The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

The Addicted Natural

Chapter 13 – The White Witch of Walden – Perception and Reality

THE STRANGEST NIGHT CONTINUES

“Brenda, I want answers! I want them now! What was all that about back in the tent?”

We were on our way from the campground to the hospital, which was about a twenty minute drive. It had taken us only ten minutes to break camp. The tent was a wet, muddy mess, but everything else had stayed miraculously dry. Well, everything except Maxine. We’d spread a sheet over the back seat to protect it, but the truck smelled strongly of wet dog. Right now, however, I wanted desperately to make sense of the evening’s events. I waited for my pretty wife to answer me.

“I’ll tell you the truth, Freddy, but you’re not going to like it ….”

“Why not?”

“Because it won’t make sense to you. I think that that’s your biggest trouble in life. You believe there must be a reason for everything. But some things just ARE. Some things just HAPPEN. If you don’t have faith in that, you can spend your whole life looking for answers that just aren’t there.”

“Tell me,” I ordered firmly.

She sighed. “I told you the truth about the dreams. Dee told you the truth. But … I think there’s more to it. I think that Dee can just sort of … go to Willie whenever she wants. And I think that in our dream, just as she described to you, she took me along for the ride.”

I started to say something, but decided against it.

“Dee seems to have some sort of … connection with Willie. You can see it if you look closely.” She paused to let that sink in. “She has a connection with me, too, Freddy. You MUST notice it. It’s … sort of weird; but really, really nice, too. It’s almost as if we … sort of … merge. But I don’t think I have much to do with it. I think Dee makes it happen. It’s just that it can’t happen unless there are two, so it happens to both of us. Does that make sense?”

I didn’t trust myself to answer.

“And when she does it … when we do it … I … I can feel what she feels.” She seemed to be struggling with herself, afraid to reveal more. “I can feel the baby, Freddy.”

“Aw, Brenda ….” I couldn’t keep the sadness and concern out of my voice.

“I know. It doesn’t make any sense. You don’t believe it. You never will.” She was silent for a long minute, building herself up to continue. “It doesn’t really matter if you believe or not. But somehow, someway, she was able to see into Willie’s life. And we saw her death, too.”

“Death?”

“The tree. Last night, we saw the tree kill her. It was awful! Terrible!” She shuddered. “But Dee thought that if we could somehow … connect with her again; connect with her just as it was happening, then we could make her … move. Move out of the way of the tree. And … and … I guess it must have worked.”

“Why did you want to have sex with me so much?”

“It only happens to me when we have sex. Whatever Dee does to me, I mean. We can feel YOU when you have sex with us .… I mean, when you’re doing it to her, sometimes I can feel you inside of her. And I know that SHE feels what you do to ME …. You’ve caught her watching us before, haven’t you? And these last few nights, when I dreamt we were with Willie, it always happened just after Dee and I made love … after we had sex. Sometimes, I come so hard, I fall asleep right away. Or maybe I pass out or something. That’s when the dreams come. Anyway, Dee decided that our best chance of connecting to her would be during sex. She seemed to know exactly when it would happen. I just did what she suggested.”

“And did you see her again? Did you see Willie while we were doing it in the tent?”

She shook her head and blushed. “No. I didn’t see anything. But I’ve got to tell you, Freddy: that was the best orgasm EVER!” She was silent, thinking back on it. “I mean … Golly! I’m STILL tingling!”

“Brenda ….”

“I know, I know. You don’t believe a word of it. But you wanted to know. You deserve to know. And that’s what happened.”

We were pulling into the hospital parking lot. Oddly, the night was still young. It was only 7:30. With all that had happened, it seemed much later. I parked as near the front of the building as I could, and we went inside. Brenda went off in search of Willie, but I had a premonition (correct, as it turned out), and visited the admissions department first. Sure enough, I learned that even though the doctors were recommending a 24-hour observation period in the facility, the hospital administrators wanted to discharge Willie immediately because she evidently had no insurance. The ambulance service was on the hook for $750, as well. They didn’t want to disclose any of this information to me until I pulled out my checkbook. Once again, the old adage was proven: the American medical establishment will give you the best treatment money can buy.

It took me awhile to find them. I’d paid for a private room, and they were moving her. By the time I walked through the proper door, I found an intern giving Willie an injection.

“That will help you sleep,” he told her, then smiled at her (it was more of a grinning leer) and walked out.

I bent over to give her a kiss on the cheek. “How are you, Willie?”

She put her arms around my neck and hugged me tightly. “You saved me! You’re my hero!”

“Aw, shucks, ma’am.” I gave her my best bashful cowboy routine. “How’s the arm?”

She flexed her hand. “It’s slightly stiff, but they tell me there are no broken bones.”

“I’m sorry about your husband, Willie.”

“Don’t be, please. I didn’t love him. I hated him!” She watched the shock register on my face. “I belong to you now, Frederick.”

I shook my head. “I don’t know what in the world you mean. You said that once before. It didn’t make any sense then, either.”

“Well, you see, it’s just … just that … that … OH!”

