The Alpha Club (Chapters 3 - 6) free porn video

THE ALPHA CLUB (continued) BY TRISHA CHAPTER THREE: THE PROPOSAL FRIDAY, JULY 20TH Julian swallowed hard. He checked his watch and looked at Anthony Locke's unbelievably hot maid for the tenth time, wondering what she would be like in the sack. Then he stopped himself and thought about running away. Then he looked at the maid again. Then he checked the time again. Still three o'clock. He took a deep breath. It had been over two weeks since the events at Arnold Clemson's house. Only recently had he been able to make sense of, or begin to make sense of, what he had witnessed. There had been about six men or seven men who had raided Clemson's house that night. Julian hadn't heard all of their names, but he did get to meet Anthony Locke, who seemed to be their leader. Anthony had been very polite, even gracious as he sat Julian, Veronica, and Madeline on the couch and explained to them what was going to happen next. He told them that they had been very lucky. Jesse and Mel were dangerous men. Or had been. All that Julian had been thinking about at the time was what Anthony and his men had done to Jesse and Mel. Even as Anthony was talking, several other men had been interrogating the two in the corner. Both Jesse and Mel, perhaps the manliest men Julian had ever met before that night, had been given the same fate they had given Arnold Clemson. Jesse had been turned into a stunning blonde, with long locks of golden hair falling over a tremendous set of breasts. Mel had been turned into a small and sexy brunette, with startling innocent-looking eyes. They had both been stripped naked, made to kneel before the other men who had not only asked them questions but taunted them about their new lives, telling them how they had become "very pretty pieces of tail" and that they would probably sent off soon to some rich man's secret harem in the Middle East. To Julian's amazement, these two former macho men now cried openly like the girls they had become. All the while, Arnold Clemson--Sally--had knelt next to them with a sullen and distant look in her eyes. After Anthony had explained that Mr. Clemson could not be turned back, he assured them that they could have a normal life again--so long, at least, as they could keep quiet about everything they had seen. Once they had nodded eagerly in agreement to this, Anthony rehearsed the story to them: Arnold Clemson, he said, drank too much that night and, after driving off, was never to be seen alive again. Anthony explained he was friends with "the authorities," who would make sure the story would fly and the proper evidence would be planted. "And all of you," he had said near the end, "will be justly rewarded for complying. Just do as we ask and everything will turn out nicely. You'll see." And then they had let him go. Veronica and Madeline had stayed to file a phony report with the police, and Julian just got into his car and went home. Just like that. Anthony hadn't seemed at all worried that he was going to rat them out to the police or that he might prove hostile in any way. He had seemed perfectly content to let Julian go. And why not? What on earth could Julian ever do? For two weeks Julian had heard nothing, and he had begun to believe that it really was all over and he would put this strange, terrifying episode in his past and try to move on. But there seemed to be so many things to work out. Who were these men? What powers did they have? Would they just forget about him or would they come back? Most difficult to explain to himself, of course, were the transformations he had witnessed. Arnold Clemson, Jesse, Mel: all women now. And what about the way Veronica and Madeline had acted? That was almost equally as strange. Everyone seemed to have gone into some sort of sexual frenzy. Though he witnessed these things from only a few feet away, it all seemed unreal to him now. Like a dream feels after you have woken up. He may have been able to put it all off as a hallucination had it not been for his own mixed feelings, which felt as real now as they did that night. In his mind, he kept rehearsing over and over again the moment when Mel had nearly "turned" him. Had they not been interrupted, he felt sure that he would have become just like Arnold Clemson. The thought frightened him to his marrow. But, though he tried very hard to deny it to himself, it also excited him. He remembered how he felt Mel's powerful will directed at him and how, at first, he had resisted. And then there had been a moment when he felt like submitting. Blinking his eyes, Julian returned to the present and found he was looking at Anthony Locke's maid again, who was straightening up the lounge where Julian was sitting. But now he realized he wasn't lusting after her body so much as he was wondering who she was. And who she had been. Had she been a man once? Had she been "turned"? Did she enjoy her life? A buzzer went off on wall. The maid smiled at him and went over and listened attentively. After a moment or two, she waved Julian on. "Mr. Locke will see you now," she said with a smile. "The courtyard is through the corridor there to the left. You'll see it at the end." Julian stood, thanked her, and walked in the direction she had pointed. For two weeks he had heard nothing. And then this morning, without any warning at all, he received a phone call telling him that Anthony Locke needed to see him today at three o'clock at his "home." Anthony's home turned out to be a three story mansion on thirty acres of land in the hills. It must have had a dozen servants and fifty rooms, complete with a surrounding orchard and private road. And so here he was now. Anthony Locke's mansion. Headed for who knew what. Julian found his way through the corridor where, at the end, he saw the courtyard, just as the maid had said. The courtyard was magnificent. Perfectly trimmed hedges and flowers everywhere, a set of gravel pathways, and a granite fountain in the center that spurted ten feet in the air. Anthony was waiting for him not far from the fountain in wide cleared space, drinking a martini in a wooden lawn chair and talking to Veronica Clemson who sat next to him. The two were surrounded by lawn furniture. It was only as Julian approached that he realized two pieces of the furniture were young women, a blonde and a brunette kneeling like begging dogs on either side of Anthony. To complete the effect, they even had silver collars and chains dangling down from their necks. "Julian Rose," he called. "Good afternoon. I'm glad you could make it today." "Of course," Julian said, nodding slightly to both of them and then sitting down in an empty chair at Anthony's direction. He tried not to look at the two girls with collars, as though he saw things like that every day. "You remember Veronica, don't you Julian? I know she remembers you. We were just talking about you. Martini?" Before Julian could even answer, Anthony poured him glass out of the shaker and handed it to him. "And these fine specimens," Anthony continued, "are Jessica and Melanie, my newest pets." He petted each on the head with his hands, causing the girls to close their eyes in pleasure. Julian took a good look at them for the first time now and realized that they each had a thick load of cum dripping from their mouths and chins. "You remember them, of course, don't you?" Anthony asked. "Melanie here, as I recall, even wanted to make you into a pet herself, didn't she?" Julian nodded, his throat dry. He stared hard at the girls now, wondering what was going through their minds. They were almost purring with satisfaction at Anthony's touch. Did they remember their old lives at all? Did they remember him? He thought again about the moment when Mel had almost transformed him. How warm it felt. How simple. He had been only seconds away. "Well, as perhaps you