by S. G. Liminal
Chapter 07 - The Cabal
Samael smirked at the reflected image in the full wall mirror. His body was immaculate, every muscle sculpted by an artist. His tanned skin glistened lightly with the sweat of exertion. His longish brown hair was swept back, revealing piercing, intelligent blue eyes. A close shave outlined his sharp aquiline features.
Lying on her back before him, Sylla was not in a comparable state. Exhaustion had stolen the taut firmness from her body. Sweat covered every inch of her skin, running in rivulets down her neck and sides. Her long, auburn hair was a disheveled mess and her hazel eyes, half-closed, lacked focus. Her lips were parted, but not in the sensual manner she so carefully cultivated. Samael grinned down at her as he slid his long, perfect cock in and out of her pussy.
With lazy casualness, he ran his thumb in small circles against her clit. Sylla moaned and closed her eyes. Her head shook from side to side, as though to refuse the orgasm he could feel building inside of her. He increased the pace of his thrusts. "Look at me, Sylla," he ordered. Her eyes fluttered open and locked onto his with helpless obedience. "Good girl," he teased. "Now cum."
She fought it. Her breath hitched as she attempted to gain control of her passion. Clutching the sheets of the bed as though they could save her, she feebly attempted to meet his thrusts. Samael laughed down at her with undisguised disdain. Now she knew how lucky she had been to defeat him at their last meeting. Now she understood the futility of resistance.
When they first met, Samael had dominated every aspect of their sexual encounter until Sylla had managed to trick him with a cunning ploy. She had gained control over him and used that control to snatch victory from the jaws of defeat. Tonight, Samael had taken care to reconstruct every nuance of their previous battle. He fucked her in every position he had last time. He made her cum whenever called for by the script in his mind. This time, however, when they reached that crucial moment at which Sylla could hope to turn the tables, Samael had swatted aside her attempt with ease.
Her confidence thus shattered, Samael had his way with her. He took her in position after position, watching as her last reserves of energy and hope drained away. An air of desperation hung over Sylla as he plowed through the very last of her defenses. He could taste imminent victory in the sweat between her breasts.
He slammed his cock into her with brutal force. "I told you to cum!" he shouted. Sylla obliged, not only with cries of pleasure as her final orgasm shot through her, but with the abandonment of all thoughts of victory. She looked up at him with pleading eyes, unable to even beg him to stop as she climaxed endlessly.
Samael loosed a wordless bellow of triumph and pounded his hips against Sylla with renewed vigor. Sylla's body fell limp and she whimpered pathetically. The force of his thrusts caused her head to bang against the bed's headboard with each collision of their bodies. Knock knock knock.
He had done it. He had defeated Sylla. And she was only the first. He was so much stronger now. More sexually potent than ever before. With this victory, he gained access to the next tier in The Club. "Please," Sylla moaned. "Please. You win." Samael ignored her. His cock was harder than it had ever been before. He was not nearly done. He pumped his cock into her. Knock knock knock.
He wouldn't stop with Sylla. He was going to be the first of The Club's Angels to defeat every single Member. He would take his revenge against Nikki for her unspeakable torture and then he would take down Donna. The Club would be his and they would all serve him. And service him.
Knock knock knock.
Samael startled awake and stumbled awkwardly out of bed, swaying unsteadily. The fantasy was already fading.
Weeks had passed since his endless torture at the hands of Nikki. Well, at the hands and mouth of Nikki. Her legendary, incredible, terrible mouth. After losing a wager with Donna, the leader of The Club, he had spent hours chained to a wall with Nikki kneeling before him. The first orgasm she had brought him to had come in mere seconds. He had never felt a tongue like hers. She never even allowed him to go soft. His next climax followed less than a minute later. That was the last pleasure he took from the experience.
Each subsequent orgasm had taken longer to achieve and had been increasingly uncomfortable until discomfort gave way to pain. And then to panic. He had shouted and threatened. Begged and pleaded. Nikki had only taunted and teased him all the more ruthlessly as tears began to stream down his face.
