Chapter 12

During the next class, I think about my harem and the inconvenience of trying to arrange rendezvous with them around school. I come to the conclusion that I want my harem all in one place.

I telepathically reach out to Bethany, Rebecca, Angela, and Gemma during the next class, and my mind’s voice is as clear as a bell in their heads. “Ladies,” I say, “I need you to speak to your parents at some point. Convince them to meet me at Mrs Simmons’ mansion on Saturday afternoon. Tell them it’s for a ... special kind of spiritual training. I may be able to help your moms and sisters too...” Only if they’re hot of course, I think to myself. I don’t want no uglies.

They all agree in unison; their feelings are a mix of excitement and trepidation at the thought of their parents meeting me. They know what I’m asking, and they can’t help but feel nervous and hopeful at the thought of what’s to come. Their innocent minds are slowly unraveling, and with each thread that falls away, they’re drawn deeper into the web of desire and power that I’ve spun for them.

“Also, please do not give detailed information regarding my spiritual healing I perform. It can put people off before I can show them the beauty of it.”

“Sorry Steve, I told Becky about...” started Gemma.

“Don’t worry about it. I’ve put Becky’s fears at rest. You can tell people what you think of spiritual healing but don’t give out information as to what it involves.”

“Yes Steve.” They all reply.

The rest of the school day passes by in a blur as the anticipation builds. I can feel their thoughts, their racing hearts and the warmth of their arousal at the prospect of bringing more members into our fold. Their own families. It’s a heady sensation, this power over their very beings, and it only makes my cocks throb more insistently. I spend the time between classes planning my next move, calculating how best to bring any hot mothers into the fold without too much fuss. Bethany’s mom is a definite and I’ve already made an impression on her.

As the final bell rings, releasing us from the last shackles of the school day, I telepathically transmit the address of Mrs. Simmons’s mansion to Bethany, Rebecca, Angela, and Gemma. The message is clear and concise, delivered directly into their minds like a soft caress. They nod subtly, confirming receipt, their cheeks flushing with excitement and a hint of naughtiness. It’s a thrilling dance of seduction and manipulation that I’ve become so adept at, and they’re all eager to follow my lead.

Stepping outside into the crisp afternoon air, the sight of Philip Mace immediately catches my eye. He’s hovering by the school gates, his eyes darting around nervously, avoiding my gaze. It’s clear he’s still reeling from what he walked in on a few days ago—his mother, sister, cousin and aunt lost in the throes of passion under my divine tutelage. I approach him with a casual stride, my diphallic secret tucked safely away beneath my pants. He tenses up as I get closer, his fists clenching at his sides.

“Philip,” I say, my voice a soothing balm to his agitation. “How are you holding up?”

He gulps, his eyes flicking to the side, anywhere but at me. “I ... I don’t know what to think,” he stammers.

“Think?” I ask, cocking an eyebrow. “Or feel?”

Philip Mace looks at me with a mix of anger and confusion. He’s still trying to wrap his head around what he saw—his mother, his sister, his aunt, and his cousin, all writhing in pleasure under my expert touch. It’s a sight that would have sent most men in this world into a frenzy of jealousy and rage, but not him. Not anymore. I’ve shown him the power of submission, and he’s been craving it ever since.

“They ... they keep asking when you’re coming over,” he murmurs, his voice thick with unspoken desires. “They say they miss the ... the healing sessions.”

I smile enigmatically, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Tonight, Philip. I’ll pop over to your house tonight. Make sure your mother and the rest of the family are available. We’ll have a little reunion, and I’ll check on everyone’s spiritual progress.”

His eyes widen slightly at the mention of ‘reunion’ but he nods, his voice barely above a whisper. “Okay, I’ll tell them.”

I noticed that he and his girlfriend Stephanie Scott weren’t sitting together in class today so I asked him if everything was okay.

“Yeah. I ... um asked her if she’d be willing to let me touch her ... and she freaked out. She broke up with me,” he admitted.

“What?!” Just as I feared, what an idiot. “You are meant to be practising with your dad, I told you that it takes years to become a spiritual healer.”

“I know ... but I couldn’t get what you did with mom and Gwyn out of my head. I desperately wanted a piece of that with Steph...”

“You’re a damned fool. Your impatience has resulted in you damaging your relationship with her. You might never get her back,” I tell him.

