"Come out, come out, where ever you are Emily. Damn that woman, where has she wandered off to? I've checked the rec. room, showers, solarium and... of course, there she is in the corner of the dining room, slumped over in her chair, face swimming in a bowl of soup. Too bad, but I need her to stay with us just a little longer. I wonder what's on her mind besides brain fog."
She heard Lucy's voice in Guyanese and it reassured her, maybe even kept her from drowning. Those meds made her feel so drowsy that it made things dangerous and things had been going downhill lately, especially since her fall had required her admission to this rehab home. She couldn't quite remember what had happened but she couldn't quite get over the feeling that she had been pushed. At least, Lucy was here with her to protect her.
She felt so tired all the time. She had asked Lucy to give her some Guyanese medicine to counteract the meds because she knew Lucy to be some sort of medicine woman. Lucy was more than happy to oblige. Emily knew she was lucky to have someone as loyal as Lucy.
How she had met Lucy was a long story but she, Emily, had plenty of time on her hands and streaming down memory lane was a lot easier at the moment than lifting her face out of the now empty soup bowl. Had she drunk it? Besides, maybe Lucy couldn't see her now because she, Emily, had traveled so far away in her mind.
In a roundabout way, it had all started with Miss G, mother superior of my sorority, the BSM. Miss G had taken an interest in me, in fact, Miss G had made "Emily"(I prefer to use my name in a way that Miss G often would) her pet. Miss G had schooled me, disciplined me, owned me. And why wouldn't she be so inclined, I thought many a time, I was an attractive, youthful, red haired girl with a fine shaped bum and full breasts.
Miss G played impossible games with me, like the time she stuck ginger up my ass and told me to be still or Emily would get the whip. Of course, moving was unavoidable, so Miss G would punish me and I would come to learn that pain could easily become pleasure.
Miss G would take Emily over her knee, pussy to pussy, and pull her panties down just below her butt and proceed to thrash Emily until tears would come to my eyes. Miss G would wipe them off and hug me and say now, now, everything is going to be fine as long as you are a good girl.
As I became more comfortable with punishment, I would regularly act out. I talked back, did naughty things like steal her panties and even wore them, and I made it a persistent habit to disobey because then she would punish me and that made her happy. I knew she enjoyed the pleasure of punishing as much as I had come to love being punished. I felt so connected to the woman. I loved her as if she was the mother I never had.
I gave her plenty of mischief and she gave me constant attention by caging me, or whipping me or collaring me. When she whipped me, my cuny would heat up and she would leave me on the precipice, and nip at me like a hungry bird. I would pant and snort until Miss G would take me over the edge by vigorously smacking my buttocks.
Even today when I play with Lucy, I sometimes see the grey haired Miss G with hanging jowls and her tethered glasses swinging over her floppy breasts, over me, paddling my behind until my pink glow expands and shakes me. The warm memory leaves quite a smile on my craggy face.
I worshipped her passion. Every weekend Miss G would lead the Jill, riding a milk soaked, black obsidian priapus, raising up and easing down like a horse on a merry-go-round. She would be situated in the center of the circle, inspiring all the sorority girls to juice themselves and each other. Their shining eyes focused on the middle, each girl waiting for a turn, until all had affirmed our sisterhood in blood and sacred nectar.
It was an arduous task for me and Eloise to break away that summer, for we were exceedingly attached to Miss G, but we headed to Guyana and its promise of a tropical paradise, despite the emotional difficulty of leaving. Instead of utopian ideals, what we found in Guyana was hard work, sweat and death. We took up the challenge and slaved all day, and hugged our tired, sweaty bodies together at night.
We began to lose too much weight and took on a haggard appearance. We learned the important lesson that not all rituals were good. The crazed leader of the commune had us practicing for mass suicide. Each person was mandated to drink the Cool-aid if the authorities came and investigated some of the unlawful activities that had begun to take place.
Eloise and I started to devise an exit plan but only I was able to carry it out on the night of the crisis. That night, the eye of evil opened when the madman flipped, yelling and spitting, while executing his grand apocalyptic vision. The cool-aid was served and he commanded people to drink. Those who tried to escape were shot at. My dear Eloise got hit in the head inadvertently before I faked drinking the libration and escaped to the jungle when evil blinked.
I gave myself to the jungle, surrendering totally and it punished me well, with thousands of bug bits and slashing vines. If not for Miss G's training, where I learned that there will be pain in life and that I had a choice about how I would deal with it, I surely would have perished.
I ran for hours, until deep in the jungle I saw a clearing, a light, a fire. I heard drums and I saw a tall, lithe woman dancing naked, possessed by the spirits of the jungle. Oswego, the snake spirit, had taken her by the hand and penetrated her aura. Her sweating, pulsating, undulating body writhed on the ground as her tongue flickered in and out. Her toned figure moved with strength as she reached for me and pulled me into the mud. She wrapped her form around me and squeezed while she bit me. I thought I would die the way she held me so tight but, at the same time, my young pussy was very wet and willing. I began to secrete copious fluids and move in crazy ways.
In those moments, I wanted to be her slave forever. She owned me as I wrestled with her, until finally my head was between her legs. I lapped at her gash as she laughed maniacally.
At dawn I awoke, cold and alone. The fire was out and the drums were nowhere to be seen and Lucy had vanished like some jungle apparition. I didn't see her again until years later in the streets of LA, where she appeared long legged, naked and homeless. Though dirty, she hadn't aged at all, whereas I, on the other hand, had become skinny with leathery skin.
Not to say the intervening years had been unkind to me. I had married a rich, kind man, Gilbert, who had become my benefactor. I became his beneficiary when he died somewhat mysteriously of a poisonous spider bite.
Needless to say, I was overjoyed to discover Lucy. I made her my attendant and pet. I let her do things to me. I let her possess me. We explored pain together. She was there in the cage with me. Lucy helped me to feel safe and excited in the confines of the cage. She accompanied me on a journey through fear. She made whipping a blessing of intense feeling. Lucy created in me an awareness of my own breath by taking it away bit by bit when she would slowly tighten my collar.
But lately I have had second thoughts about her loyalty, her sincerity, her intentions. Quite frankly, I am afraid she might be exploiting me, hanging around for a big payoff when I die. You know, if greed gets a hold of you, it can eat you alive.
o o o o o o
"There you are Miss. Come along. Let's do some of you favorite things. Let's take a walk in the park."
Good, once in the park, she'll collar me and have me walk on all fours.
"Okay, time for your bath."
Good, once in the tub, she'll rub my pussy with a sponge. God, that always feels so good.
"Time for bed."
Good, do my favorite thing, tie me in a posey strait-jacket, put the bed rails up, eat stuffed figs out of my ass and pussy, put on a strap-on and fuck me every which way.
"Goodnight, hon."
ooooooo
"This is a team meeting to determine if it's best to award guardianship to the patient's attendant, despite the fact that this is currently against the patient's wishes," stated the bearded psychiatrist.
