The military helicopter raced across the Virginia landscape, its belly barely passing over the tree line, on its way to Washington, DC.

  Jaren stared out the widow at the blurred landscape flying by. Through the headphones, he could hear the radio screeching as the pilot cleared the way for the helicopter to land at the white house. Miranda had made contact with an Omega agent working inside and was having him change protocol so they would have access into the building. However, the agent wasn't high enough in the chain of command to get them to President. Jaren and Miranda were going to have to use their psychic powers for that.
  
"You're telling me that we don't have psychic detectors inside the White House," Jaren yelled into the intercom. 

"We couldn't risk having the Secret Service aware of our presence," Said Miranda, "I was able to put in a mole in the staff, but we never could get psychic or pheromone scanners into the building. Listen."

She handed him a tablet with a schematic of the White House interior. "We have clearance to land on the grounds and to get in through the press access, but beyond there we are officially breaking into the White House, and probably committing treason as well."

"Right now, the president is in the oval office with his daughters. He's asked to not be disturbed. The secret service agent guarding the door is assigned to the daughters so we have to assume that she's been pheromone indoctrinated and will need to be subdued as well."

"Understood." Said Jaren. 

The helicopter swooped over the iron gates and banked to land on the White House lawn. There was a metallic chunk as the side doors slid apart, and Jaren and Miranda leaped out of the roaring machine. 

Racing to the press entrance, the air whipping about, made Jaren's heart beat hard in his chest. An agent was waiting for them at the entrance with key cards. "The president has been alone with his daughters for the last thirty minutes," said the agent. "No one suspects anything is going wrong."

Miranda turned towards Jaren. "We need to make sure that you're not reported on camera, I am going to find the surveillance room, and mind-lock the operators. You'll need to get to the president, and get him away from his daughters. You'll need at least a twenty foot perimeter around you, where no one can see, do you think you can do that?"

Jaren nodded. He had trained for this scenario. They separated. Jaren slipped his mental net out; a thousand silver strands disentangled from his body, and spread through walls to latch onto Secret Service Agents and office workers. Jaren began to move slowly through the building. His mental concentration, spread to the max, forced his movements to be slow and meticulous. Walking and directing himself was at the periphery of his conscious; he was completely focused on finding and mentally connecting with the myriad of people around him, and then scrubbing himself from their short-term memories. 

Slowly, he passed through the building, the white house staff oblivious to his presence, and headed for the stairwell that he was on the schematic. 


Jaren moved up to the second floor and took a break inside an empty cabinet room. He was mentally exhausted. Persuading someone subconsciously was a fairly simple affair, but making their brains mentally unaware of you was far more difficult, and as the amount of people increased, the difficulty increased exponentially.   

Miranda radioed him." I'm watching you through the surveillance crew's eyes. You are all clear. Only two more hallways and you'll be outside the president's quarters." 
  
Jaren slowly inched across the hallway. 

Jaren used the tactical mirror to look around the corner. The rogue secret service agent, a beautiful statuesque black woman, stood at attention outside the bedroom. Miranda whispered in Josh's ear, "we only have one chance at this if we can't take her out quietly, then who knows what President Robert Boyle's daughters have been trained to do." 

Jaren reached outward with his mind, slowly penetrating the agent's consciousness, and was blocked by a dark mental shield. Like the other girls captured by the collective, the pheromone controls had modified their brain to be shielded from psychic control. Jaren would have to slowly inch his way in through a back door. 

Suddenly, his earpiece squealed. "Jaren, the secret service was sending their signal to an off site location. They've seen you. There's an assault team coming in behind you ETA five minutes."

Suddenly, the African American agent put her head to her ear, and listened to a message on her earphone. Jaren had to work fast. He built up all of his psychic energy into one massive ball and flung it at the agent. It was everything that he had in him.

The blast knocked the agent backwards as her eye rolled into the back of her head and she fell to the floor. 

Jaren knew that he was too exhausted to use his mental powers. Finally, just like the beginning, he had to rely on his training as an FBI agent. He ran towards the door.  
	
