Horror ** A BATTLE OF MINDS SERIES (Horror + Erotica) ** - Completed

[Sr. Diablo]

A BATTLE OF MINDS (Horror + Erotica)​

The following story takes place in a fictional small town in Eastern Germany, sometime in the late 1990s. Due to the German school system of that time (starting relatively late, and leading until 13th grade for those who want to attend university), most students were 18 or older during their last two years of school. This is also the case for all school students in this story.

Please forgive my mistakes, I am not a native speaker of English.

This story is fictional. Any similarities to real people or events are a coincidence.

★ INDEX ★
☟​

♡ PART - 1 ♡​

Update 01	update 02	update 03	update 04	update 05
update 06	update 07

♡ PART - 2 ♡

Update 01

update 02

update 03

update 04

update 05

♡ PART -3 ♡

Update 01

update 02

update 03

♡ PART -4 ♡​

Update 01

update 02

update 03

 

[Sr. Diablo]

UPDATE - 5​

"Don't you dare!" he whispered. His voice sounded strangely distorted, the bored drawl with which he usually spoke had disappeared. "No one is going to believe you. And even if they do, do you really think they've got a chance against me? I could control every single one of them just as easily as I can control you." His breath was hot against her ear. Laura cringed, tried to move away. She did not want him to be so close to her. "I really should give you less freedom," Martin continued. "It is quite obvious, that I have been too nice to you. You are taking advantage..."
His grip on her arm tightened, the pain made Laura groan. And then the feeling of his breath against her ear was replaced by something wet and slimy -- his tongue.
"You are sick!" Laura hissed angrily.
Martin replied with a laughter that sounded more like the giggle of a teenage girl. No, it sounded crazier than that, manic somehow, as it started echoing in her head, the last thing she heard before her mind went blank.
***
The next time Laura woke up, she was lying on her bed. A look towards the window told her that it was night. In the darkness, she could make out the shapes of the trees in her garden moving in the wind and heavy raindrops splashing against her window. She clearly remembered the snow that had covered the ground just yesterday, or in fact, in her memory, less than an hour ago, when she had walked through the crisp morning air towards the police station. Wasn't it much too cold for rain?
She got up, feeling sorry for a moment to leave the warm comfort of her bed, and the reassuring numbness of still being half asleep, and walked to the kitchen. She had to squint for a moment when she turned on the light. Once she got used to the brightness of the kitchen lamp, Laura got a glass from the cupboard and held it under the tab, filling it with water. She looked around in the kitchen. On the table, there was a newspaper; probably her father had left it there after reading it last night, as he did every evening.
Laura drank a sip of water, and then went to sit down at her usual spot, pulling the newspaper closer to herself. Her eyes flew over the front page and soon enough got caught at a headline. Who in the world would break into the museum of local history? There was nothing worth stealing there, just a bunch of old documents and photographs showing views of Leskow from different decades. She started reading.
"In the early hours of Sunday morning intruders broke into the Leskow Museum of Local History. According to the museum director, Mr. Peter Schmitz, PHD, they only stole 45 Euros from the museum's cash register. The intruders broke a window; the noise of the breaking glass attracted the attention of a neighbor who called the police. The intruders managed to flee, however, before the police reached the museum. The neighbor claims to have been watching the place the whole time after calling the police, and it took not more than five minutes for a police officer to arrive at the scene -- how the intruders managed to flee so quickly is yet to be determined."
A strange instinct told Laura that this article meant something important, that it had something to do with her. Maybe the intruders had, in fact, not been able to flee unseen? Maybe the truth was that they had calmly walked out of the museum right under the eyes of the police, and the policeman in question, her uncle or one of his colleagues, just had not done anything to stop them? And maybe he now just did not remember any of this anymore?
Laura decided to cut out this article from the newspaper, to put it to the notes that she had made to show to her uncle. It might be another item with which to prove her story. While she was carefully tearing the article from the paper, her eyes wandered up to the top of the page. There, at the right side, the day's date was printed along with some other information about the paper. Her breath stopped when she read what it said up there: It was the second of March.
*
Martin had stolen almost two months of her life! Almost two months that she could not remember, that were lost forever. Laura was sitting at the breakfast table, staring angrily at the toast she had made herself, but the thought of even trying to bite off a piece made her feel sick. She had spent the whole night searching the house for old newspapers, and getting her dictation machine ready for another session. It was hidden in her pocket now, but she was not sure if she should switch it on yet. She was not sure of anything. She was just angry. Much too angry to eat.
Two months! Why had he let her wake up again just now? Was there any reason or was it just his idea of fun, to torture her with the awareness of how much control he had over her? Or maybe, Laura wondered, he had not allowed her to wake up after all? She picked at her toast, taking a small piece between her fingers and crumbling it. It was dry. No, surely she could not eat this, or anything, she felt much too sick. The idea, however, that she might have escaped Martin by her own strength, seemed like a little glimmer of hope in this otherwise dark morning.
Her research had not yielded many results. Nothing important seemed to have happened in Leskow during the last two months, except for the event at the Museum of Local History and a few more strange robberies. Never more than a little bit of money was stolen. Laura thought about the robbery. Maybe that was the reason she had woken up? Maybe Martin had been distracted in some way, trying to keep his control over too many people at once: The police, the neighbors staring out their windows... But then, why had she only woken up last night, if the robbery at the museum had already taken place the night before?
Laura was torn from her thoughts when her mother entered the kitchen. She looked up and caught her mother glancing over at her. She looked worried. Somehow, it seemed to Laura, her mother's face seemed to be accustomed to taking up a worried expression at her sight. Probably it was noticeable that she hadn't been quite herself during these last months.
"Are you okay, Laura?" the mother asked, her voice tired. "You aren't eating anything. You know, the principal has called me again yesterday. She never has seen such a sudden deterioration in a student's performance. Why won't you tell me what is going on with you?" She sat down at the table and took Laura's hand; her face desperate as she looked at her daughter again. Laura believed to see tears in her mother's eyes. "Please say something. Please talk to me again. I miss talking to you."
Laura pulled her hand away. She felt a big lump in her throat that seemed to make it impossible to speak, and tears starting to well up in her own eyes. Quickly she looked away.
"I've got to go, mom," she whispered. For another second, she hesitated. Then she quickly got up, grabbed her backpack that was ready and standing next to the table and went to the hallway to get her jacket and hastily put on her shoes. Her mother didn't try to call her back.
Only when she was outside, breathing in fresh air, could she pause to think again. What should she do now? She couldn't tell her mother what was going on, could she? Laura felt almost as if it was her fault her mother was suffering. She wondered what exactly her parents were thinking. Maybe they feared their daughter was involved with drugs? Or whatever other explanation people would come up with when someone behaved like she must have during the last two months. The truth, of course, was much too unbelievable, unimaginable. Laura still wasn't sure she believed it herself, but the bright blue spring sky, the trees that started to show the first little bits of green on their formerly bare branches, the crocuses and snowdrops in the garden told her it was, indeed, true.
Laura didn't try to choke back her tears anymore. She had lost two months of her life; she had no idea what horrible and embarrassing things she might have done during that time, against her own will, losing all control of her mind and actions. But she was awake now, and it was a beautiful spring day. Maybe Martin would leave her alone from now on? Maybe he had grown bored with her? Laura barely dared to hope so. It did not seem like him, somehow.
Deep in thought, Laura walked along her normal way to school without realizing. When she looked up to find herself on the schoolyard, which was already bustling with students, it was too late to turn around. And why, after all, should she leave? The more time passed the more hopeful she grew that she could from now on continue with her normal life. As she walked toward the staircase that would lead her into the school building, a few of her classmates greeted her. To her surprise, most of them were people she did not remember ever hanging out with.
In the classroom she sat down at her usual spot. Martin was not there yet. Maybe he had gone? Left town, left her life? It seemed almost too good to be true. But then, suddenly, she had the strange sensation of someone staring at her, a burning gaze that made her look up. She had been right; Martin was standing at the door, his eyes on her. He looked tired, and as if he had been in a fight: His face was slightly swollen, and he sported a prominent black eye. His eyebrows were pulled down, his expression a mixture of anger, determination and, to Laura's surprise, fear.
