Camilla Ch. 096

"Thank you, sir--I mean, Cameron." She stopped crying, got up, and looked around his office, eyeing the books on a shelf on the wall opposite where his desk was. "Wow, you're really smart. You read such interesting stuff."

"Thank you," he said, getting up and joining her. He put his arm around her waist. "So are you, my budding young scholar. I understand you're working on a PhD now."

"Yeah. I wanna be an English lit prof like my daddy, Agape Mennon."

"Oh, that's right. You're his daughter. I remember that story about the crazy ex-priest who killed your dad. How awful."

Shaking from knowing the truth about her father's death, she nonetheless kept up the pretence. "Yeah, that sick bastard. I'll never trust religion again."

"You obviously have a lot of pain in you," Cameron said. "I want you to know that I'm here for you, whenever you need somebody."

"Thank you, Cameron. You're so sweet to me, and such a gentleman. You behaved so well last night when I was stripping for you. I appreciate that; not many guys want to treat strippers with respect."

"I don't see anyone as lower than me, even unfortunate people who do unpleasant work. And I know that underneath that bad girl, there's a lady waiting to come out."

"Standing in her underwear," she said, giggling. "You should come to my home sometime. Let me cook you dinner."

"I'd love that."

"Is there any food that's off-limits to you, for religious, or whatever reasons?"

"Not at all. Make anything you like."

"OK; how about you come over tonight at nine?"

"Perfect," he said.

"Great," she said, getting her new name card out of her purse and giving it to him. It had the address of Candice's old apartment on it, since Camilla was hoping for more than just dinner with Cameron.

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

He arrived at her door in a dark blue suit. She, still blonde, opened the door wide, revealing herself in her birthday suit. "Hi," she said in her 'Kitty' voice again, grinning as she bore it.

"C-Camilla," he said. "I thought you were going to be good."

"I'm being good," she said, stepping aside so he could enter her apartment.

"Naked?" he asked.

"Not completely. I'm wearing high heels for you."

"Very well; you do have something on." She led him to the dinner table, and he sat down. The meal she was cooking was just about ready, and she served it a minute or so later. It was tortellini. He put some in his mouth. "Wow! This is good. What a great cook you are."

"Thanks," she said. The way to a man's heart is through his stomach, she thought.

"When you become a professor," he asked, "What do you want to specialize in? Which writers?"

"Oh, I was thinking maybe Herman Melville. I think Moby-Dick is an amazing novel."

"Wow, that's a hard one."

"Part of my doctoral thesis will cover it."

After dinner, he went into the living room and sat on the sofa. She went into the kitchen, fixed them some Kahlua and milk drinks, and came over to him with them. After setting the drinks on the coffee table, she sat on his lap. He blushed from his erection, which poked at her wet vulva.

"Don't be embarrassed, sir," she said, picking up her drink. "If you weren't hard, I'd be insulted." She took a sip.

"Oh, OK," he said, getting his drink and sipping it.

"You know," she said with a sly smile, "I know a perfect way to cure you of your erection." She put her drink back on the coffee table, then slid down to the floor between his legs.

"Oh? What do you want to do?"

"What do you think?" she asked, looking up in his eyes, grinning lewdly, and putting her fingers on his pants zipper.

"Wait, no."

"You don't want a blow job?" she asked in disbelief.

"Please, don't degrade yourself for me. I-it wouldn't be right."

"How so?"

"I-I'm not worthy of such an honour," he said, frowning. "Don't lower yourself just for me."

"What do you mean you're not worthy? Of course you are," she insisted. "You're a brilliant man. I really admire you as a teacher; I hope to emulate profs like you when I become one. And performing fellatio is my favourite way to show my admiration for a great man like you."

"Oh, come now. I'm nothing." He looked down at the floor with a shamed face.

"Says who?"

"So my father used to say."

"What would he say?"

"Well, he often used to say that I disappointed him. He wanted me to be a businessman or a lawyer, but I loved literature. He called me effeminate and weak for wanting to study such a thing. Nothing I ever did was good enough for him. Not even getting my doctorate would impress him."

"How awful," she said, sensing a profound pain in his heart. "Well, I say his opinions don't count."

"He was my father, Camilla," Cameron said, on the verge of tears. "It's really hard when...your own family won't respect you. You just can't fight that off." He began sobbing.

