The Erotic Mind-Control Story Archive

Part 4 — Recent Additions

Los Angeles — Four Months Later

Sylvie reached up Billy’s tunic and grabbed his famous bare ass as he passed by with a load of soiled bedding. Unhindered by any underclothing, he’s redressed in his costume as the hot slave boy Tony Curtis played in Spartacus worn for his going-away party as he was about to shoot a swords and sandals epic in Spain. The afternoon BBQ had predictably devolved into an evening orgy, and in the aftermath as the house’s lone host male it was assumed that he’d carry the heavy waterproof bed liners to be rinsed off by the pool and the soiled top linen to the washer, despite him being a major force in New Hollywood whose rider required two assistants on set to fetch his morning coffee and Danish and such chores.

He turned to stand beside where she was sitting writing the log for the day. He tossed the laundry on the desk, avoiding her work area, and then raised the front of his tunic by less than three inches showing a semi-stiff dick arcing towards her face.

“Well,” he said.

Sylvie looked away from the leather-bound book she had been writing in, and blinked as if realizing for the first time that the third place 1980 People Magazine of the Top 10 Eligible Bachelors’ man-sausage hung near her eyebrows. And that her hand was squeezing on a nicely muscular buttock as if it was a ripe cantaloupe.

But it was no longer unusual for either to find themselves en flagrante fucking delicto on a whim, usually Annette’s. Even in her sleep, a stray sexual thought when any of the leashed were in proximity to each other often triggered a flash mutual spike in impulsive horniness. After the party Annette slumped off to nap, and in fact even without her twitch down the mystical ropes Billy had been looking forward to sitting Sylvie on the custom seat on top of the washer as it shook while he knelt on the adjacent padded platform and let the shaking of the spin cycle stir his pizzle in her honey pot. A going-away fuck.

But Annette was dreaming about blowjobs. Last week her father Sam had passed along a pleading proposal from their publishers for a sequel to Taste, their bestseller on the subject of cunnilingus they co-authored anonymously for a fellatio follow up. And included a check and a contract. Sam wasn’t interested, but he thought Annette could use the income, he hadn’t quite come to terms with her recent string of good luck, both getting on the writing team of a hit TV series and in the settlement that gave to her and the other women Billy’s brother and his friends kidnapped, drugged and brainwashed this house in the hills after they were rescued. Trying to do the same evil to Annette and having her Eggy provided protections trigger a defensive backlash killing the kidnappers and left Billy on the hook because he had owned the house used. Anyway Annette was still thinking through what such a book would look like. Would Andy still do the drawings as with Taste? Should she get a gay co-author or write it all herself? She could probably use Billy’s celebrity and call it How to Blow Billy but would that be a good idea? Her unconscious mind was working through all these questions as she sucked wetly on her knuckle in her sleep.

Sylvie patted the table in front of her, and Billy sat with a leg on either side of her and daintily lifted his hem. She moistened her lips and sucked in the head of his cock. As she blew him their two leashes tracking back to Annette started rubbing and twining together like snakes fucking, and her dreams strengthened with his hardness.

Billy and the girls had all become used to acting on Annette’s unconscious desires, the leads fed her moods and they gave them life. It’s not that she intended to cause them to get squishy in her absence, but her unfettered dreams were less polite. It helped that Sylvie and Billy were relaxed at home, cleaning up and doing after-party chores in advance of Billy going on location for a month, you’d have thought he’d have been all fucked out after the orgy that the cocktails by the pool invitations turned into, featuring all members of the “Leash Gang” and a selection of Billy’s beautiful Hollywood pals and gals who really had no idea but were into the party scene. They’d even thrown open the “earthquake room” built into the hillside on top of an old bomb shelter so that Troy, Will, Gail, Aram and Rose could join in, even if they were restricted to staying inside only using the portal on the Wisconsin side unless they wanted to discharge their carefully charged travel rings by exiting in LA. Instead any LA starlet or stuntman who entered the room was dragooned towards an eager cheesehead looking to get jiggy with the semi-famous and add to the store of power in the ring by fucking someone coming in from the other direction.

The fact that Annette was like Lulu about four months pregnant didn’t faze anyone, though it seemed to make her dreams more intense and Billy as the resident male had been so often called upon to the point where a break was needed. Annette encouraged him to take the role on location then back in the studio for a couple of months to show the industry that he hadn’t been co-opted into a sex cult.

Though there were rumors.

Billy unpinned Sylvie’s hair bun and her thick silky jet black shoulder-length locks fell forward as she took him deep into her throat and as she came out again he stroked her hair, gently arranging it to fall on her left. Annette’s Eggy-given organizational enhancements extended into her unconscious so Sylvie worked systematically through several techniques contemplated to be future book chapters, full mouth, side sucks, ball massages, humming and spit-shining. The leashes leading back to Annette continued to pulse against each other, Billy’s glowing faintly purple and Sylvie’s tinted orange to those few who could actually see them, each becoming thicker, slick looking with their supernatural coatings twisting, intermingling and swirling as one might imagine eel sex.

Adding Billy to her growing collection of psychic strings had unexpected consequences, he was the first and so far the only male, and probably the last, it had cost her to add him though it had seemed like a good idea at the time. But more on that, the earthquake room and the rings in good time.

Annette and I had made up, she’d wanted my help and realized what she had to do to get it and did it before the two years ran out. And mostly I had kept my end of the bargain and stayed out of her life. The day-timer/diary that Sylvie was writing in is part of that bargain, my promise not to peep in on them in return for a detailed daily report on what was going on, who was doing who, and what manna they were using. So most of what I relate here is drawn from Sylvie’s account, Annette could have written it more elegantly, but Sylvie had been serious when she took over as her executive assistant and it was part of her evening routine to record the events of the day. What neither of them knew was that as she wrote the words were also added as an appendix to the book at core to my existence, the one Stella and Rose used for their failed magic spell which set all the changes in motion and which Vicky now controlled.