“I know. I don’t know what to do,” he says with dejection, tears running down his face.

“I can talk to her if you like,” I say. I’ll do more than talk of course, Steph was a cute little thing.

A look of fear crosses his face. He quickly denies my request. “No, I’m sure I can patch things up with her. It’s fine. Thanks for the offer though.”

He’s not a total fool then, he’s right to fear me. “OK, well you know where I am if you need me.”

“Thanks,” he said with relief, obviously grateful that I’m not going to go after his ex-girlfriend.

“I’ll see you later on Phil.”

With a final pat on his back, I leave him standing there, his thoughts no doubt racing. I walk home, the crunch of leaves underfoot the only sound to break the silence. The sun is setting, casting long shadows across the pavement, and the world seems to hold its breath, waiting for the next chapter of our story to unfold. My thoughts drift back to my mother, the woman I’ve been tiptoeing around since my arrival. The looks she gave me when I told her what I’ve been up to since my arrival to this world tell me she has questions on the details of sex, and I know I’ll have to address them at some point. But for now, I have more pressing matters to attend to—expanding my harem and solidifying my position as the sexual savior of this pristine world.

As I stroll down the familiar streets, my mind races with the possibilities of the evening ahead. I can feel the mana of the universe swirling around me, thick with the scent of untapped desire. I’ve barely scratched the surface of this place, and already I’ve turned the lives of so many upside down. The thrill of it all sends a shiver down my spine, my cocks twitching in anticipation of the night’s activities with the Mace family.

When I arrive home, the sight of my mother, her face marred by a bruise, snaps me out of my sensual reverie. My father, a sour-faced man with the stench of alcohol seeping from his pores, sneers at me from his chair in the corner. I clench my fists, anger rising in me like a storm. This is not the first time I’ve come home to find her like this, but it will certainly be the last.

“What happened?” I demand, my voice tightly controlled.

My mother, Rachel, looks up at me, her eyes brimming with unshed tears. “It’s nothing,” she says, her voice shaking. “Just a little ... accident.”

But I know better. The smell of alcohol wafting from my father’s pores is a tell-tale sign of his usual evening escapades. My jaw clenches as I cross the room to stand in front of him. “You need to leave,” I say, my voice low and menacing.

He laughs, a harsh bark that echoes through the house. “You think you can tell me what to do, boy?” he slurs, his eyes narrowing.

“I’m not a boy,” I reply, my voice icy. “And you will leave.”

Without warning, he swings a fist at my face. Time seems to slow as I watch his hand arc towards me, the smell of his rage and despair coating the air. I dodge, his fist grazing my cheek, and stumble backward. I feel the floor rush up to meet me, the impact jarring my teeth together. The room spins, and for a brief moment, I’m lost in a whirl of color and pain.

“No! Stop!” Mom rushes forward to protect me.

But I don’t stay down. I rise to my feet, drawing upon the mana that pulses within me. It’s a power I’ve been cultivating, a secret weapon in this world where everyone else is a sexual novice. My eyes glow with a supernatural light as I focus my energy, my cocks swelling and shifting with the sheer force of it. I hold out a hand, palm flat, and the air crackles with invisible threads of energy.

My father’s smug grin falters as he feels the first tendrils of his strength being drawn away. His hand, still clenched in a fist, begins to tremble. The color drains from his face as he stumbles back, his legs suddenly unable to support him. He crashes to the floor, his body a limp ragdoll, the stink of fear overpowering the reek of alcohol.

With a flick of my wrist, I send a burst of mana into my muscles, feeling them swell and pulse with newfound might. The room seems to shrink around me, the walls bowing inwards under the pressure of my enhanced presence. I stand tall, my chest heaving with the power that now flows through my veins. Mom watches, her eyes wide with shock and amazement at my new stature.

I cross the room in a heartbeat, grab my father by the scruff of his neck, and hoist him off the ground. He squirms like a pathetic animal, his eyes bulging in terror as I look him in the face.

“You’re going to leave,” I repeat, my voice a thunderclap in the quiet room.

My father, his eyes wide with fear, sputters, “B-but the house, it’s in my name!”

“Is it true?” I ask mom, not breaking eye contact with him.

Her voice is quiet, but firm. “Yes, the house is in his name.”

