by Doctor MC
“Really? His hands and feet are tied up?” Janice said. She rushed up to Gregory, and she slapped him as hard as Holly had.
“Ow! What did you do that for?” Gregory demanded.
Janice said, “You want a reason? Right now I can think of a hundred reasons.”
“Janice, come here,” Marvin said. And hearing those words, Janice walked away from Gregory as if she’d forgotten he existed.
Then Marvin said something to Holly and Janice, and each bitch pulled out her cel phone. Marvin looked over, gave Gregory an amused smile, then herded Janice, Holly, and Fatima into the hallway to the back bedrooms.
****
Gregory had six women in his stable. I told Holly and Janice to phone Gregory’s other four women and to order them to take a taxi over to Janice’s trailer. The four women agreed to come, though each complained that she would have to pay taxi fare out of her already-small allowance.
These cel-phone conversations were taking place in Janice’s bedroom, far away from Gregory’s ears. I wanted the arrival of Miriam, Erin, Tiffani, and Matsuko to be a big surprise for my un-favorite pimp.
When all the phone calls had been made, Janice, Holly, and Fatima walked out of the bedroom, and then out the front door. I followed them outside, after I turned on the TV (to deafen Gregory to what was going on outside the trailer), and I shut the blinds on the window by the front door (to blind Gregory to what was going on outside the trailer).
Fatima and I made conversation with Janice and Holly while we waited for the women’s taxis to show up. The first taxi, with an unsmiling blonde in the back seat, arrived about ten minutes after the phone calls.
Tiffani’s attitude got a whole lot friendlier when Janice, Holly, and I walked over to the taxi and I paid the taxi driver.
Then Janice introduced me to Tiffani, the new girl and I shook hands—and the touch-slave magic kicked in.
Twenty minutes later, I was outside the trailer with eight women: Fatima, Bridget, Janice and Holly, and the rest of Gregory’s stable. Bridget had her notary-public supplies.
Every woman outside the trailer was by now my touch-slave. (Except for Fatima, of course.)
I told the women, “Gregory doesn’t know you’re here. I want to surprise him. Here’s what I want you ladies to do...”
(Gregory’s women all blinked, when I called them ladies.)
Seconds later, I looked at Fatima and said, “Time to go in.”
****
The muscle-bound ox Marvin, his green-dressed whore-slave Fatima, and Gregory’s bitches Janice and Holly had all been gone a long time. Gregory was beginning to worry that Marvin had hot-wired his Mustang convertible and had sold it to a chop shop—when Marvin and Fatima walked in the trailer’s front door.
Marvin and Fatima walked up to Gregory.
“Where are Janice and Holly?” Gregory demanded.
Marvin laughed. “Not here, obviously.” Then he went through Gregory’s pockets. With Gregory bound hand and foot, all Gregory could do was make threats—which only made Marvin smile.
Gregory paled when Marvin pulled car keys out of Gregory’s pocket and handed them to Fatima. Gregory said, “Stealing my car is against the law.”
This only made Marvin smile even bigger. Then Marvin took Gregory’s face in both his big hands and said, “I’m not going to steal your car, Gregory, because you’re about to give it to me. You are mine, Gregory. Say it.”
Then thoughts pushed themselves into Gregory’s head—
I belong to Marvin. Marvin is my master, and that is good. It is right to do whatever Marvin says. It is bad, bad, bad to disobey Marvin, or to obey Marvin poorly. My greatest need is for Marvin to like me. Nothing is more important than pleasing Marvin. It gives me joy whenever Marvin tells me that I please him. My greatest fear is that I’ll make Marvin dislike me. I feel guilt, shame, despair, and gloom whenever I do anything to displease Marvin—even if he doesn’t know yet about my misdeed. I believe whatever Marvin says—but it’s okay if I find out that he’s lied to me.
“No—no, please,” Gregory said. “Stop this!”