I was a little worried about how it all was going to play out, it hadn’t been in my initial plans which had included laying low for a generation, but the advantage of dealing with showbiz is that nothing and everything is real, the partygoers from early this evening were happy to wander into the hillside room, fuck, and wander out without thinking on the unreality of the setting it was simply another LA folly made by mirrors and clever lighting. And rarely did anyone ask any names, the polite ones usual question was “Can I put this in there?”—though the Hollywood crew always made sure that their lovers knew who they were in case they were important. And because... Hollywood ego.

The leashes were also something I never planned, they were the result of Billy’s brother’s gang and their mad scientist Markus kidnapping and trying to brainwash Annette as they had Sylvie, Nameless and Cindy. It hadn’t worked, the protections I’d given Annette before she bugged out for California were still in place, and the way the protections solved the problem of protecting the women from the psychic backfire of Markus’ machine exploding was to change the metal wire cable connecting the girl’s brains used to create the psychic bonds into stylish yet invisible ropes leading from Annette’s wrist to around the necks of the others. Later Vicky figured out how to clone the process for adding new leads, and so the Reddington detectives Lulu and Christie who had come sniffing around on Billy’s lawyer’s instructions were placed on magic leashes as well. Catch, tag and release. Afterwards I had to explain to her that it would be a bad idea to keep doing this, that feedback from all the ropes could effect Annette’s sense of self, that only the initial strengthening of her mind that I performed that first group demonstration day made it work, and not a good idea to do it with anyone else. On second thought and after close analysis I changed my opinion, that Annette could perhaps handle 2 or 3 more, but to be very selective.

We also looked at what it would happen if a bond was broken, and it wasn’t good. Not fatal, but a coma was possible for one or both. I didn’t want to experiment and told Annette and Vicky that, and they agreed it was best to not mess with it, and let Annette maintain her own little harem.

To Annette’s astonishment, having Billy connected sometimes gave her a psychic woody, she felt his dick was hers, and when two of her thralls fucked she felt both parties, not as intensely as they did, but enough that she got laid second hand in two ways. And there were now intensity knobs she could use on each leash that dangled like a set of bangles. So she could turn the connections down, though she usually left it at 50 per cent. And as the women knew and felt something when Annette was humping, Billy in turn had some feedback as well, getting the sensations of being fucked without having a cunt, which always gave him a raging stiffy and a massaged prostate—even some occasional leakage.

Sylvie cupped his balls and squeezed, and he spent into a corner of the soiled sheets, she’d had her fill of cum earlier and was already thinking about what to write next in the book. When these imposed moods struck they were rarely strongly felt and faded fast, artifacts of Annette’s dreams and about as ephemeral. But Billy understood, and as he hopped back to his feet and gathered the laundry in his arms he told her, “I still want to give you a goodbye fuck. But let me get this going first.”

Sylvie was up for that, but suggested giving Annette a chance to move on in her sleep cycle first.

“Come talk to me for a bit once that’s in.”

With four people living in the mansion and frequent guests a new double sized washer took about half the waiting load. Billy pulled up a simple wooden chair and sat beside Sylvie as she wrote, watching her breasts as they jiggled under the plain white semi-toga she had worn at the party.

“I bet there’s a lot of secrets in there. What are you writing? Why? Is it safe? What if you lost it?”

“No one’s told you?”

Billy shook his head.

“You should know. It’s one of the prices Annette paid to get you away from Markus. To make you immune from Markus. You’ve met the bird-thing? Right? And how it does all sorts of magic that ties into all the weird shit like the earthquake room?”

By that she refers to me, your humble narrator.

“Uh huh.”

“Look here. It’s not invisible ink, but if I put it away the writing disappears. Don’t know where, but the book is like, I don’t know, a telephone I guess. I’m about done for today, but it’s about time I add your story, not all, but how you ended up here. Annette told me some, and maybe I can fill you in a bit too. Then we should be ready to fill me in a more real way.”

“Um, OK where should I start? Markus?”

“Not today, not everything, later though. How about where you asked Annette to help you? How did you get trapped?”

“It was stupid. I knew Markus was somehow responsible for my brother Roger’s death, though the stupidity of those guys had made me push them away before he came on the scene. We were already in negotiation, the Reddington detectives had talked to my lawyers about Sylvie and you gals idea for a settlement and we all thought it a pretty good plan, not cheap but saving face and not disrupting the movie I was finishing, which really was where my focus was.”

“The night before we were going in to meet with you and the rest of the women Markus came to my door, I’m not sure how he got into my security-covered building, but he forced his way in with a couple of goons, right out of central casting, and held me down while injecting me with a sedative. He hooked me up to something that I think was the prototype of what was used on you and Annette, and when I awoke I found that I had to do what he said, the first thing was that he was going to the meeting the next day. Then he told me that he was now my new manager, and I’d only do movies that he wanted, starting with a sequel to The Sound Of Music he wrote called The Hills are Still Alive. Shudder.”

“When we met in that conference room I could see the shock on Nameless’ face when Markus entered with the lawyers. But Annette was cool and fixed him with a hard stare and tossed what looked like sparkles—you remember that, it was that purple and orange dust she uses to do whatever magic she does, and I was free. Not sure how long it would last, I asked to talk to you women alone. Markus started objecting and told me to change my mind, but the lawyers from both sides seeing Annette agreeing just led him out, remember how frustrated and practically crying he was?”

Sylvie smiled at the memory. Markus was livid and shouting as Annette wickedly smirked at him.

“And I said, ”Help me! He has me trapped. Get me out of this.“ and then Annette put up her hand for silence and closed her eyes. After about 15 seconds I started to speak again but Nameless held her finger to her mouth and made the ‘Silence’ gesture. We sat for what seemed a long time...”

“It was two minutes.”

“Yeah, but it seemed forever. Then Annette got up and stood straight and mumbled something I couldn’t catch and then reached between Cindy and her hand and grabbed what I now know is her leash, and split it and wrapped the new lead around my neck, which made me cum right there in my pants. You handed me a tissue and I cleaned myself up as best I could, and when I sat back I saw all the leashes around all your necks leading to her wrist.”

“So I became hers. I understand your loyalty, but to be fair she’s never asked anything more from me than I’ve been willing to give. I came into the meeting ready to meet all your terms, and she didn’t need to use me to get ahead in the industry, she was on her way already, though I didn’t know it at the time.”

