The Trap is Sprung Ch. 03

The plan had fallen into place quickly. Michael found he had an intuitive understanding of the entity's powers, while the entity seemed to quickly grasp the capabilities of modern technology. Whatever form of unspoken communication occurred between them, it was effective. Ideas flowed freely without a need for any formal language.

There would be a rave. In the warehouse. They had worked out many of the basics before recent events transpired. Michael had a DJ at the ready. Vanessa and Erika had a plan to spread word of the rave and bring in a crowd. The one major twist was that Michael would be supplying the DJ was a very special light show to play alongside the music. The DJ wasn't thrilled about that change, but a fistful of money brought him around. Shockingly, Erika and Vanessa had made no protest when Michael ordered them to supply the necessary funds to pay the DJ.

Vanessa was the their resident expert on both tech and raves, so he'd put her in charge of preparing the light show. That left Michael with little to do, besides wait in anticipation. One of perks of devouring souls, he chucked to himself, the ability to delegate.

Michael had left the girls to their tasks for the past few days. Afraid he might blow his cover and ruin everything, he'd spent most of his time laying low, following his normal routine so no one wold get suspicious. But now, on the eve of the rave, the anticipation had grown too great to bear. He needed a distraction.

And thus it was that Michael found himself sipping a coffee in his favorite cafe during the late afternoon, not long before closing time. A cafe where happened to work a particularly stunning blonde waitress over whom Michael had been drooling since he'd discovered the place three months earlier. The cafe had quickly become his favorite, and it certainly wasn't because of the mediocre coffee.

The waitress, Natasha, was the only employee left in the cafe this close to closing time. She gave the only other customer in the cafe his check, then placed Michael's check on his table with a smile. Michael knew that smile. It was a "get out of here so I can go home, but not before leaving a generous tip" smile. She had no romantic interest in him and he knew it. He wasn't a bad looking guy, but she was still way out of his league.

The other customer paid his check and left quickly, taking the not so subtle hint. Meanwhile, Michael slipped a small piece of paper into the folder with his bill, then placed it upright on the table, letting Natasha know she could come collect it.

Michael shuffled with his belongings as if preparing to leave while Natasha snatched the bill from his table with a cherry "Thanks!" Michael watched as she walked to the register and opened the folder. "What..." It was all she managed to say before the symbol Michael had drawn on the paper burrowed its way into her mind. She stood holding the open folder in one hand staring intently at the circle of ancient script.

Michael rose casually from his table and walked to the entrance of the cafe. He locked the door and flipped the sign over to display "Closed." Then he turned and surveyed his prey.

Natasha was tall for a woman at perhaps 5'9". Her wavy blonde hair tumbled down over her shoulders to her mid-back. She wore simple attire fit for work: a white t-shirt, bluejeans, sneakers, and a baby blue apron. On paper, it was a modest outfit, but everything fit so snugly that it was clear Natasha knew her generous curves could earn bigger in tips. The outfit gave male customers something to leer at without giving female customers anything obvious to complain about.

Michael watched as Natasha's full lips parted, just a hair at first, then her jaw fell wide open. Slowly, her unoccupied and reached behind her back and untied her apron, slipped the neck band over her head, and let the apron fall to the floor. She reached down and unfastened the button on her jeans, then slowly tugged the zipper down. Still staring at the drawing, Natasha slipped her hand beneath her jeans and into her panties.

Michael smiled at the steady rhythm of Natasha's hand beneath her pants, knowing her delicate fingers were gently circling her clit. She was breathing heavily now, and soft moans escaped her lips whenever her pleasure peaked.

Michael was incredibly aroused. He couldn't wait to get Natasha out of those cloths, to see that shapely body in the flesh and use it however he pleased. But there was something else gnawing at him as well. He cold feel her will, he realized. It was a strange sensation, like using a 6th sense he'd never had before. It was difficult to describe. From somewhere in his mind came the knowledge that, as the script worked is magic and sexual tension distracted Natasha's mind, her grip over her own will loosened, for lack of a better word. She had a strong will. Stronger than Erika's had been. Centuries, perhaps millennia, of experience let the entity glean certain information from a will. Natasha had overcome great adversity, and emerged stronger for it. She had an unshakable self identity and valued her independence. Michael realized he was salivating. He craved that robust will and the new power it would bring him.

