Late on Thursday night, Camilla was on her way home from Club Ritz all disappointed and annoyed; no matter how hard she tried to use Nigrovum to get Father Josiah to come over to the strip joint and then fuck her at the hotel, he resisted. She’d visualized the rose floating over to his heart, and he used the same psychic power to send it back to her. She psychically heated up his heart with lust, then he cooled it with chastity. Finally, she gave up in frustration.
“That mama’s boy!” she growled as she walked on the sidewalk to Agape’s house. “He can’t upset his mommy, who’s watching him from up in heaven. Fuck!”
She hadn’t bothered going with Candice to her apartment because they’d made love onstage several times that night. Camilla had had her fill of lesbian love: she wanted cock, and none of the men at Club Ritz were to her liking.
Walking through the door of her father’s house, she saw him drinking in the living room as usual, but decided to leave off fucking him for a while. He’d gotten dangerously close to discovering what she’d been doing with him the night before, and she wanted to wait a while before taking another chance. After all, like the priest, Agape was learning, however subconsciously, to reverse her powers. He wasn’t ready to know the truth about her feelings for him, so she just went upstairs to her bedroom.
Desperate for some kind of sex, she channeled the spirits of Larre, Holland, and Davis for a nocturnal gang-bang. After setting up selective psychic barriers to keep away all unwanted incubi and other ghosts, she went to sleep.
Soon enough, in her dream she found herself in that burning Satanic mansion, and those three sexy incubi arrived right away. She lay naked on the floor of basement one, and Larre pointed his erection at her mouth. Holland got on top of her and pulled her legs up so both her pussy and asshole would be accessible; then he slid his cock inside her cunt. Davis got behind Holland, and aimed his cock for her asshole. Larre put his cock in her mouth, and Davis slid his cock in her ass. All three men were shoving in and pulling out in perfectly synchronized movements. Holland grabbed her tits and squeezed them.
Agape went upstairs, having drunk enough. As he was passing by Camilla’s bedroom, he couldn’t help noticing the squeals she was making. He slowly opened the door, assuming she’d brought over a lover without getting his permission. He was drunk enough to have few inhibitions about invading her privacy, but not so drunk as not to be careful about making his intrusion known to her.
Looking inside the dark room, he tried to make out in the dimness who she was having sex with. He didn’t see anyone, male or female, with her; he did see his naked daughter with her legs spread wide open, and her asshole and pussy stretched out wide as if to be receiving cock in each–but no men were to be seen! Her mouth was wide open, too, with her right cheek puffed out, as though a cock was moving in and out of her mouth. Her breasts were being squeezed, apparently, but he saw no hands. Most eerie of all, though, was hearing her screams of ecstasy, which sounded all too familiar to him–in his own ‘dreams’! Finally, he watched her spew her orgasm all over the bedsheets, like water coming out of a hose.
“I’ve had way too much to drink,” he said to himself in slurs. “That must be it.” He closed the door and went to his own bedroom to sleep.
On Friday night at Club Ritz, Camilla again tried using Nigrovum to get cock: she summoned Alex, Dr. Lawson, and Dr. Lee, but none of them responded to her psychic prodding.
Fidgeting on her chair in frustration, she said, “What the fuck is going on? Doesn’t my power work anymore? Have I used it all up again? Or have those guys all gained the power to resist me too, like Father Josiah?”
“What’s wrong, Camil?” Candice asked as she approached the table where Camilla was sitting.
“Nobody wants to fuck me,” she said, almost crying.
“What are you talking about?” Candice asked. “Every guy here wants to fuck you.”
“I know, but I don’t want any of them. I want one of my profs. Oh, Sam came by again and begged me for sex. He says there’s a party tomorrow night at the house of some rich guy, one of the top people in the CBC; Sam was invited by a friend of a friend, and he wants to take me there. You know I don’t really wanna fuck him, though I may out of desperation; such has been my luck lately. Still, if I see a distinguished gentleman there, or if the rich media guy is handsome, it’ll be worth going; I’d be happy to fuck a guy like that.”
Candice sighed in jealous annoyance at the undying promiscuity of the girl she so loved. “Wanna come over to my place tonight? I may not have a dick, but I have an electric tongue.” She flickered it.
“Yeah, I’ll come over as soon as they close up here, which should be any time now,” Camilla said. “Daddy’s having Carrie over to our house tonight. They’re gonna fuck–ugh! How I don’t wanna be there to hear that, and how I wish he’d end it with her. I’m sure he’s gonna want to marry her, but she isn’t right for him.”
