The Book	Back to N	Back to main page

Collected by Djian

The Book

1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 |

Out of Print

Something odd was happening. Jorge noticed the noises in the room had
stopped.

He wondered if thiopental deadened normal senses. They said the
effect was different on everyone. The white cloaked man asked him to
count backwards, so he had laughed. Laughing failed to stop the drug
from working however.

Some questions he ignored at first. But then he started telling them
about the caves in Denmark and then Edda. They seemed very interested
in anything about the symbols. They never heard of them before. And
when he mentioned the Cabal, they looked very startled.

One of the men started mumbling something about subjects lying while
under the drug before. They were very excited though.

It seemed hours passed before his head began to clear a little and he
started getting very drowsy.

Then quiet settled over the room.

A strap over his forehead came undone. He tried to crane his neck,
but some kind of cap was being removed from his hair. It pulled at
him, making it feel as though the roots were being yanked out.
Looking from side to side, he was able to make out one man burning a
bunch of tapes in a trash can.

His arms came free. The straps holding his legs and ankles went next.

One man was politely offering him a hand to get up. His head spun a
bit as he sat. The room, a sterile space, was littered with various
bits of equipment normally found in a doctor's office. A pair of
oxygen tanks stood nearby, a desk, a set of chairs, and various
assorted paraphenalia.

The room contained only three men besides himself. They were all
busy, making themselves ingratiating. The one burning the tapes was
smiling and nodding at him. One offered tylenol for the headache he
must now have. The third watched at the door, keeping an eye out
for someone.

Their sudden change in behavior seemed very odd. They even still had
mind shields on. He tried to probe all three without success.

A cardboard box on the floor contained his clothing and belongings. He
poked through it, looking for a most important article, his watch.
Finding it, he turned it over. The medallion was still attached. The
foolish interrogators never checked.

He put in on, and doing so, felt vastly refreshed.

Then he spotted a phone on the desk. He managed, with some help from
a former captor, to stumble over to it. Lifting the handset, he tried
dialing only to get a horrible tone for the effort.

The man beside him picked up the phone, held down the switch hook for
a few moments, then dialed '9'. He handed the phone back with the
steady hum Jorge was accustom to. Jorge dialed again.

"You've reached the offices of Schmitz, Martin, and Lear. May I help
you?" came a feminine voice.

Jorge smiled for the first time since the gas put him in dreamland. He
recalled how nicely the owner of that voice screamed in the sack.

"I'd like to speak with Mr. Lear, Cindy."

====

Leisure activity at an end, Jones stepped into the hall. The very
first man he saw was a guard.

Jones learned his craft years before. Every stitch out of place
triggered some small part of his paranoid senses. Something was
wrong. He knew it but couldn't find the cause.

Reaching into his pocket, he removed a second mind shield. One he'd
taken from the lab techs who could have handled Bob on the gurney. He
examined the hearing aid like device in his palm and looked down the
hall at the receding backside of the guard.

The man's ears were both visible.

There was no mind shield. He suppressed his panic, and stepped back
into the room with Diane. Grabbing her, he led her into Heather's
room. He picked up one of the local censure shields, a skull cap like
device to place over a telepath's head, intended to suppress the
talent.

Seeing one man with his mind shield still in place, Jones stopped him
along the way. He brought the man along. If he could get anyone out
who was capable of helping the Institute rebuild elsewhere, it would
prove useful.

Peters didn't know what was going on. But Jones was the number two man
at the Institute. Peters wasn't going to lose his status by following
the man's orders. He quickly complied with the directions he was
given.

He led the little troop towards the river side exit. There were
speedboats there. The loose spark couldn't control everyone. If only
there was time enough left...

====

Sunlight filled the room. Like a glass full of sparkling clear water,
the sun washed to every corner, flooded the long wooden shelves,
illuminating the oak desk.

Bob stood at the window. He tried to imagine mowing the yard before
him. The number of tight corners, hedges, trees and other obstacles
must make the gardeners crazy, he decided. A numbing escape into
physical labor only goes so far before it becomes annoying.

Birds seemed to like the greenery. He tried to touch one of the
flight borne creatures with a mind probe, but had forgotten the shield
at the outer walls of the building. Some other time perhaps.

Jorge was led in by two of the men who interrogated him. He was back
in his own things. It was much more comfortable than a blue hospital
gown. The mess here would be settled soon. The Cabal was on the way.

Bob didn't turn as he spoke.

"The records of your interrogation have been destroyed, and the goons
can't remember a thing," he said, watching a cardinal soar on bright
red wings.

"Who are you?"

"Me? I'm Bob. You are Jorge."

"Oho! You must be the escaped Robert Lawrence that man was; wait a
minute!" Jorge walked over to look out the window too. The clouds were
puffing along, accenting a beautiful blue sky.

"Hmm," Bob faced towards the freed telepath. "what?"

"Where's the guy who questioned me about you? He was in charge of
this place."

"What did he look like?'

"Perfect suit, black hair, manicured, muscular, short nose. About 42,
give or take a few years. The kind you see as the heavy CIA type in
flicks."

"That should be Jones. Dirk Jones is how he introduced himself to me."

"Yeah, if you say so. But he was in charge, what'd you do with him?"

"No, he wasn't. Some guy named Thadeous was. Neither of them are still
here. Sorry, I haven't found your reporter friend yet either. You do
know, by the way, how bad an idea it would be if she actually aired
this story?"

"She's not going to tell anyone. You know that."

"And I expect your gang of thugs at any minute."

"Huh?"

"This Cabal, or whatever."

"You got that? Say, how did you get past those mind shields?"

"They're shaped funny, like donuts. I didn't know until they tried to
experiment on me with some kind of control machine. Your people will
probably find it soon enough. Like donuts, there's this hole in the
middle. If I had to guess, they probably transmit some kind of energy
through an antennae. Most antennas have some dead spots. You just
need to know where."

"Really? Now I know, so lots of others will know too. You want, the
Cabal would welcome you as a member."

"No thanks. Until Thadeous and Jones are caught though, I'd like to
stay in touch with your people."

"I'll see what I can arrange. The Cabal won't have any trouble with
that."

"Tell me a little about them. Who the hell is the Cabal?"

"What's to tell? It's an international organization, mostly based in
the States because of the effort the Cabal put in moving here to
escape persecution in Europe. The name is new by a few centuries. It
was borrowed from a group in England under one of the kings named
Charles. I don't know enough history to know what it was called
before that.

"Let's see, the Cabal has been under siege a few times before. None
with secretly organized opposition though. This Institute scares the
leadership a whole hell of a lot."

"I can imagine..."

"No you can't, it's never happened like this before. The Cabal has
suffered from a few outside threats, but no one immune to the Voice.
Internally, we have occasional problems, but those we can handle."

"How about those internal problems. Why would anyone be stupid
enough to cause trouble when a whole bunch of telepaths would be all
over them in a hurry?"

"No one in their right mind would. But anyone with the Voice has a
substantially higher risk of insanity. If you've even a tenuous grip
on reality, follow the 'rules', no one in the Cabal gives a fuck.

"In essence, if you call attention to anyone with Voice, mostly
yourself, we try to convince you to ease back. We don't want any
witch hunts.

"The Cabal doesn't much care what someone does with the Voice.
Mostly. Stay away from power politics, it's too easy to spot the
personality changes the highly visible mutes go through your voice
influences them.

"There are also strict rules against violence, murdering mutes even
by proxy, or even just maiming them. Its another thing that attracts
too much attention. If you get enough mutes involved, they may figure
out what happened, and then... you can guess.

"This mess here for instance. Exactly the sort of thing the Institute
was doing. I was out here looking for them. I've only been hanging
out in the area a year, but everyone I work with think I've been here
for five. The planted familiarity sometimes can get additional leads.
The Institute's influence hit about two to three years ago, but we've
been unable to track them down."

"Yeah," said Bob, "I can see why a group like the Cabal would form.
But I don't like the idea of making too close an association."

"Embarrassed about your own set of playmates? The Cabal really
doesn't care about that. They're too worried about Voices that act
genuinely loco. Hell, they're much worse than you, I'm sure."

"That reminds me. They should be here any minute now. So what
will you do with all the looney people the Institute has locked up
here?"

"I'm not sure. It's against the rules to control other members and
people with the Voice. We save it for special situations requiring
censure. Some of these people have the Voice. They may simply need a
little adjustment to return to more normal lives."

"Normal? You've got to be kidding."

"If we have to, we can make them mute again. They'll have a chance
again, as soon as a little adjustment is made. A team will come in,
remove the 'God' syndrome and fix the worst. I doubt we'll need to
do much worse. As long as they're no longer a danger to the rest of
us."

"I hope so," said Bob

"Just the way I feel."

Bob closed his eyes, sensing an additional presence. He didn't need to
root around the room though to find it. The familiar symbols almost
cried out to be found.

"Can I see your watch?"

"Huh? What for?"

"I just want to see the source of the symbols I keep..., they're at
your wrist."

"You see the symbols?!"

"I read a book. You read a cave wall. I think you and I may be unique.
Most of the 'sparks' here are freaks of nature, finding their talent
by one freak accident or another. You and I seem to have woken it by
seeing the symbols."

Reluctantly, Jorge removed the watch. He pulled the concealed
medallion from it's hiding place. Bob turned it in his hands, basking
in a glow of definitions, descriptions and experiences from the red
coin like object. He handed it back after a moment.

"Very interesting, where'd you find that?"

"In a locket from the cave. I learned about the symbols through it,
more so than the scrawls in the cave."

"An unusual keepsake. Are there more?"

"I've never seen another one, you?"

"Oh no," Bob lied, "I'd know if one of those had passed under my
eyes."

They both peered out the window to the brightly light lawn. Silence
fell over them, a quiet born of the strange situation. Trouble shooter
rescued by amateur, waiting for the rest of the cavalry.

Jorge tried to think of ways to reach out to the younger man. He
wanted to know more about the book, yet somehow knew the subject had
been closed. Hands in his pockets, he looked at the tall man,
wondering what to say.

"What will you do once we take over this mess?"

"I'm going to hide for a while, some place with lots of people."

Jorge grinned, "and probably lots of attractive women too."

"Yeah," Bob grinned back, "as many as I can find. I've got this habit,
see..."

====

As Fran drove them away he looked back at the Institute.

Miki was acting snippish, jealous of Fran and the deep kiss from Bob
when he greeted her. Bob deliberately made Miki watch as he gave Fran
a violent orgasm in the car. Miki's embarrassment was turning into a
deep humiliation, and he could sense deep down she liked the
treatment.

He watched the manicured lawn and the frightening building vanished
from sight. As they passed through the gates, his imprisonment passed
away into a memory.

Too bad he couldn't make the Institute's organization vanish as
easily.

====

>From the balcony, it seemed the view went forever. She could make out
Denver in the distance. It was hazy, slightly marring the rest of the
countryside.

Diane was confused. Heather was very important to her, but why were
they here? She wanted to go home, if only to get a change of clothes.
The people they traveled with were in such a rush. Hurry to the
plane, hurry to the car, hurry in the house. It was very unnerving.

Every now and then, the man who confused her by claiming to be Bob
insisted she service his peculiar needs. He still insisted on being
called Master. And Heather insisted she had to cooperate. He always
left a foul taste in her mouth, in much more than the physical sense.
He made her feel dirty.

He never touched Heather though. That was a small consolation.

She could hear his voice. He was talking to someone in the study
above. They probably didn't know the window was open.

"I tell you we can still do it!"

"The Senator will be difficult to control. I'm not certain we can
continue operations until we've re-established ourselves here."

"As long as we have at least one of the sparks, we can still sell the
process!"

"No," a strange male baritone replied. "I won't chance it until we've
gotten a few more under our thumbs. I do thank you for bringing
Heather. But we've got to get these two sparks. I have the folder on
Robert Lawrence, and our field agents are gathering the necessary
information on Jorge Dansen as well. Too bad the debriefing material
for him was lost."

"I only just got out of there with the spark. The reporter was with me
at the time. I couldn't have gotten the tapes if I'd tried. You know
if I had, they'd be picking my brains too. Not just the lab techs we
left behind. And they don't need drugs to learn everything someone
knows."

"I know, I know. But I don't think Jezabel will understand."

A shiver went through Diane, hearing the tone in the stranger's voice.

Out of her sight, Jones shuddered at the name as well.

====

The trip was uneventful. The probe at the gate was gone. Whether
removed by the Institute or driven away by the Cabal, Bob had no idea.

They settled into the hotel suite very nicely, the women spreading out
all over. They had a nice view of Central Park looking north from the
balcony.

A man named Charles came by to visit. Jorge sent him. The man looked
a little like an academic, dressed as though he should pass for a
professor. The wire frame glasses kept sliding down his nose.

Bob knew the Charles was in charge of Cabal security or something
like it. They chatted a while. Bob didn't tell Charles anything he
hadn't told Jorge. Still, the man was grateful to Bob for helping. He
insisted on a substantial reward from the Cabal.

The Cabal demonstrated their gratitude to Bob in a monetary way. When
Charles learned how carefully he'd been accumulating his income, he
arranged a sizable retainer fee. Bob was now a semi-official
consultant of the Schmitz, Martin and Lear law firm.

They also promised to provide an accountant if he wanted. He'd
declined. If someone else was going to watch his money, it would be
someone he controlled.

It was uncomfortable having older siblings watching his every move.
Even if they were being protective.

====

His traveling harem had gone shopping.

Betty was excited about visiting Saks. Bob was more interested in a
town-house for the 'family'. First though, he had to get more
familiar with the City. He decided to explore a little on his own.

Manhattan is huge.

Bob was boggled at the shear size of it, the density of the
buildings, the number of people. For a seventeen to eighteen mile
long, five mile wide island, it was overwhelming him.

He went downtown to Chinatown. From there he walked north through the
village, Greenwich Village. Past the New York University buildings
and through Washington Square Park. He stopped for an early lunch
near a used book store he'd found around 12th street.

He continued on. The crowds were amazing, rushing from place to
place, hurrying to get where they were going so they could rush some
where else. He was unaccustomed to the waves of people.

At 33th street, an interesting game store had attracted his
attention. Too bad he really couldn't play competitively any more.
His discipline would have to improve significantly to keep from
reading an opponent's mind.

He wandered around, sampling food from street vendors, immersing
himself in the crowds. In the heat, scantily clad women glowed as
their exposed skin became moist. Crossing Herald Square, he avoided
the plethora of beggars in the little islands between the avenues.

After wandering about in a camera/electronics store for a while, he
decided to visit some of the Museums. The shopping crowd was beginning
to oppress him. Too many rushing people.

He climbed into a taxi in front of Madison Square Garden, across from
the Post Office.

====

Courtney was walking alone through the Gem exhibit.

The day was very peaceful. She'd taken off work to avoid the heat in
her office. Sometime, her boss promised, they'd get air conditioning
put in. In the meanwhile everyone had to live with it.

Today she'd escaped. The tiger's eye was her favorite gemstone. There
were a bunch of them here in the Museum of Natural History. The more
popular stones attracted the tourists, but the tiger's eye were the
loveliest stones here. She also liked the opals, but she knew the
colors came from the moisture in opal, not the stone itself. Tiger's
eye was its own natural wonder.

She wandered out past the moon rock, encased in Plexiglas of some
sort. There the school aged kids were gathered with their mothers. The
distant origins of the stone chunk attracted as much attention as
the rare gems of Earth.

A tall man looked on, over the children. He seemed as fascinated as
the kids. Was it her imagination, or was he watching her too? She was
used to men looking at her though, they found her attractive.

She stepped out into the hall. She started towards the exhibit of
American Indian artifacts. Brushing her red paisley dress smooth, she
failed to notice how it accented her figure. The low heeled, white
shoes she wore set off the laced socks she'd worn well.

She passed a museum guard, whose head followed the swish of her
dress' hem with momentary interest. He admired the section of
exposed leg, a calf turned with gentle and elegant curves.

The old drums and pictures of tepees adorning the walls didn't
attract her attention as much as the dugout canoe. She wondered how
long it took to hollow out, the birch bark canoe had to be easier to
make.

She clasped her hands behind her back, stepping from exhibit to
exhibit. These weren't as interesting as the tiger's eye, but it
remained a relaxing escape.

Behind her, a teenage boy admired the round shape of her bottom and
the drop of her dark pony tail as his parents called him away. She
never noticed.

She did catch a glimpse of the tall dirty blond fellow again,
examining the same dugout she'd looked at a while ago. He was
handsome enough, maybe she could introduce herself. He wandered off
before she made up her mind. Sigh, so it goes, she thought.

In the hall with the insect models she shuddered. She slipped past
them to see the whale. Hanging from the ceiling, it was impressive.
She liked the elegance of its long sleek features.

She walked down the stairs, drawing attention from the male half of a
couple going up. The guy's girlfriend punched him, whispered voices
conveying disapproval of his behavior. She smiled to herself.

Before the case showing the stuffed Seals she spied the tall guy
she'd seen elsewhere in the museum. This time she was going to get
close. His dirty blond hair was neatly combed. He wore a stylish pair
of trousers, a light cotton shirt, and dark running shoes. She
thought about introducing herself.

This whole thing was very unlike her. She almost never walked up to a
stranger to introduce herself. She stepped over to stand beside him
anyway, uncertain where her courage was coming from.

He turned, flashing her a sweet disarming smile. Her insides melted a
bit. Nerves took over. She froze up, barely managing to smile back.

"Hello."

"Hi," she squeaked. A short pause occurred.

"My name is Bob. I'm only visiting New York for the second time."

"I'm Courtney," she bobbed up on her tip toes, guessing him to be
about six foot four. Her five and an half foot height forced her to
tilt her head back to look at his face. She could see his eyes linger
on the rise of her bust, thrust forward by tilting her head.

"What would you say to accompanying me through some more of the
museum?"

"Sounds promising."

They walked for some time. She lost track of where they'd been. He was
very absorbing to listen to. If asked, she couldn't have said what he
talked about though. He was so, so, well, interesting for some reason.

By the time they walked through the exhibit of dinosaur bones, and
passed the large sea turtle, she had her arm intertwined with his. Her
head seemed almost magnetically drawn against his shoulder.

"How about we go outside, get a drink some place," he suggested.

"I'd like that."

As they emerged into the late afternoon sun, he allowed her to nuzzle
against him as though they were long time lovers. His warmth wasn't
the attraction, but attracted she was, clinging as she'd never done
with anyone before.

