But she was right there with him, at the edge herself. His cock, already so deep and hard, pushed in on her in all the ways she needed.
Shuddering, she came and fell down on top of him. His hips still thrust up, ready to release now, and just as she reached the end of her climax he shot his deep load into her cunt, the bulk of it hitting on her g-spot and rebounding her body through waves of pleasure.
Slowly, she rubbed her tight, beautiful body against his, her cunt tightening once more on his still-hard cock.
“That was good, baby” she whispered in his ear, as they began to doze. “Very, very good.”
Before he drifted off, he couldn't help but think she sounded a bit surprised.
* * * * *
Warren woke early the next morning, completely replenished. He hadn’t realized quite how exhausted his attentions to all his new girls had made him.
God, they would be wondering where he was, probably. He’d told them to pleasure each other and rehearse until his return. He hoped they had enough soundness of mind to be able to rest when they need it. The rationalization would be easy enough—Master doesn’t want us to rehearse poorly, we need rest to rehearse well, we must rest.
But then, he could just as easily see that train of convoluted logic going the other way—Master wants us to rehearse; we must never stop rehearsing until he says otherwise.
His hand drifted over toward his phone, but it wasn’t near the bed like usual.
In the living room. Right. Where all the magic had started.
God, that had been incredible. Back with Melinda, just like that—and the sex better than it had been in years.
Already this felt like a stranger’s bed, like he was staying in someone else’s house. How odd. He’d make Melinda fix that for him. She’d want him to be happy. He’d take care of that.
It was all going to work out. He had the money to pay off the debts now. That was what she cared about most. Of course, somehow, he’d have to tell her about the watch.
Or would he? Perhaps he could just toss it some place. After re-arranging the minds of Belle, Tasia, Joan, Edith, and Katie to be perfectly discreet.
Good lord, he had gone through quite a run. He’d have to do some housecleaning, that was for sure. Make sure they were all capable without his constant attention.
The thought of all those women cooing his name created a swelling in his loins. Fuck. So many beautiful, perfect women waiting for his command, to be told what to do just by him...
Well. If Melinda needed to have her horizons opened a bit, to let him keep one or two of them, that was his right, wasn’t it? Certainly he didn’t want to just abandon Tasia back to the misery of grieving over her dead husband. And Belle and Katie had certainly become rather more agreeable. They’d be perfect assistants. That would mean a lot of money for him, and wasn’t that most important in a marriage—providing for the family?
And god, Joan and Edith. It was a little selfish, he admitted, taking Edith. But he would be hard-pressed to relinquish control of Joan. And the two were sort of a package deal at this point.
What if he just hypnotized Melinda and sounded her out? Got her honest thoughts about the situation without letting her remember that she told him?
A fair compromise. Marriage was built on compromise, after all.
And if she didn’t like what he had done, he could take care of that easy enough.
Where was Melinda? He didn’t hear the shower running. It wasn’t like her to wake so early—it was still a little dark outside. She usually slept in late, though she was rather hard-working in virtually every other respect.
He walked back to the living room to grab the watch from the box. “Dear? Would you mind coming here a moment? I’ve got something to show you...”
But instead, in the box was a note:
Warren,
I know about the watch. I know what it does; I know what you’ve done. I saw you.
Last night was a nice goodbye, and that’s all.
This is your one warning: Fuck. Off.
Or I will make your life hell.
Melinda
Well, thought Warren. Shit.
Barely did he have time to process what the note said when someone knocked hard on the door. Oh, fuck, he thought. His stomach immediately ground up inside his body. Was it cops again? He’d have to be on his best behavior.
He knew he had taken care of Catherine well—she was attracted to him, even a little devoted to him in case he needed her later—but maybe he had forgotten to work over some part of the religious obsession he had given her. Maybe she had taken to preaching in the streets. Maybe there was a whole team of cops outside, ready to bust his head in for what he had done to their own.
The door thumped again, more insistent this time.
“I know you’re in there! Come on! Open up.”
