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Homecoming Hypnotism

Chapter Six

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Part Two

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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Mark studied the text that he had brought back with him from the nunnery, turning the pages that had become populated with inscriptions and symbols after the ritual. How strange it was that, ultimately, such a simple act like fucking the nuns during their ceremony could bring so much power to him. And just how much more power could be his if only he pressed for more, searched out the rites and rituals that would open up so many more doors to him. And the information he uncovered in the tome, oh… Oh, it was a revelation indeed, displaying more even in that short text that he took the time to read than he could ever have imagined.

He did not only, after all, have the power to transform the bodies of people but the ritual seemed to have opened up the ability to transform their experiences too, their memories and what made them who they were. The example used in the text, of course, was more useful than sexual, depicting how a banker could possibly be made into a Special Forces soldier and he spared a moment of thought in wondering if that was how so many had been recruited for the last war. In comparison to his kingdom of sexual freedom and empowerment, it was almost a sobering thought but still something to hold lightly in mind.

The spell, however, the control… That would come in useful, even if he did not truly need to strip the nuns of everything they had been before. He lined the nuns up before his carriages, his tailor having delivered the outfits required in record time. First, they willingly dressed in a black, skin-tight uniform that left nothing about their sexy, older curves to the imagination, mark following each note and nuance step up step as if reading from a list. For, even in his kingdom, a sense of order was required and he would adhere to that order at all costs where it best served him.

The material shifted and shimmered in the sunshine but allowed them to move freely, the black corsets going on over the top for that added touch of sexuality. Of course, it would be more difficult for them to have freedom of movement in such a thing but the memories he would implant would allow them the knowledge to both be lustful and deadly.

Mental transformation took more concentration than the previous spells of control that he had worked on but he was not put off, sweating as his carriages were prepared – all three of them. He needed to make an entrance. But, slowly, he was able to turn the nuns in mentality into the Special Forces soldiers that he thought, perhaps, that they had always been destined to be; after all, he needed something of a security system if he was to meet with another so-called 'master'. At the mere thought of him, Mark's brow furrowed. Just who did he think he was, if he even existed, stepping in on his territory?

The nuns all looked the same, his perfect army, his Angels of Death that could do no wrong, taking all that lay before them. Smiling, a little of the tension slipped from him as he surveyed them, their sexy curves making him want something else when he should really have been thinking of the plan at hand, what he had to focus on. The stakes were high but his nuns, his Angels of Death, took on a formal yet sexual air, oozing a sense that they were regal, above everyone else. Their eyes stayed still, focused straight ahead, but he knew that they were cataloguing all potential threats, sweeping the area as if they were about to move out at any time.

Perfect.

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He had to test them first, however, putting them through their paces as they darted and ran, their uniforms helping, at least, to contain any appearance of unsightly sweat. That would not possibly do for the Angels of Death, his angels. They had to be perfect at all times, the ideal killing machine, although he had no inclination at all to force them to kill or end lives that were not of any importance, such as was the case in war. That was all a political move and while his meeting with another king and master of enslavement could by some measure of the imagination be considered a political move he was only doing it because he had to know what he was up against. He had no desire at all to move in on another master's territory, just expand his and rule, taking on a wider and wider area as he brought so many people under his control.

When they were not actively working for or serving him, however, he allowed all those that he had enslaved to go about their normal lives. His tailor, for example, was also a designer of high-end ball gowns but he'd only wanted to bring the best into his employ and service so that his attire was of the highest quality and he had been the best. There hadn't been any other question or influence required in the decision and the tailor had been free to continue on with the rest of his life as if there had been no interruption at all. Seeing everything he made for the kinky mind of King Mark as perfectly normal, Mark was more than able to let his imagination go wild as he concocted impressive creations, imagining just how they would go together and then letting the master craftsman, whose many talents went further than mere ball gown design for sure, go on as he wished to create all he thought up.

And so it was that the nuns would become the Angels of Death, able to provide security but also becoming and remaining his loyal sex slaves and fanatics. They would be able to switch from sex to defence at the drop of a hat and the crux of what they were able to provide for him lay in their complete and utter devotion to him. Again, he thought that they must have been well-suited to such a life right from the beginning to think that they had not needed hardly any control enforced over them at all to bring them into his kingdom, but that only played out well in Mark's favour.

“Demonstrate!"

On the steps of his mansion, he spread his arms wide and roared, empowered and in control as the nuns ran through their paces, somehow managing to come up with a drill right there on the spot, memories that Mark did not even have for himself imprinted on them. Crawling, rolling, evasion… They had it all and their aged bodies did not hold them back, hair braided or tucked under black flat caps that ensured it would not get in their way or cloud their vision. He did not have something of the typical training obstacle course for them but the sexy angels made use of what was there already, leaping onto the terrace and creeping stealthily to the corner as if they had been doing such things for their whole life.

They were sleek, they were fearsome and all he wanted to do was rip every last article of sexily functional (well, okay, maybe the corset was not the most functional thing in the world) from their bodies. Their tits were still impossible to ignore, the corsets cutting below them, and he noted with a tremor of pleasure that Magrathe was in charge of them – of course, the squad had to have someone to lead them. How impressive was the transformation of minds if it could do so much, even then? What more could his powers do? Even then, he'd only skimmed the surface and not delved into the truth of it but Mark was not all that sure after seeing its effects whether all of it could be used for good.

He'd skim over his enslavement of his family and incestuous relations when thinking of all the good he had done in creating a liberal, sexual society, of course. Sometimes it was better to look at oneself with blinkers on, like one of those old carriage horses. And yet he did not see why one would go for something as crude as a hunk of metal for a mode of transport when, years back, one could have had horses in those very blinkers, hides gleaming with good health. Why should he not still want to see the tracings filled with sexier bodies, his human harem stepping out nice and high, stomping in their gracefully tall high heels?

His carriages would be drawn by his favourites, the most stunning women in his harem, although he adored each and every last one of them in different ways, for all had their positives and negatives. Even now that he could change them to suit his whim and will, he took his time going down the line of them, hitched up into the traces of the harnesses and looking as smartly sexy as ever. Some of the women were better suited to the way of life he had put down before them than others, members of high society that Victoria especially had taken great pleasure into bringing into his world and harem.