"They blow up the balloons for the Thanksgiving Day parade on this
street," she told him. He chuckled.

"I presume you mean they inflate them, not explode them."

She turned red for a moment, embarrassed, although she knew he was
pulling her leg.

"It's great to come the night before the parade. Everyone comes. It's
a huge party up and down the block. I've seen Woody Allen out here to
see the event."

"Nice. Could be a lot of fun."

They walked away from Central Park, then south. He was particularly
fascinated with a store featuring wind up toys. The name was "The Last
Wound Up" and they had to go in. He bought her a set of walking teeth.
She laughed as they clattered across the countertop.

They stopped at a cafe, pulling up a table by the window. She had
Cappuccino, he had Expresso. She'd never seen anyone put cream and
sugar into Expresso. He called it Turkish style. He was remarkably
quiet now, letting her run her mouth about her life.

She told him how she'd come to New York to work as an actress. She
talked about the problems with apartments, the job market, her
favorite recent movie.

When he excused himself to use the men's room she admonished herself.
She was practically flinging herself at him. She'd only just met him,
and here she was telling him her life story. It was very out of
character for her, the aloof woman she'd become, but she wanted to
spend the rest of the evening with him.

Hopefully, she would have many evenings with him.

====

In the men's room, Bob rinsed his face. Two men slipped in the two
stall bathroom after him. He had just washed his hands, when one of
them grabbed his shoulders and slammed him back against the wall.

A knife glinted in the glare of harsh bare lightbulbs. The brawny man
before him started to lunge... never to make it. His eyes glazed over,
then his accomplice froze as well.

Bob found the image of another man, a buddy, in their minds. They'd
been told to roll him, take anything they wanted, but to leave him
dead. They'd followed him since early in the morning. The buddy,
someone they occasionally did work for, hadn't said why. And these
two never would've asked anyway.

He pulled everything from them they knew about their charming pal.
Then he left.

About fifteen minutes later, a blue uniformed patrolman was listening
to the two confess everything illegal they'd done since kindergarten.
They listened to him read them their rights, but they breezed on
through everything again, explaining in detail where he could get
evidence.

Bob by then was back with the girl. Very lightly adjusting her
impressions of him to make him as seductive a partner as she'd ever
met in her life. A dream like lover or prince to her. She was dizzy as
he quickly either adjusted her the slightest amount, or by reading her
mind took advantage of her own desires.

He was going to take her. And use her to sheath his tool.

====

Courtney enjoyed the flick, a romantic comedy about some guy, his
kid and a truly improbable girlfriend. She held Bob's hand the entire
time, unwilling to let him go.

The night was cooler. They walked to the upper west side, wandering
around west of Columbia. Her apartment was near by, it was time to
call it a night.

She took him along to her building stoop. They sat and watched the
comings and goings from the neighborhood a little while.

"I've got to go to bed," she told him.

He smiled and took her by the hand to the door. She teetered back and
forth a few minutes, while he stood there.

"Come up for a quick soda, but then you'll have to go."

His head tilted quizically, but he agreed. She couldn't escape the
seductive draw he had about him. She found her eyes swallowed in his
dark gray pool like eyes.

Unlocking the door she guided him into the narrow apartment. The
living room shared space with the kitchenette. Her air conditioner
had started on the time, so the apartment was cooler than out doors.
Not much cooler, but enough to make it livable.

The bedroom, slightly unkempt, showed through the door next to the
stove. She started to go pull the door to the bedroom closed, but his
hand firmly grasped her shoulder.

She turned and her eyes again were drawn to his. She couldn't yank her
eyes aside at all. Her mouth hung open as he drew close. She backed
against a chair, stumbling, but not taking her eyes from his. Her head
tilted unconsciously back as his lips met hers.

Finally her eyes were off his. They were closed as she lost herself in
the lusty exchange of greetings between their tongues. She could feel
strength in his arms as he reached behind her, pulling her torso close
to his own. A dream quality, as though she were only present as an
observer, crept over her.

She pulled back.

"I don't think we'd better..."

He drew her in again. The sensual touch of his body against her sent a
tingling and pleasant feeling into her stomach. The hum of the air
conditioner covered her gasp of pleasure as he gently gripped her
ass, more a light massage than a grasp.

She tried to pull away, but his tongue held her like a magnet. She
pressed against his chest lighter than she intended, planning to
escape from his clasp.

Lingering kisses from him were covering her face. Chest heaving now
with excited interest, she found her eyes were rolling from the
sensation of being tenderly worshiped.

She didn't want to let this happen. She didn't. But Bob was in control
of the moment, pulling her in tighter, raining little goose bump
raising kisses about her neck and shoulders.

Then his fingers found her breast. She drew in a sharp gasp as the
electric bolt of arousal shot through to her throat. The fabric added
its own gentle silk feel to his touch, giving the contact a jolting
and burning sensation.

She managed weakly to pull back, panting. Lips swollen with lust
filled excitement, she shook her head trying to shake free from the
cobwebs tangling her mind.

This couldn't be, she thought. She never let anyone in on the first
date. And never necked or petted if she didn't know them pretty well.
Bob though, he, well, he was almost mystically enticing. And well, she
could stop him now, couldn't she?

He drew her to the couch and pulled her down.

The sounds of City life were battering down the walls, sirens, yelling
couples, kids crying out in the night. She heard her own heart over
the normal City noises, pounding excitedly as the man beneath her
sucked in her lips, wrestled with her tongue, and took free liberties
with her breasts.

It was a dreamy kind of excitement. A wild trip, a roller coaster with
Bob's hands gently kneeding the concealed flesh through her clothing.
Every time she opened her eyes they rolled about, bringing her head
into gyrating motions of lust. The kisses he passionately endowed to
her were searing hot, bringing a wet lust into her throat.

"Unnngh."

Her discussion was lowering to simple moans, she locked her hand about
Bob's wrist, the one with the molesting hand attached. But she
couldn't bring herself to push the hand away as she knew she should.

His breath brought a flaming red heat to her skin. A crawling feeling
of pleasure crept across the back of her shoulders.

"Oh, please, I can't..."

Her head lolled back as he treated her neck and throat to a bath from
his tongue and lips.

"No. No. Don't do this..."

That villainous hand was resting on her right leg. Right at the knee.
The fingers were caressing the flesh there, exploring the inside of
her leg.

"Oh. Please don't do that..."

The hand slowly inched upwards. She snatch at it with her left hand
while he tongued the slight cleavage exposed in the red paisley print.
However tightly she griped the hand though, she found herself almost
guiding him forward, helping to lift the hem of the dress above her
thighs.

Sensing her vulnerability, he was going to get his fingers on her
sopping wet crotch. She was ashamed, shocked she was allowing a one
day acquaintance do this to her. The tips of his fingers teased her
flesh through the wet panties. She knew he now was aware just how wet
she'd become. She was certain her face was pink. The shame at letting
him get this far tonight was affecting her breathing, bringing the
panting to a heavier level.

"Ohhh! I don't want to do this, not tonight... ohhhh!"

"Sure you do," he whispered into the ear he was nibbling. A wet soft
tongue explored the recesses there afterwards.

"No, no. It isn't right. Ahhh! I hardly know you..."

"Soon you'll beg me, I promise to get you hot enough to forget any
reason for hesitating."

His fingers had teased her crotch to the point it was rolling on its
own, betraying her professed wishes. Her pelvis was trying to join in,
generating a rhythm she struggled to suppress. And failed.

"ooooohhh!"

Her tongue protruded its tip out, pressing against her lips. She could
feel his mouth at her tits, chewing lightly through the cloth. Her
nipples were shooting energy out her chest in all directions. Their
erect state was clearly visible through the dress, any time he lifted
his head.

"ooooohhh!"

A guttural groan rose within her. The day's excitement was growing
into the night's excitement. Her body was engaged in sex without her
permission. She couldn't stop him. His entire hand now cupped her
crotch. Heat was rising from there as well.

"ooooohhh!"

She could feel him pull back a bit. Her dilemma at wanting to go on,
and wanting to stop remained in his hands. He began to lift her dress
up over her head. She struggled to stop him, pushing him away. But he
simply took her wrists in one hand and did the work with his other.
Stripped to her bra and panties, she felt exposed. The shame she felt
earlier rose again, turning her pink.

He paused only to chuckle at her embarrassment. His fingers again
working their magic at her crotch. There was a magic too, for all the
arousal he gave her, she seemed unlikely to come soon. She was on the
up side of a roller coaster, and there was no telling when she'd
come down.

Her body's excitement grew. Her mind was wallowing in the shame at the
loss of control over her own desires. His finger tips flew along the
length of her most private parts, forcing the fluids to rise inside.

"ooooohhh! unnnggh, stop, unnnggh, please stop... why are you,
ooooohhh!, doing this to me???..."

The spiral of excitement climbed higher as her hips lunged against his
hand. Her head rolled. And again he stopped. She couldn't decide
whether to scream for him to leave or to continue.

He lifted her. Carrying her draped across his shoulders like so much
waste in a large sack, he hauled her to the bedroom. She never let
anyone in here. She knew she was being violated, but her body was an
accomplice in the act. He eased her onto the bed, and pulled off the
panties, her shoes, and undid the bra she still wore. Her body
continued to throb with desire against her wishes.

Still wearing her lacy socks, she was rolled onto her back. He stood
there undressing as she watched panting.

"Don't do this. I beg you, stop now. Maybe we can do this some other
time, when we've known each other longer."

He chuckled again.

"I'm taking you now. And instead of begging me to stop, you'd best
consider begging me to fuck you. You might want to get over
eventually, and you'll only get there if I take you."

"No, ooooohhh, can't be true."

He was beside her again, naked. Her flesh against his flesh. She could
feel the draw, the magnetism, a seductive pull from the man. He had
her body under his sway, and she couldn't change that.

"ooooohhh!"

Her moaning commenced again. He wrapped his arms around her, spooning
her with his stiff prick against the crack of her ass. Right hand
cupping her crotch again, he cupped her left breast in the other. His
lips worked across her shoulders to her neck and back.

Goose bumps ran up and down the length of her body. She couldn't keep
her legs together. Her right foot desperately sought to be behind his
legs, pulling him closer to her. A finger slipped into her vagina,
sending pulses into her.

Her already heightened state accelerated, her left arm pounding
against the mattress, seeking release. She gasped. She moaned. The air
in her lungs gushed out, only to be replaced in seconds by a rush of
fresh oxygen.

"No," she gasped again. "no..."

His cock was rubbing in and out along her cheeks. A tingling pleasant
feel rose from her bottom. Where she lay now, trapped in Bob's arms,
she couldn't change no matter what.

She needed to come. She had to come. The orgasm she needed was just
another step on the ladder of ecstasy, she could tell. However,
nothing changed to give her the release her body demanded.
Frantically, she pushed herself farther along, and just as frantically
the release moved another step away.

"No. no, ooooohhh!"

"You want to come?" came his harassing voice.

"Oh Yes! ooooohhh!"

"You'll have to beg for it..."

"AAAHHHH, I-I CAN'T!"

"Oh, come on now, let's here it. 'Please fuck me, please fill my
pussy', you can do it..."

"no, no, aaaahhh, nooooo..."

The fingers in her cunt began to work her clitoris, the nerves
virtually shouted in combinations of pain and pleasure. Her body was
pounding against him, rocking the mattress now.

"You either beg, or you won't get what you want..."

"OH GOD, why are you doing this to me...?"

"Because you're so pretty as you plead with me. It excites me, and you
seem to crave this kind of treatment."

"no, no, aaaaahhhyyyyyaa!"

"Oh yes..."

"You're humiliating me. nnnnngggh, you bastard."

"Yes, but it's making you so fucking hot isn't it? ISN'T IT?!"

"No, no, no, .... aaaahhhh, yes it is you fuck."

"Be nice, beg...."

Her cheeks were being prodded nicely by his manhood. She wanted him in
her now. She was horribly ashamed of herself for failing to stop him
from going this far, but now she was trapped in a cycle of arousal.
Requiring release, now she knew begging for it was the only way.

"Okay, please fuck me....nnnnnnggg."

"What? I don't think that was very good... try again."

"GOD! fug me, please, oh please put your prick in my cunt and make me
come."

"Good, much better. You keep it up nicely and I may yet let you come."

"AAAHHHHIIEEE! unnngh, unnnggh!"

Her panting grew heavier, the heaving of her chest as he abused the
nipples was madly rhythmic. She'd fuck a goddamn horse if it would get
her off now. She had to have that cock in her, and she had to have it
now!

He pulled her feet up onto his shoulders. Maddeningly, he admired the
lacy socks a moment. Then he just teased the lips of her pussy with
the tip of his prick, pulling away as she tried to lunge her crotch
against him to get a plunge into her. She felt like a slut begging,
and now a bit like a whore, trying to press him into her like this.

He was grinning.

"Before I fuck you, you should tell me what a useless rag you are. I
want to hear you say how you are making yourself my property,
forever."

"You fucking bastard. I begged. I PLEADED. Please fuck me, goddammit!
Can't you see how desperately I need it? I want you, I want you so bad
it hurts inside."

She rolled her head from side to side again. Her body writhing out of
control.

"Yeah, but that's old news. I want to hear you give me ownership of
your body. I want you to admit you're no better than a slave..."

"Aaahhhh! I give myself to you! please, please fuck me. Please treat
me like property, but please fuck me now!"

"Close, not treat you like, you are property. Say it."

"I'm property, yours, body and soul. GoD! CAN'T TAKE IT. PLEASE!?"

"Good bitch. Now..."

He plunged into her. The fullness was grand! She rolled her head,
ignoring the fact the right swing made her hang out over the edge.
He pumped. She rejoiced as he pounded away, hammering with practiced
skill.

"Tell me, everything we agreed to while you come!"

Humiliation swept deeply into her soul. It bit into where she kept her
self respect, bringing out the shame she'd grown inside since she
asked Bob in. She was low, an animal, no more important than a slug.
She bit back her grunts, moaning as she began to speak,

"I'm yours. unh, I belong oooohhh! to you. I want to be fucked. Use
me as a rag. Unnngh! I need you to screw me hard! Please don't stop!
unnnh..."

Suddenly she felt the spurting of semen into her intimate parts. He
grunted out a stern "YEES!". But she still hadn't come. He slowed
down, she writhed about even more.

"You promised me, please don't stop now! Please!"

"Roll over bitch."

"WHAT!"

"You heard me."

Her humiliation knew a new height. Desperate for release, she rolled.
He pulled her up to her knees and pushed her face into the pillows in
front of her.

"Fuck me, please, let me come!" she continued to plead, knowing it
didn't matter. He was going to do whatever he please with her, and she
would happily consent. And assist.

He was remarkably stiff for a man who just came. His prick rubbed
against her little rosette, the nether hole, an even more private
part of her anatomy. She never would've considered doing this before.
She whimpered as he pushed his prick into her little asshole.

"Yooow!" she yelped as he pressed it deeper. Her body was still
rolling with waves of pleasure, anxious to orgasm. He pressed another
inch into her. Surprisingly the fullness was desperately exciting as
well. His cock finally pressed all the way home, his balls resting
against the wet bottom of her cunt.

"Unnnnggh!" she mouthed, breathing the sound out as well. His fingers
found her clit again, and rubbed it in little circles.

"Ready slut?"

"Yes, please fuck my ass, god please fuck me hard!" and she whimpered
again.

His dominance of her was complete, she'd yielded everything she could.
There simply wasn't anything left to give over tonight.

His in and out motions built slowly. To her amazement, she found
herself pushing back, forcing her ass to accept the bludgeoning
instrument of invasion. She could feel the violation deep within her,
her panting heaving from her in waves.

Then. Then it began. She could feel the white heat rising. Flashing
fires raged up from her ass, filled her from her clit, and even surged
outward from the nipple he'd begun to pinch so brutally she thought
she must be bleeding.

"OOOOOOOHHHHIIIIIIEEEEE!" screamed her voice, as loud as she'd ever
managed. Her body surged through a second orgasm following close on
the heels of the first. His cock unleashed another pulse of fluid into
her, leaving seed inside her most private regions. She screamed again,
releasing another wave of orgasmic energy, almost slamming her head
against the wall before her.

She collapsed. Still kneeling, her body relieved of the tight tension
of waiting, she gasped for air to recover. As she did, she could still
feel him filling her ass. The humiliation returned in strength. She
was too embarrassed to speak.

He pulled out slowly, leaving her with a feeling she was missing
something. She suddenly felt lonely without him in her. She longed for
his penis within her, anywhere in her. She felt a longing well up
within, desire for his touch. A desire to be a bare object, a tool
for his use. She wondered at this nugget of desire, turning it in her
mind.

He rose. Slapping her sharply on the bottom. She smiled at this sign
of ownership he'd made. At least he liked her, she thought.

====

"Hiya, Jorge."

"Where are you Bob?"

"New York. Met your Mr. Charles."

"Not Mr. Charles. Charles is his first name."

"Really? Doesn't matter. How would the Institute trace me here? I
mean, I had two guys try to kill me."

"Jesus. How in the fuck could anyone find you that fast? Maybe
scanners at the airport?"

"No, no. I'd notice that. Gotta be something else."

"Maybe a simple surveillance thing. Someone recognized you from a
photo. It's possible, although I have a hard time figuring out where
they'd spot you. Maybe they tumbled through the hotel reservation
system. I don't know."

"I guess. I just thought you'd like to know. I'm gonna look for their
boss. Call if anything breaks on your end."

"You bet. Maybe New York isn't such a good idea."

"Maybe I'll be able to backtrack them if they keep it up."

"Good point. Good night."

"Yeah..."

click.

He hung up the handset.

The naked sleeping woman was a sweaty mess from their sex. She was
lovely though, serene in her repose. Lacy socks still in place.

****

High Acid Content

A warm summer day in Brooklyn. The sun was high. Sounds of the city
had dropped off as Bob walked into the park. The breeze wasn't
providing much relief.

The park had drawn him, pulling him away from his ride. Something
called to him, something with presence. He released the driver,
sending him back to his own trivial errands. There were plenty of
other chauffeurs if he wanted one.

Today's journey started by searching for the hit men's boss. Nothing
had come of it. The man, it turned out, died in a brutal argument
shortly after ordering the attack on Bob. As a path of investigation,
it totally washed out.