can see, I've just finished yet another session with them," Anthony said. "They are a couple of horny bitches, and if I don't give them regular feedings they can get rather distracted." He turned his attention to Jessica and Melanie. "Why don't you girls clean each other up while we talk. It will keep you busy, and I'm sure Mr. Rose here will be entertained by it." The two girls smiled obscenely and crawled toward each other. As soon as their faces came in contact, they began to lick the semen off of each other's cheeks and chins. The licking soon led to kissing. "How is business?" Anthony asked suddenly. "How's that car dealership going?" "Ummm," Julian started, taking a sip from his martini to buy time. He forced himself to look away from the girls so he could concentrate. But even after a few seconds, he didn't know what to say. "Fine, I guess," he finally said, lamely. "Could it be better?" "Always could be, I suppose." "Veronica was just telling me that you might have fallen into a little trouble," Anthony said. "Nothing too much, but enough that you were considering selling to Mr. Clemson. Is that right?" "Yes, that's what I was discussing with him that night." "Right," Anthony said dismissively, as if he bored with the subject of "that night" suddenly. "Now what if I told you that your financial matters could be utterly reversed. What if I said that instead of selling the one dealership you have, you could have a dozen of them?" "I can't afford to..." "That's not what I asked about," Anthony said abruptly. "Who said anything about buying?" Julian took another sip of his martini and waited to hear the rest. He stole a glance at the two girls, who were now rubbing each other's pussy with their hands and sucking on each other's breasts. Their moans became a soft, continuous hum. "I told you two weeks ago, Julian, that your fortune might begin to improve, didn't I? Well, as it happens, I think I have discovered just the right thing for you. You remember, of course, that Mrs. Clemson here is now a widow. Very unfortunate, wasn't that?" Julian nodded and was dutifully silent, waiting for the rest. He looked over at Veronica, who had the barest trace of a smile on her face. "As it happens, then, she has acquired all of Mr. Clemson's property, including his dealerships, which is where he made most of money. But Veronica doesn't know much about cars, do you?" She shook her head, and now Julian was sure she was starting to smile. "Do you want me to run the dealerships, then?" Julian said, his voice full of hope. "Do you need a manager?" "Not a manager, Julian," Anthony chuckled. "An owner. Or a co-owner, with Veronica here. You see, she is single now, and she misses the presence of a husband. Don't you sweetheart?" Veronica smiled and nodded. Julian swallowed hard. "You want me to... marry her?" "Exactly. Yes, exactly. Wouldn't that be nice?" "I hardly know her," Julian said, but his heart was pounding. The idea was very appealing, not least of which because of Anthony's persuasive voice. Something about the man made it impossible to disagree with him. "She is so beautiful and rich!" Anthony laughed. "And I don't think she's too strict about marital vows." Veronica giggled. "I.... I don't know..." But he felt like he already did know. He wanted her badly. He just wanted to know what the catch was. And he knew it was coming. His eyes wandered back instinctively to Jessica and Melanie, who had entered the 69 positions and were desperately sucking at each other's smooth, hairless pussies. If he didn't play along with Anthony, would he end up like them? "Aren't they something?" Anthony asked, noticing Julian's gaze and seeming to read his thoughts. "They'll go like that for hours if I let them. And the funny thing is that they won't cum until I tell them they can. They only work themselves up into a frenzy of sexual frustration that gets more and more intolerable. After a while, they'll even lose the ability to talk. They'll just grunt and groan, even weep for a chance at release. And they'll do whatever you ask of them to get it." Julian swallowed hard. There were a few moments of silence as they all--Anthony, Veronica, and Julian--watched the two girls eat each other out. Then Anthony cleared his throat and changed the subject: "But playing the matchmaker is not my only reason for asking you over today. I have another proposition for you. A bigger one." Julian's stomach sank. Here it was. His worst fears seemed about to happen. For the last two weeks, he had worried about getting tangled up with Anthony and whoever those other men were. It could only lead to more trouble. And now he was getting drawn in. He looked away from the girls to Anthony. "Listen to me, Julian," Anthony began. "I belong to a certain organization. A very powerful organization, but one that is kept very secret. You saw many of our members a little while back. Jessica and Melanie here were members. All of those men you met afterward were members too. We've been around for a very long time, Julian. Countless centuries, in fact. Longer than most of us can remember." Julian wouldn't have thought that anything could have completely pulled his mind away from the sucking sounds of Jessica and Melanie, but suddenly his full attention was on Anthony. "We're a very exclusive group of people," Anthony continued. "We take in only those who are the best and most qualified. And for the most part we have been extremely effective at influencing all areas of society, or at least those areas we're interested in. But we're also very..." he paused, "...competitive. Unfortunately, you've already seen that side of us. And you've seen the consequences. We try to work together, but some of our members have occasionally decided that they want to work on their own, and do their own things their own way. That was Jesse and Mel's problem." Julian nodded. It was a lot to take in. But he was following. "What we need now is more stability," Anthony said. "We need more of our members to be able to get along and work with one another. We need less rogues like Jesse and Mel and more cooperative people like... well, you, Julian. We need people like you." Julian smiled modestly and shook his head. "I can't possibly do any of that stuff that you guys do," he protested. "I'm not... magical." The word sounded flimsy once he said it, even silly. Anthony laughed. "Oh, don't worry about the magic. It will come," he said confidently. "In fact, it will come as soon as you are ready to take it. Here." Then Anthony leaned over and grabbed a small wooden box that had been on the table next to the martini shaker. He handed it to Julian. Julian's eyes bulged as soon as he opened the box. He recognized it immediately. "It's called an Alpha Ring," Anthony said. "There are only 999 in all the world. You should remember it. In fact, you must have seen this very ring being used on poor Mr. Clemson. It came from Jesse himself." Julian lifted the ring out of the box and put it to the sunlight. He was speechless. It really was the same one he had seen on Jesse's finger. Then he remembered Jessica and looked down at her. To his surprise, she and Melanie had stopped licking each other for the moment and were staring straight at him. Their faces were blank, but Julian thought he detected something in their eyes nonetheless. They seemed to be remembering something important. "You must make your decision now," Anthony told him. "Once you put that ring on, you cannot take it off except under death or because you have been turned." The word "turned" almost made Julian jump. He looked down at the ring for a long time, considering his words. "How likely is it that those things might happen?" he asked. "I mean, to be killed, or... turned?" "It's a dangerous life, Julian," Anthony answered evasively. "Those things can happen whoever you are, just as you've seen