Dreams and Desires (68 page)

Lucy was shamed at her lascivious display before the crowd of strange, dark people. She had been wild before she became committed to Ramón, but had never caressed herself before anyone before. It was private, something she did alone and in the comfort of her bed. Now she was frigging herself madly, wanting only to please her lord, knowing the dark places he would take her. She could feel the man's psyche driving her lusts higher and higher and filling her brain with dismal, unhappy messages of his will. Her body was afire and she felt her orgasm building to crescendo. She wanted desperately to stop, wanted to run and hide from this monster who had possessed her, but she knew she couldn't.

Finally, her lust drove all thoughts away but the powerful buildup of orgasmic forces. “Oh! Oh! Oh! Oh!” she yelled as it came closer and closer. She gave up on fighting it and let the pleasure flow through her body. When her pussy's spasms began, she moaned loudly and her body shook. “Oh! Ohhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” she called out. Every nerve in her body was overwhelmed with the pleasure her throbbing sex was sending her. “Ohhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhhhh!"

Blackthorne watched the girl perform for him. His lusts were high. Her pretty breasts shook and danced as she stroked herself. Her face was a mask of agonized pleasure as her climax tore through her. He drank in her passions hungrily.

When the newly enslaved girl's pussy's pulses subsided, she collapsed to the floor. The crowd of his loyal followers stood mesmerized by her autoerotic performance. Suddenly, as if awoken from a trance, they began to hoot and shout with lustful approval. Jonathan knew that the tale of the pursuer's coming had been widespread among the Apaches and they had lived with the fear he would come and steal their lord away. He had proven his power over the other being from the ‘ghost world', as they called it, and he could feel their relief. Now he would get down to the real task ahead of him. First he would take possession of the pursuer's familiar. Then he would deal with him.

"
Bring me the dream woman!"
Jonathan commanded.

Kelly had been swooning, held on her feet by the vice like grips of two of the Apache men on either side of her. She knew Ramón was close by and her mind yearned desperately for physical contact with him. She was conscious, barely, of the crowd around her. She heard them cheer and howl and the voice of the man who seemed to be their leader. She was ashamed to be naked in front of them, but more worried as to her fate and that of her lover. From time to time, she felt his soothing psychic messages, but they only served to make more frightening the goings on around her.

When she felt herself being led across the room, Kelly's heart began to pound with fear. Her eye mask was removed and she saw the costumed form of the group's leader, his blue eyes piercing her, his long, blond hair flowing down to his shoulders. She felt his mind probing her. She felt its evil and its strength and she knew the man intended to claim her as his own. How right, she felt, it was for her dream man to oppose him. He was a paragon of corruption, a powerful force of vile purpose. Her body turned cold and she felt her stomach tighten. She yearned to scream out her terror, but her sealed lips emitted only a loud, high pitched moan. She struggled in the arms of the men who held her as she watched the man coming closer to her and experienced his psyche pierce her brain.

Jonathan reveled in the beauty of his enemy's familiar. Her mind was pure and honest, a sweet contrast to his own dark and devilish one. He seized her heavy, round breasts in his hands and sent the female an intensely painful surge of his ill will towards her. He showed her what her life would be like with him, demonstrated the abject misery which would henceforth be her lot. She squirmed and called out from behind her sealed lips, her eyes full of tears and worry.

Jonathan knew he could not just convert the woman's mind as he had the other slave's. He needed her mental patterns to remain stable so as to not to risk breaking the connection she had established there with the Whole. But he could drive her to passion, increase her lusts, make her perform for his audience.

He ordered the men who were holding her up to bring her to the platform. Once atop it, he stood behind her and, reaching his hands around her graceful, desirable torso, seized her breasts. He sent waves of lust through her while stroking them, squeezing them tightly and playing with the stiffened nipples at their tips. The woman shuddered and moaned as he caressed her plush mounds and he could feel her fear and revulsion at his touch. He pressed his body against her back, rubbing his hardened cock along the valley between her rear cheeks. The costume he wore consisted of leggings that tied off at the tops of his thighs and the only thing hiding his manhood from view was the breechcloth that lay across the belt that he wore around his waist.

