Max only spotted Celeste on the side of the road when he had nearly driven past her. Of late, he'd taken to driving aimlessly at night with only the radio for company--anything to keep from being alone in his house all night.

He almost didn't see her because she was clutching a black sweatshirt around herself and hunched over as she walked, her long, black hair trailing over her like a shroud. A few seconds before Max had seen her, she'd been hidden behind the treeline, but she lurched forward suddenly, more a blur of motion than a distinct shape.

At first, Max had thought she was an animal, about to dodge out in front of his car. Even before he consciously registered that she wasn't, he'd pulled over to see if she needed help. Besides everything else, this was a secluded road that had once linked two tourist attractions but, with the disappearance of the tourist trade, now ran from nowhere to nowhere. Besides, it was starting to drizzle.

Max's initial instinct had been to pull over and ask if she was all right. But, when he saw the blood on her torn t-shirt, held together with her hands, he opened the door, "Get in."

Celeste looked up blankly as if she didn't recognize him or understand his words. Max was about to repeat himself when she lowered her head and got into the car.

"What happened?" asked Max. Celeste didn't answer.

"Do you need a doctor?"

Her head, bowed until then, shot up, "No doctors." For the first time she looked around the car and at Max. Giving him her best smile, she said, "It's nothing, Mr. Wiley. Just a bloody nose."

Max looked her up and down. Despite the tears in her shirt rendering her almost nude from the waist up, she didn't bother to cover herself. Frowning, he said, "It also looks like a split lip and a black eye. Who did this to you, Celeste? Was it your father?"

Max had never liked Celeste's father--a perpetually out-of-work, reconstituted hippie who should have been old enough to know better. So, he was a little surprised when Celeste laughed bitterly, "My father? My father can't squash spiders. He picks them up on a three-by-five card and lets them out in the garden."

"Who, then?"

Celeste lowered her head like she wasn't going to answer. Instead, she said quietly, "My boyfriend."

Max scowled, "Who's your boyfriend, Celeste?"

"Neil Rasmussen."

Max muttered a profanity. He knew that little bastard. He had been a student of Max's wife, Abigail, three years ago and already left back once. At least once a week, Abigail had regaled him with a tale of some new atrocity Max was accused of or, more commonly, had gotten away with. If he was still in school and hadn't failed too many classes, he would be a senior. Celeste was a sophomore, sixteen years old at the most and had been one of Abigail's favorite students in the last year of her life.

"What else did he do to you, Celeste?" Max asked as evenly as he could.

Celeste shook her head in the negative, refusing to answer.

"My house isn't far from here," said Max. "Do you want me to call the police?"

She shook her head, not raising it.

"Your parents?"

She shook her head more emphatically.

"All right," he said. "Let me take you home with me. We'll figure out something."

She nodded her head, raising it to make eye contact, a brief smile on her split lips in spite of everything, "Thank you, Max."

"And zip yourself up," Max said gently. "It's getting cold."

Inside the house, Celeste sat on the couch, holding her sweatshirt closed with one hand. Max wrapped her in a blanket and got her to press an ice pack to her nose and eye before he sat on the easy chair catty-corner from the couch.

"Celeste," he said quietly. When she turned, he handed her a dollar. She looked down at it questioningly.

"I want to offer you my services for a flat fee of one dollar. You know what I do. Right?"

"You're a lawyer."

Max nodded, "That means if you hire me and we talk, I can't tell anybody about it--nobody, no matter how horrible what you tell me is. If you killed somebody, then hired me to defend you and told me you killed them, I couldn't tell anybody. Do you understand?"

After a moment, her face lit up, "Yes."

"Would you like to retain my services?"

Celeste looked down at the dollar, "Max, this would pay for about two minutes of your time."

Max couldn't help correcting her, "Actually, it would pay for less than twenty seconds at my normal rate. But, I'm offering you my services for the next twenty-four hours for one dollar. During that time, you would be my client. Do you wish to retain my services?"

Celeste nodded. Max took the dollar back from her limp fingers.

"What do you want to do next?" Max asked.

"I want a shower and some sleep," said Celeste. "Just a few hours."

"That's fine," said Max. "But, if you do that, you might be losing the ability to make some important decisions and regret it later. Are you up to answering a few questions?"

Celeste nodded, her dark eyes meeting Max's.

"Did Neil have sex with you tonight?"

"Yes."

"Was it consensual?"

Celeste's expression didn't change, "I don't know."

Max frowned, "Why don't you know?"

"I didn't fight him."

"Did you tell him to stop?"

"I think so. It doesn't matter, though."

"Why doesn't it matter?" Neil asked.

"He never listens when I tell him to stop."

Max looked her over to judge her mental state. She met his eyes, speaking without emotion as if she were reciting a particularly uninspired school paper. It didn't bode well, but it did mean he could probably push a little bit harder with his questions.

"So, this wasn't the first time that he raped you?"

Celeste shook her head, "No."

"How many times has he done it before?"

Celeste shrugged, "I didn't count. More than a hundred. It started last spring. We do it at least one night a week, sometimes several times a night."

Max was too stunned to speak for a moment. When he found his voice, he asked, "And you don't want to go to the police?"

"I can't."

"Why not?"

Finally, a tear rolled down Celeste's cheek, "He would kill me."

"What if..." Max paused, knowing how much he was offering to disrupt his own life. "What if I could protect you?"

Celeste shook her head, "You can't protect me."

"Why not?"

Celeste wrapped the blanket more tightly around herself, "I belong to him."

"I don't understand," said Max. "How do you belong to him?"

Celeste shrugged, "I can't explain."

Max decided to try a different tack, "What if I promised to stay with you until he was in jail? And to lend my services to the prosecutor to make sure he stays there?"

Celeste wasn't crying anymore, "Max, that's very sweet. But, you can't protect me from him."

"Why not?" he was starting to get exasperated.

"Because I don't belong to you. I belong to him."

Thinking out loud, Max asked, "If you did belong to me, could I protect you?"

For the first time, Celeste's eyes brightened and showed real signs of life, "You would do that for me?"

"I..." Max suddenly found himself in an awkward position. To buy time, he asked, "What would that entail?"

Celeste blushed deep red and said, "I can't say."

Max tried not to let his anger show on his face. He'd known Celeste only in passing when she was one of Abigail's students, but she had been a cheerful and earnest girl and Abigail spoke highly of her future prospects. What the hell had Neil Rasmussen done to screw her up so badly?

"What if Neil were dead?" he asked darkly.

"Nathan Cortlandt would own me," said Celeste.

"Who's Nathan Cortlandt?"

"He's a friend of Neil's. Neil told me if anything happens to him, I belong to Nathan."

Max was having a hard time asking the next question when Celeste anticipated it, "Neil told Nathan he can do whatever he wants with me, too."

"Nathan raped you too?"

"Yes."

"And Neil knew about this?"

"Yes."

Max couldn't keep himself professional, "Christ. Did anyone else rape you?"

"Yes," said Celeste, "Neil likes to watch other people fuck me, so he lets them sometimes. Everybody's afraid of him."

"I'm not afraid of him," said Max.

Celeste shook her head, "You don't know him. Please, Max. I just need a place to stay for a little while. If you try to protect me, he'll kill you."

"How?"

"I don't know."

"Celeste," said Max. "Did you tell anyone else about this?"

"My parents," she said.

"And, what did they do?"

"At first, they were furious. My sweet, pacifist father charged out the door with murder in his heart." Celeste laughed unhappily, "When he came back, Neil was with him. My father told me I had a bourgeois attitude about sex. My mother put me on the pill."

"They what?" Max roared, losing his professionalism all at once.

"Don't be mad at them," said Celeste. "They don't know any better."

It was such an odd statement for a girl to make about her parents that Max didn't know how to address it. Instead, he asked, "Did you ever tell my wife?"

Celeste shook her head, her eyes full of sadness, "I tried once, but she told me that the law said she would have to tell the police if I told her... certain things. Max, can I get in the shower now?"

Max rubbed his temples, "You're sure you don't want to go to the police? If you get in the shower, you'll have less..."