He did not move from his spot at the door, even though more and more students gathered behind him, trying to shove him out of their way so they could enter the classroom. Martin did not seem to notice them; he focused all his concentration on Laura, not even blinking so he would not have to break his stare. Laura tried to stare back at him defiantly, when she suddenly grew aware of a strange tremble in the air. It felt, as if everything around her took on a different quality, as if the air itself grew thicker, started moving in waves that wanted to carry her brain away with them. Her thoughts became a blur, and for just a moment she still noticed herself grasping on to the edge of her desk, as if she could keep herself present by that physical action, before everything disappeared.
***
Laura felt wet lips pressing onto her own. A tongue was rotating clumsily inside her mouth, intrusive and slimy. She tasted saliva, its taste unfamiliar, felt it running down her throat. Laura wanted to pull away, to escape this kiss that felt more like an assault than like an act of affection, but a hand was holding her head firmly in place, another one on her back made it impossible to escape. Martin was holding on to her, he was too strong.
Finally he let go, and Laura looked around in shock. Her surprise let her forget to protest, to express her disgust with the insults she had already laid out in her mind: She was sitting on the meadow in front of her school, in the midst of a circle of students from her own grade and from 13th grade, almost all of them boys, most of them known to be bullies. Martin's friends. They were grinning at her and Martin approvingly.
Martin was grinning as well. Laura was sure that he meant to smile at her, but his face was just not suitable for that kind of expression -- the strain he had to put into it, took all tenderness out of the gesture and made it seem cynical and hollow. Martin reached out for her hand, took it between both his own hands and held on to it tightly. The pressure was enough to let Laura guess that this apparent sign of affection was meant, in fact, as a warning, telling her to remain quiet, to not betray her true emotions with a single wrong word. Laura guessed enough about Martin and her own situation to take this warning seriously.
"Oh Laura," Martin said with a pathos that must have sounded sarcastic to any of his friends, though they did not seem to mind. "You can't imagine how glad I am that you said that. Yes, I love you too, and everyone shall know it. Everyone should know that the two of us belong together."
Laura's eyes widened, betraying some of her fear. She felt Martin pressing her hand once again painfully, while his friends cheered and seemed to consider the whole situation normal, albeit highly entertaining.
She looked around. The meadow was full of students. Almost everyone seemed to spend their school breaks outdoors today. It was no surprise; after all, it was a beautiful day. The sky was dark blue, and most of the trees already were exhibiting many small green leafs. Laura estimated that it was at least the end of April, if not the beginning of May. The image of the date on the newspaper appeared in front of her inner eye. Once again several months had passed since the last day she could remember. It did not feel like any time had passed, more like she had just been sleeping for a bit, and woken up right here on the meadow.
Then her eyes fell onto someone else, someone that wasn't part of the group with which she was sitting on this meadow or any other group, someone who was not sitting on the meadow at all, but standing near the schoolyard's gate and looking into her direction with a gloomy expression. Daniel. For just a moment, their eyes met. He pulled his eyebrows together. Then he turned around and walked away.
Just then, Laura started feeling the same tremble in the air, she had felt that morning in march as she was sitting in the classroom, staring at Martin's bulky figure in the doorframe: The sensation of the very atmosphere becoming thicker, materializing around her and drowning her, pulling her thoughts into an abyss. She didn't want it. She didn't want to submit to the blackness that started engulfing her every thought. Laura concentrated all her strength on staying in the present, on staying conscious -- and for a few short seconds she was successful. She heard Martin's angry growl, then everything became a blur again.
***
Laura gagged. Her mouth was open, her jaw forced into an uncomfortable position. She felt drool running down the sides of her mouth as something was jammed deep down in her throat. Something warm and hard. Laura's mind tried to fight the realization of what she was doing here, but as Martin withdrew his cock, her eyes focused onto the pale skin of his stomach, onto the line of dark blond hair trailing down from his belly button to his curly pubes. Then he rammed his cock again deep into her throat, forcing her to bury her nose into his pubic hair. He did not smell like he had washed this day. Again, Laura felt the urge to gag. She tried to pull away, but she was kept from it by a strong grip in her hair. He held on to her head and now started to ram his cock into her mouth at a faster pace, barely giving her a chance to breathe.
Somewhere high above her, she could hear his groans. Finally, he slowed his pace again, took another break during which he almost withdrew from her mouth -- just for a moment, just for enough time so he could speak to her. "Funny, isn't it?" he said.
And again, before she could put her thoughts in order, before she could make sense of anything, there was that strange buzz in the air, the feeling of everything turning into thick gel that enveloped her consciousness. Before she could wonder how much time had passed, and how much time would pass before she would wake up again, Laura's thoughts were drowned in the familiar darkness.
***
Laura's father was standing in her room and shouting at her. His face was a dangerous shade of red, one of the veins on his forehead was clearly visible. This was not a good sign. For a moment, Laura was just disoriented, and then she tried to concentrate on what he was saying, to find out what he was angry about. If she could reply well, maybe she could get him to calm down. To have a chance to say something. Tell her story. And maybe, just maybe to find a chance to somehow make him understand what was going on. She needed help, but how could she ask for it?
"... could you ever even have a boyfriend like that? He is impossible! I thought I knew you! And you want to move in with that guy? I just can't understand ..."
He would not stop. He was asking her questions, but his voice, loud and strangely shrill, did not cease shouting for long enough that she could get out even one word. Laura felt tears sting in her eyes, but he would just account those to their fight. Maybe, if she did something strange? She looked around the room, for anything to help her. The room, her old room, the room she had grown up in -- it still looked like always. Clean and neat. If she started throwing books out of the shelves, just to get his attention? But then, it might just make him angrier. It was no use.
When the air started growing thick again, filling her head with mist and drowning her thoughts, Laura considered just resigning to her fate, but something inside her told her to keep struggling, and so she did. To her astonishment, she was successful for a few seconds, while in the background her father kept shouting, without that she could take in the words anymore. Then, however, it grew stronger than her. The last thing she saw was a stuffed animal, a pony that she kept as a childhood memory on the top of her bookshelf. Then everything grew dark again.
***
Darkness. Someone was snoring in the darkness. Laura was lying in a bed, the warm cover felt heavy on top of her. The window was open, but the breeze blowing into the room was warm as well. It had to be June at the very least, the warm air told her. Somewhere in the night she could hear a nightingale's song, intermingled with the distant roar of a car. Was that a real nightingale or a thrush nightingale? For a moment she was tempted to ponder the difference -- that was certainly easier than starting to think about where she might be.
Reality couldn't long be kept out though. Next to herself, Laura felt a heavy body, heard even breathing. She did not dare move; she did not want to wake Martin. She was lying with her back turned to him, and could feel his squashy stomach touching the small of her back. He seemed deep asleep.
Why was she awake? Why was she conscious? The last few times it had seemed to Laura, that Martin had allowed her to become conscious on purpose, as another means of torturing her. He wanted to show her the extent of the power he held over her. Those glimpses of reality lined up in her memory like things that happened just moments apart. Moments that made her shudder in disgust. Her desperate struggle against his control, when he wanted to subdue her again after just a few seconds, seemed to only have happened a few seconds ago as well.
Was this a late effect of her struggle? Had she just woken up from her own free will? Some residue of the resistance she had tried to put up against him back then -- maybe months ago, or weeks, or maybe just today -- there was nothing in her last two memories to indicate the time of year they had happened --? It had to be like that. Vaguely, Laura remembered other times she had woken up at night, when it did not seem like Martin's plan for her to do so. Maybe his power was not as strong when he was asleep.
Laura lay as still as she could, she did not want to wake him. She had to put her thoughts in order. Martin should not find out that she had been awake. Her resistance was growing, she realized, and she should not let him know that. Maybe, with time, she could learn to rid herself of his control altogether? But she had to think. There had to be some secret behind his power, and she had to find out what it was.
Without realizing it, Laura turned to look at Martin, as if in hope to recognize his secret by a long look at him. The mattress moved, she turned too suddenly, and before she could feel him stir Laura already knew that Martin was awake. Her first instinct was to jump up, move away, leave the room, but she lay still, hoping he might think she was still asleep, that she had just turned in her sleep. She felt him sitting up, felt him move his massive frame over her, and then she saw his face. Sleepy and incredulous.




