The only way to win
Is not to play the game
It’s rigged to destroy you
The only way to win
Is not to play the game
It’s rigged to destroy you
She stood, her sex felt so open, so swollen, like it was larger than anything in her body. Georgia led her to a doorway, and she smelled water, heard splashing. Lit by torchlight was a pool of water. Among pillars, she saw figures dim in the water, swimming, murmuring to one another. There was a quiet rush of water, and she glimpsed a waterfall at the far end. Her skin began to tingle with the sounds and with excitement.
Georgia guided her into the room; Leyla felt safe with her, as though Georgia knew what to do to handle her and keep her safe, no matter what happened. Her stomach tightened as she drew closer to the water, and she felt her face redden. Yet the pulsing of her cunt was starting again, curious and hungry for what could await.
She felt hands at the bottom of her sheer dress, being lifted. Her breasts felt heavy and quivered as she was again stripped. Georgia brought her to the edge of the water. “You’re going to have to swim, child. I can’t go with you.”
Leyla caught her breath in her mouth, then stood on her toes to kiss Georgia softly on the mouth. “Will I see you again?”
Georgia stroked her hair. “If this all goes well, you’ll see me again.”
Leyla stepped into the dark water, warm and calm. She saw forms swimming around her, which looked like women, but she caught glimpses of fins and fish scales. Mermaids?
As she stretched out to swim, her throbbing sex and trembling breasts calmed, but the electric sensation persisted. She heard the voice whisper in her ear again, sweetly, “when the time comes, you’ll know what to do. Submit, obey, whatever is needed. By your openness, you gain power and strength.”
The water cascaded off her nude, slender body as she swam. Was she dreaming? It felt like she was finally awake, and like everything that came before was prelude, just daydreams and fantasies, but this was all that had ever been real. Flashes of another life, a past life were coming to her, memories of tension, disapproving faces, missed opportunities. Had she ever been happy? Was she living for someone else?
The wet female forms circled around her, calling out to her. She felt the warm froth and boil with their movements, coming closer to her. Hands and fins caressed her at all sides. Her buttocks were squeezed. Her nipples were pinched. She felt pain, and cried out over the water. The mermaids soothed her, stroked her, put their fingers in her mouth, and she sucked.
Their voices cooed to her, music of an enchanting melody rising around her and above the water, ensconcing her. “Eleueioooo …. Elaeiahaya….” The more she listened, the stiller she became. As she became enraptured, the hands and fins released her, and she slowly began to sink.
The gentle light above faded as she dropped down lower and lower. “Nothing matters, nothing matters,” she murmured to herself with her last breath.
Her head cleared as she sank, and she struggled. At first started to rise, but her limbs felt heavier and her descent resumed. A great peace crept through her; she relaxed. With the press of strong arms grasping her around her waist, she felt snatched from heaven.
She gasped as she was dragged to the surface, her eyes flooded with the now scorching light. She turned to face a beautiful golden woman, smiling, with hair like ruby in wet plaits across her shoulders. Leyla whispered, “who are you?”
“I am Ondine,” the woman smirked, and pulled her tight to her, pressing Leyla’s gaping mouth to hers. Ondine’s hair rippled over her, and she felt her naked breasts press into the water goddess’, her sex suddenly hot and needy. Ondine’s kissed her again and again, so sweetly, and her hands grasped Leyla sharply; Leyla felt her frenzy building.
Ondine suddenly clasped Leyla to her chest, and bore her swiftly from the center of the pool toward the border. A swarm of mermaids had gathered around them, and accompanied them. They approached the edge of the pool, and Leyla saw white marble stairs. Her body took on weight again, and she felt comforted to feel gravity as she settled onto the smooth surface.
She was still panting as Ondine climbed on top of her, parting her legs with her knee. Her eyes were wide as she gazed into the woman’s agate eyes, marveled at the golden skin, so soft, sparkling with drops of water in the gentle light. The mermaids floated and tittered, watching and turning graceful crescents above the water. She thrilled to hear Ondine’s voice ring in her ears. “You are my pet. You are my toy. You are mine wholly and only!”
As dead as Leyla had felt only moments ago, she now felt vivid, vibrant, alive, exultant and transcendent. “Do you love me?” Leyla turned away as she asked. She felt like her strength was swelling, not muscular strength, but an energy like light, coursing through her and animating her.
