She was resplendent in a soft violet sheer gown, clinging tightly to her breasts. A cascade of golden hair was perfectly coiffed, long locks and tresses stretching down almost to her ankles, like some kind of impossible superheroine.
Polly made soft choking noises as she realized she could make out the Goddess’s nipples beneath her dress. She wore a long black fur, draping down her back and shoulders.
The Goddess wrapped herself around the God, pulling in tight for a long, deep kiss. Polly knew she was witnessing something Holy, something magnificent, she was riding on the asteroid that killed the dinosaurs, she was boogie-boarding in the ocean that drained out from the Amazon basin on top of a thousand volcanic explosions. She was seeing these two, and it pushed out every last bit of information in her brain that she’d ever learned in school.
None of that was important anymore. Every atom inside of her knew that the only important actions to witness, the only important knowledge to retain, was what was happening in front of right that second.
Her orgasm was constant and perfect. She'd probably die from exhaustion within the day if she kept looking at them like this. She didn't care.
“Tell me, slave,” said the Goddess. “Who are we?”
“All of it,” said Polly. “Everything. Alpha. Omega. Endless. P-please...”
The Goddess smiled softly, and Polly did not know she did not pass out from the heavy artillery fire of orgasms pounding upon her every inch of flesh. She felt like her fucking spleen was orgasming, how was that possible?
Because of them. They made everything possible.
“And you haven't used the tablet on her once?” the Goddess asked.
“No,” said the God. “Well...only to keep her skin from chafing from the ropes.”
Polly's heart felt like it would pop out of her chest. He cared about her. How much he cared! Her God was so generous, so kind!
“You're so caring to the mortals,” the Goddess said, sliding her hand upon her God's massive cock and stroking softly. “Well, Master. I think you’ve landed upon what you deserve, at long last.”
* * * * *
Celeste exited her town car outside the vast mansion where Jacob Lawton was hiding. A cadre of her most elite male slaves surrounded her. There would be no harm done to her tonight.
The night was quite chilly, though she hardly felt it. Celeste only felt what she chose to—emotions or sensations.
The house he stayed in with his little harem—and such a cute boy he was, thinking he had a “harem” when their number was less than fifty—was large for mortal standards. Celeste wouldn't have thought of it as more than a shack, but she understood that those of little importance might have been impressed by its size.
Her opponent would have no doubt done something to increase his willpower at this point, so she had dressed accordingly. Red lace lingerie encased her perfect body, accentuating every luscious curve, molding every perfect angle. Matching stockings clad her long, graceful legs, attached to a garter belt by way of lace bands. Her tits, always glorious, shiny, and full, were expertly pushed up and together by a thin bra.
She felt diamonds went well with the red, and so had arranged for some of her most glorious black diamond jewelry to wear—rings on her fingers, million dollar bracelets and long dangling earrings. A large pendant the size of a golf ball rested in her cleavage, cool to the touch and more precious to Celeste than any lover, though she had only worn this piece once in the past two hundred years.
It was so easy to get lost in outfits when so many men and women were positively dying to give her everything she wanted, after all.
Topping off her outfit was an immense dark sable coat, the cost of which was more than double most people's yearly salaries. It added to her volume, and made her lusciously slender frame look almost twice as big as it was while still retaining all her delicate femininity. Celeste knew all the secrets of presentation—she had been practicing them for centuries, after all.
Celeste, an immortal sorceress, had power and beauty beyond almost all comprehension. She had lived for more than five centuries, and for that entire time, had been the most beautiful creature in existence. Her life was a fortress of self-adoration, of impenetrable vanity, and there was nothing in this world or any other that could make her think less of herself.
She had spent five centuries amassing a veritable army of slaves to worship her. None were allowed—ever—to touch her gorgeous body without her say-so, and certainly none of the males. For those five hundred years, she had only ever known the touch of a woman to bring her to orgasm. And that would be how the next five centuries would go—and the next five, and the next, and so on.
