The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series

by Nadia Nightside

  Myron spoke like a scolded child. It seemed strange on a man of his size. “Nothing. We’re just fired. No job. It’s no big deal. We’ll find something else.”

  “Fired?” she said, surprised. “Vinny fired you?”

  “Yeah.”

  “All of you?”

  “Yeah. I mean he didn’t. The new guy did. New owner.”

  “There’s a new owner? Vinny sold the club? What are you talking about?”

  But he wouldn’t say anymore. He looked close to tears, but the reason for this seemed harsher than just needing a job. It seemed like his very existence had been called into question, and he had been found wanting.

  Unsettled, Daniela still moved forward into the club. She would get to the bottom of this. If some new owner thought he could just fire the bouncers she'd been building up the loyalty of for months, he had another thing coming.

  Inside the club, there was no music. The lights were up, and the black lights were off. Daniela found what appeared to be almost the entire staff of dancers in front of a beautiful brunette holding a clipboard. She wore a sharp, tight silver pencil skirt with a thin, sheer silk blouse. Her breasts were immense and, for some reason, struck Daniela as being absolutely full of milk. Wire-rimmed glasses attended her nose and eyes.

  She looked like a hot librarian. Like a hot, porn-star librarian.

  The dancers in front of her were on their knees, faces rapt with attention. There was a smell in the air that Daniela couldn’t quite define. It was pleasant, though, and aromatic. It overpowered the normal smell of beer and body oil. Deeper than those. More powerful, more penetrating. Her brain followed the smell, unable to stop itself, letting the pleasant sensations seep deep into her core.

  “Now, girls,” said the woman. “Your new owner has some very strict specifications when it comes to interacting with customers from now on. First of all, you’re not to touch—Oh.” The woman smiled, seeing Daniela enter. “You must be Daniela. All the girls here said that you were the best. My name is Vivian.”

  She held out a hand for Daniela to take. Daniela was actually rather surprised that the other dancers had said she was the best—it was true, naturally, and Daniela knew it—but strippers were usually a rather catty bunch. Often they refused even to admit that one girl looked better in a different color than they did, and so on. It was a herculean effort sometimes to just get the girls to admit that the sky was blue—agreeing would be weakness, and weakness meant that you were complying to lower pay and worse placement in the week.

  Daniela took Vivian’s hand, and a pulse of calming, benign warmth spread through her. Questions about what had happened—where was Vinny, why were the bouncers fired, and so on—left her quite suddenly. Vivian's blouse was mostly unbuttoned, her cleavage shiny and delicious, and Daniela felt her eyes filling with the sight. It became very important—very important—to impress this woman right away.

  This woman, she knew instantly and intimately, held access to the Cock. And even without knowing whose cock, even without ever having a cock inside of her in her entire life (it was a lonely life, constantly prepping and training for gymnastic meets), Daniela knew that was incredibly important.

  “He’ll want to meet you straightaway,” said Vivian. A hush of jealous whispers went through the crowd of gathered dancers. Daniela felt a rush of pride, though she could not place its origin. “Gwen, escort her, please?” Vivian leaned in close to Daniela. “Gwen is your new owner’s head of security.”

  A woman approached from the back from her post at the front of the VIP entrance. She was dressed in tight leather from head to toe—skintight boots with blood red bottoms snapped over a tight black catsuit, the zipper in the front of which was only halfway up her ample breasts.

  She looked like a post-apocalyptic badass—though, with her thick tits and gorgeous face, the kind that would fuck you to death. Her sneer seemed permanent. A long trail of bright red went through her dark brown hair.

  “Come with me,” said Gwen.

  Her tone brooked no argument. Daniela got the sense from looking at her, as she had from looking at quite a few bouncers, that this was a woman who knew how to protect herself and enforce her will when needed. She moved with a cool, calm grace reserved for fighters of the highest caliber. Her ass in those tight leather pants was molded perfectly, high and glorious.

