘come-fuck-me’ knee-high leather boots. Despite the several inches of fresh snow on Chicago’s streets, Natalie navigated her way with the sure-stepped grace of a fully inducted member of the Omega Xi sorority. The bottom of the mini-toga costume she wore for tonight’s induction of Heather into the sisterhood peeked out from beneath the parka – she hadn’t bothered to change after escorting Gregg to the ceremonial chamber. And if anyone had bothered to really look, they’d notice that she not only wore nothing beneath, but that her hair glistened wetly from her recent shower. The ice crystals forming at the ends of her blonde tresses didn’t seem to bother her.

That shower was very important to her. So were the impeccable makeup and other beauty details designed to project confidence and allure. Events of her own making had been set into motion and she didn’t want her one last joy to be tainted by inappropriate innuendo. She had one final task to perform tonight, and she didn’t want the word “victim” associated with it in any way.

Her jaunty tune belied the cold she ignored from the exterior as well as the raging fury that stormed and bellowed from within. Half a world away on the other side of the globe, Adam had finally figured out what his slave was up to, but he was too distant to stop her as he raged like a madman caught in an impenetrable glass cage.

“YOU FUCKING BITCH!! STOP THIS RIGHT NOW OR I’LL FUCKING KILL YOU!! I’LL SHOW YOU PAIN LIKE YOU’VE NEVER IMAGINED!!!”

Natalie smiled, not losing a step as she continued toward her destination. “No Master. You will not.”

Adam summoned all his strength and triggered nerve endings inside her body to burn. But what would once have had her crouched over in pain was now just another sensation, diminished in intensity over such great distances. “You shouldn’t strain yourself, Master. Your efforts will not work…at least not in time. When you first met me, maybe that would have stopped me…but as they say, I’ve developed a thicker skin since you first tamed me. It’s like being poked with a thumbtack when you should be poking me with a sword.” Her legs, numb with cold, continued determinedly step after step as she narrowed the distance toward her destination.

Adam tried a new tact, sending waves of pleasure directly into her clitoris. The unexpectedness of his attack surprised Natalie and she was forced to stop in her tracks, her crotch heating with pleasure. “Oh, Master!” she sighed. A passing elderly couple gave a quick glance at the trembling girl cupping her crotch in the middle of the sidewalk, hand tucked obviously up under her skirt. While the gentleman wanted to stay and observe (being a concerned citizen, of course), his wife grabbed him by the elbow and hurried him along, muttering some curse about kids and airplane glue.

Natalie reveled in the stimulus, never-before feeling such untainted pleasure from her Master. She quickly succumbed, thrusting her hands harder and faster, helping rush along the epic climax. While there were no further onlookers to her revelry, there were many in the neighborhood who heard it, her cries echoing off the building walls along the empty street. She didn’t care who saw or heard. It wouldn’t matter in just a little while.

Panting, suddenly warm despite the chill air and exposed skin, Natalie took an unsteady step forward.

“Stop! Natalie stop! Stop what you’re doing. Don’t you see the pleasure I can give you! If you do this, you’ll feel nothing but pain!” The unmasked desperation in Adam’s voice made Natalie smile.

Summoning all her strength, Natalie shuffled one foot forward. The movement caused rippling aftershocks from her pussy down her legs, almost making her knees buckle. For the briefest of moments, she second-guessed her decision. Her master had it in him to please her…But one moment of pleasure was not enough to erase the memory of the past months. No, this was but a tactic, one meant to forestall her decision until he could re-exert control…and then it would be too late.

Smiling wickedly, she thought to Adam, “If I were you, Master, I’d stop wasting my limited powers trying to change my mind and start preparing yourself for when I reach my destination…but thank you anyway for that delightful orgasm. It was almost as good as the one I had when Dr. Walters – Gregg – plowed my pussy tonight.” Adam howled in fury inside her mind. “I forgot just how good it felt to have my pussy stretched by his gigantic cock…to feel the flood of his cum filling me up and spilling over.” Natalie emphasized her memory by once again reaching down under her skirt and inserting a finger. “Oh, and speaking of comparing thumbtacks to swords, you should talk to YOUR master about that little oversight…emphasis on ‘little!’ What fucked up ritual will you have to perform so that your Master lets you be a man instead of a little boy?”

Adam literally started frothing at the mouth at his slave’s insolence, yet he was powerless to do anything about it. His mind raced as he tried to figure out how regain control. He’d made a dangerous miscalculation of his slave’s will. He thought her broken.

He thought wrong.

Natalie delighted in her first taste of power since Adam took control. For a change, it was HIS turn to cower in fear. She felt him racing back to his campsite in the deepest jungles of the Congo, abandoning the girl’s mutilated body he’d used in this latest ritual. He didn’t know what would happen next, but trusted in the instinct buried deep in his DNA – the flight reflex that told animals in danger to RUN!

* * *

Monica wanted to scream in horror, but she couldn’t find her voice. This was a scene right out of one of the hentai films Vince loved so much…but it was real…it was actually happening… “TO ME!!!” she thought as another tentacle dropped down from the ceiling and wormed its way around her waist and under her bra. With surprising ease, her bra popped off as if made of paper. The ones around her wrists and ankles suspending her two feet above the floor were impossibly strong and unyielding, despite her best efforts to break free.

And if strange tentacles from nowhere weren’t scary enough, the woman controlling them from below was the stuff of nightmares. Long, straight black hair that danced in an unseen wind as if born aloft by mystical energies. Eyes as black as coal, not a hint of white or color to be seen. And a rage not even Monica could have ever imagined.

“Let us go!!” she pleaded. “We’ll give you anything you want! Money! Clothes!”

Christine turned toward the leader of this obnoxious trio. With a flick of her wrist, yet another tentacle appeared as if by magic and shoved itself directly into Monica’s mouth. Monica moaned and tried to spit it out, but every effort just caused it to wiggle that much more fiercely. The taste was all too familiar – male flesh. With their helmeted heads and single opening at their tips, there was no disguising what these tentacles were supposed to represent – and as if to add further humiliation, it began squirming deeper toward her throat and then back out toward her teeth. With every thrust, Monica thought it would pop free, but then it would just slide wetly back toward her throat again.

“That should keep you quiet,” Christine said nonchalantly. “What I want from you for now is to watch. You called upon the wind, now you will watch as I reap the whirlwind!”

Monica’s eyes went wide in horror as a mystical wind blew in from somewhere – she didn’t know where since the studio had no windows… The wind buffeted the three captive girls and, as if their outfits were made of water droplets, their bras and panties and other paraphernalia were blown free, leaving them suspended and naked.

Stepping up first to Kathy, she lovingly caressed the redhead’s trembling body. She seemed to want to cry, but had learned her lesson from watching the orally-plugged Monica to not make a sound. “Your crime, Kathy, is that of schadenfreude. You accept the torments of others because that means the torments aren’t happening to you.” Kathy gulped. “You could have stopped it. You could have saved her.”

Kathy wanted to ask “who?” but knew better than to ask…besides, she already had a pretty good idea.

Christine turned her black gaze to Allison, also suspended, but staring defiantly at Christine with a “bring it on” expression. “And you. Your crime is that of indifference. You don’t feel anything, do you?”

That simple statement seemed to cut Allison to the core. Because it was so true. “You’ve never had an orgasm, have you? You’ve never felt love, have you?” The slight lip quiver on the suspended brunette said it all. “And so, you’ve never given pleasure, have you? Pain is easier for you, isn’t it?” Allison flexed her muscles again, testing her bonds fruitlessly. “Don’t worry…I’ll fix that for you.”

The room became eerily quiet, save for the slurping noises coming from Monica. Monica suddenly groaned in disgust as the other two watched the tentacle in her mouth expand and contract, clearly shooting off something. Her eyes went wide as she struggled to breathe. Only once he audibly gulped the liquid down did the tentacle pull free. She panted, trying to catch her breath.

Giving Christine an evil look, Monica started to say, “You Bi—” but the tentacle that had pulled free from her mouth fired off another generous spurt of thick white goo into the woman’s face, half of it getting into her open mouth. Monica sputtered, but the tentacle simply shoved itself back in, beginning her torture anew.

This brought a small smile to Christine’s face.

