1) I am not the author, that distinction and honor belongs to "Blackie", writing in the time of 1993-94.
2) As a further note, once this novel is completely submitted, if anyone wishes a copy in MS Word format (or for that matter any other format that the MS Word 2000 or 2003 program is capable of translating it into), please PM me and I will be glad to send it to you.
Many mind shields moved about in the neighborhood. Bob could feel the mentally dead spots all over. At least a dozen he could sense immediately.
Bob wasn't sure how they'd narrowed down the search to here, but the reality was, they were here.
Guessing at what could happen, and hopeful the hunters would leave the women alone, he'd written a note. It said he'd be gone a week or two, they should keep the household in good order for his return. He planted suggestions in their sleeping minds to keep them content together waiting for him. No matter how long it took.
There were at least six hunters out back. He figured there were another three or four on either side of the house. And out front...
A movie style CIA staff car look alike stopped in front. Two more pulled up on either side of it. Several more of the nearly invisible unreadable men got out of the dark boxy cars.
They gathered, one man, in a perfectly pressed suit swept his arms right and left. They parted like the sea before Moses. The man with an unruffled G-man look started up the walk. He flowed along in a smooth, unbroken motion, headed straight for Bob's sanctuary.
His nightmares come to life, he was surprised there weren't any guns. There didn't appear to be any way out. He could only guess what would happen to him. It didn't seem likely they'd walk up and say, 'Nice to see you're telepathic. Good going kid. Keep up the good work,' then leave.
The doorbell rang. Well, it did a silly four note thing, more like chimes. Only a week ago he'd thought it cute when he bought it. He glared at the little box on the wall until it chimed again.
Well, he thought, time to brace up and face the devil. He opened the door at a normal pace to avoid startling the unusual visitor. He was rewarded with no overtly hostile reaction.
The man wore a perfectly pressed suit, a red silk tie, and black shoes, just recently polished. His crew cut made the roundness of his features stick out. Wrinkles, chicken tracks, around the eyes placed him around 40-43 as near Bob could figure.
"Hi Bob. I'd like a chance to chat with you. May I come in?" The man didn't bother to introduce himself.
"I don't see how I could stop you with all the manpower you brought."
The man chuckled, but didn't look over his shoulders for support. Perfectly cool, he stepped into the house. Bob led him to the living room.
"Well, this is a nice change. Your original furniture I gather." the man said. "Very unusual, most sparks just take what they like from mutes. Males often end up with poorly decorated domiciles. Very strange affect, I'm not certain how to describe it. Kind of like late American junk yard."
"I see." said Bob.
"Yup. You know we caught on to you very fast. Most sparks go two, maybe three years before we find them. You wanna know how we found you?," he paused, pulling a pack of cigarettes out. He went on before Bob could form a reply, "the girl. Oh, not the harem girls you've picked up, eh? That really is the best part of being a spark I guess, the broads. Anyway, what was I saying? Right, the girl."
The man stabbed his thumb at his own chest.
"Our girl, the one we let loose. We lost her for a while when you got to her, but you screwed up. You know how we found her? Give it a guess."
Bob walked over to the window, peeking at the carefully deployed men meandering around outside. His guest didn't mind. A cigarette lighter came out and was ignited.
"Please don't smoke," Bob said. There was no way to stop the man, but the fellow looked at his cigarette and put it away. "I've no idea what you're talking about."
The man laughed.
"Forget the bullshit. You've been plowing Kim and the two other women you got living here regular as rain. You can do this because you pull their strings. You also plow about three other women a week. Some of them Kim brings to you for your leisure.
"The amazing thing is you ain't been stealing stuff too. We usually catch the sparks by looking for swiped property, but you... You've been careful to earn the money and buy what you want.
"No, you know what I'm talking about. Kim gave you away. Not on purpose, but almost as if she put a red siren light on top of your head."
Bob resigned himself to being 'found'. He breathed a deep sigh, trying to figure the angles. Nothing this guy had said mattered much yet, sort of complementary. Sort of. Almost admiring, but hostile at the same time.
"Okay, but why bother to talk to me about it? Why not just grab me like you seem to do with the other, what do you call us?, Sparks?"
The man shuffled over to the window for a moment. Bob couldn't sense it, but he guessed it was to let the men outside see he was still well. The man took in a deep breath, and sighed, almost resigned too.