Blackthorne felt the flood of the Whole's essence that pervaded the woman's body. He would drain her of it later, in front of the crowd, claiming her as his own, but not until her had vanquished his foe. He wanted the other to watch, however, as he made her dance with lust for him, cried out her passions, passions induced by his mind, his hands, and not the other's. He drew his hands down her pleasing torso and began to caress the insides of her pale, tender thighs. The woman tried to close her legs, to deny him access to her loins, but the men who held her placed their legs around hers and drew her legs open. When Jonathan began to caress the hairless mound of her sex, sending irresistible waves of lust through her, the woman moaned and cried, twisting and turning in the arms of the men who held her. He placed his fingers on the firm, engorged nub at the apex of her smooth, engorged sex lips and caressed it, rubbing it in small circles, letting his fingers drive her to the edge of climax.

Kelly's knees buckled when the fingers of her tormentor touched her bud of pleasure. She strained to free herself and to avoid the hated caress. But the finger kept on pushing her lusts higher and higher. She felt her blood begin to boil and her need become extreme. She didn't want to orgasm for this man, didn't want to confirm his mastery over her flesh, but she had no choice, her body had a will of its own, would not obey her efforts to suppress its desires.

Jonathan didn't want the woman to come just yet. Satisfied that he had proven his mastery over her to his servants, he withdrew his fingers and ordered his men to place her on the side of the platform on her knees. When she was forced to her knees, her bound arms still behind her, her mouth sealed, her body still quivering with need, he turned to the pursuer. The moment of confrontation had come.

"
Remove the hood of my enemy!"
he called out to his followers. “
Let him see I have claimed his whore!
"

Ramón knew Kelly was in the hands of the renegade. He could feel her distress and fear from across the room. He cursed himself for his powerlessness. His arms were held tightly by the men on either side of him and it was impossible for him to do anything. He tried to influence their minds, but their loyalty to the renegade was to strong for him to be able to induce them to do anything that would be contrary to their duty to obey and protect him. Time was running out, he knew that. His confrontation with the madman was only moments away.

When his hood was removed and his body dragged to the middle of the room, Ramón took in the physical form of his enemy for the first time. He had seen the man in the mind of the girl, Nadine, the day before yesterday and his appearance was no surprise. He stared into the other's eyes, hatred and anger emanating from the human, male part of his mind. He tried to fight it back. He needed his rational self, needed all his other worldly powers. Human emotions were useless in the upcoming battle of wills.

Jonathan looked back at the face of his nemesis. It was odd to be in the presence of one of his own kind after so many years. On the other side of the dimensional wall they had met many times, although their corporal forms were different then. They did not have bodies as we knew it, but were, rather, more like centers of consciousness. It was too bad, really, that he could not make the other being an ally. It would be useful to have another mind available to help in his tasks. Jonathan knew though he could never trust him, that Raijamoon would refuse to cross the line necessary to dominate this race, to secure his power. No, the dimensional traveler would have to go. He could either voluntarily cross the dimensional divide, back to their universe, or perish here, right where he stood.

"
Remove his clothes!"
Jonathan ordered. The Apache men jumped to comply and within a few moments had dragged Ramón's trousers from his body and had ripped apart his shirt, rendering it into rags and tearing it from him. One of the men brought the remnants of his coverings to the renegade who looked at them briefly and then waved them away. They were thrown on the floor in front of the bedecked shaman. Ramón looked at his discarded pants forlornly. His last hope of defeating the renegade was gone. His weapons were beyond his reach. If only he could somehow get to them.

When Ramón looked up, he saw the beady eyes of the shaman looking at him, almost in recognition. The old man had seen Ramón's reaction to the loss of his trousers and his longing gaze at them. He whispered something to the dark skinned man beside him and the man picked them up and gave them to him. Ramón watched disconsolately as he saw the old man pull the tiny ball from the pocket of the pants and look at it. As the old man began to feel through the pants to see what else was there, Ramón's attention was drawn back to his enemy.

The renegade spoke to him through his mind.

"
Here we are at last, Raijamoon. Did you really think you could defeat me?"

