The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Three days later

Gerard Winters’ Office – New York City, New York

“Good morning, ma’am.” The policeman said, tipping his hat as Agent Faraday stepped into the room.

“Good morning,” she replied curtly. She did not want to seem rude or arrogant, but she had not enjoyed being pulled from sucking her Master’s cock only to be brought here. “What do we have here?”

The policeman gulped. “Body…identified as Mister Gerard Winters…” the policeman shook his head. “I don’t know what to say, but it’s probably the most disgusting thing I’ve ever seen, ma’am—”

Rachel yawned. She knew where this was going before it even began. She knew what needed to be done here. She followed quietly as the police officer led her past the main lobby and into the office. Police tape lined the area and several officers as well as a CSI team had been called in to…extract the body.

They entered the room, but Rachel saw nothing. “Where is it?” she asked.

“Uh—” the police office stammered, not really believing the answer himself. “It’s on the ceiling…ma’am.”

Rachel looked up.

There, just as the officer had said, was the body of Gerard Winters. It appeared to have undergone some sort of…dessication, the flesh dissolved from inside out, and his face forever frozen in perpetual scream. Rachel found it difficult to stop herself from showing any emotion. She didn’t want to lose face here.

True, she had expected the scene to be gruesome, but this was something different altogether. Still…she had a job to do, and she was here to ensure that it got done.

“Looks like he was poisoned by that dart…” the police officer said, pointing to a small feathered dart embedded in the corpse’s neck. “By the look of things…he died slowly and painfully too.”

Rachel nodded but said nothing. “Accidents happen.”

“ACCIDENT?!” the police officer said.

Rachel shot him a grim look. “That’s right, officer. An accident.”

“I suppose it was by some accident he got nailed to the ceiling too?” The police officer said sarcastically, “without nails?”

Rachel smiled. “Have CSI bag the body and have every piece of evidence tagged, logged and bagged…we’re taking it with us.”

“Uh—ma’am…I don’t think—”

“You’re job is not to think, officer,” Rachel said bluntly. “You have your orders. Get that body down from there and wrap it up. The FBI is taking over this investigation.” Rachel pulled out a small folder from her briefcase and handed it to the officer. “Hand this over to your commanding officer. It contains all the papers you need to review.”

Rachel took one last look at the grisly remains of Gerard Winters. One thing was for sure, Rachel told herself, her Master was truly a powerful man. And as Rachel Faraday exited the office and proceeded towards the elevator, she used the remote in her pocket to turn up the wireless vibrator that had been continually buzzing in between her pussy lips since she had arrived from the airport. Truly, her Master was a powerful man, and she was getting turned on just thinking about him.

The entire ride down she humped the handrail, pretending that the golden bar was her Master’s throbbing member…fucking her…fucking her…fucking her…all the way down to the first floor.

Perhaps it was indeed by some miracle that by the time the elevator doors opened she had somehow managed to compose herself. She wondered silently if the elevator camera had recorded any of that…she would have to retrieve the tape personally later during the day.

She made her way outside the building and fished her cellular phone from her pocket. She dialed frantically, not bothering to turn off the vibrator. She squirmed uncomfortably in front of the building, hoping no one would notice the faint trail of pussy fluid that was now beginning to trickle down the inside of her legs.

“Hello?” the charming voice on the line spoke, and just from the sound of his voice, Rachel staggered in orgasm. She held a nearby payphone booth for support.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAH—” she said loudly.

“Are you okay, ma’am?” a nearby bystander asked.

She nodded nervously. “I’m fine, thank you.”

The bystander tipped his hat and walked off.

Rachel brought the phone up to her ear. “Is it done?” the voice asked.

Rachel fought to keep herself from coming again. It didn’t work. But at least she had prepared herself this time, and she had braced herself against the payphone booth. “Yes, my Master…” Rachel answered.

“Good. And you’re sure that this little problem will…go away?”

“Y—yes, Master, I’ll be handling this case personally. My official report will say exactly what you told me to say.”

“Good. Return to your office and get to work immediately. The sooner we cover this up the better.”

“Yes, Master. It will be as you command.”

“Excellent work, Rachel…”

“Thank you, Master.”

Then came a short pause. “For your dedicated work, I think a reward is in order.”

Rachel’s smile stretched from ear to ear. “That’s not necessary, Master.”

“Oh? Well, as ‘unnecessary’ as it is, I think it quite appropriate. Walk to your car, and open the trunk. Make sure no one is around when you do. Enjoy your Christmas, slave. I will contact you soon.” Without waiting for a response, her Master put down the phone.

Rachel wondered what her Master had meant.

She walked to the nearby parking building and approached her car. She had followed her Master’s instructions perfectly, and she had rented the only black Mercedes that the car rental company, ‘Ace Rental’, had. She slowly inserted the car key and the latch opened.

Rachel pulled the trunk lid up…

…and lo and behold, in the trunk of her car was a young, nubile, beautiful teenage girl with short black hair. She wore nothing except for bright red boots with white fur trim, a santa hat, and a black leather belt encircling her waist. A bright red bow was tied around her neck, and a candy cane was inserted into the young teenager’s pussy. Her wrists were tied behind her back, but she was clearly not there against her will…her come-hither look, lust-filled eyes and heavy breathing were enough to convince Rachel of that.

And that beautiful face…that face that Rachel knew so well. It was Emily…her young niece.

“Hey, Auntie Rachel…” Emily said, licking her lips, “I’ve been a naughty, naughty girl…will you punish me, please…?”

Rachel could barely find a gasp of air, let alone words.

Finally, she reached down, and slowly pulled out the candy cane that had been inserted into her niece’s pussy. It came out easily, and Rachel saw that it had been drenched in her niece’s juices.

