Enshrined

He could tell from her body language that she was spent. She seemed to have difficulty holding her head up, and there was an unsteadiness in how she supported her weight on her arms and legs. Yet despite the fact that they were obviously finished, Chaarvi showed no sign that she was about to relax.

It was curious behavior, but Simon couldn't deny that it made for a wonderful view, seeing her in that position. And that's when he understood what Chaarvi was doing: she was making a point!

She was demonstrating how deeply committed she was to satisfying all his sexual desires. Despite her exhaustion from the sex she'd just had, Chaarvi was still offering herself to him. It was a message: she was completely at his disposal. Whenever he wanted, whatever he wanted, she would always oblige. Even when her body was exhausted, her dedication to serving him would never waver.

Simon reflected upon a conversation they'd had on Saturday, about him being her shrine, and what that meant to her. At the time, Simon hadn't understood much of what Chaarvi tried to explain to him. In particular, he struggled to accept her claims that she was comfortable with her mental enslavement.

But actions speak much louder than words. Now, bearing witness to her confidence and resolve as she offered her privates to him, he finally understood.

Chaarvi took genuine pleasure and pride in being his servant; particularly in being his sexual servant. It was a solemn duty. And for her, duty wasn't a burden; quite the opposite, in fact. She enjoyed her newfound role. Nothing was more important to her than pleasing her master. Nothing made her happier, either.

At last, Simon was beginning to understand some of the more elusive truths about what it meant to be Chaarvi's shrine. It was okay for him to use his mind control powers to play out his sexual fantasies with her. He wasn't taking advantage of Chaarvi; he was helping her to find some sort of spiritual fulfillment.

It may have been unusual, but it was a healthy arrangement, and Chaarvi enjoyed it. Simon had nothing to feel guilty about.

He reached out with his left hand once again and stroked the slick, pink threshold of her sex with his fingertip. Chaarvi sighed softly.

Regrettably, Simon was far too spent to go another round with her - even just using his fingers. But he wanted to share a 'close' moment with her, all the same.

He stepped around to her side and took her gently by the hand. Chaarvi stood upright and turned to face him, with a warm, confident smile upon her face. Her beauty floored him, every time he laid eyes upon her. With a sigh of joy, he reached up to brush a long tendril of her messy, post-coital hair away from her left eye.

"I think I get it," he informed her with a pensive nod, indicating that he had understood the underlying message of her provocative display.

Chaarvi's eyes sparkled with absolute devotion as she held his gaze. She wrapped her arms around his head, pursed her lips, and leaned in, seemingly to kiss him. Simon leaned in to meet her. Just as their lips made contact, she spoke:

"...And you can get it whenever you want," she whispered sensuously, just to drive the point home, "master."

It was the sort of remark that would make any man's heart race, even a man still recuperating from an epic climax.

She quit teasing him and gave him the tender kiss he was waiting for.

That word, "master," echoed awkwardly once again through Simon's mind. It would certainly take some getting used to. It still felt strange, but it was also exciting; like he was venturing out of his comfort zone, and in to some delicious fantasy which he'd long been conditioned to conceal in shame.

As they made out, Chaarvi backed up until the edge of the table was pressed into her thighs. Simon reached down behind her and began to fondle her buttocks. Chaarvi drew him closer, until his limp cock was pressed against her moist snatch. Those two bits were practically best friends by now.

Simon always relished holding Chaarvi's tender body in his arms. But this afternoon, it was a different sensation. This girl in his arms wasn't just some gorgeous babe under his control. Now, he understood: she was his girl.

He was a lucky, lucky man.

Chapter 8

Concentrating in class had become much easier for Simon, since he began his sexual relationship with Chaarvi. Repressing all those desires had been driving him crazy. But now, he finally felt like he was able to properly focus on his schoolwork again.

Nonetheless, there were still moments when he found himself hopelessly captivated by the phenomenal babe on the opposite side of the lecture hall.

Little Gray Mouse. That was his private pet name for Chaarvi's retiring alter-ego, since her fashion scheme was predominantly gray, and her persona was so mousy.

She was still the most beautiful girl on campus, as far as Simon was concerned. But he couldn't ignore the fact that she was going to pains to make herself dreadfully unattractive.

