DEVASTATION 2 extract for A1

Foreword by drkfetyshnyghts

A reader of Devastation Part 1 asked me, was this story a tragedy, or was it a horror? The question took me aback a little. I hadn't thought of it as either of those. To me it was simply a study in (unrealistic and yet believable) extreme distress, extreme addiction, and in extreme evil. Yes, and extreme fetish. Basically a Fantasy.

To me, it was a story that had been washing around my mind for ages; one that I needed to get down in black-and-white before it faded, one that I needed to share. The story turned me on, and yet unsettled me at the same time. Writing parts of it unsettled me a great deal and I guess I truly felt and lived in my mind what I was writing. Felt it to the core. Very powerful. So much of Petra, Sabirah and Stefani all rolled into me maybe. In a split second of inspiration I decided to go with the flow. This is the result – where dark and taboo places are visited, and inhabited.

ONE - Stefani

At precisely the same time that Dr. Sabirah Najwa was greeting Petra on the front steps of her clinic, an associate of the clinical psychologist was meeting Petra’s stunning eighteen-year old daughter Stefani, from the private college she attended. There was nothing untoward about this. Stefani knew she was being picked up and kind of “semi-looked-after” for a few days, whilst her mom was away.

What Stefani didn’t know, or couldn’t know at that point, was that her mother, the stunningly attractive city high-flyer was being led into the bowels of what amounted to a sanitarium from which she would never emerge. At least, she would never emerge the same person.

Sabirah’s associate was forty-year old Selena. A mother herself. Very smart, attractive, articulate and yet with hidden issues of her own. A former volunteer at the clinic. Although a volunteer who had enjoyed some form of success in rehabilitation. Her rehabilitation relied on the constant feed of Sabirah’s partial hypnosis. The best way to explain it is that the hypnosis acted like the drugs would in someone with various personality disorders. Or psychosis.

Selena could almost be ‘the mother next door’; attractive, but not in a stunning way; her own five-feet-six-inches considerably shorter than Petra’s five-feet-ten and Stefani’s five-feet-nine, and yet, a full, buxom cleavage that was both uplifted and firm. Even saying that, you could walk past Selena in the street without a second glance. Unless, that is, you were particularly fond of high-heels. She wore them all the time. Dangerously high heels. Spiked heels. Boots or shoes. Night or day. Selena needed her high-heels, the same way that we all ‘needed’ ‘something.’ Oh yes, Selena had deep, deep issues of her own. Her issues had been brought to the fore, been exposed, had been made her focus, in a broadly similar way to Petra’s issues. Admittedly, Petra’s treatment by Sabirah had been ‘way advanced’ in comparison. Outwardly, Selena was a well-rounded, content individual. Inside though... inside was where Sabirah’s work had been concentrated. Inside was where the focus had been concentrated and fine-tuned.

It was the last day of the summer term. Selena met Stefani outside the college gates. She blended in with all the other moms perfectly. She even exchanged small talk with one or two of them, clearing her throat, and a hidden inner-smile at comments passed of teenage girls, and their troubles. Hormones all awry, and delinquent boys seeming to becoming a bigger part of their particular daughters’ lives. One mother echoed Selena’s thoughts exactly.

“Well, what can you do? They have to grow up. They have to spread their wings. We can’t wrap them in cotton wool all their lives, can we?”

There was a certain irony in what the woman was saying. A certain ‘acceptance’ that sooner or later, the wicked ways of the world won over, and their offspring would be swallowed up in debauchery and wickedness. Selena nodding thoughtfully at the woman’s comments before answering.

“Hmmmm, well I guess so. Gotta let them grow up and blossom, I guess. All we can do is nurture, guide, and advise on the way. Try to make sure the ‘right’ path is taken.”

Her voice trails off, the other woman nodding almost over-eagerly at what Selena was saying. Selena’s understanding and empathy well practiced and well displayed for the benefit of all the moms within earshot.

Selena spotted Stefani immediately. She had seen photographs and a college video of her. Neither medium did the girl justice. She was striking. Impossibly pretty, and an exact, although younger replica of her mother, Petra. Despite Stefani’s blossoming maturity, her face was fresh, wide-eyed with a naivety pouring out. Selena smiled, again inwardly, and wickedly, to herself.

Selena already had one-over on Stefani in that she knew in the crowd who she was looking for. Stefani just knew that ‘someone’ other than her mother was picking her up. She spotted Stefani and then moved towards her through the usual college gate throng. She touched her on the arm as Stefani stood wide-eyed looking round for the person who was to meet her.

“Hi honey... I’m Selena. Your mom sent me to meet you.”

Selena’s voice was deliberately sickly sweet and with a wide, wide smile that drew the young girl in. Stefani visibly relaxed and broke into a wide smile of her own. Her smile, though, was infectious. A pure smile of innocence. Bright white teeth and stretched, supple, fleshy lips.

“Hi Selena... this is really good of you. Mom does tend to wander off on a whim sometimes. But I’m used to that now.”

Her accent, perfect, educated English, the private college tuition fees obviously paying off. Stefani moving in close to Selena to offer polite light kisses on either cheek. A trait inherited from her mother. Not the light almost ‘air kisses’ but the moving in close, and then the slight pressing in, so that breasts gently collide and then crush together throughout the whole motion. In Stefani’s case though, wholly innocent. Or apparently so. Selena’s nostrils flare, and there is the briefest of seconds where ‘something’ flashes in her eyes as she takes in the scent of naive innocence that practically drips from Stefani. In her heels, Selena is much the same height as Stefani, who is in regulation college uniform shoes, and she can rest her jaw lightly on the girl’s shoulder, looking back behind her. Stefani sees neither the flaring of the nostrils nor that ‘flash’ in the eyes. No one sees that. Or picks it up. If they did, a chilling of the spine would in all probability result.

“Mmmmmm, ... wellll Stefani, it’s a pleasure to meet you, and I cannot get over how much like your mother you are.”