Camilla Ch. 106byMawrGorshin©
Unconscious Camilla was in the middle of reliving a memory from two years before the aquarium incident. She was thirty-five at the time, and doing a lecture on The Taming of the Shrew for her students in a classroom in McGill University.
"Female audiences don't need to be offended by Kate's speech, advocating wives' subservience to their husbands, at the end of the play," Camilla said. "For none of the story of Kate and Petruchio matters. Remember that it is a play within a play, a farce put on to entertain Christopher Sly, the real shrew who needs to be tamed at the beginning, in the Induction."
A number of Camilla's female students, who had feminist sympathies, weren't convinced.
Camilla continued: "The Induction, as short and brief as it is, is the real play, not the farce that comes after, even though the Kate and Petruchio story takes up most of the time of the whole thing. Nobody would say that the brief 'Pyramis and Thisby' play within A Midsummer Night's Dream is the real story there; nor would anyone say the brief play staged before King Claudius, 'The Murder of Gonzago', is the main story in Hamlet. The length or brevity of a play-within-a-play does not determine whether it's the real story or not. The play-within-a-play is always a theatrical illusion, a non-reality Shakespeare was particularly sensitive to as a playwright. The play-within-a-play is never real, so ultimately, it doesn't matter what happens in it."
One of the young women put up her hand. "If the story of Kate doesn't matter, why make it the vast majority of the play's length?" she asked.
"To trick the audience, that's why," Camilla answered. "This whole play is about deception and denial of reality. Christopher Sly, a common drunk, is found asleep on a chair in a tavern. He is taken upstairs to a bedroom, had his modest attire switched with that of a wealthy man, and when he wakes up in bed, everyone tells him he's woken up from a coma, a coma he'd been in for years. They trick him into thinking that he's a lord, and that his memory of his whole life as a common oaf was just a dream."
"Yeah, I know that," the female student said. "But what does that have to do with not worrying about the misogynist speech at the end of the play?"
"Everything in this play is a deception, and a denial of reality," Camilla went on. "Lucentio tricks Bianca's father, Baptista, into thinking Lucentio's a Latin teacher, instead of a suitor for Bianca. Petruchio denies Kate's perception of everything, that well-cooked food is badly cooked, that the time of day isn't what it is, that the sun is the moon, and that Lucentio's father--an old man--is a pretty young woman. If all of that is deception, all illusion, then so is the idea of woman's subservience to man in Kate's ending speech. Sly is tricked into thinking he's a lord, a master, when really, he's nothing; the same is true for husbands. However they may thump their chests in public, when their wives get them home, the men shut up. Shakespeare, with his deep understanding of human nature, knew this reality of the sexes, and he shows it here, if indirectly."
"I think I understand now," the girl said.
"Dream and reality: which is which?" Camilla asked, looking up at the ceiling. "Sly must have been asking himself that question as he watched the Kate and Petruchio farce, before falling asleep again. When do we see illusion, and when do we see the truth? So often, illusion and reality get switched around, as was the case with Sly, and with so many other characters in this play." Camilla now looked at her class with a rather far-away, almost trance-like look in her eyes. "When I was a little girl, about ten, I fell into a coma; I don't remember when I woke up from it, and that's strange, because normally I remember just about everything. I was certainly dreaming during the coma, a long coma...I'm not sure how long..." She gazed up at the ceiling again.
Her students were looking askance at her.
"Is she okay?" one male student asked his neighbour.
"I've heard other students of hers say she's been going nuts like this ever since her husband died," said another student.
That night, Camilla was at home, and she went up to Eros' bedroom. The 16-year-old had finished his homework, and was looking at pictures on his computer. He sensed her coming, and used Nigrovum to alter the image of a woman that was on his monitor--changing her face in particular.
Camilla barged into his room, her psychic powers making her suspicious that he was up to no good.
"Sweetie," she said as she approached his computer. "What are you up to?"
"I'm just doing a report on Gustav Klimt," he lied, while psychically blocking her with the utmost subtlety, so she wouldn't suspect the lie. She looked at the monitor, which showed the painting Danae.
