The Rabbit Hole

The Rabbit Hole Chapter 6: Pain By Trixie Adara Edited by Abby H.

**** Warning: These chapter has disturbing and cruel images in it. If you want something purely erotic, read the beginning and the end. Skip everything in italics. For Penny's sake, this story must be told, but the parts in italics are not meant to arouse you. ****

Penny

Present Day

"Would you like your messages?" asked Harold as Penny stormed past him. He didn't know where she went. She wouldn't tell him.

"Only from Joanna."

"Her reports are in your office."

"Thank you, Harold."

Penny didn't stop, and Harold didn't follow. She had a lot of work to catch up, but more importantly she had to reach out to Nadia. She was ready now. Nadia wouldn't resist her. No one could resist her anymore. She had proved that.

Her office was clean. She half wondered if there would be some sign of Nadia still lingering after the abrupt end to their last conversation. Maybe Nadia left something behind? There was a tinge of disappointment to seeing her office bare. It was as she preferred it, but something was off now.

Waiting for her on her desk was a clean stack of folders. Each folder represented a date. Each date came with notes from Joanna (Penny, unfortunately, left her literate for this purpose), pictures of her encounters with Nadia, and pictures of Nadia as she followed her about the city. Penny flipped through it idly. It didn't overly matter. Nadia would tell her every detail about her life in excruciating detail. Besides, nothing interesting caught her eye. Nadia was single. She hadn't found a new boyfriend. She was a teacher. She had a therapist and psychiatrist. Her parents were pastors in Texas. She had one sister and one brother. She did well in school, but nothing impressive.

In short, Nadia was ordinary. Other than her ability to resist Penny and every other hypnotist she'd been to, there was no reason she should be able to fight. There could be any factors that Joanna hadn't been able to sort out. It could be genetic or some trauma deeper in Nadia's past. Joanna wrote that she was friends with Nadia, the two spent a great deal of time together, but Nadia didn't open up about every detail of her life. There would be time for that. Penny wanted answers more than anything else, but she wasn't in a rush anymore. Soon, Nadia's mind would be a playground for her to romp through.

She buzzed for Harold, and he appeared in her doorway seven seconds later. "Yes, Miss Penny?" he asked.

"Send for Joanna immediately."

"Yes, Miss Penny. Do you want an appointment for Miss MacQuarrie?"

"Not yet. I need to to test a few things."

"Yes, ma'am," said Harold, turning to leave.

"Oh, Harold?" asked Penny with a smirk. Harold paused, his hand on the doorknob, looking at his mistress in eager expectation. Penny concentrated. She focused on her throat, her voice, tightened the vocal cords, like stretching or yawning with her mouth shut. She could feel the power in her. It was ready.

"Cum for me," ordered Penny. The air seemed to shake with the weight of her words.

Harold's eyes immediately rolled backwards. His knees buckled and dipped to the ground. He caught himself on the door, but it swung open. A thick moan escaped his lips, and Penny watched eagerly as a small stain appeared on the crotch of his pants. There was no time for questions, no time even for shock. Harold's body obeyed immediately and without question.

Penny smiled.

2 months earlier ....

The walls of the cave stank with mold and stale water. Penny turned the flashlight on her phone and looked around. The floor was riddled with dips and puddles. Camille should have told her that heels would be wildly inappropriate here. If the vampire was to be believed, Penny didn't have much further to go.

After twenty minutes of stumbling in the dark, Penny found a small room with smooth walls and a domed ceiling. In the center of the room stood a dais, and on that dais sat a shallow basin. Penny paused, uncomfortable in the ominous room. She knew about the supernatural. It was hard to work so eagerly with corrupting and controlling people and not stumble upon true power, but previously she had the wisdom to avoid such complications. Perhaps Harold was right, bringing in Camille was rash.

It was too late to go back now. She'd flown across the planet, to the tiny region of Stryia, in southeast Austria. Here, Camille told her there was power. She said there would be darkness and pain, but she assured Penny that there would be power as well. Camille sent her to a small room in the back of a dark cave hidden in a remote mountain. The directions were clear, but the source was questionable.