For she would have the Djinn Stone for herself. The source of Jacob Lawton's power—fixated currently in the form of a tablet, if the reports of her agents were to be believed.
It was time to end this man. She would put him on his knees; she would make all of his slaves her slaves instead. And while they worshiped her, she would make him beg to serve her with them...and then she would deny him and laugh while she had one of her servants remove his useless genitals.
No one got in Celeste's way. No one.
Jacob Lawton was careless. It was clear his power had gotten to his head—and that he was starting to think of himself as invincible. But he wasn't. It would take years and years with the Djinn Stone to unlock all of its secrets, even if the person exploring those secrets was some kind of mystic savant, and certainly Jacob wasn't that.
Celeste’s original strategy had been to wait him out—to pick off his servants one by one until he became so angry as to expose himself out in the open. And, it had been working well.
She had as many eyes and ears in the city as she wanted. Several thousand, posted in all major and minor areas of commerce. It was simple to arrange for someone with her vast interconnected network of slaves. All of them had been called in—all those planted as diplomats and dignitaries in foreign countries, all the businessmen and women, all the high profile bankers—to come and work for her.
Nothing was as important as retrieving the Djinn Stone. Nothing.
She had wanted the kind of power it promised since the day she had become an immortal—and she had wanted it specifically since the day she discovered its existence through her spies in her sister Anastasia’s network.
The Djinn Stone was, reputably, the source of all magical power in existence. And even if it were not specifically that, it was an item of enormous magical power—and Celeste wanted it for herself. Her beauty and power, as boundless as they were, were simply not enough. Nothing ever would be.
But with the Djinn Stone, she could have more than she ever thought possible. The thought made her perfect, virgin cunt dripping wet in her tight red lace lingerie.
Surveillance—finding the women who Jacob had changed with the Stone—was not an issue. The Djinn Stone left traces of its power on those who knew how to look for it—and Celeste, being a gifted teacher with a knack for ensuring that all of her pupils were endlessly obedient (if by a “knack” it is possible to also mean “soul-crushing beauty”), ensured that all of her servants in her surveillance network knew how to find those altered by the Stone.
So, once those servants of Jacob were in the wild, it became a simple waiting game.
Up until now, they had not been able to pick up any leads on where the man was staying. His control had been thorough. Fail-safe after fail-safe had been installed in the minds of the slaves she had captured, wiping almost all but the most trivial information of their service from their heads. Questioning them was useless.
But only up until now.
Just hours before, she had been brought a petite redhead. She was barely eighteen, only crossing the legal mark by a few days. Not quite as pretty as some of the other slaves she had picked up from this Jacob, but still, she possessed a certain farm-girl quality that made her stand out from the back. Freckles dotted across her face and upper torso.
This lates
t slave Celeste had picked up had not known much—had not been able to describe Jacob or his harem in much detail (which was unneeded at this point), had not been able to say how many other slaves he had, and had not been able to even describe her own place in the hierarchy he had established outside of knowing that she was a “good girl.”
A fresh slave, then, sent out into the wild to fend for herself after only a brief indoctrination. Getting desperate. Hopefully, Celeste thought, he and his bitches were starving.
But one thing this slave, this “Polly,” had known was where he stayed.
And now, here they were—Celeste licking her lips at the sight of the mansion, waiting for her troops to move in.
The men arrived in vans and silent helicopters, more than a hundred in number. Each one trained to be a crack commando, an army all by himself. They held cattle prods and zip ties. Celeste never let a good opportunity to gather quality, sexy slaves to go to waste. She was as lascivious as they came...just not for men.
There wasn’t a man alive worthy to defile her body.
She signaled just slightly with her wrist, enough for her men to know that they needed to move in. She watched them with glee, knowing that all her desires were about to come true. They cracked through the windows, burst through the doors, set explosives on the walls. A multi-pronged assault that would leave everyone inside too stunned to react.
