The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Legacy, part II

Disclaimer: If you’re the kind of person that actually takes the time to read these things, you’re going to want to read this. I’m going to give you a little warning. Well several, actually. First of all goes your standard “Contains adult oriented material. do not read this if you are underage, easily offended, a member of the Christian Coalition blah blah blah. On to more serious stuff. This is the first thing I’ve ever written with the intent of finishing, and so I’m a nervous ball of energy as to the reaction I’m going to get. I’ve got the second part of this story finished, as well as the ideas for the third. If I keep on with this story, I really don’t know when it’s going to end, so you’ve got to let me know what you think, people.

Oh yeah. This story is NOT public domain. If you want to post it elsewhere, fine, on two conditions.

  • Let me know. Takes all of five seconds to compose a letter to me. I’ve even gone and made the link for you.
  • You gotta post it all, people, or at least as much as I’ve finished.

Now on to the story. Knowing Mencal the way I do, he’s dying to get into the spotlight. One last warning, I’ve been reading a lot of Anne Rice lately, but I’ve tried to make my own style. I’d like to thank Margaret Weis and Tracey Hickman for their Deathgate series, the basis in my story for Chaunterian Magic

Chapter 4

Learning and Discoveries

School ended. Summer began. But young Mencal’s education was just beginning. He made it a point, daily, to exert, to spend his power to such a degree that left him drained, all to discover for himself the very nature of his new life. And as that first week closed since the discovery of his uncle’s book, he who was once David Bishop learned that, slowly, by degrees, the amount of magic he could work within a day was increasing. Consultations with ‘Gabriel’ revealed that magic, like any other skill or ability, grew stronger with constant practice, constant use. Thus, by the time his head touched to the pillow every night, Mencal was drained, exhausted more than once to the point of death. It was well worth the price, however, if he ever doubted his course, the very next morning as Toby, his human alarm clock, awoke at ten minutes to nine to creep into his room, snuggle beneath the warm blankets with him, and wrap her hot little mouth around his cock until he woke up in the most pleasant way that he could imagine.

That summer marked as well a definate change in the attitudes of our young hero. Each day, as the various people fell in and out of the spells placed on them by the young man, Mencal grew into an aloof detachement about the morality of his actions. He thought nothing any more of subjecting a young man or woman to the most degrading of exhibits, or leaving his own coil of a body to delve into their minds, search out strands of memories and history, sometimes for hours at a time. He had yet to experience his very first sexual encounter with another, but that would come in time, as he gained a more experienced understanding of himself, his power. In all things, it was an aesthetic choise rather than a moral one.

Two months to the day of initiations to the world of the hidden, Davis was sitting in the food court of the mall, studying those that passed for a suitable subject from behind a pair of dark mirrored glasses. He had disguised his gilded body with an illusion of flesh coloring. It seemed that even his style of dress since his change had been altered to reflect his change of attitudes, perceptions. Wheras before the jeans and nondescript tshirts had afforded him a comfortable annonymity, now he had the cool and crusp look of a young professional, although a somber one. Dark pants and shirt, expensive shoes or boots, as well as an elaborate silver ponytail clasp for his silken auburn tresses. He was beginning to attract looks from several young things of the opposite sex that he was not altogether uncomfortable with, and had more than once taken those subtle smiles for the invitations that they were, albeit on his terms alone. Today he was going to take things along a far different course.

Finally, he found her. A young Asian beauty, just a shade older than himself, buying a small bowl of soup and moving off to eat. Beautiful, slender and small, with hair cut into a bob between her chin and shoulders. Possibly a dancer for the slow and graceful way in which she moved, Mencal found it possible to fall utterly under the spell of her surprisingly long legs, and picked her. Now, amoung the discoveries Mencal had made within the past three weeks was that a rune construct, recast into a two dimensional image, could be set onto an object and imbue that object with whatever properties the spell would have had, without the need to spend his energies in maintaining it. For instance, the slips of paper within his pocket all had the appearance to everyone but him of being one hundred dollar bills. The very glasses he wore allowed him, when he touched the right stem, to peer through the clothing of anyone he could see. Other effects were possible, including the large square that the girl, whose name was Kim judging from a casual skim of her surface thoughts, was walking into. The moment she was in the center of his square, he traced a single rune in the air, igniting the square section of the floor into a brilliant blue fire.

It must have seemed to the girl that the world about her went silent. As part of the spell, Mencal had crafted this that no voice, no sound other than one he made would reach his beauty who was imprisoned between walls of nothing. She learned of her state as she reached the first of the four “walls” unable to step across the brilliant blue runes. Like any creature enjoying the liberties of life who is suddenly caged, she began to frantically flutter against her bars, then to scream for help. To no avail. Others, quite unconsciously, walked about the girl, could no longer see or hear her pleas for help. Mencal waited, purely a sadistic gesture, for panic to set in, for Kim’s slender chest and shoulders to begin a heave before he spoke.

“Hello there, little bird,” he said, his voice the very epitome of his new cold streak.

His quiet voice must have seemed to the girl as loud as a clap of thunder. Understand, that for the past ten minutes, the girl had been able to see, but not hear, those about her. She twisted her head, quickly about, straining to see whoever spoke to her. Mencal simply waited, smiled, his glasses tucked into his pocket, until their eyes had met.

“Please, you have to get me out of here!” She cried, her voice as clear and sweet as ringing silver bells, Mencal noted, quite pleased with this discovery.

“Get you out of there? Why would I go and do a thing like that?” Mencal teased, drawing to his feet and standing outside of the main avenue of pedestrian traffic, but close enough to fully appreciate the beauty of his prisoner. Utterly smooth, alabaster skin, the widest dark eyes....

“I...I can’t move, can’t get out of here.”

“Oh, I know. You see, Kim, that’s how I arranged things.”

Kim’s liquid eyes began to well with tears at his callous attitudes, more so than any admission to herself that she could be so completely in the power of this young boy. She began to weep silently. “Please....let me out of here.”

Mencal began to walk slowly about her, maddening, in a way, his utter detachment from Kim’s desperation... “I might. But you will have to convince me. Strip.”

“What?”

“I do believe I made myself perfectly clear. But, if you like, I will repeat myself. Take your clothes off, Kim. Dance like I know you never would for the boyfriend I see in your mind...what’s his name? Jamie?.”

This request must have been far enough away from Kim’s sensibilities to replace her panic with rage. She let out a cry and flung herself against the walls of her prison but accomplishing nothing save the bruising of her knuckles. Chuckling, Mencal turned as if to go, and she shrieked after him, “NO, please don’t go.”

Mencal amused himself in the video arcade, going through a few dollars before deciding to return to his alluring little find. She was slumped against the wall of her her cell in abject misery, holding her head between her knees, sobbing. The sound of his feet against the cold tile of the floor must have caught her ear, for her head shot up as she wiped away tears, determined this time not to allow him to see her cry.

“Have you decided to behave now, pretty little bird?”

Numbly, Kim nodded and lowered her eyes.

Mencal smiled, “Excellent. What would a proper stripshow be without music, however?” A few deft twists of his fingers, not even needing to think through the specifics of the spell, and his desire was made into reality. Cords of a fast-beat music song filled the mall, or at least, did for two specific paris of ears. Settling himself into a chair, Mencal assisted the girl in her work.

At the start, Kim was humiliated to such an extent that she failed to achieve even the semblance of rhythem in her movements. She could not force her fingers to undo the buttons of her shirt. Mencal slid a small glass of water over to her, infanitely patient, and asked her to begin again. Now she tried to strip too quickly, determined to end the filthy show so that she could get as far away from this mall as possible. Mencal, of course, was determined that his preverbial dollar go the length, and so stopped her again, gently with his voice giving helpful suggestions, instructions. She achieved a ghost of a beautiful dance, earning for this a small amount of praise from her captor. And then something remarkable happened...it was as if Kim had forgotten his presence entirely, giving herself to the dance...swaying her hips in perfect rhythem with the song, allowing her white shirt to dance and tease at the waistline of her pants, just the barest hint of a belly exposed, then allowed to fall. Again, lifted, teased across her flat little stomach, reaching higher than before. Mencal’s voice died down, it would seem that his guidance was no longer needed, Kimberly was doing just fine for herself. She danced as much as she could within her tiny prison, shirtails flying behind her in the sudden spin she executed. She was a dancer, after all, and a good one at that.

