8 comments/ 134821 views/ 30 favorites Jonathan By: litpervgrrl 10. Dana and I had been together for almost three years, and our sex life was in the doldrums. It's not as if the sex was bad; it had just gotten routine. God help me but it was getting boring. We had sex once or possibly twice a week. It was fun; we had good orgasms and we knew how to push each others buttons: once in a while Dana would fuck me in the ass, and once in a while I would give her a good spanking. Maybe that was part of the problem; we knew each other a little too well, knew just what buttons to push. There was no spontaneity, no experimentation. It hadn't been like that at first. In the beginning, we had been firecrackers: constantly at it, always in the sack, experimenting and pushing each others limits. At some point, I don't know when, sex had become a habit. A nice habit to be sure, but a habit nonetheless. I found myself looking and flirting more and more, and spending more time checking out porn on the internet. This trend made me sad, because I love Dana, and I wanted to be her girl forever. But I didn't stop looking. It was late June, and we were suffering through the first heat wave of what promised to be a long and stifling summer. Dana and me were hanging out in the bedroom in front of our first big purchase together: the air conditioner. We both had our period that week, so sex was off the menu. A year ago that wouldn't have stopped us; it wouldn't even have slowed us down. "Jonathan called me up yesterday." "Yeah?" I rolled over languidly. Jonathan was Dana's little brother; he had just graduated from high school, and would be starting at NYU in the fall. "He was wondering if he could stay with us for a while this summer before school starts." "Sure" I said "Why not? He's a neat kid." Dana and I shared a rent-stabilized one bedroom apartment in Williamsburg. By some standards it was small, but to us it was practically a mansion. There was a futon couch in the living room that could be used as a bed by guests. "Cool" Dana said "I'll let him know." "Did you warn him about New York City in the summer?" We were both in bra and panties, barricaded inside the only cool room in the place. And it was still only June. "Yeah." "Well, it's his funeral then." 9. A few weeks later, Jonathan showed up on our stoop. He was a neat kid; I had already met him a couple times by then. Dana's family had been very understanding when she came out of the closet; they had had us up to their house for dinner, and I had spent last Christmas with them. I guess it's never easy, but they had all tried real hard. They had been a lot cooler than my own family, that was for sure. Jonathan was a skinny sandy haired kid, with glasses and a cute little pony tail. He was 19, and bouncing off the walls with energy. He was smart and funny (much like his older sister), and it was good to have him around. We set him up in the living room. He didn't come with much in terms of clothes and things. Guys, how do they do it? We all got along really well, though truth be told we didn't all hang out together very often. Dana and I both worked full time, and Jonathan took to the city like a fish to water. He spent all his time in the parks, galleries, and museums, sketching in his pad. He had some talent, that kid. Dana and I had to be a little more careful about walking around the place topless, and leaving dildos laying around; but if Jonathan found it strange living with two lesbians, he was polite enough not to say anything. 8. I got home from work early, which was nice because I would still get paid for a full eight hours. I was through the door and into the living room before I even noticed. I don't know who was more embarrassed. Jonathan was stretched out on the futon, naked from the waist down, with his (sizeable!) erect cock still squeezed in one hand. A DVD was playing on the tv. One of our DVDs; punk rock girls with pink hair and piercings fucking each other in the ass with some exceptionally large and exotic dildos. I don't think either one of us knew what to say at that moment. I stood there for a moment, my mouth hanging open I'm sure, like some dopey cartoon character. Jonathan was frozen, mid stroke, on the futon. "Excuse me, I'm so sorry" I said, and turned around and walked straight out the door. I went for a long walk, which ended up in a bar near the river, and it was getting dark by the time I went home. Dana was there, but Jonathan wasn't. I didn't mention the incident to her. 7. I didn't find myself alone with Jonathan for another week. Things were a little weird in the mean time- he gave me a look, I gave him a smile, he blushed, I looked away –but not very weird. It really wasn't a problem. That Friday, I didn't have to work until late. Dana kissed me and left for work; I slept in. After my shower, I sat down at the kitchen table to my coffee and corn flakes. That was when I noticed Jonathan. He was laying on the futon, wearing boxers and a t-shirt. I was embarrassed that I hadn't noticed him. I didn't want him to think that I was ignoring him; I'm just dense in the mornings. "Hey Andrea" he said "I'm really sorry about last week." "Don't worry about it" I said "It's really not a problem." I laughed a little "Plus, if we didn't want you checking out our porn, I guess we shouldn't have left it lying around." "Um thanks" "Just don't leave any stains on the couch." That got a laugh. "It's not like Dana and me haven't left any stains of our own there" Another laugh. "Want a cup of coffee?" "I don't usually drink coffee." "Well, it's time you started." He got up and poured himself a big glass of orange juice and joined me at the table. He still had bed head, and looked really cute. "Can I ask you something Andrea?" "Shoot. Ask away." He blurted it out in one breath "What do girls get out of it anyway? I mean the, you know, the anal sex thing?" Wow, that wasn't what I had been expecting, not at all. "Um, I don't know" I said "It's kind of forbidden and naughty, um but mostly it uh, just feels good." We were both blushing now, and then we both had to laugh at how embarrassed we both were. "Have you done that with a girl yet?" Now Jonathan was really blushing. It was awful cute. "Come on now" I joshed "didn't you ever fuck some cute little high school girl in the butt?" If he turned any more red, he could have easily been mistaken for an outsized tomato. "No, actually" he managed "I never did that." We both got the giggles. When I could talk again, I asked "You're not a virgin then, are you?" Silence. "No! You're not, are you?" "What if I was? Is that so bad?" "No… not at all." I floundered "Some of my best friends are still virgins" That was patently untrue. "I didn't lose mine until I was twenty." That was true. "It's not a big deal. Not a big deal at all. I'm just surprised, that's all." Now I was the one who looked like a tomato. "So it really feels nice?" "What?" "You know… doing it in the butt." "Oh yeah" I said "really good. If you ask me anyway." "It's funny" he said "I always thought that it was something that guys did to girls… or gay guys did to each other. I always that it would hurt for the um, the person who…" "Who gets fucked in the ass?" "Yeah, that." "Nope, it's not supposed to. Not if you do it right." I couldn't believe I was having this conversation, not with my girlfriends' kid brother. I guess he couldn't believe it either. He got up and got a bowl of cereal. I couldn't help noticing that there was a lump in the front of his shorts. A pretty nice looking lump. I could hardly blame him; I realized that I was physically excited myself. 6. That night, after I got home from work, I pounced on Dana. Jonathan was asleep on the couch; Dana had stayed up reading, waiting for me to get home. It was sweet of her. I couldn't get naked fast enough. She was still wearing panties. The air conditioning felt nice on my skin. It was hot as fuck in the rest of the apartment. I fell onto Dana, kissing madly, touching and caressing, squeezing and grabbing. "Ooh, You're a tiger tonight" she said "Lucky me!" "I am so fucking horny!" I whispered in her ear "I can't wait to fuck you hard." "Oh Baby" she arched her back to give me better access to her fantastic breasts "Come on and fuck me now!" At that moment, that was all the invitation I needed. Foreplay is awesome, don't get me wrong, but sometimes you need to cut right to the chase. I got up and started fumbling with the straps on our harness. I realized that it had been a couple months since we had even used the thing. Dana was peeling off her black panties. "God Andrea, you look so sexy wearing that thing!" A large purple dildo protruded lewdly from my crotch, bouncing up and down as I moved. "Call me Jonathan." "What?" "Say it." "You're very kinky tonight" "Say it." "Come on Jonathan…" she couldn't look me in the eye "Come on little bro, come fuck me with that delicious cock of yours!" I could tell just from looking that she was super turned on: her pussy was all swollen and she was practically making a puddle on the bed. Her clit stuck out like a hard little eraser head. Me, I was soaked. "Suck my dick Sis." "Shh! He'll hear. You'll wake him up!" Jonathan was sleeping (I hoped) just the other side of our thin bedroom wall. "Go on, suck my dick." She licked and slurped the dildo while I caressed around her labia (careful to avoid actually touching her pussy) and pinched and pulled her sensitive nipples. She looked really sexy like that, with her mouth full of my purple dick; but neither of us could wait much longer. I pulled out of her mouth, stood over her, mock threatening. "You want your brother's dick now?" "Oh yeah Jonathan, come on and fuck me." "You want me to fuck you with my big virgin cock?" "Virgin?" "Oh Yeah." "Please fuck me now Bro." I knelt between her spread legs, teasing the outside of Dana's drooling pussy with the head of the dildo. I couldn't believe how turned on we were. "Where do you want me to fuck you Sis?" "My ass." Funny, usually it was me begging for attention in that particular hole. "You want me to fuck your ass?" "Oh… in my pussy then in my ass." I couldn't tease her any longer. I thrust forward, burying my artificial cock in her juicy pussy. It felt so good to be inside her. I fell on top of her, squishing our boobs together, humping her pussy and kissing her. "You like having your little brothers' cock in your pussy?" "Mmm Jonathan… Oh so good… Oh yeah…" I love watching Dana come. Her eyes squeezed tight, her breasts flushed red and her breath came in little gasps. I felt so powerful at that moment, plowing her sweet pussy as her body shook with orgasm. I kept on fucking her. "Oh Jonathan, fuck my ass right now." Dana had a far away look in her eyes. I pulled the shaft out of her. It was liberally coated with her juices. Her come looked really sexy spread all over my cock. "Should I grab the lube?" "I don't think so… think I'm plenty wet already." I was playing with her tiny little brown hole with my index finger. I'd fucked her there a couple of times in the past, but we had always had to take it super slow. "Put it in Little Brother… Put your cock up my ass right now!" Well, I wasn't about to argue with that! I maneuvered the end of the dildo against her puckered little opening. Gently, slowly, I pressed forward a little. She pressed back against me. Entranced, I watched as her body opened up for me. The fat dildo slipped right up inside her. My cock was all the way up her butt. Her cunt was spread obscenely in front of me, juicy and swollen. Her clit was more erect than I had ever seen it. It looked like a big fat pink pearl perched at the top of her pussy. "Do you like that? You like having your brother's cock up your ass?" "Oh yeah! Oh Jonathan… it's so good… so nasty! Oh God yeah Jonathan, fuck my ass with that cock… yeah, do it Bro!" Now I was the one who was worried about Jonathan hearing us. I fucked her ass, hard and deep, reveling in the sight of my lover squirming on the end of my cock. Dana played with her nipples, pulling and twisting as I fucked her. "Oh Andrea it's so good… I need you… I need your pussy on my mouth." No argument from me! "Leave it in me though." I disentangled myself from the strap-on harness, leaving the purple dildo buried in Dana's ass. It was then that I realized just how wet I was: my thighs were totally covered in joy juice; sticky strings of come leaked from my slit. We arranged ourselves into a 69. Her tongue found my clit right away; her fingers probed my pussy and asshole. We weren't going to last much longer. I licked her swollen clit hard, and spanked her beautiful ass till it was red with my handprints. "You nasty little slut" I said between slurps "Horny little tramp" Smack! smack! "Fucking your own brother like that" The dildo wiggled obscenely in her asshole "Fucking your brothers' cock…" My own orgasm washed over me like a tidal wave, and I ground myself onto her mouth, concentrating as best I could on her button. I felt Dana go off under me, wiggling and moaning and squirming. It seemed to go on forever, like an endless white water rapids of pleasure. We lay like that for a little while, a sweaty sticky human knot. When we had disentangled and cleaned up, we cuddled for a while before drifting off. "That was very kinky" Dana said "We should do that one again." "MmmHmm" I murmured sleepily "We sure should." 5. Jonathan got home later than usual. He had been drinking, I could tell. Sweet kid, and no tolerance for alcohol whatsoever. Dana was off at a dinner with some of her college friends; I'm embarrassed to say that I had been on the internet, surfing porn all evening. I came out into the living room as Jonathan fell onto the futon. I was feeling naughty and randy. I had been replaying the events of the other night over and over in my head. When Dana got home, she was in for some hot action! I sat down next to Jonathan on the couch/bed. "So which one is your favorite?" I asked, indicating the stack of DVDs under the tv. It was pretty clear that I wasn't asking him if he preferred The Princess Bride or The Drunken Master. This was really unfair of me, and I don't know why I said it. I was sure though, that he must have watched all our pornos by now. I would have. "Um…" he was blushing again. It was so cute. "This one." He pulled out the disk that I had walked in on him watching the other week. It happened to be one of my favorites too. Without a word, I slipped the disk into the player. We watched silently for a little while. I wasn't sure just what I was starting here, but the sexual energy in the room was so intense you could have cut it with a knife. On the screen, a busty chick was dancing around for us, gyrating and masturbating with a black horsehair-tailed dildo up her butt. "Andrea, you like that don't you- you know, in your ass?" "Oh Yeah." "I think I might too" He was so cute "I mean I've never tried it, but…" "Do you want to masturbate?" Oh God, I couldn't believe I just said that. "You wouldn't mind?" "Oh no, not at all. Not one bit." Jonathan stood up, dropping his jeans and boxers. His cock sprung free. It was a beautiful dick; big and thick and hard, uncircumcised, with a lovely purple head. He wasn't very hairy, and his balls were drawn up tight. He looked delicious. He started stroking himself next to me on the couch. It took all my self restraint (what there was left of it) to not suck him into my mouth right at that instant. On the tv, two girls were getting it on in a hallway. "Lie down on your side" I told him quietly. He had the cutest little ass, tight and muscular, two perfect handfuls. I traced up and down the crack of his butt cheeks as he stroked. I could hear him breathing, thick and raspy. I let my finger slip between his cheeks, searching for that special place that I lusted after. I found what I was looking for. "Is this ok?" "Yes" I wet my finger in my mouth and returned it to his opening. He was stroking himself slowly. I circled, tickled, caressed. "Please Andrea…" I pressed against his anus. He opened up a little for me, allowing the tip of my finger inside. "Oh…" "Good?" "Yeah." I pressed a little harder. God he was tight! I worked my finger in and out a little, each time a tiny bit deeper up his ass. My cunt was really drooling. I had to reach inside my own shorts and caress myself. I had my finger almost all the way up his ass. He was incredibly hot, and squeezing me tight. I could feel him jerking his cock all the way through his body. "Is it still ok?" "Yeah" he breathed "Do it to me." I slid my finger in and out of his hungry hole. He was masturbating faster and faster. It was so sexy. I buried a finger in my pussy, spreading my wetness all around. My clit was singing. I pressed my t-shirt covered breasts into his back, twisting my finger inside him. I felt his body shake, and he clamped down hard on my finger. Jonathan moaned, long and loud, and shot a copious amount of pearly white semen halfway across the room, I swear. His orgasm triggered my own. I diddled hard under my shorts, coming and coming. It was so good! I hadn't played with a boy in, like, years. He was so fucking cute! I love the way guys come, giving you such a sexy visual reward. I wish I could come like that, squirting juice all over my lover. I gently removed my finger from his now very sensitive rear end. I think we were both too embarrassed to say much after that; I went into the bedroom and he took a shower. "That was fun." I said before I closed the bedroom door. "Yeah." "Definitely." I was still horny. Super horny. Dana was really in for it when she got home. 4. Me and Dana were having sex almost every night now. We didn't play the Jonathan game again; I felt a little sheepish about touching him so intimately, and I felt weird about taking Dana there in the first place. But the sex between us was great: hot, passionate, sometimes rough, often kinky; always fun. Our sex life was reborn, with a vengeance. We tried to keep it quiet, but I don't know how successful we were. I secretly kind of liked the idea of Jonathan hearing us anyway, masturbating on the other side of the bedroom wall to our sex noises. We were all home together the next Friday night; a rare event. Jonathan would be moving into the dorms on Monday. We had gotten a six pack of beer, and rented a movie: Rushmore. The movie had wrapped up, and the three of us cuddled up together on the couch. I sat next to Jonathan; he was next to his sister. "Do you ever hear us at night? We sleep just on the other side of this wall. It's not that thick. Did you ever hear us… having sex?" I couldn't believe I was asking him this. Out of the blue too. "Um… yeah, a few times, I guess." "Did it bother you, to hear us doing it?" "Maybe it turned you on. Is that it? Did it ever turn you on to hear us having sex? Did it ever make you hard?" Now Dana was chipping in. There was a sizeable bulge in the front of Jonathan's pants. Not saying a word, I reached over and carefully unzipped him. His big, rigidly erect dick sprang out. He wriggled, and got his pants and shorts down around his ankles. His cock stood straight up, bobbing proudly with every heartbeat. I looked over, and Dana had pulled of her own shirt and bra. Her large, full breasts jiggled pleasantly. I love her tits. They are works of art. Her nipples were hard and pink and pointed slightly upward. I took her hand in mine and guided it to the base of Jonathan's cock. Hand in hand, we gripped his shaft, barely moving, stroking it up and down with tiny motions. Jonathan Creed (I promise I am working on a Celestial Matter's sequel. Still, I hope this one doesn't disappoint.) -NT Chapter 1 It was always quiet in here. Maybe that's why I come every once in a while. I come when I need to clear my head, when I need to think. It was a familiar place, always the same. It was a place that seemed to be stuck in time. And in a city where everything is always moving and always changing, stability is something very precious indeed. I was sitting in a smooth mahogany pew in St. John's Church. It was an old church, the stain glass windows were slightly grimy, and the hymnals and the leaflets showed signs of wear. The deacon was lovingly replacing the candles on the altar and watering the flowers sitting on the banisters. He was an elderly man with balding grey hair and small glasses. He was hard of hearing, but was quick with a smile. He always nodded when he saw me sitting in the pew. He never came and talked, maybe he sensed I didn't want to speak, or maybe he simply wanted to leave me to my reflections. I didn't know, but I always returned his nod with a smile. St. John's was located on a little street in the heart of Queens New York. It wasn't my neighborhood, and I always looked a little out of place with my suit, tie and silver watch. But no one ever bothered me. It seemed even criminals respected a man who sat alone in a Church. I had come here so much now that no one ever seemed to even notice me anymore. I always sat in the same place, but I never prayed. I wasn't a believer. Faith in God was not what dragged me back to this wooden bench time and again. I came for the solitude, for the companionship of the old walls and the smell of old incense. It was, in a way, an escape from the constant pace of my life, my job, and my worries. Sitting nestled in my coat pocket was a little black wallet. Inside the fold of leather was an FBI badge and an ID card. They both declared me as Special Agent Jonathan Creed. I was an FBI Agent, and a successful one at that. But I hated the job. An agent doesn't have any friends but other agents. An Agent doesn't have any lover but the Bureau. Well, that last part wasn't true, many agents had families, but they were families who you couldn't discuss your day with, so I saw little point in pursuing that. I slowly rose from the pew, and nodded to the elderly lady who was weeping in the pew behind me. I quietly moved down the aisle, and out the old wooden double doors, into the cold bite of the New York City winter. I drew my coat around me, and hurried to my car. It was an unassuming black sedan. It was last year's model, an inconspicuous Ford. This year's Bureau model was a Chevy. The sun hadn't come up yet, it was only 5:30 in the morning. But the city that never slept still had cars on her roads. Hence it took me close the forty minutes to get from the center of Queens to 26 Federal Plaza, where the district office was held. I parked up and walked through the glass doors. Paul, the large red haired man who guarded the entrance nodded at me as I swiped my clearance card. "Mornin' John," he boomed in his warm gravelly voice. I gave my traditional greeting, "How are you Paul my man," I said, forcing as much cheer into my voice as possible. "Not bad, John, not bad. Could do with a little sunshine but probably in'nt gonna happen." I simply smiled again, "Well, never give up hope Paul." Paul buzzed me through to the elevator and I got in. The office was set up like most police stations. There was a center area of cubicles where all the new agents worked. The executive offices were built into the surrounding walls ... This center area was called the 'bullpen'. It was a chaotic place, where phones constantly rang, and agents had to dutifully answer. Most calls where bullshit. But one in one hundred phone calls were legitimate tips, so all calls were answered, processed and recorded. I had never worked in the bullpen. Something for which I was greatful. My office was a little room along one of the walls. Plain letters on a simple wooden door stated, 'Special Agent Jonathan Creed'. My office was about as big as a walk in closet, with just enough room for a desk and a file cabinet. The same file that I had left on my desk last night still sat there. The tab was marked UniCORP. I scooped the file off my desk and turned right around. I had to report on this today with the branch executive Agent. Special Agent Jones. I had spent two months on this case and I was finally ready to proceed to the next stage. All I needed was Jones's say so. Samuel Jones could be described as ... average. He had a face that one looked at, and then instantly forgot. He had short brown hair that was graying at the temples, brown eyes and a plain face. He always wore a gray suit with a gray tie and a white shirt. This wardrobe was accompanied with plain brown shoes and a brown belt. He was, in all respect of the word, forgettable. Only on closer examination would one notice that behind his eyes blazed a sort of fire. He had a hot and uncontrollable determination that had allowed him to rise to his current office, and hold it, against all the backstabbing and closed door politics that happened all too often in the FBI. He was sitting at his desk, calmly flipping through some other file. I poked my head in. "Mr. Jones, we had a meeting scheduled for seven O'clock?" He looked up from his files. "Ah yes, Jonathan, it slipped my mind." He said absently. He indicated a chair. "Please, sit down." I lowered myself into the chair, and handed him my folder. He simply glanced at it, and set it back down. "John, I've been reading these things all morning. How about you just tell me what's in it and I'll read it later." I cleared my throat. "As you know sir I've been looking into some of the dealings done by UniCORP, and what I've found is a little disturbing. Not only do I suspect them of tax evasion ranging somewhere into the multimillions, but recent evidence leads me to suspect the company of developing illegal software." Jones clasped his hands together. "Illegal how?" I cleared my throat. This is where things got bad. I had no proof, only speculation. "Well, you see sir, last year they developed the Ragnok satellite system. The year before that they perfected the military grade P.A.T.H. OS which is now used in every tank, sub, and missile of American origin ... suffice it to say sir, these people are intelligent and wildly driven. But this year the only thing they have developed worthy of note is JumpTECH, which is some sort of automatic parachute landing technology. This tech already existed, they just took it and made it a little bit better." Jones was now looking curiously. "Your point?" I once again cleared my throat, confident that I at least wouldn't be laughed out of his office. "I suspect that JumpTECH was merely a cover for what they have really been producing. That the only way they could hide so many tax dollars from the IRS is if they were constructing something that technically wasn't on the market." "Go on." "Well sir, last year they hired one Dr. Elijah Brigs. This wouldn't be very incidental if he were a physicist, or an engineer or something that has any business working on JumpTECH. But Dr. Brigs is a neuroscientist, and let me be clear ... he is a very good neuroscientist. I pulled his file and apparently his was sacked from John Hopkins three years ago. The details in the file were not very specific, but they simply said, 'Breech of Scientific Code of Ethics.' Now that makes me wonder, why is a neuroscientist working for UniCORP when nothing they have produced even resembles brain work?" I could see the wheels turning in Jones's head. He liked where this was going. He liked it a lot. "I assume you have a plan Jonathan," he said. I smiled. "Some of my underground contacts have said they are having what they call, a 'little garage sale' going on in one warehouse 5B off the docks. Jones was smiling. I could already tell I'd sold him on my little sting. He drew himself up. "Special Agent Creed, I gather you like to do your own field work?" "Yes Sir." "Good, I am then hereby authorizing 3.5 million dollars to be used to pick up an item from this little 'garage sale'. You will be given a Bureau alias that has not been compromised and you will infiltrate this little party and bring back hard evidence." I stood smiling. "Thank you sir." Jones tossed back a mug of what must be cold coffee. "You've never been wrong before. Let's hope you can keep your no hitter career going." I rented a limo to take me to the warehouse. I needed to look like dropping a million dollars on a new computer would be second nature to me. I looked at my fake ID again. My name was Ike Hale. I was a Canadian billionaire who liked sports cars and made his money by managing hedge funds. In essence, my money appeared from nowhere, and was untraceable. But when it came to billionaire's I've found that everyone is happier not asking questions. I arrived at the warehouse at eleven at night. It was poorly lit outside but there were several cars parked outside. Several of them were Mercedes, even more were Ferrari, and of course, there was a whole drove of limos, coming in and out to pick up their clients. Most limos simply idled in the expansive parking area, the chauffeurs smoking cigars or reading newspapers while they waited. I told my chauffeur to wait here. He nodded, and pulled out a book of Sudoku he saved for just such an occasion. At the front door, I was greeted by a scary looking Eastern European bouncer, who was checking invitations. The real Ike Hale had been invited to this little get together. But he had a lot of pressure being put on him by the Canadian government, and as an act of good faith they leaned on him until he gave up his invitation. I produced the little piece of expensive looking stationary, and was waved inside. It was dark and dingy. Crowded around were about fifty or so incredibly rich individuals who were clearly uncomfortable with their surroundings, but were willing to risk it. When UniCORP said they have something of