Dreams and Desires (65 page)

Jonathan was enjoying his capture of the half naked, brown haired young woman. As soon as he had learned she was at the airport with the pursuer, he had ordered her to be picked up and brought to him. Although he had been provided with his physical description and a grainy outtake from the security video at the hospital, he wanted to steal from her mind the actual visage of the man who had come across the dimensional divide to confront him. As she shivered in fear before him, clad only in the now ridiculous, faded, football t-shirt, he saw the dark face of the pursuer, his long, black hair, his broad, handsome face. And he felt more than that. He sensed his identity.

While individuality was not a preeminent feature of the aspects of the Whole, they did enjoy a degree of personality, otherwise he would not be here, would not have developed the yearning for expression and freedom from its confining, and in his mind, cloying, blanket of community. The girl, in her thoughts, referred to the strong, brown skinned man who had seduced her as Ramón, but he recognized the personality at once. Raijamoon! He had always known it would be him. He was the most experienced jumper, the strongest. He had taught the fledgling Jnthrn the fundamentals of dimension jumping, had coaxed him through his fears. Raijamoon was a formidable adversary. A slight tremor of fear went through him as he thought of their impending confrontation. But then, why should he fear him? He had had five years to build his powers. It was doubtful Raijamoon had been here for more than a few months. Jonathan, as he preferred to think of himself, had an army to protect him. And he had the element of surprise. Even as he stood here in the large, sumptuously decorated reception room of his immense hacienda, the pursuer was being trailed to his base and his crew of Apaches was readying itself to capture or kill him.

The brown haired former private investigator had pleasing, long legs and a curly, furry bush between her thighs. Her thighs were well toned and she had boyish, narrow hips. He wanted to see the rest of her. He ordered one of the dark skinned, heavy set Apache guards to release her from her bonds and to remove her hood.

Jackie quailed with fear as her hood was removed and the gagging tape ripped from her face. She sensed she would be presented with the form of some monster, a shriveled, old, demon of a man with fiery eyes and drooling, perverted lips. She was surprised when she saw the handsome, blond haired man, tall and strong, dressed in a flowing off-white, short sleeved cotton shirt and loose, sharply creased white pants. He was wearing hand tooled, snakeskin boots. He had a devilish, self-satisfied smile on his face. He didn't look like a demon, but she had felt him take possession of her mind and there was nothing benign about him. His blue eyes were like fiery sapphires and they pierced her mercilessly.

She had known all along she was being controlled by Ramón. She had fought it at first, but his mind had conveyed such a feeling of goodness and warmth to her she had eventually happily succumbed. She had detected his beneficent purposes, had enjoyed the pleasure he had brought her, was comfortable in serving him. But this man was nothing like Ramón. His evil purposes were blatant. She could feel no comfort in his control of her. He had stolen all of her thoughts, her memories. Her resolve not to talk, to protect the mission of the dream man was vitiated by this man's powers to invade her mind and take what he wanted. And now that he had everything her mind could give, she feared what else he would want.

The room seemed to spin around the distraught young woman. She could see the dark skinned men who had brought her here lolling around the expansive room. It was decorated in dark, heavy wood paneling, with light beige, cloth covered couches and easy chairs. Heavy, wooden beams crossed the low ceiling and there were colorful Indian shields mounted on the walls, covered with feathers and painted with the strange, hieroglyphic-like designs typical of the American Southwestern natives. The light brown rug was plush and her feet sank into it as she stood there nervously, ashamed at her displayed sex and thighs.

Jackie felt the strange, evil man's mind take firmer control over her. Her body seemed to sicken as she received his command to remove her thin, cotton t-shirt. She didn't want to, but her hands obeyed him, drawing the fabric up over her belly and breasts and then over her head. After she had tossed it aside, she drew her hands behind her back and unhooked the clasps of her seamless, comfortable sports bra. As she dropped it to the floor, her stomach began to churn with hopeless dread. She could feel her knees wobbling and the sweat pouring down her frame. Her mouth had gone dry and her small, dainty nipples had stiffened with fear.