"I'm sure," said Celeste.

"All right," said Max. "Get in the shower. I'll find something for you to wear when you come out."

As Celeste rose, he said, "One last question, if you know the answer. Why did you tell me all this?"

Celeste gave him an enigmatic smile, "Because I want you to protect me."

Max couldn't keep from kicking the idea around in his head while he looked for something for Celeste to wear when she got out of the shower. She wanted him to protect her. But, he couldn't protect her because she didn't belong to him. So, she must want to belong to him. But, her blush had made clear what that meant. At most, she wasn't even half his age. If she were sixteen, it wouldn't be a crime here in Connecticut, but it would still be wrong. And, while he no longer cared much one way or another, it could probably get his disbarred, particularly since she was now putatively a client. He certainly hadn't considered that angle when offering her his services.

He would have to find another way. He didn't know how he was going to accomplish it, but he wasn't letting her go back to Neil Rasmussen.

After Abigail's funeral, he'd had movers in to put all of his wife's possessions into storage. Now, he searched around his bedroom, hoping they'd missed something. He knew they hadn't. Finally, he settled on a red plaid flannel shirt he hadn't worn in a while. He knocked on the bathroom door.

"Come on in," Celeste called.

Max opened the door, stepped around the back of it, and hung the shirt on a hook there.

"I found a shirt you can wear while I wash your clothes. It should be long enough to be decent. It's kind of big on me."

She pulled back the shower curtain to expose her head. As she did, she wrapped the rest of the curtain, white and translucent, around her body. Max could clearly see the shape and color of her body through it and found it momentarily impossible to look away.

Celeste didn't seem to notice, "I'm afraid only my jeans are salvageable. The shirt is shredded."

Max looked around the room. Celeste saw him looking.

"I didn't have any other clothes on," she said quietly. "Neil threw me out of the car without them. I thought he was going to kill me tonight for sure."

Max sighed, "I still wish you would go to the police."

Celeste shook her head, "The police can't help."

"Celeste," said Max, feeling impatient. "Is there something you're not telling me? Why are you so afraid of this guy? He's just a little scumbag."

"No," said Celeste. "He's really not. You're just going to have to believe me. He made me swear I wouldn't tell anyone."

"Celeste, I'm going to help you if I can. If I'm going to be up against something worse that some little nineteen year-old dirtbag, I'd like to know so that I can get resources of my own lined up."

"I'll tell you what I can, Max," she said. "But, don't ask me to disobey him. I can't."

Max was torn between wanting to ask more questions and wanting to get away from the naked girl he was painfully aware of in his shower.

"I'm going to go find you some sweats," he said.

"Thank you, Max," Celeste said, pulling her head back behind the curtain.

"Celeste?"

Her head re-emerged, "Yes?"

"How old are you?"

When she smiled, it was like her eyes bored through his chest, "Sixteen."

Max had to sit on his bed and clear his mind for a few minutes. The combination of circumstance and steam had left him feeling woozy. Other than his wife, the last time he'd been that close to a naked woman had been an obligatory lap dance at his bachelor party.

He placed his face in his hands and groaned. That was not a memory he should be bringing up at a time like this. This wasn't even a woman. This was a girl--one of his wife's students. He could almost see Abigail's disappointed frown. He chastised himself. He wanted to help this girl, not take advantage of her. But, prurient thoughts kept rising to the surface.

He was still searching for something Celeste could wear that wouldn't fall right off of her when he heard the hair dryer start, meaning she was out of the shower. He cursed himself for being too slow and grabbed the first pair of sweats on top of his laundry pile.

When the hair dryer stopped, he knocked on the bathroom door. Celeste stuck her head out the door, "Yes, Max?"

"I have some pants for you," he said, holding them up. "They're going to be much too big, but..."

"Oh, Max," she said, her eyes shining with some inner light that had been dim before. "Those would be constantly falling off of me. And, I don't need them really. This shirt is like a dress."

She stepped out of the bathroom to show him. It may be like a dress, but it was a dress that came down to mid-thigh. Besides that, it hung loosely on her and wouldn't hide anything if she did anything other than stand upright or sit with her legs crossed.

"Would you like to get some sleep now?" Max asked. "I could warm up some cocoa if it would help."

Celeste smiled, walking past him and climbing into his bed, "That's very sweet of you, Max. But, it's not really necessary." Her face grew worried, "I--I'm afraid to close my eyes and be alone in the dark right now, but I'm so tired."

"I could leave the light on," Max offered, knowing that wasn't what she was asking for.

She looked up at him sadly, "Could you... stay? Talk to me until I fall asleep?"

"All right," Max said quietly. He stood, uncertain--halfway between the bed and a chair against the wall. Celeste patted the bed next to where she lay. Sliding off his shoes, Max turned down the light and sat next to her, Indian-style.

Unknowingly, Celeste had crawled into Abigail's side of the bed. It was a different bed. Max had replaced their bed when he was expunging his dead wife's belongings. But, it was still Abigail's side.

"You've been kind of a hermit since Mrs. Wiley died, haven't you?" Celeste asked.

Max's first reaction was to refuse to answer such a ghoulish question, but there was no hint of morbidness in her voice. Instead, he said, "Actually, you're the first person that's been in the house since the funeral except movers and delivery people. I... went away for a while after the funeral. There were too many curiosity-seekers. I couldn't deal with them."

"And, since then, you've kind of kept to yourself. Haven't you?"

Max nodded.

"So, you haven't noticed any changes around town?"

Max shook his head, "Nothing immediate comes to mind."

"And, you probably haven't seen Neil since before the funeral?"

"I..." Max thought about it. "I don't think so."

Celeste's laugh was bitter, "After I go back to him, you should do what you can to watch him. Then, you'll understand."

Max said quietly, "I won't let you go back to him."

"You'll have to tie me up," said Celeste matter-of-factly. "It would be better to knock me out. It will be pain--" Her hand flew to her temple. She winced, gritted her teeth, and closed her eyes. After a moment, her whole body shuddered. Then, she relaxed and opened her eyes.

Max had put his hands on her shoulder. He looked down at her, concerned. There was a thin sheen of sweat on her forehead.

"What was that?" he asked. "What just happened? It looked like a seizure."

Celeste sat up, "It was... something like that."

"Are you all right now?"

Celeste nodded, "I just pushed my luck as far as it would go."

"What do you mean?"

Celeste shook her head, "I can't tell you what I mean. I don't have the energy. I had to trick myself into telling you as much as I did."

"Trick yourself?"

Celeste nodded, but seemed unwilling to say more.

Max found himself getting frustrated again, "Celeste, what kind of power does he have over you. Help me understand."

"I can't tell you about his power," said Celeste.

"You're saying he has some kind of actual power?"

Celeste shook her head rapidly, "No no no. I would never do that. He told me not to tell anyone about his power." She paused for a moment, as if waiting for something that didn't happen. Then, she said, "But, he never told me not to tell anyone that he told me not to tell anyone about his power. He told me not to tell anyone who could tell the police about our game. But, you can't tell the police, can you, Max? You're my lawyer."

"That's right," said Max. "Celeste, are you saying this is some kind of game?"

Celeste's eyes searched his. She seemed to be trying to find words. Instead of speaking, her hands rose slowly to the top button of her shirt. She undid the buttons quickly, as if afraid Max might stop her, but he made no move to.

Sliding the shirt free of her shoulders, she twisted to show Max her back.

"Is it a game, Max?"

Max didn't see at first what she meant in the half-light. Leaning in close, he saw. Her back had, at first, looked unblemished. But, he could see evidence of bruising--old and faded, but extensive. Reaching out, he touched her back with his fingertips, as if he could feel what did this. Celeste leaned back against his hand when he did, as if relishing the touch. Her hands were at her sides, doing nothing to hide her nakedness. Gradually, she increased the pressure against his hands, forcing them to resist or slide towards her sides and around her.

"Celeste," he said, a note of warning in his voice.

She leaned her head back, hair brushing his shoulder, "Max, please. Keep touching me like this. It's been so long since someone touched me gently."