“How do you know that? If they’re happy together, then–”
“She isn’t right for him!” Camilla snapped.
“OK, OK. You don’t have to bite my head off, Camil.”
“Sorry, baby. C’mon, let’s go. Take me home and lick my pussy.” They left.
In the bedroom of Candice’s apartment, Camilla lay on her back on the bed while Candice pleasured her. Camilla’s legs were wide open and up over her head so both her pussy and asshole were accessible. Candice slid a vibrator in and out of Camilla’s pussy while licking her asshole. Though it wasn’t as good as feeling a real dick inside her, Camilla had to settle for what was available. Her moans were softer, but audible enough to show her appreciation for Candice’s efforts.
Soon after, Candice removed the vibrator and picked up a butt-plug. She slowly pushed it against Camilla’s anal orifice while licking her clitoris. Now Camilla’s moans were getting louder. Candice sucked on that stone of a clit, and the butt-plug slid in a few inches. Candice then put her tongue inside Camilla’s cunt, reaching for and finding her G-spot. After wiggling her tongue in there for a minute or two, Camilla came in Candice’s gluttonous mouth.
“Thanks, baby,” Camilla sighed. “I needed that.”
“So did I,” Candice said after licking the remaining come off her lips. She lay on the bed beside her lover; they held each other, Camilla kissing her on the cheek several times before they fell asleep.
Having forgotten to set up the psychic barriers again, Camilla dreamed of Akemi in the basement dining room of the burning mansion. Camilla was holding Li-ping. Both were naked.
“Why you with her?” Akemi asked.
“Oh, she’s just scared,” Camilla said. “You wanna make love?”
“Yeah,” Akemi said. She put her head between Camilla’s legs and started licking. Camilla gently kissed Li-ping on the cheek as she received Akemi’s tongue on her clitoris.
Nude Calina then came over and sat on Camilla’s face. As Camilla licked the Russian girl’s hairy pussy, all three succubi chanted, “Come make love with us, Camilla. Come make love with us: forever, and ever, and ever.”
Then Camilla saw the bloody bodies of all three of them: Calina and Li-ping with bullet holes in their heads, and Akemi with slashed wrists and ‘CAMILLA’ carved on her chest.
Camilla woke up with a fright. Candice’s tongue was licking away, and her legs were up, receiving an incubus’ cock.
“Candice’s ex and Jasmine must be enjoying her,” Camilla said; then she set up the psychic barriers and went to sleep, though it took her much longer to lose consciousness this time.
On Saturday night, Sam took Camilla to the rich media man’s house for the party. The guest room was a large area filled with people, young and old, and many famous faces she’d seen on the TV. Judging by the clothes she saw everyone wearing, it was safe to assume they were all as rich as their host was.
“Wow,” Camilla said as she looked around. “So this is how the other half live. How do you know these people?”
“I have a friend of a friend of a friend,” Sam said. “You know how it is; it ain’t what you know, it’s who you know.”
“Understood,” Camilla said. Then she looked intensely in his eyes, locking his gaze on hers. “Go mingle, Sam.”
“OK,” he said, as if in a trance. Under her psychic influence, he then went over to one corner of the room where there were some pretty young girls. She, in the meantime, went to the diagonally opposite corner of the room, where she saw some distinguished-looking, fifty-something gentlemen in tuxedos.
She was wearing a black evening gown, one that wasn’t as revealing as what she’d worn at the wine and cheese party, where she teased Dr. Abruzzi; for underneath, she was wearing a white lace bra and panties. Tiring of her pale, black-haired ‘Goth’ look, she also used Nigrovum to restore her peach-coloured skin, blonde hair and blue eyes.
Of the mature gentlemen she spotted in that corner of the room, she noticed a particularly good-looking one, a tall, thin man with wavy silver hair. She did a psychic scan of him, and realized he was the host of the party, a high-ranking producer for the CBC. She scanned further to learn of his sexual tastes. She found nothing objectionable; two particular fetishes of his were ladies underwear and peeing–she was certainly dressed for the occasion.
She took a glass of champagne from a tray of drinks a server was carrying around the room. Sipping on it, she looked at him with a smirk and a ‘come hither’ sparkle in her eyes. Naturally fascinated with this young blonde beauty and forgetting about his wife for the moment, the man started walking up to her. Her psychic powers, however, were showing their limitations again, for Sam suddenly appeared at her side.