By the fifth or sixth orgasm, he no longer actually ejaculated. Each orgasm was completely dry. But Nikki's mouth was hot and wet and she forced him to remain hard long after he was sure his body was no longer capable of sustaining an erection. Samael had stopped counting, had lost the ability to count, by the twelfth orgasm, but she had not stopped for many more hours and many more orgasms. Not until long after he had felt something snap in his mind like a dry stick.
Since that day, Samael had not had an orgasm. He was not even capable of gaining an erection without pharmaceutical assistance. He had tried everything. Entertained every fantasy. Nothing worked. He was broken. Destroyed. His life was over. Nikki had ruined him. On Donna's orders. But it was all Sylla's fault, really.
Knock knock knock.
Samael staggered slowly out of his bedroom and stumbled down the long hallway, bracing against the wall for support. He could not remember the last time he had eaten and was weak as a kitten from lack of nourishment. As he passed one of the many mirrors lining the hall, he caught a glimpse of himself and did not recognize the emaciated, unshaven man staring back at him with haunted eyes. All at once he became aware of the stench of his own body. He could not remember his last shower, either.
The murmur of voices startled him out of his reflection and he turned to stare dumbly at the front door of his home. Someone was out there. Knocking. But, who? And why?
He didn't care. The door was locked. They would go away and leave him alone with his misery.
A wave of lightheadedness washed over Samael and he leaned against a wall as his vision blurred. He heard a faint click and as his sight cleared, he stared open-mouthed at the door swinging open to reveal a swarm of beautiful women. The most exotically attractive of them stepped forward and Samael fell to his knees before her. "Mistress Claire!" he attempted, but all that emitted from his dry throat was a gravelly croak.
Claire, the leader of the Cabal, was ranked 11th in The Club, one step away from reaching the top most of the exclusive tiers. As she had climbed the ranks, she had busily recruited weaker Members to her cause. The witchcraft Claire wielded was rumored to enhance the sexual abilities of herself and her minions. And it was undeniable that each had been climbing steadily through the rankings since becoming her thrall.
Samael remained kneeling, transfixed by the raw power and beauty standing before him. The women behind her were all wearing normal clothing, but Claire was covered by a floor-length, unadorned black robe. The hood was pushed back and Claire's long, honey-colored hair spilled over her shoulders and down her back. Her skin had the healthy olive glow of noble Middle-Eastern families. Samael stared into her eyes which seemed to hide behind a smoky veil. Were they gray? Brown? A wave of nausea crashed over him and Samael collapsed to his hands and knees.
Without so much as a gesture from Claire, but following an unmistakably issued command, the rest of the Cabal filed silently into Samael's home.
First came Amber, ranked 12th, a former porn star who, at the height of her career, had given it all up to become a Member of the Club. Her blonde, California-girl innocent good looks belied a vicious ambition.
Jennifer followed, one of the Club's founding members. The stunningly gorgeous redhead had long been on a downward spiral as younger, hungrier women forced her down the rankings. She had been among the first to join Claire's Cabal, trading her soul for a chance to reclaim the glory of her youth. Already, she had avenged her previous two losses and regained the 17th rank.
Della came next. A tall, willowy professional model with brown hair and darkly tanned skin. It was rumored that Claire had forced Della into servitude against her will as a display of power to the other members of the Cabal. Whatever the truth, Della served with utter loyalty. She remained 20th, as Claire had not allowed her to challenge for a higher ranking since bringing her into the fold.
Kym entered pulling a bulging black suitcase behind her. She had been a practicing witch when she joined The Club and was immediately snatched up by Claire. She had rocketed through the rankings, and currently sat at the 22nd position. Her sassy reputation made her a favorite among the Angels, the men who served all The Club's Members.
On her heels came Linda, the bubbling blue-eyed beauty with curly blonde hair. Her joyful enthusiasm for sex had not helped her climb past the lowest tier until she had joined the Cabal. Less than a month after submitting to Claire's will, she had won her first challenge match in half a year and entered the next tier with a ranking of 24th.
Last of the Cabal, Amy entered. The Cabal's newest and most junior member, she was one of the least imposing Members of The Club. Standing only a hair over five feet and lacking the pin-up body shared by so many of the other Members, Amy's greatest weapon was her immense intellect. Sylla had foolishly challenged her and earned the contempt of Claire.