for yourself. Mr. Clemson certainly didn't need a ring to be a target." "What am I accepting exactly?" Julian said. He held the ring in his fist now, hiding it, and turned to look directly at Anthony. "Not much," Anthony chuckled sarcastically. "Power, virility, wealth. All the women you want. Oh, and eternal life. How does that sound?" "Good," Julian said. But then it also sounded impossible. And though Julian had already seen many impossible things happen recently, it wasn't the supernatural that bothered him so much as the practical. "Why me?" he asked. "You said you picked only the best men. I'm not rich. I'm not powerful. So why are you picking me?" "Because I can," Anthony said. "First, I'm what we call an 'Alpha Captain.' I'm one of the principle leaders. So I'm the person who makes these sorts of decisions. Second, I won these rings from their previous owners and I can give them to whomever I please. And it pleases me to give them to people whom I can trust." "Do you mean people who owe you?" Anthony smiled knowingly. "People who are on my side, Julian. Are you on my side?" Julian didn't answer. He looked once more at the ring, swallowed hard again, then, without any ceremony, put it on. "Good choice," Anthony said quietly, his eyes narrowing their focus on Julian to study him more closely. In an instant, a surge of warmth ran over Julian's body and his nerves began to tingle, almost vibrate. His five senses became overwhelmed and, for a moment everything reached a saturation point. His world went numb and silent and dark. It all happened in a second, but it seemed much longer. Then he blinked and looked around him. The first thing he noticed was that his clothes felt tight. His body has grown both in height and mass. He felt his muscles. He felt his face. "Wonderful," Anthony said. "Welcome to the 999 Alpha Rings or, if you like, the 999. Wow. You're nearly as tall as me now. We'll have to find you some new clothes." The constrictions were uncomfortable, so Julian ripped off his shirt and loosened his zipper. "Amazing," he said and dropped the pants to the ground. "Oh my," Veronica said. She was looking straight at the bulge in his boxers. Julian was looking too. It was like it was someone else's prick. But as he pulled it out, it felt right. It was all his, even though it was probably twice the previous size. Jessica and Melanie giggled in titillation from the ground, then immediately went to work on another. Jessica's eyes, staring past the squirming legs of Melanie, were fixed on Julian's stiff member as she licked. "One of the perks," Anthony said dryly. But he was smiling too. "Oh my," Veronica repeated. Then she suddenly dropped to her knees. "May I, sir?" she asked. "By all means," Anthony said. "There's no stopping true love, after all." Julian sat back down in his chair as the beautiful woman crawled up to him and put her head between his legs. A month before, he would never have believed his luck to get a girl like this. But now it seemed only natural. In fact, like only the beginning of what was to come. He grabbed Veronica's head and pulled it to him, rubbing her face against the underside of his cock and letting her lips run against his balls. "Get it nice and wet," he whispered, watching closely as she began to lick carefully. She was clearly intimidated by its size, which approached that of a loaf of french bread. Her diminutive hands could barely wrap around it and, at least at first, she could hardly fit a third of it in her mouth, though she was trying hard. It was bigger even, Julian realized with delight and pride, than Jesse's or Mel's had been, though theirs had impressed him greatly at the time. A trophy wife, Julian thought. She wasn't particularly bright and she was probably without any real talents. But she knew how to make her gorgeous ass stick out in the air as she blew him, and she knew how to make her pretty eyes simple and sweet as he stuffed her mouth. Right now, she was learning how to get his meat down her throat. She was swallowing it about halfway down with each thrust without any gagging whatsoever. Julian felt more powerful and more fearless than he ever had in his life. He knew he could do whatever he wanted with Veronica. It was time to test her limits, he thought. "Good girl," he told her. "Now get it ALL wet." Grasping the back of her blonde hair with both of his big fists, he found the rhythm of her bobbing head and began to push hard as she came down. She was choking a little now, but she had gone nearly three quarters of the way. Then, all a once, without any warning, he jammed her all of the way down until he could feel his cock pressing deep into her throat. For a moment, there was complete silence. "That's it, baby," he said staring down into her face, which had become bright red. Her eyes darted out absurdly and seemed to ask, "how long?" "That's wet enough," he said at last and pulled her head off. Though she hadn't been gagging before, she was when he pulled out. But she recovered with a smile. "Did I do good?" she asked. Julian didn't answer her with words. Instead, he answered with his new muscles. Standing up, he lifted Veronica off the courtyard pavement and, spreading her legs around his chest, planted her on his pole, which was now so hard he almost felt like it could hold her up by itself. He gripped her by both ass cheeks and began pumping into her body slowly. "OHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!" she screamed. It was a primal yell, more like an animal than a human. "It's going to OHHHHHHHH!! rip me apart! I can feel it OHHHHHHHH!! all the way inside me! It makes me feel like such a OHHHHHH!! dirty slut!" "Will you marry me, Veronica?" Julian asked. "Yes, Julian! Yes! I never want to be with another man!" she panted. "All I want is OHHHHHHHH!" "How enormously romantic," Anthony laughed. "You two are going to make a splendid couple." CHAPTER FOUR: ROOM OF MIRRORS SATURDAY, JULY 28TH Jack had just poured himself an after-dinner drink when the phone rang. For a moment, scowling, he debated whether or not to answer it, but only for a moment. A lot had happened recently, mostly bad things, and his first response was to ignore them altogether. Maybe they'd go away. But on the fourth ring he picked up the phone. "Hey, Jack," he heard Sam's voice greet him. "You've got to get down here, pronto." "What are you doing, Sam?" Jack chided. "It's a Saturday night. I'm going to bed." "You've got to get down here," Sam repeated. "Down where? Where the hell do you mean? The office?" "No, Jack. I'm up in the hills. I found it, Jack. I found Anthony Locke's place. It's fucking huge. A mansion." "I didn't know you were looking for it," Jack said. He started to feel annoyed. Then a bit panicked. Then annoyed again. Anthony Locke was off limits. What the hell was he thinking? "Well, in a way I wasn't looking for it," Sam said. "But she led me right here." "Whose that?" "That GIRL. You know, that redhead who went all white when we showed her those pictures of Arnold and Veronica Clemson. I staked out the Alpha Club tonight, and guess what? I saw her walking out with a bunch of other girls, including Jessica and Melanie I think. They all got into a limo and headed over here, to Anthony's house." Jack sighed. He thought of Jessica and realized he was getting a stress headache. He had been trying to put that whole day behind him ever since it happened. But Sam was just the opposite. He didn't want to let go of what happened. He wanted to avenge himself. "And what's your plan next, Sam? Knock on the fucking door and ask to speak to her? What the fuck are you doing? We dropped that case. It's done. We're not ever picking it back up again." "I don't know what my plan is, Jack. But we've got to take advantage of this. This might be our one chance to open this thing up. Big. There are a LOT of people