The cab driver was nice, considering how many times he needed to ask for payment. His seat was just so nice, and so was the fabric of my apron. It was rough, and slick with soapy water, but that made it feel all gooey and sticky when I pressed into it. The really nice guy even lead me to the birdcage-door that enclosed the entry to the Gilded Cage. The cage-awning was closed, but it was so smooth and nice, even if it was closed.
I wrapped my arms in the cage and leaned into it before the man left. He stood around for a while, pestering me about bringing me home, or to a hospital, but I couldn’t go to those places! Those places were bad, they weren’t safe. A hospital was safe, but they would ask me what I had taken, and didn’t even know, and they’d poke me with needles and it wouldn’t feel good at all.
The man eventually went away. I think people were staring at me, but it was hard to care. I rubbed myself on the cage’s door, and eventually found my way to the glass. The glass was smooooth and cold but it was smoother than anything I’d ever felt in my life. It felt so fragile and small and precious, but there was so much of it, and it was so run to rub my fingers against. And my cheek!
“Oriole, we’re not open yet.” It was Brandy’s voice! Brandy was nice, but she was also really really mean. I felt her fingers touch my shoulders and I started to giggle. Her fingertips had so many grooves that it tickled. I turned to her and smiled.
“Hiiiiiii Brandy!” I giggled more and wrapped my arms around her. She was wearing more clothes than she was last time, a leather corset and some sort of skirt. That didn’t make her any less soft. It just meant she had a lot more interesting textures to feel against my body.
“What happened to you?” her voice was concerned. She wrapped an arm around my waist and began to lead me into the cage. I pressed tight into her and moaned, I rubbed against her, I felt along her skirt. She didn’t stop me.
“Mmmmm, ’Melia gave me pills. Amelia!” I giggled a bit more. “A-me-li-a. Mmmmm.” Her name made my lips rub together, and it made my tongue rub against the top of my mouth. “Me-li-a. Mi-li. Mi-li!” I rubbed at her thigh below her skirt and rubbed my lips into her corset, moaning a bit more.
Brandy led me through the revolving door to the bar. It felt a lot larger when there was nobody here. The seating area felt desolate without being felt with leather-clad women, the bar felt far too ostentatious and long without patrons dotting it. Each one of Brandy’s footsteps echoed through the room. She brought me to one of those plush seats and gently set me down in it.
It felt so much better than the cab.
I mewled and ran my fingers, legs, face along every nook and cranny of it. There were no rough seatbelts to get in the way, the leather was so much more soft and supple. I kneaded it like I would a thigh and gasped with every crease I created.
“You’re sure it was Amelia?” Brandy asked, her voice far too serious for how lovely the world felt.
“Uh-huh! I saw her! She was at my job.” I mewled and turned in the chair until I was sitting backwards in it, legs spread, rubbing my body against the back. I heard an audible sigh from Brandy that should have made me feel bad, but there wasn’t a chance of that happening here.
“Okay.” She paused. I began to tug at the hem of my shirt to lift it, but she was quick to react. She grabbed my hands and placed them on the leather. I wanted to whine, but the leather felt so supple beneath my fingers that I just had to squeeze it more. Brandy let out a sad sigh. “You’re really fucked up, huh? Why did you come here?”
“Mmmmm” Her question was slow to process. My fingers found a seam in the leather, and I ran the sides of my fingers along the changing texture between the stitching and the leather of the couch, feeling the thread rise and fall beneath the wave. Her question rolled through my mind like a frustrating splinter that refused to be ignored. I could feel the answer in my mind immediately, but bringing that answer to words felt like an impossible task. I could feel the nuances but not the words to bring them to light. “It felt safest here.”
“Not your home?” I ran a nail along that leather seam, but it didn’t feel as compelling after Brandy’s second question. A calm gloom settled over me. Everything still felt good, but not good enough to overcome the realization of my predicament settling in once again.
“No.” I didn’t want to say more, but Brandy felt like she was the kind of person who would push. I couldn’t think of a way to avoid her prying, and the thought of her prying more made me want to curl up in a ball, so I did. I wrapped my legs up to my chest and laid my head against the arm rest of the chair, watching Brandy plaintively. She got the hint.
