Artifact ch.10

Rose wanted nothing more than to give Harry the satisfaction of waiting for him in her own home, as if she were his secretary or some terribly demeaning, objectifying thing.

Harry was no mystery to Rose. Not at all. No man was. They were all brutes, solely focused on sex and hurting, organizing senseless pissing contests, and engaging in lengthy philosophical debates about the size of their members. They were her assistants in every sense except that somehow, they had smartened up enough to know they needed all the money and power in the world to continue their stupid pissing contests and discussions about genitals.

She pushed that thought aside. Rose usually picked up random old portmanteaus during storms, but it wasn't urgent now.

Because she didn't want to give Harry the luxury of waiting for her, she made a list of things she suddenly needed from the grocery store at 1:45 PM, even though she was supposed to meet Harry at 2:00 PM. This should show him.

Of course, the grocery store was also full of pigs. It always was. Rose wasn't even dressed to attract their swine-like attention, but it didn't matter. She knew all too well that she was too attractive to be ignored by their hellish stares. She wore tight jeans and tall suede boots, along with a snug flannel shirt to combat the pervasive cold. And she wore it all for herself, not for them—even if the jeans made her rear end look fantastic, and even if the snugness of the flannel around her perky young breasts made Fleur drool all day.

Rose and Fleur mainly worked from home. They worked at the local charity center twice a week, and while they were on the payroll and earned a few extra gallions each month, the real reason they did this work was to give back to the community. They had made it their mission to reinvest any profits they earned from this place back into the community—supporting small local businesses, making donations to charitable causes in city magazines and newspapers, and doing weekend shopping at the markets.

Returning home nearly forty-five minutes past the scheduled time with Harry, she had a smile on her face. This would show Harry that he tried to take her somewhere just because he asked.

But inside, there was no one to be found. Rose put down her bags, slightly surprised. “Had Harry already left?”

The faucets in the main bathroom suddenly turned on. Fleur emerged from the master bedroom, drying her luscious lips. Her face brightened with a smile. "Hi, honey!"

Fleur had a penchant for flirty, tiny skirts and colorful tights. Today was no different—a dark gray skirt and blue tights. She wore heels at home—she loved them, after a few arguments with her father as a teenager who wouldn't let her wear anything more liberal than a safety caftan—and her today's pair had tiny sparkling buckles. The light blouse she had on was unbuttoned a few notches, and absentmindedly, she played with the buttons, perhaps contemplating whether it was worth putting them all back together.

"Hi, honey." Rose's tone was serious. Fleur seemed out of it. "I see his car. Where is he? In the garage or something? I think I left his comics there. Did he finally find out where they went?"

"Is that where those books went?" Harry's voice came from the bedroom. He emerged, fastening his pants. Fleur turned to him, her knees trembling. For a moment, she looked like she wanted to resist some strange compulsion ruling her instincts, but she still fell to the floor, and her fingers moved to her blouse, pulling it off completely. Soon, she exposed her heavy, braless breasts. Harry stopped in front of her, raising an eyebrow and taking her chin in his hand.

"Fleur," he shook his head. "What did I say?"

"I'm sorry," she whimpered. "I know you told me to wait, but you're so damn handsome, and I couldn't wait, I couldn't, I had to kneel. I had to kneel in front of you, I'm sorry."

What the hell was going on?

She had been dating Fleur for many years. They were inseparable, practically joined at the hip since Rose matured as a woman. There was absolutely nothing that Rose didn't love about Fleur. The fluid twist of her hair. The cute curve of her nose. Her perky breasts, so small and easy to suck. There was nothing—nothing—that Rose would change about Fleur if given even half a chance.

And now... this. Fleur. The love of her life. On her knees in front of the one man Rose considered a totem of hatred in her life.

Rose started laughing. "Is this some kind of... joke?"

Harry looked at her. His smile was cruel and small. "No joke, Rose. Fleur just revealed that she loves me. Actually, many times. I think we'll make a great couple. What do you think?"

Fleur beamed happily at this revelation. She turned to Rose with excited eyes and said, "He said 'couple!' As if it's something you should approve of." "No..." Rose lowered her gaze slightly. "I need to sit down."

The hallway was narrow. Nothing stood in the way of grabbing one side of it. Her gaze slowly straightened, and the need to breathe was hard to understand. Harry's hands were on her. "Rose, you need to look at this."

"What is it, Harry? Another one of your tricks?" She shook her head.

"No trick, Rose. Something very important." Finally, she looked. In one hand, he held a watch. It swayed lightly.

"Fleur told me you've been reading a lot about ancient Roman history lately. Let's see how much you remember."

"No..." the watch was so shiny. So beautiful. "I can't afford..." And her mind... turned.

That was the best way to describe it. It was as if she had been standing guard all her life, showing everyone her greatest strength first. Every thought, every move, every action was manipulation from the legion with raised shields and extended spears. And suddenly, all that carefully crafted defense turned aside, exposing her sides. Each of her weak points was laid bare before him.

And one by one, he began to eliminate them. Each soldier turned and withdrew.

There was a deep-seated fear of abandonment. It was rooted and torn out like a weed.