"Why?" he pondered, as he gazed at her dreamily. "Why do you hide yourself away like that?"

Chaarvi was a strong, fiercely intelligent, charming woman. She was gorgeous inside and out. Simon couldn't fathom why she was so determined to hide all that from the world. And she was clearly very determined.

"Those glasses are fake, aren't they?" he speculated.

She never wore her glasses when they were alone together in his apartment, and he'd never noticed the slightest hint of any vision problems from her.

"If those glasses are fake, adjust them," he mentally commanded her.

Sure enough, Chaarvi reached up and nonchalantly readjusted her glasses. As with many of his commands, she didn't seem to realize the impulse came from Simon.

"I knew it!" Simon gently congratulated himself. "You only wear them to make yourself look ugly.

"Why?"

This wasn't the first time he had mulled over the motives behind Chaarvi's frumpy disguise. Ever since he discovered her true nature, all those weeks ago, he had often wondered why she worked so hard to make herself unattractive.

Over this past week, he'd been so preoccupied with the world-rocking sex, he hadn't given the matter much thought. But this morning, it had been brought back to the forefront of his mind.

Just before dawn, after a lazy, early morning round of lovemaking, Simon watched as Chaarvi buttoned herself up in that outfit. She was eager to get back to her own dorm before the rest of the town woke up.

He'd already witnessed this routine three times over the past week. But this morning, Simon was struck by its uncomfortable similarities to a "walk of shame." It completely sank the post-orgasmic buzz he'd been savoring.

Chaarvi had explained how sacred he was to her, being her shrine. So Simon was convinced that she wasn't actually ashamed of being his lover. So how come she seemed so anxious to prevent anybody else from finding out about them? The question troubled him greatly.

Once she'd gotten dressed, she paused ominously in place, before turning her head and gazing up at him with gentle, expectant eyes that seemed to beg, "What do you want from me, master?"

Simon quickly realized that the reason she hadn't left was because he wasn't allowing her to leave. He didn't like seeing his beautiful lover creeping out of his apartment in the small hours of the morning, like a criminal; hence, she was compelled to stay.

Although he was eager to understand her behavior, Simon realized that, with Chaarvi so clearly in a hurry to get home, it wasn't the right time for them to have that conversation. He forced himself to release the mental restraint he'd unwittingly imposed upon her, and allowed her to leave freely. Chaarvi thanked him with a tender smile, before briskly disappearing out his front door.

Sitting over his breakfast table all alone that morning, Simon continued to ponder the mysterious relationship between the real Chaarvi, and the Little Gray Mouse who had just fled his apartment. Why did that gorgeous, confident woman, who had greeted him in that sexy chemise the previous evening, feel the need to hide herself away in public?

Even now, sitting in class, Simon couldn't help but feel disappointed, gazing at Chaarvi from across the room.

Why wasn't she sitting beside him? Aren't boyfriends and girlfriends supposed to sit together, when they share a class? Why were they putting on this charade that they didn't even know one another?

The random dude sitting beside him was such a poor substitute for the warm company of the girl of his dreams.

But even though he missed being close to her, Simon was able to control his thoughts well enough that he didn't accidentally summon Chaarvi over to his side. He contented himself that he would get to spend plenty of time with her again that evening.

In fact, Simon had hardly given any accidental commands to Chaarvi since they established their sexual relationship a week ago.

There was a newfound serenity in his feelings towards Chaarvi now, and a capacity for patience. Waiting a few hours to be with her was far easier to cope with than the belief that he could never be with her, ever.

* * * * *

Simon let out a deep, contented sigh.

Chaarvi was draped lazily over his right-hand side, padding soft kisses upon his cheek, jaw and shoulder. Her womanhood was well filled with yet another fresh load of his seed.

With his left hand, he began to gently caress the hair flowing back from around her temple. In moments like this, Simon could scarcely believe that this was his life; it was more like he'd died and gone to heaven.

"You're so beautiful," he gently mused.

He'd said those exact same words to her dozens of times over the past week, mostly while kissing her naked body all over, in a frenzy of lust; or while thrusting inside her, on the verge of orgasm. But it deserved repeating, outside of all that hormonal anarchy, so that Chaarvi would know he really meant it, and so that Simon could remind himself how fortunate he was.

