by “URN My Power”
Charlie awoke around noon. The oscillating fan was running, making the November chill worse, even though its breeze wasn’t aimed directly at them. Amelie was still zonked out, breathing softly. He slipped out of bed and got some different clothes on. Looking at her lying on the bed, her features in repose, she was quite beautiful. All of the flaws had long ago been magically erased from her face, so she was like a pretty doll.
A pretty doll is just about right, considering what I’ve done to her. he thought guiltily.
It’s no worse than what she tried to do to me. responded another part of his mind. She told me she would die if I told her to, when she was under the spell. Who knows what she would have done to me if the spell hadn’t bounced?
Still...is it right to keep her like this?
She looks happy enough. I could have told her to be my slave without making her so happy about it, and just forbidden her from acting against me.
Charlie continued to argue with himself until Amelie awoke, and smiled an utterly blissful smile that made him forget what he’d been thinking about. She crawled out of bed and knelt at his feet, eager for a command to obey. Her happiness was infectious, and soon he forgot why he’d been so upset as her talented mouth diverted too much blood away from his brain for such worries to distract him.
“Holy shit, dude!” Steve said from the top bunk. “She’s one talented chick!”
“You have no idea.” Charlie said as Amelie reverently put his dick back in his underwear.
“What the hell?” Steve asked. “How’d your pecker get that big?”
“Amelie’s doing.” Charlie replied as he zipped up. “She’s a sorceress.”
“So, how’d you get a sorceress to jack your beanstalk?”
“My tattoo bounced an evil mind-control spell back at her, after she tried to cast it on me.”
“Wow, payback’s a bitch.” Steve muttered.
“Amelie, I want you to go put on some clean clothes.” Charlie said.
“Yes, Master.” she responded. She muttered a spell under her breath, and disappeared.
“Holy shit, dude.” Steve said, climbing down out of the bed.
Amelie appeared in the parlor of her manor house in Cordova, Spain. The only other person in evidence was one of the maids. She’d never bothered to remember the girl’s name, and the maid was certainly in no condition to remind her. Amelie had bound her seventy years ago, freezing her age at sixteen years so she could serve her Mistress through the centuries. The maid was like an automoton, unaware of anything that didn’t affect her duties, her expression forever that of someone walking in their sleep.
“Slave, come help me dress.” Amelie told the maid as she walked to the stairs. The maid continued to dust. The sorceress gawked. Never had she been ignored by her own mind slaves! Muttering a few minor spells under her breath, she examined her bindings. There was nothing wrong with the spell, or the maid’s hearing. The problem, in a manner of speaking, was Amelie.
The maid—in fact, everyone on Amelie’s household staff—was bound with a spell that only allowed them to be aware of, and obey, the commands of Amelie O’Fae. When he’d bound her, Charlie had changed her true name, the name by which magic knew her, to Amelie, Slave of Charlie. She was briefly irritated at her old self for not using a spell that could take such things into account. Then she realized that even if Amelie O’Fae hadn’t been an arrogant, spiteful cunt, she could not have anticipated that anyone would change who she was. O’Fae was gone now, and she knew the slaves wouldn’t survive long without someone to command them.
Amelie put her hands on the maid’s head and began the enchantments to transfer ownership. The girl’s empty eyes glowed softly for a moment, then her lips moved just enough for Amelie to perceive them as she softly asked the question, “How may this slave be of service to you, Mistress?”
That’s better. she thought. Another maid moved around upstairs and started cleaning the windows. Amelie thought of the size of her staff, and groaned. If she had to change ALL of their spells...
No, she didn’t. Grinning at her own inventiveness, she cast a spell on the lips of the ensorcelled maid, so that the same spell could be cast on anyone she kissed. “Now, slave, I want you to kiss every one of the house staff, and when you’re done gather them all in the parlor.”
“Yes, Mistress.” the maid said, and shuffled off to obey. Amelie decided she could dress herself today. She padded naked up to her room and opened her closet. Outfit after outfit failed her inspection as too domineering for her new role. Disgusted, she piled it all in the middle of the floor and marched to the quarters of one of her fetish-slaves. Amelie had been, and still was, functionally bisexual, keeping both male and female slaves under her thrall. She walked into the quarters of one of the female slaves, who stared, unaware, up at the ceiling in the bed, awaiting commands. Amelie appropriated a Catholic schoolgirl uniform from the girl’s closet. It was tight on her, especially around the chest, but Amelie felt that Master would like that.