She sank back into the pillows at the head of her bed. She blinked her eyes slowly once or twice. “Oh! I’m suddenly … suddenly … very … sleepy.”

“It’s the injection they just gave you. You’ll sleep for a long time.”

“NO!” she said emphatically, sitting up, swaying, and then falling back into the pillows. “No! I must tell you something first. You must get my cards! You have to save my cards … Please!” Her eyes rolled. She struggled to keep them open. “My keys … in my … pocket.”

Dee went to a closet, picked up a pair of torn, grimy denim shorts, fished around in the pockets, and eventually held up a key chain.

“There’s an address on the tag …. You must … go there … and … get my cards. I must … have … my … cards.”

I bent over her and put my hands on her shoulders. “It’s okay, Willie. We’ll go there first thing in the morning and get your cards.”

“You … should …. There are … boxes … under … the … bed. You should … keep … them.” She was fading fast.

“Okay. We’ll get the boxes, too.” I watched as she struggled to stay awake. I couldn’t help it. I looked directly into her powder-blue eyes. “We’ll bring your cards and the boxes. But now it’s time to go to sleep. Do you trust me?” She nodded with effort. “Good. Now, look into my eyes. Sleep is coming. I’m going to count to three, and when I say three, I you will surrender to the sleep. Just let the sleep take you. You will have very, very pleasant dreams. Trust me. One … Two … Three.”

She closed her eyes and slumped heavily into the pillows, fast asleep.

We stood around her bed, just looking at her. I can’t begin to describe how beautiful, how innocent, how (Lord help me!) desirable, that young girl looked. Finally, I tore my eyes from her.

“Brenda, I want you to stay here with her tonight.”

“Okay, Freddy.” She walked to the bed and began tucking the sleeping girl in.

“Me, too!” Dee said emphatically. “I’m not leaving her!”

I turned to her and put my hands on her shoulders. “Dee, what are you?”

She blinked. “What?”

“What are you?” I asked again in my most serious voice.

Her eyes widened for a moment, and then she cast them demurely, submissively downward. “I am your slave, Master.”

“You will obey me.”

“Yes, Master.”

I allowed my voice to soften. “We need to think of your health, Dee. And the baby’s. You’ll sleep in a bed tonight.”

“Yes, Master.”

“But not OUR bed.” She looked up, confused. “We’re driving south, toward the city. We’re going to get Willie her cards.”

Dee gave a little shriek of delight and hugged me around the neck. “Yes, Master!”

I got Brenda a pillow and a blanket from the nurses’ station to make her night on the room’s only chair a little more comfortable, and then Dee and I left. I walked Maxine around a small patch of lawn at one end of the building, rubbed her down with another towel, and we all got back in the truck. It was a couple hours to the city, but I stopped a little short, since the suburban area indicated in Willie’s address incorporated a large area. The motel was old, but the rooms were clean. It was after ten now, but it felt like I’d been up half a lifetime, and that bed looked very tantalizing. We had to leave Maxine in the truck (no pets allowed). Dee and I stripped and shared a long, hot shower, then climbed under the covers. I was asleep as soon as my head hit the pillow.

HOME (NOT-SO—) SWEET HOME

I’d left a wakeup call for five-thirty. Dee brewed a small pot of coffee (provided in the room), while I walked next door to a gas station to buy pastries and a detailed map. It took me several long minutes of study before I could locate the street name indicated on Willie’s key chain. It was in a very small subdivision containing numerous short, minor streets. I carefully plotted our course, fed the dog, finished my second cup of coffee, and we were off. I was expecting a house, or maybe an apartment. Instead, it was a small single-wide mobile home in a trailer park, sandwiched among hundreds of others, the units separated by only a dozen feet on either side. This one was much shorter than the other homes, and we drove past it twice before we figured out which one it was.

Once again, I left Maxine in the truck as Dee and I climbed the short set of metal stairs to the front (and only) door. It was still before seven a.m., and either no one was about this early or they just chose to ignore us. The key fit the lock, and we went in.

The walls were a sickly shade of green, and thin wooden strips were spaced along them. I happened to know that this is a very prevalent feature in mobile homes. They cover expansion joints, which allow the walls to flex as the unit is being towed on the highways. A naugahyde couch was built into one wall, and it faced the only table in the room, the dining table, I guessed. This small room obviously encompassed the duties of living room, dining room, kitchen, den, and everything else except the bathroom and bedroom, which lay behind a partially open sliding door at the far end.

Dee started crying. “She was so ALONE here!” she whispered through her tears. I had to agree. There was no TV, no radio, and evidently no books. I opened the top of a small chest of drawers, and immediately came across an amazing find. It was a small, flat hardwood box, about four inches by six, and maybe three inches deep, inlaid with ancient signs of the zodiac all around its base. The top was varnished and hand painted with a great deal of skill: a picture of a woman in a sheer robe, her luscious body clearly visible beneath, an aura or halo surrounding her head. It was absolutely exquisite.

“That must contain the cards,” Dee told me. “It was on the table when she was playing her game.” I looked at her quizzically. “In my vision,” she explained.

