Chapter 18 - Sleeper

"As I was saying," Margery continued, getting back to her priest, with some exasperation in her voice. "I persuaded him to take me, as he had become used to, but this time imagining me to be just thirteen. And after being primed while enchanted he was really turned on by it."

"And you say all this happened on your fourteenth birthday?  Busy day," remarked Bianca, now fully alert again and totally disbelieving Margery's story.

"No, of course, not. I first enchanted him the week after I met him. After that I could my spell to re-enchant him whenever I liked and make suggestions, that he then imagined were his own ideas."

"What sort of ideas?"

"Oh, a lot of new ideas, like new things he wanted to try when we had sex; the penance he should be making; or what he should be doing to remember me at night, when I was with him 'in thought only'. The 'little girl game' was just another in a long list of games. So, he'd become quite used to creative sex."

"How did you re-enchant him each time? You mentioned a spell - abracadabra," Bianca mocked.

"I simply became his virgin," she said ignoring the cynicism and un-buttoning and adjusting her blouse; dipping forward to illustrate the point.

"If there is some form of Christian retribution after death, you realise that you're in big trouble, don't you?  What other games did you play?" Bianca was now fascinated to hear more.

"Oh, you know, masturbation toys and so no. Priests are like other men deprived of sex. Masturbation is their secret and their guilt. I took it out of the cupboard for him and normalised it by watching use such things and coaching him enthusiastically." 

"And as he then needed to do penance for his sinning, I suggested that self-flagellation is a good priestly tradition. The idea hit him out of the blue." She smiled at her own joke.

"I actually bought his first flail and witnessed his penance, encouraging him until he bled. It was amazingly erotic. Can you imagine how much?"

Bianca resisted her suggestion. "So, what happened on the big day?"

"I've already told you. By now I could make him do whatever I liked. I already had a mass of recordings of him fucking me and agreeing with me that I was thirteen. We no longer used the word 'pretend' during the age game. Then for my 'eighteenth' birthday we went into the country for a picnic. We'd begun the picnic in a sort of idyll, my back against a leafy tree, him lying on the rug his head in my lap. I unbuttoned my blouse and bent over him, touching my nipple to his lips. I told him that he'd promised me Champaign for my birthday. Then I released him from his trance and I demanded to know where the Champaign was. Obviously, he'd forgotten to bring it, so I went berserk and attacked him."

"Why did you bother with that? It seems a bit convoluted."

"On no! I loved doing things like that and having power over a man."

"And I needed him to attempt to restrain me and maybe get a bruise or two; I wanted to scratch him to get some skin and blood under my fingernails; and most of all I needed to get his adrenaline flowing. Then I fell into his arms and succumbed. But as he took me I began screaming that it was my birthday so I was not thirteen any more - he was raping a fourteen year old for the first time. He was great. It was the most violent he'd ever been. It's a wonderful recording."

"And I had no trouble at the clinic convincing them that I'd been raped. It was my best birthday present ever."

Bianca was watching Margery's hands playing with her ring again and was getting quite involved in this new erotic tale. Margery was pleased with her growing enchantment and again began to elaborate on the sexual experience, describing her feelings; and his touch; and the noises he made; and his smell; and the shape of his body.

"So, the following day, after he proposed, was the first time that he'd realised that you were not actually eighteen?" Bianca asked dreamily.

"Yes, but before I told him, I enchanted him again and told him that he'd known all along that I was a thirteen-year-old pretending to be seventeen."

"Like revealing a recovered memory?"

"Just like that," Margery said quietly. "Under hypnosis he'd realised that he'd actually known my real age for months, but that, driven by lust and desire for it to be as it seemed, he'd repressed that knowledge."

"That's nice, isn't it?  Can you imagine doing that to someone?"

Bianca began to imagine what that would be like: trapping a man into becoming her servant so that he had to service her every desire.

"So, he discovered that when he fell in love with a seventeen-year-old he was actually a paedophile," Bianca said giggling, she should have been horrified but found this enchanting somehow. Was it Margery's voice?

"And I had all those recordings, when I'd often asked how he liked fucking a thirteen-year-old and he'd responded in the most enthusiastic way. But the clincher was the medical report and my suggestion that he submit to a DNA test. He would become a registered rapist and paedophile and would be chipped and chemically castrated." 

"He broke down completely, sobbing uncontrollably and threatening to take his own life. I sat with him soothing him as he shivered in fear and panic and explained in a soft voice that I didn't want to hurt him. I just wanted him to be my servant and I wouldn't expose him if he was a good boy and did as I asked." 

"He said that I was mad to think that he would ever accept a fourteen-year-old girl owning him like that." 

"I argued that I was not a normal fourteen-year-old, so my age was irrelevant, and that he was prepared to put others in the position of effectively owning him. For example, the Church, as represented by very ordinary and fallible old men." 

"All I was asking was to be his mistress in both senses of the word. And if he was good, he was assured of liking me in both roles."

"If as you say, he is still out there somewhere as your pet Bishop, then he must have eventually agreed?" said Bianca, still not completely under the spell.

"I used what had happened to Greg as an example. All his dreams and expectations in life would be over at a word from me." 

"On the other hand, all he had to do to make this horror disappear was to accept my love, in the same way that a pet accepts the love of their mistress. That's how I loved him, as mistress loves her pet, in that way it was just like the love of God. He was to love to me just as Christians trust in the love their deity."

"Ah yes, love," said Bianca, feeling very pleasant at the thought. "It's a word with many meanings." 

"With me as his mistress, his future could be successful, carefree and wonderful. Without me he would be destroyed, miserable and hopeless. I explained that his position was nothing new, because I'd secretly been in control of his life ever since I'd met him."

"And he understood and accepted that?"  Bianca was still doubtful.

