Mind fuck

Mind fuck

The Cell fandom
by fortunepill


Disclaimer: I own nothing. “The Cell” and its characters are owned by Mark Protosevich. I gain no profit from this. This is purely fun. There no point in suing me, because I’m really poor.


Warnings: This fic considers rape (well depends), slavery, mindcontrol and violence. Don't read if you don't like. If you find the irresistible need to flame, be my guest. Feedback is appreciated. Text is not betaed.

1.


Somewhere in the back her head the shine remained like an echo to be heard. Edward had always been careful not to shine her eyes and although young Carl had been in desperate need of her guidance even he had shined the mirror with care, unlike that ghastly creature, whose memory lurked all around. His shine was violent and quick.

The shine from her pendant haunted her even now, during this hot day when the sun just didn’t seem to want to descent the skies, and even the wind was unwilling to bring her any ease. Silky curls of her untamed hair caressed her neck when she moved. The tank top she wore clung onto her breasts bringing every curve and shape visible after the heat made drops of sweat emerge over her skin. Her shorts barely reached the halfway of her thighs and their black denim fabric absorbed sunlight, inviting the warmth of the sun to invade her crotch.

In her hand she held a self-made joint that wasn’t removing her anxiousness or discomfort along with the colourless smoke she exhaled. Catherine lifted her smooth, shaved legs over the edge of her chair while she sucked the end of the wrapped paper to get another breath of oblivion.

Thoughts raced her head as she faced one discomforting truth after another. Her shadowed eyes revealed the truth about all the sleepless nights behind. How was it that everything had seemed so clear when she’d held little Carl in her arms, drowning him in the water when afterwards everything had been fucked up?

They’d wanted to charge her with murder but there was no evidence.

As a result she’d become suspended from work and she’d been ordered to take therapy sessions to reorganize her life. Edward’s father had used this excuse to pull his son from her care and someone else was taking care of him now. She’d been cast out easily. Rejected, because she’d done what was needed.

Their only excuse was that she’d lost her memory and that made her unpredictable, which was unacceptable in her line of work.

A yawn emerged. Hell, she was fatigue. The wakeful nights took their toll, but it was not enough to make her sleep, for the nightmares that came with sleeping were worse. Violent, sexual dreams were constantly waking her up exhausted. Stargher in his ideal shape was always there, leering at her.

Like this morning. She had wake up with wet fingers, her own taste still lingering as a sticky layer on her lips. Shivering, she’d tasted the juice and felt how lust ran down her throat. With her knees weak from desire she’d been ready to come right there and then. Her wetness and the alluring scent all around remained as proof of something she’d never done before.

Such shame had befallen upon her then: shame and despair.

A faint image of Stargher King with his golden skin and demon appearance, only covered with a brown sari, as he straddled on her waist remained. Her breathing quickened. She knew she needed to know. She might understand the madness that had driven her to assault him if she did.

Therapy… She didn’t need a humiliating mind fuck to discover why she was suddenly brought to a stand still. Finding out what Stargher did to her, was the key. As long as she wasn’t connected with her feelings or even her unconscious acts she had no chance of making things normal again.

Catherine rose from her garden chair, moving her hair back behind her ear. Was there really a way to recover what’d been lost? What if it really wasn’t anything worth remembering? What if knowing was worse than being unaware?

Almost apathetic, she walked back inside to the comforting chilly shadows. Once in doors, she forced herself to let go off the troubling thoughts and concentrate on her every day duties. Being unemployed gave her too much time to reflect on the tragic events and Carl Stargher in general. Also the fact that she’d pretty much lived for her work, made everything else seem hollow now.

Catherine stopped to take a look at her notice board where the news article about the dead seals still hung. Regret took her over when thinking about Edward, so Catherine tried to avoid that. Still she hadn’t thrown away any of her notes or material concerning his case. A foolish hope of regaining her job lingered within her.

