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“Can we dispense with the blindfold now, gentlemen?” Djvonic asked.

No response. He wasn’t completely sure these guys even spoke English. One of them said, “Put this on” about an hour ago, thrusting the blindfold against Djvonic’s chest, but that might have been a learned phrase. Since then he had been bundled into the back of a van and driven through endless back streets and into what felt and sounded like an underground car park. To the best of his reckoning, he was now in an elevator that was most curiously going down, rather than up. Secret underground lair? Who did this asshole Lazarus think he was? Fucking Blofeld or something? Resolution: if he has a white Persian cat, I’m outta here!

“Congratulations, your secret lair is still a secret,” Djvonic sighed. “We’re about a fucking mile underground but otherwise I have no idea where we are, so can we put a lid on the fucking 1980’s cloak and dagger bullshit?”

“Shut up.” That sounded like the same voice as Mr Put-This-On, or as Djvonic had come to think of him: The Man With No Neck. “Don’t make me kill you,” he finished. Must be feeling chatty.

He felt the elevator slowing and then glide to a stop. He was led down a corridor – long and empty by the hollow sound of their footsteps – and then one of them gripped him above the elbow, swinging him through a door and into a room.

“Wait,” Neckless The Second grunted, then they both left and shut the door behind them.

Djvonic heard the lock engage after the door closed. He sensed that he was on his own and pulled the blindfold off.

“Thanks for the lift,” he called, his voice laced with deadpan irony. “Can I have your card? I like a driver who appreciates the old-fashioned values like indifference and discourtesy.” No response; just fading footsteps. Probably just as well, he could maybe take Neckless on his own, but not his less loquacious friend as well.

Was all this supposed to intimidate him? The blindfold, the goons driving him in circles, the secret location? It seemed more contrived to Djvonic than intimidating. Did Lazarus have any idea who he was dealing with? Surely he’d done his homework; he’d know that men have died for much less than the disrespect he was being shown. And if Lazarus didn’t live up to the rumours Djvonic had heard, then dead was exactly how he would finish up. Oh, but if those rumours were true? Well then, high-end prostitution was about to take a very exciting upward turn, my friends, and I’ll control it all. For that, he figured he could tolerate a couple of disrespectful goons.

Djvonic looked around the room; it was some kind of post-modern waiting room, decorated in neutral tones with a few chairs and side-tables. There were artless geometric prints on all walls except one, where there was a huge, opaque glass panel. Two-way mirror? Probably not; the room wasn’t brightly lit and besides, the glass was opaque, not mirrored. More likely, it was that fancy privacy glass that turned clear at the flick of a switch. But when the glass cleared, who would be looking at whom?

He checked the door (locked) and quickly scanned for security cameras without finding one. Didn’t mean there weren’t any though; damn things were just too small and easy to camouflage these days. Safer to assume that eyes were always watching. Djvonic sat down and checked his phone. No service, no GPS. Quelle surprise!

He waited. Lazarus had better be a fucking magician.

~~~
“Mr Djvonic, a pleasure to finally meet you. Has anyone offered you a drink?”

A young man swept into the room; early twenties or thereabouts, tall and good looking with a shock of undercut black hair that was so bedraggled it must have been styled that way. The tailored t-shirt and slim jeans completed the picture: hipster. Great, Lazarus was employing his fucking nephew as an office boy. The fifteen-minute wait had done nothing to improve Djvonic’s humour, and this kid was not helping matters. Man, he hated hipsters. Fucking quinoa-munching, pot-smoking, organic gardening socialists who choke up the inner suburbs, sitting outside their fucking macrobiotic cafes in their fucking Dolce & Gabbana sunglasses, sipping fucking fairplay single origin lattes through million-dollar orthodontic smiles that their Baby Boomer parents gave up their retirement to fund. His daughter Mandy had just finished high school; God forbid she turns into another fucking hipster.

“Please tell me I didn’t go through all this to meet Lazarus’s fucking cock-polisher,” Djvonic said flatly. “Turn around and go get your boss, son. There’s a good boy.”

“I beg your pardon, Sir,” the smile slid off the hipster’s face as he turned back to the door. “I’ll be just a moment.

He disappeared through the door as quickly as he’d arrived, but then a second later it opened again with the hipster back, his white smile beaming all the more brilliantly.

“Mr Djvonic, a pleasure to finally meet you. Allow me to introduce myself; I am Lazarus, CEO and founder of Heaven Can Wait.” The hipster was holding out his hand in greeting, but Djvonic hadn’t taken it yet. He wanted to bitch-slap the precocious little prick, but an alarm bell from his subconscious – that intuition that had saved his life in a dozen bad deals as a teenager and countless turf wars as an adult – warned him to hold back.

