Ink Stained Reunion
Chapter 6: Ink Ballad
Pamela woke on the floor. Her body ached from head to toe, but she couldn’t remember why. “I was on the phone, getting a camera crew . . . Then I started touching myself . . . I’ve never shied away from rough sex, but rough masturbation is a new one. Did I slip myself some dust or something? I don’t remember rolling off the bed.”
Pamela took a quick look down and flushed as she saw her shirt hiked up over her breasts. The rest of her clothes were piled neatly in the corner. She’d reported on less embarrassing hijinks.
Not wasting a moment she dashed to the corner, pulling her clothes on as quickly as she could. There wasn’t a mark on her body, but the burning felt as though she should be covered in bruises. Usually her memory was near perfect. Having this sudden gap was frightening. She wasn’t a drinker, but for a moment she worried she had an alternate personality that was.
A quick check of the minibar found nothing missing. Pamela breathed a sigh of relief. She lazily grabbed her cellphone and glanced at its clock almost dismissively until she processed the sight and almost screamed. The digital face clearly read 9:00 AM.
“Oh fuck no. I was thinking I had a bad nap, and instead it’s tomorrow? Sylvie isn’t back yet either. Is she the reason I’m sore . . .?” Sylvia had always been a gentle lover, but it was a possibility. She checked her phone for missed calls and was unsure if she was glad to see there weren’t any. “Camera crews must be busy. They better hurry out here or I’m going to give that moron a call and make her walk in on the news in a trench coat and give the viewers a show . . .”
Pamela started to dial the phone when a knock pulled her attention to the door. “Who is it?” She had a vaguely apprehensive feeling that it was room service, but she couldn’t place why.
“Sylvia, my lovely reporter. Open up the door and let me in?” Sylvia’s voice was musical in the way she sounded in her most suggestive material. Pamela suppressed a shudder as she set down the phone and checked the peephole. Relieved to see only the singer, she threw open the door with a crooked smile. “Glad you’re happy to see me. Sorry I didn’t come back sooner, or give you a ring. I ran into some friends of the family, some very close friends, and we got a whole lot closer. Came back to make it up to you.”
More than Sylvia’s voice seemed different. Her usually soft features were more pronounced, almost like she’d spent the morning being made up by a team better than the one Pamela was used to back at the station. Sylvia was wearing the same clothes she’d worn when she left, but they looked sluttier.
As Sylvia stepped closer the reporter could almost swear she saw something dark hidden in the silver portions of the younger woman’s irises. Pamela couldn’t help noticing Sylvia’s nipples poking out against her top. A quick glance down at her own chest confirmed it was a shared condition. Sylvia grinned as she pressed her hips against Pamela’s. Her hands found Pamela’s and quickly laced their fingers. With a sexy laugh she tugged on Pamela’s hands to make their bodies press tighter together.
“You seem a little . . . speechless. Did I tell you about my Auntie Yana? She used to be a really famous writer—one of the biggest. We had a nice long chat, and she helped me see some things a lot more clearly.” Sylvia giggled and swayed her hips against Pamela’s. “I told her all about you, by the way. She thinks you sound yummy. I agree with her.”
For the first time in years Pamela felt at a loss for words. Sylvia wasn’t inexperienced or shy, but she was never so forward. “Mmm you’re not normally like this. This ‘auntie’ another member of the family you’re a little too close to, like with your sister?”
“Not usually, but we had a talk about that, too. I think we came to a mutually beneficial conclusion.” Sylvia hooded her eyes before rubbing her nose along Pamela’s. “She’d love to meet you. I’d love to introduce you.”
Pamela’s eyes hooded, and she rubbed her hips back against Sylvia’s. She tried to pull her hands free from Sylvia’s grasp and whimpered when the other woman only held tighter. Sylvia grinned more as Pamela raised an eyebrow. She started to struggle when Sylvia’s lips roughly mashed into hers.