We sat there silently for what felt like a long time. My body buzzed with warmth and its increased sensitivity, but I wasn’t in the mood to indulge it anymore. The haze over my mind was lifting, and all I could manage to do was lay silently and feel my euphoric bliss slip away. I closed my eyes in an effort to lessen the effect. I could feel the pill bottle in my pocket rattle when I shifted, providing a seductively simple solution to my crash, but I was aware enough to know it wasn’t a good idea.
If only being a bad idea was enough to make me not want it.
I heard a door open and close behind my chair and footsteps approach from behind. A presence pulsed over my mind, long dexterous fingers played over the surface of my thoughts. I could feel familiar fingertips tease and explore over what felt like folds in by brain—a sensory illusion to make sense of what was happening to me, I’m sure, but one I had grown to love so deeply. I closed my eyes and sighed in relief as those fingers cupped over me, like a warm protective shell over the sensory-space that was my mind.
It was Jules.
I wasn’t very happy with Jules, I knew I should have resisted, should have objected to her treating me so casually after everything that had happened. I had every reason to believe she could read my mental state, my distress, the feelings of chemical depression settling over me, but some part of me was able to make rationalizations for her. She wanted to protect me. She cared about me. She was trying to make me feel better. I wanted those things, too.
Slender fingers, physical ones, touched my shoulder. I squirmed a little and sidled over in my seat, keeping my eyes closed. A refreshingly cold glass of liquid was placed in my hand as Jules’ weight settled down next to me. Gentle fingers trailed along my wrist and arm as those fingers in my mind probed a little deeper, exploring the folds of my mind as her fingers explored my skin. Her skin was smooth and moist and warm, supple and fascinating beneath my fingers. Something I could get lost in, still. I sipped at my drink—water, blessed water—and mewled under her ministrations. “H-hi Jules…”
An unfamiliar-sounding chuckle met my ears. I tensed, opened my eyes, and pulled away from the unfamiliar sight next to me. A bright orange sweater contrasted against her dark skin in ways to highlight both colors. Black hair tied into thick, long cornrows. The braids that framed her face were adorned with silver rings. Brown eyes and a bright, gentle smile gave a gentle, caring impression.
She wasn’t Jules at all.
“Jules is busy with Victoria.” The woman spoke, running her fingers along my leg. I curled away from her, tense, and gave an accusatory look towards Brandy. A pair of glowing, empty white eyes excused her of any responsibility of warning me of this situation. I felt sick to my stomach as those familiar-feeling fingers dug their nails into my mind, a wave of nausea and dizziness flowing over me, preventing me from trying to stand. “Don’t leave. We have much to discuss, sweet Oriole.”
“Stop!” I spoke firmly, loud enough to echo across the empty dining hall. I tried to roll off of the seat, but deft hands and disorientation both gripped me. I found myself being held, my head laying on the strange woman’s lap, her fingers running through my hair like a mother through a sick child’s.
“Sweet child…” Her voice was deep and motherly as she trailed nails along my scalp in synch with those fingers in my mind, sending tingles along my body. Nausea transformed to a pitiful dizziness, a feeling of being weak and small and sick that my slowly-resurfacing headache only accentuated. “You are in no danger, currently. Calm yourself, so that we may speak.” Her voice carried condescension and caring equally.
“You shouldn’t be doing this to m-me!” I protested.
“I am doing nothing.” Before I could call her on her obvious lie, my mind was wracked with sensation. Cold metal implements: precision, painless scalpels, clamps, calipers opened those folds they were teasing at, cutting and twisting at the flow of my thoughts. She worked so quickly, in ways Jules only did to make a point, when she teased me about how helpless I was to her.
I was screaming and thrashing with every moment, my body reacting to pain I couldn’t feel, to pleasure I could barely comprehend as her tools made deeper cuts, deeper explorations into my psyche. Clamps placed over quick, precise, and deep psychic wounds I could feel my mind trying to mend and correct. Wounds to the very flow of my thoughts, clamps with familiar—but now insidious—pressure growing behind them. My thoughts were a scramble of nonsense syllables and half-formed things.
I gasped and convulsed and twitched in her lap, but her hands held me close. She looked down at me, gently caressing my cheek even as she violated my mind. Those clamps blocking every thought from finishing itself, building in a pressure inside my skull that felt like it would burst through my skull if it wasn’t relieved.