The room was questionable as well. It looked ancient, but it didn't feel that way. It wasn't stuffy or abandoned. It smelled cleaner than the rest of the room besides a sharp tang of something that reeked of copper. Penny wasn't sure. Was this it? Some ancient chamber in the heart of a mountain connecting to deep and dark magic? Who filled the basin? Did someone protect it? Was it as simple as Penny walking up and taking a drink? Was that water in there?

Penny waited. Time slowed. Each moment was heavy. There was the hunger in her, the dark passion for power. She knew what she wanted. She knew what she needed. Camille had been clear. Drink from the basin. That's it. The room was filled with darkness, but where was the pain? Camille had promised pain.

She bent down and grabbed a small stone. She threw it into the room. Nothing happened, just the clatter of stone on stone. Penny was sure she wasn't alone. Camille was not a simple creature. She consumed, that was where her power came from. Whatever Camille had sent Penny to would consume as well. The basin was a test, but it wasn't the source.

Penny swallowed. She didn't have time to waste. Nadia was waiting for her. Joanna was waiting for her. A whole world of injustice was waiting for her, and she would set it right. But she needed power first.

As she approached, she saw a small clay cup next to the basin. The basin itself looked to be painted black. It was crude, lacking the smoothness of a professional touch. Penny couldn't tell if the liquid inside the basin was red or if the inside of the basin was painted red. She paused, looking around the room. She was still alone but obviously being watched. Something was waiting for her to drink.

Penny sighed. She was being childish. If some terrible evil was waiting for her in the darkness, she gained nothing by be afraid. It hadn't destroyed her yet. Why not meet it head on and reason with it?

Penny grabbed the clay cup and scooped up the liquid. It wasn't thick as she had feared. It wasn't red either. It was a simple amber, almost a light gold. She smelled it. It didn't smell like anything.

"What the hell," muttered Penny. "If you make a deal with a vampire, you're going to get screwed one way or another. Might as well get it over with."

Penny drank it one gulp. She expected it to burn. She expected a horrendous or acrid aftertaste. She expected the pain Camille promised. Instead, she tasted nothing. Not sweetness or saltiness. Not bitterness or acidity. It was like water, though it barely touched her tongue.

What Penny did feel immediately was a sudden and sharp migraine. She dropped her phone and lost its light. Despite the total darkness, the room felt too bright. Her eyes burned like the tiny bit of light in the cave was solid, driving through her eyes and into the front of her brain. She closed to her eyes, trying to dull the pain. Through the back of her eyes there was a faint swirling light. It widened and opened the field of her vision.

My little brother. He's crying in his crib. He was sick all the time. I could no longer sleep with my older sisters. The pajamas they put me in were itchy. Not silky like my sisters. So itchy. I cried for someone to help me. I stomped my foot and said I hated these pajamas, but no one would listen. They went to my brother. No one saw me crying.

Penny opened her eyes. Her brother was gone. The pajamas were gone. She sank to her knees, holding the side of her head. What was this?

"Pain," said a voice somewhere. Behind her? In the darkness? In the corner of her mind. It echoed through her. It was deep and gravelly, like the earth itself speaking to her through shifting boulders.

My sister, Sheri. She was beautiful. I loved her long hair. If I was good, I could brush it. I would sneak into her bedroom and sleep alongside her. When my parents found out, they took me back to my room, no matter how much I kicked or screamed.

Penny rolled to her side, holding the side of her head. "Why?" she asked.

"Purify," rumbled the Voice.

My dachshund Susie and I snuggled in bed. She was the only one that knew I was crying. She licked my face. She was my only friend. I took her everywhere. I trained her and competed in dog shows with her. She loved being in the the ring. She was great at showing. Majestic. We were the cute ones competing against adults. When I was seven, I came home from school, and my Susie was gone. My parents had sold her for breeding. She was more valuable that way.

"Stop!" gasped Penny. She rolled onto her hands and knees, trying to steady herself. She needed to find her phone. If she found her phone, if it was still working, she could get out of here. She needed to get out of here.

"Purify," commanded the Voice.

The neighborhood girls liked to play with me. I fascinated them, I think. There was something about me that pulled them to me. I liked the attention. I liked that people wanted me. I did things to them. Made them react to me. Their faces. Their moans. Their Lust.

"No," croaked Penny. She opened her eyes. The pain cut through her like razors shoved through her ears and eyes. She needed to get out of here. She needed to keep her eyes open. She got to her feet, slowly. The room spun around her, but she kept her footing. She didn't need her phone. She needed to go. She needed to get out of here.

