Annie’s Quest 2

“Mirror, mirror on the wall, who’s the fairest of them all?”

“You are, Daddy!”

“I was talking to Mr. Mirror, Annie.”

Giggle.

“Are you suggesting I’m Snow White or the evil witch?”

“Both!” An enchanting, fading cackle of a little girl, an imaginary little girl as she runs away.

An evil Snow White?

What would an evil Snow White do? As I ponder this thought, an answer immediately comes to me like ancient words of wisdom, but oddly in the voice of Eric Cartman, “Put a chick in it and make her gay!” As obvious as the answer is, it’s only the start. Because if it’s better to put a chick in it and make her gay, it would be even better to put seven chicks in it and make them all gay. That’s right, an evil Snow White would have seven gorgeous, gay chicks instead of seven dwarves, and made them all her bitches.

I have delirious images of female debauchery dancing in my head as I fall asleep, as evil Snow White rebuilds her life in her exile, with her wishes and desires front and center, and I’m cheering her on as she dominates those bitches . . .

I awake with the strangest feeling that I’m not just thinking about the evil Snow White but that I am her. How can that be? I’m not even female!

But I’m sure that I’m the evil Snow White and decide to go with it. That’s the power of Woke. Cleopatra can be black, Snow White can be Latina, and now even an Asian male.

“Will she be joining us, Master?” Jennifer asks, interrupting me from my deliciously wicked thoughts.

It wasn’t that long ago she submitted to me, on our first date no less, but Jennifer’s already the most loyal and devoted submissive I could imagine, not even showing any jealousy for the new girl.

“Sort of,” I say because it’s her choice.

She takes the answer as a ‘yes’ and grabs another plate.

“No, not those. Use a dog bowl.”

She finds an appropriate metal container and stuffs it with spaghetti. She can’t hide her smirk as she places the bowl in front of the nearly naked girl on her knees with her hands tied behind her back. What did she say her name was? Julie, I think, though I’d call her ‘Grumpy,’ she seems like the grumpy type.

“You expect me to eat?” Julie glares at me.

“No, Mr. Bond, I expect you to die,” I say chuckling, but she doesn’t get the reference, before her time probably.

She continues to glare at me . . . Yes, definitely Grumpy.

Jennifer’s not bothered a bit and updates me with the details of the day as if the stranger’s not even with us. If ever there was a perfect submissive, it would be her. Sometimes I think she takes this lifestyle even more seriously than I do.

Yes, she’s Happy, always ready for any adventure I plan for her.

That leaves five more dwarves, I mean bitches, at my back and call. Well, this isn’t a fairy tale, you can’t just walk into a forest and expect to find seven gorgeous chicks ready to serve you, Snow White has her work cut out for her, evil or not.

Even without looking, I can tell that Grumpy’s eating, just as I knew she would. A hoity-toity, rich socialite she may be, used to all the fine dining money can buy, but she’s no match for Jen’s spaghetti. I’m convinced there’s some magical ingredient she puts in it because it’s delicious, as no Western food has any right to be.

As Happy clears the empty dishes away, I turn my attention to Grumpy, who’s lost in the magic, the taste, even forgetting the humiliation of eating like a dog.

But she looks more like a cat than a dog, a messy, satisfied cat just finishing the best meal of her life. Yes, she’d make a fine pet.

“That’s a good girl.” I crouch before her and pet her head affectionately.

She looks at me confusedly, hints of acceptance, humiliation, and happiness all fighting for expression.

“A bit messy, but a good girl,” I say as I wipe around her mouth with a napkin.

A muddled whimper is all she can manage.

“Well, I think you’ve earned your reward.”

I can tell she’s excited as I tie her to the bed, not so grumpy anymore.

“Happy!”

I admire her boobs which are almost as nice as Happy’s, just a tad bigger than I’d like, but still very good.

“Happy!” Where is she?

I taste her for the first time, and there’s plenty to taste as she’s only getting more and more excited. Hard to believe she’s never had an orgasm in her life. She seems to have no problem becoming moist though.

What is she doing? Oh! “Jen!”

