Empath

THE FIRST COMING

Eloa, the angel of sorrow and compassion, felt the frisson of Empty Boy's longing and despair as she ascended the stairs to the third floor. She was already wet and trembling at the thought of their imminent encounter. Eloa had been born from a single tear shed by the Christ at the grave of Lazarus. But names are evanescent, just as ephemeral as people or even the angels themselves. The names that appear in this epistle reflect this elusive nature of existence, in which even simplest of things change from day to day and moment to moment.

Eloa was also one of the Orishas of the religious tradition called Santeria, sometimes called Obeah or Voodoo. There she is called Ochum, the goddess of love and abundance. She feeds from human desire, and she often uses this power to transform herself. The Orishas, like all angels, are able to take possession of the bodies of their human worshippers.

She called the human horse she rode the "Pin Cushion Girl," for reasons that will soon be apparent. Eloa felt every nuance of the anguish and joy of the people around her, a sensation denied to the unseeing masses that surrounded her in this artificial anthill of concrete, steel and glass. She knew that what she felt was a kind of telepathy or spiritual union. In some cases, she knew events before they occurred, a form of precognition granted to angels and their foes.

But the docs at Johns Hopkins had summarily rejected those ideas. Psi phenomena did not exist, they proclaimed vehemently (and don't get them started on angels or demons). She could feel their intense fear of such phenomena and the threat they posed to their precious Weltanschauung of reductionist neuroscience.

The Johns Hopkins neurologists explained to her that humans possess over 400 different types of olfactory receptors. Whereas most people possess only a small minority of these receptors, they told her, she likely possessed the majority of them. This rendered her extraordinarily sensitive to a wide variety of biochemical ligands, including of course human pheromones. Just passing within a hundred yards of a person enabled her to feel their darkest desires and undisclosed ecstasies, with an almost supernatural accuracy, although Eloa knew they could drop the "almost" in her case.

The Johns Hopkins neuroscientists told her that she was an olfactory empath of extraordinary sensitivity, and they offered her a chance to join the CIA's psych ops team, to assess the psychological states of subjects undergoing enhanced interrogation, using the banal (one might even say medieval) techniques of waterboarding, fingernail manipulation, bisection and extraction, lumbar vertebrae realignment by height elongation through stretching on the rack (far more effective than Shiatsu massage), demi-crisping (burning the right half of a Gitmo guest at the stake while the miscreant's left half was kept alive through being continually hosed down with ice water), and of course last, but far from least, the techniques of sexual humiliation and abasement.

Eloa's ears and nose had perked up at the mention of these last techniques, as she understood that the Gitmo interrogators themselves got to interact directly and intimately with the internees, who were often aroused by their shame and excitement at being stripped naked before the lewdly exposed faces of the infidel women, and their shame at the erections and longings that these female demons engendered in them.

But Eloa was an instrument of pleasure and of carefully cultured defilement, not of the pain, suffering and abandonment that rode the wings of uninvited torture.

So she had declined the CIA's kind offer, and had walked the streets ever since, in search of the unwanted suffering that made the world ring hollow to so many of its involuntary denizens.

Her reveries were interrupted when she reached the door of the Empty Boy's third floor apartment. She considered knocking on it, but knew that his anguish was too great and that there was no time for subtlety or finesse. She pulled her Glock magnum, slammed in a clip, and kicked the door open.

Empty Boy lay crumpled in a heap against the far wall and floor. He watched Eloa with the haunted, shadow eyes of a dying roadkill taking in the descent of a murder of crows. He held a snub-nosed Smith & Wesson .38 revolver to the roof of his mouth. "Mon't co many clozzer, mor I mill ble mu brans ou," he said.

"Didn't your mother ever teach you not to talk with your mouth full?"

"My mon hab nee..." he said before withdrawing the revolver from his oral cavity.

"I don't have any mother," he said much more clearly.

Eloa raised her Glock so that it was pointed at the center of his forehead. She flipped open her badge. "Freeze, demon. I'm Special Agent Eloa Seraph of the Federal Bureau of Sexual Relations. Eloa took a step closer to him.

"Don't come any closer," he repeated, much more clearly this time, "or I will blow my brains out."

"Drop that pistol, you lowlife pretender," she said, "or I will blow your brains clean out of your skull and scatter them all over your precious Britney Spears wallpaper."