Penny staggered to the entrance of the room, but as she reached out with her hands to find the tunnel that fed into it, she found only wall. She used the wall to guide her to the left and started searching for the way out blindly. Each moment her eyes were open was agony. She wondered if she was bleeding, if she was dying. But she couldn't close her eyes. She couldn't go back.

"Purify," demanded the voice.

"No," whispered Penny. "No."

She followed the curved wall of the room. Time felt wrong. She must have circled the room by now. Maybe a dozen times by now. But the wall was everywhere. She couldn't find the way out. Maybe there was no way out.

"What do you want from me?" asked Penny.

"Remember."

"Why? Why do I need to remember that?"

"Purify."

"I can't. Please. I can't remember that. Isn't there some other way? Any other way?"

"Pain."

They would touch me. Reaching out for me, their hands finding me in the dark, I felt wanted for the first time. I felt seen. I felt beautiful like Sheri. I liked to make them feel good, to take care of them. I like to make people feel good. They would be talking, babbling like school girls, but when they got quiet, late at night, they would look into my eyes and calm down. Their breathing would become heavy and ragged. They would fall asleep staring into my eyes.

Penny opened her eyes. "Please," she begged. "No more."

"Remember."

My next door neighbor's father worked at a salvage company. One day, he brought home a barrel of porn books. I loved books. I read everything I could when I was alone. I was always alone. The barrel was like a treasure chest to me. One of my friends read them with me in the attic. I found stories of boys being turned into girls. I showed them to her. She didn't like them. I loved those stories the best, the boys became so pretty. People wanted to touch them once they were pretty. I knew I was one of them.

"I'm not one of them," muttered Penny. She was on the cavern floor again. Her knees and shins were bruised and scraped. With her eyes open, the pain returned. It was lightning directly into her prefrontal cortex. It was a thousand forgotten hands, reaching out for her throat, her legs, her arms, where the ropes bound her, and pulling her back into the basin. The memories would drown her in the basin. She was lost. She lost.

"Remember." The room shook with the Voice's impatience.

One of the babysitters found us in the attic. I was reading, and my friend was touching me. We were trying to be like the pictures, but none of us was the boy. We needed a boy to finish the picture. We hid in shame, but she wasn't angry. Why wasn't she angry? She tied me to a chair. She touched me. I wanted to cry out, but I couldn't make it stop. I was powerless. The others girls watched. I came in shame. The babysitter said I needed training. It wasn't the last time.

"No," groaned Penny. "Make it stop." She stumbled in the dark and found her phone. The screen was cracked. She tried to unlock the screen, but the backlight was hell. She was blinded and the world was white. The white was agony. The pain spread from her head to her body. She shook from it. Her skin was stabbed with a dozen knives. Then a dozen more. The knives turned hot, and Penny prayed her nerves would die. She prayed her body would pass out from the pain. There was no mercy. There was only pain.

"Remember," ordered the Voice.

"Will it stop?" screamed Penny. Her legs shook. She held the side of her head, she covered her eyes, but nothing stopped the white hot pain. Nothing hid her from the light. She had to close her eyes. That was the only way, and that way was death.

"If I remember, will is stop?"

"Remember."

"Fuck you."

"Remember. Pure. Pain." The room shook again. The dais fell over and the basin spilled, drenching Penny in the amber liquid. Her eyes shut to shield themselves, and Penny remembered.

The private mental hospital had been converted from an old route 66 roadside motel. They drove me into the courtyard under a stone arch with river rocks lining the drive. They were going to fix me. The babysitter told my mother I needed to fixed. My aunt. My mother. My babysitter, one after another. They all wanted to fix me. I could ensnare them, entrap them, but they still wanted to fix the thing that allured them. No one could control me.

I was locked in a room with only a bed. The nurse came in and wrapped me in the sheets so I could not move. I was hers. She told me it was like a hug. It would hold me. I was safe. They needed me to be safe and still while they fixed me. I wanted to be fixed. I knew that what I was was wrong.

The next day I was placed in an ice bath with a rubber top over the tub and only my head out. They put a ball gag in my mouth to keep me from screaming or biting my tongue. They hooked up electrodes to my head and turned on the shock therapy machine. It was heaven and hell throughout my whole body. I could taste cooper. I was nothing but pain.

