Her short steps made loud clicking sounds, as her high heels collided with the hardwood floor. Her arms did not swing out to her side, rather they were clasped gently in front of her at her waist. Her maid uniform looks well-made and not cheap. It is the traditional black and white, but there is not much material there. It has lovely lace along the edges, but the material is shiny and stiff. The skirt is almost non-existent, and if there were no white lace along the edges, you might not know there was even a skirt. Her cleavage is held in tight, so it does not get in her way, which is good for all the moving she has to do. Her shoes probably have more of a heel than they should, but they look to be strapped tightly to her ankles to help with comfort and mobility.



Nearing the front door, her passive, neutral stare is replaced with a smile. She was not expecting anyone, but the Master does not always tell her when he or others may come calling. It is her duty to keep the house clean and assist any visitors to the Master's lake house. She used to enjoy looking at the tree-covered mountains when she first came here. Over time, the rustic scene with the opulent house near the shore of a large lake lost its luster. Her vision is limited to only that which can be useful to the Master or his son. Recently, she has been training to follow the son as if he were Master.





She takes a quick look at her appearance in the mirror near the front door. The best compliment she can give herself and her appearance is adequate. Examining her hair and uniform and make-up, she deems herself adequate, and then opens the door. The cooler outside air sweeps into the house, bringing with it smells that would be refreshing. Pine trees, pollutant-free air, and gun-oil can be discerned easily by her. Before completely opening the door, she knows the visitor is not Master or his son.





The woman standing at the doorstep is also wearing a uniform. Her's is tan based, and much more utility than Maid. The woman appears to be somewhat older than Maid, with slight wrinkles forming around the edges of her eyes. The long pants look pressed, and maybe somewhat tight in the hips, as if they were made for a man. Her button-up, collared shirt is the same color as the pants. The edges have a black line to match the large black belt that looks to be full of gadgets and weapons. The bright shiny star that sticks out from the rather-obvious mound under her shirt makes it clear who she is. Her hat is a darker brown, yet its broad, stiff brim shows power and strength.





The Maid opens her mouth to greet the visitor, but she is too slow. "Afternoon, miss," the deep drawl seems odd coming from the female officer, but she continues on as if this is her normal voice, "I'm looking for Mr Bolchinsky." Maid lets go of the door knob to place her hands in front of her again in proper submissive posture. "Good afternoon, guest. The Master is not here, as this is his lake house, so he does not live here all the time."





The officer nods her head and says as if she expected that, "I'm Sheriff Brownstone, and I was hoping to ask him a few questions." Maid nods her head again, "I'm sure he would entertain such questions, but he is not here. However, you are welcome to come in if you like." The Sheriff rests her hands on her thick heavy belt and asks, "When do you expect 'Master' to be back?" Maid nods her head and replies, "Master has not given Maid any definitive date, but Master usually comes every 4-6 weeks for a visit."





Sheriff Badger shifts on her feet, waiting for the maid to continue, but she does not. Why would a woman let herself be broken like a horse by some old man? She tries not to frown at the less-than-human in front of her, because she needs to keep a good relationship here. "And, when was the last time he came here?" She gets to watch this whipped woman nod her head again and reply with a vague answer of 3 weeks. She at least has some idea of when to come back, so she thanks the maid and turns on her utility boots on the large wooden front porch. As she lays her heavy steps on each step down, she can hear the large wooden door close slowly behind her with a "have a nice day" from the maid. I'll be back, Russky...I know you are up to no good here...I just know it. Taking a final glance at the innocent looking home, she opens the door to her police cruiser, gets in, and leaves slowly. My hunches are never wrong.





Robbie pulls his car into the only gas station in town. The Bare Skin offers two pumps for its customers, and you have to pay for it inside the store. The store itself is also the only true grocery store in town as well. Because of all that, Robbie thinks with a frown, the Bare Skin is always busy with people. As he steps out of his 2-door Audi, he feels somewhat out of place, as most people drive a truck around here. He takes a quick glance in the back seat to make sure nothing is visible through his overly-dark tinted windows.





Stretching his back from the trip, he knows why father picked this place. This town is small and out of the way, so there are few prying eyes to their affairs. The land was cheap and easy to build on, and even though they are not from the area, most people have been rather friendly. As he steps into the store, he can hear yelling, which makes him mumble, "Well, not everyone is friendly."





