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Homecoming Hypnotism

Chapter Six

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Part One

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Written by Arian Mabe (Amethyst Mare)

Commissioned by anonymous

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He could enslave the entirety of high society but Mark had a better plan in mind for the completion of his kingdom, although he had a long way to go yet with all that he had to accomplish stretched out before him. Hypnotising people had never been so easy, his powers leaping to his fingers as if called there by the touch of their true master, heart in his mouth and breath pumping into his lungs, that live-giving force. His kingdom was expanding, bit by bit, the man in charge, but he had a new challenge in mind encompassing the taking of the pure.

The convent rose in an old-style building not unlike a monastery, although it was built in more recent times, unlike in the British Isles, where such historical artefacts and memories of times more religious lingered. They were devout and they spent their days in prayer, doing the work of the lord. And that was just why Mark had set his sights on them to begin with. If they were so studiously intent on their religious pursuits, tending to all around them, it only made sense that they were drawn into his kingdom too, shown the light of sexuality and bringing an element of caring into those hypnotised by his kingdom too. It was not entirely, after all, about the sexual side and a kingdom needed more than just his harem to function well.

Only nine nuns lay in the convent, set up on a cliff away from society, and the journey there would have been more pleasant entirely if he'd been able to harness his harem to the shafts of his custom-built carriage, his female harem slaves trotting and shaking their heads just like horses. They were truly a sight to behold in their jingling, flashy harnesses and the toys that the strapping kept secured neatly and firmly inside them really was the cherry on top of the oh so delicious milkshake that they put on offer to him each and every day.

But he was going for stealth, arriving as if he was going to view the convent and ask questions of them, all very much innocent and calm and quiet. They wouldn't know what hit them until it was too late and he'd even gone to the extent of having his mother, Sarah, and his grandmother, Victoria, dress demurely for the occasion so that they would not arouse suspicion either. Of course, their clothing still featured the buttoned over sections that would easily reveal their breasts and genitalia if he needed use of them more quickly, but it was irritating to him to know that he couldn't simply bend them over and take them as he pleased. But that was just why he needed to bring more into his kingdom, making his seedy acts the norm, hypnotising those who may have opposed him. After all, his life and devotion to his kingdom was all in the name of pleasure and what was so bad about that?

A river ran below, although the cliff was not so high as to be too much of a threat, the face of it worn and crumbling after being exposed to the wrath of the elements for so long. The convent itself, however, was sheltered in the crook of the slope, perhaps cut away by glacial activity many years ago. A lake in the cup of the hill too provided them with liquid with which to wash clothes, to purify and drink, washing clean of their sins before the eyes of their lord. Mark had never spent too much time in holy establishments during the course of growing up, beyond mass and Sunday Church, that was, but he knew the way of the lord and, if there was a god up there, he sent out all of his thanks to him for blessing him with such powers. But he understood too just why he'd been chosen for, after all, he was the worthiest one to wield such powers.

Nine heads turned to him as he entered the main hall of the convent, the central hub of activity where visitors were greeted and meals were eaten as one unit. The members of the convent were all one and the same, serving the word and law of one god, and they could never have expected what Mark brought to their doorstep, flanked by Sarah and Victoria who were, as always, a single respectful step behind him.

“You are mine," he murmured, the eyes of the woman nearest him widening, blonde hair featureless on her head, although they did not seem to be the denomination that covered their hair. “Pacta Sevanda."

Oh, they resisted, moaning and twisting and falling to the floor as if they were possessed; some of them, truly, thought they were. Their pain was not to last for long, however, as he repeated the trigger word over and over again, letting his power seep into them, flowing and pulsing while they moaned and fell prey to the power of a man who was so much greater than they could ever hope to be. For he was King Mark in all his glory and he would have them, see them naked, stripped of their dignity, for they had that too, even in their convent, the privacy and seclusion that space offered them.

Clothing hit the floor, naked bodies, white from lack of sunlight, exposed and gleaming. He had them masturbate for him, relishing in sensation, freeing them to something that they may never have otherwise have considered for themselves before. It was not that he forced them, at that time, to do something that they may not have wanted to do but opened them up with his trigger word to hidden desires, passions that had been waiting so very long to be unlocked and brought forth into the light that they truly deserved.

“Pacta Sevanda."