This didn’t really impress me; I still didn’t believe all this rigmarole about dreams and visions. We’d come specifically for a box of cards, and here was a box that was certainly the right size. I set the box on the table and took off the lid. It contained, as I expected, a tarot deck. The cards were set inside in two stacks, side by side, and like the box itself, each card was an individual work of art. I picked up the top one and turned it over in my hand. It was made of some type of wood, very thin and very hard. The card’s back was inlaid with the same design that was on each card, precisely identical, excruciatingly exact in every detail. The face of the card bore the same picture as the one on the box, obviously hand painted, and amazingly intricate. I knew that there were literally hundreds of different tarot designs, some dating back hundreds, perhaps thousands of years, as well as some very modern ones. I also knew that the collectors of these decks often waited impatiently for the latest designs from the more famous tarot artists, who normally painted one new series of cards every year. And I realized the value of the deck that now lay before me. It appeared VERY old. I would guess that collectors would gladly pay thousands of dollars PER CARD for these. This deck belonged in a museum.

“Is that the queen?” Dee asked, looking over my shoulder. She picked up the next card on top of the deck, and her brow furrowed. “They’re all face cards. Is this one the jack … or the king?” She obviously knew nothing about the tarot. Quite frankly, neither did I. One of my students had written a paper on it once, but I had no idea what the symbols were or what they meant. I took the card from her, put them both back in the box, and put the lid on it.

“Let’s get out of here,” I told her. “Get the boxes out from under the bed. I’ll look around a little, and then we’ll get back to the hospital.” I began rummaging through the other drawers, but they were mostly empty. In one, I found a passport for our “Mr. Wharton,” a marriage license for “Wilhelmina Smith” and himself (signed by the captain of a ship – with a signature that looked amazingly like his own handwriting. He’d obviously forged it), and a U.S. visa issued for Willie under her new married name. Willie’s clothes were in a drawer under the “couch,” but they were not in very decent shape. I found a plastic bag in the kitchen and began stuffing shorts, t-shirts and underwear into it, along with any document I could find with Willie’s name on it. I had an eerie premonition, and I suddenly decided to eradicate all evidence of Willie from the place. I snatched up a hair brush, a package of Cotex, a woman’s razor, and threw them into the bag, as well. There weren’t many feminine items in the place.

“Master! Quick! Come here!” Dee yelled from the bedroom. I plopped the bag containing Willie’s things on the table next to the card box and went to the bedroom at the rear of the trailer. She had pulled three boxes from under the bed, and she knelt next to an open box, holding up banded bundles of currency. It was full of money, neatly stacked. I opened another box, which was also entirely full of bills. I flipped through a bundle. They were all fifties, but the bundle under it was a stack of hundreds. No denomination seemed smaller than a twenty. There were six boxes in all. Some of the bills were obviously new, others just as obviously were not. I couldn’t even begin to estimate a total.

We quickly carried the boxes out to the truck, made sure not to forget the plastic bag or the tarot deck, and I locked the trailer’s door securely. As we drove off, I marveled at the fact that we had not seen one other human being since we arrived.

“What do you suppose it all means?” Dee asked me.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “Nothing makes any sense at all.” We drove in silence for awhile. “I found all of her things in the living room in a couple drawers under the couch.”

“That’s where she slept,” Dee said with certainty. “HE slept in the bed.”

I shook my head. “I’m sorry, Dee, but I simply can’t believe that you could know that she’s a virgin just by looking at her. And I can’t believe that Wharton, or any other man for that matter, could call a girl like that his wife without ….” I couldn’t finish.

“I know what you mean, Master. I feel it, too.”

We drove north quickly, toward … what? “I don’t know what we’re going to do, Dee,” I admitted. She let a long minute go by before answering.

“Brenda will know what to do,” she said confidently. “Brenda ALWAYS knows what to do.”

And after thinking about it for the next sixty miles, I was forced to admit she was right.

BORN TO BE A SLAVE

The hospital was ready to discharge Willie when we got there at about ten o’clock. Our young, white-haired beauty sat on the edge of her bed in one of those hospital gowns that gaps open in the back no matter how hard a person tries to keep it closed, and I must admit that the few glimpses I caught of her smooth young back and buttocks were certainly enticing. I tried hard not to stare; but I also noticed that Brenda had seen my surreptitious glances. She smirked. I shrugged.

Willie’s clothes were in tatters, so Dee had brought her a change of attire from the plastic bag. While the girls fussed over her, I went back to admissions to check her out. I didn’t want to associate Willie with her husband or the address we had visited down in the city, so I gave them my address at the lake as a contact point. I wasn’t sure how we were going to handle the inquiries I knew would be coming from the coroner’s office and other officials. I’d figure out something later.

The drive home was a little strange. Everyone just naturally assumed that I’d be taking her home with us. Willie never asked where we were going or what was going to become of her. She just did exactly as she was told. The girls both chatted constantly about all sorts of things: what we would be having for dinner, Brenda’s latest article, weeding the front flower garden, the addition to the house. (We had decided to add on to “Walden” to accommodate the new nursery. I couldn’t see just adding one room, so the new addition would be comprised of three new rooms and a third bathroom. The workmen would be coming in a few weeks, and they expected to be finished in October. That was the plan, anyway.)