Celeste waited just a few minutes, listening gleefully to the sound of screams and pleas from within the mansion, and then followed her troops in. An elite squad of ten men remained close to her, marching near her in a tight circular formation. She took her time, strutting slowly in her tall, tall heels. Diamonds in her stockings glittered in the moonlight and then, as she entered the residence, glittered even more brightly in the lights of the mansion.
It was rather enjoyable knowing she would tear this place down brick by brick and look so abso-fucking-lutely fabulous while doing it.
Slaves ran out from the many rooms and attempted to fight. Often just one at a time, sometimes in pairs. They knew what they were doing—trained in all manner of martial arts, apparently (or at least, given that training through the power of the Djinn Stone).
But it wasn’t enough.
Celeste’s own pets were trained, and there were more of them. The harem pets fought valiantly—striking noses, throats, knees, crotches—but still they were brought down, tased and netted, their limbs zip tied. One by one, the slaves of Jacob Lawton were subdued and gathered, placed in a series of large vans waiting outside the mansion.
Slowly, the mansion began to empty, and Celeste knew the man was close. So far, he was hiding. She didn't care. She was more powerful than him—more powerful than anyone. She pushed her bodyguards aside, strutting faster now, the eagerness taking over her rational thinking.
She wanted that Djinn Stone now.
Gathering her formidable power, Celeste began to burst through wall after wall—striking them down with immense waves of force. The rubble flew everywhere, though she was careful to project a shield around herself to keep any dust from landing on her spectacular outfit.
“Were you wondering what I was?” Celeste called. “Weren’t you curious to know who was stripping away all that you held dear?”
She tore down another wall, getting somewhat frustrated now. She was in a tall dining room, pillows piled high. The smell of sex was heavy in the air. Most men came running simply at the sound of her voice. It was sensuous, sultry, and captivating. It was the very physical incarnation of the abstract Form of Seduction.
“I’m sure you were curious,” she said, breaking into the kitchen, sending pots and pans flying. “I’m sure you wanted to know the story behind the Djinn Stone as well. Or the ‘iMagic’ program. The tablet. Yes, I know about that. I know everything. Everything.”
Everything except for where he was, damn him.
Through another wall, into a tall sitting room with three couches and an abandoned cart full of iced tea. Another slave ran out from behind a curtain to attack her. A lovely young ebony-skinned beauty wearing an orange minidress. Celeste took her by the throat and stared into her eyes for a solid five seconds. Her own eyes were green, endlessly hypnotic ocean green, and they were irresistible.
“M-Mistress...” the slave whispered.
Immediately, the ebony beauty began to orgasm, being touched so intimately by the subject of all her worship. Celeste smiled, done now, and callously tossed her aside, bursting her way into the next area—a study full of books, a piano in one corner.
She could smell him, that overwhelming scent of masculinity. Her tongue ran across her lips, wetting them just slightly. She could feel him, that impossible feeling he exuded, that headiness...
It was enough almost to make her aroused, to want him inside her. Almost.
Once she had him under her control, she would ensure that would end. Her eyes scanned the room. Not behind the curtains. Not beyond the shelves...
Ah, there. Hiding beneath the grand piano. What a coward.
“Hiding, Jacob?”
The man stiffened in more ways than one. She could sense his enormous boner growing.
“Yes, that’s right. I know your name. Turn around. Get out from under there and stand up.”
He obeyed, unquestioningly, face full of fear and desire. And she wasn’t even showing him all of herself. What a disappointment. A part of her had been looking forward to giving him a little show to make him give up his power.
Through all the changes he had made to himself, he was still recognizable from the pictures she had found of his past self. Bigger, now. Taller. More built. Substantially more handsome...but still, only a male.
Only mortal. Utterly susceptible to the impossibility of her unstoppable power.
