A Fistful of Sand by Doktor Gostel – Book 3 – Chapter 7

A Fistful of Sand 3

Chapter 7 – Tesseract

What can I say? I love the movie trilogy ‘The Matrix.’ Charli, who knows nothing of my powers, introduced me to it, and I’ve watched it at least a dozen times since then (usually at my computer when Heather thought I was working). I watch it with a fervor one generally saves for religion. And Chad, who also knows nothing of my powers, introduced me to Frank Herbert’s Dune Chronicles, which is an astounding treatise on how super-human abilities (whether the product of “spice” and genetics as in Dune or as an unexpected gift from the skies as in my case) can lead to a deity-manifestation.

I was trained as an anthropologist, a career path uniquely suited to the man I was before I got these powers. It was a safe field for the person I once was: digging in the dirt, by myself. Unfortunately for you, if I hadn’t been digging, I never would have unleashed the gift, what became a nightmare for you. While I console myself to the fact that I had no way to know the ultimate consequences of such benign activity, I hold myself solely responsible for your torture and David’s demise.

Now I find myself struggling with two fields of study for which I have no preparation. Philosophy asks, ‘Why are things the way they ARE?’ But my training in Anthropology only knows how to ask ‘Why were things the way they WERE?’ Psychology asks, ‘Who am I?’ But I only know how to ask ‘Who WERE THEY?’

I point to these two works (The Matrix and Dune) to show how I struggle with my place in the universe. Am I a God now? The limitations of scope of my powers would seem to argue against that. Maybe a demi-god? A hemi-demi-semi-god? (forgive my humor, but if I don’t laugh, I’ll cry) What about Duece? I have no illusions that the form in which he manifests himself is a true reflection of his being. It is not. But is he human? Is HE a god, or just someone with god-like abilities when compared to lowly schlubs like me and the rest of the “normal” human population? And what happened to him. When he “reset” things back in the hospital, he gave somewhat dire warnings. Are we caught in the middle of something far bigger than we’d imagined?

And so I watch The Matrix and read Dune, trying to get my brain around these questions – trying to balance power, reality, and love. Who am I? Why are things the way they are? I don’t know…but I need to find out. I need a better understanding of who and what we’ve become because we need to protect the ones we love…

…especially from ourselves.

-From the journal of Christine St. Martin—an excerpt of an electronic correspondence from Dr. Gregg Walters

* * *

Laura could count the number of friends she had on one hand…with several fingers to spare. Charli was one, a friendship of shared pain and transformation. Gregg wanted her to be his friend, but friendship was a relationship between equals, and Laura refused to bring her Master down to her level, despite his best intentions. No, he was her Master and she his Slave and that was that. It did not lessen the affection they had for each other, but it was inappropriate (she felt) for him to call her “friend.” By extension, Heather wasn’t her friend either. How could one be friends with someone standing on the same pedestal beside her Master? Again, affectionate acquaintance, maybe even worshipful adoration, but not a “friend” in the truest sense of the word.

None of the members of the Omega Xi sorority were her friends – that was true almost by definition. Past members too easily stood aside while she got raped, and future members were just as shallow, would just as easily follow their predecessors’ example. Laura had taken a special shining toward a group of the younger members, but that wasn’t friendship. She was cultivating the future of the sorority and they’d eventually serve a grander purpose. Even her own current pledge Yasmine had proven no better than any other Omega Xi…even if she’d started with more potential. Natalie, her former pledge turned co-conspirator against Brittany was someone she barely trusted. Laura only forgave her for her part in the rape due to Natalie’s young and naive lust for power…that plus certain behaviors Gregg had instilled in Laura’s young protégé. Natalie was forgiven, but the deeds were never forgotten.

No, Charli remained her only true friend, and she was the measure by which all future friendships would be defined. It probably wasn’t fair…but given her own past, Laura would rather have just one true friend than a sea of hollow ones.

But now, walking back from lunch with Emily, Laura began to wonder if she maybe was beginning to have a second friend. Emily, who was a nursing major at a different college, didn’t start classes for another week, so she had time on her hands. When she wasn’t hanging out with E’dan and Rivkah she could usually to be found at either Heather’s or Gregg’s, studying or (ahem) engaging in other worthwhile activities (as was the pattern for everyone who hung around Gregg.) It was odd, even though Emily had been Laura’s sexual partner on numerous occasions, only recently did that feel like they had transcended their mutual acquaintance with Gregg into something deeper. Maybe it was their shared near-death experience when they visited Christine shortly after she awoke with her powers. Maybe it was their shared adoration for Gregg. Maybe it was just Emily’s refusal to see anything but the best in people.

They were returning from lunch at the student union. With neither having any immediate responsibilities, hanging out at Gregg’s was as good an option as any. There were always…pleasant distractions…there. At this hour, Charli and Chad both had classes so it was unlikely that either would be around in Gregg’s former apartment – now Tunisia project command station. The long lull in activity while waiting for word from the Tunisians had been replaced by near frenetic energy as they scrambled for last minute data to present their final case for keeping the dig site from becoming the parking lot for a proposed sea-side hotel complex.

“I can’t wait to meet Rivkah’s son.” Emily blurted happily as they walked quickly in the brisk weather back to HQ.

Laura rolled her eyes, but smiled nonetheless. It was Emily’s favorite topic of conversation. Ever since the spritely brunette absorbed that little bit of Gregg’s powers when she saved his life, the girl formed an immediate attachment to Rivkah’s unborn child. Laura, one of the few to be aware of Gregg’s powers, still struggled to understand this bond. Emily assured her that the child was not Gregg’s, that he was purely the product of E’dan’s and Rivkah’s love for each other…but that Gregg had somehow ‘touched’ the child. Of course, Heather’s two Israeli ex-Mossad upstairs neighbors knew nothing of this. They just assumed that after years of trying, their prayers for a child had finally been answered.

“I know Em. We all can’t wait to meet him. This kid will have no shortage of babysitters, that’s for sure.”

“He’s going to have thick, curly brown hair, and big beautiful brown eyes…and get himself into all sorts of mischief!”

Laura wondered just how much of that was Emily’s miniscule prescient abilities, and how much just wishful thinking.

