Chapter 6

Michael was idly watching the world go by from the passenger window of a freshly washed BMW. It was his now, in a way. In reality, it belonged to one Susan Miller, a savvy business executive with more than a little money put aside. But since Susan was now Michael's slave and concubine, all that had once belonged to her, now belonged to him.

Susan was sitting beside Michael and driving, as Michael was only fourteen and had not yet obtained his license. She was a beautiful woman. Drop dead gorgeous, to be exact. With a killer body snugly framed by an expensive set of business attire. Silk blouse, freshly ironed jacket and a fetching skirt that barely reached her knee. This ensemble was crowned by a striking pair of high heels and silk stockings. The woman was a knock-out and she knew it. She had always dressed to emphasize her feminine charms. And now, she was the property of Michael Morlock, the god Horus reborn.

There was a purpose to their afternoon drive beyond the simple pleasure of sight-seeing. Today, Michael was in the market for bodyguards. His mortal Father had been a servant of Osiris chosen specifically for his abilities in the realms of protection and defense. But he was dead now. Accidentally killed in the confusion of an assassination attempt on Michael's life. Michael now knew for certain that mortal followers of his family's nemesis, Set, were aware of his awakening, and also of his location. They had attacked him once, albeit unsuccessfully, and they were bound to try again. Only the next time it happened, Michael was resolved to be prepared. What he needed now were guards. Men of skill and loyalty who would die to protect Michael and his growing harem.

Michael had seen numerous men as they drove around town. Some of whom looked like they could handle themselves well enough in a scrap. But what Michael needed were warriors. Men who actually knew how to use weapons and were experienced in the matters of survival and combat. Soldiers had been the first thing to pop into Michael's mind as possible recruits. But you don't exactly find those type of men roaming around the local shopping mall. Besides, they would be too easily missed. And the last thing Michael needed was to gain the suspicious eye of the government. What he needed were men of skill and aptitude who wouldn't be so easily missed. And that was what made this order so tough to fill. People like that didn't exactly grow on trees.

The solution to Michael's problem occurred to him as they were driving down a street that was far less than affluent. This part of the neighborhood was showing both it's age and it's poverty in several unsightly ways. A few broken windows here and there. The occasional bum huddled in a concrete crevice. Shattered bottles littering the gutters. And a group of what were obviously gang members gathered at the steps of a building, playing dice. They were exactly what Michael needed. Rough and tumble men with nothing to lose and few people to care if they dropped off the face of the earth. Plus, as an added bonus, they likely had at least a few weapons on hand. Michael wouldn't have to bother with that little detail of acquisition.

The only trick was going to be figuring out how to perform the ritual of binding on three of the meanest, scariest guys Michael had ever laid eyes on. Every one of them was rough, black and had more muscles than a seafood salad bar. This was not going to be easy. But a plan was beginning to form in Michael's mind that just might work. It involved putting Susan through a bit of humiliation, which didn't bother Michael in the least, towards the goal of temporarily incapacitating these men one at a time.

Michael ordered Susan to pull up and stop at the curb that was next to the gang member's little impromptu casino. That managed to get a few stares from the assembled men. As they likely weren't accustomed to seeing two white people in a BMW make a stop in their neighborhood. But that fact alone was quickly dismissed as the two exited the car. As soon as Susan's leggy figure made an appearance, all eyes were on her, and the crudely explicit cat-calls were soon to follow. To her credit, she swallowed any protests that might have crossed her mind. Although she blushed a bit, and seemed to bristle slightly with indignation, she didn't make any visible protests.

"Hey, guys! You like what you see? Well, if you're interested in seeing more, I've got a proposition for you." Michael announced to get their attention.

Like a well-oiled, clockwork machine, every set of eyes turned and focused on Michael simultaneously. It was a bit unnerving, but Michael managed to steel his nerves by reminding himself that he could set any one of these big bastards on fire with a single word from his mouth. It was probably something he would only use in the direst of emergencies, especially after what happened to his Father, but just knowing that he had that power made him feel more confident and in control.

"What the fuck are you talkin' about, little kid?" The smallest of the three challenged. He was a lean and muscular man with an intelligent glint to his gaze. He was obviously the leader of their little group.

"Yeah, what do you mean, you've got a proposition for us? You don't look like no kind of pimp to me, little man." Another one jabbed confidently, and managed to get a laugh from his friends. He was the largest of all three and overweight, but spoke in a slow, deliberate manner and didn't seem to possess much in the category of wits.