Raijamoon received the renegade's taunt. He wanted to strike back in anger, to communicate his rage at the man's abuses. But he knew better. He waited a moment until a calm descended over him. His human nature put aside, he felt his native psyche take command of his mind.

"
Greetings, Jnthrn
,” he replied calmly. “
I am not here to defeat you. I am here to heal you.
"

Jonathan gave out a loud, raucous laugh. “
Heal me? You don't have to heal me. I've healed myself. I've cured myself of the sickness of our race, its lack of personhood, its lack of emotions. You are the ones who are sick
."

"
You're wrong, Jnthrn
,” Raijamoon replied. “
Our race has its own ways. There is peace and harmony in the Whole. We are all one. Let me heal you so that you can be one of us again.
"

Jnthrn looked back at his enemy coldly. “
I'll not debate with you, Raijamoon. I'm not going back. But you are. I could have had you destroyed yesterday when my men found you, but I had no enmity towards you. If you do not go back, I will terminate your life force. You will no longer exist. I will sorrow at your loss, but I am determined to stay in this form and in this world.
"

"
You will destroy this world, Jnthrn. You have visited much harm on these beings. The Whole cries out from your crimes
."

"
These beings will destroy themselves sooner or later, Raijamoon. Do you see how they treat each other? Have you read their histories? They are puny of mind and think only of their pleasures. It was so easy to corrupt them. The universe would be better off without them.
"

"
You are wrong, Jnthrn
,” Ramón answered. “
I have felt their love for each other. There is much goodness in them. Every race has its dark side. You know that from the studies that have been done. But their love for each other is greater than their faults. You have no right to pervert them and to lead them to a horrible end.
"

For a moment, Jonathan thought of the feelings he had developed for the beautiful Cathy in whose arms he had spent the night before. She was upstairs now waiting lovingly, patiently for him whenever he should return to her. He knew that her attentions to him, her devotion, was not love. He had placed that there. But did he love her? Was that what he felt? If it was, it was a weakness. He resolved to terminate the ‘relationship’ between them as soon as possible. He would send her to the meanest whorehouse he could find, to live out her days as a scrofulous receptacle of lust. He did not need love. He rejected it. How like the demands of the Whole it was, cloying, demanding. He had nothing to give. He needed all of himself.

Looking at his enemy, Jonathan decided enough was enough. The pursuer would leave or die. He cast his will at the mind of the dark skinned, human male that stood before him. His mind was so much stronger and he felt the other's give way at once. He pressed on it harder and harder. He would make the pursuer go back! He would force him to dissolve his physical presence in this world and return to the Whole.

Ramón felt the psychic powers of the renegade begin to overwhelm him. He steeled his mind in resistance to it, but his powers were much weaker than his foe's. He felt himself slipping away slowly, his mind beginning to crumble at the edges, his human side dispersing. “It cannot happen!” he thought. “I must fight it! I must survive!"

Suddenly, a female voice cried out in the room. “Stop! Stop, I say! Stop!"

The crowd had been astonished at the mental battle being fought before them by the two god-like figures. No words had been spoken between the two men, but their struggle was evident. Their bodies glowed with their power and the life force given out by the new man, the enemy of their lord, was fading, his skin becoming pale. The strong, authoritative woman's voice startled them and brought the battle between the two ghost men to a halt.

Jonathan looked up. What female had dared to interrupt his crushing of his enemy? He would strike her down like an insect and then finish his task of sending the pursuer back to his own world. It was Barbara Feathers, the High Priestess. What did she think she was doing? He reached out his mind to seize hers. To his surprise, her mind resisted him. It was like his powers had just bounced off of her. Something was wrong!

The tall, broadly formed, middle aged woman looked at the demonic blond haired man. “
Do not try and capture me, Jitandra, Lord of Conquerors!
” she shouted at him in Apache. “
I too have my powers and you cannot conquer me. I have prayed for this day, when the other ghost would drive you from our midst! Too long have you deceived the people with your evil ways!
” The angry, determined women looked over at the shaman. He was holding in his hands Ramón's weapons, the tiny, marble sized ball and the six inch long, silver filament he had found in the dark skinned man's pants.