She teleported back to the dorm, startling Steve. “Is this to your liking, Master?” she asked. Charlie smiled, Steve just gawked.
“Very nice.” he said, drawing her close and running his fingers through her red hair, down her body, visiting all his favorite places on the way, and she shivered in pleasure as he touched one of hers. Steve evidently decided that three was a crowd, tossing off a “have fun, guys” over his shoulder before closing the door behind him.
“Should we tell him I’m not a guy?” Amelie whispered. Master laughed, a sound that was better than music to her ears. “What shall we do now, Master?” she asked.
“I’m hungry, let’s go to the Seven-Eleven and get something to eat.” he said. They walked arm in arm to the convenience store. Amelie covertly retrieved her ATM card from the pocket dimension in which she kept it (which saved her from the embarrassment of leaving it in another outfit) and withdrew two hundred dollars for her Master’s use. There was a fat man munching Cheetos in one corner. Just as her Master was about to check out, the fat man cut in front of him.
“How dare you!” Amelie shouted as the man ran his half-eaten bag of chips in front of the scanner, and then resumed munching.
“Ya snooze, ya lose.” he said as he slapped a twenty on the counter. Amelie’s face darkened and her lips moved in an arcane chant, her hands moving fluidly as she traced ancient symbols in the air. A sphere of darkness appeared where the bag of Cheetos was, swallowing it whole and almost taking his hand with it. “Whoa! What the hell?” he exclaimed, almost falling over a newspaper display. “You banished my Cheetos!!“ Master laughed even harder.
“Take a hike, lard-ass, or next time it won’t be your bag of snacks that I send to the Plane of Hate.” she snarled. It was obvious the man had never moved so fast in his life. He ran through the automatic door so fast his love handles touched the glass as he passed. Amelie looked at her Master, who was still laughing.
“’You banished my Cheetos!!’ That was great!” he said through his laughter. The clerk was just staring at her as though she might turn her magic against him next. She gave him her most disarming smile and put her arms around her Master. The clerk put the fat man’s change in the charity jar and rang up Master’s purchases, as timid as a rabbit from head to toe. Master whispered a suggestion into her ear. She walked around the counter, unbuttoning her blouse as she went.
“Uh, what are...uh...” the clerk stammered, his eyes locking onto her now-exposed chest like guided missiles. Her arms massaged his shoulders.
“You’re so tense.” she said. “Poor thing, I didn’t mean to scare you. Let me help you.” She slid to her knees, her nails lightly scratching his shirt, and undid the clerk’s belt.
“Shh.” she said as she freed his six-inch erection. It was so big around that she couldn’t touch her middle finger to her thumb. She licked up and down the shaft, lubricating him with her saliva, before taking the head in her mouth and taking him in a little at a time, with excruciating slowness, her tongue moving around as he grabbed the counter for support, her nails scratching under his balls ever so gently. Her cheeks puckered as she pulled back slowly. She knew the tricks to make everything disappear from a man’s mind except what she was doing, and she used them all on her helpless prisoner. She drew out the experience for nearly half an hour before she let him cum, and cum he did, like a fire hose. His eyes squeezed shut so tightly that tears leaked from the lids. She swallowed like a child at her mother’s tit, until it was all gone, and her victim sank limply to the floor. She rose just enough that her breasts were at a level with hiseyes. His cock twitched, but didn’t revive. She pouted sexily and enjoyed his reaction as she slowly buttoned up her shirt, just enough so that she wouldn’t get arrested if a cop happened to walk through the door just now. She patted him on the head and winked at her Master before she went to the bathroom to wash out her mouth and empty her bladder. When she walked out, she found that the clerk was still recovering. He winced as he put his dick back in his shorts, and closed up his pants as if he were pulling out a splinter.
“Holy fucking shit, dude...” he said as he managed to make his wobbly legs remember how to move. “How’d you hook up with a goddess like that?”
