Two men stand at a window. They are dressed in grey business men's suits but there is something about them that hints that such is not their usual attire. They are standing by an open venetian blind and looking out on a sunny day. Through binoculars they are gazing down on the street far below. They speak to each other in a strange, sibilant, lilting language.

"It's so easy. They fall into our hands like ripe fruit." The man who spoke was the taller of the two and younger than his companion, a dark, wryly ironic little man.

"The beauty of it is that ours is the secret only. Only we can come to this place. Together we can harvest and reap the profits. Quality with quantity. We need only take the best. "

"What about that one at the shop window?"

"The blonde? Too old. The one in red?"

"Too skinny. Ahh, now there, there at the fruitseller. The brunette. "

"Ah yes! Petite and curvy! She will do nicely."

 

Susan was standing in Oxford Street when it happened. She was on her way back to her job for another boring afternoon sorting insurance claims and had stopped to buy herself some apples. She was holding out a fiver to the barrow boy when a wave of sensation suddenly rushed over her. It was not quite pain and not quite pleasure. There was giddiness and a lurching sensation and, just for a moment, her sight seemed to blur. Then it cleared and the man was holding out her change. He was looking at her with some concern. "You all right, sweetheart? You look a bit pale."

She tried to answer him but for a moment, she found she could not move; she couldn't even blink. Then suddenly her body was straightening up and smiling. It was terrifying! Her body was smiling but she was not! Her body was moving without her telling it to. Suddenly she found herself like a driver thrust into the back seat and unable to control the vehicle. In growing horror she heard her voice speak without her willing it.

"Sure I'm fine, big boy. Keep the change! Get yourself laid! I'd stay and give you a quick fuck, but I've got another appointment."

Then she found she was walking away, her backside wiggling at the spluttering Cockney as she left him behind. Handbag swinging jauntily, she walked down one of the alleys leading off Oxford Street and through a nondescript door. She found that it led into a small nineteenth century office building. Her internal panic growing, she climbed a winding, rickety set of stairs, past small businesses ('The Blenheim Domestic Agency Founded 1904, World-wide Photography, Discreet and Private Service'). Up and up she went, until she reached the attic of the building. Then through another open door, which she locked behind her. Then she turned to survey her surroundings.

The room was nearly bare of furnishings, except for a huge, old-fashioned pot-bellied stove in one corner ... which, incongruously considering the heat of the day, contained a blazing fire. By it, a tall man was shutting some venetian blinds. Set in the far wall was a huge oak carved door, made of some dark polished wood and carved with oak-leaves and nymphs being chased by satyrs. The corners were marked with astrological and arcane symbols, and it seemed totally out of place in these tacky surroundings.

On the floor were two huge pentagrams inscribed with strange runes. In one, another man sat, eyes shut, in the lotus position. Before him, he held a wooden staff tipped with a strange, pale, blue-glowing jewel.

Unaccountably, she found herself removing her clothes before going to stand, nude, in the other pentacle. Once there she stopped being moved against her will, but found herself instead unable to move at all. The man opposite opened his eyes and stood up. Then the two men began to converse in a language unfamiliar to her. It would have been unfamiliar to Earth's greatest linguists. The two men came and stood by her and the tall man reached into the pentacle to touch her breasts and buttocks and run a finger along the crack of her pussy. To her horror, she found that she was responding to the stimulation, despite (or perhaps because of) her helplessness, her nipples hardened and her pussy began to moisten.

"Did you have to draw attention to yourself?" The tall man was angry.

"A little jest, my friend. We won't be back to this city, this London, for a while. Give the local constables something to think about." The dark man smiled.

"Do the tests! This will have to be the last for now."

Then there were lights, green and white, pouring over her from the tip of the staff. Again she felt that strange lurching sensation that had come over her in the street. The dark man began to ask her questions, in a voice flat and expressionless. Was she married? Parents alive? No and no. Her job? Her friends? Her medical history? Had she ever had a 'supernatural' experience?

She heard herself answer: "Not before today." At that, the dark man laughed and translated the reply to share it with his friend. Then her sexual history. Her tastes. The age she lost her virginity. Had she ever tried anything unusual or kinky? No and no.

"She seems ideal, an office worker. No close relatives. "

"Her aura shows no signs of disease. One last test then."

The questions it seemed, were over. After a brief consultation the dark man turned to her and the colour of the light falling on her turned to red. Like an electric shock a wave of sexual desire, of deep sexual need, washed over her. Her breasts ached and her nipples suddenly became rock hard. Her hands touched her breasts and then down to her sex which had suddenly become dripping wet in an instant. Then suddenly the wave of lust became focused. She wanted the tall man to fuck her ... she was desperate for him to fuck her! Then suddenly she knew that the tall man was far greater than she was. She was a mere worm, not fit to lick his boots. She fell to her knees before him and then onto her belly. She tried to crawl towards him but found that she couldn't leave the pentacle. She moaned, unable to reach him

"That confirms it. The strongest response today. We will store her and convert her first of all. "

The wave of desire faded as swiftly as it had come. She was standing and turning, leaving the pentacle and walking to the oak door which opened of its own accord before her. She passed the stove where the tall man was feeding her clothes and belongings to the flames. Then she stepped through the door and into pitch darkness where, abruptly, she fell herself falling and losing consciousness.

 

***

 

When she recovered awareness of herself she was lying on a cold flat surface. She was naked but the air around her was warm. She could not move, even to open her eyes. For a long time all she could hear was the sound of her own breathing and other soft sighs from nearby. Then she heard a door opening in the distance. Footsteps and voices coming nearer. Then they were standing over her and something cold and metallic was being fastened about her neck.

