Final Chapter (2009 to 2010)

The empire you hold is a despotism...

established by reason of your strength.

-- Cleon of Athens

AN INVISIBLE EMPIRE

You can see us, but you do not know where we are.

You can hear us, but you do not know what we are.

You can even speak with us, but you will not know who we are.

We are an invisible empire, a secret kingdom, and we rule the world.

PREVIOUSLY:

Stanley's affair with Rosalind escalates until he includes his brother, Andrew, in the debauchery. This leads to domestic disharmony when Andrew's infidelity sullies an existing friendship Janet had with Andrew's ex-girlfriend's sister. This forces Stanley to end his affair with Rosalind for the time being. In an attempt to make herself useful to the situation, Rachelle plays match-maker and arranges for Andrew and Ami to date, much to Stanley's surprise.

On a different front, Melanie and Rachelle are injured when kidnappers make off with two of the children. With assistance from friendly local detectives, Stanley tracks down the kidnappers and saves the day. He immediately carries out revenge against the parties responsible, killing Rachelle's former beau in the process, and cataloging elements of the American Mafia for future retaliation.

The rest of the year is occupied when Stanley tries to reconcile Viktoriya's desires with practical reality, as well as deal with an instance of infidelity between his brother Andrew and his fiancee. A chance encounter at the end of 2008 sees Stanley and Phillipa aboard a cruise liner. Having just put Rosalind's affair behind him, he engages in another adulterous affair with his agency colleague.

JANUARY JOSTLIN'

The start of 2009 was ominous, and I'm not referring to the Grant-Mehserle shooting which incited the Oakland riots months later. Upon coming back from Waikiki, I was beset by new problems, chiefly from the fallout of Sachiko's and Andrew's break-up. Her departure turned his world upside down.

During his initial period of misery, my brother did something utterly foolish, and now it came back to haunt him. A call had gone out amongst the psychologists and behavioral specialists in Andrew's unit for TDY (temporary duty assignment) in Al Basrah (Basra), Iraq.

Still moping over Sachiko, my numb-nuts, dickheaded little brother had put in the paperwork and never looked back. Usually, it wasn't something to worry over, as such assignments weren't always given to the person requesting it. But soon after Andrew and Ameena started seeing one another, his orders to ship out came, and that was a rather rude surprise to everyone.

Faraz's sister had -- through Rachelle's well-intentioned meddling -- become intimate with my brother. Although Faraz and I had been good friends, our siblings weren't part of our circle. Now the two were near inseparable; Ami was attracted to his good looks, and Andrew found her penchant for lovemaking met his expectations. All in all, they were a happy couple.

But there was no way to work around marching orders, (well, no easy way) especially since Andrew had asked for it in the first place. Still, a warzone was a warzone, and even if he were tucked away safely deep in the Green Zone, padded with layers of barbed wire, sand bags, and scores of security drones walking the perimeter, the possibility of my dumbass brother being zapped by one of Ami's disgruntled countrymen didn't sit well with our parents, me, or any of my lovely darlings.

"That dork better not pull off a Jon-Peter," I quipped absently after coming back to the condo.

"Stanley!" Rachelle admonished me sternly, "Don't say that! How could you even think it?"

"How can't anyone?" I looked towards my mocha-skinned mate and saw the hurt in her eyes.

We were troubled by two deaths: Heidi's first husband, as well as Faraz. Both men had died from anti-American insurgents. Faraz on 9/11, and Jon-Peter in Iraq. Now the threat of death loomed over Andrew.

Rachelle hugged me tightly and I said nothing more as I returned her affection. When I did, I had to let go of the twins. Danielle and Janelle took that as a cue to scamper off, both of them eager to reach the elevator first. Despite the gloom which had polluted our evening, Rachelle and I cracked smiles as we saw our twin girls hopping about trying to reach the big glowing "up" button.

It was Andrew's last night in the States, at least for a little while. Ami wanted to see him off, but because his flight was being made from a military base, my brother and I dissuaded her from coming along to avoid generating unwarranted suspicion. While I was certain I could squelch doubts security may have had about Ami's presence, it was far easier to avoid creating the situation in the first place.

