Strange Queens Ch. 04

In a flash Jordan jumped at him. It was completely uncharacteristic of her. It shocked Rachel into jumping back, but as she lunged forward, she clicked back into gear and Rachel's arms came down around her shoulders. She pulled her friend back from her attack, who swore at him, claws out. Chelsea took a step back.

It was as though the outbreak snapped Paulo's normal mindset back into focus. He blinked once and saw the room around him for what it really was, and knew in a moment what he thought of it. Three women stood before him, one of them Chelsea. The others were escaped slaves from one of his establishments, and, although he would have let them go, so willing were they to escape back to freedom that his chaotic devotion to his family wealth couldn't overwhelm his morals, he now saw them as an opportunity to recoup some of his lost revenue. He had enslaved them once with force and chains, now he would enslave them for good with will alone.

'SILENCE.' His voice boomed in the storage room with a reverberation of commanding power, bass tones echoing about and seeking their way deep inside the three girl's ears. All three fell quiet instantly.

'KNEEL.' He commanded. All obeyed, simultaneously.

'From now on you listen to my voice and my voice alone. Any commands not mine will pass through your mind without you knowing. My commands are my will, and you obey my will from now onwards.' If a pin dropped, it would be heard by all, but completely ignored. The sound would ring hollow in the empty brains of the three women in the room.

Paulo strode freely about among the three stationary females. Each knelt where they'd stood, Rachel behind Jordan, her knees barely inches from the other girl's ass. Chelsea knelt where Paulo had been standing moments ago. All three gazed ahead emptily, their eyes unfocussed, their hands limp by their sides.

Paulo shrugged inwardly. It wasn't how he'd ideally have wanted this done, but once more his hand had been somewhat forced. Much like with Chelsea, once he'd used his power willingly, as per the commandment of his bloodline, he had to claim them as his own. Otherwise they may never reawaken, and his powers might be lost with his lack of faith in the Command.

Gently, without moving her, Paulo pushed Rachel backwards, laying her down. She folded backwards unresistingly, her calves sliding out from under her as she was laid back. Paulo placed his fingers to her cheek, amongst her pretty features, and relaxed. He drew his head back, looking up to the stars, and closed his eyes, beginning to recite the ritual under his breath.

Across the floor, Chelsea blinked. She looked about herself as she felt the cool rush of thoughts begin to flow again in her head.

She'd been through hearing Paulo's hypnotic voice so many times at this point that she had grown something of an immunity to it, or it at least wore off quicker on her. She had also already been enslaved by his Will, and had no need for him to claim her spirit before she could become His slave.

She looked about. Ten steps away, Paulo knelt over the red headed girl, beginning the ritual on her. She felt some remorse at seeing it, knowing what lie ahead for the girl, but she didn't stop to dwell on it. She had to move. Quickly, she shuffled forward and got to her feet. Across the room, on the bench, there was a neatly arranged table of tools, and she had her mind set on one particular tool she knew would be sitting there. Quietly, so as not to draw his attention to her, she snuck step by step away from the group and towards the bench.

If she was quiet, he wouldn't hear her. Not while he performed the ritual. He might have known where she was any other time from the link they shared, but while he channelled his energies into the other woman he was vulnerable. It seemed ironic that the one time she could break his control was while he was assuming it over someone else.

Chelsea reached the table and found what she was looking for. Quickly she stashed it in her pocket, flicking it around so its shape wouldn't give it away through the material. She was just stepping silently back towards Paulo's hunched form when she caught herself.

"Entrance and ensnare any prey they choose,

But may they forever be bound,

Upon claiming their reward,

To love, to love, and to tend to their slave

Till death or dishonour part them."

The words of the Ritual Commandment rang about with a harmonic perfection in Chelsea's ears and she swayed on her feet for a moment, her mind fogging over with a blissful empty haze. She shook it away, forcing herself back to the present. She was right behind him now, as he uttered the last lines. Just a few more steps...

Paulo stood quickly, suddenly. He turned -- and saw Chelsea behind him. Her hands were stuffed into her jumper's pockets and she looked at him with her wide, beautiful eyes. He let himself smile slightly at her and stroked her cheek tenderly. Then he turned back to his charges and knelt over the second girl. He didn't seem concerned that she had awoken from his induced trance and was standing with him.