Instead, my mind burst.
All at once, every blocked thought, every blocked urge, every wound left unmended redirected itself through my body. My throat and mouth began to fill with saliva, so quickly slipping out of the corner of my mouth and down my cheek. My sex gushed and clenched and gushed more, ruining my panties, causing me to involuntarily clench my thighs and grind them together. The pressure was so great that my thoughts began to run down my very cheeks as tears, staining them even as I convulsed and screamed in the strange woman’s lap. Every half-thought forced out of my body felt good in ways no physical sensation could describe, each tear, each droplet of drool, each clench of my sex was nearly orgasmic.
“I have a question for you, Oriole.” Her voice sounded so gentle, amused. She caressed over my cheek. “Let us say that there is a lamb. A lamb that is very, very loved by its keeper.” I screamed, inhaled, and coughed as my lungs filled with saliva. She tilted my head to the side, letting me drool over her leg, before running a finger along my neck and collarbone. I could barely comprehend her words, but there was nothing else solid in my mind. Her words were the closest thing to complete thoughts for my mind to latch to. “However, the lamb’s keeper knows that the lamb must be sacrificed, for the rest of the lambs in the flock. It must be used to lure wolves from the forest.”
Her fingers slipped under my shirt as pleasure spread from every orifice. One of her hands grasped over my bra and explored, feeling me experimentally. “Our dear lamb-keeper is convinced, foolishly perhaps, that the little lamb has a chance to survive the wolves.” Her fingers slipped under my bra, feeling my skin. I shivered and clenched and convulsed in her lap, barely hearing her over my own cries of joy. “She is convinced that if our lamb is strong enough, it will survive the jaws of its predators. Scarred, perhaps. Missing pieces of itself, almost definitely. But she has this hope in her heart of hearts, our dear foolish lamb-keeper.” The woman smiled sadly even as she twisted my nipple between her fingers, a feeling I barely could feel beneath the sheer, unrelenting bliss of my mind leaking.
“Considering this…” She shifted, slipped her arms under mind, and pulled me up against her. My head lolled to the side, spittle staining my shirt. My panties felt uncomfortably hot and moist against my skin. The woman ran her fingers under my shirt, feeling over my belly, my hips. “She has resolved to let the lamb believe it is alone. She believes that the lamb would grow stronger under adversity, over the feeling of loneliness. For a lamb cannot help but love its keeper, to rely on them. But if that love is not shown in return, the lamb may find itself growing more independent and resourceful.”
Her fingers slipped under my skirt, feeling along my thighs, exploratory. I latched to her words, mulling on them, waiting for the promised question. Her hands were nothing next to the disorienting mess of thoughts gushing from every hole that could secrete liquid. It was hard to know if I was still screaming, or if I was merely doing so inside my own mind.
“So I ask you, my dear Oriole, my dear little songbird. Is our keeper cruel, or kind? If you were in her shoes, would you allow your lamb peace, even if it made it soft? Or would you hurt yourself, and it, deny your shared love, so that it might survive?”
“H-hurt!” My voice was raspy, guttural, and it took every effort I had to get the word out, but answering her question was the only thought that had managed to complete itself. It felt so important to say, to give her what she’d asked for. The woman kissed the back of my neck and chuckled.
“Mmm. A fine answer. Tragic, but sound.” She rubbed her lips along my neck, kissing, tasting every inch. My body shivered and leaked, twitching in her grasp. “Mmm… It is unfortunate for both of you, then, that strong lambs make for poor lures.” The implements in my mind cut deeper, spread me further asunder, tear at what feels like the very fabric of my identity. The woman’s lips kiss at my neck once more, then to my ear, rubbing, sending tingles of pleasure through my neck and shoulders.
“Jules loves you, you know.”
A firm, harsh, cold clamp closed over parts of my skepticism and mistrust, redirecting it away from her. I could feel it viscerally. Tools pinched and pulled taut at those thoughts as cold steel ties threads of skepticism into knots, looping them in and around themselves, causing my thoughts to gush through my body more. I screamed and screamed and screamed as she weaved cruel implements through the fabric of my thoughts, implanting something unyieldingly deep, something cold and hard and impossibly wound into me. “This next part is going to be intense.” She cooed, holding me tight before psychic fingers unleashed all of those clamps at once.
