tagMind ControlCamilla Ch. 091

Camilla Ch. 091


On the third day of Camilla's ongoing ordeal at the Montreal aquarium, the spirits of some of her former young adult male followers, and the spirit of a former prof, were gang-banging her. Her naked body, held up by the mental powers of the masked men, still hovered over the surface of the water of a tank; while none of her mesmerized voyeuristic watchers had left the scene.

To those who knew she was 37 years old, that she looked no older than 25 was almost as much of a shock as what they all saw happening to her. Now very few people, apart from the masked men, Dr. Singh, and his fellow researchers, knew about the seemingly limitless powers of Nigrovum. Such knowledge was deemed dangerous by Singh and his peers, out of a fear that many more people would suffer Camilla's fate; such knowledge was also deemed dangerous by the masked men, who jealously guarded their power, for the sake of the worldwide hegemony they were plotting.

The cameras of global news media were still filming Camilla, reporters never stopped talking about her, and lechers continued getting video of her on their cell-phone cameras. A dozen or so of such lechers, make and female, were crowding that upper ledge, pointing their cameras at her wide-open spread, and greedily getting video of her gaping pussy and asshole as she got stuffed with invisible cock.

Her breasts were being pushed together by invisible hands, and an invisible cock slid up and down between her breasts. Another invisible cock went in and out of her mouth, making her left cheek puff out and pull in, out and in, out and in. Her come and piss continued to pour out in an arc into the water that lay inches below her body.

Getting used to your 'natural smells', bitch? the spirit of the young man pumping her pussy psychically asked her.

We had to get used to it, added the spirit of the boy fucking her mouth. Now you can.

Enjoying your exhibitionism? the prof's spirit, fucking her ass, mentally asked her.

You like everyone looking at your body, added the spirit of her tit-fucker, a young classmate of hers from her third university year. Now you've got it.

Camilla, let go of your life, Agape's spirit urged her. The water tank is reaching capacity. It'll flood the whole viewing area before long.

We've tried psychically dissolving your come and piss, Candice's spirit added; but we can only disintegrate so much of it. The masked men are limiting our power to help you. Between the spirits of the dead ones and those still living, there are simply too many of those bastards for us to handle. Only you giving up your life will stop the overflowing of the tank.

Yes, only your cooperation will help us to succeed, Don's spirit psychically told her.

I'm too scared, Camilla mentally told her friends. The afterlife is too terrifying for me to face.

It may not be an actual afterlife, Dr. Singh began to explain in a psychic communication from Vancouver. One of my colleagues, who is researching Nigrovum with me, agrees that what's in our body fluids are millions of microscopic alien life forms; but his atheism makes him reject the idea that a soul survives us when we die. He believes it's the Nigrovum that's living on--not your father, Don, or Candice, or any of your deceased lovers; he believes the black, ovoid life forms have absorbed the identities and desires of your former lovers. Nigrovum is raping you, not them.

No, Ravinder, Camilla protested, it's really my old lovers' souls. They really exist.

We all really exist, Agape, Don, and Candice insisted.

Please don't doubt that that's my conviction, too, Dr. Singh told them. My colleague's atheist bias closes his mind to the spirit world; of course, he counters that my religious bias closes my mind to his views about Nigrovum. For what it's worth, anyway, his is an alternative explanation.

Mentally let go, Camil, Candice told her. We'll save you. Please have faith in us.

Camilla ignored Candice, and let her consciousness float away, to relive more old memories, and escape her present predicament. Her out-of-body visions brought her back seventeen years into the past, when she was twenty years old, and two weeks into her third university year at York in Toronto. Through Nigrovum's slowing of her ageing, though, she had the body of a girl who was only 19 years and four months old. She had been living in Agape's old house for some time now, having inherited it from him.

One morning, before leaving the house to go to school , she picked up one-year-old Eros and looked in his eyes lovingly.

"Who loves you?" she asked him, gently resting her forehead against his.

"Mommy," he said with a grin.