Chaarvi grinned broadly, closed her eyes, and bashfully turned away, hiding her face against his shoulder for a moment.

She was beautiful! So beautiful... And as Simon reflected upon that, he was reminded of the many questions that had plagued his mind that morning, about why she insisted on hiding her beauty from the rest of the world.

"Can I ask you a question?" he said, with an air of seriousness.

Chaarvi smiled cheerfully and shrugged.

Simon paused for a long moment, as he tried to figure out the most diplomatic way of asking Chaarvi why she always wore such butt-ugly clothes.

"Why do you dress... so... conservatively?" he managed to ask.

Chaarvi chuckled briefly. "You mean, 'Why do I wear such butt-ugly clothes?'" she replied in good humor.

"Whoa! 'Butt-ugly clothes?'" Simon thought, amazed by her choice of words, "That's exactly what I was thinking! Great minds... Oh, right! The mental link!" he suddenly realized. Because of his power, Chaarvi was compelled to answer the question he really wanted to ask her; not the question he actually asked.

Chaarvi sighed deeply and rested her head upon his shoulder. She wasn't upset, but the question had definitely sobered them out of their post-coital haze.

"You remember, that first morning, I told you how the Kundalini I get from you stabilizes my soul, and prevents me from inflicting mental trauma on other people?" she reminded him.

"Hmm. Vaguely," Simon acknowledged.

She'd given him a lot to digest that first morning. Being told that she was a Hindu demi-goddess, and that he had complete mental control over her were the two key points that had stuck. He didn't remember much else.

"Yeah, well, that's really only half the story," Chaarvi continued.

"See, I have a partially-divine soul, but wrapped in a regular mortal body, and walking around the mortal world. This environment was never meant to handle such intense energy. When I'm out in the world, I'm like a tornado barreling down Main Street.

"Most people's souls can't withstand it. They go mad - lose all awareness of who they are, or where they are. They can lose all train of rational thought. Suffer intense, uncontrollable emotions. Any of the above, or even all of the above.

"It's possible my energy could even tear a soul right out of its body; kill someone..." she lamented.

"The Kundalini is a stabilizing force. It smooths the turbulence out of my energy and makes it much less destructive; which means I won't inadvertently harm the people around me... Unless... they start paying attention to me.

"See, I'm harmless enough when I'm just floating around in the background. But when you start to notice me... when you wonder about me... when you interact with me... you're allowing me to affect you. You're opening your own soul to the energy of mine. It's sort of like the difference between seeing the world in daylight, and staring directly into the sun. One's okay; the other will do you real damage.

"So, I can't afford to have people notice me. I have to be that unattractive, boring loser that everybody just wants to ignore.

"That's why I wear such butt-ugly clothes, master. That's why I avoid everybody and keep to myself. I can't afford to be interesting. People would get hurt.

Simon laid beneath her in silence, contemplating what she'd just told him with extreme skepticism. Of course, he knew Chaarvi would never knowingly lie to him. But he simply couldn't accept that she was the public menace she had just described herself as. She was lovely!

"But... that doesn't make any sense," he protested. "I've been paying attention to you for weeks. We've spent every night together for the last seven days... and I'm fine! I feel amazing, as a matter of fact."

"Well yeah, sure, you're my shrine," Chaarvi quickly countered. "I could never harm you. You're protected by the Kundalini channel that runs through you.

"Structurally reinforced to withstand extreme spiritual events," she added with a facetious smirk.

"Oh? I didn't know Bechtel had branched out into religion?" Simon responded, deadpan.

"Oh yeah!" Chaarvi replied, "Anywhere there's a profit to be had."

They both chuckled softly, as Simon absently caressed Chaarvi's upper back. He was more convinced than ever: she couldn't possibly be as harmful as she had made herself out to be. Any woman with such a bubbly sense of humor had to be a gift to the people who knew her, not a curse. So why did Chaarvi believe such horrible things about herself?

"I'm not making this up," she asserted in a gentle, yet serious tone. It was almost as if she could feel Simon's skepticism and felt compelled to justify her claims. She lifted her head, to make eye contact with him. Simon could see how serious she was.

"You remember how Henderson held me back after class last Tuesday?" Chaarvi asked with some hesitation.

