Chapters 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13 are already on Pa tr eon

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Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)

But outside, there was already Tracey's old Jeep. "What the hell?"

He gave up on meeting them again. His mind, at least for tonight, was solely occupied by Susan. He trained her for the Saturday performance—because, oh yes, he had to perform, and perform better than ever—and then he fucked her while she wore one of Tracey's old stage costumes. They were of a similar buxom, slender build, although Susan's breasts were completely natural, not enhanced by elixirs.

Inside, both beauties were practicing. Tracey was wearing tight pink yoga attire—delightfully hugging leggings with sexy white sneakers softly bouncing as she corrected and suggested, while Daphne moved. Her hoodie was also pink, with

no shirt underneath, but rather a black sports bra barely holding her huge breasts in place.

Daphne wore tight black spandex shorts and a pink tank top showcasing her modest breasts. Her sneakers were pink.

Were they... coordinated outfits? If so, he suspected Daphne was leading this event. Tracey wasn't a fan of such tricks.

With a smile on his face, he picked up a small box used for storing envelopes. He wiped the envelopes clean and placed a chain with a gem inside, then approached the women going through preparations for the show—probably the one they hoped to steal from him on Friday.

"So you'll be running around here, dealing cards." "Real or flaming?"

"Of course, flaming ones. We can't hand out real cards. They'll hit the audience in the face, you idiot."

"Right, Tracey." Daphne nodded obediently. "I'm sorry, Tracey." Harry cleared his throat. Daphne flinched. Tracey just turned away coldly.

"Hello, loser."

Harry furrowed his brow. The weight of the runed crystal in the box he held was pleasant. Comforting. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"We thought we'd give it a try here."

"Why did you think that?"

"Daphne can afford the rent." Daphne shrugged. "Well, my dad can. But he does it all for me."

"And you can't," Tracey said. "We thought we'd compromise. Let you pay a little for your stay. Maybe that weird room in the back that you're trying to hide. Yeah," she laughed. "See? I told you he thought we didn't know about it. Look at his face."

Harry intended to brush it off. He intended to let it sink to the ground when she was on her knees, licking his feet as if they were candies.

"I have something to show you."

"Oooh," Daphne said with a smile on her face. "Is it a present?"

"Who cares?" Tracey crossed her arms. "There's no money to give us anything valuable anyway."

He smiled. "You'd be surprised. And yes, Daphne, it's a present. But before I give it to you..."

"You won't get anything in return." Tracey shook her head. "Not a thing."

"Before I give it to you," he continued, "I need to know something."

Tracey crossed her arms. "Really, absolutely not going to sleep with you."

"Yes!" Daphne crossed her arms too. "Me neither!" God, they were like little detectives from a children's story. They thought they had outsmarted the big bad boss.

"There's no way to resolve this between us?" Harry asked. "There's no way you would ever come back to work for me?"

"Not even if you grew thirty feet tall and could shoot fireballs. Impossible."

At least he asked. Somehow, it made him feel less responsible. He made every effort to be polite. But his livelihood was at stake. His life.

Susan would make an excellent assistant, that was true. But didn't Harry deserve more? Tracey and Daphne were incredible at their job. Managing them during work would make them even better.

"Alright then." Harry pulled out the present and opened the box. "You've earned this."

"What is it?" Daphne reached out to touch it.

Slowly, Harry lifted it, swaying without rocking.

"It's a necklace, my dear."

"A necklace?"

The crystal began to sway slowly from side to side. "Indeed. A very special necklace. Isn't it special?" "V... very special," they said in complete unison. Even the slight stutter was said in perfect harmony, with the same warm, monotone tone.

These two unmatched beauties stood before Harry, their minds completely ready and willing to accept every thought of his. Every dirty piece of his will. Every last, dirty, dreadful thought he had about filling their bodies to the brim was now available to him at any moment.

"Girls, listen to me attentively. With an open mind. With full attention."

"We're listening, Harry."

He smiled. Their beautiful, luscious faces were empty, ready to do whatever he said. It was incredible.

"You don't have to respond unless I say so. You're listening so deeply, so attentively, that it's as if you're in a classroom. In fact, that's where you are. In the classroom. You see the board in front of you. You see other seats, but it's just the two of you there. You see the teacher's desk and the door, but you never want to leave. You hear my voice, and you know it's very important, but you only have yourselves there. But you're not focused on each other. You're focused on the board. Like the ones in Hogwarts classrooms. What are you focusing on?"

They responded in unison. "The board."

"That's right, girls. And on the board is everything you know to be true in this world. All your thoughts. All your beliefs and obligations. All your values. There's so much of it. It fills the entire board. Writing upon writing upon writing. It's hard to keep track of it all, but you know that every last thing is there. All the stressors. All the worries. Everything on the board.

"In one hand, you're holding a wand. You can feel it. You feel the sensation of wood in your fingers. You will take that wand... and with a spell, erase it all. Erase those thoughts. Erase those values. All those beliefs and obligations. Everything, everything will vanish. What's on the board, girls?"

"Nothing. Nothing."

