Maid to Serve
(by S.B.)
Chapter 1 — Your Life Is Not Your Wife
Mike was kind enough to fill me in on a property very close to their house, a place so dazzling and spacious I didn’t even think twice. I moved right away and he was kind enough to offer his assistance as he happened to be enjoying a rare day off at the time. As I watched him carry my favorite trunk inside the house, my eyes feasted on his perfectly shaped ass. His bulging hard-on was also quite the delight. Yes, I’m libidinous and proud of it.
I could tell right away he was attracted to me, too. It was kind of hard not to when I presented myself as a mid-twenties dark-haired beauty with alabaster skin and the kind of accent that grows on people the more you hear it. Yes, it was a mixture of glamour and age-reversing spells I had going on but what did you expect? Seven hundred and sixty-two years is a long time and no body can survive in pristine condition for so long, right?
On that day, I made sure to be wearing a deliciously skin-tight purple mini dress so cleavage friendly that no mortal eyes could resist. When Mike laid down the trunk at my behest and looked at me, he was as transfixed as I expected him to be.
“You’re so beautiful,” he muttered, unsure whether to continue staring at the enticing space between my perky tits or find his way into my penetrating gaze. I had him do both, gently guiding his fluttering consciousness to the place where it belonged. The only spell I wove was the soft touch of a feminine hand rubbing his lower back.
“And you’re so sweet for giving up your day off to help me with the move,” I said. “I like that you’re here, Mike. Thank you. You like being here too, don’t you?”
“I like it a lot, Vivian,” he muttered, dreamily. I was actually surprised as to how quickly he seemed to be going under for me as I prefer the slow burn before complete capitulation so I removed my hand, averted my gaze, and stepped into the kitchen. Meanwhile, the moving company employess continued their hard work.
“You must be thirsty. What can I get you to drink?” I asked.
“A glass of water is fine, thanks,” he replied, shaking his head. “It’s too hot for anything else, really.”
“Not hot enough,” I remember thinking as I took another peek at his well developed musculature. He was quite in shape for a lawyer, a fact that certainly didn’t come from just sigining papers every single day. I filled a long glass with cold water, slipped in two ice cubes and a hint of seduction. The taste and aftertaste would remain the same yet his mind would become more attuned to my charms over time.
I returned to him, wearing the most perfect smile I could muster. Mike drank the water in a single gulp, asked for a refill.
“On second thought,” he said, smiling back at me. “Let me just finish unloading the truck and then I’ll have that second glass. I don’t want to abuse your hospitality.”
That was cute. He didn’t want to abuse my hospitality but if he only knew what I was planning to do to him the moment we were left alone... hmmm... I bit my lower lip as he turned his back to me and then, spur of the moment, I slapped his ass as if he were a horny cargo mule which, let’s face it, wasn’t that far from the truth.
My timing was surprisingly accurate and so was Theresa’s. She appeared at my doorstep the moment my hand hit his butt cheeks hard. Mike offered a vacant grin as a response. She, on the other hand, blasted me with the angry look of a dangerous and intelligent woman.
“What is going on here?” I believe she asked, although it’s possible her vernaculum was far less polite right from the start.
“I’m helping the new neighbor,” Mike replied. Theresa eyed him from top to bottom, stopping midway on his throbbing erection.
“Helping, huh? And what has she been ‘helping’ you with?” she sniggered.
“Don’t be jealous. Nothing happened between Vivian and I. Nothing ever will,” he defended himself, despite his subconscious already telling him otherwise.
“It feels to me something already did,” Theresa stormed in before adding this sweet piece of irony. “I think it’s best if you two stop helping each other right now.”
“Please don’t make a scene,” he begged.
I didn’t see the slap coming, but it was meticulous, precise. Mike flinched. “Don’t you dare talk about ‘scenes’. I’m not the one acting like a horny college kid right now. What will the rest of the neighbors think if they see you sporting that... “thing” left and right around her? We’re leaving, Mike. Now!”
“Yes, dear,” he sighed before giving me a pity expression that meant ‘I’m sorry, dear Vivian.’
Theresa smirked as he dutifully walked out the door and then came at me with both a certainty and a threat.
“He’s already owned so back off, sister. Unless you’re looking for a war, that is!”
It was all so abrupt, but it helped explain a lot. Mike’s extreme susceptibility to my weapons of mass entrancement was but a reflection of his deep submissive desires, no doubt conditioned and heightened by Theresa’s domineering ways. The Alpha Female vibe suited her. The problem is I don’t respond well to threats at all.