“I’ve asked myself the same question.” Master said. “It’s the kind of thing that you convince yourself can only happen in one of those naughty stories on the Internet, but I’m not going to complain.” He smiled at Amelie, and she melted inside, folding herself happily into his arms. The doors opened, and a girl walked in, somewhere between the ages of seventeen and nineteen. Her strawberry-blonde hair had red highlights, and hazel eyes with amber flecks shot through them took in the store and its inhabitants with an innocent-but-curious expression before she circled around to the back and grabbed a foot-long sub and two bottles of Dr. Pepper from the fridge.
“She’s cute.” Amelie whispered.
“Go give her a kiss then.” Master replied. He watched with lust in his eyes and a bulge in his pants as Amelie walked up to the young girl and kissed her like there was no tomorrow. The girl struggled briefly, but Amelie’s skillful caresses overcame her better judgment, letting the animal side revel in pleasure. Both females’ nipples were visible through their shirts when Amelie broke off, leaving the girl to catch her breath.
“I...I shouldn’t...” she began, but Amelie silenced her with a finger on her tender lips, and whispered a low-level enchantment. The pupils of the girl’s eyes briefly glowed a soft, yellowish color, and she was putty in Amelie’s hands.
“Come.” she said, leading the girl to the check-out.
Chelsea Smith put the last sheet of Bounce in the dryer and closed it before pushing in her quarters as her roommate did the same on another machine. Together they occupied about four dryers. Her roommate, through coincidence or some sick sense of humor on the part of the housing authority at the college, was named Chelsea Smithe. Everyone referred to them as the Chelsea Twins, although they had little in common. Smith was studying to be an interpreter, learning both Japanese and Chinese, Smithe was an art major whose hobby was redoing the great works of the “Old Masters” in the style of anime and manga—interesting to Smith if only because of its cultural links to Japan. Smith was a strawberry blonde whose hazel eyes sought out wonder wherever they could find it. Smithe was a dark-haired “ward of the state” who had grown up in a children’s home and seen the dark side of “The System” once too often.
“Where ya goin’?” asked the darker-haired Chelsea.
“I’m hungry.” said the lighter-haired girl. “I’m gonna go get a sub from the Seven-Eleven next door. Wanna split it?”
“Yeah, sure, ‘slong as it’s not one of those grody meatball ones.”
“I only get hot subs from Subway, you know that. Microwaves make the whole thing soggy.” She straightened her skirt in the reflection from one of the stainless steel machines nearby. She was nineteen, but was cursed with a baby face, petite frame and small bust that reduced her apparent age considerably. She tried to wear clothes and make-up that made her look older, but ended up looking like a kid playing dress-up.
As she walked into the convenience store, she saw a couple embracing, and that the clerk looked like he’d just run a marathon. The female of the couple looked like she’d lost a bet and was wearing her little sister’s clothes as punishment. The tight-fitting blouse was so tight that it pushed her impressive chest up into a porn-star cleavage. She noticed the woman looking and continued further into the store, anxious to get her stuff and leave. She grabbed a roast-beef sub and two Dr. Peppers from the refrigerated section, turned—and ran right into the woman.
She pulled Chelsea into an embrace and started to kiss her. Fear, surprise and her parents’ dire warnings about homosexuals warred with another feeling, a feeling that was being inspired within her by the other woman’s expert caresses of her body. She was finding hot-buttons that even Chelsea didn’t know about. She moaned involuntarily as her nipples stiffened to press into the fabric of her shirt.
“I...I shouldn’t...” she began once her mouth was freed, but the strange woman silenced her with a finger on her tender lips, and whispered soft words that wove themselves around her mind, though she didn’t understand them. Softly, all the thoughts telling her to resist lapsed into silence, leaving behind the voices that wanted more of that good feeling the woman had coaxed from within her.
“Come.” the woman said. It seemed to be the best idea Chelsea had heard all day. She followed the woman puppyishly. Her purchases were taken and placed on the counter, as the woman drew her into another embrace.
“What did you do to her?” asked the male he’d seen her with when she’d walked in. It was a good question, and Chelsea wondered why she hadn’t thought of it.
“Just a little spell, turns off the ‘no’ part of her mind and makes everything she hears seem like the best idea she’s ever had or an irrefutable truth.” the woman said. She turned back to Chelsea. “Take off your shirt, baby.” she said encouragingly.