"That's right," she sang, grinning back at him. He giggled excitedly at the sight of her adoring eyes. "You are so sweet." She kissed him on the cheek.

"I love you, Mommy," he said.

"I love you, too, baby," she said, kissing him on the forehead and putting the rather large toddler down on the floor. He clumsily walked into his bedroom to play with his toys. "How quickly he's learned talking and walking around by himself. He's smarter than I am; I can already tell. My use of Nigrovum was flawless in my making of him. He's a genius, and I'm a goddess."

She heard Emily, Eros's live-in nanny, come in through the front door with some groceries. This woman had been his nanny since shortly after Camilla came back from Thailand the year before. Knowing how traumatized he had been when she left him with Clara to go on her vacation with Veronica, Camilla had to think fast to prevent a repeat of such trauma. Emily now made it easy for Camilla to part with her son regularly for school, work, or sex.

Emily was a perfect nanny for Eros: she was patient, loving, responsible, and even resembled Camilla in her mannerisms. Every day before leaving, all Camilla had to do was use Nigrovum to make Emily look and sound like Eros's beloved mommy; that way, the boy would be tricked into thinking Camilla was always with him. Emily would see herself in the mirror and hear her own voice, but Eros would see and hear Camilla. He would call Emily 'Mommy', but his nanny would hear him call her Emily.

With Eros upstairs, playing with his toys in his bedroom and not knowing what Camilla was doing, she could stand behind Emily while she was taking the groceries out of the bags, and visualize her looking and sounding exactly like Camilla. Within seconds, the transformation was complete without either the nanny or the boy being the wiser, and Emily, now a perfect clone of Camilla, went upstairs to see Eros.

Camilla walked out the front door with her book-bag and headed for the bus stop. It'll only be a matter of time before my genius son realizes that Emily isn't me, she thought; when that happens, hopefully he'll be able to accept being separated from me from time to time.


It was just after 8:00 that night in an evening class: Camilla was sitting up front as usual, listening to her prof, Dr. Cage, lecturing on 'The Miller's Tale', from Chaucer's Canterbury Tales.

Dr. Cage was discussing a trick being played on John by Nicholas, who hoped to get into bed with Alison, John's beautiful wife. "Nicholas warns John of another Great Flood," Cage said, "and that if they are to save themselves, Nicholas and John must suspend themselves and Alison in tubs from the ceiling. Assuming Nicholas and Alison would do the same, John puts himself inside a tub suspended high from the ceiling; meanwhile, Nicholas and Alison are about to go to bed together.

"Then Absolon, a parish clerk who also lusts after Alison, comes to John's house that night, hoping for a kiss. Absolon is standing in the dark by a privy window, waiting for her to appear. Alison, who wants Nicholas, only wants Absolon to go away, which he won't. She agrees to let him have one kiss, though it won't be the kind of kiss he was hoping for. Unable to see anything in the dark, he puckers up, and she sticks her naked ass out the window. He kisses her asshole, and knowing she has no beard, is shocked by all the hair he feels brushing against his face."

The class was echoing with loud laughter. Camilla, however, was the only one not laughing, for her psychic powers were giving her the vague impression something bad was about to happen, there in her classroom, and elsewhere, to Veronica.


Indeed, while Camilla was having her out-of-body memory visions, she could also see what had happened to Veronica during the Chaucer lecture, for Nigrovum had thus expanded her consciousness to know the relevant experiences of others.

At the very moment Camilla was hearing Dr. Cage's lecture, Veronica was in the large guest room of Mayor Garth Van Duyne's house, with all his politically influential friends.

The guest room was dimly lit with tall candles, and priceless antique furniture graced the whole area. Though the place was beautifully decorated, it had an eerie atmosphere that Veronica found frightening. Strange ritual-like chanting could be heard from another room, over an intercom. She was surrounded by seated men in black suits and grotesque masks, like those worn by the Satanists in the mansion by Grouse Mountain near Vancouver. They were all sitting in a circle around her, with the mayor, also masked, on a chair facing her. The beginning of Stravinsky's Rite of Spring was playing on Garth's stereo.

