Don’t Miss It

I ran the focus of my attention across it, shifting myself to the point where I was in perfect balance with it and the rest of my world. I considered all the things which were real to me, my parents, Ginny, my friends and teachers. The reality of the lines was not in doubt. Poised perfectly, totally enclosed in a calm shell of acceptance, I reached out for the lines again, for the second time. This time my conscious mind was ready for whatever the rest of my mind was leading me towards. I shifted my awareness towards the source of that pull, and stepped, without moving away from my existence.How do I describe what just happened? As a boy, just becoming a young man, its perhaps understandable that my mind can only think of something from my boyish past to use in making an analogy. In the movie Willie Wonka, one scene involves a ride in the Wonkamobile, at the end of which they get clean in the "hsawaknow", which as Willy Wonka explains, is Wonkawash spelled backwards. Only I went. Breda stood proudly over her capture, and as she lifted her communicator to boast her achievement to her kinfolk, a whip cracked from behind her and curled about her wrist. The leather clad women had descended behind her as she trussed the hapless Trellis, and were upon her before she could react. He watched as the delicate girl was wrestled to the ground, no match for the two mature and buxom women, who delighted in slapping her soft flesh as the garments were torn from her. She was swiftly trussed and gagged, her poking pear shaped arse and delicate cunt exposed and violated by the fingers of Drusa. She sniffed at the essences on her fingertips and grinned.“Yes! This one is more than ready to ride the Goddess!” She poked the squirming girl with the heel of her boot as four more similarly dressed women descended the bank, each gloating at the captures which lay ready for transportation. Drusa’s cruel smile broadened as she took in the collective pleasure of her colleagues, her spite.
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