here, Jack. It's some great big party or something. Limos, gowns, servants, everything. Real classy thing." "So what?" "Just get over here quick." Jack wrote the address down and hung up. He looked at his gin. He looked at the stairs to his bedroom, where he could have a nice long sleep. Then he took two gulps, put on his hat, and walked out the door. An hour later, Jack met Sam on a back road near Anthony Locke's mansion. He almost missed him at first because Sam had hidden his car in the bushes and turned off all of his lights. It was only when Jack's headlights caught the figure of Sam waving his arms wildly that he saw him. Jack rolled down his window. "There's a space right over here that you can park. It's right next to my car," Sam told him. Jack came to argue, but not through his car window. He pulled his sedan off the road next to Sam's coupe and got out. Once he closed his door, it was nearly totally dark. Clouds shut out the moon and stars, and most of the light seemed to come from the horizon through the bushes. Jack guessed it was coming from Locke's mansion. Standing in the dark made Jack feel like they had already crossed a line. What would they say if they were caught here? Would those pictures Bellows took of them at the Alpha Club with Jessica and Melanie surface? "We can't be here, Sam," Jack told him. "This is our big chance," Sam insisted. Looking at the distant mansion through his binoculars. Jack shook his head. "If those photographs see the light of day, we'll both lose our license for soliciting prostitutes." "But they weren't prostitutes," Sam protested. "What difference does that make?" asked Jack. "Besides, you and I both have a feeling that Bellows and Locke and whoever the hell else they're pals with can do a whole lot more. You were there. You felt it. They'll do whatever they want to us: ruin our business, give us jail time. Or worse, Sam. They've got us." "It doesn't have to be like that, though," Sam insisted. "We can beat this. You saw that girl's face. She knows something about what happened to Arnold Clemson, and I'm more certain than ever that he wasn't just killed in some drunk driving accident. If we find that girl, we can find Clemson's murderer." "It's a long shot," Jack told him. "You don't know it's murder. You don't know the girl. You don't even know if she will talk to you if find her." "What about Anthony Locke, Jack? I combed through all the public records and there is no one under that name that can be him. And then suddenly here he is, one of the richest men in the fucking county. Who is this guy? We can find out tonight." "No," Jack said. "Tell me something strange isn't happening here, Jack. Do you honestly believe that Clemson's death was an accident? Do you believe this girl doesn't know something important about it? And you know as well as I do that going to the police about this won't help. We've got to do it ourselves." Jack was silent. Sam was right about the girl, of course. And Locke was clearly up to no good. But Sam was handling the situation all wrong. "I'm breaking in," Sam said suddenly, as if he had come to the decision that moment. "I'm headed in there to find out who Anthony Locke is and maybe who that girl is. How else are we going to uncover anything? He's not anywhere in the public records and you know that the police aren't going to investigate. If he's got Bellows on his side, the cops are only going to protect him. But we can do it ourselves right now. There has got to be something in there that tells us something, and I bet most of the house will be ours while they're having the party. Are you coming with me?" "That's crazy," Jack said. But Sam was already sneaking through the bushes toward the mansion. He watched for a few seconds. We're going to get killed, he thought grimly. But he followed. He couldn't possibly betray Sam. The mansion was bigger than Jack had imagined and so was the party. Cars lined the long driveway past the front of the building for a quarter of a mile or more. Chauffeurs and valets were busy parking them. Jack saw men in tuxedos and women in extravagant evening gowns. Music and light emanated from inside the tall mansion. It was like a Hollywood premiere. Jack figured that getting into Locke's mansion was going to be nearly impossible. But, in the end, it proved easy. Though a large circle of light illuminated the front of the building, it was pitch dark in places around the back. Jack and Sam worked their way around the perimeter, saw the glint of a servant's door, and moved their way toward it. Finding it locked, Sam brought out his lock picking kit, but Jack stopped him. "This is still stupid," he whispered. "But if we're going to do it, let's do it right. I saw an open window right above us. If we're going to snoop around, we'll be looking for bedrooms or an office, and they'll be on the second floor and third floor. We'll want to stay away from the party, which will mostly be on the first floor I bet." Sam nodded in agreement and both men stepped back to look at the window. There was a small but sturdy metal awning above the servant's door. Sam put his foot in Jack's laced hands and pulled himself on top of the awning, then he pulled Jack up behind them. Less than a minute later, they were inside with relatively little noise. Their quick success, however, didn't make Jack feel any safer. The darkened room was empty, just as they had counted on, but the moment they came through the window, the sounds of the party grew loud enough to hear the muffled voices of the guests downstairs. They would have to be very careful. Sam handed Jack one of the flashlights he had brought and they began to look around. Within a few seconds, Jack knew that the room was not going to have anything in that they had come to find. But it was so grand that they took a minute to look around and admire it anyway. It was a bedroom, probably a guestroom since nothing about it looked lived in. But it was magnificent: five or six times the size of Jack's own bedroom back in the city. A king-sized canopy bed stood in the center of the room, almost like a stage, and all around, on each of the four walls, were long panels of mirrors. A small bar took up one of the corners, complete with a refrigerator and beer tap, and in the other corners were the necessary bedroom furniture, including a tall oak dresser and vanity. The floor of the room was a deep, soft rug, cream colored, and this was contrasted with black leather chairs and sofas. The bed itself was also cream colored and held giant pillows that could almost be beds themselves. "This isn't a bedroom," Jack whispered. "It's a fuck pad." "It must be something to see with all of the lights on," Sam added. They both agreed there was nothing to find there, and so moved to the door. Jack cracked it open, looked into the hall, and found it dark. "It looks like this whole section of the house is empty," he whispered back to Sam, and slowly they crept out of the room and down the hall. The noises from the party were louder than ever now, though still distant. As long as they kept quiet, they were not going to be noticed. The hall was long and dark, though a far window kept enough light in to see the dimensions. They decided to stick together rather than split up, shaking down the rooms one by one. The next room, however, proved to be almost identical to the previous one: same bed, same mirrors, same kind of furniture. They moved on. The third room was paydirt: a study filled with bookshelves that surrounded a large mahogany desk. They nodded silently at each other and stepped in. Jack wished he could turn the lights on to get a better look, but he knew better. This was no place to get caught. Though the flashlights were frustratingly limited, they were just effective enough. Jack searched through the drawers of the desk while Sam took the perimeter