Part I

The small fort stood surrounded by a gray, soggy heath covered in a soft pale blanket of mist. Only an hour north of the capitol by horse, it gave the impression of total isolation. There was very little movement in and around the bleak structure; here a stableman removed some of the refuse the few beasts present produced, while there one of the house servants, a tired young maid, stooped to pull fresh water from the tower well. There were only a few lights dancing in the windows, most of which were shrouded in heavy drapes and shutters. The road leading to it was unoccupied; no one ever came to visit.

Within the structure, deep below the moor in the sub-sub-basement, isolated by a number of levels and closed, if not locked, doors, Sir Gerard de’Boril paced a fully stocked laboratory. The man, tall and erect in spite of nearly thirty years in the service of Lord Gherris de’Hlavand, Prince of Tonisia, glared about at the paraphernalia scattered about him. Months he had spent working on this! Countless riches had been spent, his own and that of those he could convince to support his efforts. Lives by the score had been lost to recover the priceless components. Now, when he was right on the edge of perfecting his formula, now he discovered one last missing ingredient! How could he have missed it after perusing these tomes from cover to cover so many times!

De’Boril slammed his fist down on the lab table, sending numerous beakers, crucibles and vials dancing. If only he had caught the reference earlier! His hands trembling with anger, the nobleman, one of the Prince’s most trusted advisors and closest friends, reached for and started to carelessly flip through an ancient manuscript laid out on a side desk. Now, what could this last ingredient be!

He had once been one of the prince’s elite guards, captain of the royal musketeers. Now, at a time when the prince needed him most, he was going to fail! All because of one forgotten line in a worn book that might be centuries old! The noble peered intently once more at the faded text.

‘and with the last pin--- of fr--- --men will the stre---- of ten be achiev--’

A faint knock disturbed his angry pacing. He looked up quickly at the interruption. Gretel, the young maid that kept the ground floor of the tower, was tentatively standing in the door, looking completely out of place in the dank sub basement.

"Yes, girl, what is it?" Sir Gerard was still distracted by the dilemma he had just discovered, but as he watched the young maid shift nervously before him he could not help but once again notice just how beautiful she was. One lock of her brilliant auburn hair floated almost gracefully down one side of her pale face, while the rest remained confined in a rather sever bun. Her peasant dress was pulled tight at the bodice, and Sir Gerard could well imagine the soft charms hidden there. A fine sheen of perspiration sent tiny reflections of light from the exposed skin of her neck and shoulders. Ah, if only he were twenty years younger!

"My lord, there is a messenger here, a musketeer from Tonis. He asks to see you right away." Gretel’s gaze never met Gerard’s. From the day she was indentured to him, her rather imposing master had intimidated the girl.

Gerard pulled his thoughts back from his present difficulties and scowled. Some great misfortune had probably overcome the prince, he thought cynically. A hangnail, or maybe a bee sting. The years, while hardly touching Sir Gerard, had not been as kind to the prince. Gherris had become more and more childish in the last few months; his wits leaving him as old age finally took its toll. On one level, it pained Gerard to see his friend so completely unmanned, but on another, he saw a path to glory. Personal glory!

Gherris was without heirs, after two marriages and three sons. The first born had died at the age of eight, falling through thin ice on the small lake on the palace grounds. The guardsmen had been able to pull the boy out, but he had died from the lung flux within weeks. The second had died nearly ten years past, a young man in his prime. He’d led a combat patrol into the borderlands, where a rebel sniper had taken him cleanly out of his saddle with a musket ball to the head. The third, the youngest and the son of the Prince’s second wife, was foully murdered one evening after a great ball held in the aging prince’s honor. No one had ever discovered the perpetrators of the crime.

Who better to sit the throne after Gherris passed on than his most loyal friend and confidant, the hero of the Third Justicar War, Sir Gerard de’Boril!

The lord once again surreptitiously ran his eyes over the young maid, before nodding. "Very well, have him wait in the study. I should be up in a few minutes." He’d already turned back to his lab, and hardly noticed the girl’s mumbled acknowledgement.

‘Fr--- --men.’ What could that be!

Gerard paced, frantically racking his brain. Every now and then the image of the young girl would swirl teasingly through his thoughts. He pictured her again, the softly glowing skin and the bright auburn hair. He wondered what it would look like if it ever escaped that bun she kept it in. The old man was mildly surprised at the effect his wandering thoughts had taken. He rarely experienced an erection any more, having seen over sixty winters pass. Though he was still a vigorous man, hunting with men decades younger, there were some things that even he had accepted would pass in time. He hadn’t experienced a swelling in his groin since the end of the last war, against the Justicars of Rindale far to the east. A small grin flashed across his features. He guessed he had a little more time left in that arena too. The thought of masturbation seemed more immediate than the messenger awaiting him upstairs. After all, how often would he experience this from now on? The only thing that withheld him was the thought of cleaning up the discharge afterward. Now if he could find a rag to catch the semen…

Gerard went cold. Spinning back to the ancient manuscript, he once again read the last line.

‘and with the last pin--- of fr--- --men will the stre---- of ten be achiev--’

Almost completely absorbed in the possible breakthrough he had just made and deeply involved in trying to verify his conclusions with some of his other sources, Gerard was startled when Gretel once more tapped lightly at the door. "Milord, the messenger has been waiting for almost half an hour."

Gretel flinched back when her master glared at her, obviously very angry at the interruption. When de’Boril saw this he felt a bit shamed. "Ah, girl, don’t worry, I’m not mad at you. I’ve just found something that may be the key to all this," he waved about, taking in most of the lab, "and the last thing I wish is to take visitors. Come, let us go see what Gherris wants of me now."

Gretel backed out of the door and stood aside as de’Boril swept past. She did not know what the old man was working on, but whatever it was, she knew he devoted a large portion of every day to pursuing it. As she trailed along behind her master, she hoped whatever he was working on was successful. Without this thing driving him, he might be a little less demanding!

When Lord de’Boril swept into his study, he watched with a bit of amusement as the young musketeer sprang to his feet. He had not commanded the Prince’s House Guard in almost five years, but the men of the detachment still accorded him the respect of a commander. They even continued to address him as such. In their eyes, Commander of the Prince’s Own Musketeers far outstripped any other title a man might hold. This honored Gerard, for he tended to feel the same way.

The young leftenant waited politely, still standing at attention, while Gerard helped himself to some Hessian bourbon. After a quick sip at the fiery beverage, the nobleman gestured for the young officer to sit. "So, what can I do for the Prince this day, Leftenant?"

The young man settled stiffly on the settee. De’Boril suppressed a smile when the man continued hold himself erect, sitting at attention. Someone had obviously given him instructions on how to conduct himself in the ‘Commander’s’ presence.

"Sir," the leftenant began, "On the orders of the Prince, Commander Reginal dispatched me to inform you of the upcoming gala to be held next fifth day. Your presence is requested, as the Prince wishes to bestow honors on the men whose service to the crown during the war proved pivotal. Your regiment was vital to the outcome; many of your men will be receiving medals. The Prince expressed his desire for your presence."

As soon as Gerard heard the word ‘gala’ he suppressed a groan. A damned award ceremony! The Third Justicar War had cost the Principality over thirty thousand men. De’Boril’s Regiment alone had suffered a casualty rate of more than fifty percent! The only thing the people of Tonisia wanted was to mourn their fallen sons and husbands and get on with their lives. And here was the Prince, getting ready to pull the pain and hurt out in front of the grieving families again!

De’Boril swallowed his anger. The Prince was becoming more and more feeble of wit. Even five years ago he would not have suggested such a thing. Recognition was due, that much was true, but it should be done at the Regimental, or even the Battalion level. Throwing a festival to ‘honor’ the ‘heroes’ was going to cause a lot of needless pain. Gerard sighed. There was nothing he could do to stop it. He felt a flash of sorrow at this further sign of the prince’s decline.

"Leftenant, please convey to your Commander that I will be there. Now, if you will excuse me, I have things to attend to. Gretel will see to your needs. Please, I would consider it an honor if you would stay the night. The sun is already down, and the road can be difficult at night." The Leftenant jumped to attention as de’Boril stood, and de’Boril had to hide yet another small grin. He turned to the door of the study, where Gretel was already waiting. "Lass, see that Leftenant…" with a bit of chagrin, de’Boril realized that he did not know the young officer’s name.

The young man was quick to offer it though. "Leftenant Lyle, sir. My father served in your regiment during the war. He fell at Denn’s Falls."

De’Boril sighed. "The Falls. We lost a lot of men there. Lyle you said? Sergeant First Class Stefan Lyle? It was his platoon that held the ford for the rest of us. Without the sacrifice he and his men made, we would not have carried the day. I’m sorry it had to happen that way." De’Boril hated thinking about the men he lost. Every last one of them had been dedicated to Tonisia, but more importantly, they were committed to de’Boril. If he had told a three-man team to fix bayonets and charge a column of Justicaran Cavalry, they would have been attacking in seconds.

Leftenant Lyle was truly honored that Lord de’Boril truly did recall his father’s sacrifice. The old man was one of the greatest Commanders the Tonisian Army had ever seen. Friedrich Lyle had earned his commission only a couple months before, so he was not involved with the war, but he knew of de’Boril’s reputation. You could not be a part of the military in Tonisia and not have heard of the older man’s exploits.

De’Boril shook off the unpleasant memories Leftenant Lyle had unwittingly unleashed. "Ah, lass, take Leftenant Lyle here and see that he gets settled in for the night. I’m sure Anne," Anne was the maid that maintained the second floor of the tower, where the majority of the bedrooms were located, "will have a room ready for visitors. And let me know when Cook will be serving dinner. I may be a while down in the lab and I do not wish to be disturbed for at least an hour. Understood?"

Gretel curtsied as she said, "Yes, Milord. While you were talking with the leftenant, Cook told me to tell you that the meal will be served at eight bells." Her usual nervousness she felt around her master was compounded by the dashing young musketeer leftenant. The girl couldn’t help but think he was very handsome!

"Very well then. I may be a bit distracted, so please come for me fifteen minutes before eight." Turning once more to the young officer, de’Boril nodded farewell. "I will see you at dinner, Leftenant. Dress is informal, so you needn’t worry about that. Please, use this time to refresh yourself."

"Yes sir."

De’Boril quickly returned to his lab, passing through the basement, used for simple storage and with two stair wells; one for general purposes and one from the kitchen. Cook kept a number of dry goods handy in the basement. He had taken the other stair. The first sub-basement contained little of use, though it had a number of small rooms. De’Boril suspected that sometime in the distant past this level was used as an interrogation/torture chamber. He used it as storage for broken bits of furniture that might be recovered, eventually.

His lab occupied most of the last sub level. There was also a small room with a simple bed that he used when he worked late into the evening. Of late, that bed had seen far more use than the one occupying his suite on the third floor of the tower.

Gerard headed right to the faded manuscript. There it was. ‘Fr--- --men’. Could it really mean ‘fresh semen? Was it that simple? Once again he thought of the effort involved in locating most of the other ingredients. "Bah, I’ll never know until I try!" If he were wrong, well, he would burn that bridge when he came to it.

Pulling his coat off and loosening his pristine white silk shirt, then pulling his trousers open, de’Boril took his penis in hand. Within a few pumps he was already half-erect. He smiled tightly. Yes, he thought, I still have a few charges left in the old musket.

With surprising ease, he achieved a full erection. Thoughts of Gretel in compromising positions did wonders for his libido! The noble pictured his maid, looking wanton, like a street girl he had tumbled once on one of his campaigns, gliding up to him. Her dress was draped about her hips, and she was not wearing her blouse. Sweet, need-swollen nipples thrust toward him, swaying slightly. Her creamy breasts screamed for his touch.

He pictured her pressing her young body against his, moaning slightly with need. Almost absently, de’Boril dipped his fingers in a small bowl of oil nearby, then returned to his fantasies.

Gretel was pressed against him, her skirts up around her waist, her bare bottom seemingly begging him to fuck her. He was holding her hips, pounding his ready shaft into her needy hole from behind. He could hear her moaning with need, a need for him to fill her with his seed. Her whole purpose for existing was to please him!

Gerard could feel the surge within him, building, building. Gretel, completely nude now, spread herself wantonly across the small cot in the other room, begging her lord to fuck her. The pressure in his groin was almost too much. With a groan, de’Boril pumped his seed in short, thick wads into a ready vial. The man gasped. It had been a long time since he’d had any such release, with or without a woman. It took him a few seconds to recover.