“Mmmmm…” Rachel said, before finally sucking her niece’s cum off the cane, relishing in the mix of sugar and love juice. Rachel looked at her niece, that angelic face of hers, and reinserted the cane into her pussy. “Baby, I’m going to fuck your brains out all winter…” she said.

“Yes, yes, YEEEESSS!!!” Emily screamed, as her Auntie Rachel dove right in, eating her pussy out from the trunk of her car.

Meanwhile

In a small chapel twelve miles outside of St.Petersburg, Russia

The abandoned building had once been a safe haven for her. It had long been forgotten by many, standing so far from the main road that the lonely dirt path that had once led to this secluded area was so bad and poorly maintained that most people didn’t even know the road existed.

But it did, and for many years, for many decades, that lonely path was in and of itself a means by which this abandoned chapel had remained…well, abandoned. The cold bite of winter and the indifference of most people had ensured that this was the safest place that anyone wishing to disappear could possibly find…until now that is.

Yes, many times Natalya Zerapova had used this chapel as a getaway. The underground chapel hall and undercroft had been converted into a modern den of decadence and entertainment. It had a small Jacuzzi, a flat-screen television, a fully furnished den and a master bedroom as well as a kitchen and dining room. It was her safe haven…her sanctuary in times of trouble. Few, not even some of her Vassals knew of that hidden place.

But now she faced not seclusion in that lonely chapel…she faced death.

As it was, she stood, frozen in fear as her hand was mere inches away from the trap door that led to her hidden sanctuary, just behind the heavy wooden altar. Her two bodyguards lay on the floor, dead.

And in the middle of the chapel’s central isle, her hunter was standing. She stood there, confidently, a .357 Magnum Anaconda revolver in her hands. Brand new, as it were, and smoking with the fresh scent of its two most recent kills.

The woman brandishing the fearsome weapon was in high heels, but otherwise wrapped in a heavy fur trenchcoat and ushanka, her gloved hands holding the gun straight as an arrow, pointing straight at Natalya’s head. Her black hair just peeked from underneath her heavy hat. Heavy black shades covered her eyes. She smiled.

Natalya sighed deeply and withdrew her hand from the door handle. She could try and fight…but she knew that she would lose. Her Power had been dwindling for the past week, until finally she could no longer even maintain the slightest amount of chill or ice. The chase was over…she was dead and there was nothing she could do about it. She stood straight and turned to face her predator, brushing her dirty blonde hair from her face.

“Boris…Niko…they were good and loyal Vassals…” she said, not really talking to her would-be assassin. “You and your Master have done well,” she said in all sincerity. Indeed they had. “He has taken down the Order of Kings…and as fate would have it,” she added in her thick Russian accent, “it appears I am next.”

“Not necessarily,” said the beautiful brunette, lowering her shades just enough for her to look upon the Ascended One known as Freyaja, who stood in her trenchcoat, shoulders hunched in defeat.

Natalya raised an eyebrow. She had not seen it, not when she had been chased from her home to here…not when bolts of lightning were racing past her head as she had been pursued, but here, in the quiet gloom of the abandoned chapel she recognized them…those eyes…that face.

“You…” she said finally, “Valeria, isn’t it? Valeria Cross?”

The would-be assassin smiled.

“You were Balthus’ Vassal, were you not—”

BANG!!!

The lightning bolt barely missed Natalya’s face, crackling by her head and striking the far wall, blasting a whole straight through into the wilderness outside. Snow began to pour in and the violent winds rumbled into the quiet chapel.

“DO NOT SAY THAT NAME! EVER!!!” Valeria screamed.

Natalya nodded, her face frozen in shock.

Valeria cleared her throat, composing herself as she did so. She looked at Natalya, and spoke softly. “I am Azrael’s now, don’t forget it.”

Natalya nodded nervously.

“Good, now that that’s settled,” Valeria said lowering her gun, “let’s talk business.”

Natalya raised an eyebrow. “Business?”

Valeria nodded in response. “Clearly, my dear Freyaja, if my Master wanted you truly dead, you would be. I have the Power to kill you right here and now, just like the two Russian bears beside you…there are no witnesses and we’re out in the middle of nowhere.”

Natalya gulped. “I see your point. What does Matthew want?”

Valeria smiled. “Cooperation.”

“Cooperation?” Natalya repeated.

Valeria nodded.

The beautiful Russian didn’t respond. She furled her brow and looked at Valeria quizzically. What more could Azrael want? He had the only Power that surpassed all other Fallenkind, why would he need ANYONE’S cooperation?

Valeria sighed. “Because he wants law, not anarchy. He wants to establish a new order, in his image, and he wants you to be a part of it.”

Natalya looked quite surprised. For a Vassal to exhibit such levels of telepathy, to be able to read her mind…

“…isn’t as difficult as you would imagine,” Valeria said completing Natalya’s mental sentence. “As you have probably realized, the Power of all Ascended flowed through my Master when you unwittingly performed the Final Ascension upon him. That means not only has his Power, and by default my Power as well, multiplied, but your Power has also diminished…and diminished GREATLY, I might add. Your mental defenses are not as potent as they once were…”

Natalya nodded. “So what Matthew wants—”

“—a new order.” Valeria finished for her. “And he wants you to be a part of it.”

Natalya paused. “If I refuse?”

Valeria said nothing, instead cocking the gun. Natalya understood the answer. She shrugged. “What do I have to do?” she asked, her voice resigned in defeat.

Valeria uncocked the gun and lowered it, smiling.

Meanwhile

Istanbul, Turkey

“How have you been?” the giant African man asked, clasping the beautiful Chinese woman’s hands firmly in his before asking her to sit. He had a huge smile on his face. “Still traveling in style, I see.”