Samael blinked in confusion as the women spread throughout his home with efficient purpose. As he turned his attention back to Claire, she held a painted clay bottle before him. With shaking hands, he grasped it. She stared down at him and his stomach tightened into a knot. Drink it. The command echoed in his head. Had she spoken it aloud?
He raised the bottle to his lips and tilted it back. The smell hit him as the first drop of liquid touched his lips. Death, decay, worms, fear. He shuddered with revulsion and gagged, but his body would not obey the panic in his mind. More of the liquid flowed into his mouth. Terror, fire, rot, putrescence. Pain wracked Samael's body. His eyes watered, his tongue swelled, his stomach heaved.
Samael's fragile mind splintered with blinding pain. His sanity fled like rats from a sinking ship. He could not see, hear, or think. He could not even scream. A single thought coalesced in the ruin of his psyche: Mistress Claire.
His mouth was filled with honey. Golden, delicious ambrosia. He swallowed greedily, not allowing a single drop to escape his lips. He was assaulted by sensations. The smell of honeysuckle on a warm spring morning, old leather, freshly sliced oranges. The moans of lovers rang in his ears. He could feel smooth bare skin rubbing against his body.
The empty bottle fell from his fingers and shattered into a thousand fragments before him. He looked up reverently. "Mistress Claire," he whispered through cracked lips.
A hint of a smile touched Claire's mouth.
Cool hands slipped beneath Samael's arms and pulled him to his feet. "Go, Samael," Claire commanded. "Kym and Linda will prepare you for the ritual." She turned away, dismissing them, and Samael felt the loss like a stab wound in his gut.
He was dimly aware, as he was led through his house, of a flurry of activity all around him. Members of the Cabal were pushing furniture about, clearing the accumulation of unwashed dishes, and unpacking an assortment of strange items from their black suitcase.
He found, to his surprise, that he felt better than he had in days. More alive. Stronger. He noticed for the first time that he had two of the Club's Members, who had previously been far above his station, walking on either side of him, their amazing bodies brushing against his in the narrow hallway.
He was guided into the master bathroom, where the large walk-in shower was already filling the room with steam. Kym and Linda began to undress themselves with an uncanny mixture of sensuality and detached professionalism. Samael moved to undress himself before realizing that he was already fully naked. He had been nude the entire time.
Linda, smiling sweetly, pulled Samael by the hand into the shower and beneath the multiple jets of hot water. Kym followed moments later, carrying a razor and several bottles of soap and shampoo. Samael stood in a daze as two of the most powerful and attractive women he had ever encountered began to wash his body clean with soft sponges and scented soaps.
Kym was kneeling before him, rubbing a soapy sponge along the length of his thighs, when he felt the first stirrings deep within himself. Linda was standing behind him, her hands massaging his scalp with shampoo, her large breasts brushing lightly against his back. Samael drew in a deep breath and closed his eyes. Mistress Claire's potion had cured him!
Samael opened his eyes slowly and looked down. Kym was kneeling frozen before him, staring with lust-filled eyes at his swelling cock. Samael placed his hands on either side of her face and gently pulled her closer. Her lips opened as her eyes closed and she took him into her mouth. Water coursed down her lithe body as she began to suck his cock.
Linda's hands roamed over his smooth chest as she began to writhe her body against him, her nipples hard against his back. She left a trail of kisses from one muscled shoulder to the other. He reached backwards with one hand and gripped Linda's ass while guiding Kym's head with the other. The women moaned in unison.
Linda's body, slick with soap, slid easily against Samael with building tension. His fingers traced patterns along her ass and around her thigh, seeking her wet pussy. Linda gasped and moaned deep in her throat as he found her clit and began teasing it between two fingers. She arched up on her toes to kiss him, attacking his tongue with desperate hunger. Samael met her passion and doubled it, forcing Linda to break the kiss, panting for breath.
Kym, sensing a lack of attention, began to rapidly pump the shaft of Samael's cock with one hand while running the other over his flat stomach and muscular chest. She alternated between sucking his balls, running her tongue along the length of his shaft, and taking his large head into her mouth. She moaned in ecstasy as she increased her pace.
