Chapter 62 — Tamed (2), 'Thank God'

My hand weakly reaches for the steaming cup of hot chocolate.

It’s not what I asked for—I wanted a cup of black coffee so thick it might as well be syrup, but Bailey—the blonde nursing major warned I’d be risking a stroke if I pumped that much caffeine into my system, especially after the intense sex marathon we had.

“Do you want anything else?”

I glance at Bailey and chuckle. “What are you, a maid?”

“I’m studying to be a nurse, so yeah… Kind of,” She replies cheekily while her older cousin drops on the sofa next to Gil and I.

“Just sit down already. I can’t relax when someone’s moving around me.”

It’s partly why I prefer to sit alone in a quiet corner where people can’t disturb me. “And where’s yours?”

For better or worse, we’ve spent the night—or rather, several nights—together.

Sure, I was a bit out of it, but pretending these moments mean nothing would be a lie. “Just sit down and relax. I’m not that wea—”

The words catch in my throat as a wet and slimy sensation wraps around me. “Gil, I told you already, my gun’s empty. Semi-hard is all you’re gonna get.”

“… You know, I still have plenty of the aphro—”

“Quit it and sit down.” I interrupt with a glare, pushing her onto her back, which only seems to excite the Queen even more.

“No sex, please. He needs time to recharge.” Seeing the positions we’re in, Bailey—my ever dedicated personal nurse; the only woman who cares about my health, it seems—quickly puts in her two-cents.

“What she said.” I agree, then flop onto my stomach.

“Boo!” Lily, the brunette in her mid-to-late 20s sprawls next to me and Gil, and starts to do… Spells to raise the Dragon. It obviously does not work. The Spirit is more than willing, but the Flesh is battered, bruised and raw to the point a touch a tad too rough might just ‘rip the peel off the banana.’ “Gimme a sec, I’ll get him back to fighting shape!”

Nearly choking on my own spit from laughter, I rub my eyes and muse to myself.

The lip fillers, the lipstick that’s just too glossy for my taste and fake ass asides, at least she has a decent sense of humor.

“What? Isn’t that how you guys did Magic? I’ll throw some gang signs, and magically enhance your, uh, assets for one final round!”

“Lily, that’s not how it works.”

Gently, I wipe the trace of saliva from her lips, doing the same to Gil moments after spotting the annoyed look on her face.

So even the best of us knows jealousy… Who’d have thunk?

“Magecraft is something you’re either born with, or you don’t have it.”

“Aw… So I can’t learn magic?”

“Sadly, no.”

There are ways I could give her the ability, but it seems like a waste of resources, especially since she doesn’t seem interested in Magecraft beyond showing off or goofing around.

“Boo!” Lily exclaims, seemingly unfazed by the direction of the conversation.

Meanwhile, Bailey fidgets in place, opting to lean against the sofa instead of lounging like her older cousin. "If- If I may ask, what- what exactly are you two? Vampires? Werewolves?” Bailey looks as though she had stumbled upon a great scandal as she whispers. “Demons?”

“If we were,” The Golden Queen murmurs, crawling onto my lap while her golden strands pool on my thighs.

Expertly, she positions herself on my crotch, lower-lips rubbing and causing an involuntary stir as she nestles against me.

“Would you report us to the Church?”

With a mischievous smile, Gil slides my length between her cheeks. “Gil…” I warn threateningly, but my low growl seems to only spur her on. Gripping Gil’s hips, I lift her off and set her down on the sofa. “Stop messing around.”

“No! N- No! Of course not!” Bailey interjects hesitantly, her gaze flickers towards Gil’s lustful grin before looking down, her breath catching as she tentatively reaches out. “Seriously?”

“I’m not starting anything! Just playing with it.” Bailey insists.

I deadpan and sigh. Honestly, I can’t even blame her. Reproductive acts asides, most guys use it like a built-in fidget spinner anyway. It’s not even about being horny, just bor—“Hey, easy there! Don’t flick it!” After a brief scuffle, we sit in our corner of the sofa each, with the exception of Gil who acts much like all the cats in my life—needy; clingy and with absolutely no regard to personal space.

Palm resting on her flat stomach, I sip on the hot chocolate, cringing at the aftertaste. “Does it taste bad?”

“No… It’s just a bit too sweet, plus the condensed milk’s overpowering the chocolate.” It's certainly not the worst I have had, but… ‘Cause there’s always a ‘but,’ isn’t there?