...............................more updates are coming

 

[Sr. Diablo]

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[Sr. Diablo]

UPDATE - 6​

"Laura?" he mumbled.
Then the strange quality to the air returned, everything seemed to become thicker and darker, blurring any thought in her head and pulling her in. Laura struggled; she tried to concentrate on keeping control over herself. The shock in Martin's expression grew -- he had not expected her to fight. For a short moment, Laura's mind cleared up again, and just then, her eyes fell on the locket that was still dangling down from Martin's neck, suspended by a long chain, and gleaming unnaturally in the dark room.
'Of course! The locket!' was all she could think, before Martin had regained his composure, and the darkness that drowned all her thoughts won her over once more.
***

Water, everywhere water. Above her, underneath her -- water. Where was above, and where was underneath anyway? Laura turned around, panicked. She swam here, swam there, without knowing if she might not be swimming further away from the water's surface. She swallowed slimy, bitter water. Her lungs started screaming for air, soon she would have to open her mouth, and flood them with more water.

Somewhere above her she could make out a dim light. She moved towards it with her last strength, and a moment later, her head broke through the surface of Lake Leskow. Air rushed into her lungs, and for a few moments Laura could not concentrate on anything but breathing. The air felt harsh in her lungs, yet she craved as much of it as she could get. Finally, her breath and the beating of her heart calmed down, and she started looking around.

The lake was bathed in bright sunlight, its reflections dancing on the waves. The air was not as cold as it had felt at first. In fact, it was quite warm. The air smelled of summer, of trees and flowers -- though those trees were quite far away from her; Laura was in the middle of the lake.

The shore closest to her was the southeast corner of the lake. Laura could see the little bay that she had not visited since her 18th birthday. She was at least 50 meters away from it, however. After hesitating one more moment, to look around the lake and find that there were neither boats nor swimmers to be seen anywhere, she started swimming towards that bay. She was surprised how nice it felt to be swimming; she had never been a great swimmer after all. But the fact that she felt her arms and legs finally obey only her own wishes, and the feeling of the velvety water rushing by her naked skin, all this made Laura feel alive. Too alive, to want to think yet about what she had been doing in the middle of the lake, under water.

Only when Laura had reached the shore and was stepping onto land, Martin left the shade of the trees between which he had been hiding. He grinned at her, his expression devoid of any friendliness. "As you see," he said slowly and coldly, "I can kill you whenever I want, and no one will ever know it was me. So think well, before you try to resist me again."

Before she could reply, Laura once again felt her consciousness being enveloped by darkness -- and this time, she did not dare to fight back. As everything went blurry, she heard Martin's voice once more: "Oh, by the way: Happy birthday, Laura."
***

Martin groaned. His eyes were closed, his mouth slightly open, giving him a yet more stupid expression than he usually wore. He had propped up his upper body with the help of both arms, his head was somewhere above Laura's, his face turned upwards. His stomach rhythmically slapped against hers, with every thrust he did, and Laura could feel his sweaty skin against her own.
His cock was sliding in and out of Laura's sex with ease; she did not feel pain or even physical discomfort. In fact, she felt something like a slight arousal. Physically, that is. Her body, surely accustomed to Martin's proximity by now, was reacting to the intrusion into her sex. In her mind, on the other hand, all Laura could feel was horror and disgust.

Martin groaned again, he was trembling slightly. He had to be close to his climax, Laura realized. He seemed much too engrossed in what he was feeling to realize that she was conscious. His thrusts grew more violent, and to her surprise Laura realized that her body liked this, craved for more, anticipated each new thrust. For a moment she considered closing her eyes, ignoring who he was and why she was here, and just giving in to the sensations he started causing her.

The touch of something hot and metallic against her chest made her forget any such ideas. The locket! Laura knew that Martin was still wearing it on a chain around his neck, even before she looked down and saw the little thing glimmering in the dark, jumping up and down against her chest, in the rhythm of his movement. Under Laura's gaze, the locket seemed to grow brighter. She almost thought the thing was winking at her. Mocking her, showing off the fact that not Martin, but it, an inanimate little object, was who really stood behind everything.

And yet, she couldn't look away. She stared at the thing, barely even registering Martin's presence in the room, inside her. Something drew her. The locket seemed to hum with power emanating from it. Its touch, again and again against the soft skin of her breasts, was hot, almost burned her skin, and yet she did not find it uncomfortable. The locket seemed to call out to her, promise her a way to end all her suffering -- everyone's suffering. Did one have to wear it, to use its powers? Or could she, maybe, control Martin with its help even now, just as much as he was usually controlling her?

