Drummer Boy – Jason Goes to Hell Ch. 03

"Assuredly not," Granny said, unamused. "Would you please fix this? I felt foolish enough already, please allow me the tiniest shred of dignity."

Jason hesitated, and Granny sensed it. "If you're worried for your safety," Granny said, "you needn't. Once the Naughty Chair is activated, the binding prevents movement, as well as magic. If I were not so constrained, we would not be have been conversing."

Jason was sure that she meant they'd either be fighting or fucking, but wasn't sure which one, although neither option would be in his favor. Still, she was so bound, so he figured what the hell.

Jason moved to stand before Granny in the Naughty Chair. He reached out with both hands to part her hair. Smoothing the lush, wavy locks back, he revealed her face.

Granny's face, for all its restrained hostility, was lovely. She definitely had the 'evil queen' thing going on, but it really worked on her. Her neck was graceful, yet strong, and her skin was as smooth as porcelain. And her breasts...

They stared at each other for a long, wordless moment. Granny's face was upturned, her lips parted in a breathless expression. Her black eyes captivated Jason. The yellow sparks, Pearl's signature that she was using her freaky mind-control magic, were not in evidence. She was just a woman, an extremely beautiful, extremely voluptuous, deeply red-skinned woman.

And she was bound before him. The idea struck him again that he could do whatever he wanted with her. She was his to use. And why shouldn't he? Nothing could stop him from taking advantage of her. And earlier, she'd seemed to be envious of his activity with Pearl... his cock to throbbed at the thought.

Here and now, with Granny unable to resist, he could have her however he wanted. His balls revved up like a jet engine, as he imagined mounting her, and plunging his dong down into her dewy cleavage. He'd entangle his fingers in her fantastic mane of hair and pull her head back, to force her to watch him as he pleasured himself with her body,

giving her supple, pliant breasts the rough pounding they warranted.

She'd be helpless to stop him from using her body to work himself up to a huge, frothy orgasm. Maybe she'd curse him and call him obscene names, brand him as a filthy lust-driven animal, until he was forced to shut her up by unloading massively onto her. So much spunk for that pretty face, enough to glue her eyes shut, to fill her filthy, lying whore mouth, painting her pretty neck with his creamy sauce, only to have the cum drip back down into her scrumptious cleavage...which he'd fuck again and again until the twin engines of his balls had at last exhausted themselves. Yes...he'd make her his fuck puppet, his cum slut, his living jizz doll...

"I'm older than you think, you know," Granny said, breaking the silence between them.

Jason paused. It had happened again. This place had gotten ahold of him all right, and that time he'd almost lost himself.

Ignoring the acute rush of excitement in his balls, Jason carefully removed his hands carefully from Granny's hair, and backed away.

"hem..." Jason said, finding his voice, desperate to get back to business, "How old are you?"

"Quite," Granny said. "You mentioned America. I was already mature when your New World was 'discovered' by the Old."

"But that means you'd be...hundreds of years old," Jason said.

"We tend to be a bit longer-lived than you humans," Granny said. "A hundred years is a lifetime to your kind, while our kind don't even reach child-bearing age for half a dozen centuries."

"Have you...um..." Jason faltered, not sure how to phrase the question, "Jesus...you know..."

"Borne children?" Granny supplied. "Of course. I am the Grand Mother of this aerie. I have produced several offspring, including one that you know quite well."

"Pearl," Jason said.

"Aye," Granny said. "It has been scarcely a century since she last took her place on my lap, to take her nourishment from the breasts of her Grand Mother."

Jason's jaw dropped open as that image came to mind. Pearl, greedy, sensual Pearl, mauling one of Granny's massive jugs, her mouth locked to Granny's nipple. Milk dribbling freely onto her own incredible rack, with Granny's cooing appreciatively...

Jason's cock pulsed powerfully at the thought, and the ache in his balls surged. At first it was pleasurable, then almost instantly transformed into agony.

Jason doubled over in pain and fell to the ground, clutching at his groin.

"Ahhh!" he yelped. "What the fuck is happening to me?"

Granny betrayed a cruel smirk. "It's the elixir," she said. "We use it on our human livestock. It serves as an orgasm accelerant, forcing the male to ejaculate."

