Bella and The Amulet of Nuzaleft

Pt. 1: What Dreams May Come

Sitting across the table from me is Sigmund Freud. He looks exactly like the famous portraits, and is even in black and white. The only deviation from the photograph is his eyes, which are solid black. "Good evening, Bella," he says to me. His mouth moves like a paper cutout and two things become immediately apparent to me: that I am dreaming, and that this is not really Sigmund Freud.

The table is round and covered in a red table cloth. On the table between us are three cards, face down. I see my hand reach out and turn over the leftmost card. The image is of an open book with ink spilling from its pages and a halo of purple light behind it. "The tome," says the Freud-looking thing, "to start you on your journey."

I nod, then swallow and turn over the middle card. I can feel my heart racing. The second card shows a silver goblet overflowing with dark wine, but the card is upside down. "The boon," intones the Thing in a voice that sounds mingled with the crackling static of a radio, "in its inverted form, a sign of gifts given to others."

"What is this?" My voice is gravely and dry in my throat. The Thing gestures at the third card. I am compelled to flip it with a trembling hand. The final card shows a white marble rectangle perched on black obsidian stairs. "The altar," he says, "for your sacrifice to come."

I blink and I am looking down on myself, in the third person. I see myself lying on my back, on the marble slab from the third card. My arms and legs are chained in a spread-eagle position. I am completely nude, with a vacant look on my face, like I'm in some kind of a trance.

"Bella," I hear a disembodied voice call my name.

"Bella," the voice calls again. I am on my back, holding my knees while a man I don't know thrusts his cock into me. A necklace glimmers around my neck as my b-cup sized breasts bob in time with his thrusts.

"Bella," I hear the voice call, louder this time. I see myself sitting naked on a plush throne. My only piece of clothing is the necklace from before. Three slender, nude women are at my feet, looking doe-eyed up at me. The begin to caress and kiss my legs working their way up my thighs. They are practically clawing at me, desperate to please me.

The women look up at me. They open their mouths and as one, they say "beep beep beep beep... beep beep beep beep."

The me on the throne makes direct eye contact with me, the disembodied observer. My heart is racing, and the women shout "beep beep beep beep... beep beep beep beep" again, louder now.

I awaken with a start to my alarm chiming "beep beep beep... beep beep beep." "Fuck." I mutter to myself. It's time to get ready for the first day of my new job.

I crawl out of bed and peel of my pajamas, tossing them into the hamper. I choose a comfortable, purple thong and a black lace bra. My tits are small enough that I can usually get away without wearing one (much to the annoyance of my roommate, Claire), but on my first day of work I want to look somewhat professional. My reflection in the bathroom mirror catches my eye. I am pale skinned, slender, and about 5'10". My straight, dyed black hair is a mess, sticking up at crazy angles. I pull on a pair of black pants with a dark green plaid design, a black tank top with a rose above my left breast, and a pair of socks. I take a moment to brush my teeth and and smooth out my hair and put on a pair of black boots. I double check that everything looks alright in the mirror; I'm a stickler for good first impressions.

Something tugs at my attention, like a word on the tip of my tongue. I try to recall my dream, but it's already fading from memory. I'm sure there was something about Freud, which makes sense. I'm a psychology major in my senior year. I think maybe there was a sex part to it, but I'm not sure. The details are hazy.

My roommate, Claire has class on Mondays, so I have the apartment to myself. I fix myself a bowl of oatmeal and brew a cup of coffee, pausing to savor the smell of the freshly ground beans. (I'll admit it; I'm a bit of a coffee snob and have spent an embarrassing amount of money on coffee making equipment). After finishing breakfast and leaving the bowls in the sink (filled with soapy water, of course), I hop into my car and pull up the directions to my new job: Mallory's Libarium Obscuram, Rare and Used Occult Books.