The sheer force of my mind snapping back together was enough to make me black out.
I woke up where I had lost consciousness, laying with my head in that strange woman’s lap. Now, though, there were more eyes on me. Brandy felt my forehead with the back of her hand. Victoria, wearing a black, low-cut bodycon dress with lace sleeves, stood over me with concern on her face. Jules, in her typical jacket-and-jeans combo, was kneeling next to the seat, her face so close to mine, fingers caressing gently over my cheeks. Cunt stood behind Jules, smiling in relief down to me, wearing a tank top that gave a glimpse of her binder underneath.
Everyone doting on me was pretty embarrassing, if I were honest.
“How long was I out?” I had a splitting headache down the center of my skull, but otherwise felt… refreshed. Like I had taken a nap. My memories were hazy, but slowly percolating back to me. I could remember strange feelings washing over me. A psychic intrusion, or what felt like one. Convulsing. Frothing. My stomach sank. “Did I have a seizure?”
“Yes.” The woman who held my head spoke softly. “A pretty bad one.”
“Whatever Amelia gave you, you must have had too much.” Brandy spoke, saddened. Part of me was relieved that Brandy believed me at all. Jules frowned.
“We’ll all do everything we can to help, okay?” Jules caressed my cheek protectively. “I should have been more thorough, or kept a better eye on you. I…” A tear rolled down her cheek. She held back a sob, her face grimacing from the effort.
‘Jules loves you, you know.’
Scattered memories of my seizure kept returning to me. Words said in soft voices. Something about Jules, comforting words, or comforting tones at least. I couldn’t remember much of anything that was said, but those words flashed in my mind. Jules loved me, and it couldn’t be more obvious. I was dense, absolutely dense, for needing her to say the words. It was hard for her to do, it had to be, but that didn’t mean she didn’t love me.
My heart felt like it was glowing. I smiled ear to ear, I couldn’t help it. Cunt smiled wider in response, even as Jules stood and moved away from view. “It’s good to see you, Oriole. Came as soon as Jules called.” Cunt knelt down in Jules’ spot, her hand cupping my cheek, looking in my eyes. “Her pupils aren’t dilated. I’m not a doctor, but my experience says we’re through the worst of it.”
“That’s good to hear.” Victoria spoke coolly, looking over me. “Is your sister okay, Oriole?”
I shook my head. “No. She uhm… I don’t know what’s going on exactly, but she had a black eye. She said she was going to see Amelia again. She wasn’t okay.” I considered, for a moment, telling them about the rape, but decided against it. I was managing to get through this conversation without falling into despair. I had help. I wanted to keep my mood up, to help them help me as much as possible. “Just… trust me when I say I don’t feel safe at home.” I paused. “Amelia made it clear that she’s targeting me. She showed up at my job, lied to my boss, tried to discredit me, and drugged me.”
Victoria nodded. “You can stay here until we get this resolved. You’re going to be safe. We’ll do everything we can for your sister, okay?” She spoke so matter-of-factly that it was impossible not to believe her. I nodded.
“Thank you.” I slowly sat up. I wasn’t dizzy anymore, but I tried to be gentle just in case. The woman next to me assisted with a hand at my back. I looked to her and blushed. “I’m sorry, I don’t think I caught your name before I started frothing onto your clothes.” I laughed, trying to keep my mood light. I had spent so much time in the gutter that I had been paralyzed by inaction. I had help, now.
“Camille.” She gave a bow. Her voice was like butter. She spoke in the same sing-song tone Jules did when she was self-aggrandizing. She gave a wink to me and smiled. “I’m the devil that stole your Jules away on Saturday, not that she would talk about anything but you.” My heart fluttered. Cunt squeezed my hand, cupping it in a way that felt protective.
“I can hear you.” Jules voice was distant, she had moved across the room entirely. She was still crying, but I could hear a smile in her voice. God did I love Jules’ voice when she smiled. Camille’s eyes twinkled with delight.