Another wave of pain hit Jason, causing another convulsing fit.

"Good god...why?" Jason said, barely able to form the words through the clenching of his teeth.

"Power," Granny said. "We derive power from the application of your seed, as you have seen. In practice, only a thimbleful is necessary to achieve the desired result. It causes the body to use up all its resources to produce semen. The male experiences a life-extinguishing orgasm, allowing us to harvest the full measure of its male essence."

There was a brief pause in the waves of pain. Jason determined to take back control while he could. He cleared his mind and took deep breaths. He'd heard that women in childbirth were taught to do this, and hoped that the same principle applied here.

Granny watched him with disaffected interest. "Poor thing," she said, and tutted at him. "It appears that Pearl, in her zeal, has given you far, far too much elixir."

"No shit," Jason hissed. Then he put Granny, Pearl, and everything else, out of his mind. Breathe. Inhale, exhale. Ignore the pain. Just breathe...just breathe...

Granny, thankfully, remained silent while he struggled to control the pain wracking his testicles. Amazingly, the pain lessened, by miniscule degrees at first, but after a minute or so, he was able to sit up again.

He hugged his knees to keep himself from falling back over. His balls still ached, and his cock was steadfastly erect, but at least he wasn't the wreck he'd been when this latest attack started.

"Jesus," Jason said, "That shit is deadly! Where the hell does that stuff come from?"

Granny smiled slyly. "The source has been right before you the whole time," she said. "I'll give you two guesses." She breathed in deeply, which caused her bosom to balloon outward magnificently.

It took Jason a second to get her meaning. When he did, his eyes went wide. "You mean...it's breast milk?" he said. "Your breast milk?"

"The same," Granny said. "The nectar of a Grand Mother."

"What are you, like their queen or something?" Jason said.

Granny chuckled. "Hardly. I am simply the eldest of the Mothers, the caretakers of the hatchlings. As such, I can produce my nectar at will. Would you care to see?"

Jason was speechless. Granny continued.

"While the Mothers' nectar is used to nourish our hatchlings, it is also given to our human livestock, to coax them into giving us the power we crave."

Granny eyed him significantly. "And you, my little human," she said, "you are in dire need of release. If you do not expend your seed, and soon, you will surely die. Your body will consume itself, using all of its resources in the production of male essence. It's something of a miracle you haven't expired already."

Granny smiled cruelly, before giving her torso a shake. "Let me help you," she said. "Demon flesh is...enticing to human males, as I'm sure you are aware."

Hungry had been how Pearl had described it.

"I can see how much you want me," Granny said. "You can't deny it. I can feel your need. Give in to that desire, Jason. Touch me. Stroke me. Savage me. Use me. I can give you such pleasure..."

Jason felt it then. Even without displaying the sparks in her eyes, Granny was somehow in his head. Just like Pearl had been.

But...owing to all the unwilling practice he'd had thanks to Pearl, he was more than ready for Granny.

"You demons are all the same," Jason said. "I know what you're up to."

"Oh?" Granny said, feigning innocence. "And what is it that I am 'up to?'"

"You're using your magic to try and make me do stuff," Jason said. "Don't waste your time. I'm not falling for it, so you may as well knock it off."

Granny laughed, and Jason wasn't sure to make of that. "What's so goddamned funny?" he said.

"You know nothing of magic," Granny said. "The binding of the Naughty Chair, it prevents me from casting spells."

"So?" Jason said.

"So," Granny said, "magic has nothing to do with your current predicament."

"I don't get what you're talking ab- " Jason began, but Granny interrupted him.

"You're thirsty," Granny said, smiling confidently. "Get yourself another drink of water and I'll explain."

Jason was halfway to the cistern before he realized that he wasn't really thirsty at all. But something in his mind was telling him that it was a good idea to get a drink anyway. I mean, why not? He dipped the bowl into the water again, and Granny spoke.

"You see," Granny said, "many demons have the capacity for magic. Yet very few are given training. Trade secrets and all that. Pearl is one of those, one of my most adept students, in fact. She's a mender, actually, specializing in metallurgy, but as you've seen, she has taken it upon herself to expand her repertoire."

