You’re walking on a road. The road is simple stone brick, not wide enough for a car. The sky above you is orange-ish pink. In front of you, the horizon bends up and climbs a hill.

You hear the clicking of your steps as you walk. You look down and see white heels and a pale pink dress. Dangling from your hair you can see ribbons. You reach a hand up. Your hair is long and wavy. The ribbons tie pigtails that frame your head. You like pigtails. You like ribbons. You smile.

On each side of the road is a field of sunflowers that goes on forever. You feel the presence of someone beside you. It’s Carl. He’s cute. His hair is long and straight, touching the small of his back. You stop, and he stops with you. You grab a sunflower and put it in his hair. He smiles. He twirls and you both giggle. His shirt is paisley patterned and his skinny jeans show off his ass.

You take his hand and lead him into the flowers. He lays down beneath you. You take off his shirt and see his chest. It’s smooth and soft. As your hands run over him, each breast swells under your touch, rounding like clay. He lets out a moan.

You pull down his skirt and see his pubes waxed to a landing strip. He tries to cover it and blushes. You laugh. He laughs with you. You fall into his arms and kiss his breasts, suckling on his nipples. You switch back and forth between each breast and feel him squirm under your touch. You nibble on the left nipple and laugh while you do. You switch to the right nipple and slide your hand over his tiny dick. You stroke it, but it won’t get hard. You switch back to the left nipple and feel the cold metallic taste of his piercing. You go back to the right nipple, and again, find the pleasant taste of his piercing.

You hear something behind you. Water is running. You turn around and see Karla in the kitchen. She’s washing the dishes in nothing but her skirt. You enjoy the sunlight dancing over her large breasts, the light catching and glimmering off her nipple piercings. She stops when she sees you. You peel off your skirt and see you’re wet. You’re dripping.

Then Karla puts her tongue up your wet pussy. You hold her head and guide her. Her hands roam over your body, reach up, and find your ribbons. She twirls them through her fingers. You appreciate her ass from below you and the feel of her long hair as it brushes your leg.

You cum.

******

I wake up wet. This is happening more often. I don’t remember the dreams anymore. They aren’t as vivid or powerful as the one in the room with black sheets and orange walls and the letters on my chest that I can’t see and can’t ignore. They are hazy and vague. Last night was something pink and soft. Whatever it was, my panties are soaked. Each day starts with me masturbating in the shower now. It’s the only way to keep all this aching horniness under control.

It’s been almost a week since The Dinner Party from Hell. My voice has recovered, but my pride hasn’t. The night felt like a breakup. Maria chose Reyna, or whoever that person is now inhabiting Maria’s body. I lost her. And I almost lost Carl. He’s been quiet since the dinner, but he hasn’t shown any concerning behavior. As far as I can tell, I saved him before any brainwashing became permanent.

Looking back now, the whole thing was stupid. I had no idea what I was thinking. I walked right into Reyna’s seat of power and tried to defy her while I couldn’t talk. I also put Carl at risk and almost lost him. I need to be smarter if I want to save Maria. I can’t charge in there and challenge Reyna to a battle of will. I must be clever and careful. She must have a weakness.

My greatest hope is to work with numbers. I don’t think Reyna can influence multiple people at once. Every time I’ve seen her do it, with June and Carl, she had to focus on them. If I had numbers on my side, I could overwhelm her. I need allies. Jace is out. Maybe I could explain the situation to Carl, but I don’t trust him right now.

The work day is long. It’s been this way all week. Everything feels like a waste of time, like a distraction from what I should really be doing. If I have to read another romance novel about an incredibly buff man getting every heroine wet and weak in the knees, I’m going to scream.

Around 4 PM, I can’t take it anymore, and I head outside. At first, it’s just a walk; I need to clear my head. I leave the apartment building and wind my way around the sidewalk. After a block or so, I’m past the residential buildings and near a collection of restaurants and bars. I’m not hungry and don’t want to waste too much time. I spend an hour in one of the quieter bars. I try to relax, but my drink doesn’t do anything for me. I still can’t focus.

I head home anxious about the evening. I don’t have any plans for dinner. I don’t even know what we have in our refrigerator or pantry that I could cook. I could always make spaghetti. Again. Lord knows Carl never gets tired of the stuff.

When I walk in my apartment, I freeze. The lights are off, but from around the corner I can see a faint light. Music, something classical, is playing. I can smell something savory as well. Cheese? Salt? I’m not sure.

After my dreams and the dinner party, I’m on edge to anything strange happening. I look around for something to defend myself with and arm myself with an umbrella. I creep around the corner and see our shabby dining room table covered in rose petals and two tall white candles. A meal is on the table, but the plates are covered. There, at the end of the table, is Carl, smiling. Beautiful Carl.

