A Loner Mentalist Pt. 06

Killing people had turned Jack off violence. He didn't want to see another corpse for as long as he lived, particularly not one that he made. Seeing what this evil puppetmaster mentalist cunt did made him change his mind. They were out there, somewhere, and they deserved to die in misery and fear. They deserved to drown in their own blood. Jack closed his eyes and fists and forced himself to calm down.

Jack focused on the four goons that slaughtered Jacobs' family and had then been turned into his lackeys. Each of them had been an ordinary, non-descript young man, the only thing they had in common was the fact that they were big and strong. Despite being close in age and living in a relatively small town, not a single one of them knew any of the others, except in passing. They were just going about their lives until the day Jacobs was to come home from college. On that morning, their aether records had been blurred for a few moments, before blindly obedient servants emerged in their stead, chanting, "I obey," to themselves. Jack frowned when their minds vanished from the aether soon after their transformation.

"What the fuck? They weren't mentalists!" He looked at the dog, who shrugged in perplexed confusion. "Can a mentalist shield a non-mentalist's mind?" The dog shook his head no. "What? But...the goons?"

"Why their minds are no longer recorded by the aether, I cannot say. All I know is that a mentalist can't actively protect a mind other than their own."

"Then how was this done," Jack demanded, pointing at the utter lack of goons' memories on the screen.

"I have no idea," the dog admitted.

"Some vision guide you are," Jack grumbled. He spent the rest of his vision trying to find out more about Jacobs and his four abusers/victims, but it yielded no pertinent results. He looked for other mentalists, both benevolent and malevolent, but found only a long row of gravestones. When his vision ended, he was back in the hotel room, sitting on the bed while Mia sat in a chair opposite. She was perusing a magazine and looking bored.

"I thought I told you to stay on guard?" She shrugged. The visions of what had been done to the Jacobs family had shook him to the core. He needed a hug. He wanted to cry on her shoulders. Instead, he said, "Well, I guess you're only good for fucking, then."

She gave an insulted gasp before blushing with arousal. She smiled wickedly and leapt across the room to land in his arms. She plundered his mouth as she pushed him back to lay on the bed. Her fingers frantically worked to undress them both. When she freed his cock from his boxers, she bent down and sucked it to hardness. She rode him with abandon and he shot his load into her with his fingers clenched in the supple flesh of her hips.Much better than a simple hug. He relaxed in the afterglow of his orgasm and fell asleep.

The first thing he did when he woke up the next morning was book them on a flight home. The only flight with first class seats available was in the afternoon. Jack didn't hesitate before taking them. The ride in coach had been all but unbearable, with his long limbs pressed up against things. He had also been sorely tempted to use his power on several of the annoying and rude people seated close to him. In the end, he hadn't, but that didn't mean that he was going to put himself in such a position ever again. The price difference between coach and first class was well worth it, as far as he was concerned.

When he turned back to the bed, Mia was awake and she saw his morning wood tenting his boxers. Before he could complain, she was on her knees, pulling down his boxers and licking up and down the length of his shaft. After he blew his load down her throat, he had her lie on the edge of the bed and ate out her pussy until she screamed out her pleas for him to stop. He made her lick her juices off his lips before letting her go to the bathroom to relieve herself.

They made themselves presentable and descended to the hotel's dining hall for the buffet breakfast. A trio of tall, broad shouldered, black men in sharp-looking suits ogled Mia while whispering between themselves in some weird language. The expressions on their faces made it quite clear what they thought of her. Mia responded by blushing and then burying her tongue inside Jack's mouth. He couldn't order her to stop with his mouth plugged and he wasn't even certain he wanted her to. She pulled him into the men's room and into a stall. By the time she finally unplugged herself from his mouth, she had her panties around her ankles and her skirt above her waist. She turned around and bent over, propping herself against the water tank with both hands.

Jack latched the stall door closed, unzipped himself and released his boner. He lined himself up with her snatch and pressed in, groaning with delight at the feel of her silky wetness. Her heat engulfed him gladly as he bottomed out and slapped her clit with his hanging balls. He drove into her with long, hard strokes.

Three sharp raps on the stall door interrupted his enjoyment. A deep voice with a thick accent called out, "Come on, boy, we want the whore, too!"

