In the middle of the darkened room stood a red covered plinth, the centre of
attention for a reverential, hushed audience. A dark skinned couple, naked,
and writhing in the throes of their ecstasy, adorned the plinth. The only
light shone down on them, highlighting every dimple and strained muscle in
the back of the uppermost performer, as avid eyes drank in each rivulet of
sweat. There was no hidden intimacy; all was on display as the wildly
coupling duo climbed towards their next mutual peak.
Warm receptive openings clung to the uniting shaft, and ragged breaths rent
the still air. An eruption of cries rose from the throats of the lovers, who
peaked, and then the sound stilled to gentle murmuring. Finally – one
exhausted woman rolled off the other.
“Well?”
A tall Germanic woman who had appeared beside the sweat soaked dais
spoke the impatient word.
“Nothing…” Jolene panted, “Nothing at all,”
In a practiced motion, Jolene slid the flexible dildo from her body, and
turned her gaze on her spent lover.
“Manda, are you OK? Manda!” Jolene’s voice raised a pitch.
Jolene shook Manda’s lax shoulder, trying to rouse her.
“No! No, Jolene – she’s entranced, leave her…” Margit boomed.
Despite her concern, Jolene reacted instinctively to the command,
snapping her hand away from her sister’s sweet skin.
“Manda, listen to me. What do you see? What do you feel?” Margit asked.
Manda only twitched, sighed and smiled. Then in a fluid motion, she curled
herself into a foetal ball, her full lips peeled back, and emitted an eerie
hum. The volume of the sound increased until it bit at the eardrums of the
assembled. The sound peaked, and Manda broke into a singsong voice.
“Double, double toil and trouble; Fire burn and cauldron bubble” Manda sang.
“Sheeit, what the hell’s that?” Jolene asked, rhetorically.
“That, m’dear is Shakespeare,” Alison proudly announced.
“I know that – fool. But why is she saying it?” Jolene growled.
Further conversation was cut short; all eyes were drawn back to Manda. Her
body straightened itself violently, and flew into the throes of a full-blown
seizure. Agonisingly she shuddered and contorted on the small platform.
Margit moved quickly, threading her arms through Jolene’s; she held the
frightened black girl firmly, rooting her to the spot.
“She’ll be fine; Manda will be back with us all very soon,” whispered
Margit.
Finally the wicked contractions of Manda’s body stilled. Seconds later, she
sat up smiling.
“The power has been used. A route to the orphan has been gifted to us!”
Lascivious laughter filled the darkened cellar.
—————————–
Rachael sat alone in her bedroom, thumbing through the latest copy of
‘Glamour’, bored out of her senses. When she reached the fashion pages, her
attention was caught by a stunning leather creation. It was sensuously
draped across a smouldering model; immediate images danced in her mind.
Unconsciously, her mind slipped the neckline a little lower revealing a
crinkled nub, Rachael groaned and smacked the pages shut.
Tears misted her vision.
‘What’s wrong with me, why am I so…’
She flopped onto her bed, burying her face deeply in the pillow. Long sobs
wracked her young frame; as she fell into her private hell.
‘I’m not gay! I know I’m not, Darren knows I’m not. It’s just not true’
Rachael’s despair thundered back into her mind.
“Rachael, Rachael, it’s time to go!” her mother shouted up the stairs.
“I’m not going!” Rachael yelled back.
“Yes, you are, my girl, this is important.”
Rachael stomped from her room and down the stairs. She avoided her mother’s
gaze, and stood with her head hung. Idly she kicked the wall with her heel,
moody to the last.
“Come on Rach, car now! Let’s just get this over.” her mother said, frowning
at her youngest daughter.
The car journey proceeded in stony silence, eventually Susan tried once
more.
“Look Rach, if this man gives you the all clear, you can go back to school
tomorrow.”
“Great, back to all the teasing, give up mum – you don’t understand!”
Rachael murmured.
“Darren will be there…” said mum.
Yeah, if he will still speak to me. He might not want to talk to a…”
Rachael’s voice tailed off.
Susan shifted down a gear, and pulled up on the hard-standing outside the
surgery. She got out, stared for a moment at her seated daughter, and then
walked to the passenger door. Susan swung the door wide open.
“Out, come on, just a chat with a doctor – that’s all it is.”
Unwillingly, Rachael left the security of the car, and slunk towards the
door. Behind her, Susan locked the car, sighed and then followed Rachael
into the surgery.
‘I wonder which of us is the most nervous. Rachael’s right, I don’t
understand, not at all,’ Susan thought.