"It's not like it's broken", comes the one voice.

"That's not the point," comes the other voice.

Robbie turns down one aisle to grab a few supplies that he figures Maid did not get. He does not need to know the topic of the yelling or see who the people are. He knows the mother and daughter well enough to know they are always at each other's throats.





The Bare Skin is a family business that dates back to before electricity found its way up into these mountains. It was a basic country store back then, where trappers and traders could stop for supplies and a cool drink from the mountain-fed stream that flowed nearby. From one ancestor to another, they passed ownership of the store down, with each new proprietor adding something "progressive" to "keep up with the times". As Robbie holds a protein bar package in his hand, he glances over to see the daughter checking out a customer, while her mom reloads the ice in the drink machine, all the while they bicker and fight over something.





Robbie frowns, as he has never seen them display any positive affection towards each other. To be fair, he thinks, I do not show Father any either, but then he is not my real dad. I cannot even remember him or...or...a slight buzzing interrupts his thoughts, as his attention is returned to the protein bars in front of him. Blueberry sounds good for now, he thinks with a smile.





He steps up to the counter when it is his turn. He smiles at the woman who couldn't be much younger than him. She has a scowl on her face and a look of "I'll kill her if I could" stare on her face. Robbie puts on his best smile and tone, "And I need a tank of gas, too." She tries to smile at his request, but she instead turns around and says, "You think you could manage to turn on pump 2?" The older version of her replies while banging the keys of a keyboard behind her, "You know I can, so keep your sassy mouth shut."





Robbie would say that both women are attractive, in their own way. They both look like they could be twins, other than being 15-20 years apart in age. From behind, you can pick out the mom, as she is thicker than the quite thin daughter. The mom does not appear to be dying her hair, so they both have the same hair color and hair style. Maybe that is the problem, he reasons to himself, they are so much alike that they cannot stand each other.





He admits he has thought he might want to start the process to acquire one of them one day, but today is not that day. He has many things to accomplish on this trip, and his own personal agenda is not one of them. She rings him up, swipes his card, and bags his protein bars with a skill that only comes from doing this hundreds of times a day. He smiles at her, but she barely makes eye contact, as she is already turning on her mom, trying to turn on the pump before the older version of her gets to it. With a heavy sigh, he exits the country store, somewhat saddened yet thankful that the trip in and out was quick and uneventful.









Pulling up to the house, this is just what he always wanted. The rustic yet large cabin sits in a wooded lot against the side of a mountain. Down below the house is the lake, accessible by a path and a dock at the end of it. Robbie enjoys coming here, as this place has no painful or bad memories. For me, he says to himself, this is where I can truly take a vacation.





Stepping out into the crisp air, he is greeted by Maid on the front porch. "Greetings," she says in a happy-yet-monotone voice, "Son of the Master. How can I assist you?" He does not smile at her, an object of any man's desire in her sexy maid costume, and simply replies, "My bags are in the trunk, and the groceries are in the front seat. Bring it all in and put it away." Maid nods and begins to descend the stairs. Robbie then adds, "And there's a table runner in the back seat I got while on my way up here. Bring it in, wash it well, and set the table with it for tonight."





Maid stops to curtsy with the added jobs, and then turns back to the car. Maid knows to get the luggage first, as the Son of the Master may want to change. She slowly but methodically retrieves the two bags and carries them up the stairs into the house and then to his regular room. She does not see him, but that is not important, as she has many things to accomplish. Her next trip has her bringing in the two large bags of groceries for the kitchen. Most things are delivered by courier, but the Son of the Master prefers some things bought locally.





Lastly, Maid returns to the car to find the table runner. She finds it crumpled in the back seat, and it does look rather dirty. With a delicate grunt, she manages to get the large table runner up and onto her shoulder. She closes the car door and slowly takes one step at a time to get the heavy table runner through the door. Maid can still hear the table runner breathing, so she will have to take some precaution before placing it in the washing machine. Son of the Master will want a clean, living table runner on the table this evening, no exceptions.