The man sent her a compelling, irresistible command to approach him. At the same time, she felt her lusts begin to rise. The man was a god, she could see that, an evil, powerful god, and her body yearned to be filled by him. Overcome with despair, knowing she was sealing her own fate, that her days now would be filled with obedience to him and his desires, whatever they were, she slowly sank to her knees before him. She was inches away from his knees and she reached up and lowered the zipper to his pants. She wanted his cock, needed it like she had never needed anything before. She pulled the thickening meat free of his pants. It burned in her hand, sending a pulse of passion through her. She closed her eyes, opened her lips and surrounded the forbidding yet tantalizing thick wand of flesh, its heat alighting the sensors of her mouth and her tongue. Its radiance filled her and she had no thoughts but of bringing it pleasure.

Jonathan felt the lips and mouth encompass him and he gave a low sigh as the warmth spread up his cock and though his body. He placed his hands on the woman's head and sent her a vicious message of pain and fear. He felt her mind reel at the unhappiness that pierced it. The kneeling female groaned and gave out a muffled sob, even as she continued to energetically pleasure his steel hard cock with her lips and tongue.

With each downward stroke of her pursed lips, Jackie felt more and more of her soul melt away. The hot cock filled her mouth and touched on the edge of her throat each time she descended over it. She was crying, something she hadn't done since childhood. She realized she was lost, a helpless prisoner and slave of Ramón's deadly enemy. And yet the sensation of the rigid but soft skinned meat that scraped across her lips, the heat and taste it gave off, sent her passions higher and higher. She could feel the burning of her loins, the aching of her breasts. She squeezed her bare thighs together in an effort to slow the building lust between them, but her need continued to grow and grow. She knew that the other men, ruthless, callous men she would probably have to serve in their turn, were staring at her, enjoying her lascivious display of enforced lust, but she did not care. All that mattered was the cock in her mouth and the will of the hard, evil man who owned it.

When the lust giving prick began to throb and pulse in her mouth, Jackie gave out a deep, soulful moan. She felt the man's essence pouring into her, sealing the man's control over her. Her pussy began to convulse and throb with her own, unwanted pleasure as her lips gripped the offensive pole and her tongue slithered around it. Her hands grasped its base as if to life itself.

Jonathan waited until his last pleasurable spasm subsided before releasing the forlorn woman from his mind's irresistible grip. He grabbed her chin with his hand and turned her face upwards, making her gaze into his eyes. Her eyes were flooded with tears, red rimmed and puffy. He could feel the despair flowing from her and drank of it joyfully. The controls of the pursuer, the man she called Ramón, had been washed away and replaced with his own. He had detected the gentle, affectionate, delicate commands his pursuer had given her. To him it was a sign of the other being's weakness, his inability to break free of the dictates of the Whole to take full command of the inferior creature.

Blackthorne despised the man's loyalty to the Whole, his spineless obeisance to its rule. He particularly enjoyed possessing a creature whose mind the other dimensional traveler had touched, blasting away the loyalty and affection he had placed there. There would be others the pursuer had converted to his service. He saw in the mind of the newly enthralled woman kneeling before him the fleshy, voluptuous, young, blond girl he had mated with in the motel just yesterday, the pretty, brown haired girl who had pleased him with her mouth this morning. After he had defeated the pursuer, he would send his men for them. He would collect all of the pursuer's servants and place them in a special hell where, from time to time, he could savor his victory over the Whole by tormenting and abusing them. He would leave them the memories of their beloved master and make them rue the day they had met him, the Lord of Conquerors. Blackthorne especially enjoyed the prospect of capturing the other being's familiar. He could just about taste the sweet flavor of her terror and unhappiness as he bent her to his will. The brown haired girl he had just enthralled had not met her, had no vision of her in her mind. But, if all went well, he would meet her soon, mere hours from now.

There was time before there would be more news. He had put aside all other business of the day. He decided he would spend it visiting more torment and abuse upon the body and mind of the abject prisoner on her knees before him. He sent her an order to stand and place her hands behind her back, crossed together as if held there by an invisible bond. She followed, trotting dolefully behind him, as he strode purposefully and confidently from the reception room.