Chelsea watched and she felt her heart beat climb to a million. There, before her on the ground, her dark hair flowing and her shining blue eyes glinting like cut crystals in the hazy blue light was Jordan, her lover, her partner, her friend. She stared lifelessly up at the ceiling as Paulo lowered her head to the floor as he had done with Rachel moments ago. Paulo's fingers attached themselves to Jordan's face and he slowly allowed himself to relax, beginning his second recital of the Ritual lines. As he spoke, a wave of something unknown came over Chelsea.

Flash. Chelsea stepped into the luxury car, her bare legs glinting. Jordan, naked, stood by the lift, waving happily. Chelsea threw her a kiss before she sat down and started up the car, backing out of the lot.

Flash. Jordan's body heaved, sweat pouring from her skin. Her hair was matted and sticking to the pillow. Chelsea looked down at her body, her stomach rolled up, her legs up over her head, her big round breasts flopping back and forth. The woman's nipples were so hard they were lactating a clear liquid. Between them, a thick, mega-long, vibrating double-ended dildo connected their love holes, a massaging bullet of blissful orgasm-enticing thickness buried buzzing so deep inside her body she could feel its vibrations in her belly button. She knew Jordan could feel the same. As she watched, Jordan's mouth formed a D flipped flat-edge down as her lips went wide and her eyelids fluttered uncontrollably. Her eyes rolled back as her shoulderblades came up off the pillow and she began to shake and tense in orgasm. Chelsea's began in synchrony with hers as though the two girls were linked and she let herself scream out, Jordan so completely entrenched in the countless mind-destroying orgasm of the night that she was completely oblivious to anything around her.

Flash. Chelsea spat on the shapely bike seat, her nose inches from the woman's widened pussy and even closer to her clean, hairless pucker. She could see it tensing and relaxing, opening and closing in time with the girl's pumping thrusts up and down the slicked seat inside her, smell her thick scent of sex deep in her lungs. She inhaled a full breath, savouring the taste of her slave's cum thick in the air. She watched her spit disappear inside the woman on the bike seat as she dropped her weight behind her thrusts, the almost specifically shaped seat fitting inside her all too well. Her cunt was wide, stretched to fit the artificial appendage in her, and Chelsea could see the darkness of the corners of her entrance from behind. Her head was thrown back, her mouth wide, making jerky, cut-off moans, and Chelsea closed her eyes as she reached around the violently fornicating woman to maul her thick, firm breasts. She could already hear the sound of the girl's ejaculation splatting onto the carpet as she dug her nails into her nipples, and some of the heavenly fluids jetted onto her body right out of the woman's canal, the warm, thick juice running down her front and over her own thickly wetted lips.

Flash. Chelsea watched the naked woman step up to her from the chamber, completely naked and angelically beautiful beyond words, swirling tendrils of mist licking around her heels as she approached. Without moving a muscle she watched the woman tenderly close her eyes and kneel before her as she lovingly placed the flat of her tongue firmly but gently against her hairless slit and lick a long, clean line from bottom to top, never for a microsecond lifting her pressure. The rough little tongue drew shivers from her spine and her entire body prickled, her hairs standing on end, so sensitive was her labia to the stroke.

This was the girl Chelsea had wanted. Her own slave. She already loved her with all her heart before she even knew it.

For the girl, her Mistress awaited, and the only thing besides total, loyal, loving obedience on her mind was how much she adored her. She didn't know what she'd done before this moment, before she'd meet her Mistress, but she would spend every single moment from here on on her knees, showing her love for her Mistress in every way she could, as long as she could, for the rest of her life.

Flash. The bottle fell from her fingertips and hit the carpet. She didn't like that it would be messy and hard to clean but she was too drunk and tired to care about the mess she'd have to clean up. She let sleep overtake her and her miniskirt tore as she leaned too far back in the seat and fell off. When she hit her head on the floor and the world spun in doubles now, already spinning from the amount of booze she'd consumed, she didn't bother moving. She watched six ceiling lights braid themselves together until the motion suddenly and voilently found her stomach. She had just enough time to turn her head and lift herself to her shoulder before the two-minute noodles and twin six-packs of alcohol violently and disgustingly escaped her insides the same way they'd entered. When she was done, she let sleep try to take her again, her vomit now making for a disgusting pillow.