of the room, looking over the bookshelves. They looked for anything that had Locke's name on it. Bills, letters, legal documents. The first thing that caught Jack's eye was a picture of Locke and two other men he had on his desk. Something seemed strange about it. It was black and white, somewhat faded, and expressions on the men's faces was peculiar. Or was it their clothes? Something about the photo seemed old, too old to be a photo of Locke, who looked exactly the same in it as he did now. Jack put the picture aside and starting leafing through papers. Then his eye caught on something he hadn't expected at all. "Look at this Sam," he whispered. Sam walked quickly over and stared down at what Jack had his flashlight beamed focused on. It was a bank statement for an account with hundreds of thousands of dollars. Jack pointed at the name. "Arnold Clemson," he read. There were more papers with the bank statement. Property deeds, business contracts, and a list of phone numbers. All with Arnold Clemson's name on it. "What the fuck?" Sam cursed. A bad feeling came over Jack. The situation suddenly seemed twice as dangerous. But it also made him want to find more. It confirmed all of their suspicions and aroused new ones. What was Locke doing with Clemson's property deeds? What kind of deal had he worked out with Clemson's wife, Veronica? They looked through the office for another twenty minutes but found nothing. Locke's name was nowhere to be found except on things that told them nothing (some of the books, Sam noted, especially the old ones, had the initials "A. H. L." inscribed inside). Sam found a safe hidden away behind a table, but there was no way to open it. "We've got to get going," Jack said at last. "Should we look an in more rooms?" "There are two more rooms down this hall," Sam answered. Even in the dark, Jack could tell Sam had been spooked too. "Let's do a quick search of them and get the hell out of here," he said. "And the girl?" asked Sam. "We'll see," Jack replied. "I don't see a way to get to her tonight. But maybe we can keep a lookout and follow her after she leaves here. Besides, I think we've found something important. We need to look at this Veronica Clemson thing more, don't you think?" "Yes," Sam agreed. Jack left the Arnold Clemson papers where he found them and tried to arrange everything else on the desk as it had been. They did another quick sweep of the study with their flashlights, then found their way to the hall again. The two remaining doors led to bedrooms, big and grand like the others. Nothing. Jack motioned to Sam that they should get going and Sam nodded. No sooner had they done this than they heard voices down the hallway growing louder. Someone was coming up the stairs. It sounded as though whoever was coming was nearly in the corridor. Without a moment to lose, they ducked into the bedroom they had just looked at, then put their ears to the door. The voices were getting louder and louder, and soon they heard footsteps. Jack spun around the room. First, he went to the window, but there was no way to open it and get out without making a lot of noise and probably wasting too much time. Then he checked the other doors to the room: a bathroom and two walk-in closets. "Pssst," he called to Sam from the walk-in closet. "In here." Sam raced silently across the room to the walk-in closet and Jack closed it behind him. They made their way to the back of the closet, or what seemed to be the back of the closet. But what they found at the end was a black curtain and, pulling that aside, another room beyond. Stepping through, they found themselves in another room altogether, complete with upholstered chairs that all faced the same way. On one side was a windowless wall and on the other was a long pane of glass. Jack was just making sense of this when lights came on suddenly and, through the glass, he saw people walking into the bedroom. Sam stepped back, afraid to be seen, but Jack stopped him with his arm. "A two way mirror," he whispered, and Sam's eyes, which had widened in fear, now took on an element of curiosity. When it was clear that they could watch without being watched themselves, Jack and Sam calmed down and took in everything before them. This guestroom was nearly identical to the one they had first entered: canopy bed, soft carpet, black leather couches and chairs everywhere. But they had only looked at that room with a pair of flashlights. To see it all at once, completely lit up, was much more impressive. It looked big, very big, with its high ceilings and mirrors on every side. But what stuck out about the scene before them wasn't the place but the people. Jack and Sam knew the man and woman who had walked in. The man was Sergeant Bellows. The woman was the redhead who knew something about Arnold Clemson's death. "Get on the bed, Sally," Bellows snarled, giving the girl an ungentle shove toward the center of the room. "I want you on all fours." The voice shocked both Jack and Sam because it was clear and unmuffled, as if there were nothing between them. Jack looked up and saw several air vents above the two-way mirror. He put his finger to his mouth and pointed to the vents for Sam, who nodded to show he understood. Meanwhile, the bedroom scene played on in front of them. The girl Sally did as he ordered, crawling on top of the huge bed and waiting on all fours for further instruction. She had on a pink satin skirt that, because of her position, had now rolled nearly all the way up her thighs, and her round, heavy breasts came out over the top of her tiny, spaghetti-strapped blouse. Her face was frightened, not quite panicked, but she showed no other signs of resistance to Bellows. "Stay," Bellows commanded, as though to an animal, and the word seemed to make her tighten up and become still, though not quite calm. Her mouth still twitched as if trying to say something but not finding the words or not finding the power to say them. Bellows hardly noticed this. He slowly began to get undressed, taking off his shoes and socks first and eventually stripping down to his boxers. He approached the bed momentarily, grabbing Sally by the chin, and saying something quietly in her ear that neither Jack nor Sam could hear. Then he walked leisurely to the corner to mix himself a drink, what looked a Manhattan or some version of it. "Tell me about your new job, Sally," he said loudly but casually. "Anthony told me all about who you were before. It must be quite the change of lifestyle. How many men have you sucked off today?" Sally didn't answer right away. She seemed to be wrestling with the idea. But finally, as if she had been holding her breath for a long time, she gasped out her answer: "Four, sir." "Four?" Bellows smirked. "In one day? And did you like stuffing all those cocks in your mouth?" "Yes, sir," Sally said, almost involuntarily. "I can't help it. I... love it." "You love being a cocksucker?" Bellows asked, rubbing himself now through his boxers with the hand that wasn't holding his drink. Sally nodded. "Yes, sir," she whimpered. "What do you like about it? Tell me everything." Sally never moved from her all fours position as she answered. Her tone was obedient if not enthusiastic: "I love being on my knees. I love serving with my mouth and my tongue and my lips. I love powerful men and choking on their big throbbing dicks. It makes me feel small. It makes me feel helpless. It...turns me on." "Makes your pussy wet?" "Yes, sir." "And do you feel helpless now, Sally?" Bellows asked, still rubbing himself. "Yes, sir." "How many times have you been pounded in the ass today, sweetie?" he asked. "I..." Sally lost her voice for a moment. "I... haven't." Bellows laughed wildly and dropped his boxers to the carpet. After putting down his drink, he raced to the bed in three great leaps. Jack noticed he was now holding two