The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The room looked oddly familiar. She’d dreamt this place before.

‘Strange,’ Laura thought. ‘Why aren’t I afraid?’

Laura stepped up to the wall of the crystal sphere that was currently holding her prisoner. Maybe not a pure sphere…It seemed to grow organically from the floor, perhaps ten paces in diameter, doming over her head almost to the ceiling. Her reflection distorted and refracted in the sharp edges where seemingly random shapes met to form its solid wall. Through the surface she could see stacks of boxes and file cabinets. ‘The archives again.’ The room was getting colder and she was starting to see her breath. The thought she knew to be true, that she clung to like a lifeline to her sanity: ‘This is only a dream.’

“If it’s only a dream, then wake up.” Laura lifted her gaze and saw herself closing the door to the archives behind her. It was an almost perfect mirror image of herself. The only difference was that while she inside the prison wore pure white robes, much like Omega Xi pledges during their initiation ceremony, her doppelganger wore the golden robes of the sorority’s highest office…the office she was working to win at elections at the end of the semester…the office currently held by Brittany Anderson. “Come on Laura, wake up and escape!” From inside, Laura pounded on the crystalline wall, to little effect. “No? Hmm…maybe if I sprinkle you with fairy dust and you think happy happy thoughts, you’ll fly away – second star to the right and straight on ‘til morning and all that shit!”

The Laura outside the sphere grinned wickedly, tapping the all too solid prison with the presidential ceremonial staff. “No. Sorry, it doesn’t work that way. You’re not leaving just yet. You and I have some things to discuss. For starters…why do you even exist? Why are you here? I was doing just fine until you came along. I’d put up with all of Brittany’s crap, and I was well on my way to becoming president myself! But no! You had to show up and let THAT asshole in.”

“Don’t call Master that.”

“Don’t call Master that!” the free Laura repeated in mocking tones. “MASTER? FUCK YOU! I don’t have a master! I am the master! Not some piece of shit man!” The Laura outside the sphere was practically frothing at the mouth. “Look at the mess you’ve made! You let your feelings for some little shit goth nerd stand in the way of my plans. And for what? So you can get me raped? So you can give Brittany and Natalie fuel to burn me with? Honestly you disgust me.” The outside Laura closed her eyes and the temperature inside the sphere dropped even further. The trapped Laura shivered and watched as her crystal prison began to frost over, obscuring the vision of herself on the outside.

“It’s over you pathetic excuse for a human. This is MY body and MY mind and I’m taking it back. Once you’re on ice, I’ll deal with your ‘friends.’”

“You leave them alone!”

The outer Laura didn’t seem to hear. “I’ll bet the world wouldn’t miss him if he suddenly disappeared. I better call in a few favors with some…less than reputable former clients…”

“NOOO!!” Laura ran full speed at the frosted crystal wall in front of her. As she crashed through, rough glass shards sliced deeply into her flesh, tearing skin, breaking bone. So deep was her rage, that she didn’t feel a thing. The gold-robed Laura looked astonished, perhaps even a little afraid.

Picking up one of the broken shards on the ground in a bloodied hand, she charged at her nemesis, heedless of the fresh cut it was making deep into her palm.

“No you fool! You’ll kill us both!”

“I’LL DIE BEFORE I LET YOU HURT HIM!!” Mindless with rage, she charged ahead, the crystal shard piercing the other Laura’s chest with a sickening thunk – a growing red stain coloring her once golden robes. The impaled Laura gaped at her former prisoner, her mouth moving wordlessly. A trickle of blood spilled from the corner of her mouth.

Stunned at her own action, the white-clad Laura backed away from the other Laura. She looked down at her own chest and watched as a similar pool of red began spreading across the front of her own once white robes. Backing up toward the door of the archives, she leaned against the wall, sliding down to the floor, leaving a bloody smear against the wall. ‘Cold,’ she thought. ‘So cold…’

A small smile appeared on her face. ‘Maybe death isn’t so bad…what did I have to live for anyway? At least I saved them…from myself…’

Suddenly the door beside her opened, letting in a brilliant white light. A soft feminine hand reached out and gripped her by the arm. Warmth flooded into her body and everything went white.

Laura gasped. It felt like it was the first breath she’d taken in hours. Her heart beat a mile a minute and she tried to remember where she was. Last night she came to Gregg’s apartment and after a lot of crying, she and Charli and Chad talked. And talked, and talked, and talked. It was very late when they went to bed. She was about to leave, but Charli insisted she stay. Chad volunteered to sleep on the couch.

She bent her legs and felt that she had slept in the jeans she arrived in. In front of her, Charli slept above the covers, also wearing last night’s clothes. When she attempted to roll out of bed, she felt a tug on her arm. A tear escaped her eye when she saw Charli’s hand holding her arm tightly.

Laura instinctively felt at her chest. No blood…it was only a dream.

Rolling back into bed, Laura pried Charli’s hand off her arm and held it in her own hands. Charli frowned in her sleep, clearly battling her own demons. Bringing Charli’s hand up to her lips, Laura kissed her fingertips lightly, lovingly.

She closed her eyes once again, no longer afraid of what dreams may come.

“Good morning Miss Anderson. Forgive me for being so blunt, but you look terrible!” To an untrained eye, the comment Gregg just made would have seemed laughable. But Gregg was fast becoming an expert on all things Omega Xi.

Brittany Anderson, president and most feared/respected member of the elite sorority on campus sat uneasily in the chair opposite Gregg’s office desk. That she was uneasy was the first sign that Gregg wasn’t crazy. The almost imperceptible bags under her eyes covered by just a bit too much makeup was the second. Her slightly wobbly gait when she walked into his office at 10am exactly was a third.

If she’d had her way, she would still be in bed. Even without setting an alarm, her mind was sharply awake around nine, giving her plenty of time to clean up the mess that was her face and body. Her first order of business was to shower. Somehow she’d gotten home last night, but too exhausted to shower, she just crawled into bed, completely uncaring that she was caked in sweat and other…fluids. For some reason, the idea of skipping her meeting with Dr. Walters caused to break out in a cold sweat.

The man sitting so comfortably, so confidently behind his desk inspired both fear and lust. Her muscles still ached at the unbelievable fucking she endured the night before. So painful, and yet pleasurable beyond comprehension. Much of the night was a haze. She remembered bits and pieces. For example, while she had no idea how she got home, she clearly remembered some faceless redhead doing…unspeakable…things to her.

Gregg folded his hands on the desk, basking in Brittany’s discomfort. Unlike the beauty across from him, Gregg felt truly alive and fresh. Maybe it was the knowledge of what he was about to unleash on this woman who had caused his friends such grievous harm. Sitting in the windowless office, the picture of detached rationality, Gregg was reminded of the interrogation scene from “The Matrix” which Charli had forced him to watch last week. He knew he was supposed to sympathize with the hero, but right now he felt like an all-powerful Agent Smith! All he was missing was an ear-piece and some dark glasses.

“I want to thank you for a truly…enjoyable evening Miss Andrews. I learned so much from you…about you. What about you? Do you feel it was a productive use of your time?”

Brittany was in no mood to be fucked around with. True she had never experienced the peaks of pleasure Dr. Walters brought out in her, but her purpose for being there was not for her own enjoyment…especially not for HIS. It was time to wipe that smug smile off his face. She was perhaps showing her cards too early, not yet having reviewed her hidden camera footage, but she felt confident she had more than enough material with which to blackmail him.

