Summoning

Because it wasn’t a yes or no question, her brain had trouble processing an answer. She just stood there spinning her mental wheels in muddy, uncomprehending circles.

“You show respect by addressing your superiors with respect, Cassie. By saying ‘Yes, sir’ and ‘Yes, ma’am.’ Isn’t that right?”

Given a line of thought to grasp, Cassie latched on and began moving forward again. “Yesss, sir. Need to give respect.”

Saying, “That’s a good girl, Cassie,” I again pushed pleasure through her, reinforcing the lesson. She flexed her muscles as she stood at attention, managing to stifle a moan. “Now, we need to practice more discipline, don’t we Cassie?”

“Moooore…?”

“Yes, you need some other accessories to go with your lovely corset, to help you practice discipline.” I concentrated briefly, and in my hand was a scolds mask. Looking much like a smaller version of the corset she already wore, the scolds mask fit from the bottom of the neck to just over the mouth, lacing up tight behind the head. Part posture collar, part gag, a scolds mask was a device I’d always wanted to use, and enforcing Cassie’s newfound discipline gave me the perfect opportunity. I pulled the mask over her head, trapping her reddish hair underneath the leather; then I pulled the laces tight, forcing her head up while pushing her mouth closed. “Doesn’t that feel divine, Cassie?”

She mumbled something unintelligible through the mask, though I could read in her mind that she was saying ‘Yes, sir.’ Pleased with her, I again sent pleasure coursing through her body.

“Now, Cassie, we need to exercise some discipline on those arms of yours.” Again I concentrated, and this time what appeared could only be thought of as an arm corset. Pulling her arms back behind her, I wrapped the soft leather binding over her arms from wrist to elbow, then laced it together and pulled it tight. Now her arms stuck straight down behind her, bound and immovable. Yet, it seemed to me there was an element missing, and, with a thought, I materialized a short adjustable cord. One end I hooked to the back of the scolds mask, the other to the end of the arm binding near the wrist. Slowly, I pulled the cord tighter, until her arms were stretched out at an angle from her body. By lifting her arms slightly, she could keep pressure off the cord and keep her neck properly aligned. However, if she relaxed her arms and put weight on the cord, it pulled her neck back, squeezing her Adam’s apple behind the tightly laced mask. “Isn’t that nice, Cassie?”

This time, along with ‘Yes, sir,’ I felt her say ‘Thank you, sir.’ This time, I allowed her a small orgasm.

Walking around her and examining my work, I decided I didn’t like her shoes. She wore sandals, chunky and clunky, and not very sexy at all. With a thought, she was wearing dark black leather boots, knee-high, with a four-inch stiletto heel. As she wobbled, adjusting to her new footwear, I said aloud, “Discipline demands that you wear boots suited for this purpose. Isn’t that right, Cassie?”

She recovered her balance, returning to attention, again saying ‘Yes, sir,’ in her mind. Pleasure washed through her as a reward.

As I examined her leather pants, I was not happy with the way they took away from the line of her shiny new boots. Concentrating, I shrunk them upward, until all that remained was a tiny pair of black leather hot pants, so tight against her skin that she might have been born with them on. As a final touch, I materialized a vibrator in her already sopping pussy, and a butt plug in her ass. As I mentally switched them on, I said to her “Discipline requires you to maintain your state of attention, no matter what the hardships. You do want to maintain discipline, don’t you Cassie?”

Without hesitation, she shouted in her mind ‘YES, SIR!’ She came without trembling or moaning; the only the sign that she had cum at all were the juices trailing down her legs in small dribbles from under her glove-tight hot pants.

“Now Cassie, these are your orders. You are to stand here at attention until I tell you otherwise. You are not to move or talk. However, you are to watch me have sex with the woman kneeling by the bed. Each time she cums, you can cum. But you must maintain discipline, not moving or making a sound before, during, or after your orgasm. Do you understand?”

‘Yes, sir...thank you, sir!’ came the reply in her mind, and another orgasm followed rapidly behind. She never twitched, despite the pleasure she was experiencing.

“Good girl!” Joy filled her mind at that thought that I was pleased with her.