She didn't hear when they kicked the back door in and surrounded her. Didn't feel them lift her up and carry her away. Didn't sense the movement of the van she was in.

She would wake up in a room on her own.

Chelsea's mind felt numb. It was like her life had flashed before her eyes, except that it wasn't specifically hers, and that she wasn't about to die. She looked still into Jordan's eyes, except now those glinting blue crystals seemed to look right back at her, bore into her very soul, even though they hadn't moved from the ceiling. The flashes of memory she had seen so vividly, so much like those said to be seen before death, were all hers, but they were all the ones she had shared with her. With Jordan.
She looked into the eyes more, and they almost seemed to consume her in their deep, precious blue.

You know what has to be done, they said to her. You know the truth. Save us. Save me. Please.

Chelsea's mind cleared. Her eyes focussed. Her heart steadied and her body tensed.

*

"For should one willingly claim the sacred three,

That of Spirit, of Mind and of Body,

That charge shall be theirs as a slave to the death,

Or until that spell be broken by wilful bloodshed."

Wilful bloodshed.

The words of the ritual spun deep in her mind, reverberating around in her skull. But now, this time, they were words, meaningful, understandable words, but only words. The familiar fog of happy, hypnotic mist never came, the relaxing, arousing wash of submission remained at bay, and the bass tones of the god-empowered enchantment entered and escaped her ears without any effect.

'Stop, Paulo.' She commanded, gripping his shoulder. He spun to face her, his eyes glinting a dark, flashing light that didn't seem to come from the room around them.

'What?' He barked, his voice layered hypnotically. 'How dare you draw me from the Ritual!' Before she could speak, Paulo's hand came flashing at her backhanded and it caught her hard in the side, throwing her bodily away. She crashed ass-first into a blue pod, the frozen carbonised woman inside -- it was her, her own body -- staring down at her in silent judgement.

He turned back to his subject, began the enchantment once more, but before he did Chelsea drew herself upright and raised her voice to fill the room.

'That charge shall be Theirs to the death, or until that spell be broken by wilful bloodshed!' She cried clearly. Quickly, she drew the tool she'd swiped from the bench earlier from her pocket. With the unmistakable click of metal blade in plastic sheath known the world over, the Stanley knife's blade extended several centimetres from its housing.

Paulo stood up, his dark eyes glaring at her unblinkingly. 'You dare?' he breathed, bass exuding in even whispered tones, a sound like wind whipping around the room. He looked inhuman, invisible power warping his appearance in ways that defied description.

'I am breaking your curse over me, Paulo Crete.' Chelsea said, her voice quivering but firm, holding his gaze, not backing down. She was scared. Paulo seemed to tower over her, his clothes billowing, his dark face glowing with evil, fierce determination as he approached her. Quickly, as he began to speed up his pace towards her, she slashed down, cutting a thick gash across her arm that immediately began to run down her arm.

'Foolish child,' Paulo's demonic voice scalded her. 'The ritual does not refer to shedding of your own blood, but that of your bonded partner.' Chelsea blanched at the words, realising her mistake and having no time left to try again, seeing his dark face not lose any power and her own cowering fear grow in her chest. She made to strike at him, but his arm was up in a flash, gripping her wrist in a vice-like grip so tight she felt the blood leave her hand in a second.

Paulo grinned at her, his white teeth bare against the shadows on his face. Chelsea didn't dare look into his eyes. In a distant part of her mind, she wondered if his face always looked so haunted when he took possession of a slave with his powers. She tried to fight him, but he was legions stronger than she was, even without his power fuelling him, let alone filled with it as he was now. His fingers tightened around her wrist, ice cold rings of pain burning her skin. Though she tried her hardest to grip the knife, she watched in horror as her bone white fingers parted and the knife fell uselessly to the floor. Paulo grinned again and stepped on it, cracking the exposed disposable blades from the end and part of the plastic. Then he kicked backwards, slinging the knife along the floor away from them.