"I see," she said, and feeling her suspicion fade away, she left his room.
Now that 37-year-old Camilla was reliving these memories, and in her expanded consciousness she could see what hadn't been revealed to her before, she realized Eros had been lying. The picture on his computer screen wasn't Klimt's Danae: it was a page from camillacome.com.
Camilla woke up in a shock, finding herself still hovering naked over the water tank in the public aquarium, and being gang-banged by the ghosts of her former lovers. Her large audience was still all there, gawking at her like TV-watching zombies, and getting video of her. The international media was still covering the event, and her come virtually never stopped gushing out of her pussy in an arc into the water below.
The ghost of Dr. Lawson was fucking her pussy; his large invisible cock was making her squeal and scream, more from instinctive pleasure than from fear. Alain's ghost was fucking her ass, his invisible cock gently massaging her anal walls and making her sigh. Desiree's ghost was sucking on her left nipple while Mercedes' invisible lips were sucking on Camilla's right nipple--both tits were pointing at attention. Joey's invisible cock was slipping in and out of Camilla's salivating mouth.
As pleasurable as the physical sensations were for her, the sight of the ghosts' threatening, revengeful eyes--eyes only she, other ghosts, and other psychics could see--was much more frightening for her. Even though the ghosts all knew the masked men were responsible for their afterlife woes, they still blamed Camilla for tempting them into this eternal nightmare with her charms.
The lechers up on the ledge, all with their cell-phone cameras out, never stopped getting video of poor, degraded Camilla. They all tried to get a close-up, detailed image of her gaping pussy and asshole, and of the expression of humiliation on her face as she helplessly watched them all ogle her. The cameras all caught an image of her with her legs spread wide open and up over either side of her head, with her agape pussy-lips and anal lips slightly widening and contracting, like the lips of a fish, or of a smoker blowing smoke rings. Her erect nipples would bob up and down slightly in reaction to the sucking lips of Desiree's and Mercedes' ghosts. Camilla's eyes showed near despair as they helplessly beheld the lascivious smiles of all those men pointing their cameras at her naked body. She couldn't even frown, so busy was her mouth taking in Joey's invisible cock, feeling it poke a bulge against her right cheek, and her kissing and licking the knob.
Among all of Camilla's living watchers, only one looked on with compassion instead of lust. His name was Armand, one of Dr. Singh's former AIDS patients.
HIV-positive, he'd gone to Vancouver from Los Angeles a week before, and he received a small portion of Singh's Nigrovum-enhanced blood in a shot. He and Singh meditated together, visualizing Armand completely cured, and the HIV virus in him disintegrated within seconds of their most focused meditation.
Overjoyed at having a new chance at life, Armand asked, "Dr. Singh, how did you find this miraculous Nigrovum?"
"I didn't find it, actually," Singh said. "A girl I know found it over two decades ago on the Vancouver grass; her name is Camilla Mennon-Fox. Back when she was living here in Vancouver, she and I had sex, and ironically, she passed Nigrovum on to me, as if it were an STD. When I learned of the amazing healing abilities I'd acquired from it with the aid of visualization, I tried it out as a cure for sexually-transmitted diseases. I was amazed at how quickly and easily it can cure all diseases, including AIDS. But I had to make sure that the patients I cured had good hearts, so as not to misuse this power once they had it. That's why I had to make sure you were a good man before offering you the cure. Otherwise, you might have gone back to your old promiscuous ways, or done something worse with it."
"Oh, I'll never go back to my old player ways again, Doctor, I promise you," Armand said. "But where is Camilla now? What's she doing?"
"Actually, she is in a terrible predicament in a Montreal aquarium," Singh said. "Though Nigrovum ensured she'd never catch any STD, or any other disease for that matter, Nigrovum itself has become a disease for her. She developed an addiction to sex that has made her a slave to higher powers. Do you believe in God, or spirits, or the afterlife?"
"Yes, absolutely," Armand said. "I was raised a Catholic. Has the devil got her under his power?"
"You could call it the devil, or you could call it devilish men who have found Nigrovum, and used it to further their own nefarious purposes. It can give you almost unlimited powers; that's why I had to make sure you had a good heart before exposing you to this power. If you use this power irresponsibly, as Camilla did, it can destroy you, as it currently is destroying her."