The voice sounded familiar. Not the cops? He opened the door.
“Hello, Warren.”
“Larry?”
His loan shark, Larry, stood on his porch with a beautiful young brunette in a tight yellow dress. She looked like a porn star or a hooker, her tits on display in the shiny vinyl of her outfit, her hair dolled up and teased out to make herself look as sexified as possible.
“Larryyyy,” the woman whined. “You said you were gonna take me to brunch. I got dressed up.”
“Barbara, you be quiet.” The brawny man glowered. “Elsewise, you ain’t going nowhere.”
The babe opened her mouth as if to dispute him, and then she suddenly thought better of it.
“Okay, Larry.”
Almost, Warren saw Larry lose his temper—as if even that little bit of extra verbage was enough provocation to slap the young beauty around. Instead, though, Larry swallowed slowly and tilted his head up at Warren.
“Enforcement time,” said Larry. “Time to enforce.”
He pushed past Warren roughly, strolling into the house. Barbara hopped after him, clearly not quite used to the extra-tall heels she had on. God, she couldn’t have been older than twenty.
“What’s this about, Larry?” Warren shut the door behind him. “You said I had till Saturday.”
Larry nodded. “You do. You do have until Saturday. But it’s Thursday, and I haven’t heard a thing from you. So you gotta give me something to let me know you’re really serious about paying.”
“What are you...” Warren shook his head. “That doesn’t make any sense.”
“Are you calling me crazy?”
Barbara shook her head. “You shouldn’t call him crazy, Mister. He don’t like that much.”
Warren laughed nervously. This was insanity. “You’re not crazy. Nothing is...nothing is insanity.”
“So now I’m insane, is that it?”
Larry, shorter than Warren, was still much, much beefier. He backed Warren into the wall. A few shelves fell down—his and Melinda’s wedding pictures piling everywhere. Warren gulped, smiling. It was like having a rabid boxer dog at your heels. All chest power and pushing.
“Nobody’s insane. Or crazy. It’s all great. Everything’s great.”
“It don’t seem like everything is great, Warren. I don’t feel great. Barbara, how do you feel?”
“Bored! You're not even hitting him, Larry. This is boring.”
“You hear that? She's bored, and nothing is great. How is it great right now, Warren? Tell me how it’s great.”
Panicking, Warren finally latched onto the nugget of solution that had been probing at his consciousness since he saw Larry at the front door. “I have your money!” He laughed, nervous and high-pitched. “I have it. Your money. I’ve got it.”
“Really?” He seemed surprised. “You got it? Now? Here?” He looked around.
“No. I mean, yes. I have it, but it’s just not here. You see—”
Larry punched him in the stomach and Warren doubled over, catching himself just barely on the table. Barbara gasped, her face lighting up with glee.
“Don�
�t fucking feed me that line. ‘I’ve got it, Larry. Just give me a day or two.’ ‘Don’t you worry, I’ll get you the money. Just let me have some time.’ I’ve heard it all, Warren.”
“No, really...it’s not time I need. It’s just, it’s in another place, so I guess I do need time to get there, but—”
Larry raised his fist again for hitting. Warren threw his hands up in surrender.
“You’re right,” he nodded. “Yup. You said it. Totally right. I don’t have it right now. That’s my bad. I’m sorry. I wasn’t trying to mislead you.”
“I’m gonna mislead your face you talk to me about money again without having none in your hands, you understand that?”
Warren did not, literally, but he had a literate enough mind to know what the colorful language meant.
“Of course. Sorry.”
Larry left the room for a few minutes, leaving Warren alone with Barbara. She refused to look at him, rolling her eyes a bunch and twisting her lips this way and that. Her face bored, empty. Finally, Larry walked back into the living room with Melinda’s jewelry box.
“I’m gonna take this,” said Larry.
“That’s my wife’s jewelry.”
“Ain’t it, though? How about it, Barbara? You like this?”
