Old Friends

I climbed the steps to the secluded house in good cheer. I hadn't seen Matt in almost 20 years, since the summer between our freshman and sophomore years in college. It wasn't that we didn't like each other; I thought he was great. But for differing reasons, neither of us was good at keeping up with people.

I rang the bell. A woman answered it. She wore a maid's outfit that might not clear customs at the border of scandalous. The skirt was so short that bending over at all was sure to display her panties, assuming she was wearing any, and it displayed her cleavage prominently. She would have been six inches taller than I before putting on the four inch heels, but was obviously about my age. Very attractive, mind you, in an aristocratic way but in a mature way. It was quite a spectacle to greet one when renewing acquaintances with an old friend.

I smiled at the sight of her.

"You must be Heather." Her voice was proper, but she posed herself in a way that dripped sex.

"Indeed." I'm sure I smirked.

She stood aside, holding the door and motioned for me to enter. "The Master is in the living room and asked me to show you there. Let me take your bag."

After closing the door, she took the lead. I watched her ass twitch as she walked.

"You look familiar. Do I know you?" she asked, a bit timidly.

"You should. We went to high school together."

***

Six months earlier, I'd been sitting at an outdoor café, waiting to meet an attorney. I'm normally a very patient person, but I drummed my fingers on the table in anticipation. She was late. I didn't really have any legal questions other than some fiction I had concocted. I had an entirely different purpose in mind.

Finally, the click-clack of a professional woman's shoes approached from behind me, and the lawyer in question sat down across from me. "Heather James?"

"That's me," I replied. The sun shone directly over her shoulder, preventing me from getting a good look.

She sat down. "So," she said brusquely, "you need help with a patent."

I nodded, examining her carefully now that I could see her. She'd changed, but not enough to keep her from resembling the Amy Colston I remembered. Her blonde hair was in a much more expensive cut, the gray silk suit was nothing like jeans and a t-shirt and her eyes were mostly hidden by a pair of designer sunglasses, but the face was the same. I'd lusted after her as a teenager, and was already starting to do so again in middle age.

Her laptop landed on the table and she opened it up. "I usually prefer to meet in my office, but I suppose this will do." She still hadn't really looked at me. "You mentioned something about subliminal persuasion on the phone."

"Yes. I have a way of convincing people to do something that you want them to do. I don't know that it's really subliminal. That just seemed like the best way to describe it in shorthand." She reached over and picked up her water. I watched in triumph as she took a swallow.

Amy looked at me with an obviously skeptical expression. "Subliminals don't work. That's been shown over and over again."

"Oh, no. This really works. It could be worth a fortune to the advertising industry." I could almost see her wondering why she'd even taken this meeting. I could have answered that for her, but then it went directly to the claim I'd made. The funny thing was that I'd spoken the truth. I really did have a way to make people do things I wanted, as she was about to learn. The only bit of dishonesty was that it would never, ever go to a patent office.

***

Amy's ass led me to a room decorated in a modern style, all chrome, glass and black leather. Dust and disorder were nowhere in sight. Matt Reynolds stood up as we entered. He'd put on weight and his hairline had drifted backwards a couple of inches, but otherwise looked just the same. "Heather!" He stepped forward, holding out his hand. "It's great to see you."

I ignored the offer to shake hands and stepped up to embrace him. He returned the hug enthusiastically. "Sit down," he insisted when we parted. "God, we have a lot of catching up to do."

I accepted the invitation, noting that Amy stood to his side, within easy reach. "Indeed. What have you been up to? It certainly seems to pay well."

He shrugged. "I guess. First, would you like something to drink?"

"That would be fabulous. Could I get a vodka Collins?"

Matt grinned. "Of course." He looked up at Amy, simultaneously running one hand up the back of her thigh, producing a shiver. "Slut, fetch our guest her drink and I'll have a bourbon." He delivered the insult casually, as if without thinking, but it produced a brief flush of shame in its target.

The maid bowed slightly. "Yes, Master." She left the room, still emphasizing her butt.

We caught up briefly. Matt was in tech, some sort of network engineer. I didn't pursue, because playing to stereotype, I don't understand computers at all. It really is genetic, but not so much because I'm a girl. I claimed that I was research psychologist, which is close enough to being true that it's really just a fudge. Amy returned with two glasses on a tray before I had to go into detail.