Working to the music, one with the primal rhythem, Kim gave a tug, pulling free the buttons of her shirt and revealing that tiny bow of lace on her bra, just between those petite globes. Magnificent, he could feel his cock straining against his pants as he absorbed the dance, drank it down...watched the superb creature wiggle free from her pants and prance back and forth within her confines, as if tempting him with those long legs and sweet ass to come in, to give chase to her, the untouchable, unconquerable creature. And when that bra fell to her feet, when she turned that he could see the dusky nipples completing a perfect mold for woman’s endowments, Mencal was so sorely tempted to call for her to service his maddening passions. But she was far from done, the most important garment remained. Those panties took eons to make the journey down the ivory legs, but when they did, when Mencal viewed completely and utterly the perfection of the silken soft vagina, just the fairest hints of furr on the mound above, he knew, knew that this girl was to be his first. She was slightly arched to him, covered with a fine sheen of moisture, her eyes still innocently closed, asleep but for the rise and fall of ther chest.

Mencal approached her, passing effortlessly across the runes he had set to trap a girl for his amusements earlier, never imagining such a superb thing as this. He placed his hands on her shoulders, drawing her into the folds of his arms. Seeking her lips, he met with no resitence, found them parted and willing to accept his caresses, found this insatiable girl drawing his breath into her mouth, holding onto him as if he were the only anchor in a hurricane. He had never met with such a responsive subject in all his months of play, experimentation. Many had to be forcibly restrained if he took any kinds of liberties with them at all, but this....she was welcoming him! Beggind, pleading for his touch, his kiss with the music of her body, the sweet parting of her lips. Mencal’s hand dropped betweem her legs, her response was to arch, moan, release a coating of wetness into his hand...unreal. They were on their knees together, kissing, suckling from each other’s lips even as their hands flew to his clothes. There, naked, in the midst of an oblivious number of strangers, Mencal gently layed the girl back, shuddering at the softness of her thighs that wrapped around his waist. It was nothing short of perfection as he entered her, guided by her own greedy hands.

Mencal’s hips seemed to work with a mnd, a will all their own. Despite the play he’d enjoyed since his initiation, this was the first woman he had had sex with. He wouldn’t have known how to begin to describe the ecstcy those slick walls gave to him, utter pleasire as he rode Kim in full accompanyment of her wanton moans. Her arms enfolded his neck, desperate to keep him near, suckling at her nipples, his hips crashed against hers, again and again, slow at first, but eventually gaining speed, hardness. He could feel her pussy flexing about his shaft, milking him. Kim began to speak, little whispered nothings, giving herself to him utterly, he could understand from her mind, do with me what you will, it seemed that she begged, over and over again, without saying a word. In and out, faster and faster, two beasts rutting...their eyes met, and Mencal could see none of the hatred, or fear...just the animal need and want, certain that she could see the same glittering in his own eyes. It was too much, this passion, this intimacy and this driving need, the joys of dominance, Mencal was exploding, fast and hard, and now Kim was cumming too, clamping down almost like a vice on him, clinging to each other as both knew that supreme and utter rapture...

And just as simply as that, neither Mencal nor Kim were virgins any longer. They sat up, strangers to each other still, her not certain of where to begin, what had happened to her, why she felt the way she did when she looked at him...and from him, a curious emotion of protectiveness, almost akin to the maximum level of love he could feel for his hopelessly obedient sister, or still ignorant mother...it was he who broke the silence first as he slipped his shirt on again.

“Where do they teach you dances like ?”

Kim flushed, and stammered, “I...well, you see I’ve......” she simply gave up explanation at that point, and fumbled with the clasp of her bra. Her fingers trembled so badly that Mencal had to reach over and complete the task himself. An expression of gratitude went across her face, the expression he might expect if he had just showered her with jewels and gold.

She licked her lips a bit, as if she was unsure if it was alright for her to speak, but eventually whispering, “What’s...what’s your name?”

“Mencal.”

She blinked at the oddness of that name, and it seemed that she needed a moment to gather her courage before she could speak again. “Ummmm....what happens next?”

Mencal chuckled, very softly, and took the panties from her hands before she could put them on. He had begun a collection since he began his games. Bemused, Kim put her pants and shoes on, sans underwear. “What happened next, little one, is that we get off this floor, have a sit and maybe a soda, and have a talk.”

“You’re.....you’re going to let me out of here? I could just...go?” Kim asked, so endearingly shy now in a way that she hadn’t been in their passioned embrace.

Again, Mencal chuckled. “Of course I will, and of course you can...you could leave this ‘prison’ now. In fact, when I go to get a drink, you could very probably begin running and be out of sight before I even knew it. Bearing that in mind, do you have any preferences as to what you shall imbibe?”

It took Kim a second to figure out just what the hell he was saying, but not that long. She was smart, this one. “Huh? Oh, just a diet soda, please.”

Mencal walked to the nearest resturant and bought to small sodas, diet for the girl and regular for himself. When he turned around, he was not surprised (it was very rare that he was surprised these days, indeed, almost impossible to surprise a telepath) to see young Kimberly, sitting at a table near enough so that he could see her without having to search. He sat down, not opposite her, but with their hips just scarcely touching. Mencal noticed that she waited for him to drink before she did the same, and sat in silence, obviously waiting for him to begin speaking.

“What happened to you, Kim? It was like Jekyl and Hyde for a second.”

This was going to be a conversation with a great many pauses on the part of the girl. She poked ice cubes for a moment with her straw, gathering her thoughts into an answer that could make sense to them both. “I...don’t know. All I could feel for you for a second was hate, fury at what you had done to me. Making me humiliate myself like that for my freedom. But...when I obeyed...I don’t know. You became so gentle and sweet to me that I couldn’t stay mad at you. And when I saw you make the water like you did, I realized that you had this...thing, this power to do anything you wanted. You could kill me right now if you wanted to, couldn’t you?”

Mencal simply nodded.

Kim went on, daring to meet his eyes. “You could have twirled your hands like you did with the water and made me dance, couldn’t you?”

Another nod.

“But you didn’t, and realizing that...it was like...I don’t know...it was like my fear was swallowed instantly, just gone, and all my anger too. I don ‘t know why, but I wanted to dance because...well...because you seemed so powerful but also so kind, I wanted to make you happy. Does that make any sense?”

To Mencal, it did. He had done a fair bit of reading in the past few weeks, especially into the areas know as domination and submission. He understood the rarity of what was now crossing and uncrossing her legs, one whose tendancies were to submit even as his own were to dominate. He delved into her mind for a moment, this was an ability that did not even require the runes...telepathy seemed to have become one of his innate abilities, and went discreetly through a few stray memories to confirm what he had guessed.

“Oh yes, Kim, it does. I understand completely. What’s your last name?” He could have easily discovered that, and many other things from her own thoughts, but far preferred this method of learning.

“Nguyen. It’s Vietnamese, that’s where my parents are from.”

“Well, what would you say if I told you that I was going to make you my slave?”

Kim stiffened, like a deer caught in the headlights of an oncoming car. And yet, within that tension was strands of excitement, and Mencal wanted her suddenly, wanted to own every last bit of his creature, own completely. And so, he decided, he would.

Finally, she answered. “I...what...what do you mean?”

“I mean that I would let you go home, to your mother and father, and tell them goodbye, that I would allow you to get a small number of things for yourself. Tomorrow, you would meet me here, and I would take you to my home, and I would own you in the same way that I own my clothes, my things. The same way that I would own a kitten, more accureately. You would surrender to me complete control over you.”

Kim’s sculpted face was almost blank. “You’re...you’re serious about this, aren’t you?”

“Quite.”

“I...I don’t...I can’t just...”

Mencal leaned close to her, close enough that he could smell the sweet scent of her breath. “But you want to, don’t you. Tell me that you’re not getting hot again.”

She was falling completely under the spell of his eyes, and Mencal knew it. She had to strain even to whisper. “I need time.”

“Fine. You have one week. Noon, next Thursday, in the food court. Be there.”

She nodded, so obviously, pittifully torn between love of her family, her life and freedom, and the powerful, new sensations this man made her feel, how when he looked at her...

“Would you...would you be kind to me?”

Mencal smiled, mysteriously but not unkindly. “Perhaps my little one. Perhaps.”

It seemed as if she was contented with his words, and was about to say something else, when Mencal suddenly picked up a powerful explosion of fury, twisting his head rapidly just before the shout ripped across the food court. “KIM!”

A young man easily the size of a milk truck was running through the tables and chairs, tossing them over and heading directly for Kim and Mencal with a red fury in his eyes blue eyes. Jamie, Mencal realized. Her boyfriend...hmmmm....how fortunate that he is here today.

Jamie sickened Mencal almost at once. A blond, blue-eyed Aryan poster child, Mencal could already realize the lack of complexity of his mind and his thoughts. People such as he went through life from one cliche and commercial to the next, a stupid cattle. A well-built cattle, this one, Mencal realized as the large man-boy came to a halt a few feet from the pair.

His words were as elegant as Mencal expected from him. “What the fuck are you doing with my girlfriend, you skinny little fag?”