"How can I help this girl? She saved my life; I want to save hers."
"Meditate with me some more," Singh said.
In between many meditation sessions over the next few days, Singh explained the whole problem with Camilla being controlled by the masked men, and that the masked men were controlling the Green Parties of all the countries of the Western world. He explained how she had been hovering naked over a water tank in the Montreal aquarium, incessantly gang-banged by spirits. Armand found this story hard to believe at first, but as he continued meditating with Singh, he could psychically feel the reality of the spirit world, and of how one could influence almost anything and anyone if one's psychic powers were developed enough.
During the many meditations, Armand was also quickly beginning to sense the interconnectedness of the universe, how it felt like an infinite ocean, with psychic waves vibrating everywhere--from his body outward, and into his body from outside. He no longer felt like an isolated ego: he recognized his body as a mass of energy at one with the energy all around him; this knowledge gave him a peace he'd never felt before. He came to love the mystic oneness of humanity.
He also soon began to have visions of the afterlife, with the heavenly and hellish realms arranged in a circular continuum, like the ouroboros biting its tail. He understood the cyclical nature of reality and of all opposites. This spiritual reality was far more profound than any he'd learned in church.
After almost a week of diligent, tireless meditating, Armand said, "I want to go to Montreal and help Camilla there."
"You can help her here, as we have been with my other cured AIDS patients," Singh said.
"Yes, but not as well as I could over there," Armand insisted.
"That is true," Singh acknowledged. "Your physical presence there will strengthen the effectiveness of your psychic powers. But I sense you have another reason to go there."
"Of course. I want to see Camilla in person."
"It's easy to see why you would. She's very beautiful, very sexy, and very naked up there," Singh said. "But I don't think you should go; you may get tempted away from your spiritual progress."
"No, I won't," Armand said. "I know the dangers of catching life-threatening diseases from sex, and I don't want to get any of Camilla's lust-energy. I feel compassion for her, and I want to help her."
"You love her," Singh added.
"Yes, but in a good way, I promise."
Sensing sincerity and conviction in Armand's thoughts, Singh said, "Very well, then. Go to Montreal. But be aware of how powerful the masked men are, and of how difficult it will be to save her."
When Armand saw the naked woman hovering over the water tank with her legs spread out, spewing come, with her pussy and asshole gaping, was he turned on? She certainly was beautiful, with a flawless body: black hair and eyes, like the Latinas he used to enjoy back in his sexually rapacious days, but also with 'Goth' pale skin; though she was 37, she looked 25. He understood how one can use Nigrovum to slow ageing, so this age disparity didn't surprise him. He felt no visceral shock at seeing her hovering in mid-air, either, for Dr. Singh had told him all about the masked men, and their formidable collective psychic power.
Armand also saw the irony of Nigrovum in its most vividly poignant way: it had cured him of an STD, but for Camilla, Nigrovum was an STD. This ordeal she was going through was her AIDS, and since she'd cured him--indirectly through Singh as a mediator--now Armand could repay her by using Nigrovum to cure her of the ill effects of Nigrovum. How like the paradoxical ouroboros conception of opposites: the cure, the serpent's biting head, had become the disease, the serpent's bitten tail; and ironically, more of the 'disease' would cure her of the disease, with his spiritual energy replacing her lust-energy.
But was he lusting after this naked woman? Surprisingly, this formerly sexually ravenous man wasn't. The spiritual connectedness he'd developed through his constant meditating made him focus on her pain and her fear, feelings he'd been freed of only recently. Though she was exciting to look at--during his old Don Juan days, he'd have wanted to ravish such a delicious naked girl on the spot--his pity overrode his lust. The resulting synthesis? He fell in love with her immediately.
At this point, a new group of spirits were gang-banging Camilla. Gone were the ghosts of Lawson, Alain, Joey, Desiree, and Mercedes: now Camilla had Danny's spirit fucking her soaking wet pussy; Mr. Patterson's invisible cock was sliding in and out of her ass; Mr. Finch's ghost had wrapped her tits around his invisible cock; and Calina's invisible hairy pussy was in Camilla's face, with Camilla's tongue flickering quickly against Calina's hard clit. Camilla's come kept pouring out into the water below.
