Artifact ch.16

In Tonks's body language – a slight head tilt, eyes cast downward – her submission seemed to come more easily. Submission seemed to come easier to Susan than to Harry. He wondered why. Perhaps because Susan had no doubt about her place. And Harry, despite all his knowledge that these women deserved to worship him, was still relatively new to this. Susan believed she was born to serve – she had spent her entire life serving her Master's slaves and showing him affection.

Without any prompting, Susan pushed the other girls aside, demanding priority access to his cock. The other two groaned and pouted, but only because it excited Harry. He knew they were very happy to watch Susan give him a blowjob. Her dark skin looked so good in the service of his body.

Blissfully, perfectly obedient. They would never defy him. No matter what. No matter what. That gave Harry an idea.

"Tracey, Daphne." He cleared his throat. "I have a little task for you..."

ALONE IN HER HOME, dressed neatly in a fashionable green dress, the lovely Padma sat and stared at the watch. She wondered where it came from. What its origin was.

"Was it a force for good or evil? Was it merely a tool that could be exploited for profit? But tools weren't marked like this watch. An open eye in the center of the sun.

Tools were simply instruments, constructed for a specific purpose. People marked their possessions and mementos; people marked certain instruments for peculiar rituals, and people marked weapons for warfare. Wasn't that so? Was it some kind of weapon?

The fact that it was powerful was beyond doubt. The previous night, it had hypnotized the three wealthiest individuals in the city. They practically handed over their entire fortunes to her. She would never feel financially insecure again.

It was a stroke of luck for Padma. A sense of security. A lifetime filled with disappointments and missed opportunities had made her wary of investing in anything uncertain. She had been burned too many times.

She surmised that, in the case of the men from the previous night, it wasn't necessary for them to never be able to think about another woman without thinking of Padma. Yet, the thought of it warmed her heart. She probably deserved such adoration. Even without all the turmoil associated with having to engage with such inferior men. There was a real man waiting for her. Maybe Harry, if he didn't disappoint her so often. There was undoubtedly some charm in him, a stern determination possessed by few men. Nevertheless, she pushed the thought of the fantastic sex from last night away.

He didn't deserve her.

Padma wasn't sure if anyone deserved her. She could easily see her reflection in the mirror on the other side of the room. God, she was perfect. She ran her hand through her thick mass of hair. Had anyone ever had hair so thick and luxuriously sexy? It was no wonder the watch had ended up in her possession. She deserved to have everyone do as she said. It was right and natural. Men and women would do what she wanted anyway, just to see a smile on her beautiful face. The watch had only accelerated everything.

The doorbell rang. After checking the door, she saw that it was Tracey and Daphne, Harry's assistants. How peculiar. What was going on?

They were dressed as Padma often saw them, in matching outfits. Tracey's impressive (though artificial, as Padma noticed) breasts were encased in a tight pink tank top, and she wore hot yellow, form-fitting pants that reached her hips. Daphne, on the other hand, sported bright pink shorts paired with a midriff-baring top that tastefully highlighted her well-formed, modestly-sized chest.

Padma was pleased to observe that even with all their ostentation, she was far more attractive than either of them.

"Hello, darlings. How can I assist you?"

They hurried inside, pushing the door open. "We have something very important to discuss," Tracey said.

Daphne nodded. "Very important. We really need to handle it immediately."

Each of them wore high platform sandals that clacked loudly on the tiled floor.

"Spill it. What's going on?"

"What's going on?"

"It's about Mas-Harry, isn't it?"

"Right, Harry. Him. Him. I mean, you know Him."

Padma heard their emphasis on the pronoun. Their faces slightly glazed over as they talked about Him. She began to laugh.

Did Harry truly believe that Padma wouldn't suspect he would use the watch on Daphne and Tracey? She knew him too well. The only reason he had even hired Tracey was that he and Padma had stopped having relations, and Tracey was just an imitation—albeit a cute one, Padma had to admit.

The girls seemed not to comprehend why she was laughing; both wore the same bewildered look.

"He didn't think this through, did he?" she said. "Poor things. I think he's messed with your heads too much for you to be any good at this."

Tracey cleared her throat. "He doesn't know... I mean, I don't know what you're talking about. We're not the Master's playthings."

"No," Daphne said. "We're not his playthings at all. Nor his pets. Nor his dolls. Nor his little servants..."

"They began to lean towards each other. Holding hands tightly, Daphne pulled Tracey's hand up her bare thighs, emitting a soft moan.

"Exactly." Padma nodded, very serious. "I believe you."

"You believe? They said in unison, their eyes lighting up. "Of course," she lied. "Why wouldn't I believe you? That's great," Tracey said. She apparently didn't notice her false pause. Padma smiled. It was a juicy, beautiful thing, even as predatory as she was. "You're here about the watch, right?"

"Did we... did we say that?"

Of course, they didn't. "Of course, you did," Padma said. "You need that watch."

"That's right!" Tracey nodded. "So we can all... get back at him!"

"Yes," Daphne said. "And really suck his cock to show him who's what."

Tracey nudged Daphne's elbow hard, as if she had nearly slipped up instead of revealing everything. They weren't the best spies to send on a diplomatic mission like this.

Padma chuckled. "You can't be serious."