So, she settled for a quiet dinner at the old 35th Avenue house. We knew not to impose on my parents' home (not to mention bringing all the kids along), but since Ami was in Rachelle's circle of friends, she decided to accompany me to see my brother off. Supper was short and sweet. As soon as it was over, Andrew packed his things and drove off to the base in Sacramento so he could fly out the next morning. In the meantime, we dropped off a depressed Ami at her parents' place.

When we left, I pinged the young woman to check in on her; she was curled up and crying herself to sleep. The thoughts which raced through her mind were as unwholesome as mine: images of Andrew being blown up, shot, or hacked to pieces. It was strange that she and I shared a similar cynicism about the world at large.

"Stanley? Sugar?"

"Yes, hon?" I snapped to attention; while pondering my brother's future, I had entered Rachelle's unit without even thinking, and simply sat down without a word. To my dark-skinned darling, it seemed like I was like a walking zombie.

"I know this is hard for you," Rachelle whispered and sat beside me.

"Don't think it," I said. "It's bad vibes."

She drew back and sized me up. "Do you want to stay here tonight?"

"That'd be nice." I took her by the hand and bumped foreheads with her. "But don't you have an early day tomorrow?"

"Not quite. But if you get too unruly," she gave me a smirk, "I'll just roll you onto the floor."

"You and Jan are so alike now," I chided her.

Rachelle flashed me a big toothy grin, then bit me lightly on the nose before she kissed the same spot. We were playful, but guarded, as we got our 4 year-old girls ready for bed. After bathing them, I looked after them while Rachelle showered. Danielle and Janelle were competing to see who would make a bigger mess in their coloring books when my mocha-skinned mate stepped back out, fresh and powdered.

"I'll be waiting, sugar." Her fingers grazed my sides gently. "Don't make it too long."

"I won't." I gave her a demure peck on the cheek. "Fifteen minutes tops."

I quickly headed downstairs to my unit, got cleaned up and headed back to Rachelle's with a small tote. With the exception of Viktoriya, my darlings all thought I had learned lock-picking, or had some "skeleton" key on me when I went to their place.

The simple fact was that I was using telekinesis, so there was no real need for me to carry any keys at all, save as a distraction for the kids when they got fussy, or to have something jutting out from the car's ignition lock.

It was the hour or so before bedtime when the kids would wind down. Janelle finished a page, tottered over to me, and began telling an animal story while Danielle related the other half. Between their jumbled thoughts and pidgin English, Rachelle and I had to fight to stay awake and remain interested.

For me, there was an ulterior motive for my interest: the twins were interesting study subjects for me and Viktoriya; they seemed empathic to one another, and both often chimed off on similar subjects.

They knew how to work their magic on their poor mother too; while one would whine and plead, the other would be looking on in confident silence, occasionally delivering a supportive word, or drawing attention while her sister could catch her breath.

Viktoriya privately confided to me they reminded her of the Children of the Corn (strangely, it's the one film where my Slavic siren will cling to me for dear life throughout). My Russian darling could only scratch her head at the odd development, for our own son Milhail, despite being older than Rachelle's twins, didn't seem to be gifted at all.

'And here you gave her two fine empaths!' My dusky Russkie would often bemoan.

Naturally, their birth-mother caught onto none of this. Rachelle was stressed and pressured out of her mind, although she and I cherished our daughters. When their incessant attempts for attention got to be too much -- my black beauty was on the verge of a panic attack -- I got the girls to focus on one of their favorite shows, Babar the Elephant. I sensed Rachelle relax as the twins turned their attention to the TV (and thank God for digital recorders).

Not wanting to waste an opportunity, I asked the girls to tell me about the characters. While I knew the show inside and out (thanks to sitting and watching it countless times) I wanted Danielle and Janelle to think how to deliver a summary for their cognitive development. Rachelle sat beside me while the twins eagerly chatted with me until their eyelids became droopy. From there, it was straight to bed.

"Thank you, sugar," my mocha-skinned honey sighed. "It's just like Jay said, 'They don't stop! They never do!'"

"They're just excited and curious. Give 'em a year." I chuckled as I pulled her towards me. "I'm sure they'll be as quiet as Jenny then."

"I can only hope!" Rachelle rested her head against me.

"Well, now that we're alone," I murmured, "whatever should we do?"