He smirked at a grey-haired vixen with her hair coiled up into a bun – all so that he could better enjoy the sleek lines of her long neck and how it simply seemed to draw attention to her chest. Yes, it was better to distract himself while preparations were made, allow his nuns to do what they did best as his angels and get into formation. His harem and servants were the best of the best and he did well to remember that for himself, groping and squeezing the woman's large breasts with both hands. Rolling and massaging her flesh between lustful fingers and the palms of his hands, he did not allow her to shrink away and, on the contrary, she pushed keenly into his touch as if there was nothing else in the world that she would have rather have had right then and there.

What was her name again? Julie? He had not seen her at too many high society events before but, truly, they were not his thing – not before the world of mind control, that was, had opened up before him. She was tall in her daring stilettos and it was a sure thing that she would not have even been able to walk straight without the imprint of 'knowing' how to walk in them that he lent her. Truly, he had touched so very lightly on transforming minds before even understanding the knowledge of the tome from the convent too, but he had not before realised that he could push that so very much further than simply instructing a mind in how to walk like a sex goddess in heels.

“Julie…"

He breathed her name as if it was something divine and she moaned, nipples perking up like hard little bullets. There were real bullets too loaded up into the guns that his angels were equipped with, his servants of the mansion and estate doing their job in the distribution of what they had called in. It was a good thing that it was easier than ever to procure exactly what he needed in the bounds of his kingdom but Mark wouldn't have given up so easily even if he had had to go about things in a more conventional manner. No, it was imperative that they were able to defend themselves and, importantly, him too, doing their jobs and tasks assigned to the very best of their ability. For who knew what lay ahead as they lined up before the carriages, guns at the ready, the very picture of professionalism as they stood there for his attention.

And they would wait and wait, wait on his orders, his order the law and the word of a god that they no longer worshipped. He was their god now and they would do everything possible to serve him until the end of their days. Everyone would, whether they were part of his more personal, sexual harem or something other and their bodies would shape to his will too. Just for good measure, Mark smirked, his own semblance of confidence renewed as he cast out his hand towards the line of nuns, making their already massive breasts swell a little more, nipples showing through the thin, tight fabric of their outfits even more so than before.

There. That would do. At least, for the moment. There were others to enjoy and he paused before the woman at the head of his first carriage, the third in his life that he had so sought to enslave.

“Agatha…" He smiled, an eyebrow cocked. “Is that dildo not too small for you now?"

His other grandmother whined and shook her head, eyes plaintive. In her case, considering their fraught relationship of younger years, he'd left a little bit of 'her' inside her mind, the humiliation rising up and through her in a heady flush to her skin.

“Y-yes," she forced out, the words coming slowly from a mouth that was loathe to release them. “Oh, please… Please fill me!"

He clicked his tongue mockingly against the roof of his mouth, relishing the power he had over her, the grey-haired beauty who had made so much of his time before a living hell, even though she most likely did not see it that way. Having her around, even if it had been under his control, was difficult for him and he needed to keep reminding her where her place was, showing her that he was in charge. It made him feel better about it all more than anything else, cementing his power firmly over her and ensuring that there was nothing, absolutely nothing, that Agatha ever could do ever again to make his life a living hell.

Control? Well, she most certainly didn't have any of that now.

Slowly, he'd been introducing her to new toys, letting his craftsman design and create them, although not even Mark could understand or explain just how he breathed life into the designs. He seemed to simply have a way about him that made things appear from thin air, able to craft and design like no other that Mark ever knew of. And the toys that he had crafted from wood warmed to the shape of her body, stretching her out even as her anal ring closed around the narrower neck of the polished wood (only the best quality) butt plug that she wore at that very moment. Even her body seemed to want to keep the toys tucked away inside her and she groaned, shifting her weight as her body pulsed and throbbed around them, reminding her constantly of their heated presence, always there, always wanton…

Mark teased her, running his fingers over the latex harness – what a wonderful new material that was to work with, he really should have more done up in latex just for the variety of it – as she moaned for him. The straps crisscrossed her body in a diamond pattern, simple but more than enough to draw the eye to and frame her gorgeous tits. He knew what body she had had but there could be nothing sexier than the body she had even in old age, her regal air all but gone, a panting, humiliated harem slave that wanted nothing more than to ram object after object into her sore holes.

She'd never done that before, had she? And it had been him that had opened that world up to his sweet, sweet grandmother.

“Your breasts are too small… Let me fix that for you."

“Thank you, my king, you're too king, my king…" Agatha murmured, slipping into slavery once more. “I don't know what I would do without you, my king."

The adoration filled him up from the inside out, warming him through, and Mark smiled widely and genuinely, lavishing in it. If he could bottle up such a fragrance or even such a sensation, he would have even more money than he already did. But money had no purpose without those in his harem to spend it on, letting those in his kingdom earn their keep with kinky, vivacious delights even if they did not explicitly partake in those delights themselves too.

Agatha's breasts swelled with the aura of his influence and she gasped, amazed at the change. What was he doing to her? Could he do such a thing to her body? How big could they get? A diamond of straps were secured around each breast and it was those very straps that strained to hold them, breasts growing larger and larger, sagging under their own weight. She'd not been as busty as some when she'd been younger but she'd known, for sure, how to work and hold her own body, her best asset being her arse, but Mark was not going to leave that untended to either.

With a smirk, he leaned into her, his hands tenderly stroking down her arms, her sides, her hips, knowing that she could not do anything to stop him – would not even do anything at all to stop him. And that too was just the way it was supposed to be as her arse swelled out and out, firming up as if there was even more muscle and fat there than there was supposed to be. He tweaked her hips too, making them just a touch wider and to his liking, although he knew that he could change her back at any time if he did change his mind about how his least favourite grandmother's body should look.

“There now…"

And, to complete her kinky ensemble was a new dildo, Mark deftly unlocking the wooden one from her cunt and replacing it with another larger one. It was not so much that her body could not bear it but, with little nodules and ridges all down the length for the art of female pleasure and stimulation, he could well enough make sure that she would feel it every step of the way to this new master's home, showing off his harem and part of his kingdom with all the pride that truly befitted a man of his great standing in the world.

