Skeleton Key

Paula arrived seven minutes early for her appointment, but it took her four minutes to find the small glass door set into the side of the red brick building. The shade was pulled, and a handwritten sign said in impeccable penmanship, 'Closed-By Appointment Only'. She checked her watch, unsure of the etiquette in situations like this. Should she wait until the appointed minute, or was arriving early forgivable under the circumstances? She stared at her faint reflection in the glass, hoping for an answer, but all she saw was the dark circles under her brown eyes and the cowlick of black hair that she never could tame. Finally, after two and a half minutes, she rapped her knuckle against the old wooden door frame and took a small step back to wait for a response.

She halfway hoped there wouldn't be one. Mother might be convinced that Uncle Jim's basement full of junk was actually some kind of secret treasure trove, but Paula was pretty sure that hiring an appraiser was throwing good money after bad. It would solve a lot of problems if Mister Price decided to flake out on them. Didn't antique collectors have a reputation for being weird and eccentric? Especially ones who didn't keep regular office hours, and worked 'by appointment only'. That was a clear sign that they wore their pajamas all day and blew off their clients to go examine a rare find in the Lost Temple of Freedonia or-

The door opened to reveal a slim, dark-haired Caucasian man in his early forties. He had a small, well-groomed mustache, and he wore a neatly-tailored black suit with a vivid, bright red tie as the only splash of color about his person. "Hello, Ms. Reid," he said. "Thank you for your promptness. It is greatly appreciated, I assure you. I am Merrion Price-we spoke over the phone, I believe?"

Paula summoned up a smile, determined not to take her family squabbles out on what appeared to be a perfectly nice man. "That was my mother, actually," she said. "She wasn't able to make it today, I'm afraid; she has some difficulty getting around these days."

Merrion composed his features into an expression of mild contrition. "My apologies," he said. "I should have realized at once that you were far too young to be the Ms. Reid who made the arrangements earlier. I trust your mother isn't faring too badly?"

Paula tried to fill the pause as quickly as she could, but years of frustration fought with her social graces for a way out of her mouth. Years of living her mother's life instead of her own, of feeling like she was never alone even inside her own head, of giving love to someone who didn't seem capable of returning it. A long silence was probably the best possible outcome under the circumstances. "As well as can be hoped for," she said at last, burying a decade of resentment in the trite phrase. "Shall we begin, Mister Price?"

"Of course," he said, "and please-call me Merrion." He ushered her into the narrow hallway with a gesture. "Right this way, please." He closed and locked the door behind them, and led her into a small, brightly lit office off the main hall. "I hate to bring it up, but your mother and I did discuss my rates over the phone?"

"I've got the check right here," Paula said, reaching into her purse to get it out. Privately, she prayed that it wasn't entirely rubber; $200 represented almost half of Mother's disability payments for the month, and Paula was all too used to supplementing Mother's funds even under normal circumstances. Still, she knew better than to argue with Mother when she said that the money was in the account, because that inevitably led to the question of what other places that cash might have gone off to, and that quickly turned into an all-night conversation. She handed over the check and mentally crossed her fingers.

"Excellent," Merrion replied, taking the slip of paper and carefully putting it into his breast pocket. "Now, I believe you brought the items along with you?"

"The smaller ones, yes," Paula said as she unslung the knapsack from her shoulder. "I've taken photos of the larger things as you requested." She pulled out her phone and set it on the table as Merrion put on a pair of latex gloves.

"We'll get to those presently," Merrion said, flexing his fingers and smiling in visible anticipation. "For now, let's see what we've got right in front of us, shall we? After all, the true enjoyment in examining historical curiosities is holding the past in your hand." He opened the knapsack and began to carefully lift out the items in turn.

Paula tried not to wince as he examined them. She'd already seen each and every one while she packed them, and all she could see when she looked at them was a pile of junk that Mother was wasting money she didn't have over. There was a ceramic cup that was probably made at a Renaissance Festival, and an old copper ring that had turned pure green and would probably do the same to any finger it was placed on. There was a handful of foreign coins that probably wouldn't fetch a dollar at a currency exchange, a box of toy soldiers that looked half-melted, and an old key that looked like a prop the Crypt Keeper would use. Paula couldn't imagine all of it together would even cover the $200 appraisal fee, let alone put them on Easy Street like Mother claimed-

"Hmm," Merrion said, carefully lifting up first one item, then another. "Interesting. Most...eclectic. Your uncle-did he discuss his collection with you? Or with your mother?"