Bob walked the wide paths, relishing the break from his search. There
would be other leads to follow soon. He'd have to let Jorge know about
this. The death seemed to indicate someone was carefully covering
their trail, afraid of discovery.

He paused to watch the leaves above, still in the sun, as the world
passed by below. He wondered what happened to the breeze he'd felt
earlier.

A hundred yards away, a kid with oriental ethnic origins stood. He
held a rifle by a tree, trying to line Bob up in his sights. The
rifle was an Air Force survival .22, one of those little jobs that
folds up into its own stock. Difficult to hit targets at any distance
with, but easy enough to conceal.

The trigger squeezed, the sound a sharp snap. The shot missed.

Before he could fire again, Bob had him. Bob scanned through his mind
looking for clues to the hidden mastermind. Once again, it led to
another man who ordered him offed. The kid had been told to watch for
Bob where the dead man used to hang out. This time the trail would
lead to China town.

Bob was astounded the kid managed to follow him. As he searched the
boy's brain, he found enormous experience at working marks. A
pickpocket and child con artist for the last three years, this was
just the first time he'd been asked to kill someone.

The killing would make him important.

It would gain his membership to the Tong. He would rise from the
ranks of petty thief to someone with power if he succeeded. Bob felt
a little bemused at the ambition, to be a bigger minnow in the same
pond. Bob could identify with the goal.

Adjusting the young assailant's loyalties was simple. Bob sent the
has been assassin to find a place of concealment near the hotel. He'd
be taking him along when he went to the Tong's headquarters.

The boy scampered away, something like a frightened rabbit, aglow with
the task from the new gang he'd joined.

Bob remained where he was, considering the attraction he felt earlier.
It was very strong now. He couldn't reach out to touch the odd geas,
but it remained tenuously there. Then something tweaked his interest.

It was a tree. The one the youngster used for concealment. The tree
was short and stunted, nothing growing near it for twenty or thirty
feet. For some reason the tree radiated symbols, a little like the
amber like medallions.

The sense was vaporous, out of reach every time Bob strove to contact
it. There was a feeling of hidden intelligence, a separate ego, an
active set of thoughts. Still he couldn't reach the stream of symbols,
unable to quite read them.

Bob felt at his wrist. He'd had a watch made like Jorge's to keep the
amber like slip of coin. The symbols weren't slipping through the
shield he'd fashioned around it. The tree was its own source of the
symbols.

The tree was unusual for this park. It was the only one of it's kind
here. It bent with twisted, gnarled, almost muscular, branches. The
thin leaves were healthy and green. They were narrow, about finger
length, green, flat and very sparse.

It felt good to touch the tree. The odd pull vanished as he felt the
coarse bark. It was as though the thing was pleading like a dog,
for attention, a little petting, a little affection.

After a few moments, he decided there was little more to be learned
from the tree itself. So he wandered the park to consider his odd
discovery.

Park paths took him away from the mystery for now. He relaxed,
problems could simply sink away into oblivion until much later.

====

A single bird careened amongst the trees.

Light wind gave the waving branches a surreal atmosphere, almost
dreamlike. The manicured meadow was peaceful in the sunlight, empty
save for the occasional avian adventurer. Fresh cut grass smell
lingered, but the wall of trees about the field moved to and fro
without concern for the activities of such mere mortals.

The park was oddly empty, not just this one field. Bob didn't mind.
The privacy was a good touch after the last few months of living in
Manhattan. He lay back on a blanket he'd 'borrowed', closed his eyes,
and soaked in the quiet.

As he relaxed he cast about him with probes of thought, seeking
activity, a caution brought about by the attempts on his life. Trying
not to dwell on the threat didn't prevent him from taking precautions.

No one nearby was harboring threatening thoughts about him. Oh, some
guy at the far end of the park was contemplating committing a
mugging. Bob saved the elderly couple the punk was eyeing by
performing an instant act of reform on the kid's psyche.

There was also a young woman, he could sense her. She was about 18,
and just out of sight amongst the trees around the field Bob was
relaxing in. He eased a gentle hint of curiosity into her, something
to bring her within sight.

She stepped out to the green field, walking close enough to give him
a good view. Olive brown skin, dark black hair, she was about 5'
9-10" tall. Her legs were almost golden in the sun, looking almost as
long as the rest of her body. He knew it was an illusion, but their
straightness also drew his attention. She wore tight, almost too
revealing red shorts, and a halter top which restrained what appeared
to be very pleasant assets. Some kind of silver jewelry graced her
neck, the end of which was secluded among those same assets.

Bob wondered what she would sound like in orgasm. He wondered, is
she be one of the screamers, a moaner or would she whimper in a
totally
submissive state of grace. Or, he smiled to himself, is she one of
the ones who crossed the boundaries and had giggling fits?

She turned to face him. He could see wide eyes, soft red lips, and
stately chiseled Roman nose. Her cheeks were smooth and high,
accenting the fire in her eyes. The dark hair framed her face, also
accenting her features, showing her beauty off as though she were a
porcelain doll.

He reached out to her and played lightly along her nervous system with
the symbols. It was a serious performance, her body an unusual musical
instrument with unique tones and resonance.

She gasped, bringing one slender supple arm up so her fingers brushed
her lips. The other arm crossed her torso beneath her chest, fingers
holding to her side. Eyes dimming as her eyelids struggled to remain
opened, she almost writhed in place from the invisible grasp. Her
head nodded forward, then lurched back, flinging the black hair over
her shoulders like a mane. Her breath rasped in sudden uncontrolled
heat. Her swaying body moved smoothly into an almost dancing rhythm.

He let go physical control.

She remained standing, gasping and regaining composure as he released
the hold he'd taken of her. He was pleased with her response. It
should be more fun to manipulate this woman from child, than simply
squeeze her body sexually dry in one quick burst.

"Oh!" she said, coming to her senses, realizing he was watching and
grinning at her. "Oh, I don't, I, well, I don't know what came over
me."

"That was very interesting. Come on over and sit down."

"I can't. It wouldn't be a good idea, I think."

He relished the way her lips rolled as she spoke. The facial
expressions she used while speaking were acts of sensual behavior as
well.

"Only for a few minutes, really."

She cocked her head as though in thought, unaware Bob had made her
mind up for her. The idea of fleeing passed quickly.

"Okay," as she walked forward, hips swaying, an invitation to direct
and immediate rape. Bob admired the flexing movements of her waist as
she dropped elegantly to the grass near him.

"I'm Bob. And you...?"

"Beth. Beth Covecce."

"Beth, we can have some fun together. Bet you'd like that."

"I'm not sure, I don't know you, like I said before. I shouldn't even
be talking to a strange man alone in the park."

"Have I threatened you?"

"Nooo." She force the admission from herself.

"Have I done anything other than talk to you?"

"Well, nooo."

"Where is the harm in sitting and talking with me?"

"I don't know. I just feel uneasy about it."

Bob could feel her trepidations better than she could. He was thriving
on it, in fact. The nervous reaction to being suddenly aroused so
strongly in front of a total stranger brought mild fear up from her
gut. Her sullen concern excited him.

She looked at him, big browns appraising him as though he were a
prospective employer. Her hands folded smoothly in her lap, arms
ever so slightly pressing her breasts together and out. Bob felt his
own juices stir.

"What do you do Beth?"

"I'm going to be a student at Columbia, this fall. I'm going to enter
the business program..."

"You still live at home?"

"Yes. I'll commute to classes."

It was Bob's turn to be reflective. She'd better dress more
conservatively for that trip. Dressed the way she was, she invited
sexual assault in this city. It was all he could do to keep from
tumbling her right now. But he realized the thrill, the power, the
excitement of using his talent was best drawn out.

"What do you do Bob?" She came to the conclusion she subconsciously
decided to risk meeting him, so she was going to get to know him. He
could sense her will trying to take control of her actions. He
smiled, knowing how helpless she was. She took it to be interest in
her friendliness.

"I consult for a law firm in mid-town. I was exploring different parts
of the city. Today I thought this park looked interesting."

"Yes, it is nice. A little patch of quiet and calm."

A pause lengthened into reverie. They both watched a squirrel zip
across the grass in front of them. The mad dash was both frantic and
curious in nature. A small flock of pigeons settled into a picnic
area at the far end of the field.

Her legs stretched out, showing the turn of her ankles in gentle
geometry. Bob watched her hang her head back, showing the smooth
expanse of tender neck, silver necklace vanishing into her cleavage.
The neck appeared yummy enough to sink his teeth into. He chuckled to
himself, almost a vampire like thought.

"What's funny?," she caught his eyes with hers again.

"I was just thinking about vampires and how tasty your neck looked
just now."

She reddened up. The pink color overcame her tanned skin, giving her a
look of innocence. She tucked her head down, trying to conceal her
embarrassment. She didn't see how this aroused Bob.

The quiet returned again. Bob could feel she wasn't sure why she'd sat
with him, and the remark about her neck disturbed her Italian Catholic
upbringing. What to make of this new acquaintance of hers in the park?
The attempt to fathom his comment seemed to be eat into her thoughts.

"Do you have a boyfriend Beth?" He already knew she did. He was
looking for more ways to bring out the embarrassed pink in her face.

"Yes, his name is Joe. It's really Joseph, but he likes me to call him
Joe."

"Do you do things with him?"

"Oh yes," came vivaciously. "We go out to movies and dinner all the
time. He's so sweet. We're going to get married after college. He's
going away to Holy Cross. Holy Cross is in someplace called Wooster.
Only it's spelled like the cooking sauce, you know Worcester or
something. I think." She pronounced the name like Westchester,
probably more familiar.

"No Beth. Do the two of you do things in private together?"

"Huh?" Then she turned red again as it dawned on her what he meant.
She looked away from him, and spoke, "No, we're waiting until we get
married."

"That's a shame, you don't know what you're missing."

"I can wait, thank you." Her face became wooden, not pleased with the
direction of the conversation.

"I can show you, if you want."

"I think I'll go now, thank you very much." She started to get up. As
she reached her feet, Bob sank a set of curiosity symbols into her,
and a twinge of desire to try something with him.

Standing there, looking at him as though he'd torn her clothing off,
she pondered. He could see the gears clicking in her head. Actually
a stream of symbols spinning in a whirl, including the ones he'd
added.

"I guess I could hang out a while. It's not as if I need to go
anywhere or do anything today."

"That's nice. I'd hate to see you leave when we were just getting to
know each other."

"Um, yeah." She stretched herself back out on the grass, her skin
almost glowing from perspiration in the warm summer weather. At least,
it seemed the sweat came from struggling with the hot weather.

"So what do you two do?"

"Um, I'd rather not talk about it." The embarrassment was strong, the
taboo subject of sex and intimacy was bringing her to an uncomfortable
state of uneasiness.

"Oh, come on now. It can't be so bad."

She pinked up again, turning away before almost whispering, "We kiss."

"Kiss? That's all?"

"He sticks his tongue in my mouth. I like it, but it's kind of gross."

Bob laughed. He couldn't help let his raucous laughter roll him over
in the grass. This was the worst, the most embarrassing thing she
experienced so far about sex?

"What's so funny!?"

He calmed down. The bridge of her nose wrinkled up as she used a
stern expression. Dimples were slightly visible in her cheeks.

"You're embarrassed about necking? In this day and age, when virginity
is so incredibly disposable? I'm hardly sure I know what to say."

"You! You! You!" she sputtered at him.

"It's okay! Calm down. Come over here, that's right, come on over
here."

Pouting like a rebuked child she crossed her arms.

"I won't hurt you, I promise."

She crawled over where he was sitting. She knelt next to him. He
pulled her around, placing her head carefully in his lap. She
resisted lightly, but not too seriously. Along with her furtive
glances, she managed a nervous smile for him. Her hands clenched into
fists over her chest, a barrier against advances.

He smiled at the resistance, knowing how hopeless it really was. He
bent forward, giving the barest of kisses, almost brotherly. She
pushed him back.

"Joe and I..." she trailed off as he made a more serious effort to
engage her in passion. His tongue levered between her lips and glided
along her teeth. She yielded to the kiss, opening her mouth and
allowing him entry. Her tongue remained elusive, evading his own as he
sought after it for greater interaction. Yet her hands were cool, now
against the back of his neck as she pulled his face into her own.

Yes, she thought, this was nice. But Joe, what about Joe? Shamefully,
she felt, she was betraying Joe even by just necking with Bob. Bob
was so, well, in charge. She knew Joe could never be this enticing,
drawing her into a sensual experience like this.

Bob enjoyed the sensation of her inner embarrassment. The pink shade
of her face as her eyes closed with each passionate embrace was
further visual confirmation. She entered into necking with minimal
adjustment, a light tweaking of her interest, her curiosity. The
humiliation was an enjoyable side effect.

His hand rested on her bare tummy. The skin's surface was smooth and
soft, muscled underneath, but delicate to touch. She twitch and pushed
at his arm every time he moved the hand up her rib cage.

Against her struggling resistance, his hand cupped her breast through
the material of the halter. The flesh beneath pillowed his hand
nicely, more
than filling his hand.

"Stop!," she squealed, pulling back from him. She rolled off his lap,
and started to shake her finger at him. "I don't do that sort of
thing. Keep your hands where they belong!"

"Where did you think they belonged?" As he asked he sought out the
resistance inside her. She contained many oddly conflicting views, any
of which could cause a lot of trouble. "Tell me how it felt."

"It felt...," uncertainty swept up in her. He prodded her interest and
desire again. She was confused, her face screwed up in a semblance of
deep thought.

He rode the cyclone of symbols in her head, interjecting feelings of
pleasure, blocking sensations of fear. There were many elements in the
spinning thoughts giving rise to fear. Every time he thought he'd
given her counter thoughts to overcome the fear, another would pop up.
Once it was an image of some nameless nun, slapping her for some
trivial error. An idealized image of her father flew past, certain in
itself he would never do this with her mother...

Reluctantly, she drew close again. She sat beside him, offering her
lips as a sacrament to him. Once again her hands gathered themselves
into little fists, but she struggled to keep them down on her lap.

He allowed her to worship through the meeting of their lips. Their
tongues returned to the tenuous game of chasing each other around in
their interlocked mouths. Her brown eyes closed in gentle submission
at each kiss, giving her lovely face an appearance of grace.

Right arm held her across her back, he lightly held her close by the
shoulder. As they necked, he used it to pull her once more into his
lap. Between kisses, her brows furled, eyes pleading him to do her
no harm.

Tension ignored, she allowed his hand to cover her breast unimpeded.
The nipple popped to a stiff erection under the halter. She gasped,
feeling a sinful pleasure seep into her chest from his touch.

"Oh!" She gasped it out, looking to the side. He rolled the nipple,
still behind the cloth, between his fingers and thumb. Her lips opened
with a sharp breath. She clenched her eyes shut, as though in pain
rather than the soothing pleasure he knew she felt.

He slid his hand under the halter, cupping his palm against the flesh.
Her head snapped back, eyes open again, a gasp expelled with startled
surprise. Her hands came up again, both grabbing hold of his forearm.
Yet she allowed him to continue, rolling her head with rhythmic
breaths, coming from low in her diaphragm.

His left hand found the bow and knot at the back of her neck. He
pulled it undone. Rolling back the cupping halter revealed the
unattended breast, a pale mound of soft pliant skin, tipped with a
nipple whose color almost matched her lips. The areola was almost
three inches across with the knob jutting outward just so.

He bent down to her chest. With the tongue's flat middle, he licked
her almost light enough not to be felt. But the nipple's skin
tightened immediately. He took the time to curl his tongue about the
rubbery knob, lashing as well, back and forth. The flesh hardened,
stiff erect, and pointing outwards from her chest.

She was rolling her head now, rubbing back against his leg and waving
her silken hair about. Her eyes rolled back, the lids shuttering open
and closed. For all her shame in allowing him to use her body, she
enjoyed the sensations all his attention gave her.

Pulling his hand free from the halter's bottom string, Bob caught a
glimpse of the end of her necklace, a little silver cross. He smiled,
and moved it so she couldn't fail to see what he was setting aside. A
huge surge of shame and guilt flowed through her, washing in amongst
the sensations of pleasure. He chose this moment to tweak her nipple
harder than before, bringing another gasp of pain and pleasure from
her soft red lips.

"unna, ooohh...," she moaned.

She strove to suppress the guilt and shame, to enjoy the luxurious
sensations his petting brought out. It was a mixed battle, bringing
out Bob's own arousal.

He played with her. The nipples were sensitive instruments,
controlling her arousal without modifying her mind. She rode about on
his lap, something like the sporadic movement of tree tops in the
wind.

Teasing at her now, he settled back, watching her face enjoy the his
manipulation with only one hand. Then he slowed to a stop. She
settled against his stomach, whimpering.

"I never knew. I never knew how nice it would be," she whispered.

"You still don't. All we did was some gentle petting."

"I, um, thank you."

"We're not done you know."

"No?" She shuddered nervously.

"I just think we'll find someplace else to play."

She sat up, starting to retie the halter in place.

"Don't bother. Take it completely off, now."

"What!?"

"You heard me. We'll both enjoy it more."

"But...," she nearly whimpered.

"I insist. Do as you're told."

"Um, as you say," she said. She hesitantly removed the halter,
handing it to Bob, who tucked the cloth into his rear pocket. He
picked up his things, and they began to walk.

She kept looking about. Afraid someone would see her walking, tits
hanging out, with only the little silver cross over them. Thinking of
the cross brought out another bout of humiliated shame. But Bob knew
she now had become determined to explore the experience a little
longer.

====

The street wasn't empty, and several people were stared at her. No
one said anything, no one would in Brooklyn. But she felt filthy. The
degradation of walking down her own block on the way home, without any
cover over her full breasts, was eating into her composure.

But Bob refused her quiet plea to return the halter top. Walking
under the windows where friends were certain to be looking out.

Worse still was what he was doing as they walked past people she
knew. In the most familiar manner, his arm was around her back. At the
most embarrassing moments, he reached under her arm and cupped her
breast. The fingers pinched her nipples, shooting a fire of pleasure
along the rib cage and up to her throat. The feelings were intense and
so good. She enjoyed the use he was making of her, even before
strangers. Not to mention the friends and neighbors who were watching
her pass.

Bob sucked in the emotion, excited at how she'd reacted. He was also
pretty exhausted, causing so many people to forget seeing the two
of them. There were far more than he expected in the five blocks from
the park.