Whenever Marvin asks me a question, I will answer with the whole truth. Marvin deserves to be served—by me and by other people. It is my duty to recruit slaves for Marvin, when ordered, and to help new slaves obey Marvin when they cannot obey. Marvin’s other slaves are my closest friends. Marvin is a good man, so I trust that he has good reasons for most of what he tells me to do; but Marvin deserves to act selfishly sometimes. So I cannot feel mistreated by anything that Marvin does, to me or with me. Marvin is a good man; I am lucky to have him deciding things for me. Marvin is the sexiest person in the world; I will burn with desire if Marvin chooses to use me sexually. But Marvin has the right to order me to be sexless, including no pleasuring myself. So if Marvin lets me get any jollies at all, this shows that he is generous with me.
Marvin said, “Say the words I want to hear, Gregory. I’m waiting.”
“I—I am yours, Marvin sir.”
“And before I untie your hands, Gregory, do you have any other weapons on you, other than the gun and the knife that you drew on me?”
“Yes sir, there’s a stiletto hidden in my boot.” It seemed to Gregory to be so terribly, awfully wrong to not answer Marvin’s question truthfully, and Gregory was terrified of what Marvin might think if he found out.
Marvin bent down and tapped the ropes by Gregory’s left leg. “Oh, you mean this boot? You’ll discover, when you finally get those ropes off, that your stiletto is gone. As are the baggies of powder that were in your pocket.”
“Yes, sir,” Gregory said.
Marvin turned to look at Fatima. “Go look in the Mustang’s glove compartment. I want you to bring me the car registration and Gregory’s copy of the car title, please.”
“Yes, Master,” Fatima said. She grabbed the car keys and walked out.
“I’m pleased you told me the truth about the knife,” Marvin said. And Gregory felt joy like he hadn’t felt since the Christmas when he was eight years old. (Which was Gregory’s last Christmas before Dad skipped out on the family.)
****
I sat in the living room and watched TV while I waited for Fatima to return from the glove compartment with the Mustang’s title and registration. I wasn’t worried that she’d come up dry—when you send a friendly genie to find something, it gets found, even if it’s not where you asked her to look.
Gregory seemed surprised when Fatima walked in with a whole troop of women, six of whom he thought were his. At my “request,” Gregory generously “gave” me all six of his women. Only then did I cut the cable ties off his wrists.
Writing left-handed, Gregory then signed over the Mustang’s title and registration to me.
He also signed (left-handed) a letter that Bridget had written up, that said in essence, “Dear Ford Credit, if Marvin pays off what I still owe on the convertible, he can have the car.”
After Gregory signed the letter, Bridget notarized it, Fatima pocketed the documents, and Gregory officially lost everything.
I told Janice to stop (she was giving me a thank-you blowjob at the time; Matsuko supplied the condom). Then I told Janice to load up a trash bag with clothes, then to write a note to her mother saying that she’d moved in with me.
Fatima and I loaded Gregory (his legs being still tied up) into the Mustang and we took him home. My six new harem slaves were given a choice whom to ride with—me, driving the Mustang convertible; or Bridget, driving my clunker. No surprise, Gregory’s former “bitches” all wanted to ride in the convertible and see him be publicly humiliated. But alas, there wasn’t room.
Meanwhile, I had given Bridget the keys to my clunker. Now I told her to drive it to my house. I ordered Matsuko and Holly to ride with Bridget; clearly they were disappointed to miss the “fun.” I told Bridget and them to not go inside my house till I got there.
In front of Gregory’s house, Fatima and I pulled Gregory out of the car and left
him to fend for himself (to the cheers and applause of Janice, Miriam, Erin, and Tiffani).
I called out, “You’re sexless for a month, Gregory. After that, no sex with hookers—yours or anyone else’s.” Gregory nodded.
Then Fatima and I, plus four women formerly owned by Gregory, drove away in Gregory’s convertible.
****
But as bad as the treatment was, which Gregory knew about, more was in store for him. Tomorrow, Fatima was going to mail out two anonymous letters.
Gregory had killed one of his hookers, a woman named Daisy. Daisy’s brother was stationed at Camp Pendleton.
Gregory had stolen drugs, then framed a man named Mauricio for the theft. Mauricio had been beaten to death soon afterward. Well, Mauricio’s brother was in Army Special Forces, and he was apparently very good at sneaking into a place and killing people.
Between Daisy’s brother and Mauricio’s brother, I figured that in two weeks (tops), Gregory would be dead.
