The Palmist Ch 04

AUTHOR'S NOTE: Everyone in this story is at least 19 years of age. Everyone.

*****

"David2" began with a montage of images of young, sexy women in elegant but tight, short skirts, bending over to accentuate their luscious asses. At times one would be looking back over her shoulder. Cartoon images were interspersed, showing men crying and women laughing. Some showed a dorky-looking cartoon man in obvious sadness as he held a photograph, showing him and a sexy-looking cartoon woman. In the photo he wore a beaming smile while the woman looked nonchalant, disinterested. As the sad young man looked at the photo, the viewer could see through his chest to his cartoon heart, anthropomorphosed, weeping, and rent down the middle.

Then the Katrina actress appeared on screen, looking directly at the camera and smirking. She sat at an outdoor table in a beautiful courtyard-garden area, in a different outfit from the last video, but still in Katrina's style (including the trademark hoop earrings). Her bare legs were crossed, and she gently twirled her top foot. "Hello, David", she said, and I drew in a quick breath.

"Haven't seen you around here at Western. Did you go crying back to mommy and daddy? Hahaha. Not that I've really missed you or anything but I was kinda looking forward to you trying to get back together with me this fall. So I could say, 'Mmm, no, I don't think so. I'm kinda seein' someone else now.' Hahaha. But ... I guess you found that out already. Oh. Look, here he is now." At that point, the "dude from Trentstown" actor came into view, saying, "Heyyy sexy." The Katrina said, "Hey babe," and they kissed deeply as he embraced her. He then looked at the camera, nodded and said, "S'up dude?" Then turning back to her, he said, "Gonna go play basketball with some of my buds, I'll see ya tonight."

"Okay, have fun," she said, smiling adoringly at him, and they kissed again before he went out of frame.

The Katrina turned back to me, smiled, and took a moment to close her eyes and go, "Mmm", with a shiver, like the brief encounter had left her feeling excited and tingly. "Let me ask you something, David: Imagine if you were a girl like me, and you met a sexy man like that while you were dating... well, YOU, pff... haha... What would you do? Oh, I know, you're thinking, 'Well, you could've at least told me about it before we left the lake.' But then, who would have cleaned my pussy and given me a ride home? HAHAHAHA! Ohhh. Ha ha. Oh my god. Are you crying?"

My eyes went wide upon that question from this pre-recorded actress, because ... I was! My eyes had teared up at the very thought of the real Katrina *deliberately* using me in such a heartless and brazen way at Blackfoot Lake.

The actress laughed some more and then said, "Stand up! Now! Drop your pants. Your underwear, too. Drop 'em to your ankles. Ha ha ha. One thing's for sure, David, my new boyfriend is packin' a lot more in his pants than THAT." A few moments passed as the actress pretended to be staring at my crotch and smirking. Then something off-screen caught her attention, and she stood up. Briefly she turned to me to say "Stay put, don't move," and then said, "Heyyy! Brittany! Hey, girl. What are you doin'? C'mere."

When the Brittany came into view, she first greeted the Katrina and then looked at the camera, reacting with a slight startle, then a combination smirk-frown as she cast her eye downward to my crotch. She chortled, then said, "Hey, David. What are you doing here, I thought you moved back in with your parents."

"He did," said the Katrina, and they both laughed.

"How are things at BC? You dating anyone there?" asked the Brittany.

"Pff, of course not," said the Katrina.

"Awwww. Do you still miss my bestie?" asked the Brittany as she threw her arm around the Katrina in a sideways hug. After a moment, she said, "I didn't hear you, David, I asked, do you still miss my bestie?"

I said, "Yes, I do" to the screen.

"Awwwww." At that point, the Katrina leaned in to whisper something into the Brittany's ear, and they both laughed. The Brittany then asked, "Why does he have his pants down, by the way?"

The Katrina said, "I was just trying to explain to him why my new boyfriend is a winner, and he's a looooooserrrrr, hahaha."

"Awww, does that little thing miss Katrina, too?" asked the Brittany. After a moment, she said, "David. Hello? I asked you a question. Does that little thing miss Katrina, too?" The actress left enough pause for me to dutifully answer out loud, "Yes. It does." Then both girls laughed.

The Katrina actress then pointed downward and said, "David, get on your knees for me, and apologize to me that you wasted my time with such a worthless little dick. Go on. On your knees. Tell me you're sorry." Both actresses smirked as they gave me time to follow the instructions. Then she said, "Say: My little dick doesn't deserve someone as beautiful as Katrina. Say it." I complied. "Say: My little dick deserves to be frustrated for making Katrina waste her time with it." Again I repeated the words. Both actresses laughed, no doubt imagining some "looooooserrrrr" on his knees, with his pants down, saying such things to a computer screen.