Kim seemed to shrink into herself at the display of her boyfriend’s temper, Mencal simply raised an eyebrow in a way that (and he knew it, too) others found infuriating. Veins bulged in the larger boy’s forhead as he spoke. “Well, shucks, Jamie, it looks like I’m pissing you off now, doesn’t it?”

Jamie began to grind his teeth together, and made a jerking motion with his thumb over his shoulder. “Bet you fucking are. Get out of here before I pound your face in.”

“Shall I pretend to think about that for a second, before I ever so politely request that you go to hell?”

It had been, obviously, years since anyone had been so confrontational around the boy, since he had hit the gym full time and (secretly) the steroids immidiately afterwards. He grabbed Mencal by his shirt collar, and jerked him to his feet. Kim shrieked, and said something to the effects of “Leave him alone!”

Mencal was an island of calm, however, and simply placed his hand over the gorilla’s wrist and making just the most causal of twists...and Jamie screamed out as he was forced to his knees. He pulled, hard against Mencal’s grasp, but couldn’t even budge either arm. He looked up, in disbelief, expecting to see an army of body builders holding him down, but it was only Mencal. Only his irresistable hold, undeniable strength...and then he made an even larger mistake than accosting the Chaunterian in the first place. He lashed out with a meaty fist, catching unflinching Mencal in the ribs, felt immense satisfaction when he heard the dull sound of cracking bone...until the pain registered. Mencal thoughts that he had broken a knuckle.

He was wrong. Jamie had broken three.

Mencal made a show of releasing Jamie’s wrist, allowing the fallen giant to cradle his wounded hand in an utter ball of misery. Kim looked from one to the other, torn between them, obviously. Mencal, however, had no such intentions as making her decide here and now. She had been given a week, after all.

“Good day to you, Miss Kimberly. Noon, next Thursday.”

And Mencal simply walked past the approaching police officer who, after taking a simngle look at the blazing violet eyes of the “perp,” abandoned thoughts of halting his exit from the mall.

Chapter 5

Mother

Mencal was a man with a mission as he took the ten minute walk from his home to the mall. He could have simply magicked himself there, but he vastly preferred the walk. He had been putting this moment off since his change,until confidence in his power had reached a point in which he was certain of what he was about, and what he was going to do.

Katherine Bishop was not Mencal’s enemy. Mencal had, even when his name had been David, warrented anyone on Earth with enough respect to hold the title. But if there was one who even came close, then his supposed mother had been that person. Conservative, stylish, proud and snotty, Mencal had identified with her the prudish, Victorian qualities that he despised in people at large. An attractive woman who denied her own attractiveness in the same way that she had denied every “impure” thought, impulse and desire from herself for her entire life. When it came to all of the pleasures that life offered, sexual or no, Katherine seemed to take as her motto “I don’t enjoy them, so I won’t let anyone else either.” That mentality fit in nicely with her deaconship of the Baptist church, an organization that David had to be dragged to kicking and screaming every Sunday of his life until the congregation took pity on the boy, and conbinced Katherine to allow him to skip the religious aspects of his life. But above all the things he despised about Katherine, the one he had only recently come to understand was this: both of them were strong-willed people, like alpha wolves, neither of them was willing to submit to the authority of another without a struggle. Her status as a prosecuter for the district attourney’s office afforded her on a daily basis the control that she coveted over others, the paralegals and clerks, her cutting glance could wither the most seasoned defense team...adding new highs to her power trips every time she sentanced a defendant to prison. And this struggle for Mencal had meant countless spankings with the belt in his more outspoken moments, and he had harboured desires of wresting control over the woman since he was old enough to comprehend the beauty of the Sicilian proverb; Revenge it a dish that is best served cold. Not, his power could make certain that things would be very cold for Katherine this very day.

At some point along the way, he removed his illusion from himself. If he was going to face Katherine, it would be as he was, in his golden splendor.

Toby called his old name out as he entered, and he gave a confirming shout in return. A few moments later, she appeared from her bedroom, clad as she always was when alone at home with him, in her underwear alone, her boysih hips hugged by the elastic of her panties. She didn’t know what it was, really, but for some reason, clothing lately had been just so restrictive and unnatural. So, she stopped wearing them a large amount of the time. As if it were the most natural gesture to make, she settled down on her knees in front of her brother, who was settling into the armchair by the window, apparently distracted by something or another. Noting her gesture, Mencal ran his fingers lightly through Toby’s soft hair, smiled slightly at the unconscious purr it produced in the girl. Over the past weeks, the little one had been slowly but steadily conditioned by Mencal into an extension of himself, utterly subservient and obedient companion. And the most beautiful part of it was that a large amount of her training had been on a completely volunteer basis. Ever since that first afternoon, Mencal had done nothing so overt and crude as control her mind directly, but rather subtely influence Toby through a combination of dreams, stimulated libido, and sequential blurring of moral bounderies. He still blocked certain memories, of course, of the more overt play, but the need for that was diminishing as her training progressed. Mencal was on a power trip, there was no doubt about it, was on one every time he saw the expression in Toby’s blue eyes, that utter vision of submission...the same thing he saw when he had looked into Kim’s eyes.

It was time to prepare. “Toby, do me a favor. I want you to just stay here for a little bit, and when Mom comes home, could you just shake me awake?”

“Sure. Are you gonna go to sleep?”

“In a manner of speaking I am.”

Mencal closed his eyes, going into what he had once read about, how a Samuri warrior would meditate sometimes for hours before he did battle, to gather his energies and to prepare body, mind, and soul for the conflicts to come. A practice that he had adapted effortlessly, not even needing the runes to gather his mind into the requisite state of focus it took, merely his own will. It was an effective increadibly effective way of relazation, this disconection of his spirit from his body, he could feel himself rising up, free of any semblance of weight, drifting through the ceiling...utterly free, flying. Hours could pass in this way, in the blink of an eye, and often did, were passing now. Flying, and then a pull he could only liken to the feeling of being pulled from a dream suddenly, returned to his body with the insistent shaking of his sister.

“David...David...David, Mom’s home,” she was saying. When she saw that his eyes had opened, she made as if to hide in her room, or at least dress. What would Katherine say, after all, if she saw her daughter, almost naked, in front of her brother like that? Both children knew the answer, chances are that she would let that big leather belt do the talking for her. But just his hand on her shoulder kept her in her kneel, instilled trust into the girl that quenched the sudden rise of fear. A quick glance at his watch confirmed what didn’t need confirming. Better than four hours had slipped by since he had sat down, their mother was, as always, prompt in returning at 6:20. Katherine was twisting the knob, opening the door...

Time passed at a slow and languid rate for Mencal as Katherine entered. He took the woman in, from head to toe, or more exactly, from toe to head. The plain black heels made specifically for her tiny feet, hosed legs that seemed to fo directly to her neck, legs shaped and toned from childhood by ballet, and later from aerobic classes at the loval gym. A too long skirt intended, obviously, to keep stray eyes from seeing those legs only served, in Mencal’s mind, the opposite effect. Stopping at her midcalf, they gave a tease of what Mencal knew to be gorgeous legs that the viewer desperately strained to see the next inch as she walked, the next and the next. Her hips were just wide enough to to put men in mind of childbirth, and more likely, the activity that preceeded childbirth. A nice, flat stomach and remarkably firm and round breasts for a woman of 35. The gold brooch was positioned just so, just making his eyes drigt from the ornament to the ornaments just beneath. Black hair only beginning to show the advance of the years was made into a bun on her head, a few whisps escaping to frame her eyes, and her eyes were the best feature of the best feature on this amazing woman, her face.

Well proportioned, with fine bone structure, Katherine had been the result of an exotic marriage of Italian and Egyptian parents lended to a darkness of skin, and it was the pride of ancient peoples that burned in her emerald green eyes, fringed by heavy lashes. Lush lips set into a perpetual pout, a natural color of rosy pink. Not a touch of makeup had known Katherine’s face for years, a face that would not even need the cosmetics in order to ensnare the heart. But there was a certain hawkish ruthlessness in the way shadows reflected from her eyes that put the observant on guard, that made certain that people knew that this was not just another skirt they were looking at.

Her intended greeting died on her lips as she saw her children, at the far end of the living room, as if they had been waiting for her. She nearly ripped the gold-stemmed glasses from her face as she caught sight of the pair. Even in this low light, it was impossible to mistake the golden tint to Mencal’s skin, the briliance of his eyes. And, even had she been as blind as a bat and missed that, Toby’s attire couldn’t have gotten by. Her normally sensuously husky voice turned shrill suddenly as she charged in, slamming the door shut behind her.

“Just what the HELL do you think you’re doing, Toby? Get some clothes on, right this minute! And David, what have you done to yourself....” was just the beginning. Toby would have bolted at the first sign of this rage, finding her only courage in clinging to Mencal’s leg. Just when Katherine had reached the center of the living room did he speak, interrupting her proclemations of indecency with a quiet, cold voice.