Jaren burst into the oval office. The executive desk was cleared of everything, but the president's twin daughters. One was on her back, her legs in the air, kicking, her knee-highs still on. The president was between her legs, fucking her madly, while holding onto her ankles, the other daughter had her pussy planted on her sisters face and was grounding her labia against her tongue. She had a hold of her fathers tie, and was pulling him towards her and tongue fucking his mouth.

Josh didn't have much time. Who knew what the girls were trained to do if discovered. He sprinted across the oval office, and vaulted across the table, tackling the sixteen-year-old girl, landing on the other side in a pile of flailing appendages. A bony white hand flashed out trying to break Josh's nose. He ducked at the last minute, the blow glancing off his cheek with surprising force, and grabbed the girl by the wrists. Suddenly another pair of arms were around his neck, blocking his wind pipe, and snarling teeth, the sound of a she-bitch, were snapping at his ears.  

He swung out, blind, and somehow connecting. There was a crack and a whimper. It could have been the president or his daughters at this point. He could hear loud shouts, and Miranda's voice calling out. Black spots bounced around in front of his eyes. He clawed at the surprisingly strong arms around his neck. 

Jaren woke up to a nice pair of breasts, almond toned, barely popping out of a white blouse. He looked up to Nurse Nala smiling down at him, her warm dark face filled with concern. "Good, your up." She said. 

Jaren was lying against the wall of the oval office. He looked past Nala and saw the two teenage blonds, cuffed, and lying on their stomachs. The president was sitting in his chair, clothed but still disheveled, and Miranda was sitting in front of him, talking softly. Jaren could see a white line of energy passing through her to him. 

"Yeah," Said Nala, "the cat is out of the bag now. Miranda will not hurt the president, but it's easier if she just mentally uploads an explanation into his head, rather then explain." 

"What about the president's daughters?"

I guess they were trained to blackmail the president. It was a good thing you stopped them. If they were to find out they were discovered their next task was to kill the president. Congratulations Jaren you just saved the President's life."

Nala looked at the president's daughters, they mewed and squirmed across the eagle-adorned blue carpet. "It is a shame about the president's family. We haven't been able to reverse the effect of the pheromone conditioning. The girls will be nymphomaniacs for life."

"What will we do with them?"

"Omega force has started a girl's boarding school as a front to keep all of the girls until we figure out what to do with them. I guess they will have to live there. The president will have to visit them of course. To keep them from going insane."

"The president is going to fuck them again."

Nala smiled. "Don't be to judgmental. I've heard what you've done with your wife. Speaking of which, you should introduce me to her. I would love to get to know her." Nurse Nala reached up and squeezed her breast. 

Jaren smiled weakly. "I guess we'll have to have you over for dinner."

******

Kitten awoke to the a softly rocking yacht, its engines hum vibrating through the wood paneled floor and her soft bed of blankets and pillows on the floor. 

As Kitten, naked except for her red collar and kitten ears, arched her back up off the floor, the bell on her collar rung softly. She crawled on hands and knees across the floor of the master cabin with her tail siding across the floor behind her. Kitten ignored the faux fur tail hanging from the anal plug inserted inside of her. It was a part of her now. 

Three months of being the Saudi princes, personal pet, and Kitten intelligence had regressed to that of a domesticated animal. She was rendered dumb, unable to speak, and, in her head, referred to herself only as Kitten. 

Kitten lowered her head to the bowl and lapped up the cream with her tongue. It never even occurred to her to use her hands to drink. 

There was a quiet fewwt and a dull thud as something hit the floor outside the main cabin. Kitten looked up in alarm. The Prince's men generally guarded the cabin door. The door slowly opened and small women in a dark burka stepped through. Behind her the guard was slumped to the ground with a dart in his neck. Kitten hissed at her. 

The women pulled the shawl up over her head. A cascade of auburn red hair fell out. Somewhere in the back of Kitten's mind she recognized the face as that of a long lost friend and lover. A heat rose up inside Kitten's body. Rachel. 

Rachel kneeled down and took Kitten's face in her hand. "Baby, what did they do to you?" Kitten mewed and began to lick her lap at her palm. 