Jason drank his water, and confirmed that nope, he wasn't thirsty. Why was he doing this again?

"While magic is something that can be learned," Granny continued, "each tribe of demonkind possesses abilities all their own. They are not magic, although they might appear so to Earthborn humans."

"Yeah," Jason said, "they have wings, horns, or tails. I kinda got that already."

"Oh, it is more than that," Granny said. "The Spines, in addition to their horns, are much more powerful physically than the other tribes. Additionally, their unique physiology allows them to generate lightning, which they can project through their horns."

"Okay," Jason said. He set the empty bowl down on the cistern, and gripped the edge with one hand to prevent himself from approaching Granny again. He wasn't sure where this explanation was going, but he wanted to keep his distance for some reason. You know, just in case.

"The Tails," Granny said, "and pray you don't run into them, are the current the ruling tribe. Physically, they are the weakest of the tribes, lithe and slight. But they more than make up for it with speed and agility that the other tribes cannot hope to match. In battle, they employ their tails to wield three swords simultaneously, making them quite deadly combatants. It must be noted that their minds are similarly agile, making them the cleverest of us, though this has often gotten the better of them in times past."

Jason felt a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach. "Wait," Jason said, "so the mind stuff isn't magic?"

"Think about it," Granny said. "We spend much of our time aloft, moving in not two, but three dimensions, at great distance from each other, the wind drowning out all sound..."

Jason remembered watching the Wings in battle, the way a group of them would wordlessly converge on a target. Then, just as wordlessly, they'd break apart, with the members joining with newly-formed groups, to converge on other Spines.

"Of course," Granny said, "It's not much use against the other tribes. They hate us enough to be able to resist our attempts, and have their own natural mental defenses. But against unprepared humans..."

"Ha!" Jason said. "That's where you're wrong. Like I said, I've been through this song-and-dance with Pearl a few times. I'm not gonna be your puppet."

Granny smiled knowingly, cruelly. "There is a technique for getting people to do what you want, called 'tasking'," she said. "Are you familiar with it?"

Jason shook his head no. He was getting that sinking feeling again.

"The theory behind tasking is simple," Granny said. "It begins with the tasker making some small favor of the taskee. It could be a slightly personal question, or perhaps a minor request. The kind of thing that most people would not balk at doing, or they might be naturally inclined to do on their own. If the taskee consents, this lets the tasker know that the taskee is open to suggestion.

"Additionally, and this is important, it establishes a relationship, a trust, between the two. An experienced tasker can, over the course of many tasks, expand this little trust into a big one, with increasing rewards, all without the taskee knowing that he is being manipulated."

"What, like convincing a total stranger to give them your car just by asking nicely?" Jason said. "That can't possibly work."

"Oh, but it does work," Granny said. "Humans employ tasking all the time. No doubt you have been tasked by the people in your life, without even realizing it. Employers, friends, mates...they all ask for favors. Unless there is a pressing reason to do otherwise, once the trust is established, you would not refuse. Refusal would feel like a betrayal of that trust, and no one wants to betray one that one thinks of as a friend."

"That's ridiculous," Jason said, but he could hear the defensiveness in his own voice.

"Just think about it," Granny said, "and you'll realize I'm right."

Now that she had started him down this path, he couldn't help thinking of how Percy "One Love" had effectively stolen his truck the other night. Long before, he had talked Jason into packing up their gear after shows, under the guise of making himself useful. The implication was that, as a lowly drummer, he had to do more to pull his weight with the band. For Jason's part, he would rather be responsible for safely moving his kit, instead of trusting the clowns in his band to do it. So that by the time that Percy had stolen his tidily-packed truck on the night of the show to fuck some groupie, his reaction wasn't to call the police, it was to simply accept it, and deal with the consequences later.

And what about work? His boss, Chad, had talked him into working past his shift on many occasions, sometimes even filling in for jobs that weren't his own. Sure, there was the extra money that he made, but how much of it was simply because his boss was good at tasking?

And Kristin? Did she do it too? Had she created in him increasing expectations, just because he'd done something before, and refusing after the first time would feel like betrayal.

"There," Granny said. "Once you see it, it's rather hard to un-see, isn't it? The people around you, all of them getting you to do what they want, while making you think it was your idea. How many puppeteers are pulling at your strings, human?"