Simon nodded.

"And did you notice we had a substitute for the rest of the week?" she prompted.

"Hmm. I guess," Simon answered with a shrug. "To be honest, I was sort of zoned out for those last couple days. I had other things on my mind," he told her warmly, while caressing the side of her face.

Chaarvi tried to maintain her serious expression, but Simon managed to draw a coy smirk from her lips with his flirting.

"Then I guess you didn't pick up any of the gossip around campus about what happened on Tuesday afternoon?" she asked.

"No," Simon shook his head curiously.

"Well, apparently, at the end of the day, Henderson walks over to his car," Chaarvi began, "tries to unlock the door. He struggles with the key for a couple seconds - no big deal, you know? And then all of a sudden he just starts beating the living shit out of the car!"

Simon's eyebrows peaked in amazement. He wondered for a second if he'd misheard her.

"He's punching the doors and the frame, kicking them, smashing them with his briefcase," Chaarvi continued, "He shatters one of the rear windows and sets off the alarm. Cracks the rear windscreen. Puts more dents in the body than anyone can count. All the while, yelling like a psycho.

"Campus security show up, and he's so out of control, they're afraid to approach him. So they just stand back until he looks like he's starting to calm down.

"By the time they finally manage to get him under control, he's red as a tomato, he's sweating, his hair looks like Doc Brown's. His glasses are gone: they fell off his face while he was beating up his car; he's trampled on them without even noticing...

"A couple of juniors who saw him less than a minute before it all started reckon he was fine. He smiled at them and said, 'Good Afternoon.' But then, all of a sudden, he snaps! Just because he has a little trouble opening his door."

Simon listened intently, staring at his ceiling in wide-eyed silence. It was a disturbing story. He liked Professor Henderson. But he liked Chaarvi a whole lot more. It was deeply unsettling to think that she might have played some unwilling role in Henderson's outburst.

"Anyway, the dean came out to see what the hell was going on. Henderson, apparently, looked as confused as everybody else. Even he has no idea why he's just beaten the shit out of his own car.

"The dean put him on sick leave for the rest of the week and told him to go home and get some rest," Chaarvi concluded with a shrug.

"No shit," Simon muttered tensely.

"Oh wait, it gets worse!" Chaarvi told him. "He goes home. Then later that night, his neighbors hear screams coming from his house. They call 911. The cops show up, hear the screams, and break the door down!"

Simon lifted his head and gazed down at Chaarvi in astonishment.

"Well, it turned out it was Henderson's wife screaming, but... they weren't unhappy screams," she said with a smirk.

"Are you fucking serious?" Simon asked.

"Yep," Chaarvi nodded. The mirthful grin spreading across her face instantly lifted Simon's spirits.

"Gianni Stronzo's cousin's a cop. He reckons it's the best call-out story anyone in the station can remember."

Simon never hung out with Gianni Stronzo. But he knew him by reputation. He was the last guy on campus you'd want to know about your personal business. If Gianni knew something on Tuesday, the entire college would know about it by Wednesday.

"Apparently, it took her a full thirty seconds to realize there were a couple of speechless cops standing in her bedroom doorway, watching them 'get busy'. And even then, she couldn't get him to stop until he'd completely finished..."

Simon and Chaarvi both laughed their way through the uncomfortable mental imagery of the story.

"Holy fuck," Simon whimpered, lost for any other words.

Chaarvi sighed. "But see, master, that's what I do to people. I unhinge them, damage them, make them lose themselves. More often than not, the results are pretty gruesome.

"Henderson spent less than five minutes staring into me, grilling me about some stupid assignment; and it completely overwhelmed him. I turned his mind into anarchy. And he was lucky! If he'd been exposed to me much more, he could've had a major psychotic break, which he might never have fully recovered from!"

A somber silence descended upon the room. Chaarvi had given Simon more to digest than he'd bargained for.

He no longer doubted Chaarvi's claims about the danger she posed to others. It was a troubling discovery, for sure. And yet, as he laid comfortably beneath her naked body, basking in her sublime warmth and softness, Simon was greatly reassured to realize that his feelings towards her hadn't changed at all. She was still profoundly beautiful; the girl of his dreams. There was nowhere else he would've rather been than in bed with her.