Everyone should know who he was and bow down before him!

His angels flooded into the carriages, carried there with two to guard him in his own carriage, travelling in the middle of the three. Every woman was draped in glistening, glittering jewels, a demonstration of wealth, but he could not have prepared himself for the lavishness that awaited him at the home of the other master. He was situated on a similar estate to Mark but he had gone out with every extravagance that a man could possibly have, a shooting range on his property in sight even as they swung through the gates, which had been left open, seemingly, just for them. A lake sparkled behind the mansion, which was larger still, and further denoted the lavish wealth at hand there. There was nothing like that on Mark's estates but it could be put in place if that was what the social elite were showing off now. It seemed to change from month to month but that was the way of the higher social classes. And he should have known just who this man was if he was so high up in society, surely…

It had not even been all that far away. Mark's lips pressed together, the line of them growing thinner with every passing moment. How had they never before crossed paths?

Three cars resided in the space before the grand front entrance, black as if they had come from the secret services themselves, although he would not think that they would have much interest in a man that could enslave others to his will, except maybe to take him into custody. And just how far would they get with that, he wondered? He was invincible against anyone normal and there was only so much that one master, surely, could do against another who had also learned the secret art of mind control, drawing others into their will.

There was only one way to find out.

As the carriages drew up in all their splendour, a horde of heavily armoured women spilt forth from the front entrance, dressed as if they were in formal military attire. It may have been camouflage print but it by no means concealed their beauty, their figures discernible to an eye that dared to look. They did not wear exterior corsets for fetish appeal but their master appeared to have transformed them so that they boasted a shocking hourglass figure, hips huge and breasts just the right size to make the perfect shape, although neither were they too large, presumably for the sake of defence. Mark smirked. Did their master think that they didn't have the power to protect him even with oversized breasts? How rich…

No, he had to be the better master, the more powerful one. Time in power didn't mean anything at the end of the day and it was all about how one wielded that power. Still, he could not help but appreciate the view as more and more of the other master's subjects poured forth as if no one could bear to be held back away from the action. Maybe it was as ostentatious a display of power as his estate was, the foliage rare and the walls of stone that had to have been imported, let alone simply transported across the country. His taste in women seemed to span the ages and nationalities as he did not discern between any one body type, although it was also quite possible that none of the women, dressed in smartly skimpy attire ranging from lingerie to a sleeker, more refined type of fetish gear, bore their natural bodies anyone. And that was fine too. It only proved that he was more than able to shape those around him to his will, regardless of his position in the world, his power in his world completely and utterly absolute.

Mark stepped down from the carriage with Victoria to assist him, dressed as a dominatrix once more with her hair pulled back a little more severely, the make-up around her eyes making her look more formidable than she really was with the personality that had emerged in her subservience to him. There was solemnity in her eyes but fierce passion too lining the wrinkles of wisdom in her face, a stray strand of grey hair floating around her ear where it had not quite been tamed into submission. Maybe he was the only one, truly, that was in power, if he incited such passion in her. They were closer than they had ever been but things between them held a different air to how they used to be, which was not entirely a bad or a good thing. It was a different thing and Victoria lifted him up in her get-up, her breasts on show with a couple of clamps attached to her nipples almost as if they had been an afterthought to her attire. Everything he ordered her to dress in, however, was for his pleasure and carefully calculated at all times.

Her fingers brushed his arm and she smiled, although even she understood the severity of the situation, why such a display of grandeur was required. That was just why he'd kept his mother back in the carriage, close by but tucked away at the same time, even though he could not have possibly have made her dress demurely at any time now, regardless of the occasion or situation. Her cut-outs on her dress were permanent, styled so that the eye could miss them at first, simply seeing them as a feature of the dress. It could have been a more common style if his beauty did not wear it so well but he could draw her tits out of the slits at any point, suckling on them and massaging them in just the way that made her moans reach that particularly shiver-inducing pitch.

Victoria squeezed his arm, fingers retreating. There was work to be done.

“All will be well, my king."

He smiled and brushed her hand with his, although he could not deny that his gaze swept down the length of her body, lingering on her tits and covered crotch. Maybe he would have to change that aspect of the design, as tantalising as it could be. Maybe.

With an army of women to accept their entry, his eyes lingered on one clad in frilly, red lingerie that hardly covered anything but deceived the eye on just how much with the shift of the frills in the wind. Red stockings reached up to her thighs and were clasped in place with suspenders and an equally frilly garter belt, appearing like a present that was already partway unwrapped but a designed one that would only be given to another when they truly wanted to go up in the social graces of the receiving party. Everything about her was perfectly styled to her floating curls waving around her face, hair extending down past her shoulders, the unseen breeze playing with it as if she too was its toy.

So wrapped up was he, however, that it took him more than a single moment to blink and acknowledge the man before him, standing front and centre while he was off to the side. That was no matter. Mark turned to face him with an eyebrow raised, conveying his evident displeasure that this stranger had not even thought to announce his presence in any manner that could be considered polite. Maybe he thought he was above that, a tall man who was clearly older, lines of grey in his hair, although they could have appeared before his time. His brown eyes were kind and creased at the corners as if he had both spent a lot of time in his life laughing and gone through undue hardships but that was not a question that Mark was going to ask of him.

“I am King Mark," he said, his gaze level, serious and serene. “You requested an audience with me."

He had to remain formal and yet it was easy to do knowing that his harem and so many of his enslaved victims stood behind him, all standing in evidence and testament to his power too. Whereas this man had some slaves, he was not Mark and Mark was only just coming into knowing how much more there was for him to snatch up for himself, standing tall and proud, secure in his position.

All would be well. Better than simply well, in fact.

The other master smiled.

“Welcome, Mark," he said with the smallest of smiles. “Finally, I may put a face to the name."

But Mark had no such time for pleasantries as he rocked back on his heels once more, doing his best to show that he was not on the back foot, caught out. If the power to control people was there, it made logical sense that there were others in the world too that could use the power too, even if it was not something that he had considered before. It would not change anything. And yet it would change everything, bit by bit, although it was only time that would tell, truly, whether that was for the better or not.