The rage within me boils over. I slam my fist into his gut, watching the breath leave his lungs in a wheezing gasp. He crumples to the floor, his eyes bulging as the pain shoots through him. Mom flinches, but she doesn’t protest. She knows what he’s done, what he’s capable of, and she’s seen the change in me—the power that now flows through my veins.

“Mom,” I say, my voice gentle despite the fury still simmering beneath the surface, “I’m going to find us a place to live. Somewhere better.”

Her eyes, still filled with the horror of the scene she’s just witnessed, find mine. “Somewhere better ... but how?” she whispers. “On what I make?”

“Let me worry about it,” I reply with a calm confidence that belies the storm of rage still churning within me. “I’ll find a way.”

Mom nods, her trust in me unshakeable. She knows that since my ‘spiritual awakening,’ I’ve had the power to manipulate the very fabric of this world. With the mana I’ve collected, I can bend reality to my will. I’ve seen the envy in the eyes of men, the confusion in the hearts of the women. They don’t know what I am, but they know that I’m something more than they can ever hope to be. And they crave it. They crave the power, the connection, the pure, unbridled ecstasy that only I can give them.

“Mom,” I ask, my voice softer than I intend, “are you okay?”

Mom takes a shaky breath, her eyes still wide with shock. “I ... I think so,” she murmurs. She looks at me, really looks at me, and for a moment, I see a spark of something in her eyes that wasn’t there before—pride. “You’ve ... you’ve grown into such a wonderful man,” she says, her voice barely above a whisper. “I’m proud of you.”

I nod, the weight of her words heavy on my shoulders. I know what I have to do. I reach out and touch her bruised cheek with the tip of my finger, feeling the heat of her skin beneath my touch. “Mom,” I say, my voice gentle, “I want to help you.”

Her eyes flicker to my hand, then back up to my face, hope sparkling in their depths. I focus my mana and channel it into her. I can feel it flowing through me, a river of warmth and vitality. It’s a heady sensation, one that I’ve become all too familiar with over the months since I first came to this world.

The bruises on mom’s cheek begin to fade, the discoloration lightening before my eyes. The swelling subsides, and the pain that was etched into her features smooths away, replaced by a look of awe. I’ve seen this look before on the faces of the women I’ve healed, the moment they realize that the pleasure I give them isn’t just physical—it’s something deeper, something spiritual. It’s power, and they crave it.

“It doesn’t hurt anymore. What ... what did you do?” mom whispers, her voice filled with wonder.

“It’s a part of my healing,” I tell her, keeping my tone soothing. “The energy I’ve collected, it can help with more than just spiritual growth. It can heal wounds, ease pain.”

Mom looks towards a mirror on the wall, her hand comes up to touch the spot on her cheek where the bruises have disappeared. “It’s ... amazing,” she murmurs, her voice filled with a mix of disbelief and relief.

“It’s just the beginning,” I say, a hint of a smile playing at the corners of my mouth. “We’re going to make a new life, you and me. Away from all of this.”

The room is silent for a moment, the only sound the distant ticking of a clock. Then mom nods, her eyes brimming with tears. “Okay,” she says, her voice shaky. “But ... what about your father?”

I look down at the pathetic excuse of a man at my feet, and a cold, hard knot forms in my stomach. “He won’t be coming with us,” I reply, my voice like steel. “This is your chance to be free of him. To live the life you deserve.”

Mom nods again, her expression a mix of fear and determination. She knows what I’m saying is true, and she knows that she can’t keep living like this. With my father out of the picture, she’ll have the space to breathe, to find herself again. And I’ll be there to protect her, to guide her through the new world that’s opening up to us.

I help mom pack her things, my mind racing with plans for our future. We’ll find a new home, a place where we can live in peace, free from the shadow of the man who’s hurt her for so long. I’ll use my powers to provide for us, to build a life that she’s never dreamed of. And in the process, I’ll continue my spiritual work, bringing pleasure and power to the women of this world.

As we leave the house, mom casts one last look back, a mix of sadness and hope in her eyes. I squeeze her hand reassuringly. “You’re safe now mom,” I tell her, and she nods, her grip tightening around my fingers.

“What about him?” mom whispers, nodding towards the prone figure of my father. “Shouldn’t we do something?”

I look down at the pathetic excuse for a man and feel a surge of disgust. “Let him be,” I reply, my voice devoid of emotion. “This is his doing. He’s had his chances. Now it’s time for him to face the consequences.”

