“No one knows you're here?”
“That is correct. I am trackless.”
“Still, the police might find some physical evidence.”
“They will find Militia, the serial rapist, not the anonymous mundane.” Her mouth quirked. “I am not an amateur, you know.”
Or so she supposed. His trap was about to spring.
She got off him, did a quick cleanup in his bathroom, dressed, and collected her cameras, fitting them back into the suitcase. “It has been nice, Newton . I must be off. I doubt we shall meet again.” She lifted one hand in a stylized little wave. “Toodle-oo.”
He watched as she left the room, carrying her suitcase. He heard her take the elevator down. He smiled.
He got back into his pajamas and lay back, feeling his strength returning. Militia had timed it nicely, knowing exactly how long she had. He adjusted the image on the screen, tuning in on the furnished chamber in the sub-cellar, the one Maria called the cage. The one the elevator went to automatically when descending.
Sure enough, soon Militia entered it. In a moment, realizing that this was not the exit, she turned around to return to the elevator. She pushed the button. It did not respond.
He turned off the screen and closed his eyes for sleep. The lovely fly had indeed walked into the spider's lair. The elevator button operated only for a person with a special key. Maria had a key. Militia did not. Militia was not going anywhere. No one would come to find her, as no one knew where she was. She would simply disappear from the scene.
There was a certain poetic justice to it: the serial rapist fallen victim to a more professional serial rapist.
Satisfied, he slept.
Maria returned in the morning. “I home, Master,” she said on the intercom. “How things work out?”
“We have a guest in the cage. Treat her carefully, as she is dangerous. See that she has what she needs, apart from freedom.”
There was a pause. Maria was activating the screen to view the cage. “Master, you must not keep her. She too much for you.”
“Perhaps.”
“I come up talk to you.”
Soon she appeared in his bedroom, fetchingly dressed and coiffed. She had treated herself to a new hairdo. He remained in his pajamas, knowing what to expect. Maria was much concerned for his welfare, and always alert for any chance to seduce him. The same fire that had made her such a good victim now made her an apt assistant.
“Master, she too pretty,” she said earnestly. “She make of you what you make of me: love slave.”
“That's not the half of it,” he said. “She's a professional serial rapist called Militia. She drugs prominent men, has sex with them, films it, and sells the films for tens of thousands of dollars. She is very good at what she does.”
Maria stared at him. “You let her drug you!”
“I needed to understand her modus operandi in detail. She has the drug on her lips, and delivers it via an impassioned kiss. It makes the man weak, but able to perform sexually. It was a considerable experience.”
“I give you experience,” she protested. “You safe with me. Not with her.” She opened her blouse. She never wore a bra.
“I need you to help me tame her. You will have to bring her meals and explain to her the facts of her new existence. To watch her when I am away at work. You understand every part of it.”
“No! Never! She no good for you, Master.”
“That is what attracts me to her, apart from her outstanding appearance,” he said. “The fact that I can't trust her. The frisson of high risk. That I know she will betray me the moment she can. She will be a truly treacherous sexual partner.”
“Put me back in cage,” Maria pleaded. “Let her go, Master. I try to be very unwilling.”
“She will try to seduce you to trust her, but if you let down your guard one instant, she will steal your key and confine you to the cage.”
“I know, Master. I no amazon.”
“Amateur, not amazon” he said, gently correcting her. That was the thing about Maria: she did know every aspect of this situation, and would be competent. “I proffer this deal. As long as you assist me in this, I will allow you to come to my bed once a week. I won't even make you fight me very hard.”
She hardly hesitated. “Twice week. And you let me kiss you, on mouth, no bite.”
He nodded. “Twice a week.”
“Plus once every time you do her.”
She was pushing it. “Too much, Maria.”
She eyed him cannily. “It motivate me. Give me reason make her do you often as she can. I tell her she no get food until she let you have her. She will hate that.”
She had a point. “Granted.”
“And I watch.”
“Of course. On the screen. I will not carry my key when I visit her. You will have to let me out. She won't be able to disable me and sweet-talk you.”
“No sweet talk,” she agreed, smiling wolfishly. Maria had no use for other women, especially lovely ones. “First time, I put her naked in chains.”
“First several times,” he agreed.
“Deal,” she agreed. “Beginning—”
“Now,” he said.
She was on him in an instant, her clothing practically flying off her body. She kissed him with an insatiable hunger as she ran her hands over his body.
He obliged her, letting her have her way with him. But his mind was on Militia. She would be a spitting wildcat at first. He would have to use the mouthpiece and gloves on her, and probably chain her to the bed so she couldn't knee him, as Maria recommended. It might require hundreds of hostile rapes before she accepted her situation and lost her edge. Heaven and hell, merged.
“You thinking of her,” Maria said accusingly. “Not of me.”
“Yes.”
That infuriated her, and gave her some of the fire he needed to truly enjoy the sex she insisted on. She would always be jealous of Militia, always angry that she was now the secondary woman in his life. Always competitive in what she knew was a losing cause. But she was bound to promote his sex with Militia, as the only avenue for her own gratification. An emotional firestorm, for both women. It was ideal.