"Oh, sugar. I thought you'd never ask," she breathed sweetly, "C'mere. I have a surprise for you."

"Do you now?"

I grinned, picked her up, and carried her to the bedroom, just like old times. Rachelle's "surprise" pretty much wore me out an hour or so later, and we fell into each other's arms, each snug as a bug under the covers.

FEBRUARY MIRAGE

"Thanks Stanley," a squeaky soprano sang through the house. "You're such a dear."

"Ugh. Do me a favor," I said glibly, "and never call me that again."

"And why not?" Phillipa set her empty glass down, then tilted her head to face me. "It sounds classy!"

"It sounds like we're married," I kidded her gently and shot her wry grin. "You're always free to run the gauntlet and be wife number seven though."

"No thanks!" She became coy. "After your horror stories, I'm just happy you can spare time for me. Besides, didn't California just ban same-sex marriage?"

"Ha-hah." I grew uneasy at her joke.

Phillipa's chromosomes said she was male, but she appeared to be anything but. She stretched herself out on the fur rug, her alabaster skin blending in with the white fur. I wanted to believe she was invisible, but since I could see the pink soles of her feet, the shadow of her ass crack, and that fiery mane of orange-red hair, I knew she wasn't engaging in any trickery. Her skin was just that white and pale.

The red-head saw me staring at her and turned over, her gorgeous figure tantalizing me. She beckoned sweetly with one finger while smiling like a shy girl. Her pink nipples were erect from the fun we'd just had, and now, she was begging for more. I deliberated for a moment before I succumbed to my lust, and crawled to her side.

Damn, I was a monster.

At the time, Anthony's incident with Jillian hadn't happened yet, nor did I think Andrew would get himself into so much trouble, so I had few qualms about screwing around. Despite breaking off my affair with Rosalind, I was fascinated with Mirage since our intimate encounter on the cruise liner. That, plus I could let my guard down and relax, since I didn't have to monitor my conversation and hide my activities as both a mind-reader and an NSA operative.

And as luck would have it, she didn't mind. In fact, she made the next move. Spring Break had barely arrived when Phillipa called me. She was coming to San Francisco for the summer to scout some graduate schools in and around the city, and was wondering if I could show her around.

"You know," she breathed softly, "like last time."

Of course, the last time I "showed" Phillipa anything, it was my cock right before I proceeded to violate every available hole in her body. I took great pride when I broke her in.

Well, not quite; I suspected I had sloppy seconds. Phillipa had problems with male on female copulation, and I was just the right mix of cock size, experience, and unfettered horniness to satisfy her desires. Her voice brought a smile to my face; I reminisced briefly over our time together.

"Sure, no problem," I answered, then kicked myself for being a horny rat-bastard.

From a practical point of view, Phillipa Roget was quite simply the perfect mistress: she was tall, shapely, beautiful, young, and could never get pregnant. Additionally, I didn't have to hide who I was, or what I did. It was like I had won the grand prize from a sex lottery.

Still, I was careful. When I met Tseng for our annual Lunar New Year's chat, I thought of everything and everyone except for the slender red-head. I had reason to be cautious, given her closeness to my calculating mentor. I was completely on edge the whole time, and did my best to reply normally. Fortunately, Tseng didn't ask about Phillipa, or steer the conversation her way. We covered the same topic we have every year: the well-being of Melanie and Viktoriya.

When Phillipa finally arrived, I knew where I could go for some private time: Red Rock.

It took a lot of money, and I had to do some of the work myself, but the house at Red Rock was mostly ready for habitation a month or so after the family's holiday in Hawaii. Some of the interior hadn't been finished (Gracia was still being picky), but the pier had been in place since last year. This meant workmen and I could take materials to the island and finish the job.

Now I intended to use it, if only for a quick fuck. The Department of Defense story was pretty much my established cover, so no one questioned me when I took off for a day or two. To stave off my lie being picked up, I only told my 'normal' wives: Janet, Shawn, Jamie, and Rachelle, then let them spread the news I wasn't going to be around for a bit.

So far, so good. Next, I chartered a small boat and, paying in cash, took Phillipa to Red Rock along with some food and supplies. The excitement of being alone with her on an island got my juices flowing. I jumped the red-head in mid-tour of the upper floor, and again once we were downstairs in the half-finished kitchen.

