Camilla

Don Josiah, in a suit, was driving black-haired, black-eyed Camilla--who was wearing her green, flowery dress--back to his home after church that Sunday afternoon; he was thinking about the sermon, and she was thinking about his cock.

"So, that's what an Anglican church service is like," he said as he parked at his home. They got out of the car. "That homily was surprisingly good. I'm glad I opened my mind to the Episcopal Church; I took us there originally because I didn't want to see the parishioners of our old Catholic church gossiping when they saw us together. Of course, I was also considering becoming an Anglican minister for your sake." He unlocked the door to his home, and they went inside.

"Aren't you still thinking about it, Father?" Camilla asked.

"Please, Camilla; I'm not a priest anymore. Call me Don," he said as they went into the bedroom. "And actually, I don't think I want to be a preacher anymore." They started undressing.

"But how will you make money to live? What else can you do?" She was in her white bra and panties.

"Oh, I'll think of something--teaching, maybe. The point is, that sermon really made me want to rethink my life. Why did I become a priest, in the first place? Not for God, but for my mother. You realized that long ago. I was putting her before God--well, not anymore. Loving and idolizing the petty things of this world is exactly what's wrong with this world; people don't love God, by which I mean not the God of this denomination or that one. In fact, I wonder if it even matters if loving God means being a part of this religion or that one, or being a part of

any

religion. I'm starting to think that loving God really means loving wisdom and truth. Something inside me--I don't know what--is making me think differently about the world."

Nigrovum is, of course,

Camilla thought.

She was now naked, lying on the bed, and yawning from listening to Don's prolixity.

"That minister really did a good interpretation of the meaning of the ten commandments," he continued, pulling open a dresser drawer to put something in it; Camilla looked in and saw a pistol and a small box of bullets. She was no longer bored with him. "He really expanded the meaning of--"

"You have a gun? Wow," she interrupted, pretending to have only innocuous curiosity.

"Yeah," he said, pulling off his underwear and lying naked on the bed next to her. "I go to a target practice area sometimes and shoot the gun; it helps relieve my stress."

"Cool," she said. Knowing he could psychically sense her darker thoughts, she refrained from thinking them. "What else did you like about the sermon?" She pecked him on the cheek, and he pulled the blankets over them.

"I really liked the minister's expanding of the meaning of not taking the Lord's name in vain to the idea of not saying hurtful words in general." He got on top of her in the missionary position.

How about not saying

boring

words in general?

she thought.

"And when he expanded 'thou shalt not kill' into how we all kill each other a little every day with our mean remarks, gossip, and petty selfishness. Truly inspirational. I'll never be prejudiced against Protestants--or any other denomination, or even any other religion--again. We can learn a little something from all of them." As he embraced and kissed her on the lips, his penis grew erect.

Good,

she thought;

if you're going to worship other gods, worship

me

, the goddess Camilla.

She raised her legs up to receive his cock, and he slid it inside her wet pussy. As it brushed against her G-spot, she squealed with delight. Then he pushed in further; when he got all the way in and poked his knob against her A-spot, she squealed higher and louder. After a few more pokes, he made her orgasm. Her come was all over the sheets.

"I must remember...to put...old towels...on the bed," he grunted as he continued fucking her.

"Unh!"

"I'll clean it...up after," she sighed.

"Ah!"

"No, I'll help.

Oh!

"

"You're so...sweet, Father.

Ah!

" She came a second time.

"Call me...Don.

Unh!

"

He's sweet,

she thought;

but boring, especially as a non-priest. If this is what monogamy is like, I'll die within a month of marriage to him. I could be faithful only to Daddy; I must get rid of Carrie as soon as possible.

"I'm almost there," he moaned.

"Pull it out," she sighed.

"Oh!"

He pulled his cock out of her pussy, and she sat up, holding his cock in her hand. She jerked him off, pointing his cock at her belly.

"Sperm shouldn't...be wasted," he panted.

"Does God get quite irate?" she asked.

"Don't blaspheme."

"I thought you weren't Catholic anymore."

He sprayed his come all over her belly: some in her navel, some dripping down onto her black pubic hair. They then lay on their backs on the bed, and cuddled.

"It's the little things we do to hurt each other," Don said. "We must be careful of them."