"I've been remiss. My name is Jones, Dirk Jones," the man clasped his hands behind his back and rocked on his heels. "You, despite our advantage in organization, are very unusual.
"You see, we've been picking up the snatch you throw back to analyze what you do. Oddly, we can't find any sign of your meddling, unlike all most sparks.
"Most of the other sparks tend to go mad. I'm getting ahead of myself. Let's see.
"The men believe they've become God. They take the power they have and start using it on the mortals around them. Women, men, it's essentially the same MO. It's just a matter of time before we track them down and catch them. Usually, when they find out there's someone they have no power over, their marbles go rolling on the floor.
"Some get lonely, because they think nobody else like them exists. This brings on a different kind of madness. It has the same net affect. You watch them looking for their shooters on the floor.
"The women, they're a different story. Depends on what they want. A tiny fraction grab men or women for themselves and play. Them we can catch quickly since they tend to be like the looney men. Some of them just use it to manipulate people they know. Easy enough to find once you see a pattern. Some women just want things and end up discovered by our financial detectives. Some try running around trying to do good deeds," he laughed, "this brings us back to the god complex and we can catch them.
"What we can't do is keep 'em. Most of them go around the bend faster than shit through a goose. Kim's Harry for instance, managed to do himself in. You've been different though.
"You seem pretty stable. You came up with a plan to become economically solvent, without creating a statistical anomaly in the crime data. Somehow you don't leave a wide programming trail on the women you've used, a more delicate touch, if you will. You kept your own home and carefully concealed your new wealth.
"You only forgot a couple things."
Bob sat in the lounge chair. He looked up at Jones's face. He was just a little curious.
"You let the girl, Kim, remember her? You let her go buy and sell things, big things like property with houses, in her own name."
"Ohhhh." Bob saw the stupidity. They couldn't miss records showing any kind of detail, she'd had to use a real address too. How could he overlook so simple an error? "So what now, again why talk to me?"
"Don't feel too bad. The airport jingle would've put us on to you in another couple months anyway," came a consoling tone. Jones was sweating just a little.
"Airport jingle? What happened at the airport?"
"You took a trip. We take pictures of everyone going through security. When you went through, our scanners acted up. We wouldn't have actually checked on you for a few more months yet, but we always follow through, even on the little stuff."
"Shit, so what do you want?"
"We're a big organization. There's always room for one more. But we can't let a dangerous threat like some random spark run around loose without some strings."
"And you propose...?"
"I'd like you to come to the Institute. See our facilities. You can bring the harem with you, we don't care. You can even collect more if you want, we'll even help. There any popular actresses you want? That reminds me, where are your little marionettes?"
"The women are asleep. When I knew you guys were out there, I had them lay down and made them sleep. I figured they might panic."
"Smart. Jesus Christ man, you make the other sparks look careless," he appraised Bob again. "As I was saying, you come work for us, we'll cater to your whims. All we want is a little help with our research, and maybe help watching some people."
And probably they wanted him off the street. The watching people thing bothered Bob.
Oh boy, thought Bob, gotta watch those enemies of the state. Hell, it might not even be the state, it might just be the enemies of the Institute. Well, the guy may be sincere. No way to tell with his shield in place. I hope so, cause there's no way out of this mess for now.
"You aren't going to let me sleep on it, are you?"
"Not exactly son, no. Would you if you were in my shoes?"
"Come see the facilities. You may feel a lot better about joining the team, our team." Jones was pitching. Bob didn't like it.
"I don't have much choice."
"You do, but the other choice is more painful..."
Two women and a man were in a room with a large bed. The bed was huge, designed perhaps to hold four or five people at once. Around the bed, in the shadows, were about a dozen chairs. The chairs all faced the bed.
The two women were asleep across the bed, but would wake in a few minutes.
A uniformed messenger stepped into the room carrying a sheet of paper. He walked over to the man. He tried to hand the sheet to the man.
"Never mind, what does it say?"
"Sir. The spark is coming willingly. The women don't seem to know anything is out of the ordinary and the household hasn't been disrupted yet. Jones says he's leaving the women alone for now."
"Very good. Let me know after attitude modification."
The messenger left, ****** a sharp turn, clicking his heels as he marched.
They were escorted by two other cars. The drive was pleasant but long. Bob thought they were either waiting for him to try something, or trying to conceal the route they took from him.