“Yes, Dr. Walters. I think I learned a lot. I know that you’re a sick fuck who’s willing to trade sex for grades. I’m sure the administration will love to talk to you about it.”

Brittany’s accusation was usually the cue for her victim to start weeping, stuttering, and bargaining. But Dr. Walters just sat there smiling, unfazed, fingers still calmly laced on the desktop.

“I don’t think you fully appreciate how much trouble you’re in Dr. Walters. I have video evidence of you raping me. We’ll call it rape since you as a teacher are in a position of power…and I’m just a poor, innocent student who was taken advantage of…” Her performance was truly Oscar-worthy.

To her shock, Gregg’s grin only broadened. Rather than taking her bait, he simply turned his computer monitor around and pressed ‘Play’ on his media player. Like a sick highlights reel, Brittany was treated to digital video of herself from last night, featuring her unintended vocalizations (“yesss…”, “fuck me…”, etc.,) as well as the look of abject passion on her face. The end of the minute-long clip featured all three of her holes getting filled with his semen, and her clear enjoyment of those acts. Whoever edited the footage took care to black-out the faces of everyone but her.

All the color drained from Brittany’s face. Instinctively, her hand clutched around her rigged Prada bag. “Oh, don’t worry…we put your camera back where we found it. Thank you for loaning us your equipment. As payment, please accept this copy of our censored version of last night’s events.” Gregg pushed the DVD-ROM across the desk which Brittany picked up with shaking fingers. “You can be sure that we are unidentifiable. You, however, well…let’s just say the camera loves you.”

“This doesn’t prove anything you sick son of a bitch.”

“Oh, you’re probably right. To anyone watching, it probably just looks like you were having a night of fun. Nothing too incriminating other than all those little Omega Xi taboos you broke.” Gregg ticked off on his fingers as he listed her offenses: “Having unprotected sex, anal sex, gay sex, and of course…getting caught on camera. With all the close-ups and pans, how could you not notice that there was someone with a camera there? No one will believe that this is secret camera footage. And then there’s your absolutely poor performance sucking my dick. Honestly, I thought you gals would be better at that. Gee, I’d hate to think of what your sorority sisters would think if they got a hold of this. And don’t worry – I’ve made plenty of copies. For now, just think of it as a memento of our special night together.”

Brittany slumped in her seat. She was too exhausted to think her way out of this trap. The best strategy at this point was just to agree to whatever he said and get away. “Okay…what do you want?”

“The secret passcodes to the Zion Mainframe!” Brittany looked at him like she had no idea what he was talking about.

“Hmm, not in the mood for a little humor, eh?”

Brittany just stared at him blankly. “Okay then. Miss Anderson, you fail to grasp the point. It’s not about what I want. It’s about what YOU want.” Brittany looked at him quizzically. Gregg pulled a file folder out from his desk and calmly examined its contents. When he could see that Brittany was anxious to know what was so intriguing, he turned the folder around laid it before her. She cringed at the all too familiar candid snapshots of her in incriminating poses with (in this case) one of the math faculty. “You keep very detailed records. According to your impeccable files, you’ve managed to milk Dr. Henderson for close to $10,000 so far to keep his one-time affair with you from his wife. For an academic, that’s a lot of money…heck, it’s a lot of money for anyone! I’m sure the good professor…well, maybe not so good or he wouldn’t have fucked you…but still, I’m sure he’d be relieved to know that his file is no longer in your keeping.”

Brittany’s mind reeled. How could he have that? It was obviously her file, she recognized her handwriting on the inside folder cover. What else did he have?

As if he was reading her mind, he answered. “You must have been very exhausted last night. Didn’t you realize when you went to bed that your file cabinet was missing? That your computer was gone? That all of your little stashes of information were gone? And yes, I even have the flash drive you hid inside your Mr. Snuggles. Didn’t you even notice that this – ” he pulled her pledge paddle out from under his desk, “ – was missing from its peg over your bed?”

Brittany started making a quick mental list of all the places she hid her valuable information, knowing he couldn’t possibly have gotten everything. Like a well honed reflex, Brittany put on her most charming smile, sitting up straighter to emphasize her breasts, and licked her lips, her tongue stud tapping against her lower teeth. ‘Use the tools you got, Brittany,’ she thought to herself.

“Take a cold shower Brittany. You were barely passable as a mercy fuck last night.” Brittany slumped back down, looking as though his words stung more painfully than a fist. “Maybe you should be paying ME for lessons?”

“Is that what this is about? Money? I’ve got money. How much do you want?”

“It’s not about money.” Gregg sighed almost sadly, exasperated. “You just really have no idea, do you? Not everything is about you.” Gregg scanned her consciousness and her actions on Tuesday night weren’t even in her mental list of reasons why she was in the predicament she was in.

So be it. Her window of opportunity for what little bit of mercy he was willing to grant her was now closed. Striking a pose like he was in deep thought, he stretched his consciousness into her. He blocked all memory of Charli from her mind. She would remember her actions – if she chose to – but wouldn’t be able to connect Charli’s face to what was about befall her should the two ever meet in public. Any chance she had at retribution would come not from satisfaction over a single issue, but from wholesale acceptance of who and what she was.

Pulling back, he studied her for several more seconds. “This is the way it will be for the rest of the semester: You will come to my class. You will go to ALL of your classes. You will have a PERFECT attendance record. I don’t care if you’re coughing up bloody chunks of lung, you will not miss any more classes. You will do your own work and take your own tests. Every Monday and Thursday night from 6pm until 6am…you’re mine. You’ll come to the same apartment you were at last night…starting tonight. I suggest you get ahead on your studying, because those two nights are spoken for.”

Brittany looked like she was ready to chew her own leg off. She hadn’t even kept the syllabi for most of her classes! Gregg handed her a small piece of paper with several phone numbers scrawled across it. “You will also be available whenever I call. Put these numbers into your cell phone. If you get a call from one of them, you will answer. I don’t recommend taking any long trips. Failure to appear when and where I say will mean punishment. Do we understand each other?”

“That’s not fair!”

“Perceptive, aren’t we? It’s not supposed to be fair. These will be the rules by which you will live your life for the remainder of this semester.”

Hope creeped into her features. “And at the end of the semester?”

“I’ll reevaluate how good a student you are. You have some lessons to learn. If you learn them well, you’ll find that your time with me will not only be shorter – it may even be enjoyable. Failure to learn these lessons will result in punishment. Sound familiar? It should. It’s just like your sick pledge initiation. Think of yourself as my one and only pledge in a super-secret fraternity…maybe that will make this all more…palatable.”

Brittany looked totally beaten. ‘How does he know about our initiations? I don’t remember ever seeing him at one…’ Her mind was just so overwhelmed that she couldn’t process how quickly her fortunes had turned. She got up to go, but when she half rose, her pledge paddle slammed hard onto the desk. Slinking back into her seat, she cringed in fear at the look of pure rage on Dr. Walter’s face.

“DID I GIVE YOU PERMISSION TO LEAVE!?!”

“N…no,” she squeaked weakly.

Gregg sat back calmly, as if his burst of rage never happened. “When you are with me, you will not move or speak without my express permission! Now, what do you say?”

“M…may…may I go now…please…Dr. Walters?”

“Yes…of course. I’ll see you tonight. 6pm sharp. And Brittany?”

“Y…yes Dr. Walters?”

“You will not discuss any of this with anyone. Understand?” Gregg emphasized this last command with a particularly harsh mental push that actually caused her head snap back as if someone had slapped in the forehead.