The doctor looked up briefly from his desk; he motioned Susan and Rachael to
sit down. For what seemed like an age he flicked through the pages of a
closely typed report. Eventually he removed his half-moon glasses, used them
to quickly scratch his nose, and spoke.
“So Rachael, how are we?” he asked.
“Wonderful, what do you think!” Rachael snorted.
“Yes, I can imagine.”
“Mrs Savage, it may be easier for me to talk with Rachael alone. Just for a
short while.” The doctor raised a bushy eyebrow.
“Anything you want to ask Rach, you can ask in front of me. We have no
secrets,” replied Susan.
“Ah, but Rachael is a young woman. I would like to respect her privacy.” The
doctor smiled.
“No way, I stay!” Susan glared.
“As you wish, of course. Rachael, I’m Dr Fazakerly, Justin, if you prefer. I
specialise in counselling teenagers, helping them. I’d like to help you
Rachael, or is it Rach?” Fazakerly beamed.
“Rachael to you, Justin,” smirked Rachael.
“Good Rachael, so how long have you been sexually active?” Fazakerly asked.
“Sexually…” Susan choked on the word.
Fazakerly said nothing; he just calmly raised his forefinger to his lips.
Rachael blushed deeply.
“Well I have snogged – once or twice. Is that what you mean?” Rachael
replied.
“Not entirely, your file would suggest a little more than snogging,”
Fazakerly commented.
“I may have fooled around a bit, who’s been grassing?” Rachael asked.
“In this ‘fooling around’ have you had full intercourse?” Fazakerly queried.
“No! I haven’t. Mum I haven’t, honest” Rachael paled.
“It’s all right, Rachael I believe you. Tell me though, when did you start
‘fooling around’?” Fazakerly smiled.
“’bout three years ago, I s’pose,” replied Rachael.
“So 11 then,” Fazakerly noted her response.
“11!” Susan gasped.
“Not uncommon, Mrs Savage, not uncommon at all. Tell me, in your own words
Rachael, what happened the other day?”
“Well I was waiting to read, and I got turned on – real hot. So I…”
Rachael’s words faltered, she glanced at her mother, “I felt myself up, then
when I had to speak, the words changed. They changed, I just read what they
said – and then all hell happened… I left.”
“These feelings, the ‘hot turn on’ was it from you?” The doctor queried,
sitting forward slightly.
“No, they came from somewhere else, like the words, Justin. How did you
know?” Rachael asked, frowning.
“Just a guess, Rachael, nothing more. Look, I don’t think there is anything
to worry about. Just pop outside and take a seat, I need a quick chat with
your mum.”
Justin waited for the door to close, but before he could say a word Susan
interjected.
“What’s wrong with her, Doctor is it serious?” She asked.
“It could be nothing, but I am a little concerned, I think I should refer
Rachael to our Psychosexual Counsellor,” Fazakerly replied.
“So it’s not schizophrenia?” Susan relaxed.
“Schizophrenia, why would you ask that?” the doctor quizzed.
“My Aunt had it, she died in a sanatorium,” Susan answered.
“Did she?” Fazakerly scribbled some hurried notes, “Possible, but very
unlikely, I think it’s just an overactive sex drive, same sex attraction and
crushes are common in all adolescents.”
“So she can go back to school?”
“Once the counsellor has had a chat, I can’t see why not. I really can’t,”
Fazakerly replied.
————————-
Eloise wandered down the stairs to join the others.
“Are you sure about this, Margit? I mean, I’m always ready for a group
session, but are you sure this will work?”
“Yes I am sure, you heard what Manda told us. This wounded girl is our route
to the orphan,” Margit replied, pointedly.
“There’s no need to snap, Margit! I am a scientist; I don’t quite share your
enthusiasm for the psychic world,” Eloise said.
“Oh, science I see. So in what scientific category do you place vampires?”
Margit asked sweetly.
“Point taken,” Eloise blushed.
“Manda, tell me, which of us does the girl fantasise about the most?”
“Anna, it’s Anna that turns her on” Manda replied, “it’s those nipples, they
are still so damn sexy.”
“Ahzo, Anna was your first as well, yes Manda,” Margit grinned.
“She was,” Manda replied, dreamily.
“Anna, come to our centre – we will commune through you.”
Anna lay down on the dais, proudly pushing up her upturned breasts out as
far as they would go. Her nipple tips hardened, and jutted wickedly from the
puffy tissue under them. As she waited, the others clustered around her
expectant, aching body. Sylvie crouched and tenderly encased Anna’s left
nipple with her own hungry mouth. An enthusiastic Pamela similarly nuzzled
Anna’s right breast.