Angered, she tore the article down from the notice board with her hand and crushed it inside her fist. It was no use wallowing in old matters. Carl was dead and so was the monster within him. Considering that, losing Edward had been a small price to pay.

A sudden weakness forced her to move to the living room and lay on her couch. Maybe she’d been outside for too long? This faint feeling could very well be caused by a heatstroke. Closing her eyes, she placed one hand over them. A lovely darkness invaded her eyesight and eased the unease she felt. The dull pain seemed to lose its edge quickly and for that she was grateful.

Yet something undefined was also there, waiting for her here where everything was unseen. Catherine felt a little tension in the small of her back and realized all of the sudden that she couldn’t move her legs. She opened her eyes, realizing that the pitch black was still surrounding her. And with that the black began a slow retreat as it dissolved into a world she’d never thought she’d visit again.


...


Once again Catherine stood in the room that had emerged from the closet of Carl’s childhood home. The musty stench of blood and flesh was all around. In the corner, inside the bathtub floated the dead girl, who’d been his first victim a long time ago.

She was bathing in dirty water mixed with her own blood. Carl’s earlier words about his first kill echoed through Catherine’s head. He’d been sloppy with this one, but the ones that came after her… By then he’d already improved his technique. The inadequate bathtub had been replaced by a tank and they all had a place reserved in his private exhibition.

“In what world do you live in?”

He noticed that she wasn’t paying attention; saw that she was horrified with his handiwork. It pleased him, but he wanted more. She didn’t respect him, just pitied him. She needed to be taught.

Catherine had been startled by his sudden movement as he’d risen from the chair with haste. Now he stood before her, back straight and that powerful chest showing how his breathing had accelerated. She’d agitated him.

“Carl, where’s Julia Hickson?” Catherine could hear the fear in her own voice. She was shaking even now and no matter how hard she tried not to show her fear, it felt like the world around her was growing and she was shrinking before him.

Something flashed in Carl’s eyes when he heard her question. A hissing voice in the back of his head replied with rage. “No names!”

“No-,” He pointed his finger at her accusingly and knocked over the stool behind him with his heel, “Names!”

Catherine startled because of his violent reaction, but continued asking with her thumb pressed over the microchip sensor that would take her away from this Hell anytime she’d want to.

“Where’s Julia?” She asked her eyes gleaming with despair. “Where is she?”

Carl just smiled coldly and backed up towards the shadowy corner. She her pulse was racing, every muscled tensed from being constantly under alarm. The sound of his bare feet thumping against the wooden floor with every step matched with her every third heartbeat.

“I know you, Carl. You want to tell.” She said it almost like she’d been talking to a child – but he was no child.

The voice was demanding control now. The insolent bitch needed to be trained and polished. She needed to taste fear unlike every before.

“Know me? You know ME?” His mocking words were mordant. The voice made them into an unclear howl that sounded nothing like his voice.

He didn’t care. She’d seen the real him once before and fled in fear, that stupid cunt. This time he needed to be cleverer than she was to trap her. He’d caught sight of that magic button on her hand when they’d last met; Annoying thing, allowing her escape with such short notice.

Now he wondered what if, he made it so she wasn’t too willing to use it? She was such a pretty little thing that he might keep her here for longer. What was the use of putting her up in his exhibition; all said, all done.

Yes, she would probably make a beautiful toy as long as taught properly, and teaching was what that meddling, lying whore needed. A slave serves a master. A student follows his teacher.

Carl continued his retreat, eyes still fixated on the magical button, until he was devoured by the shadows and he stopped. Catherine could feel the anticipation in the air, but she felt comforted that there was more space between them right now. She could see his every move and he couldn’t possibly escape her eye.

Then, out of nowhere and completely unexpectedly, a figure dashed at her pushing two strong arms underneath her armpits. Her hold on her hand and the sensor was gone when he pulled her hands apart locking her against his chest with a violent yank. Warm breath teased her ear and she heard how his tongue pushed through his lips, long before it snaked towards her, licking at her earlobe.