interest to sell, most felt they simply couldn't refuse. We loitered inside the dark interior for about thirty minutes. About twenty of the individuals had already left, muttering under their breath things like, 'don't they know who I am', or 'a dirty warehouse ... really'. There were only twenty nine people who had decided to stick it out and see if there was anything fruitful to come of their trip out here. Finally, after what seemed like an hour, a small wiry man in a dark suit and a red tie bounded out from the warehouse's back room. He smiled genially to all the people gathered, most of whom, were frowning at him. "Sorry for the wait everyone, we had a bit of a problem with some of the merchandise, but it is all settled now." He gazed out amongst us. "Now, I bet you are all wondering why you are here exactly. Every single person grumbled in what sounded like the affirmative. "Well, we are going to have a little auction tonight, with technology that has stepped right out of the pages of fantasy ... unfortunately, we aren't going to tell you what it is. At least for the first item anyway." His smile grew to a smirk. "The bidding starts at one million." There was a small gasp from the crowd. As I expected, the incredibly rich buyers had walked out the second they had seen the less than ideal surroundings. The people left were as comfortable with million dollar mystery auctions. I raised my hand. The little man acknowledged me with a nod. "I have one million, do I hear a million five." A pudgy man that was already sweating through his suit raised his hand. "Million and a half." I decided to raise it to all I had, and jump several stages. It would perhaps scare away other bidders. I raised my hand and stated, "Three million five." There was a small rumbling through the crowd, and the pudgy man shook his head. The wiry little man smiled. "Sold, for three million and five hundred thousand dollars." The little man pulled out a little laptop from his brief case, and politely asked for the account number. I rattled off the FBI account, which would automatically put a bug in their system and allow us to trace the money. He was positively beaming when he saw the purchase clear. "Now it is time for you to see what you've bought." Slowly from the back room a bound goddess was lead out in front of me. She had beautiful cascading red hair and sparkling green eyes. And she was bound with handcuffs and had duct tape over her mouth. There were tears flowing from her eyes. I could feel my stomach sinking. Somewhere from the back of the crowd someone shouted, "This doesn't look like new software, it looks like a kidnapped super model!" The wiry man smiled again. "Ah, but my friend, she is the technology. But allow me to demonstrate." He turned to me produced a plastic wrapped cue tip. "Please swab your mouth sir." I hesitated for a brief second then put the cue tip in my mouth and swished it around. I gingerly handed it back to him. "Now please observe." He said. He gently moved the girl's lock locks from the back of her neck, revealing her pale jaw line. He placed the cue tip on the back of her neck. "Just under her skin is a microchip that has been fused to her spinal cord. The chip sends special frequencies to her brain, and controls various actions and feelings in her mind and body. This unit's chip is currently inactive. A chip is activated when a sample of DNA is placed for about a minute on the back of her neck, long enough for her pours to absorb it and for it to touch the chip's sensor. As soon as that happens the chip activates and the sensor is permanently shut down, making it impossible for a new strain of DNA to be imputed into the chip." My stomach turned. This girl had some sort of minicomputer attached to her spine, and I couldn't do anything but watch as she struggled weakly against her bonds, trying to avoid the cue tip that was touching her neck. I then heard a barely audible click. The man smiled. "We have a successful input ... she'll pass out soon as the chip begins to activate. Perhaps she'd like to speak before that happens." He ripped the masking tape off her mouth. She was quivering. She seemed barely in control of herself. Tears fell freely from her beautiful eyes. She sobbed, "You can't do this to me. I'm a person ... I am a human being for God's sake ... I just want to go home ... I just want to ... just want ... please..." The red headed girl closed her eyes, and slumped to the floor. A small gurgling noise was audible from her mouth. Unconsciousness had taken her mid sentence. The wiry man motioned to someone, and the bouncer from the door scooped the girl into his arms, and brought her over to me. He set her down at my feet. He smiled a toothless grin. "Enjoy yur purchuse ser." The entire time I was watching this ordeal I had been pressing the panic button. The panic button was a pen I had in my pocket. To activate it all I had to do was triple click it in under a two seconds. Response time was usually five minutes. The wiry man had already re-started the bidding. Except that now the rich buyers knew what they were paying for, the bidding had already reached eight million. The FBI responded to the panic call in four minutes and twenty three seconds. They burst through the door in full swat gear, just as another girl was being led out from the backroom. The wealthy buyers all hit the deck, while the wiry man simply held up his hands. His face was a mask of pure hatred. The European bouncer made a run for it. He was shot in the back twice with automatic rounds. The arrests all took place within seconds. Everyone was carted into FBI cars, and were spirited away into interrogation rooms, where they would all eventually be sprung by high powered lawyers. The wiry man, however, was not so lucky. Apparently his name was Richard Dribble, and he was wanted in thirty states for backroom dealings and several accounts of insurance related arson. All the girls were immediately rushed off to the hospital, including the red head that had fallen unconscious. ------- It was all over now, and I was standing by the dock, looking at the nighttime ocean. After all the commotion and arrests had taken place, Jones himself appeared on the scene. "You took a big chance calling us in. If the 'probable cause' angle doesn't clear in court then we are in a huge mess of legal trouble." He let that hang in the air for a second. Then he broke into a laugh. "But I have never heard of 'probable cause' as good as human trafficking right in the middle of NYC." He took note of my mood and his smile faded. "You did good work today Jonathan. Don't forget that." He walked away and disappeared into the throng of milling people and flashing blue and red lights. My mind drifted back to the red headed girl, and how she had begged right in front of me. How she desperately screamed that she was a human being, and not a science project. I tried to picture the Church of St. John's in my mind. I tried to calm my raging emotions. But to no avail. The tranquility I found in its old walls was lost to me I felt dizzy. I threw up over the pier into the dark waters below. ------- Chapter 2 I was sitting in my office with the lights off. I was doing my usual victory ritual. The ritual involved closing the blinds and telling my exploits to a bottle of scotch. It was four in the morning. I could hear people milling about the bullpen. They were making calls, getting calls and dealing with lawyers. As expected, all the rich individuals were no longer sitting in our interrogation rooms. The little lawyer bees had already stormed in. They were ready with claims that their client had no idea what UniCORP was selling, and that they were all morally horrified at the idea of human slavery and simply wanted to go home and forget about it. The DA said there was absolutely no way we could prove them wrong. In the end, all of them walked. I swiveled around on my chair in the dark office. Half my bottle of scotch was gone, and I was pouring myself another glass. I don't know why I like to get drunk when I close a case, maybe I'm an alcoholic. I peeked through the blinds to the street below. The city always looked beautiful from my window. The night lights of town sparkled off the skyscrapers, and little headlights could be seen moving about the streets. The window was cold to the touch. No surprise. Snow blanketed the trees and sidewalks, and everything looked very peaceful. Man's city glowed like a gem in the night air. Its radiant peace was a sharp contrast to the shrill sound of voices busily going about Bureau business. Phones were ringing incessantly in the distance, angrily waiting to be answered. I would have to go out there again soon. I was lead agent on the winter's most exciting case. I would go out there into that throng of people, and stand under the obnoxious fluorescent lights, and tell them they were all doing a great job. I downed the last dregs of my drink, and grimaced. There was a knock at the door. "Come in," I said. Even I could tell my voice was slightly slurred. Special Agent Jim Brown opened the door. If I called anyone at the Bureau my friend it would Jim. He was the only one who looked past my age, he was neither jealous of me, nor a rival of my position. He didn't look down his nose at me. He was my superior, and he was the only one who knew how I liked to unwind after a case. "You drink too much of that stuff you know." He said in his naturally calm and smooth voice. Jim was the specialist at interrogation in the New York chapter of the Bureau. He had a mastery of words that made you feel like you could trust him. Jonathan Creed He had thinning blond hair and sharp blue eyes, and always reminded me of an aging movie star. I picked up the rest of the bottle, and stowed it in my desk, right next to a full bottle and an empty one I hadn't thrown out. "I know." I replied somewhat sullenly. Jim gave me a close once over. No doubt taking in my mussed up hair and loosened tie. He shook his head. "John, if you weren't so good at what you do I wouldn't let you get away with half this stuff. But you do get results. So I put up with your little eccentric moments." He paused. "Just don't let it get too out of hand." I nodded half heartedly at him. His brow cleared. "I just came in to let you know that we're sending a raiding party to UniCORP in Chicago. Our boys have warrants to ransack everything and anything. UniCORP will not survive this debacle. The team has standing orders to bring in Dr. Brigs and the CEO Ronald Turner for questioning. Because this happened on our turf our chapter gets to make the interviews. If all goes according to plan we should have them nabbed by breakfast." "Good to hear." I said, trying to force as much enthusiasm into my voice as possible. Jim simply eyed me again. I knew my strained reply was not lost on him. Without another word he turned around and left, closing the door behind him. I dimly listened to the phones ring for another hour. ------- I sat in the dark for a time. Eventually things in the office settled down. All the immediate work and filing had been taken care of. All the agents with nothing to do stood around the coffee maker. I could hear them talking in a steady murmur. We were all waiting for a call from Chicago. I turned on the small television that was perched on top of my filing cabinet. I flicked through late night T.V. I watched two hours of the previous day's news loop on CNN. I wondered what the reporters would say tomorrow. I wondered if there would be a story on my case. The pale glow of the T.V. eventually put me to sleep. ------- I awoke with a start. I lifted my head from my desk. A string of drool followed my cheek up. My phone was insistently trilling on my desk. Have I mentioned I hate phones? I wiped my mouth and picked it up. I managed to mumble something close to "Hello?" It was Jones. "Jonathan, get down here. Dr. Brigs has just been brought into custody from Chicago. He and Mr. Dribble are about to get the runaround from Special Agent Brown. We want you on the other side of the glass taking notes." I nodded, then realized he couldn't see me nodding, "Yes sir, right away." Jones sighed, "Interrogation room C and D Jonathan, don't linger." He hung up. I flung the phone back down into its cradle and frantically tamed my hair into something decent. I straightened my tie, and after wiping the last of the drool from my cheek I ran out the door of my office. The interrogation rooms were in the basement. Each room had two parts. One was the room where the interrogation actually took place. The furniture in those rooms consisted of simple metal table bolted to the ground, and a similar metal chair also bolted to the ground. The room opposite to it was the important one. Almost everyone knew that the mirror in their interrogation room was one way. But few knew what was in the room behind the mirror. The room usually contained a recording system, a coffee maker, a military grade 'Panther' tranquilizer dart gun, a first aid kit, and a panic button. It also contained some chairs far more comfortable than the metal ones in the interrogation room. It was into one of these rooms that I entered. Special Agent Karen Smith occupied one of the chairs. She glanced over to me and nodded briskly to acknowledge me. Special Agent Smith was a thirty nine year old woman who ranked under me. She fell into the category of 'resentful of my age.' On her head was a pair of headphones. She was staring intently out the glass into interrogation room C. I took a seat next to her, and put on an identical set of headphones. The headphones allowed us to hear what was going on inside what was otherwise, a sound proof room. Dribble was sitting in the room alone. He was staring intently at the mirror. Most criminals did this. They felt as if they needed to let us know that they knew we were watching. It didn't matter to us one way or the other. It was even more annoying when they fixed their hair in the mirror. The door to the interrogation swung open. Jim slowly walked in, his head intently buried into Dribble's file. Jim casually sat down in the chair. He glanced up at Dribble's wiry frame. "You're in quite a bit of trouble you know." Dribble simply nodded. It was always a sign. When they didn't ask for a lawyer one just knew fight had gone out of them. ------- Half an hour later Dribble was escorted off the premises into the custody of two NYPD officers. Who would take him to jail proper. I removed the head phones and rubbed my ears gently. Jim came into the observation room and sat down. Jim looked at me to say something first. I took a breath. "Pretty straightforward if you ask me." Jim nodded, waiting for me to continue. "I mean, he was strictly low class, no real information besides what was told to him. As he said he was contacted two weeks previously and asked if he would like to make half a mil. He agrees and he is taken to UniCORP in Chicago where some other low class nothing shows him what he's selling. He was probably mildly startled that the merchandise happened to be pretty girls, but the thought of half a mil was encouragement to keep his mouth shut. Jim nodded. "I figured. He's just a scrub. We only have to hope Dr. Brigs lends more help to the case. Our boys weren't able to find Mr. Turner, and by the looks of some of UniCORP's labs a lot of their research was moved before our boys got there." We all stood up and left. We walked across the hall to the Doctors interrogation room. Karen and I went into the observation room, while Jim entered the interrogation room. Karen and I donned on a new set of headphones and settled down for another long information drag. We both watched as Jim sat down in front of Elijah Brigs. Elijah was a very pale man. In fact he almost looked like an albino. He had a bald head that looked shaved. He had an impressive hooked nose. His eyes were a very dark shade of black. The most disturbing thing, however, was the big scary smile plastered on his face. "Good Morning Agent..." Brigs fished. "Brown." Jim supplied. "Brown," said Brigs. "Agent Brown, perhaps you could do me the courtesy of letting me do all the talking. You'll get your answers faster, and then I'll get to leave." Jim raised an eyebrow, "I don't know how soon you'll be leaving Elijah." Brigs shivered. "Your good, your voice is very soothing. But I assure you, I need no convincing to tell you quite a little tale." Jim still looked skeptical, but waved his hand. "Alright, talk." Elijah smiled, "I knew you would see it my way." He took a deep breath. "I was hired by Ronald Turner personally about eleven months ago. My job ... was to create what I failed to do at John Hopkins ... which was effectively a mind altering chip. And I succeeded with financial help from UniCORP around November. After the initial structure of the chip was created and the method of attachment was perfected, I asked them what kind of mind altering program they wanted. Ronald said to start he wanted something he referred to as the 'ultimate fantasy program.' But that is just the general idea. If you want to look at it deeply, I created a flux program of unlimited proportions." As I listened in on Dr. Elijah's rant, I could feel the color drain out of my face. My hands started to shake. My mind went to the red headed beauty in the warehouse. That poor girl ... has become ... that ... all because of me... I saw Karen shoot me a glance. She scowled. No doubt she thought that I was being young and easily shaken. Dr. Brigs was similarly escorted out of the building by two NYPD officers. All the while he talked animatedly to them about how his lawyer would get him off on a plea of insanity. Dr. Brigs claimed to suffer from schizophrenia all the way to the elevator. I left the observation room before Jim could return. I used the second elevator to return to my office. I quickly walked past the bullpen and the humdrum of everyday life at the Bureau. I arrived at my office and shut the door. I was determined to finish my bottle of scotch, and make a damn good dent in the second one. ------- Chapter 3 I could feel someone shaking me. "Jonathan ... Jonathan ... wake up, you have got to wake up." The shaking continued. Why couldn't everyone just leave me in peace? Suddenly I felt an icy splash. I started to cough. Someone had just poured a glass of water on my head. I blearily cracked my eyes open. I was on the floor of my office, staring up at a little crack in the ceiling. I could see Jim's wispy blonde hair out of the corner of my eye. Jim was holding an empty glass, and wore an expression of concern mixed with anger. "Jonathan you little bastard you drank yourself into a goddamn stupor!" I simply groaned in response. My head was pounding. I had never been this drunk before. I tried to sit up, and the dull throb behind my eyes broke into a splitting blinding pain. I dropped back down to the floor with a grunt. In the back of my mind I realized my chair had tipped over. "Is that broken glass Jonathan? Goddamn! This is a mess." Jim was fumbling around with something that looked like a CompVac. Which is a little box on a stick that is twice as effective as a broom or a regular vacuum. I tried to speak, but all I managed was a little gurgle. "Some genius you are." Jim said sarcastically. I simply groaned again. "Well come on, we've got to get you home somehow." I felt him grab my shirt. He tried to hoist me up by the fabric. After a small struggle he gave up and I slumped back onto the floor. I heard him sigh. "Wait here, I've got to go get some help." My mind was functioning enough to realize that that might be a problem. Several of my office enemies would jump at the chance to tell Director Jones about my little habit. My fears, however, were quickly put to rest. "Ho now! Had a little too much Irish courage have we John?" Paul's loud good natured voice boomed somewhere above my head. "You could say that again," Jim said. "He's drunk enough to ground a bear." Paul laughed. "Now let's say you get the feet, and I'll grab him under the arms, and we'll see if we can get him as far as the elevator." I felt their hands tugging at me, until they finally lifted me. They carried me like a lifeless log all the way to the elevator banks. It was late again. Maybe 11:00 o'clock. A few people were still in the office. They glanced my way, but after a stern look from Jim they quickly glanced back. The elevator dinged. We got in. The doors closed. They gently set me down on the elevator floor. I felt something pressed up against my lips. It was Paul. He was holding a water bottle to my mouth. "Drink, it'll help clear your head." I obediently took a big gulp. "Slowly now," Paul said. "Drink too fast and you might lose your dinner." The elevator binged again. The doors slide open to reveal an empty lobby. I was once again hoisted up and carried out the front door into the dark and bitterly cold parking lot. "He can't drive like this," Jim said. I could hear the smile in Paul's voice when he spoke. "No, but I've got that all figured out ... I called a taxi right after you buzzed down to me in the lobby Mr. Brown." "He's barely conscious, how do we know the cabbie won't dump him in the middle of the road?" Paul barked a laugh. "Leave that to me." The tax was already parked and waiting. I could see it was one of the new brown cabs. The ones you could call and charter. Yellow cabs were just too hard to phone in. They gently set me down on the curb, where I maintained a position that somewhat resembled sitting. My head had stopped spinning, but my vision still left something to be desired. Paul motioned for the cab driver to roll his window down. The cabbie complied, and Paul leaned his bulky frame on the windowsill, and started talking to the cabbie. "Could I see your license pal?" Paul asked cheerfully. I couldn't see what was happening, but I assumed the cabbie complied. "Now then, Mr. Vasquez, my friend Mr. Creed here has had a bit too much to drink and we'd like you to take him home." Jim handed Paul a piece of paper. "I got it off of his credentials," said Jim in a whisper. Paul took the paper. "On this piece of paper is his address. I'm going to give you one hundred dollars for you to get our friend there and through his front door in one piece. He goes missing tomorrow and I'll be a might upset. I know your name and face, and I'm going to make things a touch uncomfortable for you ya hear." Paul's voice lost its friendly candor towards the end of his speech. I couldn't hear my unfortunate driver's response, but it must have been in the positive, as I was soon hoisted again, and thrown rather unceremoniously into the back seat. The pressure of my body on the seat made the automatic seat belt slide down and click into place. "You all settled?" My cabbie asked. He had a heavy Brooklyn accent. I nodded. He pressed the gas, and we turned off onto the main road, becoming one of the thousands on the roads of New York. ------- I semiconsciously watched lights pass by my window. ------- I could see the sun's first light from behind my eyelids. I opened my eyes, and blinked owlishly. Bright rays of sun were peaking in through my living room curtains, creating little slivers of sunbeams around my living room. I was sprawled on the couch of my living room. I was still fully dressed in my crumpled suit. I smelled like a bar. I pulled myself off the couch and began to drag myself up a flight of stairs to the guest bedroom on the second floor. I walked into the bathroom to the medicine cabinet I kept stocked with headache medicine. I kept a stash of the stuff down in this bathroom because I knew walking up another two flights of stairs hungover would kill me before I got there. Shit I could already feel a knot in my back developing from sleeping on the sofa. I took out two tablets of R.E.C. from the medicine cabinet. It was new stuff that had bought out Alka-Seltzer a couple years ago. It worked like magic. I dropped them into a glass of water and watched them fizz around. Even that slight sound made my head hurt. I made a promise to myself right then and there that I wouldn't go into work today. I couldn't take any more of that place. The high stress level was going to give me liver failure by the time I reached my thirties. At my job I couldn't go thirty minutes without shooting someone, arresting a father in front of his children, or stealing a young girl's free will. With that line of thinking I suddenly remembered why I had drunk what seemed like two quarts of scotch ... I banged my head on my mirror ... which hurt. After about an hour ... and a big gulp of that heavenly R.E.C. I managed to stagger down the stairs and prepare myself some breakfast. I was frying eggs when the phone rang. I grabbed it with my free hand, and flipped my eggs with the spatula in the other. "Hello?" It was Jim. "Hey Jonathan, make it home okay?" He sounded mildly amused at the whole event now that it was over. "Yeah Jim I'm fine, I owe you lunch or something for helping me out like that." I heard him laugh over the phone. "I'll hold you to that." His voice grew somber then. "John, we've got those girls over here at the station. They've just come back from the hospital ... and well ... we think that they might need to go into witness protection. Apparently the tech that UniCORP placed in them is worth a pretty penny or two. They might try and get them back." My breathing had gotten a little faster. "Are they all alright?" I asked. He laughed, "Yeah they're all fine. A little shaken but they'll be alright. We've got a red head that's a little antsy and a blonde that won't shut up, but that's pretty natural. Anyway, I know you had a rough night but we need your big brain to sort out this little problem. You are lead agent after all." "Sure ... no problem," I muttered. "See ya in thirty." I heard Jim click off the line. My stomach felt like it was in my feet ... maybe everything was fine. Maybe the chips were all a hoax or that one was a dude. My eggs burned while I was lost in thought. ------- Chapter 4 I reluctantly spooned my eggs into the trash can. Looks like I would be eating granola for breakfast. I grabbed a bar of the stuff from my pantry, and ran out the door. It was only after I saw my street side parking space empty, did I remember my car was still at the office. Shit. I scrabbled through my pockets for my cell phone ... then realized I had left it on my kitchen counter, and ran back into the house. It was five minutes until I found my phone, and another twenty until the taxi pulled up. Needless to say, when I got in the taxi I was not in the best of moods. "26 Federal Plaza," I said. Cabbies always give me a weird look when I ask to go to the Bureau building. It was always a quick glance into the review mirror. I can always see the same question in their eyes. They never say it out loud, but the intent is clear. Instead all he said was a quick alright, and then he hit the gas. The famous morning rush in the Big Apple was over, but that didn't mean traffic was any less than unbearable. While sitting in the usual bumper to bumper gridlock, I decided to watch the people on the sidewalks and in the other cars. Most of them looked tired. Some were yelling into cell phones, others were looking over files balanced between their laps and the steering wheel. Some were bobbing their heads to music only they could hear. They all looked normal, some of them even looked happy. I sighed and leaned back into the polyester seat. I smelled the tobacco smoke of old cigarettes. The cabbie must sneak smokes in-between fares. Watching the citizens of this marvelous city always filled me with the same melancholy. As a fed I never felt like I was one of them. To me they were always 'civilians' or 'the general public'. I was always an outsider. A ray of sun reflected off a glass skyscraper, and illuminated the white snow on the ground ... funny what you notice even in a black mood. After twenty more minutes of an introspective cab ride I finally arrived. I had completely forgotten that I would have to do a walk of shame past Paul. As I approached the door his grinning face was there to remind me. In fact, as he bit his lip, I had the distinct impression that he was trying to refrain from laughing... "Mornin' John, I'm surprised you can even move this morning." I sucked it up, prepared to laugh it off. "Ha ha, Paul, good morning to you to ... yes, yes you'd be surprised the miracles R.E.C. can work on poor drunkards like me." The smile suddenly slipped off his face, and he took a deep breath. "Now John, everyone gets one ... that's the rule ... but if I ever have to scrape you off the floor of your office again ... we are going to have to have words." Paul's full ruddy face had an expression of the utmost seriousness. I'd often forget that Paul's cheerful good nature belied a secret intensity. I nodded. I stuck out my hand and he grasped it firmly. His blue eyes looked straight into mine. "I promise Paul." Jonathan Creed His smile was back almost immediately. I scanned my card and he waved me through. I heard him whistling a tune as I stepped inside the elevator. The elevator closed. I was alone again. The solitude reminded me of what I was about to face. That elevator ride was the shortest of my life. All too soon the door dinged again, and I stepped out into the familiar space. People looking pale and splotchy worked monotonously in the bullpen. Phones rang, faxes were made, and everything was the same. Or so I told myself. Jim, who must have been eyeing the elevator waiting for me, quickly appeared in front of me. "Jonathan," he