Ramón was still sitting at the kitchen table when he heard the knock on the door. He had been engrossed in his thoughts and had not discerned the car that had brought his visitor. He looked into the bedroom as he passed it. The female was lying there quietly, still lost in the dreams his potion had induced. He crossed the living room and opened the door.

He had felt the emanations from the young girl as soon as she had knocked on the door. It was the lovely Lucy Douglas. All of the other girls had been told to stay away tonight so he could be alone with his familiar, but apparently, the word had not gotten to the file clerk from Hardings’ factory or she had ignored it. Her youthful, expectant face peered up at him as she stood on the porch begging admission.

"C-can I come in?” the bashful, brown haired girl asked tentatively. She had not been bashful when he had met her, but his captivation of her had brought out a whole new side of her personality. It was dark outside and her body was framed by the light that was released when Ramón opened the door. She was wearing a rose colored, plump, down jacket zipped to her chin. Her bare legs descended from her tiny, green and white, pleated miniskirt and she was wearing a pair of very dark green high heels. It was about 25 degrees outside, and he didn't want to make her stand in the cold. To his dismay, the car that had brought her had pulled from the driveway and was already making its way down the road.

"Okay, Lucy,” Ramón replied. “But you can't stay. You'll have to get someone to pick you up."

Lucy stepped through the door and Ramón closed it behind her. She drew off her heavy jacket to reveal a light green, short sleeved, cotton top that had a round, deep neckline covered by a lacy, white border. The tops of her breasts were displayed enticingly and Ramón felt a stirring in his loins knowing they were available for his loving attentions. When she started to pull her blouse up over her stomach prefatory to removing it, Ramón stopped her. “Not tonight, Lucy,” he told her. “Come into the kitchen and have a cup of tea. Then we'll call somebody to come and get you."

"Okay,” Lucy relied mournfully.

He had her sit down at the table and he placed a bag of Earl Grey tea in a cup with some water and put it in the microwave. He stood silently next to it for the three minutes he had given it to heat. Lucy sat quietly at the table, looking up at him with her large, limped, brown eyes, her thighs pressed together demurely, her arms crossed in front of her, under her breasts. The only sound in the room was the humming of the microwave as it performed its electronic chore. When the bell rang, Ramón brought the steaming cup to the polished, wooden kitchen table. There was a plastic squeeze bottle of honey there in the shape of a bear, and he offered it to the nervous looking girl. She nodded and he gave her a long, thick squirt. Once he had brought her a spoon, he sat at the table catty-corned from her.

"So what's this all about, Lucy?” he asked her. She had taken a small sip from the misty cup and placed it back down in front of her.

"I, I don't know,” the girl replied.

Ramón could read the girl's mind like a book and so he knew the answers to his questions, but he often found it useful to utilize actual speech to his servants. Frankly, it made him feel more human and he liked that.

"Didn't Felicity tell you I wanted to be alone with Dr. Jameson tonight?” Ramón asked her, knowing full well the answer.

"Yes,” Lucy replied. Her face was pretty and her lips were luscious. Her braless breasts stirred with each movement. He saw in her mind that she had come without underwear in the hopes of getting lucky.

"The why did you come?” Ramón returned.

"I, I...” she started. The girl was having a hard time getting it out.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Lucy?” Ramón asked.

A tear started forming in the girl's pretty right eye. The edges of the girl's eyes were delicately mascaraed and she had a light green coloring applied to her eyelids. Her lips had been painted a pale reddish orange. Ramón could feel her desire for him growing. His body was reciprocating.

"It's just that I had this bad feeling. I've had it all day. I was worried about you, about Dr. Jameson. I just had to come."

Lucy had always believed she had ESP. Years ago, she had had a dream about a terrible car accident and the next day two of her friends had been killed by a drunk driver out on Route 256. The night before her parents announced their decision to divorce, she had dreamed of them both sailing away on separate ships. She seemed just to know certain things before they happened. It didn't work all the time and sometimes, like now, she just had a severe sense of dread.