(aka The Events at New Dominion College Part 3)
Copyright 2015, 2021 Lisa Summers
All characters depicted in this work are fictitious. Any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental. All characters in this story are at least 18 years of age. This particular book is the third of a multi-part series describing the events at New Dominion College.
No man saw the greatest conspiracy in history coming.
This is a story from that hidden, global war.
The skier dressed in Bogner Sport Ski down jacket and deceptively expensive Malena ski pants prepared for her last run of the day down the Back of the Valluga Trail at St. Anton, as shadows began to lengthen and the fluffy Austrian hard-packed moguls became harder to read, particularly with all the loose snow that had fallen the two days previous.
“Are you sure you want to make this run alone?” her companion asked. “Please take a guide, at least.”
“You’re always so fearful of challenges, darling,” the attractive black-haired middle-aged woman responded, kissing the blonde woman on her tanned, smooth cheek. “Young women should be confident, always. Women will inherit the earth.”
“Well, I just want to make sure you’re around to accept it,” the young woman replied, mollified by her lover’s confident air.
“Make certain that our 9 PM dinner reservations at Restaurant Fuhrmannstube are confirmed,” the skier said. “I will want to spend some time with you in bed and the shower before we make our grand entrance.”
Smiling and self assured, she boarded the cable car that would take her up the mountain. Tourists courageous enough to visit the top of the mountain, but certainly not brave enough to challenge it looked at her oddly – not many skiers were confident enough to even try this trail, and at this time of day most of the confident had retired to their après ski activities. She inwardly sneered at her fellow passengers. “To live on the edge is to live,” she thought, surveying their cattle-like faces. The men disgusted her, the women disappointed.
Still, going “one step farther” than other women had brought her great success in life, just as a chance meeting with an Australian grand dame decades before had so significantly changed her life, and she had every confidence that her run here would be rewarding, if only to remind her that she wasn’t quite dead yet.
She snapped on her skis and bindings and began her run, looking out at the initial vast expanse of white. She was exhilarated by the thin, crisp late afternoon air of the Austrian Alps, and by the delightful week that she’d spent with her protégé from New Dominion College. The future was bright and clear, as was the snow field before her.
Just as she reached the moderately difficult first turn which required a sharp left shift off the wide and open snow field and into a narrow snow chute, her attention was distracted by the oddest thing – a small, flying thing no bigger than a book, approaching her from the left side. She found it difficult to focus on it, it was moving so fast and ice crystals were already forming on her snow goggles, which were slow in adjusting to the different light as her eyes moved from the white snow to the deep blue of the Austrian sky, and back again.
She saw, but never actually heard, the small, bright explosion of C-4 no more than 30 feet away, at about head height, which literally drove her off her skis, her body sliding inexorably towards the sheer precipice before her on the right side of the run. Her arms and legs scraped against the hard packed snow to no avail, her speed hardly decreasing at all, at first many meters away from the yawning gulf, then the dark valley below opened up in front of her.
For a few precious moments she felt as though she were suspended in mid air, all time and the world itself frozen and immobile around her. She wondered idly if there was a miracle occurring or if it was only an accident of perception, until seconds later she hit the rocks 700 meters below just as a diffuse sense of sadness and regret began dawning inside her.
No one else saw the explosion, not even the person secreted behind a pile of boulders at the top of the run, operating the drone controller. The mini-explosion completely disintegrated the small Matrix-i quadcopter drone, leaving no parts larger than a millimeter or so, most of which also fell over the precipice in a dissipating cloud of debris, or were covered by the snowfall later that night.
“Everyone in place?” whispered Natalia Carey into the headset microphone of her Harris Falcon combat radio.
The answers from the 3 other members of her squad were all affirmative.
“Go 1,” she snapped back, the signal that they were cleared to begin operations.
Their location was outside of a small, nondescript warehouse structure approximately three miles from New Dominion College, in Roanoke, Virginia. Taking out the old watchman, located in his guard shack at the gated entrance to the facility went quickly and smoothly, as they’d known it would, leaving him harmlessly snoring kocaeli escort on the floor of the small plywood building yards away from the main building.
“Player 1 immobilized,” Maria Nathan replied. Maria was the on-site team leader who would coordinate entry into the building.
“Roger that,” Natalia answered. “Go 2.”