cried, "Good god, it took you over an hour to get here." I started to inform him about the bad traffic ... but he waved me off. "Never mind, never mind ... the girls are late coming back in from the hospital anyway, and they've only just arrived." Jim took a big breath and checked his watch. "Great Scott it's almost eleven thirty," he grabbed my arm and began tugging me back towards the elevators. "Come on, I'll brief you while we walk, I've told them to hold the meeting until you arrive." He punched in the basement. I stole a quick look at him. He looked tired, but determined. His blonde hair was a little messy and his suit didn't look ironed. Strange, Jim was usually immaculately dressed. The door dinged open. The basement contained the secret briefing rooms. This is where large scale undercover assignments are discussed. This is where people who were considered 'in danger' spent most of their stay at Federal Plaza. If the girls really where in trouble from UniCORP, then there was no safer place on the premises. At least until we could get them into witness protection. Jim immediately started bustling down the hallway. I had to jog slightly to catch up. "They're being kept in room eight, I don't know if the Federal doctor has come in to talk to them yet." Jim said over his shoulder. "Why the need for an Agency doctor, I thought these girls all got checked out at St. Marks?" I drew level with Jim just in time to see him rolling his eyes. "Because Jonathan ... we couldn't simply tell the local doctors about the chips. All they got down in the public hospital was a quick check to find any serious conditions. Now our man has to get a good look at the chips to see if we can get them off." I felt my cheeks flush. Usually I was the one who did the explaining. "Right," I said. Room eight was at the end of the hall. There was a security guard at the door, and we both had to flash our passes at him before he allowed us in. All the rooms down here looked like classrooms. There were a couple plain desks that you might see in any university, all facing a podium and a dry erase board. All in all, the last time I had been in this room it reminded me of a classroom at Harvard. It was a bit different now. It was more like stepping into a Playboy picture shoot. Every single desk was occupied by a beautiful woman. They were of all shapes and sizes. I saw some girls that looked like they were picked up off a California beach, all the way down to Asian beauties kidnapped straight off the streets of Hong Kong. They were all listening to a short fat balding man in a lab coat standing behind the podium. Jim and I tried to be as quiet as possible. We both leaned on the wall next to the door. None of the girls had even looked our way. The doctor seemed to be in the middle of his speech. " ... the tracking devices, you'll be pleased to know, are not only removable, but will only require one easy surgery." He paused and gazed around the room, perhaps expecting to see some relieved faces. He saw none. All the girls looked exhausted ... he cleared his throat. "Ah ... yes, however, with the actual neural processing units I'm afraid my news is not as good. They have been rather ... um ... deftly fused to your spinal cords. Removing them would result in the subject becoming a quadriplegic ... but ... fear not. My team and I are working on a special neutralizing agent. It will be absorbed through the pores like an intended DNA sample would have, except the solution should only have the affect of destroying the sensor instead of activating it. From what I can tell after studying of the chip, without an activated sensor, the chip is completely harmless." At this there was a small audible sound of relief. A few of the girls broke down into tears, while others just quietly smiled to themselves. "The solution is not quite ready, but I fully expect it to be functioning by tomorrow morning. In the meantime we will be setting up rooms 1-5 as field operating rooms to get those tracking modules out of your ankles ... and we um ... will be providing sterilized latex scarf's to wrap around your neck until tomorrow." The doctor moved away from the podium. He took a brief look about the room, and shook his head. He turned and strode towards us. "This is easily the most horrid thing I have ever seen." The doctor said. "It's been hard on all of us, but I'll feel better once these women get their surgeries." Jim said. The doctor turned to me. "I haven't seen you around son, you new to the Bureau?" Jim coughed. "Um, Dr. Thompson let me introduce you to Special Agent Creed. He was the lead Agent on this case, and did very fine work." Dr. Thompson paled a little. I politely offered my hand. He grasped it, and we shook hands. His hand was cold and slimy. "Sorry Agent Creed, you looked so young I just presumed ... my, you have aged remarkably well." "Pleasure to meet you doctor, don't worry I get that all the time." I paused. "I hope you're taking good care of all these girls I managed to rustle up." He nodded vigorously. "Yes, yes very good care. Apart from being morally objectionable, this technology is really revolutionary. It was fascinating to work with the FBI on this case ... well for the most part." Jim looked at him. "What's wrong doctor?" The little balding man hesitated. "Well ... as I wrote in my report, there is one girl who had her neural processing unit ... well, um ... activated." Jim nodded slowly. "Yes, I read that. You had her separated from the group." Thompson gestured toward the door. We both took the hint and made for the exit. All three of us left room eight and found ourselves back into the entrance hallway. The security guard nodded to us grimly. We proceeded down the walkway. "Well, we did a bit more than just quarantine her." Thompson said sheepishly. "Oh?" Jim said questioningly. "Yes ... we um ... proceeded and removed her tracking chip, and we restrained her. She got a little violent at times. I had an understudy stay with her through the night and take notes on her psychological state of being." "And?" He withdrew a small pad of notebook paper from his lab coat. "He took rather throughout notes, see for yourselves." Dr. Thompson handed Jim the notebook, and Jim's pale blue eyes began frantically scanning the pad. His face became pinched. He proffered it to me, holding it with the tips of his pointer finger and thumb ... like it was a snake or something particularly nasty. I took the offered pad and glanced over the scribbling ... afraid of what I might see. I couldn't read a lot of it; the understudy's handwriting was atrocious. But one part distinctly stood out in my mind. It read: "She jumps against the restraints and begins to sob; she's been saying the same thing for the past hour now but she seems to be getting more and more distressed with every passing minute. She says; 'I have to find him, please, just let me find him, then maybe the headaches will stop ... please, I just want to find ... that's all I want.'" Dr. Thompson was speaking again, but it felt like he was speaking under water. His speech felt slow and distorted ... and very far away. "We've kept her in room two since she arrived back from the hospital ... but, well, we had to leave the restraints on." Jim and Thompson came to a stop. I almost walked right past them. We were already outside briefing room 2. Jim swiped his pass into the key card on the door. It unlocked with a click. He swung the door open, and moved inside, with Dr. Thompson following closely. Like a man walking towards his own execution, I too stepped into the room. ------- Chapter 5 She was as beautiful as I remembered. Jim was listening intently to Dr. Thompson read things off of a clipboard. But that didn't matter. Their conversation was lost to me. My entire consciousness was focused on the red haired angel tied to the gurney positioned in the middle of the room. She was sleeping quietly. Her stomach rose and fell in a calm rhythmic manner. Her eyelids would occasionally flutter, and her slim pale face looked slightly pinched, as if her dreams were not gentle ones. Dried tears clung to her face. Her flowing long hair was frizzy and tangled. She wore a little gown that hospitals gave out. This one had little flowered patterns on them, and tied at the back. Jim asked me a question ... I didn't hear it. I shook my head and looked at Jim. "Sorry, what?" I said. Jim used his thumb to point over his shoulder at the sleeping girl. "Sorry Jim, I was somewhere else, what did you say?" "The girl, John, the girl, Thompson says it's okay to wake her. I'd like you to talk to her; she's closer to your age." I looked at the sleeping girl. She looked young. Maybe even teenager young. "How old is she anyway?" Jim took the clip board from Thompson. "Her profile here says her name is Sarah Gale. She's nineteen years old and a resident of the United Kingdom." "So we have a British teenager on our hands?" I asked, trying desperately to keep the quiver out of my voice. "Looks like." I swallowed hard. This would have to happen sometime, might as well be now. "Wake her up Dr. Thompson." I said halfheartedly. Thompson nodded. He reached into his coat pocket, and pulled out a stick of Loxicodile. It was sort of like an old fashion glow stick. You bend it until you hear a crack. However, once cracked, a white gas pours out of either side, and when inhaled it could practically wake the dead. Policemen carry them in their belts these days to wake up drunks. They're called 'Jump Starters' on the streets. Thompson walked cautiously over to the sleeping girl. He tenderly felt her pulse. Her chest continued to rise and fall; she was dead to the world. I personally thought waking her up with Loxicodile was a bit extreme. "Why do we need a Jump Starter to wake her? Couldn't we just shake her or something?" I asked. Thompson shook his head. "This girl isn't in an ordinary sleep. She passed out from over exertion." Thompson cracked the stick, and little tendrils of smoke began to seep out. I suddenly felt very hyper and jittery simply from inhaling two feet away. I'd hate to feel a full dose of the stuff. Sarah jerked awake. A small scream played at the corner of her lips, and her eyes were wild and unseeing. Jim was looking at me expectantly. He wanted me to comfort her ... It was standard procedure with trauma patients. I slowly maneuvered myself past Thompson and positioned myself next to Sarah, who was breathing erratically, with her eyes half open. By law I wasn't allowed to touch her without her permission. "Shhh, Sarah. Shh. It's alright. You're safe now. You're in the FBI building in New York. UniCORP has been caught. They won't ever do what they did to you again." There was a pause. I noticed her breathing slowed to a more normal pace. Slowly she said. "I know that voice." She spoke with a British accent that I didn't notice in the warehouse. It sounded upper class, as if she was someone out of those old movies about Victorian age England. Her eyes opened fully, and she looked at me. They were sparkling green. Like a field of grass during a bright spring day. "It's you." She said weakly. Her lips played upwards into a slight smile. "I'm glad you're here ... maybe the headaches will ... stop ... now..." Her eyes gently closed. Her face settled into a peaceful expression of content. I nervously glanced over my shoulder at Thompson and Jim. They were both staring at me. Jim was the first to find his voice. "Jonathan ... when you bought one of the girls ... you failed to mention that you bonded with one of them." Jim's voice was cold and icy. Very much like the voice he used during particularly troublesome interrogations. I wished I could sink into the floor. "Well, I didn't know at the time ... what they ... were ... going to do." I finished lamely. Jim was cradling his hands in his hands, while Dr. Thompson, who looked more interested than horrified, was furiously taking notes on his little pad. Finally Jim raised his head and looked at me. He sighed. "I have to tell Jones, Jonathan. You probably won't get into any trouble, but you'll probably be taken off the case. Great Scott! This is awful." Suddenly he burst out laughing. I didn't see what was so funny. "I don't see how this is anything to laugh at Jim." Jim was wiping tears from his eyes. "Well Jon, I was just thinking about how you are going to deal with this. I've never met a person more awkward around girls than you." His voice was strained. I could tell he was dying to have another good chuckle. "Thanks Jim." I said sarcastically. At least he wasn't looking at me like some monster. The chuckle burst through. He was laughing again. This time is was harder than before. "Jon, buddy, in all seriousness you do have a tendency to be a bit of a mope." "Let's go inform Jones together. I'm worried about what you might say. I might have to defend myself." We walked to the elevator bank, John still plagued with laughter. ------- Jones, unfortunately, was not amused. "Agent Creed, you should have informed me immediately of your suspicions about the girl's ... what are we calling them?" "Neural Processing Units sir." Jim supplied. Jones shook his head. "Some scientist came up with that didn't they? ... Regardless. Agent Creed I'm taking you off the UniCORP case. In addition, you are going to apologize on behalf of the Bureau for what's happened to her. You're going to go back down there and talk this out with her. Tell her you're sorry for Christ's sakes and that it was just a mission that you had to play the part for. After that get out of here, I have to play PR with the media at four o'clock and we don't need you around here. Take the week off, you still have a month of vacation time stored." I nodded. Jim and I both made to leave. "Special Agent Brown, stay awhile, I have more to discuss with you." Jim gave me a pat on the back. "Good luck," he whispered in my ear. I walked out of Jones' office alone. They closed the door behind me. I trudged back to the elevators. Already trying to think of what I was going to tell Sarah Gale. ------- Outside briefing room two sat Dr. Thompson. As I approached, he looked up from his cell phone. "Sorry Agent Creed, but I can't in good conscious let you talk with her until she wakes up. Her sleeping has finally regularized and she desperately needs it. He pointed to a chair next to his. "Make yourself comfortable." I sat down next to him, and leaned my head against the wall. ------- I abruptly woke when someone poked me. Dr. Thompson was standing over me pen in hand, ready to poke again should the need arise. "She's awake John. We've untied the restraints and she's sitting upright eating some lunch. I think this might be the best time for you to talk to her." I nodded, and walked in without saying a word. She looked much better than when I saw her last. Someone must have given her a comb, because her earlier tangles were brushed out. Her hair now was perfectly straight. It was a dark auburn color. She was propped up by a couple pillows, still in her hospital gown. She had a tray balanced precariously on her lap, and was eating what looked like a giant salad. I immediately felt awkward... I decided to take a formal approach. "Hello Ms. Gale, I'm sorry to interrupt you lunch. My name is Special Agent Jonathan Creed. I'm sorry we couldn't meet under better circumstances, I'm sure that what happened in the warehouse was a very traumatic experience for you." Sarah raised one eyebrow. "You work for the FBI? Why did you buy me?" Her English accent was fully recognizable now ... very upper class. I cleared my throat. "It was the mission Ma'am, I had to get them to accept our account number so we could trace them. I was also given orders to buy a sample of the merchandise ... the um ... merchandise just so happened to be you." She sighed. "My life is changed forever isn't it?" She sounded defeated. I nodded slightly. "We need to put you into witness protection, UniCORP may come after you." She was shaking her head before I finished speaking. "No, they don't want me. My chip thingy has been activated. They told me that it couldn't be switched off. They can't reuse it. I don't think they'll come for me." "Then what do you mean? You are of course free to refuse being put into the protection service, but why? All the other girls have accepted it." She set down her fork. "You don't know what it feels like to have this thing in your head." I was confused. "I know they said that you would feel certain things towards me, but I assure you, we will send you far away from me, you'll never have to..." "NO!" She screamed. Her green eyes looked frightened. They were watering. It looked like she was about to cry. "If you go away, the headaches will start again. The people who took me ... they said that if we tried to run away from our buyer we'd get terrible headaches ... the farther away we got ... the worse it would be." I was at a loss for words. I looked at her. She was wringing her pale hands nervously. She spoke. "I don't know how to feel about you ... part of me hates you. You've changed my life ... I can never go back to being exactly me again." She took a deep breath. "But I've got to have you close to me." "We'll set you up with a safe house close to where I live." "That won't work." She said. "Why." Her voice had a quiver in it. "Because I could feel the headaches when you were upstairs ... I can't be that far away ... I ... I ... have to live with you ... that's what they said..." I started at her ... her entire body was shaking. I felt like I should rush forward and embrace her. But I didn't. Instead I said, "I'll see what I can do." I turned, and walked out of the room. Behind me, Sarah started sobbing. ------- Chapter 6 Jones wasn't speaking. I couldn't tell if the ability of speech had simply deserted him, or if he was thinking of something particularly scathing to say. Suffice it to say, he didn't take my news well. "Let me get this straight Agent Creed. Not only did you activate this girl's brain chip ... thingy, but now you tell me that she has refused witness protection and is insisting on living with you?" I wanted to disappear. "That's about the size of it sir." Jones exhaled ... slowly. "Very well, Agent Creed. I am releasing Ms. Gale from custody, she may reside where ever she chooses. You needn't worry about bringing her to court to testify, we have at least ten other girls who want to see UniCORP go down in flames." "Thank you sir," I said. This meeting had gone better than I expected. Jones simply smiled. "Oh don't thank me yet Creed, I'm also putting you on probation. You will answer tip line phone calls in the bullpen for a month for being careless ... as I understand, you came with such high qualifications you missed that little job. I think it only fair I not deny you the experience." Jonathan Creed I really hate the bullpen. "Um, sir, am I being demoted?" Jones shook his head, still grinning. "No Special Agent Creed, I'm just making you do some grunt work, so you'll maybe use that big brain of yours and think before landing yourself in this kind of trouble again. Ah. So he's just being a bastard. "Yes sir, I understand." Jones nodded. "Good." Jones looked back down at a new file on his desk. It had just come out of the official packaging from Washington. Two days ago I would have asked to see it. I would have wanted the case. Now I just felt lucky to keep my job. "Dismissed," Jones said without looking up. I walked from the room. I eyed the bullpen and the jingling phones on the way to my office ... it had suddenly taken on a new meaning. I slipped into my office. It was still a bit disheveled from my episode so I started to tidy up. I'm a bit of a neat freak. When I was content that my office was sufficiently clean I sat down at my desk. I needed to tell Sarah Gale that she was free ... now all I had to do was convince her that living with me was not the solution to our mutual problem. I reached for the phone sitting on my desk, and rang down to the holding rooms. Dr. Thompson answered. "Hello." I cleared my throat. "Um, hi, Doctor, how is she?" I heard Thompson give a little chuckle. "She's as antsy as a wild cat. Either that chip thing is stronger than I originally thought or you make quite a first impression." I groaned internally. This did not bode well for my 'you're free' speech. "Send her up to my office Doctor, I need to talk with her." "Alright son, she'll be up in five minutes." I gingerly replaced the phone on the receiver. Twelve minutes later I heard a knock on my office door. "Come in." I called out. I poured myself some scotch to calm my nerves. Sarah Gale entered my office. She was a vision on two legs. Obviously UniCORP picked the best looking girls they could find. At five eight she stood quite tall for a woman. She had long shapely legs that were currently encased in form fitting jeans. She was wearing a pick blouse that accentuated her hourglass figure, and emphasized her C cup breasts. Her long shimmery auburn hair was pulled back in a pony tail. She gave me a half smile. I tried to swallow the knot that had formed in my throat. I gestured to a chair, "Please, Ms. Gale sit down." She gracefully sat down. "Just Sarah, Agent Creed." "Then I insist you call me Jonathan." She nodded and said, "You wanted to see me Jonathan?" I took a healthy swig of my drink. "Sarah, I've managed to get you discharged. You are a free woman once again, and can leave the premises whenever you desire." She made a face. "Um, wonderful ... so are you going to take me to your house then?" I sighed. "Sarah, please be reasonable." She turned red, and made fists with her hands. "NO. Now listen to me mister. I get the most terrible headaches when I can't see you, and when I can see you all I can think about is sex! So don't keep going on about how I'm not being reasonable because you're the one who did this to me and YOU have to face the consequences." Her anger was quickly giving way to tears. Suddenly she dropped to her knees and put her head on the ground. "I'm sorry for yelling Master." Master? That was a new one. "Um, Sarah, get up," I said. She quickly rose and sat back down. Her face was crimson, this time from embarrassment. "What was that Sarah?" She shifted and looked distinctly uncomfortable. "It was nothing, don't worry about it," said the adorable British red head. I would not be denied. "Sarah, you called me Master." She shivered. "I suppose I can't fight the urge forever, you'd know eventually." "Know what Sarah?" "Each chip has a specific fantasy on it. One of the Doctors told each of us what our chips were designed for ... some girls got 'Perfect Housewife.' Others got, 'Model Daughter' while some got 'Nymphomaniac.' I and two other girls, got 'Sex Slave.'" Her voice was shaking now. I gulped. "You mean?" She nodded. "I'm your sex slave." ------- In all my years of conversation, I have never had to respond to that statement before. I'm your sex slave. Sarah was eyeing me nervously. I could see that her eyes were watering, as if she were about to break down and cry. I stood silently, and did the bravest and most forward thing that Jonathan Creed has ever done with a woman. I hugged her. She felt soft and warm in my arms. Sarah was perfectly female, and perfectly vulnerable. She buried her face in my shoulder. Her long red hair tickled the nape of my neck. I felt moisture leak through my shirt. She let go of her tension, and was silently sobbing against my body. I slowly rocked us back and forth, as we stood there in the middle of my office, and whispered in her ear. "It's all right, everything will be alright." She cooed into my chest. She wrapped her arms around me and hugged me tightly. We stood like that for a time. ------- I lost track of the moment. An hour could have slipped by and I wouldn't have noticed. We simply stood there, lost in our own little world, floating in a private universe. I never felt more at peace than that moment ... it couldn't last though. My legs started to ache from standing in place. I slowly released Sarah from my grip, and reached around and disconnected her arms from my back. She whimpered, and tried to grab me again. "What's wrong with me," she asked in a soft voice. "I can't seem to let you go ... I don't want to let you go ... I've never been like this with a man. I've never been so helpless ... so needy for his touch." I gently raised her chin so that her green eyes met mine. "It's my fault Sarah. I did something terrible to you. I've taken your freedom ... and you are feeling things that you wouldn't normally feel. I'm sorry I activated that chip in your head ... if I could take it back and set you free, I would." Sarah's eyes glanced away from mine. "But you can't take it back." "No." She nodded slowly. "Then, can you take me to your house then? Like I asked?" I smiled at her. "That much I can do." ------- Chapter 7 The moment had passed. She had been eager enough to leave the building, but the second we stepped into my little black sedan things became awkward again ... by the time we hit lunch time traffic it was just plain uncomfortable. Unfortunately in bumper to bumper traffic I had nothing to do but to steal glances at my new teenage ward. Suffice it to say she looked ... on edge. She was sitting up very straight in her seat, and her hands were clenched into fists on her lap. She was also breathing heavily. Odd. I couldn't think of anything to say ... so I turned the radio on. A smooth and slick news reporter voice started talking. " ... President Mendez refused to give a statement as to if he would be running in the 2028 election ... how this will affect his popularity in the upcoming polls remains to be seen. In other news US multi-billion dollar corporation UniCORP has been officially seized by the FBI as of earlier this week. CEO and founder Ronald Turner was spotted boarding his private jet an hour before the FBI raid. He is currently suspected to be in hiding in Somalia. The company is suspected of tax fraud, and construction of illicit technology, though as to the nature of this technology, Director Henderson in Washington refused to comment ... I'm Sam Young, and this is Afternoon News." I quickly turned the radio off. I snuck another glance at Sarah. She had a numb expression on her face. "Sarah..." I began. "Don't, Jonathan..." She said, her voice breathy. I dropped it. I glanced out the window at the traffic. Everyone was out going to lunch. The streets were crowed, people were nearly shoulder to shoulder on the side walk. The snow was melting slightly, giving everything a slightly slushy feel. As if the entire world was wet melting... Honking erupted on a distant street, probably due to some angry cabbie, and immediately everyone else joined in. So many people ... it sometimes makes me nauseous. Sarah closed her eyes and leaned back into the headrest. "Are we going to be there soon?" "About ten minutes." Sarah smiled... "Good," she said. She rubbed her legs together, and hugged her chest. "Are you cold?" "No." We drove on in silence, choosing to listen to the noise already in the world than add to it. This was going to be an awkward relationship if neither of us were big talkers. "Do you have any family that you might want to call?" She shook her head, "They already asked me that at the hospital." I shrugged, while keeping my eyes on the traffic infested road. "Sometimes people don't like to call from the hospital or the FBI building ... but then they're on their cells the minute they walk out the door." She brushed a lock of red hair from her face. "No ... no family to call." I simply kept driving. Eventually we pulled through the bottle neck of the main roads, and traffic slowly disappeared after that. I owned a town house ... one of those skinny affairs that have about four stories, but only about two rooms on each floor. It cost me much more than an apartment would have, and it was farther away from the Bureau building ... but I liked my space, and my privacy. We pulled up to my place and I parked in my reserved resident's street side parking. Sarah simply stared at my house. "Is that it," she asked. She was pointing towards my white five story town house... "Yes." She chuckled. "You don't take very good care of your potted plants do you?" I ignored her. "Come on, let's get you inside ... I'm sure your hungry." ------- We walked through the threshold and I gave her a quick tour. "On this floor is the kitchen and the living room. Second floor has a guest bedroom and my media room. Third floor is my study, and the fourth floor is the master bed room. Below the first floor is a basement. Complete with a big freezer and pool table." She busied herself looking around, as if trying to get acquainted to a new home ... or, at least I hope she thought of it as a home ... and not as a prison cell. Finally she turned to me. "This must cost a pretty pence for all this room in New York City." I nodded. She continued. "I didn't think cops made this much." I winced at being called a cop ... even though I had a great respect for them. I felt myself getting a bit angry, it was if she was trying to goad me. "I am a FBI Agent, Sarah ... a good one to. I get paid a decent amount ... besides; when my parents died they left me a little nest egg ... so I'm not pressed for money." Her furrowed brow softened. "I'm sorry about your parents ... and I'm sorry for being such a wanker ... but I'm kinda confused right now ... and I don't know how to behave." I smiled at her and took her hand. She trembled and closed her eyes ... but pretended not to notice. "Just act like you're my roommate ... we'll