A few nights earlier, Garth had gone over to Club Ritz and gotten lap-dances from Veronica and Camilla; he'd thanked Camilla for her help in getting him elected mayor, for she'd used the same mind-controlling powers he'd used on her to get all her many Club Ritz customers--her transvestite followers especially--to make them vote for him. Garth was content to have only Veronica come over to his house, since the masked men would be able to send their psychic power out of the house and manipulate Camilla in her classroom that night.

He lured Veronica over to his house with the promise of paying her extremely well for a private strip show. When she'd arrived, however, she was disturbed at the sight of all those masked men; not only were the men frightening to see, but since she'd eaten some of Camilla's come and received a bit of Nigrovum's power, she had vague psychic feelings that she wasn't safe. The music suddenly got loud and tense: strings and horns were playing strong, irregular, stabbing rhythms.

Still, the men's much more proficient use of Nigrovum calmed her fears for the moment, and she asked, "Shall I start?"

"Of course, my dear," the mayor said. "Undress for us."

She reached behind and nervously pulled the zipper of her dress down from her neck to her waist.


Camilla was the first in her classroom to sense a psychic power permeating the room, like an invisible gas. Everyone felt his will fade away, replaced by the will of the masked men. They all sat passively, as if awaiting orders.

Dr. Cage, also under the control of the masked men, said, "Camilla and Chris, please come to the front of the class now." The prof didn't know his two students' names, but the masked men knew, and used him as their spokesman.

Chris, a tall, thin, and cute boy with blond hair and blue eyes, came up with Camilla before all the students.

"What do you want us to do, sir?" she asked Dr. Cage.

"I want you and Chris to re-enact the scene of Absolon and Alison," Dr. Cage said. "Camilla, take all your clothes off."

She immediately unzipped her pants.


Veronica removed her evening dress and dropped it on the floor. The masked men doing the ritual in the other room were channeling Nigrovum's power to control not only Veronica, but Camilla's entire classroom, making what happened in both places parallel each other with perfect synchronism.

Though Veronica acted with complete, docile compliance, she was still inwardly frightened. She slowly removed her dark red bra and let it fall by her feet on the floor. She began pulling down her matching panties timidly, looking over at masked Garth. Though she had to obey, she could only feel intimidated by the mysteriousness of the masked men surrounding her.

"Don't be shy, Veronica," the mayor said. "Take it all off."

"OK," she said with a slightly shaky voice. She pulled her panties further down and dropped them at her ankles; she pulled her feet through the leg holes, then removed her high heels.

The men all ogled her naked body with lewd smirks.

"Beautiful," the mayor said.


Camilla pulled down her jeans, revealing her pink lace panties; everyone watching her smiled. When her jeans had come down to her ankles, she bent over, unlaced her sneakers, then took them off. She pulled her feet out of her pants, then pulled off her white socks. Next to come off was her tight green T-shirt. Her ornately designed pink lace bra and panties were a feast for her viewers, all as mesmerized by the power of Nigrovum as they were by her sexiness.

Chris stood beside her, and was especially enthralled by her black-haired, 'Goth girl' beauty. She removed her bra with a joyful wiggle of her tits, then she pulled down her panties to reveal her black pubic hair. She was now fully naked in front of everyone.

Dr. Cage, the dummy of the ventriloquist masked men, now said, "OK, Camilla, now turn around, get on the floor on all fours, and spread your legs out wide so everyone can see your asshole." Camilla did as she was told. Then Cage was made to say, "Now, Chris, squat behind her and passionately kiss her asshole."


Stravinsky's music had gotten slow, soft, and mournful. In her helplessness, Veronica felt the same way. I wish Camilla were here, she thought.

Mayor Van Duyne said, "Veronica, go outside and masturbate over the grass. A man there will collect your secretion on the grass, and make a special use of it. Go outside now." She went out.

The voices in the other room ritualistically chanted, "Vote Green Party! Vote Green Party!"