Shaking her head to clear the sudden wave of nausea, she muttered, “Yeah…I mean…yes…Dr. Walters…I understand.”

“No, I don’t think you do…but you’ll learn.”

Brittany rose again, never taking her eyes off Gregg until she was out the door. Once out of his sight, she burst into a run.

Gregg picked up his phone and dialed the Admissions office. “Hi Heather…Yeah, she just left…Everything went just perfectly…Let’s get everything ready for tonight…I love you too…Bye.”

Ten minutes later, the few remaining girls at the Omega Xi house who were still asleep were awoken by a horrific, blood curdling scream of anguish as Brittany confirmed the truth of everything Gregg had said.

The little post-it note stuck to her computer monitor (cables dangling where her CPU used to be) simply read in large feminine script, “Gotcha.”

“Gregg, I appreciate you asking me over, but really…I’m fine…or at least I will be.” Charli looked uneasy sitting on the couch in Heather’s apartment. Everyone was there except for Chad who was away at another game and Laura, who decided to stay at Gregg’s. Chad wanted to stay with Charli, but she insisted he go to his game. “But…I think I’m going to drop your course…I…I just don’t think I can face her…Ow!” Charli winced as Rivkah pulled her comb through a particularly dense thatch of tangles. For some strange reason, Rivkah had taken it upon herself to comb and braid her long black hair.

“Nonsense.” Gregg, stood and grabbed Charli’s empty glass and went into the kitchen to refill it. “You’re always welcome to come back to class. In the meantime, I’m sure Chad wouldn’t mind tutoring you…not that you need any extra help. You were one of only two students to get an ‘A’ on my quiz, by the way.”

“Who was the other?”

“Deuce Machinaw…but he’s just auditing the class, so his ‘A’ doesn’t even count.”

Everyone was smiling at her at that moment except for Heather who was frowning at the contents of the packet Chad had her deliver. Weeks ago, Heather had asked Chad to do some research that had her pretty worried. When Charli gave her the envelope, with instructions to tell Heather it was “regarding her sudden interest in Scottish-English relations,” Heather’s face fell. Apparently whatever his research found was not settling well with her.

Emily looked up at Charli from where she was sitting cross-legged on the floor. She was wearing her purple nurse’s scrubs which were becoming almost as trademark as her dark brown ponytail. She must have come over straight from classes. “So where are you going, all dressed up like that?”

Charli was wearing a tight black knit tank top and a black skirt. It showed a lot of cleavage and a lot of leg. Her fingernails were painted black as were her eyelids, and lips. Around her neck was one of her favorite spiked collars. She owned a pair of two-inch heeled boots, but they were still in her dorm room. Every time she tried walking in them, she’d fall. So, for now, she still wore her army boots, laced tightly half-way up her shin. The whole ensemble was something she’d bought herself after Heather and Emily helped her come out of her shell. Her original plan was to wear it to the Black Box on Goth night, to give it a test ride in public. Despite her humiliating treatment at the hands of Brittany, she was more determined than ever to show she was worthy of such erotic and exotic wear. She kind of wished Rivkah wasn’t pulling her hair back to tightly…with it held back, she wouldn’t be able to hide behind it!

“I’m going to the Black Box. It’s kind of my sanctuary. It doesn’t matter what you look like there…”

Heather smiled reassuringly, putting the envelope with its mysterious contents down on the kitchen table. “Honey, looking like that, you’re going to be the hottest one there! If we didn’t already have other plans…” Heather’s statement didn’t need to be finished and Charli blushed at the redhead’s overt flirtation. “Are you sure we can’t convince you to stay?”

Charli shook her head. “No. I really need to go. I need to be around other freaks for a night. It’s like going home…I’ve been cooped up too long as it is.” For some reason, everyone looked to Gregg, but he just waved his hand. “Besides, Mistress Michelle takes the stage in an hour and I really don’t want to miss her.” Charli frowned, wondering why Heather was trying to hide a smile. “You’re all acting weird…what’s going on?”

Again, everyone looked toward Gregg. “Rivkah, why don’t you check on our present.” Rivkah dropped Charli’s now completed braid which was an almost identical copy of her own. She put a reassuring hand on the girl’s shoulder before slipping inside Heather’s bedroom, shutting the door behind her.

With the door closed, Gregg nodded to Heather. “E’dan, could you hand me that bag behind you?” E’dan picked up the bag on the floor and walked it over to Heather. There was a rattling of what sounded like chains before she pulled out a small present, and handed it to Charli. “This is for you. It’s our little way of saying how much we love you. Of how strong you are…of how beautiful.”

Charli’s almost teary-eyed look of affection turned to confusion when she opened the box. Inside was a black velvet mask, similar to ones worn at Victorian masquerades. The inside was padded and silk lined, and it had an elastic strap to go around her hand. It was clearly expensive. “I don’t get it. You try to tell me I’m beautiful by giving me a MASK? I mean…it’s nice, I guess, but…am I missing something?”

“That’s not really the present. But it’s something you’ll need to truly appreciate the real present. Here, let me put it on you.” Heather lifted it out from the box and set it in place, tightening the strap so it wouldn’t slip. It was so light and comfortable, Charli felt like she could wear it for hours. It covered her eyes and nose, leaving her nostrils and mouth uncovered. “There. Perfect. I’m surprised you didn’t recognize it. Your friend, Mistress Michelle loaned it to us…consider it her contribution.” Charli winced at the thought that Michelle knew what had happened to her. Michelle was always a pillar of strength in her mind. To have her know how easily she was put down… “Your real present is waiting for you in my bedroom. But before we bring it out, you have to promise us something.”

“Uh, okay.”

“No matter what happens, just go along. I swear, everything is as it is supposed to be.” Charli nodded confusedly. “Our gift to you will seem…shocking…but I think you’ll like it. Above all else, remember that you’re in a safe place, with people who love you.”

In the past week, Charli not only had her first lesbian experience as well as a three-way with Heather and Emily, she also lost her virginity to Chad…in Heather and Gregg’s company…what could they possibly have behind that door that would shock her at this point?! As if preparing her for the worst, Heather reached out and held her hand.

“Rivkah? Bring IT out!”

A few seconds later Rivkah emerged from the bedroom leading a naked, blindfolded, and gagged girl. When the girl was positioned in the middle of the room, shaking with either cold or fear, Gregg stepped up before her. After checking to make sure Charli was watching, Gregg pulled the plugs out from the poor girl’s ears. Then he untied her gag, and finally the blindfold. Rivkah stood behind the girl and kept a guarded hand on her shoulder.

Charli’s hand squeezed Heather’s very tightly, recognition of just who the naked girl was causing her body to tense in fear. Heather put a hand on her shoulder and whispered, “It’s okay honey…trust us,” in her ear. It didn’t do much to calm her, but at least she started breathing again.

Rivkah stood behind Brittany, one hand on her shoulder, the other playing with her near-blond curls. Brittany looked ill from the older woman’s too-familiar touches. That she was naked in a room full of strangers seemed to bother her only slightly less.

“Mistress Cheryl?”

It took Heather’s whispered, “that’s you,” into Charli’s ear for her to look up at Gregg. She couldn’t seem to find her voice, so she simply nodded, an action that took the greatest force of will. Nobody ever called her Cheryl, her given name. Charli was what her father used to call her before he got killed, and that’s the name she preferred.

“Mistress Cheryl, I present to you Brittany Anderson. She used to think she was somebody important. I give her to you…our gift.”