“We’re like sisters, though not by blood. I flew into town without telling her beforehand.” Camille smiled with childish glee. “We grew up together. I do apologize for ripping her from you on such a fateful night. It is hard not to feel partially responsible for what happened.”
“Don’t.” I tried to cut off that line of conversation before it started in earnest. Camille took the hint. I looked to Cunt and Victoria, biting my lip. “So what are we going to do about Robin?” Cunt squeezed my hand a little more, moving to sit on the arm rest of the chair. I rested my head against her, experimentally, looking up for approval. She nodded.
“You are going to get some rest, and some time away from all of this.” Victoria spoke so firmly, taking charge of the situation. She sounded so sure of herself, as though this were something she’d done regularly. “In terms of psychic firepower, Amelia’s a lightweight. Brandy will keep the place locked up tight. I’ll stay here in case she shows her face. Jules and Camille should be able to find your sister with little effort, and Cunt can work with them as muscle, if necessary.”
Cunt ruffled my hair with a hand, and I shook my head to try and get away, making noises of complaint. “This isn’t the first time we’ve had to track down a rogue psychic. Amelia’s nothing.” She smiled, confident, but her words filled me with worry about the sort of people I’d been surrounding myself with. Cunt only smiled wider as my worry showed on my face. “It’s not a normal situation, but you have to police your own when the police won’t get involved.”
“We’re going to get a head start.” Camille spoke, standing and moving towards Jules. Jules nodded, dabbing her eyes with a cloth before beginning to move.
“We’ll see you soon, okay Ori?” Jules was doing her best to sound comforting, but sounded so much less confident than anybody else in the room. It made enough sense, if she’d failed at finding anything wrong with Robin, she was probably feeling shaken in her abilities.
“Okay. I’ll miss you!” I called after Jules. She gave a finger-wiggle wave that filled my heart with glee before disappearing into the revolving door with Camille. I already missed her. Cunt squeezed my hand just a little more.
“Are you feeling okay?” Cunt cupped my hand. I nodded. Cunt nodded back, and looked to Victoria. “Is there any particular room you want her in?”
“The one nearest to my office. Just in case. Will you be showing the way?” Victoria’s commanding presence was comforting when it wasn’t being used to interrogate me. I’d made a good decision when I came here.
Cunt lifted herself off of the chair, my hand still in hers. I followed, pressing my body against her as she led me. She shifted from holding my hand and wrapped her arm around my waist, instead, pulling me tighter. My stomach buzzed with excitement and relief—Cunt wasn’t still mad at me. That meant more to me than I thought it did.
The room was above the bar, down a separate hallway to Victoria’s office. The inside was mostly what I’d expected from a private room offered by a bondage club—A four post bed with a metal frame, a spanking bench, St Andrews cross. All of the furniture had leather restraints chained to them. Black carpet coated the floor. It was all very utilitarian.
The walls were completely unexpected. In lieu of any sort of regular wallpaper, plaster, or even regular drywall, the walls appeared to be covered entirely in creased, crumpled tin foil, creating a vaguely reflective stucco appearance. It was garishly ugly on its own, and especially so when clashed with the rest of the room.
“Fascinating, uh… décor, Victoria keeps.” I broke our silence. Cunt laughed and pulled me into the room.
“It’s for privacy.” She ran her fingers along the tin foil, crumpling it a little more. It was every bit as fragile as it looked like. “Believe it or not, it blocks psychic wavelengths, or something like that. Mostly. Jules says she can see through it, but it’s a fuzzy static, but Jules is Jules.” I laughed.
“Are you telling me that tin foil hats actually work?” I laughed more. Cunt twisted her head towards me as though she were going to lash out, for a moment, before softening. She was unamused, nonetheless.
“It’s not tin foil. It’s something else. I don’t know what, I’m not the expert on this sort of thing.” She frowned. “It might be the origin of the idea, though.” She closed the door, holding me close. She was so warm and strong, I didn’t want to resist. I nuzzled into her.
“What do you mean?” I was genuinely curious about what she had to say, but I had mostly asked so that she would keep talking, so that she wouldn’t leave. Feeling her so close put my mind at peace, and I didn’t want to lose that.