It was a beautiful day, and as we pulled up to the house Willie gave a gasp. It soon became evident that her eyesight was a little better in the bright light. I was anxious to learn the limits of her visual abilities, but that would come in time, I knew. (Was I already beginning to think of her as a permanent resident?)

The girls took her on the grand tour, walking slowly down to the lake and back, Maxine bounding happily all around them, before they all finally disappeared inside the house. They had seemed to be chatting almost constantly, and I could tell, as I was setting up the sodden tent to dry out, that Willie (who had been almost painfully silent during our drive) was beginning to join in the conversation. It was nice to see her opening up. Come to think of it, it was just nice to SEE her, period.

It’s difficult to describe her. The analogy to feline grace is a tired metaphor, but the girl definitely had a way of moving that was … well, MORE than just attractive. It was mesmerizing. She walked with a sort of subtle, slinking gait that was a cross between innocence and pornography. She obviously didn’t know she was doing it, and that made it more tantalizing still.

When I’d finished putting things away, I joined them indoors where Brenda and Willie were sitting on bar stools watching Dee make lunch. To Willie, everything around her was new and exciting, but her demure nature wouldn’t allow her to ask questions until her curiosity became too great to be denied. The girls were more than happy to explain everything to her: the food processor, the electric can opener, the microwave, the coffee maker. More than once, I found myself about to demand how it was that she had never been introduced to these common items before, but I wisely remained silent.

Lunch was a rather pained event. Willie watched all of us discretely but closely, then followed suit with her soup spoon for the clam chowder, and daintily picked up her tuna salad sandwich and nibbled a corner. Finally, unable to contain herself, she practically inhaled the meal. We couldn’t help but stare as she wolfed her food. Sensing our gazes, she blushed and stopped eating entirely. Albinos are interesting folks when they blush. They turn much redder than other people.

“I’m sorry,” she said in a low voice after she had chewed and swallowed. “This is VERY good. I haven’t had the pleasure of eating food like this for many months now.”

“What have you been eating?” Dee asked, her voice quivering.

“Don’t be sad, Dee,” the girl answered. “I survived quite nicely, actually. Rudolph gave me bagels for breakfast, and he brought me a ‘Buddy Burger’ every evening.” She paused. “EVERY evening. I’m afraid I got quite tired of Buddy Burgers.”

“Why did he do that?” Dee asked, unable to contain her curiosity. “What did he DO to you?”

“I … I’d really rather not go into that right now,” Willie said softly.

“Well,” I said, finishing the last of my sandwich and standing up, “you’re going to have to tell us. Tonight. After dinner. I’ll let you work up your courage, but I really, really want to know what this is all about. I’m expecting to hear from the police tonight, tomorrow at the latest, and I want to know the truth before I’m forced to make up some lie.” I walked to the kitchen door. “I’m going fishing. While I’m gone, I want you girls to count the money in those boxes. I’ve put them in the living room. Come on, Maxine!”

But the dog didn’t move. She had her head resting in Willie’s lap. Willie bent over, stroked her ears, and said distinctly “Go on, Maxine. Go to him. We mustn’t disobey our Master.”

Maxine came to me immediately, and we left and walked down to the lake.

When I returned, the sun was low in the western sky. I’d given them enough time. Now, I was going to have all the answers to my questions, one way or the other. Once again, just as my life was beginning to follow some sort of badly needed routine, it had been turned topsy-turvy. Tonight, I was going to know why.

Dee had outdone herself in the kitchen. Both she and Brenda came to kiss me when I entered, while Willie simply stood and blushed at the open display of affection. Brenda had obviously gone to the store for the needed provisions, and little Willie had donned an apron and was helping to cut up the ingredients for the salad. Every so often, Dee would stop and demonstrate something, but after observing for a moment, Willie would complete the task with speed and confidence. My wife fixed me a martini (which was the only fare she prepared very well), and I got the distinct impression they were doing their best to “loosen up” the old master.

Before we sat down to the feast, Brenda asked me to open a bottle of wine, which I was happy to do. She’d set out three wine glasses and a beer stein (I preferred beer with my meals), and she poured a glass for herself and one for Willie. As we were seated, Willie regarded it suspiciously.

“I have never partaken of wine, or any other alcoholic beverage,” she told us sheepishly. “I really think I’d rather not.”

Brenda, who was sitting at my left, across from her, reached out and put her hand on mine. “Tell her to drink her wine, Freddy.”

I regarded my wife curiously. “Brenda, if she doesn’t want wine ….”

She left her hand on mine. “Freddy. Tell her. She’ll obey you.”

I was shocked at this, and I’m sure my look conveyed it. Brenda, however, made no further comment. I looked to my right at the slender, erotic newcomer, and was about to make some apologetic remark on my wife’s behalf, when Willie suddenly reached out, picked up the glass, and drank a large gulp. Her eyes widened, and then she gasped and began coughing.