Camilla knew that kind of pain...all too well. She sat back on his lap and hugged him. Her own mother was never pleased with her; Camilla had wanted to please her father (though in the wrong way), and ended up shaming him. Eros had tried to please her, in the wrong way, too, and it frightened her. She held Cameron and rocked him back and forth like a baby.

Suddenly, it struck her: having qualities of both her father and her son, Cameron would make the ideal husband; Nigrovum truly guided her to the right man. Its power seemed limitless. Camilla psychically felt Cameron's pain, and felt compassion for him, since she'd felt a similar pain throughout much of her life. She looked in his eyes, and really began to love him.

"Let's make love," she said. "If you don't want a blow job, that's OK--maybe some other time. I wanna see if I can heal you through sex."

They went into her bedroom, and he timidly undressed. She lay on the bed on her back, and he, naked, got on top of her in the missionary position.

He slid his hard cock in slowly, looking in her eyes with a mixture of excitement and fear--fear of disappointing her. She looked up at him lovingly, her eyes telling him not to be afraid; she would always accept him.

When he pushed his cock all the way in and poked at her A-spot, she squealed in whistle register.

Startled, he asked, "Did I...hurt you?"

"No," she sighed. "You made...me come. Oh!"

"Oh," he panted. "You're just...sayin' that...to make me...feel better."

"I don't...fake orgasms," she moaned. "Oh! Touch me...down there. You'll know...it was real. Ah!" She came again.

He put his hand between her legs as he kept thrusting; she was soaking wet down there! Was it blood? He brought his hand back up to see--it was come, all right; her come, for he hadn't come yet. He smiled and began fucking more confidently; she smiled to see his new-found confidence. Finally, there was all sex and all love, making Camilla a good girl.

She was now beginning to understand Agape's love for Carrie--a love Camilla had tried to take away from him. She felt pangs of guilt from that realization, but also happiness that she just might finally bring an end to her sex addiction, and have true love, for the first time in her life.

Had Carrie married Agape, she would have taken away so much of his pain. Camilla was remorseful about stopping their marriage, but if she were to marry Cameron, perhaps she might redeem herself, and in death, join her father in the heavenly realms after all.

She came a third time, and he came inside her pussy.

"Uh-oh," he said. "I just came, and without...a condom."

"No matter," she said in sighs. "If I'm pregnant, I can get...an abortion. Or I can have...the baby, if you want."

"It's not what...I want that matters. It's what...you want. You'll be...the pregnant one. What do you want?"

"To make you happy."

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

They continued to date and have sex over the next month, and quickly realized that they were in love. In fact, so impetuous was this love that they decided to get married...and they did, six months later, in the church Don Josiah used to preach in.

Though Eros' Oedipal feelings had been successfully suppressed by Camilla's psychic powers, the boy was still jealous and visibly annoyed with Cameron, his new step-father, this 'intruder' in his life.

Every afternoon when they all came home, living in Camilla's house, Cameron would see the boy and try to win the boy over.

"Hi, Eros," Cameron would say in a friendly, affectionate tone.

Eros would coldly walk away without saying anything, and sensitive Cameron would frown and fight against his discouragement.

Camilla would frown, too, then say something like, "Don't worry, Cameron. He'll learn to love you in time," even though her psychic feelings never gave her any indication that the boy would change his attitude.

Eros would frown from not knowing at all how he could get rid of Cameron, though the boy could always dream...and wish...

Camilla managed to be a good, loyal, and faithful wife for quite some time; indeed, she was quite surprised with her self-control. Focusing all her energy on her doctoral thesis, and replacing sex with meditation, she'd effectively lowered her horniness.

Similarly, she was being terrorized far less frequently by the masked men. They were most annoyed with the draining of their power. One night, they got together in Ontario Premier Garth Van Duyne's house to discuss what would be done with her, during one of their rituals. Nude Mercedes was also with them, being gang-banged by three of them while Garth and the others watched in a circle in his guest room, as they all had with Veronica.

"Our power is fading," Garth said in thinly concealed frustration. "My approval ratings have gone way down."

"It's a problem," a masked man sitting beside him said. "Camilla has actually managed to be monogamous--I can't believe it!"

"She never even got Cameron to switch to supporting the Green Party!" Garth said. "Now that she's quit her stripping job at Club Ritz, apparently for good, she isn't getting any of the men who go there to vote Green Party, either."