get along fine until we can sort your problem out." She cracked her eyes open and looked at me strangely. "Like you're my roommate...?" She said confused. I nodded. "Yeah, we'll be more comfortable with each other that way..." She stuttered and winced, as if her head hurt. "But the chip..." she began. "Shhh," I said softly. "Let's try not to worry your chip ... I won't ever force you to act on what the chip does." She screwed up her face again. "It doesn't work like that John ... you can't just turn this bloody thing off ... those desires ... that need ... it's always in my head, telling me ... making me want to do ... to be your..." "Sarah!" I said with some force. "Snap out of it." She blinked, as if exiting from a trance. "I am going to show you up to your room. Do you have your suitcase?" She nodded, keeping her eyes on the floor. "Yeah, the FBI got all my stuff from my apartment." "Good, now follow me up the stairs." I showed her into the guest bedroom. It wasn't very big, as it competed for space with the media room on this floor, but it would have to do. The room was very white, and had dark blue curtains and a queen sized bed. The room had a connecting bathroom with a shower. I turned to Sarah, who was looking very confused ... If only this beautiful woman had chosen to be here of her own free will ... I would have been ecstatic to have her in my house. "Will you be comfortable here?" She nodded slightly. I continued. "Good, I want you to unpack and make yourself comfortable. When you're done I should have a bit of lunch ready." She suddenly brightened up. "Can I make lunch for you? Please?" I shook my head sternly. "No Sarah, unpack, get comfortable ... maybe take a shower. Don't come down stairs for at least forty minutes." Her eyes flicked down to the floor again. "Yes sir." "Good, I'll see you at lunch." She nodded. She had started panting again ... I couldn't tell if she was about to cry again or if she was just out of breath ... so I beat a hasty retreat out of her new room. I closed the door behind me. I slowly made my way back down the stairs. The kitchen still smelled faintly of my failed attempt to cook eggs. Despite my mother's best efforts I was not the best chef in the world. I, however, had learned to work around my handicap. I reached into the freezer and pulled out two steaks. I set them out to thaw. I then went to the pantry and found a bottle of a special local steak marinade that a little mom and pop store sells just down the road. I was washing lettuce for a salad when I heard a moaning coming from upstairs. Almost as if she was in pain. That girl must be so miserable with that chip in her head ... stuck with a wet blanket like me. I tried to ignore her misery and went back to preparing lunch. Sarah Gale cannot live with me ... of this I was certain ... somehow someway we would beat this chip, and have her get on with life. We would talk over lunch ... I would get to know her and her me ... and she would see me as the miserable loner I am... And then she would distance herself from me... Just like everyone does. ------- Chapter 8 We picked at our food in silence. Sarah kept her head down, and her eyes focused on her food. She was idly playing with her fork, and randomly scraping it across her plate. She did it in the way that people do when they're either extremely bored or extremely tired. She had hardly touched her meal. The afternoon had turned overcast, and it was dark in the kitchen, however, neither of us made a move to turn the lights on. I cleared my throat. "So tell me about yourself Sarah," I said. I wanted something, anything, to make this girl feel comfortable. She didn't look up from her food. "No much to tell really," she said glumly. I stood up and took both our plates to the sick ... I began to wash them. Sarah quickly stood up. "Can I wash those?" She asked, with a strange pleading note to her voice. "No, you sit Sarah ... I'd rather you tell me about yourself," I said. She made a sound of disappointed. "Yes Mas..." she coughed, "Yes Jonathan." She took a deep breath ... and looked around the room skittishly. I sighed. "You could start with what job you do, or perhaps where you go to school?" She started mumbling something at the table ... Her words were completely inaudible. I felt like a parent asking his teenage daughter how her day was. It was tedious. "Sarah, look at me and speak up, I can't hear you." Sarah raised her head, causing red tresses to fall neatly around her face, haloing her pale perfection in a beautiful sea of auburn. "I'm model," she said simply. I nodded, still busy scrubbing dishes. "I can imagine that, I'm sure you know that you are a very beautiful girl." Sarah surprised me by blushing a deep shade of pink ... in my experience pretty girls don't blush at being called beautiful ... especially not models ... they should be used to such comments. "Thank you, Jonathan." She said softly. Her green eyes seemed to sparkle with sincerity ... perhaps we will get along after all. I racked my brain for more questions. I found myself wanting to know more about my alluring house guest. "How do you like Britain ... do you live here in Manhattan or are you just visiting?" Sarah smiled slightly. "I live here with you now Jonathan." My belly did an unexpected flip flop. "Well, yes, for now. But I mean before all this happened ... where did you live?" Sarah's smile slipped a little. She began playing with her hair, twirling one strand on her finger. It was extremely cute ... I was positive she was doing it unconsciously. "I lived in an apartment with two other models near Crotona park ... we shared the rent ... and we all worked for the same agency." I nodded, "But you were born and raised in England?" She looked away. "Well, were you?" She stopped playing with her hair. "Yes, I was born in London." "Why'd you leave?" She suddenly looked at me as if I were an idiot. "I got a job offer to be a model here." I waved my hand, dismissing her statement. "Yes, yes I know that, but I mean you're nineteen. You should be in college." She started tapping on my wooden kitchen table. "I got into Oxford," she said. So she was smart and pretty... "Then why aren't you in Oxford right now?" She sighed ... acting like such a teenager. "Because I could model here you wanker..." her breath suddenly caught in her throat, "Sorry for calling you names sir." This girl seemed to suffer from mood swings. But still, I could see how a young teenager could throw away prestigious college in order to be paid to wear clothes. "How'd your parents feel about that?" Sarah groaned, "None of your business." I guess I could respect that. I paused for a second trying to think of a way to bring up what she told me in her office. The term 'sex slave' made me distinctly uncomfortable ... but so far, except for one instance in my office, she didn't seem anything like what I imagined a 'sex slave' was. Before I could talk she interrupted me. "How old are you Jonathan?" She was looking at me with distinct curiosity now. I shifted my weight to my other foot, and busied myself loading the dishwasher. My age was a bit of a sore spot for me. Society thought people my age should be in a fraternity, not working for the FBI. "Twenty four," I said cautiously. She looked at me with genuine surprise. "I thought you were just well preserved. You act like you're in your mid-thirties." I gave a little laugh. "No, I guess I'm just boring for my age." She cocked her head. "You work for the FBI ... you must have gone to college ... so, um ... when did you graduate? This was the part people realized I was a freak. "When I was twenty," I replied. She nodded as if this was normal. "From what college?" I almost didn't say it. "Harvard..." Even to me my voice sounded dejected. Sarah leaned back in my kitchen chair. It made a creaking noise as pressure was put on the back. "So you're smart ... that fair to say?" I nodded miserably. Sarah looked at me as if she couldn't figure me out ... but what she didn't do was look at me as if I were an alien ... something that was completely different from her and could never be understood. Perhaps that's an exaggeration ... but people treat intelligent people differently. My least favorite phrase in the entire cosmos was... 'Get John to do it, he's smart.' I eyed Sarah's teenage face for a second longer. All I saw was curiosity, and nothing else ... and it was wonderful. Jonathan Creed Tension drained from my body. I stopped pretending to clean a glass, and sat back down across from her. Sarah was smiling at me. "I guess if I ever want to go back to school I should have you take my entrance exams for me." I grumbled. "Very funny," I said. The kitchen was dark now. It was only three o'clock, but it was as dark as night outside. Thunder all of a sudden echoed across the sky ... and raindrops started to splatter against the windows. Must be too hot for snow ... I thought to myself. I glanced across the table at my teenager. She was watching the rain. I raised an eyebrow. "So are we done asking questions about me?" I asked. She nodded. "Yeah, apparently you're just a super smart cop." She must be feeling a little bit more comfortable with me if making fun of me was now allowed. The rain was loud ... and periodically thunder would crack above. "Would you like to play pool?" I asked. Sarah screwed up her face. "I prefer snooker," she said. I sighed, "Sorry," I said. "No weird British pool here." She very childishly stuck her tongue out at me. I tried to explain. "What I really want is to go down into the basement. We won't hear the rain down there. We'll play a game till things quiet down." She nodded, but made no move to get up. I stood, "Come on, I'll even make us some hot chocolate ... I'll be right behind you. Simply go back to hallway next to the front door. The door on your left leads to stairs down to the basement. Light switch is at the top of the stairs." Strangely, the insolent little teen simply stood and went ... without saying a word. Three minutes later I wobbled down the basement steps carrying two cups of hot cocoa. It was quiet and warm down here due to the insulation. Sarah was sitting on the side of the pool table, dangling her feet just above the floor... I handed her a steaming mug. "Thank you," she said. I hopped up on the side of the pool table next to her, and took a sip of my hot chocolate. We both quietly listened to the dull hum of my hot water tank as we sat. Sarah began to fidget, and she rubbed her legs together. She took a swig from her mug, and took a deep breath. Her face contorted again, and she squeezed her eyes shut. I gently put my hand on her back. "Something wrong?" I asked. Sarah leaned back into my hand, increasing the connection between us. I could feel her bra through her blouse... "You won't like the answer," she said softly. I groaned internally ... we both knew what she wanted to talk about ... except I had wanted to be the one to bring it up first. She continued. "We can't just ignore the chip Mr. super smart cop. It might make you comfortable pretending to my father or brother or whatever ... but it is constantly chattering in my head ... and I can't fight the urges forever. The headaches are too bad ... something in my mind will give." Sarah paused, and looked down at her legs, which she was now cutely swinging in midair. I quickly tried to think of a response. "What is the ... the um ... chip telling you to do now?" Sarah paused for a second ... thinking. "It's not so much that it tells me with words ... nor is it like it is some separate entity giving me suggestions. All it feels like is thinking of something that you know you wouldn't normally think or feel ... but then thinking it anyway." That was confusing. "Okay..." I started. "So what are you thinking now that you shouldn't be?" Sarah paused, and took in another deep breath. "Well, right now I'm mad at myself for some reason ... because I'm sitting next to you. I feel as if I should be ... on my knees." I didn't like the way this was heading. "So you're having 'sex slave thoughts, '" I said. She nodded miserably. "It's so confusing," she said. "I mean, it's like a battlefield in my head." She all of a sudden turned to me a looked me straight in the face. "I'll have you know I've never been this pathetic in all my life!" She shouted. "I'm a hardcore feminist ... I feel sick with myself for feeling this way ... after all the things women have done for equality ... I get all excited about the prospect of making you lunch." Her mood suddenly switched again, and she collapsed into me. Her head rested heavily on my shoulder ... as if I were the only thing that held her up. "And now that's not even the worst of it. I keep wanting you to hit me ... to call me degrading names ... to USE me for any sexual desire ... and all this time I have to eat lunch and discuss colleges and jobs with you and act like nothing is going on!" Her earlier moaning from her bedroom made more sense now. "You masturbated when I told you to clean up didn't you?" I said. She nodded against my shoulder. Her voice was quieter now, but somehow filled with even more passion. "I rubbed myself like a horny bitch as soon as you left ... I've never cum so hard ... fuck it was great." "Language, Sarah..." I said, as if I were her father. I felt her stiffen next to me. "Sorry sir." Suddenly she jerked away from my shoulder and looked up at me. "I didn't mean to say that!" She said. "The little whiney slave Sarah said that before I could even THINK!" This was spiraling out of control. I reached out for her, "Shh, Sarah, it will all be okay." I pulled her into our second embrace ever. She didn't cry this time ... instead she just sighed into my chest. "Fuck me Master," She said. Startled, I pulled her away from me so I could see her face. Her green eyes were pools of lust ... and her cheeks were flushed. Her long mahogany hair was slightly disheveled, but that only made her sexier. Quickly, Sarah dropped to her knees, and looked up at me from the floor. "Please, Master" she said, "please claim me." ------- Chapter 9 It was silent for a beat. The dull hum of the water heater filled my ears. The warm stuffy feel of the basement pervaded my skin, and my legs were falling asleep from sitting awkwardly on my pool table. Sarah Gale had just asked me to claim her. Whatever that truly menas. Half a minute passed, and thousands of thoughts ricochet around inside my head. But one singular one came to the forefront. What she had just said turned me on ... and that worried me. As a modern man I wasn't supposed to think of women as slaves or inferior things ... but the thought of having such ... control ... over a woman was ... intoxicating. Not to mention completely out of the question. An entire minute ticked by. Sarah still kneeled in front of me. Her face held no emotion but that of complete supplication. She was panting slightly ... I could see her nipples tenting her pink blouse. I shook free of my disturbing thoughts, and found my voice. "Sarah..." I said. "Sarah, get up. You're not thinking clearly ... Come on, I know it's still early but I'm sure we're both tired. Let's get you to bed." I watched Sarah's face slowly turn crimson. She was on her feet so fast I couldn't see her move. "What the FUCK have you done to ME?" She screamed at the top of her voice. I was glad we were in the basement; otherwise the neighbors call the cops for a domestic dispute. Sarah seemed to go from embarrassment to anger rather quickly. "Don't you think that for a second you should read anything into that little ... that little ... EPISODE!" She yelled. Her hair was messy, and her eyes were livid, even though they were filled with moisture. I simply nodded dumbly. Sarah took a deep breath. She still looked me suspiciously, as if daring me to comment on her 'little episode.' She kept her eyes on my face for a second ... then nodded. "Good." She said. "Obviously this is all your fault anyway for imprinting yourself on an honest to god 'MIND CONTROL' chip. But if you think for a second that that was the real me you smug bastard then you've got another thing coming. I in no way wanted to act like that..." She stopped speaking mid sentence. Her eyes closed shut and her mouth turned down as if she were in pain. Her hands shot up and clutched her head ... She moaned so quietly I could barely hear her... "My head..." she hissed softly. I hopped off the table to help. I grabbed her head under her chin and tried to raise her face to mine. "Are you okay Sarah?" I asked. She shook her head ... and winced. "No ... can't think ... my head is killing me." Suddenly she jerked her head away from my hands. With a moan she collapsed onto her hands and knees, and threw up all over my basement floor. The putrid smell of sick filled the warm air of the underground room ... I slowly moved next to her, and knelt down. Sarah collapsed face down onto the floor next to her puddle ... coming dangerously close to getting her hair dirty. I put a hand on her and started to softly caress her back. I could feel her diaphragm shaking. Quietly she began to cry. Time passed ... and I did nothing but keep my hand calmly rested upon her back. Eventually Sarah stopped sobbing. She was now taking even deep breaths and her eyes were closed. She had fallen asleep. Gently, so as not to wake her, I slowly eased her up into my arms. I carefully walked up the basement stairs and the first floor stairs. I awkwardly turned the door knob to the guest room with Sarah still sleeping quietly in my arms. I stole my way inside the now dark room and lowered her onto the bed. I contemplated taking her clothes off, but when I found they were free of vomit I decided that doing so would not help either of our causes. Instead of putting her under the covers I simply untucked the bed spread and wrapped her in it. She ended up looking like a baby in a bundle. Her young pale face looked untroubled in sleep. Her red hair fell back in a glorious mane on the bed. She breathed slowly and rhythmically. I silently eased my way out of the guestroom. Like a parent with a child I found myself wishing her good night as I eased the door closed. It felt like the weight of the world was on my shoulders ... but I'm sure everyone has had that thought at some time. I staggered down the stairs to the first floor, and dragged myself into the kitchen. I felt so ... tired. So very tired. I hadn't been sleeping well all this week. I had forgone rest in order to collect my facts on the UniCORP investigation ... and then there had been last night ... I don't think I've have ever been that drunk. I grabbed a dish towel from a drawer and put it in the sink, and started soaking it in hot water. Then I grabbed some disinfectant and a trash bag. I turned the sink off and grabbed the cloth. With my cleaning supplies in hand I walked out of the kitchen and started my way back down the stairs to the basement. The smell had gotten much worse in my absence. I could barely feel my feet as I trudged up the stairs to my bedroom. The disadvantage to my house is stairs. There are a lot of them ... I peeked into Sarah's room as I reached the first floor. It was dark and she was breathing normally. I felt ... odd. Normally I didn't like caring for anyone but myself. I put on a smile and a brave face for those at the office, but one of the reasons I liked being an officer of the law was the lack of people I had to deal with on a personal level. Not having many non FBI friends was hard ... but I've never been good with people. With the FBI I know where I stand. If I'm 'interacting' with someone it is either because we are brothers in arms, or I'm slapping handcuffs on them... But when I looked on at Sarah Gale sleeping soundly in my home ... I felt strangely protective of her. I shook my head, and started walking up more stairs. I went past the door to my library and then up another flight. Finally I made it to my bedroom ... without even bothering to remove my clothes I flopped on my King sized bed. I awoke to the smell of bacon. For a moment I thought I was thirteen years old again and my mother was cooking breakfast. My head filled with images of mom in her yellow apron busily frying eggs and cooking bacon, while humming a little tune. I saw my father sitting at the kitchen table, dressed for work and sipping coffee. The morning newspaper spread out before him. I opened my eyes half expecting to see the room of my childhood ... But it was not to be. I was staring at the ceiling of my adult house in New York City, and not that of the small home of my parents in Portland Maine. I closed my eyes and mentally focused on clearing my head. Thinking of my parents was too painful. I took a deep breath ... and got another whiff of breakfast. Sarah Gale, British teenager and model did not strike me as an early riser, or someone who cooked breakfast. I quickly stripped out of yesterdays clothes and got in the shower. I tried to be quick about it but I found myself lingering. The hot water was welcome after two days worth of grime build up. Finally I exited the shower. I grabbed a towel amongst the steam and dried off, but left the towel in the bathroom. I walked into my bedroom in the nude ... only to find Sarah there ... with breakfast. She looked up and saw me ... naked. Her eyes dilated immediately, and her breath caught ... I also noticed her knees go weak. After a split second of staring Sarah snapped her eyes shut. "I'm so so so sorry Jonathan, but I heard the shower start and I thought that that would mean I could bring you some breakfast..." she trailed off lamely. After I got over my initial shock I took everything in stride. "No don't worry about it Sarah," I said. "I'm just not used to having people in my house is all." She nodded, still with her eyes closed. I sighed. "Here, just let me get dressed." I walked into my walk-in closet and threw on a pair of boxers and shorts, and a flannel white shirt. I emerged from the closet to see that Sarah hadn't moved, and still hadn't opened her eyes. "It's okay now Sarah, I'm decent." She opened her eyes owlishly. Her eyes did a little up and down as she took in my attire. I might have just imagined the disappointment in her eyes. "Thank you for making me breakfast in bed Sarah." I said politely. She suddenly blinked rapidly, and refocused her eyes on me. She glanced at the tray with bacon and eggs on it. "Oh, well ... I just ... I just thought that since you let me stay here and all with my little problem ... and how rude I was last night when I ... when I asked you... 'that' question." Sarah seemed like she was really struggling. I decided to help. "It's alright Sarah, no hard feelings ... this breakfast looks great." Sarah looked at the plate of food as if it confused her. "I woke up on my own somehow ... right at seven. I sat in the bed fidgeting for a while ... and all I could think about was making you breakfast ... like it was my ... my duty or something. It was the most bizarre sensation." Sarah seemed to forget that she was talking out loud. She was in full confessional mode. "So eventually it got so strong that I got up and did it ... and I felt wonderful the entire time I was cooking. Like I was serving..." She trailed off. Then she suddenly glared at me. "Listen don't read too much into this. I'm just grateful you let me stay here because of the headaches and stuff." I felt uncomfortable listening to her skirting the fact that the chip in her head made her desire her own slavery. I instead busied myself eating breakfast. It was the best I'd had since my mother had cooked for me all those years ago. "This is great," I said. Sarah suddenly lit up. "Really? Oh, I'm so glad Master, I haven't cooked much before so I was nervous but..." Sarah trailed off ... realizing too late that she had called me Master again. "Sarah," I said. She looked up at me. "I don't mind. I know this is hard for you. Just do whatever you have to." She nodded slowly. "Thank ... thank you Jon. Don't worry about me ... making breakfast stifled the urges for the moment." Sarah's voice was breathy and soft. "But do you think you could ... well, spank me?" In my experience people didn't 'ask' to be spanked. "Sarah, are you serious?" I asked. Sarah sat down on the bed, and pulled her legs up to her chest. "Please Jon, just do this for me ... I promise I won't bother you after this." The horny side of my brain tried to rationalize. I had been feeling a bit like her parent yesterday. Perhaps spanking her for being so rude last night would be justifiable. Fathers spanked their daughters all the time without it becoming sexual ... it was just to maintain discipline and to keep a young emotional girl well grounded ... right? I felt like I was agreeing to my own execution ... except it was my conscience that was marching to the hangman's noose. "Okay, I'll spank you." ------- Chapter 10 Sarah's mouth dropped open... "You mean ... you're going to hit me?" She asked timidly. Inside me I felt something building ... a sort of tension ... something primeval ... like there was a raging beast inside me that knew no humanity and no society. All it knew was its will, and its desire to be obeyed. "I said I would, and I meant it." My voice sounded cold to my ears ... clinical, detached, yet ruthlessly uncompromising. It was eerie to here this voice pass my lips. Sarah noticed it too. She was looking at me nervously now, and she was hugging her knees even tighter. "Umm ... Jon, listen, I didn't mean what I said ... I was just having another one of my little episodes, just forget I ever said anything okay." The beast inside me disagreed. The cold voice continued to speak through me. "No Sarah. I said I would spank you for being so discourteous yesterday, and I mean to keep my word." Sarah bit her bottom lip and shook her head. Her red hair fell in front of her eyes. She seemed almost scared of me. She was all suddenly conscious of the fact that in her current position I could see up the yellow sun dress she had selected for the morning. She quickly stood and straightened her dress and began to edge toward the door. "Look Jon, this is all a great misunderstanding, I'll just leave you with your breakfast and..." I interrupted her. "Sarah, be silent, and come here." I intoned in my new found voice. Sarah lowered her green eyes to the floor. A mental battle seemed to be taking place in her head. Suddenly, she demurely stepped away from the door and stood in front of me. I could smell her sex. I sat down heavily on the edge of the bed. "Sarah, tell me you do not want me to spank you." I saw a spark of resilience flash in Sarah's eyes. She looked me full on in the face and practically spat, "Don't flatter yourself ... lets be real shall we? If it weren't for this chip giving me migraines I wouldn't be anywhere near some Fed nerd like you. So just put any ideas out of your head." She was a very good actress, the Jonathan of just yesterday would have been sufficiently cowed. But the animal inside me could smell her ... her own body was betraying her words. "Take your underwear off..." I said calmly. Her eyes popped with incredulity. "Excuse me?" She said ... her face darkened into a glower. She began to step away from me. I didn't move from the bed. "Would you prefer I rip it?" I said menacingly. Sarah paused a minute ... she screwed up her eyes ... her hands started to shake. She slowly pulled up her sundress so she could slide the panties down her perfect hips and thighs and past her delicious calves. "Satisfied?" She asked as she slowly stepped from the white garment. I shook my head. I wasn't in control of myself ... something else ... a different part of me I never knew existed was in control ... and it liked control. "No I'm not," I said. "I want you to pick them up, and put them to your nose. Jonathan Creed Sarah looked at me ... her eyes watering slightly. "What kind of man are you?" I answered curtly. "One who gives orders ... and expects them to be obeyed." Her entire body was shaking with desire as she lifted her own wet panties to her face. I was enjoying her little show. "What do you smell Sarah?" Sarah looked at me, silently begging me with her eyes ... She found no compassion in them. "Sex," she whispered. I smiled slowly... "Now tell me you still believe you don't want to be spanked..." She looked at me ... still defiant to the end... "You don't know me," she simmered, "You can't know what I 'believe'." I laughed... "Now ask me how much I care about what you believe right now." She tried to escape, but I grabbed her wrist. I effortlessly swung her up over my lap. She screamed at me to let her go, but I made easy work of her wiggling. I positioned her crotch over mine. "Prepare yourself," I cautioned. Sarah was straining herself to keep her crotch from touching my hardness through my pants. I allowed her no such rebellion, and pushed her down with my hand. I peeled up her dress and got my first close look at her naked flesh. The dual globes of her ass were smooth and pale, and simply ached for punishment. "You're a demon," she screeched. I ignored her caterwauling. Instead, I was able to find a sort of inner peace. I laid my hand down, feeling her soft supple skin. I rubbed her slightly, enjoying my new found tranquility. The sensation felt like the eye of a great storm ... the silence that comes before a great hurricane ... a peace before the struggle ... and the inevitable surrender. I slowly lifted my hand, and delivered a single blow. There was an audible 'crack.' My blow landed high on her right ass cheek. Sarah cried out. My heart began to race. I