Then the Katrina turned to the Brittany and asked, "Remember how I waited to dump him so I could make him lick my pussy first, right after I'd fucked someone else?" The Brittany said, "Oh my god, yes," and both girls laughed. Then the Katrina said, "David, you're not touching your dick, are you? You better not be. I know my boyfriend's cum probably gets you really hard, but..."

When she said that I sniveled and turned my head to the side, briefly, wincing. But I kept watching. And kneeling.

"I want you to think about that night, and licking my cum-filled pussy, hahaha. Pretend you're doing it now. Put your tongue out and act like you're licking. Do it. Hahahaha. Yeah, that's it. Lick. Lllllick. Hahaha. Mmmmmm. Yummy cum, hahaha. Haha, look at him."

Then the Brittany said, "Lick the desk. Scoot up, put your tongue on the top of the desk, and lick it, and pretend you're licking Katrina's pussy. Do it. Lick the desk. Ahahaha! Ha ha ha haaa!! Mmm, yeah. Lllllick that desk. Hahaha. Loser. Don't be touching your silly cock. He's not touching it, is he? Is he touching it?" The Brittany leaned forward, like she was trying to see over the top of the desk.

"You better not be touching it, David," said the Katrina. "Just 'cause I never wanted to touch it doesn't mean YOU should. It doesn't deserve to feel good. Lick that desk, come on. Drool on it. Drool on it while you're licking. Get it nice and slobbery. Hahahahaha!! Oh my god." She leaned back, with her hand up near her mouth, reveling in her amusement. "Sooo hilarious."

"Stick a finger in your butt," said the Brittany. "Do it."

"Hey, yeah, put a finger up your butt. Get it up there. Stick it up really far."

I had never put a finger in my butt before, so it didn't just slide right in. But I tried.

"What's the matter?" asked the Brittany. "Can't get it in? Suck on it first. Suck your finger. Now try it. Push it up there, come on. We wanna see you with somethin' in your butt, hahaha."

After they gave me time to successfully probe my butt with my slobbery finger, the Katrina said, "Now pull it out, and suck on it some more. Come on, do it. Hahaha. Mmmm. How's that taste?" I grimaced, as it actually tasted about how you'd expect: like a butt.

"Are you still licking the desk?" asked the Brittany. "You're supposed to be licking the desk still, we didn't tell you to stop that."

"Yeah, lick that desk and fuck your ass with that finger. Hahahaha!"

After a few more moments of this, the Katrina said, "Hahaha, look how hard his little pecker is from this. Mmmm, desk-licking and finger-fucking sooo hot, hahaha. Okay, look in the desk drawer in front of you. There's a black sharpie in there, pull that out." Sure enough, when I slid open the drawer, it contained nothing but the marker. "Write KATRINA on your little dick, on one side. Not the top. Write it on one side."

"Oooh, yeah," said the Brittany, "he can write my name on the other side."

"Exactly, that's exactly what he's gonna do. Write KATRINA on one side, and BRITTANY on the other. Come on, do it. We wanna have our names on there. It's not like you have to worry about some other girl seeing it, hahaha." Both actresses laughed. Once they'd given me time to write on my dick, the Katrina said, "Yeah, that's good. Leave that on there for three days, don't wash that off."

"Why three days?" asked the Brittany.

The Katrina shrugged. "I don't know."

"Why not four days?"

"Okay, four days, whatever."

"Four days!" said the Brittany, as she looked at the camera and held up four fingers.

"Four days," repeated the Katrina, "Don't wash that off for four days. And don't touch that stupid little thing, either. Whenever it gets hard, I want you to just look at it and see our names, and not touch it, 'cause you're just a little loser and don't deserve to. Every night I want you to kneel naked and look down at your stupid little dick, and not touch it, and say: I'm sorry I'm such a loser, Katrina. You were right to cheat on me. Do it for a half hour, every night. Just on your knees, naked, saying it over and over. Say it now. Say: I'm sorry I'm such a loser, Katrina. You were right to cheat on me."

I said it.

"Hey, let's have him do it in the middle of the night," suggested the Brittany, "like set an alarm and get up for it."

"Oooh, that's a good idea. Yeah. Do it.. at... 4 AM. Set an alarm for 4 AM, and get up and do that for a half hour. Hahaha. Then you can go back to bed with your hard widdle dick all twitching, hahaha. OK, Britt, you ready to go?"

"Yeah."

"Come on, let's go. Bye loser."

"Stay like that until Lila comes in."

"Yeah, stay like that."