Why didn’t I think of that? her bespelled mind wondered as she obeyed. The money in her hand dropped unheeded to the floor. The woman started to play with her tits. There were those words she didn’t understand again, and Chelsea’s boobs started to swell. Not only did they swell, but they became more sensitive. Her boobs grew a good three cup sizes at least, and by the time they stopped, her nipples felt like she had extra clits attached to her chest. She came hard as the woman’s stimulation of those sensitive globes, and particularly the pleasure nubs at the front, continued unrelenting. Then, she was passed to the male, who took her left nipple in his mouth and stimulated the other one with his hand, then switched, back and forth, back and forth, until she came again. Her knees refused to support her anymore, and she fell backward into the woman’s arms, her new mammaries bobbling with their inertia.
“Do you like your new titties, baby?” the woman asked. Chelsea nodded absently. “What’s your name?”
“Is anyone expecting you, Chelsea?” the male asked.
“My roommate.” Chelsea replied. “She’s at the laundry-mat. I’m bringing lunch.” She nodded at the bagged items on the counter.
“What’s your roommate’s name?”
“Chelsea Smithe.” Chelsea replied. The male chuckled.
“What school do you go to?”
“Quincy Academy, across town.” she responded.
“I thought so.” he said. “Quincy’s admins are a little anal, or so my brother told me anyway. Arrange everyone in alphabetical order.”
“Sit down, baby.” the woman said. Chelsea complied. The woman began to speak again, this time a long and complex chant.
“I’m Charlie, and that’s Amelie.” the male said. Amelie was intent on a pillar of...something...that appeared in the aisle. The pillar faded away, leaving some kind of seamless mannequin behind. Amelie then started a new chant, and the mannequin started to change. Chelsea watched in fascination as the object began to look like her—but with her old, smaller chest. The resemblance was remarkable—except that it had no genitalia. No nipples, no vagina, no anal opening. It was like a life-size Barbie doll.
“Give it your clothes.” Amelie instructed, and Chelsea obeyed, first handing up her shirt, then taking off her shoes, socks, pants and panties. Amelie dressed the figure in Chelsea’s clothes. Chelsea was naked, but it didn’t bother her. The clerk was staring, but it didn’t bother her. The floor was cold, but it didn’t bother her. It didn’t even bother her that she normally would be bothered by these things, that on some level, she knew she was under Amelie’s magical spell. “Stand up, baby.” Amelie told her, and she complied. These people were so full of good ideas. “Okay, now here’s the tricky part. I’m going to whisper three things into your ear. I want you to touch the doll’s forehead and say to it what I say to you, verbatim. Understand?”
“Yes.” she replied.
“’Here you go.’” Amelie whispered. Chelsea touched the doll’s forehead and repeated the phrase. The doll repeated it back. “’I gotta run.’” Amelie prompted. The process was repeated. “’Something’s come up, but I’ll be back later.’” Her task completed, Chelsea stood, waiting. “What does your roommate look like?”
“Dark hair, taller than me, bigger boobs...well, bigger than I used to have.”
“Okay. Doll, when I give you the food, I want you to take it out the door, to your left, and into the laundromat. There, you will break the sandwich in half, give half of it and one of the drinks to the dark-haired girl who is taller than you and has larger breasts, then depart with the rest and seek me. Nod if you understand.” The doll nodded. “Go.” It left.
“What was that?” Charlie asked.
“A magical construct.” Amelie explained. “It can be reshaped to look like anyone, and programmed with three verbatim speeches which it will mimic like a tape recorder, including sneezes if you do it at the wrong time. Think of it as sort of a quick-clone—far from perfect, but they can be useful. I keep a few of them in pocket-dimensions for emergencies.” Chelsea noticed that Amelie seemed to be hoping that the explanation pleased Charlie.
Chelsea Smithe saw her roommate reenter the laundromat, bag in hand. Or someone who looks like her. she thought as the other Chelsea scanned the laundromat with her eyes. She can’t have forgotten where I am. She’s not THAT dense. Finally she approached, broke the sub in half.
“Here you go.” Smith said.
“What kept you?” Smithe asked.
“Something’s come up, but I’ll be back later.” She left with no further explanation.
“Hey, what about your clothes?” Smithe called after her.
“I gotta run.” the girl said. Smithe followed her as she returned to the Seven-Eleven. There was a flash of light from inside. Worried, she ran into the store, finding only the clerk and a floorload of dropped change, all in quarters. She checked the bathrooms, but she wasn’t there either.