"That's right. From now on, when you hear my voice, you will know that everything I say will be etched on the board. Etched on it. Indelible. Irreducible. Undeniable. My words will fill your boards. You'll be able to write new words on them, but only with chalk. My words, My Will, will be there forever. What fills your boards?"

"Your words fill our boards."

"Good. My voice is very important to you. My work is important to you. My cock is important. My pleasure. My happiness. You can't imagine anything more important than my happiness."

He continued. On the boards of their minds, he wrote a long treatise on the righteousness of his rule over them. They would never be disobedient. They would never leave. They would apologize for ever agreeing to it once. They would always love him. If they were unsure about any command, they would always ask for clarification. Their highest philosophy would be to protect him and give him pleasure. They would never do anything that could harm him, each other, or - Harry now thought of Susan - any other slave he possessed.

And then he gave them a very specific set of instructions, smiling and stroking his cock the whole time.

Susan STOPPED BY THE DOOR, with a clear conflict on her face. She had spent almost the entire day cleaning up the place and making it look beautiful, but the Master told her to go home, take a shower, and dress nicely. Then she was to wait outside until he said everything was clear, and that's exactly what she did.

She looked very pretty. A light orange dress adorned her slender, magnificent caramel figure. Her long hair loosely fell on her shoulders, and her breasts were free in a not-too-tight outfit. Heels on her feet accentuated her legs and buttocks. The wind picked up, and she had to hold the short edges of her dress to make sure her naked pussy wouldn't be exposed to the world.

Suddenly, panic engulfed her. Did she send him the required text message? She checked her phone for the latest one:

You are the most wonderful man alive. I love you.

She slowly calmed down. It was the hundredth text like that; the hundredth panic attack. In ten minutes, she would send him another, even though he was inside her. After all, he told her to do it. He told her. You don't ignore orders. She was a good slave.

And fuck, wasn't that strange?

She bit her thumbnail, the conflict evident on her face. She didn't know why she found herself in this warehouse in the middle of the city. Her compulsion was visible on her face, etched in the small wrinkles forming on her smooth, dark skin. Should she even be there at all? Why was she there? How long had she known him? Wasn't all of this rather sudden?

But then the door opened. He was there. Her everything. Her existence. Her whole life. Suddenly, her knees gave in.

"Hello, my beautiful." "Oh."

Suddenly, everything made sense to Susan. Everything in this whole world. Of course, she was waiting to see him. She wanted to see him. Desperately so. Of course, she ran when he called.

„She looked at him. He was perfect for her. The perfect stallion. The most perfect man in the world.

"Oh," she said again. "Hi. Hi, Master." Susan hadn't forgotten that she was pretty. Men did various things for her. Free coffee. Free drinks at bars. Cops let her off with tickets. When her husband died (which husband? What? Did I have a husband?), people commented on how terrible it must have been for her to be such a beautiful, young widow.

But all knowledge of her worth was lost when she found herself under her Master's gaze once again. "I'm so glad to see you again. She took his hands in hers, kissing them. He tolerated it like the adoration of an overexcited puppy. "I just... - she shook her head. "You have such a... fucking influence on me, sir. I can't explain it. Like... like I just called you Sir! A moment ago!

She hid her face in her hands. "It's so hard to think when I'm with you. And I like thinking. I do. But you're... - she placed gentle kisses on his chin and neck. "You're so fucking handsome, and I just want to kiss you, serve you, and just... do everything you tell me to, Master. But all he did in return was smile. And Susan melted anyway.

"I want to show you something." He led her to the office, and then back to the workshop.

There stood two gorgeous young women in ornate, flashy outfits. One was busty, her body clearly fertile and ready to be fucked from a young age. The other was tall and slender, and her beauty shone on her face.

They were talking on their handheld phones.

"I'm just a stupid whore. I'll never be anything more than a dumb, cock-loving whore. This is not a joke. This is not a joke. I didn't lose any bet. I'm just a whore. All I could ever hope to be. I don't want anything else but to be filled and sprayed with cum. I want everyone to know. I'm such a stupid, stupid, dumb whore. All I am for the rest of my life is three holes to be used and abused by men. I'm only good for that. That's all I'll ever be."

"That's Tracey and Daphne," Harry explained. "I had them write to some of their colleagues. Family members. To old boys and girls."

Susan's eyes widened slightly. This was... a bit diabolical. These girls humiliated themselves at every stage of their lives. Anyone who knew them would know they referred to themselves as stupid, cock-loving whores.

"They were very naughty to me. You know what they tried to do?"

Of course, she didn't. She allowed her Master to speak. "They tried to get me fired from my job. They wanted to threaten my life. My source of livelihood.

Anger welled up in Susan. Those bitches. Those bastards. How... how dare they? Master was too good to ever deny. He placed his hand on her shoulder, calming her down.

"But let's see if they can make it up to me. Perhaps they changed their minds. Your God is a forgiving God, Susan."

Chapters 7, 8, 9, 10, 11, 12 and 13 are already on Pa tr eon

If you would like to read the next chapters faster, see exclusive content, or support my work, please visit

Pat re on. c om(slash)belleveela(delete spaces)