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It was the second day of naked 37-year-old Camilla’s ghost gang-bang ordeal at the public aquarium in Montreal. Nothing had changed: she was still hovering a few inches above the surface of the soiled water in a huge tank, always coming and pissing in it. A couple dozen dead fish were floating around her, though none of them blocked the view of all her voyeurs, for the masked men psychically moved them out of the way.
Indeed, none of her mesmerized watchers had left. They’d camped there, in the viewing room, taking minimal sleeping breaks. The news cameras were ever filming, for the live coverage of this extraordinary developing story was non-stop.
The spirits that were gang-raping her were those of Allen, the young man who’d received lap dances from her while she was pregnant; two other spirits, fucking her pussy and ass, were those of two men–one young, one older–whom she’d given lap dances to just after she’d had her baby. The young man had met her before her trip to Thailand, and the older man had met her shortly after she came back. Allen’s invisible cock was in her mouth.
You never had any control over me, Camilla, the spirit of the older man mentally told her as he continued thrusting his invisible cock inside her gaping asshole. You were always in my power.
You controlled me, though, the young man psychically told her. I’ll never forgive you for how you made me degrade myself.
Same here, added Allen. Now it’s our turn to degrade you, you fucking bitch.
How could you let these fish die? Camilla mentally asked the older man. I thought your party cared for the environment.
We don’t give a shit about the environment any more than your average factory owner, he psychically replied. We just talked the green talk to get in power, and to build as big and statist a government as we could.
Though Camilla was always climaxing during these spiritual gang bangs, her sexual pleasure was only compulsive–always without joy, for the spirits were forcing her to come. Lecherous men and women were still getting video of her on their cell-phone cameras from down below in the viewing room, and from up above on the high ledge, where there was a close-up view of her spread-out legs, and where her gaping pussy and asshole were being stuffed with invisible cock.
“This is so fuckin’ hot,” one man up above said as he got video of her wide-open holes.
“Buying all these cell-phones was a good investment,” another man–squatting beside the first man on the ledge–said as he got video of her. “When one phone runs out of memory, I can quickly switch to my next phone, missing only tiny bits of this.”
Now do you see, Camilla? Agape’s spirit said to her, in a voice only she could hear. You’re not a goddess.
I know, Daddy, she mentally said to him, her cheek still puffing out with Allen’s invisible cock inside it.
You must let us help you, Don’s spirit said.
Psychically let go of your life, Dr. Singh telepathically said to her, all the way from Vancouver.
I can’t, she answered, tears dripping from her eyes. I’m too scared. And the sex is too addictive for me to resist. She started to slip away, into more of her out-of-body visions of old memories, to escape the horror of the present.
Don’t lose contact with us! Agape told her, feeling her psychic connection with him, Don, and Dr. Singh fade away. We can save you!
Sorry, Daddy, she told him before feeling her helpers’ consciousness completely dissolve from her attention.
Back in Club Ritz in Toronto in late July, 19-year-old ‘Goth’ Camilla was giving a lap dance to an 18-year-old boy in one of the private rooms. She’d used Nigrovum to speed up her recovery after giving birth to her son, Eros; she wasn’t urinating excessively, she’d psychically soothed her vagina so she’d feel no pain during sex; her figure was as good as ever; and her Nigrovum-inspired sex addiction ensured she’d feel no lowering of her sex drive.
Though she didn’t even have stretch marks, when the boy touched her belly, he noticed a looseness in her abdominal skin.
“Did you just have a baby?” he asked her in a panting voice.
“Yep,” she said with a grin, grinding hard on his large erection.
“And you haven’t lost your looks at all,” he sighed. “Amazing.”
“That’s right, Joey,” she sighed, enjoying the feeling of the tip of his cock rubbing against her wet vulva. “I’m a yummy mummy.”
“You sure are beautiful. I think pregnant women are hot. I wish I’d seen you then.” He put his hands on her breasts and gently squeezed them.
“I have a porn website, canlı bahis www.camillacome.com. There’s POV video of me pregnant there, if you’re interested.”
