The Stone Bangle

Clare walked into the small museum of local history in Stotwell, and was immediately aware of a change in atmosphere, she felt a clarity of vision, her mind sharper, focussed, almost as if she could feel the walls around her. She somehow knew Mike was sitting at the desk, knew he was standing to greet her, knew he was looking at her legs as she approached the desk.

She was returning to the village of her birth for the first time in ten years. When she had moved to London to do her university degree, she had vowed that she would never return to the backward village with all the net curtain twitching, the gossip, the old crones who judged her and her friends.

As it was a pleasant summers day, she had dressed in her beloved skater dress, a pleasantly tight bodice joined to a short flirty skirt that she knew showed her white trim legs to their best advantage. She had debated whether to wear tights with it, but decided it was warm enough to risk bare legs, even in June in England where the weather is unreliable. She had slipped on some comfy ballet pumps and skipped out of her apartment into the warm sun.

The trip back to her old hometown had passed uneventfully, a slow suburban train slipping through the green rolling hills before it finally came to a halt at the local station. She walked out of the station onto the high street, and looked for the old, converted church that now contained the newly opened local museum.

Mike got up from the desk in the museum and walked out into the central area of the museum. The room was light and airy, stained-glass windows, a few metres across with no windows. The walls were lined with dark wood cabinets, glass fronted with hundreds of items on display.

"Hello, you must be Clare, we have been conversing by email. I am Mike, it is a pleasure to meet you finally, welcome to our little museum."

The museum seemed to cover a ridiculous variety of items considering the size of the room, a cabinet of locally discovered fossils, notes on the mills and farms recorded in the Doomsday Book and some swords, armour and letters from the English Civil War.

Clare's mind somehow felt it all, her mind was overwhelmed by each item, she could hear them singing to her, each of them almost invading her mind. She was stunned, could barely think for herself as all of them wanted to tell her their story, the sword used in a duel in the 1700s, a fossil dug up a century ago, she could feel the joy of the archaeologist who had found it.

Mike stood looking at her, he could see her mind was elsewhere, a blank look, he could see she had hardly heard her, even as he held his hand out to her, offering it to her. He stood there as the seconds ticked passed, the moment becoming more and more uneasy.

Finally, she managed to snap out of, it, almost as if she had turned on the lights. She managed to silence the noise from all the artifacts and then a perfect clarity returned. She found herself standing in the middle of the room and saw Mike looking at her, hand out.

"Oh gosh, I am so sorry, I don't know what came over me, it was... well I don't know what it was, but I just felt very strange. Hello Mike, so sorry, yes you are right I am Clare. That must have seemed so rude." She finally managed to splutter a response.

He took her hand and smiled at her. He was surprised how young she was, her emails had been quite formal, almost a bit hostile, now he saw her long brown hair, her sparkly brown eyes, he felt a moment of desire.

As their hands met, she felt another invasion into her perception, like a knife stabbing her mind. As well as feeling her own body herself, she almost jumped into his mind, she was aware of his feelings, could feel his emotions, the surprise, the desire. She was shocked to feel this mixture of emotions, her own feelings blended with his, feeling the way his eyes moved on her own body.

"Oh no, don't worry, I know the museum is absolutely rammed with things, and such a crazy variety, people often seem surprised when they come here. And I should say, welcome to our little museum, we have only been open for a few years, ever since Dr Jacobson donated all his collected artifacts to the village. And I am very excited to know that you want to see all the things from the trials of the 1600s."

Clare refocussed, and her mind snapped back, as if a light had been turned on, once again she was back in her own body, although her heart was beating fast, adrenaline flooded her body as the strangeness of the sensations moved through her body. Then she probed at her mind, and in an instant, she realised that she could control the noise, that she could focus her attention, she could reach out and almost grip each of the items in the room.

She moved her attention to a sword and felt the satisfaction of the gentleman who had used it in a duel, the moment that he plunged it with power and fury into the heart of his opponent. An old coin bag, she felt the greed and avarice of the last owner, an old mean miser, felt his emotions as he had opened it every day to count his gold. The letter written by a woman, trying to discover what had happened to her son in a battle, the fear and concern in her mind, knowing in her heart that he was dead.