I moved back over to where Samantha knelt, her mouth an “O” waiting to be filled. I slid my cock back into her warm, moist mouth, then placed my hand back on her head and restarted her mind. Even as she resumed gently sucking, I gently tugged her hair to get her to look up at me.

“Time for you to get your wish, pet. Get up on the bed, ass facing me.”

Sam quickly released my cock from her mouth, and scrambled to the edge of the bed, wiggling her ass at me as she looked back over her shoulder. I placed my hands around her hips and slowly drew her buttocks back until the head of my cock was resting right at the entrance to her vagina. I thrust my hips slightly, rubbing up against her pussy lips, and she moaned, putting her head down on the bed as I coated my cock with her juices. Then, putting the head of cock again at the bottom of her pussy, I thrust slightly, and slowly pushed my length into her.

Her pussy was tight, warm, wet, welcoming. Not a virgin pussy by any means, it fit snugly around my cock like and old friend, the muscles rippling and contracting to maximize my pleasure. More than that, each stroke pushed her already sensitized clit to even greater heights; within moments, she was thrashing, her hair whipping back and forth in frenzy as she begged for release.

“Please…I need to cum. Please, Master. Neeed to cummmm!!” she repeated over and over, as I easily stroked in and out of her. Only when she stopped making words and drifted into unintelligible grunts and squeaks did I finally say “Cum for me.”

As before, her whole body exploded into a shaking, shivering, quivering mass, overcome with the sensation of an orgasm that erupted like a long-dormant volcano. I stopped moving; her motions in the throes of orgasm fucked my cock as thoroughly as if I had been sliding in and out once a second. She came once, and then came again as my seed sprayed inside her. That, of course, was my final “tweak” to her new body – she would cum anytime her Master came inside her. Overcome with by three insanely intense orgasms, she collapsed on the bed, unconscious, my cock still trapped inside her.

Behind me, Cassie’s glazed eyes and the wet trickle down the inside of her thighs were the only sign that she had cum as ordered. As commanded, she hadn’t spoken or moved a muscle…but I wondered if her mouth might be twisted in a hidden grin underneath the concealment of her gag.

“I’m melting…mellllltingggg…”

No, Ornias wasn’t echoing the Wicked Witch of the West as I sat waiting for him to de-ice. However, the rivulets of water running down its scaly body made me think of Margaret Hamilton, especially since the cold had seemed to shrink the once aggressive and insulting demon down to a much smaller, less intimidating mass.

“Now then, Orny, I think you’re significantly recovered to tell me what I want to know. Let’s get down to business.”

The demon looked at me for a moment without moving, then sat up and ran a claw across his face, as if tired. Then it did something I’ll never forget.

It sighed.

Shaking its head, it muttered “Beaten by an unknowledgeable whelp…”

“Orny! None of your insults! Or do you want me to reintroduce you to the Frigidaire?”

A slight shake of the head, accompanied by a shudder, was all the answer it would give.

“Okay, Orny, since you refuse to volunteer anything, I’ll ask you point blank…what is the deal with this ring? Tell me about it.”

Looking at me, then looking down to his hands, Ornias began to speak.

“In the time of Solomon, during the period that the temple was being built, he brought many demons under control of the ring, to help with its construction. Once the ring touched a demon, it became a slave to the ring’s power, and Solomon could command them to do anything. Thus, much of the complement of demons and fallen angels fell rapidly under Solomon’s sway, as he commanded each demon whom he brought under his control to go forth with the ring and bring back another. Removing the ring from his finger did not lift its power from us, so the demon under its command would take it to its brethren and, either touching or throwing the ring, imprison that demon and take the ring back to Solomon.

“But eventually, Solomon died, and the ring disappeared from the world of men. As the lowliest of the demon hierarchy, I was charged with the task of keeping the ring ‘lost,’ so that no man could ever again wield its power over the combined might of the demon world. But, being a demon, I was also vulnerable to being summoned, and, two thousand years ago, I was pulled from my demonic tasks by a gathering of witches, who tortured me until I agreed to produce the ring from its hiding place.