Now Laura closed her eyes, but not to give in to any false sensation of arousal her body had created to cope with the unwanted intrusion. No, in fact she barely noticed anymore what exactly Martin was doing to her. The touch of the locket, warm metal on her skin, again, again, again, created a rhythm that was stronger than beat of his pallid flesh slapping against hers. Laura listened to that rhythm, as if it was a heartbeat, searched for a voice belonging to that heart. Searched for it through her head, her mind, through whatever, searched the room, the darkness, the air. Searched for that strange feeling of everything growing thick, that sensation she could barely describe. She wanted to find it, just as it had found her before. And suddenly she believed to have found something. There was a connection between Martin and her, a connection he had forgotten to keep under his control.
He took up the speed of his thrusts, burying his cock deep inside her, arhythmically now -- he was indeed close to coming -- almost distracting her, but Laura was too desperate to allow herself to miss such a chance. Martin groaned once more, pressed his body against hers, Laura felt his weight, felt his sex twitching inside hers, felt the spurts of his hot seeds, but all she could think was that the moment had come.
Now or never, she thought, and reached out to that connection, for the power of the pendant that she could feel as clearly now as if the power itself was a thing in front of her she just had to grab. She spun her mind around it, concentrated on it with all her might, concentrated on the power of the pendant, and on Martin. Besides the hot and golden glow of the pendant, her mind found something else, something tepid and bland, without much strength of its own. Martin's mind. Laura concentrated on it.

Both of their eyes opened at the same time. Laura could not help smiling, as Martin stared at her, wide-eyed. She could still see the arousal on his face, before it was replaced by questions and confusion, and then by panic. She smiled and did not move, but inside her, her mind was fighting the hardest battle she had yet fought; fueled by the disgust and humiliation she had accumulated over the months, she concentrated on the thought that she wanted him to stop, that she did not want to feel his touch anymore, that she wanted him to let go of her.

These thoughts, her hatred and her fear, were like needles she was throwing at him -- but suddenly these knifes seemed to dull, seemed to be held up by a layer of protection. The familiar sensation of the air growing thicker around her, of darkness drowning her, overwhelmed Laura. Martin was fighting back. Laura's thoughts became confused, she was losing control. It was so tempting to give up, to allow her mind to be dragged back into a darkness that, in the oblivion it brought, was comforting. Thinking became almost painful. Why would she want to face a reality that could never be the same as it had been a year ago, anyway? Why would she want to feel Martin's weight on her, know what he had just done to her?


For a moment, Laura relaxed, stopped struggling. Numbness flooded her body. Then, however, her eyes caught the locket's sparkle again and she knew she had to act. She tried to lift up her arm to grab it, pull it off his neck, but her arm refused to obey her mind, it was like dead, didn't belong to her body anymore. It wouldn't move.

Laura gathered all her concentration, and stared into Martin's eyes. She was not going to give up; she wanted him to get off of her, right now. She could feel that he had grown soft inside her, and she felt his semen drip out of her sex, running down towards her rosette. Her disgust turned to fury, and it was this fury she was concentrating against him now, without ever moving, but with all the strength she could gather.


Martin's body started twitching, his eyes grew unfocused. And then, suddenly, his body flew away from hers -- yes, he was indeed flying through the air, as if a great power, maybe an explosion, had thrown him off her. His heavy, naked form was describing a perfect bow through the room, and then slapped against a wall three meters from Laura, from which he slid to the floor and remained there, a motionless heap of flesh.

Laura sat up with a start. As she gulped for breath, the air rushed back into her lungs -- only now she realized that she had been holding her breath all that time. She felt light, all of a sudden, without the weight of Martin's body on top of her. She still could feel some of his sweat on her skin; felt his juices mixed with her own between her legs. But her head was as free as it hadn't been in a year. There was nothing there anymore, that tried to drag her down into darkness. If Laura had ever wondered what it might feel like to be able to fly, this would probably come closest to the sensation she would have imagined.

For a while she just sat there, staring out into the dimly lit room. There wasn't much in there, just the mattress she was sitting on, some dirty curtains in front of a small window, a tiny rug on a linoleum floor, a half empty book shelf on one wall and some clothing piled up on top of a chair. She was strangely curious -- to see this place that everyone thought of as her home, and to see Martin, investigate whether he was still alive. However, she waited. Despite the newly discovered power of her mind, she felt weak physically. Finally, Laura managed to stand up. Her legs were shaking as she stood next to the bed, and her first steps felt as if she had not walked in months.

Slowly, she approached Martin's motionless body. Pale, formless, not quite fat but nearly so, he was lying on the ground, his legs and arms twisted away in a strange manner. The necklace with the locket had slipped off his neck and was lying on the floor next to him. Carefully, Laura knelt down and picked it up. Again, the metal felt strangely hot in her hand.

Laura stood up again, and observed the glimmering piece of jewelry in her hand more closely. It looked old, and on its front a crest was imprinted, showing a bear, a tree, and a castle on an island. The crest looked vaguely familiar, but Laura couldn't quite remember where she had seen it before. It was beautiful, though. For a moment, she felt the strong urge to put the chain around her own neck.

It seemed to Laura, that the locket shortly glimmered more brightly, as if it was agreeing with her idea. And maybe it was this glimmer that reminded her of everything the locket, or Martin with the locket's help, had done to her. Loudly she said "No!" as if the sound of her voice would give her more strength; break the spell this glimmering little piece of metal was casting over her. Quickly she closed her fingers around it. She did not want to see it anymore. In her hand, the locket remained warm and it seemed to Laura like she could feel it pulsating, like a heartbeat. Only after a few moments she realized that what she felt there must be the pulsating of her own blood through her veins, because she had her hand closed so tightly.

Instead of looking at the locket, Laura decided to investigate the room a bit more. From the little she understood by her last conversation with her father, she had moved in here with Martin. When? By the look of the room it could not have been more than a few days ago, but who knew? Martin did not seem the type of person who put furniture or cleaning very high on his list of priorities. And it was not like she had had much of a say in their relationship. Relationship. She shuddered at the word and threw another glimpse at the heap of flesh that was Martin. He was breathing, she could tell that much, but he didn't look like he would wake up any time soon. The mixture of disappointment and relief she felt at the realization that he was, indeed, still alive, confused Laura and she pushed any thought of him out of her mind.

On the other side of the room there was a door. Laura walked towards it and opened it to step out into a small hallway from which other doors led to a kitchen and a tiny bathroom. Without thinking twice, Laura headed for the bath room. She could feel Martin's presence even here, and see it in his dirty and chewed out tooth brush, the open toilet seat, the socks left carelessly on the floor. Still, it was much better to be here than in the bed room. There was a mirror there, and for a while Laura stood in front of it, staring at her own reflection in amazement. How little she had changed -- and yet, how different she had become. This is me, she thought, looking into her own eyes, and I am only going to do what I want, from now on.

In the end, however, the fascination with her own face diminished, and the remainder of Martin's cum on her inner thighs was starting to form a crust, causing her to itch. Laura looked towards the door of the bath room, and found two towels hanging there. She assumed that the cleaner of the two was hers, and put it within reach of the shower cabin, before she turned on the hot water.
Only after showering for half an hour and with very hot water, Laura finally got dressed and then went to a phone she had seen standing in the hallway, to call the police.
***

Laura awoke with a start. The open window of her bed room was shaking in the wind. Probably its loud thumps, opening and closing again and again, were the reason she could no longer sleep. The open window stirred a memory, and for a moment, she felt little pearls of sweat gathering on her forehead, and the pace of her heartbeat increasing. Then, however, memory of the last few days returned and Laura sank back into the cushions with a sigh of relief.