The gesture filled her throat with disgust and stiffened her body even more. Noticing this, the malevolent creature first released and pushed her away, then slamming her on the ground. She turned while flying through in the air and fell down on her back, hitting her head hard against the floor. Pain tore the strings of reality out of her hands. It spread through her like a disease releasing a silent wail through her closed lips.

Not a single coherent thought formed afterwards. Her vision had blurred. She only saw golden and dark brown before her. Her limbs all seemed powerless. She’d forgotten all about the sensor in her hand.

Above her stood, no longer Carl Stargher, but Stargher King, the monstrous side of the same man. He didn’t look the same as he’d looked when she’d first seen him in the core of his kingdom. The rings from his back were gone and replaced by healthy skin. Two golden rings pierced his nipples, contrasting with the dark brown skin that faded into silver towards his neck. The skin on his arms was golden below his elbows and over his white face, between the eyebrows and nose was a faint tattoo of a hummingbird.

His black hair seemed to grow from only two round areas on his hairline and it’d been shaped like a pair of demon’s horns that bent down pointing towards the ground. His head was otherwise bald and a thick jagged skin layer that looked like white lichen covered the back of his head all the way to his neck. He was still wearing just a dark sari around his waist.

He examined her as she laid helpless on the floor, trying to get her senses back to work. That bitch had rejected him, like she was better than he was, like she was still the smarter one. He leered at her, allowing the knowledge of his superiority drive away the image of her horrified face.

She’d learn. Oh, he’d make her learn her place!

Catherine lifted her hand towards the skies to try and reach something, anything. The thumping sound of his approaching steps made her stir again and freeze completely when it stopped. To her there was nothing but unexplained fear at the moment.

Stargher King licked lips when he squatted down and leaned over her unwilling body, bringing his face next to hers again. A single tear had escaped her eyes and remained on her cheek while she made her fearful expressions. He stopped to examine it and smelled her hair, making sure she felt his breath on her skin again.

Underneath him, Catherine was trembling as the soft material of his sari touched her thigh during his movement.

He enjoyed her fear that invoked a stirring in his loin. There was definite tension in the air, unlike with all the other bitches he’d wanted to make beautiful. Those ungrateful, lying sluts!

His face twisted by rage, he retreated a bit and straddled upon her resisting body. His eyes caught a glimpse of her round breasts and nipples that had been hardened by his presence, before her weak hands blocked the view as they attempted to push him away.

Stargher King pushed her hands away annoyed by her futile attempts to prevent the inevitable. He pressed his thighs tighter against her sides, forcing her feel how his hard erection pressed against her dirty hole.

Victory was at his grasp and still the weak woman underneath him dared to resist! Tension gathered in his jaw, as he clenched his teeth together, riled by her agony. The moment was at hand. He reached for the skies with his hands and a tool appeared in them: A collar.

He smiled viciously as he brought the lifeless thing to her neck, feeling the metal in his hands come to life by her troubled presence. Then the cold was already against her skin, causing shivers to run throughout her body. Her neck tensed, as her flesh shunned the unfamiliar object. Angered with her final attempts to escape, he closed the collar around her neck, sinking the metal into her. Blood began to run down her body, pooling on her chest and in the valley between her breasts. It stained that lovely honey complexion.

Stargher King laughed as her eyes became lifeless. Reason was lost behind desire and need. Somewhere underneath the mothering way she talked to him and the superior glare, another Catherine existed and that person wasn’t too far off from his ideal shape.

He admired his puppet: The dirty whore below him, who was already craving for a piece of him. He smelled her wetness and desire easily. She had moved a mere inch underneath him, but just enough to increase the pressure his cock laid on her entrance.

An ethereal feeling of anticipation was readable on Catherine’s eerily calm face. There was no more fear, no more anxiousness - Just the leering above her and a promise waiting to be fulfilled.

