Gifted
By Wadman
Chapter 3 — A Trip to the Horizontal Database
Okay, here’s the deal. I’m straight, so having my inner thigh caressed by a sexy redheaded female is something I normally would appreciate. In fact, a part of my body appeared to appreciate it very, very much right at that second.
But another part of me (a part located above my belt) said, “Whoa, partner! Let’s think twice about getting horizontal with a magically enslaved, just came out of cold storage, lady. What does that say about her? And what would going for it say about you?” So, I was well along the path of nobility, the “I’ll sleep here and you sleep there,” kind of nobility.
Except that she seemed so darn willing.
I had stood up a second after Emma had started in on the hand massage of my leg. Emma had looked up at me, mouth open in confusion.
“Well,” I said nervously, “Sure is late, and I’ve got work tomorrow. I’ve got to get to bed. Tell you what, just leave the dishes and I’ll get them tomorrow.” I pointed at the bedroom and said, “You take the bed and I’ll sleep here on the couch.”
Emma looked even more confused. “You want to go to bed, but alone? Not with me?” She looked down at her body. “Does something about me displease you, Master?” A tear tracked down from her right eye.
I reached out and wiped away the tear. “No, it’s not that—not at all!. It’s just that...” I stopped for a second, then said, “I don’t want to take advantage of you.”
Suddenly she smiled and stood up, and immediately wrapped her arms around me. She brought her mouth towards my right ear and whispered, “Sweet Master! I will willingly do anything you ask of me.” Her hands drifted down on my body, and she continued, “But I find it intensely arousing that you care about such things!” As if to prove it, she rubbed her tits against me, and her nipples were like little rocks. One of her hands came off my back and landed on my groin, and it began massaging my member and balls.
Five minutes later we were both naked and... ahem... engaged in the act, in a protected sense, of course. Detachedly, I wondered just where my good intentions had fled to, and why had they taken my clothes with them?
Look, my...
Hello? Yes, I know that there’s sex going on over there on the bed. But for now, picture me over here by the door, speaking to you like Rod Serling did at the beginning of every Twilight Zone episode. We’ll get back to the sex... Say, look at that! She is flexible, isn’t she?
Oh, yes, we’ll get back to the sex part in a minute.
Now, at this point in our brief (not underwear, mind you!) relationship, I knew next to nothing about Emma. She was not very clear about her past, and I got the sense that it was not some sort of obstruction on her part—she just didn’t know. And another thing—Waldo wasn’t the sort of guy who would just zap a beautiful girl into servitude forever. So, why had he done this to Emma?
Okay, on with the sex part—the short version. (I know that to some of you this stuff never gets old, but there’s a bigger story here, and I need to get on with it.)
Do I really need to say that she was fantastic in bed? Let me assure you that she was. She’d lost the one piece outfit fast, revealing her creamy skin, and my clothes had come off almost as fast. We laid on the bed, and somehow I’d ended up on the bottom of the stack, and she was straddling me, riding up and down on my penis, matching my thrusts into her. She was laying on top of my chest, and I was sucking her left breast in rhythm with my thrusts. After a few minutes I transferred to the right one and continued the effort. I knew that I was close to orgasm, and her cries (The first, “Oh, Master!” just about put me over the top right then and there!) told me that she was too. Suddenly, I felt the valves slam open down below and I twitched as I came, my penis deep inside her slit. I sensed that she was experiencing her own event, and she “oh’ed” and “ah’ed” for at least a minute after I had come.
A minute or two more passed, and she removed herself from me with an audible “pop”, and then slid down beside me, leaning her head on her left arm. “Master, that was wonderful!” She used her right index finger to circle one of my nipples, then moved her hand down to my penis and rubbed it.
I was still working on uncrossing my eyes at this point, but I reached over and squeezed a breast, curling some of her hair onto her tit. “That was more than wonderful, it was mind-bending.”
Suddenly I felt her go still beneath my hand, and I became worried. “Emma?” I looked at her, but saw nothing out of the ordinary. She just was very quiet.
Then she spoke, and though her voice was her own, there were overtones of Great Uncle Waldo (okay, a femminine version of him).
“Randall!”
I jumped! “Uncle Waldo?”
Emma’s mouth moved, but Waldo’s words came out. “Nope, it’s Emma. I’ve just programmed her with about a hundred responses to questions you may ask about your situation. You get three at a time, after every time you and Emma have sex. Now, to make up for what’s going on, I’ll give you an answer for free, and then you can have three more.”