Beth was near tears, but stoically accepted her fate. The tears
couldn't hide her heightened breathing though. The humiliating walk
came to an end as they entered the hallway to the brownstone. They
entered her family's apartment and a sigh of relief came out.

Bob knew relief would be short lived. He had already probed the
apartment as they entered.

Air conditioning licked along their sweaty bodies. The cool air gave
Beth at least a series of attractive goose bumps. She was very
unsettled, having brought him home for their fun. However, her mother
would be shopping for some time, and Dad wasn't usually home until
eight lately.

As they stood in the living room, Bob cupped her breast and pulled
her face to his for a passionate kiss.

This was the moment Beth's mother stepped into the room from the
kitchen.

"What in the hell?!" she shouted.

"Mother!" Beth's arms tried to cover her nakedness. Red streaks shot
through her complexion, her head hung to one side as though beaten.

"You slut! This is how you repay us?! The Good Lord knows, we've fed
you, clothed you and..." Mrs. Covecce stopped in mid-sentence. Bob
turned to Beth and sucked in the sensations of humiliation,
degradation, and guilt the girl was exuding. His rock hard prick
strained the confines of his trousers.

Then he looked back at the mother.

She also had long jet black hair, the same slender but full figure,
and a delightfully lovely face. Beth must have inherited the brown
eyes from her. Her stern look was gone, dropped into a trance like
state. Her clothing was interesting considering the weather.

She wore a heavy smock like felt shirt, a mid-calf length skirt, and
a pair of sandals. What he could see of her legs were almost
identical to Beth's and her hands looked delicate but strong. The
shirt was billowy enough to conceal the exact shape of her breasts.

She couldn't be older than 37 or 38. Her face just didn't carry the
wrinkles of any more age than that. He figured with a little make up,
the mother and daughter could pass for sisters, twin sisters.

He adjusted her mind symbols. When he let her free again, she would be
in an odd sort of servant mode. She'd do anything for him. She turned
her life over to him for everything until he reset her later. She
still would hold her own views and express them, but she'd defer to
anything Bob wanted.

It was easy enough to do, just not exciting to take her this way. The
conquest wasn't the same. Bob wondered how other Voices got any
excitement without slower incremental control, allowing the other
will to fight back. Then he let go of the thought.

"Beth," he prodded her to look up.

"What?" She looked at her mother, "What did you do to her?"

"Nothing yet. What's her name?"

"Judith, but Dad calls her Judy."

"Sit down in the large chair Judy," he commanded. She walked over
scowling again and sat down. "How would you like to see me fuck your
daughter, Judy?"

"NO!," squealed Beth, "Not in front of mother!"

"Oh yes dear," her mother replied, dripping acid. "You've been such a
slut, you may as well get plugged now. If I get my way, your father
will take a belt to you later."

Her shame rose further, tears welling from the depths of her eyes. Bob
turned her around before her mother, and kissed her passionately. She
responded even more strongly now. Humiliation brought the heat out in
her.

Bob reached for the young woman's tits. He fondled them as he kissed
her, knowing Beth could no longer resist the bright pleasure he gave
her. He pulled back to watch her reaction to being used before her
mother. Her heat was fanned by the crushing pressure on her nipples,
and a moan escaped her throat.

"You little cunt," said the mother, "you've been screwing around all
along, haven't you. Why else would you sound so much like a whore?!"

"moth..." Beth gasped at a sudden twist Bob gave her nipple. "yess."

She staggered in place. Her head swayed with lust.

Bob stopped molesting the girl. He stepped towards her mother. Then
he turned, looking back at the vision of sex standing confused before
him. Uncertainty made her fidget.

"Take the shorts off, and anything underneath too," he commanded.

She stared at him for a moment, then turned away and began undoing the
zipper. While she was doing so he kicked his shoes off, and began to
unbuckle his belt. As the hot pants hit the floor, Bob's trousers hit
too.

She turned around, displaying the curly black hairs at her groin. She
tried to cover the pink parts with her hands, self conscious being
nude before her mother and Bob both.

"Pretty good looking daughter you have, Mrs. Covecce."

"So you're going to rape my baby, are you? What kind of..."

"Save it cunt," he interrupted. "When I'm done with her, you're going
to beg to be fucked too."

"You wouldn't dare! You filthy cretin. Do you really think I'll allow
you to manhandle me that way!?"

"Yes you will, and you'll like it too."

He bit back the anger he'd started to show. It was his own fault, not
taking the time to more completely take the other woman's mind. Just
for fun, he sent ecstatic jolts shooting through the snarling woman.

Like her daughter had reacted in the same role, she blurred into a
sensual haze. Her eyes rolled back, lips parted, and rolling sine
wave like motions began in her body. She moaned and threw her head
back, intently watching his eyes whenever she could keep her own
open. A hand instinctively raised to her mouth, she sucked a knuckle
in past the teeth. Her shoulders arched back, and her abdomen rolled
a little in lustful heat.

He released the hold he'd seized on her nervous system. The symbols
withdrawn, she blinked. Aware how she'd behaved, she turned her head
away. He read the concern in her, a concern that she was no better
than her daughter.

Beth, also watching this, was both aroused and embarrassed by her
mother's heated response. Mothers never have anything to do with sex,
do they? This was a challenging cone young woman. Oh sure,
sex to make babies, but not for fun.

"Now Beth," Bob returned to his initial play thing. The only thing she
still wore was her silver cross. It pleased him to know she imagined
it burned her. It scalded her for sins she believed were about to be
committed. "Sit down on the floor. Spread your legs and touch
yourself."

"I can't do that! Mother told me it would make me sick."

"Hmm, maybe we can fix that." He eyed her mother. "You go join her.
Strip down to your birthday suit and sit along side. You can show her
what to do."

The older woman stood and rather mechanically unbuttoned the shirt,
peeling it back to a black lace bra restraining assets to
compete with her daughter. The skirt restrain her walking stride as
she moved along side her daughter.

She unzipped the skirt, pulling it down around her knees, and finally
over her feet. In equally smooth motions she removed a small slip, and
the bra. Her panties were also black lace, and were soon in the pile
with the rest of her attire.

She sat, spread her legs, and began to rub her clit immediately.

"You spawn of Satan! How can you make me do this?" She startled as
she rubbed the pleasure button. Realization passed across her visage.
"You did this to Beth too! I'll do anything you want, just leave my
baby alone. Please, I beg of you..."

Bob smiled, maybe leaving her in control of her opinions and ability
to speak wasn't such a bad idea. She saw this whole thing as an act of
God's will, the devil's actions for sure. Her own shame was on the
rise, only she was able to express her fears.

"Ahhh!, no, no, no," she said. Her hips had abandoned her control,
and were humping against her hand. Beth joined in, again aroused by
the sight of her own mother, fucking herself with a finger.

Bob enjoyed the bouncing motions the two sets of breasts were making.
Every motion Beth made carried flesh into rolling movements. Judy was
bobbing them up and down as she fingered herself, forcing the flesh
into excited circles.

"Oooooh," Beth made a round shape with her lips, panting, moaning, and
moving as much as her body demanded for the deep feeling.

"Aaaahh, unngg!," cried the mother. She would occasionally whimper and
whine as though she'd been injured. Then a burst of "yes! YES!" would
spout from her lips and she would be moaning again.

He could make out the hands in both cunts, rubbing the pink tissue
with fury. A chorus of moans from the two women grew louder and more
intense.

The mother came first, at least she knew a little of what to expect.

"YESS! YESS!," she screamed, slamming her head from side to side. The
black hair flew about giving the appearance of total abandon. Her body
writhed about, thrashing against the floor. As she finished, her eyes
were filled with tears, sobbing sounds began to come from her.

Beth's moaning had become stronger. She was completely oblivious now
to her mother's state. Her lips swollen in lustful red, she rolled her
tongue along the soft surfaces. Her head bobbed and her eyes slipped
to half mast. She grunted and moaned, occasionally whimpering with
pleasure.

"OH!" Her body went into convulsions. She began to flop about
furiously, and then rigidly pulled herself into a ball. The orgasm
came so quickly and passed just as fast.

Bob finished undressing while the mother and daughter lay side by
side. He knelt beside Beth's head. She smiled.

"That felt so nice." She was still in the haze of after sex pleasure.
He grinned at her. Her mother was looking at the far wall, trying not
to meet his eyes.

"We're not finished yet."

"What should I do?," she asked.

"Get up and suck on my cock."

"Oh. I can't do that."

"Of course you can. You'll find it very exciting."

She turned away a moment. Her mother was unwilling to meet her eyes at
all. Beth got up to a kneeling position and tried to take the stiff
member in her hands. The red nails accented the difficulty she had in
holding his prick. She couldn't bring herself to get a good hold on
it.

He took her, controlling the motions more tightly than before. Her
hand now wrapped about the stem, she leaned forward and opened her
mouth. Tongue out over her lower teeth, she began to lap at him as if
he were an ice cream cone. He pushed arousal signals along the paths
of symbols in her mouth and tongue.

Her excitement grew as she licked and finally sucked him into her
mouth. He could feel the massaging tongue, rubbing the bottom of his
prick. He released control again, now that she was getting involved
more heavily.

She tried to drive him past her teeth into her throat. He'd left a
sense of desire to please him. She worked on evading the gag reflex,
unconsciously aware of his enjoyment being deep inside of her. His
prick slid in and out along her lips. The moisture of her mouth and
the gentle arousal from her tongue were bringing his heat up.

Watching her face, with the cheeks sucked in to aid in producing
vacuum, he could see her eyes were locked on his own face. She watched
him for his release, uncertain what to expect.

He took hold of the back of her head, forcing her to plunge him
deeply. He penetrated her throat, aiding her by modifying her natural
reaction to the cock at the back of her mouth. Her lips rolled
smoothly at the root of his cock, her nose gently pressed his tummy.

Plasma hot semen pumped into her throat, he could feel the spasming
movements inside his cock. The release felt good, her mouth felt
good, his hands clutched in her hair felt good. He breathed in,
trying to recover already.

He let her go. She gasped for breath. When she could control her
breathing again her face grinned up at him in exultation.

"I did it!" As she realized just what she'd done, and the look of
exultation changed to one of startled guilt. Her own pronouncement
brought the tinge of red to her face.

"You sure did," he responded.

Her mother had a look of shock on her face. She was stunned as much by
her baby's happiness at sucking cock as the act itself. Bob grinned,
knowing who controlled the situation in any case.

He sat down on the couch. Crooking a finger to Beth's mother, he
summoned her over.

"Your turn," he tried to sneer, but it came out more like a request.
Although he had no problem dominating his toys, he just couldn't make
himself sound mean yet. "You get it up for me again. No using your
hands either."

Her arms draped across his legs for support, Judy began to lick at his
prick with a bit of disgust, a reaction from her upbringing, not from
her body. Bob realized how she was reacting. He began to give her
shooting sensations of pleasure with each contact of her tongue or
lips. He caused the little jolts to trace down her torso to her tits
and groin. She began to become excited at making contact with his
organ.

Beth watched this, entranced. Her mother was sucking a cock. Sucking
the same cock she'd just finished sucking herself. Her mother seemed
to like it too! Her brown eyes opened wide in amazement. Soon, her
mother
had Bob stiff again, the short third leg hard as before.

Bob stopped her mother, who now seemed reluctant to cease. Judy
allowed
herself to be pushed to the side. Bob was set on taking Beth, getting
a cherry for himself.

Beth looked at Bob's stiff manhood. Although not large, she thought it
huge. She knew she'd had it in her mouth, even to her throat. Yet
somehow it looked too large to fit inside of her.

He began to kiss her. She felt him guide her hands to the object of
her interest. Judy, her mother, was sitting to the side whimpering as
she was left out for now. Beth could see her mother, jaw open, hands
playing with her own breasts. Having her mother watch this left her
feeling very used indeed.

His hands were on the cushions of her chest, now and then twisting at
the nipples, bringing a gasp from her throat. She was panting with
anticipation, wet in her crotch. She tried to thrust her hips into his
body. She needed the physical stimulus.

He took hold of her thighs. Pulling them apart, he exposed her
maidenhood. He was determined to pop her cherry for her. She knew it
was coming, her fluids were dripping now.

"Oh, please, please don't hurt me. Please," came the plea.

He pushed her ankles, slender muscular curves, up above her shoulders,
bending her up double. She tried to hold open her pussy lips for him,
waiting for the violation of her body she now knew was coming.

With a hand to guide himself, Bob pushed the first inch into her. She
whimpered with surprise at the slight pain. Gently, ever so gently, he
pressed forward. The pressure hurt quite a bit. Then suddenly there
was a light tearing and he slipped in further much more easily. The
pain was still there for a moment.

As he began a more rhythmic in and out motion, she felt a pulse of
heat, an energy throbbing up from her cunt. The feeling came from the
top where the length of the prick rubbed hard against her. She began
to buck back against the pressure there, trying to increase the
stimulation.

Bob enjoyed her expressions as they flashed across Beth's innocent
face. A grinding fight against pain to outrageous ecstatic pleasure. A
silent scream to a hazy lost in lust softness. The tight pulled back
lips, exposing teeth as though in anger, to the fish like kissing
motions.

He dropped his face to hers and plunged his tongue into her mouth. She
tried to wrap her arms around the back of his head to pull him deeper
in her mouth. Her legs reached around his hips, using her heels to
pull him into her groin.

The heat rose within her. Like a brushfire it seared her torso,
through her chest to her throat. As they continued to kiss, she
started to scream, forcing her breath into his mouth as she let loose.
She started to whimper and cry as her body continued to lurch through
the rest of its orgasm.

He held back. As she finished her orgasm, he pulled out. She continued
to cry, working into a sobbing mess. He scanned her, but this was just
her recovery from orgasm. She probably would always cry afterwards.
The guilt at feeling so good was tremendous. She slowly recovered,
smiling.

"You best run off and clean up," he told her. There was a bit of blood
showing, the last remnants of her hymen. He grinned as she scampered
off.

He turned to Judy, who was fingering herself.

"You need attention."

"Not from you, you pervert," she snarled.

He blocked her from orgasm using the symbols. Her lust was growing
rapidly, bound to peak even if she didn't come. He excited the sense
of pleasure rising from her clit.

"Hmm, unngh!" The moan dripped from her as she flopped her head to the
side.

"You won't be able to come until I let you. Yet you will get hotter
and hotter as each second passes."

"OOOOOHH!" Long dark hair splayed out behind her, making waves of its
own.

"You'll have to beg for release." He sat down in the chair, relaxing.

"Unnngh!" Her legs straightened out sharply, her hips bucking.

"Hi," Beth said returning to the room. She came to an abrupt halt,
seeing her mother thrashing about on the floor.

"Sit down Beth. Enjoy the show," Bob directed her to the couch. She
sat without taking her eyes off the sensual display.

"OOOOOHH GOD!" Neck muscles taut, the facial expressions Beth's mother
used were of hot struggle. Struggle for release. Bob stepped up the
erotic signals from her chest and groin. He threw in a tingling
sensation along her neck, where a lover might nibble if so inclined.

"PLEASE! STOP THIS!," Judy shrieked.

"You know how to end this already," he replied.

"GOD! YES, PLEASE COME FUCK ME! OOOOOH," and she slipped into a series
of grunting moans. "PLEASE, I NEED IT. AARRH! FUCK ME, FUCK ME."

Bob laid down, allowing his penis to stand up from his waist.

"Why don't you do the work bitch..."

She crept over to him and swung a leg over him. With the slight but
soft fingers of her right hand, she guided the organ into her dripping
slit. Dropping quickly into place, she impaled herself upon his cock.

Immediately she began rocking and grinding into him. A moment later,
Judy had her hands splayed over his chest, head bent forward. Her eyes
fluttered as her hair formed a billowing tent over their heads.

Bob could see her puffy lips, tongue dashing in and out with each
panting breath. Drops of sweat rolled down the sweeping breasts,
swinging before his eyes.

She strove to milk him, trying to clench muscles in her vagina. The
grip was firm, but not real tight. He could feel her tighten and
loosen along his length. Her hips rolled with more and more urgency as
he tweaked her pleasure centers with even more heightening symbols.

"Annngh! UNNG! Annnngh! UNNG!"

Her patterned moaning and grunting got stronger. She leaned back,
jutting the ample mammaries upward from her body as she leaned on her
hands. He reached up and began to twist her nipples. The rest of her
breast's flesh rolled in waves like human jello.

"Oh!" she exclaimed with every sharp brutalization of her nipples.

Bob felt the rush of semen starting to form in his groin. He released
her artificially restrained orgasm, pinching her nipples as hard as
he could.

"AAAA!!!"

Her eyes ground closed, she forced an animalistic grunt through
clenched teeth and tight lips. Every muscle in her body tightened as
hard as rock, the only movement she allowed herself was the wild,
untamed, and violent thrashing of her head. Hair flying every which
way, she shuddered to the core of her being.

His high pressure surge plunged into the depths of her womanhood. The
seed flowing freely from his cock. He grunted through two releases of
semen into her already wet tissue.

She stiffened again. An aftershock of sex hit her, a mild additional
orgasm. The roughness of the act was letting go slowly, giving her
further surges of pleasure up and down. She finally whimpered and
rolled off Bob.

Bob smiled at the ceiling in lustful afterwards reflection.

====

He took the mother once more, making her enjoy herself far more than
she'd ever imagined possible. He took Beth again too, plunging into
her ass since she wasn't on the pill like her mother. Her humiliation
fed his desire to a furious flame.

When he left, the mother was set on learning more about how to please
her husband. So she could get more out of the intimacy as well. Beth
was set on teaching Joe everything she'd learned.

He'd been forced to adjust the two so they wouldn't destroy their
lives trying to get their partners involved.

It was very difficult to work around their theological beliefs without
destroying their personalities. He wondered to himself how the thrust
of Christianity had become so opposed to sexuality. The admonishments
against usury were more severe in the Bible. As far as he remembered,
the admonishments against sex were just warnings that it distracted
from worship. Of course, the pleasant little embarrassments gave him
such a thrill.

He didn't want Beth or her mother without those sweet humiliating
sensations they radiated like beacons. He wasn't sure if he'd ever
see the two women again. But he also kept their phone number.

Serendipity. This leisure pursuit was exhilarating.