After cleaning himself up, de’Boril returned to the lab. His fresh semen was there, as well as the larger container that contained the unfinished concoction. He paused as he prepared to mix the two. What if he was wrong?

Well, if he were, then he’d just have to start over. With sure, quick movements that did not reflect his inner doubt, de’Boril poured his jism in and quickly stirred the mixture with a glass rod. When he was sure he had everything thoroughly blended, he stopped, staring at his achievement. Would it work?

The potion he had just completed with the use of his own semen was supposed to grant any person that imbibed no more than an ounce of it super human strength and a certain invulnerability to weapons of steel. With such abilities bestowed upon the country’s soldiers, no army could hope to stand against Tonisia. According to the ancient manuscripts, one dose was sufficient to empower a man for about a year. Theoretically, it would merge with the taker’s cells, only gradually fading in power. Continued doses were not advised, as the shock to the system over the long run could drastically reduce the user’s life expectancy. But, would it work the first time?

Carefully, de’Boril dipped a small one ounce vial into his creation, then held it up before him. "Well," he whispered, "only one way to find out!" With a quick movement, he brought the container to his lips and threw his head back.

Well, he knew one thing right away; it tasted awful. As he waited patiently for the mix to enter his blood stream, he carefully placed the remainder; a good liter, more than enough to empower a small army; into the one ounce vials prepared for the purpose. He was just about finished, the vials stoppered and stored within a protective trunk, when he felt the first bit of a reaction.

He felt himself flush, blood rushing through his body. His penis grew erect again; pumped full of enhanced blood. Gasping, he held on to the table, trembling with the effort. De’Boril collapsed to his knees, almost overwhelmed by the sensations running through him. He felt…powerful! But he also knew that something had gone wrong.

He was not overwhelmingly strong. He was not invulnerable to attack. But the power coursed through him! No, there was some increase in strength. Lifting one of the numerous chests scattered about, he estimated he was now about as strong as any two other men combined. Significant, but not what he had hoped for. What else did he feel? Yes, de’Boril knew some sort of power was now being held within him. He just had to figure out how to unleash it!

For some time, de’Boril poured over his notes. Useless, he thought. That last ingredient was not, obviously, semen. He’d created something entirely new!

The timid tap at the lab door broke his concentration. What…ah, almost eight bells. Gretel was here to remind him. Gretel… The thought of the girl, so prominent in his earlier fantasies, almost overwhelmed him with the urge to take her, hard and forcefully. For a second, he was shocked, but the burning desire within him washed away the dismay as if it had never been. He would have her!

With a step as sure as any he had ever used on the parade ground, de’Boril moved to the closed lab door. He jerked it open, startling Gretel and causing her to jump slightly. With the blood pounding in his ears, it was hard to think, but through force of will, he controlled himself. The maid seemed even more timid than usual after his abrupt appearance.

"Time for supper already," he asked, his voice husky with need.

Gretel curtsied. "Yes, Milord. Anne has gone to inform Leftenant Lyle. Cook says dinner will be served directly at eight bells." The girl was not sure what was wrong with her master, but he seemed somehow…different. There was a distracted look on his face, and his eyes flashed cruelly as he gazed upon her. Normally timid, the girl became even more hesitant, and warning signals flashed through her thoughts.

De’Boril nodded, as if he truly cared when dinner was served. He stepped back within his lab and gestured for the girl to follow. "Very good then. I have a few minutes to finish up. Please give me a hand here, I have need of you for a moment." He gestured to the side of the lab, toward the arch leading into his small sleeping cubby.

Gretel was surprised. The master had never asked for her help before. She didn’t even know what he was working on. Nervously, she followed the man into the room. De’Boril shut the door behind her as she entered and she shuddered, suddenly frightened. What could the master need?

As soon as he secured the door, de’Boril advanced on his maid. She was unaware of his approach, since she had been taking in the extent of the lab, which she had never been allowed in before. She was completely stunned when her master’s hands closed on her upper arms, spinning her about. She yelped, shocked at the rough treatment. "M-master?"

De’Boril’s eyes burned with his need. Gretel was young, but all women instinctively know that look. "N-no!" The slight maid tried to pull free, but de’Boril’s hands were unbelievably strong, so strong!

With a quick backhand, de’Boril stunned the girl. Savagely, he gripped the lacing at the front of the girl’s peasant dress and tore it free, even ripping into the fabric at the girl’s waist. Gretel staggered back, attempting to hold the front of her gown together. She still wore her blouse, but after de’Boril’s attack she knew he would have little difficulty with it. With a stuttering intake of breath, she let out a wailing scream, hoping someone else in the tower would hear her. It was a fruitless hope. Two other levels of closed doors were above her; her screams died out well before reaching the upper levels.

"Girl, you are mine! I will have you, fighting or not." De’Boril snapped out a hand and quieted her wails by slapping her against the wall. The girl’s brilliant auburn hair, unable to deal with the abuse, came free and tumbled down over one shoulder while the girl slumped to the floor, stunned.

The lord stood before her when she finally looked up, his eyes burning. His hand snapped down and closed painfully on her upper arm, yanking her to her feet. His other hand closed on her blouse, and with a ragged tear it fell free, useless.

Through a haze of tears, Gretel saw her master lick his lips while his fiery gaze rested on her heaving breasts. "Ah, yes, little one. I knew you had hidden treasures. And now, I will truly possess them!" The girl’s bosom was truly lovely, de’Boril thought. Not quite as large as he had imagined earlier, but he could forgive her that. Her creamy skin was flushed with fear, and her nipples, topping delicately pink areola, were erect, suddenly exposed to the chill air of the sub-levels.

Gretel chose this time to strike out. She was almost incoherent from fear and pain, but she brought her small fist around and hit de’Boril as hard as she could on the side of the head. With a sobbing gasp of fear, she saw this didn’t even slow her lord down. With a negligent swipe, de’Boril backhanded her again, bouncing her head off the stone wall behind her. He watched as her eyes fluttered closed, the experience proving too much for the girl. She retreated into unconsciousness.

He scooped the girl up before she could slump to the floor, easily carrying her into the small room he slept in. In quick rough movements, he quickly had the unconscious girl stripped of the rest of her clothes, tossing the torn rags into the corner. Then he stood back, admiring his maid.

She was a small boned girl, delicate. Her slim waist and legs were stunning. One hand rested on her bosom, almost as if waiting to tease the pale nipples that capped the girl’s small but luscious breasts. Masses of reddish hair were splayed about, the scarlet locks contrasting wonderfully with the girl’s milky white skin. His cock strained against his britches, ready to penetrate Gretel’s sweet little pussy. Yes, he would take her; he would make her his, body and soul!

Quickly divesting himself of his clothing, de’Boril wasted no time, shifting one of the girl’s legs over and positioning himself advantageously. The head of his cock struggled against the girl’s tight slit, but he would have none of that. With a savage thrust, he impaled the girl.

Gretel was engulfed in pain. With an agonized wail she jerked forward, only to be slammed back down by her master’s irresistible hand. The girl writhed in pain. She had never been with a man before, and was totally unprepared for the pain of her rape. Blearily, she felt the master thrusting within her, and the pain came again, and again and again, though not quite to the same extreme as the first cruel thrust. Sobbing quietly, unable to resist, Gretel winced at the continued abuse while her master had his way with her.

De’Boril grunted and thrust into the deflowered virgin forcefully. He would have her! She was his to do with, always! Thrusting harder, he felt the pressure within his groin building. Yes, soon she would truly be his!

With each pounding thrust, the girl gasped softly, wincing. When would he be done with her!

Gretel would soon discover that her master would never truly be done with her. As de’Boril suddenly started to thrust, deep and slow and hard, within her body, she could vaguely hear him whispering, "yes, soon, yes!"

De’Boril bellowed as his cum burst from his engorged shaft. The thick, elixir-enhanced jism shot deep within the maid, filling her vagina and spurting into her womb. Excess semen soon oozed from her abused hole, mixing with her virginal blood.

Gretel didn’t know what to expect, but nothing could have prepared her for her body’s response to her lord’s load. Eyes wide, mouth open in shock, Gretel’s body spasmed. White-knuckled fingers already tightly clutching the bed sheets suddenly tore strips from them. Her uterus, filled with the seed of her master, contracted again and again, almost causing her to lose consciousness once more. Her eyes rolled up, and small grunts were all she could manage for quite a long time.

De’Boril, his need to possess the maid fulfilled, stood back and almost clinically watched the girl’s reactions. He’d been with enough women to know that this was not the typical response. The girl was still orgasming, again and again. He’d never seen anything like it.

It took him only a few seconds to realize this had something to do with his concoction. In addition to the enhanced strength, he had gained a powerful urge to sexually dominate women. And, from the looks of things, once he took them, his semen, somehow altered by that foul concoction, did something additional to them, something that he had yet to identify.

Gretel was now quiescent. She lay on her back, breasts heaving, and her hair, completely tousled by her thrashing, was splayed across her face. Her arms rested above her head, hands still clutching strips of the sheets she’d torn. One leg was upright, bent at the knee, while the other, bent at the same angle, was flat against the bed. De’Boril could clearly see the mixed blood and semen that was slowly oozing from the girl’s abused vagina. Damn, she was beautiful!

De’Boril watched patiently, his need abated. He was now much more clear-headed, but he felt none of the guilt he knew he was supposed to feel. What he had done was right! Right and proper and needed! His attention now was on what further effect, if any, his load would have on the girl. While he waited for her to rouse, he pulled on his clothes.

Minutes later, the maid groaned. She absently brushed her hair away from her face, and de’Boril watched as her eyes slowly fluttered open.

Gretel didn’t know what had happened to her. The master…He was raping her. Yes, she remembered that. Still staring at the ceiling, Gretel recalled the pain and shock and terror. She recalled his painful penetration. But what she remembered most was the stunning effect of his cum as it pumped into her. The orgasms induced had knocked her out!

De’Boril watched the girl’s eyes open. At first, other than pushing her hair away, she did not move. Then, ever so slowly, he watched, smiling grimly, as she almost unknowingly traced her hands down her body, teasing nipples, tracing nails along sensitive skin. He heard her small sigh as her fingers found her clitoris, and the moan that quickly followed. Yes, she was truly his now.

"Enough girl. We have guests above, remember?" Gretel, startled, looked over at him with wide eyes. Her fingers never left her pussy. De’Boril watched the girl’s expression change, from shock and fear, to acceptance, to burning desire. Yes, she’d given herself over. There would be no resistance from her again. That is, unless he wanted her to resist! The nobleman was struck with how much she now resembled the image he had pictured while masturbating earlier. The wanton look on her face almost made him want to take her again, right now!

The maid, one hand still teasing her clit, slowly raised herself up, angling slightly to give de’Boril an ideal view of her body. "Please sir, just once more?" The noble caught the glittering dampness that covered the girl’s fingers. She was really wet now, from excitement, not virginal blood or cum.

"Enough! Get your sweet little ass up to your room and dress, and don’t let anyone see you. We have much to do." He paused, thoughtfully eyeing the horny slut his first floor maid had become. "Yes, we have so much to do." The last he spoke under his breath as he turned away. The girl, disappointed at being abandoned, finished herself off with her fingers. Yes! Oh, yes! The orgasm was nowhere near what she had experienced as the master took her, but it would have to do, for now. She slipped from the small bed, gathered up her torn and useless clothing, and casually walked out of the room.

She didn’t slow as she passed through the lab, though she could feel the master’s eyes rove over her exposed body. She shivered at the thrill of it. She knew he was watching her slim waist, swaying hips, her firm derrière, her tight calves. If only he would take her again! Gretel felt her vaginal moisture, mixed with the blood of her pierced hymen and the remnants of de’Boril’s lust, slowly making its way down her inner thighs. The sensations only fired her lust!

De’Boril watched the girl until she passed through the lab door. Ah, that potion! I don’t know what effect my semen had on it, he thought, but it obviously binds women to me, once I have taken them. He wondered whether there was any effect on men that had had sex with a woman once he’d had them. Well, we’ll just have to see. Leftenant Lyle should be more than willing to warm his bed with a hot little thing like Gretel! Sir Gerard de’Boril laughed with delight.

When de’Boril arrived in the tower’s dining room, about ten minutes after the eighth bell, Cook had already seated Leftenant Lyle and served him a light soup. From the hard look she gave him, Gerard knew his cook was a bit put out with him. Usually he was prompt; especially when there were guests in the house, which was a rare event in itself!