things in his hands which he must have picked up from the table he left his drink on. He put them on the bed next and knelt behind the girl, rubbing his dick along her cleavage of her behind and seizing hold of her red hair. "Four blowjobs and no assfucking," he said. "You must be starving for it now. Tell me, Sally. Do you like it up the ass? Do you want to be my little butt-bitch?" "Uh-huh," Sally mewed. She was now starting to breathe heavily. "Please do it, mister. Please fuck my bottom real, real hard." "That's good, Sally," he said. "I'm really glad to hear it. From here on out, though, I think it's best if I do all the talking. I don't need to hear anything more from your dirty, cocksucking mouth." Bellows picked up something pink and black from the bed. Only once Bellows had fitted it around Sally's head did Jack understand what it was: a ball gag with a pink ball the size of a lemon to plug Sally's mouth with. Sally took the gag without a fight, though her face clearly showed that she found it uncomfortable. Then, all at once, it changed from uncomfortable to pained as Bellows rammed his cock into her ass. Sally tried to scream in shock but the gag stifled the sounds to a dull drone, like a far off noise. Then Bellows bent down to Sally's ear and, still grabbing her hair, he said the last thing Jack thought he would: "I remember Arnold Clemson. Those goddamn billboards everywhere, right? I even bought a car at one of his dealerships once. Fucking rip-off." Starting slowly but building up speed more and more, Bellows began to slam himself harder and harder into the back of the girl. With each thrust, Sally grunted into the ball gag, making a high-pitched humming sound that seemed to express both pleasure and pain. Once Bellows found a rhythm, he picked up the other object he had brought to the bed, a short black switch. "When I tell you to, you're going to cum," he spat, hitting her hard on her behind with the switch without losing the tempo of his hip thrusts. "I'm going to spurt right up your ass and you're going to shake with a mind-numbing orgasm that will make you beg for more assfuckings just like this for the rest of your life. You're going to be an ass-bitch, Sally. I'll talk to Anthony and make sure it's your new fucking specialty at the club." She panted through her nose and murmured incoherently into her gag while he slapped her backside more with the switch. "What do you think your wife would think of that, Sally?" he asked. And now he was panting hard too. His eyes squeezed in concentration. "Do you think she'll be impressed with your new skill? The best piece of assfuck in southern California." As odd as everything else that Jack had witnessed, this seemed oddest of all. What did he mean about Sally's "wife"? Who would she be? And why did Bellows refer to Arnold Clemson earlier? Jack looked at Sam to see what he thought, but Sam was intently watching the scene before them play out. Jack couldn't help but notice that his trousers were tented. Just as Jack's were. Sally was now screaming so hard through her pink gag that Jack thought he could understand her words: "fuck me, fuck me, fuck me" over and over again. Then, without warning, Bellows's hands clamped down hard at the bottom of her waist, squeezing so tightly Jack thought he might bruise her. He tensed, hard and stiff. "Cum now, slut," he said and the next moment Sally gave a cry louder than ever as she reached orgasm. Jack thought he heard a mixture of despair and ecstasy. She was cumming, but it was as though she didn't want to. Bellows seemed to take long time unloading into her. "Very nice," he finally said, pushing her face down in the bed as he got out of it. "Now stay there until I get back. I told Anthony I'd report back to him soon. Don't move a fucking inch while I'm gone, and if you're good, I'll let you give your fifth suckjob today when I return." With that, Bellows put his boxers back on and, in a matter of seconds, left the room. All was abruptly silent. The girl did as she was told: nothing. Her head still down in the cushions of the bed, she kept her round, pert ass stuck high in the air as if waiting to be entered again at any moment. Jack and Sam looked at each other. Sam had a funny expression in his face and Jack figured he probably did too. And then, before he realized what was happening, Sam rushed by him. He was almost out the room before Jack caught up with him, grabbing his arm. They had a tense but silent moment. Jack's look said "don't do it" and Sam's look said "try to stop me." Sam unhanded himself from Jack and walked the rest of the way out of the walk-in closet. Without hesitation or ceremony, he went straight into the room. "Oooopmh!" Sally screamed through her gag as she saw him approach. "Don't worry," he said in a soft but nervous voice, raising his palms up as a sign of goodwill. "I'm only here to help you. Don't you want some help?" Sally raised herself on all fours again and shook her head ardently. Her eyes held a steady gaze of fear. But she didn't move any further as Sam came up to the bed and removed the gag from her mouth. "You've got to get out of here," she told him. "But I came to see you," Sam said. This seemed to confuse her greatly, so he continued. "Do you remember me from the club a while back? I came to ask you some questions about Arnold and Veronica Clemson. I think you know something about what happened to Mr. Clemson." Suddenly, the girl let out a loud, shrill scream. It sounded like an alarm had gone off, and indeed, Jack thought as he looked on, that's just what it was. Her scream never stopped except to take a breath, which she didn't do often. The whole while, she never budged from her position on the bed. Jack was reminded of a howling dog. "Please, please!" Sam said in the most placating voice he could manage. "Please!" But it was no good. The girl was not going to shut up. Though he couldn't see Jack, Sam looked back at the mirror as if to ask for help. Then he wheeled around the room, searching for an exit. There were at least three possibilities: the door to the hall, the window, and the walk-in closet. "We've got to get out of here!" Jack yelled through the wall and turned to get out of the closet. But even as he did so, he saw the door to the guestroom opening. In a second, Bellows and two other men entered. "Get Mr. Locke!" Bellows ordered, and one of the men raced back out of the room. Bellows was naked still, except for his boxers, and perhaps Sam could have taken him if he were alone. But the other man was big, all muscle, and he carried a 9mm pistol in his left hand which he had trained on Sam. "Sam Winterson," Bellows said. His voice was still full of shock. "What the fuck are you doing here?" "I am just leaving," Sam said, his hands raised in the air and his eyes never leaving the man with the pistol. "No," Bellows said, considering his words. "No, I think you are just staying." Behind the glass, Jack stood paralyzed, wondering what to do. He had no gun with him. Did Sam? He sometimes carried one, but Sam didn't mention it or show it tonight, and even if he was packing, there wasn't much he could do now. For a whole minute, no one talked or moved. It might have been a scene of high comedy. It was certainly absurd. Sam kept his arms raised in the air, the muscle kept his gun pointed at Sam, and Sally kept her ass pointed straight up. And then a group of people entered the room, Anthony Locke in the middle them. "What an exciting night," Anthony said sarcastically. "We've got everything. Music, women, games. We even have a party crasher. The evening is complete. What brings you here, Mr. Winterson?" "I've made a mistake," Sam said. "I was just going to leave." "And why should we let you? You're guilty of a felony at least. Maybe more than one." "I've seen enough to know that you aren't exactly innocent," Sam replied