When you think about “wars”, you think about a type of conflict where the two (or more) quarrelling parties have an equal chance of winning. Despite the gruesomeness associated with them, wars tend to be honorable affairs with clear rules of engagement. I don’t do wars. I prefer the unpredictable nature of onslaughts. I would have settled just for Mike before she challenged me but, after that day, I knew I wouldn’t stop until the Alpha Woman became my bitch, too. Trust me, you’re going to love this.
After they both left, I didn’t see either of them for three days. I know Mike saw me though. Not physically but in his dreams. Men always dream of me when the seduction starts to kick in, I make sure of that. I like to step inside their subconscious in the middle of an unrelated scenario and twist it upside down until they’re left panting, both inside and outside of the dream. I knew a few witches who used this technique in a rather crude fashion, effectively scarring their victims more than entrapping them but I had centuries of practice and I love a good mental manipulation so...
Mike’s dream was a common erotic fantasy. He was the naughty schoolboy in need of a good old spanking and his wife assumed the role of tantalizing headmistress. It’s only in dreams and porn that their outfit of choice is made of clinky black latex but who am I to go against the established pattern? I walked inside his delusion and sat behind him in the classroom. The Theresa doppelgänger took no notice of my presence, waving a paddle around as if it were a conductor’s baton. I know she was rehearsing the opening notes of a symphony of pain but I had a different tune in mind.
Gently, I rubbed my left foot against the back of Mike’s chair. He sensed the motion and looked at me. My naked toes smelled of roses and sex, nails painted in a bright shade of red.
“Feeling hungry?” I teased, raising the other foot to meet his half-parted lips.
“What are you doing here?” he asked, confused.
“I’m here to give you what you really want, what else?”
“You can’t be here. Theresa...”
“... is just a figment of your imagination in here. I, on the other hand, I’m quite real.”
I got up from the chair and wrapped my arms around him. The dream rippled under my embrace. “Wouldn’t you rather be somewhere else right now?”
“Where?”
“I know the perfect place,” I whispered. My sweet breath dripped inside his right earlobe. Mike shuddered and closed his eyes.
When he opened up them again, we were in my bedroom and his schoolboy uniform had morphed into a simple leather collar around his neck. I held the leash with aplomb, reeling him in to meet my boobs.
“You think you’re hers but what you think isn’t true. Your thoughts are shadows of what you really are. I’m here to show you the light,” I cooed. “Do you want it?”
Mike’s distraught face stopped a mere inches from my powerful bosom. I undid the lace bra and my tits flew at him, dark aureolae glistening. My naked feet coiled around his waist, keeping him in a firm, subservient position. “Answer my question, Mike? Do you want it? Do you want... me?”
“Y-yes,” he stammered.”
“How badly do you want me?” I continued to insinuate myself. “Let me hear it on a scale of one to ten.”
“One hundred and ten,” he immediately blurted, the arousal already taking over.
“Even if I’m a witch?”
“I don’t care what you are,” he said, and it rang true. It always does when the mental projections are strong and Mike’s inner desires were feeding my own energy, making it easier and easier to get him where I wanted him to be.
“You are under my spell, Mike, and so is your cock. In this place, there is no resistance, there is no doubt. However, you can’t be in here forever and your conscious mind will probably fight what’s happening on some level when you wake up so I’m going to give you something to remind you of me. Think of it as a small mantra. You will hear it in your head all the time, consuming your thoughts with endless devotion. Do you want this gift now?”
“Yes, please.”
“Such a good boy, Mike,” I yanked the chain until his mouth came crashing on the left nipple. “Suck and listen hard.”
He was hard, alright. I squeezed his intumesced cock with my feet, one sole rubbing the shaft and the other tickling his balls, mercilessly. He slobbered all over my tits, unable to stop.
“Your life is not your wife. Your wife is not your life,” I whispered. “Let me hear you say it now.”
“My life is not my wife. My wife is not my life.”
“Vivian controls my cum, her will shall be done.”
“Vivian controls my cum, her will shall be done.”
Yes, I like silly rhymes. Magic doesn’t need them to work, yet I find the ritualization entertaining. Spells are a bit like hypnosis, they’re suggestions cast against the fabric the reality, looking for a place inside. If they find a receptive vessel, they immediately take root, and control becomes absolute. If not, they slowly burrow their way in, like a parasitic worm and imagination takes care of the rest. Sometimes, you don’t really need to cast a spell, just pretend you’re doing so, and your victim will still respond to its effects. It’s called “placebo effect”, and it works with supernatural dealings as well, believe it or not.