“Toby won’t be doing anything of the kind, Katherine.”

Katherine stopped in midpace at this. She had been accustomed over the years at token protest, and sometimes genuine rebellion from her children, but never this cold and utter refusal. She regathered herself with a vengence.

“Young man, don’t you DARE speak to me in that tone. I did not raise my daughter into a whore, she and I are going to have a talk about this. And if you don’t want the same, you’re going to get yourself into your room RIGHT THIS MINUTE.”

“No, Katherine, I don’t think that I’ll be doing that.” Mencal’s hands exploded into motion. “Silence is golden.”

The frenzy in Katherine’s eyes vanished, replaced first with astonishment, and then fear as she discovered her utter inability to make a single sound. Her vocal cords had ceased functioning, and she looked from Toby to Mencal rapidly, dibelieving.

“God, how much easier my life would have been if I was able to do this years ago,” Mencal murmered. “Well then, Katherine, now that I see that I have your utter attention, I am going to tell you the way things are going to be from now on.

“I found in Uncle Alexander’s effects something he left for me, my legacy and my birthright. Now I have the power to make what I’ve wanted for years happen. You are under my control now, and your time as queen mother of this house is ended. This is my house now, and everything in it belongs to me, and that includes the women, both of whom I will use in any way I desire. Toby is my slave now. You are my slave now. Live with it.” Another gesture, and Katherine’s speech was given back to her.

Fiery blood made the reality of Mencal’s power clouded. All that Katherine knew in a mammalian sense, was that her power was being challenged. She hissed through clenched teeth, “You will do no such thing, devil. I see you for what you are now. Get thee behind me, Satan.”

Mencal got to his feet, and the pair approached each other like jungle cats fighting over a pride. “What do you expect to happen, Katherine? That I vanish in a puff of smoke? ‘fraid not, I am here to stay.” He lashed out, and slapped his mother full across the face. Even without the use of his newfound strenght, the blow coupled with the audacity of it was enough to send Katherine back a few paces. Snarling, she tried to slap back at him, only to have her wrist caught and held fast.

“Toby?” Mencal called out

The girl had long since hidden behind the couch in the light of the battle of the two titans. She poked her head out, and looked at her brother. “Yes?”

Mencal then said something that was enough to instill fear in her heart, that had preceeded immense physical pain every time it had come from Katherine Bishop’s lips. “Get the belt.”

She blanched, but obeyed. Their mother kept a legacy of their father in her bedside drawer, a thick black belt that was the symbol of discipline and authority in the Bishop household. Any time one of the children was to be punished, it added to the anxiety of it all to have the punished child themself go to fetch the implement. Now, in a trembling hand, Toby held out the belt, to her brother.

Mencal traced a single rune, invisible to the others, but blazing with the light of vengence to him. The leather of the belt snapped in half at once, broken, useless. He then turned his eyes on Katherine again.

“Did the symbolisis of that make itself perfectly clear to you, my little bitch? No need to flinch when I say that, that’s what you are from now on.”

Katherine pulled and fought against her son’s hold over her, but met with no more success than Jamie had an hour ago. She cursed him, said that she would rather die that become his slave.

“Not entirely true, Katherine. In a few moments, you will die if I don’t let you.” Mencal weaved.

‘Gabriel’ had been entirely correct. Creation was difficult, especially to the scale that Mencal was attempting. But it was a price well worth it, as far as he was concerned. The iron manacles materialized before his eyes, made of blue fire at first before solidifying into the cold metal. Four in number, they slithered through the room from their anchors in the four walls of the living room. Each locked itself about one of Katherine’s limbs, each gave a pull. Katherine was taken from her feet, spread eagle and suspended between their tentions.

“Gabriel?” It had been a long time since Mencal had summoned his guide.

I am here for you.

“I want to make absolutely certain of something. I can leave my body psionically and enter hers, and rewrite existing personality and memories?” This was the highest level of control Mencal had learned about that first day and, until now, the only one he had never used.

That is correct.

“Thank you.” Leaving the body was easy enough, but into another’s mind...each person carried with them their own innate psychic defences against just such an inrtusion as he was now planning. It would take some time to punch through Katherine’s resitence to begin event he most fundamental alterations. He placed his hands on her head, forced her eyes to meet his own. And attacked.

It was as if he was launched forward at an increadible speed without ever leaving his body. The sight of her face before him faded away, and he could see approaching at terrible speed a series of rings, Aristotle’s crystal spheres. Before he even registered, he had slammed into the first globe, the defensive one, with a pain that was every bit as real as the physical. It had taken him some time to become accustomed to motion in this place, the astral plane, ‘Gabirel’ had called it. Motion here was the function of thought, not of muscles and limbs. He raised his “arm” to the defensive barrier, and began to hammer away at it with psychic burts of his energy.

This is what Mencal had been craving since his initiation. Here was the struggle, the strife and conflict. He could feel Katherine’s conscious mind resiting him as best she could, with prayer and rage that made the defensive sphere glow angry red. It was the struggle, but the outcome could not truly have been any other way. He broke down Katherine’s initial defenses and entered her mind proper.

The mental geography took him time to get used to as he mapped the psychic plane. Memories here, instincts controlled form here, thoughts, desires, conscience, he went through each of these in moving closer and closer to her personal Nexus, the center of her psyche.

Her prudishness was not natural, he discovered. But rather instilled in her by the abuses of her father, who had raped his daughters on an almost daily basis following the Divorce of her parents. He had hurt her with that thing, and a young Katherine had vowed that nothing would be allowed to hirt her like that again, when she finally gained the courage to speak, and her father was arrested. Mencal watched the course of her life at an accelerated pace, learning all he could of this being even as he made his plan for just what to do with her. The second wave of Katherine’s defense kicked in now, he could see the astral projection of his mother rushing for him, and here where every emotion and symbolism were tangible things, her fury translated into fire jetting from her outstretched hands. Fires that he countered with icy detachment, almost disapointingly easy the way he formed the prison of runes, sealing Katherine’s consciousness in a mental prison on the border between instincts and desires. He journeyed on.

Toby, of course, saw none of this. She saw her brother’s magic, saw him touch Mommy’s head, and then they both just were sitting there for going on twenty minutes now. She fidgeted.

Here it was, Katherine’s nexus, represented by a throbbing mass of purple matter, looking for all the world like brain tissue. Mencal could see the theme of Katherine even as he did battle with the third and final level of defense. A series of mental anitbodies sweeping her mind like white blood cells, searching for an alien virus to destroy. In this case, it was Mencal. Destroying them was easy, there were simply incountable numbers of them, and by the time he had beaten them back with the runes, he was feeling back in his body, the pain of overexertion beginning, as it so often had over the weeks.

He turned to the nexus, and the theme. It was a tableu of the family, not as it existed now, but as Katherine idealized it. All of them beneath her, living perfect and painfree lives, lives also devoid of joy and pleasure. He understood. In the denial of her own pain, Katherine had tried to deny that same pain in her children, but would also have denied them the happiness of life, not understanding that pain and pleasure were nothing without each other, could not exist without the other. This was the source of Katherine’s bitterness, and this was what would have to be destroyed. Mencal weaved.

Shreds of glass appeared, flying and spinning to this throbbing mass, each impact destroying a part of it. Katherine’s conscoisness, still a prisoner, screamed at its death, for indeed, Mencal was killing his mother. Were he not also creating, Katherine would have been brain-dead from that moment forward. He backtracked in his journies, editering and altering, creating and deleting memories, all according to his desire. Her father, the pain he had caused her simply ceased to matter. It was no more important to her now than had been the salad she ate three weeks ago for lunch. Instead, her family had given her, had trained her since she was born, for the responsibility that she would one day have: serving her son. He was making himself the new nexus of her being, erasing the protective/possessiveness he recognized so easily in himself, and replaced it the image of himself as her Master, owner, protector and providor. He simply dumped her memories of law school, of her work. They would no longer be needed. Some things he kept for himself, the name of a good investment banker, for one, a real estate agent for another, and everything else went through the filter. Her knowledge of sex, Katherine now believed, was given to her exclusively that she could use it to please her son. He retreated from her mind, freeing her consciousness from its rune-prison before he left, watching the crystal sphere of protection close behind him like an automatic door. He knew that it would never be closed to him again, her mind, if he wished to enter.

He was back in his own body, feeling totally the effects of using so much of his power. The pain was intense, and he sent Toby for advil, and plenty of it, as he slumped into a chair, pressing his temples, and waiting for Katherine to come around. The irons were no longer necessary, and so they were dissolved with a pass of his fingers.