As he seated himself in his chair at the head of the table, Gerard apologized to the leftenant. "Please forgive me. My work is at a pivotal point at the moment, and it is difficult to pull away." Lyle nodded; he had just taken a spoon full of soup. Perfectly all right, he seemed to be saying. Cook set a bowl of the light vegetable broth in front of him. "Oh, Cook, I sent Gretel on a little errand. She should be back shortly, but please don’t be cross with her."

Gerard’s cook was a woman of early middle years, the widow of one of his battalion sergeant majors. She had taken over the kitchen of the tower with about as much delicacy as her husband had once instructed new recruits, but the food she prepared was outstanding. Though in the past Gerard had rarely noticed, Cook was actually a fine looking woman for her age. The hard work of running the kitchen with little help kept her in excellent shape. She was actually quite attractive, with largish breasts hidden behind her thick apron, and a slim waist flaring to wide hips beneath her heavy skirts. De’Boril felt his penis twitch in response to the woman’s presence.

Amanda Everett, as she had once been known before becoming ‘Cook’, was put out with the master of the castle. He was perfectly aware that she required the girl’s help when serving meals! When Gretel hadn’t returned immediately from running to tell the master the table was set, she’d had to hunt the second floor maid down and draft her. And, while Anne was perfectly capable of doing the job, Gretel was more familiar with what was needed. Everything had been slowed down! And now, the master was telling her it was his fault! "Certainly Milord, there was no difficulty. We will be having pheasant, served with a fresh loaf of denderan bread and a vegetable mix. It will be out shortly." The woman turned and disappeared through the door to the kitchens, giving her master no sign of her displeasure.

De’Boril returned his attention to the leftenant. "She’s a fine woman, been with me for three years now. Her husband was killed at Kensington Gap during the Harris Uprising. Good man." For the next half-hour the two men, one young, one old, talked of history, the military and various other things that interested both. In the back of de’Boril’s mind though, thoughts were swirling.

His patriotic feelings for the realm were fading fast. In its place was growing the desire for personal power. He’d always been ambitious. He’d even had plans to have himself named heir when the prince finally passed on. But now, now he was thinking of not only the Tonisian Principality, but of the surrounding countries as well. If his little experiment tonight with the young leftenant proved successful, He could infiltrate any number of positions of power! Yes, he thought, with the use of a few oh-so-willing women and his own active participation, he’d have the majority of the higher ranking nobles doing his bidding in no time at all!

About midway through the meal, Gretel returned to help the cook. She was dressed in another of her peasant dresses, though this one was extremely low-cut at the bosom. Cook glowered at her when the girl slipped into the kitchen, and asked her where the devil she’d been. The young maid shrugged, but wouldn’t elaborate on what the master had had her doing.

De’Boril hid a smirk when Gretel presented young Lyle with a selection of dessert pastries. The girl was slightly bent forward at the waist, and was holding the dessert tray close to her body, giving the leftenant an extremely good view of her cleavage. Gerard almost laughed aloud. The lad was taking an awfully long time in selecting his dessert!

Cook noticed the maid’s behavior as well. De’Boril heard her mutter under her breath, "what has gotten into that girl?" It was the first clue he had that some people might notice behavioral changes in the people he claimed. He’d have to think on that.

Finally, the meal ended. "Well, leftenant, I’m sorry I have to abandon you so soon, but I will be working in my lab for some time tonight. Please, feel free to stay up as long as you wish." De’Boril led the young man into the study, where they had first met. "And if you would like to read before retiring, help yourself to whatever you fancy. I have some histories here that you might find interesting." Gerard turned for the door. "If you have any pressing needs, just ring that bell," he indicated a small silver bell resting on one of the end tables near the settee, "and Gretel will take care of you." In more ways than you will ever know, lad, the older man thought.

"Thank you for your hospitality sir. I will make sure Commander Reginal receives your response."

De’Boril nodded. "Well, lad, if I don’t see you in the morning before you depart, fare well." He turned and left the study.

Gretel waited in the hall, her eyes burning with suppressed lust. In a normal tone of voice, for Cook would make out the sounds, she said, "Milord, is there anything else you require of me?" Then, softly, she added, "anything at all." She ran her hands firmly over her breasts and down to her hips, while opening her lips slightly.

Pulling the girl into a nearby alcove, where they wouldn’t be immediately noticed if someone stepped into the hall, he held the maid close. With a satisfied purr, she molded her body against his. "Enough for now, girl. I have plans for you this evening." He caught the eager look in her eyes, and knew she thought he was planning on taking her again tonight. He corrected her thinking. "I want you to ‘entertain’ our young friend in there," he ordered, gesturing toward the study.

Gretel’s eyes widened slightly in surprise. "Of course, Milord," she said, obedient to his whim. After all, the thought was not unpleasing to her. Earlier, as she’d slipped up to the room she shared with Anne, the second floor maid, her thoughts were totally absorbed in the memories of her rape. The feel of the master’s body pressed against hers, of his taking her so forcefully. Once she’d slipped into her room though, other thoughts had surfaced. She’d caught site of some of Anne’s underthings lying in a corner; and a crystal clear image of the girl had popped into her startled mind, an image of the other maid nude, preparing herself for bed.

Gretel had never had thoughts like that before! The two girls had been roommates for almost a year, when Gretel arrived to take up her duties as first floor maid. During that time, the two had taken numerous baths together, but there was nothing erotic about it. Now though, her thoughts were awhirl with her newfound lust. She wanted Anne badly!

She’d changed quickly though; knowing that Cook was expecting her. As she dressed, thoughts of the master intruded again, and she quickly grew wet. Yes, no matter whom she dallied with, there could never be anything to match what Sir Gerard had done to her!

She finished dressing, then put her hair up again. Then she scampered down the stairs and into the kitchen to aid Cook. For the rest of the meal, The young maid was in a constant state of arousal. Every person she saw sparked seeds of lust and desire within her. The sway of Cook’s hips as she carried the meal out to the two men, Anne’s sweat-streaked face as she prepared the vegetables. Leftenant Lyle couldn’t know that while he was staring down the front of her dress, she was mentally undressing him. And then there was the master, of course. Just looking at him had her juices soaking her panties!

When de’Boril directed her to ‘entertain’ Leftenant Lyle, her pulse started pounding. He wanted her to sleep with someone else! Instead of anger or disappointment, she only felt an all-consuming lust. How she wanted to please her master!

"Very good, girl. You will slip in on him this evening, late. However you choose, get him to sleep with you. I want you to fuck him like he’s never been fucked before." He grinned, and squeezed her buns tightly before releasing her. "He’s young, it shouldn’t be too hard. Now, be on your way."

As the girl scurried off, Gerard stood in the alcove for a bit. He could feel his lust growing. It was not as overwhelming as it had been just before he’d taken Gretel, but the need was there. He thought of following the girl to her room and satisfying himself once more, but rejected it. She would have more effect with the leftenant later if he hadn’t freshly fucked her just before. No, he thought, taking the young maid again could wait.

Then he brightened. Ah yes, he’d satisfy his urges tonight, of course! Cook was wrapping up in the kitchen; he could hear her moving about. Soon, the buxom woman would retire to her room, which was just off the kitchen, on the far side from the dining room. She had fairly large room back there, with a dressing area and bedroom that were more than sufficient for her. Once things settled down, and the good leftenant retired for the evening, de’Boril would pay his cook a visit!

De’Boril, as with his taking of Gretel earlier, felt no guilt over his thoughts or impending actions. His was a driving need that could be satisfied in only one way. Unlike the last time though, he was not overwhelmed with this burning desire. He could still think clearly and function perfectly well. Cook, dear Amanda, would find him the perfect gentleman. At least, at first!

In time, the good leftenant retired, climbing the stairs tiredly and heading for his room. Gerard hoped the girl didn’t hurt him, the young man might not be up to her newly awakened desires. Stepping into his study once more, he took down a history of the Verensian’s, a desert people that lived far to the south of Tonisia. He read a chapter patiently, learning of the Verensian practice of raiding merchant caravans for goods, pack animals and women, as he waited for the house to settle down for the night. Then, at just before eleven bells, he shut the book decisively and rose from where he had been reading in his favorite chair.

With a determined stride, he passed through the darkened kitchen. Pausing at the cook’s door, he listened briefly, satisfied that the woman was still awake from the faint sounds he could make out. A wash of lust rolled over him, and he felt his member stiffen. Yes, he was truly looking forward to this!

A quick rap of his knuckles against her door announced his presence.

"Just a moment," the woman within called, annoyance clearly ringing in her voice. De’Boril listened with amusement to the sounds the woman made. She was taking much longer than he wished. Finally, the bolt was thrown, and the door opened far enough for Cook to peer through at the unwanted intruder.

"Oh! Milord, if I had known it was you—"

De’Boril waved her to silence. "Please, I apologize for disturbing your rest, good Cook, but I wished to speak to you, if I may?" He gestured, indicating that he would like to come in.

Amanda Everett didn’t know what to think. The master had never come to see her before in her room, not even during the light of day! Yet here he was, asking permission to enter. She quickly stepped back, allowing the man in. What could he want with her at this hour, she wondered?

A single candle was burning on the small table to the right of the woman’s feather-stuffed bed. Amanda had obviously just arisen from the bed; the sheets were thrown back, rumpled. De’Boril caught sight of a corner of a small book hidden away amid the sheets. The rest of the room was shrouded in darkness, shadows dancing against the walls.

Gerard turned and put on a hesitant face as he contemplated the lovely woman before him. Amanda was wearing a heavy cotton robe, belted about her waist, and she stood nervously, arms hugging herself just below her fulsome breasts. De’Boril’s quick eyes noted that from the way her robe shifted as she stood, she was likely wearing nothing beneath it. He suppressed a smile. Her dark honey-blonde hair was unbound, and lay in thick masses about her shoulders.

"Amanda, I…" he paused, looking at the floor. Amanda’s look changed from wary curiosity to stunned amazement. The master had never addressed her as anything but Cook, and once as Mrs. Everett. This was the first time he’d ever used her first name!

Gerard reached out and took the woman’s hands, pulling the confused woman a bit closer. The slight tingle in his fingers was new to him, something he’d never felt before. One more effect of that foul potion? He’d have to investigate that further when he had the time.

"Amanda, I am sorry to barge in on you like this. Your free time is your own, and I know you get precious little of it. I was sitting in the study just now, thinking of how things used to be. For some reason, the day you arrived flashed before me." The lord of the tower paused, his fingers lightly brushing over Amanda’s captured hands. She was staring at them intently, as if she hadn’t heard a word he was saying.

"Amanda?"

The woman blinked, almost forcefully pulling her eyes away from where he touched her. "Um, yes, Milord?" De’Boril caught the distracted look in her eyes, just before they returned once more to his hands. Yes, it must be some effect of the odd brew he’d created. Somehow, his simple touch had captured her attention to a degree he hadn’t known was possible.

"Amanda, come to me." He pulled the buxom woman into his embrace, releasing her hands. His enfolded her, resting his hands within the woman’s thick mass of dark blonde hair. Once again he felt the slight tingling.

"Milord, I—"

"Hush, Amanda. Hush. I had not meant for this to happen so quickly," he lied, "but I am not sorry it has. No, I am not sorry at all." He bent, pulling her yielding body to him, and kissed her deeply. Her mouth opened willingly to his probing tongue.

Amanda was lost in a sea of emotion. What had come over them! Gods, but one second the master is talking of old memories, the next he’s kissing her like a passionate lover! Amanda had come to the house shortly after her husband was killed serving under Sir Gerard. She’d had nowhere else to go, so the master had offered to take her on, a generous move for him, earning Amanda’s undying gratitude. She had worked hard for the man, doing her best to repay her debt.

The one thing Amanda missed that had not been replaced when Berret, her husband, died was his loving companionship. She missed his wit and his gruff demands when he thought he was right. After more and more time passed though, the one thing she missed the most was his skillful and eager loveplay.

Amanda hadn’t been with a man in the years since her husband died. At first, shortly after her husband’s death, the thought of sleeping with another repulsed her, since the memory of her lost man was still so fresh. After time, desire returned, but she had no outlet. None of the few men about the tower attracted her interest. At first with a bit of shame, but after a time with a growing need, she’d turned to masturbation. Over time, she’d acquired a couple of small novels of salacious verse, one of which she had been avidly reading when the master interrupted. Now, like a scene from one of her books, the master had entered her room and with little more than a ‘by your leave’ had pulled her into his embrace! And further, she had no desire to be anywhere else! The woman melted against her master, becoming lost in his kiss.