Charli was too stunned to move. She only gulped. Gregg walked over and took her by the hand, and walked her so she was standing directly in front of Brittany. If Gregg hadn’t been holding her hand, she probably would have bolted. “Miss Anderson, do you have any idea who stands before you?”

Brittany tried to look away, but Rivkah’s fingers tightened in her hair, forcing her to look at the glammed up goth girl in front of her. Even if she weren’t wearing a mask, she’d never hang out with someone dressed like that. Still, the pale skin and the dark eyes behind the mask seemed familiar…she just couldn’t place them.

After long seconds of silence, Rivkah pulled back sharply on her hair. “Answer the question.”

“NO!...no. I don’t know who she is.” Brittany shifted her weight nervously from foot to foot.

Gregg stood behind Charli and whispered in her ear. “Look at her Charli. There’s nothing to fear from her any longer. She’s smaller than you. She’s weak. She has no friends…no power…no love.” Gregg looked at the trembling naked girl. “Brittany, who is the current Vice President of the United States?” When Brittany was forced to admit she didn’t know, Gregg whispered into Charli’s ear, “See? She doesn’t even have any brains.”

That brought a hint of a smile to Charli’s face. “Gregg,” she whispered. “I…I…can’t…I…don’t know what…what to do.”

“Shhh. It’s okay. We’ll show you.” Gregg nodded to Rivkah who kicked Brittany behind her legs, dropping her to her knees. Only her firm grip in the girl’s hair kept the sorority girl from toppling forward. Charli winced in recognition of the move that brought her to her knees at Brittany’s party.

Heather stepped forward carrying a long wooden paddle with lines of writing down its length. Brittany winced in recognition of her own sorority paddle. It had been years since she’d felt its sting. Heather stood in front of her and held the end out so it hovered just in front of her face. “Kiss it.” The serious look on the redhead’s face made it clear she wasn’t joking. Even so, there was a limit to how far Brittany Anderson would play the professor’s game, no matter what he held over her.

“Fuck you.”

Heather smiled wickedly. “I was hoping you’d say that.” Heather nodded to Rivkah who shoved Brittany forward so she was positioned on all fours. The strong woman’s grip on her neck left her completely immobile. Brittany couldn’t move her head, but her eyes followed Heather’s path as far as her eyes would turn in their sockets.

Heather stepped behind the supplicated figure and stared at the perfect asscheeks presented to her. In any other context, she would have admired the perfectly sculpted form of her prisoner. Her wicked smile turned to a snarl of anger and with a rage that surprised everyone in the room, Heather let fly with the paddle. SMACK! It landed with such force and volume that everyone in the room jumped a little. Brittany cried out in shock and in pain, tears quickly spilling out from her eyes. She had gotten her share of paddlings as a pledge, but she didn’t remember it hurting so much.

Gregg watched, adding a trickle of excitement and pleasure emanating from Brittany’s crotch. She was in great pain, but was in greater mental anguish at her body’s perverse enjoyment of her rough treatment.

Heather swung again, this time without as much passion. Still the resounding SMACK made everyone flinch a little…especially Emily. Everyone stood still as Brittany sobbed in pain before giving a tiny shudder in pleasure. Heather swung her arm back a third time, but in mid swing, halted, deciding she’d had enough…this wasn’t her show. Despite only giving two swings, she was panting exhaustedly, the release of her pent up hostility to the cruel purveyor of such suffering released…but neither forgiven nor forgotten.

Walking around again in front of the now crying Brittany, Heather positioned the end of the paddle before her. “Now, let’s try this again, shall we? Kiss it. You should make nice…this piece of wood is the only friend you’ve got.”

Brittany sniffed. Swallowing her pride, she dropped her head and with the barest of touches, kissed the end of the paddle. Heather squatted in front of her and petted her hair, like she would a dog. “Good girl. See, that wasn’t so bad now, was it?” Gregg shot Brittany another jolt of pleasure, so that when Heather removed her hand, her neck almost imperceptibly stretched to prolong the contact.

Charli just stood there, too astonished to move. Was this really the girl that had so frightened her? It struck her when they stood face-to-face that she remembered Charli being taller…How could someone so small have seemed so large, so dominating? Charli blinked when she realized that everyone was looking at her – everyone except Brittany whose head had sagged and whose face was hidden by a curtain of blondish curls. She looked down and saw that Heather was offering her the paddle.

“Take it. It’s yours now…Mistress Cheryl.” Brittany looked up, fighting back her desire to say that it was her paddle, that Heather had no right to give it away. However, right now didn’t seem the best time for asserting anything.

Heather gripped Charli’s hand in her own, fitting her small hand around the paddle’s handle. It felt heavier than it looked. Heather positioned her behind Brittany, lining up her aim with the girl’s already red buttocks. Heather then stood back and gave Charli room.

For more than a minute, Charli stood there, motionless. Her fist tightened and squeezed around the handle. Everyone stood silently, watching, waiting. The seconds ticked by and still nothing. Just Charli’s deep breathing and Brittany’s shuddering, fear-laced breaths.

Almost tentatively, Charli reared back her arm and swung the paddle. It slapped weakly on Brittany’s exposed bottom. Brittany shrieked more out of surprise than from pain or the still unexplainable surge of pleasure she got at the contact. Charli was astounded that such a weak swat could get such a reaction. Her fist tightened again and she gave another swat. Smack! Ready this time, Charli’s second hit failed to result in even a grunt. Given what Brittany endured from Heather, this new player was almost laughable.

Charli swung again, the sound of wood slapping against flesh sending her mind back to Tuesday night’s humiliation. Images of putrid, rotting food being dumped onto her head, juices running down her face and into her mouth. The sound of laughter from a crowd that demanded ever more.

Behind the mask, Charli’s eyes burned with her salty tears. Again the paddle flew, this time with more momentum. Smack! This time it hurt, and Brittany cried out in pain. “Stop! Please stop!” But Charli only heard the sound of the crowd as jar after jar of foul-smelling stuff was upended over her. Of the howls of laughter when the white ash turned her into a ghost. No, she was deaf to the Brittany’s pleas for mercy. Where was HER mercy when the tables were turned? Smack! Where was HER compassion? SMACK! Who was SHE to ruin her life? SMACK!

Charli’s teeth clenched and she grunted with the effort of putting all her strength into each hit. SMACK! SMACK! SMACK! Tears burned her eyes, blurring her vision. They flowed from her eyes so copiously that the internal padding couldn’t absorb their flow fast enough and they spilled down the outside of the mask. Charli howled with rage, her torso now twisting with each swing, adding that much more momentum to each strike. SMACK! SMACK!

Brittany screamed in pain, trying to squirm away, but held fast in place. Gregg had to stop pouring pleasure into Brittany’s body, unable to keep pace with the pain Charli was causing. His hand was intercepted on its way to rub his throbbing temple by Heather. She held his hand tight in both of her hands against her chest. Gregg could feel her heartbeat quickening…it was almost as unnerving as the zealous look in her eyes, or the encouragement her lips were silently mouthing to a completely unaware Charli.

Emily moved to intercept Charli, to stop what she was watching, but E’dan’s big hand closed on her shoulder. She looked up at the big man, pleadingly, but he simply shook his head sadly. Unable to watch any more, Emily buried her face into his chest, wishing she could block out the sound as well. Later she would wonder who she was trying to save…Brittany or Charli?