Back in my bed, I was trapped in my nurse's wrappings. She said I would be safe, and I was only safe in her arms, in my bed. I heard music playing. It was faint and fading, like coming from a different room. I remember the sound of bells. I heard the rain pouring down outside my room. Every sense was so much more. I could hear birds in the background. I could smell my nurse, rooms away. I could feel the sun behind the clouds and the stone and my thick blankets. I don't know how long I was there, feeling everything, so deeply connected and so completely abandoned. I lived a whole life in peace, until the nurse returned.

There were hypnosis sessions after that. I was strapped into a chair. My genitals were wired up to a machine, and the nurse darkened the room. With my new eyes, I could make her outline out in the darkness, but she didn't know. She didn't know I had lived lifetimes and seen more than she could understand. She started to hypnotize me with the sound of her voice. It was loud, being so close, and it drowned out everything else.

Then there, in front of me on the wall, were scenes of female bodies. They were so pretty. I admired them. I wanted to be them. I knew them. Something in me, older than me, knew them. Then the images moved. The women had sex. I had never imagined what women could do with each other. What happened before, what happened to me, was a sick joke. What these women did with each other was a dance. It was a miracle. It was majesty. It was everything I was not.

I started to get aroused.

And then the pain. My genitals were on fire. My mind went blank from the pain, and I passed out. I came to with nasty smells in my nose, and the room was dark except for her outline. She talked to me again, and then the images and the pain. Over and over.

My mind shut down from the pain, and I awoke in total darkness. The sight beyond sight was gone. I think I had been fed but I don't remember it.

The days melted together. I was in the bed and then the ice and the shocks. Over and over. Day after day. I became numb. It was the only way to survive. The only way out was to retreat deeper and deeper into myself, but my body wasn't safe. When the sessions started, I would leave my body and float away to another place. It was dark there. Scary. But I felt no pain there. There were other beings there. Dark, hungry beings. They wanted me, like everyone else. They whispered to me, telling me about revenge. They offered power. Their voices were deep and rumbled. In the dark with them, the world shook like boulders shifting. I was afraid of them. At that time, I was always afraid. But I was safe with them. I could be safe.

I don't know how long I was there. I remember that they were strong, and I was getting weaker. With their strength, they drug me to pool of water. It reflected bright light and it washed over me. The light was thick, like a wind or rain. Blanking out, the darkness and a voice in my head said that I was stronger than the darkness. I was special. The light would protect me. I knew it was true. I was safe, locked away from the darkness and I could stand there in the darkness. I felt peace in the darkness, but I was bathed in light. I was someone else inside and someone else outside. Penny was neither, but she was safe.

Hearing voices took me back out of the darkness. I opened my eyes. The nurse was laughing, showing me more women making love. I wasn't aroused. I wouldn't be shocked again. I couldn't speak with the gag in my mouth, but she looked into my eyes and I had her. I had her like the little girls in my attic and in my bad. I had her and she would help me break free. She would serve me, and I serve the voices.

Penny gasped and opened her eyes. There was no pain. The room was dark but fainter now. The dais, basin, and cup were crashed over on the floor. Her clothes were wet with the amber liquid. Penny looked around. She could see the tunnel leading out of the domed room. She looked for the source of the Voice, but there was nothing.

"Is that it?" she asked.

"Yes," said the Voice. It was calmer now, like a cascade of gravel.

"I'm done?'

"Yes."

"What the hell was the point of that?"

"Remember."

"I did, you piece of shit." Penny sat up, putting her weight on her knees. "I remembered things I wanted gone forever. Are you happy?" She ran her hands over her clothes, trying to wipe away the amber liquid, but they were soaked through. God, how long had she been in here?

"Power is pain."

"Listen. I'm a performer. You can quit with being vague and mysterious for effect. You're not impressing anyone." Penny wiped her face and was surprised to find traces of tears there. "Just tell me, did it work?"

"Yes."

"I have power now?"

"Yes."

"Prove it."

"No." The room shook. Penny rose to her feet.

"I came here for power. I passed your test. Where is the power promised? I went through pain. More pain than you can know, you mysterious piece of shit. Give me the power. I deserve it. I've earned it!"

