Dreams and Desires

by Paul Blades

  A casual questioning of the attendant who had escorted Nadine to and from her meeting with the stranger had resulted in a rough, but adequate description. Blackthorne had ‘donated’ a security system to the hospital and Reggie was able to obtain copy of the surveillance tape showing the man coming in and out of the hospital. He emailed a copy of it to the security firm Blackthorne had on retainer in Omaha. The storm had been a lucky thing, delaying the pursuer's departure. All bets were that the pursuer would fly out the next morning. A crew of investigators, armed with an outtake from the video and the verbal description, would be waiting there in the morning for the purpose of identifying him and monitoring the flight he took. Once his destination was known, another crew of agents would be ready to pick him up at that airport and follow him to his ultimate destination.

  Blackthorne ordered Bob to have a crew of his best and most ruthless Apache warriors on standby. Once it was known where the pursuer was going, they would be placed on one of Blackthorne's private jets and flown there to make the snatch of the pursuer's familiar. Of course, no plan was foolproof, the pursuer might manage to give the agents the slip. Or the familiar might be too well protected to make the snatch. But no security the pursuer could devise would be flawless and, if it turned out she could not be captured, she, or the pursuer, could always be killed.

  Jonathan walked through the underground connection to his hacienda pensively. His whole person was aflame with the thrill of the chase. This had been what he had been waiting for for years. Nothing had tempered his enjoyment of the experiences of this world and his life as a virtual god in it. His plans for national political power were well underway. Senator Grant, who Jonathan had corrupted many years ago, was well poised for success in the primaries next year. Blackthorne would pour a hundred million dollars into his campaign and influence many others to contribute vast sums. He imagined himself walking into the White House on inauguration day and setting before the new President his personal agenda. The entire nation would dance to his tune. He would be impregnable, even if the Whole sent agent after agent against him.

  The tunnel from the dream lab led directly into his private quarters in the basement of the hacienda. It was here that his familiar resided, protected by heavy steel doors to which he alone had the combination. The series of rooms was equipped with all the amenities of life and the female and his three enthusiastic acolytes could subsist down here for weeks on end should he not be able to return to the Fortress for some reason.

  The lock to the outer door was keyed to Jonathan's brain patterns and opened easily when he projected his thoughts to it. Each room in his bunker was separated by its own locked steel door. The ‘playroom', as he thought of it, was the second door on the right. It had served as the home of his familiar and his three acolytes for the last four years, ever since it was built. Kept constantly naked, they ate their meals there, slept there and existed in a state of almost perpetual sexual arousal. It was large, about 50’ long on each side. The walls were of white plaster covering the cinderblock construction. The only decoration in the room was the large replica of his talisman painted on the wall. There was an entertainment system, to occupy the women between their frequent bouts of sex, exercise machines to help maintain their fitness, showers, a bathroom, everything you could want. Their meals were sent in via a conveyer system from the upstairs kitchen. It was like a twentieth century nuclear fallout shelter, designed to sustain them indefinitely.

  Blackthorne unlocked the heavy steel door and entered. As usual, the room was a beehive of sexual activity. His servants Darla and Christine had one of the Apache girls who were delegated to him until the next festival out of her cage and lying on the plush, red rug. They had bound the pretty, dark skinned girl's hand to her sides. Christine had her mouth between the young girl's widespread, naked thighs and was mouthing her to pleasure while Darla straddled her head, using her mouth for her own delight. The Apache girl squirmed and writhed under the onslaught of the two fiercely impassioned women, crying out her unwanted pleasure into Darla's engorged and distended cunt. Yvonne, his black skinned beauty, had his wife, the still aristocratic looking Dolores, on her knees and bent over on the floor and was fucking her from behind with a large, black dildo which was strapped to the black woman's waist. Dolores, her arms locked behind her, was moaning with enforced pleasure, her ample breasts swaying under her madly as Yvonne gave her frantic strokes with the merciless instrument. Jonathan, pleased by the orgy of lust and enjoying the waves of passion emanating from them, sent his servants a mental command to continue as they were.