SMACK! SMACK! Charli was a fountain of rage, anger she never knew she was capable of pouring out of her. Brittany’s cries of pain and pleas for mercy were drowned out by Charli’s animalistic growls. It was impossible to tell from their cries who was in more pain.

SMACK! SMACK! Charli’s sweaty palm could no longer grip the paddle, and finally on that last swat, it bounced off Brittany’s ass and flew from her hand.

Suddenly weaponless but still filled with rage, Charli knelt in front of Brittany and lifted the sobbing girl’s head with two fistfuls of hair, just short of pulling it out by the roots. Brittany was beside herself with fear and pain. Charli’s hands pulled the girl’s head back even further, making sure Brittany could look into her eyes. Brittany sobbed and sobbed, fear of the murderous rage she saw behind the mask’s dark eyeholes.

Slowly, reality began to creep back into Charli’s consciousness. She released Brittany’s hair and the girl tumbled forward flat onto her stomach, sobbing into her arms, her asscheeks shining brightly red behind her.

Charli’s hand hurt. She could barely close it into a fist.

Looking around the room, she saw Heather’s green eyes practically glowing with a mirrored rage, a rage still burning strong inside the redhead, even as it ebbed from her own body. Rivkah stood passively next to the prone and sobbing girl. Her look was one of acceptance. Gregg’s expression was an unreadable mix of emotions…concern more than anything evident. Emily was crying into E’dan’s chest and he was comforting her by holding her close, his cheek resting against the top of her head. The only concern showing in his eyes was for the girl crying into his shirt.

Standing weakly, she spied the clock on the wall in the kitchen. Looking down at the sobbing girl lying at her feet, she mumbled, “I have to go…I’ll…I’ll be late.”

She pealed off the mask and looked down at Brittany whose face was still buried in her arms. Handing the mask to Heather, she numbly walked out the door. Gregg followed after her, closing the door behind him.

“Charli?”

Charli stopped, but didn’t turn around. She just stood in the hallway massaging her hand. Gregg didn’t know what to say. There are only so many eventualities one can plan for.

“Thank you, Gregg. For your gift. I know it was from everyone…but that it was your idea.” Her voice sounded hollow. “You really are my hero, you know that?” The words sounded robotic, emotionless…starkly opposite the emotionality of her statement. She turned around, and looked at him with sad eyes, the imprint of the mask still evident. Her sweat and tears behind the mask has caused her makeup to run, falling down her face now in black streaks. If Gregg hadn’t just witnessed what he had, he would have thought the look incredibly sexy. But right now he was more concerned for the little girl trying to come to grips with a very adult situation.

Gregg took a step forward, seeking to pull her into his arms. But, she took a step backward, maintaining their distance, crossing her arms defensively under her breasts. “I…I really need to go. I’ll call you later.” Charli quickly turned again and headed out the door. Gregg could see that trying to stop her right now would be pointless.

Heading back inside, all eyes turned to him. “She’s okay. Just a little overwhelmed.” His voice was far more confident than he honestly felt. The first doubts about his plan…about the plan he so successfully convinced everyone to join in on were creeping in.

“Em?” Emily had stopped crying and looked up at Gregg, sadly. “Em, would you help our…our guest…get dressed? She’s done for tonight.”

Emily nodded, her look both sad and accusing…her own ardor for Brittany’s punishment dissolving with the all-too-real shrieks of pain. It was the first time Emily had ever looked at him with anything other than love or adoration. Helping the still sobbing girl off the floor, Emily escorted the gingerly-walking Brittany into the bedroom, closing the door behind them. Gregg knew that before getting her dressed, Emily had some ointment that Rivkah had provided that should help reduce some of the pain and bruising.

“Am I doing the right thing?”

Heather hugged him around his chest. In her mind, this issue was black and white. There were no shades of grey.

“That’s between you and God, my friend.” E’dan’s answer was strangely religious, especially coming from a man who, given his former line of work, had abandoned his own religion long ago. “We all signed on for this. We’ll see it through…and Emily is stronger than you think. She may not like what she saw tonight, but she’ll support you. She does love you, after all.”

A few minutes later, Emily escorted a now dressed Brittany out from the bedroom. She was still stifling sobs and walking like every step hurt, but she looked markedly better than before. Emily walked her to the door, opening it for her. When Brittany got out into the hallway, she turned and gave a small smile to Emily, the only person to show the slightest bit of tenderness all night.

Despite the punishment she’d been forced to watch, Emily still held in her mind all that this little prom queen had done. She’d blackmailed teachers, destroyed careers, humiliated Charli, was responsible for the rape of Laura. Returning Brittany’s small smile with a snarl of her own, she slammed the door to the apartment loudly in the girl’s face. She may not like what happened, but was most angry at Brittany for having caused all this to be necessary.

Turning back to the room, she walked up to Gregg and plastered herself to his side. Sighing in relief that E’dan’s assessment was correct, Gregg encircled her with his free arm. “What do we do now, Gregg?” she mumbled into his chest.

“We wait, Em. It’s up to Charli now.”

Charli entered the club through the side door as usual. Les let her in, and made some very approving comments about her outfit. “I can’t tell you how much my little brother enjoyed those pictures of you and your friends. I think he’s in love!”

Charli kissed him on the cheek, not really feeling in her heart the truth of what he was saying. “Thanks Les. Tell Mickey that I’ll come by the hospital tomorrow to visit him, okay?”

Walking through the mostly black-leather and vinyl crowd almost to the stage, Charli took her favorite spot against one of the pillars almost directly in front of the speaker wall. (When she was younger, she’d sneak out from the control booth and stand right where she stood now.) Unlike the punk concerts here most nights, on goth night, there wasn’t a rush to be right on top of the stage. The music tended to provide more of an atmosphere – a very intense atmosphere for sure, but atmosphere nonetheless. All around her, bodies in various states of undress writhed against each other. Some were masked, some were nearly naked. It was an eighteen-plus crowd that was strictly enforced, so Mark usually had no trouble from police. On the opposite side of the column against which she leaned, there was a man handcuffed to a hook above his head. His mistress (wife?, girlfriend?) was grinding herself against his nearly naked body in time with the music, pausing every once in

a while to step back and flog him with her cat-o’—nine-tails.

Charli gave a small shudder. For years she’d been witness to all forms of bondage, sadism, and masochism at this very club. But as she rubbed her still-numb hand, she contemplated just how different it was to actually participate rather than just watch.

On stage, Mistress Michelle was most of the way through her first set doing one of her signature songs with her signature theatrics. Her husband was locked up in the stockade and was getting periodically flogged with her riding crop. A blonde girl wearing a leather bikini and dog-collar with a leash tied to a hook in the stage floor was rubbing herself suggestively as music ground on.

Charli leaned against the column and let the music wash over her. Standing so close to the speaker wall, she could feel every bass drum hit in her very bones. She closed her eyes and let Michelle’s half scream/half sultry voice fill her ears. Her arms crossed under her breasts and she swayed slightly to the beat. Idly, she realized that with her eyes closed, she could swear she was still holding the paddle in her now empty hand…much like the phantom limb sensations she’d read about from people who’d lost an arm.

The song ended and Michelle turned toward the monitors on the corner of the stage. Looking out into the crowd, she spotted Charli. Charli’s and her eye makeup matched, both with long black streaks running down their cheeks…the exception being that Michelle planned it that way when she applied it. Michelle combed her fingers through her sweaty bright orange hair.