With mom’s hand still in mine, we step out into the crisp night air. The stars twinkle above us, a silent witness to the turmoil that’s unfolded within the walls of our home. For a moment, we just stand there, the weight of our decision heavy on our shoulders. Then mom takes a deep breath, as if drawing strength from the very air itself. “Let’s go,” she says, her voice firm.

On the other side of the same town where Steve lived, there was a small, well-off suburb with the hum of cicadas on a warm late afternoon. Inside a minimalist Craftsman-style house, its interior all clean lines and functional furniture, Seraphine Tormund sat at a sleek desk, her laptop open to an encrypted database. Her long, silver-blonde hair falls in soft waves to her waist, and her round, violet eyes analyzed mana fluctuation charts with surgical precision. At twenty-six, she exuded a disciplined intensity, her every movement deliberate, honed by years of safeguarding her order’s magical secrets.

“Elias, status on the perimeter wards?” she called, her voice calm but commanding, expecting an immediate response.

In the adjacent study, Elias Tormund stood reviewing a tablet, his dark hair cropped short, his gray eyes scanning security logs. At twenty-nine, he carried himself with the rigid posture of a soldier, his lean frame betraying a life of rigorous training. “Wards are stable, Seraphine. No breaches detected,” he replied, his tone clipped and professional. He set the tablet down with precision, stepping into the living room. “You’re still running diagnostics?”

“Always,” Seraphine said, closing her laptop with a soft click. “Vigilance is our mandate.” As members of a covert society monitoring the world’s magic, they left nothing to chance.

A sharp buzz cut through the room, like a suppressed alarm. A faint glow materialized above the glass coffee table, forming a spectral orb the size of a softball. The sigil of the Veil Council—a crescent moon cradling an eye—pulsed within. Seraphine’s expression hardened, her focus absolute. Elias snapped to attention, his hand instinctively hovering near the charmed knife at his belt.

“Council message,” Seraphine stated, rising smoothly. She tapped the orb, and a voice—cool, authoritative, and unyielding—spoke.

“Seraphine and Elias Tormund. The Veil Council has detected an anomaly: a significant dip in mana emanating from your jurisdiction. This can’t be tolerated. And it reflects poorly on your team. Investigate its source immediately and report your findings. The Veil watches.”

The orb dissolved into sparks, leaving a tense silence. Seraphine’s jaw tightened, her mind already dissecting possibilities—rogue operatives, a compromised leyline, or an external incursion. Elias’s eyes narrowed, his posture rigid.

“A mana dip in our sector?” he said, his voice low, controlled. “Our last sweep showed no irregularities. This is unexpected.”

“Then we missed something,” Seraphine replied, her tone sharp but not accusatory. She crossed to the window, scanning the dark street through reinforced blinds, her movements precise. “The Council’s alerts are never baseless. We find the cause, and we neutralize it.”

Elias nodded, his expression resolute. “Potential vectors: unauthorized siphon, leyline sabotage, or a relic activation. We’ll need to audit the grid and interview key informants.”

Seraphine met his gaze, her approval subtle but clear. “Agreed. If the mana flow decreases, then the veil is weakened. The order will blame us.”

“Understood,” Elias said, his voice firm. “We’ll contain this. I propose we divide tasks: I’ll interrogate locals and inspect the mill site. You handle the leyline data and node analysis.”

“Efficient,” Seraphine said. “We begin at 0600. No delays.” She extended her hand, palm up, a formal gesture from their training days.

Elias clasped it, his grip steady, their shared resolve unspoken. “For the veil.”

“For the veil,” she echoed.

As the faint hum of a neighbor’s TV drifted through the walls, the Tormund siblings returned to their preparations, their disciplined minds already mapping the mission ahead, oblivious to the scale of the threat to the Order’s hold on the town.

We walk down the quiet street to Philip Mace’s house, the same path I took when I first arrived in this world. The lights are still on, spilling out into the darkness like a beacon. As we approach, I feel a thrum of excitement and anticipation. I’ve come so far since then—a boy lost in time, now a man with the power of a god. The door opens before we even knock, and Mrs Mace stands there, her eyes filled with joy.

“Oh, I didn’t expect you to ... bring company,” she says, her voice trailing off as she takes in mom’s beautiful face. She quickly recovers, stepping aside to let us in. “Please, come in Rachel,” she says, her smile tight.