“And when Markus and the lawyers came back in the room, it felt so good to give him a sock in the jaw that I almost came again. And when he tried to bring a lawsuit none of the witnesses, you all, the lawyers and even the court recorder admitted to having seen it. And the detectives told me that all of Markus’ devices had mysteriously rusted to dust, including the ones made of plastic.”

“Annette and you ladies moved into my place, but it wasn’t quite right, good enough for a bachelor, so somehow this gem in the hills was available don’t know how you found it—that was the real magic, unused for a while but not in bad shape, big enough for us all with the guest house and such, it seemed natural, though both the leashed detectives and Cindy all live in the city closer to the action all come by frequently now Cindy is Annette’s agent.”

“Annette could have made me fire my management and hire Cindy, but I have to respect that she didn’t. She isn’t stopping me from going to Spain, and I think I’ll miss you all here more than you’ll miss me.”

“We’ll always miss you, particularly this part,” Sylvie purred, stroking his dick. “But yeah, Annette wants to boss people around when she’s in the room, but doesn’t really want to be totally responsible for everyone else’s lives. Nameless and me followed her home after, you know, mostly because we didn’t know what else to do and she was an anchor. If we wanted to go off, move or get married, for example, I doubt she’d stop us. And she certainly didn’t interfere with Cindy and her husband, though he just thinks of us as a bunch of crazy swingers, and happily joins in when invited. I think he has a crush on Nameless. Good thing she likes to fuck him in front of his wife.”

“She’s not going to get jelous if you have an affair or even a one night stand, that’s not her. But she’s going to feel what’s going on, and so you’ll have to get used to being watched over.”

“Hey! I’m a star—that goes with the job.”

Sylvie sucks on the end of the pen while thinking where to go next. “So let me tell you what happened when she went quiet in the conference room. I could sort of eavesdrop on her mental phone call into that bird-thing you mentioned.”

“She called him Eggy, and I guess they had been estranged. He was pretty cold when he answered, a little bit scary too, it was the first I’d heard him, and in her mind he was kind of a floating oval egg, but also like a large eagle. She asked him for his help, and he told her she knew what she needed to do to get it. “Two months early, but will this be enough?” she asked, and he said that it would also be enough to destroy Markus forever, he’d never be able to be able to build a Lego house without it catching fire let alone a complex mind-control machine. That cheered her up, Nameless and us other girls all felt it strongly, and I have to say that revenge against that monster had as much to do with freeing you as any sympathy for your plight.”

“Fair enough. I hated the bastard too. He helped kill Roger. A good kid but not a great adult.”

“You get that the sex we have is power. That this group that includes Annette’s family and friends who seem to be connected though “Eggy” aka the Bird-thing, a power they call manna. And what they create is shared back to as health, long life, luck, and such. And that we as part of Annette also share when we tap into whatever erotic generator they are hooked to. Think of Annette’s kisses. Isn’t she just the best kisser you’ve ever known? The bird thing gave that to her, along with some tweaks to her brain that make her able to get her words on paper, she wasn’t a great writer or even a very good one before. You’ve met the core group, they all have something special, I haven’t figured out what each has just yet, but I know her mum is an astonishing cook, and her dad is like the world champion pussy eater. But they don’t do any family funny stuff—pretty strict about it, so you’ll probably never get to experience it through your link. But you’ve had Betty’s muffins. And you can fuck her, but Annette won’t feel it. Still she’s a nice lady so give her a hump now and then. It’s the same with us and Annette’s brother and father. She gets nothing.”

“Part of the payment that the Bird-thing—I think it may be some kind of fertility god, you know the kind they used to throw virgins into volcanoes for.”

I have to stop it there, no volcanoes were ever involved, though the destruction of virginity certainly was, and in a much more pleasurable fashion for all involved.

“So she and all the women in the original group were made pregnant at the point when the egg-thing hatched, but the magic let her delay the start of gestation for up to two years, and we were then at twenty-two months. She had gone to LA in the first place to try to wiggle out from under this obligation all the women in the group were under for their extended lives and excellent health and other goodies to start the next generation—the guys just have to knock up as many of us females as possible, but get less charge out of it. So by accepting and starting the pregnancy early Annette made enough of that manna to leash you, which blocked Markus’ changes the same way it did for Cindy, Nameless and me. And you became ‘One of us.’”

“One of us. One of us,” they chant, having watched “Freaks” on Channel 49’s Horror Chiller Theater a couple of weeks before. Then they laugh together.

“So don’t complain when asked to change diapers. Annette’s baby is the price she paid for your release from Markus. Lulu was already knocked up by Troy the week before on the day he first met her. Those guys are all super-fertile but their baby batter is dormant if any kind at all of birth control is used, magic again.”

With a chunk the washer switches cycles, Sylvie lifts her dress showing the silky fine black hair over her mound and says with a chuckle, “Ready when you are.”

Billy looks down at here where she now reclines on the custom built cushion and arm-rest on top of the shaking front double-load washer, marveling at her smooth flawless brown skin, a combination of an all-over tan and her Central American genes. There isn’t a straight line anywhere, she’s all beer colored curves against the starkly white short toga shaped shift she has opened, still covering her shoulders and tops of her arms. Perky round boobs with dark magenta nipples bounced invitingly, a slight belly bump and a dewy pair of lips thrust up between her open legs, the left one bent up at an angle spreading her hot pink sex apart. He’s climbed on a low broad platform that serves as a sorting table, which has rubber bumps for traction.

The seat cushion was a housewarming gift from Marc to Annette “In memory of our first fuck” all those months ago back in the Bullman’s basement when they were driven sex mad by Stella and Rose’s attempt at magic and fucked beside, on top and in front of the laundry. He’s found it in a catalog sent to Andy’s novelty store, and frankly it looked like a cheap piece of junk. When Annette first saw it she couldn’t help but sneering, but her dad and Carl installed it along with the appliances he had wholesale delivered, and then Vicky sprinkled some of her powder on it to fuse it into the washer and make the seat a fantastic sex toy even when used solo with a strap-on saddle horn dildo, Annette had to admit that it was a pretty special gift. Though she did snark, “What makes you think I’ll ever do another load of laundry.” And that was a basic truth, Sylvie and Nameless had taken over doing all of the domestic chores, though with the settlement they were both part owners of the estate. Annette had no interest in laundry, cooking, cleaning, etc. so didn’t.