She returned to her own mind and looked at Mike.

"Thanks Mike, well in some ways it is good to be back here, I was born here you know, in the village out by the old Mill, but there was never anything like this museum here when I was living here. But my family have been living here forever from what I can tell. I looked in the parish records, and our surname goes back, almost to when the church was built in the 1200s. But... well as I wrote in my email, I am really interested in seeing the records and things from the trials in the 1600s, I know one of my ancestors was involved in them." Clare continued.

"Yes, well that is one of the most interesting times in the village tale, and in fact Jacobson was also very curious in that period and as I told you he seems to have fixated on it I think, there was a whole safe full of things from that period. From what I can tell, after the trials, all the things that were collected as evidence were locked away, deep in the crypt of the church, but Jacobson seems to have had that all emptied and now we have it all here. I have been meaning to go through it, but there are so many other things to look at that it will have to wait." Mike responded.

In her head, Clare was really confused, she had never felt like this before, it was like her mind had developed tentacles that could feel out around the room. She could probe into the cupboards, into the glass cabinets, detecting each item, sensing their histories. And all the time she was so aware that she could extend her senses into Mike as well, even just a little, she could just sip his thoughts, graze his feelings.

She could feel his excitement about the historical documents, but more than that, the thing that she picked up from him was an intense attraction that he felt for her, she felt his eyes on her, on the tight bodice, the way that it gripped her small breasts. She was shocked to feel his strong emotions, surprised by the intensity of his desire.

"Well that sounds amazing, and my personal interest in it just adds to the mystery, I am not sure but I remember my great grandmother telling us when we were young that one of my direct predecessors, perhaps 20 generations back was actually convicted in those trials, but I never really understood what it was about, was it for witchcraft, do you know what it was they were accused of?" Clare inquired with a frown.

"No, I never got to the bottom of it either, it just said that they were unnatural acts, but it was enough that five of the women from the village were either banished or executed, I don't know, it was different times, women were never treated well. Anyway, come through to the back, I have got the chest out for you, you can start looking at it all now." Mike replied.

Clare walked through the dark oak door marked 'Private' at the back of the main room of the museum into a small musty room, a smell of beeswax, a single small window high on the wall at the rear of the building protected with thick iron bars. In the middle of the table stood an old iron chest with thick straps holding it closed. Even as Clare walked to it, she could feel an instant attraction, could feel it almost calling to her. In her stomach she felt it pulling her, calling to her, in her mind the feeling of vision beyond her body grew stronger.

It disturbed her, this new feeling in her mind, and she had to concentrate to control it, to stop her mind straying from what she was seeing to perceiving the world as Mike or feeling the dramatic histories of the items around her. It was like tuning an old radio, sometimes her mind was her own, like the white noise, but then if she looked around her, suddenly she could tune into the history of old chest, or even the innermost thoughts of Mike.

Clare wondered whether Mike could feel her as she listened to his feelings, could detect it as she saw the world through his eyes, the way they rested on her bum as she walked through the door, looking to see if he could see the lines of her knickers. She let her focus detect him, felt his cock hardening a little as he saw the lines of her bikini style briefs. She let her mind explore his body, how he felt, how he could feel his cock even as he walked. Was curious to feel it from his experience, feel his lust growing as he watched her.

She glanced back at him and couldn't tell anything about his mood from his behaviour, if she hadn't felt it for herself, she would never have known that he was feeling what he was for her from his actions.

Mike walked to the chest and looked at it, reached into his pocket, and pulled out a big old iron key, he slid it into the well-oiled lock and then turned it and there was a satisfying clunk. He raised the lid, and as he did so, Clare felt a stronger wave of clarity as it opened. She could feel something else in the box, could feel it calling to her, desiring her, almost wanting to consume her.

She walked to the chest, unable to speak as Mike lifted a thin file of dusty notes from the depths.