Two slits of emerald were the first indication he had that she was awake. She sat upright, and groaned, massaging her own head in a very similar way to her son. Mencal was silent as Toby returned, slinking onto his lap and feeding him the advil from her own mouth, making certain all of the tablets were firmly lodged into his mouth with expert little passes of her velvet tongue. Finally, Katherine Bishop’s eyes fell on her son and daughter, and it was as if she had seen them for the very first time. Mencal braced himself for anything.

Her voice was changed, he noticed that at once. What speech class had rendered into a husky and authorative alto was gone, never to be heard again. From this point on, she spoke with the mellifluous tone of a child, and did now as she exclaimed, “Master!”

Her eyes immidiately dropped again, not daring to bring her vision to his eyes, and made fast haste to get to him, crawling in a strangely sensuous way across the floor, where she placed reverent kisses on the leather of his shoe.

Mencal felt the rush of exhilaration that came with the sight of submission and homage paid to him. Snuggling Toby into his lap, he leaned just enough to tilts Katerine’s pretty chin up, that he could look full in the face with an evaluator’s consideration the worths and features of his newest possession. And he could see in the insistence Katherine gave to keeping her eyes lowered, from the hiss of delighted breath his merest touch in her produced, that the once proud woman was, within the space of an hour, his most abject slave.

“Katherine?”

“Yes, Master?” she whispered.

“How would you like me to fuck you silly?” Mencal asked, using the language with such a base crudity that he could determine for himself if any last shred or trace remained of the woman his mother had been.

The scent of female musk meeted his request, dispelling any internal doubts Mencal may have harboured as to the reality of his work. Katherine seemed barely able to speak as she whispered back, “Master, this slave would be most honored to have you mount her.”

“Then don’t you think you had better take your clothes off?”

“Yes, Master!” She scrambled to obey. As she was tossing away that silly brooch and pulling the buttons of her blouse, Toby softly chimed into his ear, which she had been licking softly, “Bro?”

“Hmm?”

“What happened to Mom?”

“Don’t call her that anymore, hon. She’s Katherine now.”

Toby blinked, and shrugged. “What happened to Katherine?”

“Nothing. I simply changed her so that she would be more pleasing to me, the same way I have been you over the past few months.” He squeezed Toby’s little ass as a gesture of his affection.

“Oh” was all she said as she went back to her delicious wiggling and licking.

By this time, Katherine was wearing nothing but her panties, standing with her legs widespread and arched that her Master could see his possession in nubile splendor. Her nipples were as swollen as two little cocks, and even being undressed to this extend before her Master had caused the white of her panties to darken with released liquid. Mencal could see that little apendix scar he remembered from some childhood moment, could see the obvious care and pride Katherine had taken in the health of her body, even though such pride was absent in her appearence. Her breasts were the largest he had seen on a plaything of his in the past, all of whom were girls no older than Kim. Kim. He had almost forgotten her already. She would say yes to his invitation, of course, and that would give him three playthings to enjoy as only a Master can his slave.

“We’re going to need a bigger house,” Mencal said simply. Something...private. Your panties now, Katherine.”

“Yes, Master.” She slid the final garment from her body, her only anxiety about her nakedness the barely realized fear that...perhaps...this time, her Master would find flaw with her, and that she would not be able to bear. She would kill herself if He sent her from His presence, she determined.

Her pussy was hidden from his sight largely by the thick mat of downy black hair growing from her mound, lips. So different her body was from the others he’d seen, felt. He nodded his permission to begin, and immidiately, the vixen’s smile increased by a factor of ten. She reached for him eagerly, unfastening the buttons to his fly and fishing his cock out, even as Mencal’ s own hands went the lenght of Toby’s supple body. But his eyes never left Katherine.

Her fingers closed on him, sending shivers of delight racinf from his loins. He watched as she sat back and held his taut cock so lightly in her cool, soft hands. With a light and delicate touch, she teased up and down the shaft, tracing the rod woth her fingertips. Her fingers curved as her nails followed the same path her fingers did. He moaned into Toby’s mouth as the hands, on the lenght of every stroke, cupped his balls firmly.

By far the most skilled lover had had enjoyed, Katherine began to roll her Master’s testicles, her other hand wrapping around the base of his dick, a grip that became more and more firm as time passed, soon circling him like an iron manacle. He pulsed with the swnsations, watching as, ever so slowly, Katherine brough her lips closer...closer to the swollen head.

“Mmmmmm....pay attention now, Toby. Soon I’m going to be instilling punishments for less than satisfactory efforts.” The girl made some distant noise, far too absorbed in the feeling of her brother’s hands massaging her little breasts to register completely his words.

Katherine extended her tongue so slowly, allowing it to run alongside the undershaft, just enough to let his skin know the presence moist and warm. Mencal goraned and shifted. She began to lap harshly at him, moving down to his base with her sof organ, before she took him nto her mouth completely in one quick bob of her head. His darling mother was sucking him off with amazing skill. Her cheeks hollowed, vacuumed in wild resolve. Mencal couldn’ t take this any longer. He ordered Katherine from his cock, shoving her back to the floor where she writhed, spreading her legs with the eagerness of what was to come, that she was about to be mounted by her living god. Toby he settled that she straddle her mother’s head, heard the squeek as the cunning slave realized her Master’s wishes and began to lap at her daughter’ s hairless pussy, ripping a hole in the panties with her teeth, and displahing skill of the same ken that she paid to her Master’s cock. Soon Toby was gyrating her hips wildly, sent on an almost endless wave of pleasure, climaxing once, twice, then again...

Mencal took Katherine’s thighs, spread them wide as he guided his cock to those lips, and began to sow the same womb from which he had sprung. The feel of this flexing pussy was exquisite. He fucked her, short and powerful thrusts, speeding until his hips were slamming against Katherine with abandon, driving himself into her with maddened lust. She and Toby were making similar grunts with each thrust of his hips, a crisp sound telling him that both were close to the edge. Determined that the three should release as one, Mencal held on, fucking and wrapping his lips over his sister’s. He felt the rise of his own climax and slammed into her, holding in place, buried within those moist depths as Katherine stiffened and groaned. She then cried out into Toby’s pussy as the powerful tremor rippled through her body, the first orgasm she had felt in her life. Toby was feeling that same tremor that rocked her thin frame, all as Mencal came in an explosion of pleasure.

As his racing heart returned from the peaks it had reached, Mencal snuggled in utter contentment between Katherine and Toby, feeling themselves pressed against his body and the warmth they gave him. Surely heaven wasn’t much different from this afterglow. Soon enough, he had gathered himself enough to stretch to his feet, smile at his girls, and say, “Well then, let’s get me moved into the Master bedroom, shall we?”

Chapter 6

Hello to the new, goodbye to the old

Daniel Larkins was unnaccustomed to the sight of someone else sitting behind his desk. In fact, in his twelve years of private practice, it had never happened before. And yet, as he returned on a Friday not unlike so many others of his life, he was more than a little startled to see the somber young man behind the immense walnut desk. He held something in his hand, something small and metal, tapping it again and again against the glass plotter covering his calender, rhythmicly tapping it, sliding that little thing through his fingers, tapping it on its other side, sliding it down, and so on. Tap, slide. He looked to have been about this for some time, for his purple eyes were staring somewhat vacantly as Daniel regarded him with shock.

It was Daniel who broke the silence first. “And may I ask you what you think you’re doing in my office, young man?”

This young aristocrat looked almost bored already as he sighed, still tapping and sliding with maddening pattern, finally speaking. “Yes, you may.”

Daniel shut the door with a little more force than he was accustomed to, and strode to stand opposite the boy. “Cute son, real cute. You have about thirty seconds to tell me what you’re doing here before I call security.”

The tapping came to a stop. “Well, if you must know, I’m waiting for you. You are Daniel Larkins, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, same as it reads on the door.”

“Broker and investment consultant?”

“The Big Apple’s Finest.”

The kid smiled, smiled in the same way that a shark might be said to smile. “I doubt that very sincerely. But you’re exactly what I’m looking for. Sit down, please.”

Daniel was far too bemused to take offense at being offered a seat in his own office, but he remained standing regardless. “Look, kid, this was fun and all, but I do have a call I need to make and some stocks to sell, and this is eating into my lunch hour.”

“Oh, is that where you were? I’ve been waiting here for almost ninety minutes. Do all bankers take such lunches?” He held up a hand to cut into any indignated reply Daniel might have made. “Never mind, it’s no nevermind to me. In truth, this is one of the few quiet moments I’ve had for the past few days, and I’ve got miles to go and so forth. I’m here on business, Mr. Larkins.”

At this, Daniel had to snort. “Look, you may be right, I’m far from the best consultant on Wall Street. But I’m far from the worst. I doubt you could afford me. But let’s pretend. What do you want.”

