Parallel Mirrors: Shards And Fractures - Sex Stories

Parallel Mirrors: Shards And Fractures

... and candles. Her curse lay dormant unless three ingredients were present: candles for the only light, a mirror in front of her impassioned face, and an intense orgasm.

Conceived during the Feast for the Equinox of the Gods and born on the solstice, Freya’s birthday coincided with rituals. Intoxicated, stoned, and hallucinating, having drank copious amounts of psychotropic “elixir” during the rituals, Freya retired to a dark, candlelit antechamber. One of the priests, a man twenty years her senior, followed. On all fours, her hand between her legs, fingering her clit, she took his hard shaft in her most sacred of magical places, getting herself off to the lusty expressions on her reflected visage. As he thrust deeply inside her, his turgid cock pile-driving into her sopping wetness, she exploded in an orgasm of earth-shattering intensity, and the world around her morphed into something else.

The dark, baroque room, filled with mystic tapestries, candles, cushions, dark wood, and an ornate mirror, instantly transmogrified into a well-lit, pastel-colored room. Lemon walls, bright lighting, and a messy bed, upon which she writhed, replaced her original environment. The hand-carved, ornate mirror Freya had been staring into had also transmuted into a rectangular, regular mirror. The dark wood frame, depicting carved demons subjugating angels, was gone, a smaller, reflective plane in this place.

Screaming in panicked hysterics, much to the chagrin of the ...

... twenty-something blond woman nestled between her legs and lapping at her clit, Freya jumped off the bed, tripping over the tangled sheets wrapped around her, and fled, screaming into the night. The building was unfamiliar but somehow tugged at her forebrain in some surreal sense of déjà vu. The night sky seemed alien, furthering her confusion and horror; even the constellations were strange, and the crescent, Spring moon had replaced the fullness of the Winter’s beacon she’d spied just hours ago.

”Look!” some random, handsome young man guffawed as he pointed. “Freya’s streaking again. Woo-hoo!”

Freya, her red hair billowing in the warm breeze as she ran through the hauntingly familiar landscape, ignored the strangers. It wasn’t until she’d hidden her nude and terrified self in some woods that she was able to stop mindlessly fleeing. That world, or delusion, or whatever it was, was, ultimately, a different iteration of her world. The names were the same, and everything somewhat resembled her stoic reality. In this particular realm, she was still a high school sophomore, but she was at a boarding school, having a passionate, lesbian affair with her roommate, Jenna, and was a known and respected rebel, not at all feared by her peers.

Weeks passed, turning into months, and Freya was still trapped in her alternate reality. Although it was superior, in many regards, to the life she’d known, it wasn’t home. She dared not discuss her horrific situation, lest she be committed, and she ...