Pushing in they let the machine do all the work at first, riding along as it threw them back and forth, up and down, and then they started to get lost in the act, he leaned forward and took her head in hand bringing their lips together for an open mouthed kiss. He placed his weight on her against the pillowy back and started to double time the machine. Again their leashes danced together all the way to Annette’s hand, which had found its way between her sleeping legs, stroking and pinching her dreaming cunt.

None of the leashed crew resented Annette—that was impossible. But at some level they rebelled by liking to play tricks on her, ones that she could hardly object to; one of their favorites was making her wake up in a puddle of her own juices, so Billy and Sylvie pushed harder and harder together, letting themselves go wild. The fact that Billy was leaving tomorrow added to Sylvie’s lust, she wanted to get every inch possible thrust into her before that. The machine hit the spin cycle and water started emptying through the pipe which threw them even more violently around, Sylvie squeezed Billy tight around his butt and held him deep inside as he came one more time that day, an even dozen by his last count, a bit more than usual, but not by much since he’d made these new friends.

Attached to the sink was a short-hosed shower spray faucet, he climbed down naked and gave himself a fast spritz while standing over a drain in the tiled floor. Sylvie slipped out of her shift and threw it on top of the next sorted white load and he carefully hosed her down too, giving her a warm water and fingers massage in all her sensitive places.

Naked they stood together toweling off with some fluffy white cloths, still hot from the dryer’s last load, which also immediately went back to the dirty pile though they really didn’t need it. Annette liked everything super clean, and now they also did.

Reflecting on what he’d just been told, Billy asked, “Does this mean that you are going to get pregnant? Am I supposed to knock someone up? You? Nameless? Annette?”

“I don’t know. Maybe. I guess it depends on how she feels, you know, we’ll all do what she wants. She doesn’t seem to want it now, maybe she will once she delivers. She’s a lot happier about being pregnant than she was just thinking about it before… and then you know, you came along. She’s pretty excited about her new little brother Roscoe, and she’s almost an aunt with Rose belly-full of Will’s spawn. And Stella waited to the bitter end to start her gestation, so everyone though Annette would be last, and now she isn’t, so her folks and her have made up a lot, she always was Sam’s girl. Have you seen the nursery today? It’s getting pretty spectacular.”

The washing room seat was the least of the housewarming gifts, the most magical one has its origins in a 1950’s bomb and earthquake shelter built into a bunker in the hillside between the house and the pool’s cabana change rooms. It was moderately large to start with, three rooms including storage, full of canned peas and such when they moved in. but the main area was about as big as a suburban living room, and the bathroom was hooked up to a separate water tank and septic field from the city’s. Sam and Will flew out to supervise its renovation, and I, the ex-Egg-Thing added a special touch. At the back of the most interior room is a special door that leads to the same extra-dimension up Stella’s bum as Sam’s Room.

It’s not perfect, Sam’s Room and Annette’s bunker door are about a half-mile apart once you are in the eerie infinitely white-sided dimension but are visible from each other because they glow a little brighter than the ambient flat white of everywhere else. Unfortunately gas engines for a car or scooter stunk up everything and then cause Stella to fart gassy black smoke which once ruined one of her favorite dresses. So she banned them and tobacco too. She still had a lot of control over what went on in, or is it up there—once she turned a celebratory cigar Carl lit foul, literally and figuratively making it taste like shit. Troy, believe it or not hit on the solution for traveling between the two, bicycles. Though sometimes the younger folks used skateboards.

Annette’s mother Betty added a three wheeled electric trike with a large basket to the mix, so that she could carry her newborn along when visiting.

The only restriction was that they had to exit from the same door that they had come through; it was like a solid wall if the other door was tried. So no fast weekend trips to LA for the Wisconsin crew, but they could all get together in the middle. In fact early on Annette insisted that Cindy, Sylvie, Annette, and even Lulu and Christie fuck Carl in all possible ways, which they did to his delight one lazy Sunday soon after the LA door was added. She didn’t explain how Carl’s wonder dick changed and cleaned them; they just were amazed and delighted at their capacity to take such a large sausage so deep. Lulu was pregnant with Troy’s seed from their first encounter, and was starting to show. But that was no problem for Wild Carl’s magic johnson, he fit in perfectly, as always.

Lulu had reconnected with her family, her still healthy and active parents thrilled to be getting a grandchild at last, even if she wasn’t married or would even tell them who the father was. They even were planning to move closer to help with the baby sitting so she could keep her job—yeah, you figured it out, this lucky turn of events had some Eggy-aid though I must point out it was where they all wanted to go once pride and the hurt feelings that caused the estrangement was put aside—they could barely remember what the fuss was all about. Oh busy-body-birdie am I.

Behind Annette’s door Sam and Will built a frame from studio flats Billy had bought off a closed movie lot soon to be turned into high-rises. Once the extra-dimension nature of the space had been disguised, plumbers and electricians were brought in to extend the bunker’s facilities and build a super orgy room right out of a 20’s Valentino flick—in fact that’s where they got the plans. Fortunately though the folks couldn’t just exit through the wrong door, their waste product could and did, so a full bathroom with the same type of luxurious walk-in shower as Gail has was added to the endless space.

Billy’s best friend wasn’t another actor or at least not an actor anymore. Frank had taken classes and been on stage with Billy in the early 70’s LA improv scene yet quit acting after the first time he saw himself on film in a speaking roll, wooden was his own assessment, and TV acting was not that much fun. But he was a skilled carpenter and his association with Billy led to his being hired on many TV and film scenery crews. His speed and competence in turn was noticed, and now he was as busy as he wanted to be as head carpenter on a union crew for big budget movies at a number of studios and on more films than just those Billy made.