I’m sure my plotting to kill Gregory surprises you, Reader. Because I’m not vindictive like Fatima is. Maybe you’ve noticed: I don’t want Harold dead, just because he’d bullied me. If I’d been asked, I would’ve vetoed turning Harold into a girly-boy.
And I feel likewise about Gregory. If all he’d done was to mess with Janice today, then his losing his car and his six sources of income would be punishment enough to suit me.
But nope, Gregory had murdered people, and so he deserved to die.
But he deserved to die not by lethal injection, twenty years from now, after a hearty meal that was funded by taxpayers. And he deserved to die not after Gregory’s defense attorney got to slander Janice in court.
No, Gregory deserved to feel terror, then feel pain, then die untimely, while stripped of all dignity; while at least one victim’s family should get closure.
Chapter 26
Six New Housemates
It turned out that I hadn’t been thinking fourth-dimensionally.
My intention was that all my harem slaves would live with me in my mansion, starting with Janice and the others of Gregory’s women. And so, after bringing Janice’s stuff over to my mansion, I had intended to bring the other five ex-hookers’ stuff over to the mansion as well.
It turned out, Holly and Tiffani shared an apartment with Gregory. If I’d known this half an hour ago, I could have saved me a trip.
At the mansion, I emptied the Mustang of Janice’s trash bag of clothing, and emptied my clunker of my Captain America costume. Then I, Bridget, and Fatima, plus Gregory-women Holly and Tiffani, all left in my clunker. We dropped Bridget off at Mr. Dodd’s law office, then we went back to Gregory’s place.
Gregory wasn’t home, but Fatima found the key (what amazing luck!) and she got us in the front door.
It took a surprisingly short time to pack up Holly’s and Tiffani’s stuff. Holly and Tiffani were both runaways, so hadn’t left home with much; Gregory hadn’t bought them anything except toiletries, cosmetics, and hooker clothes; and each woman could afford to buy very few things with her “allowance.”
I left the hooker clothes behind (to the women’s great surprise), and so I was able to do both women’s moving in one trip.
Meanwhile, Miriam, Erin, and Matsuko were sharing a low-rent apartment. At the apartment complex, Miriam told me, she owned a white Honda clunker that supposedly was absolutely dead, and that’s why she and her roomies had come to Janice’s trailer in a taxi. But the problem turned out to be gunky battery posts, and I had a screwdriver and a battery brush in the trunk of my clunker.
So in return for five minutes of car repair, we halved the time required to move Miriam, Erin, and Matsuko out of their apartment.
With the Honda clunker repaired, it took us only one trip to get the three apartment women moved out. As before, each woman didn’t own much, and I told her to leave her hooker clothes behind. As before, those words shocked my listeners.
When we turned in the women’s keys to the apartment manager, it was clear that he was fighting the urge to dance a jig—he was unexpectedly rid of three junkie whores and Miriam’s junker car.
Once every woman’s clothes and possessions were unloaded at the mansion, I gathered everyone and gave a short speech. “All of you were whores. You are whores no longer—I will never sell you, and I will never rent you out. And as long as you’re with me, I command you never to rent yourself out.”
All the women but Fatima swore they’d do no such thing.
I continued, “You’re all junkies now, but I command you to get clean and to stay off the junk. If you’ve brought any shit or any paraphernalia with you, give it to Fatima by midnight—that will please me. If I discover any shit after then, I’ll send you away.”
All the human women made gasps of dismay.
Then I said, “Getting clean will be awful for you, but Janice did it, so I know you can too. And Janice, I’m very pleased with you.”
Janice beamed and blushed.
Then everyone loaded up into the two clunkers, and we drove off to Target. By then, I had sneaked into the safe and withdrawn a few hundred dollars more; and in Target, I spent almost all of my green stuff on PG-13-rated clothing for my new housemates (including Fatima).
In Target, Gregory’s women again were shocked that I wasn’t trying to doll them up sexy. At first, they thought I wasn’t attracted to them—
“You no wantu, us to fukku?” Matsuko asked me at one point. You don’t want to fuck us? Looking very unhappy, she then asked, “You no sinku, we are sekusi?” You don’t think we are sexy?