“Did you see a strawberry-blonde girl come in here a minute ago?” she asked the clerk.
“Yeah, she and her magic doll twin tele-o-ported out with a sorceress and some guy named Charlie.” he said. “You should see what they did to the security tape. The manager’s gonna have my ass when he gets back from the bank.”
“There aren’t words for how much you suck at ‘Here’s Your Sign’ jokes.” she said irritably.
“I’m serious. The lady had your friend under a spell...”
“Forget it.” Chelsea Smithe walked sullenly out the door.
“Fine, be that way, bitch!” the clerk called after her as she returned to the laundromat. She ate her food in a funk, then sat there sipping on her drink until the clothes were done.
It’d serve her right if I left her crap here. she thought as she put her own clothes into a large garbage bag. Then, she sighed, and started putting the other Chelsea’s things in a second bag, and carried both to the car. Okay, I’ll make her walk back to the school, but I won’t leave her stuff to be stolen. she thought, starting the engine. Besides, whoever she met can give her a ride back. She kept telling herself that as she pulled out and made a left turn back to Quincy.
Charlie watched as Amelie undressed the dummy and reverted it back to its blank state before sending it back to its pocket-dimension. Chelsea sat idly on the floor, playing with her breasts. Amelie undressed, and seated Charlie in the computer chair.
“Would you like to watch us play, Master?” she asked. Charlie smiled, and she took that for assent, calling Chelsea over to the bottom bunk. The girl approached, eager, curious, excited. Amelie seated her next to herself and gently leaned her back on the bed. Charlie rolled the computer chair to get a better angle as Amelie gently spread her subject’s legs, opening her center like a flower awaiting pollenation. Amelie leaned down to take the first taste of the girl’s nectar. “Mmm, yummy.” she enthused, and began to lick and probe the cunt before her. Chelsea gasped and grunted, her hips thrusting and gyrating by force of animal instinct as her arms grasped the bedposts for support. Chelsea wasn’t shy about her vocal appreciation—at least while she was under the spell. She screamed in ecstasy as she was given an orgasm by Amelie’s skilled mouth. Amelie repositioned Chelsea so she could try it herself. After a few tentative licks, and some vocal encouragement from Amelie, Chelsea began her oral exploration of the southern portion of the female anatomy.
Charlie left the chair behind and approached Chelsea from behind, pleasuring her breasts as she pleasured Amelie. The girl moaned, the vibrations traveling to Amelie’s clit and setting her off like a car alarm.
“Good girl.” he told her. Soon, his cock was positioned at the entrance to her slit. “Relax.” he told her, caressing her bottom. She moaned, but relaxed. He slid into the tight opening, and Chelsea came again as he inserted himself fully. “What’s the biggest thing you’ve had in here besides me?” he asked.
“Uh, tampon applicator.” Chelsea responded. “Broke my cherry that way when I first started.”
“It’s okay.” he replied. “You keep on pleasing Amelie with that mouth of yours.” She nodded and began again—though the pleasure he was giving her from behind severely hampered her concentration. In the end, Chelsea’s orgasmic cries—muffled by the tender flesh of her vaginal walls—sent Amelie into orgasm again, while the girl’s vaginal contractions did the same for Charlie, and he splashed her insides with his semen. Charlie fell backwards into the chair, Chelsea fell to her knees beside the bed, and Amelie lay back to bask in the afterglow. In a few minutes, Amelie roused her subject, who was almost asleep after her experience, and the two began to kiss. They moved to Charlie, who kissed each of them several times in turn, before Amelie directed Chelsea to take his cock into her mouth. The sorceress’s gentle coaching helped her relax her throat muscles and slide forward so that her nose was buried in Charlie’s pubic hair, and also to take advantage of her talented mouth. Charlie dug his fingernails into the arms of the chair as he went off in that mouth.
“Was that okay?” she asked. Charlie laughed and patted her on the head.
“That was great.” he said.
“Can we keep her?” Amelie asked.
“That must be her decision.” Charlie replied.
“Oh, can I stay?” Chelsea asked.