Michael licked his lips. Everything he wanted was there for the taking. "Come with me," he ordered, grabbing Natasha's arm and leading her into the kitchen, out of sight from the windows. Any thoughts of toying with his prey flew out the window. He wanted her now. Michael tore off his shirt, displaying the ancient script swirling around his torso. Natasha's big, blue eyes went wide. The drawing slipped from her hand and fell to the floor, the crude imitation replaced by the real thing.

"Present," he commanded.

"Present," she mumbled back as she began removing cloths. She pulled her shirt over her head, then unfastened her bra and slipped the straps from her shoulders. Michael gulped as she revealed her tits, bigger by far than Erika's or Vanessa's. It was all he could do to stop himself from interrupting her undressing by pushing her down onto her knees and fucking those wonderful tits. But sex was not the real prize here. He wanted her will. Her body would forever be his to use afterward.

Michael began unbuttoning his own his pants as he watched Natasha hook her thumbs into the waistline of her skintight jeans and shimmy out of them, rocking her hips side to side in way that had Michael's cock standing at full attention. He slid his own pants off as Natasha pulled a pair of hot pink panties below her hips, let them fall down her legs to her feet, then stepped out of them.

Michael was in awe. It was a travesty Natasha was waiting tables. She belonged on a fashion runway or in blockbuster films. She was an absolute bombshell. A perfect 10/10. And she was about to be his.

Natasha began lowering herself down to her knees, but Michael stepped forward and stopped her, grabbing her by the arm. "No," he said. "No games." He grabbed her by the hips and effortlessly lifted her up, setting her bare ass on the cold, stainless steel counter. That would have been harder to do a few days ago, he thought briefly to himself, impressed by his own strength.

"Lay back," Michael instructed, and Natasha lay her back flat against the counter. Michael lifted her legs over his shoulders. He brushed his cheek along the warm, smooth skin of her thigh. "You're mine," he informer her. "I'm yours," she agreed, tilting her head up to watch the swirling script.

Michael quickly lined himself up and pressed inside her. She was already thoroughly wet... eager to be filled. He let out a satisfied grunt at the same moment a soft moan escaped her lips. He watched, mesmerized, as her breasts bounced with each of his thrusts. Soon, thin tendrils of the ancient text made the jump from his arms to her thighs and began their slow crawl up her body.

Michael's fingers dug into the 's soft skin of Natasha thighs as he watched the tendrils snake up her abdomen. The first sign she was aware that anything was wrong was a wince of disgust as the script climbed the underside of her breasts and slid over her nipples then back down the opposite side toward her neck. Michael could feel the entity tugging at her will now, could feel her will beginning to tear away. "No, please. Please stop!" The familiar begging meant nothing to Michael now. He watched Natasha's face intently. He could see the fear blooming in her eyes. "Please!" He wanted to watch it happen, the moment she broke. The moment she became his. "No!" she screamed as the tendrils reached her temples. Michael felt her soul tear away with a satisfying rip. Her body went slack, her eyes vacant. "Yes!" Michael growled as he felt her soul surge into him. "Yes!" he shouted again as he came inside her, her breasts rocking back and forth with his continuing thrusts.

Michael threw his head back and closed his eyes as he continued slowly pumping into her. He'd never in his life felt this good. His post-orgasm haze mixed with a new surge in vitality beyond anything he'd experienced. A mere taste of what was to come. This city... this nation would submit to his control. And still it would be only the beginning. The entire world would be his. All women would become his thralls. Billions of them. The best among them, thousands of women, would become his personal harem, to be used and discarded whenever new beauties emerged to supplant them. Suitable men would be reduced to breeding stock while others were forced into labor or simply killed. New generations would be born for the sole purpose of providing souls on which he could feed. His control would be absolute.

Michael shook himself out of his daydream and looked down at Natasha. He'd almost forgotten she was there. He watched her empty eyes stare up at the ceiling. She's nothing now. Empty. His interest in her was already fading. Odd, he thought. The most beautiful girl I've ever met naked and under my command, willing to act out every fantasy I've ever had, and I'm bored of her already? The idea was momentarily disconcerting, but he was quickly distracted again by thoughts of the night's upcoming events.