Emma paused, then went on. “First, I think I know what your initial question will be, so let me answer it right now—I didn’t make Emma this way. When I found her in Vegas, she was someone else’s slave, either magically or technologically. All I could do was re-direct her loyalty towards someone else—me—who wouldn’t take advantage of the situation. I used the wand and the box to reshape her enslavement to me. As to who did this to her, I don’t know.”
Emma paused, as if waiting. I took that to mean that she was ready for a question, so I said, “What are the things you gave me?”
Emma began to speak in her mock-Uncle Waldo voice. “I found them back in the ’60s, when I was travelling the world. They were at various places around the world, but it was like they called to me to come get them. I can’t explain it. They are magical artifacts of some sort, crafted long ago, I believe. Each has a separate set of functions, and some times they seem to work well together on certain things. Not just anyone can use them, but I thought that you were probably someone who could, and, beyond that, you could also use them with some wisdom, so I gave them to you.” She paused and then said, “That’s one.”
“Okay,” I said, sitting up to look at her better. (She was still horizontal, on her left side.) “Second. What all can the wand do, and how?”
Emma blinked, and said, “The wand is one of the most powerful of the things that I’ve given you—it can do the most magic and it can also cause the other objects to do things that they don’t normally do. I picked it up in Turkey at a little knick-knack shop—the owner had no idea of what it could do! One of the first things I learned about the wand was that it revealed the way it worked to me gradually, as if it was sensing how well I could use it and responded to that. The first few things I was able to make it do were to put someone to sleep, to levitate people or objects, to make people not pay too much attention to what I was doing unless I specifically spoke to them, and eventually to put a person in a deep trance state for a brief time, like hypnosis, but without the restrictions imposed by the subject’s free will. Other things came later, but that’s enough for this question. That’s two.”
I thought for a moment. “What about the top hat?”
Emma replied, “The top hat is an object I picked up in London. It was at a costume shop. When I picked it up, I immediately sensed that it contained some things, but not in a physical sense. I guess it’s a portal of some sort to a place that is outside of where we normally operate. Time doesn’t seem to pass there. I bought it and took it outside to a park across the street from the shop. I focused on the objects inside, and started pulling them out—there was a pigeon, a rabbit, and a bunch of flowers! I learned how to put things in it next, and discovered that the important part was that I was the conduit to putting things in and out. If I held the hat in one hand, then the object would appear in my other one as I pulled my hand out.” Emma blinked again, and said, “That’s three. More later, assuming you... Well, you know.”
Emma’s eyes slowly closed, and then opened. “Master? What just happened?” Her bright green eyes looked up at me questioningly.
“Emma,” I said. “My great uncle has just assured that our sex lives will be very busy for the next few nights!”
She snuggled over to me and gently pulled on my ear with her lips. “That sounds wonderful, master!” she whispered.
Chapter 4 — Something is Fishy (not like that!)
I woke up when my alarm went off, just like I always did, to get ready for work. Yes, I went to work the next day. Someone’s got to pay the bills, right?
Before I left, I woke Emma and told her to make herself at home. There was food in the fridge, and she seemed to know how to run the TV, so after a quick kiss (and a slight grope), I headed out to the freeway nightmare known as LA Traffic. By 6:30 (an hour later) I was at LAX.
My job is to keep track of the maintenance and modifications of the various passenger planes for the airline I work for. I make sure that the planes are getting their required services, and I also follow trouble tickets that the flight and ground crews pull on the planes when they have “issues”. It’s an important job, and it involves a lot of phone time, plus some walking around the maintenance shops, dealing with the various crews of mechanics and electricians and engineers working on the planes, and writing airplane status on the big tracking whiteboard. (I like that part the best).
I called Emma a couple of times, when I had a break. I had told her only to pick up when I called on my cell phone (I had caller ID so she’d know it was me), but to otherwise let the machine get it. She said was doing some of my laundry at one point, and cleaning my place at another. I asked her why she was doing things like that the second time I called her, and she said that the jobs just needed to get done, and I seemed busy, so she did them.
Wow. Cooks and cleans, red hair, green eyes, well built, and wears tight bodystockings too. What a deal!