"Celeste," he said, not taking his hands off of her. "If I keep touching you like this, it's not going to stop here. You need..."

"Don't tell me what I need, Max," she said, pushing backwards again. "If you try to take me, I'll have to fight you. But, you're a big guy. I'm sure you'll be able to overpower me."

Max wanted to protest that he would never force himself on her, but gave himself a moment to think. She'd put heavy emphasis on the word, "have."

"You'll have no choice but to fight me?" asked Max.

Celeste leaned back again. Max's hands went around her, fingertips brushing the sides of her breasts. Laying her head on his shoulder, she whispered, "Yes." Max wasn't sure if it was an answer to the question he'd asked or the one his hands had. He cupped her breasts in his hands, pulling her against his side by gentle pressure against her ribs.

"Please be careful, Max," she said. "Very soon, I'm going to have to fight you. When I do, it won't be a game. I'll be trying to escape. I'll hurt you if I have to. Please don't let me."

"Celeste..."

"No more questions, Max."

"It's not a question," he said, his voice like iron. "It's a warning. I don't know what's going on. But, if this is some elaborate plot to get me to attack you and then blackmail me, it won't work. I'll take my chances with the courts and I'll get away with it. This is your last chance to stop."

In response, she leaned back and nipped his earlobe. Max growled.

"You can't help me as long as I belong to Neil," Celeste whispered.

Max took her wrists in his hands. Celeste stiffened for a moment, as if debating what to do. Then, she twisted, trying to get out of his grip. In spite of her warnings, Max wasn't entirely ready for the abrupt change in attitude. He lost hold of one of her hands, which raked upwards for his face. He lurched backwards, falling over the edge of the bed and dragging Celeste with him by her other wrist. As he fell, he spun away so that, instead of landing on top of him, she landed face-down on the floor. She tried to catch herself, but with only one wrist free, she came down on her chest.

Max hoped he'd knocked the wind out of her. Not willing to rely on that hope, he reversed his motion, leaping on top of her, straddling the backs of her legs just below her bottom, and catching the other wrist. Celeste squirmed and fought, but had been right. It wasn't hard for him to overpower her once he put his mind to it. He gathered her wrists into one hand and slowly drew her arms upward. He didn't want to cause her pain. He just wanted to stop her from thrashing.

"Please," she said. "Try to hurt me as little as possible."

"Stop fighting me," growled Max. She was still writhing, although it was limited to her hips, which were grinding back against his crotch.

"I can't," Celeste cried out. There was real panic in her voice now, "If you're going to take me away from Neil, I can't let you. He ordered me not to."

With a cry of frustration, Max leapt up from her back. Using her arms for leverage, he forced her to her feet. Not letting her get her balance, he threw her over the side of the bed. He knew he was hurting her, but couldn't help it. As soon as she got the chance, she kicked backwards at him and managed to get a hand free when he twisted to avoid it. Max stepped between her legs, forcing them apart so that she couldn't kick him. Her hand tangled in his hair, pulling hard. Max pulled his head back, freeing himself, and caught the wrist again.

Transferring her wrists into one hand again, Max crushed Celeste under his weight, stopping nearly all her squirming. Into her ear, he snarled, "I don't know what's going on, Celeste, but I'm going to fuck the hell out of you."

Then, she did something odd. She turned her face towards him and smiled. Her body continued to strain under his, but all signs of struggle were gone from her face. The smile was one of pure victory.

Max's free hand went between her legs with it in mind to stroke her until she was lubricated enough to enter. A single touch told him she was already soaked--not just wet, but fully aroused. Max hadn't taken the time to notice before, but her whole body was preorgasmic. The tip of his finger against her had even raised a tremble.

Now, he thought he understood. Abigail had misjudged this girl. She was a freak, who got off on the struggle. Everything else had just been an act to get to this point.

Growling again, he unbuckled his belt, shucking pants and underpants in a single motion. His cock was rock hard from the fight. Even in his arousal-dimmed mindset, he appreciated the irony and was glad he hadn't voiced his previous sentiment out loud.

Positioning himself against her, he thrust. Celeste managed to twist away. He tried a second time. She twisted the other way. Taking her trapped wrists from above her head, he dragged them down the length of her body and held them in the small of her back, pinning her hips. She groaned and tried to force him out by crushing him between her legs. It was a futile effort. He drove into her, taking her all at once. It was a tight fit, but well prepared. Each thrust was savage, plunging as deeply into her as he could. Max put all of his anger and frustration and loneliness into the thrusting, pounding away at her. It had been more than a year since Abigail was found, a year that he'd lacked not only female companionship, but human contact of any kind.

"Oh, Max," Celeste cried out. Max didn't know how long he'd been completely wrapped up in his own head, but he realized now that the attitude of Celeste's body had changed with the first thrust. She'd stopped fighting him and seemed determined to grind as much pleasure as possible out of the fucking she was getting. Her enthusiasm was almost as frightening as her struggle, nearly as frantic.

Experimentally, Max let up the pressure on her back a little. Celeste responded by meeting his thrusts with her own, matching his rhythm.

Max realized something else. She'd been coming almost since the moment he entered her. If she was faking, it was Academy Award material. Her whole body shuddered and quaked. Animal noises escaped her throat. Her eyes rolled back in her head. Still, it seemed too intense and immediate to be real.

With so much frustration built up, Max didn't have a long time to consider what was going on. He exploded inside her, feeling a little thrill of fear before he remembered her mentioning she'd been on the pill for a while--not that he was sure what he could believe of what she'd said now.

Even as he pulled out of her, Celeste lay there quaking and gasping for another couple of minutes. Max's experience with women was not extensive, but had he been watching a porno movie, he would have found it uncomfortably overdone.

Finally, still panting, Celeste said, "You can let go of my wrists now, Max. I won't fight you if you tell me not to."

"If you fight me, I'll tie you up, Celeste. I swear to God. I don't know what you're playing a..."

"Dammit, Max," said Celeste, sounding angry. "Tell me not to fight you. It has to be an order."

Max sighed, "I'm going to release your wrists, Celeste. You are not to fight me anymore."

Carefully and experimentally, he loosened and then released his grip on her wrists. Celeste didn't fight. Very slowly, she slid over to the far side of the bed, rolling to face him.

Her next words had a dreamlike quality, "I belong to you now, Max--for a time at least. I will obey you as if you were Neil."

"What's going on, Celeste?" Max growled. "I want some answers."

Celeste nodded, "Neil told me that I was to obey and treat as my master for twenty-four hours any man who fucked me unless Neil himself showed up and ordered me to do differently. I belong to you for the next twenty-four hours, Max. You can order me to do anything and I'll do it. I beg you to do so carefully. If you give me orders that contradict what Neil has told me, I can go catatonic following a short, incredibly intense burst of pain. Neil has done it on purpose a few times to punish me or because it amused him."

"Catatonic?"

Celeste nodded, "I don't know what you're thinking, but I swear to you that I am entirely and against my will in Neil's thrall. It is physically impossible for me to disobey him. If I try, I start to experience pain until I stop or black out. Max, your wife was good to me. She loved you, so I trust you. Please listen to me and withhold judgement."

"All right," said Max. "But, I want you to tell me the whole truth. Don't leave anything out."

Celeste winced, "If that's an order, we're already in trouble. If I tried to tell you the whole truth, I would be disobeying several of Neil's orders very quickly. Even the idea is deeply distressing."

"All right," said Max, retrieving his pants. "What should I order you to do if I want as much truth as you can give me without going catatonic."

Celeste frowned, "You could order me to answer your questions as truthfully as I can without going catatonic."

"All right," said Max gruffly. "Do that." Then, feeling foolish, he added, "That's an order."

Celeste nodded, "I will. Would you like to ask me something now?"

Max nodded, "Are you some kind of freak who gets off on being forced? Did you make up that story about Neil so that I would attack you?"

Celeste sighed and considered the questions. Finally, she said, "If I'm a freak, it's because I've been ordered to be one. Neil ordered me to be highly sexually attuned, though. It takes almost nothing to get me off. I can't do it myself, though. That's also an order. And no. I didn't make up anything I told you. I just can't tell you the whole truth because I've been ordered not to."