“Lazarus,” he said, inclining his head and raising one eyebrow sceptically. “Really?” He thought that showed the right amount of incredulity at meeting a twenty-two-year-old underworld boss without being overly rude … just in case.

“Shake my hand, you fat cunt,” the hipster said mildly, his smile still gleaming. “Or I’ll strangle your daughter’s cat.”

Figure of speech? Or did he know Mandy had a cat? If this kid wasn’t Lazarus then he had brass balls the size of grapefruits. But if he was, then now they were even for his “There’s a good boy” quip a moment ago. Playing it safe, Djvonic shook his hand. Neither of them tried any me-on-top mind fuck or macho bone-crusher bullshit, which was a positive step considering how this meeting had started out.

“Marvellous!” the hipster beamed, his eyes dancing with a psychotic light that made Djvonic nervous. “I think we’re going to be fine friends, don’t you?”

“Do you know who I am?” Djvonic asked in a low voice. He wanted the other guy to keep talking while he worked out who was in charge here.

“Of course I do, Mr Djvonic,” he grinned. “That’s the third time I’ve addressed you and we’ve even shaken hands. I would say we’re well met, wouldn’t you?”

Fucking smart-arse hipsters. Djvonic sighed and then opened his mouth to speak when the kid butted in.

“Andrej Djvonic, 53, born in Balmain, Sydney to Serbian migrants Mladen and Petra. Grew up in the inner suburbs dealing heroin on street corners but never established a gang affiliation. Six months in juvie when you were seventeen, but no adult criminal record. Your post-juvie career in pimping around Kings Cross hit a snag immediately when New South Wales legalised prostitution in 1979, but you moved to Melbourne and peddled whores in St Kilda for another six years before they too legalised the industry. You used your bankroll to move back to Sydney and bought into a legal brothel in Paddington, which you stuck with long enough to collect and train four of Sydney’s most beautiful and exotic young whores, whereby you cashed out and started Australia’s most prestigious high-end escort agency.

“Much to your parents’ disgust, you married a Croatian, Allessandra, in 1995 and fathered Magdalena the following year. You’re still engaged in mostly legal prostitution and mostly illegal human trafficking, and you spend three months of each year in Eastern Europe or South America looking for beautiful but disadvantaged young women whom you teach English, manners and fucking, in no particular order and then put them to work in your agencies.”

Djvonic remained impassive through this, trying to hide his surprise so as not to give this cum-splat the pleasure of seeing him rattled.

“And what about me, Mr Djvonic?” the kid calling himself Lazarus asked. “Surely you too have done your homework?”

“Well Mr Lazarus, if that’s who you are,” Djvonic began, choosing his words carefully to mitigate his great lack of useful information. “With apologies to Winston Churchill, you are a riddle wrapped in a mystery inside an enigma. Beyond eight years ago, there’s no trace of you, but since then you’ve cropped up in identity theft and long cons. In the last year or two, rumours began to do the rounds on the subject of mind control and personality imprinting.” Djvonic was watching Lazarus for any signs that he was right or wrong, but the younger man was giving away no clues.

“Which brings us to our current problem, Mr Lazarus,” he went on.

“Just Lazarus, please,” he said, his smile so broad Djvonic wanted to punch it.

“Which brings us to our current problem, Lazarus,” he repeated. “If my intel’ is right – and for what I paid, it’d better be – then I’d guess you were about fourteen years old when you came to prominence as a criminal overlord in Sydney, which I reckon you’d agree, warrants some kind of explanation.”

“Oh, Mr Djvonic, I assure you your research is indeed correct, although it is lacking in my less recent history,” Lazarus explained, guiding his guest to a chair and taking the one opposite for himself. “I got my start in identity theft around the same time you got yours in prostitution, although back then I was mostly reselling stolen credit cards and passports. Notwithstanding my current youthful good looks, it’s true that we are in fact the same age.”

“What if I told you I find that difficult to believe?” Djvonic replied casually. His subconscious alarm was still pinging; despite his words, he was half way to believing this man was Lazarus. Worse, he was also half way to believing the impossible story he was being told.

“And yet it’s completely true, Mr Djvonic,” Lazarus shrugged, hands extended in a what-can-you-do gesture. “My most recent breakthroughs – to which you’ve already alluded – can be applied to solve problems we previously thought intractable. Like ageing, for instance.”

“So how old are you?” Djvonic asked quickly.

“As I said, the same age as you, fifty-three,” Lazarus replied indulgently. “Give me a hard one, Mr Djvonic.”

“Who was Prime Minister when you were a kid?” Djvonic shot back. He watched the younger looking man’s eyes, searching for those telltale signs of deceit.