Fingers pushed into pussies and the braid of a brunette before him, on her back on the cold, stone floor, rose up as if in offering, her moans the loudest, clothes twisted around her legs. She couldn't part them as she wanted to and so she was forced to buck and gyrate, striving to bring herself off to the peak of a clumsy orgasm even though she did not know how to bring her body there as yet.

And yet there was one still clothed and trembling, a pillar of strength in the disarray, hair covered by a hood that shadowed her face even as her fingers shook, old and gnarled. As soon as Mark's eyes landed on her, she turned and fled, shoving by a shrieking Sarah who did not have the presence of mind to grab her even as her master and king lunged.

“You! Halt!"

She was not under his control as yet, however, and the nun escaped in a flurry of cloth, the pale blue flowing behind her, a shapeless blob that he wouldn't have thought contained a sexy human body underneath it. But he had others to tame and control and would deal with her later (she couldn't cause much trouble and, truly, who would believe her when the nuns returned to their normal semblance of life under his control?), smirking subtly as he swept his arms out in a grand, powerful arc, calling them to their knees.

His nun harem quivered before him, eyes alight in adoration, well and truly under his control. Considering how they had devoted their lives to the times of obedience that they had chosen, it did not appear that they would be all that difficult to control as he smiled and took in their bodies lustfully, all shapes and sizes, breasts on show and exposed, nipples perky in the cooler air. His cock throbbed to attention but he was not yet there for their bodies, only their obedience, for there was something within the depths of the convent itself that may well be of use to him. Only delving into the depths of a twisted religion, however, would tell the truth of that tale.

“I am your new god," he said gravely, his tone conveying the gravity of the situation. “Your sister will join us soon."

“Yes, God! Our Lord! King Mark!"

Enslaved, they were well and truly his to do with as he willed, worshipping him and falling at his feet, clinging with trembling hands to his legs and his coat. Already, that coat was annoying him, feeling as if he was wearing too many layers of cloth – layers that would stop those in his service from pleasing him as he deserved to be pleased. They would be fanatics to him and him alone, seeing him as their one true god and leader, their king and their ruler.

“Head nun," he said, pointing his finger at the one who had held herself more commandingly than the rest on his infiltration of the convent, although they were all equal in the eyes of the lord, or so they said. “Tell me your name. We have much to discuss."

He didn't know her proper term but it didn't matter – she was just another of his harem now. But a name was something with power too and could be very much useful in his lustful command of her. Her back did not straighten even as she clasped her hands in adoration, barely able to believe her good fortune in standing before him – well, technically she was on her knees.

“King Mark… The name of this servant is Magrathe. I am yours, only yours."

Mark smiled. Their obedience was pleasing. Very pleasing.

“Magrathe it shall be then. I have gained the powers of hypnosis during my travels and studies in India, although I am told that the teachings of this manner of mind control originally came from the lord's ancient texts, not the Bible but other scrolls of the time. Is this true?"

She nodded rapidly and what he uncovered there well and truly went beyond his wildest dreams. If only he'd known what he was to stumble onto, perhaps he would have made more of a ceremony about travelling to the convent and gone less for the subtle act, harnesses gleaming in the sunshine with his suitably naked harem to lead the charge. They would have been a fine sight indeed.

“Yes, King Mark, we have an ancient book here…"

He stalled her, holding up a hand, a scrap of writing paper tucked lightly between a finger and a thumb. He would remember the symbols inscribed on it regardless of whether or not the rising, shifting wind chose to pluck it tenderly from his grasp or not.

“Yes!" Even Magrathe, caught by his spell of hypnosis, was surprised, eyes widening. “Those symbols – they are the same! You are the one!"

“Show me this book."

It was laid out in the library, although the religious tomes of other times did not interest him, despite it being one of the most complete collections in the world. Magrathe set it on a stand for him, the book at an easy height at which to peruse, and blew the dust off it for him, tiny, greying specks clinging to her tits as if she had been splattered, very lightly, with paint. Mark pressed his lips together, concentration wavering as he turned the first page.

Blank. His brow furrowed. It was blank. But not all of it, strangely enough. Some parts were in a language of icons and symbols that should not have made sense but he read them flawlessly, going over the spell of servitude, the enslavement triggers and also something that he did not know – something to do with transformation? That was something that he would have to return to later as he thumbed through the ancient tome, frustration growing as blank page after blank page greeted him, thwarting him with purity where he craved debauchery.