hit her again, this time on the other cheek. It left a bright warm red mark ... in the shape of my hand. Sarah was shaking ... her entire body was quivering. Five blows later, she began to groan in time with the swats. She began to lift her ass to meet my hand. I could smell fresh lubrication in the air. She was turned on ... she could deny it no longer. No one could mistake the beautiful pout of her pussy lips swelling in reaction to my punishing hand, the crevice between them glistening and seeping with sexual nectar. I hit her one last time, harder than my previous blows ... however, instead of immediately removing my hand, I ground it into her crotch ... rubbing her inflamed ass and her sopping pussy. Sarah came on my hand. Sarah wailed and writhed on my lap ... but I used my hands to keep her pinned and contained. She was mine ... and she went nowhere without my permission. She started to cry over my lap. The beast inside me paused. Her tears became more and more pronounced ... and the beast grew more uncomfortable ... slowly I felt it withdraw from my consciousness, back to whatever dark place it inhabited in my mind before it reared its ugly head. I suddenly felt disgusted with myself ... I threw the sexually used teenager onto the sheets and scrambled away from the bed. I put my head against the wall, and slammed on it with my fist. I was worse than scum ... I practically assaulted her ... I should report myself to the local station and be put away ... it would be the least I deserve. Despair seemed to close in ... my own self hatred felt magnified. A small voice from behind me freed me from my spiral of introspection... "Thank you." I turned and looked at Sarah. Her cheeks were streaked with tears ... but she was looking at me with clear eyes for the first time. Her brow was free of any mental turmoil ... and her mouth was turned up in a slight smile. I was confused. "But you were crying...?" She nodded. "After ... I ... um ... peaked, I felt confused. I was confused for enjoying my own domination. I asked myself if being treated like that was all I was worth ... and if it made me happy..." Her smile suddenly broke out into a huge grin. "And I've never felt happier in all of my life ... then when your strong hands held me ... possessed me ... and made me serve your will. I never felt so complete ... or so filled with joy ... I need that in my life, like I need air to breath." I turned back to the wall. "That is only the chip talking ... soon you're going to snap out of it, and shout at me for letting the beast out ... for being so cruel." I felt Sarah's arms encircle my waist from behind. "No Master. When I was under your hand something broke inside of me. A barrier in my mind that couldn't accept what the chip had turned me into was torn asunder. That was the last vestiges of my old self ... and my old preconceptions. This chip isn't going anywhere; I'm stuck with it in my head for as long as I live." She paused. She put her cheek against my back and rubbed against me. "The new me is a slave. Would I have been a slave if I had not gotten this chip? Probably not. But the new me enjoys being a slave ... or rather ... being your slave." Sarah dropped onto her knees, and was now hugging my legs from behind. "So I'll ask you again Master of my heart and commander of my soul. Will you allow me to submit to you ... will you claim me?" I heard the echo of her voice the previous day resound in my head. It seemed like a lifetime ago ... a different conversation, between two very different people. I turned around. I looked down upon her bright forest green eyes staring longingly up at me. Her dress was rumpled from the spanking and dried tears still clung to her face ... but all I could see was pure feminine beauty, pliant, soft, and yielding. Her very expression screamed submission. I slowly reached down and cupped her all too beautiful face. "It won't be as easy as that," I said. "We'll figure it out as we go," she said softly. Her eyes never left mine. "I just spanked you," I whined. "I enjoyed it," she countered. "We'll have to make rules to figure this relationship out," I insisted. "I'll obey any command," she replied Emotion caught in my throat. "We barely know each other..." I rasped. "I can't live without you," she whispered. ------- Chapter 11 I was pacing the floor of my bedroom. Thoughts were rushing around my head at a mile a minute. This situation was out of control. I was out of control ... we need boundaries ... maybe if we couldn't ignore it ... we could come up with something to deal with it. Sarah was on the floor kneeling calmly with her hands in her lap. She had a small smile on her face and she followed me with her eyes as I wore down the carpet. I finally threw up my hands. "I'm no good at this," I said. Sarah simply looked warmly at me ... she seemed very content with her little patch of floor. Her happiness was driving me crazy. I glared at her. "You know, you could help me come up with some rules ... rules that can satisfy the chip but keep things calm and under control." Sarah's smile dropped a few notches. "But Master, I don't want to do this 'just' enough to satisfy my chip. Why can't we just have no rules at all? Then you can do whatever you like with me ... and that would make me happy." I sighed heavily. "Look chip or no chip why are you being so submissive?" Sarah cocked her head to the side and fixed me with her forest green eyes. "Because that is what I want ... to be your submissive little pet." I shook my head. "Fine. Be that as it may, we still need rules so that we can function and communicate with each other. I've noticed you've started to call me 'Master'. That is exactly the kind of stuff we need to be making rules for. What if we were around town and you called me Master?" Sarah rubbed her legs together... "This is New York ... stranger things happen." This was not going as planned. "That is not the point, it draws attention ... people would know that you are ... that you are ... what you are." Sarah rubbed her legs together again, this time faster. "I know ... the idea is getting me all worked up ... public acknowledgement that I'm nothing more than your servant is making me drip." I already figured that out ... the smell was reaching me on the other side of the room ... and it was making it hard to think. I recently made the self discovery that I have a side that gets off on control ... and the sight of her kneeling at my feet was not helping. I finally decided to give ground. "Look, Sarah. I'm the kind of guy that likes rules ... so help me out on this one ... I'm a Nerdy Fed like you said remember?" A look of pure panic crossed Sarah's face. She planted her nose into the carpet, like she was bowing to me ... as if I were her king. "Master, I'm so sorry for calling you that ... there is no excuse ... please, please forgive me..." I reached down and picked Sarah up off the floor. I cradled her in my arms. I sat down on the bed with her in my lap for the second time this morning. "Sarah, don't even worry about that now ... it is in the past, forgotten and forgiven. But if you really want to make it up to me, you could help me think of some rules for our new ... um ... relationship." She snuggled into my shoulder, and giggled. "You're my Master, I'm your slave. That can be rule one." I rolled my eyes. "Yes, I think we've got that part down. But I'm talking about rules about how to cope with 'Rule One' in everyday life." She crossed her arms ... making her breasts press against her sundress. "Like what?" I thought for a second. "Like when you are to call me Master, and when Jonathan is more appropriate ... um ... and stuff like that. This will help us satisfy the chip, and keep you from totally becoming a different person." She had a puzzled look on her face. "Become a different person?" I nodded. "Yes! Do you realize how different you've been acting since I spanked you and we started playing this Master and slave game. You were a total brat when you got here ... now you're ... now you're ... a completely different person ... I don't want you to lose yourself to the desires the chip gives you ... because that would just be letting UniCORP win." Sarah sighed ... and seemed to suddenly be taking things a bit more seriously. "Okay. Rule one. You are the Master and I am the slave." I nodded. "Rule two, you are only to call me 'Master' when we are alone in my house. Alright?" Sarah made a face, "Fine. Um ... how about ... I am required to serve you at all times?" I raised an eyebrow. "Sarah those aren't the kind of rules we need to be worrying about ... we need to think of safety rules ... like how about rule three should be, 'all play stops when you say a safe word.'" Sarah shook her head violently. "Maybe in a Dominant and Submissive sort of relationship I would agree to having a safe word. But I'm not a sub, I'm your slave ... I will take whatever you can give me ... no abuse is too much." How did she know the difference? Was there a difference? "Um, Sarah, are you sure you know what you're talking about?" I asked Sarah nodded. "Yup, I don't know where I learned it ... or why I know it ... but I'm certain that because I'm your sex slave, and not just your submissive ... that a safe word is not needed. Nor do I want one was. I was flabbergasted. "Sarah, that is far too much power to give me ... that could be dangerous for you. Not to mention publically frowned upon." Sarah smiled warmly at me. "No, I need to know this is real ... that I can't stop it by just saying a word." I was at a loss for words. Sarah spoke again. "Master, may I suggest more rules...?" I nodded unenthusiastically. "Rule Three, is that I must attend to your every sexual need without question. I must also wake you up every morning with a blowjob." I tried to say something ... but my willful slave was too busy making rules. "Rule Four, is that I must always have my pussy readily available for access, as well as my breasts. I never want things to slow down again simply because you have to remove my underwear. I once again tried to speak. "Rule Five, is that I must remain as beautiful as possible for you, and must keep my pussy bare and legs shaved." This was getting out of hand. "Rule Six, is..." "SLAVE, SILENCE." I bellowed. Sarah's mouth froze midsentence ... she complied ... it was complete and instantaneous obedience ... almost like she really didn't have a choice but to obey. "Slave, I will think of the remaining rules and inform you of them as they take shape. However, I will hold you to all the rules you have named." Sarah nodded ... being very careful to not make a sound. The smell of sex rose in the air. Shouting seemed to arouse my slave. I set her down. She kneeled immediately. "Slave, don't you think it is a bit presumptuous to assume all those rules when we have not even had proper sex yet?" Sarah's mouth opened slightly ... then closed quickly. She settled for a single nod. I smiled. "My thoughts precisely my pet." I was really getting into this Master thing. "In fact, as punishment ... I shall not make use of you sexually. Instead, I am going to send you down stairs to make a pot of coffee." A look of outrage passed over Sarah's face. Ah so my bratty teenager was still in there. "Do you have a problem slave?' Her face turned red ... but she shook her head. "Good," I said. "I will be in my study downstairs waiting for you." She nodded. She stood to go downstairs. "Sarah," I said. "I believe you are in violation of rule four. Please take your bra off and throw it away." Sarah's face turned even redder. But slowly she reached behind her back, and unhooked her bra. She then fished inside her dress, and pulled it out the white garment. She threw it in the trash can next to my bed. "Good slave. See you in ten minutes." She scampered out of the room. I could hear her padding lightly down the stairs in her bare feet. It aroused me to think that all she had on was a sundress. But it would be even better if she was simply forced to be totally naked while in the house. I smiled to myself ... I think I just thought of rule six. I sighed and collapsed onto the bed. I don't think I will ever forget this morning ... the morning I acquired a slave ... and spanked a willing ... well, sort of willing girl. I chuckled to myself. I hefted myself out of bed with a groan. I was already drained and it was only 9:00 AM. I slowly made my way to a window. I needed to open one to filter out the room. I could hear the sounds of the city with the window open. A soft chilly breeze rolled in. I left the bedroom, and went down a floor to the study. My study was my pride and joy. It was a room lined with mahogany shelves on each wall. All the shelves were filled with books that I inherited from my father ... who inherited them from his father. My library was worth quite a bit ... and it was filled with old books whose worth I couldn't even begin to imagine. The carpet was a deep burgundy and the ceiling was white. At the far side of the room from the door my dark lacquered wood desk sat. It had all my most important documents hidden inside a secret panel. The final element was an old leather chair. It was a gift from my favorite professor at Harvard. Grant Casey was one of my inspirations, and on my graduation day he invited me to his house to have dinner with him and his wife. I skipped the traditional graduation parties and ate a quiet dinner there ... and it was one of the most profound evenings of my life. ------- That night he said something to me, while we were alone and his wife was in the kitchen taking a call. He had said, "Jon, out of all the students I've ever had, I've never had one that applied themselves so much. And I've never had anyone finish my course with a ninety nine average." I had smiled at him, and replied, "I still think that my scenario was apt. If we simply had more time for the final I could've proved..." Professor Casey had raised his hand to cut me off. "Jon that is not what I wanted to talk about." I had quieted ... when Professor Casey spoke ... I always listened. "Jon, what I want to say is that you have perseverance. You adapt to any problem and any situation with ease. You have a dogged determination that is both uncanny for someone your age, and someone with your natural blessings. You're a fine boy Jonathan. That is why I am going to make you this offer." He paused. "My brother Harry, Jon, is in the FBI. The FBI is always looking for intelligent recruits ... ones that can adapt, and ones that are trustworthy and dependable." He had looked at me across the table with a gentle calmness. "Jon, I've talked to Harry, and told him all about you. Suffice it to say he is interested. You've got a B.A in Law, and that would make you eligible ... if you were twenty three. Harry has pulled some strings with the admissions board ... and he wants you to appear before a private testing committee. They will administer a written and an oral test ... if you pass, they will let you join the FBI training Academy three years early." I was speechless ... Professor Casey ... he was my idol. He had smiled slightly when he saw my astonished look. "Do you want the job Jonathan?" I nodded... "Yes, thank you Professor, I can never tell you how much I owe you? But ... but why me? Why do you think I am worthy of such trust." Professor Casey had looked very solemn at those words. His deep brown eyes gazed at me with the utmost sincerity. "Because Jonathan ... I know you will do what you've always done ... persevere." Professor Casey and his wife died in a car crash later that year... ------- I suddenly lurched back to the present. I was fingering the chair, running my hand across the soft worn leather. On the back of the chair, a metal tag was attached. On it was one word. Perseverance ... Professor Casey's motto. That is exactly what I would do with Sarah. She needed me ... and I needed a change in my life. To long had I been stuck in a rut. My drinking was out of control ... and in the back of mind I knew I was depressed. I would persevere ... I had to, Sarah was counting on me. I looked at a picture sitting on my desk and smiled. Grant Casey was smiling back at me. ------- Chapter 12 Memory lane is always a painful road to stroll down. I turned Professors Casey's picture down onto the desk. I didn't want to look at him ... I was a mess still ... the job he had offered me was eating away at my sanity little by little. What seemed like a blessing had become a curse. But it wasn't his fault; he just wanted what was best for me. I heard a car alarm go off on the street below. It was quickly silenced. I opened a drawer, and fished out a piece of paper and a pen. I began to transcribe the 'rules' to the new relationship Sarah and I were embarking on. Rule One: Master Creed owns Sarah the slave. Rule Two: The title Master is only used when in the Master's house. Rule Three: Slave must attend to every desire of the Master; the Master is to be awoken by a blowjob. Rule Four: Slave is never to wear underwear, be it outside the house or not. Rule Five: Slave must maintain her appearance. Rule Six: Slave is to be naked at all times while in the Master's house. Rule Seven: Slave is to tell no one of her relationship without express permission from Master. Rule Eight: Failure to comply with the above rules will result in punishment at the discretion of the Master. I put my pen down and looked at my new and bizarre relationship rules. Suffice it to say I felt incredibly weird transcribing these barbaric tenants to paper. Yet at the same time ... I felt electrified. Some of these rules were simply to keep our relationship secret and safe ... yet there was no denying that some of those rules were for no other purpose than my pleasure. Jonathan Creed I drew a line at the bottom of the paper. I placed an X in front of it. I wanted her to sign the paper ... chip or no chip ... claims of undying servitude or not ... I wanted a physical manifestation of her willingness. I knew this document would in no way be legal. It was ... in the most simplest of ways ... an excuse ... something that I could look at to allay my moral objections. I centered the piece of paper on the front of my desk. I placed the pen neatly next to it. I then rotated it so that it would be right side up for someone on the other side of the desk. I sat back in my chair and waited. I often sat in my chair like this ... with nothing to do. Jim called it brooding. I called it being miserable and bored. But today wasn't like the other days ... today I wasn't just sitting around ... waiting until the FBI tugged at my leash. Today I was waiting for my beautiful and self proclaimed slave to walk in ... with a cup of coffee no less. That made me smile. ------- A small knock rapped on the wooden door to the study. "Come in," I called out. The door creaked open. Sarah padded slowly into the room. Her eyes were focused down on the ground in front of her. She was carefully not looking at me. She was holding a steaming mug in her hands. Her dress was even more frazzled than it was after our impromptu morning spanking, and her hair was a mess. Sarah skittishly approached the desk. She extended her arms and proffered the mug to me. "I'm sorry I took so long Master, but I couldn't find where you kept the filters ... and I ... well." She looked down... I took the mug. "What else kept you Sarah?" She clenched her eyes shut. "I masturbated." I sighed. "Where?" She gulped. "On the couch..." she said tentatively. I took a long draught from the mug. The coffee was hot ... and it tasted wonderful. I fixed my eyes upon my red headed slave. "Sarah, look at me." She slowly brought her spring green eyes up to look into mine. I stared at here for a long while ... she seemed truly anxious. What a turnaround from the spunky girl who called me a nerd just earlier this morning. "Sarah," I said softly... "Don't worry about it ... there were no rules in effect to keep you from doing that." She exhaled loudly. She smiled brightly at me. "Thanks ... sorry, I'm still new at this." I raised an eyebrow at her. "You know, you don't have to do this." She nodded her head, and fixed me with a death glare consistent with the spunky Sarah ... not the slave Sarah. "I want to do this MASTER", she said with some force. "Alright ... take a look at the paper in front of you then." She glanced down at the sheet of paper. Her stance was much less submissive. In fact, she was standing quite confidently ... in contrast to the hunched posture she had when she thought she was in trouble. "Is this it?" She said sarcastically. "Come on, I thought you could be a little more creative than this. I mean, most of these are the ones I said. And the last one was a given." I sighed. "Are you disappointed that you don't have more rules to follow? I thought teenagers weren't big on rules to begin with." She stuck her tongue out at me. "I want this..." I crossed my arms and sat back in my chair. "You know, you're not acting very slave like at the moment." She cocked her head and looked at me. "I'm trying out what you said to me. I'm not going to lose my personality to this slavery thing. True it turns me on like no other, and true I do think of myself as a slave. But I'm going to be me still ... sarcasm and all." I gave a small chuckle. "I didn't know slaves got to be sarcastic to their masters." She smiled back at me. "Oh don't worry Master, if you asked me to do anything I'd comply. If you wanted a quick fuck right now I wouldn't deny you ... in fact ... I'd beg you for it ... I'm still me ... but I'm also sex slave ... do you understand?" Not really ... but hey ... this sounded a little out of my depth emotionally. "It sounds like you have it figured out. But to make your slavery official I want you to sign that paper." She glanced back down at it. "Yeah ... sure, I'll agree to all these rules and more." I rolled my eyes. "We'll wait until we are more comfortable before adding the 'and more' part." She picked up the pen, and signed her name in big loopy cursive. She put it back down. "There, happy?" I smiled at her... "Very, my little slave." She shivered... "Ug ... it shouldn't turn me on so much to hear you say that." She looked at me. Her eyes filled with lust and longing. "If I begged you for that quick fuck ... would you use your slave Master?" I looked at her, and then shook my head. "The first time we have sex will not be on the floor of my library slave." She gave her best Cheshire cat grin. "Whatever you say Master." She looked around my library ... at the numerous books and the endless wooden paneling. "You really are a nerd aren't you? Have you read all these books?" This girl was so unpredictable. "You remember the last time you called me a nerd you practically groveled for forgiveness." She smiled, and then looked down. "If it offends you I will grovel again Master ... you should take me over your knee for such impertinence." I groaned. I was hard underneath my shorts. "It is hardly punishment if you ask for it. And I will have you groveling later slave ... and no ... I haven't read all these books ... but I plan to." "Some of them look frightfully boring." I broke out into a full blown laugh. "Some of them are." Sarah looked around the room again. "Um, can we go somewhere else? You seem to have the only chair." I smiled at her. "I know." She raised an eyebrow, and put her hands on her hips. I kept smiling. "You are going to kneel at my feet next to me, while I finish up some paper work." Sarah's knees wobbled. Without underwear to catch it, I could see her own lubrication running down her legs. "Yes Master." She said in her demure slave voice. She walked around the desk. She stood for a second next to my chair ... and then slowly sank to her knees. "Slave," I said. She looked up at me ... with a rather wanton expression on her face. "Yes Master?" "You are currently in violation of rule six." She smiled naughtily at me. "Of course Master." She quickly reached down and pulled her dress up over her head. I got my first good at her breasts and her body. She had the regular smattering of moles and imperfections that any person had. Her breasts were a little on the petite size. What I had originally mistook for C cups were really B cups. I quickly looked away when she glanced up and caught me ogling. ------- It was incredibly hard to concentrate with a red headed model kneeling next to me, especially when she occasionally moaned her arousal. That was odd. I thought girls usually required at least some form of stimulation to be so aroused. After a string of particularly loud mewls I lost my patience. "Slave, stay silent or I will have to gag you." I said gruffly. My words had the opposite intended effect. Sarah groaned loudly and collapsed completely on the floor. She was having an orgasm. Her legs were glistening with lubrication. I could see her shaven pussy grasping at nothing as it contracted. I waited until she regained control of herself. "Correct me if I'm wrong ... but normal people do not orgasm simply from words alone." Sarah replied ... breathlessly. "Normally no ... but I think the chip is helping my responses along..." Sarah caught her breath ... and I returned to my work. ------- We continued like that for a good hour. Sarah broke the silence. Her voice was quiet ... and I almost didn't hear her. "Um, Master. What does your ideal woman look like?" Her voice sounded shaky ... and her eyes seemed looked wary. I figured this was some insecurity thing ... and I didn't even look up from my paper work. "You're beautiful Sarah." Sarah nodded ... and smiled a quiet sort of smirk. "Thank you Master ... but really ... everyone has fantasies ... so please tell me." I tore my gaze away from my file. "Sarah ... why do you want to know so bad?" In my experience ... girls didn't want to know the male fantasy girl ... words like 'sexist' tend to get thrown around when us males answer that particular question. "Please, Master ... just describe her ... and don't just describe someone who looks like me." Her face was screwed up ... like she was having the most incredible headache. I paused ... and gave her question serious thought. "Are you sure?" I asked. She nodded miserably, as if afraid of what I might say. I decided to go for it. "Well, I actually really like girls with red hair ... but a bit longer than yours. Yours reaches to about your shoulders ... my fantasy girl's hair comes down to her bottom." Sarah nodded, still looking pained. I continued. "Um, you're pretty pale already ... but I've always had a thing for porcelain white girls ... so I guess my fantasy would be a shade paler." Sarah didn't even respond this time. I was into this now. "Also, I've always been like other males in that I like big breasts ... Now yours aren't small but I've always had a thing for D cups. Anything larger than that and it tends to look a bit ridiculous ... but D cups are perfect." Sarah groaned. "Also, I've always liked it when a girl simply has no blemishes on her skin ... I know that sort of makes them look like dolls ... but to see uninterrupted creamy white flesh has always been a turn on of mine ... also I like it when a girl simply has no hair anywhere but on her head. Like those swimsuit models that get a laser to permanently remove it." Sarah looked totally dejected now. "Is that all?" She asked with a bitter tone. I paused ... surprised ... she had asked for this after all. "Yes." I replied. "Great," Sarah said, in full sarcasm mode. "Because that is what I'll look like in twenty four hours." That didn't sound good. Sarah stood up from her position on the floor, and stormed out of the library. She slammed the door on her way. My head was reeling ... what did she mean ... by saying she was going to look like my fantasy... She couldn't be planning on getting some sort of extensive surgery could she? No, that would be crazy... My paper work lay forgotten on my desk. I had bigger puzzles to muddle through. ------- Chapter 13 I decided to wait her out. It wasn't like she could go anywhere. If she wanted to go get extensive surgery she would need transportation. The keys to my car were in my desk, and I took the phone on my desk off the hook, so she couldn't call a cab. Patrolling cabs never came by my neighborhood. I couldn't fathom what had brought this on. It was a bit strange for a woman to ask a male what his fantasy female would look like. In all honesty I had just given a description of Sarah with bigger breasts and a better complexion. Not one of my most creative moments ... but it was the answer that most red blooded American men would have given. Which is exactly why I should have kept it to myself. Sarah was at the very least interesting. At times she seemed to completely acquiesce to the chip and act like a slave, at other times her fiery personality shone through. After about thirty minutes I started to get a little anxious. I started to spin a pen around in my hand ... something I knew I only did when I was unsettled. What I really wanted was a drink ... but I needed to think clearly. I had gotten into this mess by not using my head ... I needed to get creative, and start acting like I knew what I was doing. It was after an hour had past when I heard the shriek. I paused for a beat. Then I leapt out of my chair and ran for the door. Another shriek pierced the house. It was coming from Sarah's bed room. I bounded down the stairs, taking them two at a time, and I practically kicked down the guest room door. Sarah was lying naked on her bed. She was flushed and writhing on top of the sheets. I grasped her by the shoulders and looked down into her pain filled eyes. "SARAH!" I screamed. "Sarah what's wrong? Are you ill ... please God Sarah, tell me what's wrong." Tears were streaming from down her cheeks ... but she gazed up at me and smiled... "I'm changing for you Master ... I'm going to be your fantasy woman ... I'm going to be perfect for you..." Her words were cut off by a gut wrenching moan. I grabbed her face with my hands and focused her onto my face. "What do you mean Sarah ... what do you mean changing for me?" Sarah moaned. "The chip ... it's making the changes you asked for ... the last stage of the symbiosis is taking place ... I don't know how I know this ... but ... oh Master it hurts ... I wish it didn't hurt so much." Sarah was crying openly now. She threw her arms around my neck and hugged me hard. Her naked breasts pushed up into my chest. "Sarah ... do you mean to say that the chip is turning you into the woman I described in the study?" She simply nodded, and hugged me tighter. Her body was incredibly warm, almost as if she were running a fever... Oh my god ... she's running a fever. I tore myself away from her and ran into the bathroom. I jerked open the medicine cabinet. I kept a spare thermometer in there. "Open your mouth," I said. Sarah opened her mouth. "Keep this under your tongue." She nodded. My heart sank as I watched the number slowly tick higher and higher. 