I feel my insides warm and my skin flush. Carl stands when he sees me.

“Surprise,” he says calmly in his own adorable way with a shrug.

“You did all this?” I ask. He nods. “For me?” He keeps nodding.

“Well, technically,” he adds, “I didn’t cook. I picked it up from that restaurant we love downtown.” He steps towards me, takes the umbrella out of my hand, throws it into the other room, and takes both of my hands. “But trust me, you did not want me cooking.” He smiles, and I lean in to kiss his goofy face. It’s been so long since he did something romantic for me.

“I really appreciate this,” I say between kisses.

“I just wanted to do something for you,” he says. “I know you’ve been stressed lately, especially since the dinner at Reyna’s.”

I go to my chair and Carl pulls it out for me. I smile at him, and he pushes it in. “My lady,” he says as he does it.

“Why thank you,” I say. “What brought this about?”

“I realized what an idiot I was at the dinner. I was rude and ignorant. I wanted to try again to redeem myself. This time, without the fire.”

He serves me an aperitif of port, which I can enjoy this time. I don’t ask how much this all cost. I’m sure we can’t afford it, but I appreciate Carl’s gesture immensely. We need a chance to redo the catastrophe of last week. He reveals a small salad, nothing fancy. He asks me about work. I tell him that these cheesy romance novels are killing me. We eat the main course. He suggests trying a new publishing agency, one that doesn’t specialize in romance. He’s supportive. He’s kind. He’s charming. He’s a whole new man.

We’re eating dessert, an addictive tiramisu, and into a few glasses of wine, when he starts to get steamy.

“I hope you’ve enjoyed the meal,” he says.

“I have. I really have. This has been sweet.”

“Did I earn any rewards, my lady?”

“Perhaps you did, but let me finish this tiramisu first. It’s proper foreplay to tantalize the lady’s palate.”

“By all means, take your time,” he says with deference.

“I’m truly grateful for this, Carl. I think I needed to feel fancy without the stain of Reyna on it.”

He chuckles and adds, “Absolutely. That was crazy.” He pauses for a second, his eyebrows furrow as he tries to process something. “I was wondering …”

“Yes, dear?”

“How did Maria meet her? It doesn’t seem like they would be in the same social circles.”

I shrug. I don’t want to get into it about Reyna tonight.

“You have any idea where all that money came from?” asks Carl.

“None,” I say.

“Oh, well, okay,” he says, sounding disappointed. “I was just curious.”

“Yeah, I’m curious too,” I say. “But I’m not thinking of Reyna tonight. I’m thinking of us.”

“Yeah. Me too. I’m just making conversation.”

“Right.” Calm down, Sarah. Don’t be a bitch. He’s being sweet.

“Did you like the port?” he asks, sounding nervous now.

“I did. I’d never had port before.”

“I like it. It’s sweet, but not like a dessert wine sweet.”

“I agree. It’s refreshing.”

“It’s expensive too. I mean, not this stuff; this is the cheap stuff. But a lot of this is pricey.”

“It’s a nice treat every once in awhile.”

“You know what else is a nice treat?” he asks, getting up from his seat and taking my hand. I shove the last bite of tiramisu in my mouth and follow him to the bedroom. There are rose petals leading the way and some candles lit. It’s beautiful, and I remember that, though Carl can be stereotypical guy sometimes, he does have this sweet feminine side that I love so much.

In front of the bed, he turns and kisses me passionately. I feel his fingers fumble for my shirt, and I help him take it off. He struggles with my pants, and again, I help him strip me. I peel his pants off. He kisses my neck hungrily, but it feels wet and sloppy. We’re practically teenagers again with our clumsiness. His pants get stuck around his feet, and he has to sit down to get them off.

When he stands up, he almost growls and takes me to the bed, climbing on top of me. I reach up for his tits, wanting to play with them, but he pins my hands behind me and leaves his shirt on. He starts to grind into me and gyrate, riding me cowgirl style. I try to grind with him, but our rhythm is off. I overpower him and roll, putting me on top. I’m disappointed to see that he’s not hard yet. I guess it’s fine, because I’m not wet yet. I grab his hands and put them on my tits while I grind my pussy into his dick.

I start to moan, but I’m not feeling it. I know he likes it when I’m loud, and I hope I can get him hard so I can feel pressure on my clit. Maybe then I’ll get wet and we can get this over with. I see his hand snake down his side and reach for his ass. I stop riding him and lean back to see him start to finger his ass.

“Don’t stop. Keep riding me,” he moans while he fingers himself. I try to get back into it, but I’ve never seen him finger himself. I’m not really into anal, and as far as I know, Carl hasn’t been either. I don’t know where this is coming from, but if he gets hard, maybe he can finally fuck me.