While Samael guided Kym according to his desires with one hand atop her head, he curled the fingers of his other hand around the back of Linda's neck and pulled her into anther deep kiss. His tongue penetrated her lips and she shuddered against him, whimpering softly. When she could take no more and broke off the kiss, Samael forced her downward, and she trailed kisses along his chest and side as she dropped to her knees beside Kym.
Samael grabbed a handful of dripping wet hair in each hand and forced them to look up at him. "Ok, ladies," he said, a grin spreading on his face. "Here's the game. Whoever sucks my cock the best, gets fucked. The loser will have to watch."
They attacked his cock with the ferocity of starving lions. Their hands clutching his ass, pumping his shaft, raking nails down his muscled stomach. Their mouths and tongues battled for ownership of the head of his cock. Kym won, after drawing Linda into a passionate kiss that left the blonde girl breathless. Kym went to work, her tongue flicking with perfection against the sensitive skin beneath the head. She looked up into his eyes and attempted to take him fully into her throat. Samael flexed the head of his cock and Kym disengaged, coughing.
Linda eagerly took her place, drawing Samael into her hot, wet mouth. She clutched her own large breasts in her hands, teasing the nipples and massaging, as she pistoned her head against Samael's cock. Kym recovered quickly and began sucking and licking Samael's balls.
Back and forth they went, each trying to gain Samael's favor with their unsurpassed abilities. Linda was capable of taking Samael deeper into her throat than Kym, but Kym's fiery passion won her points. Often, when Linda was in control, Kym would attack her, fingering, pinching, and biting until Linda was temporarily incapacitated, allowing Kym to take over.
When no clear victor emerged, Samael declared their battle a draw and forced them both to bend over before him. He shoved his cock first into Kym, who cried out in pleasure. He drove two fingers into Linda's pussy, eliciting a matching exclamation.
He fucked them both, bent over in his shower, until their legs were shaking from the power of their orgasms. They clutched each other for support, their eyes willing Samael to focus on the other so that they might have time to recover. He was close to finishing them both, he knew. Had any man ever defeated two of The Club's Members at once? Surely not.
A pinprick of pain, like a bee sting on the back of his neck, woke him from his reverie.
Samael blinked in confusion. Kym stepped out from behind him, already dried and wearing a black robe. He was standing alone in the shower. Linda, also wearing the black robe of the Cabal, was looking at him expectantly. He looked down. His penis remained flaccid. It had only been a dream. He was still broken.
With a sigh of resignation, he stepped slowly out of the shower. Kym and Linda quickly toweled him dry. His body had been shaved clean. Even his long hair had been trimmed. The women went about their work with clinical indifference, never meeting his eyes. They refused to allow him deodorant, cologne, or clothing, but did insist that he thoroughly brush his teeth.
When he had finished to their satisfaction, they led him out of the bathroom and into a transformed world hardly recognizable as his house.
Every light had been extinguished. Candles lined the long hallway casting shadows that leapt and danced to a dark song. As he watched, mesmerized, he found he could almost hear the music. The shadows beckoned Samael to give himself over to their madness.
Cool hands pushed him down the hallway and he obeyed, stumbling forward on unsteady legs. His head swam and he reached out to brace himself for support. His hand sunk into the wall and he pulled back in revulsion. The walls began to breath in an alien rhythm. He was inside of some awful creature. It had swallowed him whole. He looked around wildly for an escape, but the hallway stretched onwards for miles. He collapsed, screaming in horror.
Warm hands pulled him off the floor where he had curled into a fetal ball and shoved him down the hallway, deeper into the belly of the beast. The terror was paralyzing, but he lacked the strength of will to resist.
After an eternity of torment, they turned the corner and he faced what once had been his living room.
A large circle dominated the room, easily 15 feet across. The circle was constructed of a variety of strange materials. The base appeared to be a thick band of fine white sand. Slivers of gleaming metal showed through the sand in places: silver, copper, and gold. Spaced evenly around the circle stood tall black candles, filling the room with flickering shadows, dancing upon the walls.
Claire stood in the center of the circle, her eyes closed and hands held out in a gesture of supplication. Her lips moved, as though in prayer, but no sound came forth.
Hands, now uncomfortably hot, pressed Samael forward towards the circle. Kym and Linda moved away from him, taking their places around the outside of the circle next to their robed sisters.