Paula shook her head. "I don't believe he and my mother spoke since I was about seven," she replied. "You'd have to ask her about it, though. She never talked much about Uncle Jim." Even when she'd been drinking, which was pretty impressive. Paula had always suspected it was to do with money, but she wasn't about to share her guesses with a complete stranger. Even a polite one.

"I see." He picked up one of the old coins. "And his will-did it contain any instructions for the disposition of these items?"

Paula's smile went a bit plastic for a moment. "I'm afraid my uncle didn't leave a will," she said. One of the many arguments she'd had with Mother about Uncle Jim's old junk was the dubious legality of selling it for large sums of money. Mother had signed some sort of paperwork attesting that it held only sentimental value in order to allow them to keep it after the various lawyers and creditors ate up most of Uncle Jim's wealth. Selling it would probably violate some sort of law.

"Died before his time, I take it?" Merrion asked, his expression sympathetic.

"I'm not sure Uncle Jim ever really thought he was going to have a time," she said with a rueful grin. She barely remembered the man, but she always had an impression of tremendous energy and an unshakable conviction that life was never going to stop bringing good things his way.

Merrion gazed thoughtfully at an old necklace with a piece of polished quartz gripped by a tarnished silver claw. "No," he said. "I expect he didn't." He set down the coin, and sighed mournfully. "I apologize, Ms. Reid," he said, "but it appears I'm in a bit of a quandary here. I must admit, I was not expecting this to happen."

Paula frowned, more in confusion than any kind of anger or frustration. "A quandary?" she asked. "About what?"

"Well," Merrion said, "I happen to pride myself on my professional ethics. There are certain expectations placed upon those in my profession, due to the immense power our authority brings us. After all, an appraiser sets the value of an item-that gives us tremendous influence over the market. We are expected to use that influence fairly and without personal bias."

He reached out his hand toward the key, an ugly thing that was either carved out of bone or made to look like it was carved out of bone. "May I?" he asked.

"Of course," Paula said, still slightly confused. Why was he asking permission? Surely picking up things and examining them was part of the job.

"Thank you," he said, taking it into his hands with a quick, greedy motion entirely at odds with his reverent examination of the other objects. "You see, I happen to be a collector as well as an appraiser of rare antiquities-most of us are, who work in this business. It's only natural, really; if you love curiosities enough to be an authority on their values, you're going to love them enough to collect them."

He held the key up to the light, turning it over with a practiced eye. "But of course, it is considered extremely poor practice to both value an item and purchase it. It goes back to my comment before regarding personal bias-if I want to buy something, how can I fairly tell you how much to charge me?" He chuckled lightly, and Paula did the same.

"And yet," he said, taking the key carefully by the bow and holding it firmly, "I find myself in a situation where providence has put an item in my way that I simply must have, and which...well, I will be honest. It seems unlikely that your uncle would have parted with any of these items at any price if he were alive."

Paula was almost too stunned to follow the rest of the conversation. Mother was right? Uncle Jim's old junk was worth a fortune? She couldn't have been more surprised. She half-expected Merrion to follow it up by explaining that 9/11 really was an inside job and Mother actually did drive better when she'd had a few.

As amazed as she was, she still managed to catch the rest of Merrion's explanation. "And if I were to value them for you, and you were to sell them rather than make use of them yourself, they would pass into private hands and it would be virtually impossible for me to obtain them by any legitimate means."

He held the blade of the key out in Paula's general direction, as though preparing to unlock an imaginary door. "So you see my dilemma, Ms. Reid. I cannot let this opportunity slip by, and yet my entire reputation rests on my fairness and impartiality. Ah, would that this temptation had not come my way! Still, temptation and opportunity are frequently two faces of the same coin."