The Chinese woman looked to one side; clearly he had been referring to the young woman who was currently holding a square-shaped parasol over her head, and the young butler who accompanied her. She nodded in response. “Naturally,” she said plainly, as if she didn’t expect anyone to see her traveling in any other way, “I have some Power left, and I will be damned if I deny the simplest of life’s pleasures to myself.”

The African man nodded. He certainly had no qualms about the way another person lived, and he certainly had no issues with this woman.

“Still, when I received your message and found out you wanted to meet here of all places,” she said, looking at the fine little alcove they sat in, looking over the beautiful Turkish skyline and with the setting sun to frame their meeting, sitting in such regal finery and surrounded by beautiful tapestries, “I was quite worried,” she finished. “I did not think that Lu-Makate Gutambo could choose a place that was so…well, elegant,” she said, admittedly.

Lu-Makate laughed heartily. He always had an infectious laugh, the Chinese woman told herself. He spoke with his big, booming voice. “And I did not think the great Madame Li would accept such a proposal, to meet, as you have said, ‘here, of all places.’” He laughed again, and Madame Li found herself laughing as well.

“How is your family?” Madame Li asked.

“WELL!!!” Gutambo exclaimed. “Very well, in fact. Shari is convinced she has found her first ‘boyfriend’, and Amalia almost died from laughter. Shari said it was because he was a ‘boy’ and he was her ‘friend’, hence ‘boyfriend.’ And Challa…well she’s going to be graduating from kindergarten soon…she is so excited!” Gutambo continued, rambling about his children and his wife for fifteen minutes with little pause.

Madame Li chuckled lightly. They paused together in silence for a bit. Then Madame Li spoke, “So, this is truly the life you want to live from now on?”

Lu-Makate looked at the beautiful sunset. “Yes,” he said, without hesitation or regret. “My family is everything.”

Madame Li nodded. “Well, I am happy for you.”

“Thank you, old friend.”

Another long pause. “You’ve heard about…Azazel?” Madame Li asked.

Lu-Makate nodded. “I know what happened. Azrael explained it all to me in a recent letter he sent, along with a gorgeous doll house he sent for little Challa as a graduation present…” Lu-Makate then laughed again, “which I had a NIGHTMARE putting together, I might add.”

Li laughed, but said nothing further.

Lu-Makate noticed her looking out into the horizon. “Have you been approached?”

Madame Li nodded. “The four beauties,” she said, “they came to me two days ago with the proposition,” Lu-Makate waited for her to continue, “but I told them I’d answer by the end of the week.”

Lu-Makate nodded. “I think you should accept.”

“He betrayed the Order, fooled us all.”

Lu-Makate nodded again. “True, but you were there, weren’t you, when Atlantis burned?”

Li remained silent. He knew that the answer was yes.

“I was there,” Lu-Makate added, “when that massacre took place. I watched from the African coastline while that beautiful glass and silver city fell. I watched as millions died…and for what? For nothing.”

“So you’re saying Matthew was in the right?”

Lu-Makate shook his head. “Is there any other way to truly see it, Anni? We’ve been in Power for so long we’ve forgotten that everything we do has consequences, and Vincent…or should I say…Matthew, always looked at our Power as a responsibility as well as a gift. I’ll be honest, Anni, for the longest time, I’ve had my doubts about what the Order of Kings was truly for…”

“The Order of Kings was necessary for us to survive!!!” Madame Li said, her voice raised.

“Yes,” Gutambo agreed, “when the forces of Heaven hunted us down across the cosmos, when we were forced to hide in the dark places of this world…remember that it was Vincent, or at least Azrael acting through Vincent, that brought the Order of Kings together,” Gutambo explained. “He knew that it was necessary, too. But when the threat was over, we kept the Power we had gained, we kept it and used it, each of us, to further our own goals and to consolidate our empires and our dominion over lesser men.”

Madame Li said nothing. Lu-Makate continued. “But what did Azrael do? He proposed to create Atlantis. He offered all Fallenkind a place in his utopia…but we turned him down. We laughed in his face. We called him a fool. And in the end what did he do? He created it anyway. He offered Fallenkind a chance, and we missed it. He offered it to mankind, and they embraced it…” Lu-Makate paused, watching as the orange sky dominated the horizon, “…and when Fallenkind saw the paradise they could have shared with Azrael, we grew jealous…and we burned him for it.”

“Not all of us!” Madame Li said again. “AZAZEL, SURTUR, BALTHUS, PANDRAGORE! They were the ones that sent armies to burn Atlantis!”

“The very SAME ones he himself killed,” Gutambo said. Madame Li paused. She had not realized that. Gutambo continued. “And what did we do?”

“NOTHING! WE DID NOTHING!” Madame Li shouted.

“Precisely!” Gutambo said, making his point.

Madame Li opened her mouth to speak again, but she took a moment to let what Lu-Makate had said set in. She understood. He was right.

“The only way for evil to win,” Gutambo quoted, “is for good men to do NOTHING”. He paused. “And that’s exactly what we did, Anni. We did nothing. We watched Atlantis burn. We watched millions of lives ruined. We watched as the populace of Atlantis was butchered and massacred…and all the while we knew that Azazel, Surtur, Balthus and Pandragore were behind the attack. Yet at their request, we said nothing to Corantor.”

“But we underestimated him,” Madame Li said. “He knew EVERYTHING.”

“Not only did we underestimate him,” Gutambo said, “Azazel and the others overestimated themselves. They thought themselves immune from the justice of men. They thought themselves so untouchable, that they never expected justice to be delivered by one of our own…”

“And so he plotted his revenge.”

