The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for adults in locations in
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Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

E-mail address: ezriter@hotmail.com

Please!  Give me your comments.

This is a repost of a fifty-two chapter mind control, multi person romance. 


MY INHERITANCE

Chapter 21

Pinged

Andy was mortified. She began to blush, the red rising from somewhere under the ski
skin which encased her delicious body to cover her face.  She was red as a lobster.  Her
lower lip quivered.  Really though, it was a laughable situation. There Eve (I will continue
to call her that, if you don't mind) and I were, naked and obviously freshly fucked, when
Andy asked for Eve's autograph. 

"I'm sorry, Davy," she whimpered and turned to leave.  I grabbed her ankle.  "Come back
here," I said, pulling her down beside me. Andy looked as guilty as a puppy caught
pooping on the carpet.  When Eve finally controlled her laughter, she was very nice to
Andy, and signed the autograph she requested. 

"Who is she?" Eve asked.   "Andrea Matthews," I answered.

"No. I mean, what is she to you?"

Andy's eyes were boring into me as I thought.  It was a good question.  What was Andy
to me?  She was my kitten, but I could hardly explain to someone that meant a
chemically programmed sex slave.  She was my roommate, but that sounded like we
were assigned the same room by some liberal college somewhere.  Friend? She was
more than that.  Lover? Yes.  Concubine? I am not a king.  Personal slut?  Andy was not
at all slutty unless I told her to be.  

I knew Andy remembered my proposal of marriage on the streets of San Francisco when
a movie star and I got in a bidding war for her services as she game-played as a hooker. 
Fianc‚ then?  Andy had told me she did not need a piece of paper to belong to me, that
the proposal was enough for her.  Sweetheart?  That is what she called me.  It was a
nice, old-fashioned word.

"Sweetheart," I said.  Andy liked that.  I could tell by her smile.

"Andy, do you mind your sweetheart having sex with another woman?"  Eve asked. 

"Of course not.  I understand a man needs many women while a woman is most happy
with just one man.  A good woman, like me, helps her man by encouraging him to have
sex with other women and finding them for him.  Don't you do that for your man?"

If there were any question Andy had been programmed, that statement alone should
vanquish it.  At first, Eve thought Andy was putting her on, but, as they talked, Eve
realized Andy was sincere. Still, she decided to put it to the test.

"So, Andy, if Dave and I were to have sex right in front of you, you would not mind?"

"Not in the least.  In fact, I would like to join in, if you don't mind."     

That is how Eve, Andy and I ended up naked in the big bed, doing wonderful things to
each other. Picture Eve.  That should be easy since everyone has seen her in a skimpy
red swim suit.  Picture Andy. That should be easy, too.  Envision what each of them looks
like. Then, see them together on the bed, naked, nipples touching as they gently caress
each other.  Picture yourself squeezing between them to everyone's delight and the two
of them focusing all that girl power on you.  Nice picture, isn't it? 

I think Eve was surprised when Andy decided to take my cum from her pussy, and more
surprised when she orgasmed from it.   I was not at all surprised by Andy's actions or
Eve's response.  She was a sexual women being pleasured by a sexual woman. 

Before she left, Eve offered to get Andy a screen test for Baywatch, since Andy had
already passed the most important test for that organization, which is a body to die for. 
Truthfully, Andy was better looking than any of them.  I realized it was the second time
someone in show business had offered Andy a start.  

The three of us went back out into the beautiful, sunshiny day.  I followed behind them
about five paces just to watch the crowd reaction.  The Pope and the President together
would not have turned more heads.   I had beeped Mary so I knew she and Eve's escort
were at The Left Bank, nibbling hor d'oeuvres and sipping wine.  We joined them there.  I
could tell from Eve's conversation the whole time with me was wiped from her conscious
mind.  We said our goodbyes, leaving Eve to explain to her escort why she was too tired
to do anything else that evening.

"Well? How was she?" Mary asked. 

"Absolutely fantastic.  Almost as good as you."  Andy cleared her throat.  "Or, Andy," I
added.  She beamed.

"Ready for another one?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw (she named the star of another series).  She is a kitten, too."

What the hell.  A guy has to do what a guy has to do.  Later, after it was all over, I must
say that one did not compare to Eve or to my kittens.  Still, she wasn't bad.

A blizzard rolled in while I was enjoying myself with the other star.  By the time it was
over during the night, we would get twenty-one inches of new snow.  The kittens and I hit
a steak house, ordered ribeyes medium rare with potatoes and merlot.  After dinner, we
trudged back to the house.  Through the blowing snow, I could see a strange car parked
in the driveway.  As we got closer, the car doors swung open.  

It was my Dad, Mom and my three sisters.

