MY INHERITANCE
Chapter 21
Pinged
Andy was mortified. She began to blush, the red rising from somewhere under the
ski skin which encased her delicious body to cover her face. She was red as a
lobster. Her lower lip quivered. Really though, it was a laughable situation.
There Eve (I will continue to call her that, if you don't mind) and I were,
naked and obviously freshly fucked, when Andy asked for Eve's autograph.
"I'm sorry, Davy," she whimpered and turned to leave. I grabbed her ankle.
"Come back here," I said, pulling her down beside me. Andy looked as guilty as a
puppy caught pooping on the carpet. When Eve finally controlled her laughter,
she was very nice to Andy, and signed the autograph she requested.
"Who is she?" Eve asked. "Andrea Matthews," I answered.
"No. I mean, what is she to you?"
Andy's eyes were boring into me as I thought. It was a good question. What was
Andy to me? She was my kitten, but I could hardly explain to someone that meant
a chemically programmed sex slave. She was my roommate, but that sounded like
we were assigned the same room by some liberal college somewhere. Friend? She
was more than that. Lover? Yes. Concubine? I am not a king. Personal slut?
Andy was not at all slutty unless I told her to be.
I knew Andy remembered my proposal of marriage on the streets of San Francisco
when a movie star and I got in a bidding war for her services as she game-played
as a hooker. Fiancé then? Andy had told me she did not need a piece of paper to
belong to me, that the proposal was enough for her. Sweetheart? That is what
she called me. It was a nice, old-fashioned word.
"Sweetheart," I said. Andy liked that. I could tell by her smile.
"Andy, do you mind your sweetheart having sex with another woman?" Eve asked.
"Of course not. I understand a man needs many women while a woman is most happy
with just one man. A good woman, like me, helps her man by encouraging him to
have sex with other women and finding them for him. Don't you do that for your
man?"
If there were any question Andy had been programmed, that statement alone should
vanquish it. At first, Eve thought Andy was putting her on, but, as they
talked, Eve realized Andy was sincere. Still, she decided to put it to the test.
"So, Andy, if Dave and I were to have sex right in front of you, you would not
mind?"
"Not in the least. In fact, I would like to join in, if you don't mind."
That is how Eve, Andy and I ended up naked in the big bed, doing wonderful
things to each other. Picture Eve. That should be easy since everyone has seen
her in a skimpy red swim suit. Picture Andy. That should be easy, too.
Envision what each of them looks like. Then, see them together on the bed,
naked, nipples touching as they gently caress each other. Picture yourself
squeezing between them to everyone's delight and the two of them focusing all
that girl power on you. Nice picture, isn't it?
I think Eve was surprised when Andy decided to take my cum from her pussy, and
more surprised when she orgasmed from it. I was not at all surprised by Andy's
actions or Eve's response. She was a sexual women being pleasured by a sexual
woman.
Before she left, Eve offered to get Andy a screen test for Baywatch, since Andy
had already passed the most important test for that organization, which is a
body to die for. Truthfully, Andy was better looking than any of them. I
realized it was the second time someone in show business had offered Andy a
start.
The three of us went back out into the beautiful, sunshiny day. I followed
behind them about five paces just to watch the crowd reaction. The Pope and the
President together would not have turned more heads. I had beeped Mary so I
knew she and Eve's escort were at The Left Bank, nibbling hor d'oeuvres and
sipping wine. We joined them there. I could tell from Eve's conversation the
whole time with me was wiped from her conscious mind. We said our goodbyes,
leaving Eve to explain to her escort why she was too tired to do anything else
that evening.
"Well? How was she?" Mary asked.
"Absolutely fantastic. Almost as good as you." Andy cleared her throat. "Or,
Andy," I added. She beamed.
"Ready for another one?"
"What do you mean?"
"I saw (she named the star of another series). She is a kitten, too."
What the hell. A guy has to do what a guy has to do. Later, after it was all
over, I must say that one did not compare to Eve or to my kittens. Still, she
wasn't bad.
A blizzard rolled in while I was enjoying myself with the other star. By the
time it was over during the night, we would get twenty-one inches of new snow.
The kittens and I hit a steak house, ordered ribeyes medium rare with potatoes
and merlot. After dinner, we trudged back to the house. Through the blowing
snow, I could see a strange car parked in the driveway. As we got closer, the
car doors swung open.
It was my Dad, Mom and my three sisters.
"Surprise! Merry Christmas!" they yelled. Damn, it was good to see them. This
Christmas was not going to be the first time I was away from them after all.
