Of Crystals and Watches Ch. 04

Mavis studied the dull stone for a moment. "I can't say that I do. Looks cheap."

"Are you sure?" Jason pressed. "No one's shown you anything like this?"

Mavis slowly shook her head. "No, can't say that anybody has."

"Jason?" he heard his name being called. He turned around to see Desiree's arm waving at him from around the corner heading into the living room.

***

Desiree watched Master out of the corner of her eye as he walked into the kitchen. Not that she would call him that in person, she wouldn't dare overstep her bounds and lay claim to something that he had not yet granted her.

She knew that he had Davis' crystal and had been hoping to get it off of him so she could destroy it. On the way back from their run in with the doctor she thought it a simple task of lifting it off him while he wasn't looking, but then Mavis reminded her of her true purpose. She hated with every fiber of her being the idea that one of those things was anywhere around her. But even worse was the idea that she might displease Master and be rejected by him if she tried to take it. It was a tricky balancing act between fighting against what she despised most on one hand and preserving the very reason for her existence on the other.

Desiree could guess why Master was following their landlady into the kitchen. When she had first enlisted his help that morning he assumed that the reason behind Mavis and Samantha's changes in behavior was because Dr. Davis had forced her to do to them what he had done to her. Which wasn't that far off from the truth, Desiree had to admit, and she had done nothing to dissuade him of that notion.

But now Master understood how Davis had controlled her, and now he was testing the connection that existed in his mind between Desiree and the rest of the house's female occupants. He didn't realize that it would lead to something much greater than the little fragment he held in his hand.

Desiree got up from her seat and inched over to the corner where the kitchen and the living room met. Inching her way so that she could peer in through the doorway, she saw Master take the crystal out of his pocket and show it to Mavis. Naturally, the landlady did not recognize something that she had never seen before.

A plan began formulating in Desiree's mind. She needed Master to willingly give her the crystal while at the same time earning his trust. He wanted information and she had it. If she could use it to appease him and gain assess to the crystal, she could come out ahead on achieving all of her goals.

"Jason?" she called Master's given name, something she hoped she to one day forego in favor of calling him by what he truly was to her. She pulled her head back around the corner and waved at him from behind it.

"Yes?" Master returned.

Desiree took a deep breath to calm her nerves. "I'm willing to tell you about that crystal, if you'll just come with me."

A few sweat inducing, anxiety filled moments followed after.

"Yeah, sure," he replied. She withdrew her hand from the doorway as she heard the sounds of Master getting out of his chair.

"What's the story?" he asked as stepped into the living room.

Desiree glanced down to see the stone still in his fist, thankfully not glowing. She decided to take a big risk, grabbing Master's wrist and physically moving his hand into his jacket pocket. A part of her was screaming to not be so forceful with the one she served above all others, but she was able to quell those thoughts. She would submit herself to the crystal if he wished it of her, but until that time she would lead him to not take that course of action whenever possible.

"Please put that away," she said. She stared at him, her eyes filled with determination. Not that she really felt that way, a few words from him and that determination would be completely flipped on its head. "Just, promise me you won't take it out."

Master pulled his hand out of his pocket, showing his empty palm as a demonstration that the crystal was stored away now.

"Thank you," she said. "Can we talk in your room?"

"Not a problem," Master replied. He led up her the stairs, unlocking his bedroom and letting Desiree in.

Even though she had been in the room before, Desiree had not been aware of the true nature of her relationship with Jason at that time. This wasn't just where her housemate slept, it was Master's private abode. She could feel herself becoming nervous at the idea of being on such hallowed ground.

"What are you waiting for?" Master asked, sitting on the bed and gesturing for Desiree to do the same. Desiree climbed on the bed, sitting cross-legged on the foot of it.

"So, what is this thing?" Master questioned.

"It's called a whorestone," Desiree answered, the words coming out of her more easily than she had anticipated.

Master chuckled. Desiree felt satisfaction at being able to elicit that reaction from him, despite the fact that didn't quite know what he was laughing for.