The rest of the operation would now proceed on its own, Maria and the other two squad members, faces hidden by their black balaclavas, would enter the building and set incendiary charges where they’d planned. Disregarding the numerous closed circuit cameras located around the building, and jimmying the rear fire door, they entered and began their work.
Within 5 minutes they were finished, and made their way out and away from the building. As they opened the doors of their getaway vehicle, a nondescript stolen 2005 Ford Taurus, located out of any known closed circuit camera range, the first of the delay-fuse incendiary devices went off, starting a small fire in the records cabinet in the warehouse office.
The team members would then make their way back to their base location in Atlanta, Georgia, returning to their normal lives as if the Roanoke operation had never occurred. Their husbands and boyfriends welcomed them back, unaware of the real reason for their short absences, and unaware that their wives and girlfriends were members of a secret lesbian organization called Pax Terra.
Meanwhile, their stealth actions were noted in a small office at New Dominion College itself, and a response began.
“I can’t tell you how much I appreciate your staying here with Lilitu while I was at work late the last two nights, Randall,” said Elisha Barrett, putting on her best impression of a harried working woman for the babysitter, Randall Sullivan. She tried to look guilty. “I know some people think I spoil that cat, but I love her her so…”
The girl, a senior at Roanoke High, looked embarrassed herself.
“Please, Ma’am, no one calls me Randall, it makes me sound like a boy. Call me Randy, everyone does and it sounds so much more girly, thank goodness,” the petite blonde responded, her deep blue eyes causing Elisha’s heart to skip a beat.
“Fuck, I can see why all the neighbors on this street use her to baby sit – the asshole husbands probably beat their tiny dicks thinking of her sweet little mouth wrapped around their cocks, and the wives see her as the perfect daughter…or possibly they’d like to try out her mouth too,” Elisha thought.
“I don’t think that anyone who sees you will ever mistake you for a boy, young lady,” Elisha replied with a smile. Well practiced and modified by experts, her facial expressions rarely failed to convince those with whom she met in academia and government that she was truthful and honest.
Which, of course, was the farthest thing from reality for the Administrator of New Dominion College’s School of Psychology. Her real role was as a key leader of Females Inherit Terra, or FIT, a lesbian organization intent on taking over the world by any means necessary.
As point woman for one of FIT’s largest and most important facilities in the United States, she was well positioned to make inroads into the highest circles of American society, seducing and infecting her way into many American power couples. That billionaire considering running for President of the United States had no idea that his wife was fully under the sway of FIT, due to an international conference two years before at which she and Elisha had met. Two days later they had spent a rather memorable 4 hours frolicking in a most comfortable down bed in the Gstaad Palace. The celebrity wife’s affinity for the smell and taste of Elisha’s vagina and anus had delighted them both.
But as dedicated as Elisha was to seductions and conversions of beautiful older women, her true avocation, even obsession, lay in doing the same to younger women, the younger the better. Their fresh, dewy uncorrupted bodies and especially innocent natures were easy prey to Elisha’s extraordinarily evil nature.
“Please, if I’m to call you Randy, you must call me ‘Elisha,’ the attractive older woman said. “Or better, call me Mistress,” she thought.
“So tell me, did my little kitten cause you any trouble?” she asked the sweet young teenager.
“No, she was just fine…she’s so beautiful, what kind of cat is she?” the girl asked, searching for something to extend their conversation. She felt a natural desire to impress the older, obviously far more sophisticated woman with her own burgeoning maturity, as any adolescent girl might, but she also had felt a strange warmth growing inside her whenever she spoke to the woman, one which had rapidly come over her in just the last day.
It was composed of both a desire to place herself figuratively in the woman’s hands, a wish to be coddled and comforted continuously by such a beautiful role model and possible mentor, but also a mysterious yearning and itch to be literally fondled by another woman. Randy had not yet reached the stage of wondering if this desire was aberrant or not, and by the kocaeli escort bayan time that she might have normally, she would have been long swallowed by the forces that Elisha had unleashed on her beginning with a long, tall cool glass of lemonade the night before.
The drink contained the viral solution that FIT routinely used to begin the conversion of straight women and girls into lesbians infused with the twin goals of creating a female-only paradise on earth, and the complete and utter annihilation of every male from the face of that same earth.
