Misty's Need Ch. 12

It was almost daybreak when Valentina slipped between the wonderfully soft sheets of her huge bed. As she lay there she pushed herself out of herself, down the hallway, and into Misty's mind. She decided that she would sleep with Misty, or to be more precise she would sleep within Misty's mind. She hadn't done such a thing in perhaps centuries, but tonight she was so stricken by the girl that she wanted to sleep with her thoughts and mind wrapped tightly around Misty's. They would, Valentina knew, dream together.

Valentina could see that Misty was no longer inside of herself, that she had left her body and was now simply observing it as it was drifting off to sleep. Valentina understood that Misty's consciousness, ego and identity had flown from her when her need to obey and the level of suffering she could take were no longer able to co-exist. She could obey no more if it meant taking any more, and she could take no more unless she could continue to obey. It was irreconcilable, so Misty left her body, retreating to a place from which she could simply observe.

Valentina slipped into Misty's memory and saw that while her mind broke stepping into the shower, it was the pain in her knees that actually did it. The constant ache in her knees. Dread of a future stretching out years, perhaps decades, always with that constant ache. Emilia pulling her off the toilet, physically putting her on her knees. It was Misty's fear of the future more than the pain that drove her beyond the breaking point.

Valentina understood why Misty had left, but she felt no obligation to do anything about it. The abuse Misty's knees took would not heal overnight, they would begin hurting the second she put weight on them when she awoke. The ache would grow as the night moved on. The next day it would be more of the same. Valentina knew that Misty's fears were justified; she would be in constant pain, for years.

Misty's knees could improve with time Valentina knew, could grow stronger as they became used to holding her weight in a way that they were not designed to do. Misty could also train her mind to better process the pain.

Beyond those meager hopes though, there was little consolation for Misty's poor knees, and Valentina knew in her heart that she liked it that way. She knew that if she caused Misty's knees to continually ache, if she made a point of it even, then she could never be far from Misty's thoughts, for the tormented always associate their suffering with their tormenter.

Valentina wanted Misty on her knees. She didn't enjoy looking at Misty when she was standing, seeing her standing seemed wrong to Valentina, even a bit loathsome. Misty was less, Misty was powerless, Misty was prey. Misty belonged on her knees. Misty, Valentina knew, would be remaining on her knees.

She also cared about what Misty's knees were upon. If Misty were allowed to kneel on a pillow, she could come to see that kneeling on a pillow was normal for her; she could come to expect a pillow. Valentina knew that any expectations must run the other way for Misty. Misty needed to see kneeling on marble, or rocks, or gravel as normal for her, must come to expect to be kneeling on only the most painful of surfaces.

Valentina was a Goddess, Misty her worshiper. Worshipers worshiped from their knees.

She also saw that Misty realized that she had left herself. Misty recognized that she was no longer feeling anything in her body. Misty hadn't felt the icy cold shower on her skin, or enjoyed the gentle scent of the soap she used, but she had watched herself take the shower. She didn't feel anything when Emilia placed the catheter into her, but watched as the tube was slid up into and through her urethra. Misty hadn't felt a thing when her pussy was stapled shut, but had watched with interest as her body was unnaturally violated.

Valentina also saw that Misty was hoping for her body's desecration and destruction. She saw that while Misty observed the torture of her body, Misty's consciousness called out for even more.

As Valentina watched her thoughts, Misty, completely exhausted, fell off to sleep. As she did so, her consciousness returned to her body. Sensing Misty's return, Valentina seized the opportunity to communicate directly with the girl's subconscious mind. She firmly planted the understanding in Misty's mind that from this day forward physical pain would be her constant companion. That she would spend every moment suffering in anguish, and that her pain would not end until she received death's cold embrace.

A minute or two later the first rays of the morning sun broke the horizon, and Valentina too was overtaken, her by death.

Misty dreamed. Valentina watched those dreams as she dreamed.

Misty's dreams were extremely dark. They were of sex and death. Life and decay. Joy and terror. Her dreams were filled with pain, with need, with slick wet pussys, with rubber cocks the size of arms shoved up asses. Her dreams were of shame and humiliation, of degradation, of suffering.

Her dreams were made up of the stuff of nightmares, yet to Misty they were not bad dreams, they were good dreams. Misty dreamed of herself screaming in agony and as she did her cunt ran slick. Misty dreamed of her own abject humiliation and as she did her nipples grew hard.

Misty dreamed of Valentina, of her love for Valentina, of the love she thought she saw for herself in Valentina's eyes. She dreamed of how badly she would suffer because of that love, of how low she would be forced to become as a result of that love. To her it was love, all wrapped within Valentina's embrace.