“This next song is for someone very special…it’s called ‘Spite.’” Michelle locked eyes with Charli before turning to give some special instructions to her band. “Lets vamp in the bridge…and see where it takes us. Mike, you’ve got the solo…go nuts. Watch me for cues. 1—2—1-2-3-4…”

The music was very intense and very up-tempo industrial metal with lots of synth and electronic percussion. Charli felt like she was being bombarded by sound. Her eyes were almost glazing over as she watched what was maybe Michelle’s most intense performance to date.

“Bite, fight, kick me when I’m down

Hatred, naked, I think I’m gonna drown

I hate you for looking at me

I hate the fucking light

I hate your fucking society

Now come and taste my spite”

Smoke machines and strobe lights bombarded Charli’s senses as intensely as the music was bombarding her soul. All the other revelers in the audience disappeared from her vision and all she could see was Michelle. Michelle, that towering visage of strength and domination. She was raw passion, unbridled fury. Sweat flung from her hair and fire lit her eyes more brilliantly than her orange hair as she screamed her music.

The bridge came around and the tempo slowed to half as the guitarist took melodic liberties. This was the part of the show where Michelle shined. Leaving her husband alone for a while, she unhooked the blonde and led her back and forth across the stage on all fours like a show dog.

Charli watched, feeling a strange tingling sensation not only in her hand from earlier, but now throughout her whole body. Her heart pounded in her chest as, in her mind, it was her on stage leading the blonde around, making her obey her commands. Charli’s left arm untangled from her right where they were crossed beneath her breasts, and she let her thumb graze her right nipple through the fabric of her tank top. She gasped at the feeling, like a bolt of energy shooting through her body. The hair on the back of her neck stood up and her legs squeezed together. It felt so good, she unconsciously did it again and again, unaware and uncaring of the crowd around her.

Michelle kept her eyes on her young friend in the audience, pulling the blonde to a kneeling position in front of her. The crowd cheered when she leaned down and kissed her roughly, her tongue visibly invading the young girl’s mouth. When she pulled away, the blonde clearly wanted more and looked to be trying to climb up Michelle’s torso. Michelle was having none of that so she pushed the blonde to the stage floor, face down. The music continued to grind on and the blonde hugged herself to Michelle’s thigh-high boot, nuzzling it like a kitten craving attention.

Charli’s left hand was now openly cupping her right tit, massaging the flesh, squeezing the nipple. Her right hand lay flat against her tummy, moving in soft circles in time to the beat. Her eyes remained locked on the show in front of her, Michelle’s strength infusing her soul. Soon, her right hand had worked its way lower, past her belt, and was pressing against her crotch through the double material of her skirt and her panties. Tentatively, her hand reached between her slightly spread legs, her finger barely scraping her moistening panties where they pressed tightly against her vaginal lips.

Michelle was watching Charli as intensely as she was being watched herself. Turning the blonde onto her back, Michelle straddled her face. Given her profile to the stage, most in the audience couldn’t see what was happening. But Charli was practically standing in the wings, and she was the sole beneficiary of the true stage show. Michelle and her plaything didn’t seem to care that they were on stage. Michelle moved her panties to the side and the blonde’s tongue snaked out and licked against the top of Michelle’s torn fishnet stockings. Michelle pulled the blonde even tighter against her by pulling up harshly on her hair.

When Michelle’s mouth ovaled in pleasure, Charli gave into the inevitable and pulled the cotton material or her own panties aside, pressing two fingers against her very wet pussy. She watched Michelle’s tattooed and muscled arms flex and relax, the veins in her neck filling with blood as she screamed her pleasure into the microphone she was still holding. Her groans of pleasure seemed punctuated by Mike’s amazing guitar solo, as if the two were doing a duet.

Charli’s hands rubbed back and forth faster and faster, her fingers mirroring the rapid flickering of the blonde’s tongue on stage. Her left hand pulled forth a heavy tit from her top, pulling hard and repeatedly on the small pink nipple. Her mouth opened in a silent scream, her body convulsing against the pillar and she brought herself closer and closer to release.

Michelle’s head flew backward as her own orgasm hit. The soundboard engineer who was watching the whole thing used that moment to set off a series of flash pods behind the drummer. The room became blindingly bright and Charli shut her own eyes, screaming out her release.

The band took what just happened as their cue and ramped up the tempo to its original intense speed.

“Suck me, fuck me, eat me stupid bitch

Little girl, your tongue will swirl, I own you you skitch

You hurt me bad, you left a scar

But now I have the might

I chain you like the dog you are

Now come and taste my spite

ARRRGGGGHHHH!!! Come taste my spite!”

Michelle ended with a blood curdling howl as she collapsed backward onto the blonde. The crowd, which Charli was suddenly aware of in the silence, erupted into thunderous applause. Standing on shaking legs, Charli pulled her hand out from between her legs and her other hand from around her tit. Standing straight, she readjusted her clothing, still panting heavily. It was strange, but as Michelle watched from stage, Charli didn’t feel at all embarrassed by her unintended performance.

Michelle sat up and let the blonde crawl away. Still never taking her eyes from the raven-haired beauty in the audience, Michelle blew a kiss to her, smiling at her inspiration for such an intense show. Charli, felt the woman’s strength. It filled her, made her feel taller, stronger, more powerful, more beatiful. Bringing her right hand up to her face, she inhaled her own scent covering her fingers. The odor was incredibly arousing and her body responded in kind. Sucking her finger into her mouth, she savored the taste, savored the look of lust on Michelle’s face which stayed locked on hers until the curtain dropped between them.

Like the breaking of a spell, Charli knew what she had to do. Heading toward the club’s entrance, Charli felt infused with the power of Michelle’s music, the lyrics burning in her mind. She knocked on a nearly hidden door in the back and Mark opened to see who it was.

“Charli! Wow, looking better than ever. Did you see Michelle’s act? Shit! She’ll double ticket sales if she doesn’t get us closed down first!”

“Mark? Shut up for a minute. I need to use your phone.”

The gang was still hanging out at Heather’s apartment. On Heather’s small TV Jay Leno was going through his monologue, but no one in the room was laughing. There was a palatable tension in the air, like everyone felt their mission was, ultimately, a failure.

E’dan sat in the corner of the couch, one leg against its back, his opposite foot on the floor. His wife reclined between is spread legs, the big man’s hugely muscled arm gently holding her close. Heather sat between Rivkah’s legs in a similar posture, Rivkah idly stroking her red hair. On the floor, Gregg sat up against the couch, Emily lying on her side with her head in his lap. Her hair was loose and fanned out across Gregg’s legs, and Gregg was gently stroking her cheek. No one spoke.

Like an alarm going off, the phone rang. Heather jumped from the couch and picked up the handset from the kitchen table. Unable to bring herself to answer it, she handed it to Gregg who pressed the “talk” button.

“Hello?.....”

For long seconds, Gregg simply listened until he pressed the “off” button, not saying a word in response to whoever was on the line…

“That was Charli.” Everyone watched him, holding their collective breaths. “She’s in.”

Like a breath of fresh air, Charli’s phone call lifted everyone’s spirits. Immediately, the doom and gloom hanging over the room was replaced by a pretty enthused discussion of what happens next. Heather argued for continued and increasingly painful punishments, while Emily recommended a dialing down on pain as a tool. Heather would have made a stronger argument, but she remembered how Emily broke down earlier. Unable to look into her large misty brown eyes, Heather kept her vehemence to herself. E’dan and Rivkah were strangely quiet on what to do to Brittany, instead they offered advice on helping Charli. E’dan explained that in the end, this was supposed to be for Charli…about Charli.