Turning back to the now obviously horrified remaining duo, she clapped her hands together, like an evil mastermind deciding how to dispose of her super secret agent. As if reading her mind, the tentacles turned the two women to face each other. Allison was lifted higher so that her vagina was chest-high on Christine. Reaching out, Christine lightly pinched Allison’s exposed clitoris between her thumb and forefinger. With gentle motions, she pulled, twisted, and rubbed, causing Allison to moan with pleasures she’d never felt before. Immediately, her pussy began flooding with juices, coating Christine’s hand and making her efforts that much more stimulating. Despite being suspended by monster tentacles, Allison couldn’t help writing in ecstasy before Christine’s efforts.

But the orgasm she felt herself building toward refused to break free. Her hips writhed and thrashed. She could feel it, within a hair’s breadth of her reach. She struggled in vain, but she wouldn’t cum. “Arrrgh! Fuck me! Let me cum!!” she pleaded, hearing herself say those words for the first time in her life, actually meaning it this time and not just lines for the camera – knowing somehow that Christine was somehow responsible for her inability at this moment.

The sensation began to change. The pleasure didn’t decrease, but the feel was…well, different. For starters, Allison felt like Christine’s hands were getting smaller, like her tormentor’s fingers no longer covered as much area on her small, sensitive clit. It also began to feel like Christine’s movements were switching from twisting and rubbing to a stroking sensation.

Afraid to look, but knowing she had to, Allison fought through the pleasure fog and opened her eyes and looked down. To her horror, she saw her clit growing and expanding, changing shape. It grew ever longer and thicker under Christine’s ministrations, quickly assuming obscene proportions. The look of shock on Kathy’s face said it all.

After what seemed like hours of torturous pleasure, Christine stopped pulling and tugging, letting Allison’s new penis bob in the wind. It was long and thick and the slightest stirring of the air caused her to shudder in pleasure.

Christine inspected her handiwork. With a slight shock, she realized where her subconscious mind had drawn inspiration. Again, her mind imagined Gregg’s cock, pulled directly from the memories she’d stolen from Heather. She grabbed the phallus, stroked it in her hand. It was the cock she’d dreamed of, the one she wanted to own and have own her at the same time. Leaning down, she licked the head, her tongue tracing a circle around the tip.

Allison moaned out loud in pleasure. She’d obviously never felt anything like this before and desperately wanted more. Apparently so did Christine, who seemed to have forgotten that this was supposed to be torture and plunged her face forward, sucking the giant cock deep, her cheeks hallowing with each thrust. Allison no longer cared about the absurdity of the situation. She had her chance and she went with it, eagerly thrusting her hips to fuck her tormentor in the face.

Christine forgot herself, thinking only of bringing this Gregg-cock off. She reached down to where his balls would have been, but there was only the dripping slit of Allison’s vagina. Her mind was so clouded by her own lust that she didn’t care and shoved her fingers deep, both finger-fucking her captive as well as sucking her off.

Mere seconds later, Alison experienced her first mind-shattering orgasm…that it came from some freakish cock rather than her own natural body parts didn’t matter. The cock swelled and began firing off thick ropes of jism into Christine’s mouth, who hungrily drank it down even as her own hand clutched at her own crotch. So lost in pleasure was Allison that she didn’t think to wonder where the semen came from, since she had no testicles…but the amount of man-cream spraying out from her own body was an ocean compared to the puddle that men with the biggest balls could produce. Rules of reality didn’t matter anymore. Only pleasure.

When Christine sucked the final drops from Allison’s cock, she pulled free, staring at the still-rampant cock in disappointment. It wasn’t the same. Reality crashed back down on her and her eyes swelled with tears. This wasn’t Gregg’s cock. It was merely a facsimile. She needed the real thing. NEEDED to taste Gregg, the real Gregg. She needed him!!

The world seemed to ripple, as if reality itself was dissolving. For half a second everything seemed to disappear and the girls found themselves sitting on the couch and chair again, where they were before Christine entered. But just as they thought themselves free, the world snapped back to their “new” reality and once again, all three were suspended, Monica again gagged with a thrusting tentacle-cock, Allison sporting a huge erection, and Kathy held awaiting her fate.

Christine brushed away her tears and set her mind back to the task at hand. Slowly, Allison and Kathy began floating closer together, Kathy’s legs were pulled apart, opening her inexplicably moist cunt. The tentacles holding Allison were positioning her so that her cock was lined up with the big-titted redhead.

“Now,” Christine said, as if about to being some grueling task, “Let’s begin.”

The tentacles holding both girls slammed them together, penis inserting into vagina and leg and arms wrapping around each other. These two women who in reality hated each other were tied seamlessly together, positioned so that tits were crushed to tits, nose to nose, and pelvis to pelvis.

Once the shock of their joining passed, they soon realized that the slightest twitch or quiver was incredibly pleasurable. The sensations from their crotches were amplified a hundred times over and after mere moments of fighting it, both women dissolved into a knotted writhing mass. It took less than a minute for the first mutual orgasm to hit them both, Allison’s cock-cream flooding Kathy’s super-drenched pussy. The two enemies, their faces held nose to nose, stopped fighting their restraints and simply allowed their faces to lock together, their tongues caressing the others’ in a furious lip-lock. Their breath mingling as they panted tiredly from mutual release.

Off to the side, Monica was forced to swallow yet another load, perfectly synced to the one she watched Allison dump inside Kathy. In fact, the cock-tentacle in her mouth seemed to time its own thrusting to Allison’s hips, as if the whole thing were linked together like one giant fuck-machine.

Again, their rest was interrupted by the pleasurable sensations of the aftershocks of their previous orgasms, reigniting their passions. Again, their bodies began writhing together. Again, Monica groaned in frustration behind them as she felt the tentacle in her mouth resume thrusting. And again, she tried to plead with her partners to stop, but she couldn’t do much more than groan around the thick oral invader.

Christine pulled up a chair and got comfortable, one leg casually crossed over the other. Slowly, one fuck at a time, Christine would extract her revenge. Time didn’t matter here, as she’d discovered with Heather. With the slow patience of an artist positioning her models, Christine set the stage for the next round.

She had all the time in the world….

* * *

Gregg looked around the room of panting Omega Xis. He could still hear Heather’s answer ringing like church bells in his ears. “Yes Gregg. Yes. With all my heart, I will marry you!” The look of love in her eyes was the most beautiful thing he’d ever seen, even as their consciousnesses twirled and danced amidst Emily’s and Brittany’s. She unconsciously fought for space, but Brittany’s hold on Gregg was unyielding.

He didn’t remember taking off his blindfold – did he pull it off at some point, or perhaps Heather did while they were flailing together? Did it fall off because Natalie didn’t tie it tightly?

The Omega Xi house erupted in applause at Heather’s acceptance. They all seemed so genuinely overwhelmed – either sexually or emotionally – that no one noticed or said anything about a man seeing the inside of their sacred chamber. Maybe it wasn’t so surprising given Gregg’s “special status” in the house. But right now a room full of girls upset that he’d seen their secret ritual was the least of his concerns.

Gregg stood in the middle of the room, still naked, and still supporting Heather who had her legs locked around his waist, his slippery cock still filling her cunt. Yet, it was their eyes that locked them together most intimately.

Just as Heather was about to pull back to disengage from Gregg and kiss him properly, there was a sudden flash of pain in the back of his mind. Heather gasped and her eyes went wide as well, no doubt feeling it as she and Gregg were joined in more ways than one at the moment.

Emily, who had sealed herself off him suddenly erupted in fear and pain, as did Brittany. He couldn’t tell who was feeling what, maybe both were feeling the same thing. And just as suddenly, they were both gone. Just like that, one moment fully entwined with his soul, and the next – vacuum.

Time seemed to slow down. The space between each pulse in Heather’s neck seemed to drag on for minutes, then hours. Emily, the cute nurse who helped him in the hospital after he got his powers; the girl who took his virginity; the girl who was as much a little sister as she was an intimate lover; the girl who saved his life by almost sacrificing her own in his battle against David…she had become so integrated into his very being that he felt like an imposter in his own body – his own mind – without her.

Even the sudden loss of Brittany threatened to rock him to the core. He didn’t choose for her to become caught in his web of magic. But since that fateful night in Tunisia, the deposed president of Omega Xi who once tried to blackmail him, who humiliated Charli, who almost gotten him and Heather killed…the girl who’d been reborn under his powers, who’d rediscovered a child-like innocence that had been corrupted in her own pursuits of power; the girl who Gregg had rapidly been falling in love with was suddenly just not there, as if she ceased to exist.