“Why can't I read it?" He growled, fingers closing into a fist. “Is this some kind of trick?"

“No, my king!" Pressing her hands between her breasts, clasped, imploringly, Magrathe shook her head. “You must grow more powerful, my king, to read this book and then all shall be within your reach. Bring more people into your service, claim them as yours, and the knowledge contained here will be open to you."

It was all he could do not to roll his eyes, but he was not a child anymore: he was a king. And it was his due right to act like one in all its regal gravity and sexuality.

“More… How many more?"

She shook her head, eyes respectfully downcast, although her breasts quivered as she shuddered in breath, not quite able, seemingly, to fill her lungs with air in his presence. He was simply too powerful, her wanton master.

“Many more… But I cannot say how many, I do not know. There is a ritual that could help, however, if it would please you that we prepare it."

“Do so. Immediately."

His voice left no question as to his intentions and she bowed, hastening off to the central chamber where they could prepare the ritual, which Magrathe knew of but none of the other nuns. Its explanation and execution was easy for them, however, even though it was not in line with the religious texts and servitude that they had before followed. Drawing a pentagram on the floor in that large hall, tables pushed back against the walls, they prepared for it nude, no clothing required in the presence of their lord and master.

“Dim the lights."

Magrathe took charge, although she would never be above Mark and would never again want to be, sealing them away in an artificial twilight, the shades of thickly, coarsely woven curtains covering the windows, although even those were cast up in a rudimentary, basic fashion. The convent shunned worldly luxuries in their service of religion and Mark made a mental note to himself to look at that, seeing how they could be best of use to him. At the very least, they would need to explore the avenues of electricity even though the candles and lanterns flickering and dancing in wicked glee did so make for a pleasant ambience.

“This is a ritual of debauchery," Magrathe explained softly, her tone respectfully hushed so as not to disturb the rite to come. “It will bring power to you and build on what you know."

Mark nodded, scrawled instructions to the ritual in his hands, for it was for him to execute if he was to take power from it. Magrathe could not do it for him and even Sarah and Victoria had left the room, taking their leave and peace in a private chamber. It had to be him and him alone, claiming what was due to him.

The nuns awaited him, dressed simply as they had gone about their preparations, for it was to be the beginning of the rite, long dresses falling to their ankles, although it was not necessary for them to wear shoes or sandals. They only wore their clothes again before Mark for the sake of the ritual and his fingers itched to see it torn from them, revealing those bodies that he had not had nearly enough time to take in, to lust after and adore so. And that time had come.

Licking his lips, he moistened his mouth to give the order.

“Strip."

And they did, one by one. They put on a show for him, wriggling and arching to show off their best features, although there was nothing in particular that stood out to him about his nun harem, the angels that were now his to command. Nipples still, however, drew his attention and he smirked at one woman shyly groping her breasts, seeming to pay them due mind for the first time in her life. They all must have been virgins and that thought spurred him on, cock hardening in his pants, desperate to claim that sweetness away from them too. It would all be for the better.

It was for Magrathe, however, to be the first and the woman held her head high even as she scurried to the centre of the pentagram, down on all fours with her backside pointed at him. Firm and round, there was a fair bit of muscle there too from working on the site of the convent, which was self-sustaining and requiring manual labour that nuns such as themselves most certainly did not hire in. No, all had to be done for themselves and Magrathe rocked her hips and arched, under his control and influence, striving to entice him to fuck her with every last little sexy trick she had. Undoubtedly, that left her with a short list of things to try but he could not help but appreciate the effort made as she dipped a finger tentatively into her pussy, perhaps for the first time. He didn't care as long as he got to fuck her.

He was naked and on his knees before he could blink, hands helping him out of his clothes, the ritual progressing as the paper was taken from him. He didn't need it to tell them to perform the rite, power flooding him already, an electric tingle that raced down to the tips of his fingers. He gasped, chest shuddering, and someone's hand closed around his cock, awkwardly pumping and teasing even as he whispered the trigger words all over again, feeding them the images of wanton lust that would give them the experience to please him, all the things that he had done with his mother, both grandmothers and so much more too.

“Pacta Sevanda."

He was power. He was control. He was the king.

Magrathe moaned for him, throat trembling, her brown hair falling forward loosely over her shoulder as if she was falling apart at the seams, the semblance of her reality crumbling with candlelight dancing off her bare skin. She moaned out his name over and over again and Mark was right there to satisfy her, driving his aching shaft into what had to be a virgin cunt as he slammed in.