The room echoed with Penny's shouts. She waited to hear the Voice rumble back to her. Instead, she heard a wind whip up from down the tunnel she entered through. She turned around and saw a black smoke, almost a fog spiraling towards her. She opened her mouth to scream, and the smoke charged into her. It went down her throat and filled her lungs. It had a physicality to it. Penny could feel it pressing against the side of her throat, against her diaphragm and chest. It was more thing than gas. It was more real than smoke. She tried to scream, but nothing happened. She braced herself against the wall and held firm while the darkness entered her.

When it was over, there wasn't a sound in the chamber, not even the sound of Penny's ragged breathing. She panted, trying to catch her breath, and waiting for the Voice's response. Nothing came.

"Shhh -" she tried to speak, but only thin and ragged breath came out. She moved her lips helplessly, wheezing, but not forming words. A weakness overtook her. She needed to go. She needed to sleep. It wasn't safe here. Something was wrong, and she needed to speak with Camille. She needed help. She tried to move, but her legs were like lead. She tried to step but tripped. She hit her head against the basin as she went down. As darkness took her, she saw the amber liquid on the ground creeping toward her.

One week later ...

"The new girl is cute," said Penny from a comfortable chair in Camille Kontalban's office. The vampiric writer was beautiful. She had long curly black hair that she wore in a loose bun. It was striking against her pale skin and delicate features. She had a crisp white blouse and tight suit pant. She looked corporate but feminine. Penny approved.

"How was your trip?" said Camille, ignoring the comment.

"Productive."

"Painful?" asked Camille with a smirk.

"Productivity always is."

"Power is pain," said Camille.

Penny's smile wilted. "Yes."

"But it worked."

"I have to test it more thoroughly. It's hard to work with rural Austrians if you don't speak German."

"Indeed."

"I thought you had lied," said Penny, leaning forward. "I thought you had tricked me."

"You were foolish to trust me so eagerly. You were desperate."

"I was weak," said Penny, sitting back. "That won't happen again."

"No," said Camille, taking a sip from her slim coffee cup. "I imagine it won't."

"Is that where you went? Is that how you became ... what you are?"

Camille took another long sip of her coffee. She placed the cup back down on its saucer and looked at Penny pointedly.

"You should have tried commanding them to speak English," she said finally.

"The Austrians?"

"Yes."

"In English?"

"Yes."

"That would work?"

Camille shrugged. "Griselbrand never makes the same deal twice. You should try it."

"Speak Russian," said Penny. The words seemed to have a deeper note to them, a bass that thrummed through them.

Camille laughed as though the words tickled her. "Penny, dear, not on me. Try on a mortal." She spoke in crisp English.

Penny pursed her lips. "Fine." She stood to leave. Camille wasn't going to give her any explanations. She found Penny amusing. Cute. Weak.

"You've recovered well for your time in the cave."

Penny paused but didn't sit back down. "A few days in the hospital. My voice returned. When I told the nurses to leave, they didn't hesitate. When I told them to get me new clothes, they obeyed. It was simple, but everyone obeyed."

"And your health?"

"Scrapes and bruises. They don't know what happened to my voice."

"No." Camille smiled. "They wouldn't."

"It came back."

"Yes." Camille took another sip.

Penny waited for Camille to say something else, to ask a question, to do anything, but the pale woman took another sip of coffee. She stared at Penny with her deep, patient eyes. Penny was wasting time, but Camille had more time than she knew what to do with.

"I thought you were trying to kill me," said Penny.

"If I wanted to kill you," Camille smile wide, showing her teeth, "that would be easy and wasteful." Her smile faded. "You came to me in pain and anger. At such a point, you were half in the clutches of the demon, doing his work for years. I just arranged a formal introduction for your lifelong patron."

Penny's mouth moved, trying to form the dozen questions that sprang to her mind.

Camille smiled. "Go play. You waste time with me. Test your new strength. That is - after all - what you wanted. Yes?"

Penny nodded. Yes. She wanted to go play. She smiled to herself. She very much wanted to go play.

Penny left Camille's mansion and walked through the streets of downtown. It was a grey and rainy day, but there was still a bit of foot traffic. It was a Saturday; people wanted to shop and eat regardless of the weather. A crowd was perfect to play in. No one would notice her influence, and peer pressure was a great counter force to test against.