Paula waited, but he seemed to have come to a natural pause in his monologue. "Are you saying you want to buy this stuff?" she asked. "Because we can find another appraiser to settle the value, if that's what you'd prefer."

Merrion shook his head. "Unfortunately, I'm afraid I would much prefer that the transaction were completely discreet," he replied. "Even allowing others to become aware that I possess this would bring about a degree of scrutiny into my affairs that I simply cannot countenance."

He sighed again, evidently moved to sincere distress by the situation. "No, Ms. Reid, " he said, this has all been by way of a rather convoluted apology for my behavior." And he extended the key, blade first, to her lips.

Unexpectedly, Paula's mouth opened wide of its own accord to receive it. She couldn't help herself-her lips simply parted and her jaws came apart as if pushed by an invisible hand. She tried to clench them shut again, but it was as if her body no longer listened to her; even her tongue went flat to allow the blade access. Merrion was able to insert the key into her wide-open mouth with ease.

Once he had done so, Paula's lips wrapped around it like she was sucking on a lollipop. Her jaws still refused to close, but Paula found that she could at least move her tongue again. She tried to speak, but it came out as nothing more than muffled grunts. The taste of metal filled her mouth, answering the question of what the key was made of in the least desirable way possible.

Merrion turned the key slowly so that the pin was flat on her tongue, and Paula felt something indescribable shift inside her head. Something had changed, something deep and fundamental, but Paula felt almost like it was too big to notice. It was like if someone suddenly took away your knowledge of the color red-how would you even know what was missing if you didn't have a word anymore for what you'd lost?

He withdrew the key, and Paula's mouth was instantly her own again. "What-" She tried to form more words, but instead she found herself smoothly eliding over the phrase 'the hell' that had formed in her mind, so that the next thing that came out of her mouth was, "-was that about?" And then, completely unbidden, she heard herself adding, "sir?" to the end of the sentence.

Merrion smiled. "Ah, then isn't a fake after all. You can speak neither falsely nor disrespectfully. That will make things easier. To answer your question, Ms. Reid, this is a skeleton key. The only true skeleton key, as far as I know, although there could be others. It is a rare and magical device that opens anything. And anyone."

Paula paused involuntarily for a moment, as the words, "You have got to be shitting me!" warped and shifted in her head until they finally came out as, "That's utterly astounding, sir!" Which was true enough as it went, but didn't quite capture the shock she was feeling. She couldn't disbelieve it, not with the evidence right there coming from her own lips, but she desperately wanted to. It didn't make sense. It made everything else in the world not make sense.

"I imagine it must be," Merrion said kindly. "And again, Ms. Reid, I do apologize. I'm aware that I'm taking dreadful advantage of you, here, but I simply must ensure that you inform no one of our meeting, nor of the items I will be purchasing from you. And although you have been quite charming during our brief acquaintance to date, I can take absolutely no chances on your discretion in this matter. Which means, I am afraid, that I need to take further liberties."

With that, he held out the key once more and began to slowly trace it down the line of fastenings on Paula's blouse. He turned it as he did so, and her buttons undid themselves one by one as the key passed over them. Paula found herself entirely unable to move as Merrion opened her shirt as if-no, not as if. He opened her shirt by magic. All she could do was look down and wish she hadn't chosen today to wear a bra with a front clasp.

He didn't stop with when he hit the waistband. Paula's jeans came undone and slid off of her body as though they were three sizes too big, and her panties fell right along with them. "I do hope you aren't too upset, Ms. Reid," he said as he brushed the blade of the key through her pubic hair. "I know these are somewhat trying circumstances for you."

Paula whimpered, utterly speechless as her mind tried to find a way to express her feelings without any disrespect. She could feel her thoughts twisting around inside her head, bending almost to the breaking point as she realized that it was impossible to even think something that truly defied him. She could express surprise, shock, and even disbelief, but the part of her that was open to his will would not let a thought exist if it could not be turned into respectful obedience.

All she could finally say, as she desperately tried to keep her legs pressed together despite the magic slowly willing them apart, was, "They are a bit unexpected, sir." She couldn't think of anything else. Literally.