The others closed in, hands fluttering around, stroking his arms, his shoulders, down his back, adoring him. Magrathe cried out, arms outstretched as if in praise even then, praising the lord who had freed her from servitude and brought her into another kind altogether. Her life was to serve and it was only right that King Mark was the one to take her, virginity stripped from her just like her clothes had been. She moaned his name, the syllables blurring together in her mind, reeling from the sheer force of pleasure hitting her, too much for a single human mind to bear.

She needed him and he needed her, even though he was going to take her regardless. Her moans were merely sweet music to her ears and Mark snarled in the back of his throat, lips parted, more of a feral king right there and then than he ever had been before. Her buttocks ground back at him with greater and greater precision, his 'teaching' of her in changing how her sexual mind worked, showing her what he wanted her to do with image after image, helping with their lusty liaison. Still, even if he'd had to pin her down with her hands over her head just to get and keep her in the right position, he would have taken her anyway just to feel that sweet, sweet pussy contracting around him.

Had she climaxed? It was impossible for him to tell as her sex clenched and rippled around him, demanding that he pay her more and more attention, slamming in, hands on her hips. His short fingernails bit into her hips as he drew her back onto his cock with each and every thrust, slamming in with raw, wild abandon, head flung back and eyes desperate. Never before had he felt so in control, the sensation addictive, skin tingling as it poured into him, more and more and more. There was no end to it as he drove in harder and faster than ever, carnal desire rising up like a serpent about to strike.

Magrathe cried out, lips moving yet not always with sound coming out, whispering and murmuring, although the ritual was down to Mark now. All she had to do was be there and be fucked, to allow him to claim her, to make her his. She was enslaved and right where she wanted to be, the beautiful cock of her king driving in, pulling such pleasure to the forefront of her mind, ecstasy that she had never before allowed herself. And to what ends?

Fingers twisting in her hair, Mark fell prey to baser desires, pulling her head back with a feral snarl. Her head yanked back, the cream of her throat exposed and vulnerable, but she only cried out again for him, pain tingling in her scalp as his shaft pounded her, orgasm rising in a tightening of muscles, that delectable thrum that told her that something more was coming, even though she could not understand it. Yet her master Mark had more to do, more to say, his word the final one in the showdown between the controlled and the controller. It was now or never!

For there were other things in the book as power filled him, seeping through him like a heat that he had never before had the luxury of feeling, that could be enjoyed too in the interim. Transformation? Why, he could certainly give it a go…

“Pacta Interva."

Nothing happened and he repeated the words, clawing for the power, the vibrating energy, that seemed to come and go, still unstable in him as the ritual continued on. That second time something happened, finally, the changes visible in the women surrounding him. Bidding the nuns to stand even as he kept right on fucking Magrathe as if his life depended on it, he watched hungrily, lustfully, shaping how he changed them and beautifully so.

They were not to remain wholly female, even if it was the female body that he lusted after so much. Slowly, the skin atop their pussy swelled forth, crotches changing, lewdly humping and gyrating, although he was careful to use his power to ensure that he had a clear view of the remaining seven nuns. He wouldn't have wanted, of course, to miss the show as shadows fell from growing cocks, each and every one of them – even Magrathe too, the only one of them that he could not see at the moment where it mattered the most – growing a shaft that was an exact replica of his.

It was not normal and it was not conventional but, really, what was normal about his life anymore? If he could not shape the world around him to his will there was no sense at all to being the king and he groaned and rocked his hips, slowing the pace of his thrusts as he savoured what he was able to do. How far his powers stretched would always amaze him in the best of ways, surprise him with how much further he could push things, lusting for more and more, always more.

And those cocks, even if he did say so himself, were perfect, so very perfect. They were what he needed the nuns to have, his angels, the angels of his kingdom, rising hard and full, skin pulling back from the heads as if they were already thrusting into one another. He couldn't be there to please them all the time, after all, so it was only 'fair' that he left them with the just means to please one another and explore their sexuality in his absence. To do anything else would have been cruel, no?