“So… What are you guys?”

“Before we get into that, I need you to sign this,”

Channeling my Od, I have my [Vault Ring] produce a piece of paper and a pen on the sofa. “It’s just a standard Geas. It’ll prevent you from discussing any supernatural activities. It’s for your own good, trust me.”

If you think the FBI, MI5, and all those intelligence agencies are tough, the Clock Tower is a thousand times worse.

While they might not jump straight to the nuclear option unless an Apostle is involved, the consequences for whistleblowing range anywhere from getting your head slapped off like a cheap doll to being sold as a lab rat or for less savory… Activities… Although most Magi seem to disdain sex on the surface, who knows what they do behind closed-door?

“Like an NDA?”

“It’s a lot more effective. It physically prevents you from vocalizing or writing down the information I’m going to share. If you try, it distracts you with background thoughts, like what you want to eat or where you’ll go next, and jumbles everything.”

“… Can I still write it down but disguise it as a fictional story instead?” Lily asks, eyes gleaming with excitement as she crawls towards Gil and I.

“Uhm…”

“Forgive her; she’s a big mythology nerd and an aspiring author.” Bailey explains sheepishly. Compared to her older cousin, she’s a lot more reserved… Really makes me wonder where this shyness was when we were going at it like rabbits.

“I mean… As long as there’s no specific name-calling or incriminating details, I suppose it’s fine?”

“Oh, a scribe?”

Gil’s voice takes on a teasing tone as she licks her lips, pinching Lily’s chin playfully.

With a snap of her fingers, she catches a jar of white in her palm. “Those are always dirtiest…”

“Is that my—"

Before I can finish, Gil’s mouth meets mine, hands deftly removing the cap. Mixing six scoops into the cousins’ chocolate, she offers the brunette the beverage. “Give it a taste, little scribe… You can share it with the healer.”

‘She’s really something else.’

I thought I was spent, but the way she moves; the way she smiles does it... Before long, my thing’s back in fighting shape—stiffer than I’ve ever seen it.

‘Don’t bite off more than you can chew!’ Echoes in my mind, but my dick… Well, that’s a different story.

“Looks like someone’s awake. Don’t mind me—” She says softly, biting her plump lips as her tongue teasingly graze the underside.

I must admit, the pleasure sends my mind spinning as blood rushes from my head to, well, other places.

“Okay, that’s it!” I exclaim, torn between annoyed and horny.

Much like the Sumerian Gods’ Automatons, the Chains of Heaven can extend infinitely, as long as there’s enough Mana.

I’ve stored a portion in my [Vault Ring] for raiiny days—in case I ever need to confront a Divine Spirit… Or teach Gil a lesson.

If the Gods saw how we’re using their Weapon… On second thought, they might actually enjoy it. Those ancient deities were probably as lustful as the Olympians, and we all know how debauched the latter can be.

“Finally losing your cool?” Gil giggles, rubbing her nose against my length. In no mood for teasing, I glare at her and command, “Kneel.”

“Don’t be ridiculous—”

“Kneel…” I interject, voice as harsh as I mean for it to.

A hesitant look crossing her face—ego warring with sheer, unadulterated lust—Gil gives, getting on her knees obediently.

All prim and proper she sits, graceful as a lioness, but I have other things in mind… Things that are disgraceful, which I’m pretty sure she will enjoy.

Wordlessly, I part her legs with my feet, forcing her in a much more uncomfortable position. This is a punishment, after all. “You too.”

“M- Me? But I didn’t—”

“You were playing with it earlier… You’re partly responsible.”

Shyly biting her lip, Bailey averts her gaze, and then mimics Gil’s position.

After tying them both up—Gil in a squatting position against a wooden pillar and the nurse on her back with legs spread wide and secured nicely besides her head via leather straps—I contemplate my next move.

Just then, my phone rings. “Japanese Saul?”

It’s my shady financial advisor whose long-ass name I can’t, for the life of me, remember.

You’d think a shorter, catchier name would be the go-to for a guy in his position…

He has just faxed me a list of potentially talented scientists, engineers, skilled craftsmen, and military personnel who had been overlooked and snubbed in England.

The list includes over 30 high-ranking members of the military who were passed over for promotion or had conflicts with their superiors and dishonorably discharged, as well as dozens of scientists whose patents were stolen by big pharmaceutical companies or their peers.