“Hey, baby, what’s up?” he asked.
“W-what?” she asked, startled and looking back at him. Frowning in annoyance at his intrusion, she then said, “Oh, uh, I’m fine.”
“You ain’t avoiding me, are you?” he asked.
“Uh, no, no, of course not. Look, let’s find some place private, OK? Maybe there’s a room in the basement somewhere.”
As they snuck away to the stairs, she looked back at the gentleman with the underwear fetish. He looked back at her and smiled, but then remembered his wife. Camilla and Sam went down the stairs.
They walked down a short hallway in the basement and found a den to the right side. They went inside and turned on the light. There was a pool table and other recreational games, as well as a wall-mounted TV. An adjoining washroom was in the corner diagonally opposite the corner where the entrance to the den was.
“This is nice,” she said.
“Yeah,” Sam said. “Let’s get it on.” He put his arms around her and kissed her, poking his tongue inside her mouth. Then he unzipped her dress at the back and pulled the straps off her shoulders. Her dress fell on the floor. He looked up and down at her, admiring the pretty flower designs on her white bra and panties. Then he looked at her whore-bright make-up, with her cherry-red lips. He was on fire with lust.
He grabbed her ass and kissed her more aggressively. His hands squeezed her ass so hard it hurt. Annoyed at how rough he was being, she pulled away, making him stop kissing her.
“What’s wrong, baby?” he asked.
“I-I gotta pee,” she said.
“Oh, come on, girl, not now,” he whined. “I’m gettin’ all hot, and you wanna stop?”
“I’ll just be a minute. You wait here.” She pinched the hard-on in his pants and walked over to the washroom. She went in, closed the door and sat on the toilet seat without pulling down her panties. The toilet was against the right wall as one entered the washroom, immediately next to the entrance, with about two and a half feet of wall hiding the toilet as one looked in the washroom from out in the den.
She did have to pee, but it could wait. She visualized him looking down at her dress, and having a fetish for it. She sent him a new psychic suggestion: steal my dress. She chanted this softly, over and over again. After two minutes of this mantra, she opened the bathroom door and walked out. Sam was gone, and so was her dress.
Good, she thought; now for that media mogul guy. She visualized him walking to the stairs and coming down.
The target of her passions, mingling with some of his guests and with his wife at his side, soon started feeling sensual vibrations against his ears and temples, urging him to go down to the basement. Those vibes seemed to be emanating from that hot young blonde he’d seen looking at him not too long ago.
“Excuse me, honey,” he said to his wife. “I s-suddenly realized something I gotta do, down in the basement. I’ll be back in a few minutes.”
“OK, Ted,” she said. “Take your time.”
As Ted walked almost mechanically toward the stairs, he saw Sam walking quickly to the front door with a rolled-up ball of black material in his hands. Too mesmerized by Nigrovum to see any significance in what Sam was doing, Ted continued to the stairs and went down to the basement. In the dark hallway, he saw light coming from the den. As he approached, Camilla opened the den door, insouciantly displaying herself in only her underwear and black high heels.
“Hi,” she said to him.
“Hi,” he said, finding it impossible not to ogle, and feeling his dick getting hard.
“Can you help me?” she asked with feigned nervousness.
“Sure. What is it?”
“The guy I came here with, a young black guy; he stole my dress.”
“Uh-oh. I think I saw him walking out the front door with it and leaving just now.”
“Oh, great,” she whined. “It’s too late now. What am I gonna do? I can’t go up there in my underwear.”
“I can give you my blazer. It should be big enough to cover you.”
“Oh, you’d lend it to me?” she asked, beaming up at the tall man as if he were her saviour. “Thank you, sir!” She threw her arms around him, rubbing her belly against his erection.
“You…are welcome,” he panted, putting his arms around her back and barely resisting the temptation to snap her bra. “I hope…my wife doesn’t come down…here and…see us here.”
“Ooh!” she squealed suddenly. “I gotta pee.” She went back into the den, and he followed her. She went back into the bathroom, leaving the door open a foot. He stood by the ajar door, looking in, and amazed that she was letting him look. Though she wanted to titillate his desires, she didn’t want to reveal the yummier parts of her anatomy just yet, so when she pulled down her panties with her left hand, she was careful to keep her pubic hair covered with her right hand. She sat on the toilet, her right hand always on her crotch, covering her pubic hair. She then opened the door half-way and started peeing. “Come in and talk to me,” she said.