“Okay, little miss know-it-all…What’s his name going to be?”

She just smiled that cute mischievous smile that could be interpreted as either, ‘I know but I’m not telling’ or just, ‘Smartass.’

Emily stopped suddenly when they rounded the corner of Gregg’s apartment block. She looked up toward Gregg’s window.

‘Wha-?’ Laura started to ask.

“Shh!” Emily scolded, peering even more intently. “Shit! Come on.”

Emily’s curse was so much a surprise that Laura was stunned into immobility, even when Emily broke into a run toward Gregg’s apartment.

“Laura! Come on!”

Laura snapped out of her shock and ran after Emily to the apartment. The intense look on Emily’s face made it clear that this was not a joke. A sinking feeling filled Laura’s gut as she wondered if her Master was in trouble…again.

Emily unlocked the front door and they ran up the four flights of stairs into the hallway leading to Gregg’s apartment. Laura heard muffled screams and repeated smacking sounds. In front of Gregg’s door, Mrs. Miller, the sweet old lady who owned the building was about to knock, no doubt worried by the sounds coming from her tenant’s apartment.

Emily put her hand to the side of her head and shouted down the hall. “That’s okay Mrs. Miller. It’s just the wind knocking a tree branch into the side of the building…and a scared child.”

Mrs. Miller blinked confusedly for a second, shaking her head as if dizzy. She finally lowered her hand and then mumbled almost to herself, “Yeah…wind. I’ll have to trim those branches in the spring…before the tenants complain.”

Laura was about to ask what just happened when Emily stumbled and fell forward, landing on her hands and knees. A trickle of blood was coming out her nose and her eyes were bloodshot. Laura bent over to help, but Emily just shooed her away. “Gregg’s apartment. Stop her,” she whispered hoarsely.

Reluctant to leave her there, Laura was smart enough not to argue…especially after what she’d just witnessed. Emily had never done anything that overt with her limited abilities…whatever was happening behind that door really had Emily worried. That type of mind control may have been easy for Gregg, but it must have been staggeringly difficult for little Emily.

Pulling out her own copy of the key to Gregg’s apartment, she rushed ahead and opened the door.


The shouts in the next room were followed by howls of pain and sobbing. “I can’t!” came the pitiful reply. “That part of my life is over!”

WHACK WHACK WHACK “It’s not over until I say it is! Now tell me! What were you blackmailing Kim with?”

Laura hurriedly stepped into Gregg’s bedroom. Brittany’s petite body was naked and tied face-down onto his bed, her arms and legs stretched and tied tightly to the bed’s four legs with scarves. This much, at least, was nothing surprising. Ever since Brittany’s downfall and subsequent subjugation by her four new masters (Charli, Laura, Emily, and Natalie), she’d continuously played the part of the submissive. But the scene before Laura was something totally unexpected. They may have taken turns causing Brittany mild pain and humiliation (no more than she deserved), but the deep black and blue bruises and open cuts on her buttocks and thighs was evidence of a wholly unacceptable level of abuse.

“Noooo! Please stop!” Brittany wailed.

Laura had little love for the petite brunette, but enough was enough. “Stop!”

Natalie whirled around angrily, the heavy wooden spoon she’d been using as a make-shift paddle frozen abruptly in mid-strike. Like a deer caught in headlights, she stood frozen, unable to move. It was easy to ignore her victim on the bed – but impossible to ignore the authoritative voice behind her.

Laura took a second to really absorb the scene, especially what she’d just heard. Reaching out, she took the spoon from Natalie’s hand. The moment of calm suddenly erupted into a backhand slap across Natalie’s face, staggering the younger chesty blonde.

“What the fuck was that for!” Natalie shouted, rubbing her cheek. She kept her desire to hit back in check. If it were anyone other than Laura…

“That’s so you’ll learn to play nice with your toys.”

“It’s my turn with her! I can do whatever I want with her.” Natalie said defiantly. Now that Natalie was a full member of the sorority and not just Laura’s pledge, her confidence had grown exponentially.

“Listen, Pet,” Natalie’s knees became weak. “You’ve got until the count of three to leave here…before I get really angry.” It had been a long time since Laura had invoked the secret magic commands Gregg had implanted inside her former pledge. Natalie didn’t know it, but she was bound to Laura in mystical ways…all she knew was when Laura called her that, her juices began flowing. “You assume too much freedom from the little bit of slack I’ve cut you.”

Unsure how to handle the sudden lust she was feeling, Natalie began stepping closer to Laura, confused by her feelings of righteous indignation and an almost overpowering desire to let Laura have her way with her. The red from the slap on her cheek was melding with her flush of excitement.


Natalie paused, unsure if this was part of a game. Surely Laura didn’t care what she did with Brittany. She licked her lips and tossed her hair – assuming that sexual innocent pose all Omega Xis mastered.


The ire in Laura’s ice-blue eyes made it clear this was no game. Lust turned cold and was extinguished. She suddenly remembered where she was and what she was doing. Fear was now bubbled up inside her. Her plan, as ill-thought out as it was appeared to be toast.

“Thr – ”

Before Laura could finish, Natalie abruptly turned and stormed out, shouldering aside a staggering Emily in the doorway. Like a well-trained Omega Xi, she bore an air of defiance even though she’d clearly lost this round.

Laura made her way around the bed, untying Brittany’s bonds. The sight was pitiful. Regardless of how cruel Brittany may once have been, the fact was that she was extremely beautiful – as was befitting one who was president of the campus’s elite sorority. But the bruised and sobbing girl splayed out before her was anything but beautiful. Tears and snot streaked her face. Her hair was strewn and tangled, damp with sweat. Her body, still in its stretched “X” position was covered in bruises from the lower back to mid-thigh. There were tears in Gregg’s sheets where her nails had tried to claw her way to freedom. Now, Brittany didn’t even bother to try closing her legs, the movement clearly too painful.

It was difficult for Laura to feel hatred for this pitiful thing. There were plenty of reasons for Laura to argue that this was nothing more than what she deserved. But over the past weeks, Brittany had become more of an affectionate pet rather than a defeated nemesis.