Samael shuffled forward, swaying drunkenly, his eyes fixed upon Mistress Claire. With every step he took towards the circle, an electricity built in the air around him. Goose flesh broke out across his body and an unpleasant humming grew in his ears. He knew if he could only reach Mistress Claire, everything would be better. She was the only one who could fix him.
The humming grew painful and the very air seemed to push back against him as he traveled the last few feet towards the edge of the circle. With a tremendous exertion of willpower he forced his body to close the last few inches towards salvation.
As he broke the plane of the circle, the world exploded in blinding light and pain. He landed awkwardly upon his back ten feet away. Smoke rose in tendrils from his twisted body. He writhed in agony, his teeth clenched against a scream.
You do not enter except by my leave, the voice echoed in his mind. Her voice. Mistress Claire's voice. You will never disappoint me again. Now, rise, and approach.
Unsteadily, Samael regained his feet. The world was subtly different. The hum was gone. The strange magnetic pressure was gone from the air. Claire and her Cabal stood watching him calmly, silently.
Samael stepped cautiously forward, wary of another explosion of pain, but nothing happened. He stepped over the threshold and into the circle with an awkward sense of disappointment. He shook his head as though to clear it. He was aware that he was losing his mind, piece by piece. Fantasy and reality intertwining so closely that he could no longer distinguish the difference between them.
"Is this a dream?" Samael asked Claire. "Are you real? Am I going insane?"
Searing pain racked his mind and body. Invisible weight crushed down upon him, forcing him to his knees. He opened his mouth to scream, but he had no breath in his lungs.
The pain vanished, leaving a gaping hole where it had been, consuming his sanity. Samael shivered and sucked air into his lungs. He opened his eyes to find Mistress Claire standing directly in front of him.
"You do not question me," Mistress Claire informed him icily. Her hand cracked across his face like a baseball bat and he fell heavily onto his side.
Pain again. A thousand times worse than before. He couldn't breath, couldn't think. There was nothing but pain. Then, it was gone.
KNEEL! He scrambled back to his knees and looked pleadingly to Mistress Claire, but she had turned away from him and was walking slowly towards the opposite end of the circle.
"The answers to your questions are yes, no, and that is not for you to know. But not in that order." She turned back to him. "If I have to discipline you again, you will not survive. Do you understand?"
Samael nodded, too terrified to speak.
"Good. Let us begin."
Claire brought her hands together and Samael felt the circle snap shut around them, sealing them inside. He could still see the lesser members of the Cabal standing vigilant around the circle, but they seemed more distant. Less real. As though viewed through a smoky veil.
Claire began to chant, a wordless, tuneless prayer. The others joined in, their voices muted through the barrier.
The candles flared brightly then faded and drifted apart. The circle elongated and straightened until Samael found himself standing at one end of a long platform, lit by burning braziers. On either side of the platform there was only darkness, forever. He could no longer see the Cabal, but he could hear their voices. The chanting was beginning to take shape, but that shape was alien and terrible.
At the far end of the corridor, Mistress Claire stood on a raised platform before a stone altar. She beckoned him forward.
Samael gathered what remained of his mind and rose to his feet. He took a step towards her, and then another. His legs felt steady for the first time since this day began. The chanting voices swirled around him, lifting him and lending him strength.
Ungath lahon echat en natti es.
The words assaulted Samael. He clenched his eyes shut and held his hands over his ears, doubling over as his mind fractured under the pressure of the eldritch sounds.
Jack is 11 years old. He is hidden inside of his older sister's closet watching as she and her friends take sips of vodka and play Truth or Dare. His sister, Veronica, and her friends are seniors in high school. They have bodies that grown men and women crave. Men out of lust, women out of jealousy. As the alcohol flows, the game grows risque. It was only ever a cover for their desire to experiment.
Truths give way to dares. The dares grows increasingly bold. Veronica kisses Kathy full on the lips, slipping her tongue into her friend's mouth at the last instant, eliciting a squeal of giggles. Rona is dared to remove her shirt and bra. Rona dares Veronica to kiss her nipples.