And just as despair began to overwhelm him at a loss equivalent to losing both his arms and his legs, the vacuum of his soul was suddenly and totally flooded. Like a tsunami crashing in to fill the canyon of a dam bursting, Gregg was crushed by the sudden rush of Heather’s consciousness colliding with his own. And even though time had slowed to a crawl, he could see the look of awe and terror on her face as well. Despite their heightened awareness, neither could move or react any faster than anyone else caught in normal-time.

Visions filled each other’s minds of the other’s life. Every thought, experience, fear, doubt, and regret. Every hope, dream, despair, lust, desire and disappointment. Every shock, pain, glimmer, and love melded into a perfect harmony. And as each struggled not to drown in the other’s life, their eyes locked, anchoring themselves amidst the storm.

Heather felt every childhood taunt and later isolation Gregg experienced growing up with too-cold academic parents and no friends. She felt the terrible burden of being a child prodigy – of not being able to relate socially with children his own age, and being despised by the older kids who he outshined in the classroom.

Gregg felt the pain of being so beautiful that no one assumed Heather had a brain, and being dismissed when she tried to use it. He felt the joys and power of being able to use her body to get what she wanted from men, and the subsequent hollow feeling it left inside her. He felt her despair at almost being caught in Vinnie’s tangled web, only to be saved first by Cathy, and later by Gregg and her extended family. He felt the strange feeling of unworthiness she held at her core, despite her act of confidence that even fooled Gregg.

Like two strangers only first getting to know each other, Gregg and Heather opened themselves up and for the first time truly – TRULY – understood their love, warts and all.

As the storm abated, each finally understanding the other even better than they understood their own self, a feeling of elation and power filled them both. Gregg had finally unlocked the hidden secret to his powers. It wasn’t just humility and love that fueled it. It was the willingness to let go of all that the powers had to offer and become complete and total with another. It was the lesson that none other in the history of this experiment had managed to learn in time.

Gregg felt like a God, the power filling every cell of his being. But even at this greatest moment strength, he had only one thought – where was Emily?

His consciousness lashed out like a whip, spiraling in greater and greater circles, searching every mind it came in contact with. But within nanoseconds, Gregg’s head erupted in pain.

“What the hell?” he thought desperately, his head falling forward and pressing against Heather’s – who he still held in his arms.

Heather’s green eyes met his own. There was not an atom within her that wasn’t totally in love with him, and sharing in his desperation. She loved Emily just as much as he did, and her worry was just as great. There was not a trace of jealousy in her.

She smiled, putting her hand affectionately on the side of his face. “Try again.”

Gregg was confused, frustrated that his powers still seemed to be limited, especially at this moment of crisis. But he trusted Heather with all his soul, and did as she asked.

His consciousness lashed out again, like a lasso swirling in ever greater circles. Heather closed her eyes and poured herself into Gregg, giving him all her strength in this vital task.

Their combined strength was greater than the sum of its parts. It was geometric, it was exponential! Instead of having twice his normal strength, it was more. Three times…four times…TEN times! He almost felt limitless in his power with Heather to draw on. Yet, even as he searched hundreds of minds per second, he could begin to feel even this well reaching its limit as Heather sagged against him tiredly, yet still determined.

And then, like a car screeching to a halt. He found them. Heather’s watery eyes opened wide in shock. “NO!”

Gregg’s mind burst through into his own blood-soaked kitchen and attempted to bore its way into Emily’s mind, but it failed. He tried Brittany’s but that also failed.

Even as the blood pool beneath the girls expanded with frightening speed, Gregg’s mind simply slipped and slid around the girls as if their consciousnesses were coated in grease…

* * *

Vince cursed his luck. Of all the times to get a speeding ticket. One look at his tattooed skin and multiple ear and facial piercings was all it took for the prejudiced cop to not give a shit about his being late for “work.”

“What are you late for? Gotta go eat some fair maiden for breakfast?” the cop chuckled.

It wasn’t the first time Vince had to endure such lame-ass jokes. His skinny build plus lizard-skin tattoos up his arms, neck and chest gave him the appearance of being some reptilian half-breed. It was the mini-series “V” from his youth that had inspired him so long ago. And if the cop only knew that he was speeding because he was late for filming his latest porno with his wife and her fellow “Bitch Sisters” then he’d eat his heart out in jealousy that it wasn’t just ONE maiden he’d get to eat…out.

Still, years of crime had taught him to take the verbal abuse…because if he spoke his mind, the cop would have just cause to search him and his car and then just might find the drugs, the knife, or the gun. And if any of them were found, he’d be forced to use one of the later two…and he was getting tired of disposing of bodies. So far, nothing seemed to come of that last nasty bit of business – just another junkie found dead. Hardly a “stop the presses” moment in the Windy City.

He pulled into the lot behind the warehouse studio and shut off his car. He was only ten minutes late, so he probably didn’t miss much yet. Chances were, whatever dumb bitch his wife had booked for tonight’s activities was probably just finishing signing the release papers and eyeballing the $500 cash which was what they offered to do these scenes. Most would later claim it wasn’t worth it…but then again, if they were smart, they wouldn’t have been starring in his films in the first place.

Taking out a small vial of coke from his glove box, he gave himself a quick snort to juice up for the show. He pulled out his flaccid dick from his too-tight leather pants that were part of his “shtick” and closed his eyes, jacking himself off a bit to get ready for the shoot. It always surprised the bitches in his movies that such a skinny guy could have such a big dick, but it was his “gift,” as he liked to call it.

Having reached semi-hardness, he stuffed his cock back in his pants, put his knife in his boot holster, hid his gun in his waistband, and headed inside. The gun and the knife were useful intimidation tools if a bitch decided she wasn’t going to honor her side of the contract…

He wasn’t surprised that there were no cars he didn’t recognize in the lot. Pimps sometimes dropped off their whores to do a shoot and came back later to pick up the remains…and the cash. Beaten, humiliated, and abused, that’s what he thought of them when a shoot was completed: “remains.” Yet, more often than not, the pimps stayed to watch the fun.

The first thing he noticed as he made his way down the hallway toward the studio was that the door was open. During filming, it was supposed to be closed. And given the screams and moans coming from inside, it sounded like filming was already well underway. But the screams were all wrong. For starters, more than one girl was screaming. The Bitch Sisters’ M.O. was to revel in the agony of one. And once she was thoroughly broken in, Vince would step in, gave her a harsh fucking, and then would cum all over her. But he could hear several distinct screams...a pleasant mixture of screams of pleasure as well as screams of pain and fear. (He considered himself a self-styled connoisseur of female agony.)

Given the horror-movie soundtrack emanating from the studio, one could well imagine his surprise as he rounded the corner and found four women sitting around the coffee table in various levels of undress, all with their eyes closed, all panting and moaning. He recognized his three Bitches immediately. What they were doing, he had no idea. Allison and Kathy were on the couch, legs spread wide, arms tense, but at their sides. Only their hips moved and their necks strained, every ten or so seconds crying out in pleasure. Beneath their pussies, the couch looked like they’d peed themselves – so much liquid having sprayed…but the distinct odor said that this was definitely not pee. Despite the non-stop loop of pleasure these girls seemed to be caught in, it was clear from their horror-filled faces that this was a ride they wanted off of.

To their right, in the leather arm chair was Monica. She looked the worst for wear. Also sitting there with her eyes closed, she also was thrusting her hips and moaning in pleasure. But she also appeared to be making hard swallows ever couple seconds. It was as if she were chugging gallons of beer or something…but, like her compatriots, her arms were locked at her side and there was no liquid going into her mouth.

This fucked-up party was rounded out by the new face. He stepped in front of her, but she didn’t seem to notice him. Her eyes were also closed. Vince waved his hand in front of her face but she didn’t react. She sat there, incredibly beautiful, legs crossed demurely, except for one hand that was wedged between, masturbating slowly in comparison to the three Bitches. She also had one magnificent tit out which she pleasured lazily as she smiled in something that could only be described as “delight.” Her hair was the shiniest black he’d ever seen and her skin was completely flawless. If things went well tonight, maybe he’d try to sign her as a fourth Bitch Sister to his studio, rounding out the four primary hair colors (blonde, brown, red, and black). She certainly had the tits for it.

Vince didn’t know what was going on, but he was eager to fuck this hottie. “HEY!” he yelled, trying to snap his Bitches out of their trance so they could get to abusing this debutante. His yell fell on deaf ears. Nobody seemed to hear him and they all just went on masturbating, cumming, and moaning as if he weren’t here.

