Chapter 8

His cock was rock hard now, and she was working it with increasing skill, her toes pressed on either side of his shaft, stroking him from base to tip.

“So what’s it like for you?” Vivian asked, her fingers still moving in her cunt. “When you’re inside someone’s head? What do you see?”

“It’s hard to explain,” Neil said. “It’s like, a tapestry of colored orbs. Each one is an emotion, or a desire. I can manipulate them, make them brighter or dimmer and move them around into new patterns,”

“Can you read minds?” she asked. “Do you know what I’m thinking?”

“Not exactly,” he said. “I get impressions. Like I said, emotions, desires. I don’t get words or images.”

“So you don’t know that I’m thinking about how much I want to see you fuck one of your ‘happy, willing’ victims while I take pictures?” she asked. “Or how much I want to see you break someone the way you broke me, and capture it on film?”

There was a fascinating idea, using his ability to help Vivian make her art. He’d never done anything like that - never had a reason to. But if he did ... it would mean that he’d spend more time with her. He could share his secret world with someone who would not just accept it, but delight in it.

“Hmm, a collaboration,” he said. “Interesting. So, how would that work? We pick a target, and then I ... what? Make her want it while you take pictures?”

Vivian shook her head. “If you make her want it, it’s just some fucking random bimbo having a good time. There’s no art in that. The art is in the pain, in the violation. We’d have to find a ‘happy, willing’ victim, someone you’d normally use your gift on, and instead of making her want it, you’d have to amplify her fear and her resistance while keeping her from being able to fight back or run away. I want to capture the moment her hope dies, the moment she realizes that she is completely and utterly helpless, and that no one is coming to save her. I want to capture that beautiful, heartbreaking, and terrifying moment when she understands that we’re going to rape her, and there’s nothing she can do to stop us.”

Her hips were rocking faster now, and she was rubbing her clit with the heel of her hand. Her feet were still working on him, but her movements were becoming less coordinated, more desperate.

“Do you know how fucking long it takes me to set up one of my photos? Weeks, sometimes months. I have to find the right people, do the research, manipulate them into place ... it’s a lot of fucking work. You could do it in minutes.”

Her fingers were moving faster, and her breath coming in short, sharp gasps. The idea was clearly turning her on. “We could be partners,” she said. “Think of the things we could do. The people we could hurt. The art we could make.”

She was right. They could do some amazing things. She had the artistic vision and the understanding of how to create a truly devastating emotional landscape. He had the ability to make it happen. They could create beautiful, moving art. Together.

“It’s an intriguing idea,” Neil said, not letting on how much the prospect excited him. “But it seems to me you’re going to be getting more out of this partnership than I will. You get your art. What do I get?”

“Me,” she said. “You get me,” Her hips were bucking now, her fingers moving frantically between her legs, “I’ll be your personal fucktoy. You can have this,” she gestured to her naked, writhing body, “whenever you want it. Make me do things I hate and watch me cum from the pain and the humiliation. I will be your willing sex slave, in return for you using your gift to help me hurt women to make my pussy wet.”

His cock twitched against her toes, and she grinned, knowing she had him. “I’ll do the research, find victims who will be fun to break, and plan the shoot. All you have to do is touch them, and make them feel what I want them to feel. You won’t have to do any of the hard work. Just show up, do your thing, and watch me make them cry. And, of course, fuck them for the camera. I want to see you raping some poor, innocent cunt while I capture it all.”