Once he felt Amanda give herself fully to the kiss, de’Boril wasted no more time. While he continued the deep, urgent kisses, he pulled gently but firmly on Amanda’s simple robe. The tie fell open under his demanding fingers, and Amanda Everett’s body was his to caress, with nothing to impede his wandering hands.

Amanda moaned slightly as her robe fell open. The master’s hands left little electrical tingles wherever they touched. When he caressed her full, heavy breasts, she cried out with pleasure. He pulled firmly on her sensitive, swollen nipples, causing her to shudder and moan.

When he broke his kiss, he continued to hold her close, pulling her against him and sliding his probing hands down to firmly grip her trim ass. Breathing heavily, Amanda stared into the man’s eyes, seeing his lust for her, his need. "Please," she whispered, pleading, her own lust firing her blood, "It’s been so long!"

Gerard picked the woman up effortlessly, still holding her tightly. Her legs wrapped about his waist and she clamped her arms behind his neck. While he held her, she firmly ground her pubis against him, urgently stimulating her yearning clit. She continued to do so until the man laid her gently down on her bed.

Never taking her eyes off this man that had entered her room not five minutes before, Amanda fingered her swollen, ready vagina while de’Boril stepped back. Her nether lips were puffy with need, and aroused as she was her fingers soon glittered with her inner moisture. Amanda teased her throbbing clit, pushing her body further into her arousal. She was ready for him! She wanted him, needed him, now!

De’Boril quickly divested himself of his clothing. His seduction was progressing much faster than he had expected, aided a bit by the effects of the potion, as well as, he expected, by the woman’s own deep need. In seconds he stood before her, his rigid cock ready and willing to fill her need. With clear purpose, he advanced on the buxom blonde, who spread her legs wide, wanting him to fill her needy pussy.

Pressing her deep into the soft bed, de’Boril’s ready tool smoothly filled Amanda’s sopping hole. "Oh, yes, Milord, take me! Use me! Ungh!" Amanda was lost in his pounding, exhilarating in having a man after all this time. She had no clue that she was about to give all of herself, body and soul, to the man buried so deeply within her.

Gerard suddenly rolled to the side, pulling Amanda about until she rested, still impaled on his shaft, atop him. "Oh, gods!" she cried, her heavy, firm breasts swaying as she thrust herself hard down on him, engulfing his cock. After a bit, Amanda, breathing heavily, could no longer hold herself up. She fell atop de’Boril and continued to grind her hips. The master’s hands, until then alternately playing with her engorged nipples or holding her hips, slipped behind her and down. Down over her ass they went, holding her tightly. One finger found her tight little anus. The area was slick with her juices, and the man’s fingers were soon thoroughly coated. Amanda cried softly, but then only pounded against him harder, when a finger violated her ass. The sensations of both cock and finger soon had the woman on the edge of orgasm. "Oh, Milord! I’m so close, ah, so…so… OH!" Her soft body bucking against him as she came was too much for Gerard. With a muffled growl, he clamped the woman tightly, his finger pressing deep into her ass, as his spasming cock sent load after load of his altered cum into the already well-fucked woman.

De’Boril was prepared for the reaction his jism could cause this time, so when the woman on top of him shrieked, her body suddenly racked with another and another and yet another massive orgasm, he was able to hold her tight against him. He felt some of his load spurt from Amanda’s overly filled canal, coating his scrotum. When the blonde finally stopped shaking, out cold from the shock the multiple orgasms had caused, de’Boril lay stroking the woman’s soft skin gently, fully satisfied.

Yes, he knew, there would be women in influential positions that he would take for his purposes, but there was no point in limiting himself to that group. Amanda was an attractive woman with many charms. He knew he’d use her often.

After a couple minutes, the blonde shuddered and moaned, gradually coming awake. Slowly, she pushed herself up, flipping her thick mass of hair to one side of her head and then, still atop her lord, she looked down into his eyes.

The change was obvious. Amanda Everett was now his, a creature of lust. A dedicated lust, committed first to him, and then to her own needs. "You did something to me, Milord," said, a slight smile curling her lips. She rolled her hips, feeling his still half-erect cock, which still rested within her creamy hole. "I don’t know what, and I don’t care. I am yours, forever!"

De’Boril ran his hands over the buxom woman’s full hips, then raked his fingers up her back. Amanda arched back, hissing, and Gerard took the opportunity to capture one of her nipples in his mouth. The woman moaned as he suckled firmly, and her hips ground once more against him. Finally, he released her, and looked intently into her eyes. "Yes, you are mine. Know that I will use you as I wish to further my needs. But whatever I ask of you, be sure that you will enjoy it!" Amanda’s body shivered as he talked, not from fear, but from her hungry desire.

The lord of the tower remained in Amanda’s bed for much of the night. Twice more he sent burning streams of semen deep into the woman’s uterus. With each ejaculation, Amanda collapsed in ecstasy. It was long before the two fell asleep.

Gretel scampered up the stairs, distracted by vivid thoughts of how Leftenant Lyle would feel when he was buried within her, for she had no doubt that before the night was through, he would be. She would wait until midnight before slipping down the hall to the young officer’s room, which was far down the hall to the left. Gretel’s own room was to the right, a small chamber fit for the maids of the tower. She slipped through her door, glancing back down the hall, smiling eagerly at the thought of what she would do tonight.

"He’s very handsome, don’t you think?"

Gretel jumped, having forgotten Anne entirely. The girl; she was actually almost a year older than Gretel, but looked even younger; was brushing her long ebony-dark hair before the boudoir mirror. She wore only her underthings, while her dress was draped over the room’s only chair. Gretel’s mouth suddenly went dry as she focused on the other girl. She was barely able to respond to Anne’s query.

"Y-yes, he is." Then, almost without thinking as she walked closer, she asked, "what do you think he’d be like in bed?"

Anne’s mouth popped open, and a naughty twinkle lit her eyes. "Why Gret! I didn’t know you had thoughts like that!" Anne truly was a bit surprised, though she had been thinking similar thoughts herself! This wasn’t the first time the two girls had talked about the men around the tower. They’d spent a number of nights giggling together, thinking up unlikely tales that the local men figured in prominently. What caused Anne to feel a hint of surprise was the absolute sincerity she heard in her roommate’s voice. Gretel sounded like she was ready to attack the leftenant, to rip his clothes off!

Gretel grinned, removing the brush from Anne’s hands and moving behind her friend. Almost distractedly, she began to pull it through the brunette’s silken locks. She hardly noticed the slight tingling at the tips of her fingers whenever she brushed against the other girl. "Of course I do!" she said. "As a matter of fact, I’ll bet the leftenant would be quite skilled, especially if properly motivated!"

The two girls giggled as they enthusiastically discussed Leftenant Lyle’s nocturnal talents. Gretel’s pulse was pounding; with every touch she was becoming more and more excited, and not for the good leftenant, but for Anne. As she continued to run the brush through the other girl’s hair, she would every now and then lightly touch a shoulder, a cheek. Anne seemed not to notice.

Anne was thoroughly enjoying Gretel’s attentions. The girls had brushed each other’s hair before; it was almost a nightly ritual. This time though, with the continuing discussion of the young officer’s carnal knowledge, she found herself becoming unexpectedly and quite thoroughly aroused. She seemed to feel Gretel’s every light touch; whenever the girl accidentally brushed her skin, Anne would suppress a sigh at the slight tingling it induced within her.

After a bit, the girls quieted. Her excitement almost too much to bear, Gretel watched as her friend shut her eyes and opened her mouth slightly. When the auburn haired beauty paused in her brushing, Anne pleaded softly, "oh, please Gret, don’t stop!"

Softly, hesitantly, Gretel stroked her free hand down Anne’s neck. The other girl hummed in response, and shifted slightly. Gretel watched eagerly as Anne’s thighs opened a bit, and the red haired girl could see that her friend was pressing her fingers deep between them. Gods, she thought, how could I have missed how absolutely gorgeous Anne was!

Watching avidly while the brunette continued to play with herself, Gretel put the brush she had been using aside. With a more confident movement she started to massage the other girl’s bare shoulders. "Mmm, Gret, I like that. Please, keep going!" Anne’s free hand moved unconsciously up, awkwardly pulling at the strings of her bodice, loosening it enough so that her undergarment slipped down slightly, exposing more of her body to Gretel’s roaming fingers.

Gretel ran her hands firmly down Anne’s arms, and with a seemingly accidental movement pushed the garment down even further, enough so that the brunette’s aroused nipples were partially exposed. Gretel, still fully dressed, felt her own painfully erect buds, and when she looked in the mirror she could see them clearly visible, pressing out against the fabric of her low-cut dress. She also saw that Anne’s eyes were fully closed, and that she was swaying slightly with each of Gretel’s caresses, sighing every now and then with pleasure. Her fingers were busy, and Gretel could even see the moisture that was beginning to seep through the girl’s pants.

With another bold move, this one quite purposeful, Gretel pressed her hands down over Anne’s shoulders, continuing until she teasingly stroked her fingers over Anne’s painfully swollen nipples. The brunette gasped and arched back against Gretel, but did not try to pull away. She gasped out plaintively, her voice that of a lost little girl, "What—what are we doing?"

Gretel’s hands closed firmly on Anne’s now fully exposed sweet breasts. They were a bit larger than her own, and dark areolae surrounded nipples that thrust out half an inch. She kissed the girl’s neck firmly, and then playfully licked at the lobe of her ear. Softly, she whispered breathlessly, "do you want to stop?" Immediately, her hands squeezed the brunette’s nipples painfully.

"N-no! Don’t stop, oh please, Gret, never stop!"

But Gretel did stop, if only for a few seconds. She pulled Anne up and turned her, pulling the other girl close. They were of a height, and Gretel’s questing mouth easily captured Anne’s. Then, pausing every now and then, she quickly removed the rest of Anne’s under garments, letting them fall where they may, exposing her friend’s sexually fired body. Anne’s pussy glittered with beads of her inner wetness, and her inner thighs were coated with her juices.

Anne was lost in the powerful eroticism that Gretel had created within her. With her every touch, the other girl had sent sparkling, irresistible sensations throughout Anne’s body. With her every kiss, Gretel was becoming more and more desirable. When Gretel finished pulling her clothing away, Anne could only think of the way Gretel’s bare skin would feel against hers. She reached with fumbling fingers toward the other maid’s dress, and soon the two girls were locked together, their nude bodies quivering with need.

Gretel broke the passionate kiss and pulled back slightly to look heatedly at the other girl. Anne was breathing rapidly, and her fingers quickly found Gretel’s bosom, firmly massaging. "Annie, I want to taste you! I need to!" Her own hands traced down the brunette’s willing body and back up, sending wonderful sensations through the girl with every stroke.

"Anything, Gret, where do you want me?" Anne was wild with desire. The thought of Gretel tasting the most intimate part of her being seemed only too natural to the girl.

Gretel moved to her bed, leading Anne by the hand. "Here, lie down. I’ll do the rest!" Anne lay on her back, and the other girl was quickly between her legs. When Gretel’s probing tongue, softly tracing along Anne’s inner thigh, finally found the brunette’s ready clit, Anne whimpered softly, and her hips spasmed involuntarily. Anne was soon lost in the sensation, oblivious to all else as her friend explored her every hidden fold. She was startled when Gretel swung her leg over her head, straddling her and placing her own yearning pussy within reach of Anne’s suddenly needy mouth.

Anne had never done anything like this before, had only ever had sex with one boy. She’d never thought to be with another woman, and she had certainly never conceived of tasting another girl’s swollen vagina! All of that was meaningless now though; Gretel’s sweet cunt was there, needing her attention. She wrapped her arms around the other girl’s hips and buried her face in the inviting vee of Gretel’s honey pot.

The second Anne tasted Gretel’s sweet nectar she was lost. In moments she came, her body thrashing beneath her friend in a frenzy of lust. When Gretel felt Anne go over the edge, she couldn’t help smiling triumphantly. Then, when Anne continued to tongue-lash her own needy pussy, she let herself go, her own orgasm sending even more sweet dew into Anne’s hungry mouth. Once again Anne came, her body responding intensely to her friend’s tainted juices.

