The Demigod: Citrine 02

"You, who the fuck are you?" Roland asked the frat boy as Horatio bagan typing on his phone.

"Jesse Stoups," he said.

"Get your shit put away. What are you doing here?"

"I come here every other week to get my hit of coke, and sometimes to fuck a girl."

"You have money?"

"Kinda. My dad gives me $3000 a week."

"The fuck? What kind of parent gives their kid cash like that? Jesus. Go with Horatio and put any money in the house in a bag, like a backpack. Go."

They came back minutes later with a simple Jansport bag loaded with cash.

"Okay boys, first thing. After I shut that door, Rodrigo is going to get extremely upset at how he's been treated. He's going to pick up one of these guns and force Horatio to suck his dick. Then he's going to make Jesse fuck Horatio in the ass.

5 minutes after I shut the door, he's going to make Horatio blow Jesse while he fucks Horatio in the ass. Then 10 minutes after I shut the front door, Rodrigo is going to cum in Horatio's ass, then shoot and kill both Horatio and Jesse.

Rodrigo, I don't care how you do it.

Rodrigo, after you kill them both, you're going to call the police, and once they arrive, you're going to shoot off your gentials.

Then after I shut that front door, you're going to follow my orders, but forget everything about me. All of the things I ordered you to do will be of your own decisions.

Jesse, Horatio, you two will make no move to alert anyone, at all. You're going to do as I say, then die."

Roland callously walked out of the room, their eyes burning orange.

Roland went upstairs and found the six girls in what amounted to a bed room. He almost threw up.

It smelled of body odor, shit, urine, and other smells he couldn't place. There were piles of clothes here and there, there were blankets on the floor in what could loosely be called bedrolls. The walls had holes in them while the windows had some kind of blocking material over them.

"Girls, when the police get here, you'll tell them everything you've been through. You'll get counseling and while you'll always remember what happened to you, you'll find after several months that you're strong and this chapter of your life doesn't need to haunt you forever.

Until the police get here, you won't leave this room.

And after I leave this room, you'll follow my orders but forget I was ever here."

And he left. He heard them begin to talk amongst themselves, but his footsteps and pounding heart drowned them out quickly.

He hit the bottom floor and picked up the backpack, then, almost as an afterthought, he came over to the table, and looked at the weapons. He reached in and found a simple black pistol and looked at the slide. A Glock 17. He put it in the bag and without looking at the men, walked out, shutting the door behind him, using his shirt on the knob.

***

"Stop here," Gregory said, his man, Devin doing as ordered.

Up ahead were at least 10 squad cars, two fire trucks, and 3 ambulances.

He checked his phone, and saw Thomas' dots cycle.

[Horatio and a customer are dead. Fucking Robbie lost his shit it looks like.]

God damnit. Gregory began typing, and Thomas was quick to respond.

[Oh the product is here. Cash is all gone. Girls are all here. Fucking Robbie blew his own fucking junk off! They took him to the hospital.]

Fucking hell Robbie. Jesus.

Gregory heard Devin talking up front, then saw a white guy come around to the driver's rear door, the locks snapping open, then he climbed inside.

"What the fuck is going on?! Deven!" Gregory yelled towards the front of the car.

"Deven, drive anywhere but here. You, I order you to act normal and as yourself but do as I say, answer my questions, be quiet and don't do anything I don't want you to do," the man said, and Gregory stopped panicking, quieting down.

"Are you the one they call Big G?" the man asked, the car moving.

"Yes," Gregory said.

"And you deal in hard drugs it looks like right?"

"Yes."

"Do you also pimp out girls?"

"Yes."

"How much cash do you have available to you, within the next several hours?"

"About eight million dollars."

"That's what I'm talking about! Was this your only house of girls?"

"No."

There was silence as the outside world moved past them.

***

Kayla was on the couch, dressed in the clothes she'd been wearing the day before. The man who'd fucked her in both her body and mind's orders had been quite specific. She'd thought about using her phone to message her friends and family, innocently of course, but it would geotag her location for later. Except as soon as the thought hit her, she found she couldn't follow through with even texting, because of the damn order to "not to do anything that might alert anyone to your being forced to stay here."

So she'd walked around and learned about this man.

She'd learned his name, Roland Jan Piast. She'd learned about his mother and father. She'd learned his father had died overseas. She'd learned about the video games he liked to play, standard for a man his age. She'd learned he had good taste in clothing, with comfortable clothes, casual clothes, and formal clothes as well.

That wasn't typical of a man his age.

She'd learned he played lacrosse in school, but not now. He'd played football as well.

He read too, with works ranging from fantasy to military, but they were all fiction.