“And I you. But what name do you go by?"

He hardly expected the man's real name but it seemed that, this time, he was to be so fortunate as to be allowed it.

“Trevor Jerrods. And I already know your name."

Mark raised an eyebrow, just a fraction.

“I see. And we are one and the same in what we have the ability to do."

There was no eloquent way to say that they were enslaving people but Trevor smiled tightly, eyes lighting up with hidden laughter.

“Yes, we are. But you may be surprised to hear that we are not the only ones. Does that surprise you, Mark?"

He was older, clearly much older, than Mark and held stock in his years of experience and wisdom; Mark could only begin to imagine how much time had elapsed since he had first taken a woman under his command and control. It could have, of course, only been for a short time but there was a particular way of holding himself that he possessed that made it seem like there was still something more to it all, a coolness to his power that had, perhaps, simmered down over time.

“It does not surprise me," Mark lied, keeping his tone carefully level, almost bored; he had to be careful. “How many are there?"

Trevor shrugged but it was a staged action.

“No one knows for sure, really, but there could be any number of us. The tomes of control are spread across the globe but we try to bring those we can into the family…so to speak."

That was understandable, although Mark was not about to reveal that he had one such text in his control at that very moment, locked away back on the estate under several security safes that only he had the codes to. Let him think that he was a dumb boy that didn't know what he was dealing with, if that made things easier on him. The old man would not be around forever, even though there was little Mark could do without being impolite to discern his age. It did not matter when he was the younger party, the one with the true strength and power while this old man could only control those around him.

“There is a family of us?" He asked, lips quirking up a tiny amount on one side, control slipping. “And I would have thought all would be a more solitary type in this endeavour, like me."

Laughing, Trevor shook his head.

“Oh, no, we do not interact besides when we have to. This moment, indeed, is a wonderful example of that. Otherwise, even if you knew of me, there is no pathway in which you would have naturally travelled down to hear me out without me calling you here. Everything became so very quiet, you see, just out of range of my territory, if you will. I simply had to send out my scouts to investigate what was thrumming beneath the surface and, truly, we may have noticed nothing at all out of the ordinary if not for the nun in the street. Truly, bravo on your part!"

Mark smiled, easily won over with praise. A little revelation, of course, would not do him any harm. And there was an art to building relationships that had done him well in his travels too.

“I saw no reason to not allow people to go about their normal lives. As much as you, I appreciate the need to keep this under the radar and people should be allowed to continue developing their talents and lives within my kingdom. It is only inhibitions that have been lifted."

“Inhibitions… Is that your focus?"

“Yes, it is, in fact. What is your focus then?"

Trevor let the silence stretch out between them, his smile playing across his lips and not quite reaching his eyes, a warmer hue to his cheeks than there had been before.

“I think that will come to light in time. Tell me about the towns that you have brought under your control. I trust that you will not cross into my territory."

It was not a question but Mark was only too proud, perhaps with the tenacious ignorance of youth, to show off what he saw as no threat. What difference did it make if he confirmed to this man what he surely must have known, at least in part, already?

And, so, he spoke of the town that he had brought under his control first, his hometown, although it was swiftly growing into a city. That in itself made his enslavement of them all an impressive feat and the fact that men too could be brought under his control. That had been a surprise even to him to know and understand the intricacies of but he made sure not to let that on to Mark, for he would not have wanted him at all to think that he was anything less than who he was – King Mark, a man of wealth and power. Anything less may have made him seem weak, even though he had no inclination either to topple Trevor, by whatever honorific he chose for himself, from his seat of power.

The men were not taken sexually, of course, as he simply had no desire for that but they did find new leases of life with partners and others in line with themselves, being true to who they were. His enslavement of them too meant that he could walk into the centre of town at any time and fuck whoever he liked without any repercussion, although he did prefer to set up a staging of sorts so that all could be enjoyed. His harem were his primaries, undoubtedly, but he even had his favourites within his harem of sexy ladies and Sarah and Victoria were the head of that. Agatha, however, was a different kind of favourite, although it would be undue to her to not pass some measure of mention on her.

No one batted an eyelid when he fucked Victoria in line at the bank – not that he needed to, honestly, wait in line, although it was for the kinky act himself that he waited in line. No one said anything if Sarah blew him on the train. He didn't even want to go out anymore unless it was for a little bit of exhibitionism! And he could get away with it too, his world perfectly serene in the regard that he could do as he liked, created his own perfect little corner of the globe with Mark's Kingdom being all that he had ever dreamed it could be. Quite literally, many aspects of it had come from a dream and yet he still had so much further to go, plans only sealed back and away from curious ears through sheer force of will. That much, of course, was not for Trevor to hear about from his lips.

Anyone from out of town, whichever town that was at any given moment, would become enslaved as soon as they crossed the border too, ensuring that the secret of his control was kept at all costs. He was not foolish in his execution of it and he paused to highlight this in his conversation, Trevor nodding politely all through it with his horde of women poised perfectly behind him. They barely moved and Mark kept talking and talking, focusing on Trevor so that his eyes, at least somewhat, would not dare to wander too much. He didn't know what the formalities were between one master and another were as yet – maybe there were none at all – but staring down those that he had enslaved while he was there most likely was not something that would stand him in good stead.

“I see… That's all very interesting, Mark, you've built quite a collection in the time you've had this power."

It was condescending, only a little, but Mark smiled, showing him that he took it as a compliment, regardless of how it may or may not have actually have been meant.

“Thank you. I am pleased that we may be on good terms with one another and have exchanged pleasantries over this matter."

Brow furrowing, Trevor slowly shook his head.

“This…meeting is not a pleasantry, Mark, but a formality, if you have the sense about you to hear it."

The words drew him back to the present moment, although they were hardly ones that he wanted to hear. Who did Trevor think he was? Against himself, he stiffened, knowing that there was anger lacing his gaze and not caring one bit.

“What gives you the right to say that?" He challenged him, both on an equal height, neither intimidating the other. “You do not know me or those with me and cannot see the truth of my kingdom. Tell me plainly: why have you brought me here today?"

