Desiree woke up in a panic, her chest heaving with her rapid breathes and her pajama top soaked through with cold sweat. She put her fingers her to forehead, remembering those final images from her nightmare and trying to push them out of her mind. The terrible man from her past, in some ways she would never escape his grasp, even if she had succeeded in doing so physically.
With deep breathes she began to force herself to calm, focusing her mind on that which brought her the greatest sense of simple joy. Until recently that had been a difficult task for her, as her greatest joy in life had been engineering, fixing up and inventing things. But that was intrinsically tied to her trauma, the reason that terrible man had done what he did to her.
Now, though, it was not her love of tinkering that brought her the greatest joy anymore. It was her devotion to her Master. Still, that wasn't without its complications.
Her brilliant mind could follow the logic without issue and she found herself turning her own analytical eye inward toward her mental state. Her trauma and her devotion came from the same base source; those damn crystals and their free will stealing light.
She knew, deep down, that her love for her Master was fake, forced upon by her by an unfortunate set of circumstances she herself had a hand in creating, however unwitting. Yet she could not help but abide by that love, to feel it deep within her soul. Her mind instinctively followed the grooves the watch had created in it and accepted it as truth, even if she understood that it was utterly false at an intellectual level.
She understood the effects of the whorestones better than perhaps anyone in the world, but the watch was in many ways an unexplored frontier. It was untested, mercifully so. Her own mind was evidence of its terrifying power.
Bizarrely, considering these matters in such a detached, analytical manner did serve to calm her a bit. Perhaps it was better to merely accept her reality as it was. Her Master was a decent person by all appearances, and their circumstance was in no way his fault.
Her sister-slaves had no idea of the whorestones, believing their devotion entirely genuine. Perhaps embracing that was the true path to happiness. It certainly made things more straight forward.
While thinking about all this did help to bring Desiree out of her panicked state, she was still up before the crack of dawn and drenched in her own sweat. So she did the only practical thing she could do; take off her top and put in the laundry hamper, grabbed a change of clothes, and make her way to the shower.
When she opened her door to get to the "to the shower" part of the plan she ran into Samantha, leaving her own room and heading to work.
"Oh, hey, Des," the redhead said. "I see you've taken up sleeping topless."
"What? Oh," Desiree responded, looking down at her own bare breasts. "I...had a bad nightmare, so my pajamas are soaked right now. Just going to clean up."
"Again?" Samantha asked with clear concern. "Listen, Des, if you're having problems, just try thinking about Master. I know that makes me happier."
Desiree smiled. Perhaps that was the easier path. "Yeah, I do think that will help."
Samantha nodded approvingly. "Glad to hear it, but I've got to get going."
"Sure thing," Desiree replied, gesturing for her housemate to continue on her way. "Hey," she called out after her. "I think I'll take a walk after my shower. Will the heroic security guard protect he from the scary monsters?" Her voice carried a light, joking tone.
Samantha looked over her shoulder and gave a short, simple salute. "There is only one thing in this world that would bring me greater joy, ma'am," she said with a smile.
Desiree turned toward the bathroom, her mood somewhat lifted. Still, there were real monsters out there, and Samantha couldn't protect her from them. Desiree knew that was the real, honest, truth.
***
After the shower Desiree did go out for a walk. It was early morning in Montana just as summer was teetering on fall, so the temperature was still cool, bordering on cold. Desiree went out in a warm sweater, hoodie pulled over her head. She found the brisk, crisp air invigorating.
She didn't really have a plan for where she wanted to go. It was so early in the morning that even if it had been a weekday it would have been hours until her first class. As it was it was a weekend and she had no concrete plans. But the walk was helping to clear her head at least.
Meandering around the college campus, Desiree happened to see Samantha on her patrol, close enough that she could make her housemate, but far enough that she couldn't easily catch her attention. But there was something else. Someone else.
Two people, in fact. One was a larger man with gray hair and a leather jacket. The other was...shit.
Desiree went wide eyed in shock and horror. It was her, the harbinger of enslavement, the herald of the dark master. These were rather fanciful and nonsensical titles, but nothing else could encapsulate the fear coursing through Desiree in this moment.
There was panic welling up within her, but Desiree tried to force it down. She turned her mind to detached analysis of situation, hoping to quell it.
Obviously Dr. Davis' whorestone was not in the public record, there was nothing in the news stories themselves that should should have tipped them off. Unless they got their hands on a picture, someone could have recognized the doctor's face.
Yes, she realized, they were after Davis' stone. At a guess he had acquired it through them while conducting some sort of research on their behalf. But he must have stolen it, because for all of her former tormentor's faults, stupidity was not one of them. They would never have allowed such an artifact to be used to sate petty lusts on college girls. Not enough benefit, too much risk of something going wrong.
So now they were coming for what was theirs, and the big boss himself was sending his most twisted and loyal bitch to retrieve it. No doubt the larger man was hired muscle to help get the job done, and Desiree had a good idea as too how her former tormentors operated in this kind of scenario. She was particularly familiar with the special kind of payment people like him were offered. After all, she designed it.
If they were after it, no doubt they would have looked at patient records and been able to get access to school records as well. That meant... "Shit," Desiree swore, biting her lip. They knew about her too.
Even with her fake name, the bitch would never have forgotten the face of the girl that was once so dear to her, whose trust she betrayed. They knew she was here, her name, her address, her housemates.
Desiree's thoughts were distracted by an all too familiar glow in the distance. They had ensnared Samantha, that much was clear. Thankfully it was distant enough that Desiree knew it couldn't overwhelm her, though she noted that she felt a strange desire to get closer to it.
With a great shake of her head Desiree tore herself from the thought. She couldn't go back, not ever. Moreover, she realized that Master was in danger. No doubt they would come to the house, looking for everything. Her, the crystal, the watch. He was in the line of fire.
Desiree pulled her hood closer over head as she began power walking back to the house. She couldn't afford to break out into a run, not while her enemy might notice the rush of movement in the distance. But once she turned a corner she took off at a sprint. Her priorities were aligned and her purpose was clear, there was no time to waste.
***
Victor looked up at the house. A little run down, exactly the kind of place where a bunch of college kids would live. Well, not all college kids, anyway. He glanced at the security guard, who apparently rented a room here.