She was lying in her own bed, at home, in her parent's house, in the room she had lived in since she had been a small child. Her parents had accepted her back happily, when she had appeared on their door step, accompanied by her uncle, the police chief. Her mother had hugged her without a word, and her father had taken the small bag with her clothes, that Uncle Stefan was carrying, and brought it to her room. There was no question in his mind, as to where Laura belonged. Even though Laura's parents had surely not approved of Martin, they did try to display sympathy about the tragic accident of their daughter's supposed boyfriend, and promised Laura to give her all the support and shoulders to cry on, that she needed. Still, though they could barely admit it to themselves, Laura could feel their relief at how things had ended.

Almost two weeks had passed since she moved back home. Tomorrow was going to be the first day of the new school year. She hoped for a return to normality -- if she put a real effort into it this year, she would hopefully be able to catch up in class and manage to graduate with acceptable grades.

In what concerned her class mates, she did not care anymore what they thought of her. She had rarely left the house in the last days, but whenever she did she could hear the whispers, feel the looks burning into her skin. Not one of all these people looking at her and talking about her, however, ever dared to ask her about Martin into her face. Of course they all thought she had been in love with him and had to be mourning now. It had been shockingly easy; everyone believed her story about the accident: She had told the police that she had returned from a little walk out in the forest, and found his lifeless body on the bedroom floor. Maybe the ease with which she convinced them should not come as a surprise, after all everyone in town knew her, and additionally Martin was about twice her size. What had happened to him, however, remained a riddle -- and was all the more reason for whispers and stares. Martin was in hospital, in a coma, ever since, and it looked like he might never wake up.

No, Laura didn't enjoy it when she was with other people. She had met up with only one of her friends so far, and was not looking forward to seeing the others. What was she to talk about with them, anyway? None of them had realized how seriously wrong things were with her throughout the past year; no one had made an effort to find out what was going on. And she, Laura, had managed to free herself with only her own strength to rely on. She did not need the others anymore, and maybe this lesson was the one good thing she got out of all this, she thought.

Despite all this, she looked forward to returning to school. Everything was going to be well again -- everything was going to be normal again.
There was just one thing that kept bothering Laura: The locket was still hidden in one of the drawers of her desk. She had thought about it for a long time, wondering what to do with it. Every time she took the gleaming little thing into her hand, she felt power surging from it, drawing her in, tempting her. Every time she considered wearing it, for just a few minutes, just to feel what it was like to use its power. But Laura fought against this temptation. She had suffered too much from what this thing could do, she felt sick at the thought of doing something like this to anyone else.

Outside, a heavy wind was blowing, and suddenly Laura could not help thinking of Lake Leskow. She could picture it perfectly, what it would look like right now, its dark waves topped by white little crowns, the moon above it hidden by clouds, the tops of the trees swaying in the breeze. The lake was deep, one of the deepest in the region. Maybe she should just throw the locket into the lake? Then it would be gone, it could not fall into the wrong hands anymore.

She had made up her mind. Quickly, Laura got out of her bed and put on her jeans and a T-shirt. It was still quite warm outside; she would not need a jacket. She opened her desk's drawer. Her hands were trembling just a little bit, when she reached for the little package: A handkerchief in which she had carefully wrapped the locket, in the hope that not seeing it would help her not feel its presence. It was heavier than one would expect of a thing its size, and Laura believed to feel heat radiating from it, even through the material of the handkerchief.

She put the little package into the pocket of her jeans, she did not want to feel it, did not want to be tempted by its warmth. Then Laura climbed out of the window into the night. The edge of the forest was very near her house, and soon enough she was surrounded by tall, dark trees. Their tops were swaying in the wind, leafs rustling. Laura felt a bit cold after all, missing her warm and comfortable bed. She picked up pace, and soon she reached the little bay that she deemed the perfect place to dispose of her unwanted property. The lake lay in the dark, its deep waters as black as always; hiding away she did not know what secrets. Little waves rippled on the surface, and the reflection of the moon was broken into a thousand pieces, dancing on the waves.


...............................more updates are coming

 

[Sr. Diablo]

Readers :

Read the story and share your thoughts.

 

[Werewolf]

Congrats for the new thread! Keep writing!
Horror genre is one of my fav genres so, I'll definitely check this one out.

 

[Sr. Diablo]

Congrats for the new thread! Keep writing!
Horror genre is one of my fav genres so, I'll definitely check this one out.

Please do Man, and i hope you will find it entertaining, and you enjoy it thoroughly.

last update of part 1 of this series will he posted later tonight stay tuned.

 

[Sr. Diablo]