“This will be your new reality from now on. Whenever you find yourself thinking of Theresa, your cock will shrivel for she has no hold over you. She’s not your life, I am. She doesn’t make you hard, I do. She doesn’t control your orgasms, I do. My will shall be done, Mike. Repeat.”
“Your will shall be done.”
“Yes, good boy. Now feel the ache building as your mind succumbs to my words. The more you accept the power of my spell, the happier you feel. Theresa can’t give you any of this but I can. And I can give you so much more, too. Your wife is not your life. You are now bound to me, whether you’re asleep or awake and when you do wake up from this wonderful dream, that bond will be even stronger. When you wake up in your bed, and not a moment sooner, you will cum. You will cum when you wake up because I’m ordering you to and your cum belongs to me. Cumming for me is a tribute, a sign of your undying reverence. You will only cum for me from now on because the ability to do so on your own has just been stripped from you. You will cum and shout my name. Shout it as loud as you can, don’t worry about your wife hearing it. She’s insignificant when compared to the power I now have over you.”
“Yes, Vivian,” Mike drooled, happily. I pushed him away, his limp body falling out of the imaginary bed, back hitting the floor. There, he laid, arms stretched to the side, nailed to an invisible cross of mindless servitude. There was nothing in his gaze except the swirl of lust I had planted. Letting go of the leash, I grinned as it hit his erect cock and it remained in the same position, a proud flag pole singing an anthem of devotion.
“Remember what I just told you, Mike, and wake up. Wake up now, and cum! Cum, Mike! Cum for your Goddess Vivian!”
Ah, his scream was so delicious! I heard it loud and clear from my house and when his bedroom’s lights came on, I knew Theresa was on the verge of having a fit. Although I could have astral projected there to see it with my own eyes, I chose to imagine the scene, the unparallelled fury in her closed hands and lips, the abrupt motions as she hurled the pillows around like fearsome projectiles of doom, the demanding need of compensation as she ordered him to spend the rest of the night on the sofa... It was all too perfect!
Mike would be angry at her. He would be angry and then he would start to ignore her. The incantation growing inside his thoughts would make sure of that. Each arousal would solidify my power, the core foundation would grow larger, and harder, so very fucking hard, until the point of rupture. Theresa was already doomed even if she didn’t know it though I suspected she wouldn’t go down without a fight.
Naturally, my suspicions proved right. She appeared again at my doorstep the following morning, unsure of what had transpired, yet convinced I had something to do with it. I didn’t invite her in but she assaulted my house nonetheless, and did so with the promise of a fist. I took a side step to avoid her feminine rage and asked:
“Why so mad?”
“What did you do to my husband last night, you skank?”
“How can I possibly have done a thing?” I lied.
“He screamed your name like you were the most important thing in the world to him. He wouldn’t have done that for no apparent reason.”
“He screamed, did he?” I giggled because playing the ignorant role was fun as hell. “I’m flattered, I really am. Was it a wet dream? Did you have to change the bed afterward?”
“I know you did something. Don’t know what it was but something happened. I can feel it in my bones.”
“That’s because your bones are getting old. I believe it’s called ‘arthritis’.”
“You really want a fight, don’t you? Know I’ve eaten prettier whores than you for breakfast before.”
“If you eat whores, your diet must suck. I would look into that if I were you.”
Theresa came at me again, this time with her long, purple-tinted nails in the forefront.
“Easy there, kitten. You’ll only end up scratching yourself.”
She paid no attention, going for my eyes and trying to catch the jugular in two fell swoops. Both missed the target by mere inches but I wasn’t worried. I yawned and snapped my fingers. Theresa was dumbfounded when her right hand turned against her and hit her forehead with a dry sound.
“I think this is your cue to leave.”
“You...!” She vociferated, bloodshot eyes. “You’re a...”
“I’m the nightmare you’ll be having every single night. If you think I did something to your husband, trust me you haven’t seen anything, yet!”
I pushed her back, the door slammed in her face and no, of course, it wasn’t the wind. Theresa stayed there, banging, for ten minutes. At the dawn of the eleventh, she threw a vase against the nearest window. Three minutes later, the tires of my beautiful black SUV got slashed by a silver kitchen knife. Overkill, don’t you think? However, that’s exactly what happened and you have no reason to doubt me so... I’m sure you’re siding with me on this one. She was unstable even before we met. What I ended up doing was an act of mercy, trust me.
And now you’re wondering: what did you do, Vivian? The husband is already becoming your pet, the wife is on a rampage despite not knowing for sure why... how can things evolve from here? Isn’t it obvious? I went to talk to Bill and Jemma.