“Have you ever heard of the Stargate project?” I shook my head. “It was a government project, started during the Cold War. It was supposed to research psychics, specifically the kind that could find things, see things from far away.” I squeezed against Cunt more, listening, anxious. It was difficult to fight the feeling that I was involved in something way over my head. “On paper, the CIA claims it was a failure. Declassified it, said it didn’t result in anything substantial. They claim the project was limited to fifteen personnel in a leaky barrack in Baltimore.” Cunt shrugged. “It was bigger than that. Jules and Camille were their star pupils. Most people can barely hit you from across a room, if they try. Jules is a lot further reaching, as you know. Camille is the same.” She paused for a moment, as if to pull herself back on-topic. “All of this comes from that, in the end.”
“What?” I squeezed tight against her. “Are they still around? What happened? How does that result in… this?” I laugh, glancing over at one of the cuffs on the bed.
“We broke off from them. We clustered together. A lot of us were kinky.” I laughed. Cunt ran a finger through my hair. “The project lost its funding, I think. It all felt like it happened overnight. We broke away around the same time, and we haven’t heard from them since. It’s been years now. But I’m pretty sure that people involved that broke free are the origins of the ‘tin foil blocks government mind control waves’ idea. They plastered it over every wall they had.” I rested my head against her chest, feeling her warmth against my ear. It was hard to worry when you were being held by someone you loved.
God dammit Oriole
Both my heart and mind raced as I realized what I’d felt. I mulled the word over in my mind. ‘Love’. I’d been in love before, I was still in love with Jules. I had experience with it—My mind didn’t think it on accident. I tried to rationalize it away on instinct, but the word was implanted in my mind.
I loved Cunt.
I took a deep breath as she rocked me in silence. My stomach filled with butterflies. It might simply be a crush, but I had been on this rodeo more than once before. A crush wasn’t something that snuck up on me like this feeling did. It felt too soon to be feeling, but we had been through a lot together already.
Okay. I loved Cunt.
I could admit that to myself. I could feel those feelings. I didn’t know what it would mean for the future. I wasn’t uncomfortable with loving more than one person, but I had no idea what she felt about me, and the mere thought of rejection felt like a stab to the heart. People who didn’t have casual sex had it so much easier than people who did, they could take flirting and physical intimacy as positive signs of romantic feelings.
“I’m sorry for flying off the handle at you.” Cunt broke my silent contemplation. I looked up at her and frowned.
“I’m sorry I, uh….” I laughed. “I’m sorry I did… everything? I was being selfish and disrespectful.” Her fingers ran through my hair again and I melted into them, my eyes rolling back just a little. “I can be mono-focused on people I love.” She nodded affirmatively. I blushed beet red. Cunt smiled knowingly. I blushed even more. Her eyes twinkled, there was no way she didn’t know. She didn’t need to be an empath to read my feelings all over my face. My mind raced for a way out. “I think I’m psychic. I… I think I possess people.”
Cunt frowned, not displeased, but sympathetic. She nodded. “If you were, it makes sense it’d be manifesting now.” She kissed my forehead. I melted into her more. “It tends to come out when you’re under a lot of stress, and I don’t think you’ve had a moment to rest since this whole ordeal started.”
I nodded. “I don’t know what to do about it.” I nestled into her arms. It was harder to be more wrapped in her, but I was going to try my hardest, dammit.
“Do you want to do anything about it?” Cunt asked, her voice taking a serious tone. I considered, for a moment.
“It keeps happening without me trying. I want to stop that, at the very least.” Cunt nodded and cupped my cheek, rubbing a thumb over my blush. “I… It’d be pretty cool to do. I don’t really see… ethical ways of using it in any practical way.”
Cunt chuckled and kissed my forehead again. “I’m no teacher, but the starting advice is always to practice meditation. Be calm. Self-awareness is key.” Cunt smiled.
“I’m pretty calm.” I blushed a little and rested my cheek against her chest. “It’s easy to be calm around you.” Cunt let out a chuckle. There isn’t a chance in the world she didn’t know what she was doing to me. I squeezed her hips and rubbed my cheek against her.
“Okay.” Cunt ran a hand along my spine gently. She closed her own eyes and hummed, softly. I could hear her heartbeat slow, subtly, just a little. I could feel the walls between us open, like they had between Elle and Mike. The mental space my mind inhabited was expanded. I stretched myself towards her for a moment, but then held myself back.