We refreshed ourselves with some juice. I was still tired though. Having just spunked twice in the past hour, I was ready for a quick nap. The young woman though, had only just gotten started.

"Damn dude." A feral smile crossed her face. "You practically raped me upstairs."

"Yeah right." I kissed her breasts. "You were screaming you wanted more."

"That was because you buzzed my mind near the end." Phillipa yawned and stretched. "God, you're good."

"Glad to hear it," I said between kisses, "'cause I'm wiped out."

"Really?" She laughed when she saw my expression. "You don't seem like you are."

"Believe it or not, I'm tired." I contented myself with rubbing her body.

"You just need a little pick me up." Phillipa slid between my legs.

The slim red-head kissed the insides of my thigh, then began working her way up towards my groin. I glanced down and watched as she nibbled my cock and tenderly kissed my nut sack. I became more relaxed around Phillipa than even my dearest Viktoriya, with whom I shared similar powers, but who wasn't totally privy to the things I had done.

Propping myself up with a pillow, I watched as Phillipa held my fuck wand between her slender fingers. Her wet, smooth tongue flicked lightly over the sides of my dick. Her green eyes sparkled mischievously as her tongue danced slowly towards the tip of my cock. I practically licked my lips as I felt Phillipa tickle the sweet spot on the underside of the tip. My body tensed up as she pressed her lips to the side of the head. When she ran her tongue along the crown of the glans, I couldn't hold back.

"Uhng-shit! God!!" I ejaculated verbally and otherwise. "Fuck, yeah. Oh, fuck yea. Fuck yeah."

So much for not enjoying blowjobs, I thought wryly. Phillipa won me over with her willingness to receive what filthy thoughts I had. Unfettered by anything save the danger of frying her synapses, I simply fed out my sickest and immediate desires, and she'd pick up on them instantly, knowing it was what I wanted. Of course, this was all mutual...

Phillipa continued to tease and tickle my throbbing cock as I drained my balls of fluid. She milked me slowly with her palms and fingers, coaxing the last drops out of my cock before she eagerly swallowed my deflating dick. I groaned, reached down, and held her head while I ground myself against her face. When I had spent myself at last, I lay back, exhausted. However, the slender ginger doll had other plans as she got up and pulled me to the shower.

Using desalinization and distillation tanks and the local sea water, the house's showers had an unlimited supply of water when a lower salinity setting was used (while clean, the water would taste saltier than usual). She set the shower's faucet to that setting now. The weather was abnormally hot and the room-temperature water was a welcome relief. Our bodies drenched under an endless spray of water, Phillipa and I scrubbed ourselves clean.

"Oooh look." She giggled and grabbed my privates, "I think I see something!"

"Are you sure?" I wore a lewd grin. "Why don't you get me on-site confirmation?"

Phillipa matched my grin and knelt down. We locked eyes as she kissed my prick. I spread my legs slightly so she could reach under and cup my balls. The red-head experimented slowly, taking her time to poke, prod, and pet my penis. I was content with just this sort of light play for now, as I was sure I wouldn't have much to offer my other darlings that night -- or even the next day.

At the thought of my wives, I caught myself quickly as I watched the young woman suck my dick. I'd better watch what I think or say, I thought, lest Vika or Yu-Ching catch me in a lie and cut my balls off.

Thoughts of my women's group quickly dissipated as Phillipa slowly hilt her face on my cock. That was pretty easy for her to do; I was only average, and she certainly had a huge head. In fact, it was the size of my dick that let me slip into her without much problem. Anything larger would've made her uncomfortable. I heard her gargle and cough as my dick inflated in size. She pulled me out, leaving white bubbles of spit on my veiny shaft.

"Too much?" I teased her, "For a big n' tall girl, you sure got small openings."

"Shut up you," Phillipa growled and bared her wicked set of pearly white teeth.

'Dare you.' I winked as she blinked in astonishment from my mental broadcast.

"Are you sure?" she asked meekly, "Won't it hurt?"

'I'll let you know.' I stroked her cheeks gently and added with audible speech: "Just go for it."

"Oh, okay," Phillipa said nervously, "If you're sure about it."

