Her eyes bulged. Her white-painted face smeared by her tears. Her sandal had fallen off. I grasped her sock-clad foot.Slime soaked her sock, covered my hand. I jumped back, gaining my feet. Shadows writhed around her body. The yokai still resided in her. It was weakened by my exorcism spell and fought with her soul to escape the vessel of her body. Parts of the shadow extended up the rope to grip the branch.I could seal it in the tree. I just needed power. But I had no instruments. My gohei was destroyed in the backlash. I had no ofuda prepared. There was only one way to seal it. I took a deep breath. There was nothing left for me. My Ojo-sama was dead.And it was my fault.I looked up at the half-full moon shining through gaps in the pine tree’s branches. “Curse you, Hangetsu! A full turning of the moon! I had responsibilities! Why! Why didn’t you warn me? Look what you caused!”My fury boiled through me. I reached into the power of my divine blood. I was a miko, descendant of. But with black being the dominant color at Domme parties, the Goth thing didn’t have the shock value as it might have at a vanilla gala. The geeks reveled in their computer and smartphone smarts, sprinkling their conversations with obscure reference to apps and web sites, befuddling the non-geeks with their cyber babble. There Thing was to control their male things with their smartphone and if need be, their laptops. The prime directive was maximum physical and psychological control over their male things without having to actually touch them. Radio controlled shock and cock collars were standard fare for these women. But exotic methods of inflicting suffering were what they lived for. Their idea of a good time was inserting electrified anal probes up their males’ rectums, then programing their smartphones to induce orgasms every half hour for the entire day or night, driving their male things to the point of, and over the brink of sanity. By inserting needles in arm and leg.
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