His kitchen was stocked with food that was easy to bake or throw together, but he had some cookbooks as well.

And as her abduction and rape played over and over in her mind, she couldn't help but remember the orders he'd given her. And the pleasure she'd felt at following them.

She had enjoyed it.

Sure she'd screamed at him once he'd freed her. He'd violated her. He'd used her. And while she'd been required to be his slut, the orgasms she'd had weren't entirely from his order - some of them were her own.

And up until yesterday, Kayla hadn't even known this about herself. This particular kink of hers hadn't manifested within herself fully. In fact, what had given her mind pause all day had been the realization and memory of those times when the fantasy had even slightly entered her thoughts before.

Like when she'd been walking to her car in the dark and thought she'd heard footsteps behind her. The fleeting thought of a man taking her, forcing her to submit to him and ravaging her by force had frightened her of course. But now that she thought back to it, and moments like it, her pussy had warmed itself.

To her abject shame.

The door to the apartment opened, and Kayla looked up to see her master enter the room, because that's what he was. There was no denying it or beating around the bush.

She'd been dreading this moment for hours now, the sun setting outside the door as it shut.

She rose and spoke.

"Roland Jan Piast," she said simply, her arms crossing across her chest.

He came over to the back of the couch, putting it between them, and leaned on it with both hands.

"I'm sorry," he said, but with confidence and to her, not to the floor.

"I don't care. I don't care that you're sorry. I don't care that you say you're going to 'make this right'. I don't give a shit," she said, the silence settling.

"Fine. That's fair," he said after the moment. "No use putting this off then."

"Stop!" she suddenly said, not wanting him to say more. "What the hell are you? How can you do what you did?" she asked.

"What does it matter?!" he said back, his own eyes boring back. "I was a fucking shitty ass person to you. I raped you! I took everything away from you! God I'm fucking horrible!" he said, stood and began to pace in the entryway.

And the original order, the one to 'do everything' he had said was still in effect. She'd wondered if they could wear off, but so far the answer to that was 'no'.

"Because I have to know. I need to know how you could do that- because I liked it." She paused as he stopped pacing and looked at her. "I liked it. I didn't know I would, but I did. And if you could make me do all of that from the git-go, then I need to know if you can take that away."

"Take it away?" he asked her, crossing his own arms, as she came around the couch to be closer.

"I liked the loss of control. I liked being forced to push those boundaries, against my will. But I don't want to like it. I don't want to be a freak like that for the rest of my life.

You want to make it up to me Roland? I think that would do it."

"I can do that," he said, after a minute's thought. "I will gladly do that."

"You can? For sure?" she asked, a small glimmer of hope in her voice and look.

"So far, there's not a whole lot I can't do, no," he answered.

"How does it work?" she asked, putting her hands out to her sides with her palms towards him.

"I just say 'I order', and then whatever I say happens. I made you do whatever I wanted. I made a whole room of people forget I was there. I made my dick get hard again. I changed a fucking asshole dude into a chick. I even made some dudes fuck each other then had one of them kill the others.

Not a whole lot of limits thus far," he said, his shoulders slumping slightly.

And Kayla saw him anew suddenly.

Not that he was forgiven, far from it even. But she softened to him slightly.

"Wait, you did what?" she asked, and Roland turned and went into the living room and sat in a padded chair against the wall.

"First guy is this weed dealer I know people go to. I was just about to leave and he offered me a chance to fuck 'younger chicks'. That's what he said. So as a punishment, because it was fitting, I ordered him to be the hottest chick he could imagine, then fucked her brains out. I made her remember she was a dude, but she craves dick and wants to get knocked up.

Then I went to the place she said to go to, and fuck," he said, again shaking his head. "They had girls there in this shitty ass house. Like, horror kinda shit. They're pimping em out, popping em full of drugs and shit. Well fuck that. So I gave the girls orders to slowly recover from it and go on to heal and be better. I made the one dude kill the other two then blow his own junk off.

Then I found their boss-"

"Okay, okay," Kayla interrupted him. "You can do shit. When did this start?" she asked, coming around the far side of the couch but remained standing.

And Roland found that he was feeling better. Even voicing it all out loud to someone who wouldn't remember any of it whenever he wished, it still released some of the tension that was in his chest.

"I had a dream yesterday in the student union. In the dream I said the orders. I used it on people and myself. They worshiped me. Then I woke up. Of course it's fucking stupid, it's a dream right? But then I fixed my own eyes, so I don't need my glasses anymore. Well shit, then I decided to try it on you, and the rest is pretty well known."

They stared at each other, neither knowing what to say.