The Smith & Wesson hit the floor in a split second. It was just as Eloa thought. This guy wasn't quite ready to cut his cerebral cortex loose, at least not yet. But he was getting there.

She plopped down next to him, her back resting on the purity of the fortunately still inviolate Britney Spears wallpaper.

"Want a smoke?" she asked him.

"I never tried them, but I guess so. If today is not the day to start, I don't know what is."

Eloa patted down her shirt and skirt pockets in search of a cig. "Sorry, I forgot. I gave up smoking five years ago."

"The story of my life," he said. "Whenever I reach out for pleasure, I'm shit-out-of-luck."

Eloa sniffed the air and wrapped herself in the dark desperation of Empty Boy's loneliness and abandonment. "Do you mind?" she asked, as she ripped the black T-shirt from his torso.

He didn't seem to mind.

She laid her head upon his more than ample shoulder and ran her fingernails down over his left pectoral muscle, down his washboard abs, and beneath his blue jeans, feeling the unshaven bush that awaited all the pleasure that she could deliver to him.

"You really miss her, don't you Empty Boy?"

He nodded, a tear rolling down the mountain of his cheek. Eloa brushed it away with her fingers.

Empty Boy raised a half-empty fifth of Jim Beam to his lips and took a long swag. He presented the bottle to Eloa, who guzzled down at least three shots in a most unladylike manner. Union was what was important now. Self-discipline and the mastery of the mind would come later. Eloa traced her fingernails down his bare torso once again before plunging them well beneath the waistlines of his jeans and jockey shorts to seize the helmet of Empty Boy's already erect and throbbing cock.

Empty Boy arched his back, trying to increase the pressure of her fingernails against his straining root.

She undid his belt buckle and whipped his belt through the loops of his jeans. She threw it against the wall, but not too far. The leather strap had many erotic, therapeutic, and educational uses, and she did not want to deprive herself of this instrument when she truly needed it.

She looked over at the massive cache of weapons and implements of torture stacked against the far wall. Empty Boy followed her gaze.

"It looks as though you have been planning to take a few folks out beside yourself. Am I right?"

Empty Boy nodded, another tear rolling down his face.

"It's OK, we at the National Bureau of Sexual Relations are here to help you. We don't want you to become a mass murderer or a serial killer, and I suspect that you don't want to become one either. But it's hard, isn't it?"

Empty Boy nodded his head silently.

"This world can be a cold, empty and lonely place. I know that, Empty Boy. But I am here to help you," Eloa said, stroking his hungry, hungry cock with one hand and pulling down his zipper with another. His shaft sprang free of the cotton prison of his jockey shorts. Eloa immediately curled the fingers of her left hand around that throbbing instrument of sexual mayhem. With the razor claws of her right hand, she pierced the soft sensitive skin of Empty Boy's helmet as if it were the top of a pepper shaker needing to be refilled.

"I hope you don't mind, honey. I have to take a few measurements. Part of our new intake procedure." She spread her right hand and placed it on his throbbing johnson. "Good," she said. "Seven and a half inches, by my mark. Anything under seven inches, and insurance won't pay for this treatment. We are trying to prevent unspeakable acts of sexual depravity and cruelty. The courts in their infinite wisdom have determined that a rod of at least seven inches is needed to perpetrate such crimes. Don't sweat the small stuff, we say. Throw 'em back in the river if that's all they got. But you're gonna work out just fine, Tiger. Just fine.

"I also need to measure your thickness, honey. I left my calipers back at the station, so I'm going to have to do this orally. Just think of your cock as an oral thermometer and my mouth as the fevered patient. You're gonna be all right. I hope you don't mind."

The Empty Boy shook his head emphatically.

"Good. I'll tell you what. You were a little bit close on the length measurement, so I'm going to hold your balls while I size the girth of your cock. Is that OK?"

Empty Boy nodded vigorously.

Eloa, aka the Pin Cushion Girl, cupped Empty Boy's balls inside his tidy whities and began to squeeze them rhythmically. "You can't come yet no matter what I do. This is a test of self-control. You must learn self-control. You can't give in to your hungers for violence or depraved sex, or you're going to wind up hurting a lot of people and spend the rest of you pitiful terrestrial life looking out the barred windows of a federal penitentiary at what might have been.

"You must learn discipline and control. For that reason, you can only cum when I say you can cum. Also it might throw off the measurement of your girth, which is now all-important. Do you understand, Empty Boy?"