Granny was right. He was surrounded by users, gently but deliberately having their way with him, while he -

You idiot, a voice inside himself said, That's what she wants you to think! Don't fall for it!

"Okay," Jason said, "but what you're describing takes weeks, months maybe, before you could make someone really go out of their way."

"For humans, who are only able to use their words and their gestures, certainly," Granny said. "But not so for demonkind. Not so for we Wings, with our ability to read and control minds. For us, the path can be rapid, and much more direct."

"So what?" Jason said. "Just telling me means you've tipped your hand. If I know it's happening, I can just say no. It won't work on me."

"But it already has," Granny said. "I asked for water, and you brought me water. Twice. I asked you to part my hair, and you did. You didn't have to do any of those things, and yet did them anyway. You have empathized with me. You have trusted me. You even like me, after a fashion. And you have, in your mind, ravished my body. I know what you like...what you want. Step by step, I have established a relationship with you, and through that relationship I have learned the tenor of your mind. You haven't realized it yet, but you are already in my thrall."

"Bullshit," Jason said. "You don't control me."

"Have another drink of water," Granny said.

Jason had already dipped his bowl into the cistern before considering the possibility that he wasn't thirsty. He had sucked down half the water before it occurred to him to stop. Which he didn't.

"Now, toss the bowl out the window," Granny said.

In a flash, the bowl was airborne and then out of sight. Jason hadn't intended to throw the bowl, but he had done it anyway. He turned to face Granny, glaring hate.

"You see?" Granny said. "Our dear Pearl, by focusing on her magical side, has neglected practicing her tribal telepathic abilities. She lacks the subtlety that comes with experience. I, on the other hand, have had millennia to hone my craft."

Despite Granny's control, there was still a small, stubborn piece of him that resisted her.

"You can't control me forever," Jason said. "I can fight back."

"In time, perhaps," Granny said. "But I only need your obedience for the next few minutes. You'll do whatever I say until then, won't you dear?"

Jason found himself nodding and saying "Yes" without having consciously thought about it. He could feel the tendrils of Granny's mind inside his. Her thoughts coiled around his own like the serpents on a caduceus. The part of himself that wanted to resist was still there, but he couldn't make that part rise against the hold that Granny had on him. Reluctant as he was to admit it, he was well and truly bound to her.

"Wonderful," Granny said, "Now, if you wouldn't mind, be so kind as to fetch my sword? It's right outside the door."

Jason felt his body obey. He walked to the heavy wooden door, still ajar, and, using all the strength he could muster, shoved it fully open.

He peered outside into a torchlit hallway, made of the same stone as the barracks chamber. Immediately, he spied Granny's sword where it stood leaning against the wall. It was six feet of bad news, easily as long as he was tall.

The blade was sheathed in a leather scabbard, but the hilt was visible. The grip was ridged, and inlaid with glinting black stones. The guard looked to be made of polished bone, intricately carved into the shape of outstretched bat wings.

Jason put his hands on the grip and, rather than attempting to lift the sword, pulled it into the barracks chamber, dragging the tip along the stone floor.

He had a passing worry that Granny might mind that he inadvertently added a few scuffs to her scabbard. And then he chastised himself for giving a fuck about Granny's feelings. Oh, she had a deep hold on him, alright.

"I actually had a suspicion of what I might find, so I intentionally left my steel outside," Granny mused as Jason reentered the chamber. "Disagreements between us demons can become heated and, well... even my reasonable nature can succumb to passion. Unsheathe the sword, please."

Due to the size of the weapon, Jason was unsure how to do this at first. But then he laid the sword down on the floor, held the scabbard down with one foot, and pulled horizontally on the hilt with both hands. It worked, and with a metallic slither, the sword came free, to rest on the stone.

"Careful," Granny warned, her attention more on the gleaming steel more than Jason. "I forged that blade myself, centuries ago. In addition to its anti-magical properties, it is also absurdly sharp. A seemingly innocuous nick could easily sever something ... precious to you."

"Yes, Granny," Jason said dumbly. Anti-magical?

"Do you know how to wield a sword, Jason dear?" Granny said.

"No, Granny," Jason said.