“No,” Gutambo said, “he plotted our justice. He knew that the Order of Kings he had created was now corrupted by greed and a lust for power. He had founded the Order with Azazel so Fallenkind would survive…but once our survival was ensured, we, us included, Anni, used the Order of Kings to rule…”

Madame Li sighed. “So you think…that this ‘new Order’ he wants to establish, is a good thing?”

“I think,” Gutambo said, smiling, “that it doesn’t matter what I think. It only matters how much we trust him.”

“Do you trust him?” Madame Li asked after a bit of a pause.

Gutambo smiled. “With my life.”

Madame Li nodded.

Meanwhile

Mental Health Division, Western State Hospital – Tacoma, Washington, USA

“How is the patient, doctor?” the young man asked, his two interns flanking him.

“Doing well, thus far. Twenty-something Jane Doe, no prior history of mental problems, came in with memory loss and…well, nymphomania. Our history is still a bit fuzzy, since she was brought in by two unknown males who just left her here, so we can’t get a proper history of the present illness or medical history. She seems fine medically, though.”

“Mental Status Exam?”

“Well, initial MSE showed that patient insisted on being naked all the time and would not stop overt sexual behavior with other patients and medical staff alike…we had to put her under four-point restraints under isolation, but she seemed to rather…ahem, enjoy the restraints…” the doctor cleared his throat, finding the situation rather awkward. “But eventually she calmed down enough for someone to actually complete the MSE on her after a few days. Nowadays, she’s cooperative and well-kempt, keeps eye contact, no tics or abnormal movements during interview, though she seems rather dysphoric more than not, blunted affect at times, speech is normal, and she’s coherent. I’m concerned about her thought content, though, as she appears to have several grandiose delusions about being immortal and what-not. No hallucinations though. Cognition appears to be intact…but the interesting thing is that I’ve performed several memory tests on her…it seems as though she’s blanked out a part of her recent memory…perhaps a traumatic experience.”

“Either that or she simply won’t talk about it.”

The doctor shrugged. “I suppose that explanation is as good as any.”

“What’s the working diagnosis?”

“Right now, we’re considering Bipolar disorder, considering the rapidity of her shift from a state of mania to depression, a rapid cycling type, but I’m also inclined to think that this may have a component of post-traumatic stress disorder…but I didn’t want to make the assumption that the blank spot in her memory was some sort of traumatic event…still…”

The two doctors looked into the window. The beautiful woman they had been talking about sat silently in the aluminum chair. She wore a white shirt and white pants, her arms were crossed over her chest and she waited patiently, not really looking at anyone or anything.

“So, you’ll be taking her—”

“—home, yes.”

The doctor smiled and nodded. “Well it’s good to see young doctors so actively involved in their patient’s well-being. Most of our Jane Doe’s in the hospital don’t usually find their true identities anymore…most of them are just abandoned by their families.”

The younger doctor and his two pretty interns nodded. “Well, we don’t abandon our patients. Thank you Dr. Caihill, for keeping her in such good health. I was worried we’d never find her after she wandered off.”

The older doctor nodded. “I see that,” he said, shaking the young man’s hand firmly. “I’ll write up the transfer papers and she can leave this afternoon. I’ll leave you to it, then. The orderly will assist you with anything else you might need. Just page me if you have any other questions and such.”

“I will, thank you again Dr. Caihill.”

“Well, do you want to interview the patient, Dr—Dr—oh dear, I’ve forgotten already—” the elderly doctor finished, finding it hard to concentrate when the young doctor had such beautiful women on either side of him. One was a tall, dark, African-American doctor who was so beautiful the doctor could barely keep his eyes off of her. Her name plate on her white coat read ‘Cleo Patricia Robin, M.D.’ The other was a very attractive Latin American, shorter, but with a very hot body. Her name plate read ‘Angel Gutierrez, M.D.’

“Oh, of course, it’s Dr. Freeman…but you can call me Matthew,” he smiled.

“I was wondering when you’d come to finish me off…” the beautiful woman said, her ruffled black hair doing nothing to hide her attractive Indian features.

“I didn’t say that’s why I was here,” Matthew said.

“Then why are you here?”

Matthew smiled. “How are you feeling…Narisa?”

“Thanks to you?” Narisa asked, leaning over to whisper. “I feel like I want to jump and fuck everything that moves. Do you realize how difficult it is in this—this—place?” Matthew chuckled. Narisa wasn’t amused. “It’s not funny!!! You made me into a horny nympho and I’ve had to use what little Power I have left to dampen my lust! Now everybody here thinks I’m depressed!”

“Well, technically,” Matthew explained, “they think you’re bipolar. I mean, I would to if I didn’t know what I know. But telepathically stopping any emotion from taking place would blunt your affect so much, that I imagine their diagnosis wouldn’t fall very short of a diagnosis of negative schizophrenia,” Matthew said. “Keep telling them stories of how you’re an immortal who can’t age or get sick and it’ll be inevitable.”

Narisa rolled her eyes. “You know what I just heard? Blah-blah-blah medical this and schizophrenia that!”

Matthew suppressed his laugh a second time. “Fine, fine.”

Narisa breathed deeply and pouted. She paused for a moment, before leaning back into her chair. “I assume everyone else is…you know…”

“Dead?” Matthew finished. Narisa nodded. “No, not everyone. Lu, Anni, Natalya, they’re still around.”

“And me…”

Matthew nodded. “And you…be thankful I decided not to make those changes permanent. I kind of liked you as a nymphomaniac…not that you weren’t a horny slut BEFORE I changed you, but now it was much more…stimulating.” Narisa raised her chin and looked away. Matthew laughed loud this time. “Oh would you stop! You’re in a mental institution, nympho! You’ve got no dignity left to save…”

“Fine…”

“Anyway, you want out of here or not?”