At that, both actresses slid out of view, and for the next 40 seconds or so, I could hear the click of their heels on the stone pathway, and subdued talking and laughing, all amid birds chirping in the lovely garden courtyard. When I could no longer hear them, the video stopped unceremoniously. No fade-out or effects, just a sudden end.

So there I was: Kneeling on the floor with my pants and underwear at my ankles, a black marker in my hand, names written on my dick, and a pool of slobber on the desktop in front of me. I knelt in silence for about two full minutes, staring at the flashing arrow-like symbol in the center of the video player. Then I started sobbing.

I jumped a little when Lila re-entered, suddenly conscious of the fact that she'd be able to see my bare butt facing the door as she came in. She strode up and stood beside me as I looked up at her, questioningly. I was fairly certain she didn't want me to stand, or pull up my pants yet. She looked down, nodded toward my dick, and said, "Let me see it. I want to see their names there." Since my dick was soft at that point, the names weren't really legible, and she said, "Aw, I can't really see it when you're soft. Do you need to lick my desk some more to get turned on?" She chuckled, and even though the question made me feel deeply mortified, I couldn't help but start to get hard, and twitched, as she taunted me over the degrading exercise the two actresses had just put me through.

"Oooh," Lila said, "it looks like you like that idea. Okay. Fine. Lick my desk some more. Come on, do it, I wanna see."

I sniveled, and just for an instant looked up at her as if to say, "Are you serious? In front of you?" But instead of asking, I leaned forward and started licking the top of the desk.

"I thought I told you to say 'yes ma'am' whenever I tell you to do something."

"Oh, I'm sorry, yes ma'am."

"You don't have to stop licking to say it. Say 'yes ma'am' while your tongue is still on the desk."

"Yeth a'aay."

"Hahaha. What was that?"

"Yeth a'aay."

"Ha ha ha. Oh my god. You look sooo stupid. Ha ha. Here. Here are some condoms you can put on your stupid little dick when you take a shower, just to make sure their names don't come off." She placed four condoms on the desk. "After your shower, take the condom off, turn it inside out, and put it in your mouth, so you can suck the pre-cum off it. No cumming before your next session with me. Now say 'I'm a loser' while you lick that desk."

"I'y a oooza."

"Keep saying it."

"I'y a oooza. I'y a oooza."

"Keep saying it, I'll be right back."

For the next minute or two, I kept licking Lila's desk and trying as best I could, with extended tongue, to say "I'm a loser" over and over. When she came back into the room, she sat in a chair over against the wall to my right, cradled a steaming cup of tea in both hands and, once settled in, said, "Okay. You can stop. Come over here and talk to Lila. Just stay on your knees, hun. Just scoot over here and kneel in front of Lila." I did so, and she regarded me with a kind, gentle look. She wore a slight smile. A warm one. Not a mocking one.

"You trust Lila, right?"

"Yes, ma'am."

"How do you feel, hun?"

I bowed my head, frowned miserably, then broke into tears. "Depressed. Really depressed." Then I sobbed. My tears streamed down, and I lifted a hand to cover my eyes. Lila said nothing. She waited, sitting in front of me cradling the tea. She didn't seem that interested in drinking it.

After some moments, I sighed heavily, then wiped my tears with a few fingers. Then Lila spoke. "Depressed, huh?"

"Yes."

Matter-of-factly, she replied, "That's good."

"That's *good*?"

She didn't speak, but just nodded, slowly and deliberately, as I searched her face, questioningly. Finally, she said, "I want you even more depressed."

"What?" Again she didn't respond. After a moment I sniveled, then looked off to the side, shaking my head. I thought, What the hell am I doing here, on my knees with my pants at my ankles, listening to a palm-reader tell me it's *good* that I'm depressed, and she wants me *more* so? A fortune-teller who just had me licking a goddam *desk* while saying "I'm a loser" over and over? And I did it!! What the fuck is wrong with me?

This is *fucked*... *up*!

I felt a jolt go through my thighs and hips, the result of my brain telling my leg muscles, "Get up. We're outta here." But somehow, as soon as those neural impulses, or whatever they are, were sent, some other part of my brain seems to have canceled them. At that moment, Lila said, "I made you this tea, hun. I want you to drink it. It will make you even more depressed than you are now. It will make you feel even more like a loser."

Again, I sniveled, and looked to the side. I couldn't look at Lila's face.

"Didn't you just tell Lila you trusted her?"

*sigh*... "Yes."

Silence.

"Yes, ma'am, I mean. Yes ma'am." I was surprised Lila hadn't said anything before I remembered to say "ma'am". So far she had been very quick to correct me on that.