He’d been the one that had told Billy that his brother and Markus were getting into bad shit and to distance himself before there was big trouble. This had caused some strain between the friends but that had ended when Billy started hanging around with the girls. Billy hadn’t moved in with them, but he seemed to be up there in the hills all the time and Frank was always made to feel welcome coming by. He hadn’t quite figured out the sexual dynamic, but man these were some eager horny women, and Billy didn’t seem to be too jealous if he tore off a piece with any of them. He was a bit nervous the first time he fucked Annette, not sure if she was Billy’s special one, but the next time they met Billy just grinned and said, “Good one.” Lately he had really gotten into Nameless’ hard muscular body, but Sylvie had given him some soft squishy times too.

No one seemed to take who was doing who very seriously, and everyone looked to be clean and healthy. He’d overseen the finishing of the room. Later with a promise not to tell enforced by Vicky’s powder he’d been shown the way to Sam’s room, which by now had been added to with a nursery and future play area for the flock of next generation kids, the oldest being Sam and Betty’s youngest who was now just over 15 months. For the regular sex parties it was just as easy for the Milwaukee crowd to travel to Annette’s special built room for their weekly orgies. The former cramped bomb and earthquake shelter was now in danger of becoming a confusing complex of rooms with Frank adding to them as time allowed just having an excuse to visit when Billy was busy elsewhere.

Other guys had come and some were invited back if they were judged to be not clingy or possessive. The women loved to go out on the town either as part of a group or on single dates, they had become semi-famous as easy to talk into bed and a great fuck as long as the guy, or even the occasional gal treated them right and didn’t expect more than a good time. Frank and Billy could get them into the trendiest clubs past any line, and Lulu knew all the best lesbian hot spots if they were feeling in that mood.

And while this activity was going on around her Annette wrote. She had a second bedroom on the top floor she turned into her writing studio and from 9 to 5 everyday she and Sylvie hammered out ideas for the TV show, worked on a novel, the follow up to Taste when Frank or Billy had the day off, and once her pregnancy kicked in she started a children’s book Look at the Pretty Pussy she had come up with when deep in thought with her tongue well up Sylvie’s dripping cooch.

As with all her writing, sex powered the creative flow, and as when she was writing with Vicky a bit of bondage and S & M play really got her juices flowing, so a bed with restraints, leather and rubber fetish clothes, spankers and ticklers, and a display case full of toys were essential tools of the trade. Sylvie was a little taken aback, thought Vicky had explained what was entailed in being Annette’s assistant, and Annette didn’t seem to be interested in anything to do with these outside of the writing. Nameless joined in on occasion, and when Billy naively asked if he could write something with Annette, Sylvie fell on the floor laughing. “Of course,” Annette slyly replied, and thought of ordering some cock rings she’d seen at a store on Vine Street.

When Vicky first became the Guardian of the Book she carefully read the exact details of how every one of the group were altered, what they could and couldn’t do and how it all worked. When she came to Annette she said “Of course, this explains it.” And then she called me to tell the why.

Annette wasn’t a natural writer to begin with and her concentration had been somewhat scattered. But all the manna to get her creative juices flowing flooded into her through sex. Hot sex. Kinky sex. Weird sex. Sam had asked that Annette’s gift be to find a purpose in life, to be able to go back and finish High School, and in general have better focus and be a better person that was more careful of others. So the pump that provided the energy for that change came from her having intense sessions where her deeper fantasy’s played out. She was still really a suburban early 20’s white bread in the top levels of her self-perception, no matter how selfish and self-satisfied she actually was. What she found in her writing sessions with Vicky and later Sylvie was her freak side, the fetish and S & M domination loving parts of her personality let loose. They got her hot in ways a straight fuck didn’t. And she left the extreme parts of them on the shelf for future use when the writing stopped despite the control she exerted on her leased thralls. And she would remain selfish and self-centered till her dying day—so Hollywood was a natural home.

Vicky then looked up herself, and was reminded that she was shaped to fit in the group who had mostly been strangers, to be pleased with pleasing others in the group, so when she and Annette ended up in the same writing class that first summer, and she had suggested they study together it was perfectly logical that she’d end up tied to Annette’s bed getting spanked and loving it.

Vicky had been a bit shocked on seeing it all laid out so bare, but thought it through to see if she should change any part, and concluded “If it ain’t broke don’t fix it.”

This wasn’t the house that exploded in Brentwood that was given to the four former captive women as a settlement against Billy for their kidnapping by his brother and friends. On the day they went into the real estate lawyer’s office to finalize the transfer, a stroke of not totally unexpected luck happened. Luck was one of the things their sucking and humping endowed them with, and with all four women charged up from a visit from Marc who had been traveling through as part of his dream job as a Rock and Roll Advance Man, his lucky as all get out reward for knocking Stella up and all the visits to each town on each town on the tour’s local sperm bank, where they were inevitably found to be “sure shot” donor samples, always resulting in healthy fertilized eggs that implanted easily so were often used as a second choice in the clinics when the first try failed as a sure thing.

Because of the activities between the four and the two leashed detectives from the Reddington Agency, who knew where to go and who to fuck, they had lots of fresh luck on hand that day at PreMax Realty and Bondsman.

So it hardly was a surprise when the lawyer mentioned an old mansion that sat up in the hills, roughly equal value to the land of the destroyed estate they now owned, it was in good condition yet had sat empty for about five years after the owner died and the family all fought for it until they all passed too. It was further away and hidden, and a bit of a wildfire risk, but when Annette asked Vicky to ask me, I passed along that with minimal luck in place through a small investment of dedicated regular hot wet sex the flames would bypass if they moved in. And of course in real danger, fire, looting, earthquake or such they could always retreat up Stella’s fundament through the door in the bunker.

Annette took the master bedroom, which had a large double king bed where Sylvie and Nameless regularly slept with her, but she liked her own bathroom and closets, so each of the leashed also had a room of their own. Annette’s writing room was to have been Cindy’s bedroom as part owner, but now the married Cindy was starting her own Talent Agency with Annette as her first customer, she exchanged the use of it for an extra percent, making her Annette’s eleven percenter, mostly from the TV writing gig, but also some journalism on Sex and Celebrity that were published under a pseudonym. There were also a couple of spare bedrooms in the poolside cabana that were available for Billy, Lulu and Christie if they didn’t feel like driving back to their places nearer downtown Hollywood.