“Master?” She doesn’t know that I’ve renamed her ‘Happy.’

“Pleasure her only with your tongue, but don’t let her come.”

“But, but — “ Grumpy starts to protest.

“But what? I never promised to cure you, only that we could have some fun.” I look back at her as I walk away laughing. “And when I said ‘we,’ I meant mostly ‘me.’”

Maybe I really am the evil Snow White.

But if I were, the ultimate would be to dominate the evil witch herself. It wouldn’t even be evil, not to me anyway, but just a sweet revenge, her enjoyment not a concern at all. I’d relish in painting her buttocks red with whips and floggers until she’s nothing but a puddle of whimpering desperation and submission . . .

“What makes you think I can cure you?”

“Because you’re, well, you’re the . . .“

“What? Spit it out!”

“You’re the sexiest thing I ever saw.”

“I’m sure you’ve been around plenty of pretty playboys.”

“They’re just . . . not you.”

“Well, that’s true, but how would you know?”

“I’ve done my research. I know a lot about you, more than you think.”

“Oh, yeah?”

“I know how intelligent you are, how knowledgeable you are, how educated you are.”

“My degree is in philosophy, not psychology.”

“What’s the difference?”

“The difference is that I’m not a therapist.”

“I don’t need a therapist. I’ve had one for almost a year, and still, he couldn’t cure me.”

“I see.”

“Please. I can pay you. Pay you really well.”

“I can’t promise anything, but we could have some fun trying.”

“Yes!”

“But payment in advance, for a day’s work. Oh, and you must do whatever I tell you.”

“Yes, Master.”

“You have done your homework.”

Oh, God! How long have Happy and Grumpy been at it? I lost all sense of time, and when I check on them, they’re still going.

“If she comes, you’ll both be punished and not the good kind.”

But I didn’t have to remind them as Happy seems to really enjoy keeping the new girl at the threshold, just unable to cross the finish line. That’s a side of her I haven’t seen before, a slight streak of domination or sadism.

“I didn’t know you were into women,” I whisper in Happy’s ear.

“I’m, I’m not, at least I didn’t know I was,” she says defensively.

“It’s okay,” I calm her and put an end to Grumpy’s torture. I untie her and let her regain her sanity a little bit. Besides, mission accomplished!

I put a chick in it and made her gay. Well, bi. Close enough.

“You’re still not allowed to come, Grumpy, but you deserve a reward, and I know you’ve been wanting to do this all day, so — “

I drop my pants and didn’t need to finish my sentence as she was on me like a moth to a flame, her mouth and tongue greedily lapping, tasting, with desperation I’d never seen before. And despite my warning, I could see that she was going to come. It was inevitable. Because you want what you can’t have. Because it’s harder to resist something from which you’ve been prohibited. Something along that line. I can’t state the principle exactly, but I know it well by experience.

And she comes.

For the first time in her life. And it’s glorious from what I can see.

As she collapses to the floor, unable to contain her new experience, Happy quickly takes her place, eager to finish what she started.

And even though everyone got what they wanted and everything happened as I knew they would, infractions are still infractions and can’t go unpunished. So Grumpy lays across my lap with her bottom uncovered for the second time that day. The first time because it’s mandatory, whatever the excuse might be. And this time, well, really just a formality.

I spank her, admonishing her disobedience, though I knew she would transgress. And as I expect, it only excites her more, and me too. The dam has broken and now the problem seems to be that she can’t stop coming because even a light touch on the right spot sends her to another orgasm.

Technically, that’s another infraction, but I’m not counting anymore. I look up and just as I thought, it’s almost midnight, when her carriage will turn back into a pumpkin and her gorgeous dress into rags. Wait, does that mean Grumpy is Cinderella, and the evil Snow White is the prince meant for her? I must be getting my fairy tales crossed because I always thought I was Cinderella.

Regardless, the agreement ends at midnight exactly, at which point I’m no longer her Master and she’ll just be another rich socialite I’ve never heard of and probably will never see again.