Still there was silence, and Lila sat still in front of me, as the steam rose from the "cup o' depression" she held in her lap. When I finally looked up at her, she was expressionless as she stared in my eyes. With a sigh, I reached out to accept the cup of tea.

"I don't understand this, ma'am."

She just stared at me. "Drink the tea, David."

I took a sip. I swallowed. Yuck, I thought. Then I remembered: "Yes ma'am... I'm sorry... I keep forgetting."

She nodded, with a subtle sternness, as if to say, Yes I've noticed.

I took another sip, and grimaced. She said, "I'm going to send some more of this herb home with you, and I want you to drink three cups a day. One should be right before bed. It will help you sleep, but also, when you get up at 4 to apologize to Katrina, it will make you feel really awful. Not physically, but in your heart."

Again I couldn't help but snivel. I didn't want to feel awful in my heart. My mind flashed to the broken heart cartoon images in the video. "Again, ma'am... I don't understand this. I don't want to be depressed. I don't *want* to feel awful in my heart. Why do you want me to feel awful, ma'am? I just... don't understand."

"It's dark in the gap sometimes, hun. But you have to go through it to get to the other side. Tell Lila you trust her."

"I trust you. Ma'am. I trust you, ma'am."

I took another sip, then let out a slight "aw" from its bitter aftertaste. "I'm gonna need to use plenty of honey when I drink this at home."

"No. Drink it like it is. Don't put anything in it. No honey, no sugar. Nothing. Whenenver you have a cup you can think about how losers don't deserve to drink tasty tea." Just then she kicked off the sandals she'd been wearing, rose from her chair and said, "Stay here, I'll be right back. Stare at my sandals while you drink your tea, until I come back."

As soon as she left the room, it was like there was a giant vacuum where she had been. My heart felt heavy and pained. I felt like I missed her terribly, as though in just leaving the room she had somehow broken my heart. There I knelt, with the teacup in my hands, the steam rising to my face, and as I took another sip, my eyes started to tear up again.

Loser. She uttered the word so naturally just then, applying it to me like it was an indelible aspect of my nature. Like it was an established, undisputed fact, acknowledged by the well-informed everywhere, that I was a particular breed of human: the Loser. *Loserus northamericanus*, or something.

I certainly felt like one. What kind of person degrades himself on his knees in front of a computer and follows the instructions of pre-recorded actresses in a video an older woman has commissioned for his supposed therapy? What kind of person allows that "therapist" to *call* him a loser, then drinks herbal tea she's made for him right after telling him it will make him *more* depressed than he already is??

As I stared at her sandals, I supplied myself a possible answer: A loser?

After a bit, I heard the screen door to Lila's kitchen close, and could hear her padding barefoot through the kitchen, and then back into the little room where I waited. When she came back into view, I saw she was holding a baggie containing what looked like leaves, grass, and dirt. In the other hand was a small bowl and something that looked like a miniature baseball bat. "This is a mortar and pestle," she said. "You know how to use them?"

"No, ma'am."

"Put some of this in here, and then use this to grind it down before you put some into the tea ball. Even you can figure it out." She then tossed the baggie, and the mortar and pestle, onto the floor, and they landed in front of me. "I grow this herb in my garden, so I just went out there to pick that for you." When I didn't respond, she put her hands on her hips and bitchily said, "What, no 'thank you'?"

"Oh, I'm sorry. Thank you. Ma'am. Thank you, ma'am."

Without responding, she strode over near the desk. "Ugh. God, that's disgusting, look at that. Your disgusting slobber all over my desk. Get over here." At that, she pivoted to step in my direction, and grabbed me by the hair. Not roughly, but nevertheless, her fingers closed around my hair and grasped it, and she held on as I started to rise off my knees. "No, don't get up! What are you doing!? Don't get up, just get over here on your knees. You can still move on your knees, can't you? C'mere." When I got closer, she put her other hand on my head, soon grasping my hair with it as well. I shuffled along and still held the cup of tea in both hands, trying not to slosh it. Fortunately it was nearly empty by then.

"Make your tongue dry. Can you make your tongue dry? Lick that off there, that's disgusting. Slobbering on my desk. Yuck. Get that off. Don't make it worse! Don't drool on it, dumbass! How is that gonna help? Make your tongue *dry*!" She held me by the hair with both hands, guiding my head, or trying to. It kinda hurt as she pulled this way and that, but it got worse when she decided my tongue wasn't appropriate for the job, and started rubbing my cheek into the pool of slobber. Then she turned my head over to try and use the other cheek like a cloth. She continued berating me as she released one hand from my head, wiped the spit with it, and tried to transfer it to my face and hair. By the end she was slapping at me and roughly wiping her hands on me, saying "Ugh. Disgusting."