Cat girl Charity "The fox and lion"

Have you ever looked into a mirrors depths and seen the wonders of the image reflected back? What about having a second and a third mirror close enough to where you can see reflections of the other mirrors in the reflections? Each reflection passing on to the next of infinity - uncountable and unknowable, yet they are as the mind itself -- consious, unconsious (such as controls breathing and the muscles of the heart) and most important the realm of the dreams.

Each experience we have on all three parts of the mind play togeater, forming new wonders and memories combining in infinite ways. This is what makes us "US' the one where I am myself. The lifetime of all we have done, seen, shared, loved and so forth.

Yet what happens if those memories we cherish the most could be rewritten unwillingly by another? Or worse yet, taken away, plucked by one who walks the roads of the mind and steals at will? One who loves terror and all (yes a real nut-case)?

If one could do such, it is akin to more than theft...it is the raping of the mind...and thus it sets the basis for our story tonight...

COME!!!

Let us see how the Fox and the Lion play and dance...
Let us learn some of how Charity has become who she is...



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In Stars Rift, the well known and notorious community of planes-walkers, plans, plots, intrigue, and betrayals are to be found everywhere. Constant is the work of the pickpocket and assassin, the tough and the enforcer, yet even among these there is a handful that rise above their other notorious brethren one who is rapidly becoming the most notorious of them all.

For how can one stop a being who takes that most precious of treasures; the very memories which define who we are, and what made us thus. All that is left behind is a sentient body, whom the very mind of lays shattered into fragments of fragments, disjoined reflections of SELF lost to infinity, the very death of identity.

Alive have the streets become with rumors upon rumors, tales building and twisting upon tales that only bring more notoriety to that being. Bounties have gone forth, ever increasing in size with each theft. Even the vaunted academy, one that no thief wishes to attract the attention of, is being challenged students and scholars targeted and looted of memories.

For this master of the masters, each and every mind is like a house; with halls and rooms to explore, the vast collection of artwork, furnishings, candelabra and statuary. Books stored on shelves, some empty and blank waiting to be filled by those memories to come, others filled ancient and new. Almost without fail, this home of the mind those great and small, extravagant or simple are unlocked and unsecured. His for the plundering simply due to the fact he is able to.

HE alone is the master of all about, HE selects who will be plundered, or left alone; who will be questioned or ridden of the mind until they shatter completely. To yet others he rewrites a portion of here, or tweaks a bit there changing lives and desires, driving them from one love into to the arms of another.

The minds are his preparation tables; the chaos resulting his signature, and each gem of a memory he keeps, preparation unto the day he will have enough to transcend, to become more than he is now, and BECOME, a being of purest thought, eternal and unstoppable.

His body shudders in orgasmic, rapturous delight at the thought. Feelings swifter and more pure beyond the physical bliss of two lovers joined in body percolate unto the uttermost fiber of his very being. One more set of minds will be walked tonight; and one in particular does he wishes to dominate and doom.

Tonight shall be the last night for the one called Charity, whos very existence he sees as a bane a mistake to be abjured from reality, overwritten as if she never were, and thus it is to be as he wills.

For tonight the Fox hunts.

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The gloom builds by the hour, rain constant and steady with howling winds and flashes of lightning further give illumination to the one who studies at the little desk by the window. Books and scribble filled papers cover not only it, but the floor, bed and few shelves that have space left. So much to do and so little time left, to cover each and all references.

Charity though stops as her mind wanders, remembering well this very time of year, so very long ago; it seems as if her studies no longer matter drifting does her mind do, the conscious focused on the book, while another part walks back into the house of her mind; memories flash by, of a time when love was so wonderfully new and grand, mysterious and simpleand the discovery of betrayal.

Always there is that echo of the past; drawing forth from the recesses long closed off and yet like a ghost it still keeps coming forth from the grave. Fragments come forth in detailssome clear and some disjointed, echoes of the memories that she wants so desperately to just forget and never can.

For with that pain of betrayal also came one of her greatest of joys.


Three hundred years it has been for me, since that evening happened, when I got dressed in a gown of gold and amber browns. Mother helped me select a sash tied just so, followed by a velvet vest dyed in a weave of fires of color like a opal stone exposed to the light. Even my slippers are made of the softest leather worked in silver trimwe tried high heels until I turned out to be as graceful as a falling tree.

all the last minute fusses and attention my Mother she had adopted me, a cat-girl, instead of any human children she could have, and I love her all the more for it. Making sure my hair is braided just so in that style he loves very much (Reader a doubled French braid)

I stand by the door, pacing so impatiently for the sound of the clock to strike the hour he is to be here with the coach of gilded gold. Mother smiles so at me, moisture clear on the edge of her eyes; somehow I feel she knows our plans despite all my denials. I tried to hide my blush growing while the racing of my heart sounds as if all in a mile or more could clearly hear