"Sorry, but," Jason began before pausing and shaking his head. "A what? Are you sure you aren't confusing this with an over-the-top porno?

Desiree shook her head solemnly. "I'm not, I promise you. What does it look like to you?"

Jason made to reach for his pocket before stopping himself, probably remembering the promise he had made.

"Um, well, at first glance I thought the crystal looked like a piece of...cheaply made costume jewelry or something like that," he said. "The weird thing is the chain. I looked at it and there's a wire running through, hooked up to a watch battery. When the chain is pulled taut it creates a circuit with the crystal and causes it to glow."

Desiree nodded. "So you noticed that. Glad I don't have to explain basic electrical engineering to you. And you saw what the glow causes."

Master hesitated. "It did...something to you and the twins."

"Yeah, it definitely did something," Desiree replied. "You see, when you called it costume jewelry, you weren't wrong. Take that crystal to any jewelry shop in the world and they will tell you exactly that. But there's a select number of people in the world who understand that...thing's true worth."

"Is it super rare?" Master asked.

"It is, there are probably fewer than a hundred of them in the world," Desiree answered. "But the real value lies in the glow that the crystal emits when an electric current is run through it. That glow...interacts with the female mind, and the female mind specifically, in a unique way. A woman who sees it will fall into a trance and obey any command the holder of the stone gives them."

"That sounds...way too powerful," Master said. "If it were that simple feminism would never have started. All women would just be enslaved by whatever men happened to hold these whorestones."

"You're not wrong," Desiree admitted. "The stone does have limitations, specifically that its effect wears off. After the victim goes to sleep, she'll wake up with all the commands gone from her head and no memories of what happened. As you might be able to guess, this makes the crystal excellent for...short term affairs, but utterly impractical for the kind of large scale or long term control you were referencing."

"OK," Master said as he processed this information. "But this sounds like the kind of thing that would be owned by, like, rich scumbag CEOs of Fortune 500 companies or powerful dictators. Not a random therapist in a small town in Montana."

"My thoughts exactly," Desiree said. "I would very much like to know where Dr. Davis got one of those things. They are far too powerful to be left to some creep like him." She held out her hand to Master. "So, could you give the whorestone to me? I'll keep it safe and if anything comes up I'll be sure to let you know."

"Uh-huh," Master replied, pushing Desiree's hand away. "And, um, I have another question, on a related note. How do you know all this? As unlikely as it is for a small town therapist to have one of these, I find it even stranger that a small town college student has all the answers, even if she is a genius."

"Um..." Desiree began, feeling her heart sink at the turn this conversation was taking. She had been hoping that by giving him this information she would garner Master's trust, but it seemed she had miscalculated.

Master leaned in closer, suspicion on his face. "You told me that what Dr. Davis did to you, he made you do to Samantha and Mavis. Assuming everything you've told me is true, you either had this crystal with you last night and then returned it to him before you went to sleep, or there's another one in your possession. Whether either of those are true or it's something else entirely, you're hiding something. I would like it very much if you told me."

Desiree tried to say something, but the words caught in her throat. She wanted to please Master and give everything she had to him, that was an absolute truth. But she also couldn't let anyone learn those secrets, that was itself an absolute truth. It was as if she she'd been playing a classic 2D platformer and she had the character going one way before someone came along and started holding down the other direction on the controller. Given two mutually exclusive commands, the character would just stand still. So she emulated that and said nothing.

Master sighed, a sign of his disapproval that stabbed Desiree in the heart. But she couldn't do what he wanted, she could never give away those secrets. That was the honest truth.

"Look," Master began, taking the crystal out of his pocket. He hadn't pulled the chain, but he could at any moment.

"No, no, no!" Desiree exclaimed, reaching for the whorestone. She had to resist, for as long as the truth that she serve and please this man did not demand that she submit to the glow.

"Calm down," Master ordered, and Desiree obeyed.

"I don't plan on using this on you or anybody else, I'm not a creep like Davis," Master said. "But it is clear that you are hiding something, and that makes me feel uneasy about...all of this." He opened the drawer on his nightstand and dropped the whorestone in it. "The crystal stays in there. Now, I know that you can pick locks, but don't think that you can just come in here and grab it whenever you want."