Jack has his first erection. He is scared. He doesn't know if something is wrong with him and he is trapped in Vera's closet, but he instinctively understands that his erection is tied to what his sister and her friends are doing. He is still watching when he absentmindedly begins touching his hard penis. It seems comically large. The head is poking out the leg of his shorts. He lets out a little moan as he squeezes it between both hands.
There is a loud gasp followed by frantic shuffling. The closet door is yanked open and three young women in various stages of undress are staring at him with a spectrum of emotions. Fury, amusement, shock.
Veronica grabs him painfully by the hair and drags him out of the closet, threatening death and worse if he should breath a word of what he has seen to mom and dad. Jack begins to cry. Veronica shakes him, yelling at him to promise, when he hears Rona say quietly, "Veronica...look at the size of his...look at it."
He watches in terror as they crowd around him, staring at his penis. He tries to pull his shorts down, but they aren't long enough to cover the whole thing. He looks up desperately, and pleads with Vera not to tell mom and dad.
Kathy is the shyest of the three girls, but she is the first to touch it. Her fingers are cool as they curl around the shaft. Jack gasps and tries to pull away but Veronica grabs his hands and pins them behind his back.
"Kathy," Vera says quietly, a smiling creeping on to her face. "I dare you to kiss it."
Samael moved forward, towards Mistress Claire. Behind him the confused cries of a terrified boy are drowned out by the giggles of cruel girls.
Mistress Claire stood before the altar, leaning casually back against it. Her robe had fallen open at the neck, revealing a slice of skin and the barest hint of the swell of a breast. One smooth, shapely leg poked out from the fold of the material. Samael strode towards her. He could feel a trickle of energy flowing into him.
Ungshasa anaad lagash. Onen nele.
Jack is 14 years old. Somehow his sister has convinced their parents to let him visit her at college for the weekend. Years of torment and threats at the hands of Veronica and her growing circle of friends have burned away the guilt of their sins.
It is pledge week at Veronica's sorority. He is wearing a bondage suit. The full body rubber suit is hot and uncomfortable, but he is strongly aroused. He is chained to a wall of the basement and the opening over his mouth is zipped tightly shut. The pledges that enter the room gasp and point and laugh hysterically, but before the night is over, if they want to join the sorority, every one of them will have taken a turn at sucking his dick. Those few that are accepted will get much more than that.
Jack will not cum no matter what they do to him. Veronica will hurt him if he does. He will watch the girls on their knees before him and grunt and shake, but he will not let himself cum.
Midnight arrives and the scared, excited girls are lined up before him. The first is terrified, unsure if she is actually expected to go through with it. When the older girls only stare at her in disappointment, she kneels before him and takes his big dick in her shaking hands. She kisses the head awkwardly, stealing a glance at the sorority leader for approval. She is ejected from the house, her hopes dashed.
The second girl is not going to make the same mistake. She scrambles between his legs and begins to lick with youthful enthusiasm. She's done it before, he can tell, but not very many times. And never on someone as big as him. After a few minutes pass she is called away. She hasn't been eliminated, but neither has she impressed enough to guarantee entry to the sorority. She's a maybe.
When it is the next girl's turn, she leaves without even trying, tears of embarrassment flowing down her cheeks.
Pledge #4 walks slowly and confidently towards him. She holds his dick in one hand and starts kissing him through the bondage suit. Her tongue leaves wet streaks across the rubber as she licks and kisses her way down his body until she is kneeling before him. Stroking him slowly, she begins to suck his head and nibble along the underside of his long, hard shaft. He begins to shudder and moan as her hot mouth slides along his length. He is going to cum.
A hand grips his throat like a vice. The fingernails are sharp against his skin even through the thick material. His eyes are closed but he knows it is Veronica. And he knows what will happen to him if he fails her. The girl between his legs doesn't hesitate for an instant, but fear has brought Jack's emotions back under control. A few minutes later, the girl is stopped. She is told to stand with her new sorority sisters. Later tonight, she and the other successful initiates will use him any way they desire.
Jack takes a deep breath and watches as the next girl approaches.
Samael continued forward, reaching the halfway point to the altar. Storms raged on either side of him. Purple clouds ejected forks of lightning, turning the world into blinding whiteness for an instant. Rain pelted his face, but he forced himself forward.
