synopsis: A sarcastic bitc... I mean, witch recalls her latest magical misadventure. When she sets eyes on Mike, a man she wants to fuck (and mind fuck!), no one stands in her way.
(Author’s Note: This story was written for a Patron of mine—Mike K. Thanks for the inspiration)
Maid to Serve
(by S.B.)
Prologue — Meet the “Players”
I don’t need to tell you my name but I’ll do it, anyway. Call me Vivian. Before you ask, no, it’s not my real name but one I’ve grown fond of in the last couple of years. I’ve had many names, lived in many different places, watched empires rise and fall while I stood, grinning. I’ll still be here when the Earth finally crumbles to dust, I’m sure of it.
I was born in a little village whose name you would never be able to pronounce straight in what is now known as Romania, many moons ago. I lived there until my early teenage days when the forces that slept within began to manifest. The concept of magic was alien to me, its consequences utterly devastating. It took me four decades of forced exile to comprehend and master both its secrets and nuances. No one taught me anything, I was always a lonely soul, and loneliness made me disillusioned and bitter, the epitome of evil witch I’m sure you’re all familiar with.
Things changed when I seized the opportunity to travel all over the world, learning new spells, mastering new techniques. I’ve met more celebrities than those you can think of, witnessed more life-changing events than the ones History has deemed fit to record. If you knew where to look, you’d probably find traces of my presence there, or perhaps not because I became quite skilled at covering my tracks, something easy to do when you developed mind control abilities.
Yes, what manner of immortal practicioner of the mystic arts would I be if I hadn’t learned how to warp the senses, instill beliefs, defy established thought patterns at every turn? Life is so much easier when you can get anyone you want to do whatever you want. If you think otherwise, it’s only because you don’t possess such power.
As fun as it is to exercise absolute control, it can also get a little boring and I do get bored, easily. I can’t seem to stay in any given place for long nowadays because the challenge soon wears off and I grow tired of droning sycophants. Sometimes, I think of finding the right person to settle down with and give up Magic for good but, when that happens, I push those thoughts away like they’re a contagious disease. I can never give up, not entirely, because the rush is too intense. I am Magic’s daughter, confident, and whore. Being promiscuous is part of who I am.
You’re probably getting fatigued of this intro by now so let’s go and finish it. You already know a bit about me, a fragment of my life’s history, but this tale is not just mine, there are other players in it as well. This is what happened when I moved to Miami Beach, Florida, last month. Ladies and gentlemen, allow me to introduce you
THE HUSBAND
His name is Mike, Mike Roberts. Fifty-three, successful lawyer, happily married, and father of two. He was the first person I met when I was looking for a new place to stay. If you’re yearning for an accurate physical description you’re out of luck for I don’t feel like bothering with it. Suffice to say he’s ruggedly handsome and loaded. The silver Bentley he drives makes me horny, and any man that doesn’t have a problem spending five-hundred dollars on a pair of shoes is the kind of man I want to fuck (and mindfuck).
He has a problem though, one I already alluded to if you were paying enough attention. His problem lies in the golden ring on his finger—rings on hard cocks are so much better!—and the one that comes attached to it. As such, without further ado, let me tell you a few things about
THE WIFE
Theresa is her name, natural blonde who never dyed a single strand of hair in her entire life, believe or not. She’s forty-nine, has pretty firm breasts for her age, and seems to have forgotten how to walk in heels, a strange contradiction for one that used to be a beauty pageant queen. Nowadays, she runs an equally successful catering service, and all the best parties in the region can’t live without her services. She constantly posts pictures of the events in every social media imaginable. I attended one, once, found it quite monotonous, but the food is good, I’ll give her that.
She is a strong and overbearing woman. Normally, I respect that but there are some things I can’t tolerate. I’ll let you know what they are soon, I promise, but for now, let me move the subject to
THE KIDS
Bill and Jemma are twins yet, despite the physical resemblances, they couldn’t be any more different. The boy has dropped out of college two times already, and he’s now going for a third attempt. He’s not exactly loser material yet but seems to have a great difficulty making up his mind. The girl, on the other hand, has always known she wanted to be a nurse, and she’s on her way to achieving her goals without a single hitch in the process. I like her attitude a lot, and I want her to succeed, I really do. I’m not completely heartless, you know?
When it comes to their genetic make-up, they definitely have a lot more of their mother going on which is a shame. Perhaps if Bill looked like his father, he wouldn’t be so indecisive. Oh well...
Together, these four represent the ideal of a perfect family so no point in messing with perfection, right?
Wrong, sorry! If you were betting on me doing the “right thing” and leaving them alone, then you placed your bets on the wrong witch. Didn’t I tell you Mike was the kind of man I wanted to fuck (and mindfuck)? I wouldn’t have said so without a reason and the reason is I’m a self-serving egotistical bitch when I want to. I’ve wanted him since the first time our eyes crossed and the truth is Theresa made sure my wants became all I could think of. Let me tell you how it all went down.