In the laundry room, Maid finds two sets of washing machines and dryers. The first set seems normal sized for clothes, while the other set seems oversized. With another grunt, she lowers the table runner feet first into the oversized washing machine. Once inside, she clamps a small device over the nose and mouth of the table runner. Reaching above the machine, she retrieves laundry detergent and fabric softener. With the table runner completely within the washing machine, Maid adds the electric green laundry detergent, and the white fabric softener. She closes the lid with her elbow, making a loud metallic clank. She returns the cleaners to their shelf and starts the machine.





She can hear the water flowing in, as the drum begins to spin. She can hear occasional thumps as the table runner shifts in the rising soapy water. Nodding her approval of the situation, she attempts to straighten her already tight, shiny uniform before leaving the laundry room. Unpack suitcases, put away groceries, and start dinner, Maid continues down her mental checklist.





Back in the kitchen with Son of the Master's clothes put away, Maid begins to work on dinner. Son of the Master will want vegetables cut small and a light oil-based drizzle. Maid gets the vegetables out and begins washing them. She hears the Son of the Master come in the kitchen, but Maid remains faithful to her duties until redirected. Maid pivots to the counter with a cutting board and fresh veggies along with a sharp knife.





As Maid begins to chop, she feels the back of her skirt being pealed up and above her butt. Maid has shiny, latex panties on, but they have a hole in them for entry. Maid continues her duties as she is pressed against the counter gently but with a force she recognizes. While chopping the celery, Maid finds a rhythm with Son of the Master's thrusting that makes it easier to complete the task. Maid knows she is not to react, so Maid keeps going as if nothing is happening.





As Maid nearly finishes cutting the vegetables on the cutting board smally, she can hear his breathing change, then he twitches and relaxes slightly, which then causes a change in her. Master returns her skirt to its proper place with a light spank on her left butt cheek. "When will dinner be ready?" he asks blandly. Maid turns to face him and replies, "Maid will need another 20 minutes before dinner is ready, Master." He grins at her, hearing the obvious change in his title. "Good," he replies with a smile, "Good." Maid watches Master leave the kitchen then returns to preparing dinner.



Dinner is served in the main dining room. The entire interior of the cabin is wood-lined, so the heavy wooden table seems to fit perfectly in the room. Who knows, he muses, they may all have been cut from the same tree? He settles back into his leather chair, sipping his wine, and loving the view. Laid out in front of him is dinner, prepared by the maid. His more-vegetable-than-meat dinner was beautifully plated, while the table runner holds up perfectly-placed, local flowers.





The table runner is not glossy, but has a clean look to the smooth, deeply tanned skin. The mountain laurel flower sitting on what would have been her stomach goes up and down slowly with each shallow breath. Her eyes are closed and shows a slight smile on her pretty face. She lays on her back in the middle of the table, her long hair is stretched out like a placemat under his plate. He recalls acquiring her as being rather easy, especially since he only met her for a brief time the previous trip and now on this trip. He hates paying ATM fees, so he stops at the same bank to get some cash for the weekend, and she made the mistake of being his teller more than once. To be fair, as he thinks back, I did not expect it to work through the video screen, but she was very easy to manipulate, in fact, she is laying there without any drugs or resin to hold her down. He simply told her to lay on her back on the table and not move unless he told her to, and for the past hour, she has done just that with a smile. If I didn't know better, he thinks with a smile, I think she is enjoying me controlling her.





The maid comes in to ask if he needs anything else. He does not even make eye contact with her, as he dismisses her with his hand flip. Maid can hear a heavy sigh, as she turns on her high heels and walks back to the kitchen. I'm becoming more like him, he chastises himself. "Son of the Master" used to treat all of "Master's" possessions like people, even though I knew they were no longer "human". And now, he says to himself with another sigh, I sit looking at a gorgeous bank teller laying completely naked on my dinner table, and I cannot think of her as anything but a table runner. And the maid, he says to himself as he looks at her retreating form, now that I'm "Master", I cannot even remember her name or what she did. She has become nothing more than an appliance in the house...a sentient dishwasher, he chuckles to himself.





Continuing with his dinner, he goes through his checklist of making the table runner his latest addition to the resin collection here. The process here is somewhat different than at home, due to the size of the cabin. He is limited to certain-sized women, and sometimes he has to stand over the "old-school" cauldron and ladle the warm resin over extended body parts. They are still malleable when they first come out like in the home lab, but they tend to stiffen and harden much faster. Father thinks it is the higher altitude, he thinks blandly, but I think it is the air quality that causes this. He tilts his head and mumbles, "I think she'll fit though...barely." Sipping his wine, he ponders where to put her and what pose.