  His familiar was on the large, plush bed, her hands bound to the headboard above her, her head covered with the deer skin pouch the shaman had given him so many years ago. She had been dosed with peyote milk about two hours ago and she was squirming, naked on the bed, in desperate need and full of the life giving essence she had been drawing from the other side during the course of her hallucinogenic dreams. He would collect it in a short while, but first he wanted to lose some of the anxious energy that had built up in him as a result of the news about the pursuer.

  The demonic other worlder strode over to the cages that were stationed along one of the walls. Anxious eyes peered out at him from three of them. The two remaining Apache women who had been loaned to him in the name of their tribe watched him warily as he passed them. To their relief, he had no designs on them for the moment. The last cage contained a pale skinned, naked, black haired woman. She was new, hardly even broken in. She had been part of a shipment of Ukrainian women who had been smuggled into the country ostensively to find work. They had been whisked here to the Fortress upon their arrival. The other six were now on their way to one of the sex clubs run under his authority in Dallas, all properly enraptured and enslaved. They would be dutiful, lustful employees and, after they had learned their new trade, would be shipped out to other clubs around the country. This one, a girl named Ulrika, had caught his fancy. After he had enthralled her, he had brought her here to await his pleasure with instructions no one should touch her until her had had his way with her.

  The pretty, blue eyes of the black haired girl looked out at him with fear from between the steel bars of her little prison as he approached. She was thin and pale, with a graceful figure and long legs. Her straight, black hair fell to her shoulders, accentuating the paleness of her lustrous skin. Her face was round and well appointed, with large, luscious lips and an elegant, long, strait nose. She did not yet bear the tattoo which would symbolize his ownership on her flesh. He would have it done in the morning. But she had been educated as to the fearful power of the heavy copper disk and, as he showed it to her now, she cringed and fell back as far as she could go in the tiny enclosure. Blackthorne unlocked the gate to the cage and, sending her a strong psychic message of his will, ordered her out.

  The thin, pale girl gave a sob and edged her way out of the steel prison. It had been her prison, but also her refuge. At least while she was inside it she was not being abused. She had watched the three devilish women earlier as they tormented the bound woman on the bed and also the three dark skinned girls, each in their turn. They were insatiable. And now the man who had captured her mind, had destroyed her ability to act and think on her own, had compelled her to leave her tiny sanctuary. She could not fathom the mysterious power he had over her and, concluding that he was some form of devil, had spent her lonely hours in her cage awaiting his return bemoaning her fate and praying for divine deliverance.

  Jonathan used a mental command to urge the pretty, young girl to kneel outside of her cage and place her hands behind her head. Her round, coffee cup sized breasts stood up proudly and she trembled as she looked up at him anxiously with her tear filled eyes. He crouched down in front of her and seized the firm, pert mounds, circling his powerful hands around them and sending a strong message of lust to the girl. At the same time, staring back at her terrified eyes, he sent her a message of psychic pain and fear. He could feel the mixed emotions emitt
ed from her confused, agonized mind. It flowed through him like ambrosia.

  "I'll never get tired of this,” the renegade dimension traveler thought to himself as he drew strength from the girl's effusions of emotion. “Pretty, tender breasts in my hands, a beautiful body to explore. I'll never give this up, never!” Blackthorne had lost count long ago of the number of women he had captured and converted to his will. There were thousands of women all across the Untied States, Canada and Mexico who labored under the mandates of his will, slaves to callous masters. And overseas too. Last year they had sealed a deal with a Korean outfit, three pretty, lithesome Asian girls for each Western one. The ruthless gangsters shipped them over by the containerful and delivered them by truck to the Fortress for enslavement. And it was easy to send the Caucasian girls the other way. A few minutes with him and they would arrange their own passports, even buy their own airline tickets, and deliver themselves to their doom. All it took when they arrived was a glance at the little, copper colored medallion and they would obey their new masters energetically and without question until the day they died.