It should not have been as lustful as it was to watch those cocks growing but it was, like looking into a twisted sort of mirror at one of those rickety haunted house establishments. It didn't seem right on their bodies, to see his cock from such an angle, but it was interesting too in a way that made him lurch forward into Magrathe, spilling his seed hastily. But it didn't matter, of course, if he climaxed too soon because there was plenty more where that came from too. He could get off over and over again and he'd be ready for more, having trained his stamina and ability during the course of his time with his lusty harem. They really did have their perks.

He didn't stop at giving them cocks, however, those fleshy rods rising as the nuns – well, not so nun-like anymore – humped and gyrated, seeming to do everything possible to show off their bodies to him. Mark appreciated the gesture, their beings going up a notch in his books, but he spoke the spell of transformation again, murmuring the words under his breath as he stilled inside Magrathe, his cock pumping, still filling her with lusty, small spurts of seed.

Balls too. They would need those too in order to please one another, to be his angels of lust. Fleshy sacks dropped beneath those cocks and, this time, he allowed them to explore, hands wandering and caressing, teasing across flesh that had never before even existed in abject wonder. Truly, his cock on their bodies was the first shaft that they'd ever touched, although he most certainly would have warranted that they knew the basics of how sex worked. If not, he'd simply have a lot to teach them about the ways of the world – his world. And that was the best kind of world to be in.

Their balls hung full and heavy with seed, lightly separated into two parts, although the softness of them almost seemed to retain a feminine air. But maybe that was just their thick, womanly thighs framing the cock and balls, lending a different feel and sensation to what should have, at least in his mind, been a purely masculine trait. And yet the world was very different now as the nuns hunkered over, moaning and grunting as they pumped those shafts, caressing the balls and leaving no part of their newly formed, lustful bodies untouched.

“Join the rite," he hissed, eyes half-lidded, barely able to focus on his own words. “Fuck one another. It is…time…"

But he could not help himself from slamming into Magrathe, cock hard and ready once more, drooling pre-cum – that could have, however, just been her slickness, the natural lubrication of her arousal easing his passage. He didn't care, it didn't matter. All that mattered was his pleasure and his demand, his need to control, to play them out like passionate puppets of his desire.

Obediently, they got down on the floor in all manner of positions, positions that he fed them, one by one. A pair lay on their sides, one's head to the other's crotch and vice versa. There was an obvious part to pleasure and they took each other's cocks into their mouths with groans that could not possibly be mistaken for anything but lust, suckling and drawing them back into their mouths with kinky delight. Their first cocks, Mark's cock but on one another… What could have been better? Another couple fucked missionary, a blonde nun's hips arching up from the ground as her partner leaned over her, trying to cover her with her body, muscles tense in her legs as she fought to keep her balance, to keep fucking roughly with every last ounce of desire in her body.

There were more of them still but the last three were engaged in an orgy, a threesome that shifted who was in any one position at any given time. The flowed between having one sucking off and jerking off the other two to having a chain of sex, one fucking the other fucking the other, servants of lust that could not decide just what they wanted to do. And, all through it, Mark slammed into Magrathe, driving her into orgasm after orgasm, her mind broken to his will and her body very swiftly getting there too. Her passage clenched and rippled around him but there was no particular kind of muscular control there, although there was pleasure to be found in the erratic nature of it all too.

The nuns moaned, sounds of sexual pleasure filling the room even with its high ceiling. There was no end to their kinky passion as their bodies came together over and over again, the slap of flesh on flesh growing increasingly urgent. Clenching his jaw, holding off another climax, Mark growled in the back of his throat, fingers digging into Magrathe's hips, holding her there even as he forced her torso and small tits down to the floor, nipples grinding kinkily against the cold stone. Yet even that stone would swiftly warm to the heat of her body if he had anything at all to say about it.

They needed something more though and Mark had just the thing in mind for that, chest filling with air as he pushed his shoulder blades back, lips quirking up devastatingly on just the one side. With every thrust into Magrathe, he granted her what she should have been born with, her tits growing larger and larger with each and every lustful thrust. She moaned and clawed at the ground but it was merely an expression of lust and not her in any way trying to get away, chest pushed up by how her tits grew, swelling with fat, lustful nipples that were simply begging to be sucked on.

It wasn't enough for just Magrathe to be transformed, her huge tits swinging and pressing down into the floor. He had to do it for every last nun in the room too and they very shortly had breasts growing to match the passion of any lustful sex goddess, pulled down sensually under their own weight and tipped with equally fat nipples. They moaned and twisted, squeezing their growing tits together under his direction as he bid them to kiss one another too, tongues tangling and cocks finding wanton, wet holes all over again. Each thrust they made too had their breasts growing larger and larger, teasingly big – so big that it was hard too for him to hold back, fucking Magrathe with the passion of a man who may very well have lost his mind.