defiantly. "That's true," Anthony said. "And you're right. That's a problem. As I see it, we have two options. We can let you go free and then have to keep dealing with your pestering ways. Or we can make you, umm, part of the party. First, tell me who knows you are here." "No one," Sam said. But a crack in his voice gave away the lie. "Jack Appleton?" Bellows asked. "Is he here? What does he know?" "I'm by myself," Sam insisted, this time more confidently. "That's the truth." Anthony smiled. Then he did something odd. He placed his feet carefully on the carpet beneath him as though he were bracing himself for a blow or a blast. Staring intently at Sam, he brought his hands together and began doing something with them. It looked like he was playing with a ring on his hand. A weight suddenly pressed down on Jack. It felt like the room had suddenly changed barometric pressure or that an electric pulse threatened the air, as just before a lightning strike. To Jack, it seemed like the lights had dimmed for a moment, though he didn't think they really had. It was more like the change had come from the inside, as though his senses had become overwhelmed. When he recovered, he looked to see what was happening in the room. Sam and Anthony were locked in each other's stare. The gaze was so steady it was as though they were about to say something to each other, or even that they had already began to talk. No words were said, however, except that Jack thought he detected Anthony's lips moving slightly. All at once Sam's shoulders slouched. Jack couldn't get a good look at his face because it was at a quarter profile from the back, but he still had a tremendous feeling of panic, that somehow Sam had lost. Or surrendered. No sooner had Jack thought this when the most extraordinary thing happened: Sam's whole body started to change. First his hair, which sprouted out in long straight black strands. Then his head, which shrank and reshaped itself. Then his arms and legs. Then his body. Even as he watched it happen, Jack couldn't quite understand what he was seeing. Only when Anthony spoke did he allow himself to comprehend what he was looking at: a woman. "Prepare her for questioning," Anthony ordered, and Bellows and another man immediately advanced upon the girl that once was Sam Winterson. She stood completely still as they began to tear the clothes from her, revealing a body as feminine and as alluring as anything Jack had seen at the Alpha Club. Her eyes never left Anthony, as if waiting for him to say something important to her. Jack blinked hard and swallowed down a cough that would have given him away. Was this an illusion? Had Sam been switched with another person somehow? Or was it just as it had appeared, that Sam was no longer Sam? Once the girl was completely naked, Bellows and the other man backed away and let Anthony amble forward. In one swift movement he grabbed her by the jaw and began to inspect her face. "It's always fascinating to me to see the final product of the transformation. You learn a lot about a man by the girl he turns into, for they are always the kind of girl they would most want to be, the kind of girl they would find attractive as their male selves. Mr. Winterson here seemed to have fairly untraditional tastes, did he not? Thin. Tall. Black hair. Fairly small tits. Hmmm. But then, who I am to judge? I have many untraditional tastes as well." He let go of the girl's face, and Bellows took one step forward. "Would you mind if I had a go at her?" he asked. "You will get your turn, Vince," Anthony said, still smiling at the girl. "As the winner of out duel, of course, it is my right to break her in. And, besides, we still have to ask our newest member of the party a few questions." Bellows bowed and stepped back. "Kneel," Anthony ordered. The word had barely exited his mouth before the girl kneeled. "What were you doing here tonight?" "Looking for information on you, sir," she said in a high, helium-like voice. The sound made Jack wince, though he was also cognizant that his erection had not faded. "And what did you find out?" Anthony queried. "That you have the bank accounts and legal deeds of Arnold Clemson." "Very good!" Anthony shouted. "Excellent work! Quite the detective, I must say." Sally, the redheaded girl on the bed, let out a soft squeal and put her head back down on the mattress. Jack looked back at her for the first time since Sam had been caught. He began to think about everything that Bellows had been saying to her, things about Arnold Clemson and his wife. He was not able to deduce much, however, before Anthony came with his next question. "And what else have you found out?" "That Sergeant Bellows is in service to you, sir," she said. "And what else?" "That Arnold Clemson is not dead," she answered carefully and slowly. "That he is now a woman. He is now Sally." Jack, who had come to the same conclusion almost at the same time, breathed out heavily in shock. Fortunately, the sound of this was covered up by Anthony. "Very, very good!" Anthony congratulated the girl, thoroughly enjoying himself. He turned to the room. "You see, everyone, though Sam Winterson has changed in many fascinating ways, there is still a level of intelligent thinking going on in that pretty skull. And now I have just one more line of questions. Who else knows you are here?" Jack held his breath. Would Sam, or what was left of Sam, betray him? "I'm..." she faltered. Then composed herself. "No one." Jack closed his eyes in gratefulness. But his relief was short-lived. "I have a difficult time believing that," Anthony replied dryly. "But we'll soon find out. Let me try this, then. How would you like to become a dancer, dear?" "I... would..." Anthony didn't let her finish her answer. "And how would you like to be a dancer at the Alpha Club? Each night you could turn on dozens of men as you swung around the poles, and then you could let them feel you up afterward when you served them drinks. How would you like that?" "I... can't... sir?" "And how would like to get fucked in every hole of yours at the same time by those same men while they called you dirty names like 'slut' and 'tramp'? And how would you like your REAL name, the one you'll be known by, to be something very pretty and very sexy. Something like, hmmm, Stacey Stickycheeks? How would you like..." "Jack Appleton!" the girl whimpered. "Jack knows I'm here." Anthony, who had been clearly taking great pleasure in his soliloquy, suddenly stopped and looked down at her. "Very good, Stacey," he said. "Now can you tell me where Jack is right now?" Sam--Stacey--didn't answer right away. But slowly, cautiously, she turned her head around, stared at the two-way mirror, and gave it a quick nod. All eyes now turned toward the mirror and Jack, and though he knew that none of them could see him, he felt their gaze on him nonetheless. When they opened the door to the walk-in closet a few seconds later Jack was already at a sprint. He played out his options in his mind as he ran. If he made it to the end of the hall, he could lock or bar the door and perhaps buy himself some time to escape out the window he had entered. If he ran down the stairs, he could perhaps lose himself in the crowd of the party momentarily and make it out the front door into the covering darkness before they caught up with him. He knew at least one of them had a gun, but he didn't care. Let them try to shoot him. He wouldn't stop. But Jack didn't even make it to the hallway before Anthony stopped him. And not with a gun. Anthony was blocking the doorway, his mouth turned upward into a malicious grin, his eyes holding steady on Jack. Jack meant to charge him, to throw him out of his way with his left shoulder and bulldoze his way down the hall. Instead, he halted ten feet away from Anthony. Their eyes met. Jack could see him, in the bottom