Chapter 13. In which a dinner guest behaves rudely

The timing sucked but I had to force Majestic Woman to take another two-day leave of absence just two days into the hopeless hunt for Powerhouse. I needed her full attention for that “rack of lamb” dinner guest. Besides that, she was probably going to be in rough shape after this dinner thing. She would need some extra down time to recover. Not that I was going to let her know that.

Blake and Claud were both livid. How could she leave now? But ultimately they had no choice. She was going. This was the thing she had been afraid of back when she was trying to resign. It was not happening “in the heat of battle”, but even so ... Her teammates, her friends, they needed her, but Her Lord called so she had to abandon them.

In the penthouse, it was mid-morning. I wasn’t there, but Julia was. She was dressed, oddly enough, in restaurant-style kitchen whites.

“Oh Cindi. Thank Gawd you’re here! Master decided at the last minute that he wants me to cook and serve, and he wants you to show me what to do. He wants you to teach me everything. Is that even possible?”

Cindi was confused. “Wait. What will I be doing?”

“I think he wants you to, um, ‘entertain the guest‘. But could we please not think about that now?” She grabbed Cindi by the shoulders. The Aussie girl’s eyes laughed and pleaded at the same time as she realized what she was about to say, “Help me, Majestic Woman! You’re my only hope!“

“Okay, okay. It’s all going to be just fine, Julia. Calm down. We’ve got all kinds of time. I just need to know where to start. Do you cook much at all?”

“Sure, I cook for Fred and m’self, but he doesn’t like to eat fancy much: fish and chips, pie and sauce, steak and potatoes. Nothing like... this.”

“Have you ever made a big holiday meal? Christmas? Easter? Anything like that?”

“I always helped Mum?”

“Okay, It’s gonna be a bit like that, except now you’re ‘Mum’.”

“Ugh, she’d get a chuckle or two out of that if she were here now.”

And so they got down to business. Cindi gave Julia complete instructions, verbally and in writing, with copious notes. They walked through all the steps over and over again. They practiced every technique that was even slightly out of the ordinary. Every flick of the wrist. Every flip, every swish of a pan. Every moment when Julia would have to pay attention to three or four things at once.

After five grueling hours for Julia, she felt like she had already made this dinner ten times. She was as ready as she would ever be, and they both knew it. It was now two and a half hours before dinner, and Julia had things to do.

Cindi stayed and helped until they heard my key in the lock. Julia said, “Go,” but Cindi was already gone, prostrate on the floor before I could even get the door open. She was welcoming me home, seducing my shoes with soft, steamy kisses. She didn’t notice the small flat wooden box I was carrying.

“Cindi, I need your attention.”

She rose up, hugging my leg and gazing up at me with complete adoration. I had to shake my head, to school myself to stay focused.

“Remove your collar. Tonight I wish to impress our guest with some decoration to complement the natural beauty of my slave.” I opened the box. Inside was a priceless necklace of gold, diamonds, and lapis lazuli.

“For ... for me, My Lord?”

“No, baby bitch, for me. For me to display on my property. Are we clear?”

“Y-yes, My Lord. Please forgive me —”

“Take. Off. Your. Collar.”

«“Less talk, more action.”» Off came the collar. She used it to help hold her hair out of the way while I fastened the necklace. The jewels formed a triangle below her throat pointing toward, but not into, the deep valley between her tits. The lapis and gold offset her olive skin perfectly. The diamonds glittered with her eyes. Cleopatra herself could not have worn this bauble more elegantly. In spite of myself I smiled at her. She couldn’t stop touching it.

“Put away the collar.”

She hurried to put it on the dresser in the bedroom, then lingered, looking into the mirror.

“Stop admiring yourself. We have things to discuss.”

She hurried back, kneeling, eyes downcast, chest proudly out-thrust to display my property, all of my property.

“Tonight you will help me entertain our guest in any way that I might demand. Is that clear?”

“Yes, My Lord.”

“He is an arrogant and crude man in some ways but very persuasive in others, so I want you to remember this: Even if I turn you over to him, you will still always obey my instructions first. Do you understand?”

She couldn’t imagine how someone could make her forget her loyalty to me, but still she answered, “Yes, My Lord.”

“When he comes to the door greet him exactly as you attempted to do with Julia when you met her last week. You will remain polite and deferential no matter what. Do not embarrass me. Make me proud.”

Now she was even more puzzled at these strange instructions, but she responded with confidence, “Yes, My Lord. I live to make you proud.”

“We’ll see. We have about a half hour. Come help me pass the time.” She followed me to the sofa, eyes lighting up as I ordered her to take out my cock and blow me.

Her effort was no less enthusiastic, even with the necklace. However, after a while I did notice that she was using one hand to hold down, to protect, the necklace while her head bobbed up and down over my groin.

I didn’t allow her to cum when I did, which disappointed her, but she didn’t let it show. Good girl. As she was making her third pass at tongue-cleaning me, the doorbell rang. She hurried to answer it.

Opening the door from her knees, she immediately curled up into a humble ball. “Welcome, Sir, to My Lord’s home. Please enter and make yourself at home.”

The guest reached down and lifted her up by the chin. He looked her in the eye appraisingly.

“This isn’t her! What game are you playing, Master,” the last word said almost contemptuously.

For her part, Cindi was in shock. «Ares! What is he doing here? How can I defend mys — “Polite and deferential” “Make me proud.”»