Minute by minute the time passes, so fast and yet never fast enough; oh to finally be with him tonight, to have all we know is right and love eternal will we sharethen as the clock chimes on the hour, his carriage arrives, the horses coming to a stophis footsteps coming to the door and the solid knock three times fast

Our ride across the back wood trails I see before me, wonders of shadows and moonlight. The very first taste of true wine I tried in my life, both of us sharing and soon enough my head began to swoon, as constant was my glass refilled. Sweeter than fine honey mixed with spices, with an aroma of cinnamon and nutmeg in one it was. Oh how I love him, as he draws me into his lap, whispering into my ear the sweet nothings I long to hear

That first kiss, sending my giddy mind reeling and soaring like fireworks into the night, tender and strong, soft and severe, burning with heat and passion we went into a second and a third and a river of others next to follow.My arms around him until he started undoing my vest ties; hesitation showed on my face for he stopped and cooed those reassurances that all will be alright. Soon enough our actions have it shed to the coach floor

Oh the scents of his body next to mine, so loving did he look to me; giggles and squeals accompanied his flowing hands over my body, areas I never knew before what they could do when touched just so. Then came one momentclear and fiery as a volcanothe instant he touched my now bared breast and pleasured it with mouth and tongue.such intensity I felt building and flowing, tides of fire and ice, of the storm and the clear, as he raised these senses up and then eased them down

At the inn we had a room prepared, and carried I over the threshold inward as grooms do with his bride. Bouquets of roses, primrose, honeysuckle and more that I could not identify are everywhere; and then my heart leaps like a running dear as I behold our bed for the night. Now all slams home with the grip of iron and steel about me, soon what it to occur with him and me

So much more drink he plied me with that my head spun so hard and fastlooking upon his face in the light of the moon through the window upon us bothhis smile wide and bright as he looked me over. Hands entwine and bodies move one to the other, swirls of fire and heat, lust driven wild into the nighthis whispers of love for all of our lives, promises made to show me the riches of his kingdom

His body pressed onto mine, setting the pace hard and fast, not listening to my first scream of pain as he did enter into me, taking the virginity I offered. He told me all will be fine, just to lay there and let him do the work, as it is supposed to be done. Oh how the hour of that time blurred from the drink save for memories of pain and cried tears

How many times did he put his seed into me before I passed out of the realm of consciousness? I do not know, yet I awoke to the first warming rays of dawn upon my cheek. The first dawn of being a woman and no longer a young lass; the dawn of the rest of time I will spend with my true loveuntil my searching hand finds nothing other than a bed emptyand a letter folded for me to find

Somehow I knew what it would say, the words echoing down from time yet to become into my mind. I did not need to read it and still I did
Words did he call me whore, slut, trollop, and such; claiming I had seduced him deliberately and was not a virgin last night (BUT I WAS!!!). More and more words flowed colder and colder, my denial holding back the tears until at last the dam burst from a sod grew a wail of despair and disgust. So many lies I had been told and believed, so many deceptions just for the game of him being the first to bed me

His letter stated clear at the end You are so like the others, each and every one, weak willed and weak in the mind; you danced to each of my songs thinking I was real, all just to show you how much power I have over all in the world. I did this to you simply because I could and chose to. How heady the nectar of love sundered and shattered can be, of knowing that you dear Charity will never be of value to anyone, for by now I have gone to your home and confronted your family with the dishonorable conduct of their daughter no more does honor live with you, and their love is now cold and you forgotten as if you never were.

How long I cried I know not, save the innkeeper coming in to see what was what, and provide me the gift the one who so used me left behind; a pouch of coin in a gild purse the mark of a whore for hire, showing all what I now am

All of my hopes and dreams shattered that night; for raped me he did repeatedly and played his games with my mind. Even with the travelers and what came laterruthlessly she shoves this train of thought away. Back to her studies she returns

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Sleep holds different meanings and understandings in each person and culture. To most it is the release from the cares and concerns of the day, the time to dream pleasant dreams while the body rests and mind recharges. It is a time to relive the past, to understand the present, and hope for the future. A state in which all is possible, and reality is what ones own mind determines it to be.

For those of an iron will, disciplined focus, or awareness that transcends the normal the dreams are a time for contemplation and meditation. Among the third group are the mind mages, masters of the mental Art (as those who practice psionics are known and their disciplines are called.)

To gain the knowledge of who one is, to know your own mind, each and every recess and corner; each room and hall, where all is and how to secure it. To explore and open new doors unto heightened abilities, learning how all flows together and fits unto the universe as a whole. No gaps do they desire for the intruder to find and exploit, as they can do in turn.

Still for Charity it defies her, the deep and restful slumber she wants and craves; so utterly exhausted from her days of practice and studies for the academy exams and tests coming, in which she may find at last entry into as a full student and not as a scholar in training.

A distant thought flows into one more dream of her pain filled past. Behind mental doors of steel, bound and secured they should remain, yet not now in a defense that demands perfection always. For her past is alive, seeing her walking where once she did, and experiences yet again.