While they rode, Jones told him about the Institute.
The Institute was over sixty years old now. The original founders had been measuring brain activity secretly on an Army grant. Some rich philantropist donated enough money to see they kept operating when the congress cut them off.
The Institute had grown over the years. They had their fingers in a lot of pies. Several investments had paid off, and now they were an entirely independent operation.
Originally they were trying to ferret out spies with the mind scanner they developed. They'd figured out how to scan, and what to do to block scanning. But they couldn't seem to get a good handle on implanting changes.
Kim had been an experiment, according to Jones. He claimed she was socially dysfunctional, so they had to try something. Bob figured there was a lot more history they weren't telling.
Bob bided his time.
The man watched from the dark recesses of the room. The women couldn't possibly know he was there. He liked having some control over what the performance would be.
If he wanted, with their current programming, he could feel them up, and they'd never know he'd done it. His smile was a wee bit wicked at the thought. It was difficult, probably the most expensive process for the Institute. But he insisted it be done.
These two women had never met before. They were due to wake up soon.
The one with the fiery red hair had a nasty tempter and a mean streak. At least around men. This was Heather.
Heather wore sweats. She almost looked ready to go jogging. Her sneakers were the finest available. The sweats didn't reveal much. Her height was 5'7" and he knew her to be 36-24-34 in build. Couldn't tell the measurements from here though. Her face was pale, with the carrot red lips some redheads end up with. Her eyelashes were turning white and accented the angry green eyes she wielded like weapons.
He knew from her records, she had been collecting female slaves when she'd been caught. A regular bevy of Amazons mostly, but with a few very feminine, delicate looking women too. He found in the psych report she couldn't go long without sex. They'd kept her a week without it, he knew this too.
The other woman was brunette. Her lips a dark red, the eyebrows accenting downward towards her nose, which was long and narrow to just above her lips. Her hair curled in spirals to the shoulders which were rounded down her arms. This one also wore sweats, but they couldn't conceal her larger bust. The nipples showed through from the strain against the fabric. She was 5' even, so the redhead towered over her. She still seemed as if half her height was legs.
This one, named Jean, was picked up in a shopping spree. Amazing how little she'd actually spent acquiring all the goodies she'd garnered. 'Born to Shop' was emblazoned on a bumper sticker of the car she'd been driving. It was a sporty red model, no license plate. They'd known where to look for her from the series of police reports on the car which were canceled moments later by the officers ****** the reports. It was suspicious when the 6th or 7th report came over the radio.
Her psych report indicated she was uninterested in sex. Well, not totally, but she'd been much more interested in collecting things from the stores. She hadn't a boyfriend in over 2 years. And she had no interest in women at all.
They had been let into the room and allowed to meet each other. The observer was curious what would happen. There hadn't yet been any experiments with two telepaths likely to be confrontational. This was something he wanted to see. He'd tried very hard to make this confrontational.
The brunette began to wake up first. She looked around, finding herself on the bed. Another restraint they programmed was an inability to get off the bed. She struggled clumsily to get her feet, but the best she could do was stand up on the bed.
She saw the sleeping red head. Jean shook the red head awake.
There was a moment of confusion.
They pulled up to an isolated mansion. The gabled windows above towered over a carefully manicured yard, the yard as large as a couple football fields. Bob saw two functional fountains.
The building rose four stories and was covered with clinging vines. There were bushes all around. In isolated clumps around the building, there were men and women being escorted by nurses.
The sign over the door read Biltmor Rehabilitation Institute.
"Isn't the real name, you know, but it looks better when the state investigates us. They have a bad habit of doing stuff like that."
Jones led him through the large oak double doors. They went through a large ornate entry hall, and down a long length of corridor to the left.
Bob imagined the eyes on all the portraits in hall were following them. Too many old movies and mystery novels.
Peters was considered a little odd by the standards of the other techs.
He remembered vividly the day he attacked the tart with the huge hooters. He'd really enjoyed the experience. Everyone told him it was her fault. But beating her wildly while screwing her was the best sex he could remember having.
Now, whenever possible, he would slip into one of the observation rooms when one of the sparks was permitted their women. Today he entered a dark room, well mostly dark. There was one lit wall. It was a window wall, all glass.