“Yes,” he moans. “Please. Fuck me, fuck me in the ass, Reyna. Yes! Please! Fuck me, Reyna!” he shouts.

My whole body locks up. I climb off him and away from him as small spurts of pathetic cum from his limp dick coat his belly. It’s disgusting, one of the most disgusting things I’ve ever seen. He runs his hands over it, scooping the cum off his shirt into his mouth and moaning more. He pumps his hips, thrusting wildly in the air. I scamper to one of the corners of the room and look on in horror as Carl becomes nothing but a whimpering mess. In his desperation, I hear him calling out to Reyna again and again.

Something’s wrong. He’s still going, pumping his ass with his fingers and thrusting his hips. “Carl?” I ask, worried. He responds with Reyna’s name again. I climb onto the bed and touch his leg gently. He doesn’t register my touch and keeps thrusting. “Carl?” I ask again. He’s somewhere else. His eyes are open, but they’re rolled to the back of his head. I bring my hand further up the leg and try to stop his thrusting.

Carl bolts upright and looks at me. But his eyes don’t see me, they see through me. Carl smiles like someone possessed and peels off his cum-covered shirt. There, I can see perfectly, are two recently pierced nipples. They’re still puffy and sore from the procedure.

I jump away from Carl like he’s a hot stove. Carl keeps his insane grin locked onto me and starts to flick his pierced and wounded nipples. He moans again, getting louder and calling out Reyna’s name. I get off the bed. Away from the bed. I run out of the room.

She’s here. She’s in there. She has him, and she’s there in my bedroom in my boyfriend and she’s coming for me and she’s coming for me and I’m not safe here. I’m not safe anywhere. I need to go. I need to leave. Need to run.

I open the door of the apartment and pause. Clothes. I need clothes. I can’t come back. I’ll never come back. I sprint into the apartment and go to my office. I grab my laptop and a bag. I head into the bedroom and make sure not to look at Carl. Out of the corner of my eye, I can see he’s playing with a limp dick. He’s found one of my vibrators and is fucking himself up the ass. I keep my head down and go to the dresser. I grab as many clothes as I think I can fit in the bag and head out. I get some clothes on and head out the door.

I hesitate. This is it. I can’t go back. Where would I go? I can’t go to Maria. I’m alone. Totally alone. I go back into the apartment and hear Carl shouting Reyna’s name. I can smell his cum from here. God, how many times has he cum? He’s never cum more than once with me. I push past the thought and grab my sweatshirt.

There, in the pocket, is June’s number.

******

June sent me her address. The neighborhood isn’t great. I should have guessed as much. I don’t think waitresses make much at cheap diners. I guess after being thrown out of Reyna’s estate, she can’t be doing well financially.

I look around at my car and the bag full of my only possessions. I guess she’s not the only one ruined by Reyna.

I take out my phone. The battery is almost dead. Shit. I left the charger at my old - no -  Carl’s apartment. One thing at a time, Sarah. One thing at a time.

Me: I’m here.

June: k. Come on up. Door’s unlocked.

I get out of the car and head up to the apartment. It’s freezing outside, and all I have is my thin sweatshirt and yoga pants. I didn’t grab new panties and can feel the cold on my crotch. I look at the rundown building and filthy street June lives on, and all I can feel is shame. How did it get this far? How did I let this happen? Carl is gone. Jace is gone. Maria is probably gone, too. What do I do if June’s nipples are pierced? I have nowhere to go. I could find a hotel, I guess. I’ll figure it out.

But standing in the cold and barren street, seeing the prostitute on one corner and two guys I swear are dealing on another corner, I feel pathetic. No panties and a thin sweatshirt are the last straw. Reyna has taken the people I love, but I know, now, she’s trying to take my dignity. I’ll sleep in this sleazy apartment with June, and somehow, Reyna wins. This is all her plan. I’ve lost.

But I don’t need to quit. I underestimated her. I keep underestimating her. I’m going to be careful now. I’m not stupid. I know June could be a trap. I won’t let her in or let her get too close. Reyna can spy on me. June can report to her or try to seduce me. Fine. But every person she takes away from me is one less spy. I can start to prepare a comeback.

There is hope. I don’t think she’s taken Maria. She’s waiting. She needs me to participate somehow. Maria will be the final piece of humiliation Reyna has planned for me. I still have time. I can plan. I won’t underestimate her again.

But for now, it’s fucking freezing outside.

I go inside and find the staircase. June said it was the seventh floor. I look up the stairs and see the flickering fluorescent light above it. I’d rather not show up to June’s apartment sweating and panting. I look around for an elevator and find one hidden in the corner. The elevator is broken. Of course it is.

The climb give me a chance to think. I need to handle June carefully. She may try to throw herself at me again (she sounded plenty eager on the phone). I don’t want to get swept up on that. The first thing I’ll need to do is make...