“I was too young to remember Menzies, though he was much discussed,” Lazarus said. “But I do remember Harold Holt drowning and McEwen taking office. Anything else?”

“Where were you for the Apollo 11 Moon Landing?” Djvonic asked, and then realising that one was too easy, he added, “and what time of day was it?”

“It was a school day,” Lazarus sighed. “I was in Grade Two and Miss O’Connell left the television on for most of the morning. Armstrong and Aldrin came down the ladder at around lunchtime, Sydney time. I remember this because I had a crushed up ball of waxed paper from my sandwiches in my fist while I watched.

“How am I going, Mr Djvonic?” Lazarus sat back and crossed his legs. “Convinced?”

Some famous recollections from the 1960’s wouldn’t be too hard to fake, but why bother? What would be the point? More than anything, that convinced Djvonic that Lazarus was telling the truth … or at least some version of the truth. Could he really have reversed the aging process? And if so, why wouldn’t he sell the technology legitimately?

“Maybe,” Djvonic answered. “So what else have you got? I’ve heard whispers, but they’re about as easy to believe as your age.”

“What can’t I do, Mr Djvonic?” Lazarus sat forward, his eyes twinkling with mad light again. “That is the better question. What can’t I do? You’re a man who deals in fantasies, are you not? How is the market for them at the moment?”

This was a subtle turn in the conversation, and it wasn’t lost on Djvonic. The introductions were over and now it was time to talk business.

“A man who deals in fantasies,” he mused, warming slightly to the other man’s charisma. “A strange choice of words. Most people would say I traded in women or sex, but I like your description better. The bottom tier of my trade sells sex; nothing more than wet holes to be plugged for a reasonable price. Next up is kinks and fetishes; usually women who are prepared to suffer pain and humiliation – or maybe inflict it,” he quickly interjected, “to earn an extra quid.”

“Neither of which are in direct competition with your business, correct?” Lazarus interjected.

“Right,” Djvonic agreed. “Don’t get me wrong,” he waved an instructive finger, “there is a good market for masochism, but too often either the girls come back fucked-up or the client is pissed because they couldn’t fuck them up enough, both of which spoil the chance of repeat business, which in my book is bad business.”

“So you deal in fantasies,” Lazarus stated. “Exotic fantasies.”

“Beautiful, exotic, intelligent women. Exactly!” he said, checking off the points on his fingers. “Yours for no less than the full night, but more often for the weekend or the length of a holiday. The girls love those ones. ‘Companions’, is the word we use. Not just willing sexual partners, they’re for wealthy men who’ve had their fill of dumb blondes and gold diggers.”

“I sense a ‘but’,” smiled Lazarus, leaning forwards with his fingers steepled beneath his chin.

“But it’s changing,” Djvonic replied resignedly. “Fantasies aren’t what they used to be. Fucking liberalism and internet porn has made everyone a fucking expert; Johns are exacting in how a woman should look and act and fuck. I said ‘Repeat Business’ earlier; we make a decent dollar off individual transactions, but our customer base is so narrow, repeat business is crucial. We can’t afford to have these guys walking off soft, but they’re so bloody hard to please, there’s fuck-all we can do about it.”

“Exactly!” Lazarus cried; Djvonic’s problems seemed to please him greatly. “Your clients have very specific fantasies in mind – very real fantasies, if you like – and they’re becoming increasingly difficult to fulfil.”

“Real fantasies,” Djvonic nodded, pointing at the other man in agreement. “You don’t know how true that is. At least half of our Johns give us photos, videos, and even fucking names and addresses, for fuck’s sake, of their doctor or gym instructor or barista; women they know and fantasise about but can’t have. And we try to supply a surrogate, someone who looks, sounds, and behaves like what they want.”

“And you’re here because you see this shift as an opportunity,” Lazarus actually rubbed his hands together in delight. “Tailored fantasies, a way to differentiate yourself from the competition.”

Djvonic eyed him carefully. “So you can do something like this?” he asked slowly, beginning to get excited.

“Tell me, Mr Djvonic,” Lazarus continued, ignoring the question. “What’s your tailored fantasy?” He rested his chin on his fist and studied the other man, awaiting his reply.

“Ha!” he exclaimed. “I don’t do fantasies. I’ve been in this game too long. I learned a long time ago that they’re better kept than fulfilled.”

“Very wise,” Lazarus smiled. “But not indulging them is very different to not having them. Come on,” he nodded conspiratorially, “just between you and me; two men talking. We all have a fantasy. Mine for instance is a beautiful young woman I see occasionally in the park. She knits, very nearly a lost art these days, don’t you think. In my fantasy, she’s riding me cowgirl style, knitting and whispering the pattern to herself while she slowly brings herself to orgasm.”