Laura sat down beside Brittany’s head. Hesitantly, she reached out a hand and placed it soothingly on the crying girl’s hair. After a few seconds, she began a soft, soothing stroking. “Shh. It’s okay. She’s gone now.” And for the first time since she’d known Brittany, she truly felt sorry for her and the decisions she’d made to get her to this point.

Brittany’s sobs suddenly increased, unknowingly moving along the same line. She scooted a tad to the side, the movement obviously painful, so she could rest her forehead against Laura’s denim-clad thigh, desperate for just the merest hint of human contact. Even though her eyes were shut tight with tears, she began kissing Laura’s leg weakly, whispering. “I’m sorry…I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to disobey her…but I couldn’t…not again…I’m not that person anymore…I…I don’t want to be that person…”

It surprised Laura to feel a tear escape her eye and roll down her cheek. Brittany wasn’t just a pet…she was a person trying to fix her life…a remarkably similar position Laura had once been in, until her Master saved her. The parallel was excruciating…as was the solution.

Emily sat down on the opposite side of the bed, blood-soaked tissues held tightly against her nose. Her eyes were completely bloodshot. Laura refrained from asking if she had any power left to help ease Brittany’s pain…it was obvious that the poor girl barely had enough strength to stand. As to prove Laura right, Emily curled up next to Brittany on the bed and promptly fell asleep, but only after giving Laura a weak smile. Laura’s heart was near bursting with love for Emily – her friend.

For now, there would be no mystical help for Brittany. She’d just have to suffer through the pain. It was tempting to call Gregg and ask him to help…but she knew his healing was anything but – it was merely shared pain. No, if she asked Gregg to heal Brittany, all he could do would be to transfer some of Brittany’s hurt to himself, and Laura couldn’t allow that.

Laura moved to stand, intending to get Brittany an ice pack, some soothing gel, and aspirin. But Brittany’s hand grabbed her leg weakly. “Please…don’t leave me.”

Hesitating just a second, she returned to the bed and again gently soothed the crying girl.

The minutes ticked by as if time had slowed to a trickle. Finally, the sobs slowed and quieted as Brittany fell into a fitful sleep.

Two questions filled Laura’s thoughts: Why did Natalie want to know what Brittany once had over Kim, the sorority’s current treasurer? And what was she going to do about Brittany now?

* * *

Natalie slammed the front door to Gregg’s apartment building. As a cold winter wind blew across her face, she fumbled with the zipper to her coat. Her anger and her embarrassment made her fingers shake and she stomped her foot in frustration, unable to get the zipper started.

“I fucking had her. She almost broke!” she hissed to herself. “I can’t believe Laura threw away all of Brittany’s files! God, she’s such an idiot!”

“Yes. A shame, isn’t it?”

Natalie yelped in surprise, startled that she’d been overheard. And once the initial surprise wore off, she was even more surprised that such a scruffy looking man would dare even talk to a (now)-full member of Omega Xi. The guy was severely under-dressed for the weather, a tattered leather coat over a well-worn flannel button-down shirt, jeans, and work-boots. And yet, the cold didn’t seem to touch him.

“Who the fuck do you think you are? Get out of my way!” She sneered, giving an angry flip to her long blonde hair, her fingers still fumbling with the zipper. The as-yet unnamed guy was standing in the narrow walkway up to the building. To go around him, Natalie would have had to step in the foot-deep snow bank and she wasn’t about to ruin her $500 shoes…besides this idiot should move out of HER way.”

“Here, let me.”

He shooed her fingers away from the bottom of her jacket and inserted the starter tab into the zipping mechanism. Natalie tried to scream for him to get away from her, but was unable to find her voice. She couldn’t even bat away his hands. There was something incredibly piercing about his grey-hazel eyes.

Slowly, he pulled the zipper up. The rasp of the joining copper-colored clasps was like a buzz saw in her ears. As his hand pulled upwards, the sound grew louder, and her fear grew stronger.

He paused halfway, his right hand letting go of the clasp. He reached out to slowly press and squeeze her breast through the fabric of her jacket. She shuddered in revulsion, but was still otherwise unable to escape.

“Mmmm, firm. I always did have a thing for you Omega Xis. Haven’t met one I didn’t want to fuck.” His eyes closed in reverie for a moment, lost in dreams of what may have been. A rush of lust flew through Natalie, her nipple hardening fiercely beneath his touch. He palmed her tit reverently, treating her breast like a precious work of art…that he owned. He sighed pleasantly. “Soon enough…” His eyes opened again, locking onto hers and he resumed closing her jacket. He gave the collar a final, unneeded adjustment and released her, his fingers trailing through her smooth blonde hair.

Natalie gulped in both fear and excitement. It was difficult to find her voice. “Touch me again, you scumbag and I’ll – ”

“You’ll what? Scream? Nah. I don’t think so,” he said calmly and confidently. “Besides, you definitely want to hear what I have to say.”

“There’s nothing you could possibly have to say that I’ll want to hear.”

“Quite the contrary. You and I can be of great service to each other. You help me, and I can get you all the information you want about your so-called sisters. You won’t have to go spanking little girls with wooden spoons anymore…unless that’s your thing…”

That shut Natalie up. ‘How did he know…?’

“Come. Buy me a cup of coffee.” He turned and started walking toward campus where there were several cafes en route.

Every fiber of Natalie’s being screamed at her to turn the other way and run. She closed her eyes and shuddered at the memory of the guy’s touch, more creepy than lusty in hind-sight. Definitely waaay too creepy. Nope, better just to get a way. And yet, when she opened her eyes, she was marching along toward campus, a respectful three paces behind him.

* * *

Robyn paused outside her apartment unit. Directly in front of her, perhaps twenty feet away, two doors faced her. The graduate student housing that Laura had gotten for her was very nice. Most grad students at other institutions lived in near-squalor. Those lucky enough to get into ESU’s limited graduate programs were housed in this complex of side-by-side small town homes. Whether it was fate, luck, or design, Robyn’s next door neighbor was now also her lover.

“Lover.” The word seemed odd on her tongue. In all her life, she’d only had one lover, her now-ex boyfriend, Jason. And in all her life, she’d never even entertained the possibility that some future lover would be a woman.