Jack growled in annoyance. Mia responded to the shameful title the man gave her by bucking back against his groin and gyrating wildly, even in her bent over position. Jack focused on her gasps of pleasure and made such holes in his cloak. He felt four minds perceiving her gasps along with him. He dropped Mia's mind by modifying the holes to exclude her shame. Now that he had contact with their minds, he was at a loss as to what exactly to do about them. Mia's pussy sliding up and down his shaft with twisting motions was making it very hard for him to think.

"Come on, boy," another deep, accented voice said, "share the whore!"

Wrath flared in Jack's mind. He could scarcely believe these guys. He would have imagined impotency and put it in their minds, but Mia's attentions made such thoughts impossible. Her gasps were turning into moans as her pleasure was rising.

"Hear that, boy," the first voice asked. "She wants us! Come! Let us show you both how real men do it!"

"Open this thin door, or we will," a third accented voice threatened.

Jack imagined Mia being a hooker hired by the police to find immoral men for them to arrest. He made such holes in his cloak and projected his power through them. He thought he heard gasps from behind himself, but Mia's moans were climbing in intensity and volume, so he couldn't be sure.

Three timid knocks were heard on the stall door. "She's with the police, boy," the first voice hissed low. "Run before her screams call them here!"

With that, the men left and Jack felt Mia cum on his cock. "You liked that, didn't you," he asked her. "You liked them on the other side of a thin door, listening. You're such a whore."

Spurred on by his words, she resumed slamming herself back into him. He planted his feet and braced himself against her onslaught. Her juices were covering his whole crotch and her ass made wet slaps against him. When her pussy fluttered around him for a second time, he groaned in ecstasy and shot his load deep inside of her. He held her tightly and felt her heart race under her skin. They took a few minutes to recover and made themselves presentable before he stepped outside to see if the coast was clear.

When no one was looking towards the bathrooms, he reached back in and pulled her out by the hand. They made their way to the buffet table and loaded up their plates. Jack was pleased to see the Africans' table was being cleared by a busboy. There was no sign of the assholes. After they finished their big breakfast, Jack rented a car and drove them to Greendale. He laid fresh flowers on the graves of the Jacobs family. When Mia asked why they had come there, he simply told her these people had also been victims of the evil mentalist. He didn't have the stomach to tell her the full extent of the story.

They drove back to Denver with only thirty minutes to kill in the airport coffee shop before their flight home. Mia got singled out by the TSA for a pat-down, yet again, and Jack made holes in his cloak in the shape of wanting to draw the hot brunette aside just to feel her up. When he felt the TSA agent's mind through them, he made new holes, in the shape of thoughts of excruciating testicular pain and projected his power through them. The agent bent over and groaned in agony before he could touch Mia. His colleagues rushed over and helped him through a door marked "Authorized personnel only". As soon as Mia and he were allowed to board, Jack undid the pain.

Shortly after arriving home, Jack got a call from his landlord, who informed him the work on the house was done. As soon as all the paint dried, Jack was free to move in. Jack thanked the man and hung up. When he told Mia, she jumped into his arms and gave him a tight hug, squealing with excitement. Jack reveled in the feel of her firm, big tits pressing against his chest. He thought he could see a tear on Janice's cheek as she left to go up to her room, but he chose to ignore it. The way he saw it, his freedom was only a day away.

He discussed the layout of the new house with Mia over dinner. Janice claimed she wasn't hungry and stayed in her room. Jack set the smallest of the upstairs rooms aside for his meditation chamber, where he would put mats on the floor and blinds on the window. Aside from that, he let Mia do the indoor stuff, while he already had the yard plotted out for his dogs.

After dinner, they retired to their rooms, content to wait another night before seizing their freedom to bone at will. He urged Mia to pack and went online looking for a novelty chest with a false bottom. He wanted to keep his pot and pot-laced cookies in the meditation room with him. He found one such chest on e-bay and bought it right away. After that, he packed his things and went through his room. He didn't have many knick-knacks and mementos lying around. The ones he did have were mostly from his father, or his former friends, so he decided to leave them all behind.