“She’s a Nebelung,” Elisha replied. “They’re most notable for being gentle, quiet and shy – much like the nicest girls, and much as I imagine you are.” The young girl blushed, at a loss for a response, though none was required.
“And feel her coat,” Elisha continued, taking the girl’s hand in hers. Elisha’s grip was warm and comforting to the girl, with an undercurrent that excited Randy. “Feel how smooth and nice it is, just like yours,” Elisha said, her other hand now stroking the girl’s long, straight hair lightly. The woman could practically hear the girl purr.
“You like that, don’t you,” she said, smiling gently. Randy giggled.
“Yes…it feels nice,” she said shyly, but with desire in her voice.
“I believe that women have been gifted with a sort of healing ability in their touch, unlike men,” Elisha whispered smoothly. “See?” she continued, stroking the underside of the beautiful young girl’s jaw with the back of her fingers, softly stroking from the upper part of her jaw line down toward her chin, her complexion smooth and perfect against the woman’s slim fingers. The girl visibly bent toward her touch, just as a cat will arch its back to receive the sweet touch of its owner.
Which was a good metaphor for the desired and inevitable outcome of this particular seduction.
“Do you see?” Elisha murmured, her other hand now caressing the other side of the girl’s face, subtly directing the girl’s blue eyes toward her own, captivating the girl and capturing her full and complete attention. The girl’s eyes were beginning to glaze over with pleasure – not the sort of carnal, sensual pleasure she would soon be experiencing in the arms of the sophisticated older woman, but a more sensuous pleasure at their intimacy and closeness, innately desirable to all women, and not so related to sexual needs.
“Touch encompasses so much,” Elisha said smoothly, kissing the top of Randy’s head, then lower, on her forehead, then on the tip of the girl’s pert, snub nose, making her giggle. As Elisha’s eyes remained locked on the girl’s, both females were motionless as though waiting for tumblers in an incredibly complex and secure bank vault to click into place. The older woman smiled as she saw a light dawning in the girl’s innocent eyes, eyes begging to lose that very innocence, and the girl’s head tilted up, her lips parted, surrendering to the moment, a moment which would invariably become a lifetime of sapphic pleasure as the woman’s newest pet.
Elisha’s head glided forward, her lips so close to Randy’s that the girl could feel her warm, moist breath on her own full, red lips. It was the girl herself who closed the infinitesimal gap between them, technically but very importantly labeling the young, immature girl as the aggressor in the scenario, though Elisha would lead her through every step of Randy’s descent into total corruption as a lesbian follower of the FIT life.
When their lips touched, no molecules of atmosphere any longer separating them, Randy moaned, her body suffusing with a warm glow turning to molten heat, imperceptible tremors turning into massive quaking as her body shook with an immense orgasm, her first ever – and just like that, the girl’s virginity, emotional, spiritual and corporeal, began to vanish, eagerly discarded to be replaced with the pleasures of lesbian love in the service of the most Evil.
“Oh sweetness,” Elisha murmured, her lips pressing harder into Randy’s trembling flesh, her tongue just touching the girl’s plump and moist parted lips, lips that opened wider to allow entry, her submissive response to anything – anything – that Elisha might want. The girl’s petite frame shuddered at the realization that she would willingly accept any depraved initiative, as long as it came from Elisha, the mistress of her soul.
“Yesss,” Randy breathed heavily, her breath racing into Elisha’s mouth. The woman willingly accepted the girl’s insubstantial yet intensely meaningful offering, and breathed in the air from Randy’s mouth, throat and lungs, making the girl giddy from momentary oxygen deficiency, another orgasm wracking her frame at her complete loss of control, and actually peeing herself as she neared loss of consciousness.
“Ohh!” the girl thought, ashamed at her child-like response, wet heat spreading throughout her groin as her urine spread through the gusset of her simple white panties, then to her yellow slacks and down her inner thighs.
“Oh no,” the girl verbalized, the sweet kiss between the two females parting, Randy’s frightened, kocaeli escort embarrassed eyes on the confident older woman’s, silently seeking help to escape her embarrassing situation. Quickly assessing the situation, Elisha smiled gently. Far from being a disruption to seduction, Randy’s mishap had advanced her induction into the pleasures of FIT and lesbian love by metaphorical light years within seconds.