Finally, Anne stopped thrashing, and Gretel moved to lie next to her. The red-head smiled wickedly, watching Anne, who lay in a daze, slowly refocus her senses. While the other girl was still recovering, Gretel snuggled close, teasingly tracing her nails across the other girl’s bare skin, gently raking across her swollen nipples and through the damp mat of dark fur covering her pubis.

"Are you ready for a little surprise, Anne?" Gretel whispered when the other girl’s eyes finally opened. Anne quivered at Gretel’s teasing caresses.

She grinned. "Anything you want, Gret. Anything!" She lightly stroked her breasts, luxuriating in the feelings Gretel had instilled in her. The taste of the other girl’s creamy pussy was still in her mouth, and she savored it. She didn’t understand what had happened, but she knew she was forever changed. And, oh, how she loved it!

Her friend smiled wickedly back. "Good, because now we get to find out how stiff the good leftenant’s sword really is!" The girls both burst out laughing, and both were feeling renewed desire already building within them. They would certainly give the young officer the night of his life!

Leftenant Friedrich Lyle spent a good while perusing Lord de’Boril’s texts. The young officer had rarely seen such a collection of books, and, he knew, some of the works here could be found no where else! ‘The Historie Graifica’, ‘Remembrances of the Winter Campaigns of Tunis’, ‘The Principality’. These books were priceless!

Even so, the young man had had a long day, and he soon retired to his room. He was shortly between the thick sheets of the most comfortable bed he’d ever slept in. Drifting off to sleep, Lyle reviewed the day hazily, smiling softly at the remembered charms of the maid. If Julia ever caught him thinking about another woman that way…

The thought of his fiancé conjured an image of the girl in his mind. He remembered her shining blonde tresses, always properly coifed. The young woman was always proper, in everything she did. This caused Lyle to grimace. While he truly loved the girl, he sometimes wished she would be a little more flexible in her actions.

But that was not to be. Julia de’Forst was the daughter of one of the leading nobles of the realm. Lyle considered himself lucky to even attempt to court her, for his family, while wealthy, had only ascended to the peerage through the gallant sacrifice of his father in the last war. Lyle’s uncle, the family patriarch, quickly took advantage to the new situation, and the Lyle Clan was soon well established.

Lyle sighed, shifting beneath the heavy covers. Julia proved to be a wild, impetuous girl, with firm ideas of what was appropriate. The contrasts sometimes drove Lyle wild! He grinned, thinking of his fiancé’s reaction to the forward maid. She would be turning the air blue with her curses if she had witnessed the performance!

Eventually, he fell into a deep, peaceful sleep. He had no idea how much time had passed when the light tapping at his door awakened him. Still groggy with sleep, he rolled out of the massive bed and pulled on the sitting robe that had been provided. He moved hesitantly through the darkness, finally finding the door.

"Who is it?"

"Milord, the master wishes you to present you with a gift." The voice of the maid that had teased him earlier came softly through the door, conjuring images of her soft bosom in the young man’s mind.

He sighed. "Can’t this wait until morning? I’m dead to the world!" Lyle could not seem to grasp just how completely odd being woken up at this late hour was.

The maid’s voice came again. "I’m sorry, Milord, but the master insisted that it be delivered to you immediately."

Lyle sighed, reaching for the door. Whatever it was, he’d toss it on the divan and head back to bed. He was sure it could wait until a reasonable hour. He pulled open the door.

Gretel stood before him, her bare skin glowing in the light of the single taper she held. Her smallish breasts, thrust before her, tipped with her pale nipples, seemed to stare at him. She rested her weight on one leg, her other hip thrust out, the curve of her waist enhanced. The girl’s eyes sparkled intensely, never wavering as they captured Lyle’s. The young man’s breath caught in his throat.

"Please Milord," Gretel began, reaching out to stroke tingling fingers across the young man’s jaw, which hung open in amazement, "please let us in. The master would be most pleased."

Us? Then he saw her. The other maid, Anne, was there too, the dark brunette with the thick silky hair. That wondrous hair was now draped over one shoulder, teasing the exposed, dark areolae that topped her succulent mounds. Her slim legs rose to meet curved hips. Her dark mound glistened in the faint light; already she was ready with desire! One hand lightly stroked across her taut belly and over her hip, eventually caressing across her smooth bottom. Her dark eyes peered out at him from under her long smoky lashes, seemingly devouring him with every glance.

The first maid’s fingers once more stroked his cheek, and he found himself losing focus. His first emotion, astonishment, quickly gave way to a brief flash of outrage. This faded almost immediately under the maid’s tingling caress however, and Lyle found himself staggering slowly back, allowing the two nymphs to enter his chamber.

The dark one, Anne, came around the auburn haired beauty and gently pulled at his robe, loosening it. "Come, Milord, rest easy, for we shall be gentle!" Both girls laughed, husky with their lust and desire, and Lyle could see the aroused blushes decorating their bare skin.

"It’s not that…" Gretel pressed her hot flesh up against him, and he felt his erection, fully and thrillingly erect, press against her belly. The sensation almost overwhelmed him!

"Yes, Milord?" Gretel breathed, pulling the robe over Lyle’s shoulder while Anne trailed her nails down over the young officer’s back.

"Not that, I’m engaged…" Lyle groaned, feeling Anne’s fingers tingling down his back while Gretel’s body quivered against him, sending waves of desire through him.

"Oh, Milord, think not of the future, but of the present!" The maid before him captured his mouth with her own, and he tasted her delightful tongue as it sought his.

Lyle’s growing desire crushed any thoughts of Julia. The two overwhelmingly sensuous temptresses were becoming his only focus. He groaned with pleasure as Anne began to work her way down his back, her soft bosom trailing lightly over his skin and her hot tongue teasingly following. Down, down, down…

Gretel, the maid before him, pressed her stunning body against him, and, seemingly of their own volition, Lyle’s hands captured her firm mounds, squeezing tightly. The young officer heard the maid moaning with pleasure and felt her arch her back, pressing against him urgently.

Lost in the pleasures, he barely noticed Anne lightly nip his ass, but he felt her arms circling his waist, and he was most definitely aware when her hands wrapped about his penis. "Oh my Lord," he wailed, overwhelmed. The maid was stroking him firmly, occasionally running her fingers over the head, using his pre-cum to aid in her ministrations.

Gretel, feeling Anne’s fingers entwined about Lyle’s shaft, slowly knelt; trailing burning kisses over the man’s chest as she moved. Soon, she knelt before his manhood. She looked up at him, her face full of lust and desire. "Would you like me to kiss you here, my lord?" she asked breathily. She too captured his cock, and without pause, flicked her hot little tongue across the salty slit at the head.

Lyle groaned in agony! He so wanted to fuck these girls, he wanted to take them and fuck them blind! The dark one was working her way back up his back, since her friend had taken over down below. The girl’s arms were wrapped around him, her body pressed tightly against him.

"My lord?" the dark one whispered in his ear, before she captured it lightly between her teeth for a second. "My lord, please, I cannot wait! Take me!" The girl was whining, grinding her hips against his ass. He could feel her ready moisture.

Lyle was mad with desire. He no longer tried to resist. He had to have them now! With a rough yank, he grabbed Gretel by the hair, causing her to gasp in painful delight. Pulling her up, he propelled her toward his large bed. He snagged Anne by the arm and thrust her after Gretel. Almost blindly he followed, pushing the brunette face-down. With a growling curse, he plowed into the girl’s tight puss, filling her with his shaft.

Anne cried out, arching back to ease the pain of Lyle’s forceful entry. He was so wonderfully hard! In seconds, she was thrusting back, meeting his urgent thrusting with her own wild bucking.

Gretel, eyes wide with lust, pressed herself close to Lyle as he fucked her friend from behind. She fingered her wet hole, and teasingly thrust her fingers into the man’s mouth. Her juices only seemed to enflame the man all the more!

Before long, Anne collapsed beneath Lyle’s mad thrusts. Her eyes rolled back and she exploded in an unbelievable orgasm, her clit unable to handle being ground against the bed linen. Almost unconscious, she barely felt Lyle withdraw from her soaking twat. When she was finally able to move, she shifted only far enough to watch as Gretel went down on Lyle.

The auburn-haired girl had Lyle on his back, and she knelt between his legs. She was practically swallowing Lyle’s manhood, over and over again. The young man was thrusting urgently into her mouth and had one hand on the back of her head, seemingly determined the fill her mouth with his seed.

Anne, already wet again because of her unnatural lusts, climbed over and positioned herself above Lyle’s face. Soon enough, the young officer sensed the feast before him, and his tongue darted out to discover Anne’s sweet secrets. The brunette mewled in ecstasy, almost unable to stay upright while Lyle feasted.

Gretel heard Anne’s gasps and glanced up to see the girl riding Lyle’s face, eyes shut, lost in the wondrous sex. Feeling her own pussy tingling with need, she mounted the man, filling her hole with his hard shaft. She sank to the root, her clit grinding against his pelvis, and leaned forward, holding on to Anne to support herself.

The two girls immediately clung to each other, both almost lost in the overwhelming feelings Lyle was giving them. With almost no thought other than to continue the pleasure, the girls started to tease each other’s nipples and kiss each other deeply. Neither ceased grinding her pussy against the man beneath them though, Anne riding his tongue while Gretel took his cock deep.

Both girls came again, clinging against each other. The taint within them pulled Lyle along, causing his abrupt, shattering ejaculation. So intense was his orgasm that he had no idea how long it took for him to recover. When he did, he found two sex-stained, beautiful girls huddled close to him, playfully twirling his chest hair about their fingers. He found this to be highly erotic. Amazingly, he felt his shaft strengthening again!

With a low growl of pleasure, Lyle stroked the beauties lightly. Both responded immediately. Before they surrendered once more to the lust, Lyle laughed, "Lord de’Boril truly has wondrous presents!" With that, he buried his face between Gretel’s breasts.

Over the next few days, Sir Gerard discovered the depths of his newfound ‘gifts’. The succulent little maid Anne and the good Leftenant Lyle were both ‘second generation’, infected by Gretel’s wonton attentions. Both instinctively followed Gretel’s lead and surrendered willingly to Sir Gerard. Upon testing further however, de’Boril discovered that anyone of the ‘third generation’, those that had only slept with Anne or Lyle, were just barely able to resist de’Boril’s forceful will.

To eliminate any resistance on his property, he had Gretel, Amanda and Anne, after he bedded the sweet little brunette, sleep with the rest of the men that helped operate his estate. One by one, the men fell under his spell, becoming absolutely loyal to de’Boril.

On another front, de’Boril had young Lyle drink down one of the additional vials he had prepared. The young man, after working out the initial lust the potion induced on Anne, developed the same abilities as de’Boril. However, since the leftenant had already fallen under the girls’ influence, he still deferred to de’Boril. Sir Gerard was pleased at the results of these trials, especially since he would not have to kill the young leftenant. For now, it was time to begin developing a workable plan that would place him in a true position of power within the Principality and the surrounding regions.

"Lyle, lad, lay off Amanda long enough to retrieve the work on the Justicars for me." De’Boril grinned at the sighs this request produced. Young Lyle had Amanda bent over the settee and was busily buggering her. The woman’s asshole gaped wide for a second when the leftenant reluctantly withdrew, and she whimpered with her need. After getting the thick book and handing it off to de’Boril, the younger man returned to the cook, who had watched him expectantly while he went about his simple errand. With moans of pleasure, the two returned to their fun. De’Boril flipped to the page he was looking for and studied for some time.

After a while, Sir Gerard finished his studying, and moving with purpose, reached for the bell-pull that would summon Gretel. Within the minute, the maid arrived, her skirts in disarray and her face flushed with what de’Boril knew to be the result of interrupted sexual union. "Girl, tell Antony to get the coach ready, and have Anne pack enough of my things for an extended trip. I’ll be leaving for Tonis this evening. The good leftenant will be traveling with me."

Gretel actually had tears in her eyes by the time her lord had finished speaking. He was leaving? And he was taking Friedrich with him? What would she do!

"Oh, you’d best prepare a pack for yourself as well. I will most likely find a use for your, um, ‘talent’s’ on this trip."

Joyfully, Gretel cried, "Yes, Milord!" and rushed out of the study. She would be traveling with the master!