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His smile perfect in mind and body as he willed himself to intertwine the path of her dream coming forth; one she will live again, and he will experience as well. Mental doors and walls into the home of her mind stood in strength unrivaled; deterring each probing attack.

Impossible.

Yet the sounds of psychic bells and resistance of willpower beyond that ever seen before, defies any and all of his best efforts. Both by blunt force of will, defiance of rage and the subtlest moves of a mouse seeking to wind its way in are all rebuffed.

Except for in one very small location; a hole in a defense that cannot afford to be less than flawless.

Smiling once again at the indomitable and superior building he is, the prizes inside await.

Quick as only the energy of thought itself can flow, he is on the other side; a house built of power pure, true and ancient surprise indeed for his hunt. At length he does wander, caught in wonderment of the sheer variety of mnemonic treasures precious beyond description or comprehension. Yet his enlivened senses, enhanced beyond those of mortal beings and many of the Art swiftly draw him to a little used hallway.

Here it ends at a door, beyond which a pulsation comes true and strong; a harmony of mental energy so great and vast as to await his harvest. Head leaning back and eyes rolling in bliss, he breaths deeply in by mouth and nose the scent of power to be savored. Thrills of delight wave up and down his form, shaking and trembling in the communion of memories.

https://blackpornamateurs.com/ With contemptuous ease the Fox sunders the mental door, dissolving it into a maelstrom of rainbow lights; beholding beyond it the mirror all have hidden away. Each of these mirrors allows the dreams to be lived again in infinity of details and projections, one back unto another into the limitless depths of the subliminal mind. He has plundered this door many a time, and knows how to command it, and to possess it fully.

So it is he now finds before him in Charities manor of the mind; the lion caught deep in exhaustion, defenseless to the one who cannot be defended against. HERE are the deepest secrets, loves, hopes, desires, joys, pains and hates. ALL of these which he hungers for, must hunger for and will have for himself lay there, just at the edge of his reach.

And so with swiftness of thought incarnate, he extends his hand to the mirror, and roars for the memories to be shared with him; As it begins, the mirror flashes and swirls in lights and forms, he knows his will is being done, for as he wills it, so the universe makes it.

The Fox will have his prey, his theft, his treasures; while the Lion called Charity is gone in exhaustion.

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Looking among the high peaks lined with winters first snows the chill did not bother her as bad as those fellow travelers in this little bundle of pilgrims and wanderers. United by the need for protection and the desire for companionship in this dangerous section of the plane-walkers roads, their goal was to reach a travelers station, a small stone shelter that will allow rest in a secure location, before sundown and the temperatures drop yet again to the point of hard frost.

Conversations grew in excitement the closer they got, jests and jokes, a ribald and risqu tale or two tossed in for the shocking reactions it would produce. One of their band though, the young cat-girl Charity keeps mostly to herself, doing what chores the group needs help with. No matter the task she is always there, trying to fit in, though distance is still kept due to her mystery and the pain showing in her eyes.

Many wonder is she is a princess in disguise and disgrace; a dragon taken on another form, while some have even speculated she is one who walks between worlds like a ghost, a spirit bound to this world due to some deed yet undone or wrong needing to be righted.

If they only knew the truth of the matter; how much of a disgrace I truly am.

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Ah, betrayal of the past, shattered love and hopelessness of self; so much loathing turned inward, such despair, suchsweet nectar this gem containsheaven itself for me.

Giddiness swells in his being, as one who has taken a shot of strong moonshine and now feels the warmth flow into his very being. To the Fox this is the headiest and sweetest of nectars, the living ambrosia of the divine in and of itself.

He fails to observe the pair of iridescent eyes floating nearby as one perceives a wisp of a dream; there for one instant of reality and dissipating the next.

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Finally arriving, their shelter for the night is not what anyone expected, being accustomed to the stations of the lower hills and such. A low blockhouse of stout stone walls and roof, with one strong wooden door and no sets of windows are seen. Soon enough the fire in the lone hearth is roaring to give warmth unto all and a meal being prepared.

In the preparation of dinner on slender trail rations - mostly a mix of herbs, nuts, berries, dried meat, and some stuff no one really knows what it is Charity does willingly and with delight, able to forget her cares and the semi-ostracizing practice of her companions save for Douglas. Their love for cooking evident when a chance duty of preparing onions, carrots and peppers led to their swapping of recipes, successful experiments and utter disasters in creations of the perfect meal all chefs dream of.

It is in these times she once again can open up for him, telling some of her tale of the first love and its betrayal; his sympathy is genuine, as is the delights in her minor tricks and illusions her basic command of the Art of magic generates. Simple stuff like altering coloration and the perceptions of smells and tastes; complete to the point the others marveled as she came to make simple water taste like Champaign.

The last few days of travel she wonders if her heart has up and gone off for him; as the butterflies keep rolling about her stomach. Sometimes in their work the hands would accidently touch causing a knowing glance and smile back and forth; tentative at first, with much blushing and distress on her part, yet becoming longer and easier each