I glance at the list, then back at the exposed women behind me. “Shit…” Swallowing my desire, I reluctantly prepare to release them when Lily—the scribe, as Gil had nicknamed her—comes into view. “Lily?”

“Yes?” She responds.

“You’re free, right?”

“I’m taking notes for the next scene in my book, but if you want me with them—”

“No, I mean you’ll be free for the week, right?”

“We both are… We’re on a journey, remember?”

“Yeah…” I snort and put the rest of the sentence in air quotes. “To ‘find yourselves,’ I know. So… Here’s the deal: I’m going to be incredibly busy next week, so I need you to take over for a while using these—”

Never thought I’d use something as versatile as [Super-Charged: Transfiguration] for bedroom toys… What kind of rabbit hole am I getting into?

“Wait, you want me to—”

“Yes. I used to dabble in writing myself—amateurishly—but I know how depraved our brains can get, which is why you’re the perfect person for this job. Do whatever you want to them; you have my permission.”

For a moment, I thought I’d crossed a line, given the horror-stricken look on her face.

But then her expression transforms into pure bliss and excitement as she cups her cheeks, exclaiming, “Really? Can I, can I really?”

“But!” A bit concerned for both women’s well-being, I add. “Don’t do anything you wouldn’t want done to yourself. If they seem genuinely uncomfortable, you stop. Understood? And don’t invite anyone home either.”

They might be comfortable with Lily and I, but it’d be a huge breach of trust.

Besides, while my ladies get a free-pass, I don’t want a complete stranger to see them—Gil especially—in such a state.

The mere thought ruffles my feathers.

“Of course! Bailey’s my cousin; I wouldn’t hurt her! What kind of monster do you think I am?!”

“… The kind who’s jotting down all the depraved things done to her younger cousin to put in her book and genuinely seems to enjoy licking cum from another woman’s ass? Like, I know I’m fucking nasty, but you? You a straight freak… You fucking nasty, bro.”

The things she has done, I’ve only ever seen discussed on unhinged FB Pages desperate for likes.

Blushing with embarrassment for the first time since we met, she coughs into her fist. “Touché… But honestly, what’s more important than that? Even I’m hot and bothered, and I’m not even a lesbian.”

“You might want to rethink your preferences… As for what’s more important—power. Believe me, I would love nothing more than to rock their world, but duty calls.”

Seeing the downtrodden look on my face, she suggests. “I can give you a daily summary if you have time for a call?”

“That’d be nice.” That could be fun… It’d be like sexting!

After making sure everything’s in order, I head to the door, throwing on my suit.

If I’m going to recruit people, I’ve got to look the part.

“Wa- Wait! Don’t you have any suggestions for me?”

“Edge for Gil—drag it out for a week if you have to; overstimulation for Bailey.”

“That’s it?!”

“You’re a writer; you’re supposed to be creative! Figure it out!” I laugh, rushing down the street when a black car pulls up next to me. “Stella?”

The homunculus had disappeared after the third day of our ‘marathon.’

I even thought we had scared her back to Germany… “What’re you doing here?”

“There are still a few days until my mission is complete.”

“You can leave, you know? I’m as healthy as a horse—you can personally attest to that.”

Most people have various shades of wheat-toned skin, black people included, but the Einzberns are almost as white as snow, which means when she blushes, it’s quite the sight to behold, and not in a bad way.

“Did…” She hesitates. “Did my departure displease you?”

That’s a loaded question if I’ve ever heard one.

“It depends on what you mean. I was disappointed, but I’m not gonna hold it against you. It was a lot to handle.” Especially for an Einzbern homunculus whose primary functions are to battle and provide medical care. “I’m just saying, your mission’s pretty much done. You don’t have to shadow me anymore.”

“This is my first mission outside of running house errands, sir. I can’t disappoint Lord Einzbern. Are you heading somewhere? I can give you a ride.”

Glancing at the fifty-page list Saul faxed me, I shrug. “It’s hard work.”

“I was built to handle a strenuous regimen and tough workload.”

The awkward phrasing asides, who am I to reject her goodwill? “If you insist.”

Hopping into the passenger seat, I hand Stella the list of names and addresses, neatly organized by street, district, and so on. As expected of Japanese Saul—the guy never disappoints.

“Onwards!”

— Infinity —

As nightfall draws ever closer, former Lieutenant Colonel Leslie Dawner tosses a piece of jerky to his loyal golden labrador, dirty fingernails gently ruffling the bestest boy’s short fur. The labrador is his only companion now—no family to help him; no hometown to return, not anymore; not since the Colonel was dishonorably discharged from the military for knocking out the teeth of some general’s spoiled brat.