I stopped talking to watch her. She bent over far more than was necessary to set the vodka on the table next to me, ensuring I could look down her bodice. It was impressive. When she did the same for Matt, I saw that my surmise about the panties was correct. They even looked a bit damp, which did nothing for the dryness of my own.

"Is that who I think it is?" I asked unnecessarily when she had returned to her station.

Matt laughed. "Oh, yes. Amy Colston, indeed. Slut, this is Heather James. I'm sure you remember her from Groverdale High as well as you do me." She turned a bright crimson.

"Really?" I put as much surprise into my voice as possible.

"Actually," Matt continued, "she's the reason I tracked you down and invited you to stay with me for a weekend." He stroked her thigh again. "She just showed up one day a few months ago. Said she was really sorry for the way she'd treated me in school." He looked up at her as his hand slid between her legs. "What was it you said again?

"

***

I watched with satisfaction as Amy drank the rest of her water. Now the deed was done. "You don't recognize me, do you?"

She looked at me sharply, studying me for the first time.

"I go by Genevieve Étrange now, but it's really just kind of a stage name. I'm Heather James."

I watched her think for a moment, then recognition. "From Groverdale? Really?" She put on a fake smile that would fool most people. "It's great to see you."

"Cut the shit." I felt angry all of a sudden. "You were a bitch then, you're a bitch now, and you couldn't care less that I've reappeared."

Amy pursed her lips. "Then maybe you should find a different attorney." She started to close her laptop.

"No," I snarled, "you're exactly the lawyer I want. I certainly didn't call you at random."

She closed her bag. "Well, I'm not going to work for you."

I snorted. "I never intended to have you work for me." I emphasized the last word.

***

Amy squirmed in both humiliation and arousal. "I said that I was sorry, Master. That I'd been having dreams about you. I said that I felt very guilty about teasing you and," she bit her lip and stumbled over her words. "And that, you know, that time that we molested you." I sat up in genuine surprise. That was a story he'd never shared with me. "The only way I could make it up to you was to become your slave. To let you use me in any way you wanted. I said that I wanted, no, needed you to humiliate me."

Tears leaked out of her eyes. That did nothing to control my own sexual excitement. I was drinking my vodka collins faster than I had intended.

Matt had a look of wonder on his face. He clearly still didn't believe his good fortune. "I'll be damned if she hasn't done it, too. She'll do anything I want." I could see the skirt moving as he played with her pussy. "Isn't that right, slut?"

"Yes, Master," she gasped. He suddenly removed his hand, producing only a look of loss on Amy's face.

His fingers came away glistening with moisture, and he held them up before his slave. As she bent to suck them clean, he looked at me. "Well, once I realized this was for real, I had to find you. You wanted a piece of her ass as badly as I did back then, and deserved it as much as I do." I nodded. I had certainly hoped that he'd give me this chance.

"You're damned right I wanted her. Thank you." I was almost bouncing in my seat at the prospect of finally abusing Amy myself. "May I play with her?" I smirked. "I'm sure you'd like to watch."

He laughed again. "Oh, indeed I would. As soon as she gets us another round of drinks, nothing would please me more."

With a slap on her bottom, he sent Amy on her way. We sat in silence while she was gone, but couldn't keep the grins off of our faces. It was a bit odd, as this sort of thing wasn't exactly new to me, but I blame my lack of professionalism on the fact that I had really hated Amy for a long time. As for Matt, he wasn't really himself on the subject.

***

Amy fidgeted with her bag. "I've had enough."

I laughed at her. "You didn't believe my claims. So, let's give you a demonstration. Go ahead. Leave." I sat back and watched her dither.

I was impressed that she at least managed to stand up. There aren't very many who have that much willpower. It was as far as she got, though. "What's happening?" Fear edged into her voice.

"Sit down and I'll explain." She complied with a thump. "As I said, I can make you do what I want. At first it was only a little compulsion to take this meeting with me, but with what I put in that water you drank, the sky is pretty much the limit now."

"I'll scream."

"No you won't. In fact, I think you should shut up and just listen." Her mouth snapped closed.