Gregg offered his insights into Brittany’s personality, again sighting his “inside source” which again everybody assumed was Laura. A growing guilt was building inside Gregg for not sharing his own secret with the people he trusted most. More than anything, he feared losing the few friends he had if believed everything they’d done was a result of his manipulation…That thought caused an icy pit in his stomach to form – ‘I didn’t control them…did I?’

After another hour or so of back and forth, everyone agreed it was time to call it a night. Emily said goodbye to E’dan and Rivkah, deciding for herself which bed she was going to sleep in tonight. When she went into the bathroom to draw a bath, commenting on “how dirty” she felt, Heather stepped into Gregg’s arms.

“I’m going to spend the night upstairs, I think.” When Gregg tried to protest, Heather just kissed him lovingly on the lips and responded, “It’s okay Gregg. Really. Tonight Emily really needs you…all of you. You’ve barely spent any time with her since her return…quality time that is. Go to her.”

Heather stood on tip toes and kissed Gregg again before heading toward the door. On her way out paused, looked down at the kitchen table, and picked up Chad’s envelope. She looked worriedly at Gregg for a moment before running into her bedroom. She emerged with her backpack, saying she needed to bring her “overnight things” and ran out the apartment door and up the stairs to Rivkah’s and E’dan’s apartment. Gregg thought her behavior a little weird since she never before ferried things from one apartment to another. She knew that the door would be unlocked if she needed to sneak in to get something. Gregg thought about probing her mind to see what was up, but remembering his misgivings from before, he simply let her go.

Closing the lights in the living room and the kitchen, Gregg joined Emily in the bathroom. She was sitting on the tub’s edge while it filled, dragging her fingers through the water’s surface. Steam rose from the tub, carrying with it the scents of cucumber and jasmine. “Where’s Heather?”

Gregg sat on the counter watching Emily. He’d always thought her beautiful in a spritely sort of way. Heather was a vision of sex and temptation – a dancer’s grace and poise, full round breasts, dark red hair and luminescent green eyes…it was impossible for anyone to look at her and not fall in love (or lust at the very least). Emily, on the other hand, was thin, but toned, more of a runner’s physique with long legs for her frame and smallish breasts. Her dark brown hair which was loose right now, was usually pulled back in a ponytail, giving her the look of someone both young and determined. When they’d first met in the hospital in Tunisia, it was Emily who took charge, who showed him what to do. Tonight, however, Gregg was made painfully aware of some of her innocence that he’d taken for granted. Heather was right – as she always was when reading people…something she seemd as skilled in as Gregg, without the benefit of mind control powers – Emily needed him tonight.

“Heather’s spending the night upstairs. It’s just you and me tonight.”

Emily smiled to herself, turning her gaze back to the filling tub, afraid to let Gregg see the tears welling in her eyes. Wiping her eyes before any tears really fell, she perked up and said in her best commanding tone, “Okay, enough of that. Get your clothes off mister. On the double!”

Gregg quickly got undressed and sank into the tub’s warmth. Only when he was settled did Emily removed her own clothes and slip in between his legs, leaning back and resting her head against his chest. It took a little shifting to get Gregg’s hardening cock in a position where neither of them was uncomfortable. Emily raised her hands up over her head so she could play with Gregg’s hair and face behind her. This had the added benefit of giving Gregg’s hands unobstructed room to roam and explore Emily’s tight and compact body.

While her fingers toyed with his perpetually unruly sandy brown hair, Gregg’s fingers traced her ribcage, tummy and neck. Emily sighed at his touches, giving small gasps of pleasure when his hands would brush against her erect nipples. Gregg also kissed the top of her head, nuzzling against her ear. Their motions served to excite connect both of them without building to a lust-filled frenzy. They both knew where they were eventually heading, and there was no hurry.

“Do you remember our first night together?” Gregg licked playfully at her ear in response, not needing to vocalize the answer to her rhetorical question. “When I ran into hospital room and saw you sprawled out on the floor, trying to walk to the bathroom only hours after you woke from you coma…God! I wanted to strangle you right then and there! But you looked up at me with that those pleading eyes…you had me right there. And you were so embarrassed about needing my help to pee…you were like a frightened child.”

Gregg smiled, remembering more than anything his embarrassment over his body’s reactions to her beauty. He’d spent so many years suppressing any and all desires he had, focusing entirely on this research. But in his near-helpless state, his body (with its newly enlarged equipment) was eager to do research of its own.

“It was so…so…sigh When I gave you that sponge bath, you fired off in a few seconds…but now, well…I think practice has done wonders for your self-control.”

Emily spun in his arms, Gregg’s cock resting between her breasts just under the water’s surface. Her eyes went from joy to worry as she looked up at him. “That night in the hospital, I fell in love with you…when you left, I never felt more alone…when I returned to the States and into your arms, I felt complete again. I know I’ll never mean as much to you as Heather, but…well, I just had to let you know how I felt.”

Gregg remembered the night she returned, that scary moment when her eyes turned white and, like a voice from another world, she announced “We are yours, Gregg. At last we are complete. She is the soul – the fire. I am the life – the strength. WE are your light!” It wasn’t until this moment that he truly understood. From that moment Emily helped him pee in the hospital bed and on countless other occasions, she was a fountain of strength that he drew on. At times it was physical rejuvenation, giving him the strength to stand when he was too weak. Tonight, however, it was emotional strength. While Heather burned with the fire and hatred in his soul, Emily wept, giving him the strength of character he needed to keep from turning into the monster he almost became when he attacked Laura. The origins of that voice still escaped him, but the words nevertheless rang true.

Gregg was speechless for several minutes as Emily rested her cheek on his chest, the water in the tub lapping up the side of her face as she listened to his heartbeat. “Em, it’s true that I love Heather. But I love you too. It’s not a matter of choice. I couldn’t choose between one over the other anymore than I could choose which arm I’d like cut off. Yes, Heather and I share a special kind of bond…but the one you and I have is different, but no less special. I love you Emily. Never doubt that for a minute.

Tears were freely flowing from Emily’s eyes. She leaned up and pressed lips tightly against Gregg’s, her sudden motion sending a wave of water over the tub’s edge. “Make love to me Gregg.”

Gregg saw the pleading in her eyes. Letting her stand, they both exited the tub and quickly dried off. Laying her on her back in the center of Heather’s bed, Gregg lay on top of her. He kissed her face and lips and nuzzled at her neck while her fingers tightly gripped his hair. When he started to kiss lower, she pulled him back up. “No Gregg. I don’t need that tonight. Just you. I need you inside me.” Gregg stared into her eyes and saw the truth of her words. Lifting his hips, Emily’s hands guided him inside her. As he sank deeper and deeper, Emily kissed him passionately.

No more words were needed. Gregg began thrusting in and out of her incredibly tight and moist channel, the bedsprings providing the background music to their chorus of moans, groans, kisses and gasps. Gregg refrained from using any of his powers, desperately wanting this to be pure love without any artificial help. He listened to Emily’s gasps, felt the tightening of her hands on his head and the back of his neck. She was telling him what she wanted as surely as if he had delved in to her mind and watched the colors of pleasure spread throughout her body.

Emily’s legs wrapped around Gregg’s thrusting hips as they sawed in and out of her deeply, fully. There was no desperation to his movement, no frenzy. Emily’s hands pulled Gregg’s head down so they were lying cheek to cheek. Gregg maneuvered his arms under her shoulders so he could hold her tight against him. His pulse pounded in his ears and it felt like his heartbeat and his fucking rhythm were in sync.