He was so excited at his impending move that he couldn't get to sleep that night. His mood was tempered by thoughts of the Jacobs family being destroyed in one fell swoop. His stomach churned as he thought of that being done to Janice and Bert. He wished he knew how the goons' minds had been cloaked. He found himself wishing, yet again, that he had someone to talk to. Someone to give him some answers.

Seeing that sleep wasn't coming, he got up and munched on some pot cookies. He did his meditative exercises and decided to check up on his fellow mentalists that were suffering in mental institutions throughout the state. He found himself in the theater and the curtain lifted to reveal only seven of the mentalists standing on the stage. Two fresh gravestones completed the lineup.

"Fuck! What happened!?"

A movie screen descended to be the backdrop to the stage and a movie played on it in which three of the mentalists had been released from the hospitals they had been in. They had been released to their families' care and each of the three attempted suicide as soon as they got the chance. Two had succeeded. The third, the heavily bandaged black woman standing in line with the rest, was in an intensive care unit.

"I don't fucking believe this. Why did they take them out of the hospitals? What were they thinking?"

New movies played, showing the families, already suffering because their loved ones had gone crazy overnight, grow impatient with the lack of doctors' progress and trying other things, or just wanting to have their loved ones near them again. Jack dismissed the films with a wave of his hand. He put his face in his hand and rubbed his tears from his eyes.How am I ever going to fix these people? Ten powers taken. Ten sanities and wills to live, right along with those. How many memories is that? How am I ever going to find them all?

Something didn't make sense to Jack, so he gave the people on the stage another look. There were seven of them, plus two gravestones. He searched the lineup and said, "Where's the blonde? The pretty, young one?" The curtain descended on the stage and lifted to show the stage empty. "Is she gone? Where and when did she go?"

The movie screen lit up to show her sitting in a plastic chair in the hospital, watched by a nurse. Suddenly, the nurse got up and quietly left, his movements mechanical and hurried. A voice rang out in the blonde's mind, saying, "There must always be one."

Jack gasped and jumped out of his seat. The blonde on the screen blurred. Jack's heart raced as he realized she had been transformed into another Jacobs. He gripped the back of the seat in front of his own. The air in the theater suddenly seemed absent. The blonde was refocused on the screen and she looked deep into her own mind. She believed all mentalists were out to get her and do unspeakable things to her. One had already taken her power and sanity. She vowed to never let that happen again. She set out to find and destroy all mentalists and ensure no innocent ever suffered the way she had. "They're beyond salvation," she spoke aloud, her voice thick with venom. "They must be purged. All of them." Her image vanished from the screen.

"Oh,fuck," was all Jack could say. There was a new cloaked figure on the loose, hunting mentalists. His legs gave out and he fell heavily into his seat. His head was spinning with all the implications of the brief movie he had just seen. He forced himself to calm down and think them through.

"May I be of any assistance," the cartoon dog politely asked.

"Yes," Jack said. He wiped his clammy hands on the armrests of his seat. "How did the...evil cunt mentalist know about the blonde? Did they look through mental hospital admission records hoping to find Jacobs' victims?"

"Sounds like a lot of work," the dog commented. "Perhaps the evil mentalist cunt had been guided to Shauna?"

Jack faintly grunted.There's a silver lining. I know exactly who the cloaked figure is this time. Shauna Patrick, a tall, strikingly beautiful blonde. I shouldn't have much trouble finding and stopping her.

"No, you shouldn't," the dog said. "Particularly not with Acting Sheriff Maynard's help."

"Wait, what do you mean byguided to her?"

"Well, it seems to me that the evil cunt made a new puppet monster quite soon after losing Jacobs. And they restored Shauna's will to live rather quickly, I daresay."

Jack's jaw dropped. "Jacobs must have been reporting back on his kills. He must have sent reports on all the mentalists he had ever found and destroyed."

"That's not an unreasonable assumption," the dog calmly said.

"Hell, there's probably a record of all the memories he had ever taken off a mentalist, somewhere out there. If I could get my hands on that..."

"Then you could heal all the mentalists."

"Holy fuck! What if Jacobs reported on me and Mia!? He hit us the other day. What if the real cloaked figure has our names, too?! What if they send Shauna after us?!"

The cartoon dog had no answer to give him.