Shivering in the cold, now that she’d stopped moving, she trotted up the walkway. Briefly she considered knocking on Christine’s door. ‘But what would I say? Or, God-forbid, what if one of her roommates answered?!’ Before yesterday, Christine’s “roommates” (Robyn couldn’t think of another word for them) were a source of annoyance. They fucked all the time, and Robyn could tell by the distinct shouts, moans, and groans that Christine joined them frequently. Besides being a distraction while she tried to get work done, they were also a total turn-on!

Her fling last night with Christine was pure passion. From their mutual explosion in her car, to the much more languid, drawn-out exploration of each others’ bodies in her bed during the night, Christine unlocked a part of her libido she didn’t even know existed.

It was odd, for more than a week, her mind had been filled with thoughts and fantasies, always unbidden, always exciting. And yet, when their lips were locked in reality, there seemed to be a void in her mind, like some mental connection was gone. Still, it did nothing to diminish the heat and joy Christine’s tongue seemed designed to elicit from her sopping cunt.

When she woke up this morning, Christine wasn’t there. There was no sign of her in the apartment and there was no noise coming through the walls. With an odd amusement, Robyn realized that from the moment they stepped out of her car yesterday, they hadn’t spoken a word. The only conversation they had was the communication of passion. In a way, words seemed inadequate.

More importantly, having sated the burning fire between her legs, and not having the distractions from next door, Robyn felt an intense clarity of thought – something she’d been lacking for days. Turning to the left, she entered her own apartment. Christine’s presence had an odd effect on her, and as long as the buxom blonde beauty was out, she might was well take advantage of the quiet to get some work done.

The only concession she made, as she stripped off her coat and boots and set a kettle of water to boil for tea, was to continue stripping off clothing until she was clad merely in her skimpy panties…just in case study-time was interrupted.

* * *

The few square blocks that separated student housing from the main campus was referred to as “The Berg”, probably because it was once a niche of German immigrants. Most had since moved on, or owned some of the houses that had been converted to student rentals. And unless a student wanted to hop on a bus line or was fortunate enough to own a car, most of their basic living necessities were to be found in The Berg: Coffee shops, used record/CD shops, books stores, McDonalds, a few other restaurants, a small hardware store, etc.

Christine sat in the window of these small coffee shops two blocks off the main drag through the Berg. She deliberately chose this particular café not because the coffee was good (it wasn’t), but because it was out of the way and there was less foot traffic. She knew where her thoughts would lead her if she went back home, and for now she just wanted to focus on her school work, at least until her next class later in the afternoon. Besides, Cindy was at the hospital working, and Brian could take care of himself. It had now been a day since she’d fucked Brian – her longest stretch yet…and she could feel it. Once she was done studying, she knew how she was going to reward her hard work.

After Robyn finally fell asleep exhausted last night, Christine stayed away for several hours, just watching her sleep. Her powers hadn’t yet returned, but at least the headaches had disappeared. But even after catching a few hours of sleep herself, she refrained from using them, weak though they were. Her original intention to slowly seduce Robyn may have been a failure, but maybe a new and possibly more exciting challenge awaited them. What if, with regards to Robyn at least, she vowed to not use her powers at all? Well, directly at least. There was only so much she could do about the contagiousness of her lust.

The part of her that was infused with David’s unquenchable lust fought against this new game – he screamed at her from beyond the grave through her own subconscious that Robyn was just another piece of meat: to be fucked, abused, and then tossed away. With an effort, Christine managed to tamp those thoughts down. Whenever David’s dormant personality emerged it was both frightening and exciting. Frightening because after months of living under his increasingly erratic thumb, she no longer wanted to lose control. Exciting because despite the horrors of being his slave, she kept her very sexually satisfied…even when forcing her to enjoy the sickest of acts.

The barista came around from behind the counter and refilled her cup. He was young and cute the way scruffy college boys were when trying to be deep and philosophical. When she first entered, he tried to chat her up, talking a bunch of nonsense about how organic and geo-friendly his roasts were. She ordered and paid for a cup, unable to hide the amusement from her eyes. She really just wanted to be left alone, but it was like her body reacted of its own accord, giving him a slight wink and a quick purse of her lips. She couldn’t help flirting.

She wanted to curse David for the millionth time for programming her to be such a sexual tool…but, loathe as she was to admit it, at least this time it appeared to be beneficial. While she’d only ordered a cup of coffee, the barista had since also brought her a cup of soup, a half-sandwich, and most recently, an éclair. She rewarded his efforts by letting him watch her lick out the filling. When he retreated to the bathroom, a noticeable bulge in his pants, Christine didn’t need to use her powers to know what he was doing in there. Only after he disappeared did she feel ashamed about what she’d done. She didn’t want to, but her body often had a mind of its own…or rather, someone else’s mind.

She looked down at the textbook she was reading. In the first hour she’d read through most of the book, and knew she could recite it line for line if pressed. Another benefit of the powers. But it soon became clear as she sketched answers in her notebook to the discussion questions her professor had provided that ‘reading’ and ‘understanding’ were very separate things. She found that she still needed to read and re-read chapters and then quietly contemplate what she was reading before she was fully able to make the logical connections required by the theories presented. It still happened far faster than when she was an undergrad, but not as fast as she originally thought. For the most part, this quiet little coffee shop was the perfect atmosphere in which to lose herself in her reading. It was almost meditative. Yesterday, she’d learned that an hour of class followed by a few minutes alone with Gregg were enough to shoot her libido through the roof. But here, now, she’d sat for hours – even after class – and had hadn’t felt anything greater than a slight twinge between her legs.

Taking a sip of the overly-roasted java, she stared out the window. Across the street, the owner of the ratty little hair salon was huddled in a jacket puffing away on a cigarette in her doorway. Christine actually felt bad for the woman. In the hours she’d been studying here, not a single patron had stopped by for so much as a trim. The woman’s coat, hastily put on, did little to cover up her generous curves. At first Christine thought the woman was fat, but when she stretched and scratched her stomach, Christine saw that it was only an illusion of her garments – her tremendous breasts holding her sweater away from her body. The woman obviously had some gravity defying (and nature-defying) assets – it was a wonder why there wasn’t a line of frat boys around the block! They probably just didn’t know yet. But despite all the work she’d obviously put into sculpting a figure designed for sex, she was apparently trying her hardest to hide it. Christine’s curiosity would have to be saved for another day – she was still feeling too psychically tired to stretch her mind all the way across the street and find out all the “Whys” to this interesting character.