“That’s okay, Willie,” Brenda said sympathetically. “You’re just not used to it. Sip it. Like this.” She demonstrated.

The meal went from normal to strange to bizarre several times. After we were all served, Brenda suggested I “turn Dee’s water into wine,” and I self-consciously complied, waving my hand over the water in Dee’s wine glass and reciting my little ritual. This demanded an explanation for Willie’s benefit, which Brenda was happy to give. Willie was both fascinated and accepting, telling us that her “auntie” had explained all about the beneficial powers of hypnosis, though Willie had never witnessed them firsthand. Brenda also gave me several little glances and nods in the direction of the wine bottle while Willie wasn’t looking. It took me awhile to get the gist of this silent signal. She wanted me to keep her glass filled. I finally, finally began to see her design. Willie was obviously extremely nervous about telling us her history. The alcohol would make it easier for her.

At last, the conversation turned to the boxes we had taken out of the mobile home, which contained, Dee told me, $932,200. I was flabbergasted. The meal was nearing completion by this time, and we all turned to stare at Willie. She had been in the process of drinking yet again from her wine glass, but sensing our gazes, she quickly set it down and looked demurely at her lap. When no one spoke for long seconds, she stole a peek at us. “Is that a lot?” she asked meekly.

“The better part of a million bucks, Willie,” I told her flatly, and when she didn’t respond, I sighed. “Yes, that’s a lot. Where did it come from?”

“Rudolph won it in some sort of contest,” she said meekly. “Several, actually. Apparently, that was the reason he made me his slave.”

“Slave?” I asked.

“Contest?” Dee and Brenda asked simultaneously. They looked at each other, then back at Willie. “What kind of contest?” Brenda asked.

“I’m not really certain. He had to go away to participate in them, but they seemed to be listed in the daily newspaper. Every morning, before I was allowed to eat my bagel, he would read me a list of strange words. There would be many, sometimes six or more groups, with eight or ten strange phrases in each group. I would lay out my cards after he read a group of words, and they would reveal the winning words in the contest.”

“What sort of words?” Dee asked.

Willie sighed. “Show me the money,” she said. Dee, Brenda and I exchanged quizzical glances. “Slizzin’ Suzie,” Willie continued. “Burning Bacon, Harold’s King ….”

“Horses,” Brenda and I said together. I snapped my fingers. “I knew I’d seen that ugly mug somewhere before. There was a picture of him in the paper a month or so ago. He won the trifecta at Hawthorne. Almaost a hundred grand.”

“And Willie picked the winners with her cards,” Dee said.

“Nonsense!” I retorted. “Coincidence! The guy could just pick the ponies. But he was looking for some sort of ‘lucky sign.’ Big-time bettors are ALWAYS doing stuff like that. Don’t try to read some sort of supernatural thing into it.” The three girls fell nervously silent and the conversation died. “Okay, okay,” I said conciliatorily. “I’m sorry that I don’t believe in your ability with the cards.”

“That’s alright,” Willie said, not looking up. “Many, many people don’t believe.” She reached out for her glass, but found it empty. I filled it again. “Oh, maybe I shouldn’t,” she muttered. “I feel … sort of … funny.”

“That’s okay, Willie,” I told her. “You shouldn’t worry about feeling a little tipsy. We want you to feel good. But it IS time that you told us about yourself. Where are your parents? Are they still alive?”

She took another gulp of wine. “I don’t know,” she said so softly that Brenda and Dee leaned forward to hear. “I never knew my parents. Raoul told me the story when I was young. He said that he had been sent by Auntie to fetch me before I was born. She had cast the bones and read them, and learned of my impending birth. He found my mother and father and told them that the baby that was coming was of the spirit world, and that they should give it to HIM when it was born. Albinos are not well received in many parts of the world, and they are sometimes put to death upon their births. Once they saw me, they considered me lost, like a stillborn, and they gave me to Raoul, who took me back to Auntie.”

“Who’s Raoul?” Dee asked, enthralled.

“Auntie had four slaves on the island. Besides me, there was Raoul, who was from the mainland, and Johnathan and Ann, from Barbados. She had others, too: mostly men; but they didn’t live on the island. They just showed up from time to time.”

“She kept slaves?” I asked. “That’s a bit archaic, even for small tropical islands.”

“It’s not the type of slavery you think, Frederick. I was born to be a slave, but the others joined her voluntarily. Well, no, that’s not quite true. They STAYED with her voluntarily.” She glanced around at our questioning looks. “Auntie was a succubus.”

“Oh, for cryin’ out loud!” I exclaimed. Willie fell silent and sat quietly, looking down at her folded hands on her lap. Finally, I relented. “I’m sorry. I won’t interrupt anymore. Please continue.” But she still remained quiet.

“Are YOU a succubus?” Dee asked.

“Dee!” Brenda chided.

“Well, she might be!” Dee responded defensively. “You can feel it, can’t you? Feel her attraction?” She blushed and cast her own eyes bashfully down. “I can.”