103 Fahrenheit. Not good. I start to think quickly. I didn't have the qualifications of a doctor, and Sarah was burning up. The first thing she needed was an ice pack. The next thing she needed was someone who knew what the hell to do. I tore down to the kitchen to get the ice. I was on my cell phone at the same time. Jim picked up on the first ring. "John, I thought you weren't coming back for a week?" "I'm not Jim but I have a situation here ... do you have Dr. Thompson's phone number?" I asked frantically. "No need John, I'm standing right next to him ... I'll give you to him now." I could hear the cell phone switching hands. "Hello? Agent Creed? Doctor Thompson speaking." I sighed in relief. "Listen Dr. Thompson, there have been some complications with the neural processor. I was wondering if you could come down here and help. She's running a pretty high fever." There was a pause. "How high," he asked. "One hundred three," I replied. He grunted in affirmation. "Alright, I'll bring some of my gear down and take a look at her, if her temperature gets any higher than that take her to the hospital." I was relieved Thompson was coming. "Get Jim to give you my address. I'll leave the front door open for you. We'll be on the second floor." "Alright Agent Creed, I'll be there as soon as possible." ------- Sarah was shaking on the bed. I tried my best to help her, but I was useless. I held an ice pack to her head, and stroked her hair softly. I whispered in her ear that everything would be alright ... even though I was freaking out. I heard the front door open ... then feet on the stairs. Jim and Dr. Thompson burst into the room. Dr. Thompson was holding one of those old fashioned physician bags, the ones doctors use to make house calls. Dr. Thompson approached Sarah. He pulled a pen light out of his pocket. He lifted Sarah's eyelids with one hand and waved the light in front of Sarah's eyes. He turned and looked at me. "She seems to be in pain, but not of disabling magnitude. She is still responsive. However, she is far too warm, even with the ice pack." I looked between him and Jim. "What should we do?" Doctor Thompson peered into the bathroom. "Is there a tub in there?" I nodded. He smiled. "Good, fill it with cold water, we're going to have to dump her in it ... um, is she dressed under these sheets?" I shook my head. Dr. Thompson shrugged. "I guess modesty comes second ... let's move her to the tub ... then I have questions for you ... the tub is a temporary solution ... we still may need to get her to a hospital." I filled the tub with cold water ... Jim and I gently eased her into the frigid bath, while Dr. Thompson took notes on his notepad. We returned to the guestroom. Dr. Thompson cleared his throat. "Let's talk in here, it would be unwise to stray very far from her in this condition." I sat down on the bed, and Jim occupied the chair in the corner of the room. Dr. Thompson leaned against the wall next to the bathroom door. "Alright Mr. Creed, tell us how you know the neural processor is responsible for the fever. It is flu season you know ... Sarah might just have a bit of a bug." For a second I imagined that her pain wasn't my fault ... that she had simply come down with a cold ... it was a nice thought... "She told me the chip was doing it." I replied. Dr. Thompson nodded, and made a note on his pad. "Alright, how did she know that the chip was responsible?" I shrugged. "She has frequently said that she 'knows' things without knowing why ... my assumptions are that the chip is supplying her information subconsciously." Another note was scribbled down. "Very well," Thompson said, "Now, what did she say was the cause of her current state?" I hesitated ... then I told them about how she had asked me what my fantasy woman was ... and how she claimed the chip was transforming her. Dr. Thompson and Jim were silent. Jim looked horrified ... and Thompson looked ... fascinated. Dr. Thompson began writing furiously. "Well this is extraordinary ... we'll have to keep her closely monitored to see if these changes actually take place ... but think about it, if we could replicate this technology we could change people to look however they desired! UniCORP could have made a fortune on this alone! I wonder how it does it...? Jonathan, what were the characteristics of this fantasy woman of yours." I told him ... dejectedly. Somehow I just couldn't match his enthusiasm. He scratched his balding head. "Hmm, to give her bigger breasts the chip would have to tell her brain to increase her estrogen levels ... it would have to lower melanin output to change her skin tone ... and to get rid of blemishes it would have to order those imperfect cells to die, all while stimulating her hair follicles to expedite hair growth ... my God ... if it could do all that it would be CAPITAL! ... I wonder how the chip translates the words that Creed said into orders for Sarah's brain?" Jim coughed. "Yes, um, Dr. Thompson ... while this is a great day for science ... it is a terrible day for that poor girl in there." Dr. Thompson calmed down... "Yes ... well ... yes of course you're right ... however, if these symptoms are being caused by her neural processor then there is nothing I can do ... how long did Sarah say this would take?" "Twenty four hours," I said. "Very well, I will take my leave then Agent Creed. If you think its okay, I will return this time tomorrow to see if the changes really did take place, I'll also give her a physical at the time, to ensure that she is okay." I nodded. We all stood, and I shook Dr. Thompson's hand. "Thank you for coming out here Doctor." Thompson smiled. "Think nothing of it." Thompson walked out of the guest room. Jim turned to follow. "You know Jonathan, I'm disappointed in you. This girl is helpless, and you're in this house all alone with her getting your rocks off." I look down at the floor. Jim shook his head. "I just thought you were made of sterner stuff than this my friend ... but I suppose I just forget how young you really are. You never had the typical college experience ... most adults get this kind of behavior out of there system then. But you're just twenty four. You should be playing beer pong and having one night stands, not dealing with corrupt corporations and victims like Sarah." Jonathan "That's sexy" I said "Really sexy" Dana agreed. Jonathan's hand had strayed to Dana's thigh. Her skirt had ridden up to her lap. His hand stroked her softest skin oh so lightly, teasing ever closer to her panty-clad pussy. "Bro, keep that up and you are about two seconds away from getting a monster blowjob." Jonathan didn't stop. Without another word, she lowered her head to his crotch, opening her sexy lips and taking the end of her brother's rampant cock into her mouth. I thought she looked gorgeous like that. She sucked, and I jerked him off; Jonathan sat there on the couch, moaning a little with the pleasure, playing with Dana's sizeable breasts, eyes shut and head lolled back; the very picture of a 19 year old guy who has just entered nirvana. I really really liked jerking him off; he felt amazing and hot and hard in my hand. I loved that I was masturbating him into his own sister's mouth. It made me hot. His eyes snapped open. "Oh God, I'm going to come!" I gripped his cock harder, squeezing as hard as I could, and jerked even faster. My shoulder ached, but I ignored it. I looked over at Dana, her dark curls spilling all over Jonathan's lap. Her eyes were shut, and she was cupping his balls in one hand. Jonathan moaned wordlessly, his body went rigid, and he lifted up off the couch, thrusting into Dana's hungry mouth. She stayed with him, sucking hard and swallowing the load that he delivered into his mouth. I kept stroking, milking his cock even as he started to get soft. I never saw even a drop of semen. His cock slipped out of her mouth with an audible –pop-. I fell across Jonathan, kissing my love passionately. Her mouth was hot from his penis. I could taste him in her mouth. My hand went straight down the front of her panties, where I found her hot and slick and ready. One finger probed inside her, another found her sweet little asshole. I ground my hand into her, and she came, squirming and moaning into my mouth. We got up and ran, literally ran into the bedroom. Clothes went flying. We fucked like scissors, mashing pussies, grinding into each other, coming and coming until we couldn't come any more. We fell asleep like that, but at some point during the night, we disentangled and slept side by side. 3. When I woke up the next morning, Dana was already gone. I got up and got ready for work. Jonathan was still asleep on the futon. When I got home, Dana was in the kitchen. I could tell right away that I was in trouble. She was slamming around, clattering pots and pans angrily. She didn't acknowledge me. Not knowing what else to do, I sat down at the kitchen table, and waited. "You engineered that didn't you?" I didn't deny it. "God damn it Andrea, this is peoples lives you're fucking around with. This isn't some kinky fantasy, this is real." "I'm sorry" I said softly, feeling like dirt. "Think next time, please think" she was crying now "before you start fucking around with people like that. He's my brother Andrea. My brother." "I'm so sorry." I got up and tried to give her a hug, but she pushed me away. "I love you" I said, walking toward the door. "I love you too" she said quietly. But she didn't sound very enthusiastic. I walked for a long time, up and down the hot asphalt and concrete avenues of Manhattan till my feet hurt and my legs ached. The air seemed thick enough to swim in. Finally, I ended up in a bar. I lounged in the air conditioning, and slowly drank beer after beer, feeling glum and sad. It was late before I made it home. I fumbled the keys on my first try. I was heartsick, tired, and a little drunk, and I just wanted to be in bed. The apartment was dark. I wondered if Dana was still pissed at me. I wondered if she would ever forgive me. I opened the bedroom door as quietly as I could; I was hoping that Dana was asleep, and that I could slip into bed without waking her up, and sleep with an arm around my dearest love. 2. Brother and sister were locked together in a passionate embrace. Both were nude. Jonathans' head was locked firmly between my girlfriends' thighs. I sobered up right quick. I could actually hear the little slurping noises he made as he licked and sucked. I couldn't help noticing his cute little ass either. Dana was in ecstasy, her eyes squeezed tight, her fingers busy pulling and twisting her pink nipples. A wave of emotion washed through me, almost buckling my knees. I had to grasp the door jamb to stay upright. I felt a whole range of emotions: jealousy, confusion, lust, but more than anything, I felt a warm and overpowering love for my Dana. As I watched, Dana's body shuddered through a deep, moaning orgasm. She looked beautiful as she came, head lolling back and forth, stomach spasming, legs kicking. Her brother stayed with her the whole way through, his little pony tail dipping with each lick he took. I walked quietly into the room, and sat on the edge of the bed. Dana reached over and squeezed my hand. "Do you want to lose your virginity Bro?" Jonathan was still busy between her legs, gently caressing my lovers' wet pussy with his tongue "Do you want to fuck me now?" "Yeah" he said looking up and seeing me in the room for the first time "Yeah, I mean if that's ok." "There's a pack of condoms in the sock drawer. Would you grab them for us Andrea?" I got up and found the box. I opened it up and tore one out. Jonathan was now kneeling on the bed, his cock pointing straight up like a clock showing eleven. I went over and, with a little fumbling, rolled the latex condom onto his rigid cock. I couldn't resist: before I started putting the condom on, I kissed him right on the tip of his penis. It was super hot, and leaking clear, sweet precome. Once we had the condom on him, I helped him get situated between Dana's legs. Holding his cock encircled in my thumb and forefinger, I rubbed him up and down her spread pussy, using his penis like a dildo, bumping her excited clit with his cockhead. She squirmed and writhed most fetchingly. "Oh, come on fuck me now, I can't stand it!" As I watched, Jonathan pressed forward, burying his dick into her beautiful pussy. I fell forward, kissing Dana hard on the lips as Jonathan fucked her. I felt her hands on me, first squeezing my breasts, then pulling off my t-shirt and sports bra. As she played with one tit, and her brother the other, I managed to wiggle out of my shorts and panties. I felt Jonathans exploring hand roving between my thighs, exploring my ass and pussy as Dana worked my erect nipples and kissed me deeply. "Oh my God, I'm going to fucking come!" "Do it!" urged Dana, breaking off our kiss "Go ahead, do it!" "Yeah Baby!" I said "Come in her fucking pussy!" Jonathan came hard, thrusting wildly and fucking Dana like a mad thing. He exploded into her cunt with a high pitched, wordless sound that trailed off as he collapsed on top of her sweaty body. I was a little surprised by how quickly he got hard again, but I supposed I shouldn't have been: he was a nineteen year old guy, and he had two girls giving his cock a thorough kissing, licking and sucking. "Are you ready to lose your virginity again?" Dana asked "In your ass?" she looked over at me "Come on Andrea, you know you want to." Oh yes I did. I got into the harness while Dana lavished attention on his backside. He knelt like a cat on the bed, and she got her pretty face right between his butt cheeks and started licking away. His cock responded nicely- it was even harder than it had been before. I spread lube all over the big dildo projecting from my crotch. Dana had stopped rimming Jonathan, and now had a long finger up his ass. "God he's tight! Oh Andrea, he's so hot!" She was playing with her own pussy as she finger fucked him. I got behind Jonathan, and aimed the end of my dildo at his hungry little asshole. Dana helped guide me in, but she kept getting distracted by kissing me and playing with my boobs and butt. "Please hurry up and fuck me" Jonathan begged. His cock was hanging down between his legs, heavy and thick. I pressed forward, he pressed back, and I penetrated him. The purple dildo slid right up his ass. "Oh God Yes" Jonathan moaned, wriggling impaled on my cock. I started moving, tiny gentle movements, barely moving the dildo in and out of his stretched open little anus. "Oh Dana" he moaned "It feels so good…. Don't ever let her stop… Oh please Andrea, a little harder…" I complied, fucking him a little harder, a little faster. It took all my self restraint not to let loose and fuck his ass as hard and fast as I could. The base of the dildo was rubbing nicely against my clit; and Dana had taken up position behind me, squeezing my breasts and rubbing her wet pussy against my ass cheeks. "I want him inside me again" she whispered in my ear "I want you to fuck me with his cock." "In the ass" I whispered back, handing her the bottle of lube "I want to fuck your sweet little ass" Dana lost no time getting her butt nice and slippery. She lay down on her stomach in front of Jonathan, spreading her ass invitingly. I reached around and grabbed his dick. It was incredibly hot. I could feel his pulse throbbing through the shaft. Pressing forward against him, I guided him into my girlfriends' little brown target. "Oh Andrea!" Dana cried out "It's so fucking good! Fuck me hard, make him come in my asshole!" There was no holding back now. I squirted a bunch more slippery stuff onto the purple rod, and started fucking Jonathan with serious abandon, slamming into him, withdrawing almost all the way, and shoving the cock right back up his tight little butt. Every time I slammed into his ass, he was forced deeper up Dana's backside. She was moaning incomprehensibly, masturbating furiously as we fucked her. Jonathan had a hand full of his sister's curly brown hair, and was eagerly humping back against me. The rubbing of the toy against my clit, and the eroticness of the situation was driving me crazy. My pussy was soaked; my clit felt distended. I heard Dana's cries rise in intensity and pitch, and knew that she was coming. I redoubled my efforts, fucking Jonathan with all my might. "Oh Fuck yes, I'm coming Sis!" he shouted out loud and his whole body went rigid for a second before he collapsed, a limp pile of flesh. Very gently we extracted ourselves from each other. I kicked the harness away, and masturbated idly as I watched my beautiful girlfriend and her brother kiss in the post sex glow. "Andrea hasn't gotten to come yet" Dana said "I don't think that's fair, do you?" In concert, they came at me, pushing me back onto the bed. Jonathan dived hungrily into my pussy, exploring my cunt with his fingers and sucking my clit like a hard candy treat. Dana attacked me from behind, tonguing my anus mercilessly, licking all around my backside until I was frantic, then driving her tongue what seemed like yards up my ass. I started coming, and it just wouldn't stop, like rolling thunder beyond the horizon on a hot summer night. I shook and gasped and cried out loud, and the orgasms just ran through me like a river. I don't know how long it went on, but finally it was over. I kissed their smiling, sticky faces, and we all fell asleep together in the bed. 1 We all had sex again the next morning; Jonathan woke up with an erection, and Dana and me were both ready to go. The sex was more conventional this time; penis-in-vagina and tongue-on-clit (or dick); but for all that it was no less fun. When we were done, we all went out for breakfast together. Conversation was a little awkward, and we kept breaking out into big goofy grins. After breakfast, Jonathan packed up his stuff- all his gear fit into a backpack and a duffel, and headed over to the dorms. Dana and I went back to bed. 0 It was about a week later. Dana and I hadn't talked at all about what had happened the last weekend of Jonathan's stay. But our sex life was still super energized, and showed no signs of slowing down. I was sitting on the futon, working on a crossword puzzle. Dana plopped herself down on my lap, naked as a jaybird, big boobs bouncing merrily. "I love you so much" she said to me "You're the coolest girlfriend ever. Thanks so much for helping me with that fantasy. It's been brewing since I was like sixteen. I want to be with you forever and ever." I kissed her "I love you too" And then we fucked like bunnies. END Jonathan's Angel He knew it the first time he spoke with her. She was warm, witty, softly spoken, smart as whip and had a smoldering sexiness about her that he had never experienced before. He was transfixed by her every word. She was a lady, was articulate in the way she presented her views, he was spellbound by the way she approached various subjects. He was, to put it simply, in love. Well, as much in love as anyone could be, given the circumstances. You see, she was an online acquaintance. That new comer to the modern age of technology, the computer online chat, had put him in touch with the woman of his dreams. As any onliner knows, this is a common thing, this temporary escape from reality, the freedom to choose and be anyone you like for an hour or a day or however long it takes to grasp that experience you are looking for, and then move on to something else. In Jonathan's case though, it was considerably more than that. He was truly in love, he longed to see her name flash across his screen, he treasured the moments that he had with her. Sometimes they were brief, sometimes long and languishing, but there were never enough conversations with her, he always wanted more. She was intriguing. She made herself that way by being interested in a most varied array of subjects, but it was her naiveté, her bubbly outlook on life, her exuberance that gripped his imagination. He thought about her for hours on end. Thought of taking her in his arms, holding her tightly against him. Smelling her warmth and sweetness. He longed for her day and night. There was only one thing that stopped him from seeking her out and making his fantasies a reality. She was married. So for Jonathan, his fantasy would never be a reality. It would only ever be just another online dream. It was Christmas time, mid December; the store was packed with people. For Jonathan, it was going to be a good month, people were buying like crazy. Not like the other years, this one was rocking and rolling right into his bottom line figures. His bonus depended on it, and he was working hard to make it happen in a big way. The retail store he managed was doing a booming business, mostly due to his innovative ideas, and warm and charming personality. He truly loved talking with all of his customers, saying good morning, asking about spouses, taking special care of those who needed it. He was a good manager, and people genuinely liked him. Not only his patrons, but his employees as well. He met his current girlfriend that way. She was a friend of one of the girls that worked for him. She had extolled all of his good qualities in a conversation with her best friend Madeline, Maddy for short, and after a few brief encounters, and a little coaxing from Joyce, his employee, he asked her out. Maddy was a little wild, cute, and fun to be with, just what Jonathan needed at the moment. Someone to take his mind off his online Angel. He enjoyed being with her, taking her out, she was good company. He was busy gauging some racking equipment, trying to decide how to make more room in his already overcrowded store, when all of a sudden he was almost knocked off his feet. Two tiny arms encompassed his waist, the person no bigger than his chest, had a deathlike grip on him. Without ever having laid eyes on her before, he knew it was his Angel. He didn’t even have to look at her to know she was everything he had been thinking about. Just the scent of her hair in his nostrils was enough to take him right to the edge, he had to gently grip her by the shoulders, and push her slowly away so that she could not feel his rock hard cock. In those few seconds when he realized who she was, with her pressed up against him like that, he had become fully aroused and even started to ooze. He was thankful that he always wore a suit jacket when he was working on the floor or he would have been very embarrassed indeed. As he gently stepped back from her, he got the first good look at his Angel. She was more than he had ever hoped for, very petite, long golden flowing locks, down a little past her waist, a beautiful heart shaped face, gorgeous large blue eyes, her pink soft lips flashed him a full beautiful smile. She even had the voice of an Angel, as she sung out his name melodiously, “Jonathan”, she uttered breathlessly, “it’s me, Angie.” Just as breathlessly he answered, “I know.” She giggled, and turned from him, and grabbed a man who was standing close by, by the hand and presented him to Jonathan. “Jonathan, I want you to meet my husband, Glenn.” At this point, he was more than a little conscious of his hard cock, but he put his hand out to shake Glenn’s hand and received a firm friendly grip in return. He sized him up too as well, good looking, about 6 feet tall, already Jonathan was a little jealous, he had always wanted that extra inch to make himself 6 feet, but he never made it, he had remained 5’11’. You could see how a woman like Angie would go for a guy like Glenn. They were a good match, and although he would have liked to have taken Angie right there, on the spot and made love to her, he was glad she was with someone she loved. Since Angie had told Glenn so much about Jonathan, they had decided to stop in the store to meet him and take him to lunch. He didn’t need any coaxing, and the three of them left to a small nearby restaurant. He sat directly across from her, he tried not to be conspicuous, but every chance he got he stole long glances her way, or looked at her intently as she spoke during the conversation. He wanted to capture her every movement in his mind, her every gesture, even the way she crinkled her nose when she laughed. God but she was beautiful. Glenn was a lucky man. He needed to remember all of this for a very long time, they did not live close by, and just happened to be in his town on other business. He wished he had a photographic memory, he wished he had a photo. On a whim, as they passed the local variety store on the way back from the restaurant, they passed one of those photo booths. He asked if they could get their pictures taken together, both Angie and Glenn readily agreed. They were 3 for $5.00, they each got one as a souvenir of their meeting, he got the one with just Angie and him together. He walked them to their car, and again shook Glenn’s hand, and embraced Angie briefly as they said good-bye. It was the best of days, it was the worst of days. Three weeks later, after the holidays, he got a call from Angie at the store. She was having a small dinner party at her house, and would he like to attend and bring a friend with him? He readily agreed to the invitation for both himself and Maddy. It was to be this coming Friday evening. He was extremely excited by the prospect of seeing his Angel again. When he got home he thought about it some more, and before long he found himself in his rented room, masturbating with the picture in front of him. His cock started to fill out his boxers as he thought about the sweet smelling aroma of her hair. He could feel the warm blood filling his dick and his seed awakening as his cock grew to its full 7 inch length. When he adjusted his shorts, the angry red head of his now completely hard rod was visible and pushing its way out of captivity. He slid them down his legs, and pushed them off the bed with his feet. He opened his legs wide, and stared at the picture, imagining how it would feel with her riding atop him. He reached down and grabbed his hard cock in his strong hand, wrapping the fingers around it tightly and squeezed, slowly drawing his fist up to the head. As he did that, a small pool of clear fluid developed on the tip. He swiped his finger across the head and placed it to his lips, his tongue lashing out and tasting a tiny portion of the sweet salty flavor. He longed for it to be her tongue tasting his hot juice. His right hand gripped the thick, vein engorged shaft, and moved up and down slowly as his left hand began to squeeze the roundness of the now purple head. How good it felt, and he moved his hand down briefly to squeeze and feel the heaviness in his balls, boiling with his hot load. He started to squeeze and twist them working up the pressure, while still pumping his hard pulsating cock. The blood was rushing faster to the fat swollen head and when he was sure he couldn’t take any more, he grabbed the head and squeezed shooting a thick, warm load of cum all over his chest, and as soon as that hit another shot hit him almost in the same place. The rest ran over his fist and cock. He only wished she were the recipient of his now spent love juices. A soft knock at the door broke the spell that he was under, and he quickly grabbed a pair of jeans to answer it . It was the landlord, Mrs. Jenkins, an elderly widow who rented a room to help subsidize her social security check. She had tears in her eyes, when she told Jonathan that at the beginning of the following month, he would have to move, her daughter needed a place to stay, and she had to ask him to leave. Although he was a little angry that he had to leave, his heart went out to the old woman, he really liked her, and tried to help her by doing small odd jobs around the house. She repaid the kindness by always managing to have something warm and good for him to eat when he came home from work at night. They were the perfect compliment to each other, and they both shared in the sorrow of his having to vacate. When he heard his name on the loudspeaker at the store to pick up the outside line on Saturday, he hoped it would be an answer to one of the many phone inquiries he had made for rooms and apartments. He was almost shocked to hear his Angel’s voice on