Kisses were a weapon Pamela was incredibly fond of. They felt good, they usually made her prey mew in the most adorable way, and they were great for shutting people up. Sylvia wasn’t melting into her lips mewling like a horny schoolgirl. Sylvia was instead walking Pamela back against the closest wall. Pamela caught herself mewling and whimpered pitifully as her cheeks burned red.
The kiss didn’t end. Passion burned through Pamela, weakening her knees more with each moment. She soon melted back against the wall, using it in a feeble attempt to stay upright. When the kiss finally ended the sound of her heart pounding in her ears and her own quick labored breathing were all too familiar.
“Mmm sorry, but I’m kinda trying something new. I mean, I won’t pretend that I’ve never done this kinda thing before, but this is different. This is a lot different.” Sylvia kissed at the base of Pamela’s neck, slowly nibbling up to just below her ear. “I hope you don’t mind me enjoying myself a little. You seem a little more sensitive than usual, a little . . . softer, too.”
“Mmm . . . really? And no, I don’t mind, Sylvie . . . But maybe . . . Maybe thirteen, sixty-five, forty-seven instead?” Pamela’s lips curled into a sleepy grin. Watching Sylvia try being dominant was cute, but she had to remind her who was in charge.
Sylvia blinked and raised an eyebrow in confusion. “Is this one of those free-association games? Because I’m not in the mood for critical thinking fun time, I’m in the mood for sex. I hope that’s not a turnoff, because if it is I might need to get you committed.”
Pamela whimpered, her tired eyes widening as much as they could fighting against the heavy feeling. “You . . . That . . . What the hell is going on . . .?!”
“No clue what you think should be. Apparently you’re pretty wrong. Sorry about that. Good news is you’re still going to have fun. Relax, I’ve got everything under control.” Sylvia’s voice was a velvety purr that made Pamela shudder in fear and arousal. “Wanna know something really nice, Pamela?”
“What . . .?” Sylvia’s hands rose to Pamela’s and pinned them back against the wall. The reporter had never felt so exposed or so vulnerable. She wished her nipples weren’t pulsing, or that she weren’t so damp. Sylvia had been so receptive every time Pamela touched her. It made no sense that she would forget everything Pamela worked so hard to implant.
Sylvia’s eyes glittered as a faint aura of amethyst and silver glowed around her skin. Pamela struggled desperately to break free, but her powers had assured she’d never ran into a situation where being too close was a liability. She’d always just rubbed closer, whispered the right words, and been the one pinning the other woman to the wall. Her struggles were impressive, but futile.
“My power? I can make it flow from anywhere. Even here.” Sylvia pressed her chest firmly against Pamela’s. The reporter moaned at the stimulation, and moaned louder as she felt a smooth ethereal heat flow over her breasts from Sylvia’s. Sylvia’s eyes hooded as she allowed herself a long slow bedroom laugh. Her current flowed stronger. Airy soothing heat charged with electric jolts of pleasure and bliss melted Pamela back against the wall.
A faint edge of wetness tingled along with the rest of Sylvia’s powers. She could feel it as it slid out from her breasts, and it made her thighs clench. Her head felt heavy when she puzzled over why.
All Pamela could think was a swirl of two-colored pleasure.
Sylvia grinned, kissing Pamela’s forehead tenderly. “You’re going to listen to me, now. You’re always telling me to just relax and listen to you, to let you make everything better, but this time you’re going to listen to me. You’re going to spread your mind open wide just like you’re always getting me to spread my legs. Sound good to you?”
“I’m going to lisssstennnn . . . Open wiiiiide mind . . . Yessssss . . .” Pamela’s knees wobbled as her eyes glazed over. The fear was entirely melted away. All that remained was desire.