Vince tried poking Monica in the side of the face next, but all she did was scream in horror at whatever she was seeing behind her eyes. The newbie laughed quickly at that, and then, like a porn being played at high speed, everything went back to that same moaning/screaming/swallowing/cumming loop.

“What, did everybody drop too much acid?” he said aloud. Vince gave Monica a full-armed slap across the face, but it was like hitting stone. She didn’t even notice.

Whatever was happening was beyond Vince’s ability to understand. But there was a solution to every problem. Whoever this new girl was, she appeared to be the one responsible for whatever was happening. And as he looked closely at her face, there was something strangely familiar about it. There was just enough similarity…

“Fuck this,” was his reaction as the pieces fell into place regarding this girl’s identity.

Pulling the gun free from the back of his pants, he pressed the cold metal against Christine’s temple and cocked the trigger. The sensual/horrific chorus continued unabated in the background.

As Vince’s finger tightened on the trigger, all he could think of was that it was such a waste to have to dispose of the most perfect-looking bitch he’d ever seen. Even prettier than that nutjob sister of hers.

BANG

* * *

“Let go! It’s over! Let me die!!!”

“No. You can’t! Give me the damn knife!!” Emily grappled with the tiny yet determined girl with all her might, seeing no positive outcome if she relinquished Brittany’s hands. All she wanted was to break the love-smitten girl of her obsession with Gregg, to break apart the magical ties she’d unwittingly stumbled into while in Tunisia.

It wasn’t pure selflessness that drove Emily’s cruel display. Deuce had shown her a vision of the future if Brittany couldn’t be freed from Gregg’s knot, but the price to do so was just too high. He’d given her the one tool to set the situation right – but she’d seen what would happen to her if she went down that road…there had to be another way.

So, she and Laura teamed up to sneak a camera into the Omega Xi ritual – in an effort to demonstrate to Brittany just how much more Heather meant to Gregg than she did, despite her own overflowing love for him. Where magic had failed, maybe cold hard facts would prevail. That Gregg had proposed to Heather was a surprise, but one that worked just fine with her agenda…

…But driving the distraught girl to suicide! That was an unforeseen consequence.

“He made his decision. There’s no point in living!” cried Brittany, truly not wanting to live without Gregg’s love all to herself.

The two girls fought, their hands locked around the knife hilt, each trying desperately to wrench it free from the other. Emily was in better shape than the spritely girl, but Brittany was heedless of her body’s limitations. She didn’t know of Gregg’s magic, nor did she care. She was just a woman in love and that love had just been shat upon. They strained and fought, crashing into chairs and countertops, neither relenting. A bottle of white wine dropped to the floor, crashing, the thick green glass crunching under bare feet that quickly bled.

The floor, suddenly slippery, caused Emily to lose her footing and she fell backward, losing her hold on Brittany’s wrists. Brittany’s momentary victory was cut short when, in mid-fall, Emily’s flailing leg shot out and kicked her shin, pushing the knife-wielding nymph’s legs out from under her, causing her to fall forward, the steel blade between them. Emily’s head crashed onto the floor, numbing her so that she didn’t feel the shards of glass spearing up into her back and through her chest.

In that last micro-second of her own fall, Brittany realized she wanted to end her own life and not take Emily’s, not seeing the bloody green shards protruding through Emily’s torso. She spun the blade, landing on its edge – her weight causing it to slice deep between her ribs.

The room was suddenly quiet with Brittany laying atop Emily, their blood rapidly leaving their bodies and mixing together in an ever-expanding pool beneath them.

Emily tried to breath, but attempting to inflate her lungs sent a wash of searing pain through her body, almost causing her to black out. She forced her eyelids apart, using all her strength to barely crack open the lids.

Brittany’s empty open eyes stared back at her blankly, the pupils expanding, the features softening. Emily saw the small artery at the side of her head beat in slowing tempo.

‘Not this…not like this…’ Emily thought sadly as she watched her friend slip into oblivion. She knew she had achieved the desired outcome – that with Brittany dead, Brittany was de facto detached from Gregg, freeing him from this bond so that he’d be able to face Adam. But not like this…

All her life, Emily had dedicated herself to healing. Whether it was an injured puppy or a bird with a broken wing, or later when she volunteered in hospitals and began on her path toward becoming a nurse, she was the living embodiment of “Do No Harm.” It was why she constantly threw herself into danger to protect the ones she loved. And as Brittany bled out over her own dying body, she realized that her own actions had not only hurt someone she cared about…but had literally taken a life. And what pain would she be causing Gregg, Heather, and Laura? How unearthly would their grief be at the loss of the two of them…

She made her decision without actually making it. Deuce was right. Despite her best efforts, it came down to a simple decision. She couldn’t deny who and what she was. She couldn’t let go of her very nature. Whatever would come in the future would come. The horror that would one day come for her was unavoidable. She saw her future self captured and tortured. Beaten and bloody. Alone and without hope – but for now she’d face it knowing what she did this day without regret.

“Okay Deuce. I’m ready…” she thought to herself, knowing – without knowing how – that her simple acceptance of his offer would set things into motion…and that gave her a sense of peace as she closed her eyes and said a silent goodbye to Gregg.

Brittany felt the knife slice deep into her body and then she felt nothing at all…for a long while. She watched open-eyed as Emily’s breathing slowed, her lovely friend’s pupils dilating as she was certain her own were as well. The room was becoming impossibly bright, but she couldn’t move to shut the fluorescents or even call 9-1-1 for Em. She didn’t want it to end this way…but Emily could be so stubborn sometimes. Well, for all her regret, it wouldn’t matter in a few more heartbeats. She consoled herself that a life not lived was far better than a life without Gregg.

As her own life’s blood rapidly sprayed from her body, Brittany was forced to watch her own friend die…and it was more painful than she thought it would be, despite her reasoning of mere seconds ago. The thin, young, athletic nurse. The sweet cuteness that balanced out Gregg and Heather’s spicy heat. The pony-tailed Florence Nightengale who practiced her nursing techniques on Brittany even while Charli had her tied to a chair in Heather’s bedroom.

In a rapid series of flashes, Brittany saw the full truth. She saw the night her own life changed, the night she tried to blackmail Gregg by seducing him. But it wasn’t him that got seduced. As if seeing the very seen from other eyes, she watched as Emily snuck out of the bedroom where she’d been hiding and remove the hidden camera from Brittany’s purse. She watched the pony-tailed conspirator film Brittany getting fucked by Gregg, stopping multiple times to download the long seduction onto her computer and then return for more filming.

She saw Emily’s look of horror and despair the night Brittany was first presented to Charli in the guise of “Mistress Cheryl.” Brittany watched tears fly from Emily’s eyes as Charli flipped out over her humiliation at Brittany’s hand and paddled Brittany with inhuman rage. She watched as Em had to be physically restrained by Edan to keep from throwing herself between Brittany and the paddle. She saw Emily help her stand, too bruised to do so by herself and help her get dressed – first applying some soothing ointment and, as if by magic, taking away some of her pain.

Time and again, Brittany watched as Emily was the first one to offer aid and comfort, no matter how many times she herself betrayed that trust. And when it was all over, Emily was the most ready to give her a second chance, allowing Brittany to be a shared slave amongst Charli, Laura, Emily and even Natalie.

She didn’t know where it came from, but once it hit, she realized the seed was always there, just waiting for a little water and sunlight. From her lowest point to the holes she dug herself even lower, Brittany saw that Emily was a constant of love and support throughout. Her desperate love for Gregg began to dissolve, like a film being washed from her mind.

With stark clarity, she saw Emily. Really saw Emily…

Never before had the supporting-role-like waif seemed so beautiful. Like a fly being drawn into a light, Brittany felt herself falling in love with the girl with a ferocity like none other. And her own seemingly minor despair was now dwarfed by the thought that her own actions had killed this beautiful, perfect being. That her own jealousy over someone she was only kind-of fond of had led to this series of events wherein the best thing that had ever happened to her lay dying beneath her. In fact, now that she thought about it – she never really liked Gregg all that much.

“If any magic existed in the world,” she thought to herself as yet another weak beat of her heart brought her closer to her own end, “take my life and spare hers.”

And with that the world went white.

Emily blinked. There was a weight on top of her chest. She could feel that her back and neck were wet. The weight on top of her shuddered…sobbed. It also felt like her head was coated in grease and someone was trying to grasp it with buttered hands.