Oh, God, not the sermon again,

she thought;

I hope he's psychically sensing how bored I am with his gabbing.

He was sensing her boredom, but he refused to stop. "What a gifted preacher. If we don't correct the little sins, they'll grow into big ones." Remembering how her lust had grown into incest, he added, "Isn't that true, Camilla?"

"Of course, Father, I mean, Don," she said, staring at the dresser but carefully keeping her mind blank.

"We can reverse the bad, too, though, can't we?" he said, hoping she would reverse her apathy as well as her insatiability. "And I can help you turn your wild ways around, and make an honest woman of you, putting those dark chapters of your life behind you."

And be boring like you?

she thought;

no way.

"I'm tired," he said, weary of trying unsuccessfully to inspire her to do good. "I'm taking a nap." He'd try to edify her later.

She waited for him to fall fully asleep. When he did, she got out of bed and stood in front of his dresser drawer.

Good,

she thought;

Now I can think freely.

She opened the drawer and stared at the gun and box of bullets, never touching them. She used Nigrovum to 'feel' the shape, mass, texture, and every component of the pistol and bullets. Her photographic memory would be her future reference.

She doubted in the extreme that she could get Josiah to shoot Carrie, though she'd threaten to end their relationship if he refused. What was more important to her was knowing how to visualize those exact bullets, and that gun, so the police would think

he'd

killed Carrie.

I can use Nigrovum to control minds,

she thought;

I can use it to change the colour of any part of my body. I can even shape-shift to look like the woman I want dead. I can alter the form of already-existing things. Can I

replicate

them? Can I create something out of nothing?

Ex nihilo

? I can create force fields from my imagination; can I create

bullets

from my imagination? I wonder if I could even shoot them without a gun?

She got dressed, wrote a note for Josiah saying she'd gone to the library to study, and left. She sent a text message to Mr. Berman, saying she wanted to get together with him as soon as possible.

Don woke up a half hour later. He'd been dreaming that

Camilla was loading his pistol, and both she and he were surrounded by laughing masked men.

He got out of bed and opened his dresser drawer. He looked at his gun and box of bullets.

"No," he said to himself. "She didn't take anything; but I sense she's interested in them."

****************

On Monday night, blonde-haired, blue-eyed Camilla went over to Berman's house for dinner. In her usual whore-bright makeup, she was wearing her revealing dark blue evening gown, the one that showed off her breast and buttock cleavage.

His housemates were at their girlfriends' homes, so he and Camilla had the house to themselves. He let her in with a cool look in his eyes that was thawed only by how exciting she looked in that dress. He led her to the dinner table to eat.

"So, where'd you take off to?" he asked, barely concealing his anger at her having left his Hallowe'en party so early. "I'd been really hoping to spend more time with you that night." He served the meal, chicken casserole, and they began eating.

"A family emergency. Sorry," she said. "But I'll make it up to you tonight--I promise."

Not believing her lame excuse one bit, but nonetheless hoping for some good sex that night, he said, "You've got my hopes up: don't let me down."

"I won't," she said. She could psychically sense his fixating on her, and hoping to marry her, as Josiah did; to redeem himself. She would exploit that weakness in both men. "In fact, if you can do me a big, big favour, I'll be true to you for life."

"True to me?"

"Absolutely." The actress in her was overriding her insincerity completely. "I'll be yours forever, if you do me one big favour."

"OK, what's this favour?"

"Ask me again, after we fuck tonight. I want you to experience the

real

Camilla, me as a lover at my full potential. When I blow you, I'll blow your mind. When you're awed at my divinity, then I'll ask the favour--as a test of how true you can be to me."

"OK," he said. "By the way, how'd you and your gay friend get up the guts to come to my party half-naked like that? And I'd like to know how most of my male guests weren't crowding you so much."

"Well," she said. "I have special powers."

"You sure do."

"No, really. I have psychic abilities. I can control minds, among other things."

"You expect me to believe that?" he asked.

"Do you have a better explanation for how I avoided being gang-raped by a crowd of drunk guys that night?" she asked.

"Well, no."

After dinner, they went up to his bedroom. She dropped her dress to the floor, kicked off her high heels, then twirled around for his hungry eyes to feast on her lovely, peach-skinned nakedness. He sat on the bed and pulled off his pants. With her back to him, she spread her legs and bent over; he leaned forward to get a closer look at her pink pussy and brown asshole. Once he was naked, he started licking her pussy and asshole; she sighed her thanks. After a minute or so of sucking her labia and clitoris, and of kissing and licking both holes, he got on the bed on his back.