The next morning, Robbie enjoys some fishing by the lake. At least, it looks like that is what he is doing. He has never caught a fish yet, and does not intend to start now. There are not many neighbors around, or people who come by in boats, but there are enough that he has to keep appearances as to coming to the cabin by the lake that is known for good fishing. For him, he will admit that he enjoys the few hours of silence, where nothing in the world can touch him, especially his Father. He would come up here more often if he could find some good excuse.





The sound of heavy footsteps breaks his meditation. Hmm, he thinks without turning around, that definitely does not sound like the maid, but they are not moving to try and hide their presence either. Remaining calm, he turns around to see a female police officer walking up to him. Her broad brimmed hat sits smartly on her head, and she saunters with a confidence that only a local sheriff would have. She wears her weight well, and it might be mostly muscle that stretches her uniform. Her face has a few wrinkles around the eyes, so she is probably at least forty but maybe not fifty yet. Her skin tone is a little darker than a normal caucasian, so maybe she has some Native American blood, he surmises.





"Morning," she says with a hearty tone, "My name is Sheriff Brownstone. You must be Robert Bolchinsky." He extends a right hand to shake hers, and finds her grip rather intimidating. "Ha, well, yes, but no one calls me that," he says awkwardly, playing the timid "only son" card, "I'm Robbie."





"Well, Robbie," she starts with a smile, "I see you're enjoying some of our local finest." Her nod towards the lake causes him to reply, "Oh, uh, yes, I do enjoy fishing here." He tries to smile and sound genuine. Pull it together, man. She could be here for any number of reasons, and you need to be on your game.





"Glad to hear it, I'm sure you got what you needed from Tammy and Sammy." She name drops so casually, and he wonders if he is supposed to know who they are. Of course he does, because he is always to be looking for his next acquisition, so the angry mother-daughter duo are well known by him.





Taking an extra moment to respond, he checks his fishing line and says, "Oh, right, the owners of the general store. Yep, I got everything I needed there." He smiles and points down to his fishing gear and bag. She nods, still maintaining the same facial expression. Hmmm, he ponders, what do you really what sheriff?





"Good, good," she replies and takes a few moments to look out over the lake. Robbie feels awkward just staring at her, but he admits she is rather attractive for her size and age. Realizing he might be staring too long, he returns to "fishing". After a few moments, she says casually, "I stopped by, because I've been letting our part-time residents know of a missing persons case I'm working on, and trying to get all the help I can." Robbie is thankful to be looking away, as he feels color coming to his cheeks. How could she know of Penny so soon? I just dropped her in the cauldron this morning.





"Oh my," he says while turning to face her, his facial expression of shock, "That is terrible. Who was he or she?" The sheriff does not face him, but responds with, "Not just a he or she, but them. We've had 3 missing persons over the past year, and that is very concerning to me. Now, I don't want to alarm you, as there could be any number of reasons for them to be missing." She spreads her right hand over the vast natural beauty around them, while hooking her left thumb under her shiny belt buckle. "I'm sure there are many places to get lost around here," he adds with a specific tone. She nods her head, "Lost...yes, that could very well be it."





He grins internally. Even though I'm not interested in her, she fell quickly to a suggestion from me, or was she already thinking that? Maybe I need to get off her radar as quickly as possible."I'm sure you don't suspect me, and I'll be sure to let you know if I see anything." She continues to look across the lake as she says, "Don't worry: I do not suspect you, Robbie. I'm just letting you know that I'm looking, on the case, and let me know if you see anything, please." Again, he grins internally from her response, and her obvious ignorance of Penny "cooking" in the attic.





"Thank you for stopping by, sheriff," he says with the same tone, "I'm sure you are very busy." The sheriff tips her hat and turns on her heel without looking at him again. "I'm very busy, and I see you are too, so I'll take my leave. Have a nice day." She walks up the slight incline towards the house with the same saunter. He decides to take the time to watch her leave. Mmm, I'm not sure if I am enjoying her walking away or the way I controlled her.