“Oh God, oh God, OH GOD!!!” the weight wailed. Emily was confused, disoriented. Suddenly the wailing increased, and tiny fists began beating down on her shoulder in despair.

“Oof!” she cried as one fist hit her right in the tit.

Brittany’s head snapped up, looking into Emily’s glassy brown eyes in shock.

“You’re alive!” Brittany said, stunned.

Emily was confused, and her head wouldn’t stop spinning as she tried to get her bearings. Slowly, heartbeat by heart beat, the events of the previous few seconds began to come back to her. A wave of regret flooded into her at the decision she’d made. Already she felt empty. Gregg was gone, stripped from Brittany as thoroughly as he’d been stripped from her.

Emily felt like a stranger in her own head. Not being able to feel Gregg or Heather…it was like not being able to feel her own arms. And that bond had been the one thing she’d treasured more than anything in the world. She finally understood the level of grief she’d inflicted onto Brittany by trying to tear her free from Gregg. The void of his absence was almost unbearable.

Suddenly the formerly-suicidal pixy pulled her knees up beneath her, straddling Emily’s torso. Laying flat on Emily’s stomach was the knife. Both girls were certain that Brittany had landed upon the upturned blade, but there it was lying upon Emily’s unbroken skin, flat and clean of blood. As Brittany pulled her knees up, glass shards were kicked out of the way, none apparently beneath Emily – blown away in a radius around them as if by some magical wind. Both girls checked their own skin and then each others’ with an attention to detail that would make any crime scene investigator with obsessive compulsive disorder proud.

As they both realized neither was hurt in any real way, Brittany collapsed in sobs onto Emily – gripping the prone girl by the face and kissing her all over in hurried, desperate kisses.

“Oh I’m sorry! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!!” she said in between the multitude of kisses she rained down on the girl beneath her. “I don’t know what came over me! I’m sorry! I’m sorry!”

“Brittany! Brittany! Stop…just a second!” Emily said, barely able to breathe and her head still swimming.

She held the trembling girl’s hands in her own and she collected her bearings. Brittany’s eyes said it all. She’d made the right decision. This tiny nymph had been reborn and had a new destiny, one completely different from the life she’d left behind…and Emily realized she wanted to be a part of it…for however long it lasted. The void left behind by Gregg and Heather suddenly filled with love for Brittany. It was a different kind of love, but a love nonetheless. This newly created Brittany was a kindred spirit – full of life and child-like innocence. And with that acceptance, Emily’s heart swelled, both for the love she’d given up as well as for the love she’d just embraced.

Opening her mind to the fumbling one that was desperately trying to reach her, she connected with Gregg. It felt odd. It wasn’t like before. It wasn’t the connection of two stellarly entwined souls, but one separate and distinct allowing the other to visit.

“Em! Em, are you okay!?!”

“Gregg,” Emily thought inside her mind, still staring into Brittany’s worried gaze, “I’m fine…we’re fine.”

“What the hell happened?”

Emily smiled, pulling Brittany down and kissing her passionately. Her own thoughts rang out with a joy that Gregg couldn’t miss. “This is my engagement present to you Gregg. Don’t ask me how. Don’t ask me why…but you have Heather all to yourself now.”

“No…Em…I…”

“Shhh. It’s okay. I love you Gregg,” she thought fondly, as her own body responded with increasing ardor to the girl kissing and sobbing on top of her.

There was a long pause. Finally, Gregg’s voice sounded softly in her mind. “I love you too, Em. Thank you.”

Emily knew that she would continue to see Gregg on an almost daily basis, but that from this moment forward their relationship would never be the same. As her and Brittany’s mutual affection rapidly blossomed into an amorous flame, she knew Gregg would forever more be an outsider to her, no longer a soul shared, but now merely just another person. A special person – a VERY special person…but he’d never again fill that place in her heart and mind that Brittany now would.

As she let go of the connection to him, the last vestiges of all that had brought them to this point, Emily allowed herself one final moment of regret. She loved Brittany. She loved the others as well. And for however much time she’d bought for Gregg, she would cherish her memories and the memories yet to come. For she knew the pain and anguish that would one day be visited upon her – but as she wrapped her arms around Brittany and returned her feverish kisses with ones of her own, Emily knew that it was all worth it.

Brittany pulled back, needing to catch her breath, yet hesitant to disengage her lip-lock with Emily, lest this wondrous feeling inside her be only a dream. Her heart had already gone through the wringer too many times in the past few days. She bit her lip in uncertainty, drinking in every freckle, every contour of Emily’s face.

“Now what?” she asked innocently. Would they make love right here, on the floor? Would they go out for dinner and pretend to have a normal date, like a normal couple? Play cards?

Emily sat up, pushing Brittany down into her lap. Her butt and back were soaked in white wine, but there was not a shard of glass anywhere on her. She leaned forward and gave Brittany an almost chaste kiss that threatened to quickly devolved into something more animalistic. But Emily put the brakes on.

“First, we clean up this mess,” she said, brushing imaginary hairs off Brittany’s forehead. “Then…I don’t know. What do YOU want to do?”

Brittany continued to bite the corner of her lip, unsure of what she wanted next. Anything was possible, from the silly to the sensual. She looked around the kitchen, hoping to find inspiration to help her pick. Spying her MP3 player on the kitchen table, she knew.

“I want to dance.”

Before Emily could protest or even question, Brittany hopped up, pulled the pony-tailed girl to her feet, and stripped her naked, throwing the sodden clothes in the sink. She shooed Emily off to the bathroom, ignoring any protests, and told her to take a shower. Emily quickly washed the wine from her body and hair while Brittany cleaned the kitchen. She also hoped into the shower to quickly rinse the wine from her hands and knees and then joined a towel-clad Emily in the living room, similarly clad herself.

Cranking up the volume on the stereo, Brittany hit play and shuffle on her devise, filling the small apartment with sugary-sweet, infectious techno dance tunes. Neither girl was worried about neighbors complaining – Brittany because she overflowing with bubbly happiness, Emily because she knew that in the past year Gregg had unconsciously conditioned his neighbors to ignore all the sounds that came from this unit.

Brittany grabbed Emily’s hands and the two literally jumped for joy in time to the beat, never letting go of the other. They jumped on the couch, on the chairs, and most importantly, they jumped in each other’s arms. They were so filled with happiness that it was hours before they even burned off enough energy to even contemplate collapsing in bed and engaging in furious love-making that didn’t stop until the sun set the next evening…

* * *

The room was deathly silent. The applause had suddenly come to a halt and what was, moments ago, a joyous celebration had turned weird. The Omega Xis crowding around the newly engaged couple watched the rapid and confusing play of fear and anguish on Heather’s and Gregg’s faces, while their own libidos suddenly crashed as if the room had been flooded with ice water.

“What’s going on?” Laura asked quietly, stepping up to the still intertwined couple.

Fear and confusion continued to play across Gregg’s and Heather’s faces, their eyes never leaving each others’. Suddenly, both broke out in grins, Heather freeing one hand from around Gregg’s neck to cover her own open mouth in surprise. Tears welled in her eyes in both sadness and joy. Their eyes rapidly searched the other’s face as if seeing it for the first time. Laura couldn’t know how true this was.

The two lovebirds smiles grew bigger than their faces and they pulled together, a kiss as searing as none other. Finally Gregg pulled back, his again fully erect cock slipping free from his fiancé. He liked the sound of that. “Fiancé…” The word seemed wholly inadequate for just how much he loved her. The adventures they’d had, the trials they’d faced together were like something out of a fictional tale.

So, lacking a ring, just how does one demonstrate the depths of his love for such a perfect creature? For a woman who wasn’t just his soul mate, but was his very soul? The answer was thick in the very air they were breathing.

Gregg turned to Laura and nodded, and his one-time slave understood that formalities here needed to be wrapped up.

“All those in favor of granting Heather honorary membership to our sacred sisterhood, say ‘Aye.’” A chorus of “Ayes” filled the room.

“Those opposed, say ‘Nay.”

Silence.

And then Laura did something that surprised Gregg, focused as he was on Heather who he held tightly in his arms, their faces mere centimeters apart. “And those in favor of naming Dr. Gregg Walters our House Stud, say ‘Aye.’” An even more enthusiastic chorus of “Ayes” filled the room – so much so that Laura didn’t even bother to ask for nays. This wasn’t part of her original plan, but she rightly imagined that there would be no objection. This little move on her part opened the door for Gregg to truly own the girls on Omega Xi, and not have to work through her to sample what they had to offer.