Djvonic could see the attraction immediately. The juxtaposition of fucking and something prim and wholesome like knitting was a staple of his industry. Lazarus sat back and waited for him to reciprocate.

“My daughter’s old maths teacher,” Djvonic said, waving his hand dismissively. “Young, slim, and hot, but the way she dresses and the way she carries herself make it look as though she considers herself plain. I imagine leaning her over her own desk and boning her while she’s teaching the class.”

“And there you go,” Lazarus gestured widely with both hands. “We all have them, but we rarely get to indulge them.” Then he locked eyes with Djvonic and his face took on an expression of fierce intensity. “What if I told you that you could have your daughter’s Maths teacher? Not in front of her class perhaps, but in privacy at a time and place of your choosing.”

“A look-alike, then?” Djvonic asked, but the rapid pumping of his heart belied the false innocence of that question. This was what he’d come for. What was this man really capable of?

“Not a look-alike,” Lazarus said through a knowing smile. “The actual woman herself. Perhaps not behaviourally so; after all, your Maths teacher may not really wish to be bent over her desk and fucked by a man twice her age, so obviously there needs to be some personality adjustment.”

“Mind control!” Djvonic whispered, eyes wide with awe.

“Of a form, Mr Djvonic. Of a form,” Lazarus waited for these revelations to sink in.

“But the fall-out …” he mused, mostly to himself. “Even if the women themselves don’t notice the change, their friends and family will.”

“The process is completely reversible,” Lazarus offered. “Zero consequences. Or as close to zero as makes no difference.”

“And you can do this now? Today?” As hard as it was, this was something Djvonic desperately wanted to believe. The possibilities … boundless! What might billionaires pay for the right woman who was otherwise unavailable?

“That’s why I brought you here,” Lazarus explained. “I have the technology and you have the network. Prostitution is merely scraping the surface of my capability, Mr Djvonic. Once we’ve demonstrated the potential to your clients, I expect to sell them much more fantastical and lucrative services, but sex is the gateway. Have I piqued your interest?”

“Am I interested?” Djvonic tilted his head questioningly. “Yes. Convinced? Not yet. You can sing in tune, Lazarus, but I need to see you dance.”

“What florid imagery, Mr Djvonic,” Lazarus clapped his hands, laughing. “I was expecting just such a challenge, so I prepared a demonstration for you.” Lazarus stood and beckoned the other man to follow him over to the glass wall. He tapped on it three times and a moment later, it turned clear, confirming Djvonic’s earlier guess that it was electronic privacy glass. There was an attractive, middle-aged woman on the other side wearing a white lab coat, her finger still on the switch that cleared the window.

Djvonic scanned the rest of what looked like a medical treatment room; it was mostly bare apart from a trio of large devices that looked like MRIs he’d seen on television, huge cylinders with a hole in the middle and a bed that slides in and out. The three machines were coloured green, white, and red respectively, and each one was occupied by a motionless woman, their heads inside the machines and not visible from Djvonic’s vantage point behind the glass. There seemed to be some kind of colour coding; the woman in the green machine wore a green hospital johnny, and similarly the one in the red machine was dressed in red. Although they had a healthy flesh colour, they wore toe-tags, and Djvonic wondered whether they might be dead.

The woman in the middle – the white machine – was the exception; she wore a pair of stylish pink heels and a pretty sundress. Even without seeing her face, Djvonic could tell that she was young and beautiful. Smooth, shapely legs. Full, firm breasts. And with her dress moulding to every luscious curve, the Y-shaped crease at the junction of her thighs formed a target that drew the eye and revved his ageing libido. Considering the conversation he’d just been having, Djvonic couldn’t help wondering who this young beauty was and what Lazarus had in store for her.

“Crank it up, Ailsa,” Lazarus said, making a spinning gesture with his fist to the woman in the lab coat. Djvonic doubted she could hear them, but she nodded her assent and picked up a computer tablet from the bench beside the window.

“What’s she doing” Djvonic asked as they watched her navigate series of screens that presumably controlled the machines.

“Shhh,” Lazarus dismissed the question. “Just watch. It won’t take long.”

The machines hummed to life with a low, cyclic beat. The woman, Ailsa, had her back to the window and Djvonic was able to watch what was happening on her screen. It showed a graphic of a human brain, and as the machines worked, small areas on the image illuminated like a heat-map before moving on to a new location. A progress indicator at the bottom slowly filled, but then when it reached one-hundred percent, the screen momentarily cleared and then started again from scratch. Djvonic had been holding his breath and released it with a shaky wheeze when he realised the process was still going. He was so keyed up. What the fuck was about to happen?