periphery of his vision, twisting his ring. The lights seemed to dim. The world went gray, then black, then white. It became hard to breathe. He thought of himself standing there and it occurred to him how absurd it was that he was standing before someone as powerful and great as Anthony Locke. The man was supernatural. He was a giant. And what was Jack? Was he any sort of man compared to this man? Then he thought about what he COULD be, what he MIGHT be. Jack realized he was being offered a choice. He could fight back and resist this man. Or he could be the sort of person who could please this man. It all seemed so natural now that he thought about it. An image popped into his head of a blonde woman with huge, perfectly rounded breasts and a complimentary behind. She had a slow, dumb look on her face, one finger reaching over her bottom lip seductively, stupidly, the other hand placed on her narrow waist. The image felt right. It was what might be. It was what should be. Something inside of Jack broke. He tried to scream, but it was too late for that. CHAPTER FIVE: THE SWEET LIFE SATURDAY, JULY 28TH Julian Rose had made it. He did not know how he had made it, and he still wasn't certain that he deserved to have made it. But here he was. On top of the world. On top of everything. Tonight was his shining debut. To celebrate Julian's induction into the 999 Alpha Rings, Anthony had thrown a great party at his mansion: drinks, music, dancing, gambling tables, and lavish food. Girls in sexy costumes, ranging from bunny ears and tails to candy-striped stockings, served drinks and food, or took men to the couches to perform dances or give blowjobs. Julian noticed one man in a crew cut and black tuxedo waste no time, grabbing two of the first girls he saw by the hair and dragging them over to one of the couches to suck him off while he talked with another guest. Everyone just laughed. It seemed they had seen the same man do it many times. The guests came from all over the west coast, and Julian soon realized he was meeting some of the most important people in the country, from businessmen to politicians to media moguls. Many of the guests, though not all, were members of the 999 Alpha Rings. Julian could discern them immediately by the bright gold ring on their right hands. But even without seeing their rings, the Alphas were easy to spot. Tall, muscled, wide jaws, intimidating eyes. Julian had been formally introduced to some of them, particularly those who belonged to the "Alpha pride" (this is what they called an organized group of Alphas) that Anthony was captain of. Alphas were like their own race of men. And now Julian was a part of that race of men, grown tall and strong like all the others, and, he supposed, having the same intimidating eyes. It all seemed impossible, except the way people treated him. When he was talking to a woman, he could feel her attraction to him. At times, he could nearly smell it. Men weren't much different. When he talked to a man (at least one that wasn't another Alpha), he knew instinctively that he could bend him to his will. Most of the time he hadn't acted on it. Tonight, he decided, it was time to test it out completely. As part of the celebration, Anthony had told Julian he could invite one "special guest" to the party, someone from his previous life. Someone he could "turn" and make into his own. Anthony suggested that past enemies were often the best for this, whether from school or work, or just someone who had done some great wrong to Julian. There were rules, of course. He couldn't pick anyone too important or famous, and certainly not someone from the 999 Alphas. But when Julian suggested Theodore Carlyle, his former accountant and business manager who had betrayed him to Arnold Clemson, Anthony told him he would be perfect. So Julian had invited Theodore and his wife to the party, all under the pretense that it was a celebration for his new marriage to Veronica, and Theodore accepted the invitation gladly. Since Arnold Clemson had unexpectedly "died," Theodore had lost whatever deal he was going to have with him, and he must have assumed that Julian had known nothing about his disloyalty. But Theodore had also come because Julian had asked him personally, and, when he did that, he knew Theodore would not say no. Julian's ring had given him great powers of persuasion, just as he had seen Jesse and Mel use at Clemson's house. Now he was testing out the extent of those powers and the effect they had over Theodore and Theodore's wife, Alison. The three of them sat at one of the poker tables set up for the party in the mansion's hall: Julian at one end, Alison in the middle, and Theodore on the other end. One of Anthony's "bully girls," as he called them, was dealing. Anthony had explained that the bully girls, each of whom had a leather collar with short metal spikes to show who they were, had particular jobs around the mansion and were strictly off limits sexually. Julian looked at the bully girl dealer a moment and briefly wondered what Anthony would do if he broke the rules and fucked her anyway. Then he put the thought out of his mind. There were more important things to worry about tonight, namely Alison and Theodore. They had been playing for no more than twenty minutes, but Julian had already won seven hands in a row. Alison, who had been flirting with him before they even reached the table to play, was far too busy studying his muscles to pay attention to her cards. Theodore, meanwhile, was giving away what he had in each hand with his facial expressions, which Julian found he could read extraordinary well, almost down to the suit of each card. More importantly, Julian discovered he could make Theodore fold just by suggesting it. It was time to up the ante, he thought. "Those shoes are pretty, Alison," he said of the heels she was wearing. "But they must feel uncomfortable. Why don't you take them off and I'll rub your feet." "Okay," Alison said, giggling guiltily and throwing Theodore, her husband, a funny look. With a few swift kicks, she got out of her heels and placed her feet carefully on Julian's lap. Julian looked deeply into Alison's eyes, which were already returning a look of lust. He smiled. Though he didn't show it, most of his attention was on Theodore. Julian wanted to do this right. Anthony warned him that, though his ability to influence others had greatly increased once he put on the ring, he could not control another man's mind completely. Once a man was turned, things were different. Then you could make them do whatever you wanted--or almost anything you wanted. But until a man was turned, you could only bend him, not break him. The man would have (limited) power to resist, and some men had more resources to resist than others. He wanted to test Theodore's resistance. "You have very sexy legs, Alison," Julian said, rubbing not only her feet now but her calves as well. It was true, too. Alison was an alluring woman, more attractive than someone like Theodore deserved, and her legs were probably her best feature. Long, silky. He glanced at Theodore, who was clearly distressed but so far said nothing. It must be bewildering for him, Julian thought, to have come from his comfortable suburban home and dropped into the very pit of debauchery and wealth. Julian could sympathize. He thought of his own experience witnessing Jesse and Mel at work in Arnold's house. Theodore wasn't doing much better. He had openly gawked when he saw people having sex on the couches and had protested to Alison that they shouldn't stay. She said he was no fun and to let himself loose, and he had quickly shut up. It was more than that, however. Despite his irritation, Theodore was also entranced by what he was seeing. "Are you ready for another hand?" the bully girl dealer asked. She was a tall skinny blonde with a hard fury in