“I’d love to see that.” He put his hand on her pussy and started fingering her hard clitoris.
She looked back in his baby blue eyes. “You’re such a cutie,” she sighed. “Oh!”
“You’re flawless,” he said, sliding his finger in her wet cunt.
She pecked him on the lips. “Thanks, sweetie.” She got up, turned around, and sat on his lap again, this time facing him.
“How can you be so perfect?” He put his hands on her ass and gently squeezed her buttocks.
“You really wanna know how?” she asked.
“Absolutely,” he said, opening her buttocks and making his fingers crawl inside her crack.
“I’m a goddess, that’s how.” She brought her face over to his ear and let her tongue snake its way inside.
“You sure are.” His index finger started rubbing circles against her asshole.
“Really, Joey, I literally am. I’ll prove it.” She closed her eyes and visualized a bright room, and all her original body colours coming back. Within seconds, the room brightened up.
“Hey, who turned on the lights?” he asked in surprise.
“I did,” she said, bringing her face back in front of his, so he could see her original blonde hair, blue eyes, and peach skin, all suddenly changed from their previous black and pale ‘Goth’ colours. “Ta da!” she sang.
“What the hell?” Joey said, his jaw drooping almost to the floor. “I thought you had black hair.”
“Nope,” she said proudly. “I’m really blonde, but I can use my power to look any way I want. The real reason my figure wasn’t ruined by my pregnancy is that I used my power to restore my original looks. My powers are what helped my quickly recover after I had my baby. I’m a goddess, really.”
“Wow,” he said in panting awe, his heart pounding. “Let me worship you.”
“That’s exactly what I want you to do. There’s another cute boy, Allen–your age–who wants to worship me. In time, I’ll show you both how to do so; when you do begin to worship me, you’ll receive my blessings. For now, though, keep coming here for lap dances.” She kissed him on the mouth again, and fondled the hard cock in his pants. He was about to come.
“Gladly, Goddess.” His mesmerized eyes never left hers. “Oh!” he creamed his jeans.
“Oh, dear,” she said, looking down at the puddle in his pants. “Come over to the shower area; I’ll clean you up.”
“OK,” he said. They got up and went over to the shower.
“Pull your pants down. Don’t be shy.” He pulled his pants and underwear down, revealing his spent penis. “Aw, what a cute fellow he is!” She giggled as she lathered up some soap. He took off his pants, underwear, shoes, and socks. Then she sprayed water all over his crotch and soaped up his penis and scrotum. She was very thorough in her touching; he wished he could get another erection fast, but soon she rinsed off the soap.
She got a towel and dried him off. He paid her for the lap dances and got dressed.
“Bye,” he said. “Thanks for everything, Goddess.”
“Go in peace,” she said as he left the room.
When she’d returned from Thailand and got her baby from Clara, she immediately took him home. In her apartment, she cradled the beautiful child in her arms. Eros looked up into the eyes of his mother, with the same hypnotized love that so many of Camilla’s lovers had given her.
Though she felt she was through with incest for good, and had absolutely no intention of ever making her son her lover–even when he was to reach the age of consent–she couldn’t help being flattered to see the Oedipal longing in his eyes, thinking that a boy’s crush on his beautiful mamma was the sweetest thing ever.
There’s no love as unconditional as that between a mother and her son, she thought as she smiled down on him like an angel. It’s been said that I can’t love. Whoever thanks that, living or dead, should see me with my boy now. We totally love each other.
On her next day to work at Club Ritz, after her return from Thailand, she gave Allen and Joey lap dances, at separate times during the evening; and just before each boy left, she gave him his instructions for worshipping her. Both boys were made to say the same things during their separate moments with Camilla. She looked in each boy’s eyes intensely, and said the following.
“You must become my priest,” she said.
“I must become your priest,” each boy said during his time with her.
“You will dress as a beautiful bahis siteleri woman,” she said.
“I will dress as a beautiful woman.”
“You will shave your face, armpits, and legs every day.”
“I will shave my face, armpits, and legs every day.”
“You will serve me, and obey my every command.”