“You’re getting me out?” Narisa asked, all of a sudden her voice a little more warm.

“Of course!” Matthew said, smiling.

“Wait—” Narisa interjected, “what do I have to—you’re not thinking that I would—you know—fuck you so I can get out—because I won’t!”

Matthew rolled his eyes this time. “You don’t have to fuck me.”

“What?” Narisa exclaimed, the disappointment in her voice apparent. Matthew smiled at her, and Narisa, blushing after realizing her mistake, cleared her throat. “I mean—what I meant to say was—uh—good.”

Matthew shook his head. “Right. Anyway, now comes the fun part.”

“Fun part?”

“Yup.”

“What do you mean?”

Matthew smiled. “Guess who I really am…”

“Huh?”

Two Days Later

The Freeman Estate, Riverside, California

The woman with platinum blonde hair took a sip from her coffee and relished in the cool breeze that even now was drifting across her face. The combination of the cool wind and the warm coffee sat with her just right. She looked out into the gardens and admired the view. She had only been here once before, but even now the place felt new and somehow even more beautiful. After all, the first time she had been here, she had only stopped by to deliver a message. Today was the first day she was actually a member of this household.

“This coffee,” she said, “is amazing!”

“That’s Caroline de Regaud’s special French Roast,” answered the staggeringly beautiful golden blonde across the small table from her, “she makes it just perfect, doesn’t she?”

The first woman nodded enthusiastically.

“Oh…” a third woman with fiery red hair between them moaned, “that’s it…YES!”

The two blondes looked at her, but she couldn’t meet their gaze. She had her eyes closed and she was biting her lip, while both her hands held two fistfuls of black hair, holding a young brunette’s head in place between her spread legs. “GOD!” she moaned, panting as she did so.

The platinum blonde looked at the gorgeous woman across from her. “Was nice of Matthew to give her Katrina…”

The woman with golden tresses chuckled lightly, “As horny as Kimberly is? Trust me, it was necessary.”

Kimberly ignored the two of them, enjoying Katrina’s tongue in between her pussy lips. She shuddered in orgasm quickly.

“What is that? Her sixth?” the first woman asked.

“Seventh, I think…” the other woman answered.

“Who gives a DAMN THAT’S GOOD!!!” Kimberly added, shuddering yet again. “Okay…okay…Jesus…that’s enough…I’m dying, really…” she said, pulling Katrina’s head away from her pussy, which was dripping with saliva and pussy juice. Kimberly panted and gave Katrina a pat on the head.

“Does Mistress not want more?” Katrina asked, giving Kimberly the best puppy dog eyes she could put on.

“Fuck, you’re so cute…” Kimberly said, licking her lips as she looked at Katrina’s pussy juice-coated face. “Yummy…” Kimberly added, pulling Katrina up to give her a full French kiss, tasting her own juices on Katrina’s tongue. As they parted, Kimberly reached down and tightly gripped Katrina’s ass cheeks. “I’ll play with you a little later… why don’t you wait in my room?”

Katrina smiled and giggled excitedly. “At once, Mistress!”

Katrina stood and shuffled away, her heels clicking on the stone porch as she unruffled her French maid outfit…though it made little difference in the amount of bare flesh that was exposed.

“Where is Matthew?” the platinum blonde finally asked.

“Oh, he has another meeting with Delilah in the study…” Helen answered.

“Which means he’s fucking her brains out…” Kimberly added.

Helen chuckled. “It’s not all sex, I’m sure.”

“Mostly sex, then,” Kimberly quipped.

“Now, of that,” Helen answered, “I am very sure.”

Kimberly’s face turned to one of naughty intent. “Wanna join in?”

The other two women at the table chuckled. “If we do, they’ll never get any work done,” Helen replied. “Be patient, dear,” she said softly.

“But I want Master’s cock NOW!” Kim said, pouting.

“We all do,” the first woman said, “trust me…”

Helen nodded in agreement. The first woman picked up her coffee and took another sip from it, moaning as she felt it warm her throat. Helen gave her a warm smile, running her eyes over her naked body.

Suddenly, the first woman noticed the attention that this incredibly beautiful sex goddess had given her, and she blushed slightly. Like Kimberly, she often felt uncomfortable when standing anywhere next to this woman, especially when she was completely nude, which, save for her signature fur coat, she currently was. It was difficult enough that she had to compete for the attentions of her beloved Matthew with such a flawless sex symbol, but to have her look at her in that way just made her feel more insecure about her body, despite the fact that she herself could have passed off as a model.

“What is it?” she asked, finally.

“Nothing,” Helen smiled, shaking her head. “How’s your face feeling?”

The first woman reached up and felt the skin that was once the spot of a hideous burn, that came courtesy of her former Master, Gerard Winters. “It’s okay, I guess,” Sharon replied. Of course, after Matthew had healed it, there was absolutely no trace of it, but Sharon said she still felt some pain in the area on occasion, but not of late.

Matthew had suggested that the pain was not physical, and Sharon had decided that he had probably been right.

“It’s amazing…” Sharon said, rubbing her face, “I didn’t know Azrael had the ability to heal.”

“He didn’t,” Helen explained, “it was one of the powers he absorbed as the Soul Collector a long time ago.”

Sharon nodded, understanding. She looked out into the horizon. “I still can’t believe that all this time…he WAS Azrael…” Sharon looked out into the gardens again. “Still, it was amazing that he was able to hide his identity for fifteen thousand years. I mean, did he really pretend to be a Vassal for so long? I can’t believe he actually allowed Vincent to take his seat upon the Order…I can’t believe he actually managed to Ascend and let everyone think that Vincent was the one who had Ascended!”