Barbara looked through it, multi-colored hoops jingling softly on her wrists. “It’s okay. It’s kind of like, old people’s stuff, though.” She made a face at Warren, sympathetic. “Or 'mature.' Is that better, hon?”
Warren was despondent. If they took Melinda’s stuff, she would blame him. And if she thought he was fucking with her life, she would try and fuck with his...and she had the watch.
“Come on. Don’t take that. How about the television, huh? It’s a flat screen.”
“Flat screen?” Barbara’s face lit up momentarily. Warren’s hopes soared. “Is it smart?”
“Smart?”
She nodded, enthused. “Yeah! Does it like, stream movies and stuff?”
“No. There’s...it’s got a DVD player, though.”
“DVD?” Barbara blanched. “All the good ones have Blu-Ray. And the really good ones stream. It’s junk. It’s all junk, Larry. He’s just some junk man. Can we go?”
Larry frowned. “I’m taking the jewelry.” He shook the box. “You want it back, make sure to have my money.”
“You were already gonna break my legs, weren’t you? Why do you have to take the jewelry too?”
“You’re trying to set terms with me, magician? Is that what you’re doing?”
“No, Larry, I just—”
The loan shark smacked him across the face. Barbara squealed with delight, rubbing herself into his arm.
“Oh my god, Larry!” she giggled. “You’re such an animal. Can we skip brunch, maybe?”
Her legs squirmed against the loan shark's thigh. His beating forgotten, Larry walked out with his date, his hand sliding up into Barbara’s ass-crack from underneath her tight little dress.
The beautiful broad probably didn’t know it—or maybe she did, who knew—but she had just saved Warren a beating. He promised himself to go easy on her mind later once he had his watch back.
But first, somehow, a plan had to be made.
* * * * *
Somehow, a plan had to be made. Catherine didn’t know what to do about that, exactly.
She had taken the day off from the department. Her lieutenant seemed disappointed, but Catherine insisted she had the flu.
The excuse seemed to work—that, or she showed up on time so often otherwise that he seemed not to care—and so now, on her own time, she drove back to the warehouse where she met Mr. Andretti. It was the middle of the afternoon, and her mind hadn’t been able to rest since the day before when she had left the warehouse in a blind, stumbling haze. It had taken her thirty minutes just to remember how to turn her car on.
Submission. She had tasted it now. She couldn’t remember much of it, really. All she knew for certain was that every blindingly hot moment of orgasm that she had ever experienced, every feeling of guilt and self-hatred that she’d had in her bed alone at night for fucking herself silly with her fingers, every last little fantasy she’d had of absolutely and totally surrendering her will over to the care and love of a Lord and Savior...
Somehow, it had been activated there, in that place. At Andretti’s workshop.
After the meeting with him, she’d promptly gone home, slipped her fingers into her cunt, attached her thumb to her clit, and forgot about every last little thing that wasn’t submitting gloriously to some inconceivably hot being.
There was no memory—in images, at least—of what had happened to her at the workshop. She tried again and again to recall it, but all that did was make her horny. All she knew for certain was that she had submitted absolutely, and that it had been brilliant. Perfect. Transcendent. And she wanted more.
She knocked at the door once again. More timid this time. She had dressed prettily as she knew how, in a knee-length yellow skirt that hugged her ass; her red hair pinned up in an elaborate bun. The pale nature of her skin made brighter colors better for showing off—she had on a sky blue blouse as a result, her breasts mushed together in a hastily-bought push-up bra for just this occasion.
Andretti answered the door. Her heart started racing. Pouty lips pursed, quivering. Needy.
“Oh god,” he put his hand to his face. “I should have expected this.”
“I’m sorry?”
“You’re here to...arrest me, right? Something like that?”
“Why would I arrest you?”
“Because you’re...never mind. Come in.”
She came inside.
“I’m not here to arrest you, Mister Andretti. I’m here on my own time. I...something happened yesterday, and I—”
There were shouts in the back. Shouts of pleasure, exultant and almost mad. Her words trailed off, and she looked fearfully up at the hypnotist.