"I've been waiting for this for a long time. Actually, you're my master piece. Literally. Once you are a finished product, I graduate from being a journeyman to a master. We still use the old system in my profession.

"Ask me what I do for a living."

"What do you do for a living?" she complied.

"I'm a witch."

***

When Amy returned with a second round, I stood up. "Put them down and stand in front of me."

She did what I'd ordered. I reached up and grabbed her hair, pulling her face down to mine. I kissed her savagely, forcing my tongue into her mouth as she struggled to keep her footing. She stumbled when I released my grip, but stayed on her feet.

I walked behind her and kicked the inside of her foot. Not hard, but enough to sting. "Spread your legs; bend over; grab your ankles."

I watched as the fabric of her panties stretched tightly over her mound. I pressed my thumb against the silk, feeling its dampness. "This turns you on, doesn't it?"

"Yesssssss." It ended in a hiss.

I drew back my hand and spanked her hard. She rocked, but impressed me by staying on her feet. "You will address me as Mistress. Understood?"

"Yes, Mistress," she replied hastily.

I slipped a finger inside her panties and probed the hot, wet hole underneath. "This really turns you on. Do you like being humiliated?"

"Yes, Mistress," she groaned.

"That must be a lot of guilt you're feeling, isn't it?" I slid my finger down, feeling her coarse pubic hair, and brushed my nail against her clit. She jumped and produced a sharp squeak.

"Yes, Mistress."

"Well then, if you're so guilty, you need to be punished, don't you?" I withdrew my touch.

She rocked back, trying to follow my hand, but failed. "Yes, Mistress."

****

The bitch clearly wanted to respond to that, but couldn't make her mouth work properly. All that emerged was a whine.

"A black witch." Under the table, I forced her feet apart with my own. "About as black as it gets, really. I put spells on people to break their will. I reduce them to sniveling, pathetic helplessness. Then I train them. Transform them into dutiful little slaves. And then I sell them." I lifted my left foot into her chair and pushed it up her skirt.

"You can't do that kind of thing too often. People would notice. So there are two choices, really. Some of us prey on the homeless or the marginal. The kind of people no one will miss." Very gently, I stroked her crotch with my toe. "They're not good for anything specialized, of course, but even unskilled slaves can be used for all sorts of thing. You might be surprised to know how many of the manual laborers you see have actually been conditioned. But that sort of thing is low margin, and you have to do a lot of volume to really get ahead.

"I do a different kind of work. Much more specialized. I work the high value end of the field. Once I'm a master, I can work on things like suborning politicians, making them completely compliant to so some interest. Up to now, I capture professionals." She began to whimper as my ministrations began to combine with the potion she'd consumed to produce arousal. And fear. Delicious, delicious fear. It was one of the things about my job that I savored. "Lawyers seem to be particularly popular. Attorney/client privilege has nothing on the kind of secrecy I can enforce.

"But let's face it. The real money is in sex slaves. You have no idea how much some people will pay to have their own personal toys." She looked around, hoping no one could see. I pushed against her crotch, forcing the chair away from the table, revealing more. No one would notice. I'd taken care of that already, but she had no way to know that.

"And that brings us to you. We have a rule. A masterpiece can't be done for money, and it can't be done at random. It's personal. Really, I couldn't think of anyone I wanted to do this to more than you. Take that as a compliment, if you will. Of all the people I've ever met, you stand out above all of the others as the one I most want to destroy."

I sighed. "My foot is getting tired." I pulled it away from her. "Put your hand down your skirt and masturbate for me. I want to watch you do yourself."

***

I turned to look at Matt. He had an intense look on his face, and I could see his cock straining against his slacks. "Enjoying the show?"

He nodded. "Yeah." His voice was hoarse. "You're good at this."

"I spend time in the BDSM community." That was kind of true. "Fun to put it to use for real."

I caressed Amy's thigh through the silk of her stocking. "You're giving your master a big hard-on," I told her. "That's a very naughty thing to do. Are you prepared to fix it?"

"Yes, Mistress," she groaned.

"Good. But we're not quite ready yet. Get on your hands and knees and crawl over to my bag."

She complied, still managing to shake her rump in an enticing way. I was pleased to note that she didn't assume anything else about my instructions and didn't touch my luggage. Matt was doing damned well for an amateur.