Helen chuckled. “It was easier than you think…”

“Oh?” Sharon asked. “How so?”

Helen smiled. “Remember that every member of the Order of Kings believed himself or herself to be one of the most powerful Empowered in existence when they were first joined by Azrael. Remember also, that during that period, they were scattered across the world. They knew each other in spirit and by name, but when they descended and took the forms of mortals, it’s not like they joined up in one big field and started a party to get to know each other…so when they all came and saw each other for the first time…”

“Matthew pretended to be a Vassal, and allowed Vincent to pretend to be Azrael,” Sharon concluded. “And since that was the first time they had seen each other in mortal bodies…no one was the wiser!”

“Precisely.”

“But I thought Vincent…I mean Matthew…created a means to create Vassals when he was ALREADY the ruler of Atlantis.”

Helen shrugged. “He didn’t think the Order was ready for that knowledge…and he was right. It was shortly after he released that knowledge to the Order and to all Fallenkind that the Fallen began to take notice of Matthew’s paradise, and want it for themselves. They figured that they could do what Matthew could…why should they be left out?”

“Okay, but even if they didn’t know what Azrael LOOKED like, how did Matthew manage to convince everyone that Vincent had Ascended with them and not himself? Vincent was there at the First Ascension, how could Matthew have received the blessing of the ritual when it was Vincent who was standing in the circle?”

“Simple…you were there during the Final Ascension, were you not?”

“Yes…I helped Gerard serve as a conduit for his power.”

“There you go.”

“You mean—”

“Yes,” Helen answered. “Azrael, in the original Ascension ritual fifteen thousand years ago, merely PRETENDED to be the Vassal. He stood behind Vincent, while Vincent simply channeled the energies of the ritual into Matthew, using his own body as a conduit for the power flow…”

“And no one noticed…”

“How could they? Remember that Azrael possesses one special gift above all the other Ascended…counter-telepathy.”

“Granted. But you’d think that the Order would have noticed, I mean on the occasions that they get together.”

Helen laughed.

“What? Why?” Sharon asked defensively.

“You never really did notice, did you?” Helen asked.

“What do you mean?”

“How long were you Azazel’s Vassal?”

“Over a hundred years,” Sharon said, her eyes looking up as if to count.

“And over the course of that century, did you not even once notice that Vincent, whenever he met with the Order of Kings had one Vassal with him, at all times?” Helen asked.

Sharon tried to think back…indeed he did. “Yes, yes, YES! I never saw his face, though…he was always cloaked and hidden and…wait, THAT was Matthew?!?”

Helen winked in affirmation.

Sharon shook her head slowly. “I never really bothered to even know…”

Helen interrupted. “Precisely. That’s why Matthew knew that his identity could never be compromised by the Order of Kings…all of them, Gerard most of all, were far too ARROGANT to ever bother with a lowly Vassal…much in the same way none of the other Ascended ever cared who YOU were…no offense.”

“None taken,” Sharon said.

“But despite that, believe it or not, Matthew noticed you…”

Sharon blushed. “Really?”

Helen nodded. “Many a time he told me of you, how beautiful and intelligent you were, and how such a desirable woman such as yourself was so unfortunate to have been found by someone as vile as Azazel.” Sharon could not prevent the tears from welling up in her eyes. Helen continued. “He always said that you were always smiling, always charming, but he saw in your eyes that you were unhappy, and he promised himself that he would never forgive himself if he pushed through with his plan to take down the Order if it compromised his chances of saving you. He said he would never do it, unless he was sure he could save you.”

A tear rolled down Sharon’s cheek. It took some time for her to notice and wipe it away. Kimberly reached out and held Sharon’s hand, squeezing it tightly and giving her a warm smile, which Sharon returned. Sharon finally spoke after some time, “I’m just amazed he was able to hide it from everyone…”

“Well, not everyone dear,” Helen corrected.

Sharon chuckled. “Well, okay, he told YOU.”

“And me…” Kimberly added.

Sharon turned her head, an eyebrow raised. “He told YOU that he was Azrael?”

Kimberly nodded. “That night in New York, the same day you gave us that initial report on the Order of Kings. After dinner, I woke up in the middle of the night and read the report on Lancaster. Matthew and Helen found me, and right then and there Matthew explained everything to me.”

Sharon shook her head in disbelief. “So the entire time we were together…”

“I knew everything,” Kimberly said, smiling.

“Wow,” Sharon exclaimed. “Still, it’s hard for me to see why he would tell you so soon after he…well…um…” Sharon stammered, as if she were trying to find the right words to say.

“Acquired me?” Kimberly finished for her.

Sharon shrugged and nodded. “I mean, he kept his identity secret for so long…I mean, fifteen centuries! I would think that telling anyone outside of his closest circle of Vassals would be a great risk.”

“Well, he DID make me his Vassal,” Kimberly said.

“But the amount of free will he gave you,” Sharon countered, “that would have put his secret identity in jeopardy, considering so many of the Order’s Vassals were with us at any one point in time.”

Kimberly nodded, but it was Helen who answered. “That’s because Matthew…Azrael… whatever you want to call him…trusted her, just like he asked her to trust him.” Sharon nodded. She sort of understood. But the look on her face told Helen that she needed to explain further. “The short of it is,” Helen continued, “is that Matthew has never lied to those he has come to love, and even when his identity, his life, his whole world is on the line, he loves completely, and you can’t love completely unless you can trust completely. He loved me completely, so he told me of his true self when we married over three thousand years ago; he loved Kimberly completely, so he told her of his true self over two months ago; and my dear Sharon, he has come to love you completely as well, which is why he told you of his true self five days ago…”

Sharon blushed, as did Kimberly. Of all the Servants and Vassals that Azrael, or any other Fallen that she had met, she wondered if anyone truly understood their Master as well as the great Helen of Troy did. A great curiosity suddenly welled up inside her, and she found that she could not contain it. She had to ask. “How much Power DID the Master give you, Mistress?”