Sitting back in her cruiser, she drops her hat on the passenger seat. Taking in a deep breath, she looks at the quaint, but large cabin. Everything seems fine, and she tells herself not to suspect Robbie or the professor. But, her gut tells her that something is wrong here...very wrong. Despite her warring insides, she starts her cruiser and slowly drives back down the long winding driveway. No, she tells herself, not marking them off my list just yet.





With his weekend goals accomplished, Robbie decides to head back to the city, especially with work starting back up. He takes another look at the tree-covered mountains around him as he walks to his car. The maid carries a bag that looks too heavy for her frame, yet she manages gracefully. With her small steps in high heels, she negotiates the uneven ground perfectly. He smiles at her as she hands him his phone and car keys, as she says, "Have a safe trip, Master." He nods, recognizing the title she has continued to give him. He knows it will not last until his next visit, but it feels good to be called that. Actually, he thinks soberly, it feels really good.





With keys and phone and car packed, her duties are done, so she goes back to the cabin to begin her cleaning cycle of the cabin and the grounds around it. He is in the car and halfway down the driveway before he realizes it, as if his body is already on autopilot. But, he tells himself, I cannot do that just yet. I got one more stop to make, and I'm hoping the place is not very busy.





Pulling into the gas station part of the Bare Skin, he notices there are not many customers around. "Of course," he mumbles," I picked this time to leave in hopes that the early morning rush is gone." He steps into the well-worn general store, and is hit with the smells of greasy, fried food. Years ago, his stomach would have yearned for that, but now it turns over in protest. He grimaces and heads towards the drink section of the refrigerated section. He does make sure to make eye contact with both the mom and daughter as they acknowledge his presence coming in the door.





The only customer is an older lady that is checking out now. He checks each aisle as he walks towards the back, noting that no one else seems to be here. Perfect, he thinks wickedly, I can see how easy or hard they will be. Finally standing in front of the water bottles and power drinks, he hears the exterior door open and close. Poking his head above the short aisles of food, fishing tackle, and automobile accessories, he can see them arguing behind the counter. Sad, he thinks with a frown, but maybe I can help bring peace.





"Uh, Tammy," he says with a particular tone and volume, "Could you help me find a drink?" Tammy looks up with her stern look that starts becoming more of a blank stare, then turns to take another verbal jab at her mom but does not and instead walks back to where Robbie stands. Her torn jeans seem to match the building: well-worn. They are tight, as is the black tank top. She is not overly gifted in her curves or face, but she has a very strong "western" style that is attractive. When you can walk and talk with such confidence, it is attractive.





"What are you looking for, Rob?" Tammy asks firmly. Rob...Rob...he chuckles to himself, no one calls me that. "Uh, right, I know you want to help me," Robbie says as she walks up. She puts her hands on her hips and replies, "Yeah, I want to help you, what are you looking for?" Robbie is unsure if it took, but he decides to push forward. "I'm looking for you to put your hand on the refrigerator handle and freeze like ice."





Tammy's expression is one of disbelief and maybe disgust, but then she moves to the refrigerator to open it. As she puts her hand on the handle, she freezes in place. Like someone turned off a toy, she stands there holding the handle firmly, unmoving. Robbie knows he cannot feel her up with cameras all around, but he has planted the first seed of control. Leaving her there, he walks to the front counter to get Sammy's attention.





As he walks up to the counter, Sammy looks like a copy of Tammy, but older. Her jeans look to be the same, except Sammy is a bit thicker than Tammy, yet still without curves. Her gray tank top is stretched tight like Tammy's, yet again, she has a bit more to hold in. Her walk and clothes again speak of a confidence that makes her attractive, even if she is not overly so. She must have had Tammy at a young age, Robbie reasons as Sammy's older-yet-still-youngish face turns to see what he needs.





Deciding he needs to be quick while no customers are here, he says, "You want to help me." His tone seemed to affect her more, as she visibly shakes slightly at his words and replies, "Yes, yes, I want to help you." Interesting, he ponders, I would expect her to be more mentally tough than that. "Where are the cameras in here but don't move as you tell me." Sammy stops moving as she becomes robot-like, "There is only one camera that looks behind the counter here. All the others are fake." Excellent, he thinks. "You will be unable to move until the front door opens. You find great pleasure in doing what I say, but you find displeasure in mistreating Tammy." Her response is what he wanted, as she says in almost a moan, "Yes, mmm, yes."