Not yet though. I’ve still got a little time. I delivered what I didn’t even promise and I deserve my reward. And no matter how you look at it, she’s still mine, mine to do what I will. A statuesque, drop-dead-gorgeous goddess that no man could ever satisfy, that even Happy couldn’t get enough of, that I turned into a puddle of desire and desperation, ready and willing to receive whatever I had to give, a perfect pet worthy of any demi-god, any Hercules or Perseus, and the evil Snow White.

It is time to have my way with her, time to take that sweet nectar that I’d been eyeing, smelling, and tasting all day, time to finish what I started. An ice queen no more, and as ready as she’ll ever be, practically begging with every pore, with every whimper, I can’t delay it any longer.

When I finally enter her, her reaction is immediate and unstoppable, years of frustration released in that never-ending climax, one moment in time that she’ll never forget, that I’ll never forget, even if I never see her again.

I enjoy her spasms, those moments that I truly owned her, and that’s enough. I’ve already had mine and don’t need to come again. But Happy has her own needs and climbs on me, and that’s enough for her, one penetration sending her into the land of bliss because she’s well-trained now.

I watch with idle curiosity as Happy and Grumpy clean each other out with their mouths. Then they join me on either side and try their best to form a three-way spoon, like two cats trying to make sure that I know their place in my life.

It’s sweet, even endearing, but it’s now well past midnight and we all know what that means. As Julie dresses and prepares to leave, I almost feel regret. There’s a reason I don’t do one-night stands or purely sexual relationships, and this reminds me once again. This wasn’t that, this was something else, but exactly what that is, I’m not sure now.

“Thank you,” Julie says before dropping to her knees once again to kiss me down below. A soulful kiss of worship.

But it’s not a simple goodbye. I can see the conflict in her eyes, in her expression as she looks up at me.

“It’s okay.” I caress her hair gently, trying to soothe her worries. “See, despite what most people think, sex is mostly mental, not physical. You can learn to let go and trust with other men just as you did with me. You just need to find men that you can trust. Though if you’re into women, I don’t think you’d have that problem.”

“It . . . It’s not that.”

“Well?”

“I just, please Master, I can’t leave. Please don’t make me leave.”

She starts to plant kisses on my feet as if to prove her worth.

“Of course you can. It’s just Stockholm syndrome. It’ll go away in a few days or a few years.”

She giggles uncontrollably.

I slowly gather her face in my palms and lean down to kiss her — a soft, tender kiss to remember her by.

“You’re free now, Julie, go and live your life. You can have any man you want, any life you want, just make wiser choices, that’s all.”

But she looks at me like a lost puppy, a puppy with nowhere else to go.

“I don’t want to be free and I don’t want any man, only you, please Master! I submit to you now and forever, please don’t send me away.” I think she means it, a tear forming in the corner of her eyes.

Maybe I really am the fairest of them all.

“What do you think, Jen? Should I keep her?” But I know what she’s going to say.

“She is very attractive, Master.”

“Yes, that she is, but snooty socialites aren’t my type.”

“Maybe with some training, you could correct that.”

“Ahh, so much work.”

Julie follows our back-and-forth banter until Jen can’t contain her giggles anymore.

“Congratulations, Julie, upon Jen’s recommendation, you can stay on a trial basis. I’ll put her in charge of you for a week, she’ll be your Mistress, and train you.”

“But, I thought — “ I can see she’s not crazy about the idea, but the spark in Jen’s eyes is unmistakable.

I watch in mild amusement as Jen places a training collar around her neck and recites various rules, including some even I wasn’t aware of. She takes Julie on a tour of the apartment, showing some points of interest, before finally ending up in front of me. Kneeling, obedient, the quintessential picture of a submissive.

“The most important rule is the correct way to worship Master’s cock,” she says.

Well, that is pretty important.

She spanks Julie’s behind, not pleased with her initial performance.

I created a monster!

But as she guides her in the proper ways of a submissive’s worship, I feel more and more confident about the decision . . . until I couldn’t remember why I even doubted Jen’s competence. Snow White can’t be expected to do all the work. Especially an evil Snow White.

Delegation is good.

Annie’s Quest, an ad hoc series with a loose plot, can be read independently or in order: first, next.