“I will serve you, and obey your every command.”
She then touched each boy’s Adam’s apple, and visualized it being so small as to be unnoticeable. The Adam’s apples shrank within seconds.
“Now go in peace,” she said to each boy during his time with her.
Several hours later, ‘Goth’ Camilla had been stripping onstage when a handsome man in his forties came to sit at the tip rail. She was coming to the end of her second song, Aerosmith’s ‘Dude Looks Like a Lady’; she was naked except for the white cowboy boots she had on. She squatted before him and spread her legs. He smiled at the sight of her purple pussy.
The song ended, and she took off her boots. Her last song was ‘It’s No Good,’ by Depeche Mode. Crawling around the stage on all fours, she turned her back to him and showed off her pussy and asshole to his eager eyes and panting mouth.
When that song finished and she got off the stage with her purse, leaving her clothes there, he asked her for table dances. The naked girl went with him to a table, and they sat together, facing each other. He was on a chair, and she was on a sofa.
“My name’s Garth Van Duyne,” he said, holding out his hand.
“I’m Camilla,” she said, shaking his hand. “What do you do, Mr. Van Duyne?”
“Actually, I’m running for mayor,” he said. “Do you recognize my face on TV?”
“I’m afraid not, sorry; but I’ll look for you,” she said. “Maybe you shouldn’t be here: it might be bad for your image.”
“Oh, I’m well protected, don’t you worry about that.” His psychic blocking of her was so subtle, even she didn’t know she was being blocked.
A new song started, and she got up. She licked her lips like a cat as she swayed her hips to the song, looking lasciviously in his eyes. She slowly turned around for him, allowing his eyes to roam all over her skin and study her breasts, pubic hair, and buttocks. After turning around for him completely, she was again facing him, and she put her knee on his chair, pushing it against his already hard cock; reaching forward, she brushed her right shoulder against his right cheek.
She brought her face up to his right ear and put her tongue inside it. After her tongue had slithered its way all around the ear-hole, pushing in as deep as she could get it, she pulled her tongue out, then pursed her lips and blew into the hole. She wrapped her lips around his earlobe, sucked on it, then nibbled on it just hard enough to make it sting slightly. He found the pain delightful.
“Wow,” he said. “A mere table dance gives me all this, eh?”
“Yeah,” she said with a ‘shy’ giggle. “But that’s not all.”
She turned around and sat on his lap, gently rubbing her soft, smooth buttocks against his monolith of a cock. He moaned softly at the sensation. Then she got up, turned around to face him, and sat back on the sofa. She spread her legs out wide with a carefree grin, gladly giving him a generous look at her pussy.
“Do you like my cunt?” she asked in her uninhibited ‘Kitty’ persona.
“It’s cunnilicious,” he sighed, moving forward to get a closer look. She giggled.
Then she turned around, and with her back to him, put her knees on the sofa, spread her legs out wide, and pushed her ass out so he could see her asshole and pussy. Not liking the black colour Nigrovum had turned her asshole into, she’d psychically changed it back to its original, pretty pink just before turning around.
Remembering the black asshole he saw on her onstage, he asked,”I thought your asshole was black.”
Looking down at her bum, she said, “Oh, yeah. I changed it to pink.”
Yep, he thought; this is the girl. She has the power.
“Do you like it better the other way?” she asked. “I can change it back, if you want.”
“No, no,” he said. “I like it better this way. Pink and pretty. Delicious.”
She giggled. “Do you like anal sex?”
“Love it. Have you received anal before?”
“Oh, yeah. Lots of times. Here: take a good look at my asshole.” She spread her buttocks wide for him, and he bent down to get a better look. “Don’t I look used?”
“Not really; but you sure look enjoyable down there.” She giggled again. The song ended. “May I have another table dance, please?”
“OK,” she said with a giggle of feigned shyness, doing a combination of her shy bahis şirketleri ‘Angel’ persona, and her ‘Kitty’ one. Veronica was onstage, and her first song was an edited version of Gentle Giant’s ‘Pantagruel’s Nativity.”
“Now, there’s a song you never expect to hear in a strip joint,” he said.