“It’s okay, Dee,” Willie said. “It’s a perfectly reasonable question. No, I’m not. Succubae are possessors. They are mistresses. They enthrall and enslave through their sexual favors. But that does not mean they are evil or bad. Auntie was a wonderfully kind mistress, and none of us would have ever dreamed of leaving her. We all loved her. But she greatly attracted any man, and many women, who came into contact with her. It was not her fault, or necessarily her intention. It’s just the way she was. We soon found that I had the same sort attraction. But I was never born to be a mistress. I was born to be a slave, and I will always be one. ” She took a shaky breath. “I am a siren.”

I opened my mouth to make a snide remark, but shut it again. I thought of another, and another. It was a real effort to keep them to myself.

“I know what you are thinking, Frederick. No, I do not sit on rocks and sing at passing ships. In fact, Auntie once told me that I cannot sing well at all, though she never discouraged me from trying. But a siren carries a curse of sexually attracting all those who see her. It has been a terrible burden for me.”

“But why,” Brenda asked calmly. “I would think that any woman would love to possess the ability to attract men.”

“Men want me, but cannot have me,” she said sadly. “Auntie told me that once a man loves me, physically, my powers will cease. I will no longer be able to read the cards. She knew this, and shielded me from the outside world, except from those special individuals she had invited to her island.”

“What kind of special individuals?” Dee asked. She was hanging on Willie’s every word.

“Auntie was considered by many to be a Master Witch, an individual who could train many types of psychically gifted people. Children, mostly. None was ever there very long; a few weeks, at most. But I would play with them, and talk and make friends. That is how I began swimming at night. I cannot stay long in the bright sunshine because of my skin. One of the visiting girls came to Auntie and asked if we could swim in the bay at night, in the moonlight. Auntie threw the bones and saw by what means our lives would end. She informed us that neither of us would die in the water, so we were safe. I started swimming far, far out into the ocean. Oh, it was wonderful!”

“But you’ve never loved,” Brenda said sadly.

“It could never be. I must live by the rules that govern my existence as a slave and reader of the cards. I must never read anything except the cards themselves. That is all I have ever read. And I can never love, nor give a man my body. Everyone knew about this. Rudolph knew. That is why he kept me hidden. He made me cover up in heavy clothes when we had to travel. He never allowed me to talk to anyone, and he became terribly angry if I did. I talked to one of his girls one night, and it was awful.”

“His girls?”

“I had a profound affect on him, but he knew that if he took me sexually, I would be unable to read for him anymore. So he would use his money to pay women to come and take my place in his bed. They were always making loud noises in the bedroom …. It made it very difficult to sleep, sometimes. I kept wondering what they were doing; what services she was providing that a wife was expected to do. I’ve never actually seen …. Anyway, one night, after a girl had serviced him, she left him and came out and sat beside me on the couch. She told me that my father was a mean and hateful man for having sex while his daughter was right in the next room, and that if I wanted, she would help me run away. I told her that he was not my father, but my husband; and after a long pause, she told me that he was even more hateful and mean than she’d thought, and that she should take me away. I was trying to explain things when Rudolph came out and found us talking. I’ve never seen him so angry … except last week in the campground.”

She was looking at Brenda. “He bought that camping trailer and the fishing poles. I came to realize that he had always been a man of the sea, and he greatly missed fishing. He couldn’t risk leaving me behind for an extended period, so he was forced to take me along. And when he left to go fishing, he told me not to go out for any reason; but there was no bathroom. I HAD to go to the public restroom, against his express orders. I never intended to talk to you, or anyone else, but I found myself unable to resist. You have a way of … I mean, when I talked to you, I felt …I couldn’t help myself when you led me back to your campsite and talked. I LOVED it. But he found us.”

“And that’s why he hit you,” Brenda said.

“That time, yes, but he hit me quite frequently. He delighted in hitting me. He hated me. But more than anything else, he wanted me. I could see it in his eyes, every time he looked at me. Oh, how he wanted me! I think that when he had enough money, he was going to take me. It was his plan; I’m certain of it. When my powers were no longer important to him, he would delight in taking them away.”

I couldn’t stay silent any longer. “I’m sorry, but this is one of the oldest tales in the world. Literally. The saga of the psychic that would lose her powers if she fell in love, I mean. The story’s been found in scrolls from ancient Greece. Another version was written in ancient Egypt. Hell, I think it was in one of the James Bond movies! It’s been a standard storyline for three thousand years, and it’s still going strong! But it’s just a story, Willie. Don’t let it stand in the way of your happiness.”

She looked at me and blinked, then blinked again. I suddenly realized that she was pretty drunk, though her speech hadn’t been slurred at all. She cocked her head a little to one side, just like Brenda and Dee do when they’re trying to figure something out, and she began nibbling on one side of her lower lip.

“What happened to your aunt?” Dee asked, breaking the spell of the moment.

Willie jerked herself upright as if she’d been struck. She slowly looked down again, and tears welled up in her eyes and spilled over. “Rudolph killed her,” she said quietly.

“Killed her?”

“Yes. He murdered her. And the Captain, too. He shot them both.”