On the other side of the glass was a comfortable looking room, King size bed, dresser, arm chairs, a wall of books with a TV in the middle. A phone was on the wall next to the door in the lit room.
In one of the chairs was a young man, age indeterminant, Peters guessed 26 or 27. He was reading a book, Bob couldn't see what the book was.
He looked over the empty plush seating in the room. Looking over the log sheets he saw the patient, a spark, in the next room was actually 19. Psychiatric appraisal was this one would soon flip out, the well known Diety complex everyone talked about.
They'd caught him a month before in a strip joint. He was systematically beating the talent show girls. And they were showing all the signs of really liking it. One or two, they wouldn't have suspected he was a spark. Six he'd only just met was too much.
"Send one of them in." he spoke into the intercom. Then he took his seat, front row, center.
"Yessir!" a static voice shouted back at him.
He flipped another switch. Every sound in the other room became audible. The other side of the glass wall was mirror. The sparks knew they were being watched, but the one way mirror arrangement let them pretend they had privacy.
The page flip in the other room was very clear to Peters's ears, then came the sound of a bolt being withdrawn.
The door inside the lit room opened. A radiant blonde, bright gold hair, stepped into the room. The door latched and bolt slammed behind her.
"Hello Gabriella." Jimmy said.
The girl had to be in her early 30s. She was lovely to behold. The blonde hair was only part of it. She was slender, wearing a sleeveless white cotton dress doing nothing to conceal the soft plush tits she thrust before her, now that she saw her master.
Her legs were generous in length, giving the illusion she was half legs. Four inch high heels helped in this impression. Her naked arms were smooth looking, clear skin. Her fingernails tipped her fingers in a soft red.
Peters could make out her eyes. They were blue, but somehow lacked a person behind them. She was mechanical in her motions, silky perhaps, but he could make out a slight jerkiness to her movements. She had high cheeks, a slender chiseled nose, and her lips were thin, but moist, as if begging for kisses.
Peters looked at Jones, who appeared to be doing an inventory of his pockets. He looked back to watch the two in captivity.
"Oh Jimmy, I've longed for you!" Gabriella spoke. He saw her move forward to about six feet in front of Jimmy and stop. She posed for his appraisal.
"Jimmy? maybe you're forgetting something."
“My Lord!, oh I'm sorry My Lord, please forgive me." The girl's cheeks were becoming damp.
"Well, just for that you better strip down for me."
"OH! thank you, thank you."
She reached both arms around back to pull down the zipper of her dress. This made her boobs jut farther forward. Peters could make out her nipples.
The gauges above the wall swung, shifting very fast. Peters knew the spark was reinforcing his control over her. The telepathy suppression fields would protect Peters though.
Jimmy immediately stood, reached out and pinched her nipples a bit violently. She gasped loudly but kept her hands reaching to the fastenings in the back.
Peters was frustrated by the wall between them. He would like to savor giving the pain/pleasure she felt. Take and enjoy her. Peters's cock had gotten hard. He pulled out a rag he'd brought and began to use it to masturbate.
Her dressed was shrugged off of her shoulders, and only Jimmy's abusing fingers held it against her bust now. She was struggling to remain standing, enraptured by the touch, filled with delight.
Jimmy let the dress fall.
She wore no underwear at all. Her tits were tanned, from weeks of sitting in the sun or under a sun lamp, no lines at all from a bathing suit or bra.
The nipples stood out hard and pink from Jimmy's use. They were large nipples, smaller but shaped not unlike nipples on an old style baby bottle. Swollen, and raw from use, she was clearly thrilled at the activity.
She stepped her feet over the dress and resumed a pose. Her ankles turned just so, a series of pleasant little curves. Peters loved their appearance.
Jimmy walked around her, tracing lines on her skin. He would stop and hit her with his open palm on her bottom, stomach, tits, or legs from time to time. As he went, the blows became harder, the sounds of the slaps much louder.
Her tongue snaked out, possibly from joy, each time the stinging smack resounded in the room. Red hand prints covered the visible parts of her anatomy Jimmy had gotten to. Her panting was deeper with each stroke she received.
"Good cunt." he said.
She beamed as the praise was understood. He sat her down at the edge of the bed and took off his clothes. Her head drooped to her chest.