Helen smiled, “Aside from eternal life? As his Vassal he gave me…nothing.”

“Really?” Kimberly interjected, herself a bit surprised.

Helen nodded.

“You mean he gave me more Power than you?” Kimberly asked, still in disbelief.

Helen nodded again. “I only asked to be with him forever. Here I am…with him forever.”

Sharon and Kimberly both started to tear up.

“Oh, would you get a hold of yourselves, you two?” Helen said, laughing lightly.

Sharon and Kimberly took a moment to compose themselves. They sat quietly, letting the cool wind blow past their faces, admiring the view and letting the morning wind tickle their exposed skin.

“So,” Sharon said finally, “why did you get married?”

Helen raised an eyebrow. “Well, I do love him…and he loves me…”

Sharon laughed. “No, that’s not what I meant. I mean why did you marry Matthew AGAIN. You got married when he met you three thousand years ago, why do it over and over?”

Helen smiled. “That’s my husband for you. Every time he adopts a new identity no matter where we are in the world, no matter what era we’re in, he insists that we get married. He says it gives him a reason to keep coming back to me…”

“I think it’s very sweet,” Sharon said. She took a moment to pause, then looked out once more at the breathtaking view. “So, what do you guys want to do now?”

“Now,” Helen said softly, a smile painted across her perfect face, “I think you should start licking.”

“Hmmm?” Sharon asked, not fully understanding. Helen laughed lightly and pointed past her. Sharon swiveled her head, and she was greeted with the sight of her Master, Matthew, standing beside her in his silk boxers. “Ohhh…” Sharon said, blushing.

“Talking about me?” Matthew asked.

“Just a little, honey.” Helen said.

“Nothing bad came out, I hope,” he replied.

“The only thing I want coming out is in here…” Sharon said, as she slowly released his cock. She could still see it glistening with some spit and pussy juice…likely Delilah’s, she thought to herself, before wrapping her moist lips around it and savoring the taste.

“Hey, give me some,” Kimberly said, standing and then kneeling down beside Sharon’s chair to get a good position.

“Hey you two, you can suck all you want…but the first pussy he fucks is mine…” Helen added.

“Mmmm…Yes, Mistress…” Sharon and Kimberly responded, before the two of them took turns at licking up and down their Master’s shaft. Helen stood and planted a long French kiss on her husband, and they embraced passionately.

As they parted Helen giggled.

“What’s so funny?” Matthew asked as he held Kimberly’s and Sharon’s head to his crotch, with Kimberly swirling her tongue around his balls while Sharon attempted to get his entire length down her throat.

“This is how it’s going to be from now on, isn’t it?” Helen asked, patting Sharon on the head.

Matthew smiled warmly. The same smile he had when he proposed to her hundreds of years ago. “Yes, I suppose so.”

“So you’re staying home with me…with us…this time? For good?”

Matthew shrugged, smiling as he watched Sharon and Kim open their mouths on opposite sides of his cock, forming a circle with their lips, before holding their heads in place so he could thrust across their tongues as they slurped greedily. “Well, there’s still the Freedom Corporation to run and the new Order to establish…but for the most part, yeah, I suppose I will.”

“Right,” Helen said, giving him a knowing smile, as if doubting him.

“Honey,” Matthew said, kissing her again, “trust me.”

Helen smiled. “I do, with every fiber of my being.”

“Good,” Matthew said, kissing her again. “Because I need you to come with me…will you?”

“You know I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you’d ask me. Where are we going?”

“To visit an old friend…”

Three days later

Behind the abandoned chapel of San Carenza, New Mexico

A strong wind was blowing.

Dust was kicked up and blasted through the tiny little ghost town.

The man in the crisp, tailor-made black suit and fine leather shoes didn’t mind, not even as the dust blew past his face. His dark glasses hid his usually cold, and calculating eyes. Those eyes that had been the last thing that many evil men had seen in the past few weeks. But now those eyes held nothing but tears and sadness…but not regret…certainly not regret.

He had stood there, silent for the past few minutes…or had it been hours…having been unable to return for many days until the mission was complete, and now the victory he had long sought for was his…but not theirs.

Two men planned this victory. The best of friends. One was the master, who, for many centuries, played the role of the student. The other was the real student, who, for many centuries, played the role of the master. An elaborate plot to protect that which they believed was worth protecting…

But these two friends were separated by death not so long ago. The Master now stood above a simple unmarked grave…a small stone obelisk that had been erected no more than a week ago.

It was no easy task to secure the area. The place had been crisscrossed by many law enforcement agencies following the mysterious “beam of light” that many within nearby towns reported no more than a month ago…

It had taken the considerable effort of one of his more recent…‘acquisitions’, a hard-working and loyal Servant by the name of Richard Boone, and agent in the FBI, to finally lock down the area for him, find the body hidden beneath the rubble, and give it a proper burial. For his efforts, Boone was rewarded a special position in his agency…a fitting compensation for the difficult times he had gone through…all for a reason, though. The man believed that a horny wife waiting for him every night was enough of a reward, but he believed that poor Richard deserved a bit more.

In any event, it was done.

The man fished into his pocket and pulled out a weathered piece of white cloth. It was old and dirty, and looked on the verge of simply disintegrating in his hands…but it didn’t. It was a hardy little thing made of horse hair…

…and in the center of that piece of cloth was a faint dark spot. Once…once so very long ago it had been blood red…but now it was simply darker than the surrounding cloth, barely visible in fact if one did not take the time to look.