“Why?” Brenda asked. We were all shocked.

“He wanted me. He stole me; and the Captain’s ship. That’s where he got the money to play the … horse contest. He sold the Captain’s ship. And he brought me here.”

“Alright,” I said, holding up both hands to call for order. “Let’s just start at the beginning. Who’s the Captain?”

Willie blinked her tears away, but refused to wipe her cheeks. She smiled a little at the mention of the name. “The Captain had been coming to the island for as long as I can remember. Auntie enslaved him, but afterward, she had sent him back to his two wives. He told me once that he had a wife in a city called Singapore and another in Europe. They didn’t know about each other; the two wives, I mean. He showed me pictures. He had children, too. But once a year, he came to our island in his ship and unloaded boxes and boxes of food and clothes and other things for us. Then Auntie would reward him by letting him sleep with her for a week. Actually, I think Auntie liked the Captain more than all the other people she would have sex with. Even Raoul and Jonathan and Ann. Auntie loved them all. But I think she loved the Captain the most.”

She smiled again. “He would always give me a present, wrapped in bright paper, a different color each year; but I would have to save it and open it at Christmas. That was always very hard. Waiting, I mean. It would always be another month before Christmas.” The frown returned. “Rudolph was the Captain’s First Mate, and he was first there two years ago. The Captain must have told him about me. I never liked him; the way he was always looking at me. I caught him once, watching me from the beach as I swam, nude and alone in the night.” She shivered, and then was silent for a long time. The tears started again.

“And then last year, on the second night they were there, while Auntie and the Captain were making love in her room, he went there with a big gun … a big gun with two barrels; and he shot them. I knew something was wrong right away when I heard the noise. We never kept guns on the island. I ran into the room and screamed and screamed, but he just grabbed my arm and drug me away, back to the ship. The only thing he let me take with me was my deck of cards. There was only one other man working on the ship, and he was obviously part of the plan, because several days later, they steamed into a city called San Juan, and they sold the ship and split the money.”

She was silent again. I looked around. Brenda and Dee were both crying, too. I turned back to her. “Willie, why in the world did you stay with the creep? You must have had lots of opportunities to escape. Why didn’t you run to the police and report him?”

She met my gaze patiently. “He was my master.”

“WHAT?”

“I keep telling you, Frederick: I am a slave. I cannot live without a master. He killed my mistress and took me for his own. I hated him, but the fact remained: he was my master. It is not unheard of. Many slaves hate their masters. But now, he has been killed, as well. And now, I am yours.”

“NO!” I said, perhaps a little too-emphatically. They all jumped. “Willie, I DID NOT kill you husband. Call it whatever you want: an act of God, a freak of nature, fate, what have you. I’m sorry he killed your aunt. I’m sorry he beat you. I’m sorry he was such a louse. I didn’t like the creep. But I did not kill him!”

She looked across the table at Brenda, and then stared long and hard at Dee, who averted her eyes. Finally, she turned again to me. “You SAVED me, then. I’m not sure what you did; I only know that I belong to you now, Frederick. I will do anything you command. I will read the cards for you, if it is your wish. Or you can send me away. I will do whatever you desire.”

I couldn’t think of any response to such a preposterous statement. Fortunately (or unfortunately), Brenda saved me from making a comment by jumping in with her strange brand of logic.

“Willie, if Freddy were to give you your million dollars and send you away, what would you do?”

She thought for only a moment. “I would give myself to the first man that wanted me.” She caught me staring at her unbelievingly. “I MUST have a master, Frederick.”

My wife laid her hand on mine again. “And who do you suppose would be the first man to want her?”

“The first man that SAW her!” Dee interjected.

“You CAN’T send her away, Freddy. She’s like us; like Dee is; like I am. She NEEDS you.”

I looked into Brenda’s eyes and saw only sincerity. I looked around the table. They were all holding their collective breaths. Waiting. How did I always get myself into these situations? I still wasn’t ready to give in.

“And what am I going to do with her? I do not believe in this tarot mumbo-jumbo. I WILL not believe! The whole idea is crazy!”

“What DO you want to do to her?” she asked, smiling wickedly at me. I gave her an exasperated look. Could she tell I had a hard-on? “Make her one of us, Freddy. I mean, REALLY one of us. Hypnotize her. Make her love you.”

“WHAT!” Willie and I exclaimed in unison. I glanced at the white-haired beauty.

“You wouldn’t want to use my abilities?” she asked, shocked. “You’d let them … just … go away?”

“He doesn’t believe in them,” Brenda said flatly. “If he chooses to keep you as a slave, he would want you only for yourself. He’d want you for who you are, not what you possess. He’d LOVE you, Willie.”

The girl looked down and blushed beet red.

I gawked at my wife. “Are you out of your mind?! I can’t just MAKE a girl love me!”

She laughed gaily. “Of course you can! She’s a Natural. You can make her do anything you want!” She met my indignant stare with one of gentle patience. “Look at her! She’s starting to fall in love with you already. And she’s ALWAYS been in love with the IDEA of you.” She reached up and stroked the hair above my ear, a habit she has when she’s trying to be endearing. “You’re her dream come true, Freddy: a benevolent Master.”