“Me god.” The demon above her whispered rapaciously, one hand cupping her breast. His big hand closed around it, squeezing it to her pleasure. His face leaned in and he revealed his dull teeth, taking one nipple between them. He bit her through the fabric, making dull pain and pleasure mix. Her pelvis moved underneath him.

He bit the nipple harder, wetting her tank top with his saliva around the nipple. She gasped sharply and left her mouth open, breathing in deep. Her head shot backwards as she arched her back. Noticing this, Stargher King breathed one more time towards the moistened fabric and moved to kiss the defenceless flesh on her chest.

His kisses were rough and bruising as he moved up her bloody chest and finally brought his mouth against hers, shoving his tongue inside her mouth. Catherine tied her hands around her neck quickly, almost draining every touch. His tongue ventured inside her mouth snaking from one end to the other impatiently. In the end he nearly smothered her by shoving it deep down her throat.

Again his hand took her breast, squeezing to his own delight. Then, he suddenly pulled his mouth from hers, stopping to stare at her blurry eyes. All she felt was pleasure. He tilted his head. The bitch would never learn from pleasure, not pleasure alone.

He retreated quickly and brought his hand to her waist. With a violent move, he tore her pants open from the front and watched her underwear dissolve away because of a mere thought. He used his divine power again when noticing the dark hair that covered her slit. The next moment she was shaved.

All she felt was the wrenching power he shoved himself inside her with. She cried in pain, simply making her new master smile. She was as tight as a virgin to him though he knew her hole had been plunged into before. Her inner walls clasped around his enormous length and size. She felt good around his cock. They fit together, like he’d known they would.

His yell could only be described as a battle roar as he begun plunging into her with terrible haste. Each stroke was pain and pleasure. It felt as if though his giant cock was impaling her, but each time he retreated, she already craved for him to enter her again. His fierceness was killing her and reviving her at the same time.

He claimed her lips again, biting them more than actually kissing them. She gave back everything she had and more, but she wasn’t pleasing him. He told her that with his deep guttural voice, calling her a whore and a faker. She’d never be good enough, how could she even think that? She wasn’t pristine either – just another cunt in the bunch.

The air had grown sultry and the room around smelled of sex and sweat. The back of her top was soaked from sweat as well. A long time after Catherine ran out of stamina, he kept on pounding her flesh zealously. And then when the act that he’d called unsatisfying reached its end and he felt the orgasm explode within him, he was left to stare at her with terrible elation lighting his demon face.

He exploded inside her, his dirty seed marking her as his from now on. Still he remained within her for a little while longer, getting an eye contact from his new pupil. He was the one in control. He was the one with the power here. This was his world and she belonged to him.

Stargher King extended his hand to touch the collar he’d put on her. From the collar his hand rose to meet with her face and close around her jaw. He plunged himself deeper inside her and she gasped sharply, her eyes gaining focus in an instant. He smiled knowingly.

“Gonna make you beautiful.” He said that powerful voice echoing all around the room, a hint of admiration hidden in it: A promise, which he sealed by licking the blood from her bleeding lips and then forcing his own against them.


...


The world became dark again, and slowly the feel of the demons arms around her and his length within her dissolved away with that dark fantasy world. Catherine no longer felt the weight that’d held her down or the wound on her throat that the collar had made. She laid on her sofa completely motionless, unable to stop reminiscing the event she’d just remembered.

A wail escaped her lips and she opened her eyes, rolling to her side and curling up into a fetal position for safety. Tears stung her eyes, but the images would not stop: Stargher’s leer, his lips, his cruel touch and degrading words. He’d wanted to mortify her and succeeded.

Was this what she’d so desperately sought out to remember? She wiped her face with her hand, but new tears took the place of the ones that were drained into her skin.

No more. It was over. Stargher was dead! She tried to remind herself of all these things.

Yet one thought exceeded every other. Could’ve Stargher settled for so little? Deep inside though she already knew the answer.

There was more.