  Daniela followed her into the VIP suite where she had been hundreds of times before. This new owner—and why was Vivian calling him her new owner instead of the new owner?—was stationed in the penthouse VIP suite. It was a round glass-enclosed box, the sort of glass that looked out but not in. Guys loved to get blown while watching other strippers do their thing out on stage.

  Daniela had always been willing to fuck in the VIP suite, or blow, or whatever. The most she had done was a handjob, though. It was the most that the men who had come through could afford. She normally charged five grand for a handjob. It was ten for a blowjob, and twenty for everything else.

  This was light years beyond what the other girls charged, but Daniela knew time with her was worth it. She’d seen those other girls work, and she judged herself better, that was all. She an eye for this sort of thing.

  Inside the penthouse suite were a few girls Daniela knew already, and one that she didn’t.

  The one she didn’t know was dressed all in bright, fluffy pink lingerie, wearing bright tall heels with puffy balls on top. The other two were Jasmine and Ariel, two beautiful Asian women who often dressed up as princesses.

  The mouths of all three emanated moans of pleasure as they attended the most impossibly perfect man Daniela had ever seen.

  Her body reacted immediately. Hands began tearing at her clothes; she was wearing far too much, dressed far too modestly, to be in the presence of such a lord, a king, a god. The scent in the air outside magnified a thousandfold in this enclosed space, and everything about the world suddenly made sense.

  She dropped to her knees on the thick, round circular bed, mouth open in awe. Her pussy dripping wet, body heating up with small erotic beads of sweat dripping down her brow. In seconds, her clothes were ripped off, and all of her felt nothing but primal, unstoppable need to fuck this man.

  He would be the first one in her virgin body. As far as Daniela was concerned, he would be the only man. Once you were with the best, you didn’t traffic elsewhere.

  “Shit,” he said, looking her up and down.

  He swatted the three girls on his cock away, the way you knocked away over-excited dogs upon returning home. Ariel tried to keep sucking him, and Jasmine slapped her and knocked her away—clearly annoyed by her fellow pet’s lack of obedience.

  The man gifted Jasmine with a smile—encouraging a sudden overflow of bliss on the young Asian's face—and then turned to the approaching blonde.

  “You must be Daniela.”

  He knows my fucking name! Daniela’s excitement overflowed. She nodded eagerly, every affirmative catching in her throat.

  “You’re more gorgeous than they said you would be,” he said, moving toward her across the bed.

  In seconds he had her scooped into his arms, his massive cock sliding up against her torso. Cum and pre-cum mixed together and slid down her tanned, tight ab muscles. Heavy streams of it slid across the outside of her pussy, and she felt her orgasm approaching quickly.

  “Gorgeous,” she said, nodding, knowing it was true. He had said it. “For you.”

  There was no pretext, no useless asking for consent. She wanted this more than anything in her life. His limitless strength pushed her up and then rammed her down onto his cock. Crying out from the sudden entry, she was surprised at the total lack of pain she felt—wasn't it supposed to hurt? Wasn't it supposed to be bittersweet?

  It wasn't. It was beautiful. It was sensational. She suddenly and violently wasn't a virgin anymore, and it was the most amazing feeling she'd ever had in her life. Orgasm—hot and sudden—swept through her body as his cock rode on her g-spot, delivering her wa
ve after wave of dirty pleasure.

  He powered her into the wall, entering her suddenly and brutally. If she hadn’t been so fucking dripping wet, she might have screamed from pain. His cock was enormous, pushing inside of her, bigger than any she had ever seen. Longer, thicker, and soaked already from slave-saliva and precum. As it was, though, she screamed anyway—from pleasure.

  “Fucking mine,” he growled in her ear. “Fucking mine. Look at you. Look at how—h-how fucking hot you are, fuck!”

  For the past several months, Daniela’s entire world had revolved around the hierarchy at the strip club. Her standing there had been as precious to her as her standing in life, and she knew that unless she was treasured there as a top act, then her efforts in bettering herself would be meaningless.