UPDATE - 7 (Last of part 1)​

Laura pulled the package back out of her pocket, a task that was made difficult by the fact that she was wearing her tightest jeans -- it was almost as if the locket was refusing to leave the place she had stored it in, as if it knew what fate she planned for it now. Finally however, Laura held the package between her fingers, and carefully unwrapped it. There it lay in her hand, gleaming and simple yet beautiful and as surprisingly warm and heavy as always. Before she could look at it for too long, Laura closed her hand to a fist and raised it.
Then, however, she hesitated. It felt almost as if the locket had grown yet warmer; the heat pulsing from it reminded her of a little animal squirming and biting in its defense. Should she really throw this thing away? It obviously wanted to stay with her. And she could do so much with it. The heat subsided a bit, changed into a more comfortable warmth, like a promise of the bright future she could have with it. If she wore it, just once ...
But no, that couldn't be. The wretched thing was trying to trick her. Laura was almost sure now that it had a mind of its own. Gathering all her strength, she pulled back her arm to gain momentum, and then threw the locket out into the lake, as far away as she could.
There was one short plopping sound somewhere in the distance, and then it was silent again.
Laura turned around, and slowly walked away from the shore of the lake.
"I believe you have lost something," she heard a voice from behind. A strangely familiar voice, though she could not quite place it.
Slowly, while her heart was beating wildly, Laura turned around. Right at the shore of the lake, she could make out a man. He was standing quite still, one of his arms raised, and grasped in his hand he held the chain from which the locket was dangling, strangely bright in the darkness. Laura could only make out his outline, and thus several moments passed until she recognized the haggard, tall man.
"But I thought you... you are..."
"Dead?" Mr. Seger completed her sentence.
Laura nodded.
"Well," Mr. Seger explained in a tone resembling the way he had always spoken in the classroom. "It wasn't that difficult to stage my own death. With my little friend here," he moved his hand, causing the locket to swing back and forth, "I had no problems to get all the 'witnesses' and newspaper articles I needed to convince the town that I am dead. I even wrote my own obituary." Though Laura could barely see his face, she believed he was grinning, obviously proud of his feat. The tone in his voice caused goose bumps to emerge all over her body. "Of course you can probably barely appreciate that. After all, you weren't spending much attention at my memorial assembly."
It took Laura another moment to remember, but then realization hit her: The very first gap in her memory had occurred on that day, on the second school day of the year, during the assembly.
"And Martin?" she asked.
"Martin." The teacher let the name linger in the cool night for a moment, making Laura tremble from vague memories, before he continued to speak. "Well, since I was officially dead, I couldn't really risk being seen in town. So I needed some help. Someone, who was easy to control. And to control Martin was just about the easiest thing I have ever done, even when I was just learning how to use the locket. It was almost as if he wanted me to think for him. Still, I decided it is better to keep his good will, so I got him a little reward -- I let him do with you whatever he pleased. After all, the poor boy has had a secret crush on you for years, in case you didn't know."
Laura shivered, full of disgust. Mr. Seger was grinning again, this time she could see it more clearly. All was his fault! Not Martin -- as strange as it still seemed to Laura, Martin had been his victim as well, just like herself. She suddenly realized that she could barely control her rage against the teacher; it was struggling to burst out of her. However, she reminded herself, she had to remain calm. He had the locket; she stood no chance against him. Provoking a fight would be stupid. And who knew what his plan was now. Maybe if she kept him talking she would find a way out of this.
"Why did you do all this? What did you get out of it, when Martin... when he... I..." She was still not able to say it out loud, Laura realized.
"Why not?" There was honest surprise in Mr. Seger's voice; he did not seem to understand her question. "Imagine, you would find such a locket, and as soon as you wear it, you can make anyone do anything you like. Just imagine the possibilities. But at first, of course, I could not fully deal with it; I had to learn how it worked. And I had no idea what I wanted to do with it. I tried it out a bit here and there, and then I decided it was better if I disappear -- so no one would find my little secret. A dead person can't be punished for anything either. And it is also much harder to steal something from someone who is not there."
For a few moments, he remained silent now. Then he took a step towards Laura, and another one. She wanted to back away, to escape him, but her feet were glued to the forest ground, she was unable to take even one little step.
"You know," he continued, "the locket called me. I didn't just find it; it wanted to be found -- and it wanted to be found by me. And when you took it away from Martin, it wanted you to return it to me. You did exactly what it wanted you to do. It isn't me that decides what's to be done, it is the locket. And it tells me what's right and what's wrong."
He took another step toward Laura, and the girl believed to make out a mad gleam in the eyes of her teacher. She suddenly felt that despite the cool night air sweat was covering her brow, and her knees were trembling.
She cleared her throat, before she spoke in a weak voice. "Why don't you resist then? Why are you doing whatever a piece of metal wants you to?"
With a mirthless laughter he replied: "Why, why, why! You have so many questions, Laura. And the answer is the same for all of them: Why not? Imagine what power I can aspire to with the help of this locket. Quite apart from all that, your little morals and worries are a bit late. What would I do without the locket anymore? Should I return and tell everyone I am not dead? That they buried a bag of potatoes?"
He took another step, and another; Laura could already almost feel his breath on her skin now, as his face approached hers. Her heart was beating madly, every instinct told her to run. But she knew that running was not going to help.
"So what is your plan now?" she asked instead.
The teachers smile seemed thoughtful, almost dreamy. He cocked his head slightly to the side, a gesture that looked somewhat strange for a man his age, and gazed at Laura. Then he took another, final step towards her. He was so close to her now that she could smell him, feel the warmth of his body. Mr. Seger raised his hand and softly let it glide over her hair. Laura winced, she did not want to allow him to touch her head, but before she could turn away, he grabbed a thick strand of her hair and pulled her face towards his own.
"Well, I can't really just let you go," Mr. Seger whispered with a rough voice. "At least not as long as you are in full control of your own mind. The risk is just too big, you understand? Also," he moved his hand down, his fingers still entangled in Laura's hair. A short yelp escaped her lips, as he forced her head down, made her slowly get onto her knees. "Also, there is still the issue that I need someone to help me with things here and there sometimes. I will have to replace Martin somehow. After all, he is in a coma thanks to you. Not even the locket can get him out of that."
Laura's eyes stung from tears, she was trembling in the effort to suppress them, to not show any weakness. But it was too late: She felt her vision blur from tears, felt one of them running down her cheeks. He had won, before she could even try to fight back. She stood no chance, she knew that. Yet the memory of the freedom she had felt the day she defeated Martin, the thought of having lost all that she had believed to have won, made her furious. She couldn't just give that up now! She gathered all her strength, concentrated, in expectance of what was to come. She waited for the air around her to grow thick, to drown her thoughts, for the abyss in which she was to fall.
Mr. Seger smiled again. "Don't even try to resist, it's no use anyway. I am not Martin. I am much stronger than he ever was. And contrary to him, I do all this completely by my own choice. I am free. You can't fight me."
Laura clenched her teeth. She would try anyway. For a moment, she could still see the forest around her, the lake that was bathed in moonlight. She smelled the dry needles from the pine trees on the ground, and felt the night air touch her skin coolly. All this, it seemed, felt more intense, as if her body and mind wanted to take in the beauty of the world one last time. Laura tried to hold onto all of this, tried to stay in it, in the forest, in the summer night. But the teacher's face appeared between her and all that she rather wanted to see. Mr. Seger's face above her, looking down on her with a slight smile, blocked out all other view.
And then it started. Everything around her grew blurry. The air seemed to thicken; the smells and sounds of the summer night weakened and disappeared. For another moment, Laura tried to concentrate all her mind on staying conscious, but it was as if her brain itself was slowing down too. Inevitably she sank down into a dark abyss...
~~~~~


Thank you for reading. The next chapter of this story will be published in the same category.

 

[Sr. Diablo]

Last update of Part 1, of the series is posted.

Readers let me know how you liked the part 1, and i will post another part soon.

Thanks keep reading

 

[Sr. Diablo]

A Battle of Minds, PART - 2

UPDATE -1
​

This is the second chapter of a story mainly situated in the mind control category. I recommend reading the first chapter, but for those that do not want to do so here is a short summary:

The new school year did not start well for 18 year old Laura: First she breaks up with her boyfriend Daniel without ever having planned to do so, then her mathematics teacher Mr. Seger dies, and finally, she starts experiencing strange memory lapses. After a while she realizes that someone is controlling her thoughts and actions in some way, and she suspects her classmate Martin and a mysterious golden locket he is wearing. With time, however, Laura learns to resist, and after the end of the school year she finally defeats Martin. Laura believes to be free now; the only thing left for her to do is destroying the locket. Just then Mr. Seger, whom she believed dead, suddenly appears and turns out to be the true owner of the locket – Laura's ordeal has only begun.

I hope you enjoy this story, and I would be very happy about comments. The story takes place in a fictitious small town in Eastern Germany in the late 1990s. As in that time school took 13 years in Germany, all students in this story are 18 or older.

~~~

Dark are the waters of Lake Leskow, as it lies quietly beside the Grünenberg forest. The night sky is covered with clouds, the moon is not shining. Only the street lanterns in the small town of Leskow, on its Western shore, shine dimly in the night. These lanterns, however, are fighting a lost struggle against the darkness enveloping lake, forest, and town. Their orange glow is swallowed by the darkness. No reflection brightens the waters of the lake.

