Joan Ch. 10

Joan heard someone snap their fingers. She slowly came out of the dark fog that was surrounding her mind. She became aware of where she was, in a parlor with a fireplace. The windows were closed with red drapes, the wallpaper was some pattern in green and there were all sorts of paintings on the walls. Mostly still life. Claude stood in the corner and was silently watching. Joan was sitting in a chair by the fire, the flickering flames reflecting in her green eyes. Sitting in a chair in front of her was a most severe looking man. He was slim and tall with shocked white hair, well dressed in dark grey and had an imposing and authoritative presence. The right side of his face was scarred, his right ear shriveled and the right eye a foggy sort of white. He sat with his fingers interlocked in front of his still, terrifying face.

Claude lit his pipe and asked, "well, Dr. Charles?"

"Our property hasn't been damaged too badly," Dr. Charles replied. "Still, such interference is troubling."

"Who is she? The woman who did this?"

"A former assistant of mine," Dr. Charles explained. He rubbed the scarring on the side of his face. "Things ended badly between us. Do not concern yourself with my Laura, I'll take care of her. The important thing is to continue preparations for our benefactor, Mr. Waite."

Claude nodded. "Everything is set to go, all we need to do is wait on Mr. Rowe."

"Very good." Dr. Charles motioned towards Joan. "How is she?"

"She takes a cock up her ass fairly well," Claude said. "Big tits like those will increase her price up north. I'm looking to make a tidy profit out of her."

"Bully for you," Dr. Charles said drably. He got up from his chair and addressed Joan. "Upstairs with you slut, I want to see your progress for myself. Scientific curiosity, you see."

"Yes, sir."

Joan stood up and was taken by the arm and up a flight of steps to the upper floor of Dr. Charles' townhouse. She was brought into a rather lavish - almost eccentrically so - bedroom. Dr. Charles turned on the gas lighting and closed the bedroom door. His voice sounded like the gentle rumble of distant thunder. Joan began to undress for him, her ass still sore from the brutal pounding it took from Claude earlier that day. Her neck and throat were still sore as well. Joan wanted a glass of water but dared not ask.

She didn't remember how she got to Dr. Charles' townhouse. Everything after she left her apartment with Claude was dark and foggy. Joan seemed to recall walking along the riverfront though and passing the park, but it was impossible to be sure.

Joan stood naked by the bed, her arms behind her back, and asked, "what is your command, sir?"

Dr. Charles undressed himself casually, in no rush. Joan wondered if he was going beat her with a belt, that seemed popular among these kind of men. Dr. Charles neither spoke nor brandished with a belt. Instead, he sat upon his bed with his back against the headboard and said to her, "alright, whore, pleasure me."

"Yes, sir."

Joan climbed onto the foot of the bed and crawled towards him on her hands and knees. Strands of her vibrant red hair fell over her face as her green eyes stared at him. She stuck out her tongue and ran it up his hard shaft and licked the head. Joan slowly took the cock in her mouth and sucked it long and slow, moaning as she did so. Dr. Charles didn't hold her head or grab her by the hair, he simply let the whore work her mouth. She took her time, building until her head was bobbing and she was sucking him hard and passionately. Joan took his cock deep down her still aching throat until her full lips nearly touched his balls. She gagged and choked herself a little, before coming back up and returning to long, slow sucks. Joan was so excited and turned on by the act of just pleasuring a man that she thought she was going to climax.

"Enough of your mouth, who're," Dr. Charles told her. "Let's have some of that pussy. Ride me."

"Yes, sir," Joan replied. "Happily, sir."

Joan climbed up and put her hands on his shoulders. She slowly lowered herself onto his cock with a shuddering moan. Joan had came immediately. "Oh sir," she moaned out, "I'm cumming already! What a big, strong cock you have, sir!"

"Yes, I know, whore." He gave her a slap on the assistant. "Get to work, slut."

"Yes, sir! Absolutely, sir!"

Joan pumped her hips and started to ride Dr. Charles like a seasoned, well-trained whore. She didn't think, only did what the little, red books had programmed her to do. Her hands gripped the top of the headboard and she pushed her big breasts against Dr. Charles. His hands were on her ass, squeezing and groping at it. Joan was determined to show what a good whore she was now; a part of her knew it was vital, especially after Laura's tampering. She panted and groaned as she felt herself nearing climax once again. "Oh," she cried out, "sir! I'm cumming again!"

She was now bouncing up and down on his cock, ramming it hard into her pussy and cumming her brains out. Her big breasts bounced with her. She slammed it so deep and hard, and it felt incredible. Her head was dizzy. Joan was out of her mind, nothing more than a witless fuck-machine. It was all that she wanted to be in that long, blissful moment of mindlessness. A dumb, mindless whore impaling herself until she came and came again. Everything was right and Joan knew that she was in her proper place. She begged for the euphoria to never end.

"I'm going to ejaculate inside you, slut," Dr. Charles told her.

"Oh, sir! Thank you, sir! Thank you!"

He did just that and Joan felt herself flooded with his seed. It felt wonderful. She climbed off of him and started to lick his cock, cleaning it with her tongue. "Most promising," he said. "The books have truly implanted not just the obedience and desire, but also the necessary training. Very remarkable. I could scarcely believe it until having tested the results just now."

"Then I am a good whore, sir?"

"That you are."

This made Joan proud. She was surprised by how much. "I want to be, sir. Honest I do. Is there anything you can do to fix what she did?"