  His own lusts upon him, Blackthorne stood and began to disrobe. The Ukrainian girl whined as she anticipated her ravishment. At the same time, her rigid nipples and the engorgement of her breasts and lips bespoke her rising passion.

  Once naked, Jonathan ordered her to her hands and knees and took up a position kneeling next to her. With one hand he fondled her downward pointing breasts while he roamed her long, sensuous back with the other. Her skin was soft and smooth. He ran his hand over her taut, pale rear globes and over the back of her thighs, transmitting waves of lust to her. When he pushed her graceful thighs apart and he captured her still hairy mons with his hand, she moaned.

  The passionate sighs and moans of the other women in the room served as a background to the renegade's excitement of the new girl's lust. Her pussy was wet and soft as he stroked it, and the unmistakable aroma of her arousal floated up to him. His cock was hardened and distended and he pressed it up against the distressed woman's thigh as he drove her passion higher and higher. The girl could not help herself as she pushed her heated pussy back against his hand, grinding her svelte hips, crying out her need.

  Blackthorne maneuvered himself behind the girl. The tiny brown star between her rear cheeks peeked up at him invitingly. He took a swipe of her pungent moisture from between her dilated pussy's lips and applied it there, pressing his fingers inside it, spreading the tight ring of flesh in preparation to receive his hard, thick cock. He could feel the girl's misery as she realized how she was to be used. It was amusing to him how almost all of the newly enthralled females revolted at the piercing of their small, round rear hole. To him, it was perfectly natural a man would want to take pleasure in the tight opening. It was an act that permeated all of recorded history and was probably the second thing the first man had done after he had discovered the pleasures of fucking.

  Having lubricated the entrance, Blackthorne compelled the frightened but impassioned young woman to loosen her rear muscles in anticipation of his penetration. He could feel her torrent of shame as he addressed the head of his thick prick to the hole. He left it there while he increased the frail woman's lusts with his hands, rubbing them over her rear globes. He wanted the girl to impale herself, to accomplish her own degradation.

  The distressed woman felt the surge of need the man sent through her body. Its intensity was beyond anything she had ever experienced. Suddenly, her mind could focus on nothing else but her desire to have the man fill her there, to feel the rasping of his cock across the sensitive ring of flesh, to experience the filling of her bowel with his cock. She pushed her rear back slowly, moaning as the large wand of flesh stretched and tore the tender tissues. She gasped as it inched further and further within her. Her eyes were clamped shut, her delicate, bony hands clasped into tiny, little fists. Her heart beat wildly and her breasts ached with the blood engorging them. When she felt the front of the man's thighs against her pale, round rear cheeks, her mind filled with joy.

  Once the woman had encased him fully in her bowels, Jonathan began a slow, steady, rhythmic stroke across the enflamed membranes of her anal ring. She cried out at each thrust, her thin, reedy voice filling the room. Her body was awash with the sweat of her lust and her hips welcomed each stroke of his cock. Her pussy tingled and burned. All reticence at this deviant form of intercourse had left her. Her passion built higher and higher towards an inevitable climax.

  Jonathan reveled in the feel of the tight ring circling his cock and the hot, murky warmth of her interior. He could feel his fluids rising, electrified signals of pleasure shooting through his body. The woman's lusts flowed from her like a cloud escaping her body and he drank them in, thrilling at their sweet taste. As he felt his lusts cresting, he reached down and took hold of the moaning woman's hair, pulling her head back. He commanded her to open her eyes. There, on the wall in front of her, was the harsh, cruel emblem of her subservience. She cried out with pain and fear as she beheld it.