“I did not think it was too great a price to pay to be free of those horrid women, who tortured me day and night for months on end. More than that, I thought that the power of the ring could not be wielded by anyone other than King Solomon, for whom God had created it. But, that confidence proved rather to be a conceit on my part.

“These witches proved to be adept scholars of the arcane arts, and apparently had scrolls of Solomon’s writings from which they had gleaned a great secret…a way to endow someone other than Solomon with the power of the ring. But I did not know this until too late. They dismissed me once I had provided them with the ring…only to recall me to do their bidding once they had worked their magic on it. And thus I found myself trapped for the first time in this prison,” he gestured at the cone of light that held him, “unable to act for myself, but totally at the mercy of the man who wore the ring on his hand.

“His name was Alexander, and with the ring he conquered and ruled, until he, like his father before him, was killed before his time, dying of food poisoning, wasting away for days until he finally succumbed. But, before he died, he summoned all of the demons controlled by the ring, and together with them, forged an agreement that binds to this day.

“He had tired of sending individual demons to do his bidding, and said to the unholy horde assembled “Agree now to this: let any who wears the ring from this point forward not have to summon any of you, but instead, give a portion of your power to the wearer. Thus, none of you shall have to see to any individual task, and may work your demon lore, as you will. And he who wears the ring may do what he will, drawing power from you in small amounts, so that none will be weakened substantially by its use.”

“The demons agreed, but, as always, I received the most onerous task of the assembled. Not only was I designated as keeper of the ring, I was also made the only demon that could be summoned by it, so that whoever wore it could learn what he needed to know to use the ring and its combined powers. When I questioned them as to what I should do when someone unworthy came into possession of the ring, they said I could refuse to release the power until that person proved that he could force me to reveal the secrets.

“Through the years, there have been handfuls who have, through their talents or by blind chance, have accomplished the feat of unlocking the power of the ring. Some you have heard of…Caesar, Merlin, Khan, Rasputin, Napoleon. Others have hidden in the folds of history, content to do what they would without leaving their names written for all to ponder and debate.

“And now you…a whelp with no special talents or overwhelming passions…YOU have acquired the ring, and have, by my own agreement, gained the right to use it as you will. Let us both hope that you have the self-control to use it wisely and in moderation, as I do not want to be summoned each time you have a question about using it. And should you use it overmuch…you may find yourself paying a dearer price than you ever expected.”

Ornias paused, apparently finished with its recitation of the ring’s history, so I took the opportunity to throw some questions its way.

“What do you mean by ‘paying a dearer price than I ever expected?’ Are you talking about my soul?”

Ornias hissed out a demon laugh, then turned serious. “Your soul is yours, boy, for the ring was created by God Himself for use by King Solomon. Use of the ring will not condemn you or save you. The ring is only a tool, and how you use it will determine where your soul will live after this life.

“As for paying a dearer price…have you not wondered why Alexander did not use the ring to save himself when he was poisoned by his enemies? Why Khan did not heal himself when he fell from his horse and died? Why Napoleon was exiled so many times, until he was finally killed? The cost of exercising power over one man, or ten, or hundred is negligible. The cost to exert it over an empire is to risk using even that small amount of power that can protect and heal. The phrase of which you are familiar is ‘Absolute power corrupts absolutely.’ That can apply not only the morals of the man wielding the power, but, because of the nature of the ring, his physical body as well.”

Thinking about what the demon had said, I remembered the words of Shelley:

“Power, like a desolating pestilence, Pollutes whate’er it touches; and obedience, Bane of all genius, virtue, freedom, truth, Makes slaves of men, and of the human frame A mechanized automaton.”

“Very good, whelp!” Ornias’ sarcastic words startled me from my reverie, making me realize I had muttered the verse aloud. “Those that use the power to please themselves rarely come to harm. Those that use the power to forge empires find themselves exerting more and more of that power just to have what they built keep from tearing apart, and in the end find themselves with no power to save themselves when the assassins come for them.”

It was a valuable lesson, but one that I did not need. I had no plans to build an empire…I only wanted the answer to one question.

But first he had to show me how to use the ring.