About twenty seconds after one particularly large gushing of come, which caused a chorus of cheers from her enthralled audience, Camilla began pissing into the water again in a beautiful, golden arc.
"Alright!" shouted one lecher as he brought his cell-phone camera closer to indulge his urolagnia. "It's raining again!"
"This is porno heaven!" said the man getting video beside the first man. "This is all going online. An epic porno film!"
Camilla's body was shaking back and forth like a bronc rider as the invisible cocks of Patterson's and Danny's ghosts were ramming in and out of her gaping wet holes, faster and more aggressively. Her shaking head and flickering tongue, ever stimulating Calina's invisible cunt, made her look like Linda Blair in The Exorcist. The pressing of Finch's invisible hands against her tits as he squeezed them around his cock fascinated her viewers, too. The bottom of her tits would push up every time Finch pushed his cock up against them.
"Check it out," a third lecher with a cell-phone camera said. "A ghost's hands are squeezing her tits...look! She's getting tit-fucked."
How was Armand able to resist the temptation all her other viewers were so joyfully giving in to? The more selfless you are, the less power the masked men can have over you. They can control you only a little, for relatively brief periods of time, if you have no Nigrovum in you; the more you have in you, the more they can control you. Her viewers had no Nigrovum in them, but the fascinating sight of Camilla in itself was enough to keep them watching; and if they ever got tired and wanted to go home, the masked men would use their collective power to revive her viewers' lust. By the time the masked men's power had let up on the viewers, they were already hooked into watching her all by themselves.
The spread of the Nigrovum in Camilla's come into other people's blood was crucial to the masked men's success. The lust-energy, and fear-energy, in the Nigrovum she transmitted sexually made other people more ego-driven, which was the opposite of how Armand, Agape, Don, Mr. Pierce, and Dr. Singh were. This is why the masked men failed with controlling mystics, but succeeded eerily with everyone else.
Armand sensed Camilla's feelings of near despair, but also her inhibitions from fully indulging in that despair. He sensed the mental torture she was going through. One thing the masked men couldn't do was stop a victim from dying; but they could do something close to that--dissuade a victim from feeling despair through fear of the hellish realms in the afterlife. This is how they kept Camilla alive, as they did all the other nymphos they were controlling all around the world.
Sensing the psychic powers of Singh and his former AIDS patients, as well as the spirits of Agape, Don, and Candice in their efforts to keep the glass of the water tank from breaking, Armand wanted to help his new love. Disgusted at all the lechers on the upper level getting video of her spread on their cell-phone cameras, he tried to use Nigrovum to turn the cameras off. He couldn't, and he sensed the presence of a man far more adept at using Nigrovum than he was. He tried to turn the cameras off again with his psychic powers; again, that other man was blocking his power.
Frustrated, Armand attempted another tactic: he visualized those ghosts being pulled off of Camilla's body. He focused and concentrated as hard as he could, and for a brief moment, the ghosts were surprised to feel themselves slowly coming off of her body. Camilla felt Calina's pussy move up from her mouth, and Camilla's tongue was given a much-needed rest. Patterson's and Danny's cocks slid out of her asshole and pussy; she would have preferred to feel them inside her, though. Finch's hands had let go of her tits, and she got a rest from the soreness they'd been feeling.
"What?" she said. "Am I being freed?" She looked around at whoever was helping her; her psychic powers guided her to look over towards the back of the upper ledge, behind all the lechers with their cell-phone cameras. She couldn't quite see Armand, but she knew help was back there.
Seconds later, though, those ghosts came back down on her, and Armand felt a psychic knock on his head, making him fall back against the wall. The gang-banging of Camilla resumed, and Armand looked down into the observation area of the aquarium, where he sensed the presence of the man who'd been interfering with him. He saw a man with the mask of an ancient Greek comic actor hiding his face. Armand looked back up at Camilla, who had just come another wad into the water tank.