Penny asked a young woman selling t-shirts to speak in Russian. The woman obeyed. Camille was right. More importantly, she didn't find her behavior strange. Penny asked if the woman was aware she was speaking Russian. She was. Penny asked if she knew how she learned Russian. She didn't. She didn't find it strange that she knew Russian, she didn't find it strange that she suddenly switched to Russian, and she didn't find it strange when she forgot Russian. Most importantly, Penny found she could command the woman to forget about the exchange entirely.

Penny went into a restaurant for some tea. The waitress was pretty but rude. She was slow, lazy, and indignant. Penny followed the young woman into the bathroom and told her to "go fuck yourself." The woman obeyed immediately, fingering herself with enthusiasm. She obeyed each of Penny's suggestions: "moan like a whore," "abandon your bra and panties," "be a docile and attentive servant to all customers," "work harder," and "take on more hours."

Only after she left did she realize everything else she could have done, like thinking of the best insults and comebacks after an argument. Penny's eyes widened with realization. Could she have told the woman to fuck strangers? Could she have made her work naked for the rest of the day? Then a darker voice intruded: could she have told the woman to kill herself?

Penny smiled. Yes. Power is pain, and pain is power.

She found that using her power was intoxicating. She didn't need The Rabbit Hole. She didn't need bells or rain or even her rings. She needed her voice. She was the power. It wasn't a show anymore. On stage, she pretended to be something more than human. Now, she was something more than human. Could someone under her control resist Reyna? Could someone under her control resist Camille? Could she steal their servants and pets? Was she among the elite women of the world, the women who had surpassed humanity for the delicious darkness of control and subjugation?

The smile almost never left Penny's face all day. Except for a middle aged couple arguing behind her at lunch. She didn't like this restaurant. He felt they never got to eat where he wanted to eat. She said they went wherever he wanted all the time. He said he had a bad week and all he wanted was a steak from his favorite restaurant. It went on and on. Penny tried to drown them out, but something about the man's tone grated on her ears. Penny kept turning around to look at them, checking to see if he was grabbing her or threatening her. There was an air of violence in his voice that made the hair on Penny's neck stand on edge.

My aunt pinches me. She twists my nipples. She says things, things I can't repeat. I want to go home. I am home. I want to be safe. Home isn't safe. Where is safe? Where is home?

Penny's throat tightened. It was sore.

"Jesus, you always do this," said the man.

"John, you're hurting me," said the woman.

"If you don't want to eat here, if you're too good to give me what I want the few times I ask for it, let's leave."

Penny turned around. The man, with graying hair, a clean-shaven face, in a pinstripe suit, was gripping the wrist of the woman. She was younger than him, she looked to be in her early thirties. She was Asian, with short black hair, barely touching her shoulders, but long and delicate features. Even from here, Penny could see how tight his grip was. They got up to leave, and before Penny could think better of it, she followed.

Outside the restaurant, on the street, they were arguing. Well, more accurately, he was berating her and she was looking around, embarrassed to be chastised in public by him. Penny moved without thought, almost without will. Her focus was intent. She had heard that in times of crisis, some rescuers would stop thinking. Their bodies would take over, doing exactly what needed to be done before thought could interfere. There was no hesitation, only absolute focus. Such was Penny as she approached them. They didn't look over as she invaded their personal space. The man's face was turning red. Nothing would stop him from putting her in her place.

"Stop," said Penny. The air seemed to shake around her as she said it. The man stopped speaking immediately. It was simple, as though he had lost the power to speak. His face relaxed and the color faded from it.

"Take me to your car." The man turned and walked. The woman walked beside him. "Walk behind him," ordered Penny, and the woman took a step back.

The man lead them wordlessly, and Penny spoke with the woman. She found her name was Jennifer. She introduced herself as Jenny, but Penny pushed on that. He called her Jenny. She preferred Jennifer. The man was named John. He was her husband. They had been married three years. She was not happy. He ignored her most of the time, and then he either wanted sex or he was annoyed with her for something. She felt she could do nothing right. He was always dissatisfied with her.

"Drive us here." Penny showed John the address off Getwell. He put the address in his phone and drove. Jennifer and Penny sat in the back seat.

"Are you scared?" asked Penny.

Jennifer shook her head.