"Don't worry Kitten. I am getting you out of here. You are going to be my pet now." Kitten lifted herself resting her hands on Rachel's body. Rachel caressed her small breasts, and leaned in to kiss her. 

******
 
Rosenda was bending over, wearing only heels, pearls, and an apron to pull out a smoked ham when Jaren stepped through the door. When she heard the door shut, and his voice calling for her, she squealed and ran ungainly through kitchen into the living room and launched herself into his arms. Jaren rocked backwards and dropped a package he was holding on the ground. "Ooh, a present," thought Rosenda.

She arched her head back and pulled him in for a deep kiss, while his hands slid down to squeeze her ass. It was only when she finished that she noticed that Jaren brought company, a sheepish looking brunette in silvery blouse and suit pants. "Two presents!" Rosenda thought. 

While holding on to her husband, Rosenda coyly looked at the woman as if she was fresh meat. The woman was in her thirties and in excellent shape. She had a slim athletic figure and long auburn hair. Rosenda recognized her as Jaren's old partner from the FBI, Gina Francis.

"I know it is not going to mean the same thing now." Said Jaren, speaking to his wife, "but back before our relationship changed I cheated on you with my partner. I brought her here to apologize to you."

Rosenda gave Francis a cold expression. When Francis wouldn't look her in the eyes, she stood in front of her, placed her hand under her chin, and pulled her face up. "Is that true, slut? Did you fuck my husband?"

"Yes," whimpered Francis, looking up at her with a scared and heated expression. Rosenda knew that she was supposed to appear shock and angry at the betrayal (she didn't really care that her husband had fucked this girl, and suspected that this was a game her husband devised and that he would be turned on by her anger at Francis), and she was, of course, incredibly turned on by her suspicion that Francis was only here for Jaren and Rosenda to fuck, and dominate, but also she was confused. Agent Francis had come to their house for dinner a couple of times while the two were partners, and Rosenda remembered her as a brash, extroverted leader, a woman who felt totally confident around men. Somehow she had been changed. The old Gina never wore makeup, but the new Gina had meticulously made up her face to subdue her harsher features. Instead of being tied back in a ponytail with some hair ties, her auburn hair was brushed out and styled so that if framed her face softly. The old Francis stood up to gangbangers and hardened criminals, but this girl, knees quivering, was looking at Rosenda with puppy dog eyes, that shined with need.

Rosenda slid the girls suit jacket off her unresisting shoulders. "Tell me, sweet little slut, tell me how you made my husband unfaithful. Tell me everything you seduced him into doing to you, and then I will decide how I am going to punish you." She turned Francis over, and began unbuttoning her dress shirt, revealing a black sports bra. 

Agent Francis eyes closed as Rosenda bit her neck. "God," She confessed. "I sucked his cock so many times, oh god" ---Rosenda knew the feeling, she made the same noises every time she thought about servicing her husband--- "and we would go to the hotel and he would fuck me, missionary and doggy style, and I would let him come on my belly."

Rosenda had her hands down between the waist-line of Francis's pants, and had just finished unbuttoning them, when she said that. Rosenda pulled one hand out and grabbed her by the roots of her hair, yanking her back. "Now listen here, tease, you just be honored to take his come however he wants it. I promise you by the end of this night, he's going to jack off into that slut mouth of yours, while I watch, and I am going to check and make sure that you open your mouth, and show me his cum pooled at the bottom of your mouth, before you swallow it." She turned so that Francis, struggling with her pants now at her knees, was now facing Jaren who was sitting at the coffee table and enjoying his wife performing her duty of breaking in a new slut. 

Francis was forced to look at Jaren, by Rosenda's hands holding her by the scalp, as he looked over her body, naked now except for a pair of grey panties and a sports bra.

"Please," She begged Jaren in a whimper. "She scares me. Don't let her do this to me." Jaren ignored and talked to his wife. "Honey, we have a problem that I think is going to work out to our mutual benefit. Agent Francis, here, is no longer with the bureau. She's been compromised and no longer can be on active duty. Unfortunately, we can't give her to her family because she has been turned into a nymphomaniac submissive slut, who has been designed to be ruthlessly loyal to anyone who she is given to."