Not his finest moment, he admits, but the guy was being a right cunt.

With his military career cut short, he found himself without direction or support.

Cornered by the circumstances, he turned to alcohol and then drugs; the very substances that killed his parents and put a giant stigma on him wherever he goes.

They never said it to his face, of course, but he’s no stranger to disdainful laughter and off-handed remarks by his neighbors.

Now, here he is—penniless, without even a crumb of bread to feed himself. That piece of jerky was supposed to last through the day, but at this point, he doesn’t care about his life… He hasn’t for a long time, and long as his dog’s fed and cared for, Leslie’s content.

Together, the man and his dog make their way to the abandoned bridge they call home—their little corner of the world.

“Look at the damn bum! Get a job like the rest of us!” Someone shouts at him.

The jeers bothered him at first, but he’s used to it now.

Settling in the bunched up rags he scavenged from nearby trash bins, he drops on the makeshift ‘bed’, if one can even call it that, and drifts into dreamland where all his problems are inconsequential. The sky’s clear; the wind’s refreshing if a bit chilly… It’s a night like any other night, at least up until his labrador jumps to her feet and growls into the darkness. “Look, the homeless bum!”

One of the boys jeers, dragging along his scantily-cladded girlfriend.

“Can I help you lads?”

“You can, by vanishing from the face of the Earth! I’m tired of seeing you ‘round, dirtying up the place.”

There are five of them besides the girl.

Even in his prime, these are not odds Leslie likes, much less when he’s at his worst; body ravaged by half a decade of substance-abuse.

The labrador lunges toward the group, only for them to laughingly dodge her drooling jaws, waving around steel bars to keep the dog at bay.

Surrounded, the dog tries to defend herself, but a blow to her snout quickly knocks her to the ground.

“STOP! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS?!” Leslie shouts, even though he already knows the answer. People like him are the lowest of the low—bottom of the fucking barrel, really. No one will care if he disappears, which makes him an easy target for a bunch of teenagers looking to impress their girlfriends.

Wrestled to the ground unceremoniously by the group, he screams as a metal bar smashes into his shin, snapping his leg in half.

Kicks follow—pummeling his chest, stomach, and face—until his consciousness begins to blur.

Eyes fixed on his heaving dog, the former Colonel tearfully reaches out for his loyal companion just as one of the thugs swings the bar at her head.

He closes his eyes, unable to bear the thought of losing the only thing keeping him from throwing himself down a river somewhere.

A wet thud echoes as he shakes, trembling fingers dragging himself close to the labrador.

“NO!!!” The scream tears from his throat as his eyes snap open to find his dog—injured from the previous blows, but alive still. Besides her lays the head and brain matter of the thug who was seconds from caving in her skull.

“Wha—” Before anyone can make sense of what just happened, another thug is yanked into the bridge, crushed into a bloody mess as his terrified friends begin to panic and flee.

Leslie would be lying if he said there wasn’t a perverse satisfaction in seeing their limbs and organs scattered.

But whatever grim joy he feels is overshadowed by his Labrador’s increasingly labored breathing. Even if they die, what good will it do ‘Lab’?

“Sa- Save her…”

He pleads weakly to the woman in white, clawing at air in an effort to get her attention as the last of the thugs is brutally murdered. “Please save her. I’ll give you anything you want… Please.”

“Anything, you say?”

Coughing up a mouthful of blood, he turns to the man behind him.

Dressed in all black, with eyes as green as vibrant leaves and hands in his pockets, the man watches the slaughter impassively before kneeling beside Lab.

"The nose is a really sensitive area for dogs and cats. Without treatment, she won’t survive the night, but don’t worry.”

The stranger gently rubs her head, then effortlessly slings the four-legged ‘giant’ over his shoulder as black spots begin to cloud Leslie’s vision.

“She’s in safe hands,” The stranger reassures.

Meanwhile in the background, the woman in white swiftly breaks the arm of one thug, then rests her heel on his skull until it penetrate his temple in a smooth, violent, yet oddly satisfying motion.

“And so are you.”

There’s something about the stranger’s voice, or maybe it’s the intense fury simmering beneath that calm exterior, that makes Leslie instinctively feel he can trust him.

Relieved, he finally lets go, surrendering to the pull of unconsciousness. ‘Thank God…’