"Well, this has been a good first year for you, Your Worship," a masked man sitting beside Garth said to him. "Camilla and her many friends really multiplied your support base, like a fast-spreading infection."

"Yes, the Green Party's influence is growing at an unprecedentedly fast pace," Garth said, "in spite of the controversies of old Green Party purists splitting off from us, accusing us of corrupting their 'principles' ."

"Are you worried about their newly-formed 'Earth Party'?" another masked man asked the mayor.

"Not at all," Garth said. The music suddenly exploded in loud, violent dissonance. "We're an unstoppable force now, thanks to Nigrovum. What our associates started in cities like Vancouver has spread everywhere. Nigrovum has been found on vegetation worldwide. Politicians, businessmen, and bankers in countries all over the world are doing rituals like this one, with girls like Veronica and Camilla as their puppets. In the coming years, everyone will be enslaved to their lust and materialism, we'll get their money by making them buy whatever we'd have them buy; and I, one day, will be Prime Minister, controller of Canada's section of our worldwide revolution."


"Can everybody see me OK?" Camilla asked, looking back at her classmates, who all ogled her ass.

"Yes," they all moaned.

"Start kissing and licking," Dr. Cage told the boy.

Camilla had taken a shit just before class started, so Chris had her faecal odour in his face. Unable to resist the trance the masked men had put him in, he began licking and kissing her black asshole.

"That's what Absolon did with Alison," Cage said.

"Vote Green Party," Camilla moaned. "Vote Green Party."

Soon, everyone--including Cage and even Chris, between his licks and kisses--began to chant, "Vote Green Party. Vote Green Party."


The music, beginning Part Two of the ballet, had gotten soft again, but eerie-sounding.

"No one will take seriously what the old Green Party dissidents are saying about us," Garth continued, "that a harmless environmentalist party is plotting world domination. The people in the new 'Earth Party' are making fools of themselves with their conspiracy theories. Did you hear about that Indian doctor in Vancouver, a Dr. Ravinder Singh? He attests to this conspiracy, and he's laughed at every time he warns people. We've nothing to fear. If our American associates were infiltrating the Republican Party, people would try to stop us, no doubt. But we've played this game very cleverly by choosing the peace-loving Greens."

Veronica came back into the living room, and a masked man followed her with a glass of grass coated with her come. She returned to her spot in the middle, encircled by the seated masked men.

"There isn't much come in it, the masked man with the glass told the mayor.

"So she isn't a gusher like Camilla," Garth said. "No matter: what she sprayed on the grass will be enough. We'll mix it into a drink, and serve it to the next group of strippers who come here for the ritual. It's best if they don't have too much Nigrovum in them--they may become more difficult to control, like Camilla. Think of how many men we needed to control her tonight. Only after enough of her lovers have died, and have grown antagonistic to her, will we be able to control her completely and permanently. As we wait for that day to finally come, we'll get the survivors among those strippers in our current rituals to use mind control on their customers, making them all vote for the Green Party."

"We'll soon control everyone," a masked man sitting across from Garth said. "Hail, Satan!"

"Hail, Satan?" Garth said with a sneer. "Hail, Nigrovum. I don't know about you, but I don't follow that old Vancouver cult."

"Of course not," the man across from him said. "We just adore what Satan symbolizes: desire for knowledge and power."

"Right," Garth said. "Killing our victims isn't a series of sacrifices to gain the favour of the 'devil'; it's to strengthen our power in the other world."

"You're not afraid of the hellish realms there, after we die?" the masked man to the left of the mayor asked.

"Not at all," Garth said. "We're going to own so-called 'hell'. We'll rejoice in our victory there, rather than suffer. Since we'll be taking over most of the realms there, the afterlife is nothing to fear. Most of the lost souls under our control will be languishing in our dominated area, and so we'll easily rule over them. Don't expect any of them to escape, let alone fight a war against us and ever hope to win. We'll rule the whole place, and we'll be happy. As Milton's Satan said, it's 'better to reign in hell, than serve in heaven.'"

"Hail, Satan!" all the masked men shouted together.

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