"Why would Neil make you so highly sexually attuned?"

Celeste paused again. Her frown deepened. Finally, she said, "He likes to take me out and watch men touch me and turn me on. A lot of the men he chooses are violent and only too happy to teach a tease like me a lesson. Besides, Neil himself is not... a very good..." Her hand flew to her temple, her body arching in obvious pain.

It passed after a moment. Panting, she said, "Neil is not..." Again, the pain wracked her body.

"Stop!" shouted Max. "What are you doing?"

"I'm answering your question as truthfully as I can without going catatonic. I believe I can make several more attempts before I'm knocked out. Neil is..."

"Stop!" shouted Max again. "You're not to hurt yourself to answer my questions. That's an order."

Celeste smiled, a tear leaking out of her eye, "I knew that trusting you would be my way out. Thank you, Max."

"This is crazy," said Max.

"I know," said Celeste.

"How am I supposed to find out if you're telling the truth?"

"Spy on him," said Celeste. "I'm not the only person who has to do what he says. As long as he doesn't see you, you should catch him doing it."

"Doing what?"

Celeste shook her head, "I can't say."

Max sighed, "Where is he now?"

"As far as I know, he's at the high school. He told me that he expected to be there all night."

"What's he doing there?"

"He said he was having a party," said Celeste. "I was supposed to be the main attraction. But, I thwarted his plans."

"How? I thought you couldn't disobey him."

"I can't," said Celeste. "But, he's been giving me orders for over a year now. He wants to see if he can make me obey him without orders now. And, he's not always careful about the orders he gives. About six months back, I hit on a plan to escape. I started referring to him in the third person as 'my master.' I would say, 'What would my master have of me.' And he would give orders like, 'Never criticize your master' thinking it only applied to himself. Sometimes, he gives orders without meaning to. Tonight, I told him that I didn't want to go to the high school. He got furious and told me to get out of his sight. Fortunately, the car wasn't moving very quickly at the time. I managed to get out and run away before he could countermand the order. Now, I have to hide from him until he tells me differently."

"Why didn't you just run away?"

"I was going to," said Celeste. "But, almost naked and sexually jacked up like I am, I probably would have been enslaved by someone else before long."

"For twenty-four hours at any rate."

Celeste shook her head, "For twenty-four hours at a time. Who knows how long it would take for my new master to get tired of fucking me long enough to give me a whole day to recycle?"

"You can be re-enslaved by the same person?" asked Max. "I didn't think it would work that way."

"I don't think Neil did, either," said Celeste. "I've been very careful not to let him realize it."

"Why isn't he more careful?" Max asked.

Celeste sighed, "He controls a lot of people sometimes. There are only so many hours in the day to think about how to word his commands." She sounded like she was apologizing for him.

"Wait," said Max. "I thought you told me Neil ordered you not to criticize your master. How can you tell me all of the things you have?"

"Because," said Celeste. "I haven't told you anything he wouldn't be proud to tell you himself."

Apparently, it had never occurred to Neil to order Celeste not to discuss his tactical weaknesses either. Either he didn't think he had any or he assumed she'd never find a confederate. Every time she said something that could qualify as critical, she crouched it as an apology. Even so, she stroked her temple every so often as if she had approached disobedience and narrowly avoided it.

Before he left, he asked, "Do I need to bind you or will you stay here?"

"As long as you get back in time to fuck me again before 9:22 pm tomorrow, I'll hide here. After that, I'm not sure. I won't be yours anymore. But, I'll still want to stay out of Neil's sight unless he tells me differently. I can't guess what my behavior will be."

"I need to fuck you every day or you might run off?"

Celeste looked offended, "Is that so bad?"

Max drew her into his arms and kissed her on top of the head, "Not in the abstract. I just feel bad for you."

Celeste growled low in her throat, "Don't. I loved it."

Max knew she'd loved it because she'd been ordered to, but didn't think that pointing it out would help.

Feeling vaguely foolish, Max drove up around the side of the high school. Even from a distance, it seemed like some sort of event was in full swing in spite of the fact that it was already past eleven p.m.

It had occurred to Max driving over that he probably should have tied Celeste up in case she'd done this in order to be left alone in his house to rob it. He dismissed the thought as soon as it came up. If that was what this was about, she wasn't getting anything that was worth the effort.

More to the point, Max believed her. As crazy as it all sounded, he couldn't come up with a better hypothesis than what she'd told him. All his theories seemed even less probable than the idea that Neil Rasmussen had somehow found a way to force people to follow his orders.

Dressed in black, he crept up on the school gym. It was in a separate building with its own parking lot. All of the lights were on. There were maybe two dozen cars in the parking lot, including four police cruisers.

Max knew that he would have some serious explaining to do if he was caught peeking in on a high school dance or basketball game, but he didn't dare approach the front door. Instead, he went around the side and climbed up the steep hill behind the building. Eventually, he found the window he'd used to watch cheerleading practice on the sly when he was much younger.

The window was high above the gym floor, giving him an excellent view of the floor. Right on the center circle, an exercise mat had been laid out on the floor. From up here, he could only see that there was a huddle of men and boys around the mat in various states of undress. But, by the way they were moving, he knew what they were doing.

His stomach wanted to churn. Clamping his teeth together, he held back the urge and watched grimly. Scanning the room, he put as many names to faces as he could. Some of the men moved like zombies, clearly in thrall. Some moved as if they had more volition. Max wondered if they were taking part in the rape willingly or if some of Neil's victims maintained different degrees of autonomy. Searching his pockets, he found a piece of paper and pen, writing down the question to ask Celeste later. Then, he started making a list of the men and boys he recognized. He didn't expect it to help, but he found that focusing on the minutiae helped settle his stomach.

As he transcribed the list of names, he considered the question of what other information he needed. The first order of business was figuring out where Neil was. He scanned the gym. Neil was in plain sight, sitting on the bottom seat of the bleachers, a blonde head bobbing in his lap. Max didn't recognize the girl although she was dressed in a high school cheerleading outfit, which might limit the number of possibilities. He recognized Neil, though. Despite the fact that he seemed to have dozens of people willing to engage in a bacchanalia for him, he apparently still hadn't asked any of them to provide him with new clothes. He wore torn, ragged blue jeans, a moth-eaten black t-shirt advertising some heavy metal band, and a thick red flannel shirt, worn unbuttoned.

From a distance, he seemed bored with the fellatio he was receiving. Sure enough, after a few minutes, he leaned back, put his foot on the cheerleader's shoulder, and kicked her backwards so that she sprawled on the floor. While she was lying there, he called over three men from the pile and indicated her. They peeled off immediately. The cheerleader tried to run, but they caught her at the locker room door, dragged her out onto the floor, and were on her like a pack of animals.

Now, Max did have to look away. It was all becoming too much. He covered his eyes, recovering his nerve, and looked again. Neil was talking on a cell phone. Max made a few more notes, intending to leave. Then, he saw a white sports car coming up the road. It was the sort of car that was so classy it didn't need to look flashy. It just radiated power.

The woman that stepped out wasn't a local. Max recognized her as a pop singer of some popularity, but couldn't put a name to the face. Once out of the car, she trotted across the parking lot as fast as she could--as if she were afraid of being late.

Inside the gym, she ran to where Neil was sitting. Without preamble, she sunk to her knees and resumed where the cheerleader had left off.

Max made two more notes: "Power works over phone" and "vector into New York or maybe Los Angeles." Then, deciding that he would learn no more tonight, he snuck carefully back to his car and drove home.

When Max got home, Celeste was curled up in an easy chair, wearing only his flannel shirt and reading one of his history books. She raised her head, but didn't say anything.

"All right," said Max. "I still find this all pretty unbelievable, but I certainly can't think of any explanation for what I just saw other than that Neil has some sort of mind control power. What can you tell me about it without hurting yourself?"

"Not much," admitted Celeste. "He's been pretty thorough in giving me instructions about not revealing anything about it. If I hadn't figured out the loophole about talking about the instructions he gave me, I couldn't even make reference to it."