Mistress Claire sat atop the altar, her robe opened wide enough to reveal the large, perfectly formed swell of her cleavage. She was breathing heavily, her chest heaving. The storm was strongest around her, swirling winds surrounded her and the chants of her Cabal swelled. Samael was dimly aware of a forgotten sensation, a stirring deep inside of himself. He took another step towards his savior.
Eth ieenm tu Kadath araan ammral osund chel Tuk-Unn.
Jack kneels with the other slaves. They are on display for a special guest today.
Veronica escorts the mousy, unassuming woman into her dungeon and asks which she will require for her pleasure.
"I merely wish to watch."
Veronica commands the slaves to impress their guest with their skills. The male slaves are out-numbered 8 to 3. The male slaves are each grabbed by two of the female slaves. The remaining two women begin to kiss each other.
Jack has been Veronica's slave since she opened the S&M dungeon. He has been her slave all his life, in truth. He has been forced to serve her, service her, and submit to her every wish.
Jack falls to his back, allowing the women to pin him to the ground. He closes his eyes and submits to their dominance. Hands and mouths roam his body. He writhes and moans as he has been taught. But he will not cum. Not until Veronica allows him to.
A hand, her hand, closes tightly around his throat. "I told you to impress our guest," Veronica hisses in his ear. "Don't just lay there. Fuck them. Fuck them all."
Jack obeys, easily taking control of the two slaves. He knows them. Has watched them serve their masters dozens of times. He knows exactly how to dominate them and does so with the fluid efficiency of an artist. When he is finished with them, he moves on to the two women.
The brunette is controlling the blonde, forcing the slave to lick her pussy. Jack shoves his cock into the brunette's mouth and curls his fingers into the blonde's hair, forcing her tongue deeper into the brunette's pussy.
When they are no longer of use to him, Jack turns to those that remain. Both threesomes are in disarray. The men have been finished. One of the women is nearly done. Jack grins and joins the fray, taking each of the four in turn until he alone remains.
Veronica approaches and he falls to his knees before her. She pets him idly and smiles at her guest. "Did you enjoy the show? Jack is my greatest creation. He is physically incapable of orgasm except by my command."
The strange guest stares at him blankly for a long moment. "I'll take him."
Veronica bristles. "He is not for sale," she says coldly. "And anyway, he is of no use to anyone but me. He can only perform for me. I will make a gift of any of the others, but he is mine."
The small woman turns her large, spectacled eyes upon Veronica. "A wager, then. If I can make him cum in under a minute, he comes with me. If I fail, you can be a Member of The Club."
Lust and greed fill Veronica's eyes. "Yes! I accept!" She turns to Jack and glares down at him, grabbing him by the throat. "You will not cum, do you understand me? If you do, you will regret it for the rest of your miserable life. DO NOT CUM!"
Samael nods in absolute obedience. No power in the world can make him betray his master.
The small woman approaches Veronica and kisses her. Veronica shudders and her knees buckle. The strange woman whispers into her ear as she runs her small hands over Veronica's body and she falls to her own knees next to Jack.
She turns to Jack and gestures for him to stand. He looks to Veronica but she is staring awestruck at the woman.
Jack stands and steels himself against the woman's seduction. He begins counting in his head. One-one thousand, two-one thousand. He only has to make it to sixty.
The woman moves behind him and turns him to face his older sister. Five-one thousand, six-one thousand. Her hands begin to stroke his long, lithe body. He shudders. Seven-one thousand.
Her small, warm hands close around his cock and begin to stroke. A small groan escapes his lips and he looks at Veronica, kneeling before him. Her face is only inches from his cock. Eleven-one thousand, twelve one-thousand.
She begins to whisper into his ear as her hands works faster. "Thirteen-" he cries as he experiences the most powerful orgasm of his life. A hot jet of semen shoots from his cock and leaves a sticky white line across Veronica's face and chest. He cries out again and again as load after load of hot cum covers his former master.
"My name is Candace," the voice speaks in his ear, oddly casual. "And your name is Samael."
Samael's pace quickened. His cock hardened and elongated with every step that brought him closer to Mistress Claire.
He could see her full breasts now, swelling as she chanted in her alien tongue. The words rang in his head, imbuing him with the power of her Cabal.
Amung dool amung barroo anng gugoramm ashra.