I looked deep into Matsuko’s eyes (and into the eyes of Tiffani and Erin, who were listening in). “Would either you or I be happy if you dressed like a hooker? You’re not a hooker anymore. None of you are. But when you’re clean and no longer starved, I’ll buy all of you brand-new sexy clothes. And every one of you will get fucked like bunnies.”
“ ‘Bunnies’?” Matsuko repeated.
“Usachan,” I translated. (It occurred to me then, I was going to enjoy anime and manga a whole lot more with Matsuko living in my house.)
Fatima had a blast, shopping for clothes with Janice and the rest. As Fatima told me later, the last time she’d gone clothes-shopping with other women had been 2,631 solar years ago, and the cotton clothing had been made in Egypt.
Fatima and Erin, between them, put a serious dent in our Target store’s green-clothes inventory. Have I mentioned that Erin has neon-orange hair and neon-orange eyebrows?
All seven women were so happy, shopping for clothes, that I let them stay in Target much longer than I’d planned to stay. But eventually we went back to the mansion.
Fatima found scissors to cut clothing-tags off with. So when we gathered in the kitchen, six former whores and one bound djinni were each wearing (at my request) brand-new clothing. Everyone walked into the kitchen smiling.
Fatima and Janice made dinner in the monster kitchen. (The other women were beginning to feel drug withdrawal, and so weren’t up to helping with cooking.) We ate in the monster kitchen as well. (Though only Fatima, Janice, and I had any appetite).
Then I assigned Fatima the bedroom next to mine, and told my harem that Fatima was in charge of their moving-in till I got back.
Then I put on my Captain America costume, Fatima magicked me a Captain America shield, and then I got in my clunker and drove to the party that Natasha had invited me to, twelve days ago.
Chapter 27
At The Costume Party
AUTHOR’S NOTE: Characters Tim Hanson, Susie, and Sunset, as well as mentioned characters Ashley and Jeanette, are borrowed from my novel Names Have Power.
****
I loaded my Captain America shield into the front seat of my clunker. Before I started my car, I pulled my cel phone out of the hidden compartment in the back of the shield, in order to speed-dial Natasha.
But when Natasha’s cel phone got answered, instead of hearing her voice and accent, I heard, “Natasha Ludmenkov’
s phone, this is Helen.”
I didn’t know anyone named ‘Helen.’ Well, nobody younger than my mom.
I said, “Hello. This is Marvin Harper. May I speak to Natasha or to Harold Miller, please?”
The girl answered, “Natasha is driving right now, so she told me to answer her phone.” There was a long pause. “This is Harold. But, uh, Natasha wants me to be ‘Helen’ for Sunset’s party.”
“Um...”
“Yeah. Listen, Natasha says that if you get there first, to not go inside till we get there. If we get there first, we’ll be waiting outside for you.”
“Got it. See you at the party, Har—Helen.”
I stuck my cel phone back in its hidden compartment in the shield, and started my car. As I started driving, I thought, Two weeks ago, my bully was ‘Hank.’ This morning, he was ‘Harold.’ Now he’s ‘Helen’? Fatima plays for keeps.
****
The party turned out to be in an older neighborhood, 1940s-ish houses that were a few blocks from the Army base (that had been closed down long ago). I didn’t need to look at mailbox numbers to find Rhonda’s house—nope, just roll down my windows and home-in on the loud music.
All I knew about the party hostess was that she worked at the strip club that Natasha’s father owned, her stage name was Sunset, her new real name was Rhonda, and she was throwing this party to celebrate getting her name changed in court.
Which I didn’t understand. I’d been teased a lot as a kid for being called ‘Marvin’, but I couldn’t see myself becoming ‘Mark’ or ‘John.’ And if I did go to name-change court, would I throw a party and let all the friends of ‘Marvin’ know that I was now ‘John’, and let all the friends of ‘John’ know that I used to be ‘Marvin’? No way.
Anyway, once I’d parked my car, I grabbed my Captain America shield, locked up my clunker, and walked around outside. I was looking for Natasha and Harold/Helen. I didn’t find them.
While I waited for Natasha and Harold to arrive, I saw young people, all in costume, get out of cars and walk toward the party. Seeing me, two people gave me a thumb-up for my costume. And about ten women (and one man?) gave me looks of sexual desire. Which gave me mixed feelings.