"That was some pretty subtle thinking," said Max. "You should be a lawyer."

Celeste smiled at the compliment, got up, and came over to sit on the couch next to Max, who had been sitting forward. With practiced ease, she slid in behind him, straddling his back. Her hands felt good on his back and shoulders, finding and massaging away tension he'd picked up while spying on Neil.

It didn't take long for her hands to find the buttons on his shirt. When she placed a kiss on his spine, just below the neck, he captured her wrists, "Celeste, I don't think I'm up for anything right now. What I saw was pretty disturbing."

She didn't stop kissing him, "You would be surprised at the recuperative power of the male libido in the face of atrocity. You should just relax and let things progress. If it goes further than you like, you can always order me to stop."

Pulling her gently by her wrists, Max drew Celeste out from behind his back and into his lap.

"Celeste," he said sternly. "I think we should do this as infrequently as possible without risking you going back to Neil. I feel bad about taking advantage of you like that."

"Max," said Celeste. "If you order me to leave you alone except for once a day, I will. But, if you don't order it, I'm going to take every opportunity to drag you into bed."

Max looked surprised, "Why?"

"I like you," said Celeste. "You're gentle with me. I've spent more than a year fucking people with whom neither of those things are true."

"I would think you would appreciate the break," offered Max.

Celeste shook her head, "A side-effect of a lot of the rules that Neil gave me is that I'm more or less horny all the time. It's very distracting. And I can't get myself off. That's one of the rules, too."

"Are you sure you can't find a loophole in that one?" asked Max.

"I might," admitted Celeste. "But, that one was the closest Neil has come to being merciful. Before that, I... well, it wasn't pretty."

Max nodded, frowning.

"You want to fuck me. Don't you?" Celeste asked. "I think you must or we wouldn't have gotten this far. But, you're a good man and don't want to take advantage. I'm telling you that, in this case, what you want and the right thing to do are the same thing. Please, if you restrict me to once a day, I won't be happy about it."

As she was speaking, Max let go of her wrists. They resumed unbuttoning his shirt. She kissed his chest. Max tangled a hand in her hair.

"Celeste," he said. "As much as I would like to give you what you're asking for, I'm not a young man. We'll need to find some compromise where you're not going crazy and I don't get fucked to death."

Celeste laughed, undoing his belt, "You would be surprised how much it takes to fuck a man to death. Even with help, I couldn't do it. Believe me. We tried."

Max scooped her off his lap, eliciting a squeal as he rose from the couch, "I'd better get you to the bedroom before we wind up doing this in the middle of the floor."

Celeste's eyes shined, reflecting her smile, "Anywhere you want, Max."

Max carried her in the bedroom and laid her backwards on the bed. Celeste kept her arms around his neck, not letting him pull away from her. She rained kisses on his face, stripping off his shirt.

At first, Max tried to restrain himself. Despite what Celeste said, he knew he was taking advantage of her. But, it didn't take much of this girl in woman form, squirming underneath him, eager and willing, to make that not so important.

Besides that, he'd lied to Celeste. He had been horrified at what he'd seen at the gym, but that horror had been from the waist up. Years ago, he'd tried to explain the disconnect between thought and lust to Abigail and gotten only a blank stare. He certainly wasn't going to admit such dark thoughts to this poor, abused child.

His hand had gone down between her legs, stroking her to readiness. Again, it took only a short time before she was soaking wet. He'd tried to take his tongue where his hand had been, be Celeste locked the fingers of one hand in his hair, the other pressing against his buttocks, urging him inside of her.

Once inside of her, it hadn't taken Max long to forget all gentleness. At Celeste's urging, he'd increased his tempo until he was driving into her with all the force he could muster. Her cries and squeals, her nails across his back, drove him into a frenzy.

Afterwards, Max waited for his breathing to return to normal. Celeste had wrapped herself around him, her head resting on his chest. His lust momentarily satisfied, he felt a wave of fierce protectiveness towards her, hugging her to his chest and kissed her head.

The situation was so unique that it took Max a long time to think of something to say. Before he did, he sensed a change in her breathing indicating that she was asleep.

His methodical nature had gotten him a ribbing more than once in college, but helped make him a foundation of his law firm until his leave of absence. When faced with a problem, he wrote down everything, organizing and shaping the information until a solution became blindingly obvious.

In this case, he just didn't have enough information. He needed to know the source of Neil's power. Apparently, Neil had explicitly ordered Celeste not to talk about it. That meant Max was going to have to find another source of the information, possibly direct observation.

By the time Celeste wandered into the kitchen, wearing the flannel shirt Max had lent her and nothing else, he had a preliminary plan.

"Can I make you breakfast?" she asked.

Max nodded, "Sure. That would be great. I have a couple of questions I want to try asking you this morning. I want you to answer them as best as you can without causing yourself pain."

"All right," said Celeste, looking uncertain.

"Has Neil ever given you an order in a non-verbal manner?"

Celeste considered the question, "Not that I remember."

"Have you ever followed an order without actually hearing it?"

"I... I've followed orders that I misheard."

Max shook his head, "That's not what I mean. I know this sounds far-fetched, but have you ever received an order that you couldn't have heard?"

"No. How would I follow an order I couldn't have heard?"

Max sighed, "I'm dealing with something science says can't happen, so my questions aren't bounded by scientific possibility. I'm wondering if Neil's power might be telepathic. But, I won't ask you that because you couldn't answer it."

Standing at the stove making breakfast, Celeste nodded and smiled, "Well done. I didn't even notice where you were going with that. You should be a lawyer."

Max laughed. Then, more somber, he asked, "What was the exact wording of Max's command that keeps you from telling me about his power?"

Celeste frowned, "I can't say."

"Why not?"

"Because," she said. "If I told you what he said, I would be telling you where his power came from."

"If I ask where his power doesn't come from, would you be able to tell me?"

Celeste considered the question, "No. Because, if you hit on it, I would have to demur. And, that would be the same as telling you."

"Could you accidentally give it away in some way without knocking yourself out?"

Celeste froze at the stove. Her voice came out small and meek, "Yes."

Max looked up, "I wouldn't ask you to do that unless it were life or death and I couldn't figure it out on my own from observation."

Celeste nodded, but didn't speak. She went back to making breakfast. Max could see that she was crying.

"Celeste, what's wrong?"

She shook her head, unwilling to speak.

"Tell me," Max said quietly.

Her head snapped up. Quietly and without inflection, she said, "I'm afraid you're going to get used to being able to give me orders and have me obey them without question. You're already thinking about how to use the power you have to get information out of me, even if it hurts. When Max first got his... power, he tried to be as nice as possible about it as long as he got his way. Over time, that became less of a concern."

"I thought he was always a little savage."

Celeste shook her head, "Not at all. He was a poor kid who got picked on a lot. At first, he used the power to get people to stop picking on him and his friends. Revenge came later. Then, he became less interested in revenge than in making people suffer."

"Celeste, you have to trust me," said Max. "I would never hurt you except to save your life."

She raised her head, "Is that an order?"

Max shook his own head violently, "Absolutely not."

"Because it could be, you know. You could order me to trust you and I would. You could order me to love you. You could order me to hate you, hate your touch, everything about you, and then order me to fuck you and I would, hating every minute of it. I don't know if you thought about any of that yet, but I'm sure you will. Can you honestly tell me you're not going to use that?"

Max nodded, "Yes. Whenever I think about forcing you to do things, it makes my skin crawl."

Celeste nodded, "All right."

"Do you believe me?"

Celeste shook her head, "No. I'm sorry, Max. I've seen what the power did to Neil. He was by no means a saint, but he was nothing like what he's become either. He told me he would throw away the power once 'everything was put aright.'"

"All right," said Max quietly. "Fair enough. Could he have done that? Could Max somehow throw the power away?"

Celeste shook her head, "I can't say."

"That's okay," said Max. "If I were to approach him wearing earplugs, would I be safe from his power?"

"I don't know," Celeste said. Her voice was still quiet.

"Celeste, I want you to tell me if this plan will work: If I ask you to try to disobey a written order, then give you the order, will it hurt if the written order works?"