“Amelie, take the spell off her mind.” Charlie said. Amelie nodded, muttering a soft counter-spell to her little mind-charm. Chelsea’s eyes widened as her newly-liberated mind began to run through all the things she’d done since walking into the Seven Eleven. Amelie tenderly caressed Chelsea’s breasts, distracting her with pleasure.
“Can we do this again sometime?” she asked at last.
“Sure.” Charlie said. Amelie sighed in relief.
“Sorry I can’t stay here all the time, but I have a roommate and classes and stuff.” Chelsea said, directing most of it to Amelie. “I...I never thought I could feel that way with a girl. Does this make me bi-curious?”
“You are who you are.” Charlie said. “Amelie just opened you up to new experiences, that’s all. I don’t like the whole labeling thing anyway.”
“Can I keep the boobs?” The pleading note in the girl’s voice made both Amelie and Charlie laugh.
“Sure.” Charlie said. “Just remember, you must only use their powers for good.” Then they all laughed. Chelsea stood and kissed Charlie, then got dressed as best she could. She gave Charlie her old bra, since she wouldn’t be able to fit it anymore, then gave each of her hosts a hot, lusty kiss before she left.
“There was a time I would have stolen away her free will if she had even entertained the thought of leaving.” Amelie said to no one in particular. “Speaking of which, it is time I showed My Master the rest of his possessions.”
“The rest of my possessions?” Charlie asked.
“All that I am, and all that I own, are yours now, Master.” Amelie said. “When an order of Druids chased me out of Ireland, I settled in Spain, taking the manor of a wealthy Don as my own. I’ve kept it ever since. I have some other houses, but used them mostly as gateways to the Spanish manor.”
“Well, let’s go, then.” Charlie said. Amelie went to the closet and closed the door. Pressing her palms against the painted particle board portal, she chanted softly until the door began to glow. Then, once the glow had faded, she opened the door and showed Charlie what appeared to be the parlor of a mansion. Nearly a hundred young men and women stood mindlessly in the middle of the room. “Who are they?”
“Various people I’ve claimed as my own over the centuries, Master.” she said. “I’ve maintained them as I maintained myself, so that I would always have attractive servants at my command. They are unaware of anything that doesn’t affect their duties.” Charlie touched the smooth cheek of a pretty girl in a maid’s dress. She continued to stare mindlessly at nothing.
“The first thing I want you to do is release the men.” Charlie said. “Not here, though. Make it look like they were abducted by aliens and returned.”
“As you wish, Master.” Amelie said. Charlie didn’t bother explaining himself. She accepted his desires without question, as was proper. He wasn’t even sure himself why he hadn’t commanded her to release the women in the same manner. Amelie disappeared along with the men (although some were little more than boys, perhaps the equivalent of sophomores in high school). When she returned ten minutes later, Charlie had found a leash and collar in one of the upstairs rooms.
“Put this on, securely but not tightly.” he told her. She obeyed. “Okay, now release the women’s minds and kneel at my feet like a good, obedient pet.”
“Yes, Master.” Amelie said, and chanted a soft counter-spell to her mind-charms. She knelt down and looked up at her owner while the young women regained their self-will.
“Where...?” asked one, looking around.
“Where are we?” asked another, with just enough of a Spanish accent to enhance her physical attractiveness.
“The last thing I remember is that witch...” stated a third in a light French accent.
“Welcome back, girls.” Charlie said. “I’m glad you all seem to speak English, since it makes things a lot easier for me.”
“We’re speaking English?” asked the pretty blonde maid, her voice displaying a touch of a German accent. “Oh, yes, we are...how strange.”
“Amelie?” Charlie asked.
“A teaching spell so I could command them, Master.” Amelie responded.
“’Master?’” the maid asked.
“Oh, yes. Sorry. My name is Charlie. Amelie here has been keeping you here as her mindless slaves, some of you for decades or even centuries.”
“C-c-centuries?” the German maid asked.
“The year is 2007. Your youth has been sustained through Amelie’s magic while you remained unaware of anything except her commands, completely enslaved to her will. It’s likely I would have joined you if I hadn’t bounced Amelie’s spell back at her.”