Desiree nodded slowly.

"Anytime I leave this room, I'm going to check and make sure that it's still there when I come back," Master continued as he closed the drawer. "I don't mean for there to be bad blood between us, but our relationship had an...awkward start, so I find it hard to trust you right now. I'll leave you this warning; if I come back to find it gone, you and I are going to have some problems."

Problems with Master? That was something Desiree had to avoid at all costs. "I understand," she said.

Master nodded in response, taking a deep breath in through his nose. "Good. Now, if you have nothing else to share with me, I'd like you to leave."

Desiree stood up, unsteady on her feet, as if she were in a drunken stupor. The same thoughts kept running through her head as she made her way to the door. She had displeased Master, she had failed to serve him to the best of her abilities. She had failed to earn his trust, in fact she had driven him further away. But she could not give away those secrets, that was just as paramount.

She stepped out into the hallway and started to make her way to her own room. It should have been a short walk, but somehow it felt like an insurmountable obstacle. She collapsed to her knees and began hyperventilating. With every rapid inhalation she was reminded of the horrifying reality that a whorestone was under the same roof as her. With every exhale she felt all hope that she could earn Master's trust slip away from her. She had gambled in an attempt to pursue both her goal and her purpose and had failed on both counts.

"Des?" she heard someone ask her.

"Des, are you alright?" Samantha asked as the blonde turned her eyes up to see the redhead kneeling over her.

"Master, I..." Desiree began. "...I...I disappointed him."

"Oh no," Samantha said, a look on her face like Desiree had just told her that her grandmother had passed. "Come on, let's get you to your bed." The former fencer helped the blonde to her feet and led her to her room.

Leaning on the redhead for support, Desiree stumbled through the hall, into her room, and sat herself on her bed. Samantha sat next to her and started rubbing her back with long, gentle strokes.

"I was hoping that I would never see you have another panic attack," the redhead said softly. "Did you go into Master's room with a plan to earn his trust?"

Desiree nodded, unable to bring herself to speak. She could feel tears rolling down her cheeks. She didn't know when she had started to cry.

"And I guess it backfired," Samantha surmised. "I'm so sorry to hear that, Des."

The blonde sniffled. "Hey, can I ask you a question?"

"Shoot," Samantha replied.

"How do you feel about all this?" Desiree questioned. "About being made to serve him?"

Samantha shot Desiree a look like the blonde was insane. "How do I feel? The same you do. This is our purpose in life, there is no other way."

"Yeah," Desiree replied, trying to think of a way to rephrase her question. "I guess what I really want to know is...how does it compare to before?"

"You mean before I learned the truth?" Samantha asked.

Desiree answered by way of a nod.

"Well," Samantha began, scratching the back of her head as she racked her brain. "I guess it reminds me of back when I was trying to make the Olympic fencing team."

"Really?" Desiree questioned, surprised by the answer.

"Yeah, because it was hard and, at times, daunting," Samantha confirmed. "The brutal workouts, getting my ass kicked by more experienced sparring partners, long road trips to compete in tournaments. There were days when I wanted nothing more than to quit."

"What made you stick with it?" Desiree asked.

"I was obsessed," Samantha replied. "My life goal was to compete at an Olympics, to march at the opening ceremony, to fence against the best in the world, represent my country, the whole package. Every time I ran into an obstacle, I just told myself that my goal was on the other side and if I could get through I'd be a step closer."

The redhead stood up. "But once I achieved my dream it stopped being a goal. Don't get me wrong, it was the proudest moment of my life and it will remain so until the day I can kneel before Master and declare my undying love and loyalty to him. But I lost my drive and started to drift through life. I gave up fencing because I felt I'd reached the limits of my talent. I chose to stay at the school and work as a security guard after I graduated because it was easy and I couldn't think of anything better to do."