At noon, I surfed a little on the web, looking for information about the magic items. I wanted to earn more about magic and Waldo! He’d started out here in LA, maybe some trace of him was still around? I found lots of listings for objects I assumed were merely props for “mundane” magic acts, but nothing serious. At least, nothing serious until I saw a listing for a magic shop that actually used Waldo in their website ads!
Even more interestingly, it was here in LA.
I had an idea of what Emma and I should do tonight (besides the obvious, that is).
I finished work and headed home. By 6PM I had gotten to my house and had realized that Emma had no clothes to go out in.
I mentioned that to Emma. She thought for a moment, then said, “Master, whenever Waldo and I would go somewhere, he would simply get me out of the hat already dressed.”
I looked at her, and then at the hat. “Already dressed? How did he do that?”
She looked blankly at me. “Master, I have no idea.”
I sighed. “Well, to get any of this going, it sounds like you’ve got to start in the hat.” I remembered how she had come out, basically asleep. “Did Waldo put you to sleep before you went in it?”
“No, master. When I would go in it, I would just go to sleep, I think...”
I picked up the hat. “What’s it like in there?”
She looked at the hat, and then at me. “I have no idea, master. The last thing I always remember is the feeling of shifting somehow. Then I am being awakened by Waldo, or now you.”
I held the hat in my left hand and reached for her with my right. “I’ll pull you out in a minute, okay?”
“Whatever you wish, master.” She smiled at me happily.
I grasped her neck softly and pushed her towards the hat, imagining her going into it.
I caught the vaguest sense of her eyes closing, and then—pop!—she was gone. I now sensed her in the hat! It had worked!
Now, how to get her out with different clothes?
I sat thinking about the problem at hand, looking at the hat in my left hand. I couldn’t visualize her in anything but the bodystocking that she had been wearing. Frustrating.
I picked up the wand just idly. Suddenly, something tickled at my mind. Something Waldo had told me through Emma, something about the wand causing the other objects to do new things.
Almost unknowingly, I passed the wand over the hat in a circle, like I was stirring something with it, and then I tapped the wand on the hat. Suddenly, a range of outfits appeared in my mind, just like a paper doll collection, with Emma as the doll (I’ll say!). I sensed her performance outfit, an evening gown, several sets of casual clothes, lingerie—I chose a green sweater and blue jeans and flat shoes (I assumed underwear was included in the outfit, because I didn’t see any.) Then, I reached in and thought about pulling Emma out...
pop She appeared beside me, dressed in the outfit I had picked for her, with my hand still on her neck. “Emma? Wake up...”
A half an hour later, we were driving to the magic shop that used Waldo as a reference in their ad. I decided to bring the wand with me—I’m not sure why, but it seemed to be a good idea, so it was in my jacket pocket. The setting sun was on our left as we drove, and it was in the 60s outside—a crisp, clear winter early evening.
The place was north of the city, almost to Thousand Oaks, in an old warehouse area. It was almost dark when we arrived, so I left the lights on for a few moments after I pulled up, and noticed that in fact, the store was a warehouse, too. “Irwin’s Magic Supplies,” the dingy old sign read. There was a personnel door, and a large roll up door next to that. I got out, told Emma to stay put for a second, and then I went up some old concrete steps to the door. I looked in through a dirty glass section of the door. No one visible, no hours posted... I knocked, and found that the door was open when my knuckle hit it and it swung open a bit.
I poked my head inside. “Hello? Are you open?”
No answer.
I gestured for Emma to join me, and after she did, we went in the warehouse. All around us were props from magic acts—stacks of things, really, with no organization. A “saw the person in half” box here, an old tiger cage there...
A woman holding a clipboard popped up from behind a crate, took a look at me, and then at Emma, and said nervously, “Can I help you?”
“Sorry, ma’am,” I responded, with my hands raised slightly. “I called out a minute ago, but you didn’t answer.” Now that the woman was visible, I saw that she was in her forties somewhere, with a good body (and very large tits, let me assure you), platinum blonde hair, and a pretty face. “I was looking for the owner, Irwin.”
She snorted as a sort of laugh, and said, “Irwin? Irwin ran off three years ago, when business got bad. I haven’t seen him since.” She sat the clipboard on top of the box. “What is it you two are looking for?”
I glanced at Emma, but she was silent. “I noticed that you used Waldo in your advertisements.”
“Waldo the Wondrous? He was Irwin’s mentor for a while. He used to come here, right after we opened up. He bought and sold some things to us for a while. He died three years ago, you know.” The woman walked around from behind the crate. “I’m Tessa. I was Irwin’s assistant.”