After hugging and laughing our greetings, we unloaded all their belongings,
including a pile of presents, and went back to the steak house since they had
not eaten.
The kittens and I sipped wine as the others ate. I suddenly realized Mom and my
sisters, Abby, Betty and Cathy, were also my kittens since they had been
programmed by Uncle Bert, who was my father but not theirs. I don't want to go
through all that again. You remember, don't you?
Andy and I had visited with Mom and Dad (as I continued to call Charles) in LA
when we visited after our training with Madame Delilah. It was then I had taken
Mom into her trance and commanded her to make sure Dad was the best fucked man
in LA.
I had never seen Dad look better. His eyes were bright, he had lost some weight.
He was trim and fit. More importantly, he acted as happy as I could ever
remember seeing him. Mom looked good, too. And, she looked more relaxed than
usual. I noticed she was wearing a baggy sweater but it seemed to stick out
more than I remembered. I wondered.
I had not seen my sisters since Bert's funeral. Abby and Betty, the twins, were
almost twenty. My birthday was January 19. Theirs was January 20 two years
later. They were typical, bubbly, sweet young women. Both were very smart and
pretty but not beautiful. Looking at them, I would have guessed they were
virgins although I knew Uncle Bert had taken care of that problem some years
back. They just had that virgin look.
Cathy was another story. Eighteen (her birthday was in September) and just
starting college, Cathy had an IQ of 175. She also had a body that almost
equaled Andy's. She was very sexual but not slutty. She was a classy young
woman. But, that was not it. Cathy had something else.
Let me see if I can describe it adequately.
Submarines use their electronic underwater listening apparatus, sonar, to "ping"
other submarines. That ping lets the target sub know the "pinging" sub is
there. Surface ships are unaware. Subs not targeted are unaware. Only the sub
being pinged hears the ping. If you were a Russian sub pinged by an American
sub, it would make you very cautious. You would be on eternal alert as long as
that American sub was nearby. Your torpedoes would be loaded and ready.
Cathy pinged men. Ping, ping. You could almost feel it when she walked into a
room. She was sending signals, pinging every man she wanted to target. They
would jump, their backs would straighten. They would look around until they saw
her and identified her as the source of the energy they were receiving. They
were on alert. And, I am sure their torpedoes were loaded and ready to fire.
I do not know if it was smell, or something about her expression, or mental
telepathy. I just know they knew she was there. She would be in the forefront
of their thought until she was out of pinging range, whatever that was. And,
Cathy knew exactly where every man was and how hard she had pinged him.
Uncle Bert had not programmed this. Mary did not have it and neither did Andy.
Even Eve, who made her living transmitting sexual signals over television
signals, did not have it. This was something in Cathy.
As I looked around the restaurant, I could tell the men Cathy had pinged. They
were receiving signals. Dad seemed to be unaware. I wondered if Cathy did not
ping him because he was her father or if he did not accept the ping for the same
reason. Or, maybe, some men just did not receive any pings, assuming other
women gave off the same signals.
Wondering if I had even been pinged by Cathy, I remembered once about two years
ago when she came in from a date. Cathy had looked disheveled as if she had been
petting heavily. She saw me sitting in the corner reading as she walked into the
den. I had felt it then, a sharp, almost physical stabbing at if someone was
sticking the point of a toothpick against my abdomen. Cathy had been staring at
me. It was a very sexual stare which made my cock hard. She had looked away
and gone to her room. The pinging did not stop until I heard her door close.
Ping, ping, ping. I was feeling it now. I looked at Cathy who was staring
directly at me with a secretive, wanton, "I want to fuck you" look. I felt the
toothpick. My cock twitched. The pinging stopped as she looked away, rejoining
the conversation. As I glanced around the table, it appeared no one else had
seen our exchange except Mary. She had that look in her eye as she watched me
over her wine glass.
Dinner over, we all headed back toward the house. We sent Andy and Dad on a
detour to the small market nearby to pick up extra supplies for the bigger
crowd. I led the five kittens into my lair. By the time Andy and Dad got back,
I had programmed Mom, Abby, Betty and Cathy like I wanted them.
Mary and I had talked. I knew there were programmed men. Uncle Bert said he had
programmed Dad to accept me as his son. I asked Mary what the commands were.
"The initial question is: 'Do you prefer steak or pie?'" If the man replies, 'I
prefer pie if it is rich and sweet' then he is programmed. Then, you say, "This
is a sweet, juicy pie, with a full crust which is plumb around the edges.' He
will answer, 'Where do I find it?' You then give him the command."
When Dad walked in, I took him into a trance.
This was going to be my best Christmas ever.
To be continued . . .
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Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com