She was about to begin contemplating the next chapter in her book when something odd caught her eye. The woman across the street suddenly stamped out the cigarette she’s just barely started and ducked inside her salon. From across the street, Christine could see how, inside, she was making herself look busy, sweeping an already clean floor, her back to the front window. A moment later, Heather strode briskly by, looking incredible in her tight jeans, her deep red hair blowing in the brisk winter breeze. Christine knew that if her powers were back at full potential, Heather would have felt her presence. Heather had no real powers of her own, but the instinctual desires left over from David would have made her reach out to her – and because of Gregg’s protection, she would have been unaffected, but still would have felt it.

She could feel the power inside her, wanting Heather, yearning for her. But, thankfully, she was too weak. Heather popped into a post office a few doors beyond the salon and a few moments later, she emerged, folding a booklet of stamps into her pocket and re-donning her ear muffs as she went about on her merry way, unaware that two women had taken special notice at her passing.

At the salon, the busty owner had emerged and had tentatively stuck her head out, ready to duck back inside in a moment’s notice if Heather should so much as turn toward her. The owner watched Heather walk away until the red head turned a corner out of sight. Sighing dejectedly, the salon owner retreated inside, turning the “open” sign around to “closed.”

Something more than idle curiosity tugged at Christine. Standing, almost as if in a trance, she grabbed her purse and headed toward the door. She shouted to no one in particular, “Watch my stuff,” and knew that everything would be exactly as she left it whenever she returned.

Jogging across the street, she knocked on the door to the salon, “Vin’s”. A very surprised shop owner looked up, quickly dabbing at her eye with a tissue. She hurried to the door to let in her freezing (potential) customer. For a few seconds, both Christine and the shop owner just looked at each other, saying nothing.

“I…I’m sorry…” the stylist ventured, shaking her head to clear it. “I just had the most amazing déjà vu. You…you look like someone know…er, knew.”

That sealed it for Christine. She knew there was one person who she looked like – who she was DESIGNED to look like. The same woman who caused this shop owner to duck and hide like some scared kid. And the slight crow’s feet at the corners of her eyes indicated that this was no little kid.

“Anyway, what can I do for you?”

Now it was Christine’s turn to blink herself out of her trance. She knew she didn’t need a haircut, but here she was. She didn’t even need color since she could control that to some extent. (She still wasn’t able to get the bit of red out of her hair – as if her linked identity to Heather refused to disappear). “Uh…just a…um…how about a wash? I just hate shampooing and drying all this hair myself.” It was a flimsy excuse, but the stylist didn’t seem to care. It was a customer.

Extending a perfectly manicured hand, the shop owner introduced herself. “I’m Cathy. And you are?”


“Let me just get a little information first.” Cathy stepped behind her little counter and entered Christine’s contact information into her computer. The computer was old, obviously bought second-hand. It was clear that Cathy wasn’t a trained typist as she hunted and pecked each keystroke with her long fingernails. While Cathy worked, Christine absorbed all of the woman’s features. She had a slim waist hidden beneath that sweater. Her ass was curvaceous without being fat. Nails and makeup were artfully done, like a person ready to go on stage – that is, too much for casual everyday use, but not too much as to seem “painted on”. This woman had obviously learned the art of makeup from being in a spotlight. Her hair was platinum blonde, streaked with green. If it wasn’t so masterfully done, Christine would have thought it tacky. The salon itself was small, just two chairs for styling and one for washing. The walls were in desperate need of decorations besides the cosmetology diploma and the business license.

“Okay, we’re ready.” Cathy led Christine to the chair in the back with the sink, pulling a curtain to block the view from onlookers outside. It occurred to Christine that Cathy never turned the “closed” sign back around, not that there was much chance of another customer arriving soon anyway. Opening one large bottle of shampoo, Cathy held it under Christine’s nose. The smell was delightful. “It’s green tea and jasmine, one of my favorites. It’s also filled with proteins and vitamins to help your hair keep that amazing luster.”

Christine just nodded, captivated by this woman. It was a slight struggle to keep her own desires in check. There was more than just a sexual attraction at work here. And being in a semi-public place, she was wary of letting herself go.

Cathy tied an apron around her client’s neck, making sure it wasn’t too tight. Christine felt goosebumps rise on her arms when Cathy touched her neck. For a few moments, the busty stylist played with Christine’s hair, her fingers running through it, feeling its heft, and testing its resiliency. Waves of pleasure poured through Christine at this simple, yet sensual touch. She closed her eyes, losing herself in the stylists’ dexterous fingers. Was it her own desires for this living sex-doll or was it something she was picking up from this woman?

All too quickly, Christine was turned around and the back of the chair was lowered until she felt the cool porcelain of the sink press against her neck. The water was turned on and Christine watched as Cathy donned her own apron, cinching it at the waist. Now the almost comical size of Cathy’s chest was more readily apparent. To her surprise, Christine felt a tingling and tightness in her own boobs as if they were starting to grow out of jealousy. She regained control, and no outward change was noticeable. Though, if not for the apron, Cathy would have been treated to the sight of her nipples pressing tightly against her blouse.

After testing the water with her wrist, Cathy directed the stream toward Christine’s hair. The sudden contact with the water caused her to gasp.

“Oh, sorry! Too hot?”

“Oh…uh…no. It’s perfect. Just lost in my own thoughts.”

Christine was glad that Cathy wasn’t otherwise trying to engage her in conversation. She could sense, however, that this was not normally the case. Without directly probing, Christine could tell by the tightness of Cathy’s jaw that there were hundreds of things being left unsaid – conversation starters that she was holding back, as if she knew it wasn’t what this particular client wanted.

The water was shut off and Christine heard the shampoo being squirted into the Cathy’s palm. Soon, the only sounds were of her soapy hands working through Christine’s thick strawberry blonde curls. Cathy took her time, doing a far more complete job than she’d ever done herself. And when Christine’s head was fully lathered, Cathy began a deep scalp massage, working the suds deeply and further relaxing her client.