Ondine grasped her under her arms and brought her forward. “I love you, I love you, I love you.” She kissed her deeply and brought her close. Leyla felt she might faint. She was pulled to a standing position, and Ondine took her hands. The goddess drew her back down to the steps, till they were standing waist deep, with the mermaids drawing closer. Ondine drew her close, and then bent her arms back, holding first one, then both at the small of Leyla’s back. Ondine raised an arm and lifted Leyla almost completely out of the water, turning her like a fish, displaying her to the mermaids.
Ondine spanked her breasts crisply with her free hand before setting her back into the water and on the marble surface. Still holding her wrists, Leyla felt her chest spread and her breasts jut out. She laid back into the water and Ondine drew her onto her lap. “Spread out your pretty little pussy for my friends.” The golden woman delivered sharp spanks with her free hand to Leyla’s thighs and breasts, hissing in her ear, “to whom do you belong?”
“To you, Ondine, to you and you only!” The spanks brought tears to her eyes, but shame fled as the desperate hunger pulsed through her. Her breasts swelled, and she felt she would burst.
I recreate the best parts of my childhood for my children
And as for the worst parts,
I relive them endlessly in my dreams and internal thought life
I sought to excise the unruly elements from my life, but
Found that in me there was
An irreducible unruliness that would not be subdued
You will never get back what you’ve lost, you can only hope that you
Forget what you wanted
And how it made you feel, before you got crushed by desolation
Life is a disease
From the parents to
The children, it spreads
Someone was pounding on the door. She searched frantically for her clothes. How had this happened?
Her body was warm and pulsing, her crotch wet. She had been freshly fucked. She was alone. Where was she? Who was she? She knew she’d done something terrible, with the wrong person at the wrong time, something dangerous, something illegal. She had betrayed herself and those who loved her in the worst way. But who? Who had she betrayed? Who had she lost forever? Who was she?
The pounding grew louder. She heard keys rattling in the lock. She needed something to cover herself, to stick between her legs. The room stretched out around her, black and huge, cavernous. A dim bulb flickered above her. “Just a minute!” She saw a corner of something and picked it up, cloth, thin, a dress, thin like gauze. She pulled it over her head, and immediately saw how little of her nudity it concealed. She sniffed the smell of sex on herself and recoiled.
The door burst open. She covered her breasts and crotch with her arms. A tall, strong black woman shadowed the streaming bright light. “Leyla. You have been summoned.” Leyla, was that her name? She shook her head. The name didn’t make her head clearer, didn’t shake the fog shrouding her thoughts.
“What’s happening? Where am I?” She hugged herself tighter, and felt very small and naked. The woman advanced toward her, staring her in the eyes, lips parted, smiling. Leyla felt the strong hands grasp her shoulder and pull her into the hall, and she released her hands concealing her figure.
She blinked at the bright light, and gasped as she saw professionally dressed women lining both sides of the hallway, beaming at her.
“You’ve been summoned, Leyla, you’ve been summoned.” The women were dressed identically, hair up in buns. She felt even more naked as she viewed their proper dress, their utterly controlled and composed uniform demeanors.
The tall woman put a hand on her shoulder and guided her down the hallway. “This isn’t going to be like last time, Leyla. You’ve gotten away with this long enough.” The floor was cold on her bare feet, and she struggled to remember anything that could help her, some scrap of memory.
A voice in her head whispered: “Georgia is the one pushing you. Seduce her. You need her on your side for what’s coming.”
Leyla nodded , reached up and felt Georgia’s hand. The women on either side tittered. Leyla stopped. “You’re sure this is the way it has to be?” She drew Georgia’s hand forward to rest on her breast.
Georgia clasped Leyla’s breast, and drew her to an embrace. Leyla sniffed Georgia’s cinnamon musk. Georgia wound a hand in Leyla’s hair and pulled her head back. She kissed Leyla’s neck, and an “oooohhh” sounded from the crowd.
Then she kicked Leyla’s legs apart, and kissed her neck. She whispered, “bend down and show me who you really are.”
Leyla bent at the waist and touched the floor. Georgia flipped up the skirt of her flimsy dress. “Just so you know, this don’t change a goddamn thing.” Leyla’s eyes widened as she felt Georgia’s hands grasp her backside. She watched the women blush in front of her. One of them, a delicate redhead, approached slowly and gently kissed Leyla’s upturned face.
Layla balanced her weight on the floor, her palms flat against the carpet. She saw another of the office women lowering George’s trousers. She felt Georgia’s fingers surprisingly soft, caressing her buttocks, kneading her skin, embroidering her flesh. Pleasure mixed with the waves of humiliation buffeting her, and she moaned. She understood that she must needed to submit to this experience if she was to survive.