More…

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Their hair too – they needed to be the same. They may have spanned the ages but they were to be the same in body and mind for him, his sexy nuns. Older, yes, they all needed to be older, their bodies growing to what he imagined the perfect fifty-year-old body would look like, older than his mother and yet younger than his grandmother. But they would not boast the stamina or energy of a fifty-year-old, oh no – that would not do! They would retain the strength and fitness of back when they had all been just twenty, feeling very much as if they were able to take on the world and then some.

He could not deny how he liked that body type, the light wrinkling denoting their growing age, the wisdom that was said to come with those years. It seemed right for him, something that he could enjoy and lust over, feeding his own manner of sexual fantasy. He thrust and thrust wantonly, the changes coming more and more rapidly in time with his lust, pounding and driving, drawing the changes to them in physical features without a single one of the disadvantages of old age. Their hair too he turned blonde and voluminous, streaked with grey to denote who and what they were, letting out a raw and ragged cry himself as he spent himself for the final time that day inside the newly transformed, blonde Magrathe.

Her passage rippled around him, seeming to want to draw him in even as her body fought to milk him of his cum, pulling and massaging. She seemed to have better control over her body as she changed and she ground back on him with a passionate groan, trying to throw her head back even as the tightening of muscles drew it down, chin towards her chest. Magrathe had long ago lost count of the number of orgasms that King Mark had given her but a sexy nun like her had to be grateful for everything she was given. She just had to be obedient to him, yes, sweet to him, yes, always, always, his – yes!

And Mark could hold off no longer as his cum poured into her, pump after pump of virile semen throbbing forth as if it could bear to be held back for not a moment longer. Her thick buttocks rose to meet him and he reached around to squeeze and massage her breasts, adoring the show going on around as the others finished, splattered in cum and panting, blonde hair waving. They were perfect, just perfect, everything that he had ever imagined that they would be for him and so much more. Everything he did exceeded his own expectations and he flushed hot with pride, more power than ever rising up through his body, wanting to cum over and over again.

And yet there were things to do and he left the nuns there in a panting, moaning mess, knowing that there would be others to take care of tasks for him. His cock softened and yet still proved to be impressive in the heft of his power, standing tall and proud, a small smile on his lips.

“Pack everything of importance. You will now leave the convent and never return. I will house you."

Calling out the door as he left, ready to relax after such a ritual, he turned tail on the debauchery he had created, knowing that his mother and grandmother were near.

“Victoria? See to it that they are prepared."

He wouldn't have wanted to spare the time on something so menial himself.

*

The convent, fortunately, boasted carriages and it only took a short amount of time after planting the image in their minds of what he wanted them to adapt them into, drawn by sexy women rather than horses. However, it was not the nuns who were to pull them but even more members of his kinky harem that arrived with due haste to transport their esteemed guests home, albeit in better attire than they had started off with. The carriages were not in the best state of repair, it had to be said, but Agatha's arrival, at last, with another carriage and the equipment that he needed for the newest members of his sexy harem and kingdom to feel completely and utterly comfortable in themselves.

Introducing them to sex toys was interesting, the dildos created by his expert craftsman (he'd needed to bring a custom tailor into his kingdom too) doing the trick in what he needed for his world. He had not before realised just how much went into running a kingdom like his but, well, those in his employ were taken care of well and happy with their work; there was not anything more to it or anything more that needed to be done on that count.

The nuns remained naked except for the red high heels he bid them to step into, tottering and teetering until he implanted the knowledge of how to walk in them too into their minds. What a useful trick that little element of mind control was…! He draped them in jewellery, only the finest, diamonds glittering in the sunshine that had only just come out from behind the clouds. Agatha headed up the first carriage that was to carry his previous cargo of sexy nuns home, the leather harness she wore tucking a butt plug and a normal dildo into her respective orifices, stepping up high and proud, his obedient third in the harem in every way. He still had to exert more control over her than he did with his mother and other grandmother but he could not have said that their relationship when he'd been younger really warranted any manner of closeness or warmth between them in all honesty.