She bit me gently at first. It was so gentle, one could hardly call it a bite. Nips were more like it -- just like the ones I'd give to the kids when they were misbehaving (and before they could talk). Phillipa followed every nip with a quick kiss on the same spot, but it was hardly worth her effort. I encouraged her to take progressively harder and harder bites until...

"Aaah," I grunted with delight.

"Did I hurt you?" She looked up with concern.

"No," I whispered hoarsely and bade her to continue. "Keep doing that. It feels damn good."

"Oh, okay." Phillipa bit down again. This time, I shuddered and threatened to cum yet again.

"Oh yeah. Oh yeah, you do that."

I watched with fascination as she methodically masturbated me. She rubbed the tip of my cock with her slender fingers as she took my balls into her mouth. I twitched with delight as I felt her gently clamp down on each testicle. Her eyes watched me intently, studying me, my face; between my body language and the trickle of filthy thoughts I was broadcasting, the ginger-haired girl pretty much knew what I wanted.

"You want some more love bites, don't you?" she asked as a grin spread over her lovely face.

"Am I that obvious?" I smiled.

"Maybe later," Phillipa teased. "If you're good to me. I want to soak up some more California sun, and you're going to help me."

The two of us stepped out from the shower and toweled dry. We headed to the solar lounge, and Phillipa lay down on a beach towel.

"Here Stanley," she said and popped open a bottle of suntan lotion, "Make like your codename and oil me up."

"I don't get it."

"Oh, never mind," she sighed.

"This is for tanning?" I asked as I fingered the clear oil between my fingers, "Isn't it a bit -- clear?"

"I guess." Phillipa shrugged, "It says SPF-50."

"I forgot to tell you," I became apologetic as I knelt beside her, "These windows might be UV-proof."

"You mean I won't get a tan?" she sounded annoyed.

"I'm not sure." I knitted my brow and tried to remember. "I'd have to look at the specs."

"That's okay." Phillipa yawned as her voice drifted off, "It's so nice and warm right now..."

I put my hands together to warm them. Her back was a lean, sinewy showcase. Only Viktoriya had a back that equalled Phillipa's, but my lovely brunette's body was starting to feel a little soft, despite her strenuous daily routine. I pushed the gloomy thought out of my mind and concentrated on the exquisite beauty in front of me.

The ginger girl groaned as I pressed my fingers hard into her flesh. As I ran my hands down her body, her skin reddened slightly from where my fingers had been. Working my way back up, I smoothed those unsightly blemishes with the heels of my hands.

She let out a pent-up breath, and I could sense she was becoming aroused. I worked over her shoulders and back, savoring the smells of the fragrant oil and her skin. As I worked my way lower and lower, I could barely contain myself and decided to push things a little further.

Phillipa sighed absently as I began massaging that sweet ass of hers. Seeing her pale skin redden as I slapped, cajoled, and molested her, I decided to experiment. The girl seemed asleep when I poured oil down her ass crack.

Perfect. I began my attack by placing a tender kiss on the small of her back, just above the top of her crack. The girl sighed again but hardly responded. She gasped aloud though, when I pressed my face between her cheeks and flicked her asshole with my tongue.

"Holy -- what the --? Stanley!!" Phillipa cried out in alarm.

I ignored her protests about hygiene and ran over the rim of her puckered hole with the tip of my tongue. I wasn't stupid -- I wasn't going to penetrate her backdoor. Not with my tongue, and definitely not without protection. But just teasing the edge of her shithole was enough of a new sensation.

I could sense her fear and excitement as I alternately licked and kissed the soft spots around her anus. Her whole body trembled when I substituted my tongue with my thumb. Phillipa said little as I gently pressed against her asshole; I was doing it gently and with a little discretion.

If I pressed too far, there would be one helluva mess to clean up. While I teased her with one hand, I began running kisses and licks down the backs of her thighs. The red-head shivered as I ran an oil-slick thumb over her asshole.

Now I readied the coup-de-grace. I focused my telekinesis to take over for my thumb; her anus crowned inward from the invisible pressure I was leveraging even as I began massaging her legs. I tightened my grip over the backs of her thighs and calves and twiddled the telekinetic "bulb" on her shit-ring until she came.

"Oh wow, jeez." Phillipa breathed, "Th'hell was that?"

"Feel good, baby?" I chuckled as I propped myself over her.