While Sylvie took over the work of being Annette’s secretary and writing assistant, Nameless did a lot of the domestic chores. Sylvie had organized a once a week cleaning crew, and the three were often out on the town for lunch and a nooner while the vacuums ran and later dinner and some clubbing pickups. Nameless picked up the cooking, starting with Betty’s tonic and cream recipes from Taste to more sophisticated calorie replacing meals—Frank added a small kitchenette behind the bunker, and Betty sometimes came over and gave Nameless lessons, it was something she’d hoped to do with Annette since she was a child but it never caught on, so it delighted her to do this by proxy.

Nameless didn’t want Frank to get too possessive, so she often invited to come be a taste tester in three ways with Betty. Because of the no powers on incest rule when they made out, by proxy no connection was made between Nameless and her, but it was fun anyway, and having Frank there guaranteed some occurred. The only bad thing is that anything that burned on the stove automatically tasted like shit.

Vicky came up with a four way bypass down the leashes that allowed Nameless to read and write, though it could gave her a headache if she did it too much or tell anything about her past. She remained mute and mostly communicated by pantomime, with a more than a little Harpo Marx in her approach.

When Betty was balling Frank, who found her a super-hot Bette Davis in the 40’s-like older woman, hard to believe she was Annette’s mother, it had a positive effect on the rings. You knew I’d get to them. Vicky and Andy went to a local jeweler who did casting and had four brass rings made, with a small amount of her dwindling manna powder mixed in. Two rings turned orange, two purple. Then one of each was placed by the door to Sam’s Room and the door to the Bunker. Whenever someone generated manna in the pocket dimension through sex with a person who came through the other door, the rings they wore, one or two glowed slightly brighter, and after about a month of regular use at their normal rate a wearer of the ring could exit through the door they had not entered. But on return the rings were drained and another full charge was needed for reuse. And the rings had to return through the door they had come to be able to recharge. Over time when the flow of excess manna came from the additional births and new pregnancies four more rings were added, so eight people were able to pass across country at once in one direction, four each way. Everyone agreed that a ring for each door be kept fully charged in case of emergency. Though in an emergency Stella could always expel them out her ass, yet she had no desire to ever do so. Well she couldn’t do it if she was inside the odd dimension, it would cause some kind of infinite multi-dimensional tesseract space-time keister loop, where her ass would eventually swallow both the pocket universe and our own, growing to infinite size and duration. Couldn’t have that so she couldn’t expel anything back to the “real” world when she was already in the strange space.

SUNFLOWER DYCK’S STORY

MONTHS EARLIER

But what about Sunflower Dyck, the other Reddington’s agent sent to Wisconsin by Billy’s legal team to spy on Annette’s family? She’s a tall athletic sandy-blonde with straw rather than spun gold for hair, just past her thirtieth birthday, six years on the LA police force and three with Reddingtons. Wears pigtails and talks like the country girl she is when working undercover. As a cop she frequently had the task of trawling the bus station for pimps who took advantage of naive just off the bus girls, a problem since the station opened in the thirties. She perfectly looked and acted the part—if Oscar could only see her, but she hated doing it, part of why she quit the job.

Jumping back in my tale to when Annette first leashed Lulu and Christie and the Bullmans etcetera knew that Sunflower would also have to be made friendly.

How did they do that? I’ll let her tell of how she first met the gang.

Sunflower: I had spent a week before I came to the conclusion that all these people were sex freaks who managed to fit a huge amount of fucking each other into their lives. And that was just what I could see from a distance with binoculars and hear from bugs I had planted in the soil of potted flowers delivered to the two new sets of parents. That has to have been the weirdest baby shower I’ve ever seen. Four babies, and reports are Annette Bullman back in LA is knocked up as well. It’s like all these women got pregnant at almost the same time, which doesn’t surprise me because every surveillance I’ve been on of one or the other couples in the group, the Bullmans, the Wild Carls and their daughter who was just married to the Bullman boy and both she and her mother-in-law both just had babies as well as hippie guy who had the head shop and his new wife, Vicky was the one who was now in California with Annette, but that didn’t stop him from fucking all of the women I’ve already listed in my mind and more.

As I was saying, every surveillance I’ve done since getting here, within half an hour I’m watching someone fucking. I mean, at least mink sleep. There’s also the dancing duo to fit into the picture, a tall busty woman named Gail who competes in dance competitions with a slender copper-skinned kid named Aram, probably just out of high-school. But they can dance, they won the contest I followed them to. And afterwards they fucked in the parking lot. And not alone together, that Troy hunk had brought his ratty old fuckmobile van, rust holes big enough to fit a snake camera into but with a new clean mattress and lots of pillows in the back, and joining Troy and the celebrating couple were both Mrs. Wild Carl and Betty Bullman. Two hot young guys and three middle-aged though really attractive women. And weirdly I was the only one who seemed aware of the rocking van in the dancehall parking lot, people just walked past it and didn’t even look up when loud moans emanated from the open windows.

God, it got me so hot. All that fucking. I’m totally a voyeur. In the past I’d sometimes get to see folks humping as part of the job. But not like this, this was insane. When I was a cop I loved stakeouts. Even the peeing in a jar gets me hot. The second night on this job I had to go buy a new dildo and vibrator so I could relieve some tension back in my hotel room each night after watching that they’d all fucked themselves to sleep. What stamina. What amazing stamina. I was hooked on watching them. The more I did the more I needed to. It was unnatural. I raised the binoculars again.

“Ahem!”

I hadn’t heard anyone come behind me, but there they were. Stella and Rose, Rose massively pregnant. Ready to drop after a good sneeze. “Sunflower, Lulu’s on the phone for you,” Vicky said.

I’m pretty good about hiding and was still shocked that I hadn’t seen them approach.

“Enjoy the show?” Rose asked. “Geez we’ve been running around all week to give you an eyeful.”

“What?” I was still shaken, but I followed them back to the Bullman’s.