“Good . . . Because see, I’m the creative one here. Creativity breeds new ideas, new ways of life, enhancements for everyday living . . . and revolutions. Evolutions of culture. You’re going to be my first step in helping make a major change this world has desperately needed.” Sylvia mewled as she released Pamela’s hands, sliding her fingers slowly along the other woman’s face. “I’m going to teach you just what you’re going to be from now on. You’re going to be my obedient little fan girl. You’re going to be my groupie who gets drenched at being my representative to the world. My announcer, my promoter, and my bedtoy when I want it. We’re going to fill you with my song.”
“Your soooong . . .” Pamela groaned as her knees finally gave. Sylvia’s arms wrapped around her, and moved her to the bed. Sylvia quickly removed her clothing and slid a pillow under Pamela’s head.
Sylvia grinned as she straddled the reporter, tracing fingers along her cheek, down along her neck, before grasping her breasts. Her nebula flowed into the woman’s body, filling her with the power of Sylvia’s control. It was musical, charged with Sylvia’s muse. Images of being on her knees for Sylvia flooded Pamela’s mind. She could feel the other woman’s song, her mind, filling her own, and pushing away the last of her control.
Black stains melted into Pamela’s mind as Sylvia’s thoughts sang directly into her thoughts. Fueled by the mysterious tingling slickness Sylvia felt it as easy to speak into the woman’s thoughts as it was to read them.
She found images of herself, words being whispered into her ear, and laughed. Silver turned the images into static and a violet wind carried them away. In their place Sylvia’s power sang of Pamela stripping out of her clothes, kneeling before Sylvia and eagerly listening to the sound of her voice. Her fantasies, her desires, swelled with the song as her mind craved everything but her voice less and less.
Black melted deeper, tingling down along her spine, and Pamela’s eyes trembled as she moaned. The black of her pupils slowly swelled, like a jar of ink spilling, and slowly expanded to cover her irises.
“You had such a naughty chorus running through your mind. You use people, Pamela. You use people, and you’re not really worthy of it. You’re selfish, and you use your body as a tool or a toy. Now, that sexy body of yours is going to be my toy.” Sylvia grasped the woman’s nipples, pouring more of her power through her hands as she gave them a hard twist.
Pamela screamed, her glassy eyes opening wide as she arched. “Your toy! Your toy now . . . Need your voice . . . Want your voice . . . Live for your voice . . . Sing for me . . . Please . . .”
“Imagine a concert hall full of women thinking just like you are? Craving to hear my voice, willing to do anything to hear my next idea for how to make them shudder, what new innuendo to sneak into a song, what new way to make them crave me sliding into their minds through their ears. Goddess doesn’t it get you wet?” Sylvia moaned as she melted forward to kiss Pamela’s lips.
If the question hadn’t been rhetorical and Pamela hadn’t been silenced by the kiss she would have moaned yes. Instead she moaned in the kiss and clenched her thighs.
Taking a deep breath, Sylvia indulged her slave. There were no words in her song, only sounds, but her power carried the intent through Pamela’s mind and laced it deeper than words could reach. Pamela had always chosen her own path in life, found powerful women and made them elevate her, but she knew in Sylvia she had found a woman more powerful than she could ever be. She would be a steppingstone for her, moving where Sylvia needed her to move, doing what Sylvia needed her to do, obeying her helplessly all for the sound of her voice.
Sylvia reached down and pulled off her top before rubbing her bare flesh against Pamela’s. Where before she felt Nina Corvi’s song dominating her, guiding her, she felt her muse soaring. She could taste Pamela’s mind free of any thought Sylvia had not herself supplied. She would always be the most eager, precious audience.
“Now, I’m going to have fun with your body for a bit. You probably won’t be remembering much more than moaning and writhing. That’s fine, sometimes you forget the lyrics to the song. You never forget the beat.” Sylvia’s lips again pressed into Pamela’s as she poured her song deep into the reporter. Her ambition was melted and reformed as devotion. Sylvia’s hands caressed along her flesh, filling her with wet electric obedience that left little room for anything else.