That did not matter, however, Victoria smiling in one of the carriages further back as she bid Mark to join her, a cheeky flirt in her eyes as she winked to him. Mark grinned in turn and drew her to him, groping and squeezing her breasts as she gasped, pretending to be shocked by the audacity of it. Their relationship, on the other hand… Well, that had changed.

Sarah took over another carriage, of the highest position in his harem, and that left him free to experiment on the carriage ride home, which was smoother, at least, than others he remembered. The nuns tried to relax in their sexy heels, bundled into their own carriage, and he chanced a glance out at the ladies in his harem, those delicious backsides before turning to his sexy Victoria, her tits in his hands as he made them grow and grow and grow.

And he more than easily had the ability to force them to swell to obscene proportions, too large for a man to hold comfortably – almost too much breast to handle. He groaned, playing with and massaging them, nipples poking up against his fingers. He had to pay those attention too and he bid them to swell with the spell, growing too large and fat for even breasts of that size, focusing on first one tit and then the other.

“Oh, yes," Victoria moaned, arching her back to thrust her breasts into his hands. “Yes, King Mark… Oh, what are you doing to me!"

It was an exclamation of joy rather than a true question and he kissed her fiercely, shrinking her breasts down again even as the change obviously gave her pleasure, pussy soaked and grinding on his leg, wanting his dick. Well, didn't she always? And yet he didn't see at all why he shouldn't give her exactly what she wanted, even if not quite in the way that she may have otherwise have been imagining.

“Pacta Interva."

And, with that, Victoria grew a shaft, slowly and sensually, just like his, the shape an exact copy with the head drooling with the faintest gleam of pre-cum. Shuddering, she tipped forward as if she was trying to get that cock into her mouth, even though she had the real one – wait, which was real and which was the copy? – right there before her, lost to lust as she contorted and practically lunged to get at it.

“Oh! Mark!"

How one word, his name, could spill forth with so much lust infused in it was beyond him. Even then he still had the pair of nuts to put on her, although they were nothing compared to the breasts that he was still changing, making larger just to suit him. Victoria, as she was, didn't need much extra size but he was sure he'd change her body back and forth to please his will, enjoying the scope of his new power.

One hand on her new cock, Victoria leaned back into the seats and groaned, head tipped back and lips parted.

“Oh… So, so…"

Hardly eloquent, Mark could only grin and stroke her cheek as he enjoyed the sight of her with her new gift, squeezing and marvelling at her cock as if she couldn't believe that she all of a sudden had one just like him. Now she'd never have to truly be without him! How wonderful was that?

“You'll have the fitness of a twenty-year-old now too, like them," he murmured, kissing her cheek tenderly. “Is that not nice? You shall be able to do so much more…"

“Oh, Mark… King Mark. You are too kind to me. However could I possibly repay you?"

She winked cheekily and he knew just the thing, matching her smile with his own and pointing down at the rampantly hard dick before her, simply begging for her touch.

“Jerk it off. Show me all that you have, Victoria, my dearest grandmother."

And she did so with much pleasure, sitting back with her legs lewdly spread as the carriage bumped and jostled along its way, hastening them homeward. Both hands pleasured that thick shaft and she played them off in turn so that she was never left without stimulation, cock throbbing and pulsing as she learned just what felt good – and what gave her king, of course, the best show too. After all, that was the most important thing and what she had to do above all else.

Again and again, she pumped and teased her cock, stroking the length and feeling out the curve of it, that light raise to it that meant that his shaft, of course, was not ramrod straight (nobody human could claim that). Even the details right down to the veins were accurate and the sack hung full and heavy with cum, her fingers and thumb separating the balls within lustfully and with seedy intent. It would have been a shame, of course, not to spill such sweet seed and she had every intention to see her own cream painted across the floor of the carriage in evidence to her lust and enjoyment of all that he had done even so far for her.

“Yes… Make it a show!"

And Victoria intended to do just that as she rocked up, humping and grinding into her hand, thrusting and driving as if she was covering another woman, slamming into them. Oh, she had heard the moans of the nuns too and they had lifted her spirits, just the knowledge that Mark was bringing more into his kingdom and harem… It was enough to give her goose bumps! A free spirit in body and mind, her pussy clenched down on an imaginary cock even as she pumped the grace-given shaft that he'd allowed her, still thinking that she was the one on the bottom, being pounded by his goodness.