She felt Georgia bring her hips down onto Georgia’s naked thigh, spreading her further, working her back and forth. Leyla locked her lips around the redhead, gasping into her sweet mouth as if she could pour all her sex into her. More women flanked both sides of her, supporting the redhead. One leaned in and unbuttoned the gauzy dress from Leyla’s torso, while heat radiated off her pulsing flesh.
Hands stroked her breasts, coming from all directions. She was lifted into the air, as the now nude Georgia laid down on the hallway carpet. She was weightless for a moment, then guided downward, so that her mouth was square with Georgia’s dark pussy. She felt Georgia’s hot breath on her crotch. The scent of cinnamon drove her in; she spread the black hair in front of her, the heat guided her downward. She spread Georgia’s nether lips and pulled back; the clitoris jutted before her and she kissed it, tongued it, and Georgia shuddered beneath her. A moan went up from the surrounding crowd.
Leyla felt Georgia’s tongue lapping at her clit, her nose moving back and forth. Leyla’s hips bucked faster and faster as her climax built, all humiliation forgotten. Hands stroked her hair, and silk shirt sleeves brushed against her back and ass. She was all heat, motion, and energy. She cried, screamed like she was alone, like there was no one else in the world.
Georgia began to groan, grunt, and the vibrations and heat caused Leyla to quiver and arch her back, spreading herself and her pussy. Leyla started to jerk her head and tongue faster and faster, thrusting and squeezing with her tongue and lips. Explosions rocked through her body, as she and Georgia came together. Leyla slumped forward between Georgia’s legs. Georgia drew Leyla up to her and cradled her, kissing her sweetly and softly on the mouth. “You were good, babygirl, you were real good.”
They stood up slowly, and the women crowded around them began to applaud. They began to dress. “Now we still got to get you to the judgment child. I can’t do nothing for you.” Leyla looked into her eyes, and nodded.
Don’t mind your head throbbing. Look for green. Watch for roots. Go downhill. Smell. Smell more. Walk towards it if it smells wet. Remember that your whole being wants water, needs water.
Dig. Dig deeper. Don’t be picky. If there’s mud, stick your face in it. Follow the bugs. Look for salt.
Ignore the sludge in your head and in your veins. Scrape out that clay and stick it in your mouth. Spit it out when you start gagging. Grab for more clay, and repeat, until your fingernails crack and bleed.
Forget everything that’s ever happened. Feel the sun baking you, turning you to leather, and find water.
Recall that you walk in the footsteps of your ancestors of millions of years. Feel the prehuman core of you, the mammal, the lizard, the one who has survived and will survive.
Don’t be afraid of the scorpions hissing around you. Grab a rock and smash them if you can. Separate the tail. Eat those little bastards. Pretend it’s lobster. Imagine a five star restaurant, and crush another one.
Keep moving as your body starts to shake. Don’t fear as the sun is setting. Find rocks, find something to keep the wind out, to keep the wind from you, to become your hard shell. Tighten yourself into a ball and shut your eyes tight as the air around you gets colder and colder.
Take comfort, you have not been forgotten. Picture her face and how easy life was with her. Let the warmth spread around you. Sleep, or at least rest.
Wake with the sting of the reborn sun, and shake the bugs off. Grab that beetle and crunch it down. Take your shirt off and shake it out. Turn it inside out and put it back on, the filth faces your skin and protects you a little.
Look to the horizon. Move toward that shimmering image. Hear her voice, soothing, stirring. Don’t doubt it as a mirage. Consider it as motivation. Movement is life, motion is life.
Find the dew on the rocks, the condensation, and cup it into your hands, lick it, slake your thirst, every drop. Take your filthy socks and soak them with the wet, and then stuff them in your pockets as canteens. Picture every drop as ambrosia, golden nectar of the gods gliding down your throat, giving you life and strength.
Feel the life returning to you. Walk with greater purpose. Hear the thrum of the helicopter, wave your arms and shout from your now moist throat.
Fall to your hands and knees as the helicopter lands. Weep from exhausted tear ducts as they cover you with a blanket. Try not to gulp the water as it’s drizzled into your cracked lips. Give your thanks to them, for finding you, for not forgetting you, as they tell you to rest. Shut your eyes and let yourself be carried onto the helicopter. Feel the death lift from you as the helicopter rises above the desert. Pass into sleep, and feel your life returning to you.
She wants for me to
Belong to her, I
Want to be my own