There was a deep-seated aversion to men because of their tendency to wander from partner to partner without any real commitment. It was plucked like a thorn from a vine.

The long-held belief that she had to be more important than anyone else she met because then it wouldn't matter if they left or not. Crushed, scattered, and then scraped away like a worm from concrete.

One by one, she felt her soldiers leaving. Reduced to zero. Leaving only the standard-bearer—her consciousness—exposed. And the standard-bearer knelt on the ground, completely surrendering to the attacking force. Wide-eyed, open-mouthed, begging for teaching. To be indoctrinated in the spirit of her conqueror. It was her—her in that hot mockery of dragon-skin armor. The chainmail was just a skirt around her slender torso. The tight leather corset lifting her ample breasts. Her body was truly made for display. She thought she was a warrior, but she wasn't. She was a pleaser.

She had always, always wanted to be liked—and especially by Harry. Not by all men, just him. He was so attractive. So wonderful to her. How had she not noticed it before? She was too uptight. Too stubborn. Too afraid of her own feelings for him. Those horrible, malicious feelings that surrounded her were like defenders, but in reality, they were prison guards. They kept her locked up. It was her attraction to Harry that was supposed to set her free and allow her to lead the legions of good feelings as she wanted.

And of course, Fleur fought her. They belonged to the same army. She had to completely trust Fleur. Her beloved Fleur, always so kind and true—they shared everything. They could share their love any way they wanted.

All those soldiers, the two of them. Probably all had perfect bodies. Strong bodies. Hard bodies.

And penises.

And there was one in particular, one better than the rest, one she really had to focus on more than any other. She saw that perfect soldier, that emperor, only at the blurred edge of her vision, slowly becoming clear—the man she would worship above all others...

Ringing filled the air. Its high tones made everything flicker. The perfect world filled with soldiers that she had around her started to wobble and pulse. And suddenly, the echo of the voice reverberated sharply on the battlefield.

"What do you mean? We agreed on seven. More or less...

The words were sharp, piercing. Rose's mind detached from the happily bruised battlefield, with a smile on the faces of her soldiers. Slowly, the world returned to normal. First, her mind's eye retreated from the bloodless battlefield scene, leaving behind only white light. And then the light disappeared, bringing Rose back to reality.

"Very well," Harry continued. "If it has to be now. Alright. I'm coming."

Fleur knelt, gently stroking her brother Harry's penis. Harry was on the phone. Her fingers pushed into her pussy as she serviced him. God, he had a really big penis. Wasn't he handsome? Penises were quite handsome. Why hadn't she noticed how beautiful they were before?

It was simply wonderful that Fleur was stroking him like this. It wasn't Rose's preference, but Harry deserved it. And Fleur was very pretty. She couldn't blame him for taking someone so pretty and making good use of her.

"Fleur... take care of our girl. Make sure she's happy." He shook his head. "I don't want to interrupt, ladies, but I have to go. My wife wants to talk to us."

Rose's mind wasn't composed enough to protest. If it were, she would have protested. She just wanted to sit and admire Harry's penis. To tell him how wonderful he was to have it. Just to hold it in her hands, her first penis in her hands, even if only for a moment...

On the other side of the hallway, Fleur withdrew her fingers from Rose's pussy and licked them, chuckling maliciously. Fleur never wanted to finger or even lick Rose. She was the pillow queen, always demanding attention, never giving pleasure to others.

"The Master told me to take care of you. So I'm going to take care of you. Just relax."

She pushed Rose back onto the floor. The carpet beneath her was soft and plush. Fleur is suddenly revealed in servicing Rose's pussy. Her tongue slowly moved over Rose's folds, circling her clit. Soon, she found it, and Rose's world burst into flames.

Fleur's determination to bring her to orgasm was something entirely new. Rose's legs wrapped around the body of her longtime lover, amazed at the effect of the soft, happy, moaning licks Fleur was delivering. Her skin tingled with a desire for more.

Before, Fleur had spent maybe three to four minutes on Rose's pussy before demanding her own pleasure for half an hour. Now, Fleur was approaching the ten-minute mark, and there was no sign of her stopping.

And it was all thanks to Harry and his orders. It was a welcome change. One of many.

Harry smiled. She was under his complete control, with her mouth open and her eyes fixed on the pendulum watch.

"You will never leave your husband. You love him too much. He means everything to you. In fact, you don't even mind if he cuckolds you a little. You certainly deserved it. You'll let him know that he deserves to sleep with other women if he wants. You'll help him. He deserves it. You love him so much."

He stopped the swaying watch and put it back into the small box he had brought with him. The woman, his neighbor (or maybe she used to be a neighbor?), had been crying on the phone just a few minutes ago. She was nearly hysterical, talking on the phone with her sister or mother. Without much thought, Harry entered her house, hung up the phone, and immediately hypnotized her to tell him all her problems.

Her husband was sleeping too much and drinking too much. Harry strongly believed that it was only because she wasn't providing her husband with a good enough home. If he was sucked or satisfied at any time, there would be no reason for him to stray. Surely, if Padma were with him in this way, he wouldn't do what he was doing now, right?