Samantha stirred in my arms after a time, her brief nap having rejuvenated her - another improvement I had added to her new body. She felt my arms around her, and slowly slid her right hand across my chest, tracing slow circles with her finger.

She didn’t have to speak for me to know what she felt. For years, the man that wanted to be a woman had always feared that surgery and drugs would only create an illusion of femininity, but that the passion and pleasure and fulfillment longed for would be missing, unavailable to he that would be she. But now, in the past hour, she had had her ultimate wish fulfilled; better than that, her new body was not just a facsimile, but also a fully integrated whole. And the pleasure she had felt shook her to the roots of her being, not only because it was so much better than she expected, but because for so long, she hadn’t expected to ever be able to feel anything close to it.

She was sated. She was content. She was complete, and happier than she’d ever dreamed she could be. And she was determined that she wasn’t going back to being a man…ever.

As she lazed comfortably in the crook of my arm, she replayed the last hour in her mind, reliving each touch, each sensation. As she did, her mind flitted about, full of thoughts about me…that I had made her, that I had given her the most extreme pleasure she had ever encountered, and that it was likely that no one else could ever make her feel that way again. The waves of pleasure that had radiated through her body had altered her desire to only try being submissive to me for the night. Now, she thought she would like to belong to me, for as long as I would have her.

Of course, I had not planned to leave here tonight with anyone, unless perhaps it was Sara, and even that was something I considered unlikely. But, given Sam’s determination to leave the house permanently transformed into a woman, I needed to give some real thought to how she would live. The world knew the woman in my arms as Samuel, and, no matter how the sex change was achieved, the world would frown upon trying to reorder its carefully collected data to switch its gender determination from M to F. The fact that it would seem to have happened virtually overnight would complicate things even further.

Of course, all of those problems disappeared if she simply came to live with me. She could contact her parents and friends and tell them Samuel was going away for a while to struggle with his feelings regarding his sexuality; I could see inside Sam’s mind that his job and his possessions were of little or no value, easily forgotten if left behind. In a few months, she could reappear as Samantha, and with a little help from me, could reacquire whatever ties to the outside world she liked. Though, in her mind, I saw her imaging the life of a house pet, waiting on me hand and foot, strolling through the house naked save for her collar. In fact, the image of serving a strong man who could care for and protect her represented the remainder of her dream…and now, I was rapidly becoming the focus of all these desires and fantasies, the one whom she wanted to serve.

The one whom she wanted to love.

The thought of such devotion scared me. On a night of unreality, how much of what Sam felt was real? How much was gratitude, how much was transference, how much was fear of having to give up the dream I had fulfilled? Would she regret tying her new life to mine at some point? Would I? It was so much easier to walk into this house intent on wreaking havoc on those who had rejected me without hauling around the moral or ethical implications of what I was doing. A simple “They deserved what they got!” at the end of the night, followed by a wave of my hand to undo what had happened…that had been the sum of my planning for the evening. Now, I was right up against another of my father’s old, clichéd admonishments: “No good deed goes unpunished.”

As if sensing my disquiet, Sam slid her hand from my chest to my crotch, and began running her fingers lightly over the shaft of my penis. It responded with a lurch upward, and because of that, I found myself drawn back from the depths of the mind to the more immediate concerns of the night. Reluctantly, I reached down with my hand and pulled hers away from my cock.

“Master?” she questioned hesitantly, fearing she had done something wrong.

“Its not you, pet. Its time to complete the tasks that I came here for, and then later, perhaps, we can continue getting to know each other more intimately.”

She sighed quietly, disappointed, and then slid off the bed and onto her knees. As I stood up, she kissed my feet lovingly, and then moved quickly to find my discarded clothes to redress me. Of course, to do so, she had to turn toward the door, where she saw Cassie tightly bound in her shiny leather restraints and clothes, copious amounts of cum dripping down the insides of her thighs. She stopped, puzzled by Cassie’s presence, since I had not let her be a part of what I had done when the twit had entered the bedroom unannounced. Sam turned back to me. “What…how?”

“You know how Cassie always seemed to have a problem actually wearing any of the fetish clothes she always brings here? I think I’ve cured that problem.” Addressing Cassie, I asked “Isn’t that right?”