Gabriella was highly aroused, it was hard to miss it. The stinging pain titilated her, bringing desire from her inner self. She was trying to snaked her torso back and forth to grind her hips. She rolled her head from shoulder to shoulder with her chin on her collar bone. The moaning was only just audible.
Jimmy grabbed a fistfull of her hair. He pulled her head up and forward into his crotch. The ripe red lips opened quickly and engulfed his now rigid prick. She allowed him to control his rape of her face, pulling and pushing her head with the handful of hair.
Peters could hear Jimmy's grunting as he forced himself further down the girl's throat. A catch in the man's breath, a gasp, a wheeze perhaps, and he pulled out, spraying the white fluid onto her face.
She gasped for breath. Choking and coughing her recovery. Dripping liquid, at the tip of her nose.
She began to play with herself. Jimmy was now completely unconcerned about what she did. She lifted her legs up to place her ankles by her head. Reaching a hand under and around one leg she supported her back. She played with her cunt with the other hand. Her arms and shoulders were inside her knees.
She seemed to think it important she see exactly what she touched. She was partly doubled up, shoving her fingers between the swollen lips of her slit. Far more impressive than Jimmy's orgasm was the way her muscles strained to bring about heightened response. Her face contorted through a series of expressions, each an erotic step above the previous one.
Peters was intent on her face now. Tears came from the corners of her eyes, and one hot steamy 'yes' was followed by another. She was tight with muscular exertion, and sweat was ****** her entire body glisten.
As she got closer to orgasm, she could no longer watch her fingers rubbing the swollen bit of flesh between her legs. She rocked her head back, muttering about needing to come. She kept advancing higher on the sexual plain, without ****** it yet.
Jimmy sat up and smirked. He'd recovered from his treat, and was watching her with greedy anticipation. As if he knew she was trapped at the edge of her release.
"You wanna come cunt?"
"Oh Lord, I pray you let me come soon, I need it so badly. I've not come in two days now, and you know my needs. God please, oh please may I come?"
She continued to frantically masturbate. Her frenzied efforts were putting her well into the ecstasy she sought. It was the final jolt she seemed shy of.
"You may come now cunt." Jimmy almost blessed her. Peters could imagine Jimmy ****** a cross motion to do so.
She leaned her head forward towards her slit again, as to watch. Then suddenly she straightened out completely, screaming at the top of her lungs.
Peters could hear it through the glass. The speaker, perhaps the microphones couldn't quite take it, had cut out until she finished. They cut out several times over the next five minutes.
He came in the rag he was using.
Jimmy seemed pleased, starting to play with her nipples again, squeezing them in his fists. She had an exhausted aftershock, face wrenched into another expression of ecstasy.
Peters turned off the monitor. He marked the observation sheet up with no real new remarks. He glanced at the couple in the other room as he left.
Jimmy was ****** the girl bow to the mirror, to Peters.
"Sit down please," Jones directed.
Bob relaxed in a chair in the middle of what seemed to be Jones's office. The chair was perfectly situated in front of the desk Jones sat at.
"There is one little detail we need to accomplish." said Jones.
"There is a tiny matter of loyalty. We need to know we can trust you."
Trust goes two ways, Bob thought, but if you wanted trust you never would have approached my house the way you did. He didn't like something about this discussion.
"And just how do you intend to find out?"
"Oh, we have a way of ensuring it." and punched a button on his desk.
A pressure drove at Bob's mind from above. Looking up he could now see an opening above, with a small dish antennae pointing at him.
He was too busy with the symbols to get up from the chair.
The transmitter above was driving one symbol at him, and one symbol alone, 'Obey'. It was a harsh, highly powered command he was loathe to accept, especially here. The energy slammed at his skull blithely shoving his cover persona aside. The bolt smacked into the shield he'd developed, and pushed him back behind that same barrier.
There was no human source he to reach this time, unlike his experience with Bambi. No one to shut off, no simple way to retain his freedom. He was fighting a machine, with far more energy than he could draw on.
He became quite frantic. Sweat seeped up through the roots of his hair, and a few drops fell from his eyebrows. He felt his vision become blurred. The beam was winning. Soon he would not be the same person he was when he came in this room.
Instead of fighting the beam, he reasoned, perhaps he could draw on it. He began to take some of the energy from the charged command and build it into a cup like shield between him and it. This cut the pressure sharply.