Heather raised her eyebrow at Gregg, almost challenging him to deny that he didn’t know this was coming. But she could feel his surprise through their bond, and knew the truth…but that didn’t stop her from giving him a hard time. And speaking of a HARD time…

“I have something for you, Love,” Gregg said, standing a little straighter. The room filled with giggles.

“Do you?” Heather responded, lightly tapping the tip of his extended penis with her finger. The giggles filled the air as did overall level of lust.

Gregg began planting little seeds into each of the dozens of girls there. He wasn’t taking control, per se – merely building on the desires already overflowing in each mind. His expanded powers and his little cheat on the rules of this cosmic game, made it possible to control more minds than any other before him…without actually controlling them. Often the best way to lead a mob was merely to get in front of it.

Gregg stepped back, out of Heather’s reach and put his arm around Laura’s waist. Heather looked at him quizzically for a moment before a deluge of feminine flesh pounced on her. Ceremonial togas flew in all directions and Heather was buried beneath a mountain of breasts, asses, tongues and cunts.

Heather was quickly overwhelmed by the combined lust of more than 30 women reaching, grabbing, sucking, and licking. She reciprocated where she could, but the best she could do was ride he current.

And in the fog of pleasure she saw what Gregg was doing. The perfect control that Christine had used inside her mind was intensely pleasurable…but compared to the frenzied chaos Gregg was inflicting on her now, it was nothing. Christine had created facsimiles of the Omega Xi girls by looking at the house portraits…but each girl was a construct, a limited imagining. Here, all the minor imperfections, differences, and styles all competed to maximize Heather’s pleasure. Each lip tasted different. Each tongue had its own shape, its own technique. Each girl moaned or cried out differently in pleasure…and she yearned to experience each and all of what they had to offer. It wasn’t one large machine fucking her, but 30 individuals all seeking to maximize her pleasure.

What girls couldn’t fit around the water-tight ring around Heather quickly broke off into duos, trios, and more off to the side. All with one eye open for any opportunity to join in the fray. Laura, the president and thus highest ranking sister of the sorority, took advantage of her position by claiming first rights to Gregg…who didn’t object.

Heather was in good hands, so to speak, so he was able to devote his full attention to her. He slipped off her golden ceremonial robes and lay her back upon the floor, her legs spread wide to accept his length, one loving inch at a time. They commenced an unhurried love making, Gregg tapping into her mind to funnel some of the pleasures Heather was experiencing into his former slave. Every inch of Laura’s skin tingled with replicas of what was being done to Heather, and she knew that what she was feeling was a mere fraction of the pleasure Heather was experiencing.

For long minutes, Gregg and Laura fucked beside the writhing mass of bodies. It was an unhurried pace, but given the excitement building up in the room, it was only a matter of time before they both cried out in pleasure, their hips slapping together furiously and Gregg unleashing his load into her quivering pussy. Gregg dropped onto his elbows, his chest resting lightly on Laura’s. His fingers played in her blonde tresses as they looked fondly into each others’ eyes.

Theirs was a special relationship. As strong as it was dissimilar to his and Heather’s. Gregg could feel the devotion in her, the love she had for him pouring into the temporary bond he’d created for this moment. Finally, after months of trying and failing, Gregg no longer heard the word “Slave” or “Master” in her mind. And with unspoken approval, he kissed her, grateful for the journey they’d taken together to reach this point.

He still felt the hatred she held for her sisterhood. He saw the plans she held for the direction she’d take this shallow collection of beauties. But, most importantly, he saw her desire to find the rare diamonds amid the rough that would build the strength of character to see that they didn’t want to be Omega Xis after all. Those precious few would be the ones who would reap the ultimate rewards of the particular skills and resources Laura had to offer. Those who remained shallow and clung to the ideals of Omega Xi would be used like the whores they were. Those that sought escape would find Laura more than ready to show them the light.

It was her mission – it was her purpose, and it gave her life meaning beyond serving Gregg’s and Heather’s needs.

Gregg sat back, allowing Laura to slide free. She would have stayed with Gregg all night, but part of leadership was sharing the spoils of war. She gave him one final kiss before sauntering over toward the pile. Younger girls made room for her deferentially, and Laura locked lips with Heather who was still being licked and sucked from all angles. More adventurous girls, seeing an opportunity quickly pounced on Laura as well, seeking a taste of their president as well as the reward left inside her by Gregg.

The formal pecking order of the house left no doubts as to who would be served next. Gloria, the vice-president pulled herself free from between Heather’s legs. Upon seeing Laura join the party, she knew it was her turn. Under Brittany’s formerly repressive rule, Gloria had been a closeted lesbian. Made to feel ashamed of her desires for other women, she’d dished out infamous beatings to pledges in what she later came to realize were repressed feelings. Since Laura’s reforms, there was no longer a stigma on how she felt, and the copious amount of Heather’s juices glistening from her chin was testament to that.

Almost exclusively turned on by women, Gregg was the rare exception to that lust. Feeling generous, she tapped her former-pledge-turned-full-member Jenny on the shoulder and nodded for her to join her. Gloria didn’t have many friends in the sorority due to her treatment of almost all of them as pledges…but this simple act of sharing went a long way to softening many of the girls’ opinion of her. As the two girls helped Gregg stand and led him over to a couch, all senior girls next in line in the pecking order realized that they’d have to follow the example, bringing one or more junior women with them to enjoy Gregg.

The night of fucking continued on well into the morning and beyond. Some girls slept where they collapsed, exhausted and fucked out. Gregg and Heather, however, remained a bottomless well of sexual energy, taking on any and all who landed at their feet. There was not a girl who didn’t have a taste of Gregg’s seed, or felt it spraying into their womb or ass or upon their skin. There was not a girl who didn’t have a taste of Heather or have the goddess-like redhead return the favor. Laura as well went out of her way to sexually satisfy any Omega Xi who wanted a taste of her “power.”

And as the sun set the next night, the last Omega Xi retreated on shaky legs to the shower room and into a bed – their own or the closest one they could find that had a bit of mattress to spare. The living room was a disaster area with remnants of robes and ceremonial regalia strewn about haphazardly. The floor and – yes – even the walls would need to be washed, but that was a task for another day.

Laura, kept conscious only by the last remaining drops of Gregg’s power helped the newly engaged couple to their feet. All three of them were spent and covered in the juices of dozens of women. They’d moved far beyond what was sensuous into the realm of what was just gross. Together they shuffled off to the shower room, ignoring the girl who was passed out on the floor, the cascading water doing nothing to revive her.

A quick scrub and shampoo, each person lovingly washing another, and then all three stumbled into Laura’s room, stepping over a spooned pair of girls collapsed in the hallway. They curled up together, too tired to contemplate what this brave new world would have to offer next.

* * *

In the meantime, while Gregg and Heather were just beginning their membership into the hallowed halls of the sisters of Omega Xi, Christine was reveling in her dispensation of revenge and justice, inducting a few “sisters” of her own.

“P…p…please…” Monica gasped hoarsely, breaking out into a weak coughing fit that sent a thick white dribble down her already coated chin. “P…please stop…” She warily eyed the tentacle that hung just inches from her face, ready to thrust itself back into her mouth without a moment’s notice.

Christine turned her gaze from the show on the couch to her captive still hanging in the air. It was difficult to pull her gaze away. For hours and hours she’d been watching the brunette and redheaded duo go at it on the couch. The ceaseless fucking for the past four or five hours (in this world at least) had completely warped their brains. They no longer needed the magical tentacles to hold them suspended in the air. So eager were they to fuck each other that the tentacles now simply served to nudge them from position to position, and then fill whatever holes were left unguarded.

Sometimes Allison had the magical cock. Sometimes Kathy. Sometimes both. But no matter who had what, the tentacles kept them both in delirious pleasure: fucking orifices, sucking nipples, spraying tremendous gobs of human semen everywhere. The couch where their activities were contained was thoroughly destroyed. The magical cocks and tentacles had unloaded quarts of the thick white goo – some on, most of it inside the girls. They ceased to beg and plead for mercy, and now only begged and pleaded for more. They were beyond physically exhausted, but their bodies would not let them rest, craving each other more and more.

“Why? Why should I stop? I’m enjoying the show. Aren’t you?”