"These are the notes of the investigation, of the trial, of the sentences, it is hard to read but perhaps you can make sense of it." Mike explained. Then he reached into the chest and picked another metal box. Her eyes were locked onto it, drawn to it, like a magnet, all her attention was drawn to it.

"And this is very strange, this box was locked again, with another set of locks, we have no idea why. We even sent it to the local uni for analysis, but it is just a plain stone bracelet. And yet it was locked in this chest, in a box, and buried in the bottom of the crypt. Strange."

Mike opened the box and in the middle of it, resting on a velvet ledge was a completely plain small stone bangle, perhaps a centimetre thick, only big enough for a woman's wrist. He picked it up and played with it in his hands.

For Clare, seeing the bangle was an almost existential change in her perception. She felt it radiating utter power, like a searchlight pulsing around the room. She could hardly think, could hardly speak but she just knew that she had to have it, or perhaps that it had to have her.

"Can I take it?" She finally managed to utter, she was having difficulty thinking, her tongue felt thick and velvety. Her body felt super sensitive, she could feel every atom of her body, she could feel her toes, legs, her pussy, ass, stomach and breasts, her chest and neck.

Mike looked at Clare as If nothing was out of the ordinary. "Sure, here you go, we have had it looked at by plenty of people, but if you feel you can shed any light on it then you are very welcome. Anyway, I really need to make some progress with some brasses that I am supposed to be polishing. And good luck with your research."

He handed the stone bangle to her, almost as an afterthought and then turned to go, walking through the heavy door, and pulling it closed behind him.

Clare felt the smooth stone on her skin, played her fingers all around the ring. There was a little illegible script engraved into the inner surface, a script she didn't recognise. Holding the bangle, her body yearned to feel it, but she was hesitant, she wasn't sure who would control who. Suddenly, she felt the history of the bangle, and she saw her ancestor, recognised her own features on the woman's face. A woman in a dark smock, face dirty but a look of utter control in her eyes.

Without hesitation she slipped the bangle over her thin hand, over her wrist and it fitted her like some custom piece of jewellery, she looked at the plain cream stone on her skin. It looked so completely innocent, and yet her whole being was transformed, she let her mind move through the museum, with the bangle on her wrist, her perception was even more intense. She could see each item in each cabinet and feel it, question it, look back on its history, its owners, and any emotional events it had been involved in.

Inevitably her mind soon found Mike, and she let her presence enter him, felt his body as if it were her own. She perceived his thoughts, his fantasies, the way he was imagining her, imagining her naked on the table. She felt again his cock, curious to feel the sensations of the hard shaft hanging from him, without even thinking she imagined her hand moving to it. Then she gasped as she realised that he had, that sitting in the other room, as she imagined him moving his hand, touching his cock, he had actually done it.

Immediately she withdrew from him, back to her own body. Terrified, her heart beating so fast, but she realised her body too was aroused, her clit was warm and buzzing. As if his arousal in that moment, and her arousal had been melded into one. Part of her wanted to take off the bangle, but she couldn't do it, her curiosity was too much, and she started to see that it was a dangerous addiction that she already desired more of.

But first she was terrified, that Mike would know, that he would have detected her, felt her presence as she entered his perception, as she had controlled his body, moving his hand to his cock, feeling it hard in his trousers. Even as she repeated the feeling in her head, she felt her body respond, her nipples hardening, a warming, dampening between her legs.

Still though, she felt that she had to know if he had been aware of her. She stood and walked to the door, pressed it open, creaking a little, feeling its weight as she did so. It opened into the other room, a little behind the desk where Mike was working, but the creak of the old hinges instantly alerted him to her presence. He looked round, and she felt for a moment that he was going to confront her, but then she saw, that no, in fact the opposite was the case. Even without focusing on him, she could feel his sexual arousal, and the bulge in his trousers bore it out.

She realised that while she had made him move his hand to his cock, in fact he had continued, he had been sitting there at his desk, polishing the brasses with one hand, and polishing his cock head with the other, all the time imagining her naked on the table in the back room.