"It was like breaking a horse. A horse is broken when it finally accepts that you're in control. Then it becomes your faithful servant. We had sex for the first time with him in full knowledge of my real age. That was when he truly realised that he'd been broken. It was then that I told him that from now on we would pull together, as partners, as if secretly married. With my help and guidance he could rise to be a Bishop, then perhaps a Cardinal and perhaps even to Pope."

"Was he submitting forever? Or was he just submitting to make you happy until he could think of a way of escaping."

"At that moment he was entirely sincere. Of course, someone who submits because of a threat may return to being insincere. But once he had submitted, I began to train him psychologically and physiologically to automatic obedience, as one would train an animal, using his growing addiction to self-flagellation and his increasing need to be rewarded sexually. He's become totally incapable of disobeying my direct commands or even rejecting my suggestions for very long. When you've made them truly subservient, they crave your approval. You become their goddess."

Bianca was sceptical about Margery actually having a pet Bishop, who she still dominated and had sex with. It seemed incredible, yet like a fairy-tale, she wished it were true. After a pleasant afternoon, with the warm sun streaming in and the blue harbour glistening beyond the shore, she found the idea incredibly sexy. Everything about Margery was sexy particularly her voice, which now filled Bianca's awareness, everything else had faded into the background.

This was the moment Margery had hoped for: to draw Bianca in; to enchant her with her ring. But Margery had drunk far too much wine, in frustration and annoyance, while Bianca had talked of art and religion and had stopped drinking. So, now Margery was in no position to take advantage of her success.

She just went on with her recollections, a little less coherently: "I sujg-ested to him that he thunk of me as Mary Mag-alen partner-ered with Jesuss."

"Isn't that a popular heresy that the Church finds abhorrent? Are you suggesting that here is a Bishop out there who believes that Mary was the lover of Jesus? Like Michelangelo may have?" Bianca asked.

"Abssolutely," Margery slurred.

Margery's moment of opportunity had passed. It was getting late and the temperature had fallen as the sun prepared for another night. With the sudden chill Bianca was fully awake and taking a final sip of her undrunk wine. They would soon be thrown out.

"Have you never had to blackmail him again?" asked Bianca.

"Sit's not blackmail," Margery exclaimed indignantly.  "I think of it being like one of those ane-kle collar-s on day release prisoners. It s-imply prevents 'm escaping. As I've sujgested to him, he has a richer life than the average bish-hop: not just the usual like: the Church; the Trinity; Mary the motha of Jesus; and the communion-on of saints. He has th' other Mary too, the whore. An I'm a good mistress t' have. Unlike some mistresses-es who've enslay-ved their men wit sex, I've neva demanded a diamon' necklace or a mink furr o that he leaves his famil-ey. I'm the other god n his life, all I de-mand is hiss obedien-ce. He's famillar with that con-sept."

"When did you abandon your teacher in The Craft to go professional?"

"I didn't abandon her. She died. It was devastatin. I wa sil ona fourten."  Margery was crying now.

Bianca reached out and took her hand sympathetically. After a short time weeping quietly Margery pulled herself together and seemed quite normal again.

"That was when I was thrown out on my own to find a man to live with. I applied The Craft.  I'd graduated to the real thing."

"So, 'the real thing', like Coke, is that what you provide?" asked Bianca, pointing to an ancient framed advertisement for a pre-famine soft-drink, depicting a hand holding an old-fashioned bottle, against a yellow circle on a red background, that decorates one wall. "Or are you more like coke the addictive drug?"

Margery was delighted with that idea. She cheered up and began to laugh, then she got up saying: "I'd better get going, I have a catch to train," between chortles.

That was Circe's cue to call the robotic parking-garage to bring out Margery's signature black hover-bike. As Margery walked to the landing pad for the quick flight over the harbour to Mohandas', she realised that she had underestimated Bianca, who'd led her into saying far too much and even made her cry. Her ring had failed yet again. It was the little engine that couldn't, with not enough puff to make it over this hill.

Next time she won't make the same mistake. She'll apply the full witching power of The Craft. A wicked man she's kept in contact with since they were fellow students, has made a much more seductive device than her ring. Its puff never fails. As her black hover-bike wove erratically into the blue and red sky, until its autopilot took the controls, Circe contacted the warlock's VPA. He will have one to her in the New Year she told Margery. The autopilot delivered her safely to the parking station adjacent to Mohandas'. That was when Circe's appearance, her Avatar, suggested another vulnerability to exploit. She placed the orders.

Margery could hardly wait for the deliveries. Once Bianca's mind is hers, Bianca's body will soon crave to follow. Addiction is the key. As she'd been taught: with continued pleasurable stimulation, by substance or practice, withdrawal soon becomes more distressing than the ongoing practice. Margery is self-aware enough to know that her teacher had addicted her to the pleasure of hurting others. She gets a rush when she inflicts pain that she now craves. That's why she delights in addicting her conquests to pain. Ying and Yang.

With Phillip now in training as a familiar, she now has two to satisfy her sadistic lusts. An addiction to being hurt would ruin Bianca as her future apprentice and sister in The Craft. Drugs are good, yet heroine is a bit too obvious for someone named Bianca. She would go with the obvious - sex. Bianca was even seeing sex oozing from religious art. The girl's obviously, at her sexual peak. It wouldn't take a lot of training to make her a nymphomaniac and a lesbian too. Yes, that will soon be Bianca's addiction. Then what?  High class prostitution has manifest attractions: a new Belle de Jour?  It would provide a useful line of credit too.

Thinking of addictions, her mind drifted back to Derrick, her first familiar. She'd made him her faithful servant when still an amateur, skilled at giving her pleasure whenever she required him to, and she hadn't even granted him her virginity. He could still truthfully say, as that President once said of 'that woman': "I have not had sex with my sister!"