“Well that should be perfectly obvious. I’ve got a bit of money that I want you to invest for me.” At this, the kid kicked something that his feet were near, causing it to jet from beneath the desk and hit Daniel sharply in the shins. He looked down. It was a big, black suitcase.

“What’s this?”

“Why not open it?”

Daniel did just that. There, waiting for him, was something he thought that he would never, ever see outside of a movie. Rows and rows of thick bills, bundled, sorted. Stuffed into the suitcase until there was literally room for no more. His face dropped, and he stared at the largest amount of money that he had ever seen before.

“At a loss for words?” The kid asked.

“Mary mother of God...” he said. “There has got to be...I don’t know, millions here.”

“Three million, to be precise.”

“And you....you want me to invest this for you?”

His guest...a young man Daniel wanted to think of suddenly as his friend, threw his head back and laughed. “No. This is what I’m going to pay you to invest what I’ve got downstairs.”

Daniel finally accepted that invitation to take a seat, and listened very distantly as the boy, David, he gave his name as, rattled off a list of instructions as to what was to be done with these millions, those millions, where profits were to be kept, what was a valid investment for him, and so forth. This was done with such a knowledge of the terms and nature of the financial institution that Daniel didn’t second guess his evaluation of his age. But something didn’t sit right with him from the moment he saw those yellow bands about the money in the suitcase, and he finally figured out what it was.

“What a second, I remember now. It was on the news in the bar...the Chase Manhatten Chemical Bank was robbed this morning. That’s...you’re the one?”

Mencal sighed. “Very rude of you to interrupt, sir. But no matter. Yes, it was.”

Daniel blinked. “But...how?”

“I don’t see that as being very relevant, Mr. Larkins.”

The investor nodded, and went to the minibar as he turned things over in his mind. He finally spoke. “You give me one good reason why I shouldn’t call the cops right now.”

Mencal made that tapping sound again, the same he had been making in a chain when Daniel first entered, and Daniel turned, scotch in hand, about to tell him to stop it for Christsake, when he recognized what it was that he held. His color died faster than if it had been bleached as he saw that tiny key, so farmiliar to him. No, it couldn’t be, that key was on his ring right now, it was the only one in existence!

But he knew, even as the boy slid his hand down to the lowest of Daniel Larkins’ desk drawers, that it would turn. And it did.

“Why Mr. Larkins, you are a naughty little one!” He exclaimed. And Naughty Little One just happened to be the topmost of a stack of magazines. It featured a girl of about eight wearing a black leather jacket, and nothing else.

“...h-h-h-how did you find those? No one knows about them!” Daniel could do no more than whisper.

“Does it truly matter? Now, still have notions of fetching the authorities? No? Good. Away from these unpleasantries, if you please. Will you invest the money I’ve got downstairs?” Mencal asked.

Daniel nodded. What else could he do? Feeling as if he had sold his soul, he numbly reached his hand across the desk, and shook hands with the young man, what was his name? Oh yes, David Bishop. From Vermont. Nice, wholesome place.

* * *

“Hey you little shit, no one under the age of 18 is allowed!” The proprieter of Wild Sam’s Leather and Metals, who incidently was named Samuel, bellowed to the boy as he walked in the door, giving an appreciative nod to the size of some items in the display cases. He picked simply took it from off the manequin and moved to the counter. Sam was about to toss him out on his ass when he whipped off his dark glasses, just the sight of those bright purple eyes was enough to settle him into his seat again. The kid reached into his jacket and flipped something to him. Sam caught it, caught still in the spell of his eyes for a moment before he looked down.

It was money. The thickest, heaviest grouping of one hundred dollar bills that Sam had ever seen, with this little yellow band around it, giving it the impossible value of ten thousand dollars. He looked up just in time to catch the second object hurled by his favorite customer, an envelope.

“Make it happen,” the boy said as he turned, ready to leave, tucking his acquisition beneath his arm. “Send it overnight to the address I gave you, and if I have to come back here, then I’m going to burn you.”

Sam, the grizzled veteran of hundreds of barroom fights, gangwars that went about his head day and night, and even one drive-by shooting, knew that he had met his match. And so he nodded. “Yes sir.”

* * *

Laura Reiger knew the moment he saw the mother/son pair on Lot 2 that they were buyers, not lookers. Her favorite kind of customer. They had been looking at the minivans for barely five minutes before they settled on the black Oldsmobile, engrossed in the window sticker, apparently. Well, he was engrossed in the window sticker. The mother looked like she would be perfectly contnent swallowing live scorpions, just so long as her son was with her. Laura straightened her skirt slightly, and approached them.

Even though she had long since perfected the unobtrusive greeting, the young man somehow sensed her coming, and turned. Probabl saw me in reflected in the windows or something, Laura thought as she glued a cheery smile onto her face, a smile that almost faltered as he waggled two fingers in her direction, like he was calling for a waitress at a resturaunt. Expect anything, her seminar had taught her.

“It’s a beauty, isn’t she?” She said as she neared the two, addressing the woman who would be very cute if it weren’t for the fashion no-no skirts she was wearing.

“She’s almost perfect. We’ll take it, but I want some modifications made.” The young man said, addressing her.

Laura nodded, reassuring herself with her motto, Expect anything. That’s no problem. Getting your first car?”

“In a manner of speaking. No sunroof, I want your darkest tint to all of the windows, and a few power ports along the interior. And a limosene-type division between the cabin and driver’s seat.”

“Sure, sure, we can have that done by this afternoon. Shall we go into my office and talk costs?” Laura suggested, already calculating her commission.

The youth shook his head. “How about I give you twice the sticker price right here and now in cash, and you have it ready by this afternoon.

Expect anything, which apparently included dream clients. The figure she arrived at in her head nicely doubled. “Young man, you just made my day. There is still some paperword to go through.”

“Katherine can handle that. Go with the nice lady and get my car, Katherine.”

Katherine, of course, was only too happy to oblige.

* * *

The wrought iron gates opened without a noise from well-maintained hinges. Beyond, a cobblestone, an actual cobblestone driveway, stretched on for perhaps a quarter of a mile lined by fragarent cherry blossum trees. John Hasbert turned for what must be the twentieth time to the silent young man sitting to his left, across the brief aisle of the gorgeous new-model van. It even had that new car scent. And yet for the obvious comfort surrounding him, for the easy jazz sounding from the speakers and the half-empty can of Sprite in his hand, he could not relax. The sense of unease had begun in him back at the office, when Katherine Bishop and her son, David, whom John had even met once, entered and asked to see the vacant house on Hillcrest. Rather, David had asked. Rather, David had demanded. It was so unlike Katherine to be so silent and demure, just standing behind her son with her hands folded in front of her, gaze lowered...not the fire-breathing zealot he remembed from Youth Group. He had even asked what was the matter, only to be told rather cooly by the young man that he was speaking to him.

And so they had climbed into the new minivan, where David had put the window up to seperate him from his mother up front, asked John if he wanted a drink, and then lapsed into silence, rebuffing any queries made to him with stoic stillness, showing not the slightest interest in anything until they had come within range of the high fense surrounding the properties of the Hillcrest Mansion. Then, he had simply turned his head, taking in the sight of the well maintained grounds, the distant pool house and stable, the backyard, excuse me (as John often joked when showing the house and grounds,) back field.

“Construction began on the mansion house back in 1974...”

“I don’t care. Is this fence electrified?”

Flustered, John had reached the limit to the amount of abuse he was willing to take from this snot-nosed little punk and was about to say something along the lines of asking him who had flash frozen his blood, when David turned to him, giving him such a look that John’s skin was immidiately covered in gooseflesh. He stammered for an answer... “Ah....ah...um, yes, just a low current to deter animals and such. Nothing that would actually hurt a person. Just give ‘em a little shock”

“I’ll have to increase it. Bed and bathrooms?”

“T-ten bed, fourteen baths on four levels, two wings.”

“On how many acres?” David next wanted to know

“About ten.”

Katherine pulled them to a smooth stop in the neat cicle, just before the marble arches framing the front doors to either side. John took them on a tour of the house, a tour that, showing every nook and cranny of the house, stables and land, normally took up to an hour. Perhaps five minutes into the banal lecture, David simply stopped him in his tracks and turned him that they face each other. Katherine still had not spoken a word, a fact that was making John more and more uneasy. “I’ll take it,” Mencal said simply.

John looked to Katherine, recieved that withering stare again from Mencal, and looked the other way as his stomach did a number. “Umm...yeah, yeah, sure. What bank will you be going through?”

“No bank. Would you take a check?”

John almost made the mistake of looking at Katherine again. “Look, David, what’s the deal here?”

Mencal almost smiled. “The real estate guide suggested something in the neighborhood of seven million dollars. And if at all possible, I would prefer that this transaction not become a matter of public record.”

“Look, that’s not what I mean, goddamnit.”