I looked up to her, biting my own lower lip for a moment, shy, hesitant. “I… Are you okay with me doing this?” She nodded an affirmative. I pressed my mind through that threshold, feeling half a moment of nothingness, until I was Cunt.
I could feel her strength immediately, like I could in Mike, but Cunt felt stronger. She felt tighter, fitter, and healthier than anybody I had been in. Her heart was beating rapidly. I could feel the thrum of need in her body as I nestled more into her. I could feel a familiar uncomfortable tightness around her chest. Her lips moved without my volition. “I can feel you in me. It’s subtle…” her voice vibrated through her chest. “I wouldn’t notice it if I wasn’t aware of what psychic pressure felt like. It’s more subtle than most people can manage.”
I had no way to respond until I shifted my mind back towards my half of the proverbial room. An instant of uncomfortable blackness, and I was me again. I shifted and squirmed against her, warmth growing inside me. Feeling how much she needed me made me need her. I bit my lower lip and nodded up to her. “Thank you. I wasn’t sure how it felt to the receiver…” I shifted. I squirmed. I ground my hips against Cunt.
“You don’t have to stop.” Cunt petted my hair. “We can do this until you’re tired of it, or until I get the sign to move from Jules.” I took a deep breath, nervous at the prospect. Everything I had tried before was haphazard, desperate, or unintentional. I didn’t want to hurt her.
“If you’re sure…” Inhabiting Cunt felt so much more intimate than anything else I’d done. I felt like an awkward virgin all over again. “Do you mind if I experiment? I want to try something.”
“Of course not.” Cunt spoke gently. I closed my eyes and pressed into her again. I focused on the mental space between us, the shared room my mind had rationalized these feelings into. I focused on myself, on the space of the mental room. I focused, I stretched myself, doing everything I could to expand my mind, rather than move it. I visualized myself growing to fill out the space.
The next moments were a disorienting array of contradictory feelings. I was both tall and short, strong and waifish. I could see through two sets of eyes, feel skin against skin from both angles. I was both wrapped up in arms and holding myself close.
Both of us were thrumming with mutual need.
I opened my own mouth to speak, but both pairs of lips moved. Cunt’s heart raced faster, nervous. I took a deep breath. Both of us did. I felt like my eyes were crossed, but both pairs were looking straight ahead. It was nauseating and dizzy, but feeling the warmth of our embrace from both ends was intoxicating.
I was in control of Cunt’s body. Somehow. I focused on moving Cunt’s hands over my body, feeling my hips experimentally. I squeezed my own ass, both bodies thrumming with mutual need, and gasped from mouths. My skins felt like electricity, seeking out the shortest path to the other body’s flesh. I rubbed one of Cunt’s legs between my own, lifting my skirt, positioning myself with just the right amount of pressure, at just the right angle, and it felt so explosively good on both ends.
It was the best aspects of sex and masturbation rolled into one package.
I pulled myself out of Cunt’s body for just a moment, gasping from disorientation. She grasped my shoulders and pushed me down onto the bed with a force that scared me. Her forehead pressed against mine, and we both panted at the other’s lips as she ground that knee against me.
“Is it okay if I do that again, but… go further?” I asked, exasperated, excited, and giggling. Cunt panted, squeezed my shoulders, and nodded.
“Please.” She gripped me firmer, rubbing against me. “I could feel… both bodies, but I couldn’t do anything, I just... was along for the ride, and I want that ride, Oriole.” Her eyes were fiery, passionate. She moved to kiss me, but I expanded into her mind again.
I was less disoriented the second time. I was more prepared. I kissed my own body with Cunt’s lips. Hands from both bodies clawed at clothing, pulling of pants and skirts and panties and shirts in a flurry of motion. It was so much less disorienting if I left as much as I could to muscle memory.
Our bodies pressed into each other with a mutual primal passion I wasn’t sure was possible. Fire and heat consumed me as I groped and squeezed and rubbed. Cunt’s body wound up on top of mine, naked, legs entwined so that her sex was pressed against mine. I could see both of us from the other’s angle, I could feel both pussies as they ground against one another. Tribadism always sounded like it could be fun if executed well, but impractical. I pushed my own body down against a pillow, squeezing my breast with Cunt’s hands, and kneaded hard, feeling her nails dig into my flesh with the perfect amount of intensity.