The progress bar slowly filled again with the brain map firing light-bursts like a satellite stop-motion video of a thunderstorm.

“Let’s go take a look-see, shall we?” Lazarus said cheerfully, clapping the other man on the upper arm and moving towards the door. Djvonic’s heart was racing; he wanted to think it was because of the enormity of this business proposition (mind control, fucking mind control!) but it was more than that; he could feel his cock hardening uncomfortably in his underwear, and he couldn’t stop thinking about what might happen to the gorgeous young woman in the middle machine. What would she be made to do?

Lazarus led him to the adjacent room and held the door open, allowing Djvonic to enter first. The red and green robed women were still lying motionless in their machines, but the girl in the middle was sitting up, awake. The technician Ailsa was examining her pupils with an ophthalmoscope, blocking most of his view and only heightening the tension. All Djvonic could see was a corona of stunning, ice-blonde hair, the tips of her breasts beneath tight bodice of her sun-dress, and her long, smooth, flawless legs, which looked trim and round, even with her seated weight resting on them. Good God, he was with beautiful women every day and he’d fucked more of them than he could remember, but the thought of this nubile young thing – giving her body in a way that would be utterly out of character – had him harder than he could remember being in the last ten years.

“I think you’re good to go, honey,” Ailsa said, stepping away from the blonde and putting away her ophthalmoscope.

“Gabi?” Djvonic blurted, stunned almost beyond rational response to see his daughter’s closest friend in this underground criminal lair. Gabi and Mandy had been inseparable since kindergarten, and when she lost her own father at eight, Djvonic had become a kind of surrogate parent – a father figure. He sometimes thought the girl spent more time in his house than her own.

“What the blue fuck is going on?” he cried, turning angrily on Lazarus.

“Andrej?” the blonde girl asked, sounding just as confused as Djvonic. Then more excitedly, “Andrej!” She jumped off the bed and ran to him, barrelling into him as she had done as a child, rocking him back on his heels. She threw her arms around his broad chest and hugged him fiercely, her breasts swelling lusciously out the top of her dress as she pressed them into his body.

Djvonic was doubly taken aback. Although she’d been a very tactile and expressive child, she hadn’t hugged him so heedlessly, pressing the full length of her slim, young body into his, since she began to develop breasts several years ago. Djvonic realised with mounting horror that the sweet softness bearing down on his hard cock was the delicate mound of her vulva.

“Andrej, I didn’t expect to see you here,” Gabi said, kissing his cheek. “Oh my!” she smiled at him, leaning her chest back but pressing her pussy more firmly into his cock. “Is this for me?” Locking her eyes on his, she slowly ground her hips and opened herself up against his manhood. “It is for me, isn’t it?” she cooed softly.

“Gabi, no!” Djvonic croaked, trying to prise the girl’s supple, young body away from him. As beautiful as she was, he thought of her in the same terms as his own daughter.

“Gabi, yes,” Lazarus said calmly as he lightly pressed a scalpel to Djvonic’s jugular. “Please don’t move, Mr Djvonic. I wouldn’t like for Gabriela’s pretty dress to be blood-stained.”

“What the fuck is your game, asshole?” Djvonic said through gritted teeth, conscious of the fact that even talking could cause the deadly scalpel to cut him.

“A demonstration, my fine new friend,” Lazarus answered mildly, that psychotic light dancing in his eyes once again. “One you won’t soon forget.” Then to Gabi, “Go ahead, dear. Don’t let me interrupt you.”

“Oh, Daddy,” she breathed. “Can I call you Daddy? You’re so hard.” She moved her hand to touch him through his trousers, his manhood straining and twitching beneath her delicate fingers. “Can I see it?”

“Gabi, no,” Djvonic groaned miserably.

“I beg your pardon?” Lazarus murmured menacingly into his ear, placing another ounce of pressure on the scalpel at his neck.

“It’s reversible?” he whispered back.

“Completely,” Lazarus confirmed. “Won’t remember a thing.”

Djvonic contemplated resistance for a moment and then rejected it. Revenge was best served cold.

“Yes, honey,” he sighed sadly to the girl. “Go ahead.”

Gabi made an inarticulate squeal of girlish excitement. “Thank you, Daddy,” she breathed, and then she touched her soft lips to his and kissed him slowly, pulling away with a sigh. “I want to remember this forever.”