Some of the energy he pulled aside and looking at Jones, he saw another use. He poured it into a probe to break through the mind shield Jones wore.
A visible light show commenced in a ball shape around Jones, who looked quite startled. Jones frantically pressed another button. The ball shape wasn't as round as Bob thought. He started to explore the shield's actual limits. The thing was more donut shaped than the ball shape he originally perceived. The shield collapsed in at the top and bottom, leading towards the device behind Jones ears.
The abrupt discovery was of little use though. At that moment a pair of men with pistols burst into the room. One had a hypodermic and jabbed Bob.
Moments later there was a wild hue of red over Bob's vision and everything faded to a gray haze.
The two women checked out their status. It was a few minutes before one of them threw a sneaker, proving the barrier only fenced them onto the bed.
The red head was also checking out the brunette.
"What's your name?" she asked, "I'm Heather."
"Jean. How long have the goons kept you locked up?"
"I've lost track. Must be about three or four months."
"They picked me up a year ago. They prod and poke at me, but I think they're into some kind of psychological mumbo jumbo."
"You do the mind reading stuff?"
"Sure thing. Your the first person I've met here without those brain caps they wear. Well, the first they didn't pick up with me."
"Huh?" said Jean.
"Well, I had some girl friends they snatched too, because I, er, influenced them."
"I haven't seen anyone other than jerks in white coats. Waitaminute, no, I also had some guy try to make a pass at me, once in my 'cell'."
"Ha! Damn men think they know everything. I can see right through them now, and they know it."
"Don't you like men?"
"Not really, I like pretty girls. Like you."
"Well you can just stay away from me. I don't like women, even though I ain't too particular about men either."
The red head was now stroking Jean's hair gently. She was interested enough, probably horny as all hell. Jean brushed her hand away sharply.
"Seriously. Leave me be."
The lesbian vixen was now concentrating very hard. Suddenly so was the brunette shopper. There was a strong momentary intensity. Later, the observer would learn the scanning apparatus used for this experiment was registering enormous flares of activity.
It only lasted a few moments.
"You're so lovely, I could eat you right up," were the next words Jean uttered.
There was a raging rock fall at the back of his head. Every time he moved another boulder came down on the back of his skull.
Goddamn, that noise was really annoying. How the fuck did he get a hangover? Then he remembered.
He was at the Institute. It was obvious they wouldn't just let him go. Bambi's escape had been a phony, so he had no reason to believe getting away would be easy.
"hssst!" He pried open one of his eyes. There was a woman in the room with him. She was trying to get his attention.
The room was some kind of hospital room. There were gurneys near by, and damn if Bob wasn't tied to one. So he looked back at the woman, realizing she was tied down too.
"do you know how the 'hunters' caught you?" she whispered. He tried to reach out with a mind probe, only to catch another heavy boulder at the back of his head.
Then he noticed the woman had some kind of wire netting over her head. He probably had the same thing. A restraint for the rebellious telepath. Groan. The mind shields were bad enough. They seemed to have other measures at their disposal to control their pet telepaths.
"They came to my house," whispered back, "and invited me to buy a condo here. I was dumb not to try getting away sooner."
"You seem familiar."
"I recognize you too. Where?"
"Hey, were you the guy warning me a while back?"
"Could be. I did warn.." but he trailed off as footsteps came their way. He feigned sleep.
The gurney was being moved. He had to try again at escaping, but when? His entire body felt sluggish and he was tied down to boot. What could he do?
Jean reached over and caressed Heather's hair.
She'd changed from hardened resistance to active participation so quickly, the observer hoped the cameras weren't having troubles. They so often did.
Heather in turn began to touch Jean's face. The two women gazed longingly at each other for long minutes. Then Heather leant forward, planting a gentle, closed eyes, kiss on the lips of the other woman.
The kiss was as soft as a butterfly. Their tongues remained behind on this first kiss. Heather was taking Jean. In a very real sense, she had already taken her and was now ****** her. Jean's eyes were slipping into ecstatic movements, taking in every inch of her new lover.
The two moved together and began deeper, more passionate kisses. Their tongues dueled for dominance between their teeth, their heads rotated as they ground their faces.
After a lengthy, rolling, necking session, Heather began to feel Jean's bottom. Visible now very clearly, her ass was a tight bundle of flesh. There was a sudden series of movements as Heather yanked the sweat pants clear of Jean's waist and ass.