Suddenly, a gust of wind blows over the lake, waves ripple its surface. The trees in the forest start swaying in an ancient dance, forgotten by humankind. It seems, the wind was all they have been waiting for, and now they wake up from a thousand years of sleep, they raise their voices in a song of rustling leaves. Then the waves of the lake are hit by the first drop of rain, it bursts on the surface of the water in a small explosion. Another drop follows, and another one. The rain drops are heavy, and soon the sound of falling rain fills the forest. But no one can hear it; it is too late in the night. Leskow is asleep, even the last guest of the little town's pubs has returned home and gone to bed. And who would want to be outside in this type of weather?

Suddenly, however, something is stirring at the edge of a small, hidden bay at the Southeastern shore of the lake. Some tiny movement that is not due to the wind. A bird flies up from the scrubs under the trees, fleeing from an unknown danger, though the rain is covering up all other sounds.

A moment later, a figure appears. A human figure, a man, though barely visible in the shadow under the trees. He stands motionless at the shore, staring out over the lake. He looks almost as if he is thinking about something. One of his hands is closed, forming a fist. Then, however, he slowly opens the fingers, one by one, and for a moment something bright glitters between them – a shining piece of metal, a precious piece of jewelry, that he is holding in his hand.

He remains silent a few more moments, and then his voice tears through humming of the wind, through the dripping of the rain. He says only a single word, a name, but he shouts it out loudly, so it echoes over the waters of Lake Leskow:

"Laura!"

***

Laura stared at the monitor of her computer.

"It was awesome! I had a great time with you! See you next week. Thomas."

She did not know what to make of this mail. It was addressed to her, it was in her email account, but what did it mean? Which Thomas had sent it, anyway? There were four boys of that name just in her class, and many more in the whole school. The address of the sender gave no indication which of them it might have been, and she had never been more than loosely acquainted with any Thomas. So what was he referring to? What had been awesome? Was she, without knowing it, dating this Thomas?

Laura massaged her temples. It was five o'clock in the morning already, and she had not succeeded in finding anything that made sense. She had no idea what was going on in her life. The last thing she could remember were the events of a warm August night. Now it was the end of October.

She had woken up about three hours ago. After sitting up with a start, disoriented and scared, she found that she was back in her own bed, in the room that had been hers since her childhood. Everything looked normal, as it always had; the room was neat and clean: She always kept it that way, since her earliest childhood. Her shelves were filled with books, her school bag was stored in a corner, and her computer stood on her desk.

Laura had awoken like this before – but something was different this time. 'Not again!' – Those words echoed through her mind the moment she woke up, as if they were coming from the past, as if she was not thinking them now but had thought them a long time ago. And there were other words there, words not spoken by herself, but by Mr. Seger, her old math teacher. Words that she seemed to have heard only minutes ago, though in fact they had been uttered back in August, out in the forest, by the lake: "You can't resist me."

The window to her room was closed when she awoke, and it was warm and comfortable in her bed, but Laura could see the outlines of trees outside, in the dark. She could see that those trees did not carry any leafs anymore. It looked cold outside, it was fall. After understanding that many months had passed since that day she met Mr. Seger at the lake, she left her bed and ventured out into the kitchen, searching for a pile of old newspapers that her mother kept to place them at the bottom of the garbage can when necessary. She needed those papers to find out as much as she could about the months she had lost, any trace that could indicate what her former teacher was up to. Of course, the newspaper pile was not very complete and her search did not render many results. There were a few articles about a recent series of strange robberies, for example another one in the museum of local history, similar to the one that had happened during the last school year, but that was it.

And there was one more article that interested her. Laura tore the page out of the paper, to keep it for future reference. Now, sitting at the computer, she unfolded it again and again to stare at the accompanying photo. The article itself was short; it was concerned with the Leskow Castle Festival end of September. No, it wasn't the article itself that made her stomach turn: It was sad of course, a reminder of the horrible events of the past year, when one of the participants of the diving contest had drowned. The photo accompanying it, however, showed this year's winner. The fact alone, that the diving contest was still taking place, would have been enough to make Laura feel sick, but it was worse: On the photo, the lucky winner was receiving his victory kiss – from her. She had no idea why she of all people had been elected "princess". Probably it was Mr. Seger's doing. But why? Why was he doing all this? His reasons did not seem any clearer than Martin's motivation last year to win the diving contest, and to even commit murder in order to win.

Apart from this, Laura had not much success with the newspapers. Finally, she returned to her room, searched her school bag with even less success and in the end switched on her computer, drumming her fingers impatiently on the desk while the machine took its time to get started. She read through all her Emails, but there was nothing she could make sense of. Only this mysterious email by a guy named Thomas. Just one sentence, no information. Laura moved the mouse to the reply-button and clicked. "Thomas", she started typing. "It might sound strange, but ..." She hesitated. What could she write? How could she make him understand, when she didn't even know who he was? And what use would it be, if he replied later in the day, or maybe even only in a few days, when she would surely not be herself anymore? For another moment, Laura let her fingers rest on the keyboard, trying to come up with any words that could express the strangeness and horror of her situation. Then she put her hand back on the mouse and logged out of her Email program without finishing the reply to Thomas' mail.

She decided to have a look through her school backpack next. It was neatly packed, which was not unusual for Laura. She had never been one to just throw things into or out of the bag, she liked finding everything easily, and crumbled paper or ear marked books annoyed her. One by one she pulled out everything in her backpack, books and notebooks, and quickly went through them, but with no result. Her notes from class seemed normal and complete. There was a math test from the past week, she had received top grades. The signature told her that her math class was still being taught by the elderly woman that had been called back from retirement after Mr. Seger's supposed death.

While Laura looked at the test, amazed that she had passed it so well, since she could not recall ever learning about this type of calculations in class, she suddenly remembered the small voice recorder that had helped her to find out more about Martin in the previous year. Where could it be? She carefully returned the books into her back, and started pulling her desk's drawers open. Eventually, she found it on top of one of her book shelves, next to the handbooks on journalistic writing her parents had given her for Christmas last year.

Laura turned the little silver machine over in her hand a few times, before she finally switched it on and held it to her mouth. "Hello, hello!" she said, feeling slightly silly. Her voice sounded weird, and for a moment she worried whether her parents might hear her. Then she realized that even if they did, they would not think anything of it. As far as they were concerned, their daughter had been with them all the time throughout the last months. She turned the dictation machine off again, and then pressed on play. "Hello, hello!" her voice sounded back at her. So it worked. Good. How long the batteries in there would last was another question. She had not replaced them since she last had used it. She just had to hope they would be fine, Laura decided, as she turned on the recorder and placed it in the front pocket of her back pack.

A look out the window, into the sky, which was already turning from pitch-black to a murky gray, told Laura that it must almost be time to get ready for school. She guessed that Mr. Seger was still asleep, and that this was the reason she had managed to wake up, and stay awake for so long. However, once he realized what was going on, he would surely regain his control over her. Laura had no illusions about that. Would he know how long she had escaped him? Would he guess that she was trying to find out what he was up to?