Author's Note
Electronic erotic publishers generally have lists of elements they don't want: rape, bestiality, golden showers, pedophilia, incest, torture and such. I wonder what kind of submissions they receive, to evoke such warnings? So I suppose they wouldn't want this story. But I wondered whether it would be possible to have a serial rapist who was a woman. Men rape for power and sexual gratification, but how and why would a woman rape? This is one conjecture.
The End
ABOUT PIERS ANTHONY
Piers Anthony, whose web site is www.hipiers.com, has been writing and and publishing since 1963, with 139 books and counting. He was on the New York Times bestseller list in the 1980s with 21 titles. He and his wife of 52 years live on their small tree farm in central Florida , which resemble his fantasy land of Xanth .
If you enjoyed SERIAL, you might also enjoy:
DO UNTO OTHERS
By Nick Stark
Tom, an ordinary middle-aged single male, led an utterly unexciting life. He fantasized about having sex with the beautiful girls that he ran into at the office and around town, but they never even gave him a second look. So when he googled Alternity, the appeal of cybersex with gorgeous avatars seemed like a viable option.
One quick call, and he was set up and entering the fantasy realm of his lifetime. The avatars were like real girls, and he was hooked up to an avatar that he could change to be whatever he wanted. Best of all, with the direct connection to his brain, it wasn’t a third-person experience, IT WAS REAL! Tom could feel every penetration and every incredible orgasm.
This fantasy world gives Tom the unimaginable power to do whatever he wants to whomever he wants, and absolute power corrupts absolutely. Even as he wields his 14-inch purple engorged penis in an orgy of frightening sexual encounters, Tom doesn�
��t notice his sanity and social constraint slipping away, until he’s past the point of no return. No longer is this just a sexual romp.
Without social conventions and legal ramifications to stop it, every private sick, twisted fantasy he has ever had comes to life, and Tom sinks into the person he really is, but never believed he was.
Warning: This title contains graphic language and nonconsensual sex.
Excerpt From DO UNTO OTHERS:
“I’m guessing the first thing you want to do is have sex with me,” she said. “My name is Amber. What’s your name?”
“Tom. Tom Harris.”
“Ummm, Tom. I love that name. I notice you’re looking at my wet pussy. I know you’re going to like that. Do you like my breasts?”
Tom said, “Yeah, I do.”
Her breasts were the perfect size for Tom, young and firm, but not too big. She had the most beautiful pink nipples with small areolas surrounding them. Her nipples were placed right on top, her breasts swelling a bit more before beginning to curve back into her body, what is commonly known as “upturned nipples.”
“I can tell you really like them, but if I’m reading you wrong, don’t be ashamed to tell me,” Amber said. “I’m here to be your perfect girl. If there’s anything you don’t like about me, I should be able to sense it. I’ll ask you if you want me to change it. For instance, do you think my feet are too big?”
A little hesitant, Tom said, “Actually, yeah, they are.” Over the last few years, Tom had grown quick to outline any faults he saw with a girl’s body, especially after he had had his way with her. Usually he was quite crude and vulgar, pointing out little flaws, enjoying it more when he could see the girl was hurt by his review of her. His therapist would say it was his way of making himself feel better about his own deficiencies, but Tom didn’t believe that. He was more than a little surprised to find himself embarrassed now.
“Okay. Is this better?” Amber asked. Her toes had shortened slightly and had become impossibly cute.
“Oh, yeah,” Tom said. “Those are the cutest feet I’ve ever seen.”
“Of course they are,” Amber exclaimed. “You can make me anything you want. I’m actually just an avatar. You’re looking at me on the wall, but when we finish doing the setup, I’ll appear right in front of you like I’m a real person.”
Tom was amazed. He had been so taken aback by having this incredibly gorgeous nude girl talking to him, that he hadn’t even considered that she could be standing in front of him.
“Look at every part of my body. Come up to the wall and smell any part of my body that you want. If you don’t like something, I’ll sense it immediately and change it to what I think you want. If you don’t like it, I’ll know. When we are done, I’ll appear in front of you.”
Tom walked over to the wall and began to sniff her body. She smelled like a very subtle perfume, one that you knew were actually her pheromones instead of actual perfume. He could smell the muskiness of her vagina even more strongly now. As he thought about what part of her he wanted to smell next, her image shifted where that part was in front of his nose. He smelled her lips and breath, and she smelled slightly of warm vanilla. Her hair had a clean, fresh smell, as if she had just washed her hair.
“I think you’re perfect,” Tom said.
“Great,” Amber said. “And if you don’t like my name -”
Tom interrupted saying, “Amber is a very sexy name.”
Suddenly, Amber appeared in front of Tom, completely nude, her perfect, slightly rounded buttocks jiggling slightly, that kind of jiggle that was the youthful jiggle instead of the old, saggy jiggle his ex-wife had.
As he watched her, Amber began to shrink slightly. Then she grew in size slightly, her flesh filling out in certain areas, growing slightly taller in height.
“Do these proportions seem all right to you?” she asked.
“Perfect,” Tom thought/said. He realized that whenever he thought something to himself that he didn’t want to say out loud, it stayed in his head.
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Serial Page 2