Leaving the Sammy-statue there, he returns to Tammy. He can see someone getting out of their car in the parking lot, so he only has a few moments. Getting back to her, he comes up behind her and cups both breasts while pressing his hips into her butt. "It pleases you to do what I say, but displeases you to yell at Sammy." Tammy moans slightly, and he feels a slight shudder go through her body. Checking the front door, he says quickly, "When you hear the front door, return to normal and get me a blue power drink." He backs off her and stands where he was earlier. He looks to see Sammy and Tammy waiting like store mannequins at his command, and as soon as the front door opens and the bell chimes, they both return to their regular movements. Sammy greets the older man walking in, and Tammy opens the fridge to get a blue power drink.





"Here," she says with no smile. Robbie smiles and says, "Thank you for helping me!" At the 'helping me' part, she smiles broadly, like he had never seen her do before. It quickly disappears, but he knows he has got her now. As he moves to pay, he sees Sammy make a comment to Tammy, and instantly she grabs her stomach like it was upset. The look on her face tells him that he has her, too. Tammy's snarky reply also has her grabbing her stomach, so maybe this will work. Robbie pays and leaves. Am I actually trying to help them, or am I setting them up for acquisition? Unsure of the answer, he gets in his car and leaves, deep in thought.





A couple of weeks later, the Professor is enjoying his much needed break. His machine of world domination requires constant winding, as he likes to coin that "old school" phrase. He has to constantly re-apply his mind control over certain people, as well as keep a close eye on his numerous acquisitions. So far, he thinks to himself while sitting by the pool on the back patio, everything is on schedule.





Sipping his morning coffee, he hears the maid walk up to him in her sharp clicking steps. She bows with a partial curtsy and says, "There is a Sheriff Brownstone in the front foyer. She has asked to speak with you again." The professor curses under his breath, but quickly recomposes himself. Standing up he orders, "Show her to the den and offer her a water 'cocktail'." The maid bows and retreats, as he wraps his robe around him, leaving the coffee mug on the table. He rolls back his shoulders, straightens his sleeves and lapel. Time to turn on the charm, and get this officer off my case.





As expected, the sheriff was rather pushy in the early part of the conversation. She sits stiffly on the couch, while he stands near the empty fireplace. He tries to keep his composure, but he finds his focus waning the longer they talk. She has a way about her that seems to keep him off balance, rather than the other way around. What is wrong with me? He asks himself. Why can I not win her over?





She continues her inquiry about each of the missing women. Of course, he knows all three, because they are all in the house not far from where she is sitting. Maybe that is it, he tells himself, I don't usually have such a highly suspicious person this close to my work. She is meddling, and I was not prepared for her today. I knew she was coming at some point, because the maid told me that she had come by a couple of times. He bows his head slightly, as he thinks through how he could have done this better.





In a quick movement, he raises his head to face her. Wait, he tells himself, she's stopped talking. Focusing on her, she is still in her police uniform on the couch, holding her glass of near-empty water while sitting rather still with a slight smile on her face. Ah, he exclaims, the 'cocktail' has started to work. "Whew," he mumbles, "That was getting too close for me." He checks her to see if she reacted to his 'confession', but she does not. He walks slowly over to the couch and collapses into it, not far from her. She bounces up and down slightly, but looks to still be in a dream-state. "Okay, what to do now," he mumbles again. He strokes his chin and then grins wickedly, "Sheriff, I'm asking you to come to dinner Friday night. Wear something sexy, and we will see what happens. You are looking forward to coming back as a woman and not as a police officer." He knows what will happen, but he needs some time to work up a way to make sure her disappearance cannot be traced back to him.





Without standing up, he orders, "Maid, show the Sheriff to the door, and make sure you get her drink from her. Have a nice day, Sheriff Brownstone." The sheriff nods and allows herself to be led out the front door. As she steps down the stairs slowly that lead up to the cabin, she bends over before she gets to her cruiser and spits a large amount of water out of her mouth. Wiping her mouth with the back of her hand, she says softly to the large cabin in front of her, "I got you right where I want you. I don't know what you know, but I'm about to find out." As she pulls away down the familiar driveway, the professor sits on the couch and with a heavy sigh says, "Another difficult challenge made easy...got her right where I want her."