====

Peters stood behind Jones. He waited anxiously as Jones and Heather
slipped into the entertainment room Thadeous commonly retired to
after paperwork.

Thadeous was deeply engaged in reading.

Jones pointed to his boss, and nodded to Heather. She nodded back and
began to concentrate. Her brow broke into a sweat, she seemed to
strain, clenching her fists tightly.

"Heather dear," a voice spoke from within the room. "Don't strain
yourself too hard for Jones just now. He didn't know it wouldn't
work."

The well dressed leader of the Institute stood, setting a book aside.

"Peters, I'm surprised to see you. I thought you'd have told Jones to
forget the idea. You knew what would happen."

"I did, but he insisted. I couldn't tell him why. I didn't want the
Spark hurt."

"You go now. Take her with you. Why don't you let her play with her
toy for a while." The reference to Diane set a smile upon the tech's
face. The smile worked itself into a grin.

"Thank you sir."

Peters took the red head by the arm and led her away. Diane would
service him as well, allowing him to play in the brutal manner he
now liked. Heather would guarantee it.

"Jones. What am I to do about you? You know I don't want to send you
to Jezabel." He sighed audibly. "So you finally noticed I never use a
shield?"

"Yes sir." Jones sweated profusely. His little coup d'etat blown by
the most unexpected result. Did this mean the man confronting him was
a Spark too?

"You shouldn't take long to believe I'm a spark." Almost reading his
mind. "But it isn't the case, not at all. I just happen to be immune
to their influence. My uniqueness led to rapid advancement when I
started work for the Institute.

"No, I'm no Spark. But now you tried to use one to take over from me.
Again, what do you think I will do?"

"I expect you'll send me off to her."

"Ha!," the immaculately accoutered man laughed. "Nope. Actually I
can't afford to lose you."

"What then?"

Walking across to the windows, Thadeous breathed out a sigh.

"Look, I know what you want. You want to be able to control people
like that little whore we just chased out. I'm the man who will give
it to you. You need to be patient though. First my goals. We will
control the politicians when we can get the talent to answer to us,
not some half crazy...," he waved his hand in emphasis, "lunatic like
the spark who escaped."

"What are you saying?"

"First we have to get the solutions through technology. That's why it
was so brilliant of you to remember Peters. He worked on the Spark
simulation project. He's been reforming a research team. They need to
finish the work. Without interruption from some rogue Spark who could
tear us all apart, even me."

"So then...?" Jones began to fidget, wondering why he hadn't seen the
need for the completion of research.

"Just stick with me. Between the two of us we can toss Jezabel aside,
and soon we'll run the whole country. Then you can play with the
little sluts to your hearts content. Give me your loyalty. Just stick
with me!"

"Ah, yeah." He looked out the window, looking at the mountainside
below. "Okay. I apologize. I'll stick with your game plan, you just
see to it I get what I want too."

"Deal."

They shook. Jones thought to himself, this is the most human he's ever
acted around me.

Thadeous thought, if I can only hold a team together. It will work
yet.

====

It was a long time...

The trees still stood deep in the mountains of Norway. Trees twisted
with the terrible climatic changes. In a valley below the
Glittertinden,
they sheltered well, prospering despite the ages of Ice and Cold.

At their roots, a translucent red stone remained, sometimes mined for
it's unique qualities. The guardians of the trees had permitted it.
The stone was not really precious, simply unusual, and totally useless
to most people.

A handful of the people passing the valley could be heard. Yet even
now, those same people would only discover the skill if it awakened
for them.

The guardians didn't care, the trees didn't care.

From a far corner of this spinning world, a call came. The skill had
reawakened. An interesting change in the scheme of things.

In time, all the cosmos would grind to a halt and collapse in on
itself again. Trees and guardians were watching. Because it was
their purpose.

Must everything have purpose?

In the deep northern chill, the stars answered with a silent 'no'.

Deep in the Pages

In swarming numbers, the people rushed by, off on their own little
errands. Head above the crowds, Bob mused how tall he seemed in
Chinatown. Smells of oriental cooking wafted along with the more
familiar smells of dense City life.

Tony, the kid's name, had led him here. The boy would have walked the
entire way, but Bob decided a taxi would serve them better. The
expatriate Pakistani driver understood just enough English to get them
downtown.

The narrow side streets were cluttered with little store displaying
signs mostly in the artistic script of China. Because Tony could
understand them, Bob had little difficulty reading the signs. They
went down an alley with a sign touting printing services.

Like most alleys, this one was narrow, with fire escape ladders on
either side. Trash bins were against the walls, some missing their
lids entirely. A rotting smell impacted Bob like a brick. He could
sense the intelligences behind hidden eyes, watching them pass.

At the end of the alley, they came to a red enamel painted door. Tony
looked about furtively, then knocked. Bob reached through the door,
and took hold of the guard whose duty it was to screen visitors.

The door opened quickly. Tony led the way in.

He led along a gaudily decorated hallway, something like a bad Chinese
restaurant. Tony waved Bob to follow him up some stairs.

Bob locked onto every mind he could find along the way, planting
seeds of loyalty to himself. He didn't want to leave in too much of a
hurry.

On the second floor, they passed through a barroom filled with young
oriental girls. Most of them in stylized dresses, with carefully
prepared makeup, some dressed very skimpily. Bob didn't need to read
their minds to know what they were here for. Thoughts of lust
emanated from the small rooms beyond. The girls were mostly bored.

Another set of stairs, Bob knew he'd get winded if they climbed the
entire building by stairway. It turned out this was the last flight.
They passed through a heavy, possibly metal, doorway at the top.

A very tastefully oriental decor graced the room they entered. An
equally tasty looking young lady sat a reception desk before the only
other exit. Her pale face was round and smooth, her olive complexion
brought out the color in her seemingly slanted eyes. Her jet black
hair was pinned in place atop her head with carefully crafted hair
sticks.

Tony walked up to the desk.

"I'm here to see Chi."

"Tony, you know you're supposed to call first." Her voice was soft and
seductive even with a scolding tone. "Who is this guy?"

"This is Bob..." he stopped as Bob waved him to silence.

"Let me lead you in," the now completely controlled receptionist said.

She stood gracefully, as though accustomed to being ornamental. Her
walk was a gliding motion, feet out of sight in her long dress, a
silky white thing with stylized red dragons on it. She opened the door
behind the desk and stepped through.

Bob followed, with Tony following respectfully behind.

The door entered into a large office. The decor was similar, a Bonsai
at the corner of a great Oak desk. The woman led them to one of three
other doors and through to yet another room.

This was a bedroom. A large bed graced the center of the room and on
it an older Chinese man was obviously at his pleasure with two very
young girls. None of them noticed the intruders immediately.

"Mr. Chi," spoke the receptionist. Her voice remained enticingly
desirable, even with the stress of interrupting her boss. Yet when
Chi broke away from intercourse, there was white rage in his eyes.
Before he said anything, she gestured to Bob. "This gentleman is here
to see you and it was urgent."

"Cindy, you will suffer for this indignity. You knew I wasn't to be
disturbed!"

"Forgive the girl, Mr. Chi. She had no choice." Bob interceded without
controlling Chi. Yet.

"Just who the hell are you!?"

The two girls had scrambled to the side and were covering themselves
with sheets. Bob noticed they were twins. How very interesting. He
waved the receptionist and Tony to step out and settled into a chair
before answering the Tong equivalent of Godfather.

"I'm the man who can walk through any defense you create without
anyone seeing me."

"Ninja? You can't be, if I was to die, I'd never know."

"Ninja!? I thought they were a myth."

"They are, for the most part. There are killers though, good ones,
some who think they are Ninja. It would not surprise you to know I
thought you were one such? Do you mind?" He nodded towards his
clothes.

"Oh no, by all means. Get dressed. But while you do, I'd like to
talk."

"Okay. You know my guards will tear you apart when they get here?"

"They won't. But that's unimportant." Bob admired the two sisters
cowering to the side. He flung out a control probe, making them drop
their sheets, and displaying themselves for his scrutiny. "Yesterday,
I was in Brooklyn. This wouldn't be important normally, but it was to
investigate why a pair of goons tried to kill me recently. As you
might imagine, I was quite upset."

Chi simply nodded, acknowledging the remark. He'd pulled on his pants,
and was working on his shirt. His jacket lay folded in a neat, if
bumpy, pile along with his tie.

"After my business dealings on the subject, I found myself wandering
one of the local parks. In that same park, the young man who just
stepped out found me. He made the second attempt on my life. Oddly
enough, he received his instructions from you. Or so he says."

The man now held a pistol pointed at Bob. Bob took control of the arm
and forcing it to the side, making Chi's thumb reset the safety. Chi
looked stunned at the actions of his own body.

"As you now can see, I don't need your cooperation. It just suits me
not to overuse my skills."

"Seven Hells! How did you do that?"

"Think of me as a Sorcerer. You seem to already have that concept in
mind. Yes, I think Sorcerer will explain it best in these digs."

"What do you want of me?"

"For starters, I think I'll take the Wu sisters home with me today.
You should make a gift of them to me. They look like exquisitely fine
fucks." By now they were poised beside Bob, legs crooked in a model's
stance, chests thrust forward to show their small but firm breasts,
and their arms spread palms out in supplication.

The man's rage reappeared. He didn't like his ownership of the two
little harlots begin dismissed so easily. He had waited for these two
to reach sexual maturity for years.

His anger passed quickly, replaced by calculated thinking. He
realized the veiled threat implied by Bob's manipulation of the two
girls.

"I'll tell you anything you want, but my orders came through channels
from the Tong's national leadership. All I was told was to send
someone to get you, someone expendable."

"Yup, that's Tony. If anyone's expendable, he is. So how did you know
to get me in Brooklyn?"

"I was told you'd be there. Not why."

"How come you actually talked to Tony yourself, instead of some
lesser thug in the Tong?"

"Ha!" The older man laughed for a moment. "I can see you know little.
I shall explain. It will amuse me while I contemplate the method of
your demise.

"I received orders to see to making the arrangements myself. Tony was
chosen because of the combination he had shown of devotion and
disposability. I would not violate honor throwing away someone with
such loyalty not knowing what had been lost. I see his loyalty was
more changeable than I believed. His entire family will be punished.
He should have died before yielding up the Tong."

"You know how little control over his loyalty he had against my
talents. Why do you still need to punish him and his family?"

"The cause does not matter, only what his actions matter. Others
would sway like so many reeds in the wind if his example became
known."

Bob finally scanned through the man's mind. Mostly he'd told the
truth. Chi cared only for Chi. He knew exactly how to run his
organization, and New York was his venue. This thing was an
embarrassment because he'd had to dirty his own hands. He didn't like
that much.

A little kernel of omitted fact had remained withheld from Bob. The
higher organization had only passed on the contact. A man in a church
in Harlem. All the information came from the unusual black man, even
where Bob would be, although not why.

Bob ran his hands along the sides of the two girls, one now to either
side of his chair. They sighed, letting their heated and lustful
desire show. He let them writhe, anxious for his touch.

The Tong boss was irritated by this act. He couldn't get them to
respond so, and if they did it would be a performance, not genuine
lust. He controlled himself rather than anger the frightening self
styled sorcerer.

It didn't matter much, Bob would do as he pleased with any man
ordering his death. Even if only a middle man in the operation.

Bob adjusted Chi's memory. This had been a pleasant and profitable
meeting, or so he'd remember. As a gift of friendship, he'd given the
two girls to Bob. The entire assassination issue never happened. And
Tony's family would be safe too.

Bob didn't really want the twins. Their little bodies were ravaged by
drugs and abuse, and he simply couldn't bring himself to leave them
here. He also wanted to do something decent, to assuage his own sense
of virtue. He would do a serious job of reprogramming their lives, as
soon as they all left.

For his own pleasure though, he did bring Cindy along. That breathy
voice was so hot, he wanted to hear more of it.

Soon he would have to visit 121st Street, reaching into the heart of
Harlem. He'd heard so many bad things about the primarily Black
neighborhood. It didn't sound like much fun.

====

The offices of Schmitz, Martin & Lear had an unusual aspect to them.

The offices weren't so much those of a Law Firm, as the placard
outside suggested, as that of a private club. It made sense since the
club was the Cabal.

Past the receptionist, oddly enough a pert little oriental ethnic
lady, were what appeared to be fully functional offices. Anyone
walking to the back would come across a bored looking security guard.
Ostensively he appeared to be guarding the file vault.

In reality, he was the last check point before entering the expansive
suites of bedrooms and entertainment rooms. There was even a
substantial dining room complete with serving staff. It was more like
a concealed hotel and brothel than anything else.

In fact, there were quite a few staff members. Almost all of them very
pretty or handsome, depending on choice of gender. For some members,
this was a dumping ground for used toys, former mind slaves who could
just be set free. They liked to trade the mutes they'd found though,
and kept stock on hand for large parties.

Bob felt he understood Charles disgust with the members at the
leadership level. It was simple enough to release these people to
live more or less normal lives. It wasn't as if there was any shortage
of mutes around.

One of the servant girls walked up to him. Her blouse was a revealing
silk affair that left nothing of her ample breasts to the imagination.
She bobbed in front of him, smiling. She struck a pose intended to
give maximum access to any part of her body he wanted to touch.

"Master Charles will see you now. Would you like me to lead you to
him?"

"Yes," before she turned he gently caressed her right breast with his
left hand. He could feel the soft skin wasn't restrained by a bra,
her nipple hardening immediately. She sighed, contented at any use
made of her.

"Oh yes, I do like that," she breathed out in a sultry tone. She
offered, "I'd love to make you happy with me."

Her eyes locked onto his, pleading to be treated as a toy.

Partly because it was too easy, partly because he wasn't the one
controlling her, he dropped his hand to his side. She shrugged, as if
waking from a pleasant dream, and walked off. He followed, admiring
the lilt her heart shaped bottom had with her steps.

She opened a door, waving him in. He had no doubt that if he pulled
her in with him, she'd gleefully perform any act he wanted. As he
looked her in the eye, she winked seductively at him. He stepped into
the room.

It appeared to be a sitting room. There were many sitting rooms in
these offices. This one had high backed, deep cushioned chairs,
upholstered in thick red velvet.

Before him, in one of the chairs, sat the enforcer of the Cabal. The
Inquisitor they named him. The man looked like a college professor,
in relaxed clothing, a brown sports jacket and gray slacks. He'd
added one element to his general appearance since Bob first met him.
Charles was affecting a pipe habit.

At the far wall, a TV encased in a cabinet blared. Bob caught a
glimpse of someone pounding away at a pulpit with a red covered, gilt
edged book. Ah, some Holy Roller, preaching from the boob tube. The
TV clicked off as Charles pointed a little black box its general
direction. Charles was certainly interested in the God business
lately.

"Much as I hate the idea, he may be one of ours. If so, he's got to be
reined in. Too much political involvement." The voice came from the
deep chair. After a moment, Bob realized Charles was talking about the
pulpit pounder.

Charles turned and broke into his best 'for company' smile. Bob
wondered if Jorge would have to do the job, dropping his search for
the Institute.

"How do you like the Big Apple?" The remote control box was put to
the side.

"I'd like it better if people didn't keep trying to kill me."

"Jorge said something had happened. A couple guys at one of the local
eateries?"

"And yesterday a kid with a rifle in a park."

"I didn't know there was a second attempt. The good Lord must be
watching over you."

"Yeah? More likely I've been watching over me."

"I suppose it's possible the Institute knows you're in the City. How
is beyond me, though."

"Could be. You got any further leads on those clowns?"

"No. Jorge thought he had a hot lead in Seattle, but it didn't pan
out. We haven't uncovered anything at the 'rehabilitation center' to
chase after either."

"I see." Bob slid into one of the seats. There was something to be
said for a nice soft chair.

"What has Jorge told you?"

"He just says he's working on it. Then he tells me to come talk to you
if I want any more help. Say, there is something you could tell me..."

"If I can."

"Tell me the history of the Cabal."

"The Cabal as we know it got it's name under the reign of Charles II
of England..."

"No, no. Before that, it must be older than that."

"Well, I'm a little sketchy. There are some official archives. They're
in Scandinavia. But I can tell you a few things.

"No one really knows when it started. The first telepaths to band
together in a mutual protection society did so before the dawn of
time. At least, before records were kept of it. Keep in mind they
lived as parasites on the civilizations going at the time, and as
such didn't bother much with their own records until later than
everyone else.

"The earliest records I heard of date to Crete. There were some pretty
bizarre happenings, but back then the Voice was just a manifestation
of the will of the Gods. Barbarous brutes.

"In Greece and Macedonia, a small group under the control of a man
named Aristenes wandered aimlessly for a while. We found some records
of them, referred to as the Ghostly Ones. From time to time they'd
enter one of the City States and make off with a bunch of women or
supplies, leaving as little memory of their visit as possible.

"The Romans were the first to actively persecute telepaths. They were
executed as dangerous soothsayers. This was when the first real
organization thrived. Back then we were the Senatus Secretus or some
such Latin thing, the Secret Senate.

"Over the years, the group operated as puppet masters. They pulled the
strings behind the political scenes for some time. Then a few of them
fell out amongst themselves. There were some pretty brutal wars
fought. You look in the history books and see internal conflict. The
period of Caligula was particularly bad. What I see is the
manipulation in striving to dominate other telepaths by military
force.

"It was quite messy for a while. It wasn't until the middle ages,
oddly enough still from Rome, that the leadership reconciled. They
immediately set about trying to create rules to protect themselves
against armed conflicts they'd created.

"Not that any of them gave a damn about the mutes. No, it was self
preservation they were worried about. When entire civilizations go to
war, everybody goes to hell and no one is safe. God bless, it was one
thing they did right.

"There were a few rogues back then too though. Various different Kings
surged forth with ideas of conquest. Advisors were thick as flies.
Often there was someone with a Voice amid the flies.

"So the Senate put together a team of Voices to enforce the
unofficial rules. They banded together through whatever was the best
communication channel at the time, and tracked any Voice breaking
cover."

Charles banged the pipe he held against his palm.

"Back then it was easier to cover up the damage. It was also much more
likely any rogue Voice would be executed rather than persuaded. This
century, there have been a few high profile Voices. We've done the
best we could to control them."

"Like who?," Bob broke in.