"Looks can be deceiving, my friends. Don't be too quick to dismiss what I have to offer. You see, I have a special arrangement with this woman. She's indebted to me. In fact, she's so deeply indebted to me that if she doesn't follow my every wish to the letter, her whole world might come crashing down. I'll drop the words "High Society" and "Blackmail" as hints for your imaginative pleasure. But I can't go into further details. Suffice it to say, she's under my thumb, and I'm looking to make a little quick cash. Interested in sampling her charms?" Michael wove his tale with a calm confidence that would have been unattainable in the past.

"Fuck! You serious, little kid? This clean and classy bitch is turning tricks for you?" The shorter, intelligent leader of the group spat.

"Exactly. A hundred bucks cash and you can do anything you want. Now, are you guys interested or not? I can't stand here all day if you're not buying." Michael bargained.

The leader of the three assembled squinted his eyes suspiciously. "I saw on TV that if you're working for the cops, you have to admit it. It's against the law to lie about that shit. So, how about it, kid? You working with the cops, or is this on the up and up?"

Michael sighed with a small amount of frustration, before answering. "No, I'm not working for the damn cops. Now come on! Are you guys in or out?"

All three black youths responded so quickly they almost drowned each other out. "We're in!"

The whole time this little bargaining session was going on, Susan's face was beginning to show more and more worry. She'd never been with a black man before, in fact, although she would never admit it in polite company, she'd always considered them to be a simple-minded and barbaric people.

Other than her Lord Horus, whom she adored with all her heart, she had only experienced sexual relations with two other men, and both had been clean-cut white executives. Sure, she made the usual overtures and comments for racial equality that political correctness required. But deep down, possibly due to her southern heritage, she'd always considered black men to be several steps beneath her. The notion of allowing even one, let alone three, have their way with her perfectly maintained womanly figure, filled her with a lingering sense of disgust. She was a lady, after all. She just didn't do such things with those kinds of people. Yet, she knew that if her Lord Horus commanded this sacrifice of her, she would be unable to refuse. So great was the love and devotion she felt for him since the binding had taken place.

With a lifting of her chin and a squaring of her elegant shoulders, Susan Miller resolved that if her Lord desired for her to be a whore for these men, then she would be the best whore he could possibly desire. It was, after all, his pleasure that she lived to fulfill.

Susan was pulled from her contemplative reverie by the touch of Michael's hand. He was guiding her toward the entrance of a dark alley with the three black youths in tow. She could feel her knees tremble slightly at the thought of what she might have to do in the confines of that alleyway, but she maintained her composure by dwelling on thoughts of her Lord's approval.

Once all five of them were hidden by the shadows of the alley, Michael spelled out the rules. "Okay, it has to be one at a time, and cash up front. Oh, and I don't leave her alone. I stay and make sure things are cool. There's no rough stuff, but otherwise, you can do pretty much whatever you want to. Fuck her mouth... her cunt... even her ass if you want to. Everybody clear on this stuff?" Michael asked.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah... we get the idea. I'm first." The lean, short leader stated as he pulled a wrinkled hundred dollar bill from the pocket of his jeans. The other two mumbled slightly, but not loud enough to be considered actual dissent. Then they left and stood guard at the entrance of the alley, their backs turned on the events unfolding inside.

So far, everything was going according to Michael's hastily drawn plan. But it could still fall apart if he made even the smallest mistake. These weren't suburban high school kids he was dealing with. These were street hardened criminals whom carried weapons. Although Michael was reasonably sure that he could defend himself using the power of the Word of Death, it was something he was loathe to unleash unless he had no other choice. In fact, so strong was his gut level aversion, that he wondered for a moment whether or not he could make himself use it again. And without that advantage, Michael was little more than a pudgy David facing three black Goliaths.

The short, yet nevertheless imposing black man reached out for Susan's chest and gave it a firm, unceremonious squeeze.

"Come on, Blondie. I want to see those tits." The man urged. "By the way, my name's Baseball, or at least that's what my friends call me."

"Why do they call you that?" Susan asked in a slightly terse, nervous tone.

"Oh, you'll find out soon enough... ," Baseball replied.

Susan glanced at Michael briefly, as though hoping for a sign of reprieve in his eyes, but instead all she saw was the gleam of amused interest. She already knew what was expected of her, now all she had to do was obey and keep her distaste for this man to herself.

Susan reached up with both hands and started unbuttoning her expensive, silk blouse. Each button came free of it's narrow hole as easily as butter slides over a hot potato. The fabric was so supple and sensuous that you could almost divine the exact shape and dimensions of her bosom without the benefit of x-ray vision.

Within moments, the front of her blouse was hanging open, exposing her nude breasts and erect nipples. Baseball's eyes had gotten progressively wider with the loosening of each button, and now that he had a clear view of Susan's perfect, white tits, his jaw dropped open as well. All he could utter was a single expletive before his hands jerked forward of their own volition and began hungrily fondling and groping her voluptuous mounds.