The seeds had their intended effect. Although inwardly she was deathly afraid, facing her greatest enemy with none of her powers, outwardly she calmed herself. She did not fight him. She did not try to pull away from his powerful grasp.

Ares was attired as a Greek warrior: battle tunic, bronze breastplate, sturdy sandals. No weapons though. His weapons were the powers given to him by the “Gods”: strength, rapid healing, flight, limited invisibility, and one more thing. He had the ability to cause humans to feel strong passionate emotion, mostly lizard brain stuff: rage, fear, lust, greed.

The Shield of Athena had always protected Cindi from Ares’ manipulations in the past. Of course, she had no shield here. She was defenseless. She was at his mercy.

“Let go of her, Ares. Let. Go. Now.”

The rogue God obeyed Cindi’s God/Lover. Cindi struggled to calm herself further. She wanted to believe I would protect her, but she knew just how powerful Ares was.

“It’s not her,” maintained Ares, more indignant than before, “As many times as we’ve fought did you think I wouldn’t recognize her?”

“Oh? Tell me then,” I chided, “the last time you and I ‘spoke’ would anyone have recognized the body you were wearing?”

Ares shivered a shiver that Cindi recognized immediately.

«Ares has experienced My Lord’s “Discipline”. So why isn’t he kneeling and begging to serve like I do? Is Ares made of stronger stuff than me after all?»

«“No, Cindicunt, he’s just insane. It’s harder to tame a madman. I’ve had to settle for teaching him manners.”»

Then aloud, “Cindi, tell him exactly who you are.” «“Just the way you did when you first met him.”»

Cindi was still trembling. She was truly afraid of the mad “god”. But she knew to whom she would have to answer. She obeyed me. She looked steadily up into Ares’ eyes. She remembered their first meeting in the air over the British Channel, with death and destruction raining down all around them. She had seen him when no one else could. He was hovering above the water. Enjoying his handiwork, the mayhem he had wrought.

She spoke to him now as she had then, proudly, angrily. “I am Kynthia, Daughter of Hippolyta, Royal Princess of the Amazons.”

“Zeus’s Lightning!” Ares’ eyes grew wide and wild. Now he was the one remembering. Defeat upon humiliation upon narrow escape, all at the hands of this arrogant Amazon bitch. “Come, ‘Daughter of Hippolyta’. We have things to ... discuss.”

“Stay right where you are, Cindi.” Then to Ares, “Dinner will be served soon. Why don’t we have a drink? What would you like?”

“Bourbon.”

“Sorry, no bourbon. Gin, vodka, scotch, akvavit, irish, three flavors of schnapps, three or four different cordials...”

“Scotch, neat.”

“Cindi, scotch on the rocks for me. Go.”

I directed Ares to the “comfy chair” beside the couch.

Cindi returned shortly, bearing two drinks in trembling hands. She knelt and set mine down on the coffee table so that she could present the tumbler to Ares.

She knelt before him, holding out her offering. “Your drink, S-sir.”

“I like you like this, Majestic Tits,” He touched her face, her chin. He examined her necklace, “Your Master has adorned you nicely, slave. I approve.”

“Thank you, Sir.”

Now she knelt and presented to me, “Your drink, My Lord.” In her eyes a silent plea for help went out to me, but I was studiously ignoring it. She couldn’t think of anything else to do, so she sat at my feet and hugged my leg. She stared at Ares with eyes of fear as though he were a cobra ready to strike.

“So, um, Master,” again Ares said the word as if it were a nasty taste, “How did you do it? How did you tame this insufferable bitch.”

“How did I get you to join me for dinner? Why do you call me ‘Master’?”

“Yes. That whole body-swapping thing. It’s a useful trick. But now I’m here in my body. Your slave seems to understand what that means better than you do.” Cindi had turned as pale as her complexion would allow. She was shaking like a leaf. Her fingers were digging into my leg painfully. I was a solid lamppost to cling to in her own personal hurricane.

“Excuse us, Cindi,” I said, “we’ll be right back.”

Suddenly, from Cindi’s perspective, the man she was holding was no longer Her Lord. It was the same body, of course, but the person inside it clearly was not me. And the man she saw across from her was somehow softer — feminine? — and certainly no longer Ares. Other people were inhabiting both of those shells now. They spoke to each other — angrily? — in some language Cindi didn’t know.

Then the man in my (Greg Wolfe’s) body said in heavily accented English, “My wife would like you to let go of my leg. I, on other hand, do not mind at all.”

In the mean time, Ares and I were in my dungeon. I was in the dungeon master’s body. Ares was bound to the waterboarding table in the dungeon master’s wife’s body. Ares and I were going to come to an understanding. Right here. Right now.

At some point it might have just become too much trouble to bring him to heel, but we were not there yet. I was willing to give him the carrot that he desired, but first he would have to show me that he respected the stick. Really all it took was this display of my power. He crumbled immediately.

I drowned him anyway. He must respect the stick.

It took only minutes to make my point. As quickly as we had departed, we were back. “Do we have an understanding now, Ares?”

“Yes, Master.” He still chafed at the word, but now his voice had a fresh edge of fear as well.

Julia appeared. Without looking away from Ares I held up a finger to her, silently commanding her to wait. She could see how horrified Cindi was, and though she didn’t know why, Julia’s face now reflected that horror. I was engaged with Ares still. Not speaking. Just meeting his eyes. Eventually Ares broke the stare and looked down. Cindi watched in awe. Ares was still a cobra, but now one trapped in a glass cage. I nodded to Julia.