Empty Boy nodded his head, and Special Agent Eloa Seraph plunged the mouth she shared with Pin Cushion Girl over Empty Boy's already throbbing shaft.

She took Empty Boy's hands and placed them on her quad-D tits. "Grab ahold of these melons and squeeze them with all your might. Squeeze 'em like grapefruits that need pulping, but first free them from their prisons of cloth."

She guided Empty Boy's fingers to the clasp that bound the twin volcanos of her love. She felt her phantom manna flowing within her mammaries like magma desperately straining to escape its Earthly catacombs or like the divine life-giving milk in Empty Boy's swollen testicles that was screaming to be freed.

Empty Boy's digits successfully negotiated unbinding spell on the center clasp of Eloa's scarlet Victoria's Secret brassiere, and Pin Cushion Girl's massive boobies fell free into the night air. The former prison of the scarlet quad-D cups now hung uselessly around her neck and throat. She presented her back to him, her spine arched, and held out her arms behind her. She was completely vulnerable to him. "Strip me," she commanded the Empty Boy.

Empty Boy unzipped Eloa's silk gown and gently pulled if off her body, carefully negotiating the contours of her phantom swan wings. He seized the now empty cups of her Victoria's Secret bra and pulled that garment over her supplicating arms and off of her body. Eloa now lay naked before him, her silky crimson hair spilling down the glowing whiteness of her back.

His cock grew even harder at her offered vulnerability, and Eloa seized it once again, her thumbnail stroking its quivering veins.

She yanked his pants and underwear down his legs, and his cock sprang free once again, a soft yet steel-hard rod rubbing against her nose and eyelashes. She slid her mouth over it, squeezing it with her lips as her head began to plunge slowly up and down on his throbbing shaft. Her well-practiced thumbs traveled eagerly over the twin spheres of Empty Boy's balls as she slowly mouth-fucked his yearning phallus.

Empty Boy's hands reached down, and he slid his fingers through the soft silk of Pin Cushion Girl's red hair. He seized her head and pressed it more tightly against his abdomen as she devoured the offered treasure of his manhood. She took both of his balls in her left hand and slid her right arm around Empty Boy's buttocks, pulling him closer to her as she devoured his root.

She began to slide her fingers up and down his crack, matching the pace of her mouth as she nursed upon his throbbing second self like a baby fresh out of the womb. Her pace grew faster and faster, and Empty Boy began to breathe feverishly, in time with the acceleration of her thrusts. His whole body strained when Eloa grasped his balls with all of her strength and shoved three fingers up his virgin ass. He exploded in her mouth, pumping the hot contents of his tortured balls down her throat.

"That was very good control, but I did not give you the command to cum," Eloa / Pin Cushion Girl said. "We are still going to need to do a lot of work, before I can let you back out into the World.

They lay together in paradise, the soft silk of Eloa's crimson hair draped over her lovely skin like a veil. "Mmmm," she whispered, "that was nice. What do you think, Empty Boy, is love not better than war?"

He would have to concede that point, Empty Boy thought. At least for now.

THE SECOND COMING

After a few moments, Eloa asked "How do you feel, Empty Boy? Would you like it if I came to you every day? Would that help to ease your pain?"

Empty Boy smiled and nodded. But the umbra of darkness was still wrapped around his soul. Eloa drifted forward on the tendrils of Time. Only 18 dead now, where there had been 35. But these would not happen at the mall as she had seen previously, but right here in this very chamber of death. Empty Boy was no longer a spree shooter, given Eloa's promise to hoover him multiple times on a daily basis. Instead he was now a serial killer, his unrequited love fueling his craving for slow torture and transformation.

"Maybe you would feel a little more chipper if you fucked me like a rag doll right now. Do you think you might?" Eloa asked him, brushing back his long straight hair, to reveal the moistness of his starving eyes.

He nodded his head.

"Chain me so that I am helpless and spread before you," Eloa said and took Empty Boy's hand and led him to the pneumatically-powered bed he had purchased from IKEA, which had taken him 36 hours to assemble, to say nothing of the shame he felt when he asked his landlady to help him. At first, her eyes had appraised him as a creature somewhat lower than a rabid rat on the Great Chain of Being.

However, his landlady's eyes soon brightened, and a lascivious look came over her as she further contemplated the nature of the equipment they were assembling. She "accidentally" let her silk robe fall open to reveal her ample tits, grown to the magnificence attained only by mature women. Empty Boy had trembled at the thought of chaining her to the torture bed and possessing her exquisite body completely.