The naked skin was smooth and pale. Neither woman had been in the sun for some time. Heather could clearly make out the smoothness of the soft derriere. At silky touch along the outer thighs brought a sigh of joy from the brunette.
The red head moved her palm along the skin, sliding it around to the exposed maidenhood.
"Oh yes!," came a gasp from Jean. A few moments of feeling up the wet crotch, and the red head stopped.
"Undress for me darling." whispered Heather, who began to strip herself.
Heather's pale body was quickly exposed to the light. Her brightly red nipples on her firm knockers were large and erect. Her legs showed their slender shapes, almost perfectly designed to be spread for access to her cunt. The curve of her waistline was so supple, her own hands traced along it in pleasant arousal.
Jean anxiously drew off her clothing, depositing the sweats where they were within easy reach. Her breasts were large yet firm also with smaller nipples than Heather's. Her tummy seemed very tight, pulling in along the ribs above the diaphragm. The bushy pussy was an irregular triangle in her crotch between her torso and her slightly too long legs.
They dove back into each others arms, lips embracing wetly. Their breasts rubbed together, nipples already erect, cushioning their movements. The four legs curled about one another in a continual struggle to pull the two groins tighter together.
After wrestling hotly for a length, Heather pulled back and began to work her way down Jean's neck to her bosom. She sucked at the nipples and nibbled lightly at the undersides of the breasts.
"Yes, yes, yes, yes," became a constant stream from Jean. Her hips were working in waves up from the bed. She worked up a good sweat before Heather stopped.
Then Jean began to work on Heather. She chewed lightly on the neck of the other woman, who craned about in response. The moaning from the bed became substantial. She dropped along the shoulders, spending little kisses of tenderness along the arm, then under. She spent a brief moment suckling at the nipples of Heather's breast, then worked her way down to the thin red-white hairs of the crotch.
Heather lifted her legs onto Jeans back. Jean slid her tongue into the offered love hole. Her probing tongue fought into the vagina as far as she could manage. She worked her right arm around Heather's hips to bring her fingers to bear just past her nose, at the protruding clit.
Heather was bucking furiously. Her right hand plunged the forefinger knuckles into her own mouth, clamping her teeth down tight. The left was pinching and pulling madly at the nipple on her left tit.
Jean snaked the free left hand to Heather's other tit and began to pinch the swollen red nipple between her fingers, using her thumb to squeeze the whole tit gently.
Heather's hair tossled back and forth as her head wagged from side to side.
"Goddamn, Goddamn, suck me, suck me. YES! get that tongue deeper." she demanded.
The brunette strove to drive her tongue further in, possibly succeeding in pushing her chin into part of the cleft. She made a frenzied attempt to increase the stimulation to the clitoris, pinching it with her forefinger and thumb.
"YES!" screamed Heather. The untamed orgasm came pouring out of her in every possible tone she could make. Jean lapped up the juices leaking from her cunt.
"YES!" screamed Heather. Comming a second time, hot on the heels of the first. Her body slammed up against Jean and down against the bed.
"YES!" screamed Heather. Third time as wildly as the first, legs straight in the air, hands clenched into angry red fists, arms bent tightly across her chest.
"aaaaaahhhh," came a final notes moan from the sexually spent woman.
Jean sat up and looked carefully at Heather's face, radiant from post orgasm buzz.
"Oh love, did you like that?"
"Yes. I always like it when a pretty woman eats me."
"I'm glad. It was so lovely to watch you, darling."
Heather struggled around to Jean's cunt and began to lick. Jean was still hot, but needed arousal first. Heather, frustrated from the exertion, compelled her by telepathic force to thorough arousal.
Jean began to react uncontrollably to any touch from Heather. Every contact point had become an erogenous zone. Jean's body was going wild with stimuli. She frantically heaved her hips and shook her head even more madly than Heather had.
Heather shoved three fingers into Jean's dripping cunt. She worked them around, violating her brutally. She fucked in and out with the fingers, and quickly, Jean began to come.
Her hands clutched Heather's face into her cunt. Her legs clamped onto the other woman's head.
"AAAIIIIIEEEEE!" she simply made a primal scream last the duration of the orgasm. It seemed to last and last and last. When she shuddered to a stop, she was dripping from sweat, panting madly and stroking, as this had all begun, Heather's sweet hair.