“We tried to be fucking within fifteen minutes of finding you watching,” she explained. “I think we made it most of the time.”

And then they both laughed at me as I blushed for the first time in ten years.

“Even Sam joined in, and he’s the most bashful salty dog ever.”

Betty Bullman was on the kitchen phone with a large infant on her lap. “Here she is,” she said and handed me the phone. The baby’s face lit up at seeing Rose and gurgled happily and reached in her direction. “Do you mind?” Betty asked, while handing the boy to Rose, who shrugged and smiled, unbuttoning her blouse and revealing a braless breast with a fat nipple already slick with a drop of leaking milk.

Stella said, “Milky Rose Betty’s boob juice.” And I swear I saw Rose’s tits plump up just before the kid latched onto her nip like a lamprey. A look of ecstasy accompanied by a deep sigh came from the knocked-up girl as her friend helped settle the sucking baby onto her lap against the round belly home of its unborn nephew. At least I assume it’s Rose’s new husband’s—with all the fucking they do, it could be a half-brother. I’d spied on Sam and Rose humping a few days ago.

And Sam went down on her pregnant snatch too, which surprised me as he’s a man of an older generation. Boy did she seem to love that. It left me jealous. And wet. Sopping wet.

I’d always thought that giving birth is what started a new mother lactating, but Rose didn’t seem to be doing OK by the wet sucking noises coming from her and Roscoe, as the baby’s named.

What really seemed weird is that even with fat baby hands the kid was massaging her tits, squeezing and rubbing them. She was leaning back, her eyes closed, one hand gently cradling the kid’s head the other firmly around its body. Her face was flushed and she was breathing heavily.

“Just like his brother,” Stella observed after a particularly impressive suck.

“And just like his father too,” Betty wryly added. “They all sure do love her boobies.”

Making sure she had eye-to-eye contact with Rose, Stella cups her free tit and squeezes, “So do I.” And pops the thick leaky nipple into her mouth, ruby lips around the areola.

“Guests!” Betty admonishes.

“She’s been watching us fuck all week,” Rose says in a calmer tone than I expected.

Betty looked at me and shrugged, “She’s got a point. Ha ha ha!”

So now Betty was laughing at me. I was being tested, they knew I knew I knew they knew that they knew I was being tested. But they were having fun. So fuck it let’s all have some fun I thought.

It was a pretty perverse scene, I guess all women sitting up in a chair breastfeeding have a kind of Madonna glow. Not the singer but those old paintings. The fact that there was a second young woman sucking on the other teat kind of killed the religious effect, but damn it got me hot. Stella’s ass stuck out spectacularly, tight in a black leather miniskirt each cheek clearly defined and prominently displayed. Rose flushed and moaned.

“Ahem!”

I looked down at the handset and turned away putting it tight to my ear. I’m not sure I could have concentrated otherwise.

On the phone from our LA office Lulu explained that we were now working with both Billy Banger and Annette Bullman’s crowd. And she told me to have a talk with the Bullman’s and keep an open mind because some weird shit was coming my way.

“No shit Sherlock,” I thought. I had thought Lulu had been joshing in her earlier call when she suggested I suck Will off and have Sam eat my puss. Now I was sure it wasn’t a joke. Something was going on with her too.

Lulu basically said that it was all very good. Really. Good for the Redman Agency. Good for me too. Better than good. Mind-blowing. That now my main assignment while in Wisconsin was to identify ways to protect the privacy of Annette Bullman’s family and friends, and set up warnings when anyone started looking at their public and private records outside routine activity. From what I’d seen I knew why they wanted to be left alone in their seemingly endless gangbangs, three ways, and just plain fucking in almost all its varieties. But the weird thing was that otherwise they seemed perfectly normal. Plus we already did this for some Hollywood stars who were even bigger freaks, so situation normal.

“I bet you have questions?” Betty asked as we sat across from each other at the kitchen table. Stella on one side and Rose the other. The kid strapped in a high chair, and after a good burp it sits happily, though I get the feeling it was watching us closely absorbing all that is happening.

“Yeah,” I joke. “How do I join your sex cult? Or is it a private club?”

They took the question more seriously than I meant it. But knowing what I now do perhaps I was serious after all. No regrets.

“Call Eggy?” Stella asks.

“I wish Vicky was here. She seems to know how to deal with things like this,” Rose adds.

“OK Miss Sunflower Dyck” Betty Bullman begins.

“Friends call me Sunny.”

“OK, Sunny. I’m not going to insult you by asking if you can keep a secret. But what you see and hear about us is confidential and trust me when I say if any of it ends up in the American Enquirer or the Milwaukee Times we’ll know where it came from. Just so you understand that it’s serious. Your partners are already more than aware of this, but we need to get this understanding right from the start.”

I nodded.

“OK, number one, Sam and Annette wrote Taste. You know the cunt-lick book. That’s secret number one. Not the biggest secret, but let’s start there. We want you to help us keep it. But I’m writing a follow up cookbook, and if it sells well there will be pressure to reveal who the authors are all over again. We want the royalty cash, we earned it. But we also want to be left alone. There were a few real pests last time. And we have young kids now. And Sam doesn’t want to retire yet.”

“For the rest I think we need at least one of the guys here or their feeling will be hurt. Ruled by the matriarchy they’ll say, hahaha. Stella, can you go put Roscoe to bed and grab any of the guys you can pry away from the Packers game?” Betty turned to me. “Orgy day or not, Packers cum first. Hahaha,” she tittered. Then she offered me a drink. There was a couple of carafes of what looked like wine on the counter but I thought better of it.

“I could use a coffee.”

“I have a French press. I like it fresh.” Betty scurried around the kitchen putting water to boil and getting the cylinder loaded. “Cream? Sugar?”

I’m afraid I looked over at Rose, who had a small damp stain on her blouse from a still leaky nipple. “Black is good.”

“Don’t worry dear, no one is going to secretly drug you and use you until you collapse in bliss. Not our style. Not the drug part anyway. You read Taste?” She sees me nod and continues, “Well, we could but that’s just wrong. Well most of the time anyway. Not when the fish jump right into the net, downtchaknow. Remember the recipes? Well that amber liquid there is the new improved version of the tonic in the appendix. I’ll give you some to take home.”