If he'd been less secure in himself and his power, Trevor may have then taken that moment to adjust the collar of his shirt, everything crisply clean and pressed to perfection. Not even his smoothly combed, in-season hairstyle was out of place in the outdoors, the sun slipping behind a cloud as the wind picked up. It toyed with the hair of his enslaved but Mark's eyes were fixed on him, watching for the tiniest flicker of movement that could denote speech or action or something else entirely.

“Time is wearing on so I shall make this brief for you. You are now aware that you are not the only one with the power of mind control in this fashion. There is a whole society of powerful masters engaged in this and we are devoted to the keeping of our secret. Do you understand me?"

Mark raised his eyebrows, hands spreading as if any other thought could not have possibly crossed his mind.

“Of course. As we spoke about, I have measures in place so that my kingdom's discovery does not come to light – not ever."

“Yes, well, that is very good but this reaches further than enslaving a few pesky women," Trevor said, the shift in his tone obvious to anyone that cared to take note of it. “If we are discovered, there are ways to take us down and the clean-up from such an endeavour will most certainly not be something that any of us wishes to undertake. An entirely messy undertaking, I assure you, and we will take extreme measures if this secret gets out."

Mark frowned, unable to help himself.

“That would be why I'm keeping it under wraps, Trevor."

His name came out in a hiss that Mark did not intend but it got his point across, the other man's lips pressed together into a thin, wholly unattractive line.

“You are complacent – that is your youth talking. I shall pretend that you did not speak to me in that fashion, as is the way. Do not mess with the society. You are not one of us. Create your kingdom, do as you please, but do not encroach on what is ours and under our control. We will take what we like whenever we like from you and a boy such as yourself would do well to remember that."

Composing himself, Trevor took a breath, setting his stance a little more comfortable, patting his hair back into place with the palm of his hand.

“If matters change and your kingdom, as you call it, becomes more, interfering with us…we shall intervene. It will not be a pleasant matter for you if that is to happen so let us make sure that this never comes to light again, shall we?"

They both wanted the same things but went about it in different ways and measures, not that that was entirely a bad thing. Yet two masters of mind control coming up against one another led to difficulties that Mark could not have before anticipated in any way, shape or form. They had to avoid one another but it surely seemed that they lived the closest and, above all else, he was sure that after that meeting it most certainly would not be the last time that he saw Trevor, much to his displeasure.

They said their pleasantries, exchanging farewells, but it was all a farce and, hell, they knew it was too. Of course, it was, just like everything else in high society, even though mark took great pleasure and joy in flaunting his way through it. Fineries were his forte and he lusted after them as much as he did his harem, his life and his distraction from the less fine parts of such things.

Trevor bid him his leave and Mark was only too keen to make good on his own departure, striding off with purpose in his walk. What a relief to be gone! And all that had come of it all was a looming sense of being watched, not even that either of them knew more than they did before, bar the warning of sorts.

“Oh, and Mark? One more thing…"

Looking back over his shoulder, flanked by his most heavily armed guards, Trevor smiled. There was no light or warmth in that smile.

“Good luck."

Politeness had no place there anymore and it was with a troubled heart that Mark left in his carriages, taking an extra lap around the landscaping of the front lawn and decorative features just to further show off his wealth. Why he would ever want to interfere with another man who did not serve his needs in the kingdom was beyond him and wouldn't have crossed his mind even if he had never come across Trevor? Indeed, he would not have made efforts to meet if he'd been the one holding the cards but little came of the liaison and he did all he could to shrug it off, kissing Victoria fiercely in the back of the carriage, trusting Agatha to draw it the long trek home.

Victoria… She was a best friend and a confidant that knew exactly what he needed, shaking her hips and putting on a kinky show just for him in the carriage, using the jolts of the mode of transport to better display her male assets for him. After all, she had them there now too, the exact copy of his cock and balls, and there was absolutely no reason for her to not show them off for her king, his lust and passion coming above all else for her. She had faith in him, of course, that he would maintain the status and rule of his kingdom regardless of anything else in the world that was going on. Undoubtedly, she knew too that he would be capable of enslaving the whole world if it came down to it but she was so confident too in his ability to negotiate and rule fairly that she knew that that would not be required if all played by the rules.

And so it was that she was more than happy to relish in her sexual freedom, moaning and humping, rocking her hips as she cried out her pleasure, spilling a hot load of cum over the floor of the carriage. That would probably be one for Agatha to clean up later, for Mark still enjoyed forcing her to do menial tasks and she was under the heel of pretty much all of them it seemed. She wasn't shy about seeding the floor yet again, however, lips parted in a truly beautiful moan as she rocked and humped madly, her master sitting back to watch the show.

With Victoria, all he had to do was relax and let her sit in his lap, breasts facing him. The fact that it was her breasts facing him rather than her face was important as she clung to his shoulders and tipped her head back, letting him adore her tits in his face, sagging and glorious in their hefty, huge beauty. He called on his power of transformation then too, allowing her the ability in mind to rock and gyrate like an exotic dancer, her body ripe and fertile and young in spirit even if the wrinkles of wisdom and the years gone by still remained. With them, she was even more beautiful to his hungry eyes.

Sinking down onto his cock, Victoria moaned and rocked, her massive tits in his hands. Were they bigger? Oh, it didn't matter! She was who she needed to be for her king and he groped and pinched her tits with raw, frantic fervour that set her heart pounding, cock throbbing and pussy clenching – all for him. She couldn't feel like that about anyone else in the world – her late husband had, of course, been another matter back then – and he was there, kissing and suckling on her breasts as he squeezed them together, letting the nipples poke out against his fingers, needing that teasing sensation.

He slammed into her, feet planted and eyes locked on her breasts, her chest filling his vision. It was hard enough to breathe in such a situation, let alone to thrust, and he ground up over and over again with all the strength left in his body, desperate need curdling through him as if it had simply been waiting to be unleashed. And it needed to be released too, so very badly, a pounding, sensual drive flaring up, licking at his soul with the bite of a demon that he had not quite yet welcomed into the lust of his life.

Maybe that eroticism too would soon come to light but he had so much more left to do before he took his next step into learning, pushing the limits of a master's power all for the sake of what he could do. And who knew how far that could be?

