Author's Note: *This is a continuation of the begun in "A Small
Case of Overkill," although it's not necessary to read that in
order to understand this one. All characters are works of fiction,
completely made up, formed in imagination, in the hope that you may
find them interesting.
For those of you who are over the age of 18 and not offended by graphic
depictions of sex and the twists and turns of motivations, feel free to
wander onward. The rest of you should please go find something more
suitable for your own tastes.
Please do not post this elsewhere without permission.
So let it be written, so let it be done.
- Sara*
----
Deity Savant
by Sara H
Categories: FF, MC
----
The sat in her office, listening to the President of the highly
homophobic Society of Moral Women rant on and on about the sins of the
modern world. It was ironic that she was so bored; she had been a
founding member just a few short years before. Now, she could barely
listen as the raving woman, a woman who had once been one of her
closest friends, carried on about the destruction of society due to the
attack on morality that had been sweeping the country like a plague.
She nodded her head and smiled at all the right places, making sure
that her misguided guest felt placated. She felt her hair on her
shoulders, and wished that she didn't have to wear this ridiculous wig,
these ridiculously conservative clothes, or waste her time patronizing
women with foolish notions. Her hands fidgeted, diplomatically out of
sight, betraying her true restlessness as she wished that this meeting
was over.
As she fidgeted, the room became more and more distant, the useless
chatter seeming farther and farther away. Under her desk, her defiant
hands fidgeted and swirled in perpetual motion, her fingers circling
and circling, obscenely and ceaselessly circling, her hot, swollen,
screaming clit.
Finally, the rabid woman began to slow down her barrage, her repugnant
passel of sexual bigotry exhausted. "Lindsey - er... Senator Thomas,"
she said, "I know it's the same thing, and I know you know all the
issues involved, but it just seems to be getting worse. It's as if
there is something at work in the plethora of accepting attitudes of
all the media towards these abominable ways of life. I don't like to
sound so radical as to propose that there is a conspiracy, but it
certainly seems like more than coincidence."
Lindsey appeared distantly thoughtful and finally responded, "I know
how overwhelming it can be, Jesse. When Charles was alive, we talked
about the possibility that it *was* a conspiracy, one that was reaching
even into government, numbing good, wholesome people to lewdness
*(circle, circle)* and debauchery *(flick)* that would, at first
glance, appear to be spreading. In the end though, our conclusion, and
*my* conclusion, is that it is mostly hype *(pinch)*. It's a question
of marketing. Otherwise, people like you, and me
*(slut...Goddess...obey...)*, who are decent and upstanding *(slaves)*
citizens, would not *(surrender)* survive.
"But I do have concerns as well. Sex *(yes)* as a trivial tool of
advertising is nearly as *(divine)* bad. I suggest you contact your
Executive Board, and arrange a luncheon *(orgy)* so that we can *(fuck
for hours)* discuss possible strategies for *(seduction)* dealing with
this *(holy vision)* problem."
"That would be great, Lindsey!" bubbled Jesse. "I'll have my secretary
call your office this afternoon to arrange it!"
Both women rose, and after a few last pleasantries, Jesse left the
office. Lindsey watched in lustful admiration as the younger woman left
the chamber. *Beautiful face, beautiful tits, beautiful ass... what a
wonderful addition to the Goddess' temple she will be - not to mention
a real political coup,* thought Lindsey.
As the door closed, she reveled in completing her assigned task,
savoring the moment of pleasing her Goddess, Julia, and she suddenly,
violently came, grunting loudly and rhythmically as pleasure rampaged
through her and time stood still.
When she had nearly recovered, she keyed her intercom, and called,
"Elizabeth, please come in for a moment."
The door opened, and her small, secretary entered, and walked to
Lindsey's desk, a quizzical look on her face.
"Elizabeth, Jesse Mattox will be calling you to arrange a luncheon.
Once she has done so, and the scheduling has been confirmed, please
call the Goddess and let her know that we have been successful in
bringing her the new candidate for consecration," panted Lindsey, in
between deep breaths.