Chelsea watched in fear. She was all there, awake and conscious, and for the first time since she'd met him she was scared. She didn't know the Paulo before her now. She knew one that was kind and polite and old fashioned, one that was a monster in bed, and one that did deals with black market traders and then paid teams of ex-soldiers and assassins to execute the witnesses at the location. This Paulo scared her more than all of those together.

Paulo gripped her arm harder and bent it, forcing her down. She slid down the pod, her back against the super-thick glass, straight with her shoulders bent wide, boobs out, shaped to the round chamber. Her knees bent and she slid downwards, Paulo's grip threatening to break her bones if she didn't comply. When she was part way down, he raised his other hand and pressed his fingers firmly against her face.

'Now,' he breathed triumphantly, his eyes all but black as they stared down into her, 'I'm going to finish what I started and put your fight out for good. You're only good as a slave and nothing more, and that's all you'll ever be. Once you hear the ehchantment again, even your thoughts will be Mine.' Paulo's fingers dug into her skin but she couldn't move. She beat at his arm with her free hand, but she couldn't even relieve the pressure of his fingers in her face no matter how hard she pulled.

"By my death I leave a spell,

A power for all my spawn

To all that are born upon my bloodline,

Great power will bestow thee."

The first lines of the Ritual echoed about the chamber and Chelsea felt those sickeningly familiar sensations beginning to creep back into her brain as her willpower subsided readily to him.

"For should one willingly claim the sacred three,

That of Spirit, of Mind and of Body..."

Chelsea's fight began to wane as the spell took hold. She could already feel her love for her Master returning to her, remember her absolute adoration of him. How could she have wanted to break that?

"That charge shall be theirs, a slave to the death,

Or until that spell be broken by wilful bloodshed."

Chelsea stopped thinking and let the sensations return. Her pussy began to wet and love swelled her heart for Paulo, her Master. She would make up her badness to him in her loyal life of slavery.

Behind them, a groan came from one of the girls. Jordan, a wet spot darkening on the front of her pants and a total, thoughtless relaxation hanging over her mind, began to roll her head from side to side. Groggily, her eyes began to open and focus once more.

"May the silky tones of any of my children

Entrance and ensnare any prey they choose..."

Jordan turned over and sat herself up slowly. She felt heavy, like she'd been knocked out and slept for twelve hours straight. Her hair slung across her face and she brushed it away, the frown of sleep still on her face. She looked down at what had dug into her shoulder when she'd turned over and saw something very out of place on the floor of the storage room. She picked it up, its orange casing glowing a distorted colour in the blue-green light around them. It was a Stanley knife.

"But may they forever be bound

Upon claiming their reward..."

Jordan got to her feet. She was dazed and groggy, and focussing on walking, even thinking was hard. She felt drunk, but not a good drunk. She felt like she'd gotten drunk and then had her drink spiked and this was the part that came right before you drifted out of consciousness. Unsteadily, she looked up and saw the man, Peter or Paul or something, standing over Chelsea. Dully, she thought of helping her girlfriend. Without the brain power to creatively come up with anything else, she stepped the distance over to the girl and her attacker and did the only thing that came to mind to help.

"To Love, to Live and to tend to their slave, till death or dis-" Paulo let out a strangled gasp as a cold metal blade entered the side of his body from behind. Instantly he released his prey, instinctively reaching for the blade, the act of twisting to get at it with his hand drawing a burning agony from the wound. He let out a strangled cry and staggered back a step.

Instantly, Chelsea felt the blood flowing back to her fingers, which had curled tightly into her palm from the pressure on her tendons and veins. Like the blood returning to her hand, she felt clarity returning to her brain. It took a few seconds, but the effects of the ritual sunk from her mind and she sighed deeply, letting out the breath she'd been holding in anticipation. She looked about and saw Paulo stumbling before her, the orange plastic of her Stanley knife sticking out of his side. Without thinking, she closed the distance between them and gripped the knife. She yanked it out and Paulo yelled in pain, grasping at his back.