Parallel Mirrors: Reflected Realities - Sex Stories

Parallel Mirrors: Reflected Realities

... backdrop. Bodies writhed to the rhythm of the soulful, almost-spiritual rock music, save one man. While others gyrated, lost in the decadence of songs about lost souls wandering, aimlessly, through the cosmos, with neither direction nor destination, the tall, dark, gaunt man, his head slightly tilted forward at an ominous angle, his lips in a wry, malicious, close-lipped smile, stared up at Freya, his gaze never wandering. In an eye-searing flash, he was gone, but no others had noted him. To Freya’s fraying mind, he was foreboding, demonic, and somehow aware of her plight.

When the midnight moon reached its zenith, her vampire-like, spiderweb dress lay sundered, a torn heap on the floor of her dark bedchambers, as she writhed, aglow in candlelight. A stout, young man pounded into her cunt while two nude women pleasured her throbbing clit and passion-engorged breasts as they fingered themselves, moaning into her flesh. The rapture and sexy hotness of her foursome soon elevated her body, hurling it toward orgasmic bliss.

“No!” she shrieked, lamenting the powerful, oncoming orgasm. No matter where she cast her eyes, mirrors were everywhere. “No, no, no! I like it here.” Her voice wavered as her universe splintered, disintegrating before her tear-filled eyes, replaced by another reality.

Plain walls, a soothing lemon-yellow that tugged at remembrance, surrounded her. Wearing a T-shirt and skull-adorned pajama pants, fuzzy Devil slippers on her feet, she sat on a ...

... metal, folding chair in a small, barren office, a mustached man wearing horn-rimmed glasses staring, judgmentally, at her from the other side of the elongated, battered, faux-wood desk. Had she dreamed this world before or, perhaps, lived it?

“You’ve come a long way since you were committed, here,” the monotone-speaking man stated, “and began your therapy. Before we release you, we need to see how you respond to viewing yourself the night you were checked in. Are you ready?”

He pointed to a television sitting atop a nearby metal, wheeled cart.

Mad as a fucking hatter, she thought to herself.I knew it!Outwardly, she only nodded; internally, her heart was beating hard, her mind billowing away into splinters of insanity. Perhaps, this was true reality, the others a delusional, waking dream, and she had surrendered to the nightmares of an ill mind.

Freya saw, on the poor-quality video, a scene from a mind-bending horror movie, complete with flickering, fluorescent lights blinking overhead, a version of herself, slavering in lunacy, tethered onto a rickety-wheeled gurney, being carted down a starkly barren hallway. Burly men dressed in clothing the color of vanilla ice cream held her struggling body in place as she writhed, seeking escape. One side of her face was bloody, and nearly half of her fiery locks had been torn out of her head, her fingernails encrusted with mud, soil, and blood.

Melting down, her voice a caterwauling, audible madness, her otherworldly avatar ...