Elizabeth made a small note on her steno pad and walked to the door,
but instead of passing through it into her small reception area, she
closed and locked it. Smiling, she turned back around to her employer,
a coy, gentle smile playing across her voluptuous mouth. Lindsey's eyes
lit up in knowing anticipation as she slowly made her way around her
desk.
With incredibly disciplined formality that covered a lust betrayed only
by glistening, moistened lips and hungry eyes, the two women reached up
and pulled away their wigs, revealing the jelled, jet-black hair that
was slickly matted to their heads, as if painted on. Almost without
thought, they approached each other, and with reverence and affection,
mussed each others' hair, playing and delicately moving their fingers
until each head was covered in unruly, short, restlessly sexy spikes.
They backed away from each other, their eyes glowing with muted
adoration, and removed their clothes, as if in sacred ritual, folding
and laying them carefully in the bottom of an antique wardrobe that sat
in the corner.
Their preparation finished and the successful completion of their
latest task within reach, they fell to each other, beginning an
afternoon of passion and lust so intertwined that anyone walking in
would not have been able to tell where one stopped and the other began,
their tongues finding lips that promised the heated nectar of fruit no
longer forbidden...
**************************
The afternoon sun shining into the office fell across the gently
sleeping bodies of the two spent and satisfied women. The one called
Elizabeth slowly roused into half-sleep on the way to consciousness.
Naked and tangled, like a rendition of Eve, she knew no shame, feeling
only the euphoria of life in paradise, of walking in the path of the
Goddess.
Slowly, she became aware of her surroundings and, careful not to
disturb her sleeping lover, went to the telephone and dialed a number.
She sat, unaware of how long it was ringing, but only that she waited
for the distant phone to be answered. When she finally heard the click
of a handset being lifted, there was no voice of greeting in her ear,
nor did there need to be.
"Goddess," she whispered.
*****************************
Julia Shelton sat in her private sanctuary, waiting for a promised
phone call, considering how things were going. All in all, she was
very pleased. Her ambitions had changed since the beginning of her
latest string of acquisitions. By comparison, all the seductive games
of her youth had been drab and only partially satisfying; this time it
was very different.
The idea had come simply enough. There were so many oddball cults
taking in so many incredibly smart and otherwise sensible people and
giving them a fanatical devotion. It was nearly impossible to crack,
even though no really powerful brainwashing techniques had been used.
It was so obvious, it should have occurred to her years before. She
smiled, reminding herself that now was good enough.
Julia had a gift. Some people would say she was psychic, but she didn't
think so, at least in the classic sense. Some would say she was an
amazing judge of character, but that wasn't it either. What Julia had,
in the simplest of terms, was the ability to quickly see what made
people tick. She could see their motivations; their fears, their
dreams, and most importantly, their obsessions.
And with that knowledge, she could shape them.
Within a few minutes of casual conversation, she knew whether they
would be best approached with logic, with drugs, with technology, or
even particular types of motion that grabbed their attention. The list
was apparently endless and she had even been surprised at a few of the
variations. It wasn't that she had absolutely mastered any particular
control techniques, although she was innately much more than adequate
at any of them. It was that she knew how they would respond, and how to
misdirect, which was more than they knew themselves. Without them even
knowing, she could move them into a state of deep, mind-altering
hallucination simply by letting their minds' own reflexes close off
avenues of escape.
Julia let her thoughts wander back in sweet remembrance.
She had started with women she knew. Her hairdresser and her attorney
were her two first devotees. The results were more gratifying than she
could ever have predicted. These women had gone from being vaguely
friendly people to worshippers who would do anything, perform any
deviant act, and even die for her if they thought it was her desire. It
gave her a sense of responsibility, but even more, it made her thirsty
for the excesses of her own bizarre compulsions.
She spent months working with her new sluts - shaping them, changing
them, playing with their perceptions and desires. She was vaguely aware
that she was honing her craft - but she was much more interested in the
sinewy, hard-lined, ravenous sapphic sex that she was able to achieve
with her converts. She had no need of more, and she didn't even think
of adding to her adoring couplet until she happened upon delicious
little Elizabeth Parker.