"Open your eyes and stand!"

The words did not seem to come to her by her ears. Then they reached right into her mind. She could do nothing but obey. She stood and found herself by a marble slab. Before her were two men in their twenties. They were dressed in light leather armour and one had a leash in his hand that seemed to be connected to whatever was around her neck. What was it? A collar? The man's lips were moving and again she heard a command she couldn't disobey ring through her head.

"Follow me!"

He gave the leash a little tug and led her away. She walked past a dozen more slabs on each of which lay a naked woman. They were all shapes, sizes and hues. Blondes, brunettes, redheads; white, black, Oriental. All were still except for softly rising and falling chests. All had one thing in common. All were exceptionally beautiful.

Then she was out of the room and into the night air, scented with heavy flowers and warm against her bare skin. She was being led along a covered pathway. Out of the corner of her eye she could see that she was in a huge estate moving between buildings that reminded her of Spanish or Roman villas. The night sky was tinted a strange purple, and she saw hanging over the huge domed buildings to which the man was leading her two full moons. Wherever she was, it was not the Home Counties.

A huge pair of double doors opened before them as if of their own accord, and they were inside the building. It was huge and circular, something like a mosque or cathedral. The only light came from the moonlit windows and a huge circle of lights. As she was led through it she saw that they were large candles held by naked women, dozens of them! They knelt with their legs spread wide apart, heads bent and, as she passed into the circle they defined, they began to mutter over and over a whispery phrase in some strange language.

The man led her to an altar in the centre of the circle and, at his command, she laid herself on it. She felt no panic. Just a strong resolve to obey this man no matter what he asked of her. Hands fastened metal bands with chains attached to them around her wrists and ankles. Then, as the collar was removed from her neck, she found herself able to speak and move for herself again. Now a feeling of panic hit her and, pulling frantically against her bonds, she called out: "Please! What are you doing to me? Why are you doing this?"

She got no reply. Into her field of vision stepped the dark man she had seen before. He was now dressed in a hooded robe and carried his staff in one hand. In the other, he held a small knife. He did not speak to her or listen to her pleadings, but began a strange, ringing, ritual speech in a harsh guttural language, completely unlike the one she had heard before. Other voices answered him in what sounded like a ritual response. Behind and beyond this was the continuing chant of the women.

Then he brought the knife down, fast, to her belly. She screamed, convinced that the moment was her last and that she was about to die as a sacrifice. But he only made a small nick just above her navel and she felt blood welling up and gathering there. Dipping his finger in the life fluid, he marked her body with symbols written in her own blood. Then, after more chanting, he was handed a small gold ring. He brought it towards her head and she could see that it was engraved with letters and symbols. She felt her head held in place by strong hands. There was a brief moment's pain in her nose and then the ring was somehow firmly fixed in her septum. She gasped for breath, feeling it lying cold against her upper lip.

There was a sudden hush as the dark man shucked off his robe and climbed onto the altar. He stood over her motionless for a moment, and she looked up the length of his naked muscular body, seeing that his prick was already half hard. It was large and circumcised. He knelt over her and, with his left hand, firmly grasped the ring in her nose. The staff he held in his right hand began to glow red at its tip and he began to gently brush it across the tip of her breasts. In his deep voice, he began to chant again.

As the staff touched her, and as the chanting from the other figure began to build, she felt once again the overwhelming wave of lust that he had caused in her before. Once again her nipples hardened and her pussy began to moisten. Throbbing waves of lust built fast in her as she felt him move the staff down between her legs to rub the glowing head against her sex lips. Slowly, then, it dipped inside her and began to open her up.

"Don't stop! Please do it ... Do it more! Do it hard ... please, my cunt, I'm so wet and juicy ..."

She heard herself moaning and begging, and the man smiled but stopped neither his chanting nor his stimulation of her swollen sex lips. She felt the hard jewel strangely hot against her throbbing, sensitive clitoris. The force of her lust built to new heights and she strained again at her bonds, the metal cutting into her wrists as she tried to reach him, to touch him, to touch herself. Unaccountably, she found herself babbling. "Please, let me ... I want to ... I'll do anything! There's nothing you can't do to me! There's nothing I won't do! Oh, please ... let me touch ... let me suck, lick.... My cunt! Oh, my hot cunt!"

Then he was kneeling between her legs and bringing the tip of the staff to touch his own cock, now swollen and fully hard. The glow jumped from the staff to his prick, which began to glow red as if lit from inside. He handed the staff to someone else and, with his free hand, raised her ass up into the air. Then, finally, he impaled her on his hard throbbing cock and began to fuck in a slow deliberate way.

It felt to her as though his cock was burning. It was a brand inside her, filling her with a fire that burned away all thought of anything but sex. All her previous life was burning up in this consuming fire that he had lit inside her.

All her previous assumptions burned away and she knew one thing for certain: This man was her superior. All men were superior to her, but this man in particular. It was his right to use her for his pleasure. She was just a worm who had no rights; no duty but to serve him. Nothing could be too good for him. She wanted to serve and belong to him.

"Yes ... oh yes ... fuck! Fuck me! Oh, shit ... your cock ... cock, cock, cock, your cock in my cunt. Thank you. Thank you. Yes ... oh yes ... fuck me, please! Fuck me any time, all the time. Fuck me forever! I'm yours. You can use me, fuck me, wipe your feet on me, trample on me. Please ... fuck me! I'm yours. You own me. I'm yours. Your slut. Your whore. Your slave. Your slave. Oh, master, fuck me! Fuck your slave! Master!!!!!"

Then as they both came, darkness enfolded her and knew just why she had been brought to this place.