“I know what you mean. The ‘deal’ is, John, that I call the shots here, and I want this house.”

John shook his head. “It’ll have to be reported to the IRS, a transaction this big.”

“No, it doesn’t.” Mencal smiled suddenly, putting a wiry arm around John’s shoulder, as if they were the best of friends. “You’re in real estate, so I won’t even bother to ask if you know what an offshore account is...”

* * *

Mencal’s two slaves stood before him, naked and proudly displaying themselves to their Master. At the moment, he was taking his eyes on a wondrous tour of both their bodies, from one to another, comparing and evaluating and generally appreciating with his discriminating eye which he liked more.

Katherine was tall, with pale skin contrasting perfectly with the black braid of hair on her head, and the soft tufts between her legs. Mencal had yet to determine for himself if he enjoyed a pussy that was shaved more than he did one that wasn’t, had in fact been trying to figure that for himself over the past few days, fucking both Toby and Katherine in rapid succession, sometimes both at once, alternating between the two fleshy tunnels in midstroke sometimes. Her eyes were lowered, seldom in the past few days had she risen them to look another in the eye, and that was just fine with Mencal. Katherine’s legs were undoubtedly amoung her best feature, firm and strong while the skin atop those toned muscles was utterly soft and smooth. As they almost always were when giving service to her Master, her pink nipples had swelled stiffened, producing from the slave now and again a gasp from the coolness of the air conditioning.

Toby, on the other hand, was on the short side, tanned and far more physically fit than her mother. Her breasts seemed to have grown noticeably in the past few months, now almost large enough to hold in the hand. Lighter hair, eyes a more pleasing shade of blue than Katherine’s were of green. Her stand was somewhat more self-conscious than Katherine’s, after all, Mencal had left her personality intact, and despite all of his conditioning, there were still rough edges. On Toby, Mencal pondered leisurely, he favored her ass more than any other part of her. Boyish, small and impossible tight and firm, he had once spent the entire night awake, squeezing those buttocks in different places for hours at a time. Her pubic hair had attempted to begin their growth sometime last month, something that ended with but a flicker of his wrist. Magnificent pieces of flesh, both of them.

Both of the woman’s skin gleamed with a fine coating of oil. Between them beneath a dark cloth rested the object Mencal had taken from Wild Sam’s five days ago, an object that neither girl had seen yet. Mencal had made some vague allusions to the treat he had in store for them on the last night they stayed in the old house, and now they were about to discover what that treat entailed. Mencal sat in his throne-like chair, naked to the waist, his hair unbound and falling in soft waves to his gilded, gleaming shoulders.

“Katherine, uncover the toy, if you please.”

“Yes, Master.” Katherine answered with the instant obedience he had come to expect from her, and drew back the cloth. Mencal noted with amusement the expression each girl took on viewing that thing, that Katherine was holding a rather phallus, long and narrow, and made, apparently, from black onyx, attached to a harness of some kind, from which a set of leather straps hung down. It looked frightfully large and heavy.

Toby gulped, and looked to her brother. “What is that thing for.”

“You’ll see. Katherine, the oil you put on yourselves, do the same to the shaft.”

Even Katherine looked uneasy with when presented with this command, but she obeyed nonetheless. At another command from her Master, Katherine stepped into the thing, Mencal buckling it about her generous waist. Leg straps were then inspected by Mencal, flush about the curves of her ass while he himself added the final strap to the implement, passing it between her legs and attaching it to the belt in back. Finally, he tightened each strap, chuckled at Katherine’s squeek as the leather bit between the soft flesh of her lips.

Turning her around, Mencal gave the girl a friendly swat on the butt. “Entertain me.” Katherine knew what to do. She approached her daughter, that heavy cock swaying back and forth with each step in an obscene manner. Green eyes met blue, both slightly fearful at the ordeal that lay just ahead of them. They decided, mutually, to make the best of it. Katherine reached out and began to stroke Toby’s breasts, pulling into a semblance of an embrace. They got on their knees together, tentatively leaning in to kiss the first time, Mencal realized, that they had done so. They lovingly began to fondle each other, as genuine lovers, with attentions paid from every bit of flesh.

Toby began to lick and nibble at Katherine’s earlobes even as the older slave began to lean forward, forcing her younger counterpart onto her back. Their foreplay was slow, and loving, their oily bodies intertwining, their kisses getting hotter and deeper as Toby began to squirm on the floor, flushed with the thrill that this was producing in her. Katherine had thrown Toby’s slim little thighs apart, and was bringing a finger into the girl’s naked pussy. Katherine ravaged the girl with her fingers, inserting another, and finally a third into the tight confines. By now the mingling sensations of pleasure and pain were causing the little one to whimper in desperate need.

Mencal watched, perfectly still, perfectly silent.

The rod was being drawn near to Toby’s well prepared labia. Katherine gave a jerk, plunging the head of the imitation cock into her child. Her movements began immidiately, thrusting in and out, her hips bucking in smooth, easy motions that had the cock finding deeper and deeper footholds in the gushing cunt. Toby moaned, giving a toss of her head from side to side, moving past the pain of the immense violation, and finding insanity from the pleasure as her mother fucked her with the onyx shaft. Katherine began to drive the girl, fucking her with a sudden ferocity that surprised Mencal. Toby was groaning openly, filling the house with the sounds of her fucking. Her legs wrapped around Katherine’s midsection, inviting her mistress in deeper and deeper, until Katherine could literally go no more.

Katherine fucked on and on, deriving more than a tingle of pleasure at seeing her rival for her Master’s attentions so helpless beneath her, fucking her daughter wihout quarter until Toby shuddered in ecstacy. She pulled from the trembling little sparrow, that cock slick with Toby’s juices.

Mencal had Katherine remove the harness, and unfasten his pants with her teeth. She proceeded to service him orally as he placed the implement on Toby’s slim hips. This next act showed to both girls just how simply sinister their Master was: the harness was turned to Katherine’s ass as the slave girl suckled at his cock.

All in all, it was a fitting farewell to their old house. The very next day, they had taken up residence in Hillcrest. It was also the day that Mencal returned to the mall, keeping the promise to meet a certain dancer there.

Chapter 7

Kimberly

Mencal did not bother with the illusions that day, standing in his full golden splendor. This had the habit, of course, of attracting many glances from the crowds at the mall that day, to Mencal’s secret delight. It was fast approaching noon, and Kimberly and Toby stood in the distance, aware of the treat their Master was allowing them in this little trip. Little did they know the purpose behind it, nor what Mencal had planned afterwards.

Very promptly at noon, Mencal felt a farmiliar sensation and saw his coveted object entering the food court and immiidately noticing Mencal’s bronze skin. She approached, and Mencal’s smile of greeting faltered. Kim had lost weight in this last week, that was obvious. Her hair was a bit tossled, and her dark eyes had veins of red streaked through them. She has not been eating, or sleeping well since we met, Mencal thought to himself, and she’s been crying a lot. Even now the girl sniffled as she approached.

Kim did not raise her gaze from Mencal’s boots. She was resolved to a decision, but her strength was not that great. She feared that if she looked up, seen even a hint of the purple fire that had haunted almost every moment of her dreams, she would throw herself at his feet, whispering Please take me, Master, and do with me what you will. She murmered a salutation.

“What’s wrong, my sweet little bird,” Mencal asked, making no pretenses about the exact nature of their relationship, taking the girl into his arms at once.

Kim sobbed softly, but her voice was clear, of crackling a bit. She hadn’t been drinking enough, either. “I thought about what happened and what you said. Oh, wait, that’s not true, I haven’t been able to do anything but think about it. Oh God I’ve missed you.” Mencal dried Kim’s tears, and guided her to a seat. “I’m here now, Kim. Have you decided?”

Kimberly nodded.

“And?”

She sighed, shrinking even more into herself. Words came from her lips, but only after great effort, and struggle to form two very simply words. “I can’ t.”

Mencal nodded. “Can’t what?”

She trembled, but was able to find in his calm another smidgen of courage. I can’t make the decision you gave me. I love my Daddy and my Mom with all of my heart, and my friends and my life. And I also love the life that you offer me, and I love you. You can’t ask me to choose between them. I can’t hurt everyone I know by choosing to adandon them. I can’t.”

Silence followed, relative silence at any rate. Mencal held her through her sobs, as gently as he would a baby, considering. “But you want to?”

“More than anything in the world I want to. Do you have any idea of how many times I’ve thought about what it would be like to be your slave? Of the things you would do to me, of everything?”

Probably not everything. “But you don’t want to hurt your parents and friends?”

There as nothing for her to do but nod. Mencal leaned back against the pillar and thought. Kim found the courage to lift her eyes, allow her gaze to be consumed by the burning depths of Mencal’s eyes.

She moved closer to him. “I’ll always remember you,” she whispered as she stood, as if to leave, until Mencal’s hand locked tightly around her upper arm.