She had met Elizabeth in the reception area of their mutual attorney.
Short and incredibly elfin, perhaps five feet tall, with a scarlet dyed
pageboy haircut, pert and just a touch of weight around her
hips, Julia immediately knew that this would be her next devoted
concubine. She engaged the shy but otherwise friendly in light
conversation, her eyes picking up every nuance of motion and reaction.
Within ten minutes, she knew that the red-tinged was engaged,
worked for Senator Charles Thomas, was completely heterosexual, highly
religious and, for the most part, sexually inexperienced.
She also knew that little Lizzy was turned on by the smell of sweat.
Turned on like a furnace.
All Elizabeth knew was that this strange woman seemed friendly enough,
but looked like a complete whore.
*Time,* thought Julia, and she stood, removing her black leather
jacket, revealing the black latex sleeveless bodyshirt she was wearing
underneath. She walked across the room to hang it up and tripped, her
jacket flying into Elizabeth's lap. As she fell, she let her armpit
fall over Elizabeth's face, and she held it there, feigning a handhold
on the back of Elizabeth's chair. Grunting with the pretended effort of
bring herself to her feet, all she managed to do was keep pressing her
tangy, sweet scent into poor Elizabeth's nose and face.
Elizabeth tried to help once the shock of the collision passed. As she
attempted to help lift Julia to her feet, it almost felt like they were
working at odds, and the exertion of her effort caused her to breathe
more heavily and deeply. She smelled Julia's tangy, but strangely clean
odor and the top of her mouth began to itch, as if from the kiss of a
lover. She felt a barely noticeable sense of disappointment as Julia
finally managed to right herself, apologizing profusely.
Julia, breathing hard in earnest, made her way back to her seat and
plopped down, splaying her leather-clad legs widely. Running her hands
over her face and through her short spiked hair, she looked at
Elizabeth, who was blushing terribly, and asked if she was alright.
Julia also saw the evidence of what she had known would happen...
Elizabeth's lips were slightly puffy and glowing with color, and her
eyes were heavily dilated.
"I've messed your face and hair up, Elizabeth, I'm so sorry!" exclaimed
Julia. "Come on to the ladies room, I'll help freshen you up. It's the
least I can do."
Elizabeth, despite feeling a little awkward at the offer, accepted. She
was hardly in a position to be rude after Julia had been so apologetic.
She blushed as she also realized with a horrified start that she was
soaking wet "down there".
Elizabeth sat in the chair, watching the mirror as the woman behind her
combed the knots out of her hair, briefly tripping her thoughts over
the strangeness of her situation. It wasn't like her to follow a
stranger to the ladies room for a touch-up. She was suddenly struck
starkly by the intimate way that the woman was touching her locks.
Alarmed that she had let things go this far, she had nearly gotten up
the nerve to say that Julia had done enough, when Julia reached into
her black canvas bag and pulled out a makeup kit.
"Turn your head to the left dear, I can't see that part of your face
well," said Julia. It wasn't a request, it was an admonishment, and
Elizabeth was not about to risk offending this woman, strange as she
was.
Her nose wrinkled as she smelled Julia's aroma again, and then flared
as she breathed deeply. This did not go unnoticed by Julia, who pressed
closer as she applied little touches of mascara to Elizabeth's
eyelashes with her right hand. She began a sort of endless prattle,
full of inane little observations... Elizabeth's mind was screaming to
get out of there, that this woman was some kind of pervert. *Just
another moment, though... can't hurt...,* thought Elizabeth, deeply
ashamed to find that she was much more interested in the pervasive
scent that was invading her head than in her revulsion at the thought
of a overture.