"Many should be obvious. Adolf Hitler who had a whole set of Voices
following him. Josef Stalin, and oh yeah, another World War II name,
General MacArthur. Here in the '50s, Joe McCarthy. A man named Jim
Jones who led a religious cult. There have been a few popular Rock
stars you won't remember because their music was awful, but their
concerts were great. Some Country/Western musicians, and not a few
movie moguls, even Howard Hughes. Hollywood draws Voices like a
magnet, I've got three permanent agents there now. How about Nick
McFarrin? There's a name you won't know."

"Nick McFarrin?"

"All the nonsense about the conspiracy to assassinate Kennedy had to
come from somewhere. Nick did it."

"Ho ho!" Bob chortled. "All that huzzah, and some guy with Voice was
behind the whole thing?"

"Yup. Didn't like Kennedy's space program stuff. Real obscure reason,
eh?..."

Charles paused, looking up at the ceiling in disbelief for a moment
before continuing.

"Anyway, we've been running under pretty much the same loose
organization since the days of Rome. We just added some rules to
protect ourselves. The name change happened because some bright Duke
in England proper put two and two together. It added up to the Secret
Senate and so he started a Witch hunt. The organization dissolved for
a short while, after he'd executed a few of the leadership. Turned out
he was immune to control or something.

"It was pretty rough for a time I'm told. But we don't have an
official historian. Just a sparse bunch of old records, carefully
kept up by the mutes brought in to do tedious work. They think they're
monks, by the way.

"After that, the name Cabal stuck. Some idiot recently suggested we
change it again to something like Illuminati. Read too much popular
fiction in my opinion. So the old titles remained even with the name
change, Inquisitor was the original title. Originally some kind of
sergeant at arms."

"What are you going to do about these attempts to kill me?"

"Nothing. It's your problem. I suggest you go borrow a few detectives
from the police to investigate for you. It's what any other Voice
would do."

"You're joking, right?"

"Nope. I have real problems. The Institute for one. The idiot on the
TV when you came in for another."

"But it is the Institute!"

"When they show up with mind shields, then I'll believe they represent
the Institute. In the meantime, they're just mysterious goons.
Possibly just working for some gangster husband you've upset. You can
handle that yourself."

"Umm." Bob sat and contemplated. They both stared into space a while.

"I have to leave," Charles finally said. "Have fun while you're here.
Adieu."

Charles walked out, leaving the door slightly ajar.

Bob felt as though he had peered into the glass bottom of one of those
eight ball prediction gimmicks. 'Answer hazy, try again later' kept
coming up.

A clock ticked mechanically over the fireplace he hadn't paid any
attention to. Since there was no help to be had here, he'd have to
back track the would be killers himself. A chill crept down his
spine.

"Hello?" came a woman's voice from the door.

"Yes?"

"Oh, I thought there wasn't anyone here. I was going to clean up.
Never mind." She turned to leave.

"Wait," called Bob.

She turned back. He looked her over. Shapely, a bit bustier than most
women, she wore a simple little maid's outfit. Her blonde hair was
styled into an attractive perm ending at her bare shoulders. The legs
she displayed curved eloquently atop 4 inch heels. Her stockings were
straight, showing a neat little line up the backs as she turned.

"Step in here."

She walked forward, her bustline wobbling nicely.

"What's your name?"

"Jodi."

He appraised her carefully. She was in very good physical condition,
even if she'd been adjusted by someone else. He probed her gently.

The blundering fool who made her a mind slave wasn't very subtle. The
changes were implanted as though with a lead brick. Bob spent the next
few minutes undoing the total suppression of her personality. At least
the parts obliterating her ability to show initiative came away
without too much trouble.

He was beginning to see why the other members didn't cut their slaves
loose afterwards, they couldn't. If all the mind slaves were like
this, they couldn't function in normal social lives without going
insane. They'd all be entirely imprinted sex toys with limited other
skills.

He shook his head with mild disgust. Why throw away other useful
skills? Maybe Charles already knew about this incredible waste. He
returned to examining the full grown woman, now toy.

He kept her under a mild control yet brought back the Jodi who
apparently had worked in the garment district. He reflected on what he
learned about her prior life, deciding the new one wasn't much worse.
Her life as no more than sex toy automaton would soon be over, but
she'd still serve some time as his personal pet for the evening.

He kept her at his side, setting her to believe she was his girlfriend
dating back to high school. She knew for certain they'd done
everything together a sex crazed couple could do, and she loved it.
She practically clung to him. He'd have to reset that as well.

On the way, he spotted the servant he handled delicately earlier. She
smiled as he slipped his hand into her crotch to serve as a come
along. He suddenly felt very hedonistic.

====

The bedroom sported a king sized bed, a bathroom off the side, enough
room for entertaining with furniture to do so. There were a plethora
of inanimate sex toys in a rack along the wall as well.

Bob closed the rack of sexual paraphenalia, snapping it shut to avoid
looking at some of the more esoteric devices. Implements of torture
were definitely not what Bob wanted.

He turned to look at the two women waiting by the couch. Jodi looked
confused, as though she'd been absent and only just returned. Her
maid's outfit continued to accent her shapely body. She simply wasn't
as relaxed as before.

The other servant was Naomi. She poised for whatever use he might
make of her. Her legs placed perfectly, her breasts straining the
silk blouse, she even tilted her head back nicely to display the soft
skin of her neck, available for his lips and teeth.

He allowed Naomi to preen for him. He began rooting around in her
mind the way he'd explored Jodi. In a matter of moments he'd changed
the severe impression forcing her into a robot to something more
closely approximating an erotic sex partner. He hoped.

She remained poised as before. The difference was that he was
unquestionably her owner. She was no longer a horny free for all
nympho, but instead a devoted lover determined to please her man. No
matter what he asked of her. He'd done what he could to increase her
sexual response, and improved on the sensitivity of her nervous system
wherever he could.

"Remain posed for me. Stand so your attractive sex stands out for
everyone to see."

She smiled, showing the slightest hint of her pearly whites behind the
moist red lips. She allowed her head slight tilts to either side,
eyes fluttering as though in ecstatic leisure.

He enjoyed the little display a few minutes, then turned to look at
Jodi. She was prepared to be used as well, although uncertain how
she'd gotten where she was. Her memories of the last two years had
been completely embedded in the forced automaton mind set. She could
recall the trip from the sitting room to here.

Good, he thought. It should get more pleasant now these two are real
people again rather than mere puppets. God almighty, what a mess.

"Jodi, why don't you come over here in front of Naomi. Face her," he
added. "She'd like to see you play with yourself."

Jodi complied with her instructions. Standing before the lightly
swaying Naomi, she lifted her skirt, revealing a patchy covering of
hair. She started to rub herself, looking Naomi in the eyes.

"Oh," Jodi mumbled, "oh my."

Bob slipped up behind Naomi. He reached around the front of her
clasping her breasts lightly with his hands.

"Oh yes!," the woman reacted by trying to grind her ass back against
his groin. His fingers worked her nipples, erect already, causing her
to issue animalistic moans.

Jodi's jaw hung slightly open, her tongue jammed into the corner of
her mouth as she strained fingering herself standing up. Her eyes were
hazed over with the passion of one striving for orgasm, pushing for
it.

Bob brought his right hand behind the woman he was physically using at
the moment. She tried to wriggle against him, but he pushed her bottom
forward and lifted her skirt. Gently, he slipped his middle finger
between the cheeks of her ass, and in her by the back door.

"Yike!" She tried to stand even higher on her toes as she yelped. The
heels she wore already giving her odd balance problems, the result was
a half stagger step forward. Bob stimulated her with the symbols at
her groin and she let out a low hiss of heated lust, staring straight
into the eyes of the woman heaving before her.

Jodi was busy rubbing her chest through the fabric of the flimsy
blouse the servants had to wear. Since she wore no bra, she had easy
access to her nipples without really undressing. Her sweat made all
the bumps of her nipples stick out visibly anyway, their stiff shapes
jabbing the wet fabric.

"Put your hands on her shoulders," Bob directed the woman under his
hands.

"Oh, uh huh," With a staggering step, Naomi placed her hands on the
other woman's shoulders, allowing her head to droop as she panted.

Bob stepped back, and peeled off his own clothing. His cock was erect,
the two waiting sex toys either gasping or panting out their lust.

The bed was large enough, he decided. Sitting at the edge, he felt the
surface of the cover. Finding it was soft and comfortable, he decided
not to strip it to the sheets.

The women were still standing together, Jodi frantically fingering
herself, Naomi panting with her head down. He reached out some symbols
and sent a flood of pleasure through Jodi.

"OH GOD!" squealed the blonde. Shuddering in her standing position,
she struggled not to fall. "YESSS, YESSS, YESSS!"

A moment latter, weak kneed and exhausted she whimpered as she
continued to try arousing herself with her fingers. He hadn't told her
to stop.

"Okay Jodi, you can stop now," Bob tried again to change her to allow
her more initiative. It was very difficult to fix the damage the other
members had done here. "Why don't the two of you come over here, lick
me, and give me a nice display of you at my cock?"

Smiling with a heated inner desire Naomi was the first to reach the
side of the bed. She bent, stopping to push her tongue into his mouth
in a passionate kiss. Then she knelt, and wrapped her long fingers
about his prick.

A pink tongue tip slipped out between her red lips and started to
caress the glans. The soft velvet touch left Bob drawing in his own
sharp breath.

Jodi was pulling her clothing off as she approached the bed. She took
off the skirt and the blouse. Her hair remained bouncy despite the
sweat from her earlier exertion. She was naked quickly, and bent
before him for a kiss, easily as passionate as Naomi's, breasts
swaying beneath her as she leaned.

Then she too bent to her knees, watching Naomi engulf the head of his
manhood in her mouth. Looking for an opening, she stretched her neck
forward, allowing her to nip at the shaft of his cock as the other
woman pulled back. Jodi tried to work her lips over his cock, pushing
Naomi aside with a sisterly kiss on her lips.

They traded turns, each one plunging the length of his prick with
their mouth, making tasty slurping sounds as they went. Occasionally
they paused to neck for a moment with each other. He placed his hands
on the tops of their heads, allowing the mouths to suck him in at
will. Neither had trouble with gag reflexes. They had been trained
to perform this way before.

He was pleased to watch as they would took breaks to duel with their
tongues
over the trunk of his prick, both licking at him and each other. It
was time to do something else, he decided.

"Naomi, on your back, spread 'em," and he took Jodi's arm in his hand.
"Once she's in place, I want you to start licking her. Make her come
for me. But I want your dainty little tush up in the air. I'm going to
enter you while you eat."

"Oh God! I really want you in me."

"Me too," added Naomi.

"Oh, I'm sure you would. Play with your lovely tits sweetheart, I
want to see erect nipples while you're being eaten."

Jodi climbed up on the bed, placing her face in the spread crotch
before her. She began to lick and tease the outer lips with her
tongue. Naomi started to let her head roll as her pleasure rose.
Jodi's hips remained up, she kept her place on her knees.

Bob saddled up behind her, holding his prick in his hand. He rubbed
the swollen member against Jodi's slit. Finding the opening moist and
ready, slid in, enjoying the tightness around him. Once completely
in, he took hold of either side of her waist, and started his motion.

His thrusts pushed Jodi forward, pressing harder against Naomi's cunt.

Naomi sighed lightly. With both of her nipples between her fingers,
she looked down at the engorged flesh of her breasts. She was
engaged in watching her own arousal, abdomen writhing about with
partly involuntary response.

Jodi's tongue was trying to reach inside Naomi. She thrust it in as
far as possible but only got an inch or two past the outer lips. Her
round little chin would slip in a little too, bringing a gasp from the
woman beneath her face.

Bob watched the woman's head bobbing forward and back as he pumped
into her. Her hair floated along the other woman's thighs. He could
sense the light sensations of pleasure tickling up to Naomi's hips. It
had a soft luscious glow to it as the heat rose within the prone
woman.

"Ohnnggha!" Naomi moaned, mouth open, tongue showing behind her teeth
and lips. She repeated the moan, "Ohnnggha!"

His penis was as deep as he could plunge inside Jodi when he saw Naomi
begin to come. Her head twitched violently from the rising orgasm,
hair forming a halo on the bed beneath. Her shoulders arched, flinging
her head backwards.

"AYYIEEEE!" she screamed. "YESS!"

Jodi kept lapping away, whenever she could get in position at the
screaming woman's cunt. Bob was pounding into her harder than before,
enjoying the soft cushion her ass was providing him.

He could feel pulsing heat throbbing up from his scrotum. His prick
was swelling with the plunging semen, rushing to it's destiny. The
seed spilled into Jodi's burning pussy, heading deeper than his prick
could reach.

He used the symbol's to force an orgasm from Jodi, while he knew he
was still coming. He shot the symbols of fast and brutal release
through her cunt and abdomen.

Jodi's head flung back suddenly. She gripped the legs to either side
of her tightly in her arms, digging her fingers into the flesh with
intensity. Although Bob couldn't see her face, she was obviously
contorted into a mask of total release.

"OHHH. OHHH. OHHH GOD! FUCK ME! PLEASE FUCK! ME! AIEEEEEE!" she let
loose a stream of yelling while her head slammed from the right to the
left and back again. She struggled to pull away from Bob as she hit
what she thought was the peak. He didn't let her. He forced another
spasm through her body with a jolting thrust of his own final orgasm.

"Unnng!" grunted Bob.

"AIIIEEEEYAA GODDAMNIT YESS!" screamed Jodi.

"Ahhh," sighed Bob, coming down again.

Jodi collapsed forward onto Naomi, who pulled her close. They lay
there panting, all trying to catch their breath. Their sweat mingled
as they all bundled close together.

====

After lying there for a while, the women went off to the bathroom.
They refreshed their makeup, starting to straighten up the room
afterwards.

Bob watched with amusement as they went through the cycle of chores
they'd assigned themselves. They were still naked as the day they were
born. Yet they tried to make every movement enticing to him, habits of
service here at the Cabal's offices.

Watching Naomi's buns wag as she bent down to collect her shoes was an
exciting turn of events. She didn't simply bend, she sort of rolled
herself at the waist. The hint of curly pussy hair between her thighs
was an attractive reminder he hadn't really entered her yet.

He decided it was time to rectify this little matter.

"Naomi, I want you to bend over the couch so I can look at your lovely
little tush," he commanded.

Naomi shrugged, and set aside the work she was doing. She lay herself
across the back of the couch, head in the cushions, ass in the air.
Jodi stopped flattening out the bed sheets, curious if her attention
would soon be demanded as well.

"Is there any oil in the bathroom?," he asked her.

"Yes my love, I will get it for you," Jodi hurried from the room. Soon
she returned with a bottle of baby oil.

"Rub it into her cheeks, then into her ass."

Jodi turned, and poured the oil into her hand. She rubbed her hands
together for a few moments, then started to massage the oil over the
prostrate woman's ass. As she worked it into the crack, she started to
work a finger into Naomi's little rosette. She added a touch more oil.

Bob remembered exploring the exposed tush with his own fingers
earlier. A smile crossed his face. He picked up the oil and began to
massage his presently limp cock. Then he changed his mind.

"Jodi, come get me hard for Naomi."

Jodi looked back, and smoothly went from feeling the other woman to
rubbing the oil along his prick. Her fingers glided along the
hardening prick, stiffening from contact with her hand. Bob let out a
low groan of his own.

Jodi smiled knowingly at him, pleased with her arousal of his cock.
Happy she had in some way pleased her man.

Now stiff, he stepped to Naomi's bottom. Prying her cheeks apart, he
exposed the small hole, her back door. Naomi squirmed enough to move
her head, allowing her to see Bob behind her. He gave her his best
reassuring smile, and rubbed the head of his prick against the little
pucker.

"Yike!," she squealed as he pushed in the first inch of the head of
his cock. She writhed a bit more, either from discomfort or from
pleasure, he couldn't tell without probing her right now. He decided
to enjoy her without snooping for a moment. He pressed in further,
letting the tight muscles ease back after each inch.

"Oh my god, it's huge, oooh noo," the woman groaned.

Bob knew he wasn't huge, but she obviously felt he was.

"I, uh, I've never taken someone like this before," she told him. He
plunged another inch in. "OOOH!"

Her eyes were wide open, surprise showed across her brow. He wondered
if it were true. The idea she would be a sex toy here and no one used
her this way before surprised him. He didn't think it mattered too
much though.

He plunged into her to the hilt. She gasped again, tears at the
corners of her eyes.

Building an in and out motion took a few minutes. She wasn't
accustomed to his prick in her ass. She began to respond however, with
some excitement as the activity became more rhythmic.

"oh yes! more," she mumbled into the couch.

Jodi stepped around to sit on the couch. A moment later she was
playing with Naomi's nipples, pinned against the cushions.

Bob could feel his balls slapping against the outer cunt lips beneath
the entry he'd chosen. Each slopping sound elicited another gasp from
the woman he was using. She tried to press back against him, but the
position she was in left her completely helpless.

He pounded against the helpless and frantic woman. Pistoning into her
nether hole, Bob felt her clamping down on him. Her countenance had
taken on the glow of someone approaching ecstatic freedom.

"Unngh," the moan rose from her throat, "oooh yesss."

Jodi bent to Naomi's exposed nipple, sucking it into her mouth.

"AAAH YESS," the pinned woman shuddered violently. Then she pealed out
a stronger scream, "AIAIIIIIEEEEEYESSSS!"

Bob found the surge come up within himself as well. The clenching
sensations of orgasm brought a tightening pulse, thrusting the seed of
his body into her.

Bob grunted out again. Pushing into her again forcefully. Then he
stopped, embedded within her ass.

"Now tell me how you feel, Naomi."

"Weak. Very, very weak," she muttered sleepily.

Jodi looked pretty satisfied with the whole thing. Pleased at the
outcome.

Bob finally withdrew to the sounds of whimpering from Naomi. She
hadn't wanted him to leave her. Bob smiled at her delightful floating
afterglow.

"You better get dressed," he told the girls. Then he wandered to the
bathroom to get a shower. Standing under the running water would be
very relaxing about now.

====

"Excuse me, but I don't get it."

"What don't you get, Jones?"

"Why we stopped the scanning, the electronics work just fine."

Thadeous put down his pencil, and leaned back at the desk.

"Sit down."

Jones pulled one of the stiff wooden chairs over from the work table.
He brushed the seat. Then he sat down smoothly, facing his boss.

Thadeous leaned forward again to speak.