"Also, unfortunately, is that with my new job I am going to be away on business a lot, and I can't stand the thought of leaving you alone while I am gone. I've given you permission to bring girls home with you while I am gone, but frankly, I feel uncomfortable having you alone in the house by yourself."

"That is why I am giving Francis to you. She's going to be our new maid, and your property. Also, don't let her timid nature. She's also been trained to do whatever it takes to keep you safe from harm. Think of her as a pet dog, to keep for company and protection."

"No." Moaned Francis.

"Is it true. She's completely mine?" Asked Rosenda.

"Baby, I set it up so that she will follow your directions more diligently then she does mine. She is my gift to you. Now open the box."

Rosenda eagerly opened the box while Francis kneeled on the floor with her head down. Rosenda squealed with delight. Inside the box were a white satin apron, white thong panties, a dark blue corset, and a blue and white bonnet. It was a maid's uniform.

"Oh Honey. It's perfect. I'll make sure she is wearing this right away. She got down on her knees and put her hands possessively on Francis's body. "Listen, slut, no more sports bras and cotton panties. You are my little dolly now and I am going to make sure that you are only dressed up in your little maid outfit, or sexy little negligees I pick out for you. Do you understand?"

From beneath the shroud of her hair, Rosenda heard Francis whisper, "Yes Mam" in a defeated voice. Rosenda ran her hands under her apron and up against the wetness of her pussy. With her other hand, she slipped to of her manicured fingers into Francis wet box.

"I can't wait to teach you the best way to lick my clit," She said lewdly, but first you need to thank my husband for letting me own you." She pulled Francis by the hair between Jaren's legs, and then kneeled beside her.

"Remember, slut, I will be watching. I already plan on spanking you after this for cheating on my husband. But I'll get out the brush and use it if I am not satisfied in your efforts and pleasing my husband. 

Rosenda smiled up at her husband lovingly, and with her delicate hands, unzipped his slacks, and gently pulled out his hard cock. Rosenda bent over and whispered into her ear. "Suck my husband off nice now, sweetie, then gives him a big smile. I promise it won't be so bad. I will take care of you and you'll grow to like it here."

Francis slipped her mouth around Jaren's cock, her eyes moving unassuredly between Jaren and his wife.

Francis became the housemaid of the Carter family that night and remained that way for the rest of her life. Jaren and his wife made love that night while she watched, contributing in any way they demanded. The next day Jaren had to leave for a week on a mission, and Rosenda had Francis all to herself. Rosenda was dominant, but kind to Francis, and Francis soon grew to care for her new mistress and her husband. She enjoyed the routine of regularly cleaning the house for her new mistress. She enjoyed learning the perfect way to lick her mistress's clit to perfection, and how to use all of her mistress's toys on her mistress. She enjoyed the strap-on cock her mistress used on her. She had come to turns with the reality that she would almost never feel a real cock; Jaren's cock was now almost universally dedicated to her mistress or the girls her mistress brought over for him. Only on holidays, would her mistress allow her to feel Mister Jaren's cock inside her. She enjoyed the young girls the mistress would bring over while Jaren was gone, or not gone, she especially enjoyed the constant giving demanded of her. Francis life soon devolved into lying between a strange young girls legs lapping at her pussy or asshole, listening to her squeal, and priming her for mistress.

******

Nurse Nala leaned forward and pressed her cheek into the cool Italian leather of the daybed. Her hands were dutifully crossed behind her back at the crux of her ass and her spine was arched to better present herself to Him. The man in the silver glasses was standing behind her resting his hand on her dolce de leche ass. 

"What does Miranda know of our plans?" The man asked.

"She believes that you organization has been routed and abandoned. She is currently going through the covenant records and hoping to break up cells."

"And she has no suspicions that the information there is faked?"

"No Master, she has no suspicions. Please master." She wiggled her ass in a way that she hoped was pleasing. He gave her ass a sharp slap. 

"In my own time. And Miranda has no knowledge of Project Circe?"

"No master." The man spread her apart. She felt him pressed up against her anus. She loved it when he used her ass. It was all she was worth to men. He penetrated her and she came. 


"