the other end. And the voice he heard was not angelic either, but rather perturbed. “I suppose you have a perfectly good explanation,” she began rhetorically, “because I will only be accepting death or childbirth today. And since I am talking to you, and I seriously doubt you have given birth in the last 24 hours, then I believe we do have a failure to communicate here.” It was then that he realized that he had forgotten all about the dinner party, all about his Angel. He began by imploring her to accept his humble and inadequate apologies, and then proceeded to relate his eviction tale to her. Of course she immediately understood, and told him that he could make it up to her and her husband by joining them for dinner, just leftovers from the previous evening, but still good and plentiful. He agreed without hesitation. He walked up to the little house on the corner, his Angel’s house, and stood looking at it for a moment before proceeding. She lived here, she slept here, she ate here, she loved here. The house showed her touch from the beautifully filled flower boxes in the windows, to the welcome mat at the front door. It was adorned with angels with cherubic faces, it made him feel welcomed, made him feel safe. She opened the door as he came to it, he was right on time, the perfect guest she had said. She closed the door behind him, and just beyond the small entrance foyer stood Glenn, his hand outstretched for that familiar warm, firm handshake. The evening was quite uneventful; the three of them had much in common, from politics to favorite authors, from music to gardening. They had similar senses of humor, and they all got along quite fittingly. And then they hit him with a bolt of lightning. They asked him if he would consider moving into their home until he found a place of his own. He would be asked to pay the same amount he was paying now, for basically the same services. The situation had been discussed between Angel and her husband, and they needed the extra cash, and he needed a place to stay. It was simple, it was decided, he would move in the beginning of the month. Maddy became his outlet for the sex that he could not have with Angel, she was sexy and teasing and she loved to make him cum. He adored her, he didn’t love her, but he adored her. He brought her to Angel’s house quite often, the four of them played cards, watched movies, or just had lengthy conversations. When he took her home at night, more often than not she would give him a blow job in the car before she went inside. Some evenings he would lick her hot, wet pussy till she came in the back seat. But she wasn’t Angel, and as much as he tried, he could not get her out of his mind. One night the three of them, Glenn, Angel, and Jonathan were home. Glenn was watching football, Jonathan seated in the adjoining room, reading a book, and Angie was feeling a little amorous. She tried to snuggle up to Glenn, and he shrugged away from her saying “Go bother Jonathan.” With a sarcastic “Well then I will,” trailing her, she bounded into the accompanying room and landed right square in the middle of Jonathan’s lap. She surprised the hell out of him, and then their eyes locked, and in that very second they both knew. They just knew. He very gently slid her off his lap, and picked up his book, and stuck his face in it. She went off somewhere to do something else. The next few days were torture for him, he tried to avoid her completely, and by doing that he knew it was very obvious, but he didn’t know what else to do. She made up his mind for him. One morning, Jonathan heard the door slam, it was Glenn heading out to work at 5 am, he always left the same time everyday. He turned from his side to his back to go back to sleep, and then heard the door open softly. It could only be one person, Angel. She stood by the side of the bed for a moment, listening to his breathing, then she said, “You can’t fool me Jonathan, you are not sleeping, I can tell by your breathing.” And with that, she climbed up on the bed with him, pulled down the blankets to expose him in just his shorts, and placing her petite pussy squarely on his growing manhood, she straddled him. She was an angelic vision in a white lace see through nightgown. Her golden curls, framed her face, and tumbled down her back in a waterfall of softness. Her tiny hands were placed on his chest palms face down, pressing into him and she slowly ground her pussy around in small circles on top of his hard boxer covered cock. He was almost in shock, it was his dream come true, at least he hoped it was not a dream. But he could feel the wetness of her sweet pussy begin to penetrate through his shorts, and he knew it was not a dream. She crossed her arms in front of her, reached down and grabbed the hem of her nightie and pulled it slowly upward. His eyes traveled from her perfectly trimmed golden pubic hair upward to her tiny waist, to her perfect upturned, hard nippled breasts. Oh God she was a sight to behold. He was right all along, she was an Angel. A perfect one. He didn’t know where to begin, but she did not wait for him. That morning she was an animal. He had never seen her move so fast, she had always been such a lady, so refined, so careful about doing things. But not that morning. She lifted herself from his rock hard cock, and fairly ripped his shorts off. They were both naked now, and she was so wet, and he was not even inside her yet. She bent down and kissed him passionately, he took her in his arms and held her tightly, just as he had imagined just a few weeks earlier. She continued to grind her swollen pussy over his cock, and then she sat up, lifting her body up in the air, and took both of her hands, gripped his blazing member, and began to sit squarely down on it. Her eyes were glazed; she let go of his cock, and moved her pussy slowly down the throbbing mass of manhood. Her breath was coming in gasps, as she rode up and down his hard cock, his hands held hers as she used them for leverage slamming her soaking wet pussy down on him again and again, her pussy was gripping and releasing him over and over, he never felt anything so wonderful, and then she screamed, literally screamed as she came, so many hot, wet waves of release flooded his cock. He was soaked. She buried her face in his shoulder and cried. He could feel her warm, wet tears on his skin. And then his own orgasm began, he had felt that familiar boiling in his balls and the movement and churning of the blood pumping through his cock, but this was incredible. He exploded with such force that he almost knocked his Angel from atop him onto the floor. When the last load was shed, he too lay gasping for breath, and although he did not cry, he knew how she felt. It was an overwhelming feeling washing over them of penned up release. He held her for almost an hour before they even spoke. When they did, it was soft murmurs, soft touches, and soft kisses. They did not speak of anything consequential, just of how much they had longed to be together, but never letting the other know. He wanted to make love to her and she let him. She hungered for him, she wanted him, she needed him. He began by taking her beautiful angelic face in his hands and touching his lips to her soft pinks cheeks. She smelled every bit as good as she did in his imagination, even better. He traced her features with his finger, taking as much of her into his mind as he could. He kissed her soft pink lips gently, and they parted slightly to let the tip of his tongue inside her mouth. He began to probe it more deeply and she opened her mouth to him with warm welcome, and he accepted graciously. Her tongue moved to touch his, to feel the strength of his. She was so perfectly proportioned, so tiny, yet so sexy and open with him. This was a side of her he had never seen; she seemed to lose herself in her own sexuality. It was a part of her he would grow to cherish. His fingers trailed through her beautiful hair, while his mouth moved on top of hers, tasting her saliva as she tasted his. He could feel the heat begin to rise from his balls again, pushing and pumping the blood back into his cock. In a matter of minutes, he was hard again, and pressing into the soft skin of her thigh. Her hands were around his neck, and fingers were running through the back of his hair. He loved how she felt so close to him, so warm and tender. She felt the same way. They wanted to be inside each other, that familiar, that intimate. His warm lips trailed down her soft face, and his fingers moved her hair to the side to expose her neck to his desirous mouth. He kissed her softly, tenderly there, her nipples grew erect from the sensuality of his kisses. He moved one hand slowly down her chest to cup one of her breasts. He moved his thumb across the hardened nipple slowly in a back and forth motion, and making her arch her back so that he would make more contact with her. He took her hint, and began a circular motion around the nipple, just grazing the tip on occasion but using more pressure this time. She was starting to moan softly. His hard cock was pressed against her hip, and as he pushed gently into her, she pushed back at him, moving slightly with his rhythm,. grinding her hip into his hot meat. He was becoming excited by the prospect of eating her hot, juicy pussy. She had told him one time, she had never had that experience before, and he wanted to be the first. He was so enchanted with her that he tried to lick her entire upper body; he wanted to devour everything that was her. He moved slowly down her chest till he got to her perfectly upturned breasts. He pressed his lips to one and placed a wet, warm kiss on it, and then the other. Slowly he covered one sweet nipple with his lips and sucked gently until the encompassing aureole disappeared into his mouth. She arched her back again, this time groaning loudly. His other hand cupped around the breast, rolled her hard nipple between his thumb and finger, furthering her excitement. Her hands started to move down his chest, and her fingers started playing with his hard nipples. He loved the sensation; nobody had ever done that to him before. He wanted more. He began to tweak one nipple while gently biting the other, she in turn, began to pinch his quickly and let then let them go. She pressed her hip into his manhood harder and he could feel the precum squeezing out of the opening in his cock, her hip was becoming moist and sticky against him. He shifted his hand from her breast, and slowly, lightly moved his fingertips to her exquisite mound. He parted her legs gently, pushing first one inner thigh outward, then the other. She began to moan incessantly. He placed one finger at the bottom of her soft beautiful pussy, right between the two lips, but just at the surface, just enough to wet his finger with he love potion, and slowly dragged it upward to the top of her mound. He brought it up to his nose and breathed in her scent first, like addressing a fine wine. Then he took the tip of this tongue, and licked off just a hint of her juice, as if too much too soon would be unbearable. Then he opened his lips and slide the entire finger into his waiting mouth. He savored the sweet flavor of her, she was all he had dreamed of. Just that small taste was enough to place him immediately between her legs. His swollen hard, fat, wet cock, lay under him as he placed her knees over his shoulders and back as he opened her slit with his trembling fingers. She too was shivering at the thought of his face between her legs, licking her private parts. No one had ever done that before. She was glad it was going to be Jonathan. Her tiny hands gripped the bed sheets, the crumpled sheets filling her hands. She never felt so vulnerable, yet so thoroughly wanted. He held her beautiful blonde lips open with his fingers and gently pushed his tongue inside starting at the top, and then moving downward, increasing the pressure, and the depth as he went lower. Oh how wonderfully sweet she tasted. He could hear her groaning louder the deeper his tongue went. He pushed his thumbs into her slit deeper, and opened her up wider. He could see how amazingly wet she was becoming and he tried to keep up with her juices by licking and swallowing as soon as he loaded his tongue with them. Jonathan's Angel He heard her whispering his name, Jonathan, Jonathan, and he was filled one more time with love for this woman. She reached down and lightly touched his arm, and he moved his face away from her juicy pussy. “I want to taste you too, Jonathan,” she said softly. “Then lie on top of me,” he told her, and he laid down where she had been and she climbed atop him once more only this time she faced his hard throbbing cock, and her soaking wet cunt was positioned right in front of his face. He again held her saturated lips open with his fingers and this time he began to tease her hard clitoris. He swirled his tongue around it in ever increasing hard circles and she pressed her cunt closer and closer into his face. While he busied himself with her, she took him into her hands and starting at one side, at the base, moved her partially opened wet lips up one side of his juicy cock, over the wet red head, and down the other side. She then took it, and wiped it all over her face, his cock was sticky with precum and now, so was her face. She needed both of her hands to grip him with, he was thick, but she loved the sheer power of him, she loved how he felt in her hands. She kissed the head of his cock gently while moving her hands in unison, squeezing as she drew them upward, and then over the engorged head, and then slowly, lightly back down. He began to press his tongue into her hot hole, scooping out oozing pussy juices as he did, and swallowing them as they accumulated on his tongue. He moved it in and out, slowly at first, then a little more quickly. A nice, slow, hard, fuck. She was grinding her cunt into his face. Her mouth moved onto the head of his torrid member, and she began to suck it in. Slowly, gently, then harder, sucking in her cheeks as she did, and he filled her mouth quickly with his fat member. She was consumed by the thought of him cumming in her mouth, she wanted all of him. As much as she could devour, she wanted to make him hers forever. He removed his tongue from her drenched love canal, and concentrated on her clit once more. This time he inserted two fingers into her hole while he flicked his tongue back and forth across her hard pearl. She was fucking his fingers hard with her pussy, and moaning constantly. He was on the verge of a monumental orgasm himself, her soft lips moved up and down his cock like some magic hot liquid, moving the cum closer and closer to the head of his hot swollen dick. Each could feel the other start to detonate, like hard driving sparks in a campfire, burst after burst of flames erupting over and over again. He could feel the churning, the boiling, the moving of the blood, until he could hold it no longer. With one loud outcry he came into her mouth violently, voluminously, unashamedly until she drained him of his entire hot load. This time, when she came, she shrieked his name, and released spasm after spasm of her hot juice into his mouth. They held onto each other, in that position, until they could both breath normally again. Jonathan lived with Angel and her husband Glenn for almost six months, then he moved, and got his own place. They continued to see each other off and on for almost a year. Then after not seeing her for a while, one day he decided to drop by for a visit. The cute little house on the corner seemed strangely quiet. The yard needed tending to, the flowers were all wilted in their boxes. When he got on the porch, he realized there was no mat waiting for him. His Angel was gone. She had left him without saying good-bye. He peered through the window on the porch, and in one corner, sitting on the edge of the sash of the window facing outward were the two pictures that had been taken that day they came to his store. She had left them there for him, his Angel. He never saw her again. Author’s Post Script: This story is a true one, although I have taken the usual literary license, and embellished where I saw fit. Normally I would not promote having affairs with married people. It usually turns out badly for everyone involved. In this case though, as you can see, Jonathan truly loved his Angel, and still thinks of her often, as a matter of fact, he still carries that picture in his wallet Jonathan's Story Jonathan was your everyday un-extraordinary young man that just happened to have slightly above average looks. When he threw a football he did so with an awkward left handed throw that looked almost feminine. He had an above average intelligence but he made almost no attempt to use it. In private he confided in me that he hated being around our friends because he felt like he had to "dumb down" himself to carry on a conversation at their level, but at the same time he was failing out of college for not attending class frequently enough. He was not particularly well known around school because he mostly kept to himself. At first he did try to join the TKE frat house, but me and some of his other friends were able to talk him out of it by saying frats were for nothing but college losers and former jocks that were still trying to hold on to their high school glory days. Looking back that might have been a mistake. Being part of a group like that might have helped him gain the much needed confidence gained from being one in a crowd much like one gets when joining a mob. Every now and then Jonathan would go out to the typical college parties and flirt with the sorority sluts, but he would never seal the deal by bringing one home. It seemed strange to me because from my vantage point it always seemed liked the girl was more than willing, especially after 3 or 4 shots. I had my fair share of one night stands and brief hook-ups and after one such event I finally asked Jonathan why he never brought one home. Let me back up a little here, for one year Jonathan was my roommate while we lived in the dorms and he would frequently try to sneak a peek at whatever girl I had over. I didn't really mind him seeing her ass in the air, a pair of flopping boobs, or my penis in a cute set of lips... but I did feel sorry for his dick which would obviously be gaining cobwebs if it wasn't for his Wal-Mart bag filled with "dirty" socks. So like I said, I asked him why he wasn't bringing home women on a regular basis and he told me something I had never considered; he had a fear of being naked around other people. With a sort of arrogant tone and a smile on his face he made sure to add "not that I have anything to hide." After hearing that I started noticing how he only showered at around 2am or so when most of the hall had shut down for the night, only went to the bathroom down stairs that was a single person room, would never even change clothes in the room if I was in there. There was one time that one of my classes was canceled and I went back to the room early and walked in just in time to see him shirtless. Now let me tell you, this boy is about the hairiest kid I've ever met. I jokingly told him that if his chest and back were any indication of the rest of his body he would never have to worry about anybody ever seeing him naked. It must have really bothered him because the next morning when I got up to get ready for classes I noticed the drain in the halls shower and sink was clogged with thick coarse hairs. That night a freshly shaven Jonathan decided to make a trip to one of the sorority houses for a party. I had an essay due the next day so I stayed at the dorm to work. The next part of this story is just what he told me. I'm not sure if he left anything out or how accurate the details are, but here goes. He was at the party flirting with one girl he considered a 7 out of 10 and drinking like normal. He noticed that she wasn't really drinking but was just happy that she was rubbing his shoulders and showing him some attention. She started whispering in his ear about how she wanted him to fuck her when Jonathan as usual freaked out and told her he had to go. She looked upset but agreed to let him go only if he had one more drink. Jonathan knew he wasn't even close to drunk and figured there couldn't be any harm in it. The next thing he remembered was waking up his arms and legs tied to the bed with a rubber ball gag in his mouth and a blindfold over his eyes. A moment of fear struck him before he realized at least he still had his cloths on. The room was dark except for a pumpkin pie scented candle burning on the desk. From the corner of the room he heard a girl start to speak. She said that her and some of her friends were tired of him being such a tease and were going to make him put out. The wave of fear quickly came back. She told him that she had no idea how much Viagra she was supposed to use so she just crushed four and mixed them in with some water and had been slowly pouring it down his throat while he was passed out. The other girls were in the process of getting rid of the other party goers while they waited for the drugs to take affect. He could feel his penis starting to struggle to come to life and eventually reach its full size. The girl put her hand on his chest and whispered," why don't I take a quick feel before the others get back." He felt her hand slowly moving down his chest toward his belt buckle and a sick feeling in the pit of his stomach made him feel like he was going to throw up all over himself as he realized what she was about to do. He started breathing faster and faster through his nose and images of the next 30 seconds, 30 minutes, 30 days started flashing through his head. Then it happened, her hand made its way into his pants and just as he had expected he heard a gasp followed by the humiliating sound of laughter. The mocking sound continued as the words "is that it" rang in his ears. She must have decided that touching wasn't enough and had to see if what her fingers were telling her was true. The sound of the belt unclasping, his pants unzipping, the soft tug of his pants being opened and the elastic band of his boxers being pulled down. He could feel and hear it all, as that cursed laughter continued. Women can be so cruel... "I can't wait for the other girls to see this." Then the bedroom door opened and closed and he was alone. His member was still exposed for all to see. He laid there for what seemed like ages but was probably no more than 5 or 10 minutes. His mind racing, he at least had the good fortune to have an erection; at least they wouldn't see him flaccid. He could hear the laughter even before he heard the door. Then they were there. He could almost feel them hovering around him like vultures ready to pick the flesh from a recent road-kill. There was an eerie silence, like the calm before a storm. At first there was a low almost muted giggle and slowly it rose to a chorus of laughter. Then came the jokes and insults... aww isn't it just the cutest little thing (in mock baby voice of course) Hey look it's a penis... only smaller. Just when he thought he couldn't be any more humiliated he heard one of the girls say "so what do we do with it." As time passed and the events started to unfold Jonathan was able to determine that there was at least three girls in the room. He knew one girl had a camera because through the blindfold he kept seeing short flashes of light. They were using his penis like a funny road sign, or a foreign countries monument as they took pictures posing with the penis in turn. One of the girls said something about nobody believing her and she had to get a ruler. There was the sound of ruffling in a desk, then the cold touch of a wooden ruler up against his cock and again a quick flash of white light filled the room. I think that picture ended up on the internet making rounds in forwarded emails and is again popping up in forwarded text. That's when the girls decided to play with it. It was their cute new little toy. The first girl grabbed hold of it and laughed as she said "hey girls, look at my deep throat skills." In her mouth his penis went, of course no gag reflex kicked in as it didn't even reach three forth the way to the back of her tongue. She played with it like a little kid does a sucker when suddenly one of the other girls realized his body stiffen, his face strain and his breathing stop. He was obviously close to cuming in her mouth. Out of her mouth his hard little pecker jumped with a popping sound. Pain went through his back down into the pit of his stomach as for the first time in his life his balls felt a swift slap. "Such a pitiful little thing doesn't deserve to cum." He didn't know which hurt more, the painful slap or the insult; again more laughter. It was probably at that exact moment that all three girls had the same idea run through there heads and a simultaneous evil grin spread across their collective faces. "Such a pitiful little thing does deserve to be punished though." He isn't sure how long it lasted but the girls did every little thing to his cock and balls that popped into their drunken little heads. Between the torture of paper clips, clothes pins and hot wax being dripped there was several times he was brought right to the edge of orgasm only to be left wanting. His dick might not be able to get any bigger but his balls certainly did as they continued to fill with his sperm rich seaman. Two of the girls must have gotten horny, whether it was from torturing a mans pride and joy or because they were making out with each other Jonathan wasn't sure but one decided she wanted to sit on his face. She whispered in his ear that if he tried to scream he would be sorry and she removed the ball gag. She situated herself in the 69 position but instead of sucking his cock she grabbed hold of his balls. "Make it good" as she gave them a not so gentle squeeze. Jonathan licked for all he was worth, but she continued pumping his balls in her opening and closing fist. His face was soon covered with her juices. This was repeated almost exactly by each of the girls. The only difference was the third girl grabbed hold of the shaft and squeezed and pulled on it as if she was using just his cock to keep her balance. She ended her turn by giving the head of his dick a nice hard thump. His spirit had long since been broken, so when the girls finally did untie him he didn't even try to run. He could hear giggling and hushed words but couldn't quiet make out what was being said when he felt a hand wrap around his still hard cock and begin pulling him to his feet. He was still blindfolded but he didn't even care to remove it. The blindfold gave him a sense of none of this being real. As long as he couldn't see what was happening maybe it would all just go away. One of the girls told him that they had taken his clothes into the next room and they would let him get dressed and leave now. Still in his own little world and being led around by his penis as if he was a puppy on a leash he walked. He heard the sounds of the room as he continued through, felt the carpet on his bare feet, then a new sensation, cold concrete on his feet. His mind snapped back into the real world as he whipped around and took off his blindfold in one motion only to see the front door shut and hear one last taunt of goodbye baby dick. The sorority house was located on the edge of campus, his dorm room near the middle. He had to make the 10 minute walk through campus completely naked with nothing to cover his cursed hard on except for the blindfold that had been keeping his eyes from seeing his humiliation. After that night Jonathan never went to another class. His bathing habits not only continued only being at night but dropped to maybe once or twice every two weeks. He was a crushed man. At the end of the semester he dropped out of school and moved back home with his mom. Word got back to me that he had gotten married but I wasn't able to attend the service. It has been 6 years since that night; Jonathan is still married and even has a kid. His wife totally runs his life even down to when he can jack off. Oh how he got his wife pregnant is a fun story as well. It seems that she woke up one night with him on top of her pounding away. She hardly felt anything and just went back to sleep. I hadn't spoken to Jonathan in a few months but another mutual friend of ours was telling me about how his wife had decided to leave him, so in his attempt to keep her he agreed to let her have sex with any other man she wanted. She even opened an account on a Sex Partner finding website and he even took the naked pictures of her so she could post them. She gave another man a blow job in front of him while Jonathan ate her pussy a couple days ago. After she had cum, Jonathan begged to let him fuck her. She said no but you can masturbate while you watch us. The man picked up Jonathans wife and held her in place as he thrust his dick straight up into her. Over and over he fucked her right in front of her husband. He didn't care about a condom, if he got her pregnant fuck it, who cares it would be Jonathans problem not his. Jonathan's wife is about 5 foot tall 103lbs with some nice 32c tits. Her face is sort of lacking, but still on the cute side. The man insisted on playing his favorite game. The rules were simple; the two set a specific time, which in this case was 25 minutes. Now during these 25 minutes she could and should try to do anything and everything she wanted to try to make the man cum. His goal