  And that was unacceptable.

  Fucking Vinny, though, had been out of the question—and so other acts always took a little bit of precedence over her: the girls who were willing to sleep with the boss to get the top bills. Daniela was the most beautiful and the most talented, clearly a star, but she wasn’t the star.

  And now, even as Jacob’s mindblowing cock gave her the fuck of her life, she had enough of a mind to be aware that this was the man who would catapult her to the position she deserved in life.

  “So hot,” he grunted again. “Barely have to...have to do anything to you, fucking...shit...”

  His fingers slid up and down her immaculate body. He could wrap his thick hands around her from waist to ass—that's how tiny she was compared to him. his cock somehow becoming even harder inside of her as he drove into her over and over. Every new touch of his skin on hers sent lightning bolts of bliss through her body.

  He was Power Incarnate. There was no other way to describe it. How she felt was artificial, unnatural, forced—and clearly what he had done to all the other women, the bouncers, that was something insane. Magic or something.

  And yet even though she knew it was some kind of artificial, it felt real. It felt perfect. It felt destined.

  And so as he made her cum—for the tenth time in as many minutes—her eyes gazed at him with absolute and adoring love.

  “Please, baby,” she moaned. “Please, baby, baby darling, please oh fuck, please be my first, please fucking cum inside me.” Her lips, wet with need and plump with aching desire, pushed against his ear. “Please force my virgin body like you fucking deserve, Jacob, oh fucking please!”

  The sight of her perfect face unleashing this kind of complete adoration, this complete submission, was enough for him to lose all the control that he had built up. She was simply too beautiful to not cum inside of her when she was begging him to do exactly that. Groaning, spasming, he emptied inside of her. Hot seed splashed against her womb, filling her entirely. Thick gushes of it dripped out from her entrance and down onto the bed, where Jasmine and Ariel quickly licked it up with patient, adoring tongues.

  Her cunt milked his spurting cock, hoping to take every last spurt of his lifegiving cum inside of her.

  It was appropriate, she thought with great satisfaction, as she took in his last spurts of his still-hard cock. She would milk him for everything he could give her—and he could give her everything.

  * * * * *

  Very quickly, within less than a month, The Cabin became the most popular strip club in the city.

  It was, in fact, one of the most popular establishments in the city period, and only suffered in attendance because most of its patrons could barely afford to visit once, let alone multiple times. But that was fine with Jacob.

  The set-up was similar to the previous owner’s method. All guests paid a fee to enter. If they wanted attention from a dancer, that was another fee. If they wanted private attention, that was an even higher fee—and so on and on.

  But there were differences.

  First, the security was now entirely staffed by women. Tall, lovely, amazonian women who were inexplicably well-versed in all manner of hand-to-hand combat, crowd control, and other various forms of violent acts. Each was trained so well that they could have competed on a global scale, shaming any masters of the martial arts they now possessed—and at fractions of the age of those masters and still knowing easily ten times as much, as the mastery of these women extended far beyond one simple discipline.

  They were led by Gwen, chosen by Jacob mostly because he thought the red streak in her hair made her look a little tough. Then, with the help of his tablet, he made her look extremely tough...and then he’d given her the lifetimes of knowledge to back it up in less than two minutes of tinkering with her profile on his tablet.

  As a lark, he’d dumbed down Phoebe and made her Gwen’s personal maid. Her IQ was barely enough to put her own clothes on in the morning. Her tits were so massive that she couldn’t go out anywhere without looking like a total bimbo fuckslut. Gwen took care of her with great attention, deeply in love with her. And Phoebe, too, was deeply in love with her. They were happy. It’s just that Phoebe probably wouldn’t be able to write her name for a while, let alone the recipe for ice.

  He justified it by saying that he could change her back at any time...when he felt like it. He hadn’t yet, though. Altering her mind so much, fucking up her way of being, only got his cock harder. Some women just needed a little bit of humiliation in their life.