"Clean yourself up and get dressed," he ordered, pulling his cock out of Natasha and reaching for his pants. Act normal, as if nothing happened here this afternoon. But invite all your friends to a rave tonight at this address." He pulled a slip of paper from the pocket of his jeans and pressed it on the counter. "Sell it. It'll be the party of a lifetime," he said grinning.

Michael finished dressing and left the cafe while Natasha was still mechanically pulling her clothes back on.

Only a few hours to wait now.

___________________________________

It was time. Finally time.

Michael could feel the music thumping through the warehouse, even from where he sat in the basement. He felt oddly at home there, in the dark. A remnant of the entity's long years there, he supposed. In any event, he had no stomach for the debauchery taking place upstairs. Music, dancing, drugs, alcohol. They were of no interest to him anymore. Domination, control--those were his vices now, and he did not trust himself around the temptations upstairs. So he waited for his moment to come.

Upstairs, Erika waded her way through the crowd of dancing college students as she grinned and swayed to the pounding electronic dance music music. On the wall behind her, a projector displayed some trippy music video felled with flashing colors and dancers in bizarre costumes. The energy of the room was overwhelming. The heat, the noise, the sweat, the mass of swaying bodies--it was everything anyone hoped for in a rave.

Erika fit right in with the crowd, wearing a black micro skirt laced up the sides, leaving two slivers of exposed thigh all the way up to her waist; black fishnet stocking; black combat boots, and a black, mesh crop top that left her hot pink bra fully visible beneath. The outfit would have been scandalous on campus, but it was almost modest here. At least she had her tits covered, which was more than could be said of a few girls wearing only pasties over their nipples. Erika knew she looked good. She'd caught the eyes of more than a few guys already, though she'd deftly avoided them all. Her smile was as much a mask as her winged eyeliner and cherry red lipstick. She was not there for fun. She was only pretending to have fun because her master had ordered it.

Erika stepped up onto a raised platform with the DJ. He glanced her direction, giving her a quick eye fuck before turning back to his work. Erika ignored him. She surveyed the crowd. It was just after midnight and there looked to be around 200 people at the party, on par with the turnout they'd expected. Erika look out over the crowd toward the back of the room and saw Vanessa and Natasha right where they should be, not far from the entrance. It was plain which of the two was the real rave enthusiast. Natasha had gone through her wardrobe to find a rave-appropriate outfit and the best she could come up with was a set of white lingerie. It certainly sufficed to highlight her natural beauty, but she lacked the distinct flare of the seasoned rave veteran grinding against her. Vanessa wore a short skirt and matching camisole top that left her midriff and a lot of cleavage exposed. The entire outfit was made from layered sequins that shifted through a whole rainbow of colors depending on the lighting. She wore multicolored leg wraps and purple combat boots. The coup de grâce was a neon blue choker with a metal loop where a leash could be attached.

The two girls were using each other for cover. Men didn't usually harass you if it was clear you were batting for the other team, so to speak. But that hadn't stopped a small group from forming around them to openly gawk as Vanessa pressed her ass into the beautiful blonde, swaying her hips back and forth. Natasha played right along, running her hand sensually over Vanessa's hips.

Both girls kept a close eye on Erika as she walked onto the raised platform. Erika nodded at them and they immediately halted their dancing to the disappointment of the onlookers. They headed straight for the entrance to the warehouse. Natasha blocked Vanessa from view while Vanessa chained and locked the door. There was no need to keep anyone inside; no one would try to leave. But Michael didn't want any late arrivals causing trouble. Once finished, Vanessa nodded back at Erika, who then leaned down to whisper into the DJ's ear. "Play the video."

The DJ rolled his eyes. Why even hire him if they wanted to use their amateur videos? But they were the ones paying, so he pulled up the video file Erika had given him earlier that night and hit play.