"I understand," Merrion said. "I wish I could say that it was strictly necessary, but..." He trailed off, and Paula could see a distinct bulge in his immaculately tailored dress slacks. "You are quite, quite beautiful, Ms. Reid."

"Th-thank you, sir!" Paula's words turned into an unexpected yelp as her feet, which had held back the inexorable spreading of her legs as best they could, finally tangled in her puddled clothing and overbalanced. She fell over backwards, and her body finally gave up the struggle against the key's power. She opened her thighs up wide, with her panties clinging to one foot and her jeans to another.

"Well," Merrion said, almost succeeding in hiding a smile, "that simplifies things immensely." He knelt down between her spread legs and slowly, sensuously scraped the pin of the skeleton key down her pubic mound, dragging it through the thatch of curly hair until it rubbed along her pussy lips. He gently, delicately traced them over and over again, until Paula shuddered in naked arousal. She'd never been so wet-it was the magic, she realized, opening up her pussy the same way it had parted her jaws. And just as before, it was far too powerful to resist. There was a moment of perfect silence as Paula's breath stilled in anticipation.

"In for a penny, in for a pound," Merrion muttered, sliding the skeleton key deep into Paula's cunt. She felt herself lubricating helplessly, her pussy growing slick with arousal in order to grant it easier access as he slid it deeper and deeper inside her. Paula arched her back as the bow of the key bumped her clit, sending a spark of pleasure all the way up her spine as she clenched involuntarily around the metal shaft. She didn't even realize how quickly she'd gotten turned on until she heard herself moaning.

When she felt the key turn inside her pussy, Paula's moans turned into screams of pleasure as she came. She felt that same shift as before, but this time it seemed to reverberate through every nerve in her entire body. She felt an orgasmic rush of bliss course through her as she stared helplessly at Merrion, bucking her hips hungrily against the key in his outstretched hand. She couldn't imagine feeling any other way, now; her obedience felt as though it was ingrained bone-deep.

Slowly, with a hundred tiny aftershocks of ecstasy, Merrion withdrew the key. Paula expected it to be absolutely dripping with her pussy juice, but it looked completely pristine. "Mind and body," he said, looking at her in obvious contemplation. "You can neither speak nor act against my interests now, is that correct?"

It took Paula a moment to recover her breath enough to speak. She was practically gasping with pleasure, her breasts heaving as she panted in exhaustion from the overwhelming burst of orgasmic bliss she'd just experienced. She could tell by the way Merrion looked at her that the heaving must be most impressive indeed. Finally, she said, "Yes, sir. I do and say only that which pleases you."

Merrion sat back, staring at Paula with an undisguised lust that made her shiver in arousal all over again. "And now temptation rears its ugly head once more, I fear." She could hear the indecision in his voice, warring with thick and heady desire. "I had intended only to open you as far as was needed to preserve my secrets...but I confess, having gone this far, it is difficult to stop."

"Please don't, sir," Paula gasped. She knew that it was the magic talking, that she was open to his will and his desire and it was no longer possible for her to even suggest a course that led to her freedom, but she was convinced that she would have felt this way even if free. It was impossible that she would have wanted to be anything other than Merrion's devoted slave, she could feel it with a certainty that went all the way down through her mind and body. She was his and she had always wanted to be his. "Please," she whimpered again, unable to stop herself.

Even as he undid his slacks, Merrion seemed to be clinging to some vestigial impulse to stop himself. "And what will I say to your mother?" he asked.

Paula pinched her nipples, unable to stop herself from drowning in a tide of arousal once she saw Merrion's cock spring free from his boxer shorts. "Give her the money, sir," she moaned. "Give her the money, tell her you found a buyer, she won't even notice I've changed as long as she has what she wants." It felt so freeing to admit it out loud. She wondered briefly if the old Paula would have willingly submitted to the key if she'd known that it would liberate her from a lifetime of familial obligation, but she knew the answer was 'yes' even if it was 'no'.

Merrion gave up his internal struggle and laid back on the floor. "Then come to me, my dear," he said. "Mind, body and soul. Come to me."