  It was a tight rope he walked...and it excited him to walk it. Besides—he could increase his ability for balance whenever he liked, so he could walk on tight ropes all day long.

  The security girls normally dressed in tight leathers, walking around the club and looking like some cross between bondage dominatrices and motorcycle babes. They were important, because they were the ones who ensured that the regular dancers were no longer touched.

  No one touched Jacob's women now except for him. Those who tried learned how to apologize with a broken arm.

  Vivian was no longer a teacher. She was, instead, now Jacob’s madam.

  From his wife, he received regular reports on who was working well, who was earning, who was feeling flickers of emotions besides pure bliss at serving him. His control was not entirely absolute—he had done that with Phoebe, and it shrunk her mind down to the size of a pea.

  A little free will went a long way—none of the girls there believed he had made them love him. Rather, they thought they had chosen this life, despite all evidence to the contrary. When a girl was in good need of a fuck, Vivian would bring her to Jacob’s office and guide her down to her knees, whispering in the lucky gal’s ear what sort of position or outfit turned him on that day. That one fuck would keep her happy for days, a brilliant pink cloud of lust massaging her brain, and just as the cloud began to dissipate, Vivian would be there to lead her back into Jacob's office.

  The dancers had been individually perfected down to their smallest detail. None had a single flaw—their skin was blemish-free, their bodies without sickness or injuries, their minds pliant and obedient to Jacob’s will, their hair long and thick, their eyes bright, lips shiny, asses taut, breasts enhanced to the point where a 36C cup was considered “small.” They were encouraged—explicitly and implicitly—to think of themselves as the elite of the female population.

  The security girls were beneath them in the new hierarchy, and beneath the security, the waitresses.

  Only Jacob deserved to touch the dancers, then, being the elite of the male population. So, the security girls had to ensure that the dancers were never touched by another man. To attempt so was heresy in their new religion, circling around the pleasure of Jacob’s cock.

  For a man to actually touch a dancer was blasphemy, and for a security girl to allow it to happen was tantamount to an unforgivable sin, ensuring a quick excommunication from the presence of their one and only God.

  The power of the tablet had, perhaps, against his original wishes, gone to his head a little bit.

  He didn't give a fuck.

  An obvious question develops in the mind of the astute observer. With the guests never touching the da
ncers, how was any money made?

  Pheromones were powerful chemicals, and Jacob had used the tablet to enhance his understanding of them and how the could be made to work to his advantage. The dancers now emitted strong, pleasant scents—much like his. When any male besides himself came into contact with these scents, their arousal would take over the entirety of their motor centers, dictating every action. The men would be turned on enough by the simple appearance of the sixteen tirelessly flawless dancers Jacob had in his employ working every day and night.

  Add their new scents into the mix, and the men watching were helpless to do anything but watch the dances and drool, handing out more and more money all the while.

  Drink prices were increased one hundred percent, and then two hundred percent. No one complained so long as they got to stare at Jacob’s beautiful girls. The patrons were drunk on lust from the second they stepped into the establishment.

  Even so, Jacob had no real desire to leave anyone destitute. The idea was to sheer the sheep, not to skin them.

  He found out, through tinkering with the tablet, that he could actually set a command for locations as well as people. Anyone entering through the front doorway would only spend as much as he could reasonably afford—once they were tapped out, the second their last dollar was spent—they would cum in their pants. His security girls, on the spot with their attentions, then would toss him out.

  His first night open, the club pulled in fifty thousand dollars. His latest night, six weeks in, cleared them past two hundred grand. He’d had to install ten new ATMs in the past two weeks. He was rapidly approaching millionaire status, and perhaps would have been approaching more rapidly if it didn’t turn him on so much to lavish Daniela with cash and attention.

  At his urging with the tablet, she had abandoned all false notions of modesty and niceness toward the other girls. She was the best, and she knew it, and she acted like it. Her name was at the tip-top of the marquis outside the club.