Eyes closed, lost in the soothing sensations, Christine moaned. It wasn’t a moan of passion, but a moan of supreme relaxation. And with that relaxation, came the visions:

The view was hazy, like everything was in a dream. She’d turn her head and, like a camera that’s slow to focus, it would take her vision a moment to readjust. She felt slightly dizzy, like the floor beneath her feet was overly soft and the room was spinning. She was walking in an elegant restaurant on the arm of some guy. She looked down and found it impossible to see her feet beneath her extraordinarily large breasts. Through the mental fog, Christine realized whose memories she was lost in. The realization that she was seeing through her stylist’s mind caused her to stumble.

Her arm was suddenly gripped painfully, tightly. “What did I tell you about shooting up just before dinner?” The guy whose arm she clung to shook her violently. “Don’t fucking embar – ” He didn’t finish the thought, having seen someone at one of the tables he recognized. Cathy tried to focus on maintaining her poise, but the heroin was doing its job, keeping her mind pleasantly clouded. Better to be numb than face the reality that was her life.

Cathy focused on who Vinnie was talking to. The girl sitting at the table in the red dress was stunning. She had an amazing figure, and flaming red hair…it reminded her of one of the girls she used to strip with at Vinnie’s club…

“Raven? I mean Heather? Is that you? It’s me, Cathy! My God you look great! Vinnie, doesn’t she look great? Then again you always-”

A violent slap across her face broke her rambling train of thought. “Shut up slut! I’m talking here. The next time you open your mouth, my dick better be in it!” The blonde took a step back, her head hanging meekly. The slaps were nothing out of the ordinary…but the look of abject pity on Heather’s face cut deeper than the sharpest knife. If there was one person’s pity she never wanted…

Cathy had made her choice all those years ago. She’d tipped Heather off to Vinnie’s plans and helped her get away. The only solace for the hell that was her life now was that Heather was supposed to not know what had become of her. She could live with what she’d done for the woman she loved.

Vinnie and Heather and the guy Heather was with were engaged in some kind of conversation, but the words were just washing over her. She saw Vinnie lean in and knew that they guy at the table was in trouble – that was the posture he always took just before getting violent.

There was a sudden clatter of broken dishes and Vinnie was on the floor. The guy got up from the table and punched Vinnie across the face, knocking him out cold. He reached into Vinnie’s coat and removed Vinnie’s wad of money, peeling a few C-notes and putting them on the table.

To her surprise, rather than taking the rest of money for himself and leaving, the guy simply handed it to her. “My advice to you is to take this money and get away from this asshole.” Cathy gulped nervously and looked down at Vinnie’s unconscious body before looking back at the man who knocked Vinnie out with one punch. She took the money with a trembling hand.

He turned and left, taking Heather with him. Crouching over Vinnie’s unconscious body, she slapped his face a few times, seeing if he’d wake up. All eyes were on the exiting couple, so in the confusion she slipped the wad of money into her pocket. The man’s words burned into her brain. “…take this money and get away…”

She needed to get to her place and pack. It wouldn’t be long before Vinnie’s goons came looking for her. She needed to get away. She needed time – time to get the drugs out of her system…time to think about what she was going to do…time to figure out if she had more to offer the world than the stipper/pornstar that Vinnie had made her. Even in her heroine-induced fog, she knew the pain and fear that was coming. Vinnie had beat her severely once for trying to quit the drug…but that was nothing compared to the withdrawal symptoms and the shakes from quitting cold turkey. “…get away…”

‘I can do this…I have to do this…’

Christine pulled out of the reverie as Cathy helped her sit up while wrapping a towel around her hair, wringing out the moisture from the rinse. Wordlessly, she discarded the towel and began blow drying, using her fingers in place of a comb. Again, Cathy’s delicate touch seemed to relax Christine, allowing her consciousness to reach out…

Cathy stood at the back of the club, giving her body another spritz of the fruit-scented body spray clients enjoyed when she gave them lap dances. There in the dark corner, near the DJ’s booth, it allowed her a moment’s respite. At 27 years old, she was hardly “old”, but in the stripping business, she was past her prime. Her boss, Vinnie had begun taking a greater interest in pornography, but hadn’t as yet followed through on anything. Cathy counted on Vinnie’s laziness to keep him from going down that path…because once he did, he’d drag several of the girls down that road with him. It was disturbing enough that he kept on dropping hints that she get some breast implants. She was already a DD cup, but Vinnie thought she was built to be one of those hyper-endowed freaks. While Cathy had no immediate plans for life after being a stripper, getting implants like that would severely limit her choices after getting out.

The hot new girl on stage was finishing a set, gathering up all the dollar bills strewn around the stage. She liked to go by the stage name “Raven” which was odd given the girl’s deep red hair. Cathy just chalked Heather’s choice to being young and inexperienced. It was only a month or so ago when she won the amateur competition that her boyfriend dragged her to on that very stage. Vinnie offered her a job on the spot, and after a week of thinking, she took it.

Heather clearly had a body for stripping and was a natural on stage. From their few conversations, it was clear that Heather was very intelligent…but it was also clear that she was also just another hot young girl looking for fun and easy money. That’s how it always started. She’d seen girls like Heather come and go…most didn’t know when to get out and became trapped. Cathy wanted to hate her for being so young and beautiful…but she couldn’t. There was a certain naivety that made one just want to help her. And when she looked at you with those big green eyes…

Cathy was lost in thought for a moment, thinking about the delicious things she could teach Heather about Sapphic love. Heather wouldn’t be her first female partner, nor probably her last. Girls in the club often got so turned off by their male clients that the only true affection they could find came from other women.

Heather’s scream broke her out of her reverie. Security was quick to pounce, and in just seconds they were dragging some guy out to the street, yelling obscenities in Heather’s direction. The small flaccid cock hanging out from his open fly was all the evidence she needed to know what had just happened. The door to the dressing room slammed shut and Cathy knew that’s where Heather had run.