She began to feel a sense of panic rising in her. *Fear is not a sense,
it's a feeling... touch is a sense, and smell...* she thought through
her growing stupor. Her fear melted as she gave in to some deep
compulsion to breathe deeply again, the scent filling her mind like a
thick morning fog. She could hear Julia rambling on and on, and it
sounded like the nonsensical jabbering of an auctioneer. After a time
she quit listening entirely, letting Julia say whatever she wanted, as
long as she kept the scent close.
At one point Julia had Elizabeth turn her head in the other direction
and she smiled to herself as she watched the little vixen pixie
unconsciously toward her opposite underarm, her cute little pixie brow
furrowed.
The banter droned on continually as Elizabeth faded in and out of being
able to hear. Strange thoughts were floating around in her head.
Wondering why she was engaged. She was so young. *So much to
experience. So many women, so little time.* She jerked as the alien
thought came to her, but relaxed as her head filled again with the
scent of perfection. *Strange thoughts come up all the time. Like
getting engaged. To a man. A like all the rest. Nameless. Faceless.
Heartless.* She jerked again in shock, only to bounce her nose again
against the source of the heavenly scent. *So many odd thoughts. Like
why some people get engaged. To strangers they could never love. So
lucky she never had. So lucky there were women who understood. So lucky
there were lovely women. So lucky there were women to love. To breathe
in deeply of. To fuck mindlessly.* A tiny, sharp tremor passed through
her, but passed quickly into the building heat in her dizzying brain
and in her sopping cunt. Her thoughts were harder and harder to form
into words - they were mostly feelings now... *Love... scent of
heaven... scent of Julia... Julia... heaven... Goddess... Julia's
slut... horny... worship... Julia... love... obey...* She shivered
coldly as a face she should have known, the face of a man, slipped into
a mist of tangy aroma and disappeared.
Slowly, Elizabeth felt the fog lift and realized once more she was in a
bathroom, seated in a chair. *What was it I was doing...* she managed
to form through the fog. She looked up to see the Goddess sitting on
the sink, her legs spread, her holy open and glistening with dew.
Elizabeth sighed and breathed... as the now familiar scent, the scent
she lived for, entered through her deeply breathing nostrils, she
remembered why she was here. She was here to worship her Goddess,
Julia.
Of course.
"Lick, cunt," came the Holy Word of Goddess, "and be born again." The
words, echoing something deeply rooted inside her from childhood, mixed
with her past and present and created a desire and heat she had never
before felt. As she began to lick the Holy Wellspring, her own clit
blossomed into a volcano of heat and passion... her fervor was
unstoppable, her thirst for the nectar of her Goddess unquenchable, and
she felt the heat spread through her entire body, infecting and
changing her, her core being swept away and replaced, her purpose clear
as the humming pleasure that was surging through her veins...
The Goddess began to chant her true name, "Yes slut, my slut, goddddddd
yes my elfin cuntlapper..." Hips and mouth moved as one, the rhythm of
the universe, the desire of countless mythical ages building to a peak
that was brighter than any light Elizabeth had ever known, and she
*felt* more than heard her Deity command her to cum... and as she came,
her relenteless orgasm of fire and spirit washed away in a deluge of
scented perfume the last vestiges of honor and decency... and she
joyously embraced the miracle and her new definition of Godhead...
******************************
Julia licked her own juices from her heavily coated fingers, savoring
the taste. Even now, the memory was strong enough to take her back as
if she were there. *Maybe I AM psychic,* she mused. *What would they
call it though... telepafucking? Telefuckathy?* Laughing, she raised
herself from her chair and went to answer the phone that had been
ringing insistently for the last half-hour.
"Goddess."
Speak of the pixie! "Yes, my perverted little elf-cunt, you have
news?"
As she listened, an evil smile grew across Julia's face. For the
second time in five minutes, Goddess Julia began to laugh... what a
wonderful challenge her next conversion promised... and reaching down
between her legs, took another lascivious helping of her own, sweet
scented musk...
----
*As always, I hope that this tickles you in all the ways that tickling
can be... please send any comments, ideas, feedback, impressions,
touching testimonials and other thoughts to cats_sara@yahoo.com
- Sara*
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