Mark moaned for her and she took his cock in her mouth, slurping and teasing with a saucy little flick of her tongue that Sarah, most surely, must have taught her, giving him the pleasure that he delivered to her back in spades. How could he be so kind to her as to deliver such a gift? She'd have to think of some way…oh…to repay him… Her cock drooled onto the floor as she stood, wobbling in a pair of heels that were not the most stable of footwear on a floor that constantly shifted. She really was making quite a mess there too.

Maybe Agatha would clean it up… Mark would like that. Mark would like that very much, she was sure.

“Cum for me."

“Your wish is my command…ahhh!"

She couldn't hold herself back, thrusting and jerking as if she really was pounding her own seed into another lusty female body, all for his pleasure, making sure to put on the show that he'd wanted from her, hips working and thrusting furiously to spill her load over the seats, the leather gleaming beneath her creamy load. Spurt after spurt of virile seed stained it but neither of them cared as Mark grabbed his cock and shoved it into her mouth, intent too on getting his rocks off with her.

And it was as she swallowed down his seed that she knew that she was right where she wanted to be, on her knees before the king who ruled and dominated her entire life. Victoria's throat worked noisily as she gulped down every last drop, making a performance of it even in the heat of the moment. For she knew all the while that she was there for Mark and, well, things had come to be such between them that all she wanted was to see him happy, his kingdom flourishing under a kind and gentle rule.

But he would be unforgiving to those who sought to oppose him, if there even was anyone who could stand up to mark. And, really, just why would anyone want to?

*

Of course, things in any kingdom were hardly destined to go smoothly. The three carriages click-clacked at a smart pace back into the grounds of his primary mansion, only to find a black-haired woman waiting for him on the steps. His brow furrowed as he stepped from the carriage but so caught up was he in the spell that he had woven for himself that he truly thought he was invincible. He could control anyone he wanted to, after all – how could he not be impervious to all harm?

And she was jaw-dropping too, gorgeous to the nth degree, a fall of jet black hair sweeping down past her shoulders as she turned a perfectly made-up face on him, her lips as red as a whore's. An eyebrow cocked and, with how smartly she was dressed, he would have taken her to be some manner of saleswoman, although even then he could not fathom just how she'd gotten by the security gate and their groundkeeper. Since enslaving more people, of course, he'd been able to bring more and more back into the employ of the estate, everyone treating it all as perfectly normal that he went around with his naked trophies most of the time.

It didn't matter to him how she got in, however: he would make her his anyway. Fixing his eyes on her, he stretched out his fingers demandingly, crooking them in her direction as if to add a flourish to his power.

“Pacta Sevanda."

And yet… Nothing changed. Nothing happened. He may as well have been speaking the trigger words to an empty set of steps, his lustful harem and nuns patiently waiting behind him, watching the scene with perfectly beatific, impassive eyes. There was no humiliation to be had though while they were under his command and he rocked back on his heels, taking in the measure of the strange woman who simply showed no response whatsoever to the exertion of his will and power.

She raised an eyebrow, so perfect that it could have been taken straight from one of his mother's magazines. Again, he tried, repeating the word not without a frustrated twitch, a muscle jumping in the corner of his eye. She should have been down on the ground begging for him, proclaiming her servitude to him! Why wasn't it working?

“My master wishes to speak with you."

Mark straightened, hiding his unrest. Master? Why couldn't he control her? What was wrong? Had the convent taken something from him inadvertently? Had the ritual to infuse him with power gone wrong? Could it even go wrong like that?

“And what if I don't want to speak with him?"

She smiled, too serenely.

“Then my master will be displeased. He has many enslaved in his service, like you only more." She paused as if for effect, the tiniest of pulls twitching at her lips. “Many more. He is surprised that your kingdom has not grown much larger in all this time, which is why he did not contact you sooner. Come to this place at seven o'clock. He will be waiting for you."

She turned on her heel, leaving a piece of paper fluttering in mid-air that he had to lunge and snatch up like he was a much lesser man than he was, the sort of man that was not a king at all. Still, he sealed away his curse behind closed lips, eyeing the address on the paper. It was by no means conventional but there didn't seem to be anything else at all that Mark could do as he stepped back, Victoria and Sarah hovering, his mother's hand fluttering about his arm.

“King Mark… Are you quite alright?"

Closing his hand into a fist, crumpling up the paper, he nodded sharply.

“I will be. Come with me, my pet."