With a huge smile, she began to unbuckle his belt. Working slowly with sleek, manicured fingers, she popped the button and unzipped him, and then knelt and lowered his trousers to his ankles, the long, thick bulge of his erection straining beneath his underpants just an inch in front of her face. Gabi parted her lips and touched them to the cotton stretched over his cock, brushing them tantalisingly up and down his length while she gazed up into his eyes. Smiling mischievously, her tongue darted out to touch him, leaving a tiny wet patch on the fabric.

Bringing one hand up between his legs, Gabi used her long fingernails to tickle his balls, and it occurred to Djvonic’s incredulous mind that these were exactly the sort of slow, teasing, erotic techniques that he made his escorts learn to prolong and heighten the experience for their clients. She licked him again and then closed her lips sideways over his shaft, taking his cock between her jaws like a dog with a bone. First, she blew hot breath through the thin cotton of his underpants, and then moistening it with her saliva, she sucked wetly on the side, her lips moulding to the hard contours of his cock.

“Mmmm,” she groaned, looking up into Djvonic’s eyes once again as she tucked her fingers beneath the waistband and pulled his underpants slowly down over his hips. Despite the terror of the situation, Djvonic was rock hard. His cockhead became caught in the elastic and was pulled downwards with his underwear, then finally it sprang free, grazing the downy softness of Gabi’s cheek. “Oh, Daddy, it’s so beautiful,” she marvelled, nuzzling its bulging veins with her nose and lips, allowing his cock-head to swing aimlessly, leaving stringy trails of clear pre-cum over her beautiful face.

“It’s so hard,” she panted, her voice edged with excitement. “I love it.” Stroking his balls again with her fingertips, she slowly kissed Djvonic’s cock all over, her soft lips smacking with delight as she moaned and touched her wet tongue to the throbbing, blue veins. Closing her slender fingers around his girth, she held him still, placing tiny, loving kisses all around the crown, before touching the eye to her lips. And with maddeningly slow strokes, she painted them to a pink glossy shine with his pre-cum.

Even in his mounting horror at the inevitable outcome of this display, Djvonic had never been more aroused. Looking down at the vision before him, his eighteen-year-old daughter’s best friend, her soft and shining lips slightly parted and gently kissing his cock while she held the base in her tiny fist; he had to admit that it was the single most erotic thing he’d witnessed in his long career with sex workers. At this moment he wanted nothing more than to feel her soft, young body envelop him and to fill her with cum.

“Tell me what to do, Daddy,” she breathed in the little-girl voice she used at his house to seek favours. “Tell me what you want.”

“Gabi, don’t,” he groaned. “You can’t.”

“Tell her, Mr Djvonic,” Lazarus said menacingly. “We’re just getting to the good bit.”

“God help me,” Djvonic breathed to himself.

“Now,” Lazarus husked, tightening the scalpel to his throat again.

“Okay, okay,” he panted desperately, his heart kicking up another notch as a warm drop of blood trickled down his neck. “Open your mouth, angel,” he said to Gabi.

“-ike -is?” she asked innocently, parting her lips and hovering them over his glans. The hint of a smile played at the corner of her mouth while she looked up at him with doe eyes, batting her long, black eyelashes.

“Uh huh,” he gulped, unable to believe this beautiful blonde was about to suck his cock. “Now put it inside.”

Gabi rocked slowly forwards and took half of his cock in her mouth, and then she softly closed her lips around the girth, allowing the length of his shaft to rest lightly on her tongue.

“Mmmm hmmm?” she asked wordlessly, although Djvonic understood perfectly. And now?

“Suck me, angel,” he croaked, his voice laced with a combination of misery and ecstasy.

Nothing could have prepared him for what followed. Djvonic monitored both girls’ social behaviour fairly closely, and he was reasonably sure Gabi was a virgin. The few dates she’d been on were to the movies or to dinner, and she’d never dated the same boy more than twice, understanding intuitively that to persist longer – when there’s no spark – would be to lead the boy on. Even if she had taken one to third base, that wouldn’t explain the sublime lovemaking skills she was now demonstrating on his straining cock.

With their eyes locked and her jaws yawning around his thick shaft, Gabi began to suck him in exquisitely slow strokes. Holding him still in her mouth, she sucked from front to back, constricting him first with her moistened lips and then rolling the pressure slowly back to his glans, using her powerful tongue to milk the trickle of pre-cum down his shaft and into her throat.

Now that the deed had begun, Djvonic’s reticence melted away and he saw the girl for what she really was: a phenomenally beautiful, nubile teenager who at this moment wanted nothing more than his cock in her mouth.

“Oh my God,” he breathed, still watching her eyes as her cheeks worked rhythmically in and out, tightly hugging his shaft. “Angel … you are amazing.”

“Mmmm,” Gabi moaned, smiling at her surrogate father’s praise around a mouthful of throbbing cock. Letting go of his balls and the base of his shaft, she used her hands to stroke and squeeze her full breasts through her dress.