“It was bound to happen eventually,” she said to herself, sighing. It was an unofficial initiation to the life of a stripper. Heather was giving a lap dance, the client got too excited (not difficult to imagine given the girl’s talents) and he pulled out his cock and either wanted her to suck it or he’d jacked it off on her. Most of the other patrons and other strippers had already forgotten the incident and had returned to what they were doing moments before.

Sighing again, mostly because she thought herself numb to this sort of thing, she followed Heather backstage. Maybe this would be enough reality to convince the girl to go back to college. She found Heather at her make-up table, sobbing and repeatedly wiping her arm with a tissue. ‘Yep, she got sprayed.’ There was a pile of used tissues on the floor. Cathy had seen this a dozen times – new girls never feel that first spray ever comes off. Heather will probably take four or five showers tonight…but if she stays in the business, she’ll get used to it…unfortunately.

“Hey girl, it’s okay…they threw the bum out.”

Heather quickly stood up and threw her arms around Cathy, grateful for even the smallest bit of sympathy. Other girls in the dressing room simply rolled their eyes, forgetting that they were one young and naive. Cathy fully embraced Heather, letting the girl get her crying out. As one of the older girls in the club, she felt she had an almost matronly duty to see them through this sort of thing.

As Heather cried, she became painfully aware that she was still only wearing a G-string and that Heather was totally nude (except for her heels). They were about the same height and their breasts were pressed tightly against each other. Cathy whispered soothing words, but also felt her body reacting to this firm feast of feminine flesh pressed against her. Heather’s sobs ebbed somewhat and Cathy pulled her head back.

Their eyes met and they held each others’ gaze for a long time. Cathy didn’t intend to fall in love, but those green eyes… She couldn’t remember who moved first, but slowly their eyes closed and their lips touched, first demurely, then with increasing passion.

Heather broke away and said haltingly “I’m not a lesbian.”

“I know.” With that, Cathy pulled her over to the couch on the back wall, stretching herself out on top of the fiery red head. Their bodies ground against one another and their tongues desperately explored each others’ mouths. Other strippers came and went, paying them little heed.

That night, Heather became Cathy’s mentee, friend, and lover. A close relationship that lasted for the next four years until Cathy cut her loose, saving Heather from the life of drugs and porn that Vinnie had intended.

“And you’re done!”

Christine blinked, looking at herself in the mirror. It was hard to focus on herself when all she wanted to do was jump up and hug and kiss Cathy.

Cathy was untying the apron from around Christine’s neck, giving her blonde curls a few extra adjustments…with shaky hands. Cathy was obviously disturbed, but she maintained a professional demeanor.

“I think I may have washed some of the blonde out of your hair…it looks more red than it did when you walked in.” She looked worried that she’d messed up her only client of the day.

Christine smiled, reassuringly. “Nah, it’s just a trick of the light. It’s fine. There’s no dye in my hair.” She couldn’t tell Cathy that when she thought about Heather, her body responded by trying to become Heather. David had done such a complete job trying to make her into Heather that even with his death, she couldn’t ever fully erase her body’s now instinctual desire to be what David could never have.

Maybe it was Cathy’s love for Heather that she was responding to, but Christine felt a genuine desire for this woman, even with her comically large breasts. It was a feeling unlike any she had for anyone else in her small circle of lovers. She was fond of Robyn, very fond of Cindy, bonded to Brian, wanted to be Heather, and yearned for Gregg…but her feelings for Cathy were more like those of a lost love…something she’d never felt for anyone before. But she was disturbed that these feelings were not her own. What if they were just a manifestation of the Heather personality that had once been more dominant that her own?

She felt conflicted. She wanted to call up Heather and tell her that Cathy was here…but from her behavior earlier, it was clear that Cathy didn’t want Heather to know…at least not yet. Not only that…Christine felt possessive of Cathy. That she was HER long lost lover and not that of the real Heather.

Christine’s head was spinning with her moral dilemmas. She needed air. Standing, she gave her hair one last look in the mirror and put on her best smile. “Thank you. I love it.” She reached into her purse and pulled out a fifty-dollar bill and handed it over.

“Oh, let me get you change.”

“No. Keep it.”

“But a wash and dry is only fifteen dollars.”

“I insist.” Christine quickly retreated toward the door.

“Come again!” Cathy shouted, both elated at finally having a customer and one that tipped so generously.

Christine paused at the door and turned, looking deeply into Cathy’s eyes. “I will.” Summoning her last reserves of will, she turned again and exited. She ran across the street to the coffee shop, packed up her books (which were exactly as she left them), grabbed her coat and walked quickly back to her apartment.

Part of her needed the gentle caress of Robyn…but even more so, she needed a pounding fuck from Brian. Maybe after she satisfied the more immediate need, tonight she’d introduced them to each other…

* * *

Cathy watched her client exit. She’d learned as a stripper not to question a client’s quirkiness…especially when they tipped extremely generously.

Slumping onto the stool behind the counter, she finally released the ragged breath she was holding. She felt a desire wash through her that made her knees weak. First seeing Heather, then having a client who could have been Heather’s long lost twin sister…and then that flood of memories, so clear, so vivid.

It was an impulsive decisions set up shop in this location. She knew Heather attended school here, and lived somewhere in the neighborhood. One day soon she’d have her life turned around, and she wanted to share that day with Heather. But for now, she just wanted to be close.

On the inside wall of the counter, where nobody but she could see, was a creased photo of the two of them, taken just months before their lives separated. She again let her thoughts drift, back to happier times. Leaning back against the wall, safely out of sight from passers-by, she started rubbing her crotch through her jeans, losing herself in the memories of Heather’s fabulous body and talented tongue…it wasn’t like she expected any more clients anyway.

* * *

There was so much about the last hour of her life that made Natalie want to throw up…not the least of which was the sour aftertaste of the stranger’s cum in her mouth. She didn’t think even a whole bottle of mouthwash would be able to completely rinse her mouth clean, let alone the truth she’d just learned. A truth too fantastic to believe, and yet impossible to deny. It all made sense now.

The stranger lit another cigarette, not caring that the Omega Xi house was no-smoking and that Natalie was bound to get into trouble. She continued slowly jacking his cock, licking away a final pearl of cum, despite the fact that doing so nearly made her gag. She tried to disobey, but every command he gave, she complied.