"Oh, yes," Tracey exhaled, eyeing the watch still on Padma's wrist. "We're deadly serious. We want to show him who's what. And he's got such a cock to show."

The engraving on the watch was rather lovely, Padma thought. Elegant and simple. An eye inside the sun. It looked Egyptian. Perhaps some ancient relic? But how would the Egyptians have a watch? Maybe some watchmaker stumbled upon a book of Egyptian spells long ago?

Of course, there were other types of hieroglyphics. Other ancient societies. It was rather mundane of her to assume Egyptians. It could be Malazan, Peruvian, or Aztec... countless sources.

Or even something from another world. It didn't matter. What mattered was that it worked.

"You want to know what I think?" They both looked at each other and shrugged. "Of course."

"I think my idiot husband sent you after me." She lifted the watch. "I think that's why he sent you. Isn't it?"

They immediately tried to cover their eyes, secure themselves, and back away. Padma slowly waved the watch, undeterred.

"Don't worry, girls. You don't have to worry. Just look at me."

Daphne, always rather subdued, attempted to peek. "Did you... did you take it off? Because..." Her face and body immediately slackened. "Take your hand off, Tracey."

Daphne immediately removed Tracey's hand, ignoring her lover's protests. The effect was immediate.

Both stood dazed and smiling, their wide eyes fixed, as the watch fried their tiny, hypnotized minds.

"You're my slaves now," Padma said. "You were always meant to be. Always. Never anyone else. Never, ever. Always mine. Never Harry's. Only mine. Even when he liked you. It was all for me. All for me. All for me. You know it's true. It's always been true. Nothing else can be truer. Everything in this world exists only for me."

She waited for them to repeat it, then remembered herself. It didn't work that way. She had to tell them to repeat it.

And she wanted to hear it. Wanted to hear from them what she deserved. What she had earned through her efforts. Hell, didn't she deserve hot slaves who would take care of her? Why not? She was a fucking hot chick; she should have everything she wanted.

"Repeat after me, girls," Padma began, still twirling the watch. "You're my slaves..."

BACK IN THE WAREHOUSE It was late in the evening, and Harry looked at the note Padma had delivered to him. The note was brash, eloquent, and stunning, just like Padma, so, of course, it read:

Next time you send your whores after me, make sure you haven't turned them into rocks beforehand. Tracey used to be so hot. I admired how much she hated you. I think I'll bring back that version, and it'll be even better than ever. It was rather low of you to make her true self disappear like that.

"Oh, and IF you send someone after me again, I'll come there and make you wear diapers within an hour. I know you had to try something to see if it would work. It didn't. And it won't. Try again, and you'll never be able to say anything more complicated than the first few lines of a child's book."

"I SHOULD HAVE KNOWN," he shook his head. "Padma knew about the watch in advance yesterday. I thought she saw me having sex with you, but she must have assumed Tracey and Daphne were involved too. Or maybe they weren't... weren't... well-trained enough."

Everything was falling apart.

The other girls around him - Susan, Tonks, Fleur, and Rose - waited patiently for his orders. He allowed the note to fall to the ground, and Rose picked it up and read it. Fleur and Rose had arrived just moments after Harry had sent Daphne and Tracey on their mission. He quickly briefed them, no longer caring whether Rose knew she had been turned into his complete hypnotic slave or not. She couldn't do anything about it.

His lovely sister was wearing tight leather pants and a sexy, fitted white jacket. Fleur was in one of her characteristic seductive outfits - revealing her cleavage in a little blue tank top and cut-off denim shorts. Small cowboy boots adorned her incredibly tanned legs.

Tonks and Susan were dressed more masculinely. Both wore assistant-style outfits - tight spandex bodysuits showcasing their incredibly sexy figures.

"War..." Rose choked. "Master, I don't understand. Why can't we just leave this alone? Do you really need that watch? I mean... we're all happy to serve you."

He shook his head. She didn't understand. Of course, a regular man could be satisfied with these four beautiful women, focusing on his every move, but Harry quickly realized he wasn't a regular man. He wanted it all, consequences be damned. Susan and Fleur were completely hypnotized by his name, but Rose was only a little bit, and Tonks was only there because she wanted to be.

What if Padma came for them? What if she wasn't satisfied with what she had? Why should she be? She already deserved so much... and she was arrogant enough to know it.

There was nothing left to do. Padma knew everything. But... but...

"There's one solution left," he suddenly realized.

The girls brightened, almost perfectly in unison saying, "Yes, please?"

He led them to the back of the warehouse, toward his "solution." Opening the door, he revealed a small space inside - entirely white, entirely bare. In the middle of the room was a small box where the subject could sit and close themselves in. At the top, there was a hole for the neck; the idea was for whoever sat in there not to be able to see anything beyond the stark, empty whiteness of the room. "This is the White Room. It's my experiment."

He had never told anyone about the White Room. Not even Padma. He didn't want to show her anything that wasn't a success yet. It was the kind of environment she encouraged. Tracey and Daphne found it, but until Padma asked, she wouldn't know about it - and those two didn't even know what it was for.

"What does it do?" Rose asked.

He bit his lip. He realized it had to be Rose. Padma would never think Rose was on his side. Susan and Tonks probably already knew. Fleur would be too easy to dismiss. No, it had to be Rose.