"We know where the spark is. He's in New York. We also know he's
virtually undetectable to scanners."

"Yes, but we can pick up other sparks. All we need to do is pull our
staff away from any area he comes near."

"You miss the point. If he can evade scanners, other sparks can too.
We can't have any of them finding some of our people. No, it's better
to allow financial to hunt. We caught more that way before in any
case."

"Oh." He pondered a moment. "It's an awfully low probability event.
Isn't it an acceptable risk?"

"When we still had the facilities of the research center, yes. Now as
we scrape for every qualified staffer, no."

"What about this spark, this Robert Lawrence? Shouldn't we do
something about him?"

"No need. My instructions say he will be taken care of. Don't sweat
it. You worry about getting the staff running. I'll worry about the
loose spark. okay?"

Glumly, Jones nodded.

"We've got other work to concentrate on," Thadeous repeated softly.

====

Betty greeted Bob at the door. She looked freshly fucked, having that
glow about her of one who has recently come.

Bob grinned. The girls must have been playing. She wore a narrow
bathing suit that covered her just enough to be decent if a stranger
had been outside the door. He found her sweet ass still enticed him.

"Well. What's going on?"

"Oh," she turned red, still little priggish. "We've been playing."

"Tell me who started it."

She turned her head in embarrassment.

"I was cleaning the room, it wasn't my fault. Really."

"Oh yeah?"

"Randi started it," she pouted. "All I did was walk around her while I
was cleaning."

"So what happened?"

"She tried to grab me. I told her I was busy," Betty stuck her nose up
in the air. "The silly dyke didn't like my answer."

Bob looked at her, wondering if the adjustments he'd made were wearing
off. Then he realized she'd been teasing Randi on purpose.

"So what did she do?"

"Went to Bambi to complain." She pouted again.

"And?"

"Bambi made me eat Randi out, right then and there." She looked down,
grinning, but shuffling her feet. "Then she fucked me twice with those
toys you bought us." Her grin got bigger with this last statement.

"Good. Oughta teach you not to tease if you won't follow through."

"But I'd have been happy to make it with Randi," she protested. "I
just wanted a little more, um, playing first."

"I don't think Randi sees it as playing, sweetheart. Teasing her only
gets her real hot and anxious."

"oh."

"Where are Randi and Bambi now?"

"Bambi got excited watch me and Randi. She's making Randi."

Bob laughed aloud. Couldn't leave the girls alone for a minute.

"And Cindy? That tasty little oriental girl I brought home?"

"She's in the hot tub." She pouted again. "You said we couldn't play
with her until you took her."

"Thank you. Why don't you go clean up. I'd like you in something more
concealing for a while. Find some nice way to dress to turn me on."

Spritely, she turned on her heels. "Yes sir, master sir."

Grinning Bob walked towards his bedroom. Pounding and thumping,
combined with the sounds of two women gasping or moaning with lust
reached his ears.

He stepped inside the bedroom.

On the floor, not even in the bed, the large bosomed woman was pinned
underneath the brunette. Randi had Bambi pinned at the wrists. The
short haired woman was thrashing about as Randi, wearing a strap on
dildo, fucking away madly at brown cunt beneath her.

"Oh! God! YES! YES! YESSSS!" came screeching from Bambi. The
brunette grunted from the exertion of fucking her. "YESS!"

"oooohhh," came the sigh from the orgasming woman as she started to
wind down from the pounding she'd taken.

Randi looked up and noticed Bob. She grinned proudly, as if to say
"look what I did." She kept Bambi pinned however, dildo pushed deeply
in her pussy.

He smiled back.

There just had to be a suitable punishment for this frivolous
behavior. He wondered just how many times he could get it up in one
night.

====

"What do you mean, you met him!?"

Chi was confused by the voice from his phone.

"He came, we chatted about how we all cooperate with each other. I
even gave him a gift as honor requires..."

"You fool!" There followed a brief pause, and a sound that could have
been a breaking pencil. "You were told to kill off any contact with
the assassin. Now he'll backtrack, you schmuck!"

"I do not understand. I thought he was a member of the
organization...," Chi looked with irritation at the phone, now dead in
his hand.

If they didn't want him to befriend the tall man, why did they give
him his address, he thought.

Booked to the Rafters_

Jorge was sitting alone, watching departure times for the trains.

A man wearing a mind shield had led him here from the Sears Tower. For
some reason, instead of getting a plane to Denver, the man was taking
a berth on Amtrak.

Jorge finally went to the phone to try reaching Charles again. He
found it impossible to reach the Cabal's enforcer for two days now.
When the secretary at the New York office once again told him Charles
wasn't there, he had to consider other options.

After some thought he dialed another New York number.

"Hello?," the voice was a woman's whiskey tenor, husky and delicious.

"I'd like to speak with Bob."

"He went uptown on business," she replied. "Can I help you, or take a
message?"

"This Bambi?"

"Yes, who is this?"

"It's Jorge. Tell him I'm on my way to Denver. I should be there by
tonight. It's the Institute..." He paused wondering if he should have
said that, too late now. "I think he should come too."

"I'll tell him. He'll come. Where will you be staying?"

"There's an office in Boulder he can contact. He should be able to get
the number from our New York people."

"Very well. Anything else?"

"No. Good-bye."

"Later then..."

The clatter of the telephone was distant as she hung up. Jorge decided
to go to the airport and fly after all. He walked past a couple in
romantic embrace, and headed for the street.

Almost predictably there were no cabs around.

Jorge didn't have time to wait. He borrowed a passing car and driver.
O'Hare was always such a mess to get to anyway, why wait?

====

Walking this street made Bob uncomfortable.

It wasn't the street so much as the people here. He was far more out
of place here than he expected. Fear rose inside, coming from the
place where he drew himself to when he was not in control.

Even the Voice didn't make Bob feel as distant from the rest of the
world as this, the sensation of being the only white face in a large
herd of people. There was a surging current of animosity as well. And
that was just what he could see in the faces, the minds were sometimes
worse.

The fear he hadn't felt when being shot at in Brooklyn swiftly gripped
his chest here.

He had diverted three gangs so far, seeing him as easy prey. Nothing
would save him from a sniper he didn't spot in time though. He saw no
police either, rather... he had seen four officers. They gathered
together as though in numbers their own risk was mitigated by the
other targets.

The police would only get in his way, attracting even more unwanted
attention.

He walked up from the edge of Central Park. It was a nice day, until
he noticed his tension growing. He wondered if a black in a crowd of
white's felt a similar undercurrent of hatred. He never noticed, but
hadn't looked for it before.

The poverty he saw didn't escape him. Many of these people had nothing
to lose, consequently his sense of personal danger rose further. He
was too well dressed to be here, not to mention he already looked like
an easy mark.

He drew in on himself, vowing never to come back after this exercise.

With some small relief, he found the church he sought and climbed the
steps. It was nestled between a pair of brownstones, it's windows
either broken or shuttered over with plywood. The grafitti leapt out,
belying the purpose of the structure. A small, hand painted sign read
"Church of Jesus Christ Lord".

He tried to smile, but knew somehow it had come out as a fractured
caricature of a grin. The foreboding from the surroundings kept his
reactions subdued.

The doors opened to his touch, a quiet stillness within.

He found himself entering a small entry hall in far better condition
than the exterior of the building. A small locked donation box sat
chained to a table beside the entrance to a chapel.

An eerie sense climbed his spine, the chapel hall was empty. Some
candles were lit on a table to the right of the pews. An intense
sweet odor overrode a dusty, moist aroma of infrequent cleaning.

He examined some of the literature, finding explanations of the rigors
of baptism and other related theology, a 'retreat' boot camp for
Christians, and other assorted brotherhood forms of worship. He
smiled, these were familiar, even if the location had him on edge.

Spotting a sign labeled "office", he followed the arrow through a
door. A set of stairs led down to a long hallway, the office clearly
labeled halfway down the hall. Stepping up to the opaque glass door,
he entered without hesitation.

In the dark room, on the floor, amid piles of scribbled on paper, sat
the man he knew he was looking for. A paunchy fellow dressed in black
with a cleric's collar, sat clasping a pen in his fist, trying to
draw a picture on the back of a letter he'd found.

"Ahwannaplaysomebodynow," burbled the grown man. He rolled to the
side. It became apparent from the stench and large wet spot on the
floor he had messed himself.

Bob shook his head. He was too late.

Looking about he saw two walls were covered with theological works.
One wall without books had a number of framed certificates, degrees
from seminaries, and a Masters in Social Sciences from the University
of Michigan. Photos, also on the wall, showed an affluent family in a
reasonably suburban neighborhood. Relatives probably.

Bob reflected, the man poured his life into helping the local needy,
only to be injured in this hideous manner by Bob's new enemy. He
walked over to the desk. Finding a phone, he dialed the police. At
least they could find someone to take over for the poor man.

Bob tried to probe the black minister, only to find nothing left but
childhood. The institute may have come up with a way to do this, but
he doubted it. Either the guy went around the bend real suddenly, or
someone with Voice erased this man's mind.

Charles would have to listen now. This could attract exactly the wrong
kind of attention, if it happened often enough.

Bob couldn't understand is why the guy wasn't just dead. There was no
indication his mysterious enemy had any compunction against murder so
far.

Bob turned to leave. He took a few steps towards the door.

"Nastyladylefttoo." It was a child's tones in a man's voice.

The chill returned to Bob's spine as he heard this. He turned back.
The no longer adult eyes were intent on Bob, a fear of being left
alone shone there. Instinctively, Bob shuddered.

"Tell me about the lady, little boy." Bob tried to force his voice
into
a friendly tone.

"Lady gone." Bob probed the memory rising with the statement. There
was a woman, in a dark black dress, wearing a veil. How very apropos
for this cloak and dagger stuff. The oddly twisted man on the floor
could remember her perfume, an intense sweet smell. She had shoulder
length black hair in a 50's style perm, and wore low black work heels.

This victim remembered her laughing in a deep, almost masculine tone
as
she left him on the floor, putting a large pistol into her purse. Bob
thought of the sweet smell as he came into the Church. He must have
just missed her.

Bob shuddered. Why would a woman from Cabal want him dead?

He waited for the police. A child shouldn't be left alone.

====

The sunlight streamed in from the apartment's western windows.

House plants had turned their leaves into the warm beams, silent in
photosynthesis. The number of planters caused the potted soil smell to
prevail over other musty odors.

Outside, it was a warm day. The trees on the hillside were moving in
the Colorado breezes rolling down from the mountains, but the warmth
would penetrate Diane if she wandered out.

She wasn't going to wander out though. Heather wanted her nearby, and
Diane desperately wanted to be with Heather. Her soul longed to
frolic in the clean country air, to look over the beautiful vista
below and soak up sunshine.

Heather reached out and stroked her hair. Diane shuddered with
excitement at the attention. Her back tingled with the hope her
mistress would command her services. She dared not ask, Heather would
simply grin, then go do something else.

"Hello my pretty."

"Hello my love," she replied.

"I think I want you to eat me, my pretty," the red head almost moaned,
"Would you like that?"

"Oh my love, I would like anything you enjoy."

"Well, you aren't going to eat me now, my pretty."

Diane's heart fell. Heather enjoyed teasing her like this. On occasion
she made Diane wait hours, teasing her with those long auburn locks,
the smooth curves of her body, and an occasional hint of a kiss.

Heather seemed to get great pleasure in using her as a foil for her
desire. She sat still, awaiting Heather's pleasure. The telepath's
fingers slid down Diane's shoulders, lingering at the raised line of
her bra. A pout crossed the freckled face Diane lusted after.

"You shouldn't be wearing this today."

Diane quickly pulled her t-shirt over her head. A suggestion from
Heather was a command to her. In moments she had the bra clasp open,
drawing the bra off too. Her full breasts fell free, swaying
a little as she moved.

As she reached for the t-shirt to put it back on, Heather grabbed her
by the wrist. The soft, yet strong grip made Diane freeze, waiting
the woman's pleasure.

Heather held her pinned by the wrist, with her other hand she traced
little circles around the exposed nipples. Diane drew in a gasp as
each nipple sharply rose to attention. Her shoulders instinctively
pulled back, pressing her ample bosom forward towards the exploring
fingers.

"Desperate little pretty, you want to be my toy, don't you?"

Diane looked into her lover's eyes.

"I long for your every touch."

Heather smiled as she stroked the nipples of Diane's luscious
breasts. Diane wavered a bit, her eyes fluttered as the pleasurable
sensations grew outward from the molesting fingers.

She moaned, almost imperceptively. Heather grinned at the helpless
response. The fingers played across the pale round skin of the
ex-reporter's mounds. Sensations drew her into the hazy joy of
arousal. Her body swayed in almost involuntary ecstasy.

As quickly as it began, it stopped. Only the fingers around her arm
remained. Diane whimpered, frustrated by the teasing touches she
received.

Heather pulled her over to the porch doors, making her face outward.
The
courtyard below was empty, but Diane knew it didn't matter. Heather
opened the french style doors one handed, forcing Diane through with
the other hand.

Diane remained aroused, excited by any contact with Heather. The
redhead's attention was everything to her right now, the rest of the
world didn't even exist.

"Hold the rail," Heather commanded.

Diane leaned forward, taking hold of the stone railing before her. Her
breasts swung slightly in the open air, but only Heather was there to
see.

Heather reached about to the snaps on Diane's jeans. Undoing them, she
then yanked the faded blue cloth over Diane's waist and down to her
knees. Diane shuddered in excited anticipation.

"Oh my pretty, you left your panties off for me," Heather sounded
pleased.

"Yes my love."

Heather rubbed her own crotch against Diane's naked bottom. The
roughness of the clothe sharply accented the sensation. Diane moaned
with need.

"Wait here pretty."

Diane could feel Heather leave her. But she held the rail, just as
directed. She would not disobey her lover. A few moments later she
could feel, or rather sense a presence behind her again.

"Stand still, my pretty, but part your legs for me."

Diane sighed, and moved to obey. She was more than happy to have
Heather use her, but when Heather left it sometimes meant she was to
satisfy someone else. She'd begun to dread servicing the needs of the
Jones man.

While she was standing exposed for Heather's leisure entertainment, a
large black car pulled up in the courtyard. The driver rushed out to
open the door for someone.

Heather started to rub something against Diane's outer lips. Then it
was thrust inside. A thick and long object had been inserted into her
moist vagina and behind it, Heather's waist slapped against her ass.

"OOOOH!" Diane was quite startled. She gasped out another surprised
syllable as Heather started the motions of fucking her with the toy
penis.

Below the driver helped someone in a black dress and a veiled hat step
out of the car. The woman's dark hair ended at her shoulders. She
looked up at the naked women on the balcony.

"Unng!" Diane was beyond her own control. She held the rail tightly,
her knuckles whitening as she bore down.

"Oh yes, pretty will come for me, won't you pretty?"

Diane knew she was expected to talk to Heather throughout her orgasm.
If she failed to do so, Heather might not touch her for a long time.

"God yes, oooh, lover take me, please, unnng! Please let me come for
you, let me give you my, oooooh!"

Diane could scarcely keep her eyes open. Her body rocked against the
phallus substitute. Head down, hair rolling before her eyes, Diane
ground herself back as Heather pumped forward.

"Oh, fuck me, please. Unnng! Please!"

Heather reached around and touched Diane. Diane felt the finger hit
the tender flesh at the top of her pussy. Sensations of flaming lust
rocked her, a jolt of energy pressing her into orgasmic spasms.

"YESSS, MAKE ME AAAAGGGHHH!" Her convulsions rocked through her again
and again. Her breasts swung wildly, the sensational feeling simply
lifting her to her tip toes. Heather was moaning herself.

Below the woman looking up simply shook her head and entered the
building.

====

Warmth poured down from the sun, seeping into the pores of Jorge's
skin.

Jorge was by the pool side. He had caught up with the Institute man
at the train station. The man came to this hotel and settled in. So
Jorge was staying here too.

This hotel was something of a resort. The tennis courts and golf
course were substantial. The pro shops advertised lessons on signs in
the lobby. There were three restaurants and a nightclub. Jorge noted
the number of attractive young women wandering around, most of them
seemed unattached.

Jorge had kept an eye on the man with the mind shield. He was
discovering for himself the worst part of following someone. Never
before had he been forced to wait on someone he already located. He
was bored waiting for his subject to actually move on. So he enlisted
a little help.

The hotel staff was soon set up to let him know if the man did
anything. Jorge would be able to relax and to enjoy the hotel
services. The services he ignored so far were those of the lovely
bikini clad college students staying poolside. This was something he
could correct.

Jorge smiled to himself. All these goodies, and time to play too.

A very attractive brunette was practicing her dives from the high
board. He'd been watching her for a little while. Her athletic body
was muscular, her tan simply spectacular. Jorge enjoyed the midair
spins, flips, and summersaults she executed.

He watched as she brushed aside two young men, separately. They
couldn't draw her attention away from diving. She seemed to be mostly
interested in getting a two and a half flip perfected. The young men
seemed rather upset before moving on to other potential love
interests.

Jorge gathered his towel and walked over to the lithe athlete.

"Hello, my name is Jorge."

"Good for you, Jorge. I'm busy. Beat it." Her breasts weren't quite as
small as they looked from a distance. He looked at her puppy brown
eyes, the flush of exertion had made her cheeks a little red. It
couldn't be the sun.

"Come to the bar in five minutes. Look for me there."

"What? uh, oh." Jorge saw his controls sink in. She started for her
towel. It would take more than five minutes for her to change. But he
didn't mind. He went off to his room for clothing.

====

Bob dropped his garment bag on the bed. The flight was reasonably
quick, he'd bumped some first class passenger for the trip. He had
decided he needed the comfort this time.

The hotel he'd found was adequate for his purposes. The room
contained a king size bed, the rooms to either side empty. They would
stay empty too, the manager took care to ensure Bob's privacy for him.

He was a little displeased with the arrangements. Bambi had done the
best she could, but he couldn't reach Charles. Mostly he was unhappy
he was the only one who knew about the tragic turn of events in
Harlem.

Charles should know about the damaged minister he found. The police
would never find anyone responsible. To them it looked like another
man gone insane in an insane place. Only Bob and the mysterious
female visitor knew different.

Now, outside of Denver, all Bob could do was worry about what Jorge
had found. The mountains loomed in the distance. His hotel was
supposed to be near the Cabal site Jorge indicated. Bob didn't know,
really didn't care.