“Rehearsal,” he explained, voice lame.
“I just have a few questions to circle back to, Mister Andretti.”
“Please,” he touched her hand. “Call me Warren.”
He watched her visibly shudder. “P-please, Mister An—Warren. Don’t do that.”
She took several steps back. Her pale skin flushed with sudden desire.
It must have been empowering for him to see that effect that he had on a woman. Certainly he began to smile. Any hesitation he had initially began to fade away, and once more he became the arrogant, cocksure hunk she had seen yesterday.
“Why don’t I introduce you to everyone?” he asked. “They could, perhaps, answer your questions better than I.”
“But I—oh.”
He took her by the arm and led her to the warehouse in the back. Waiting there were several beautiful young women—all of them with smiles on their faces. A tall black woman in violet lingerie; a straw-blonde and a busty dark-haired beauty in matching pink stripper outfits, complete with platform heels; a Scandinavian-ish blonde wearing plaster-tight jean shorts and a too-small tee-shirt; and a petitely ravishing dark-haired, green-eyed who looked strangely out of place in her expensive, sexy black cocktail dress.
“I suppose you ought to meet the crowd,” he said, smiling dumbly. “There’s Edith, Joan, Belle, Tasia, and Katie. Girls, this is Catherine.”
The five girls waved to Catherine. Everyone but the one named Joan seemed gleeful that she was there. Joan, though, had flashes of jealousy in her eyes.
“Another, is it?” Joan tsked. “Is she necessary, brother? I wanted some time to speak with you alone.”
“This is a policewoman, Joan. You’ll be polite.”
“Detective,” Catherine muttered, but there was no strength behind it.
Joan was adamant, however.
“I want to talk to you at home, Warren. I don’t like...I don’t like being around these girls. I know you trust them, and they’re important to you, but...but I want to talk to you at home, please? I have to be alone with y
ou.”
Warren looked conflicted. Like he had lost something important.
“Very well. Come on, then. But, Edith is coming too.”
The tall, statuesque blonde jumped merrily at the mention of her name, tits bouncing up and down in her tiny shirt.
Joan smiled at getting her way. “Naturally.”
The stepbrother and stepsister hooked arms together—and wasn't that rather strange?—and began to leave. When they were almost out the door, Catherine realized she had to say something. She wasn’t just some object to be forgotten—not truly. Was she? She wasn’t, was she? No, no, she wasn’t an object, even if the thought of that made her heart feel on fire and her pussy was chanting out pulses of pleasurable assent at the thought.
Catherine cleared her throat. “Mister Aldretti, if I may...?”
He stopped, clearly annoyed. Whatever his sister wanted to “talk” about, he seemed very happy to engage in the conversation.
“Oh, god. Fine. Listen, girls?”
The ones in the assistant outfits—Tasia, Belle, and Katie—all perked up.
“Take care of her, will you? Just...keep her busy, yeah?”
He touched Catherine's shoulder, and she nearly collapsed to her knees from the sudden intake of pleasure. “I’m sorry about this,” he said, hands drawing up to her cheeks. She moaned softly. “I’ll be with you in...in a little while, okay? If you’ll stick around. You’ll stick around, won’t you?”
There was no mention of time, how long she might have to wait. But of course she assented.
She watched him leave, looking at his backside wistfully. What a nice butt he had. God, she wanted to touch him. She could still feel the warmth of his hands on her cheeks.
Fingers landed on her shoulders, turning her around. Katie, Tasia, and Belle all waited, their cleavage on display in their tiny little outfits. Tasia took the lead, beckoning the other girls forward. All of them with hot, predatory looks in their eyes. Belle pushed her hands over Catherine's shoulders, tugging gently at her blouse. Katie did the same on the other shoulder. Tasia, smiling, in control, began slowly to unbutton her blouse. Catherine felt horribly, completely out of control.
Taking Total Control: A Mesmerizing Bundle Page 25