“Am I that fish?” I ask myself. I seemed to have rushed into this without thinking. Roscoe burps up some milk and Rose wipes his face with a Kleenex, throwing that train of thought off the tracks for the moment. But later I realized that there was a glow about these people, when you watch them you are attracted, you get horny. It helps them get laid, not just with each other. And I had been watching them closely for about 9 days, and they’d make sure I was paying attention by doing all sorts of interesting things to and with each other. No wonder I was living in an Everest-high state of arousal by the time I was in that kitchen. In retrospect I should have been creeped out by these oddballs. Even the baby was creepy. But all I was thinking about at the time was sly strategies on how to get me some. Which looking back must have seemed pretty transparent to Betty, and that’s why she and the other women were laughing at me. They knew I was squirming inside while trying to act cool. Embarrassing in retrospect, but fuck it. They weren’t being mean about it.

Stella returned with Aram, “Hello Miz Sunflowerer,” he beamed.

“Call me Sunny.”

“OK Miz Sunny. Miz Stella explained. We been talking about it since you showed up, and we all agree. Miz Annette really likes your partners, they are going to be really close to her from now on. You know that, right? And you want to join us? Are you serious? You know I don’t know if that is possible. Not all the way. Something happened that made us our special way, you know. But it’s pretty great. ”

Betty placed a delicious cup of joe in front of me, I sipped and looked at the other women who nodded agreement.

“Um, yeah. I think so. I’ve been watching you for about a week and a half and have never been so horny. I just don’t know if I could keep up. Seriously, how do you menfolk manage? Aren’t you rubbed raw?”

Betty piped in, “Well that’s part of it. There’d be changes, ones that don’t seem to be reversible. Do you think Rose’s boobies were always like this? No. And I don’t know exactly what would happen to you. But keeping up wouldn’t be a problem, that’s for sure. And I wouldn’t go back to the boring suburb wife I was, looking back that’d have been a real snoozer.”

All the others nodded agreement.

“Why don’t you join in today and see if it’s all that you think it is? Meet the gang?” Aram looks at Betty who nods a yes.

“Any hang ups? None of the guys are gay, so to speak, and we’ve always avoided incest. That goes back to how we started more than anything else these days. We were all pretty freaked and scared, and it felt like a victory at the time. But that doesn’t include in-laws or sharing, so for example Sam and Will love double-teaming Stella’s mum in every way possible. You OK with sex games, mixed groups, preggo women, toys, and swarthy men with big dicks?”

“The bigger the better?” I boasted.

Rose burst out laughing, “Careful what you wish for.”

Which is how an hour later and one Packers OT win I found myself balanced on the tip of Carls humongous prick. Stella and Gail were on either side holding me up while Carl’s Eiffel Tower stood straight up, he was lying on his back on a mattress in the weird room off their hall, and I swear I was standing on my toes, regretting what I’d said earlier. Betty had a red lipstick tube in her hand and was going to mark Carl at the point where I said “Enough.” I figured based on experience and laws of physics about 10 inches to hit bottom of my well.

I let myself down slowly. Gawd it felt good. I needed the women supporting me on the sides as my knees kept threatening to buckle. Down and down I went, past where I thought I’d get to. And it kept filling me up in a glorious way. Deeper and deeper, inch after inch. I closed my eyes and felt the friction all over my innards. Glorious friction, my juices flowed wickedly over his cock and down his shaft making it slick and gooey. And then I stopped. I opened my eyes and realized I was down all the way to his balls. I reached down and cupped them to make sure it wasn’t a trick. I felt around my cooch where he entered me. Yep he was in. “H-h-h-how?” I asked.

Everyone was watching me and Carl. Not just Gail, Stella, Rose, Betty and Aram from the kitchen, but Sam, Will, Sheila, Andy, and Troy too. I knew there were a few others in the group, but they were all out of town, Annette for one.

“Fuck now talk later,” Troy commanded. Then he and Sam took me under the armpits, Troy in front feeling my boobs on the way in, Sam in back then dropping down to get under my thighs, and they lifted me up and down Carl’s magic pole—it had to be magic, and I felt every inch. I think I came once in each lift and once again on the way down.“

”OK,“ Carl said, ”Let her down.“

And with me full past overflowing he rolled me over, his huge belly surprisingly light on mine. He started pumping faster and faster, medium-length strokes but generating more heat, And then he came big and wet, with a bull elephant’s trumpet-like blast from his throat and my cooze felt even fuller with his seed, which seemed impossible.

He pulled out with a wet plop, and I noticed that Betty had marked the root of his dick with the lipstick. As I looked out with one exhausted eye she pointed to the red ring around the base of the soft giant pizzle and laughed, ”You got this far. Ha ha ha.“

How was this possible? And shockingly Stella added, ”I bet you can take it that far in your bum too.“ And later she was proved to be right.

I don’t know how I kept up. I drank my share of the tonic, that helped for sure both with energy and desire. It never seemed boring and each of them, both men and women, all spent some time with me having mutual orgasms. But I was no longer the center of attention. Troy and Andy had worked out something special for Betty and Sheila and wanted to show it off. I’m not sure I really got what they were doing, but it sure did make Betty laugh like an idiot while creaming and creaming away.

And that night Sam ate my puss. Twice. The guy who wrote Taste. That alone would have made my day.

I crawled back to my hotel room after the buffet dinner—delicious—that Betty had prepared tired but surprisingly bruise and ache-free, a provisional member of the Wisconsin Magic Sex Circle, with the assignment to go share an orgasm with all those who were absent, Annette, Vicky, and Marc at which time I’d be able to put in—or in this case put out—for full membership and a bucket load of explanations. And some kind of gift. Like Rose’s tits or Wild Carl’s cock. But not the same. They couldn’t say what, but it was sure to be unreal. And hot.

And so the saga of Annette’s Harem ends, both a new addition and a new friend in LA and a Eggy worshipping wannabe to the main group. Sparks will fly and fireworks will go off once Sunflower meets Marc.

But that’s a tale for another day.