"Roland," she said, and he looked from the window he'd been looking out of up at her. "You're going to make me forget all of this aren't you?"

He nodded, clasping his hands together while his eyes went to the floor.

"I have it set up. You're going to get monthly money. I've set up a trust that's untraceable. I've got it worked out that you're going to remember that you won the lottery. Not a jackpot, but a sizable amount. You won't look into it much. I'm going to make you forget me and anything we did. The trauma of my fucking asshole-ness won't ever be a thing to ever think about ever again. That's the stupid idea that led to me taking advantage of you in the god damn first place."

Again they sat in silence. Kayla surprised herself with her question.

"What are you going to do?"

Roland again looked at her, because his eyes had gone to the window again.

"I'm not sure. But I'll figure it out."

***

Kayla Rene Hamilton walked across the quad lawn to her next class, Sociology. It wasn't a subject she much cared for, but the Lexus she'd left in the parking lot put her in a good mood every time she drove it. Yet, as much as she loved it, she knew it wouldn't be her forever car, especially with the latest deposit from her lottery trust in her account.

A slight pain radiated from her rear as she walked, and she fidgeted her shorts a little to relieve it. She couldn't remember anything that would cause the pain, but it faded away shortly after, so her thoughts drifted to the amazing sunny day that it was.

"Crazy beautiful day isn't it? What's your name?" a guy on a bench suddenly asked her, with a smile and tone to say he didn't really expect an answer.

He was a bit normal looking and not her type. She preferred taller, more muscular men, and especially bald ones. They just did it for her for some reason. He wasn't horrible looking, but just not her type.

"Yeah it is, but I'm not telling!" she said with a smile, but kept walking.

"I'm Roland! I order you to wave at me with your left hand!" he said to her back, and she looked back to return the smile. There was no harm in being friendly, but he was already a bit weird.

Her phone went off in her hand and she habitually brought it up to see which one of her friends was calling her. It was her best friend, Heather.

"Hey!" Kayla said, smiling brightly.

"Hey! Where've you been? I was looking for you all day yesterday. Brooke said you didn't come back to your dorm until late last night!"

"Oh, I just decided to take a drive. Just kinda felt like getting away."

"That's not like you, you don't even like to drive."

"I know, but I was in the mood. What's up with you?"

"That's cool.

Nothing much, I have history later, and Professor Brown can be a drag. So I'm not looking forward to it."

"Ew, yeah. He just goes on and on. I had him last year."

"Yeah I know. Oh hang on, Sanjay just sent me something."

Kayla could see Heather watching something on her laptop, then her eyes went wide and her mouth dropped open.

"OH MY GOD! Kayla, you've gotta see this! This is in Paris right now, someone is live streaming it!"

The phone turned around to show the screen, but Kayla could see it well enough.

A video was playing, showing a sidewalk and a brick building looking like a normal Paris street, but at a slight angle of frame. A man was in the center of the frame wearing a black leather jacket, khaki pants down to his ankles and his hips pumping away. He looked to be white with short cropped dark hair, and was fairly heavy in weight judging by his thighs. From what Kayla could see he was about 30-ish.

He was pumping away at a rear end too, though something was off, even if the rear looked obviously like a womans.

It took Kayla a second to realize what it was.

The rear end emerged from the brick of the building as if her torso had been swallowed up. Her legs kicked and fought, but he kept humping away regardless.

But that isn't what made Kayla gasp, nor what had shocked Heather into her exclamation.

Next to the copulating people was a man also apparently swallowed by the solid brick of the French building. He was taller and thinner than the humping man, but all that could be seen was a bit of his still clothed legs from the knees down, some of his upper chest, a bit of wrist and forearm, and then his face. Like a cheese slicer had gone down him from just behind his eyes downward, the blood still wet on the wall.

His face showed the agony that he had died with. He hadn't been swallowed by the brick, rather it had cut him in half and what could be seen remained where it was as if it was a sticker on a piece of paper.

The humping man suddenly shouted with hard, lasting thrusts, "Ouais putain de salope! Prends mon sperme!" It was obvious he was cumming in the trapped woman.

After a few seconds where the man was catching his breath, he finally stepped back from the woman, wiping his wet cock on her buttcheeks before he pulled up his pants.

He looked at the dead man stuck to the brick and smiled before looking back at his conquest's ass on display.

"J'ordonne à ce mur de briques de vous transpercer comme un couteau," he could be heard saying, a faint red glow from his eyes, then walked away.

"Oh my god," Kayla said, her hand coming up to her mouth as the brick around the woman's waist also glowed an unmistakable red as well, while the weird man from the bench behind her walked the other way in the distance.