Celeste considered the question, "If you told me to try to disobey the order until it started to hurt, then stop fighting it, I could probably do it."

Max nodded, "Try to disobey the written order I am about to give you until it starts to hurt, then stop fighting it."

Celeste nodded. Max took his legal pad, turned to a clean page, and wrote one word. When he turned it to Celeste, she smiled.

"Shit," she said. "That was involuntary. Try again."

Max turned to another page and wrote, "Tap yourself on the head three times." Then, he turned the pad around again, she looked at it, concentrating on the words. Her hands stayed at her sides.

"Good," said Max. "I think we're getting somewhere."

Max got in his car and drove to a mall an hour away to buy earplugs. He could have gotten them in town, but a quick drive down main street convinced him that it wasn't a good idea. If Neil knew that his power could be blocked by earplugs, he might be controlling the people who sold them. It was a small chance, but too big to take.

Without thinking, he'd told Celeste, "Stay here. Don't move until I get back." Fortunately, he'd noticed her paralysis a few seconds after he'd said it.

"I didn't mean that literally," said Max. "If you think you're going to leave the house, call me."

Celeste nodded, went up on tiptoes, and kissed him. When Max kissed her back, she wrapped herself around him like a vine and had to be ordered to let him go before she would release.

"And don't pout," Max said. The smile that split her face was so abrupt and unnatural that he ordered her to forget his previous order. But, it still stuck in his mind's eye for most of the drive over.

He walked around the mall several times, looking for people showing the telltale signs of Neil's control. From what he'd seen at the gym and around town, people who were in Neil's thrall but not being directly commanded by him seemed to pause before changing directions. Their eyes seemed to take an extra half-second to focus on new objects.

At least, Max hoped that was how it worked. He could be walking into a trap and wind up losing control of his own mind any minute. But, there was only so much caution he could exercise. As it was, he left Celeste alone for almost four hours before returning, having stopped at several stores on the way. When he came home, she was sitting on the couch, still dressed in the big, flannel shirt, deeply engrossed in reading one of his introductory law texts. When she saw him, she laid the book aside gently, then launched herself across the room at him, wrapping her arms around his neck, kissing him passionately on the mouth. He smiled down at her and stroked her hair.

"Max," she said, breathless and excited, "I just spent the last three hours focused on reading about the law. It was really fascinating. I hardly thought about sex at all." The pride was clear in her voice.

His hands held her up by her bottom, "And now?"

"Now," she said, giving him a saucy look and wiggling, "I could use a little bit of attention--to help me focus."

Max kissed her gently and gave in to the inevitable. He carried Celeste into the bedroom, kissing her as they went. Laying her back on the bed, he stripped her of the shirt and ran his hands over her naked body, loving the way she responded to him. She whimpered, aroused by his touch. He followed hands with lips, kissing his way down her body.

"Max," she moaned. "What are you doing to me?"

"I may have figured out how to deal with Neil," said Max. "By this time tomorrow, you may be free of him. Let me make you feel good."

Celeste closed her eyes and nodded. She opened her body to Max, who took his time exploring it. This time, he didn't let her responses direct him. He kissed and stroked her everywhere before letting his tongue claim the warm place between her thighs. She arched her back, pulling his hair and clawing his scalp.

One nail caught his ear, causing him to cry out in pain. She looked up, alarmed, "Did I hurt you?"

Afraid he would bump up against some command she'd been given if he said "yes," Max said, "Don't worry about it. Forget it happened. Just leave your arms at your sides until I tell you to move them."

Celeste's arms dropped to her sides as if the were dead weight. Max rolled her over on her stomach, kissing up and down her spine, powerful hands massaging her from neck to calves. Her sounds of pleasure were mostly constant now, but they changed timbre whenever he touched near the rosebud of her ass.

"Do you like that?" he whispered. Celeste nodded frantically. He teased a fingertip into her. She cried out, feet clawing at the sheets.

"Would you like me to fuck you there?" he growled. Again, she nodded frantically.

Max moved his hand between her legs, covering his fingers in her juices, and applying them to the other entrance to her flesh. Celeste spread her legs to make it easier. It had been a long time since he'd done this. Abigail hadn't allowed it. There had been a girl in college who liked it well enough with sufficient oil applied. Max didn't have oil, but it was all right. Celeste wouldn't mind.

He entered her all at once. Celeste panicked at first, but he growled, "Don't fight me," and the muscles relaxed. After that, it became easier and he took her in deep strokes, driving his cock as deep as he could go each time. Max's pleasure was as intense as he could remember it ever being. He kept it going as long as he could, feeling Celeste's slender body trembling beneath him, completely overwhelmed with pleasure.

When he finally came, he collapsed next to her, sliding out, dragging her back against him so that he could hold her in the spoon position. It took a long time for her pleasure noises to stop. When her breathing had gone back to normal, he pulled her towards him, cradling her in his arms. As she rolled towards him, one of her arms swung freely, flopping like a rag doll's.

Max laughed, "Sorry. I forgot. You can move your arms now."

"Max," Celeste said, lying in his arms, "if you do that very often, you're going to break my mind. I almost went insane today."

Max kissed the top of her head, "I just wanted to make sure that you were sated for tonight. I think I found a way to learn Neil's power and maybe even neutralize him."

"Really?" asked Celeste, sitting up.

"I want you to help me do an experiment," Max said. "Will you?"

"Of course," Celeste said.

Max took a pair of earplugs out of their packaging and handed them to her, "Put these in your ears and turn your back."

Celeste did as she was told. Sitting right behind her, Max said, "Turn around and face me."

Celeste didn't move. She continued to stare away from him. He tried again, "Celeste, pat yourself on the head."

Still getting no response, he turned her to face him and said, "Celeste, kiss me."

Celeste reached up and pulled out one of the ear plugs, "What?"

Max shook his head, "No. Don't take the earplugs out."

"Oh," said Celeste. She put the earplug back in.

"Now," Max said, "kiss me."

Celeste stared right at him. Her hands stayed firmly in her lap. For a few seconds, Max thought she would just ignore the command, but she started to quake like he'd seen her do when two orders conflicted.

"Celeste," he shouted, "take out the ear plugs."

She didn't respond and still looked to be going into a seizure. Max reached for her. She caught his wrists, trying to stop him. When he tried to force his way past her arms, she bit one of his wrists and wouldn't let go. Instinctively, Max swung the arm she was attached to, flinging her off the bed. She looked like she was trying to get up and run, but the tremors hadn't stopped and she collapsed again.

Max approached her much more carefully this time, holding his bleeding wrist with his other hand. Lying on the floor, curled up in a ball, skin clammy with sweat, quaking and moaning, she didn't seem ready to give him any more trouble. But, he didn't take any more chances. He pounced on her, pinning her face down to the ground, twisting one arm behind her back, and placing a knee between her shoulder blades to keep her pinned. Only then did he reach down and pull out one of the earplugs.

"Celeste," he said hoarsely, "can you hear me?"

"Yes," she growled, anger clear in her voice.

Max took his weight off her and sat back against the wall, "I'm sorry," he panted. "Take out the other earplug, then go and get something to take care of my wrist."

As Celeste bandaged his wrist, he asked, "What the hell happened?"

Celeste shrugged, "I had a sense that you wanted to give me an order. It became very important that I hear the order. I wanted to take the earplugs out so I could do what you wanted, but I couldn't because you told me not to."

Max shook his head, "I'm sorry, Celeste. I didn't realize what was happening. I would never have told you not to take out the earplugs had I realized the effect it would have had."

Celeste sat with her back against the wall, still naked, chest still heaving. She glared at Max. Still exhausted himself, he held out his arms, waving her to him to be comforted, "Come here."

Celeste crawled over, lay her head on his chest, and let herself be held.

Max waited until it was dark out to start packing for his surveillance of Neil. He said, "Well, we know that commands you're not aware of don't effect you, but that, if you think you are being commanded, you'll work hard to try to obey those commands. So, they'll be of limited protection.

Celeste looked up from the book she was reading. It was the textbook she'd found earlier, "Be careful, Max."