The man held it in his hands.

It was a trinket he had kept for over fifteen centuries.

He still remembered that dark night, when he hid in the shadows of some forgotten forest in Central Europe…having just emerged victorious from battling with vile creatures of the night…a particularly nasty breed of Fallenkind who had been transformed into savage beasts. Who they were before then did not matter…they had met their end at his hands.

But the savage brutes had wounded him.

He had clambered into the bushes, awaiting his Power to heal the wound slowly. While others of his kind were gifted with the ability to heal any wound instantly, he did not have such a gift, but like the rest of his kind he was harder to kill than normal men. The wound would heal…painfully…eventually…but it would heal.

Then he remembered drifting in and out of consciousness…then through the thick mist as the rain subsided he saw through the fog a distant light…a candle? No…a torch…and a voice, crying for him to stay awake…but he didn’t.

When he did, he awoke in some rickety wooden enclosure that could have barely passed off as a house. The gash he had received from those monsters had been covered by a dirty piece of cloth woven from animal-hair…the very one he held today.

The small settlement was led by a man named Corantor, the very same man who had “saved” him.

Of course, he needed no saving. The wound would have undoubtedly healed anyway, and certainly the administration of such a filthy piece of cloth that had been dipped in cold water was a sure way that the wound would have undoubtedly become septic, and any normal person would have died from the infection…

…but Corantor hadn’t known that.

Truth be told, had he been any normal person he would have most surely bled to death had Corantor not come.

But he wasn’t any normal person.

He was of the Fallen. He was immortal. He was powerful. And somehow, despite Corantor’s obvious naivety, he felt he was in the young man’s debt. And so he stayed in that little village…the name of which he had forgotten centuries ago. He taught Corantor, taught him how to hunt, to farm, to till the land, to make better houses and…for once, to cook better food.

The village was willing to learn. It grew and prospered…and the strange wounded man who had come bearing gifts proposed that they should share such things with the world. Corantor was the first to volunteer, to help with the task.

And so, the man set out with Corantor, to speak to others who knew of such things. ‘Empowered’ the strange man called himself, and others who were as skilled as he.

But on the road…allies of the monsters that the mysterious stranger had been watching. Alone in the woods on one foggy night they struck. The strange man fought like a god, Corantor thought, hurling bolts of lightning and striking with unseen fists, sending the vile things back into the shadow…poetry in motion. But soon Corantor felt something…like a soft punch into the back of his spine…and then he knew only darkness.

The strange man called his name…called for him to wake…but Corantor’s eyes felt so heavy…so very heavy…he had to sleep…

…and when he did he saw a light, calling him, embracing him…

…but then another light, more powerful, more bracing, more consuming, overcame him. He was bathed in this…this nimbus of power, and it surged through him. It felt good.

And then Corantor awoke. Dawn was breaking. Around him the corpses of the enemies that had struck the previous night were burning. The strange man who had led him from the quiet and humble beginnings of his tiny little village stood on a nearby rock, his sword in hand, bathed in blood…thankfully this time, not his own.

“I’m sorry to have awaken you like that, Corantor, my friend…” he said, without looking at the befuddled young man, “I would like to welcome you into my world.”

Corantor sat up. He felt…different. More…powerful. His gaze traveled to the strange man, and he asked, “What happened?”

“You…were dying,” The man said.

“You saved me,” Corantor replied.

“As you have saved me…” the man responded.

Somehow Corantor came under the impression that the man who had fought like a god did not need to be saved. The strange man smiled, as if reading his thoughts…in fact, Corantor was sure of it.

“Come,” the man said, saying nothing more of the issue, “rise, my Vassal. We have much ground to cover. I have much to tell you in the days to come, and I have a task that requires your utmost concentration and willpower, and a favor to ask.” he said.

“Of course, Azrael,” Corantor replied…he stood and he followed.

For fifteen thousand years he followed.

Until that fateful day in this very town.

“I’m sorry you weren’t there, Corantor, old friend,” the man in dark glasses said, kneeling down and digging a small hole atop his most loyal follower’s grave. Quietly he placed that tattered piece of cloth in it and covered it with soil. “But now you have peace, old friend, peace from the life of devotion and loyal service you promised to me. And you did splendidly.”

Without standing, he raised one finger, and it crackled with lightning. Slowly he let the bolt dance from his fingertip until it struck the small obelisk, and he began to carve a small rune into the hard, unforgiving stone.

When the smoke cleared, an ancient rune was set in the stone. No one alive would understand it…none save the man who wrote it. But it was not ‘Corantor’ that was written upon the stone…the man buried here had been known by too many names for him to simply pick one and set in eternity…names such as Vincent Lancaster, Corantor the Gentle, Antilochus, Krassus Valentinianus, Dragonson, Claremont…and at least two dozen others. Perhaps the hardest name of all for him to bear had been ‘AZRAEL’, the name of his Master, his teacher, his mentor, a name he volunteered to bear to protect his Master.

But he did it without hesitation. Without complaint.

No, no name would suffice upon the headstone of such a loyal servant.

The rune simply meant, ‘Man of Honor’, for that is what Corantor was, and in the mind of his all-powerful Master, Azrael, that is the only title that would suffice. No name could be given that could possibly describe him better.

The man stood, admiring his handiwork. He turned and met the gaze of a stunningly beautiful woman with golden hair that came down in tresses, cascading over her shoulders. Even in a black dress that she wore to mourn the loss of their friend, she looked stunning.

She gently held her hand out to him, and smiled.

“Come, Azrael, dear, let’s go home,” she said, a tear rolling down her eye.

Azrael gently brushed the tear away, leaving her face flawless as it was.

“Okay,” he said.