Mark huffed and panted, a hot, sweaty flush searing down his neck, skin showing up red in needy patches. But no one would care that he needed something, only that they were there and able to give him just what he needed, which was all that really mattered. They knew it and he knew it and that itself was a sense of freedom too, something that let him slam and pound into her tight pussy (he made it that way just for his pleasure, over and over again, need building inside him like a tidal wave cresting, still in the white water, off on the horizon.

But an orgasm like that had to be savoured and would sneak up on him whether he was ready for it or not, tipping his forehead forward into her shoulder so that all he could see was her breasts, the softly sweet scent of her filling his nose. Inhaling deeply, he breathed her in over and over again, her hips rising and falling so swiftly that even Victoria could not help but climax on his cock without any extra stimulation at all. Her body was hot and primed for his lust and she cried out passionately as her passage rippled around him, every last inch of her sensual to a degree that he may not have thought possible before the luxury of feeling her pussy wrapped around him.

In that, he joined her in orgasm with a masculine grunt, following swiftly on her heels as he spilt spurt after spurt of hot cum into her, his orgasm seemingly going on forever in a lust addled mind. But he was not with his senses as he slammed in, caught up in the throes of pleasure and power that would prove to be duly intoxicating time after time again. He couldn't stop himself from wanting her and the thing was that he didn't have to. He could have her any time he wanted and one orgasm would never be the end of it as he filled her up to the brim with a hefty load of lusciously thick cum, his sense of virility inflated in the privacy of his own mind.

Yes, Victoria was always a good distraction, one of the best distractions, in fact, but she was not the only one. He couldn't wait to see Sarah too… She would distract him. She would be the one, his sweet, luscious mother, to kiss him and tell him that he'd done everything right, that he was the best master anyone could have ever wanted, that all was right and just as it should be. She was something more to him and maybe that was just what he'd always wanted her to be, a beauty of a woman that was so much more to him than just his mother. Maybe a lover, if a strange sort of one? The beauty of being in Mark's kingdom, however, meant that he was free to love anyone he wanted to and, well, if she was his mother that only meant that an extra little bit of his kinky life had come together just as he wanted it to.

And was that at all a bad thing?

*

Of course, he needed something a little kinkier to truly relieve the stress that that toad of a man Trevor had built up in him. Nothing had come of their interaction, however, and nothing would if he had anything to say about it as everything he wanted matched up with what they wanted. Truly, they would come to see that the whole thing had been a complete and utter waste of time and apologise to him if they had any ounce of sense in their bodies, although he doubted that societal class would permit them to do so, as was the way.

Let them stew and let them think whatever they would. It would not impact him. He was the king, after all, and it was about time he let them know that.

There were more still to enslave, even though they were, technically, already under his control. He just hadn't done anything with them yet and their lives and bodies were there, ripe for the picking when he could convert the sexually fraught to a life of delicious debauchery. Dressed in his Sunday best clothes, smartly suited, Mark smirked to himself, seated in the back pew of the church. He couldn't have chosen a better spot for things to progress.

That time, he'd gone alone so that he could enjoy the full scope of it without either his lovely Sarah or even Victoria distracting him. There was something about them that made him want them in the moment even though he had his pick and, this time, he really did want to have his pick, taking and enjoying all around him. Those in the church were just as prim and demure as him, although he very much doubted that very many of them believed in a greater power and the lord. It was a thing that people did, not realising that there were other powers in the world to pay note to also, powers that they could see and understand even if a god had to take belief without evidence. And that was alright for some. They could take that belief and make what they wanted from it at the end of the day. It would not affect him and his kingdom, not really. He'd keep on with what he wanted and relieve the inhibitions of those who needed his love and service as the king.

Sunday though… That was a day of worship and rest, although the man in question had absolutely no intention of doing either of those things. Oh no… He had far kinkier endeavours in his mind ready to go and he whispered the incantations over and over under his breath that he needed, transforming the women in attendance…

It was not immediately obvious what he did to them, at least at first. But he knew it was happening, just how those thickly lustrous cocks grew under their skirts and dresses, all of them dressed as women should be dressed at that time. The men in attendance wore smart pants or suit pants, like Mark, but they didn't have the equipment filling them that the women did, their cocks already hard and desperate as they deliciously rose and rose to attention. Throbbing up thick and full, they pushed up their skirts even as they tried to push them down, some twisting and others hunching forward as if that alone would be enough to hide the true status of their condition from their husbands and families.

There were no children there, of course, for Mark would not subject children to adult endeavours; that was not what his world was about. They would be children in places suited to children and their joys while the adults had their chance to play, a black-haired woman with curls bouncing whimpering as she leaned over her bag, holding it in her lap with trembling fingers.

“Oh… Please…"

Her husband looked at her strangely but his control ensured that there was no undue concern for they would all come to relish and enjoy their new additions. All was fine and well in his kingdom but he could not deny that he enjoyed their confusion, fingers aching and wanting to twitch towards those engorged cocks, another set of exact copies of his cock. There were balls too to come and he leaned back with his hands behind his head, a king enjoying the show of his people, as those nuts grew and fell heavily beneath their cocks, adding an extra sense of weight and being that a woman could never have naturally have had before. Certainly, none of the women in the charge would know what the sensual weight of a man's dick and balls was like but now they would never be without it. Just another little gift of his to his people, a kindness delivered in one of the best ways that he could allow.

“Oh… It's…"

Someone moaned and Mark's head whipped around, focusing on a petite woman in a dress that went down to her ankles, heels suitably demure. What he wouldn't have given to see her in stilettos, tottering and helpless, at that very moment but he had to satisfy himself with the fact that her dress was by no means suitable for masturbating and she laid her cardigan over her lap, trying to conceal her growing erection, a wet patch forming and spreading across the pastel pink fabric. She pressed the skirt of the dress down but it wasn't helping and she humped and ground up against her hands even through the material, striving to discreetly masturbate and, well, completely failing at the discreet part. Not that it mattered, Mark licking his lips at the show he was offered.