Inside, the house is warm and inviting, a stark contrast to the coldness of my old home. The scent of freshly baked cookies wafts through the air, and the sound of laughter echoes from the kitchen. Carmen, Louise, and Gwyn are all there, sitting around the table with drinks in their hands. They look up as we enter, their expressions are one of excitement.

“Is there going to be more spiritual healing tonight?” Carmen asks, her eyes gleaming with curiosity. Mom’s gaze flicks to me, and I can see the question in her eyes.

“Maybe, but first, there are some things we need to discuss,” I say, my voice calm and commanding. The room falls silent, the only sound the crackling of the fireplace. Mom sits down beside me, her hand still clutching mine tightly. I can feel her pulse racing with anticipation.

“Mrs. Mace,” I begin, “I’ve come to a realization about the nature of my work. It’s ... it’s not just about spiritual growth anymore. It’s about creating a family, a community of strong, empowered individuals.” I look around the room, meeting the eyes of each woman. “And I would like to extend an invitation to all of you to join us—to live with mom and me in the Simmons mansion. Together we can help each other grow, share in this newfound knowledge, and build a life filled with joy and purpose.”

Mr. Mace strides in from the hallway, having overheard my words. His expression is a mix of confusion and concern. “But what about my training?” he asks, his voice tentative. “What if I need more ... guidance?”

“Don’t worry, Mr. Mace,” I reply, keeping my tone reassuring. “Your training will continue. It’s just that we’re going to be focusing on wife and daughter’s spiritual growth for now. After all, she’s going to be living with us. But I’ll make sure to check in on your progress from time to time.”

I see Philip in the doorway, his face a mask of disappointment and anger. It’s clear he’s not thrilled about his mother and sister leaving, and I know I’ll need to handle him carefully. “Hey Phil, don’t look sad,” I say, turning to him with a smile, “you’re always welcome to visit. I can continue giving you pointers on your spiritual training, just like the other day.”

Philip nods reluctantly, his eyes flicking over to his mom and then back to me. “But why can’t we all just live together?” he asks, his voice laced with a hint of desperation.

“Because,” I explain, “the kind of spiritual work we’re going to be doing is ... intense. It requires a very specific environment, and a level of privacy that wouldn’t be possible here. Plus, think of it as an adventure for all of us. A chance to learn and grow together. You need to practise with your dad. I can send Mr Baker and Mr Simmons over here to help give you pointers?”

Mr Mace nods reluctantly. Phil looks heartbroken.

Mrs. Mace nods thoughtfully. A little smile on her face suggests that she likes the idea of living with me permanently. “I think that might be for the best,” she says, her eyes searching mine. “But what about your father?”

I squeeze mom’s hand reassuringly. “He won’t be joining us,” I reply, my tone firm. “This is a new chapter for us. A chance to live our lives without fear or pain.”

Mrs. Mace nods slowly, understanding dawning in her eyes. “Alright, I know this is what I want, and you three want this too?” she says finally, turning to Gwyn, Louise and Carmen. They all nod, beaming. “And if this is what Rachel wants, we should support her too.”

The tension in the room dissipates, and the mood shifts. I give Mrs Simmons a call to let her know we’re coming, she squeals with excitement when she realises I’m going to be living in the same house as her. Once I calm her down, I hang up the phone, Mrs. Mace stands and heads to the garage, returning moments later with the keys to her large, gleaming black Suburban. It’s a symbol of their newfound freedom, and as we all pile into the spacious vehicle, the scent of leather and a hint of her perfume fills the air. Mom sits in the front passenger seat, her hand resting on her stomach protectively, while the rest of the harem fills the back seats. The warmth from their bodies and the excitement of our new life together creates an atmosphere of camaraderie and anticipation.

As we drive through the quiet streets of the town, mom turns to me, her eyes sparkling with a mix of relief and excitement. “Thank you,” she whispers, her voice barely audible over the engine’s hum. I smile at her, knowing that she’s referring not just to the escape from her husband’s abuse but also to the new life I’m offering her.

Carmen and Gwyn are seated on either side of me in the back of the car, their bodies leaning into mine. Carmen’s hand finds its way to my thigh, her touch warm and gentle. Gwyn reaches over and places her hand on my chest, feeling the steady beat of my heart beneath her fingertips. They both look at me with adoration, their eyes filled with love and gratitude for the boy who has brought them such profound pleasure and meaning.