“Oh angel, yes,” he whispered. This was the ultimate in erotic gestures for Djvonic, and something he tried to instil in his prostitutes with rare success. For a woman to suck him without using her hands meant one of two things: that she trusted him completely not to force his cock down her throat, or that she had conquered her gag reflex and wanted all of him. Whichever it was, it didn’t really matter (though he always hoped for the latter) because it was the sight that captivated him. He could feel the head of his dick deep inside Gabi’s mouth, but he could see another three inches of rampant cock projecting from her soft lips, ready to push forwards into the rippling tunnel of her throat.

Gabi slipped the shoulder straps of her dress over her slender arms and pulled the bodice down to her waist, revealing a smooth, nude bra that perfectly framed the swell of her full, ripe breasts. Still sucking him with those luxurious slow strokes, she reached behind to the clasp and paused, looking questioningly up into Djvonic’s eyes.

“Mmmm?” she asked. The implication was obvious; she was asking him what he wanted.

“Yes, angel,” he encouraged her. “Take it off.”

She made a delighted, purring sound and smiled again around his cock. Still moving slowly, she unhooked the bra and slipped the straps off her shoulders, but held the cups over her breasts with both hands while she watched Djvonic’s reaction, her eyes wide with feigned innocence.

“Please, sweetheart,” he said slowly. “Show Daddy.” Djvonic was equally excited and ashamed to fall into the ‘father-daughter’ role-play.

Moaning softly with approval, Gabi lowered her hands, pulling away the bra cups to reveal her soft, natural breasts, still riding youthfully high on her chest and swelling lusciously at the sides. Djvonic yearned to take her large pink areolae and upturned nipples between his lips. Dropping the bra into her lap, she cupped her hands beneath her breasts and lifted them higher for his approval, shifting the balance of their weight so that they bulged sensuously at the top.

“Oh, my angel. You’re so beautiful,” Djvonic whispered, tears forming in his eyes; pride and lust for the girl he thought of as his daughter mixing in an intoxicating and unfamiliar cocktail. Cum began to boil inside his balls as he anticipated the beautiful moment when it would burst forth so that he could watch the expressions of shock and surprise as Gabi’s mouth filled with his steaming seed. His breath shortening, he closed both hands around her head, his fingers gliding through her silky, blonde hair, and his thumbs tracing the smooth bulge of her hairline along the brow.

Still, with his cock in her mouth and his hands grasping her head – in the perfect position to drive his manhood down her throat, still she sucked him, slowly, lovingly; her hands gently kneading her breasts and pinching her erect nipples but never thinking about returning to defend herself from choking on his cock.

The eroticism of this trust and confidence was too much for Djvonic, he had to explore its boundaries before he exploded. Using Gabi’s head for leverage, he pulled out against the exquisite, wet suction until just the head was inside her mouth, and then allowed himself to be sucked back inside. A surprised gasp was forced from his chest as she took him an inch deeper and her soft palate closed divinely over his glans.

“Mmmm!” she cried out with ecstasy, her eyes rolling back in her head as she pinched her nipples fiercely; the tips angry and red between her painted fingertips.

The effect on Djvonic was transcendent. Lust swelled deep in his chest. She wants this. She wants to swallow my cock.

He pulled slowly out and let her suck him back in again, holding his breath as the entrance of her throat worked over his cock head, squeezing and shaping it, preparing it to slide further down into the dark warmth of her lithe, young body.

Gabi’s eyes flashed with excitement and her nostrils flared as she panted with seeming anticipation. “Mmmm!” she moaned pleadingly, staring up at Djvonic, desperation in her eyes. Releasing one breast, she lifted her hem and parted her thighs, slipping her fingers beneath the waistband of her little Hello Kitty panties. Her breathing intensified as she touched herself, and Djvonic watched as a wave of pleasure rolled upwards from her hips, her free breast bobbing sensuously as it surged past her chest.

Almost reluctantly, Djvonic pulled his cock most of the way out again and held it there, watching the girl’s eyes for a sign. With her fingers working rhythmically beneath the tight, white cotton panties, Gabi asked the question wordlessly, using just her eyes. Do you want to?

“Yes, sweetheart,” Djvonic husked, almost unable to breathe. “More than anything.”

Gabi gave her consent with an almost imperceptible nod and tickled the sensitive arrowhead of skin on the underside of his crown with her tongue. “Then take me,” was the wordless invitation.