It is Samael's first night at The Club and they are having an event called a Gathering. Every one of the Members is present, but as each name has been called, Samael has not been selected. Every women there is dripping with sexual confidence and he longs to prove himself, but they all ignore him in favor of other men or each other. His face is burning in embarrassment and anger when he is finally selected by the Club's lowest ranked Member.
She is cute, at least, he tells himself. She is wearing cut off jean shorts and a white tank top. Her blonde hair is cut short and streaked with bright purples and blues. Tattoos cover her arms and back. When she smiles at him and takes him by the hand to lead him to a nearby couch, her cheeks dimple in a manner that Samael finds inexplicably arousing.
Samael has not had a chance to memorize all the information expected of him, but he can recall the important points about this one. Her name is Annie, she is one of The Club's newest Members, and she has never won a match. At least she will be easy to dominate, he tells himself.
And she is. He takes an aggressive role and she answers by growing increasingly submissive. He makes a show of his dominance for any who may be watching. She moans and cums endlessly as he takes her in every way he desires.
Eventually he begins to tire. He hadn't expected her to last so long. No woman he has been with ever has.
As his strength begins to fade, Annie's passion swells. In mere minutes, she has complete control over him. But her control is nothing like what he suffered under Veronica's cruel tutelage. Annie is full of joy and playfulness. She smiles at him constantly, a secret smile. He feels a closeness, an intimacy he has never experienced before, and cums inside of her without warning.
Annie giggles and kisses his forehead and tells him that she would like to see him again. Samael is surprised to find that he wants to see her again, too. But in the depths of his mind, he swears a vow that he will one day show her that he is the best.
Samael reached the first step leading up to the altar. The power flowing into him increased with every inch. He reached down and stroked his fully erect cock as he stared up at Claire, his goddess, his savior.
Claire's arms were spread wide, welcoming. Her lips were parted, unmoving, yet he could still hear her voice in his head.
Amom zou amom ruggor ama zurra gog agoroth.
Tears of ecstacy stream down Samael's face as he thrusts wildly into Claire. She is splayed atop the altar, her robe open, revealing the perfection of her body. He is cured. And more powerful than he ever could have imagined.
He is a slave again, he knows. But Samael does not care. His goddess has given him life again. And a purpose. A sweet, sweet purpose.
Samael's eyes widened in amazement.
It is the future you see, the voice in his mind confided.
Ahu mamaa gaa aug othaa.
Annie is begging Samael to stop. He has been fucking her for hours. Dominating her in ways neither of them have ever experienced. She has long since declared him the winner. But Samael is not interested in merely winning.
The tears have dried on her face. She is not even capable of weeping anymore. She has begun to understand that he is not going to stop until her mind snaps, and she can already feel it beginning to splinter under the ceaseless sensory overload.
Samael increases the ferocity of his thrusts and Annie goes limp beneath him.
Samael took the steps two at a time. He was close enough to smell Claire's scent now. He began to shake with anticipation and lust. His cock was a rod of hot iron in his hand. Power coursed through him. All the power of the Cabal.
Claire pulled her robe fully open and spread her legs wide. Come to me, Samael, she commanded. Come to me. Cum in me.
Arrung athraa nagagag rathag raa athraaa.
Samael's hands tighten around Sylla's throat as he thrusts into her, squeezing the very life out of her body as he fucks the last remnants of sanity from her mind.
Samael reached the altar and slid his cock inside of Claire, the first part of their bodies to touch. The fathomless power she wielded flowed into him and through him and back into her, completing the circle. His mind filled with forbidden knowledge and throwing his head back he screamed,
AMAGOG RAMM JAHURR!!!
Samael and Claire are staring into each other's eyes. Their combined power makes them unstoppable as they have proven time and time again. They share a smile, knowing they will have each other once this final task is complete. And their task is very nearly complete.
Samael slows his thrusts and grabs the hair of the woman he is fucking from behind. He pulls her face up from between Claire's legs. The woman lets out a long, low sound, halfway between a moan and a sob. She looks up into Claire's eyes. "No more," she begs. "It's too much. I can't take any more."
As Samael forces the woman's head back down, Claire strokes her beautiful face and says, "Donna, my dear, we are only getting started."