"Now, unzip the long pocket on the right side. You'll find several things in there. You'll become acquainted with all of them over the next few days, but right now I just want the short, brown leather braided whip." I suddenly realized I'd erred, and hoped Matt was too busy enjoying himself to ask why I'd come equipped.

Amy pulled out the whip, wincing at the sight of some of the other instruments. She crawled back to me and held it up for me to take. I did so, then squatted down behind her. "Matt, have you ever had a woman give you a blow job while she's being beaten? The sensation of her screaming while your cock is in her mouth is really quite exquisite."

He shook his head.

I flipped Amy's skirt up, and then pulled her panties down to mid-thigh. They clung to her cunt briefly, then separated, leaving a trail of moisture between them. It took a few seconds for it to snap.

"Now, slave, here is what is going to happen. You are going to crawl over to your master. You are not to let those panties slip down to the floor. You will unzip his pants and pull out his dick. You will then give him the best blow job you have ever performed. He seems very close to blowing his stack already, but you are not to let him cum until I tell you to." I smiled at Matt. "Is that absolutely clear?"

"Yes, Mistress."

"The whole time, I am going to be beating your ass. Hard. As I said, I want you to scream." I leaned forward and jerked her head back by her hair, forcing her to look up at me. "If you accidentally bite his cock while I whip you, I will subject you to pain you can't imagine. Got that?"

"Yes, Mistress," she whispered, fear in her eyes.

"Good." I stood up, and delivered the first blow with a loud crack. "Now get started."

***

"I've worked up to this for a long time. You know, if you had paid any attention to the people you went to high school with, you might have seen this coming. Remember Monica? She lives her life in a basement in San Diego. The last I heard, Gina was somewhere in Russia. The first of your little clique to disappear was Kelly. I admit, I wasn't very skilled at that point and it was a crude conversion, but it turned her into a streetwalker in Miami. And Sue, well, the life of a sex slave can be kind of dangerous. Take hers as a cautionary tale on why you need to keep the boss happy."

I couldn't actually see her playing with herself, but Amy's expression gave it away. She was really getting into it. I really enjoy cross-wiring my subjects, and Amy was going to find that fear and shame were irresistible turn-ons. The range of emotions that played across her face had the same effect on me.

"I have a special destination in mind for you. More than just a punishment, you are going to search for atonement. I assume you remember Matthew Reynolds." She gave no sign of recognition, but her features were busy. "I'm giving you to him. He is going to do anything he wants to you."

Amy suddenly smiled. She managed to croak out, "Too... nice."

That startled me. "I'm very impressed, Amy. You managed to disobey a direct order. I can count on one hand my victims that had the willpower to do that. It won't help you, though. As those charms sink deeper, they'll find ways to turn that strength against you. As I said, I'm much better at what I do than I used to be."

"But you're right, of course. He is too nice to treat you the way you deserve." I felt a stab of guilt of my own. "Can you believe that I once told him that he was too nice to date? Granted, that was before I realized that I'm a dyke, but still, that wasn't nice."

"But that's a temporary condition. I have another cocktail made up that I'll be administering to him. Anonymously. Actually, that's the part of all of this that will earn me a promotion. I think I've done an exquisite job with you, but you're really just a prop. What I'm doing to him, though, is a work of art."

She was rubbing herself harder. "Do you have any idea how hard it is to edit someone's ethics? And do it selectively? Of course not. Well, it's an order of magnitude more difficult than turning someone into a guilty, shame-driven, masochistic slut." Gloating about this felt really good. "By the time you deliver yourself to him, he will have a bit of a blind spot in that good nature of his. He will still treat everyone else just like he always has. Not you. With you, he's going to be all id. Every bit of resentment he feels towards women in general, and you in particular, is going to come out in the way he treats you. You're going to be his scapegoat, in its original sense, the receptacle for his anger. And the best part of it is that nothing he does to you will bother his conscience in the slightest. You're fair game."

"I really hope he doesn't kill you on the spot."

***

For all of her faults, I decided that I really did have to admire Amy's work ethic. She was a sex slave, and had clearly put a lot of effort into being a good one. Despite the blistering I gave the back of her thighs and ass, she successfully kept Matt away from climax for quite a while.