Technically, the Djinn Stone could only have one owner at a time. Either the owner had to give it up willingly, or he had to die. Luckily, Celeste had centuries of expertise in making lesser mortals believe that what she wanted them to do was what they wanted to do.
“You know,” she said. “I honestly thought you’d put up a little more fight. I was even thinking of letting you watch me fuck your wife. But, for you to be such a coward about all of this, hiding! From me! It’s rather insulting, you know? I can’t respect cowardice. I can’t respect you.”
As she hoped, the words had the intended effect. He dropped to the ground, kneeling, begging for forgiveness. His voice was rough and raspy, even in its wails.
Her mood only worsened. This man was sniveling. Sniveling! Like a coward. Like some sea prawn caught before a gang of sharks. She changed her mind immediately—he wasn't going to give up his ownership of the Djinn Stone, not at all. She wouldn't let him have such luxury.
“I’m s-so sorry, Mistress. I didn’t mean to...to disappoint. To let you down.”
Celeste leaned forward, allowing him to stare deep into her eyes, into the depths of her impossibly perfect cleavage, her diamonds sparkling and dangling.
“You obey me?” she asked.
He nodded profusely. “Yes!”
“You worship me?”
“Y-yes! Yes, Mistress, of course!”
“Good,” she said, standing up to her full imposing height. “Now,” she whispered soft, barely audible. “Die for me.”
Slowly, he began to choke, his airways closing in on themselves. Obedience to Celeste was that absolute—there was no way out, no unconscious or subconscious method of resistance. Even his body’s biological functions belonged to her.
And so he died, slowly, his own throat choking him to death.
She watched it, feeling exultant...and then stood up to her full height.
All she had to do now was find the Djinn Stone.
“Not bad,” came a deep, confident, masculine voice. “Not bad at all. But not enough.”
* * * * *
It took the tablet a very long time to get a bead on the immortal beauty—Celeste—walking through his new house. There was so much of her to p
rocess, so much power, so much beauty, that the tablet—the Djinn Stone?—seemed close to vibrating itself to pieces. He thought for a few minutes that he wouldn’t be able to do it, that he had sacrificed all of this for nothing.
But eventually, her image appeared on the tablet...and then he was able to make his Will become manifest, just as he knew he deserved.
On and on, she had ranted about the Djinn Stone—her name for the tablet. He wasn't sure, exactly, what that meant. He knew that Djinn were like genies, beings of great magical energy, capable of granting wishes. And certainly, the tablet was capable of granting wishes. And the woman who had pressed it into his palm, so many weeks ago—hadn't she called it a stone?
It had merely taken the form of a tablet. Something he could understand and manipulate at his will. But...perhaps it didn't have to be a tablet in form.
Too much to ponder at the moment. Too much by half when there was this insanely beautiful creature—this Celeste—to look at.
He hadn’t known what to expect, exactly, when it came to who this enemy was who was trailing him. But no matter what he had thought would come, it certainly wasn’t her.
Not the most singularly gorgeous vision—alive or otherwise—in the universe. The woman could give the Big Bang a run for its money in terms of the sheer majesty of her beauty. She commanded awe, obedience, respect, love.
He could learn a thing or two from her centuries of knowledge. Perhaps he’d allow her to teach him after he was done fucking her cunt into blissful obedience.
Because he would own her—own her body, own her mind, and own her soul, just like he did with all gorgeous females he came across.
She may have been powerful—an immortal sorceress, if the read-out on the tablet's screen was to be believed—but Jacob was a God, now, and he did as he pleased, no matter who was in his way.
Before she had arrived, he used the tablet to make himself—and whatever he held or wore—invisible and soundless. Not even his breaths were audible. As she walked through the house—first flanked by her bodyguards, and then by herself, blasting through the walls—he had followed her, his cock getting harder. His pheromones soaking the air, lust-producing chemicals flooding into her immortal body, making her susceptible to desire without her even knowing it.
The Magic Tablet: The Complete Series Page 10