It was too good, really too good, as the women all tried to masturbate and get themselves off, twisting and contorting and fighting against all hope to hide their conditions. Ah, they did not know that there was no reason whatsoever for them to do that when they could let loose their lust but he enjoyed it all, the tantalising desire, nonetheless, even using his power just a little bit more to make them hornier still. Of course, getting a cock tended to make one horny, as he was finding in the casting of the control spell, but he was still a master new at that game and had much to learn. It was just a good thing indeed that the learning was something most enjoyable for him too.

“Oh…"

Moan after moan filled the church with the domed ceiling, fashioned that way after the buildings that were originally erected as sites of worship, their concealment not getting very far. It was an obvious show and yet all the men looked perplexed, scratching their heads and rubbing the backs of their necks as if they could not understand at all just what their women were up to. Another woman who had to be in her early twenties, not all that far apart in age to him, leaned back against the pew, panting with her cheeks flushed, her diamond necklace glittering askew as she dug her hand under her skirt, scrunched up on one side, in an attempt to alleviate her need, cock pulsing and throbbing in such a way that it could not possibly be ignored.

“I can't… Nooo!"

He didn't know her name but she stood and flailed, her skirt pushed up obviously with that cock. While she could not hold back her lust, blonde hair hanging around her shoulders as if it was a sheer fall of lust that he had to run his fingers through. But he could not interrupt, not quite yet, when there was so much more to enjoy. Her hands grasped that cock under her skirt and yet the men and the priest still looked at her like they didn't know what was happening, although it would not have been seen as an unduly strange occurrence even if they had been aware at that moment.

Pumping and massaging, she grunted like a man as she heaved for breast, bosom trembling, and yet that did nothing at all to soothe the fervour in her soul. More, she needed more, she needed to use that cock, to jerk herself off, to feel that fountain of cum spurting forth, a slick mess that could be enjoyed!

She was the first to go and they could not help themselves, ripping clothes and hiking them up all in an attempt to satisfy themselves while the men grinned and sat back to watch. It was all kinky to them, a lustful display, and mark allowed them the pleasure of seeing their wives and daughters, mother and grandmothers, all falling prey to a baser sense of being, something that led them into the true sense of being that they could well have taken for themselves long ago.

One woman, however, caught his attention more than the rest – another lady with black hair and a slightly darker hue to her skin, although he would not have possibly have dared to say that she was not American by any stretch of his imagination. She was wearing a Sunday dress with a trim of flowers around the hem, subtle enough to still be formal, but those could hardly be seen as she hiked the skirt of it up around thick thighs and child-bearing hips, a figure that most women would die for. Set back as he was from the erotic scene playing out before him, he was afforded the most luxurious view of her pussy, complete with a curl of dark hair, her tits rising and falling as she put a heel up on the seat, striving to get that cock out at all costs.

It swelled into her hand as if it was meant to be there, filling her palm nicely. Of course, his cock had always been a nice size and he was pleased to see it on more and more women, making them something more than what they were. Even with Stella, it added something to her, a sense of being and power that maybe she could not have reached on her own. Yet it was controversial how it too reduced her to a sex machine, her cock still hidden as she pumped it, everything else around her regarding the men carrying on as normal. It seemed to be a great, big joke that everyone was in on – the males, that was – and no one was going to say anything to clue the ladies in.

Mostly in line with that, the men ignored the women, although it was quite clear what they were doing, hands on cocks whether they were skin to skin or through fabric. For they needed it so badly, masturbating in obvious secret, their bodies pressed up against husband and sons as if their convulsions could possibly be mistaken for anything but what they were. There was a particular kind of thrust that came with masturbation, after all, and all men knew what it was, the shift and gyration, trying to hide a hard-on. But they had not masturbated in public before and that knowledge was beyond them as they faced forward, listening to the service and the priest in his robes up top, a genuinely light and gently smile stretching his lips.

They would try to hide it but they could not hide it for much longer.

Ah, but Stella was the one that commanded his attention most of all, slinking down, although she remained half-crouched in the pew, trembling and poised for action, hair barely brushing her shoulders, although he longed to run his fingers through it. Maybe he would add her to his harem, pounding that pussy while her cock spurted and spurted, a hot load of seed flowing out to seed the ground on which they walked. It would further boost his kingdom, the home town that he had enslaved all to fuel his kinky desires further and further.

“And now, if all would please rise…"

Stella didn't need to stand but the cluster of bodies around her shielded her at least somewhat from the view of anyone who may have possibly sought to stop her. She didn't know that all were under Mark's control, of course, and her cheeks flushed heavily as her cock pushed out the front of her skirt, showing off the goods on offer that she had not even had before. How it had come to be she could not tell but all she knew was that she had to cum, she had to get off, had to feel that rush of pleasure that had to be coming at any cost necessary!

She stopped with the congregation around her, quivering with her heart in her mouth, although she was by no means aware of Mark's eyes on her, boring into her back as she sealed away her whimper behind pressed together lips. Every woman in the congregation was in the same boat as her, of course, with the outline of their hard cocks easily discernible through the fall of their clothes, all the same uniform shape and size. Otherwise, it would have been a marvel that all looked so alike, the bulge there of the perfect size, although no one made any comment as to the state of the women there.

Stella, however, was the worst of them all, her shaft drooling pre-cum, or at least feeling like every drop that came forth was an unstoppable flood, balls churning with raw, masculine need. She wasn't meant to be like that! And yet she needed it, needed it so very badly, so badly, indeed that she would do anything to get it, panting obviously, her cheeks flushed and hair awry. And yet the only one there that was looking at her was Mark, knowing that he was making it even worse for her as he sent her sexy image after image, things she could be doing with him, her potential future husband (he was non-existent at that time), Mark in her mind's eye, bending her over a pew and fucking her until she screamed in climax. She didn't know who Mark was either at that time but she could only see him as the hottest person in the world, whimpering under her breath and sitting down slowly with the rest of them, a bead of sweat trickling down her forehead and hands folded over the shape of her cock in her lap, not that it really managed to hide anything at all.