"Hi Mike, sorry to bother you, but could I get a cup of tea, I am so thirsty after the trip up on the train and it would be most welcome. If you tell me where the kitchen is, I can make you some too?' Clare inquired, almost innocently.

Mike adjusted his trousers, and Clare grinned as he tried to camouflage his cock, he glanced down to see how he looked but there was only so much that he could do in the tight jeans.

"Oh, Hi Clare, sure if you go behind the cabinet there, there is another small door and there is a little alcove with a kettle and things, there is a small fridge too, if you want to put any drinks or lunch in there then feel free to use it as your own." Mike replied.

"Oh, you are wearing the bangle, wow, you must have really thin hands and wrists, hardly any of the women that tried to put it on were able to get it on..." Mike remarked, walking to Clare, and holding out his hands towards her.

Clare looked at him, she was having difficulty with all the noises in her head while wearing the bangle. So many of the artifacts around the room were niggling at her attention, and then at the same time she could feel Mike's arousal intermingled in her perception with her own. She raised her hand and showed him her wrist with the bangle snug around her thin wrist.

"Oh yes, I do have really small wrists you are right, like my mum and my grandmother. Maybe my ancestor back in the 1600s had the same, perhaps she wore this bangle then. Do you know anything about this bangle, about where it came from or anything, it is very plain, not so easy to age I would think. Do you know what the script on it says?" Clare asked as Mike moved his hands to her and held her wrist and the bangle.

When Mike took her hand, Clare felt his hand on hers, felt their skin and she couldn't hold back from letting her mind merge again with his. He felt his hand on her own, but at the same time she was aware of her own hand in his fingers, of his fingers feeling her skin and feeling the smooth bangle on her. She froze as the combined sensation overwhelmed her perception. She wanted more of it and encouraged him in her mind. Almost like a puppet he moved his other hand to her wrist, and she felt him take her hand.

Clare felt her body growing more and more excited, feeling all the sensations of Mike as his hands rested on her bare arm, as well as her own feelings was a delicious sensation. She pulled back however and cut his feelings off from her. She wanted to think about it before things got out of hand.

Mike removed his hands from her arm, feeling his cock hard in his trousers, surprised at his own boldness in touching her arm, feeling the stone and her soft skin. He had never been as bold with women, but he had really enjoyed touching her arm.

"It fits you like a glove, it is almost like it was made for you, how do you find it? It looks great on your skin tone as well." Mike remarked.

"Yes, it really does feel almost like a part of me." Clare agreed, in fact she was thinking that it had invaded her perception and taken over her mind. She needed to get away from him for a while to take stock of everything, to try and decide how she was going to respond.

She walked to the cabinet that Mike had indicated and then found the kitchen, she made some tea and then walked back to the small back room. She slipped off the bangle and put it into the metal box, closing the lid. Then she put the box back in the chest and closed the lid on that as well. She was relieved to feel its influence on her reduce as she did so and started to understand why it may have been locked in the crypt.

For the rest of the afternoon, she tried to read the papers of the trials from the 1600s, as she read, she realised that of course, the unnatural acts of which the women had been convicted were all tied up with the bangle. The women concerned had all worn it and one time or another, but through some mistake or slip had exposed that they had known too much, felt too much. Some had used it to manipulate others, some to gain revenge, but in the end, they had all been punished for it. She could feel the stone calling to her, from the chest where she had entombed it.

Through the afternoon, from time to time she had been back into the body of the museum to chat to Mike, it was a lot easier to chat to him without the bangle, while she could feel some aspect of his feelings for her, as she had when she first arrived, it was a lot less intense and incisive than when she had been wearing the stone ring.

She had watched him a few times and realised that part of the reason he was so attracted to her, was that she too reciprocated the feeling, that as she chatted, she was flirting with him, almost imperceptibly and reflecting his desire back onto her. She watched as he looked at her, how she had nudged his arm as they chatted, the perception from the bangle telling her how he felt as she did so, how it encouraged his desire.