I laughed on the inside. Yet another beautiful assistant, huh? But something about her mannerisms...
I looked around the warehouse/store. Something was making me uneasy here. I decided that caution was a good approach. “I’m a collector. Just looking for some of Waldo’s things, and I saw your ad. Do you have anything of his?”
She looked around, then pointed at an old steamer trunk. “Something over there, that ratty thing.” She gestured at an old box. “That trunk was his, if I remember correctly.”
I took Emma’s hand and led her to the trunk. It was on its end, so I grabbed a leather handle on one side and laid it down—it was heavy, but not so heavy that I couldn’t move it around. Then, I surveyed it for a moment, and put my hand on the latch and pulled on it. It released with a snap.
I slowly opened the squeeky-hinged lid. A mess of things were in the trunk: old decks of cards, a cape (!), a black walking stick (the kind gentlemen use, not the insect), a folded up metallic table, several small cages, some medallions, a stack of flash paper, a pack of oversize dominoes...
I looked at Emma, and whispered, “Anything look familliar?”
“Not really. Why?” she whispered back.
“I’m going to buy it,” I told Emma quietly, and then I looked at Tessa. “I’d like to buy this, but I don’t have a lot on me. Can I come back for it with some money in a little bit?” I didn’t want to be traced with a check or a credit card, I decided.
Tessa shook her head. “Nope, I’m closing up soon. I’ll take a check or plastic, though,” she said brightly.
My turn to shake my head. “No—uh, that’s how I limit myself so I don’t, uh, overspend on my hobby. Right, dear?” I asked Emma.
“Oh, yes. Not too much money.” She smiled at Tessa, playing along, waggling a playful finger at me.
“So,” I asked, “how much is the trunk?”
Tessa sized us up for a moment. “Six-fifty.”
I responded, “I’m paying cash. I’ll go five-fifty.”
Tessa smiled slightly. “Six hundred.”
“Okay, six hundred. I’ll be back tomorrow, about this time.” I took Emma’s hand and we walked out of the store. As we exited, I looked back and waved at Tessa, and she waved (slightly) back.
I looked back at the front door after we got outside, next to my car. There was something wrong here, I knew it—but what? I shook my head, and we got in and headed home.
Interlude Two
Dixon sat in her car and held up the 3 by 5 card with the address printed on it. “258 Division Street,” she read. She looked up at the small house, and read the address on the wall by the door. “Two fifty eight. Division Street.”
Suddenly, her cell phone vibrated. She picked it up off the seat of the car. “Yes, I’m at the house. What? Well, I was going to make the contact, but if you want to... All right. Two minutes.”
A pair of minutes later, a large grey limo pulled up in front of Pam Dixon’s Explorer and parked. The two thugs that Kensington always kept around got out first. One opened a rear door, and Kensington got out. Pam could see the vague image of someone still in the car, but other than the gender of that person—female—she could determine nothing else.
Kensington strolled to her car, his wide frame cutting a path to her. Pam got out and straightened her outfit. “Have to look good for the customer,” she thought to herself.
Kensington stopped in front of her, and stroked his beard. “Hello, Miss Dixon.” He seemed to look her up and down, like he was looking at a steak or something, then continued. “Who have you found here?”
After all, Dixon was something to look at. She was just over six feet tall, a former army intel enlisted woman. She’d gotten out to start her own investigation service, and she was moderately sucessful. It didn’t hurt that she was also very pretty, in a ‘big girl’ way. She had long dark hair, and a generous figure, which she kept by working out on a daily basis. Her loose fitting jacket (to conceal the gun holster under her left arm) didn’t prevent anyone who was a little determined to check her out from getting a good look at her large breasts or nice butt.
Dixon cleared her throat. “Sally Wilson—I think she’s a granddaughter of Waldo’s. She’s here—that’s her car, there.” Pam indicated a green sportscar in the drive. “I was just about to knock and talk to her.”
Pam took a step forward, but Kensington held up his hand, uncomfortably close to Pam’s chest. He flexed his hand, slowly, Pam noticed, like he was feeling her up from an inch away. That was creepy!
“Gentlemen, keep Miss Dixon company.” With that, Kensington turned and walked towards the house. The two thugs took stations on either side of Dixon.