After some frantic preparations and some tearful farewells, de’Boril and his retinue were on their way. Antony, the driver, steered his coach with a skill developed only over many years. The man had been in de’Boril’s service for a good fifteen years, but his loyalty had recently been reinforced by a late night visit from Amanda. He’d secured his wife’s loyalty not by himself, but by bringing the busty blonde into the room after thoroughly arousing his wife. Amanda had had little trouble seducing the woman as well.

Nigel was a young lad, barely fifteen. He was old enough to act as footman for the coach however, and he was Antony’s son. Gretel had visited the lad just the night before, and his awkward pawing had delighted her. When he had surrendered to his growing needs, she had had loads of fun showing him how and where she liked to be touched. The night had been quite pleasant for both of them. Nigel was riding on rear of the coach, keeping a wary eye on the baggage, making sure it would not fall.

De’Boril, Lyle and Gretel rode within. Most of the baggage was strapped to the roof, but a small cask, containing a number of the small vials of de’Boril’s distillation, was tucked beneath his seat. Sir Gerard was not about to risk his precious treasure to the uncertainties of a coach rack.

The short ride to the capitol passed quickly. Once they passed through the city gates, Leftenant Lyle climbed down from the coach, saluted de’Boril and headed off. The young leftenant had no specific instructions at this time, but de’Boril had suggested that the lad get his affairs in order. Since he had downed a bit of the potion, the lad’s range of influence was as great as de’Boril’s. He would make a large contribution to de’Boril’s cause.

As soon as the coach arrived at his townhouse, a four story structure in one of the wealthier sections of the city, de’Boril sent Gretel scampering inside to inform the house servants that he was present. He directed Antony and Nigel to get the baggage into the house, then left them to their work. By the time he stepped up to the front door, Harris was waiting for him. The old man had been the butler for de’Boril’s father, and had continued on in that capacity for Gerard. Nearing ninety, the man was truly amazing, never forgetting a face or a fact. He had a number of sons, all of which were highly sought after as majordomos. Now he had the small staff of the house ready for presentation. Gretel was standing in the line, only her travel clothes setting her apart from the other maid, the cook and the handyman.

"My lord," Harris began, "we were not expecting you at this time. I’m afraid your rooms are not yet ready."

Gerard nodded. "That’s perfectly alright, Harris, you had no way of knowing." He handed the man his cape.

"Yes sir. A little more warning would have been nice. May I offer you a bite to eat? Cook has prepared a wonderful beef stew that I am sure you will enjoy." Harris handed the cape and de’Boril’s tricorn hat off to the maid, Lilly. The girl, whom Gerard had only seen a couple times before when he chanced to be in the capitol, scurried off with the garments.

Gerard shook his head negatively. "Actually, we ate before we left. I would like you to get me some paper and some ink. I’ll be sending out some letters shortly."

"Of course my lord." Harris shooed the servants off, and Gerard headed for his den. The room was just as he remembered. It held a number of items of memorabilia from his time in the military. The Justicar Marshal’s baton rested in a place of honor on the mantle. Somehow, Harris had managed to get a fire burning in the hearth. The man was amazing!

Within an hour, de’Boril’s letters were on their way, letting any number of people, including the Prince, know that he was in the city. Ostensibly, he was here to participate in the unforgivable spectacle of the gala that the Prince would be holding in only three more days. The event would give him the perfect opportunity to put his plans into operation…

Finally, after finishing a snifter of fine Luskor Brandy, de’Boril headed up to his apartments. He paused on the first landing, hearing Gretel’s voice faintly from the maid’s quarters. Moving quietly, he slipped up to the door leading into the small room that the two girls, Gretel and Lilly, would now have to share. From what he could hear, Lilly was not at all happy with the arrangement.

"I just don’t understand why he had to bring you along. After all, that’s what I’m here for!" Lilly was huddled at the top of the bed, wearing her chemise, watching as Gretel prepared herself for sleep. The girl had short blonde hair, blue eyes and creamy skin. She was only sixteen, and had been employed here for only a few months. The room was smaller than Gretel’s and Anne’s at the tower, meant only for one. The two girls would have to share the bed. Lilly did not think she would get much sleep with this stranger sharing her bed, elbowing her in the middle of the night. "What – what are you doing?"

Gretel had pulled her chemise up and over her head, letting it fall to the floor. The redhead wore only her panties, and she quickly removed those. "I’m getting ready for bed," Gretel said, sounding surprised. "Don’t tell me you still sleep in your shift?" She acted surprised at the look of shock on the younger girl’s face. Her lust for the younger girl, which had been building throughout the evening, was burning deep within her. She knew from experience that it wouldn’t take her long to conquer the girl, but she so enjoyed toying with her!

"Of course I do! And I would appreciate it if you did too!" Lilly was shocked. She was a good girl, and had never thought about sleeping without her nightclothes on. And here was Gretel, bare as the day she was born, getting ready to climb into bed with her!

Gretel looked at the girl with amusement. "You can go right ahead and be uncomfortable in that smock. I’m going to sleep." With that, she climbed under the covers and pulled them up to her neck. Within seconds, as Lilly watched, the redhead seemed to drop off into sleep! Lilly sat huddled at the top of the bed for a few minutes, trying to make up her mind about what to do. She couldn’t go to Harris; the old man would only laugh at her and tell her to solve her own little problems, that he had more important things to worry about! Finally, she inched down, trying to avoid any contact with the other girl, and tried to sleep.

Outside the door, de’Boril heard the exchange, and grinned. Gretel would be having an interesting night! His own lust building, Gerard quickly pulled open his pants, freeing his stiffening cock. It would only be a matter of time, and then he would join the girls…

Lilly flinched when Gretel rolled against her. The other girl was seemingly asleep, but her arm, strangely tingling, rested across Lilly’s belly. Carefully, the blonde shifted her off, whereupon Gretel turned away and curled up, ‘accidentally’ pressing her bare foot against Lilly’s leg, just below her shift. The tingling came again. When Lilly tried to move her leg, Gretel shifted again, and Lilly gasped as the girl’s leg suddenly pressed tightly against hers. She felt the tingling intensify, and this time she didn’t pull away, but lay still.

With a few more shifts, during which Lilly held absolutely still, not wanting to wake the other girl, her chemise was pulled up a bit higher, until it barely covered her hips. She slipped her hand beneath the covers and pulled her shift up just a bit higher, exposing her pants. Ever so slowly, she reached her fingers beneath the under garment, quickly finding her erect clit. Gasping softly, she rubbed it slowly, gently, her body tense.

"I could help you with that, if you want," Gretel whispered, her mouth inches from Lilly’s ear. Lilly jerked guiltily, but Gretel held her close, holding the other girl’s hands where they were. "Lilly, let me help, I can make you feel so good!"

Lilly sobbed, mortified. "What is happening to me! I’ve never felt this way before!" She tried to pull away, but Gretel, stronger than she looked due to the effects of de’Boril’s potion, held her tight. The close grip only intensified the tingling lust that Gretel’s touch had already induced within her. When the redhead slipped her fingers down next to Lilly’s, finding and lightly stroking the blonde’s hidden pearl, Lilly hissed in pleasure and her legs opened ever so slightly.

Gretel teased Lilly’s clit gently for a bit, allowing the mystical lust of her touch to work on the blonde girl, before she softly took the girl’s earlobe beneath her teeth and nibbled. Lilly moaned, surrendering to Gretel’s touch. Neither girl noticed as the door to the room opened softly and de’Boril slipped into the room.

Moving deliberately, the redheaded maid pulled Lilly’s chemise off and tossed it carelessly toward the end of the bed. Lilly’s pants were soon lost in the sheets, and the two girls were entwined, touching and caressing each other. "I’ve never felt, so, so, alive!" Lilly sobbed, feeling Gretel’s fingers slipping lightly across her tight vagina. She’d never been with anyone, boy or girl, so each touch was new and wondrous. Gretel’s look was that of lustful need, and Lilly would have been stunned had she realized that she wore a similar look!

Gretel shifted about, rising to straddle the younger girl, her hands finding the youthful breasts of the younger girl. Lilly arched her back, giving into the redhead’s demands. Her own hands slid up to cup Gretel’s soft mounds.

Soon, Gretel whispered, "do you want to taste me?" Lilly immediately responded, barely audible and with a small catch to her voice, "yes." The young blonde sobbed with need as Gretel laid next to her, spreading her thighs wide, giving Lilly full access to her glistening pussy. "Oh, you are so beautiful," Lilly cried, before kneeling between the other girl’s legs and burying her face in Gretel’s muff.

Gretel hissed, arching back in pleasure, feeling Lilly’s tongue diving between her nether lips, tasting her corruption. She finally caught sight of Sir Gerard off to the side, and moaned again with the overwhelming lust she felt, knowing she would share this little girl with her master. The thought almost made her cum!

De’Boril stepped forward then, completely naked by now, and knelt on the bed behind the young virgin. Lilly looked back, her lust-filled gaze barely registering the man, her master, behind her. As his hands tightened on her hips, the tingling within them reinforcing Gretel’s own power, the girl wriggled teasingly before returning her attentions to Gretel’s pussy. De’Boril moved in close, and with a grunt he penetrated the girl’s untouched hole. "Ahh, oww, please!" Lilly cried, feeling a man within her for the first time. De’Boril forced her hips back, filling her viciously, only to fill her with his hot, burning, tainted jism. Arching back, the girl, hissed in stunned surprise as de’Boril held her tight through the massive orgasms. Finally, dazed and spent, the girl dropped to lie atop Gretel, oblivious to the world.

De’Boril quickly pulled his clothes on, while Gretel softly stroked the unconscious girl lying atop her. "Guide her, lass. I don’t want either of you running wild. I need you to be careful with those that you choose to bed."

"Yes, Milord, we will." Gretel softly kissed the blonde’s head, which was nestled between her breasts.

Lyle stood for a moment, watching the coach vanish into the city, before swinging up onto his horse. The musketeer set off for his flat, near Army Headquarters, where he wasted little time changing into a fresh uniform. All the while, he could feel the power coiling within him, ready to be unleashed at his whim.

Friedrich had changed drastically in the last few days. Prior to his trip to de’Boril’s tower, he had been satisfied with the thought of a life in the military, and possibly marrying into the de’Forst Family, ensuring his mother and siblings a steady income for the rest of their lives. He had not been an ambitious man, and for a soldier he’d been fairly mild-mannered. Now, however, with the taint of de’Boril’s potion coursing through his veins, now things were different. The action of the potion on his psyche had as much, if not more, effect as the physical changes within him. With de’Boril’s draught burning within him, he could not help but think of himself as privileged, even superior.

He paused a moment before leaving his flat, his slim rapier in hand. Lord de’Boril had not tasked him with anything immediate; presumably the old soldier would have a ‘battle’ plan in place soon, and Lyle would be a part of it. Until then, he was on his own. There was one, he knew, that he would visit shortly, and with every intention of claiming her as his own. Julia.

Lovely Julia. Cold Julia. His fiancé has baited him for months, though she had never delivered. He was hardly surprised; given the de’Forst Family’s reputation as a powerful, opportunistic clan, Lyle had despaired of ever sampling her charms, or at least, not until they’d been properly wed. Lyle had been willing to put up with her games. After all, the benefits to his family were immeasurable, and she was a true beauty, well worth the wait. Or, so he had once thought.

The situation had changed drastically now though. He would be doing no more waiting, would be submitting to no more baiting.

The young officer hurried to the Headquarters building, with the purpose of reporting in. He’d barely entered the Commander’s office when Sergeant Major Parant signaled him over.

Lyle nodded respectively to the old warrior. "How are you today, Sergeant Major?"

The Sergeant Major ignored the greeting. "Where you been, Leftenant? The Commander expected you back days ago." Parant’s piercing glare stabbed out at Lyle, a look that had made many junior officers tremble, as though accusing Lyle of purposely causing difficulty.

A few days ago, the look would have made Lyle tremble too. Annoying Parant could have fatal consequences for an officer’s career. Times had changed. "Lord de’Boril insisted on having me stay a bit, Sergeant Major. He knew my father, and when he found out who I was, there was nothing I could do to get away any sooner. You told me to show my respect." This last was said a bit reproachfully, for the Sergeant Major, another of de’Boril’s former comrades, had great respect for the old commander, and had grilled Lyle repeatedly on how to behave before the young man had left on his courier mission.