"Yeah." She flipped around and studied me. "You -- you didn't just tongue my ass, did you?"

"No," I half-lied, "But it sure felt like, didn't it?"

Phillipa blushed and gave me a wry grin. "You tricked me."

"So what if I did?" I grinned back. "I thought you wanted it."

"I--I did, but that was just a passing thought." Her eyes grew wide. "You sick fuck. You were reading my mind."

My grin only grew wider. "Did it feel nice?"

"You know it did," she murmured shyly.

"Good. So, how 'bout your front?" I eyed her hungrily. "Want me to do that, too?"

"Oh God, yes." Phillipa gave me a mischievous grin. "Please!!"

And I did. After coating the rest of her body with oil, I worked over her shoulders, tits, stomach, and legs. By the time the sun was setting, my balls were aching for release, and Phillipa didn't disappoint.

She emptied the oil bottle to lubricate her tight little cunt before she impaled herself on my rock-hard fuck stick. I slaked my lust on her eager, limber body. The oil made her insides slick and super-slippery, and it was one of the tightest and most pleasurable cunt cruises I ever had.

"Ungh--fuck yeah," I hissed, "I'm cummin', cummin' now."

"Pull out," she begged, "Pull it out and spray me! I want to know how it feels."

I barely managed to pull out when that familiar feeling washed over me. The initial spray splashed against her swollen, bare cunt. Phillipa was breathing rapidly as my balls emptied their contents. My cock was still hard though, so I stuck it right back in, much to my delight.

"Geeeeeez," she winced from the renewed intrusion. Her eyes widened as I began to pummel her again. "Again?"

I covered her mouth with my own before she could protest further. The red-head, unable to get her point across verbally, whined incoherently as she shimmered like a chameleon. I drew back just enough so she could speak; the little rascal bit my nose instead. I grinned and nuzzled her neck so fiercely she cried out for me to stop. Despite that, I didn't stop until I shot off again, this time, inside her.

"Goddammit Stanley!!" Phillipa wriggled out from under me and zipped to the shower, "I can't believe you spunked in me again!"

The next day, I drove her down to Palo Alto where she met up with a couple who taught at Stanford -- friends of her aunt, Phillipa claimed. I was wondering what, if any, was her plan, but she seemed content to enjoy herself. Despite my anxiousness to go back home, I stayed with her until after dinner.

This was due to two things: one, I wanted to know who these people were; and two, I wanted to defile Mirage once more before I left. The next I'd see her would likely see the two of us on assignment with NSA-PSI, and there'd be precious little chance of the two of us messing around.

I found out the couple were indeed who they were. Phillipa's Aunt Susan had steered her academic career, and now Susan's friends were to try and persuade the young woman into continuing her studies in journalism or something along those lines. The couple didn't think too much of Phillipa bringing her "friend" along. I simply kept quiet, acted modestly, and scanned them.

By simply thinking about what she wanted to say, Phillipa could have a private conversation with me where I used thought-speech and mind-reading. In a way, it was like what Viktoriya and I did, but I had to do the sending and receiving, so it distracted me from probing anyone else if I wanted to have a mind-chat.

At one point in the evening, the red-head finally gathered why I was staying, but she didn't mind, although she did tacitly "warn" me not to ejaculate in her again. I found that while she could never become pregnant, Phillipa didn't like it when I shot my gunk inside of her.

Aside from the time she needed to clean herself out, she didn't want cum dribbling out later, ruining her clothes, soiling her panties, or -- in the hours right after she was picked up by Susan from the New York harbor last year -- running down her thigh when she wore a skirt or dress in public.

'You're so damn lucky my aunt isn't a hard-assed Catholic like the nuns at the orphanage, Stanley!'

'Er, sorry, baby?' I turned my attention to Phillipa, and in doing so, had to decrease my focus on the couple across the table.

'She thought it was lube from a vibrator, so she gave me a wet wipe and told me to be more careful in the future.'

I picked up the rest of her thoughts as I reflected on my own unabashed horniness. I knew she was also thinking about punching me in the balls if I did that to her again without warning her, or cleaning her out. I humored Phillipa with thoughts about using a novelty Q-tip, but she found it quite unfunny.

'How about I stick a straw in and slurp the stuff up instead?' I thought-spoke.