“Not to worry, darling,” the charming woman reassured the teen. “I can help you.”
“Help you to cum endlessly, help you to adore only women, help you to help me spread our common interests throughout the universe of womankind,” Elisha thought, her words bright behind her eyes but unspoken by her mouth.
“Here,” the woman began, confidently. “Let’s just shimmy these dirty pants off, dear.” She waited for Randy to begin her first, fumbling attempts to remove the offending clothing, knowing that Randy must see herself as the initiator of everything that followed – at least until she consciously accepted and celebrated her own moral and sexual degradation.
Once Randy had the top button unsnapped by her trembling fingers, Elisha took over, smiling at the girl comfortingly as she unbuttoned the remaining three buttons, and confiding in her. “The very same thing happened to me once, right after I graduated from college,” she lied.
In actuality, the only times that Elisha had ever “peed her pants” were as part of her deliberate sex play with her many female playmates in and out of FIT. Although the term “peeing her pants” might not be quite on-the-nose (so to speak), as she was completely naked at those times, and her playmates had their mouths closely fixed to her wet and pouting cunt, and gratefully swallowed the copious flow of quite delicious piss she granted them. But perhaps that’s a fine distinction.
“Shimmy, now,” Elisha murmured, and the girl lifted her cute bottom off the chair as Elisha gripped the bottom hem and shifted the tight fabric down and from side to side, exposing the teen girl in her yellow-stained panties, otherwise clean and in a plain white cotton bikini cut. Elisha tried not to stare too long at the girl’s slim, tanned thighs, and the distinct outline of a camel toe at the wet gusset of her panties.
The eighteen year old’s vaginal lips were already plumping from their usual unobtrusive, thin condition to now pressing outward into the fabric, the simple slit between them even more apparent now. She squirmed in the chair, droplets of warm pee running down to her ass and tickling her. Elisha stroked her labia, quite openly, under the guise of checking to see where she might be wet…from pee, of course.
“Hmm,” she said, “it looks as though some liquid ran here…and here…and all the way to here,” continuously stroking the visibly plumping labia, and ignoring Randy’s increasingly distressed expression. Her distress grew from her need to cum, massively, and her fear of doing so in front of a stranger, especially another woman to whom she was feeling a stronger and stronger attraction.
Elisha looked up at Randy’s face, still stroking the girl, though now it was more petting, and suspiciously close to the girl’s now prominent clitoris, as delineated by the small bump at the top of the camel toe.
“Oh, you poor dear,” Elisha said, a sly smile creeping onto her face. “You must release your excitement, darling, or you will simply explode.” Then she reached under the hem of one leg opening of the girl’s stained panties and began openly rubbing the girl’s clit, even as she raised up and brought her face to Randy’s, kissing her as passionately as she knew how, and feeling well rewarded when Randy returned the kiss with all the passion that she possessed.
Randy’s grunting quickly followed, as her orgasms began – a long train of sensual explosions centered on her clit, then her pelvis, then throughout her entire body.
“Unngh, guhh, unnh unnh fuhh,” she gasped, Elisha’s tongue deep inside Randy’s mouth, saliva dripping down Randy’s chin, and what came next would never be quite clear. The woman felt steaming gushes from Randy’s vagina, her cunt a veritable expressive fountain of her hot pleasure, the girl either squirting as she came, or simply unable to contain her urine anymore in light of the stresses placed on her vaginal and urethral muscles.
Elisha was elated to see such an innocent girl so easily and quickly turned to Elisha’s preferred ways. Randy was sobbing from the immense, intense ecstasy of so many and so powerful orgasms wracking the body of a girl completely unused to such pleasures,
Elisha picked her up and carried her still quivering body to her bedroom, placing the girl gently in the center of the mattress, the blanket and top sheet already turned back. She slipped off the girl’s incredibly soaked panties, bringing them to her face and smelling the girl’s quite delicious effusions, then licking them briefly, the flavors of cum and pee bringing on her own orgasms. A sweet warm glow at first, then tremors of electric pleasure that flowed through her body along the lines of her nervous system, until she felt as though her hair must be standing straight out, sparks flying from her fingertips. She briefly recalled an old Eagles song, ‘Witchy Woman,’ and thought that must be how Randy currently saw her. The girl would learn the truth of her new life soon enough.