  At that moment, just as her new lord's cock began to pulse and throb within her, her own lusts crested, pushed over the top by the demonic mind that held her in thrall. “Ohhhhhhhhh! Ohhhhhhhhh!” she moaned with pleasure and despair. “Ohhhhhhhhhhhh!” Jonathan filled her ecstatic and terror filled mind with a vision of her dark future, the endless procession of cocks that would fill her, her slavery to her lusts. As his seed was absorbed by her inner pores, she felt its corruption, the permanency of her indenture to the evil symbol that filled her view. “Ahhhhhhhoooooooh! Auughhhhhhhhh! Auughhhhhhhhhh!” she cried out in pleasure and despair.

  Jonathan felt a wave of relief and pleasure flow through him. His tenseness and anxiety had left him, replaced by the satisfying absorption of the woman's emissions of terror and unhappiness. It took him a few moments to recover his sensibilities, and when he returned to awareness, he sensed his beautiful, lust filled, black skinned acolyte kneeling at his side expectantly. She had finished, for the moment, with the exhausted, still moaning Dolores, who she had left still kneeling and crouched over, behind her. The shiny, discharge covered black instrument jutted fiercely from Yvonne's loins. Jonathan eased his still hard cock from the distraught, pale skinned women's rear and stroked her flush pussy with his hand, reigniting her lusts for the pleasure and amusement of his favorite acolyte. The thin, elegant, black skinned woman pushed the other woman to her side and then turned her to her back, spreading her thighs. She pushed the head of the black dildo between the young girl's widened pussy lips and entered her, causing her to sigh deeply. Leaning over, Yvonne pressed their breasts together and taking the other woman's lips with hers, began a steady, languorous stroke with her hips. The other woman, filled with Blackthorne's induced need, reached her arms around her and drew her body in.

  Still infused with his own lust, Jonathan turned his attentions to his familiar on the bed. He went to the washstand and cleaned himself thoroughly and then stepped over to her. He could sense her desire for him. She was filled with the essence of the Whole, having drawn it into her as her mind whirled in psychedelic dreams. He would drain her now, feed of the life's blood she had accumulated for him.

  Diane had sensed the arrival of her lord and master when he entered the room some time ago. After five years, her mind was exquisitely attuned to his psyche and could feel his emanations of dark, brooding lust. Her body yearned to be filled by him and her lust had been primed and accelerated as she received his waves of passion while he copulated with the other woman. Her thighs were spread with her need and her hands twisted and turned in her bonds to gain access to her yearning slit. She sensed him as he approached her and she presented her loins to him lasciviously.

  Diane had no idea how long she had been enthralled to the loathsome, evil man. Time had seemed to stand still ever since she had been brought to this place. She had no yardstick to measure the passage of the days, months or years. She knew it had been a long time. And yet she felt like she w
as in some kind of suspended animation, had entered a weird, sensual Twilight Zone. Her body never tired of its stimulation, even as her mind screamed for its surcease. Every time he entered her, be it her loins, her rear or her mouth, it felt as feverishly pleasurable as the first. Her prior life was a far distant memory, its details misted in fog. Her bouts of sanity were few and far between, and in those rare moments, she would cry and mourn her loss.

  Blackthorne saw and felt the turmoil of his familiar. Her resiliency was a happy surprise to him. This race was sturdy and held on to life dearly. He had not rued his choice to remain as one of them for a single moment. He would stay forever if he could.

  The renegade dream man knelt on the bed and approached the franticly lustful woman. He captured her writhing legs and caressed the inside of her thighs, fueling her passions to an even higher level. His ears heard her anguished moans and his mind received her mental turmoil. His hands relished her softness and heat. He made a note to increase her exercise regimen, to keep her body better toned.

  The captured female's bodily state was carefully monitored, her weight, her blood sugar levels, the rhythm of her heart, everything that could be measured. She was still his only access to continued life and he spared no expense in maintaining her health. She was his strength and his weakness. He had come to despise her, in spite of his need for her. He detested being bound to her, needing her. He tormented her frequently, bringing her mind and body acute pain. He had created this subterranean hell for her to live in, ordered his acolytes to drive her mad with desire, denied her all human warmth. And yet, here she was, opening her pussy to him, begging him to fulfill her slavish needs.