When he reached the door, Pam saw that he rang the bell. Something shiny dropped out of his hand as he waited for an answer and seemed to float there, right below his hand. The woman answered the door, and whatever the shiny thing was, it lifted when Kensington raised his hand. He seemed to walk in through the doorway, the woman retreating in front of him. Then Pam lost sight of them.
Time passed. The evening started to fall. Pam got a water out of her car, after making sure the two men understood what she was doing. She offered one to the two thugs, but they just stared at her.
About thirty minutes later, Kensington came out of the house, and Sally Wilson was right behind him. She carefully closed and locked the door, and then set her car alarm. She turned and followed Kensington to his limo. Pam had not seen her before, other than on a tape of Waldo’s funeral. She looked different than she had before—she was still short, with a cute face and pretty brunette hair, but she was definitely packing heat (as her old squad-mates would have said). Some of her inheritance must have been spent on... Well, enhancements wasn’t the appropriate word, maybe super enlargement. She now had thirty six Ds if anything, whereas before she was barely a B.
As they approached the limo, Pam noticed that the woman’s eyes were blankly staring ahead. Kensington opened the door, and said flatly, “Get in.” She got in and he closed the door, then turned to look at her. Pam felt like a bug about the be squashed. He didn’t look happy, for some reason, and she cringed a bit as he approached.
“Miss Dixon,” Kensington said flatly, “I am not pleased with you.”
She started a spirited defense. “Mister Kensington, you specifically asked me to find relatives of Waldo Wil...”
Kensington cut her off. “I know what I asked you to do—almost six months ago: track down all Waldo’s relatives. And you have. But not a one has had what I’m looking for, and this one,” he indicated the car and the woman inside, “is just an in-law, married to a grandson, not a granddaughter. And she’s divorced at that! She spent her ex’s inheritance on a boob job. Nothing magical about that.” Kensington took a step towards her, and suddenly the two thugs were tight on either side of her, boxing her in.
“I’m very disappointed, Miss Dixon. I think you need motivation.” Suddenly Kensington reached into his pocket.
Pam ducked, thinking Kensington would pull a gun on her.
Out came a gold pocketwatch. Kensington held it by the chain. He started swinging it slowly back and forth, like a cliche hypnotist. Funny, Pam thought, “That’s just what his Vegas act is...” Her mind started to wander, but her old intel training kicked in. “What the hell is he doing?” she thought as she focused on the background area, on the threat to her life.
Kensington spoke slowly. “Sleepy, very tired.” He repeated it several times.
Pam almost laughed. Was he trying to hypnotize her?
Then the watch started to glow, and things began to change for Pam Dixon. Her training seemed to peel away...
Kensington, aka “Beard”, lounged in the back of his limo. His two new slaves, Sally and Pam, alternated riding him and sucking his dick. Donna Markham was using her cell phone to tell her editor that she would finish the article on the hypnotist and then take a week of leave, due to pressing matters at home.
He leaned his head back, and saw that Trey was still following the limo in Pam’s Explorer.
Kensington lifted the watch and grabbed Pam’s chin. He held the watch before her, and spun it, and it began to glow.
“Pam. Sleep now—sleep and listen—sleep and listen and obey.”
Pam’s eyes slid shut. “Obey...” she said quietly.
Kensington continued. “You will soon be back at your office. You will act normally, taking clients and working cases, but you will still obey me in all things and in all ways. You will continue to locate Waldo’s relations and point them out to me, for my action. However, when we are alone, or with others that I control, you will show me the proper respect that a slave shows her master. Do you understand, slave?”
Pam’s head dropped forward on her chest. “Slave... Understand...”
“Now, I think it is your turn on my dick, slave.” Kensington pulled Sally (and her talented mouth) off him and told her forcefully, “Sleep!” Her eyes rolled back in her head and she collapsed on the floor in a heap. Pam took over, sitting astride Kensington and guiding his member into her, and then sliding up and down on him.
Suddenly the phone rang, Kensington’s private phone. Kensington picked it up. “Yes? Someone asked about Waldo’s trunk? Who? Tomorrow night he’ll come for it? Thank you, slave. Your reward—come, now, long and hard. I’ll see you tomorrow night.” He hung up, cutting the connection.
Across town, in an old warehouse full of magic gear, a platinum blonde forty-ish woman gyrated on the floor, moaning in ecstacy, and still holding the reciever.
The phone’s speaker said, “If you’d like to make a call, please hang up and dial again,” in that recorded message voice.