The former fencer clenched her fist. "Then I learned of my true purpose, and it made everything I'd gone through to get to the Olympics seem like nothing but preparation for it. I feel that same drive that I used to have, only greater. I will run through brick walls and a hail of bullets for Master's sake, and I'll do it gladly if it will bring me closer to my...our goal."

Samantha took Desiree's hands in hers. "You, me, we're both Love-Slaves devoted to Master. I want you to succeed in gaining his approval almost as much as I want it for myself, because we both understand how much pain is in store for us otherwise. I bet the others feel the same way."

Desiree slowly nodded as she took all of this in. "I think I get what you're saying," she said. "I remember a time in my life when I felt that kind of drive. I had never really thought about it before, but you and I are kind of similar in that way."

"You think so?" Samantha asked.

"Yeah," Desiree answered. "The only difference is that you actually achieved your life goal."

***

A very wealthy man sat in his office, holding a glass of wine in his hand. He wasn't drinking from it, just letting the aroma waft up to his nose. He had learned the hard way that he should keep alcohol at arm's length, metaphorically speaking at least, after he had made a terrible mistake while under its influence.

He heard someone enter the room behind him, so he swiveled his chair around to look at them. It was his personal assistant, who was busy taking off her suit jacket and putting it on the clothing rack next to the door. She wasn't wearing a bra or shirt under that topmost article of clothing, so her E-cup tits were put on display for the very wealthy man and him alone.

"My Lord," she said, though he was not nobility. "I've found something that should be of interest to you." She took a page of a newspaper than had folded over her arm and put it on the wealthy man's desk.

He put the glass of wine down and leaned forward in his chair. "Well, would you look at that!" he exclaimed as he caught sight of the picture on the page. It was a story from a small town somewhere, about a therapist at the local college who'd been arrested for sexual assault and harassment.

"Dr. Reginald Davis," he said out loud. It had such a bland taste. "You can change your name, but I never forget the face of someone who betrayed me."

He turned his eyes up to his assistant, making sure to take a moment to admire her chest as his sight line passed through it. Though he noted that he lingered there for less time than he had during numerous previous occasions.

"Where did this happen?" the wealthy man asked.

"A college town in Montana called Montfort," his assistant answered.

"Hm," the wealthy man voiced, stroking his chin as he thought on that fact. "Not a bad choice. Small and out of the way, easy to fly under the radar out there. Plenty of pretty young girls he could pull in too. It says here he was working as a therapist? I suppose that would have worked for him. He was a behavioral psychology researcher when he still worked for me, right? Easy enough switch for him and he could guarantee uninterrupted one on one time with whatever pretty young thing caught his eye."

"Almost makes you forget how monumentally stupid the way he left was," the assistant commented.

"You think so?" the wealthy man asked.

"If I were in his shoes I would have been more patient," the topless woman replied. "Instead he went off hall-cocked as soon he found that leftover whorestone, completely on accident I might add, and ran off with it. He never even bothered to look at our research notes from that project. I bet he was probably spinning his wheels running into roadblocks that we already found. Might even have been what got him in trouble."

"Your point is well made," the wealthy man replied. "Though if you were in his shoes you would never have betrayed me in the first place."

The assistant did not respond with either verbal or body language.

"Well," the wealthy man said, breaking the short silence. "It should go without saying that I want this man dead. He's only responsible for the second biggest betrayal I've ever suffered in my life, after all."

"You want the preferred option?" the assistant asked.

"He's never let me down before," her boss replied. "He's almost as reliable as you." He flashed a knowing, devious smile at her.

"We have entirely different skill sets, my Lord," the personal assistant stated, her face betraying no emotion.

The wealthy man frowned at how his little jab had been sidestepped, but sighed and pushed it from his mind. "If I remember correctly, our man is getting up there in age and is looking to retire. Offer him a particularly juicy reward for this one. Let him ride off into the sunset with his head held high."

"Will do, my Lord," his personal attendant replied before turning to head to the door.

"Wait, my dear," the wealthy man said as the topless woman reached for her jacket.

"Yes, my Lord?" she asked over her shoulder.