Max nodded, "I will. You're really enjoying that law book. Aren't you?"

"No," said Celeste. "But, I'm compelled to read it."

"Why?"

"Because you told me I should be a lawyer," said Celeste. "So, I'm doing what I can to obey your order."

"That wasn't an order," said Max. "It was just a suggestion."

Celeste shrugged, for the first time in a long time reminding Max of the teenager she actually was, "I'm very suggestible."

"Well, for..."

"I'd rather you didn't," said Celeste, cutting him off.

Max was puzzled, "Why not?"

"This afternoon, I read for four hours straight and didn't go completely sex crazy. It's preferable to what I'm like otherwise."

"All right," said Max. "Celeste, I promise you. Once I figure out this thing with Neil, I'll figure out how to untangle all of the conflicting orders you've got, however long it takes."

"Thank you, Max," Celeste said quietly. Then, she went back to her book.

"Celeste, how long has Neil owned you?"

"Since last April," said Celeste.

"Are you the first person he owned?"

Celeste nodded, "Yes."

Max took a deep breath, not wanting to ask the next question, but not able to resist it, "Celeste, did Neil ever own my wife, Abigail?"

Celeste considered the question, then said, "Yes. She was the second person he owned."

Max glared at her, "Did he order Bill Horton to kill my wife?"

Celeste shook her head. She was crying, "No. Bill Horton didn't kill your wife."

Max felt faint. He sat down heavily in his chair. Ever since he'd found Celeste on the side of the road and heard her story, this suspicion had been growing in his head. Bill Horton had been a transient living in and around town for almost four years and never hurt anybody. Then, after Abigail's body had been found, her skull crushed and her neck broken, Bill had confessed to kidnapping, raping, and murdering her.

Even then, through the haze of his grief and rage, it hadn't made much sense to Max. The murder was senseless, of course. But, he couldn't get his head around the idea that Bill Horton had done it. Now, he asked, "If Bill Horton didn't kill Abigail, who did?"

Celeste shook her head harder, "I can't say."

"Did Neil order you not to tell anyone who killed Abigail?"

Celeste nodded, "Yes."

Max considered changing his own orders, forcing Celeste to talk, no matter how much it hurt her. But, he already had his answer. He closed his eyes and got a clear picture of his wife--sweet, gentle, loving, caring Abigail, who had worked so hard to help her students. Then, he imagined her dead and cold in the morgue, neck broken, skull crushed.

"I'm going to kill Neil," Max said quietly.

"Good," said Celeste. Then, she went back to her book.

Neil must have gotten paranoid about his own safety. He'd moved into the biggest house in town and had a high, chain-link fence put up around the grounds. There were a half-dozen people patrolling the outside of the fence, not security guards, just men and women Max knew from town in their ordinary street clothes. If it weren't for the little pauses and momentary unfocusing of the eyes, it might have been impossible to get past them. But, after walking around the perimeter a couple of times, he found the best place to cut through and timed the rounds until he knew exactly when to make a run across open ground.

He worked quickly, extracting bolt cutters from the bag of tools he'd brought and cutting through the fence. He cut only enough so that he could get under the fence, praying that the guards wouldn't notice it on their next round or, if they did, that their instructions wouldn't cover how to handle such an obvious intrusion.

When he saw his chance, he bolted for the fence. It seemed to take an impossibly long time for the wire cutters to make a hole big enough for him to crawl through. With growing impatience, he kept glancing over his shoulder and, when he saw Mr. Conners, the piano teacher he'd met through his wife, he slid through, his shirt catching and tearing on one bit of chain link, another bit raising a bloody line across his ribs. He gasped and ran for the house, knowing he had less than a minute to get to the partially open cellar door before Logan McLaughlin, the town's Little League coach, reappeared around the corner.

He ran without looking down and, as a result, stumbled on the gravel walkway that went around the house. Unwilling to stop his forward momentum, he tried to duck into a roll that ended in a sprawl, slamming him into the door hard enough that it swung wide open, slammed against the wall in a tinkle of glass, and slammed shut. Max looked up and saw Logan walking along his predetermined route. The other man must have heard the ruckus, but he walked evenly, not slowing his pace as he went by the door.

"Stay down," said a woman's voice behind Max. He froze where he lay, watching the Little League coach walk by.

"I heard Neil give him directions," said the woman's voice. "It was to walk that route at his normal walking pace and raise an alarm if he sees an intruder."

Max nodded, not even rolling onto his back until Logan had disappeared from view.

Even in her current state, the woman sitting on the couch watching him was beautiful. Long, platinum blonde hair cascaded down the sides of her head. Her eyes were red, but dry. She was naked and making no effort to hide it. Max recognized her as the pop star he'd seen at the gym.

"Amber, right?" he asked.

"Yeah," she said, nodding. "You wouldn't have any food on you. Would you?"

Max shook his head, "No. Sorry. Why are you down here?"

Amber rolled her eyes toward the upstairs, "He told me to stay down here until he called for me and not to draw any attention to myself. You're here to stop him. Aren't you?"

Max didn't say anything. After a few seconds, Amber said, "I don't have any specific commands to alert him to intruders or people here to get him. If I did, I would have had to yell once I saw you cutting through the fence." She looked embarrassed, "I've been trying to find a way to escape without disobeying."

Max nodded, "Is he up there?"

Amber nodded, "Yeah. I heard him fucking someone about an hour ago. He might even be asleep."

Max looked up the stairs leading to the main house, "Do you know where he gets his power? Can you tell me?"

She nodded, "He's got a ring. He twists it when he gives commands."

"A ring?" asked Max.

"Yeah," said Amber. "An antique gold ring. Every time he gives a command, he twists it. If he doesn't, I don't feel the compulsion to obey him. He forgets sometimes."

"All right," said Max. "Can you give me your best guess of where he is?"

Amber nodded, "If I tell you, I want you to promise me something."

"Go ahead," said Max.

"If you succeed, come down and order me to return to my normal life. I'm afraid that, if he dies before giving me another command, I'll be stuck here until I die of starvation. It's been nearly two days already."

It took Max a few long seconds to understand what she was asking, "I won't be able to command you," he said. "Once I kill Neil, I'm going to destroy the ring before it can do any more damage. It's too dangerous."

Amber nodded, "It has to be destroyed. I agree. But, you can't just leave all of these people repeating the last action Neil gave them to do. You have to put things right."

Neil took a deep breath. He didn't want to risk the temptation of putting the ring on, but he didn't see how he could help these people if he didn't have it.

"All right," he said finally. "I'll help the people here, then destroy it."

"Good," said Amber. "That's for the best." She explained how to get to the bedroom she thought Neil would be in. Even as he listened, Max knew he'd lied to Amber. He wouldn't be able to destroy the ring until he'd helped Celeste regain some normalcy. How could he live with himself knowing that he could have helped her and didn't? He would help Celeste, then destroy the ring.

Neil apparently had great faith in his ability to keep dangers away from himself. There were no guards in the house as Max crept through the hallways. Amber's help had been invaluable, allowing Max to get to right outside the bedroom door before he had to put in the earplugs and unholster the pistol he'd brought with him.

As quietly and quickly as he could, he pushed open the door. He was already raising the gun when he realized that the shape in the bed wasn't Neil at all, but a young woman lying face down. Neil was sitting in a chair on the other side of the room, putting on his sneakers. He looked up in alarm.

Everything seemed to move in slow motion as Max twisted his body, trying to draw a bead on Neil and fire before he could issue a command. He moved swiftly, his motion graceful and compact.

It wasn't even close. The gun had only swung halfway across its arc when Neil twisted his ring and shouted, "Drop the gun." Max couldn't hear him, but read his lips clearly. With no volition, Max's hands flew open, the gun continuing the arc without him and clattering uselessly against the wall. Max wasted no time, throwing himself at Neil. He actually got his hands around the younger man's throat before Max croaked, "Stop."

Max stopped moving. With every fiber of his being, he tried to will his fingers to close, crushing Neil's windpipe or at least constricting his airflow enough that he couldn't give any more commands. But, he couldn't move even a fraction of an inch.