"I'm going to take care of you," said Penny. "He won't hurt you ever again."

Penny knew Jennifer couldn't lie, but the woman still looked uncomfortable, disturbed. Penny ordered her to relax, and she did. She ordered her to cuddle with her in the back seat of the car, and she did. She asked if this helped, and Jennifer said it did. Penny wasn't sure if she could believe her, but she held Jennifer while John drove them to Romantix.

Romantix was a simple sex shop and boutique. The city lacked anything glamorous for adult play, and it had a smell about it. It felt cheap, though for this, Penny didn't mind. In the middle of a Saturday, there were only two other customers in the store and one person behind the counter. The clerk was a woman, young, in her twenties, covered in piercings and tattoos. The two men were both older, overweight, and unremarkable in every way.

Penny quickly took command of the store. There was another employee in the back. Penny told him to close the store and go home for the day. He locked the door on his way out. The two customers were ordered to sit in a corner and look away. The clerk became her attendant.

Penny found an eerie calm in herself. She knew what she was going to do to him. She wondered if she could simply tell him to become a woman. Would he obey? Could he? Could she make him gay with a sentence? The thought made her nervous. She didn't want to accidentally break the spell she had over him. Besides, it wasn't just about teaching him a lesson. It was about empowering Jennifer. She never would be treated this way again. John wouldn't be capable of it after today, and Jennifer wouldn't tolerate it after today.

"Strip," ordered Penny. Both Jennifer and John obeyed. They were wordless in all their deeds, and it was the silence that surrounded her power that disturbed Penny the most. No one protested. No one hesitated. They were all puppets to her now. Each of them was less and less human as long as Penny's power ws wrapped tight about their soul.

"Kneel." They both fell before her. She stood over John. He wasn't much like this. Without his suit, without ruling over a smaller and younger woman, he clearly had no power. Jennifer had nothing to fear, and soon no one would have anything to fear from him.

Penny motioned for the clerk to attend her. The woman had a shockingly pink hair swept to one side, a black tank-top, and black skinny jeans.

"What's your name?"

"Autumn."

"That's a beautiful name." Penny smiled. She brushed a hand through the young girl's hair. Autumn neither smiled nor flinched. Penny hadn't commanded her to.

"Thank you."

"Find me a strap-on and some lube. It should be for an experienced ass, someone who needs more girth and depth than a beginner."

Autumn wordlessly obeyed. Penny brought her attention back to John.

"You will never touch a woman again."

John said nothing. His face didn't change. He was a mask of nothingness that Penny could fill and shape as she pleased.

"When I give you a command, say `yes, Miss Penny' if it has become absolute truth to you."

"Yes, Miss Penny," said everyone in the sex shop.

Penny smiled. She would have to be more specific.

"John, you will never touch a woman again unless they ask you to."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Jennifer is in charge now."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"The purpose of your life is to make her happy."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

Penny went over to Jennifer. The young woman was blank as well. There was nothing in there unless Penny put it in there. Jennifer would be whatever Penny wanted, and Penny wanted her to be an instrument of strength, a tool to punish John and men like John forever.

"Jennifer, you hate John."

"Yes, Miss Penny," intoned the woman.

"He is a disappointment. He is nothing."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You will get whatever satisfaction you can from such a useless piece of shit."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You may fuck him if you please, but he may not touch you without your permission."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You may punish him however and whenever you want."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You deserve better, but do not leave him. He will be your servant if you do not want such a waste of human existence as a husband."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Are you bisexual?" asked Penny.

"No."

"You are bisexual," said Penny.

"Yes, Miss Penny." Like that, Jennifer was a new woman. Penny chuckled to herself. She could do anything she wanted to any person. No one was above her. Each person was a toy, a doll. Their personalities, their preferences, were nothing to her. It didn't matter what anyone wanted anymore. It only mattered what Penny wanted.

"You find women attractive."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"They make you wet."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"You find me attractive. I make you wet."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Become wet."

"Yes, Miss Penny." Penny saw the signs of her command immediately. Jennifer's eyes locked on to Penny's body. Her breaths were deeper, almost ragged. Penny admired Jennifer's chest rise and fall with lust as she admired Penny. Penny liked to be admired.

Autumn returned with a bright pink strap-on, it was huge, and a bottle of lube. Penny took it from her.