“So...you commanded her to release us?” the maid asked. Charlie nodded. She wrapped her arms around him sobbing “Thank you” repeatedly into his shoulder. She was quickly joined by the others who eagerly showed him their gratitude, crowding around Charlie in a clot. When the display was at an end, Charlie commanded Amelie to fetch some money for the women. He set the leash aside, its theatrical effect no longer necessary, though Amelie still wore the collar. Several of the women watched the sorceress crawl to her safe with looks of vindication. There were between sixty and seventy females assembled in the parlor, indicating that perhaps Amelie had a preference for women (or girls). They were from all over Europe and Asia, and there were a few from Australia, America and Mexico.
“Wow, I don’t remember being this beautiful!” one of the women said as she looked at herself in a mirror.
“Amelie’s been using magic to enhance and preserve her own beauty, so it’s not surprising she did the same to you. Your value, in her eyes, seems to have been your attractiveness.”
“Does she...like women in, well, in that way?” the German maid asked. Charlie nodded. “How...how does that work?” she asked, trying to illustrate her point with her hands. Several of the women gasped at what were probably scandalous remarks for their time.
“As I understand such things, it’s mostly hands, mouths and toys.” Charlie responded. Amelie returned with a box.
“Will three thousand Euros each be enough, Master?” she asked.
“Euros?” asked the Spanish girl. This was going to take longer than Charlie had thought.
Steve stashed his contraband beverage in his coat sleeve as he slipped up the stairs under Bigsby’s suspicious glare, wondering if he could persuade Charlie to get his new slut to make him an invisibility cloak like Harry Potter. Charlie wasn’t in when he opened the door. He went to the closet to get his church clothes for the next day, and found himself stepping into a mansion. He backed out, closing the door and looking around at the dorm room before opening it again.
“Oh, everyone, this is my roommate, Steve.” Charlie said. There were women everywhere, most dressed as servants. Steve blushed, feeling like the least attractive person in the room for no reason at all.
“Uh, Charlie, where’s the closet? I need my church clothes for tomorrow.” he said, trying to cover his embarrassment.
“Oh.” Charlie said. “Amelie, follow Steve back to the dorm and turn the closet door back into the closet so he can get his clothes.”
“Yes, Master.” Amelie responded. She followed Steve through what had been the closet door, undid her spell, and started pulling all the clothes out.
“What are you doing?” Steve asked.
“It’s easier if I don’t have to undo my spell every time either one of you needs something.” she replied. “I can serve Master better this way.”
“Oh, right.” Steve said.
“I’ll find you a room in the manor house, and you can have that all to yourself.” she added.
“Ooh! Now you’re talking!” Steve enthused, and started to help her empty the closet. Soon they had it cleaned, and Amelie cast her spell again. Steve helped her carry the stuff across the threshold to the mansion—although, he noticed, it ended up with him carrying his own stuff, and her carrying Charlie’s. Steve followed her upstairs and into a room about the size of the dorm. He noticed that it had been wired for electricity, but the outlets were European. “Uh, where exactly is this mansion, anyways?”
“Spain.” Amelie replied. “If you will excuse me, I must place Master’s things in the master bedroom.”
“Yeah, that’s the place for them.” Steve responded with a chuckle. He put his things away and then kicked off his shoes and jumped backwards onto the queen-size guest bed. “Ahhhhh.” he said in delight as he discovered that Amelie had put a Tempur-Pedic mattress on the frame. “Man, if this is MY room, what kind of swanky set-up does Charlie have?” he wondered aloud. As he nodded off in his comfortable, new bed, he decided there were worse coattails to attach one’s self to.
Charlie felt a little hoarse as he completed his catch-up course. The women were looking a little shell-shocked, not that he could blame them. Most of Amelie’s acquisitions were from the eighteenth and nineteenth centuries. He felt a little guilty for the men who had been dropped suddenly into the middle of things.
“Thirsty, Master?” Amelie asked. “You’ve been speaking for hours.” He nodded, and she handed him a glass of something he couldn’t identify. It could have been Romulan ale, judging by its appearance. The smell and taste were pleasant, and it felt good going down. His throat felt better instantly.
“Shall I get something for dinner, now, Master?” she asked. “Pizza? Burgers? Italian? Mexican? Chinese?” Charlie looked out the window, then realized Spain was in a completely different time zone.
“Pizza sounds good.” he said.
“May I go, too?” the pretty, blonde German girl asked.
“All right.” Charlie said. “Amelie, take care of her while you’re gone.”