He was utterly calm, hardly different from his normal state of being. He even smiled. “Quite unecessary, Kim. I understand, you see, only too well. You can’t choose between me and freedom, and I understand that. I understand that clearly. So I’m going to absolve you of the guilt you would feel if you pursued what your heart calls for you to do. You’re going to be my slave. The decision is too hard for you? Fine. I take away that choice. You are coming with me, and there is absolutely nothing you can do about it.”

“WHAT?” Kim shrieked.

“You heard me, and you know I mean every word of it.” Mencal knew the struggle that was to come, he invited it.

Kim drew in close to him, only a ruse he knew. She was going to either try to pull away or make an attack. She chose the latter of the two. Though passive and gentle, loathe to conflict, she nevetheless was prepared to fight him tooth and nail. The fine tone to her body, after all, was not accomplished through dance alone. Somewhere in there, she had become a fine student of the martial arts. She rushed him, nearing a distance just short of grappling, giving a shout as she brought her elbow slamming into his forhead, her lifting foot into his groin.

Mencal took both blows without flinching. Bruised, Kim tried again, grabbing onto his wrist and attempting to throw him over her hip. Nothing. She abandoned defeating him and shrieked just as loudly as she could “SOMEBODY HELP ME PLEASE.”

As several young men moved in answer to this shout, Mencal simply licked a finger, and drew a hasty rune on Kim’s forhead. The medium did not matter, as his finger made that last twist, the spittle ignited into blue fire. A powerful signal was sent out to those that looked at Kim, an order that could not be denied. Look if you will, but do not interfere.

When she realized that help would not come for her, Kim fought him with every trick she knew, then adandoning her attempts of finesse and clawing at his eyes, his wrist, his genitles. All of these were taken with a smile as he pulled Kim’s clothing from her body. He did not like the emaciated look of her stomach. But everything else was as perfect as his memories told. By now she was sobbing, broken by this sudden turn, still she fought. But, as both she and Mencal knew full well, these were simply token protests, designed to test to see if this choice truly had been stripped from her, if she was given no alternative than to be his slave. He wove with his free hand, fetching from that package that had arrived from New York several items Wild Sam had poured his best efforts into. He secured Kim’s neck in a lovely black dog collar and attaching a leash. There was a ring in front and back of the collar, as well as on the matching belt he fastened around her waist. Kim watched as the long, round leash was bassed through the front belt ring, carefully threaded through her lips, up through the belt ring at the small of her back, and passed through her rear collar ring with a good amount of the leash to spare. He pulled tight on the spare end, tightening the works, cuffing her wrists and raised high behind her back and finally clipped to the tail of the leash. She gasped at these restraines fighting them even as her voice, nicely returned from the shrieking level whispered, “What is this thing?”

“A saddle for a girl such as yourself.”

Kim soon learned that unless she kept her arms pointed straight behind her, her wrists exerted on the leash, giving the sensation that she was being cut in half by the cruel leather of the belt. Unixplicably, Kim....forced a weak smile, and kissed him gently.

Mencal clipped a second leash to her collar, and gave a light tug. “Come my beauty.”

Kim was forced to walk very delicately in the saddle, but Mencal had patience to spare. He reached the bench where he had left Toby and Katherine, who looked with curiosity to the following girl. “Who’s that?” Toby asked with all of a child’s directness.

“Your new sister, my newest slave. Go get the car, Katherine.”

“She’s very pretty, Master.”

Kim flushed under this strange woman’s praise, suddenly aware of her nakedness as never before. She shuddered as Katherine passed, as she felt the soft hands tweak her nipples gently. Why didn’t I expect him to have other slaves? She shrieked to herself.

Toby’s feet were just a bit too short to touch the ground from the bench, and so she swung them back and forth as they waited. Does she like that thing on her?”

“Come and tell me what you smell.”

The child beamed and popped onto the floor, bending herself right over without a care for the improperness of the act, and sniffed the band of leather between Kim’s leg. “She’s excited over it!”

Mencal gave a little tug on the leash, like he was showing off a prize bloodhound, and Kim almost came then and there. “Don’t I know it.”

Toby shrugged, and gave the ice cream she’d gotten another lick. “Where we going?”

“Where ARE we going, hon.”

Toby stuck her tongue out at him. “Fine, where are we going?”

“Home. But we have a stop to make first.”

* * *

The “stop” that Mencal had Katherine make was in Garden City, amoung the less savory of places that one could find oneself. Toby and Kim, freed from her restraints and nestling down on the floor somehwat bemused, somewhat anxious...but very happy...followed Mencal’s gaze as he turned his head from side to side along the trash-strewn streets. Finally, after passing a countless number of buildings and tenement homes, Mencal pressed the button to activate the intercom he had rigged between the front and back of his comfortable transport.

“This is the place I wamt Katherine, to your right.”

Everyone looked at the small peanut cluster of buildings that Katherine was pulling up to. A carpeter’s store room, a little newstand, a Greek resturaunt.

A tattoo parlour.

Mencal held the door open for the ladies as they entered. The sole employee cast an almost disinterested glance up as first Toby and Katherine made their way into his store, missing the trepedacious looks frozen in their faces, but did a double-take as the still saddled Kim followed close behind. The clerk, whose name was coincidentally David, put his magazine away and asked the older woman, “Ahhhh...was there something I could help you with?”

The kid came right up to the counter. “Yes. I want to get these three tattooed and pierced.”

David’s head shot up at Kim and Toby’s shocked gasps. Kim took a longing lookm to the clear glass door leading out of this hideously prosaic and sterile shop that looked for all intents and purposes like the waiting room of a doctor’s office.

“...You want them tattooed and pieced.” Mencal did not miss the inflection David put on the word You.

“I just said that I did. Get moving, will you?”

David sighed. Whatever relationship this kid had with these three lovely girls wasn’t any of his business, though he was almost immidiately green with envy at the thoughts that immidiately followed the sight of Kim alone in her leather straps. “K. What do you want in the way of jewelry?”

“Both nipples on all three.”

“It’s 65 bucks a piece.”

“Fine. And each on their left buttock, a miniature if this,” Mencal said as he lifted his shirt over his head, revealing the blazing rune sigil that no illusion he cast over his skin could disguise.

David forgot (almost) about the girls. He had was 29 years old, spending the last 14 of them first as an apprentice, then as an artist himself in various tattoo parlours around the eastern seaboard. He had never, ever seen before in his life, could never hope to replicate the detail, clarity, and luminescence in the complexly wozen rune on Mencal’s chest. He whistled softly, reached out to touch Mencal’s chest even before he realized what he was doing.

“Christ, kid...where did you get this done?”

“Did it myself. How much?”

David shook his head and wrote some numbers on a slip of paper, looking up every two seconds or so to see the Mona Lisa of tattoos. “I can’t match that color or vibrancy. I can do the best I can for $300.”

Mencal was already peeling off bills. “Let’s get started. Toby? Sine you were the first, you’re first now.”

* * *

Mencal watched as all three girls were taken into the back room, bent first over a counter where David practiced hi art to the best of his abilities. All in all, it was an exceptional job, but not one that Mencal himself couldn’t have performed better with a spell or two. But that wasn’t important. For reasons even he wasn’t terribly clear on, he wanted these girls marked in such a way that suggested their status. Like branded cattle, they were owned my him in all completness.

Later, sore and lying on their stomachs as the van drove itself home, the three mused over the flood of stimulation as a result of the day, as well the mystery of each other. Sisters, their Master had called them.

Before anything else in their new home, Mencal took three identical items from the box from Wild Sam’s. They were three collars, designed specifically to the necks of his three slaves, locks that had no key. The work of the black leather was equisite, supple and soft.

Mencal made love to Kim first, nulling the pain of her ass and breasts before he took her. Once again, there was that utter perfection in her submission to him, and Mencal knew rapture. Toby and Katherine joined them before they were finished, the four of them tumbling together in a pile of twisting limbs on Mencal’s own bed (in truth four king sized frames welded together and fitted with a specially sized mattress.)

Life was good, Mencal decided, as he lay with his arms wrapped about Katherine from the front, Toby doing the same behind him and Kim the same behind her.

There was only a week left until school began, and the four of them made it last just as long as it liked, scarcely leaving the house save for an emergency late night run to the store to buy food. And, for that week, they all found their own measure of happiness. A silent and friendly competition began between Kim and Katherine over which of the two was the better slave. And Toby? Well, it seems that little Toby had fallen head over heels over Kim, the two often taking to amusing themselves when their chores about the house were finished. Yet is was that the immortal spider of Fate had not yet finished wrapping her strands about them, and that their happiness was to be altered by yet another change to their lives. Later, they would look back to those seven days as the calm before the holocaust.

* * *