Our cunts rubbed together in synchronicity as I used my own hands to grip and stabilize Cunt. Cunt’s body was better used to deliver sensation. Something inside her, something involuntary in the pit of her stomach spread like fire through her arms and legs. Her body wanted violence with her sex, and I was helpless but to go along for the ride.
I pinned my own neck to the pillow and gripped it tight, squeezing the arteries at either side of my own neck without crushing my wind pipe. Air was constricted, and my body began to fight on instinct, but more than that my head began to feel lightheaded. As I writhed and squirmed under myself, I took a hand and delivered a firm, raw, hard slap to the side of my own face, feeling the heat and pain and shock from the action ripple through me, and fuel Cunt’s body with renewed vigor.
My own body gasped for air, but Cunt’s wanted more desperation. I covered my mouth and nose with one hand of Cunt’s, squeezing down firm, cutting myself off. Panic and thrill built in my own chest as the smaller body gasped and writhed as Cunt’s body ground our clits harder against each other, repositioning to get more leverage.
I felt the orgasm coming through both bodies at once, as much a physiological reaction as a mental one. I ground harder, gripped my own mouth harder, riding and grinding with abandon until both bodies erupted in screams and convulsions, clenching in unison. Both bodies thrummed and writhed and screamed until I simply couldn’t handle it anymore.
I couldn’t tell if it was voluntary or automatic, but a moment of black-emptiness filled my perceptions, and I found myself laying under Cunt, aware of only myself and my own perceptions. Cunt laid on top of me, panting, grinning, and looking down at me. “You… Fuck…” Words slid dumbly from her mouth. Her eyes were only opening half way.
Cunt shifted me onto my side and laid pressing against me. She clung to me, shaking with pleasure. “You’re going to be popular…” She grinned and laughed. I nestled back against her and bit my lip, feeling vulnerable and warm and glowing.
“Cunt…” I shivered. I should admit my feelings. It was responsible to tell someone when your feelings about them changed, in this kind of relationship. I squirmed against her, biting my lip, vulnerable, afraid. “Is it okay if…?” I paused. I’d already started talking, I couldn’t back out now. “Is it okay if I think I love you?”
Cunt rested her chin on my shoulder. I could feel her smile widen against my neck. She kissed my shoulder and sighed. “I think….” She pulled me closer and wrapped an arm around my waist. “I think it might be too soon for those kinds of feelings, for me?” My heart sank, but she pulled me tighter. “But I’m willing to see where they lead, if you are.”
I tensed, unsure what to say. It wasn’t the confession I was hoping to receive, but it was as good as one. It was measured, it was responsible, it was experienced, it was everything I liked in Cunt.
It was more than I ever got from Jules, even if she loved me.
My heart fluttered and I wiggled my hips against her. “Okay. I can take that.” I took a deep breath. “I know you need to get to business, but don’t leave right away?”
“Okay.” Cunt’s voice was soft. She kissed my shoulder and chuckled. “I should warn you. I’m a bit of a U-hauler.” I giggled at the admission.
“I think I can handle something like that.” I blushed. I rested my head against the pillow, feeling exhaustion settle over me. “Thank you, Cunt. For everything today. I feel like things are…” I yawned. “Going to work out.”
Cunt didn’t say any words, but she leaned over to kiss my cheek. I smiled over to her and settled back in.
I considered everything I’d managed to do in just the morning. It was fraught with terror and close calls. Life with my sister would never be the same after what had happened. But I reached out for support. I got it. People I trusted were going to help me save my sister, and protect us both from Amelia. I felt guilty I wasn’t helping them directly, but sometimes you had to let others take the reins.
I felt content.
Before I drifted off to sleep, I felt Cunt stand from the bed. I didn’t make a motion to stop her, she had already taken so much time away from responsibilities to cater to me. I listened to the sounds of her getting dressed as I basked in the afterglow of our encounter. I opened my eyes to watch her leave, admiring her figure, her hidden curves, and her muscles beneath her clothing.
Watching her close that door was the last time I ever saw Cunt.