"Release me," Neil whispered. Max couldn't hear him, but it seemed that reading lips was enough to make a command work. His arms dropped to his sides as he mentally cursed himself for not experimenting more fully with the limits of command.

As his arms dropped, he felt a faint rigidness that his body had acquired with the command to stop disappear. Experimentally, he flexed his hands, imagining he was about to attack Neil again. He knew that any attempt to do so would just make Neil issue another command, but there didn't seem to be any compulsion against another attack. He filed the information away and forced himself to remain still.

"Take out your earplugs," said Neil. Max groaned and complied.

"Who are you?" Neil asked, looking at him curiously. He walked a full circle around Max, considering him carefully. Max didn't move or answer.

"Answer my questions," said Neil.

"Max Wiley."

"Why did you just try to kill me, Max Wiley?" Neil seemed more amused by the concept than worried.

Max almost panicked and told him about Celeste. Instead, he managed to blurt out, "You killed my wife."

"Wiley," said Neil thoughtfully. Then, his face lit up, "You're that cunt teacher's husband."

Max didn't answer. It wasn't a question.

"You're not to kill me, Max," said Neil.

"All right," said Max. He felt the hope drain out of him.

Neil walked right up to Max so that they were face to face, "I'm going to make you suffer for trying to kill me, Max Wiley. You have no idea how a man can suffer."

Max spit in Neil's face. The look of stunned surprise Neil gave him told Max he had time for one independent action before Neil gave an order that shut him down completely. He took that action, pulling the wire cutters off his belt and, in one smooth motion, clamping them down on Neil's finger, below the ring.

"Stop!" Neil shouted in panic. His other hand made a twisting motion near the ring, but had been blocked from reaching their target by the blades of the cutters. The command had no compulsion behind it. Before he could recover, Max squeezed the tool as hard as he could, feeling it pass through flesh, catch on bone and, with a last desperate burst of effort, shear through the bone. The finger dropped to the floor with a surprisingly soft thud.

Max dove for the finger, expecting Neil to race him to it, but the young man had fallen backwards, gripping his mangled hand, trying to control the fountain of blood pouring from his stump. Before he could recover, Max slipped the ring off the bloody digit and on to his own finger, resting atop his wedding ring.

"Give it back," Neil shrieked, diving much too late.

"Freeze," shouted Max. Neil grappled with him, trying to grip the bloody ring. Max reached down and twisted the ring. Again, he shouted, "Freeze."

Max stopped moving. His body went rigid, wrapped around Max. The lawyer twisted the ring again, "Drop to the floor and stay there." Neil did as he was told, collapsing akimbo as if his limbs no longer worked.

Max sat heavily on the bed. The girl who had been sleeping when he came in was crouched in the corner, trying to be as small as possible.

"Who are you?" Max asked. When she didn't answer, he twisted the ring, "Answer my questions."

"Jennifer Rasmussen," the girl said. "I'm Neil's cousin."

"Jennifer," said Max. "Try to do something Neil ordered you not to do."

Jennifer rose from her crouch and walked to the door of the room. As she got to the doorway, her face twisted up in a ricture of pain and she was unable to cross the threshold.

"Stop," said Max. But, he forgot to twist the ring. She put both hands up to her head and gave a shriek of agony. Max twisted the ring, "Stop."

She collapsed, trembling on the floor. Max said wearily, "Jennifer, I want you to obey my commands at all times as if I were twisting the ring. Can you do that?"

"Yes," said Jennifer.

Neil's face showed surprise. Max rose, took two steps and kicked the younger man hard in the ribs, "Didn't think of that one. Did you, fucker?" Neil groaned at the kick and spit blood. Immediately, concern for Neil's well-being threatened to overcome Max. What if Max had inadvertently killed him?

When it became clear that Neil would survive the kick, Max turned back to Jennifer, "How long has Neil been giving you commands?"

"Just today," said Jennifer. "He called me around eleven in the morning and ordered me to come over. I couldn't not do what he said."

Max nodded and said, "Jennifer, when I'm finished talking, I want you to forget Neil's commands. Then, I want you to try to walk out that door again. If it starts to hurt, stop. I don't want you to hurt yourself. Can you do that?"

Jennifer nodded, looking confused. But, she got up and purposefully strode through the doorway.

"Good," said Max. "Now, go take a shower, get dressed, and go home. Once you get home, I want you to forget what happened today."

"All right," said Jennifer. Her eyes were full of gratitude as she disappeared down the hall.

Max looked down at Neil, "What am I going to do with you?"

"I need a doctor," said Neil. "You can't let me die. I told you not to."

Max shook his head, "No. You told me not to kill you."

Neil's face went white. "Please," he whispered. "Don't leave me here to die."

Max gave him a sad smile, "I won't, Neil." He rose from the bed and looked down at the young man who had raped and murdered his wife, "I'm more merciful than you. When I leave this room, I want you to pick up my gun, put it in your mouth, and blow your brains out."

It had taken Max much longer to get home than he expected. He'd been undoing the last of Max's commands to his "guards" when the first police cruisers had shown up. Things had been tense until he'd ordered the police to stand down. A quick message on one of the cruisers' radios made sure that the local force would do what it could to cover up his murder of Neil.

By the time he got back to the house, it was after dark. The lights in his living room were on and, when he went inside, he saw Celeste lying asleep on the couch, a law book on the floor next to her.

He crouched next to her, "Celeste, wake up."

Celeste's eyes opened, "Max, you're alive." She smiled up at him, then wrapped her arms around the back of his neck, "I was so worried."

Max nodded, "Neil's dead. I... I didn't kill him. He ordered me not to. I made him kill himself."

Celeste's hands dropped and her eyes flew to Max's hand. When she saw the ring, her whole body tensed up as surely as if Max had ordered her to freeze.

"You put the ring on," she said dully.

Max nodded, "I had to. There were people who would have kept doing the last thing he ordered them to do forever if I didn't tell them to stop."

"Take it off," Celeste said. There was an edge of panic in her voice.

"Soon," said Max. "I promise. As soon as I release you from your compulsion, we'll destroy it together."

"No," she said, scrambling away from him all until she was crouched on the back of the couch. There was real urgency in her voice, "Max, take it off now. I'd rather take my chances."

"Celeste," Max said firmly, exasperation clear in his voice. "Just sit down and let me help you."

Celeste's body untensed. She slid back down until she was sitting on the couch properly, her hands folded in her lap and looked up at him. Meekly, she said, "All right."

Max cursed himself. He hadn't meant to give her a direct command like that, but it had worked. Quietly, he said, "I'm sorry, Celeste. I didn't... Listen, I just want to help you... to undo some of the damage Neil did. Then, we'll destroy the ring together. I promise. Do you believe me?"

Celeste shook her head, tears running down her cheeks, "No, Max. I believe you mean to, but I don't believe you'll do it. That's how it started with Neil. He had the best of intentions."

"I'm not Neil," Max shouted, getting frustrated.

"All right," said Celeste. Her voice was barely a whisper, her whole body trembling with fear.

"Please," said Max, going down on his knees again. "Don't be afraid of me."

The fear on Celeste's face was replaced with revulsion so strong that Max had to turn away to keep from issuing another command. With Celeste, he didn't have to twist the ring. The old order to obey him as she would Neil still seemed to apply.

Without turning to face her again, he said, "Celeste, forget every command Neil gave you. You're free of him. Forget every command I ever gave you. You're free of me, too."

For a long time, Celeste didn't answer. Then, she said quietly, "Thank you, Max. Now, please take off the ring and let's destroy it."

"Not yet," said Max. "I still need to make you forget what he did to you."

"How?" asked Celeste. "By making me forget the last two years of my life? Max, I need those memories. Please, take the ring off."

Max closed his eyes, fighting back his own tears. She was afraid the power of the ring would be too seductive, that he wouldn't be able to take it off when he was done with the delicate work of repairing her psyche. But, he knew that he could do it if things went quickly, if she didn't fight him, if only...

"Celeste," he said quietly. "I'm going to help you, then destroy this thing." He gave the ring a sharp twist, "Trust me."