“I …” I didn’t even know where to begin. This was the most far-fetched idea I’d ever heard, but once again, Brenda was twisting things around, presenting me with a proposition that was so attractive, so tantalizing, that the word “irresistible” doesn’t even begin to cover it. I sought blindly for objections to something I suddenly wanted very much, but that I knew was socially unacceptable. And then, I thought of one. A big one.

“How old are you, Willie?” I demanded rather harshly.

She looked up, puzzled. “I don’t know.”

“You don’t know?”

“I’ve never had a birthday. Raoul told me the story, but he never told me when it was supposed to have taken place.” She shrugged. “I really have no idea.”

“She’s been MARRIED,” Brenda said empathically, sensing my moral dilemma.

I gave her my best stony glare. “I’m not a pedophile, Brenda. She’s obviously young; and with her coloring, language skills, physical attributes … I don’t have a CLUE how old she really is. I will NOT ….”

Brenda silenced me by holding up both hands. She was silent herself for a long, long moment, thinking hard. Then, she got a sly glimmer in her eye and smiled. “Can I borrow your eyes, Freddy?”

“What?”

“Just look at her.” For a moment, I tried to figure out where this was going, but then I complied. Willie looked up questioningly. “Look into his eyes, Willie. Deep into his eyes. And Relax.”

She fidgeted. “What is she doing?” she asked, not taking her eyes from mine.

“Tell her to do what I say, Freddy. Tell her to listen to me and relax.”

I didn’t have the chance to speak. “Your eyes are so dark,” Willie said, gazing at me. “Am I being hypnotized now?”

“Relax, Willie,” Brenda continued. “Just relax. Take a deep breath. That’s it. Relax. Another deep breath.”

Willie’s shoulders slumped. Her stare never wavered.

“Willie,” Brenda continued. “I’m going to talk to you and make you remember something, and then I’m going to ask you a question. You will not be embarrassed. You will just answer. Do you understand?”

“Yes.”

“I want you to remember your first period, the first time you bled between your legs. All girls remember that. You remember it, don’t you?”

“Yes.” Despite the instructions, she blushed again.

“And now, I want you to tell me how many months it was before the Captain came. How many more periods did you have before he next arrived?”

“Just one. I bled again, and the next week, the ship came.”

“What color was your present that year; the Captain’s present to you … the one that was always wrapped in a different colored paper. What color was it, Willie?”

She smiled broadly. “Green!”

“Wonderful. And the next year. What color was your present that year?”

“Orange!”

“And now, I want you to move forward a year at a time, and tell me the color of your present. Each year, when the Captain came again. What came after the Orange one?”

“Blue!” Willie said immediately, smiling excitedly. She paused a moment. “Then red! And green again. Blue. And pink … bright pink!” Instantly, her smiled dissolved. She sat soberly, looking deeply into my eyes. “And another red one. But I never got a chance to open it.”

“Thank you, Willie. You can stop looking at him now, if you want.”

She didn’t. “Was I hypnotized?’ she asked me.

“Oh, no!” Dee told her with such enthusiasm that Willie looked over at her. “Just WAIT until he hypnotizes you! You’re going to LOVE it!”

“The average girl begins menstruation at age twelve, Freddy,” Brenda told me patiently.

“I was twelve,” Dee chimed in.

“So was I,” Brenda said seriously. “I know this isn’t as scientific as you’d like it, but I think we’re being pretty conservative here. Heavy physical conditioning often delays the onset of menstruation. So, I think twelve is probably on the early side. Still, we’ll say she started on her twelfth birthday, and we’ll say she was born in the middle of the month, just to pick a date at random. That means we’ll celebrate Willie’s twentieth birthday in three more months, on October 15th. She’s nineteen, Freddy. She’s the same age I was when I fell in love with you during my sophomore year. She’s not a child. She’s a woman. And she needs love, just like every woman. Give it to her. Please.”

I looked questioningly at my pretty wife. “Aren’t you even a little concerned? A husband making love to another woman is every wife’s worst nightmare.”

She gave me her best understanding-sexy smile. “It’s a little late for that,” she said, glancing at a very pregnant Dee. “And Willie’s not just another woman. She needs to be one of us, and you are the only one that can make it happen. She needs YOU.”

I sighed and looked back to the sexy young thing to my right. Willie was looking silently, demurely down again; just like Dee did when Brenda and I talked about her. She was chewing on her lower lip again. But now, I suddenly thought of yet another obstacle to my wildest fantasy.

“How am I supposed to go about this?” I asked. “She’s never been hypnotized; and ASSUMING I can do that, what experiences am I supposed to reinforce and build on? She’s never been in love. She’s never done it with a man. For all I know, she’s never experienced physical arousal! She’s probably never been KISSED!” I glanced back at Willie, who’s only answer was to blush even deeper. Nope, never been kissed. “You want me to enslave her by building on feelings and emotions she’s never even had!”

Brenda patted my hand. “I’m sure you’ll do just fine, darling.”