I lean over to kiss Carmen first, her soft lips parting to welcome me. She tastes of mint and sweetness, and her breath is warm against my mouth. Gwyn watches, her gaze flickering between us, a hint of jealousy in her eyes. I pull back and give her a knowing smile before turning to kiss her. Her mouth is eager, her tongue sliding against mine as we deepen the kiss. Mom, watching from the front, is surprised by the intimacy between us. She’s never seen such a display before, and it’s clear from her expression that she’s both confused and intrigued.

Her smile is faint but genuine. Mom doesn’t fully grasp the concept of romantic love or physical intimacy, but she can sense the happiness and connection shared among the group. It’s a stark contrast to the coldness she’s been living with, and she can’t help but feel a warmth in her heart as she sees her son, the spiritual leader his followers believes him to be, surrounded by such devoted women.

As we pull into the Simmons’ driveway, the mansion looms before us, a symbol of our new life. The lights are on, casting a warm glow through the windows and welcoming us home.

The harem members chatter excitedly, planning how to decorate and personalize the space. Mom’s eyes widen at the sight, taking in the grandeur she never knew existed. She’s lived a simple life, and this sudden change is both overwhelming and exhilarating. We all pile out of the car as soon as Mrs Mace finishes parking in one of the available spaces.

The Simmons mansion shimmered under the evening sky, its grand foyer aglow with chandelier light and fragrant with jasmine. Mrs. Simmons and Mrs. Baker stood poised at the entrance, their beautiful faces warm with anticipation as they prepared to welcome the latest additions to their household. I linger nearby, my calm presence a subtle reminder of my orchestrating hand.

Mrs. Simmons, looking gorgeous dressed in a flowing robe that hints at the beauty beneath, stands in the doorway with a graceful smile. “Welcome, everyone,” she says, her voice a melodious song in the quiet evening. She steps aside, allowing us to enter the foyer, which is adorned with exotic plants and the faint scent of incense. The floor-to-ceiling windows offer a spectacular view of the moonlit garden, a serene backdrop to the opulent decor. Mom’s hand tightens in mine as we cross the threshold, her excitement palpable.

As mom stepped into the Simmons mansion, she stared at the soft glow of chandeliers and exotic plants lining the grand foyer. The air carried a faint jasmine scent, mingling with the warmth of her new surroundings. Mrs. Simmons, her elegant robe flowing, smiled warmly. “Nice to see you again, Mrs Wilson. We’re family now—please, call me Janice.”

Mrs. Baker, her kind eyes sparkling in the soft light, nodded in agreement. “And I’m Karen. We want you to feel completely at home here.”

Mom’s face reflects a mix of awe and gratitude, felt the weight of her past life begin to lift. The sincerity in their voices stirred something deep within her. She glances at me, as I stand a few steps away, she obviously finds my presence reassuring.

Mom, her blue eyes wide with gratitude, hesitated, then smiled. “Thank you, Janice, Karen. That means so much. And ... please, call me Rachel.”

Mrs Simmons beamed. “Perfect, Rachel. We’re thrilled you’re here.”

Mrs Baker stepped closer, her voice gentle but earnest. “Anything you need, just ask. We’re all in this together, supporting one another.”

Mom glances at me, I am standing nearby, my expression is calm but pleased. The warmth of the moment eased her lingering fears, though questions about this strange new world tugged at her mind. For now, she let herself embrace the kindness enveloping her.

I watch, satisfied. Mom is safe, and my influence over this new household is strong. The future, I know, would unfold in my favor.

Turning back to the women, she managed a warm smile. Mom nodded, a flicker of hope igniting in her chest. The opulent mansion, so different from the unhappy home she’d fled, felt like a sanctuary. Yet, beneath her gratitude, a quiet curiosity stirred—questions about my role in this place, about the unspoken bonds uniting these women. For now, though, she let herself bask in the warmth of their welcome. Observing the exchange, I let my dual nature as protector and manipulator play subtly. A faint smile curved my lips, my confidence unshaken. My mother is safe, embraced by this carefully woven community. The loyalty of Janice and Karen, key pillars of my harem, extended seamlessly to Rachel, just as I’d hoped. I know her questions will come in time, but for now, her trust in me was enough. The future, I am certain, will bend to my will.