Monica choked back her response, afraid to open her mouth lest the hovering tentacle tip force its way back in. She wanted to vomit, but whatever magic Christine had was preventing her from dumping the “precious cargo.” Every time one of the tentacles or the magic cock(s) in the side-show came, so did the tentacle fucking her mouth. For hours she’d done nothing but swallow cum. She felt full beyond belief, even though her stomach wasn’t physically distended. It seemed impossible that a human being could swallow so much of ANY liquid…but she’d since stopped thinking in terms of what was physically possible in this nightmare.

“P…p…”

“Oh shut up! You’re such a whiny little bitch, you know that?” Christine stood, her eyes and hair still coal-black, her hair still flailing like in some electrical storm. She pressed her hand against Monica’s belly, and the captive blonde groaned. It felt like she was going to throw-up…but both knew that wouldn’t happen…yet that didn’t make the experience any less nauseating.

“Did my sister beg you to stop?”

Monica was about to answer “yes” – anything to make this nightmare end…but she couldn’t. Christine would know she was lying. A tear fell from her eye as she began to sob.

Christine wiped away that tear with a full-arm swing slap across the face.

“DID SHE!?!? Did she beg you to stop?!”

Monica was sobbing openly now, her cries completely ignored by the duo on the couch who changed position again, this time both sprouting magical dicks. They turned into a 69 position and began sucking each other’s cocks while the tentacles proceeded to penetrate both of their assholes and vaginas.

“N…no, she begged me…she begged me for more!”

“That right! Didn’t you think that odd? Have you ever had a woman beg for more?”

Monica hung her head, defeated, sobbing. Christine made a motion to slap the woman again, and Monica flinched, quickly stammering out her response to avoid the woman’s wrath.

“”No! No…no one ever asked for more…at the end…”

“And you couldn’t let some fucked-up little girl ruin your shoot, could you?”

“No…no…I’m…I’m so – ”

“–AND THAT’S when you had your husband, the sick fuck with the tattoos, fucked her face, isn’t it?”

Monica was crying again, not wanting to admit what she’d done. What she’d allowed to happen. What she delighted in happening…

“He fucked her face until she passed out. And then he kept on fucking her. He didn’t stop until he came. He was so high on coke he completely forgot that my sister COULDN’T BREATHE WITH HIS DICK IN HER THROAT! Arggh!! You starved her brain of oxygen! You destroyed most of her brain and left her in a coma! And then you just dumped her body like garbage!!! The last thing her eyes will ever have seen in this world is your husband’s asshole and balls as the life was choked out of her!”

Christine took a full swing again, this time close-fisted, into Monica’s stomach. The tentacles held her tight, not letting her fold in half to lessen the blow or manage the pain. Christine went berserk, treating Monica’s body like a punching bag for an impossibly long time as the aggression slowly worked its way out of her system. The image of her sister’s last waking moments was so powerfully sickening that she howled, unable to find words substantial enough to express her grief and rage.

Her little baby sister…their parents’ favorite. Her favorite.

She didn’t deserve what happened to her. She didn’t deserve such an end.

The rage eventually dissipated, Christine’s hair settled down, reverting to its reddish-blonde hue. The black of her eyes dissolved and she was left with her blue flecked with green. Monica’s body was black-and-blue and red and yellow and green from the neck down to her waist. She was in so much pain she was beyond crying. It was likely that every rib in her chest was broken…Or, at least it felt that way.

Christine looked at the pitiful sight. She had the tentacles lower Monica back into the chair. Christine extended her hand toward Monica’s stomach and the abused blonde flinched, sending shockwaves of pain through her body. But when Christine’s hand landed, the bruising and the pain began to dissipate, seemingly drawn up and into her tormentor. Christine shuddered as if in pleasure as the pain was absorbed back into her body. Her eyes glazed over, much like Vince’s often did after snorting a huge line of coke.

Christine was pulled out from her euphoria by the whimpering sounds of Allison and Kathy. Their tentacles and the magic dicks had suddenly disappeared during her rage storm, leaving them with only their mouths, fingers, and clits…woefully disappointing compared to what they’d had. They didn’t care what was happening to Monica – they probably didn’t even notice. So overpowering was their newfound lust for each other and the hyper-intense pleasure they’d been subjected to for the past five hours that all else in their world ceased to exist. And therein lie their final punishment…they’d never experience anything like this again. Any future pleasure would seem insignificant compared to what they’d just had. And they’d try…Christine would make sure they would try and try and try…

They belonged to her now. She owned them in ways they couldn’t even comprehend.

Monica, pain-free and fully lucid watched the display. She watched her cum-coated “sisters” rub and suck at each other, each desperate for the other to again bring her ecstasy. Her own fate was now as clear as the goo that covered her “sisters” was white. She didn’t offer any further excuses or pleas. If anything, the last several hours demonstrated that they’d just fall on deaf ears. She experienced a calm, an acceptance of whatever was about to happen.

But just like that, her calm was shattered with another unrestrained slap across the face.

“Uh uh…No no no. No zen for you. As long as my sister knows no peace, neither will you. There’s one more thing I want to share with you before I’m done.”

Face stinging, Monica braced for the worst.

Christine crawled up onto Monica’s lap, her knees on the chair to either side of Monica’s hips. She sat back on the beaten woman’s thighs, gently brushing hair off the woman’s forehead. The soothing motion did absolutely nothing to calm her nerves. In fact, the calm in Christine’s demeanor only filled Monica with that much more horror at the apparent banality with which Christine was able to dish out these unspeakable punishments.

Christine began massaging Monica’s temples. She closed her eyes and began to speak. “I want to share something with you. Monica. I want us to become closer. I want us to understand each other.

“My sister came to you, vulnerable. Unable to restrain her lusts due to tortures inflicted upon her that you cannot imagine. But rather than see that something wasn’t right with her and offering to help, you decided to exact a punishment. What you lack is empathy. So. That’s what I’m going to grant you. Empathy. I don’t want you to have to imagine what my sister and I went through to reach this point.”

Monica was confused as well as scared. What did she mean?

“I want you to experience every moment of every pain and torture the two of us went through in the past year. I want you to KNOW!”

And with that, Christine began dumping every single memory she had from the moment David found her at the hotel bar in Tunisia through her sister’s final vision as she suffocated. Inside Monica’s mind, there was no respite. Every experience was played out in real time – at least to her – and as soon as one brutal memory was done, it moved on to the next. The only difference is that Christine removed the faux-enjoyment David’s powers gave her. Where David had transformed pains into pleasures, Christine offered Monica no such mercy.

With neither glee nor sadness, with no emotion at all, Christine fed Monica’s psyche everything she’d lived through. The woman beneath her screamed and screamed – screaming so loud and for so long that soon the only sounds coming from her were pitiful squeaks.

Eventually it stopped. Eventually there was nothing more to give. And whether it was an act of cruelty or mercy, Christine made sure to keep Monica from falling completely over the deep end. There were moments when she was certain that the unrestrained memories would physically lobotomize the woman, but Christine made sure that didn’t happen. Where her “sisters” had been transformed into pleasure junkies, detached from their own personality save for their need for each other and for a release they’d never find, Monica could only stare in shock, her brain no longer able to process her tormentor’s experiences. The worst was the final thought – the feeling of her own husband raping her throat as she lost consciousness…the final memory extracted from Merriam’s mind.

Monica stared vacantly at Christine, unable to even summon the mental faculties to prevent a line of drool from escaping her lips.

“And now you know.”

* * *

Adam raced through the jungle, tripping over roots and vines, desperately plunging through the morning mist to get back to his camp. He couldn’t stop Natalie. He’d finally accepted that after watching his slave and his nemesis make passionate love. There was no stopping her now, and he didn’t know what would happen when she finished with her mission. All he knew was that he needed to get out of here. And fast.

Skidding to a halt before his tent, he quickly threw the most essential items into his canvas backpack. Compass, water purifier, the worn copy of Gregg’s notes…not that he needed them anymore – but they’d become almost like a bible to him.

He felt Natalie standing on an overpass, idly watching the cars and trucks race by beneath her on one of Chicago’s snowy highways. She was hesitating…and that was the best he could hope for: that the instinctual urges to stay alive would win out. He quelled any thoughts of what he would do to her if she lost her spine and submitted once again to him. He knew that she would sense his rage and that might propel her over. He tried to think happy, soothing thoughts…even pleasurable ones…but they were now foreign to him.

The jungle steamed around him, yet he shivered with cold, Natalie’s cold.