Together he and Emily walked up the side of the mountain, ever closer to its peak. Neither rushing, neither running, both safe in the knowledge they’d arrive together. Emily’s muscled strained with the effort of holding Gregg tight, trying to pull him ever deeper inside her. Gregg’s arms squeezed her chest to his, his breath rasping in her ear.

Together they exploded, their bodies locked together as tightly as if they were one being. Emily who was uncharacteristically quiet during their love making finally screamed out her release at the same moment that Gregg groaned and collapsed fully on top of her, his cock sending forth its load of cum while her convulsing pussy spasmed and milked his length, seeking to draw forth every last drop of his essence.

Even after they both convulsing, neither was in a hurry to disentangle. They held each other tightly for long minutes. Gregg managed to extract his head from Emily’s grasp enough so he could press his lips to hers. They kissed and fondled for a long time, neither wanting the beauty of their love making to be declared officially over. But, alas, all good things must come to an end. They finally pulled apart and took turns in the bathroom preparing for bed.

Emily curled up against Gregg’s side, her legs entwined with his, her head resting on his arm, her fingers playing with the sparse hair on his chest as she slipped into a blissful sleep. Gregg kissed the top of her head goodnight and reached over to shut the nightstand lamp. It was only at that moment that he noticed that the journal he kept at bedside to record the dreams that still haunted him almost nightly was missing.

“So tell me again how you met our Christine?”

The big man sitting on the couch holding his diminutive wife’s hand in their small, but respectable house on the coast of Maine watched his unexpected guests wearily. They were both in shock, but he was trying to play it cool…to find out what was going on. First they don’t hear from their daughter who went off on another of her crazy cross-country hiking trips for months. Then they get an email from some guy named Brian claiming to be her boyfriend saying they were returning to the states, and apologizing on her behalf for not writing sooner. Then she shows up with her blonde hair died deep red and sporting green contact lenses. Their daughter was once the poster-child for purity and chastity (despite her…well…substantial assets), but her short shorts and the shirt she was wearing didn’t leave much to the imagination.

And then there were those three guys she arrived with. There was something very different about their once innocent daughter…and it wasn’t just her hair color.

‘What has she gotten herself into?’ he thought to himself worriedly, as only a father can.

“We were part of a study abroad program in Tunisia. That’s where we met. When we finished our program, Brian, David and I all flew to Amsterdam. We had a little extra cash and Christine wanted to join us. I don’t blame her. Tunisia was a real shit-hole anyway.”

Debra St. Martin, Christine’s mother, flinched at the young man’s use of foul language in her house. She and her husband, Paul, were particularly pious folks, and Adam’s choice of colorful language was never before tolerated in their presence.

Things were definitely off, that was for sure. Before her emails suddenly stopped, Christine always said how much she loved Tunisia. Christine and her family flew to Egypt as part of a church trip just after she graduated college. Filled with wanderlust, she stayed when her family returned home so she could backpack across the north of Africa. A few years before she’d backpacked through Europe, so the St. Croixes weren’t worried about their daughter’s ability to cope. But then, one day, her emails just stopped. They feared the worst.

The one called Brian, who claimed to be her current boyfriend, seemed kind of nervous…well, maybe that wasn’t so weird – he was meeting his girlfriend’s parents for the first time…if under very peculiar circumstances. But at one word from the quiet one in the recliner…David, he said was his name…and the two were off exploring the rest of the house. Brian seemed wary of his two friends, and David seemed to watch Christine with too much interest. Adam, seemed closest to David, barely tolerating Brian’s presence.

For the most part, David just sat there watching, constantly rubbing his head or wiping blood from his nose. Debra offered him aspirin, but said it wouldn’t help. He seemed thin, almost sickly. When she asked, Adam answered for him, saying that he was hospitalized in Amsterdam, and that it was time to come home and get him the treatment he needed. Adam would elaborate on what David’s illness was, but the word, “treatment” made them both smile, like at some secret joke.

Whenever David wasn’t staring at them on the couch while they talked with Adam, he was looking at the ceiling, right about where Christine’s room was. Paul and Debra couldn’t hear anything, but David acted like he was listening intently to something. There was definitely something not right about that boy.

Now, Adam on the other hand was pretty likable, charming at least. He somehow managed to keep them talking to him even though their daughter, who they hadn’t spoken to in more than four months was upstairs showing that boy, Brian, around. While Adam chatted with them, he slowly walked around their living room looking at the various family photos on walls, mantles, and tables.

“So, now that you’re back, will you be heading back to school?”

“Yeah…you could say that.”

It was a cryptic answer, but Paul didn’t pursue it. Days later when he and his wife talked about their strange encounter with Christine and the boys, there’d be a lot of things they did (and didn’t do) that they wouldn’t be able to explain.

Adam stopped in front of a large family portrait. “Is this recent?”

Debra answered, “Yes. It was done just before we all flew to Egypt December. We came home a few weeks later, but Christine…well, Christine wasn’t in much of a hurry to return. She always had good people skills, so we weren’t really worried about her staying a little longer.”

Adam smiled. “Yes, your daughter has some very good…skills…” Paul’s visage darkened at Adam’s not so subtle off-color joke about Christine, but found himself unable to voice a protest. “Hmm, and this is Christine’s sister? What’s her name?”

Paul was very agitated. He didn’t like talking about his family to this boy, no matter how charming. But he found himself answering, even as a fresh dribble of blood began sliding from David’s nose. For some reason that caused Adam to look over at his friend and rather than show concern, he just gave a thumbs-up. “Merriam. Her name’s Merriam. She just started college. She’s a freshman at Northwestern.”

Adam’s eyebrows shot up. “Northwestern? Really? Wow, we’re on our way back to Eastern State U, just north of Chicago.” Adam turned and took a longer, closer examination of the photo. Where Christine had gotten her father’s bigger build and blonde hair (maybe he had some Scandinavian in him), Merriam more closely resembled her mother, with a slighter build, and light-brown hair.

“If it’s okay with you, we’d like to stay here for a day or two…to rest from our journey before continuing west. Would that be okay?”

Paul was at his wits end. He desperately wanted to say ‘no!’ but all that came from his mouth was a weak, “sure…that’d be fine,” punctuated by a groan from David while the boy stared at him without blinking.

‘What am I saying?! Why can’t I say how I really feel? Is it because my daughter is finally home, even if she seems to have no interest in talking with me? Well, maybe a few days of forced co-habitation would give us a few private moments, and I can figure out what the hell is going on…’

“Oh, we could definitely use some wheels, and maybe a little extra spending cash to help us along the way.” Paul said nothing, but was already thinking about where they kept the emergency cash and an extra credit card for them to use. They could take Merriam’s car. As a freshman on campus, she wasn’t allowed a parking permit, so there was no point in taking it this year. And Christine never wanted her own car, preferring to take the money and use it to travel.

His train of thought was derailed by noises coming from upstairs. The repetitious squeaking sounded just like when the kids used to jump up and down on their beds. David and Adam seemed particularly amused at it, but they figured out what it meant, Debra and Paul were horrified. ‘Christine…what the hell have you gotten yourself into?...’

Adam continued staring at the family portrait. “Yes sir, Mr. St. Croix. You have a lovely home…and a lovely family. Especially your daughters…very lovely daughters indeed…”