Parant sniffed. "Aye, I did. Didn’t expect that to keep you away for days though." He looked up the hall toward the Commander’s office and nodded. "By the way, the Commander isn’t in. Out for a look at the 3^rd Lancers. I’ve got Sergeant Dalont covering you for another couple days, and the Commander won’t be back until the Prince’s gala." The Sergeant Major made no effort to hide his disgust, unlike de’Boril’s first reaction. Lyle, who’d been under Parant’s supervision from the moment he’d reported in, was quite familiar with his feelings toward the event, and had shared them even before his exposure to de’Boril’s thoughts.

Lyle looked suitably apologetic, though he knew that nothing would come of his tardiness. Parant continued with, "why don’t you knock off and go visit that girl of yours." The Sergeant Major was already turning away, glaring at one of the orderlies.

"Thank you, Sergeant Major."

Stepping onto the court in front of Headquarters, Lyle couldn’t suppress a grin. A visit to Julia was just what he had in mind…

As the night deepened about him, Lyle strode confidently through the darkness. He’d left his horse stabled; he didn’t want to draw the attention it would create.

The quickest way to the de’Forst villa was to cut through one of the seedier sections of the city, just to the south of Trader’s Market. Most would avoid this route, even though going around would take quite a bit longer. Lyle didn’t hesitate for a moment though. He moved easily into the shadows, along the sparsely occupied streets and alleys, sure he could handle anything that might attempt to cause him difficulty.

Sure enough, two blocks from the edge of the district, three toughs tried to take him. The only warning Lyle had was a muffled grunt and the scuffle of rapidly approaching bodies, but it was enough to give the young officer warning and to whirl about to face his assailants.

The first ruffian staggered to the side as the scabbard of Lyle’s still-sheathed blade slammed into his head. As the man dropped limply to the ground, the second tough, a huge man with a filthy black beard, growled and tried to bear Lyle to the ground, bull-rushing him. Lyle dropped to one knee, and levered the man up and over with one hand, the enhanced strength the distillation had gifted him with easily compensating for the man’s bulk. Black beard uttered a stunned oath as he sailed overhead.

With a skirl of steel, Lyle freed his blade. The third man, seeing how quickly Lyle had dealt with his mates, had stopped just out of reach of the shimmering steel and was now backing slowly away, fear in his eyes. "Lads, be glad I don’t have the time to kill you." Lyle flicked the tip of his blade up, and the man ran, leaving his mates groaning behind him. Lyle left them there too, sheathing his sword and continuing on his way. The brief scuffle had driven home just how much he’d changed. Everything was different now…

With no further misadventures, Lyle soon found himself arriving at the de’Forst villa. He paused a moment, grinning. The imposing building, built during the time of the Halifax Rebellions more than a century ago and consequently surrounded by a fairly substantial wall, was elegant in its simplicity. Hidden by that simple exterior though, Lyle knew that there was room upon room of objet d’art that, had Clarion de’Forst wished, could be used to buy up half the city. Clarion was the de’Forst Clan head and Julia’s father, a lion of a man with honorable service in the Principality’s Armed Forces and a ruthlessness when it came to trade that made him feared in cities the world over.

These thoughts passed through Lyle’s head even as he eyed the wall thoughtfully. Then, with a running leap, he grasped the top of the surrounding wall, pulling himself up with little effort. In moments, he’d crossed the extensive, statue-strewn lawns and arrived below Julia’s balcony. He’d seen no one up to that point, though he knew that the de’Forst’s did not pinch pennies when it came to their security. He had little time. Examining the walls beneath Julia’s room thoughtfully, Lyle paused for only a moment before carefully making his way upward. Without his new strength, the climb would have been impossible, but now, it was merely difficult. Finally, as quietly as he could, Lyle stepped onto the balcony and quickly found a deep shadow. From below, he could make out the muffled steps of the expected patrol as it passed by, a patrol that never noticed his entrance.

Lyle grinned, the excitement of his infiltration making him giddy. He calmed himself before shifting to where he could make out Julia’s room. From the concealment of the balcony’s deep shadows, Lyle could make out his fiancé’s room. He’d never been in the room himself, having never made it past the main sitting room down below. There was a first time for everything, he thought wryly.

The canopied bed, the most imposing piece of furniture within, huge and draped in filmy white gauze, thrust out into the room from one side. Other bits of furniture were scattered here and there, a largish divan and a settee, a number of small tables holding assorted bric-a-brac, not one but two massive wardrobes. Lyle was disappointed to see that Julia was not present.

He settled down to wait. After all, he had nothing better to do.

It was nearing midnight when his lady finally returned. The door suddenly opened, admitting a maid, who held the door for her lady. Shrinking once more into the shadows, Lyle spied upon his fiancé. Julia looked stunning, dressed in a fine red silk gown; her blonde tresses gleaming from the thorough combing she had her maids give it every day. She ignored the woman that held the door for her, completely missing the maid’s curtsy and withdrawal. Instead, she moved to the divan, quickly releasing the catches on her dress and discarding the red silk, tossing it negligently across the settee. Lyle’s heart started pounding in a way that had nothing to do with the excitement of sneaking onto the de’Forst grounds. Wearing only her underskirts, she sat before the divan’s mirror for a moment, admiring herself. Lyle was just about to enter, preparing to begin his ‘conversion’ of the girl, when Julia reached out, stroking one corner of the mirror’s frame. She muttered something under her breath as she did so. Lyle paused, still wreathed in shadows, blinking in surprise.

The mirror, which until then had reflected the image of the beautiful girl before it, clouded quickly. In a moment it cleared once more, but this time it showed a man, sitting in a chair and reading a slim book. "Marcus," Julia called softly.

The man looked up immediately, a smile lighting his face. "I was waiting for your call, Lady," he said. Lyle, still amazed at the magical mirror Julia possessed, and suddenly fearful of what she may have observed over the last couple days, still noted that the man reflected there was none other than Lord Marcus Alint, an older man well regarded among the peerage, quite wealthy and quite married. Alint had a number of interests within the city, and sat on the Prince’s Council. For a man still in his late forties, he was extremely powerful. Seeing him here, reflected in Julia’s mirror, caused Lyle a bit of concern. More than a little wary, Lyle scowled. He slipped further into the shadows to see how this would play out.

"Can you come through?" Julia was asking softly, a near whisper. Lyle could hear something in her voice that he’d never heard before. Desire? Yearning?

Alint glanced thoughtfully to the side, pursing his lips. "Aye, I can. Aria took a draft tonight that will have her asleep til noon tomorrow… Open the way."

Lyle watched carefully as Julia touched another section of the mirror. It took on a silvery sheen, then an intense glow flowed from it, creating a bright… something… before the mirror. Then, Alint appeared, stepping from the glow casually, as if he traveled this way often. Lyle pursed his lips thoughtfully.

As soon as the mirror returned to normal, Alint turned and took Julia in his arms. The two embraced, kissing passionately. Lyle gripped his sword tightly. The situation was unexpected. Quite unexpected. But then again, the last few days had gone a long way toward giving Lyle an expanded view of what was possible. This situation might be of more interest to Lord de’Boril than he’d thought…

"I have missed you, my sweet," Alint rumbled as he stroked the girl’s hair. "Aria has been a constant pain these last few days. Only by thinking of you was I able to stand it."

"My Lord, I wish we could be together in truth, instead of this half-life we have, but," Julia rested her head against Alint’s chest, "what can we do?"

Alint sighed. "Nothing, nothing." He kissed her again, stroking her gleaming hair gently.

Alint and Julia wasted little time. The man, with many years of experience, easily slipped the closures on Julia’s undergarments open, quickly freeing her youthful, beautiful body. Breasts of the purest white were revealed first, then her waist, her hips, and then the golden-hued snatch of muff between her thighs. Last of all, her long, slim legs. Lyle’s heart thudded loudly, the influence of the elixir making it an effort of will to remain in the shadows.

Alint too was soon stripped bare. He was a big man, well-muscled. He’d kept himself in shape over the years, spending a good amount of time on the dueling mats, Lyle supposed. His hair, a sandy brown with a sprinkling of silver, was tied off in a queue, and his skin was browned from much time in the sun. He had narrow hips, and he had been blessed, Lyle noted sourly, with a good-sized cock. Lyle watched with as much calm as he could muster, as Julia’s delicate, pale hand closed about the man’s shaft, and he barely heard her appreciative murmurs. Slowly, teasingly, Lyle’s fiancé moved back to her bed, pulling the flimsy drapes haphazardly aside. She sank into the softness of the mattress, her arms encircling Alint, pulling him closer. The man hissed in pleasure when Julia’s coral-hued tongue darted from between glistening lips to find the head of his cock.

Lyle was breathing rhythmically as he watched, maintaining his mental distance from the scene in front of him. Almost casually, he removed his clothing, preparing himself for his next, required, action. The drive of the potion within him would not allow him to slip away quietly. Not now, with the sexual tension building within the room. He retained his mental faculties though, and knew that this could well be a boon for de’Boril and his budding plans. Adding Julia to de’Boril’s ‘Clan’, and through her, Alint, would give de’Boril a leg up even before he’d truly begun…

Alint was standing before the girl, rocking slightly as she worked his shaft between her lips. Julia’s arms were wrapped about the man’s hips, holding him close. Now, Lyle thought.

Stepping into the room carrying his still-sheathed blade and wearing not a strip of clothing, Lyle moved quickly. Before Alint could do more than note a bit of movement in his peripheral vision, Lyle was behind him, slamming the hilt of his weapon against the back of the older man’s head. Alint dropped without a sound.

Julia, startled at Alint’s sudden collapse, looked up, her eyes widening with shock. Lyle was upon her before she could draw breath to scream. He’d discarded his blade as soon as Alint had dropped, freeing both hands. He pressed in on her, shoving her back onto her bed, one hand slapping across her mouth with the strength of iron, the other catching her arm tightly.

Muffled as she was, Julia still tried to plead. Lying atop her, Lyle could feel her futile efforts of escape. He shook his head and smiled. From only inches away, he whispered, "ah, Lady Julia. I’d not expected to find you in such a… such an interesting position." There was fear in Julia’s eyes.

Lyle felt the expected tingling where his skin touched Julia’s. As both wore not a bit of clothing, the tingling was pretty much everywhere. "Do you feel that," he whispered, still holding the girl tight. "Of course you do. With every passing second, your desire for me is growing, love. Unless you free yourself quickly, that tingling will have you begging me to fuck you, will have you wanting nothing more than my cock buried within you."

Julia was obviously feeling the effects of that wondrous tingling. The fear was still there, but her eyes were hooded, and her breathing had changed. Moaning softly, she still struggled a bit, but the pauses were growing longer…

Lyle waited a few moments more, before releasing her arms and almost gently running his hand down her flank. He felt Julia’s body quiver in response, and she made no attempt to wriggle away. He drew his hand up once more, shifting slightly so that he might capture her breast, fingering her rigid nipple. She arched against him, as if to allow him further access to her charms.

Lyle released her mouth. The only sounds Julia issued were soft gasps of need. With a savage joy, Lyle captured her mouth with his, taking a kiss from the woman that had denied him so much. Shortly, he would be taking so much more…

When the kiss finally broke, Julia gasped out, "H-how, Friedrich, ahh!" Lyle’s mouth had closed on that needy nipple, working it with teeth, tongue and lips. He didn’t bother to respond to the girl’s query.

After exploring her body thoroughly, causing her to orgasm once in the process as he nuzzled her clit roughly, Lyle rose to his knees. His solid cock speared upward, quivering with need. Staring at the supine girl before him, her eyes almost closed and her breasts heaving, flushed with desire, Lyle decided he could hold back no more.

Stroking himself, he ordered, "Roll over." A moment later, Julia twisted about, thrusting the sheets, already tangled from her frantic thrashing, to the side. Lyle paused a moment longer to admire the girl’s smooth perfection, her sleek body, the silken curve of her hips and ass. Then wasting no more time, he thrust forward, burying himself within her waiting hole.

Julia was thrusting herself back, attempting to impale herself as far as possible on Lyle’s tool. Lyle had to hold her tight about the waist to keep her from bucking him off. She thrashed back and forth, grinding against him. He continued his steady, pounding. Feeling his own release mounting, he pulled her tight against him, holding her there in spite of her frantic wriggling, until he reached his release.

As he expected, the sudden flood of his come within her took Julia over the edge into convulsions of pleasure. Her shuddering and moaning continued for quite a while. Still kneeling between the girl’s legs, Lyle watched some of his excess seed ooze from her well-used twat. After what seemed to be more than five minutes, Julia finally recovered. She held herself still for a moment longer before languidly turning about.