Suddenly, Adam felt it. The indecision in Natalie vanished, like a slate wiped clean. A calm filled him – a calm that was not his own.

It was inevitability.

Falling.

It seemed to go on forever. For the longest seconds of his life, he imagined he could fly. The cold wintery air blasting through his hair, against his face as gravity accelerated his descent.

Not his descent. Hers.

There was no pain. It was just…over.

He looked around, saw the blood caking his hands from the “ritual” he’d performed earlier when Natalie had begun acting on her decision – a decision he thought she didn’t have the guts to follow through.

He was wrong.

“What am I?” he asked in disbelief – the last glimmer of the boy he used to be sparking to life. He rubbed at his hands, but the blood wouldn’t come off. A permanent reminder to the animal he had become.

He felt empty. Alone. He didn’t realize until this moment the amount of his soul that had been occupied by Natalie. His gifts were paltry compared to what David had. His master was filling him up with powers a drop at a time, and he was yet nowhere near what his potential held. It was too soon. She was like the ballast in a ship – keeping him from capsizing…keeping him human.

His consciousness stretched out from his body of its own accord. It was searching. Fear threatened to smother Adam. He knew what was happening. When Gregg had gotten his powers, his consciousness immediately bonded with Heather. David only bonded with Christine because he was too slow to act on his desires for the beautiful redhead. Adam had bonded with Natalie in part because of her proximity to Gregg, but also because she was available.

The powers demanded duality. They searched of their own accord, attempting to fix what was broken. He struggled to maintain control, but he wasn’t strong enough.

“Not here! Not now!!”

But his pleas were only heard by the startled members of the tribal hunters who had guided him to this place. They rushed around his tent, wondering what jungle fever had overcome the white man who had paid them in gold. The oldest of the group motioned the youngest to bring the healer, and the boy promptly ran off.

Adam was dragged out from the tent, his thrashing body pinned to the muddy ground. Until they could figure out what fever or demon possessed this man, they knew they had to restrain him to keep from hurting himself or others.

“LET ME GO!! LET ME GO!!” he yelled impotently. But they didn’t understand. Their translator was back at the village. They’d been told where to take him, and that’s all they knew.

His consciousness whipped around him, finding only other males. It felt like his very skin was being stretched, and he clawed at himself in an effort to pull himself free of his own dermal prison. His increased thrashing only caused the tribesmen to hold him down with greater force.

Adam saw her coming and screamed. “NOOOO!” She was old and decrepit. Her saggy, floppy tits were displayed, painted in a similar style to her elaborate head dress. She had but one tooth, and she relied on the youth to help her stand. A woven bag was hung across her chest, sinking deep into old, soft wrinkly flesh. She began shaking a rattle over Adam’s head and chanted something unintelligible.

With all his might, he fought to keep his consciousness bottled up. But there was only this one female in the vicinity. He cried out to his Master to give him more time, but he only heard a deep dark chuckle in the back of his mind.

Snap

He felt her inside him. He felt her mind meld with his own. They did not speak the same language, but they understood each other.

Her chanting stopped and she just stared at him. He stared back. The words devil and demon were burned in his brain, transcending language. She felt something inside her she hadn’t felt in years. Demon or devil, she didn’t care.

She smiled – her one grey tooth almost glinting. She licked her old cracked lips with her tongue.

The tribesmen continued to hold Adam down as he struggled to escape the woman standing over him. But they knew the healer’s cures were often painful and they secured him that much tighter. But then as he struggled, they began to laugh. This was no cure they’d ever seen from her before…Especially when she knelt down and undid his pants. She pulled them down until his little dick popped free. They laughed because all four inches of it was standing erect.

He was disgusted. He was petrified. He wanted to escape.

He wanted her.

She squatted down over Adam, using the youth for leverage. His dick pressed against her dirty, hairy bush, finally pushing up into her pussy, the first one in there in over twenty years. The smell of her body, of her sex, was awful.

Her breasts flopped back and forth like half-filled bags of water as she fucked him. The laughter of the tribesmen was only partially drowned by the laughter in the back of his mind.

The pair of them rutted comically – Adam both excited as well as holding back his vomit, the healer experiencing pleasure she’d never known in her youth even with hunters from the tribe who dwarfed this little white man. Adam couldn’t hold back any longer and despite his best efforts, his semen fired off into the old hag. She shuddered and cried out before collapsing her unwashed body fully upon him. The feel of her diseased gums and that one tooth kissing against his neck made him shudder. Her dry, calloused hands explored his skin under his shirt, her yellow fingernails scratching his skin. He’d rather have had live tarantulas crawling over him…

And a few minutes later, her hips started rocking again.

Adam cursed Natalie. He cursed the fates. He cursed his Master who found his rage amusing. He cursed the new dribble of power he felt coursing through his body. His newest reward.

He cursed Dr. Walters for unlocking these powers in the first place.

One day, he and his bitch, Heather, would suffer beyond imagining for what they’d done to him. He would destroy everything they loved…and then would he kill them.

* * *

Christine blinked. She was back in the real world.

Her right ear was ringing.

Her three victims remained unconscious where she’d put them. Looking at a clock on the wall, she saw that the hours and hours of torture she’d inflicted on them had taken less than a half hour in real-time. She knew she had to let them rest for a bit, had to let their over-worked brains recover from the hyper-stimulation she’d subjected them to. The last thing she wanted was three zombies. They needed to remain cogent – they needed to be human so that they would understand what had led them to their fate. She wanted the rest of their days to be a living reminder of what they had done to her sister.

The air smelled thickly of female sex. The couch beneath the lesser of the three sisters was completely sodden. They were drenched in perspiration and their tongues were swollen in thirst.

But there was another smell in the air. She looked around, wondering where it came from. It didn’t take much more than the turning of her head to see a sight that would have made the strongest man puke. But she was so emotionally numb right now, she felt nothing. It could have been just a prop for all she cared. The only thing she felt was a little bit of sadness that she wouldn’t get to extract that last bit of revenge herself. But at least it explained the strange ringing in her right ear.

Lying lifeless and face-down in a pool of his own blood was Vince. She recognized him instantly by his distinctive lizard-skin tattoos. His right hand held a gun, the finger squeezing the trigger, but his wrist was turned completely the wrong way. His pants were down around his ankles and his knife, still clutched in his left hand, was protruding up through his chest and out his back. In a separate, smaller pool of blood several feet away from his body was the remnants of his only gift to the porn world – the instrument of Merriam’s demise. Christine stood and squatted close to Vince’s head, his dead-eyed stare still showing surprise and shock above the hole where his throat used to be. She wondered vaguely in what order these events took place.

Standing, sadness filled her. It came rushing on like nothing she’d ever felt before. She knew who did this. She knew why he did it as well. As her sleeping victims continued to recover silently, she reclaimed her chair and slumped forward and cried like she hadn’t cried in years.

She felt empty. She felt rudderless. She felt the grief she’d held back or had blocked since the day she was taken captive.

While her tears offered her some solace that she still maintained a shred of humanity, the bloody mess on the floor paralleled the bloody mess that had become her life. Rather than finding completion in the dispensation of justice, she still felt only that burning need inside her. The “magic” cocks and the tentacles had been modeled after a very specific source, one that she’d only tasted thus far in her mind.

She curled a reddish-blonde lock around her finger, examining it through the blur of her tears. The ruddy hue mocked her. It demonstrated that even with her advanced abilities, she still could not summon enough of her own self to dispel the last remnants of David’s final desires that she be Heather. She didn’t need to look in a mirror to know that her once pristine blue eyes were flecked with green, an alluring, albeit damned effect. She knew she could summon up the image of black death that she’d become with ease…but taking on her own former appearance was out of reach. And yet, she burned with sexual desire to be with Gregg…to own him…to own Heather…to BE Heather. It was maddening.

There had to be an end game. This was not existence. She’d escaped David only to be cast into another circle of hell.

She had one thing left inside her. One last desire to which she clung. She hated what she felt.

She reveled in it.

There were two pieces left to this puzzle. Two pieces that were shaped to fit together perfectly…and terribly.

It was time finish this. She didn’t start this game, but she would finish it.

She would take control of Gregg Walters.

If she couldn’t control him, she would kill him.

If she couldn’t control him and failed to kill him, she would kill herself.

In the silence of the warehouse studio, flanked on one side by her new slaves and the last bloody remains of their former lives on the other, Christine began formulating plans for whatever the outcome her final struggle with Gregg. Whether she lived or died, certain accounts had to be settled.