"I'm afraid not," he admitted. "There may be something you can do to help, however." He got up and went to a desk in the corner of the room. He wrote something down on a scrap of paper and handed it to her. "Memorize this and repeat it while looking in the mirror as much as you can. It's a form of self-hypnosis. That should be of use to you. When Laura contacts you again, keep her close. Make sure she thinks you are working with her and lure her to me. Understand?"

Joan nodded. "Yes, sir."

"Make sure you inform me of when she is coming. I'll have to be prepared for our little duel."

"Yes, sir."

"Very good, slut. You're dismissed."

"Thank you, sir."

Joan quickly dressed and went downstairs where Claude was waiting. "Let's got, bitch," he said as she came down. She quietly followed him outside. He put a blindfold over her eyes and guided her into a hired coach. The driver snapped the reigns and they were off.

~ o ~

Yesterday Morning-

When Mr. Rowe came to Netherhold Manor, he was greeted at the door by a tall, solemn looking butler who introduced himself as Javier. He was older, but still looked as though some vitality remained. Mr. Rowe seemed to get along with him right away as both men had some kind of unknown, unspoken kinship with one another.

"Be careful here, sir," Javier quietly said to him while carrying Mr. Rowe's case up the stairs. "Mrs. Abigail will try to make you eat a rather bitter sort of candy. Do not. It is poison."

Mr. Rowe nodded in understanding. He followed Javier up the wide staircase that was carpeted in an almost blood red. They went down a hall lined with portraits of famous members of the Waite line. This all felt so strange and alien to Mr. Rowe. Everything about the house seemed so northern, it was somber and gloomy. There wasn't the slightest sign of modernity in it. No gas lighting, all of the furniture was looked at least a hundred years out of style. Mr. Rowe, being a modern man of Vel Corte, felt incredibly uncomfortable in that gloomy, old mansion.

After being situated in his room, he decided it was best to get straight to work. There would be much of it. Directed by Javier, Mr. Rowe found the study on the ground floor, near the library which was yet another northern curiosity. The study was not well organized when he found it. It took him the better part of the morning just to get everything in order for a full accounting of assets. Everything in the room seemed neglected, which was good because it made it easier to funnel money to Thomas Waite without their knowledge. It was close to noon when he noticed someone standing in the door.

It was Abigail Waite, dressed for mourning in black with a veil. She was very attractive, a good figure and though her face was obscured, Mr. Rowe could tell she was quite pretty. She was in her thirties and had all of the demanding confidence of Vel Corte women at that age. She smiled from under her veil, trying to appear sad but not being very convincing of it. She said, "you must be Mr. Rowe."

He stood from the desk and replied, "Mrs. Waite, how good to meet you. I thought it best to get right to it."

Abigail nodded. "Of course. May I sit, or will I disturb your work?"

"Please sit," he invited. "We can begin discussions if you'd like."

"I would," she said as she sat down in a chair near a window. The grey light bathed her in an almost misty aura. "What recommendations do you have, Mr. Rowe?"

"From my initial assessment," he began, "things are not well. I can very easily get things back on track, but some belt tightening might be necessary. You can no longer afford Javier, I'm afraid. I can secure him position elsewhere. With the money that normally goes to his salary, you can send Thea to Vel Corte to find a suitable husband. I have several successful prospects for her from my position at Stock and Pryce. Wealthy, modern gentlemen."

"Thea, all alone in such a city?"

"Fear not, Mrs. Waite. I already have the perfect chaperone in mind."

~ o ~

At Present -

Faust was waiting in Joan's apartment when Claude and her returned. He was standing at the window looking down at the street. "Mr. Waite is on his way to Mistport," he said as they came in. "Mr. Rowe will have arrived at Netherhold by now. It's time for you to be given your instructions, Joan."

"Yes, sir. Anything you want, sir."

He went over to the chair in the corner and sat down, one leg crossed over the other. He pointed at the floor in front of him. Joan went to her knees where indicated and submissively waited. "You'll be having a guest soon," he explained to her slowly. "Her name is Thea. You are to act a normal, independent woman of Vel Corte while she is in your care. Eventually, you'll introduce her to the red books and we'll turn her into a submissive slut like you. Understand?"

"Yes, sir."

Claude smirked. "So that was Javier's price? Smart man."

"Not just that," Mr. Faust said, "we also need a new Mr. Puddle."

"How are we going to get the books into Vel Corte? The authorities are checking every box that comes through the north rail."

"Yes, but not every person," Mr. Faust countered. "Besides, I'm not using the north rail. The shipments will be slower and lighter but should be steady when all the kinks are worked out. Relax, Claude. We'll have everything we need to be fully operational."

"Bookshops are too risky now," he said. "Where can we distribute the red books?"

"I have a few ideas," Mr. Faust said with a sly grin. "Relax. I have everything under control."

Claude growled, "I don't like when people say that to me."

"Mistport."

"What?"

Mr. Faust sighed. "Mr. Waite is at Mistport."

Claude grinned suddenly getting it. "I see. They won't be watching the ships. Very good."

"Indeed," Mr. Faust said. "We have other matters to discuss, let's get a drink." He looked at Joan as he got out of his chair. "Make this place ready for your guest, whore. I'll have more detailed instructions for you tomorrow."

Joan nodded and sat quietly as her masters left the apartment. She clutched at her dress in dread. Allowing herself in this spiral of corruption and sin was one thing, but to lure an innocent creature into it was another matter entirely. A chill went down her spine. Even though Joan couldn't save herself, perhaps she could save this other girl.