Suddenly, the symbol that had started this whole cascade of events occupied an entire wall of the warehouse. It was same circular image formed from flowing text that had been graffitied on the warehouse wall, displayed in the same unearthly green. Then it began to move. The labyrinth of foreign script came alive as fine lines of incomprehensible text spiraled in concentric circles, bending and weaving to form new patterns within the overall shape. The effect was immediate. Those facing the direction of the wall stopped what they were doing, their bodies going suddenly slack. Others soon turned to see what was happening and met the same fate. The video was far more potent than the graffiti had been, and it took less than a full minute for the weakest willed women to drop to their knees--their first display of submission to the ancient power. Minutes later, when the more stubborn girls finally knelt, the early succumbers were already plunging fingers into wet pussies, building up the sexual pleasure that would pave the way for their demise.

Meanwhile, then men stared vacantly at the wall. The entity had never held the same power over men, nor did Michael care to. He could not consume the wills of men and he had no interest in pursuing pleasures of the flesh with them. The technologically enhanced image was enough to empty their minds and distract them from anything happening around them. So they stood watching the video, unaware of the room full of masturbating women surrounding them.

It took no more than five minutes before even the strongest willed girls knelt in submission. More and more hands slid beneath skirts and shorts and lingerie. Soon, all the girls in the room were obeying subliminal commands within the script and pleasuring themselves.

Erika, Vanessa, and Natasha watched contentedly. Michael had instructed that following his commands would make them happy and horny, and so it did. They had no qualms about the fact the room full of soon-to-be slaves included several of their friends. Old friendships meant nothing to them now.

The video held no power over over the three slaves. They were empty shells, with no will left to subdue. Obeying their master was their only purpose. And they still had work do do.

Erika reached over the incapacitated the DJ and cut the music. "All of the women will stand and undress," she commanded, her voice echoing through the warehouse.

Their pliant minds accepted the order without objection. Every woman stood and began to discard clothing. Shoes were kicked off, shirts lifted overhead, skirts unzipped, shorts unbuttoned. Panties and bras fell to floor. The girls then resumed staring at the wall and pleasuring themselves.

"Stop what you're doing and follow me,"Erika shouted as she strode off the podium and walked toward the door leading down to the basement. A hundred naked girls silently followed, leaving the men behind. The image of the script burned bright in the girls' minds, and its messages bid them along. Obey. Serve. Submit. Follow.

Vanessa and Natasha watched as the last of the girls entered the staircase then followed through.

Michael sat cross-legged on the basement floor and watched with anticipation as the girls streamed in. So many! Several had caught his attention already. A tall, lithe blonde. An athletic redhead. A Middle Eastern girl with the biggest tits he'd ever seen. A tiny Asian he could hardly wait to pick up and use like a human fleshlight. He was rock hard as they crowded the room before him. But even greater than his lust was the overwhelming urge to feast on the great collection of wills.

When the last of the girls had entered, Erika gave a final command: "Present."

The room full of naked women knelt simultaneously, placed their hands behind their backs, and thrust out their chests.

Michael slowly stood and surveyed the room. It was every man's wet dream. A hundred naked college girls kneeling in subservience, presenting their bodies for his use.

Michael could see wet skin glistening between the thighs of the closest girls. He knew what the light show had done to their minds. He knew how horny they were, how much they craved pleasure. But they awaited his commands. Their bodies and minds were ready; he had only to claim them.

Michael removed his shirt and tossed it to the ground, revealing the swirling script beneath. A hundred pairs of eyes flashed to his chest. Jaws dropped. A couple girls whimpered pathetically, their weak minds crumbing beneath the onslaught of subconscious commands.

It was obvious that the usual ritual of fucking his prey into submission would not work on this unprecedented scale. He still had, after all, only one dick. But that was no concern. Sexual pleasure was necessary for the process to work, but there was no requirement that the pleasure come from him. That was simply a bonus, his reward for securing another will for the entity. The pleasure could come from the victims' own hands as easily as his cock.

The anticipation of consuming this many wills was so overwhelming that Michael almost gave the order for the girls to start masturbating immediately, but he found the self-restraint necessary to give himself one further indulgence. Perhaps he couldn't fuck all the girls, but he could still fuck one of them. He waded his way through the crowd, stroking his cock as he walked, looking for something truly special. The girls' eyes trailed him, fixated on the script.