Pantheon
Edgar cracked his knuckles and confronted the blank Microsoft Word document that had been mocking him for the last half an hour. Of all the tasks Mistress Lynn had assigned him over the last couple of months, this was supposed to be the easiest of all, and yet it was giving him a run for his money. The task consisted of writing
“… something about the women that matter the most in your life, not counting myself. Two or three sentences about each one should suffice. I expect to see your report in my e-mail inbox before the end of the day. Get to it, pet!”
“Yes, Mistress,” he responded enthusiastically. A little typing exercise came as a nice change of pace after all the hard work she had put him through the week before. He still had blisters from all the wood he had chopped and he hoped to never see her fireplace again, but that was something best kept in secret. Mistress Lynn controlled his mind and body but, thankfully, didn’t how to read his thoughts yet.
The most important women to him could be counted on one hand. His mother came first, of course, a fierce redhead that feared no storm for she was stronger than all; his grandmother who was even deadlier if anyone tried anything against her family; his twin sister Jenna whose elvish-like beauty only paled compared to her wits; cousin Alice, the best cook in the family, and proud mother of six young gentlemen: and his girlfriend Tabitha, the youngest associate at the most prestigious law firm in Denver, and a real tigress in bed and out of it.
He wrote the five names down, leaving enough space between them to jot down his thoughts. Hovering the mouse cursor underneath each one, he typed the word,
Goddess.
Edgar blinked and scratched his chin, pondering what he had done. That was not what he intended to write, so he tried again. He cleared his thoughts, laid down his fingers on the keyboard again, and typed:
Goddess. Goddess.
The repetition hit him like a truck, his heart almost leaping out of his chest. This was a new feeling, a mixture of adrenaline and ecstasy, unlike anything he had experienced before. The seven-letter word caressed his lips with unbridled joy, gently asking to be heard again. Edgar nodded and complied.
Goddess. Goddess. Goddess. Three times wasn’t enough, yet infinity was nothing more than a mirage. Without thinking, he filled a page with its splendor, then another, and one more. He stopped at the beginning of the fourth to catch his breath and his fingers complained. “More!” they all said with his Mistress’ voice, and Edgar drifted within her commands.
“I must be hypnotized,” he muttered, dreaming of Goddesses, yearning for Goddesses, longing to treat every woman he knew like the superior beings they were.
“Perhaps you are, perhaps you’re not,” Mistress Lynn cooed inside his subconscious until he dropped to the floor, panting. “Either way, you’re our bitch now.”
Yes. Always. 24/7 singing their praises and following their lead, an invisible leash around his cock and neck. Hers. Theirs. Bound in adoration and servitude to the pantheon of femininity that deserved to rule above everything else. The lesson sunk in, and he obeyed.
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