It might be better if she went back to sleep. Maybe then he would not realize she had been awake. And she felt tired, her bed looked enticing. After a moment's hesitation, Laura crawled back under the covers, feeling her body warm up – she had not even realized that it had been quite cold in her room until now. Sleep came over her quickly, but just when her eyes closed Laura was overcome by the familiar sensation of everything around her growing dark and pulling her down into an abyss, extinguishing any thought from her mind.

***

Thomas stood at the gate to the school yard and watched as Laura approached. He was standing there since early in the morning, waiting, and when she finally appeared, made her out from far away. Her slender form and her red hair were unmistakable. The closer she came, the faster became the beat of his heart. In a moment he would smile at her and say "Hello!" He braced himself for that moment, taking a deep breath – but the Laura passed him without looking up. She seemed deep in thought.

Thomas sighed and followed the girl into the school building. As he walked behind her, his eyes were fixed on her exquisite little behind, whose forms were clearly visible in the tight Jeans she was wearing today. Fleetingly the thought passed his mind that she had never worn this type of sexy outfit before the start of this school year, while now she always offered him and the other boys quite a view. In fact, until a few months ago, Laura had been one of the quiet, shy girls; almost conservative in her manner and way of dressing. Of course, she had always been pretty with her long hair, shining in a soft tone of red, and those big blue eyes, but back then she was too introvert to really catch the eye. Apart from that, she had been off-limits in those days anyway, after all, throughout most of the last few years she was Daniel's girlfriend.

Well, but Daniel had graduated by now. And the two of them, Laura and Daniel, broke up more than a year ago, much to the whole school's surprise. And the surprise grew, when Laura suddenly started going out with Martin, a dislikeable and boring guy from her class.

He, Thomas, with his constant struggle against acne, with his innate lack of coolness, his too skinny body that seemed unable to build up any muscle, had seen no chance to ever end up with a girl like Laura. However, if this was impossible for him, it was absurd to think that Martin would stand a chance. In fact, it seemed absurd that any girl, not just a pretty one like Laura, would ever want to go out with Martin, Thomas thought. He still could not figure out what she had seen in him.

Then, of course, Martin had this strange accident and was now, almost three months later, still in a coma. The doctor's were out of ideas in what concerned him – at least this was what Thomas had heard. No one knew what exactly had happened to the guy, and apparently there was no medical reason for him to be in a coma, but that's what he was.

Either way, it must have been tough on Laura. In fact, it was shortly after Martin's accident that she changed her demeanor so radically. Almost as if she had become a different person. She started dressing sexily, almost provocatively, and started hanging out with people who according to most of Leskow were "the wrong crowd". And suddenly there were rumors about her in school. She would do almost anything for money, that's what was being said. Strangely enough, despite all this, Laura's grades improved a lot, especially compared to the previous year. And her best subject now was mathematics – something that apparently surprised all those who had known her for a while.

With a sigh, Thomas tore his eyes from the view of Laura's ass, as she continued down the hallway: He had reached his classroom. He entered, and sat down at his usual spot, just in time before the bell rang. Laura would be late for her own class, it seemed. But what did he care. It was not her punctuality he was interested in. While the teacher started talking about something or other, Thomas preferred to let his thoughts run to the previous day – and to those aspects of Laura he was interested in.

Finally he had managed to get a "date" with Laura. After weeks of worry what she would say when he addressed her, it was surprisingly easy, almost as if she had been expecting it. She took the words out of his mouth, told him she had been thinking they should meet up for quite a while now, and suggested for him to come to one of the girls toilets after class, where she would be expecting him. He was hardly able to spend attention in his classes all day, waiting for the afternoon, when most students and teachers would be at home. He walked back and forth through the different hallways until they were empty, checking the time again and again. Finally, he sneaked to the girls restrooms. He had never entered them before, and they seemed to him like a strange and mysterious world, a wonderland, to which he until now had been denied access. Among the usual, not particularly pleasant odors he believed to make out the fragrance of feminine secretions. In front of his inner eye he saw the restrooms populated with hundreds of girls, all pulling down their knickers in the little cabins. He believed he could still here an echo of their voices and of splashing streams of urine...

Of course, the room was empty now; he stood there alone, in the girls bathroom, feeling a bit out of place and nervous. Most of the doors to the different booths were closed – one was locked even, a little red square was shining underneath the door handle. Hesitantly, Thomas walked towards this door, stood in front of it, waiting, not daring to knock.

Suddenly, he heard the clicking sound of the lock; saw the little square under the door knob change from red to green. Then, the door was pushed open from inside. Inside the small booth, in front of the toilet, stood Laura. Wearing tight jeans, as usual, and an even tighter sleeveless shirt. Her pullover, which the cold had forced her to wear during the school day, was now crumbled up on top of her backpack, on the floor. It was obvious that she was not wearing a bra under that tiny excuse for a shirt. Her soft red hair was hanging into her eyes, and Laura pushed it to the side with a slow movement of her hand, before she gave Thomas a mischievous smile.

"Come in!"

Thomas entered the booth. It was small, especially now that they were two people inside. He was very close to Laura, he almost touched her, could feel the warmth of her body, hear her breathe. Suddenly he realized that never in his adult life had he been that close to a woman – unless he counted the occasional hug from one of his aunts.

Laura's breasts were clearly visible underneath the tiny shirt; even though the light in the cabin was only dim, Thomas could make out her nipples. He felt his cock twitch at the sight. Slowly, he raised one hand; his fingers carefully touched her left breast. Even through the material of her shirt they felt better than anything he had ever touched in his life.



For a few moments, Laura let him proceed at his own leisure, and then she took his hand and decisively pushed it underneath her shirt. Thomas added his other hand, and for a few minutes he forgot the whole world around him, as he concentrated only on the divine feeling of Laura's breasts under his hands – the first breasts he touched in his life, apart from the time when he was a baby. They were beautiful, those breasts, round and firm, not huge, but bigger than Laura's slim figure would have made him expect. Her skin was smooth and soft, her nipples small and hard.

Laura just stood there, silent, unmoving, while he played with her breasts. Finally, however, she took his hands into her own again, pressed them against her breasts one more time, and then moved them to the side.

Thomas would have liked to continue for a while and half protested when Laura pulled away his hands – but her mischievous grin told him that she had more things in store for him. And she did not disappoint him: Laura pulled her tiny shirt over her head, and now he had a free view of those perfectly shaped globes. Her pale skin was glowing under the lamp's light; it looked as soft and smooth as it had felt; its color creamy and even. Laura's nipples were rock hard now, and it seemed to Thomas that they were pointing directly at him.

Then Laura knelt down on the tiles of the floor; her face was now at the height of Thomas's crotch. While looking down at her, taking in the view of her breasts once more, this time from above, Thomas noticed how close her face was to his manhood, which was already straining with all its might against his trousers. Those trousers seemed much too tight all of a sudden, like a prison – but as soon as this thought occurred to him, he saw Laura pulling down the zipper to free his cock.



More updates are coming, stay tuned

 

[Sr. Diablo]

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