A short drive, a long drive, they were the same. Some poor sot would
lose part of his day driving Bob where he needed to go.

====

Jorge chose a table near the door.

He checked his watch. It was about 10 minutes before the diver,
whose name he hadn't gotten, wandered in the bar. She spotted him
immediately and joined him.

Her hair was still wet, but had been combed out down her back to the
sturdy looking shoulder blades. She had full red lips and a stern gaze
over her thin chiseled nose. Her muscular shoulders, doubtlessly
developed from swimming, were now covered by a simple t-shirt. Her
jeans concealed the lovely legs Jorge had admired from the pool side.

"Hello," he said.

"What do you want," she snapped. But she sat down with him anyway.

Jorge smiled. Then he waved to the waitress, a pert woman in her late
thirties. The waitress came quickly to the table.

"Bring my friend here," he scanned quickly through her drinking
tastes, "a Banana Daquiri?"

Stunned at his apparent knowledge of her drinking habits, she simply
nodded.

"And I'll have a White Russian." The waitress rushed away as quickly
as she'd arrived.

"How did you know?" asked the swimmer.

"Does it matter?"

"Damn right it does."

"No, I don't think so," he smiled.

"I'm leaving," she tried to rise. Jorge wasn't going to let her
though. She made the slightest turn to leave but settled right back
into her seat.

Jorge smiled.

As the young woman looked frantically about, the waitress came with
their drinks. She smiled down on the two of them as she deposited the
glasses neatly on cardboard coasters, then turned to leave.

"Wait!" The swimmer seemed frantic, "he's forcing me to stay, and I
want to go."

The waitress turned and looked at Jorge.

"That true, sir?"

"Yes, it is. Now run along and take care of your other customers."

"Yes, sir. Sorry dearie, he is in charge here."

Jorge finished adjusting the waitress as she wandered into the
kitchen. His new friend was stunned.

"What's your name," he finally asked the stunned brunette.

"Jessica." She tried to remain silent, but the name came out anyway.
"Jessica Bays."

"Come Jessica." He took a sip of his drink, then pushed it aside.

Standing he took her by the hand, leading her out to the lobby. They
walked past several other people, couples arm in arm, a few luggage
burdened fellows, and into the elevator. When the doors closed they
were alone.

"I've been trying to do this differently."

She had no idea what he meant. There was no understanding what had
happened to her. She wanted nothing to do with this man, but found
herself going and doing as he directed. It was incomprehensible.

They got off the elevator and walked through the hall to his room.
The electronic key opened the lock, and he pulled her in behind him.

"Open the curtains Jessica."

She walked to the windows and pulled at the chain, drawing back thick
drapes. Sunlight spilled through the room, a large suite. They were in
an entertainment room, TV and couch set up for guests.

"What now? When will you let me go?" She was astounded her voice would
still allow her to verbalize her inner desires.

Jorge took Jessica by the hand and pulled her to him. He lifted her
chin in one hand and kissed her. She found herself kissing him back,
not what she wanted to do. She could only watch herself acting without
any resistance.

She shivered as he lifted the t-shirt over her head. Her breasts rose
in a more shapely manner with the breath she drew sharply in. The
nipples popped erect, showing their round shapes.

Her hands moved aside for him as he reached for her Jean's snaps. The
zipper came undone with a loud rip sound. She could feel moistness in
her groin, and the skin tighten under her bra. She was very aroused
now, but could not understand any reason for it.

Jorge pushed the jeans down to Jessica's ankles. Without knowing why,
pushed her sneaks off and stepped out of the legs of her pants. His
hands worked the eyelets of her bra and soon that was aside too.

"Yes, yes. You should do quite nicely. Turn around for me."

With her panties still on, she raised her hands to behind her neck,
thrust her chest out and slowly turned in place. She simply kept
turning, his fingers reached out to touch from time to time, but he
didn't stop her.

"Good," he smiled. "Very good. Sit down a minute."

She sat on the couch, crossing her legs, but not folding her arms
across her chest as she would have liked.

Jorge was not thrilled with this, he walked over and pulled her legs
apart. She sat now, her panties still on, but with her sex exposed as
he wished.

"I have to make a call. Then we'll play."

He picked up the phone.

====

A small private mansion, stocked to the hilt with mind slaves, proved
to be the local Cabal office.

Bob shook his head as he walked through to the offices. The female
staff was entirely dressed in revealing little outfits leaving nothing
to the imagination, their nipples and crotch fur on display for
everyone. The male staff were outfitted in paramilitary gray
uniforms, carrying weapons.

It was obvious what the priorities were of the local Cabal people.
Somehow he doubted there were any female Cabal members locally.

When he found no messages from Jorge, he settled into the library to
read while he waited. On occasion he had to fend off women programmed
to go into sexual frenzy for any man who wasn't one of the guards. He
was disturbed by the lack of subtlety, but unhappy taking anyone he
hadn't specifically seized for himself.

After a while, the call came. A blonde in a skimpy leather bodice came
to him with a cordless phone. She stood along side him as he spoke. It
was apparent she strongly aroused by her proximity to him.

"Hello?"

"Bob? This is Jorge."

"Where the hell are you? I've been waiting for at least two or three
hours here..."

"The Sanibad Resort. It's fairly close by where you are now."

"Okay, I'll come right over."

"Listen, I followed a man with a shield to this place and I'm
watching for him to leave. He hasn't done anything here."

"So, if you follow him out, leave a note at the desk."

"Yeah, all right. I'm not used to coordinating with anyone, so if we
screw up how do I reach you?"

"Either here or the Brentwood Hotel."

"Right. Um, I haven't been able to reach Charles, how about you?"

"Me either. I'm a little worried. A bunch of people have been trying
to kill me and I think there's a Cabal member behind it."

"Why is that?"

"One of my leads had his mind erased. I'm pretty sure only a Cabal
member could manage it. The Institute people aren't so subtle."

"Maybe, but I thought you said Bambi had been programmed pretty slick
by the Institute?"

"I'm beginning to think the Cabal connection may be behind the
Institute as well."

Silence came from the hand held phone. Jorge was thinking it over.
When he finally spoke again it was much softer.

"Tell me you don't mean that."

"Huh? Oh, I mean it. Jorge, the people at the Institute used
brainwashed Voices or as they called us, Sparks to adjust people. They
had a big brute of a control machine to do it to sparks. I've since
noticed most of the adjustments by even mildly talented Cabal members
are blunt and unbelievably blatant. Only the better quality ones are
subtle enough to leave controls such as I found in Bambi. I don't see
how it could be any but a handful of Cabal members. I doubt the
Institute has captured anyone so skillful."

The silence came again. In the background, Bob could hear sounds such
as might be another person moving about in the room with Jorge.

"Oh, shit. I hope you're wrong. I dearly hope you are wrong."

"Oh, shit is right. I'm not making a mistake, Jorge. We need Charles
to help us find this creep, and the sooner the better."

"Yeah, I'll try a few more numbers before I to back out. I'd intended
to have some more fun," a flesh meeting flesh slap was audible
through the earpiece, "but it can wait."

"Good, I'll be there as soon as I can. Bye."

"So long."

Bob pressed the off button and looked up at the waiting woman. She
was panting above him, her hips moving in squeezing motions. The
visible nipples were stiff, her displayed groin seemed visibly wet.

He shook his head and made an adjustment to her immediately. Now,
unless someone else had overheard, only he and Jorge knew what he
suspected.

"Thank you, return the phone."

She walked away. He winced at the crude controls laid over her mind,
but left them as they were. She still panted as she left.

A car. He'd need another car. This time he would drive himself.

====

Jorge spent a while longer on the phone, but couldn't locate Charles.

To hell with Charles, he thought, and started to play with the nipples
of his new toy, Jessica.

She gasped, a surge of desire spreading outwards from Jorge's touch.

"Get those stupid panties off." Jorge pulled his own clothing off as
she promptly removed the only remaining article she wore.

Jorge walked around behind her as she stood waiting. The naked woman
was lovely, her shoulders firm and strong, the long dark hair still
wet down her bare back.

He touched her shoulder gently, raising goose bumps along the curves
there. He pulled back again and touched her elbow. She shuddered, an
excitement he had triggered but not programmed. She ducked her chin
down towards her chest.

"You like being touched by men, don't you?"

"No. You seem to excite me, but usually I don't like anyone touching
me."

He stroked a fingertip along her hips. The way she swayed in response
showed an interest in his contact. She'd become far more aroused than
he had adjusted her to be.

His finger reached out for her nose. She tried to lick at it, as
though it was candy held just beyond her reach. He tried to fathom the
change in her. All he could see was building excitement. A thrill of
being possessed against her will.

"Ahhh. You want to be forced." Realization came up within him, she had
a deeper desire than he'd explored. Since she realized she was
permitted no choices, the desire had triggered within her to serve. An
interesting submissive response, only unusual in her resistance up
until now.

"No. I," she gulped. She knew it was true. Her control was
relinquished completely, he might not have to do anything more to her
mind. "I suppose so."

He touched the tip of her right nipple. She tried to lean into him,
letting out a light moan. Her eyes limply closed, mouth open a
fraction, the pink of her tongue rested against the tips of her teeth.

As he glided his finger down the length of her rib cage to her tummy,
she swayed against the light pressure he had exerted. She swallowed,
and took in a deep breath as he brushed the damp pubic hairs.

She panted for a moment as he drew away, her eyes closed and her chin
jutting forward seeking further contact. He reached up and brushed
across her brow with two fingers this time. She simply waved her head
after his touch as though trying to shake off a chill.

He put his forefinger to her lips. She kissed it, and he pushed past
the soft red flesh to feel the tongue beyond. The tongue played along
the length of his finger with a desire bent to arouse him as well.

Jorge took her by the hand and led her to the bedroom. He sat at the
edge and bent her down to his penis. She quickly understood what he
wanted. Yet she waited, looking up at his eyes.

"Lick it, suck me off," he spoke with command in his voice.

Her tongue became the central attraction to him as she wrapped it
about his prick as best she could. Her red lips began to roll back and
forth as she worked him into her mouth. He could feel the dextrous
tongue trying to circle the tip of his prick. Her eyes locked onto
what she was doing. Her strong hands started to massage the trunk
of his cock where she hadn't gotten him into her mouth.

He watched as she began to bob her face in and out of his crotch,
slipping farther and farther over his manhood with each plunge. He
swallowed as the heat rose in his scrotum. He grabbed her head and
pulled her into him, trying to force his way deeper, she struggled to
help him without choking. Soon he grunted as the semen erupted from
his prick and into her throat.

She gulped, a dribble of the fluids escaping the edge of her mouth.

"Get on the bed." He watched her scramble up to lie on her back. She
was very willing to move as he directed now. Manipulating her could
be done, but she knew refusal would only result in her body performing
as commanded.

Jorge touched her curly hairs, feeling the moisture building there.
She tried to squeeze her groin open and shut when he stopped touching
her. He smiled at her apparent desire.

"You want something from me, hmm little swimmer?"

"God yes. I don't believe it, but I want you to make love to me."

"I'm already making love to you." He drew his fingers along her legs.
"What more do you want?"

"I want you to," she hesitated. Her face turned pink and she looked to
the side. "I want you to enter me."

"Enter you?" He placed his fingers on the tender flesh of her vaginal
lips. She almost jumped, gasping and heaving. "Why should I enter
you?"

"I really need you to, please come inside me." Her voice was pleading,
no longer fearful of what he'd done to control her actions.

"I already came inside you." He grinned, and manipulated the small
lump of flesh at the top of her groin. She writhed, swinging her head
about on the bed.

"nooo, I want you," she muttered between the deep groaning sounds...
Her waist was rolling in smooth motions, a rhythm of lust and deep
arousal.

"Okay." He knelt between her legs. She lifted the curved calves of her
legs up, bending her knees and pulling them up towards her chest. She
bent her head forward to watch him. Her jaw was open slightly from
the excitement, but her eyes showed genuine desire, a need to feel the
penetration, to plunge into her sexual pleasure.

Jorge steered himself into her, edging the cock head slowly between
the lips of her pussy. Once he could feel the grip of surrounding
tissue, Jorge shoved his prick all the way in.

Jessica gasped, flinging her head back and releasing her legs to wrap
around Jorge. Jorge held still, embedded deeply within the confines of
the woman's sex. She was still rolling her head about madly. Her hair
would have swirled all about if it wasn't wet. Jorge could see her
teeth were tightly clenched although her lips were parted wide, almost
as if she was squelching a painful scream. Her eyes were wide open,
face tightly clenched as well. The flood of sensations seemed to be
driving her to an unusual intensity.

Jorge began pumping into her. He matched the rhythmic motion her hips
were making. She grunted and moaned each sound bringing out another
level of urgency. Her desire was driving her on, he could feel the
heat of passion emanating from her as she began to pull and rub her
own breasts.

"AIEEEEEE!" Her scream was loud and long. Then she stopped and pumped
madly against him, grinding her crotch against him from time to time,
again reaching for a subsequent release. Jorge could feel tightening
in his groin, a beginning for a release of his own.

"Unnnnngh," a low grunt from Jorge signaled his second orgasm. He
could feel the sweat dripping from his brow. Jessica was becoming
frantic as she felt him slow down.

Jorge reached out with the talent, pulling the nerve endings to force
her orgasm to hit.

Jessica screamed. The spasms of sudden pleasure hit her with a solid
wall. The roiling flesh under Jorge rocked back and forth trying to
further enhance the sudden burst she'd received.

Then she collapsed, a bundle of limp woman. Wrung out by her sexual
release, too tired to complete a smile. As she lay there, Jorge pulled
out and stepped to the side of the bed. Her legs reflexively pulled
closed as she rolled to her side.

"What did you do to me?," she asked when she could work it in between
panting breaths.

"I had sex with you. You seemed to have enjoyed yourself."

"I've never had sex like that before, and I didn't come up here on
voluntarily. Oh sure, I really enjoyed it." She paused, taking in a
deep breath. "But you forced me up here."

"Now how could I possibly force you?" He grinned. "You wanted me to
bring you here."

"No, I," she looked unsure. "I must have, but I don't think I did."

"Too bad. Now, I have some work to do, my friend should be here soon."
He stood, and started to pull his clothing together.

"Will you," she started. She looked very sleepy. "That is..."

"Come by this evening," he responded. He felt very drowsy, but pulled
his pants on without too much trouble.

He noticed she had dropped off into a sound sleep. He smiled and got
the shirt on too.

As he finished moving the covers over her, he considered going down to
the lobby to wait for Bob. He decided against it. If Bob wanted, he
could use the girl too while they waited for something to break.

He sat on the couch and relaxed.

====

The grounds were meticulously kept.

Bob never spent any time at resorts like this. He walked into the
lobby after permitting the valet to take his keys. The small wooden
disk which would permit him to reclaim his wheels was easily slipped
into his pocket.

There was a strange sense to the place. So before he called Jorge, he
sat at the coffee shop in the lobby. Soon, with a cup of coffee, he
sat back to puzzle out what bothered him.

There were an awful lot of young women, some couples. Bob also saw a
fair number of what Betty use to call 'pretty boys'. There didn't
seem to be any number of other kinds of customers. He started looking
for retirees, or vacationing families.

Not spotting any, he reached out to the staff at the registration
desk and scanned them. All of them had come on duty since he'd spoken
with Jorge. It didn't seem right, but perhaps the change of duty was
normal at around three o'clock here. No, these people were called in.
They all received urgent calls to take over for ill staff members.

Bob paid his tab and walked about. He just couldn't believe this was
natural demographics for a resort like this. He started to consider
the idea this was another Institute.

Yet there was no signs of anyone in a mind shield. Everyone he found
could be scanned quickly, and seemed to be on vacation. The crude
controls weren't there either. Yet something was wrong.

Bob felt the twinge of fear he had in Harlem creep up on him again.

====

Betty stepped into the airport.

After her, Bambi got off the plane, smiling at the young college boys
that waved to her. She knew they were certain she had just fucked
each of them.

Only she knew the memories were planted by her. She had found the only
good sex she had now was when Bob took control of her. She knew he'd
let her wander free, but inside she knew. She was decidedly his. Only
the other women in his harem could substitute, and then only when he
wasn't around.

Betty waited for her to catch up. At the luggage, a red cap picked up
their things and led them to a waiting taxi. The incident with the
young men had aroused Bambi, so she fingered Betty the whole way to
the hotel. The Taxi driver didn't see anything.

The rooms adjoining Bob's were reserved for them. The luggage put
aside, Bambi slipped out into the evening air. She had one more job to
perform before she let herself sleep tonight.

Tomorrow, Randi should arrive too. With their contingent of rather
unique employees.

====

"You are Jones?" The pale faced woman in black snapped the question at
him like a whip. Her voice was deeper than he expected and strongly
commanding.

Jones had never seen her before, but he knew exactly who she was. He
wasn't going to do anything to offend her if he could avoid it. She
looked odd, a harsh face with too much makeup. Her hands were hidden
beneath a pair of elbow length gloves, the stockings she wore were
loose and ill fitting. The dark hair made her sinister as well, almost
witch like in appearance.

"Yes," he struggled to maintain his calm. "I am Jones. And you are?"

"Jezabel. You know that. Where is Thadeous? He is supposed to meet
with me."

"I," Jones paused gulping. Thadeous was visiting a new facility. He'd
be back soon, but if he knew Jezabel was coming he would have stayed.
"I don't know why he isn't here if, as you say, he knew you were
coming. Can I get you anything while you wait? He shouldn't be long."

"Fine. You can tell me what our status is while I wait. Have someone
bring some coffee."

Jones rushed to the door. He called one of the new guards in.
Explaining he didn't want any interruptions and Thadeous was to be
brought directly when he arrived, he also directed someone was to
bring coffee and some sandwiches.

He turned to speak with his visitor. She had taken the most prominent
seat in the room, pulling her stockings into place and smoothing the
black dress across her lap. She folded her hands in her lap and fixed
her gaze on Jones.

"Let's start with what you know about what happened at the
Rehabilitation Clinic, shall we?"

Jones swallowed. He sat down in the chair before her.

"As you wish..." He began to speak, trying to ignore the horrible
sweet smell of her perfume.

****

I know you all wonder why the break in episodes from 12 until now.
I'm just a little busy lately.

I look forward to getting this thing finished.

Back to N Collection or Back to main page