"Surprise!  Merry Christmas!" they yelled.  Damn, it was good to see them.  This
Christmas was not going to be the first time I was away from them after all. After hugging
and laughing our greetings, we unloaded all their belongings, including a pile of
presents, and went back to the steak house since they had not eaten.  

The kittens and I sipped wine as the others ate.  I suddenly realized Mom and my sisters,
Abby, Betty and Cathy, were also my kittens since they had been programmed by Uncle
Bert, who was my father but not theirs.  I don't want to go through all that again.  You
remember, don't you?

Andy and I had visited with Mom and Dad (as I continued to call Charles) in LA when we
visited after our training with Madame Delilah.  It was then I had taken Mom into her
trance and commanded her to make sure Dad was the best fucked man in LA.  

I had never seen Dad look better. His eyes were bright, he had lost some weight.  He was
trim and fit.  More importantly, he acted as happy as I could ever remember seeing him. 
Mom looked good, too. And, she looked more relaxed than usual.  I noticed she was
wearing a baggy sweater but it seemed to stick out more than I remembered. I wondered.

I had not seen my sisters since Bert's funeral.  Abby and Betty, the twins, were almost
twenty.  My birthday was January 19.  Theirs was January 20 two years later.  They were
typical, bubbly, sweet young women.  Both were very smart and pretty but not beautiful.
Looking at them, I would have guessed they were virgins although I knew Uncle Bert had
taken care of that problem some years back.  They just had that virgin look. 

Cathy was another story. Eighteen (her birthday was in September) and just starting
college, Cathy had an IQ of 175.  She also had a body that almost equaled Andy's.  She
was very sexual but not slutty.  She was a classy young woman. But, that was not it.
Cathy had something else. 

Let me see if I can describe it adequately. 

Submarines use their electronic underwater listening apparatus, sonar, to "ping" other
submarines.  That ping lets the target sub know the "pinging" sub is there.  Surface ships
are unaware. Subs not targeted are unaware.  Only the sub being pinged hears the ping. 
If you were a Russian sub pinged by an American sub, it would make you very cautious. 
You would be on eternal alert as long as that American sub was nearby.  Your torpedoes
would be loaded and ready.

Cathy pinged men.  Ping, ping.  You could almost feel it when she walked into a room.
She was sending signals, pinging every man she wanted to target. They would jump,
their backs would straighten. They would look around until they saw her and identified
her as the source of the energy they were receiving. They were on alert.  And, I am sure
their torpedoes were loaded and ready to fire.

I do not know if it was smell, or something about her expression, or mental telepathy.  I
just know they knew she was there.  She would be in the forefront of their thought until
she was out of pinging range, whatever that was. And, Cathy knew exactly where every
man was and how hard she had pinged him. 

Uncle Bert had not programmed this.  Mary did not have it and neither did Andy.  Even
Eve, who made her living transmitting sexual signals over television signals, did not have
it.  This was something in Cathy.

As I looked around the restaurant, I could tell the men Cathy had pinged. They were
receiving signals. Dad seemed to be unaware. I wondered if Cathy did not ping him
because he was her father or if he did not accept the ping for the same reason.  Or,
maybe, some men just did not receive any pings, assuming other women gave off the
same signals. 

Wondering if I had even been pinged by Cathy, I remembered once about two years ago
when she came in from a date. Cathy had looked disheveled as if she had been petting
heavily. She saw me sitting in the corner reading as she walked into the den. I had felt it
then, a sharp, almost physical stabbing at if someone was sticking the point of a
toothpick against my abdomen.  Cathy had been staring at me.  It was a very sexual stare
which made my cock hard.  She had looked away and gone to her room.  The pinging
did not stop until I heard her door close.

Ping, ping, ping.  I was feeling it now.  I looked at Cathy who was staring directly at me
with a secretive, wanton, "I want to fuck you" look.  I felt the toothpick.  My cock twitched.
The pinging stopped as she looked away, rejoining the conversation. As I glanced
around the table, it appeared no one else had seen our exchange except Mary. She had
that look in her eye as she watched me over her wine glass.

Dinner over, we all headed back toward the house. We sent Andy and Dad on a detour to
the small market nearby to pick up extra supplies for the bigger crowd. I led the five
kittens into my lair.  By the time Andy and Dad got back, I had programmed Mom, Abby,
Betty and Cathy like I wanted them.

Mary and I had talked.  I knew there were programmed men. Uncle Bert said he had
programmed Dad to accept me as his son.  I asked Mary what the commands were. 

"The initial question is: 'Do you prefer steak or pie?'" If the man replies, 'I prefer pie if it is
rich and sweet' then he is programmed.  Then, you say, "This is a sweet, juicy pie, with a
full crust which is plumb around the edges.'  He will answer, 'Where do I find it?'  You
then give him the command."

When Dad walked in, I took him into a trance.  

This was going to be my best Christmas ever.

To be continued . . . 

Please! Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com 



  