She then got on top of him in the cowgirl position. She held his cock up, aiming it at her slowly descending cunt. She sighed higher and louder as it slid inside. When it was all the way in, she let out a loud squeal, then she started bouncing up and down on him, puffing out staccato sighs with each bounce. She came after five bounces.

He looked up at his bouncing

shiksa

goddess, admiring her beauty as he fucked her. Though he had every reason to doubt her fidelity to him, even after he was to do her that 'big favour', he was still lucky to be able to fuck so beautiful a girl, the one who had got him into so much trouble when she was a child, all because of one fateful kiss in his classroom almost a decade before. She came again, soaking his thighs.

"Wanna fuck...my ass?" she squealed.

"Ah!"

"Yeah," he moaned. She got off of him, and lay on the bed on all fours with her legs spread open so he could see her asshole. He used her come to lubricate her rectum, then pushed the tip of his cock against her opening anus.

Her eyes were squinty, and her mouth was as agape as her asshole as he pushed it further inside. She looked back at him with welcoming eyes.

Fully inside now, he started thrusting in and out. She moaned softly with each thrust. He reached around her waist and fingered her hard clitoris as he continued fucking her ass.

"Thank you," she groaned.

"Oh!"

"My pleasure," he moaned.

"Ah!"

After another minute of butt-fucking, she asked, "Want some...ass to...mouth?"

"OK."

He pulled his cock out of her ass, and she got off the bed. He sat on the side of the bed, and she knelt between his legs. She took his cock, still dripping with her come on it, in her mouth. She looked up in his eyes as her wet lips slid back and forth along his rock-hard shaft. He looked down at this pagan goddess who was working so hard to give him pleasure, sure that he'd gladly do whatever it was that she wanted him to do.

"Oh, oh,

oh!

" he moaned. "I'm gonna blow!"

He soon shot several powerful blasts in her mouth; she never took her eyes off his as she swallowed all of his jizz. Then they lay together on the bed on their backs, slowly catching their breath.

"What an...incredible lay," he panted.

"Glad you...liked it," she sighed.

"Now, this favour?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said. "What would you do for me?"

"Anything, goddess. I totally need you; I'd die without you. Name it, and I'll do it for you."

"Really? You'd do anything for my love?"

"Yes. Absolutely. I love you. To the death. What do you want?"

"Well," she began. "My father, whom I love more than anything, was terribly betrayed by my evil mother back when I was a little girl. She cheated on him many times, divorced him, got custody of me by fraudulently claiming he'd molested me--I mean, really, the sweetest man in the whole world."

"I can sympathize with him, given what happened to me when you were my student," Berman said. "What's this favour you want from me?"

"I need time to explain. Daddy's met this new woman--Carrie.

Ugh!

They're 'in love', and he wants to marry her."

"What's wrong with her?"

"Everything. She'll break his heart--I can feel it. She'll ruin his life, as my Mom did."

"How do you know Carrie will ruin him?" Berman asked.

"I...just

know,

OK?!" Camilla snapped. "My psychic powers help me read minds, and I can sense she's no good for him."

"If you can control minds, why don't you just control

her

mind, and make her go away?"

"Because Daddy has the power, too. He'd stop me from getting rid of her. But my power is strong enough to make sure the cops don't catch you when you do what I want you to do."

"Cops?!"

"Don't worry. You'll be safe."

"What do you want me to do?" Berman asked.

"Look, I've tried dissuading my daddy from marrying Carrie, but he just won't listen to me. He's still gonna marry her, and when she hurts him, as I'm sure she will, it will destroy him, emotionally. I can't let that happen."

"S-so you want me to..."

"Kill Carrie," Camilla said bluntly.

Berman's jaw dropped. "You're

meshuga

."

"Only if you do this, will I be your sugar."

"You're nuts," Berman said. "No way I'm risking jail again."

"I thought you said you'd do anything...to the death."

"Jail is

worse

than death! I got raped there--never again."

"You won't get caught. I have it all planned out. I'll use my power to make the cops think this former priest, Don Josiah, did it. You'll even use his gun," she said.