“Oh, yeah. My daddy used to like old music like this.” She got up and started turning around for him.
“The song’s lyrics were inspired by Rabelais’s Gargantua and Pantagruel books. I love those books. ‘Do what you will’ is the advice given: I totally agree with that–don’t you?”
“Absolutely,” she said, sitting on his lap again and rubbing away.
“My favourite character was Panurge. He was such a scoundrel; I’ve always wanted to emulate him.”
Getting up and returning to the sofa, she asked, “Why?”
Mentally rendering her passively and uncritically accepting of all he said, he explained: “Panurge, in the fourth book, angrily threw a sheep out into the sea when its owner overcharged him. Then all the shepherd’s other sheep threw themselves into the sea, too, blindly following the first. When I become more politically powerful, I hope to have that kind of power over the moutons de Panurge that are our citizens.”
She had her back to him while on the sofa, showing off her asshole and pussy, all the while licking her lips and widening her eyes lasciviously. She’d lick her hand, then touch her wet pussy with it. Looking back at him, she mentally told him, All three of my holes are yours, Your Future Worship.
I know: I plan to fuck all three of them quite soon, he thought. She was still made unaware of his powers. The song ended, and he pulled out his wallet. “Well, I’ve got to go,” he said. He paid her. “Bye.”
Looking in his eyes in earnest, she said, “I really had fun being naked for you. Bye.”
He grinned enigmatically and left.
The next day, ‘Goth’ Camilla felt this inexplicable urge to get on a bus in downtown Toronto. She was wearing a schoolgirl kind of outfit: a white blouse, a dark plaid skirt, knee-length socks, and black leather shoes. Garth was sitting at the back of the bus, waiting for her. As soon as she saw him, she hurried over to his seat.
“Hi!” she said with an ear-to-ear grin. “Why’s a politician on the bus? Don’t you have an expensive car?”
“I do, but I rarely use it,” he lied. “I like going green, since that’s the political party I represent. The Green Party.”
“I’ll vote for you for sure,” she said.
I’ll make sure of that, he thought.
“Do you remember me?”
“Of course. Camilla, the amazing dancer.”
“Do you remember my cunt?”
“Yep. And your pretty pink asshole, too.”
She giggled. “Thanks.”
“Let me take you out to dinner,” he said. Where do you wanna go?”
“Do you know Giovanni’s?” she asked.
“Oh, yeah. How about tonight at 8:00?”
At Giovanni’s that night, Camilla and Garth chatted while they waited for their food. She was wearing the black dress Patrick had bought her, with no underwear underneath.
“I remember yesterday, when I was giving you your table dances, you said you’ll be protected against the scandal of being seen in a strip joint,” she said. “What did you mean by that?”
“Oh, let’s just say I have a mask,” he said with an eerie grin. “All good politicians do.”
Remembering the mansion on Grouse Mountain, she began to get nervous; but he looked intensely in her eyes, and Nigrovum’s psychic energy radiated from his eyes to hers, calming her instantly.
“You needn’t worry about me,” he said.
“I needn’t worry about you,” she said, in a monotone voice.
An hour later, he took her to his house, a big, beautiful one in a pricey neighbourhood. In his bedroom, as he undressed, he watched her unzip her black evening gown and drop it on the floor, revealing her naked body. She took off her high heels and got on his bed on all fours, with her legs spread out and her ass pushed up so he could see her asshole and pussy. When he was naked, he got on the bed behind her, ready for doggy-style.
He slowly slid his hard-on inside her wet pussy; she sighed as she felt it go in deeper and deeper, rubbing against her G-spot. When he got it all the way in, poking against her A-spot, she let out a loud squeal. He thrust inside her several times, the tip of his cock poking thrilling kisses against her A-spot. She came after less than a minute of that poking, soaking his bedsheets; he didn’t mind.
Since he had her still in a state of passive acceptance of everything he said, he knew she wouldn’t have the will to object to what he was saying.
“You will…vote for me,” he said. “Unh!”
“I will…vote for you,” she said. “Ah!”
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