Gazing down upon her, Djvonic rolled the tips of his thumbs over her silky hairline again. “Oh, my darling,” he breathed, his voice catching on the last word before he pushed his cock slowly back into her mouth. It felt like an eternity, watching her supple lips roll smoothly over the thick, bulging veins; her wet saliva glinting off his cock in the fluorescent light. As his cock head slid gently into the funnel of her soft palate, and he felt it close lovingly around him, Gabi dropped her shoulders and tipped back her head, opening her throat to him. Her cheeks sucked in tightly around his shaft as he penetrated her throat, her muscles convulsing and gripping him as she furiously swallowed to suppress her gag. She’s so tight! He had to brace with his fingertips at the base of her skull and push her face onto his cock with force, finally sliding past the resistance and easing the last inch home between her yawning lips.

With one hand still working tirelessly beneath her panties and the other squeezing her swollen, pink breast, Gabi slurped wetly on Djvonic’s cock, working her powerful tongue up and down the sensitive underside and snaking it out between her lips to lick his balls with the tip.

This was so far in excess of the best blow job of Djvonic’s life, he never wanted it to end; though his balls told a different story, swelling and lifting and preparing for the job that nature demanded: to inject his seed deep inside the body of a healthy mate. His hands shaking, Djvonic moved Gabi’s head forward and back, easing his straining cock up and down the rippling tunnel of her throat, fucking the girl’s virgin mouth with short, loving thrusts.

“Ah!” he cried out through his teeth. “Gabi … angel … almost there!” His balls swelled massively again and lifted inside his sack as he strained against the orgasm, denying himself for a few more precious seconds to build up the pressure. Three … two … one , he counted himself in. “Oh, my darling,” he groaned with the sweet relief of finally letting go and pulled out of Gabi’s throat, back into her mouth.

She sucked a quick breath through flaring nostrils and then squealed ecstatically as Djvonic came in her mouth; hot, powerful jets of cum, surging over her tongue and painting the back of her throat in thick, white ropes. With lips working furiously on his shaft to hold in the deluge, she slurped and sucked greedily on his cock, using her tongue to milk each delivery down the thick bulge beneath his shaft, and swallowing mouthful after mouthful of hot seed with low, contented moans of satisfaction.

“Oh, good Lord,” Djvonic moaned as the last of his cum pumped weakly into her mouth. “What have I done?”

“You’ve entered into a beautiful partnership,” Lazarus said indulgently as he slid the point of a hypodermic needle into the other man’s neck.

Lazarus removed the scalpel as Djvonic’s knees began to buckle, and then caught him beneath the arms as he collapsed while Gabi shuffled backwards on her knees, making room for her semi-conscious ‘father’ on the floor.

“How did I do?” Gabi asked Lazarus, getting to her feet and wiping her lips with the back of her hand.

“You were sublime, my dear, sublime,” Lazarus praised her. “Choose your words carefully though,” he whispered. “He’s only paralysed; he can still see and hear us.”

“I have a special treat for you, if you like?” she offered, her head tilted coquettishly and fingering her bottom lip.

“And what might that be, you sweet young thing? Lazarus asked with an indulgent smile.

Gabi bounced lightly on her toes, making her full breasts bounce enticingly. She leaned forward and whispered excitedly in his ear before rocking back and lifting her hem to show him her panties, stroking her fingers lightly over the white cotton stretched across her swollen pussy lips.

“Hel-lo Kitty!” Lazarus said, gratefully eyeing the ripened peach of her sex and unbuckling his trousers.

Djvonic watched from the floor with a mixture of disgust and envy as his daughter’s best friend bent over the bed of the MRI, her young breasts bobbing and swaying pendulously as Lazarus lifted her dress and drew her simple panties down those long, smooth thighs. When she raised one knee onto the bed, he got a brief glimpse of her supple pussy lips opening, releasing a trickle of her juices, which beaded and then ran down her thigh.

When Lazarus brought his cock head up to her entrance, Gabi snaked a hand between her legs and opened herself wider with her fingers, and just before the other man seated the tip of his manhood in her opening, Djvonic saw with yearning impotence but no real surprise, the pale crescent of her hymen.

With one finger stroking her clitoris, she looked back, first at Djvonic and then up at Lazarus, and smiled happily.

“Make me come,” she whispered throatily, and then cried out as Lazarus pushed forward and pierced her. Gabi sighed with relief as he pulled his cock back, streaked with her blood, and then moaned lustily as he drove it home, filling her young pussy and making her a woman.

~~~ THE END ~~~
Belinda LaPageSydney, Australia (2015)

Author's Note: I love to hear from readers, so if you enjoyed Can I Change Your Mind, please leave a comment and a vote below. If you want to read more about Lazarus and his evil schemes, you can find my debut novel, Heaven Can Wait, in the eBooks section of my profile.