The story he’d just told her was true. She was living proof of it.

Gregg had the power to control minds. Everything that happened to her, to Brittany, to Laura…that was all his doing. She remembered that day in his office, the first time they’d met, how he seduced her and Laura, humiliating them both. She felt vindicated that she hadn’t actually done what she’d done of free will. A new hatred swelled up inside her as she thought of what Gregg had done to her! It was like rape! (The irony of her part in getting Laura raped was completely lost on her) The stranger seemed to sense this hatred and it made him smile.

“You have questions, no doubt.”

Natalie felt free for the moment, at least free enough to sit back and release his cock. Not free, however, to cover her naked tits. He wanted them on display. She looked at his dick, small and shriveled. It couldn’t be more than five or six inches long.

“Why isn’t your cock as big as his? You said his wasn’t natural…” It was a question inviting danger. He clearly was in control and if he felt insulted (as most men were when their diminutive cocks were pointed out) he might decide to punish her. But he only seemed to smile.

“Don’t worry about that. Even with my little dick, I can still make you scream…once my quest is done, and I’ve jumped through all the necessary hoops, my dick will make Gregg’s look like a toothpick in comparison.”

He tucked his wilted cock back into his pants. Natalie stared in horror at his fingernails which appeared to be crusted with blood. He sensed her thoughts and held out one finger before her face. Her gag reflex was already threatening to spill the contents of her stomach if he forced her to take it into her mouth.

“Yes…it’s blood. And it’s not mine, either. Let’s just say that to get what little power I have now, I had to participate in some…not-so-nice activities. The entity that gave me my limited abilities has a cruel sense of humor.”

Natalie just looked at him quizzically.

“This blood on my hands, it never washes away…get it? Funny, no? He told me it was to remind me of what I’ve done to get this far and what more I’ll have to do to get my wish.”

“Your…your wish?”

“Power. The same desire that drove you to spank Brittany with that spoon…only much, much bigger.” His mentioning of Brittany reminded her that he promised to help her. Reading her thoughts, “Don’t worry. Be patient. Soon you’ll have all the power you want.”

Natalie shuddered. “Why me?”

The stranger took another long draw on his cigarette, letting the ashes fall onto Natalie’s floor. “I’m playing a game. He’s testing me.” Natalie wanted to ask who “he” was but thought better of it. “He told me that the secret to my desires lies buried in Gregg’s memories. Gregg, being a good little academic, took lots of notes. I need those notes. I can’t go anywhere near him…for now…and you’re the only one in his little crew that isn’t protected by his magic. Even though he ‘gave’ you to Laura, that still left your mind open to my influence. Now you belong to me…and you’re going to get me a copy of his dream journal.”

Natalie was about to argue that she didn’t belong to ANYBODY when her body suddenly erupted in orgasm. Flopping onto her back, her muscles convulsed and her hands clutched at her cunt which were quickly soaking with juices.

She spasmed and panted and was completely sexually satisfied – quite a feat considering a few seconds ago she was anything BUT sexually excited! Her moment of euphoria just as quickly subsided when she looked into his cold grey eyes.

“When you believe and obey me, I reward. When you don’t…”

Natalie’s eyes again suddenly lit up, this time in pain. It felt like a burning piece of metal was being pressed against her ass. She screamed in pain and tried to slap out the non-existent fire. It stopped after an agonizing couple of seconds. Looking over her shoulder, she was happily surprised that there were no burn marks. Turning back to the stranger, she assumed the meekest pose she could muster.

“You know what, I’m tired of explaining things to you. The fact is, I got to pick one slave, one I thought would be the most useful. That’s all He allows me for now. For your sake, you better hope I chose wisely. You Omega Xi bitches have a reputation for being conniving…I hope you fit the mold. If I were you, I’d start thinking about how you’re going to get me that journal.”

He stood and walked to her bed, flopping down, tiredly. He didn’t care that he was still fully clothed or that his boots still dripped melting snow and dirt onto her sheets.

Like a switch being thrown, she suddenly felt free – free of body, free of thought. She stood, free to be embarrassed at her nakedness. Crawling around, she gathered up her clothes and quickly got dressed. It was a wonder, given his absolute control over her, that he didn’t rape her – that he only made her suck him off and swallow his putrid cum.

“Oh, I could have raped you,” he said, putting out the stub of his cigarette in the remnants of the coffee she’d bought for him earlier, reading her thoughts. Two other filters floated beside the one newly deposited. “In fact, I WILL rape you…later. And you’ll love every second of it and beg for more…And you’ll think my ‘putrid’ cum tastes better than ice-cream…but I want to save that as a reward for when you complete your task. Remember, you’re MINE.” He swirled the coffee and its floaters, an evil smile stretching his cracked lips. “Some truths are hard to swallow, I know. So, lest there be any doubts…”

He held out his hand containing the coffee cup. She fought against it, but it was no use, her arm reached out and took it from his hand, shaking with the effort to fight him. This seemed to amuse him. Slowly, the cup came to her lips. Her head tilted back and the cold mixture of stale coffee and cigarette ash poured into her mouth, filters and all. Her eyes clenched shut in horror and disgust. With a hard swallow, it all went down her gullet. And against all logic and reason, a wave of pleasure rushed through her body, making her gasp.

Suddenly, she was free again. She coughed and gagged, but didn’t throw up, much though she wanted to. What she wouldn’t give for the comparatively tender mercies of Laura and Gregg! She started to sob quietly, something that seemed to amuse him.

“Shut up. I want to get some sleep. This is the softest bed I’ve had in months. And for your information, that coffee isn’t the worst thing you’re going to have to swallow…”

She didn’t really want to know, but she had to ask. But before the words left her lips, he answered. “Your pride.” His joke amused him…but only him.

She was free to go now…but only the loosest definition of “free”. She was free to plan this petty larceny. Free to disobey him at the cost of her life. Through tear-filled eyes, she looked for her shoes.

But there was one question she hoped he’d at least answer. Talking to him made her want to vomit, but she had to ask.

“Uh, what do I call you? Lord? Master? – like Laura calls Gregg?”

That seemed to amuse him. “Nah…I’m not that vain. Just call me what my mother called me…‘Adam.’”

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