Margit fell to her knees between the wide stretched thighs and extended her
tongue to lap the petals of Anna’s sex. Above the fuzz of blonde curls,
Margit watched as Macy lowered her dripping snatch onto Anna’s pursed lips.
Anna sank her fingers into the sopping slits. By touch alone, she knew which
belonged to Alison and which to Eloise. Her toes were unable to repeat that
feat; nonetheless they luxuriated in the fluid channels of the servant
sisters. Anna was enclosed in femininity, bathed in sexual delirium. Her
senses flooded; she slid into a delicious trance, oblivious to the gasps and
soft fondling surrounding her.
The transmission began.
Rachael sat wallowing in her own private misery, bored mindless; she looked
around the sparse reception. Inwardly she sneered at the magazines sprawled
on the coffee table top, and looked past the spray of plastic flowers. Her
eyes came to rest on the reception desk, and then on the receptionist.
The girl was quite attractive, even if her clothes were a travesty of taste.
That cardigan should go; it hid her figure, her hair – well, if she let down
that formal bun, and conditioned it a bit more, would be passable.
Idly, her eyes wandered down the visible part of the girl’s body.
‘I wonder what her tits are like,’ thought Rachael.
Instantly an image formed in her mind. Small, sculpted mounds tipped with
puffy teats danced before her. Rachael swallowed hard, trying to push the
knot of excitement away.
‘Not now, oh god! Not now.’ Rachael’s mind raced.
She fought the desire to reach down and scratch the insistent itch. She
shifted uncomfortably on the wooden bench. The desire grew, her distracted
mind searched for some way to relieve the lust discreetly. She was in full
view of the receptionist, and anyone walking in unexpectedly, it was
hopeless.
Moaning softly, Rachael crossed her legs; a jet of desire hit her as the
seam of her jeans slid over her mound. Experimentally, she swung her upper
leg; another frisson of excitement hit her. Relaxing, she let her muscles
stimulate herself, and slowly her eyes narrowed. The dingy room disappeared,
to be replaced totally by the gorgeous breasts; soft lips teased the stiff
nipples, straining their plump succulence. Rachael’s pulse thumped in her
ears, drumming at an ever-increasing tempo. She felt her clitoris expand to
nudge against the resistant seam.
“Miss Savage, Miss Savage! The doctor is ready for you now,” the
receptionist called her.
Her face was close enough for Rachael to kiss. It took a supreme effort not
to reach out with her lips. The orgasm danced between her thighs waiting for
one more deliberate swing of her leg. Rachael swung her leg, and breathed a
lusty lungful of air directly into the receptionists surprised face.
Embarrassed, she vaulted from the reception area; back to the relative
safety of the doctor’s office.
Ensconced in Justin’s room, Rachael only half listened to his drawn-out
explanation. She said little, and added even less. Her only reaction was to
baulk at the idea of having to see another counsellor. When she realised
there was no other option, her hand sought the comfort of her mother’s. The
slight squeeze reassured Rachael, and she relaxed visibly and crossed her
legs.
Dr Fazakerly fumbled through the contents of a half opened drawer. Carefully
he selected a range of brochures, some for Rachael, and a few for Susan.
Justin swivelled his chair back to look at his patients; Susan smiled back
brightly. In contrast, Rachael looked positively doped – her eyes were half
closed. She sat motionless, apart from her pendulum-like right foot. Justin
cleared his throat noisily.
“Ahem, Rachael, I need you to read through these before your visit to Dr
Kemp. Fill in the questionnaires, as honestly as you can, do you understand?
“Mmmmm, Un-huh.” Rachael grunted.
“Good! Susan, these are for you. In addition, I’d like you to keep the diary
notes we discussed.” Justin smiled.
He reached forward to pass the handful of leaflets to Susan. They were sent
spinning from his hand to litter the office floor. Rachael had pulled her
fingers free of her mother’s hand, and thrust them up her mother’s skirt.
Susan jumped at the sudden rude contact, and simultaneously, Rachael
stiffened. The teenager screamed, her pleasure was transparent to them all.
Rachael buckled over, twitching as wave after wave of impure passion burst
through her.
Thousands of miles away, Anna ran her flexing tongue around her encrusted
lips. She could taste it, even more than the pungent flavour of Macy’s cunt.
She could taste, no, savour her slave’s multiple climax. The link was
complete.