“Yes, Master.” Amelie replied, and led the girl through the closet.
Hilda followed behind Amelie in a constant state of wonder. Electric lights beat back the darkness, empowering men and women to walk the night without being encumbered by lanterns. The horseless carriages Charlie had told her about rumbled noisily down the roads made of black stone, on whatever business their drivers saw fit. So many kinds—the purposes of some more readily apparent than others. It was amazing. She followed the sorceress’ example out of necessity, for her own safety. She didn’t like the woman, or at least the version of her she remembered. Haughty and imperious, Amelie O’Fae had made her family’s life miserable before locking Hilda’s mind and soul away somewhere deep inside her, using her body for...she didn’t want to think about that. They came to a place, the sign in front proclaiming it a “Pizza Hut.” Certainly its shape was an imitation of some rude huts she’d seen. Delicious smells assailed her nose as they approached. Hilda let the sorceress do what Charlie had instructed of her, while she watched the people going about their business. It was easy to tell the servers from the customers, due to the identical clothing the servers were wearing. Hilda felt a little conspicuous, since no one else here was dressed as a maid.
After what seemed to be an interminable wait, two stacks of boxes were deposited on the counter, and Amelie handed one to Hilda, taking the other one herself. With their arms at full extension, each stack came up to its bearer‘s chin. The trip back to the charmed doorway was without incident, thankfully. Amelie’s spell of invisibility made Hilda nervous despite its harmlessness. She kept expecting the sorceress to use another spell, the same one that had ensnared her mind so many years ago.
It was strange to know she had served Amelie mindlessly for so many years, and yet still see her youthful self in the mirror. Not exactly the way she remembered looking, but a magically-enhanced version of herself, bewitchingly beautiful. The others were equally beautiful, each in their own way.
“Ah, there you are!” Charlie said as the two women reentered the Spanish manor. He was dragging a blue box with a white lid and handles into the dining room. “I knew you were going to have your hands full with the pizzas, so I got some drinks while you were out.”
“How did you get it past the guard?” Amelie asked.
“Same way we always do.” Steve replied, reaching into his sleeve and pulling out a bottle, then repeating the process for the other sleeve. “As long as we have our hands full of something that’s not against the rules, he doesn’t bother checking inside our sleeves. Now, may I introduce either of you ladies to my friend Jose Cuervo?”
The archmage knew something was amiss the instant he walked out of his workroom, just by looking at his apprentice’s expression. “What have you done this time?” he demanded.
“Nothing, Master, I swear!” the youngster squeaked. The archmage advanced on him, but stopped when he saw exactly what the cause of the apprentice’s distress was.
One of the crystal balls had gone black.
The archmage had charmed thousands of crystal balls to watch the more problematic sorcerers and sorceresses he had encountered before. Each was keyed to a single mage, and should be able to find them even if they were in hell. How could the one keyed to Amelie O’Fae have gone dark? Drawing arcane symbols in the air, he examined the magic around the fragile sphere. Nothing appeared to be wrong with the globe, except for the obvious problem that it was not showing anything.
“Relax, boy, this isn’t your fault.” the archmage told his apprentice. Relieved that he wasn’t going to be punished, the youngster nearly fainted. “Can you think of why the globe cannot locate its subject?”
“Apologies, Master, I thought of only two possibilities.” the apprentice said.
“Either she has found a way to fool magic itself, or her true name has somehow been altered.” the apprentice replied.
“Yes. Another possibility might be that she was consumed by a Therzathje or something worse, and her soul digested.”
“But that would take a thousand years, Master. This happened since the last time I came in to dust the globes.”
“Ah, you HAVE been paying attention.” the archmage remarked. “Which brings us to the original hypotheses—both of which become possible only through the magicks of the Order of Myrdhynns. If she’s gotten her hands on THOSE...”
“What shall we do, Master?” the apprentice asked.
“I have to contact a Myrdhynn.” the archmage said, taking the globe from its resting place. “They will know far, far better than I how to proceed from there. Your responsibility in this matter ends here, my apprentice. Return to your duties and fret no more over this.”
“As you command, Master.” the apprentice said. The archmage retired once more to the workroom. Placing the globe in another holder, he drew a circle of transportation, sending it to one of the few Myrdhynns he knew how to find. Then he settled in to wait.