“Oh, uh, OK,” he said, walking in. Standing before her and looking down at her eyes, then between her wide-open legs, he watched her pee pouring out.
“What’s your name, sir?” she asked.
“Ted Weinstein,” he said, and put out his hand for her to shake. “I’m the host of this party; I’m a producer for the CBC.”
“Wow, impressive. I’m Camilla,” she said, shaking his hand with her left and looking up at him with the wide-eyed innocence of a child, acting as though there was nothing at all private about what she was doing. “Nice to meet you.” The pee kept coming out copiously.
“Nice to meet you, too,” he said, watching in admiration as her apple juice swirled in and merged with the toilet bowl water. As amazed by her lack of inhibition as he was aroused by it, he sniffed the sweetly bitter smell of her urine.
After squirting her last few drops out, she said, “OK, I’m done.” Then she reached for the toilet paper on the wall to the left of the door. Keeping her right hand on her crotch, she tried ripping off some of the TP with only her left, but it started rolling down to the floor.
“I’ll get that,” he said, quickly bending over and catching the toilet paper before it touched the ground. He ripped some off, folded it neatly, and handed it to her. “Here you are, sweetie.” He got up, always looking down at her.
“Thank you, Mr. Weinstein,” she said, talking the toilet paper from him and wiping her pussy dry, all the while keeping it hidden from his eager eyes. She dropped the TP in the water, stood up with her right hand still covering her pubic hair, and stepped aside so he could see her pee. He looked down at the liquid gold in the toilet water: this was her chance to pull up her panties. Still, she used only her free hand to pull them up, in case he suddenly looked back and saw her pubic hair. It was awkward for her, and she got only the left side of her panties up to her hips; her right hip was still exposed.
“Oh, let me help you,” he said, pulling up the right side of her panties. The elastic snapped against her hip when he let go.
“Thanks again, Mr. Weinstein,” she said.
“Please, call me Ted. There’s no need to be so formal, sweetie.”
“No need to say ‘sorry’, either. Anyway, I guess I’d better take you home.”
“Thank you, Ted. You’re so sweet.” She pulled down on his shirt collar, making him bend over. Then she kissed him on the cheek.
“Wait,” he said. “If there’s a lipstick mark, my wife will know.”
“OK, I’ll clean it.” She poured some sink water on her fingers and used it to rub the red mark off his cheek. Now he just had to worry about the bulge in the front of his pants.
They walked out of the washroom and out of the den. As they walked down the hall to the stairs, he handed her his blazer.
“Oh, you don’t have to give it to me yet, sir–I mean, Ted. There aren’t any other people here. If you wanna enjoy seeing me in my underwear a little longer, I don’t mind.”
“Thank you,” he said as they started going up the stairs. In front of him, she had her ass level with his face, deliberately just inches away. “I can’t believe how…well, liberal, you’re being with me.”
“It’s my pleasure,” she said. “You’re been so sweet to me; I wanna be nice to you.” She suddenly stopped, letting his face bump against her ass. She swayed her behind left to right, rubbing it against his nose and mouth. Then they continued up the stairs, and could now hear the voices of all the guests.
“OK, you’d better take my blazer now.”
“Oh, it can wait. I don’t mind if a few people see–”
“But I do mind. I don’t want my wife to see you so scantily clad, with me right behind you.”
“OK,” Camilla said, taking the blazer and putting it on.
“Hurry outside alone,” Ted said, “and I’ll be with you in a minute. I hope it won’t be too chilly for you out there. I have to make up some excuse for my wife, for why I’m leaving.”
“OK, I’ll wait by the front door,” Camilla said.
Five minutes later, she and Ted were in his car, driving out of the parking area and onto the road. As they continued along the road, she saw Sam driving back with her dress; obviously, the Nigrovum had worn off earlier than she’d intended it to.
“That fuckin’ bitch!” he shouted as he saw her pass by with the man he’d seen her eyeing earlier at the party. It was obvious to him now that she’d never intended to sleep with him that night. “I’m giving up on her. Fuck her!” He unrolled his car window, threw her dress out onto the road, and drove home.
She never noticed her dress being thrown away, but she wouldn’t have cared even if she had; she was more concerned about how her psychic powers weren’t as effective as they had been before. She didn’t think she was running out of power; she hadn’t been using it all that much. Sometimes it felt as though psychic barriers were being put up around her, not allowing her to use her power to its full potential. She’d have to figure out how to punch through those walls.