obviously was to try to make it the 25 minutes without blowing his load. She started out with a blow job. Her hungry mouth wrapped eagerly around his swollen rod. She wasn't able to get the entire thing in so she grabbed the base of his cock and started pumping. He squirmed and shifted from side to side. Her mouth would get tired and she would take his cock out and pump it with both hands for a little while before slurping it back down her throat. If it hadn't been for his regular participation in this particular game he probably wouldn't have made it past the first 5 minutes, but even so once it hit the 20 minute mark he didn't feel like he could last another 5 seconds much less 5 minutes. Luckily she didn't realize how close she was to winning and decided to change tactics for the final stretch of time. He sat in a recliner; she sat in his lap with her legs locked under his so she could pull herself down on him with more force. She began pounding herself up and down on his shaft as fast as she could all the while twisting her body from side to side as she went up and down making a corkscrew motion. Just as the 25 minute timer buzzed he shot squirt after squirt up into her. Before she could get off, he said "don't worry doll, these little Viagra pills can keep it up for hours." His reward for winning the game was to get to fuck Jonathan's wife any way he wanted. So he instructed Jonathan to lay flat on his back on the bed while his wife got on all fours with her pussy just inches above his face. His cum still dripping out of her pussy landed right on Jonathans face. He started pulling on his little prick just as hard and fast as he could as he watched the big white cock of another man slam in and out of his little black wife. The entire time she was saying how great it felt to have a real dick in her. Even then it didn't bother me to have Jonathan see my cock sliding in and out of a nice set of lips. Jonathon Harker's Journal My name is Jonathan Harker. I had been looking for employment since I graduated from college six months ago with a degree in Eastern European history. My resume and photo on the Internet had not garnered me any job offers. In fact, I hadn't even had an interview. Then, I received an e-mail from an employment agency working for a prospective employer in Romania offering me employment as a personal secretary. As a college exchange student, I had been to Poland and Czechoslovakia, but had not made it to Romania. I was excited by the prospect of spending time in an Eastern European country, and since I didn't have any other offers, I decided to accept. In only a matter of days, I was provided with a plane ticket and directions to a mansion where I was to be personal secretary to a Romanian count named Vlad Tepes Dracula, I arrived just before dusk, the final few miles in a horse-drawn carriage from the nearby village. The driver dropped me off about 500 yards from the entrance before dumping out my bags, turning the carriage around and whipping the horses away. When I got to the entrance, I used the huge knocker attached to a carved gargoyle on the door. Presently, the door opened, and I saw the largest man I had ever seen in my life. He was bald, with a coarse, brown/gray beard. He was at least 6-foot-8, and seemed as thick as he was tall. At 5-7 and only 135 pounds, I felt more than a bit intimidated. "Uh ...." I cleared my throat . .... "I'm Jonathan Harker. Are you Count Dracula, sir?" The giant gave a grim smile, took my bags from me and ushered me inside. "No sir," came a deep voice from the large man. "My name is Renfield, sir. I am Count Dracula's servant. The Count is expecting you, sir. Please wait here in the drawing room while I take your bags to your quarters." I looked around as I stood there, straightening my tie, and shaking out my longish blond hair. I looked for a mirror, but there was none in the room. I smiled to myself over being so uneasy. I came here for employment, and I had decided that I wouldn't be intimidated by being in a strange country. Lost in my thoughts, I didn't hear the Count. He seemed to materialize right next to me. He was a tall man, about 6-3, bony and gaunt. His jet-black hair slicked back, his face heavily lined, and when he spoke, it was in a rather teasing, thick Romanian accent. "Welcome, Mr. Harker," he said, and for some reason a chill went down my spine. He offered me his hand to shake. It was so very cold and clammy, and his fingers were so long that my small, slim hand was lost in his. "You must be hungry, Mr. Harker, after your long journey," he said. "Please come into the dining room. Renfield has prepared your supper. I have already dined, and will join you shortly." I sat and ate a very satisfactory chicken dinner along with a glass of red wine. When the Count returned, he stood by the table. I asked him if he would be having a glass of wine with me. "I never drink," said Dracula ..."wine." Another cold chill went through me. I stuttered a bit when I asked him about what my duties would be. He smiled, reminding me of a crocodile. "There will be plenty of time to discuss your duties tomorrow evening, Mr. Harker," he said. "You must be quite fatigued from your travels." I was suddenly quite tired, but managed to ask the Count why he said tomorrow evening. "I dislike the daytime," he said. "We will do all our work at night. Would that cause you terrible inconvenience, Mr. Harker?" "Uh ... no ... no sir," I replied. Dracula slowly looked me up and down and exhibited that crocodile smile again. "You look very much like your Internet picture, Mr. Harker. Renfield will take you to your quarters. I hope you will have pleasant dreams." Renfield appeared and led me upstairs to my room. The stairs creaked under his massive weight. He opened the door and let me in before respectfully backing out of the room. The door closed, and then I heard a key turning. I walked over and tried the door. It was locked! "Renfield," I called out. "Renfield! Why did you lock the door?" There was no answer. I decided to just go to sleep and worry about it in the morning. I slept fitfully, dreams of howling wolves and dark mists preventing me from feeling rested when I woke up. Renfield came in and told me I was expected downstairs. I asked him what time it was. He told me 6:30 p.m. It was already nighttime. I couldn't believe how long I had slept. I figured I must have been more tired than I thought from my journey. Not knowing how formal the Count was at meals, I put on my best suit and tie. I was about to go downstairs when Renfield came in again. "That will never do, sir," he said. Suddenly, the count appeared at the door. A foul, gray mist began to filter into my room as I saw him nod at Renfield just before I began feeling dizzy. Renfield's big hands picked me up as I passed out. The next thing I know, I'm seated at the table across from Count Dracula, who was wearing a black, high-collar tuxedo. I didn't know how I had gotten there ... and I didn't know how I came to be dressed the way I was. My body had been shaved of every trace of a hair, and I caught the scent of a subtle feminine perfume. It was coming from me! Renfield came over, carrying a large mirror. He put it in front of me. I couldn't believe what I saw. There I was in a lovely, light blue chiffon off-the-shoulders dress. My blonde hair was fashionably and expertly coifed atop my head. I looked at the Count in confusion. His face was stern, his eyes hypnotic. I was suddenly terrified. I wanted to get up and leave, but my mind had lost its will. "You are a lovely young lady, Mr. Harker," said Renfield. I wanted to scream, to get away, but instead, my bare shoulders slowly shimmied and my wine glass moved from my neck down to my small cleavage. "What?" I thought. "I ... I can't have cleavage." The count reached out and touched my chin with his long, cold fingers. Another chill went through me. "Yes, Mr. Harker," he said in his heavy Romanian accent. "Or perhaps I should say, Miss Harker? Your transformation is proceeding in a very satisfactory manner." My mind screamed, "My transformation! What?" But I heard myself in a soft feminine voice purr and say, "Thank you, Count Dracula." My hazel eyes were locked on his. They were purple and bloodshot ... and overpowering. "You have lovely shoulders," he said. "So slim and soft, and your neck....You will want to go to bed now, won't you?" It was more a command than a question. It was also the last thing I heard before I passed out. When I awoke, I was in my bedroom, under a rich, red coverlet. I was wearing a sheer, white off-my-shoulders nightgown showing a good deal of my new cleavage. My blond hair was now down, cascading over my shoulders. I was feeling strangely soft, frail, sensual. I shimmied my bare shoulders with my back against the pillow. My fingertips slowly worked their way down my taut, curvy body until they came to rest between my legs. I appeared in every other way to be a woman, but I still had my slim 5-inch, circumcised penis. My mind was a blur of confusion and feelings of unaccustomed femininity. My small breasts pushed against my flimsy nightgown and my nipples were aroused. My hands moved back up my body until they came to rest on either side of my head. Then I heard a voice inside my mind. It belonged to Count Dracula. I tried so hard to ignore it. I had never backed down from a fight or felt any man was superior to me, But Dracula's voice in my mind just went right through me. I closed my eyes and shook my head, but the voice was too strong. I rose from the bed, my back straight and my posture perfect. I walked out of the room, feeling sensual and pure, my blonde hair cascading over my slim, white, bare shoulders as I came to the head of the staircase. At the bottom of it stood Count Dracula, staring up at me with those penetrating purple eyes. Slowly, inexorably, he glided up the stairs. I was frightened out of my mind, but I couldn't move. Finally, he was right in front of me, looking down at me with a hideous, bloodless smile. He smelled like formaldehyde. His mind overpowering, I was only able to back away into the bedroom, one small step at a time, while he hovered over me, his eyes devouring me, until I was backed against the bed. His hands reached out and grasped my bare shoulders. His touch was cold, like a corpse's, slimy and foul against my pure, white skin. My skin crawled, even as I felt myself surrender to his will. He maneuvered me onto the bed. His hands, with his fingers so long and bony, remained on my shoulders as his face approached mine. That formaldehyde stench intensified as he opened his mouth to reveal to my silent horror, sharp fangs on either side. I wanted to scream, but I couldn't. His tuxedo jacket and shirt pressed against my bare chest as his mouth captured mine. When I writhed and tried to get away, he smiled evilly and put his cold, slimy tongue into my mouth. I felt a combination of awful revulsion and irresistible desire as the last traces of my masculinity dissipated. I was terrified, yet I wanted the kiss to last for hours. For all I know, it did. Time lost all meaning to me. My mind was a helpless blur. I breathed heavily, my modest, tender breasts moving as Dracula's cold, bony hands kneaded them through my flimsy nightgown. His eyes bore into mine. My slender wrists seemed glued to the pillow on either side of my blonde head as my lovely shoulders slowly shimmied. Then slowly, Dracula's confident, grinning face descended. His hot, fetid breath repulsed me even as I opened my mouth to accept his serpentine tongue. Then, his hands caressing my shoulders, he ended the kiss, opened his mouth in an animalistic sneer and revealed his razor-sharp fangs. He could see the fear in my eyes, even as I stretched my head to one side, revealing more of my slim, regal neck in surrender. His evil smile grew more broad. My little hands impotently grabbed at his sleeves as his mouth descended upon my helpless neck. My slim, lithe body tensed. Then, as his fangs penetrated my soft, tender skin, I felt my slim penis explode in the most powerful orgasm of my young life. My world was awash in brilliant colors. I felt my back arch and heard myself cry out as I drifted off into oblivion. I had no idea how many hours I slept before awaking, feeling unusually fresh and vital, my senses alive as never before. I shook my head, figuring that the whole experience of the night had just been a nightmare. But it seemed that as I moved my head that my blonde hair was longer. I sat up, and I was in the same, white, off-my-shoulders nightgown. It was still clean and fresh-smelling, but my breasts had grown somewhat larger. They weren't huge by any means, but they were perky and prominent as they pressed against the silk nightgown. I rose and walked to the windows and the drawn curtains. My steps were sensual and feminine, my blonde hair halfway down my slim back. I moved the curtain aside with one hand and peered outside. It was nearly dusk. Almost mechanically, I moved to a dressing table where I found a hairbrush. As I brushed my hair, it came away from my neck. Looking in the small mirror, I noticed two tiny wounds, but when I ran my fingertips over them they disappeared. Perplexed, I bit my lower lip, wondering why I was looking at the reflection of a lovely girl instead of the slim young man who had arrived at Dracula's mansion. I walked to the closet, where I found only one garment. It was a formal, mid-thigh-length jet-black halter gown that seemed made for my slim, pantyless body, and I glided into it, revealing just a bit of cleavage. On the floor of the closet were matching black high-heeled shoes. Since I had never worn women's shoes before, I was surprised how well I could walk with them. Some of my long, straight hair fell over my slim, bare right arm and the cleavage of my right breast while the remainder rested on my bare neck and back. My posture perfect, I opened the now-unlocked door and moved to the stairway. "Good evening, Miss Harker. Allow me to accompany you down to the dining room." I was startled. Count Dracula had seemed to just materialize next to me. I femininely rested my hand on his tuxedoed arm as we walked downstairs. My mind was screaming "no," but his eyes controlled my fresh, young body. They seemed to be taunting me as if to pretend that last night never happened. When we got to the table, he kissed my hand. His cold lips made me shiver. Goosebumps appeared on my bare arms and my nipples pressed against the black halter. Dracula's eyes bored into mine as he smiled cruelly, revealing those awful fangs. He moved slowly toward me. My arms helplessly at my sides, my shoulders back, my breathing labored, making my breasts strain against my dress, Count Dracula arrogantly moved my hair aside with the back of his right hand, exposing my neck. He looked so tall, so masterful, so dominant. I tilted my head, and felt his fetid breath on my neck as I trembled. Then ... I heard Renfield's deep voice. "Master," he said, a bit fearfully. "I'm sorry, Master. The mayor of the village is here with the council members. They say they need to talk to you about the land in the cemetery you said you wanted. They are in your library, sir." Dracula hissed angrily, then smiled evilly. Guiding me with a firm hand against the small of my bare back, he led me out to the library. I was terrified, but perhaps I could appeal to the men to help me escape. But when we entered Dracula's library, all I could do was stand there, my small hands femininely holding on to the Count's crooked elbow. The old mayor and the three council members gasped when they saw me. They were undressing me with their eyes, a sensation I had never experienced. It was disturbing that part of me enjoyed the idea that these men found me attractive. "Good evening, gentlemen," said Dracula in that thick accent. "May I introduce Miss Harker, my new secretary?" My mind screamed, "MISS Harker! No, I'm MR. Harker!" But I just stood there demurely as the gentlemen bowed, and the mayor kissed my hand. He told Dracula how fortunate he was to have such a beautiful secretary, as the others nodded their approval. "Yes," said Dracula with a sly grin as he held me by my right hand and twirled me in front of them, my hair moving sensually as the men eyed my bare back and slim thighs. "I intend to enjoy her company." He paused. "For a very long time." He turned his attention to the mayor. "Miss Harker will excuse us as we go to the cemetery so I can complete the purchase of the land I desire. It is very gracious of you, Mayor, to accommodate my need to do this at night." He kissed my hand. "I shall return in a few hours, my dear," said Dracula. "We will resume ... our conversation ... when I return." They left, two of the councilmen stealing a last, lustful glance at me as they went out the door. I returned to the table, where Renfield brought me dinner. All I wanted was a little soup and a glass of wine. Renfield's eyes were all over me as I sat, my arms, my back, my crossed legs. He asked me several times if I had enough soup or wine or if I needed anything else. My mind was a blur, and I don't know how much time passed, but for a moment, my head cleared. By the way he was looking at me, Renfield obviously found me attractive. Perhaps he could help me escape. He was a giant, so strong, so powerful. Surely he wouldn't be afraid of Dracula. "I'm going to my room now, Renfield," I said. "Would you be so kind as to bring me a glass of wine in about 10 minutes?" The big man appeared eager to please, and said he would bring me the wine. I gently touched his face with my right hand and went up to my room. I wanted to look as helpless and in need of a strong man as I could, so I oozed out of the halter dress and put on the white, off-my-shoulders nightgown. Soon there was a knock on the door. After I told him to come in, Renfield entered, carrying a tray containing an open carafe of wine and a glass. The big man saw me standing in the nightie in front of the bed with my arms demurely behind my back. This caused my half-revealed breasts to be more prominent and my bare shoulders to look even more vulnerable. I didn't plan the pose. It just, for some reason, came naturally. "Renfield," I whispered. "I must escape. I need your help. Please ... you must help me." The huge man's eyes grew big. He began to breathe heavily, his dull brain trying to process what was going on. "Help you?" he roared. "Help you?" I looked into his eyes and immediately became alarmed. "Help you?" he yelled. With one mighty arm, he threw the tray against the wall and ran over to me. "No!" I cried. "Here," he yelled, his eyes bugging out. "I'll help you!" He grabbed me in his massive arms, crushing me to him as his mouth engulfed mine. I was trapped in his arms as his tongue plunged violently into my little mouth. Effortlessly, he tossed me onto the bed. Lying on my back, I shuddered as I watched him tear off his shirt and remove his pants. His penis was uncut and by far the biggest one I had ever seen. His eyes were aglow with lust. He was no longer thinking. All he knew ... all he wanted to know ... was that he wanted me. "No!" I pleaded. "Please ... Renfield, no!" But the big man was not to be denied. Drool dripped down upon his heavy beard and he leaped onto the bed. His massive hands on my bare shoulders, he kissed me hard. His hard, muscular body pinned my slim one to the bed. His beard scratched my neck, and I could feel his penis up against my hip. Then his big left hand grabbed my hair and pulled me toward his huge, smelly organ. "You want to suck Renfield's cock, missy?" He was taunting me. I shook my head "no," sobbing softly, keeping my lips shut tight. "SUCK IT!" he commanded. I shook my head, pitifully. Renfield then slapped my face with his right hand. I saw stars. My pretty body went limp. The giant penis moved closer and closer. Renfield's hand in my hair hurt as he continued to taunt me. "You're so beautiful," he said derisively. "First, my pretty one, you're going to suck my big cock. Then I'm going to shove it up your pretty, virgin ass." His hand still in my hair, he bent down and kissed me like he owned me. When his tongue finally stopped its assault on my little mouth, I was crying, "Please, Renfield," I begged. "Please stop." Instead, he slapped my face with his huge penis. "Suck it!" he commanded, his beard wet, his massive, naked, sweaty body pressed against my nightgown. I didn't know whether my slim body could survive an anal assault from that giant sex organ. I pushed against his chest, but it was no use. Then I heard the angriest sound I've ever heard. More of a hiss than a voice, it belonged to Vlad Tepes Dracula, who appeared out of a mist at the bedroom door. "RENFIELD!" With one bony hand, Dracula lifted the giant off of the bed. With the other, Dracula began an assault that defied description. The huge man was no match for the count's ferocity. My hair all over my face and torso, my nightgown far off my shoulders, revealing one breast, I cowered femininely on the bed as Dracula continued his assault like an animal tearing open the body of its prey. Dracula's long fingernail slit open Renfield's jugular vein. Blood was everywhere, and it was over in seconds. Renfield was dead, and Dracula - his eyes now on mine -- disdainfully drank the big man's blood for a few moments. The ferocity of Dracula's assault had left me speechless. I looked at Renfield's lifeless body, his terrified eyes staring into space. Jonathon Harker's Journal Sated, Dracula slowly walked over to me, stroked my hair and adjusted my nightgown properly off my shoulders. His accented voice was amazingly tender, considering what he had just done to Renfield. "I did not bring you all this way to allow you to be with anyone else, my dear" he said. "You are mine. You will belong to me forever. Do you understand?" My mind was clear. From my feminine transformation to the horror of seeing what Dracula had just done to Renfield, I knew my life would be forever changed. I tossed my hair and nodded. Those dominant eyes sapped me of any resistance. Somehow, I knew what I must do. With one of my delicate hands, I reached out and unbuttoned the shirt of a man I now realized was a vampire. Dracula's chest was hairless, his skin cold like that of a corpse. With one fingernail, he made a vertical cut on his chest, causing a trickle of blood to appear. He placed his cold, bony hands gently on my bare shoulders, guiding rather than forcing my face to his chest. I moaned softly ... purely out of desire as I sexily shimmied my shoulders in his grasp. Slowly, sensually, I moved my mouth to his wound. My hands tenderly up against his chest, I writhed submissively as I tasted the vampire's rancid blood. Dracula closed his eyes and his head moved back as I kissed his chest and licked his blood. My eyes peered over to the lifeless form of Renfield, but it seemed not at all strange to be doing what I was doing. After a long time, Dracula moved me back by my shoulders. His eyes on mine, he reached down and effortlessly scooped me up. I crossed my slim arms around his neck, and my straight blonde hair hung down as he carried me into the basement. There was an ornate bed and nearby, two coffins. Gently laying me down on the bed, he slowly removed his clothes. His body was repulsive, like some slowly decomposing animal's. His penis was long and thin and smelled of formaldehyde. Part of me wanted to run away, but some sort of perverted desire caused me to writhe sexily on the bed, shimmying my bare shoulders and making little feminine noises of pleasure. Dracula looked at my heaving breasts and my slim, curvy body. I could see the lust in his eyes as he moved his body over mine. His ice-cold hands caressed my soft shoulders as his mouth covered mine. His breath was terrible, but I didn't care. I moaned deep in the back of my throat as I kissed him for all I was worth, running my slim tongue over his fangs. His hands were all over me, pulling at my nightgown. The vampire was sexually turned on ... by me! He pulled his mouth away from mine, and for a moment, I thought he was going to plunge his fangs into my neck. But he wanted more. He pulled the elastic of my nightgown top down, revealing my breasts. His mouth went first to my left breast, then my right, biting, nipping, sucking. My little hands grabbed the coverlet as Count Dracula made my entire body tremble. His hands pulled the nightie off my body, and he kissed me again. I could feel the hunger in his kiss as I seductively wiggled under him. We kissed for what seemed like an eternity. Finally, he broke off the kiss and looked into my eyes. I knew what he wanted without him saying anything. I moved my body down to his penis, moved my knees between his legs and took the cold, putrid member into my sweet mouth. It was the first penis I had ever tasted, and I surrendered myself to its power. "Yes, pretty girl," the vampire said in his Romanian accent as his right hand stroked my hair. This was preordained ever since I saw your picture on the Internet." I felt so feminine and submissive as his penis continued to grow in my moist mouth. I moaned and purred as it snaked down my throat. I wanted to gag, but I didn't. It was at once the most repulsive and sexy thing that has ever happened to me. My hair hung over my face as I found myself wiggling my slim body, trying so hard to please this demon I had just seen murder another man. His penis, covered in my saliva, popped out of my mouth. I couldn't believe how long it had become. He smiled at me and masterfully turned me over on my back. "No, please," I murmured, shaking my blonde hair. "It's too big. Please ... no." Dracula smiled cruelly and swiftly pinned my wrists over my head with one of his cold, bony hands. His right hand slowly, slowly played with my left breast, then ran over my slim, curvy torso again and again while his cold lips made love to my mouth, shoulders and neck. My body was on fire, my mind a blur, a reflection of Dracula's lust. With my body being so deliciously defiled, I didn't notice that he had maneuvered between my trim, milky thighs. His left hand still holding down my wrists, he moved a sharp-fingernailed finger into my anus, then another. Meanwhile, he nipped at my earlobe, collarbone and neck, making me tremble with desire. Slowly, he removed his fingers, and in a lightning move, plunged his snake-like penis inside me. I struggled, but it was no use. Immediately, he began pumping into me. His eyes captured mine, and I surrendered myself to him. I don't know when he released his grip on my wrists, but I soon found my arms crossed gently around his neck. Dracula looked down at me, triumphantly, as he continued to pump inside me and run his hands over my lovely body. He was my lover, my master, and I felt my small penis getting harder and harder. His penis seemed to reach all the way to my throat as I writhed and moaned under him. I don't know how long he was inside me, but I knew that dawn couldn't be far away. "Please, my darling," I whispered, not needing to explain what I wanted him to do. The foul-smelling vampire moved his hands to my soft, tender shoulders as he raised his head over my face. He kissed me tenderly, his tongue slowly thrusting to play with mine. I could feel both our orgasms building. He raised his head and I moved my head to expose my lovely neck. Dracula smiled at me one more time, then rapidly sank his fangs into my neck. He grunted as his penis exploded inside me. I shimmied my shoulders while he held them tight. I screamed, and my little penis released my puny load of cum. My breasts heaved as I tried to catch my breath. My body was limp, exhausted while Dracula drained my lifeblood. I gave it willingly as I grew faint and finally passed out. It seemed like years later when I awoke. I was back in my bedroom. No trace of the carnage done to Renfield remained, and I was once again wearing the lovely white nightgown. I felt a little dizzy as I moved my hair from my eyes. Then, as if out of a mist, appeared Count Dracula. I moved my hand immediately to where his fangs had punctured my neck. As I touched my wounds, they began to disappear. I looked up at Dracula. "Am I ....? " I asked. "Am I a ....a ...?" He laughed cruelly and smiled that crocodile smile. "Are you a vampire, my dear?" he said derisively. "No, I considered it, but I have decided that you are too lovely to make one of the undead. You will remain my secretary, my live, human, beautiful secretary." He ran his cold, bony right hand slowly from my bare left shoulder, over my collarbone, over my chest and to my right shoulder, which he caressed sensually. "You must eat and build up your strength, Mr. -- or rather - Miss Harker." He was laughing a sinister laugh now. "There is no doubt," he said with a sneer, "that I shall be in need of your services again. And again. And again." The vampire pulled me to him, caressing both my bare shoulders. He showed his fangs, then covered them with his lips. He moved his mouth over my neck. I could feel his hot, fetid breath, and although repulsed, I could not resist him. But he merely kissed my neck, gently scraping his fangs over it. "Have a pleasant day, Miss Harker," he said, before disappearing in a foul-smelling mist. I snuggled back down into the bed, feeling trapped, but more sensual than I ever felt as a man. Am I to remain Count Dracula's lovely slave forever? Or will someone one day find this journal and rescue me from his foul clutches? If you are reading this, please help me. Please! The End