The headache continued but he forced a tendril of thought free, accepting pain to achieve a breakthrough. The slamming pain grew inside his skull, but his determination was immense. His eyes lost vision during the effort.
This time he traced with a thin probe around the edge of the donut shaped shield.
Delight! Success! The shield was not completely covering the man pushing him. Once in the nervous system pathways, he easily reached inside the man's mind and took control.
All the while, his skull was rattling like a can of rocks, and his ears screaming with associated pain. The first thing he did with his converted follower, shut off the wire net shield.
Relief came as the pounding in his skull stopped. He could almost see again. Yes, he thought, that was a door we just passed.
Bob had the man take the battery out of his mind shield. His thoughts became much easier to read. Almost as lifted from behind a thin panel of translucent glass.
He gave his escort an opportunity to stop for a cigarette. He hated the smoke, but needed an excuse to have them pause. He wanted to think, look for some means of complete escape.
There would be many more 'guards' around. He hadn't seen any easy way out of the place yet.
The women on the bed were lying in each others arms. They whispered sweet nothings to each other, like high school lovers.
The observer pressed a button cutting off any other watchers.
He walked over to the bed. Unzipping his pants, he dropped them beside the bed. He climbed up behind the red head. He grabbed her ass and rolled her onto her back.
She squealed with surprise.
"What is it?" yelped her new lover.
"I don't know!" she shouted back, "I just flipped over, I don't know why."
The man shoved his organ into her, slapping away her hands.
"What!" She felt something at her crotch, and she was unable to close her legs. Her head flung itself back. She was startled again by the fullness her cunt was experiencing.
"Yeah, oh yeah, you fucking bitch. You can take this. Take it all." the man said. She heard nothing, feeling only a sudden arousal from her crotch. He pumped away furiously, pinning her arms now above her head. She couldn't resist, and her body began to betray her. Her arms raised of their own accord above her head, remained in place against her will.
She was certain she was pinned by an invisible force, and worried she was being used by another telepath, the way she used women herself. But her hips worked in motion, her breath had become excited.
Jean sat mystified to the side, wondering if Heather was having some sort of fit, and just how to help the woman she loved. She enjoyed seeing Heather's sexual excitement, Heather had changed her to like it herself.
Heather worked her head hard against the insides of one arm, then the other. A moment later she had reached a sudden unexpected height. She orgasmed with silent desperate groans.
Jean squealed with delight, as she'd been adjusted to do, at Heather's sexual release. She bent over Heather's face to kiss her for rewarding her with the pleasant performance. She couldn't see the man either.
He could feel the cramped tightness of her vagina. It thrilled him to know she not only couldn't stop him, but couldn't resist pleasure during the rape.
He pounded madly, the heat rose within his balls. The pumping muscles in his groin began to clutch to release the fluids. His penis felt the flow in its entire length. He grunted with satisfaction at planting his seed in the red furred slut.
He rolled from the woman, and slid off the bed.
He was pissed. The programming hadn't held well. She'd felt quite a bit of the contact from him. This was not good, no, not good at all. He tried to remember the name of the tech who did the work. There would be punishment coming for the failure, however small it was.
Dressed again, he left the room.
The woman on the other gurney had been named Miki.
They sat in the hall they first met in. Three of the guards and the original escort for Bob's gurney were sitting together, imagining a continuous came of poker in the corner. No cards were in evidence, yet they kept dealing out the imaginary deck, sometimes from the bottom.
He filled her in on his capture and discoveries regarding the weakness of the shields. She was delighted to hear this news. But seemed unable to take advantage of it the same way he was.
If she was to get out, she had to go with him. His probes kept running into walls or screens like the net screen he'd taken off his head. He tried probing around them to no avail. He kept getting raging pains in his head.
They remained dependent on things he could learn from the captives.
Bambi and Randi woke together. Bob wasn't there.
By the time Betty woke, they'd found the note. Betty was compelled to make breakfast. She'd come to serve everyone in the house.
After breakfast, Bambi had Betty eat her. She sat back while the long haired woman sucked and licked her cunt.
"Mind if I use her next?" asked Randi.
"Ah, ah, sure, ah, thing, ah," muttered Bambi. Betty glowed inwardly knowing she was loved.
There would be no problem waiting for Bob to return.