"She's moving in the direction of her father, Dr. Singh, and that ex-priest she used to fuck," said a third masked man, sitting on the other side of Garth. "As she gets more and more psychically connected to everything around her, she may find out what we've been doing, and oppose us."

"That's unlikely," Garth said. "We've set up such strong barriers that, even with her developing abilities, she won't know it's been us who have been assailing her over the past few years. Still, without the energy of her nymphomania, we won't ever be as powerful as we've been. Something has to be done."

The men gang-banging Mercedes had pulled their cocks out of her pussy, asshole, and mouth, and were now standing around her in a circle. They briefly jerked themselves off and sprayed bukkake all over her face. She, in a trance, just passively received all that was happening around her.

"What will we do?" asked another masked man.

"First, we'll take care of Mercedes," Garth said, taking out a small knife from his blazer pocket and putting it to her throat. "This should give us at least some power until we get Camilla back." He slit Mercedes' throat, and she fell down on the come-soaked floor, dead. "With this power, we'll send some tempting energy not only to Camilla, but also to Cameron, and even to her son, Eros. It will be done so subtly that she won't know it's been anyone else but herself, her husband, and her son." The masked men visualized their teeth as those of lions, and within seconds, they all had such teeth. "Bon appetit, gentlemen."

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

Camilla was in her bedroom one evening, meditating. She felt a beautiful peace within seconds. Indeed, with each meditation session, she was beginning to sense that infinite ocean, that mystical oneness that Dr. Singh, Agape, and Don used to talk about. Everything around her felt connected with her.

After that initial peace, however, she would increasingly feel a vague anxiety; for now that she was more psychically connected with all the souls of the world, she could more vividly feel those souls in her past that she'd touched...and hurt. She no longer knew only her own memories, but also theirs, along with their experiences, and their pain--a pain she'd often caused.

Indeed, she could feel the killing of Mercedes by--as of then--unknown murderers. That infinite ocean no longer felt like a peaceful sea, but like a perfect storm to drown in, her dead body floating in it aimlessly forever. She vaguely felt the evil presence of the masked men, a black fog enveloping her, but didn't know it was them.

Also, her more fluid, interconnected perception of the world was making her sense of identity less sure, less stable. With her vivid perception of the memories and experiences of others, she no longer felt as though she--Camilla--was a separate entity to be distinguished from all the other entities around her.

She'd always pretended to be other people: there were all her personae--Angel, Kitty, Candy, Marilyn, and Dolly, for example--and her change from blonde to black-haired 'Goth' look seemed like much more than just a physical transformation. But now the boundary between herself and others made it seem almost as though someone else was actually pretending to be her, as well as her being other people. Who was Camilla? Was she someone else? Was she you? Am I Camilla? The pantheistic blurring of the boundaries between Atman and Brahman, where they, you, and I meet, was not at all consoling for her. The more she knew, the less she knew.

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

Garth was meditating in his home that evening, too: he was the one who'd been visualizing that black fog surrounding Camilla, making it so frightening a thing to contemplate that she would be increasingly reluctant to meditate; and he was making her sense that black fog that very evening as well.

Good, he thought; soon, she'll be completely turned off of spirituality, and the old, slutty Camilla will be back, and ours to manipulate once again. That girl's putty in my hands. Next, we'll have to get her to want promiscuous sex again, while thinking it was all her doing, and never suspecting our influence. It shouldn't be too hard.

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

While the masked man had been worried about losing their hold on Camilla back then, they were also worried about losing their power over her in the public aquarium in Montreal.

"Her lust levels are at an all-time low," one masked man said in a house not too far away from the aquarium. "Everything's slowing down. She's deliberately reliving some very non-sexual memories, and going through them very slowly, to reduce her lust. This can't go on, for we won't get that tank water to have as much lust-energy as we'd planned. What are we going to do?"

"She has a definite plan," said another masked man. "She finally knows what we're doing, now that she's reliving all her old memories, and is seeing what she hadn't seen before. She's trying to stop us."

"She won't succeed," the Prime Minister said, adjusting his mask. "As she continues figuring out what happened to get her naked body hovering over the water of that fish tank, she will have to relive some very sexy memories...and some sexy memories are soon coming."