She had to cum, had to get off, but there was no way to do so, sitting still and trembling like a leaf, her father on one side of her and her mother on the other side. He would see if she moved and she could not move, had to stay still, had to hide the shame of her desire, her need to cum, to climax, to shriek and moan and maybe even pound into another woman in her desperation. Wouldn't that be something if she could, indeed, take another woman to bed, kiss her, adore her, relish in the soft fall of her hair. For there was a sensual beauty to women that men simply could not match up to and that was just why she had a cock now, to please them and be with them, providing the grinding slam that they so badly needed in their craving for companionship.

Mark smiled, sharing Stella's mind as he teased her with images of his mother, making the slightly older woman – well, middle-aged – the sexiest thing she had ever seen in her lifetime. Stella would crave her, lust for her – and yet she had not even met her! It was incredible what he could do, truly, it was, but he didn't stop there, imagining his mother fucking Stella too with another copy of his dick, the two of them putting on a show for him in his private chambers. While one rode a dick, the other would grope and tease the other's breasts, both glancing over to him as if they knew well enough and understood that he would not once take his eyes off them as long as they had their lusts up and need rising for him, the passion their king allowed them to have.

Yet he could not leave poor, dear Stella stewing in sexual frustration, as much as he was keen to allow the rest of the congregation to linger in such debauchery. They would come to their highs later, he was quite sure of it. But Stella was a special case, having caught his attention, and he could not say that she was at all listening to the priest deliver his sermon any more, her need focused on something else. And yet there was the perfect victim beside her to use with a hard cock too all ready and hot to go!

So close to cumming, her hand pressed down on that cock, Stella bit her lip and swallowed a moan, eyes rolling. She couldn't do it, it was all going too quickly, too hard, too fast… She needed it and yet she could not get it with her own hand, not daring, all of a sudden, to shove her hand up under her skirt again for that skin to skin contact that she so very desperately craved.

A touch on her arm made her jump and she squealed, although no one looked her way. Her cheeks could not possibly go any redder than they already were but she still flinched and gasped, heaving for breath, her tits rising and falling as if she was actively striving to draw attention to them.

Her mother, Rachel, smiled and rested her hand on her thigh and it was only then that Stella finally realised that her mother too boasted the outline of a cock in her long skirt, although she was not bothering to hide it. Orchestrating everything from his back pew, Mark smirked with lewd delight as they came together, the traitorous embrace ramping up, the mother leaning in to whisper something in Stella's ear.

“I'm here for you."

And she would be there for her in far more ways than any normal mother would, letting Stella moan and whimper so very sweetly in her ear, leaning against her for the support that only a mother could give. They may not have been wearing clothes that suited such discreet activities in the middle of a church hall but her mother wasn't going to let that dissuade her from letting her daughter know just how much she loved and cared for her.

Slinking her hand under Stella's skirts, their hips tucked in close together, her mother chuckled softly under her breath, eyes alight with the sheer wrongness of what was happening, what was going on. And there was nothing that would ever again be able to compare to the feel of her mother's hand closing around her cock, pumping and stroking just like she had done many a time for her husband and Stella's father to please him and his desires. The only difference was, this time, that her husband was sitting on the other side of their daughter, his needs untended to as he smiled faintly and concentrated on the act of worship.

This one was just for the ladies to enjoy.

And all Stella could do was lean back and enjoy, letting someone else take control when she truly felt that she had not a jot of control over the whims of her own body anymore. Humping and panting softly, she rolled her head from one shoulder to the other, doing all she could to contain her lust, her passion. Yet she was already so close to orgasm, the tightening in her gut unlike anything she had before experienced with only a pussy to squeeze her fingers into in the dark of the night, that it was all she could do not to draw more attention to herself than she already felt she was. All eyes, surely, had to be on her but she could not stop, would not stop, chin tucking painfully down to her chest as she clenched her teeth, her body still striving to hold back as long as possible.

Rachel, however, would not allow her sweet daughter to get off before she had had her fun too and took her hand in hers, a wicked grin lighting up her face. She was the spit of her daughter with more wrinkles, the laughter lines telling old tales, and that spurred her on under the watchful eyes of their king to lead her daughter's hand covertly to her cock, letting her squeeze and pump it in turn.

With a moan, Rachel's eyelids fluttered, resisting the urge to roll her head back too. Oh yes, that was just what she needed…

Together, mother and daughter flitted towards an orgasm that was very much deserved and yet seemingly slow to come at the crux of the moment, the time where all they wanted was to moan out their pleasure. Their climax was coming and they ejaculated together, spurt after spurt of cum flooding down their legs. Of course, in their kinkily broken minds it was more than it actually was but it only made the experience itself all the more erotic to feel that slick slide of cum trickle down their thighs, mother and daughter coming together in a stunning climax that throbbed through and through them, pulsating and demanding their full attention even if they had at all wanted to focus on anything else in the heat of the moment.

Spurt followed thick spurt and their moans lingered in the undertone of the sermon, the priest not seeming to notice what was happening right before him. Mark's cock throbbed up equally hard but it was not the time in which to take his pleasure, although he had sealed away Stella and her mother in a corner of his mind reserved for potential ideas, kinky thoughts to lust after and put into action when it was the right time for his plans to come to fruition. And he could most certainly say that he had livened up the church that day!

Maybe next time Rachel would fuck Stella… The possibilities with a cock truly were endless!

And Mark knew right there and then that his job and distraction in visiting the church that morning was well and done. His power was absolute and there was no possible way that anyone was going to be able to take it from him. He would be the king forever and his power only grew. If all else failed too, he would learn more, take more, enslave more, become the king that all would fear. And yet he was secure in his place and position, confident that he had all in hand, leaving the congregation with a whistle on his lips, a skip in his step and a smirk on his face.

The women, however… Well, they were left with the new not so little additions between their thighs. There was no sense, after all, in not letting them have their fun when they had so beautifully served his needs so far. They were left to enjoy their shafts and he smiled to imagine the number of kinky delights they would all have with those exact copies of his dick, the influence of him spreading further and further in a more obvious fashion than ever throughout his hometown. He could not have thought of a better place to begin his enslavement and the benefits of that only seemed to keep right on increasing, the list growing longer, with the span of every passing day.

All would lust after his dick, the cock of the king.

Even if they didn't know they were.