Eloa detected the growing excitement in Empty Boy's eyes, which she knew stemmed from his fear of loss of control and abandonment, which flickered just underneath his mask of control.

"Someone has chained you to such a bed and tortured you. She raped you here the first time, didn't she, Empty Boy? Most of this equipment is hers, isn't it?" Empty Boy nodded silently, too shamed to speak his memories of the dark priestess's torture and twisted games.

"This time you will be the one in power," Eloa whispered. She let Pin Cushion Girl, whose human body Eloa rode, come forth. Pin Cushion Girl's supplicating eyes pleaded with Empty Boy both for mercy and for the torture she knew she must endure before her salvation and final transformation.

Pin Cushion Girl smiled as she lay face down on the bed and spread her arms and legs before Empty Boy. To her delight, Empty Boy slapped the leather cuffs around her wrists and ankles roughly. He turned a wheel on the wall and the restraints on Pin Cushion Girl's arms and legs tightened, threatening to rip her limbs from her sockets.

Empty Boy felt Belial, the demon that rode him, rise as he lay down upon the angel's naked back. Empty Boy / Belial sheathed their shared throbbing scepter in Pin Cushion Girl's welcoming crack. He reached beneath her to grab her breasts, already swollen to nurture him through this ride. He felt the angel's hot milk as it spilled through his fingers onto the satin sheets below.

He somehow sensed the fleeting phantom feathers of her wings against his hard chest, as he reached out with his right arm and pinned her neck down into the pillow with a half nelson. He could feel the soft fluttering of her butterfly heart beneath him, whether in fear or sexual excitement, he could not say.

He began to lick his way up and down her spine, tasting the faint down of her exposed and vulnerable swan's neck. Using his right arm, he pushed her head more tightly against the mattress and began swirling his tongue around her ear as he arched back and fiercely rammed his shaft into the divine hidden softness of her selflessly offered cunt. The demon who rode him wanted to break her upon this bed, but knew that she offered untold pleasures to come. He must restrain himself in order to extract every last drop of her divine being.

The demon stepped over her right leg and his balls slid up and down the pure white skin of her thigh with each of his thrusts into the inner sanctuary of her cunt. He took her earlobe between his teeth, as his battering ram grew to demonic proportions. Pin Cushion Girl's screams were soon replaced by grunts with each of Empty Boy's brutal thrusts into her helplessly stretched body.

He sought her mouth, and she turned her head to the side to grant Belial's elongated and raspy forked tongue complete access to her oral cavity. He increased the pressure of the half nelson on her neck as he tasted her tongue with his. Then he released her neck, and his hands sought out her bound wrists. He intertwined his fingers with hers and squeezed her hands as he rammed into her with a final brutal thrust and poured the acid heat of his demon's jism deeply inside her womb.

Eloa screamed in ecstasy, as Empty Boy collapsed onto the bed of her soft white and seemingly feathered back. They lay together for a while, listening to the sounds of the sea.

Eloa again floated above the river of Time. She saw that the deaths would come one at a time now and would only end when Empty Boy swam in her angelic grace.

THE THIRD COMING

Eloa shrugged Pin Cushion Girl's shoulders, and the Empty Boy rolled off the divine mattress of her back and phantom wings.

"That was pure heaven," Eloa whispered in the Empty Boy's ear. "But you need to learn control if you wish to survive in this world much longer. A trail of bodies will only land you in a dark damp prison cell, cut off from the worldly pleasures this realm has to offer."

Eloa stopped Time itself to directly address her foe directly.

"What say you, Belial?" she asked the batlike red-eyed demon who rode Empty Boy's flesh and claimed to be no less than the King of Devils himself. A seraph such as Eloa presented a far more worthy foe for an archdemon than did an untrained human such as Empty Boy.

A demonic smile began to twitch at the corners of Empty Boy's mouth. "Step forth, angel," he said. "Show yourself and I will do the same. This game is already mine."

"Very well, demon," Eloa said. "We might as well get all our metaphysical cards on the table." She stepped out of her hidden lair in Pin Cushion Girl's flesh, and showed herself purely at last. She unfurled her white swan wings, exposing her perfect body. A golden aura suffused her skin and wings, although her eyes were as penetrating as any hawk's.