"No way, forget it." He looked hard in her eyes.

She paused for a few seconds. "OK," she said nonchalantly; then she got out of bed and put on her dress.

"Where are you going?"

"Home. Until you kill Carrie, consider tonight our last lay, and consider me no longer in your life. Bye."

"Wait," he said, jumping out of bed. "Come on, you can't seriously expect me to--"

Sensing he wanted to grab her arm, Camilla psychically put those stars in his ears. The ear-splitting, sopranino squealing brought him down to the floor. He plugged his ears in a futile effort to stop the pain.

"I told you I had psychic powers," she said as she put on her high heels. "Unlimited powers. Remember, I'm a goddess." She then picked up her purse and left.

******************

Late on Tuesday afternoon, after finishing her classes, black-haired, black-eyed Camilla went shopping at the Eaton's Centre. She was wearing a tight white T-shirt under her jacket, as well as tight blue jeans and white running shoes. She'd sensed that Patrick would be there, among the crowd of shoppers, so she went looking for him.

When she saw him from further off, she instantly changed her hair and eyes back to their original blonde and blue, as well as making all her other body parts their original colour. Though Patrick wasn't close enough to see the sudden transformation, everyone around her watched in shock at so extraordinary a sight. Then the surprised people minded their own business and went away.

Seeing Patrick approach, Camilla went into her ditzy 'Dolly' persona. "Hi Patrick," she said with a giggle.

"Hi," he said. "Once again, we meet. Are you meeting me on purpose, Ms. Psychic?"

"Nah," she lied, with another giggle. "It's just luck. And your wife?"

"Not here," he said, "but she's getting suspicious. She thinks we were fooling around in

Giovanni's

."

"Well, we

were

." She smiled lewdly at him.

"That's why we've gotta be careful. You're a very sexy girl, Camilla--"

She giggled at the compliment, affecting the attitude of a shy little girl.

"But I love my wife very much," he continued. "I've felt so guilty about what we've been doing, that I make it a point of making love with her after every one of our, ahem, little encounters."

She's got Nigrovum in her blood,

Camilla thought.

"Funny thing," he said. "She gets crazier and crazier with her jealousy, after every time we make love. I thought I was making it up to her, but she gets worse instead of better. She says she can

feel

you on my skin."

"Oh, how silly," Camilla lied.

"I think I can feel you then, too, though I've never told her that, of course. Is that part of your 'psychic power'? Rubbing it off on other people?"

"Of course not," she lied again. "There's no way I can do that. But hey, I wanna buy some new clothes. If you pay for 'em, I'll let you watch me in the change room. I'll get bare-naked and everything. What do you say?"

"Well, the Mrs. isn't here, so what the hell."

"Great," she said as they walked over to a small clothing store. "I love to buy things." She giggled.

"Well, the people I work for love having lots of the stuff that buys things, so I'm used to all that materialism."

The clothing store they went into was owned by a pretty brunette in her mid-twenties. Camilla had made a habit of shopping there; not only because she liked the clothes, but because she could sense the owner was a lesbian who had the hots for Camilla.

She found a black evening gown she liked and went into a tiny fitting room, hanging up her jacket on a hook on the wall. She left the door wide open so not only Patrick but also that woman could watch her undress.

This dress can replace the one I had Sam steal,

she thought as she pulled down her jeans. Patrick ogled her pretty light green panties, as did the lesbian, who was rearranging dresses by the fitting room and taking furtive looks. Seated Camilla then took off her shoes and socks, and pulled her feet through the leg holes of her jeans. She used her psychic powers to make Patrick move over a little to the side so the lesbian could have a better look.

Off came Camilla's T-shirt next, exposing her bra-less breasts with a gleeful wiggle. Patrick's prick was poking up against the zipper of his pants: the pain was delightful. The lesbian licked her lips at the sight of Camilla's pink nipples.

She pulled down her panties, revealing her pubic hair in its original light brown colour. She took her feet out of the leg-holes of her panties, then stood up straight so the two voyeurs could see her frontal nudity.

"Ta da!" she said with a giggle. "How do I look?"

"Divine, as always," he said, looking up and down at her breasts and pubic hair. In spite of how unaware he was that the lesbian could see, he then said, "I hope no one else is seeing you; we wouldn't want you to get into trouble."