Facing Lyle once more, completely unconcerned about her nudity, she stared at the man who had just taken her. "I’m yours," she muttered softly, eyes wide, her fingers already reaching for her semen-filled box.

"Aye, you are."

Lyle wasted little time with Julia once he’d taken her into the ‘family’. He pursed his lips thoughtfully at the man still lying unconscious on the floor at the foot of Julia’s bed before telling her to fuck the man well. Julia was already slipping to the floor, her eager mouth once more seeking Alint’s cock, when Lyle said, "I’ll see you soon. Don’t take anyone else within the household unless you’ve asked me first." When the girl, busy attempting to ‘revive’ Lord Alint, didn’t respond, Lyle snagged a bunch of her hair and pulled her head back. "Do you understand!"

Gasping, tears in her eyes, Julia gasped out, "Yes, Milord." Lyle let her go back to her ministrations, before slipping once more onto the balcony.

"Not exactly the way I imagined it," he muttered, looking out over the grounds as he quickly dressed, "but it can’t hurt to have Lord Alint under the influence…"

Short minutes later, even as Marcus Alint was beginning to respond to Julia de’Forst’s determined attentions, Lyle strolled easily along darkened streets, returning to his flat.

Lord Gerard de’Boril spent the majority of the day after his arrival creating a list of potential ‘converts’. He already had a wide base of support within the Principality, due to his military skills, but with that popularity came a price. A large number of the Principality’s elite feared him for the support he held. While he chose to remain on his lands outside of Tonis, they were content to do nothing against him. With his arrival in the city though, certain individuals were bound to act.

De’Boril chuckled as he read Leftenant Lyle’s note at breakfast. The short missive had arrived at the crack of dawn, and in a few brief sentences, informed de’Boril of Julia de’Forst’s ‘conversion’, as well as her interest in Marcus Alint. As it turned out, Alint was a long-time friend of de’Boril’s, but knowing that he was certain to remain a friend was reassuring. Now Aria, Marcus’ wife, she might need some attention…

The Prince’s Gala was scheduled for the next day, but de’Boril had plenty to do in the meantime. A number of the names on his list, in fact the majority by far, were men. He would need some special women to snare them, and while his maids were likely up to it, and more than willing, the logistics of getting them where they needed to be would be daunting. There was not one but two formal balls that evening though, and there would be a number of ladies there that would come in quite handy.

Of course, there were ladies on his list as well, and he would take great pleasure in seeing to them personally.

The morning passed quickly and soon enough de’Boril was preparing for the first event. The Halvminster Clan was holding a Ball in honor of the Prince’s Gala. De’Boril imagined that most of the Principality’s senior officers would be there, as honored guests, as well as a large percentage of the peerage. He had received his own invitation some time ago, though Theodore Halvminster did not likely believe he would put in an appearance. The two men disliked each other intensely. Halvminster owned a huge percentage of the country’s mercantile fleet, and had substantial influence over the parts that he didn’t. With Halvminster under his thumb, a sizable chunk of the opposition he expected to face would no longer be a factor.

De’Boril found young Nigel between the legs of one of the local maids. The boy’s seed could not evoke a lasting bond, but he still had the ‘touch’. The girl, her skirts thrown over her head, was frantically humping the boy’s cock. Nigel was gritting his teeth, sweat beading his brow, his need obvious.

“Come on then, lad, finish her off and go find Antony. I wish to leave quickly!”

Nigel’s eyes widened, but he didn’t quite pull away from the girl, who hadn’t even slowed down at the sound of the master’s voice. “B-be right with y-you, milord!” the boy gasped, before beginning to pound the girl in earnest. When he came, he sent the bit of fluff into a series of orgasms. As she convulsed, he scrambled up, reaching for his breeches, leaving the girl. She lay in the hay forgotten, breathing heavily, everything from her waist down as bare as the day she was born, her skirts still up over her head. Young, de’Boril thought, eyeing the small mat of damp curls between her legs, but not too young for the lad. She’d likely become a regular doxy of his…

In moments, Nigel had found Antony and the two were hitching the team. Before too much time had passed, Sir Gerard was on his way to the Halvminster Villa.

As de’Boril stepped from his coach, one of the Halvminster grooms appeared to take his hat and cloak. He relinquished them easily before entering the grounds. Within, as with many of the villas kept by the Noble Families in Tonis, there was a large court, park-like, with a crushed stone path leading up to the main entry. Well maintained shrubs were scattered about in a seemingly random pattern. Between them could be glimpsed a number of statues and a few massive stone fountains. A number of couples were wandering the grounds, enjoying the mild weather, making pithy comments about the Halvminster’s taste in statuary, flora and, in the case of a number of colorful peacocks, fauna. Unnoticed by most, house guards patrolled the wall. Sir Gerard ignored the pageant, noted the guards, and strode directly for the Main Hall.

As de’Boril entered, the Halvminster Major Domo took one look at him, rapped his staff against the marble floor, and announced, “Sir Gerard de’Boril, Marquis of MalBoril, Commander, Tonisian Armed Forces, Retired.” De’Boril didn’t spare the man a glance, though he noted a number of people looking him over as he entered. He rarely put in an appearance at the various amusements the Tonisian Nobility seemed to partake in continuously, so his appearance here was something of note. He hoped their natural curiosity would lure a few of his targets to him without too much fuss.

Making his way down the shallow marble staircase, Gerard nodded to those that acknowledged his presence. Most he knew, some he did not, but all were minor players in the game he’d decided to enter. He felt as though he were a shark amid a school of unwary tuna, carefully choosing his next meal.

“My Lord.”

De’Boril turned. Leftenant Lyle stood dressed in formal kit, complete with sword, looking quite dashing and drawing a number of glances from the nearby ladies. He stood almost at attention.

“Good to see you Lyle.” De’Boril grinned. “I presume your lady is about somewhere?”

Friedrich returned the grin. “She’s due to arrive shortly. I’m sure she’ll be even more stunning than usual.” Both men laughed.

“Excuse me, gentlemen, but a dance is about to begin, and I feel sure, Sir de’Boril, that you are quite capable on the floor.”

The two men turned to regard the lady that had approached them. Lady Sasha de’Cort, Theodore Halvminster’s sister, regarded the two with a slightly amused expression. The lady’s husband had died of illness the year before, leaving the de’Cort holdings to her daughter’s husband. Lady Sasha refused to live on the kindness of her children and had returned to the Halvminster estates. It was rumored that the striking woman’s mercantile skills rivaled her brother’s. She was in her early fifties, and still quite attractive. Both men bowed, and Lyle said, “I’ve not seen him dance, my lady, but I’ll wager you’re right.” He turned, saying, “my lord, if you’ll excuse me?”

De’Boril waved him away. “Look to your lady, lad, and enjoy yourself. I’ll find you later and we can compare notes.” Lyle nodded and was soon lost amid the crowd. Smiling at Lady de’Cort, de’Boril held out his hand. “If that was an offer, my lady, I’m quite incapable of refusing.”

Taking the lady’s hand, and almost immediately feeling the expected tingling, de’Boril stifled a smile. He was sure Halvminster had sent her over to discover why he was here, of all places, when it was well known that he detested both Halvminster and the typical amusements the nobility loved to indulge in. Lady de’Cort would uncover his secret, he was sure, but the effort was likely to cost her more than she expected…

And Lady de’Cort was just the sort of person he’d hoped to ‘acquire’ at the affair. As the dance began, de’Boril mused on the lady’s potential, and was pleased.

Before the dance was even half over, Gerard could detect a faint flush beneath Lady Sasha’s cosmetics. Her eyes gradually became slightly unfocused as well.

The dance finally came to an end. “My,” Lady de’Cort breathed, staggering slightly, “I think I should get some air…” She held tight to de’Boril’s arm, as if reluctant to lose him.

“Come, Lady Sasha.” De’Boril led her through a set of grand doors, and, instead of taking her to the balcony, as she seemed to have indicated, he led her deeper into the House. “You seem ill, my lady,” he said, “perhaps you should retire to your room and lie down.”

“Yes…”

With a little direction from the lady, the pair soon arrived at the lady’s suite. De’Boril entered without so much as pausing and led the lady to a settee in the corner. Leaving her for a moment, and well aware that her eyes, only half open, never left him, he returned to the door and threw the bolt.

“I’m not quite sure—“

“Hush.” De’Boril silenced her, and drew her skirts to her waist. Lady Sasha continued to watch him, her breathing coming quickly, even aiding him in stripping off her pants, baring her surprisingly shapely legs as well as her hidden secrets. She did little more than murmur softly as de’Boril ran his hand familiarly up her inner thigh.

When de’Boril stood, the Lady Sasha remained as he left her, fully clothed from the waist up, her skirts gathered thickly about her waist, and bare as the day she was born from there down. Her bosom rose and fell rapidly, and her eyes gleamed, never leaving the man before her.

De’Boril loosened his belt and soon freed his member. His thick shaft captured the lady’s attention fully. De’Boril stepped close, and without thought Lady Sasha’s hands rose to grip him and to stroke him. Her tongue poked hungrily out a moment before she leaned forward, moaning, to take him into her mouth.

Gerard allowed her to suck him for a bit, watching expressionlessly while she struggled to free her breasts from their containment while continuing her fellacio. Freeing one, she gripped it savagely, pinching her reddened nipple fiercely.

She continued to service him wantonly for some time, but de’Boril was not content with this. She whined as he pulled free, and moved toward him, unwilling to stop. Her skirts dropped to the floor as she stood.

“No,” he chided, “I’ll take you according to my will, not yours. Come.” The man took a firm hold of the lady’s arm and led her to one of the many over-stuffed sitting chairs. He took her around the back and none-too-gently pushed her forward. With a small cry, Lady Sasha toppled over the back of the chair, which left her toes barely touching the floor. De’Boril immediately had her skirts up again, the heavy pile dropping to cover her head. She could feel the tingling warmth of his touch on her bare ass, and she couldn’t stifle her cry when his penis entered her. She was powerless to stop him, hadn’t wanted to stop him from the moment he’d first lifted her skirts, and now he was taking her as impersonally as a man could. Before he’d withdrawn and re-entered thrice, the lady had found her breasts once more. She was soon moaning and thrashing about, completely abandoning any attempt at salvaging her dignity.

From where he stood, the Lady Sasha had a mighty fine ass. De’Boril pressed forward, burying himself to the hilt within her sweet warmth. He could hear the lady’s muffled cries and moans, and he allowed himself a triumphant grin. One hand on each smooth, creamy buttock, he pressed into her again and again.

A short time later, Lady Sasha thrashed even more energetically, her orgasm causing her to cry out and her body to convulse in rhythmic pleasure. “You’re in for a surprise, my lady,” de’Boril muttered, unheard by the woman before him, “if you thought that was good.”

Feeling the pressure building, de’Boril did not hold back. He thrust forward; pulling the woman’s hips back firmly, burying his cock in her slick folds as far as possible before the fire burst forth.

The shock of the first load brought the lady arcing upright, a screech of pure astonishment escaping her. De’Boril held her there, holding tight to her bare breasts as she continued to convulse, mute now but mouth wide open in a silent scream. He filled her with his taint, and that taint worked its magic. Moments later, Lady Sasha de’Cort collapsed unconscious in his arms.

Scooping her up, he somewhat carelessly tossed her to her bed, not bothering to cover her. As he waited for the lady to recover sufficiently, Gerard looked her over possessively. She was his now, he knew, and he liked what he saw. The woman was no longer in the full flower of youth, it was true, but she’d kept herself trim and neat, and she seemed much younger than she actually was. Such a woman, an attractive lady of the Peerage, would be invaluable.

He was fully clothed and sitting casually in the chair where he’d so casually fucked her, when the lady finally awoke. He watched as she pushed herself upright, touching herself in wonder as she felt the changes within her. When she looked at him from beneath the many strands of silken hair that had been freed during their encounter, he saw the now-familiar wanton need. “What have you done to me?”

Rising, de’Boril stepped close and offered his hand. Lady de’Cort accepted, not bothering to cover her nudity, and she allowed him to pull her up. Looking into her eyes from inches away, and all too aware of her bare breasts brushing lightly against him, he said, “I’ve claimed you as my own, my lady.”

De’Boril went on to explain the situation, and as they left the apartments, both now once more suitably presentable, Lady Sasha de’Cort had come to realize that her entire life had just changed forever.