"Do you find Autumn attractive?" asked Penny to Jennifer.

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Autumn, kiss Jennifer."

Autumn obeyed. Penny waited for the kiss to end, but it didn't. The two women stayed with their lips locked, their tongues dancing, while Penny watched. Slowly, she realized that they may kiss until she ordered them to stop. She had to be careful.

"Stop."

Both of them obeyed.

"Autumn are you bisexual?" she asked.

"No."

Penny laughed. She didn't need to go through the step of gender preference or sexual orientation. She imagined all the time she wasted with Joe. She could skip all that now. Hypnosis was a child playing with matches. This new power was a volcano.

"You are now bisexual."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

Penny laughed again.

"Jennifer, put the strap-on on. Autumn, help her. Teach her how to use it."

"Yes, Miss Penny," said both dolls in unison.

Penny crossed over to the men in the corner.

"You have cell phones with cameras?" she asked.

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Take them out. Send a text with your name, social security number, bank accounts, and deepest fears to this number." Penny gave them her number. She felt her phone vibrate from their texts. "Jennifer is about to fuck John. You will film it. You will mock him while he is fucked. You think he is disgusting. Call him the worst names you can think of. Then send the videos to this number. Then delete the texts, buy one hundred dollars of merchandise from the store, leave, go home, and forget all about this."

Penny wasn't sure if a complex series of tasks like that would work, but she wouldn't know unless she tried. She didn't really need video evidence of this. She didn't really care if they remembered it or not. She had nothing to lose.

Penny went back to Jennifer, John, and Autumn. The huge pink strap-on was attached to Jennifer's hips, and Autumn was showing her how to thrust. John hadn't moved from his position, on his knees. Penny ignored the two women and knelt in front of John.

"Jennifer is going to fuck you," she whispered.

"Yes, Miss Penny." John's face didn't change. He was a doll. He was nothing.

"It will hurt," said Penny.

"Yes, Miss Penny."

She wondered if her power would make it so for him. It didn't matter. Penny looked back at the strap-on. Pain was an inevitability. She smiled to herself. Pain was power.

Power was pain.

"You will hate it," said Penny. "But you will beg women to hurt you, to fuck you like this, every week. If you go a week without a woman fucking you, you will beg men to do it." Penny paused, but her mouth opened again, the words unbidden. "If you go a month without anyone fucking you, you will go insane."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

Penny stepped away from John, surprised at herself. She didn't just want him to go insane. If he went a month without being fucked, he should kill himself. She knew it. Deep down, she knew that's what she should have said. A cold shiver ran through her. This was too much. She had gone far, probably too far, and yet she wanted to go further.

Before she realized what she was doing, Penny leaned in closer to John and added, "You will always hate it. You will never get pleasure from sex again, even when you are fucked by beautiful and powerful women."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

"Bend over. On all fours."

"Yes, Miss Penny."

Penny stepped away, her heart pounding. She looked to Jennifer and Autumn. They were both ready.

"Jennifer, fuck John up the ass. Autumn, help her and coach her."

"Yes, Miss Penny," they said in unison.

Penny looked to the two customers. They approached with their phones out already recording. Penny looked at the scene of chaos and debauchery. She had done that. It was simple. It was easy and fun, but it wasn't erotic. She wasn't wet. Nothing made her wet anymore.

Penny looked at the door, unable to watch what she had done. "When you are done, Jennifer," she said without facing them. She heard the slapping of skin on skin. She spoke over the homophobic insults from the two customers. "When you are done, Jennifer," repeated Penny, "take John home and run your household. You are in charge now. Everyone, Jennifer is in charge."

"Yes, Miss Penny," sang the room, but Penny didn't care. She was already out the door before their voices faded. She called Harold. He got a car for her. She went straight to the airport. She needed to practice. She needed to understand what she had and what she could do. Camille was right about that.

But Penny couldn't do that here, not at home. She had been reckless. She hadn't thought through the consequences of her actions. If she was going to ruin lives by accident, she couldn't do it in the city where Nadia lived. She had to be careful, to be ready, for Nadia.

Present Day

Harold slowly regained his posture. His face held the shock and the sleepy relief that came with male orgasm.

"Yes, Harold," said Penny. "Call Miss MacQuarrie. Have her see me at her nearest convenience."

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