Back in the city. Robbie keeps the "machine" moving with his constant "pokes" of key people. This part of his "job description" is his favorite. He has no one breathing down his neck, and he gets to be the one in power and do things his way. He does not have to think of acquisitions all the time, and he can "run the business" from his position of power. Not only that, he has the house to himself, which is great. He can enjoy any statue he wants, and the new maid seems to be working out very well. He does not care for a male maid, but watching the young councilman flitter about in a leather miniskirt and low cut top is rather fun to humiliate him. Robbie has dropped so many things the past couple of days, and that politician cannot seem to keep up in those heels.





Father is right, he thinks to himself, this man is critical to the district in the adjacent state, but he is too strong willed to be controlled easily. We almost could not get him to take a week long tour of the electric vehicle plant nearby, but he was able to make it work afterall. Watching the smooth-skinned, exposed legs of the male maid walking by him again, Robbie thinks soberly, he is too strong-willed for a simple voice tone and drug. He has got to be trained, and nothing works better than humiliation.





Robbie knows he cannot push too much, as then he will be utterly broken and useless to their plans. This councilman has to be able to serve his district like before, except he has to be completely loyal to Father and Son. So they have to play their cards just right. The male maid walks by again to pick up something else, and Robbie notes the bright pink lipstick. Hmm, perhaps he is ready tonight to get a "special job" from the maid. Not that I could tell whether it was a male or female mouth on my manhood, but I'm not gonna think about that part. This "maid" is just about ready to be "released" back into society, and I think this is how we tighten the noose around his neck.





He stands up and walks to the stairs. "Maid," he orders, "Finish the dishes, then touch up your make-up, and meet me in my bedroom for a 'special job'." Robbie does not turn around, as the maid does not bow or curtsy, but rather shudders slightly. The man-in-maid's-clothing looks like he might try and run, yet he returns to the kitchen faithfully. He quickly dries the last of the plates off and slowly goes to his room to redo his make-up. He can feel a strong desire to leave, but an even stronger desire to obey. As he walks up the stairs, a small part of him knows that this will be the last thing he does as a free man. Once he pleasures the Son, he will be completely whipped and obedient. Rather than voice a heavy sigh, he simply opens the bedroom door and softly gasps at the naked man on the bed waiting for him.I should not have kept Master waiting, he chastises himself as he closes the door, sealing away his free will forever.





So far, the evening seemed to be going perfectly, even if it was a day earlier than he planned, the professor thinks to himself with a grin. The warm evening from the hot day made for an excellent reason to step outside and enjoy the pool. While not fit, the professor keeps his form quite lean, not from exercise but from proper diet and good sleep habits. As to his contrast, the sheriff is rather thick and muscular, given her many years serving as a police officer. While he thinks she may be past her prime in her job, her body is definitely still quite fine.





She sits next to him in her two-piece bathing suit, which almost seems too small for her. He does not mind, and as he slips several subliminal messages into their conversation, he finds he can stare at her many curves and assets without her saying anything. In fact, she nearly giggled at his last joke, which means she is nearly "under his spell." She sips on her well-aged white wine, lounging in the reclined chair designed for two. Her hair smells sweet, like a tropical fruit.





"I'm sure you sit out here often with your guests."





Her eyes have a twinkle in them that hide her intelligence and talents that he finds very attractive. I do not have the complete story worked out to cover her disappearance, but I almost have it together.





"Indeed. Many a guest has come out here and fallen."





She wiggles in her seat slightly, shaking her impressive chest back and forth in a mesmerizing motion.





"Fallen indeed. I hope I end up like your other women."





He grins, letting his eyes fall to her toned, thighs as he contemplates how incredible they will look in resin. Yes, he rehearses in his head, I did have the sheriff over tonight, but she left early from our "date" as she had to "check on something important".





"Oh, you already have, like all the rest, you are here forever."





She grins at him sweetly and whispers in his ear, "Not likely."





Before he can react, he is upended out of the chair. His wine glass flying from him as he lands on the concrete roughly to the sound of shattering glass in the distance. Bewildered, he looks around to see what happened, but then he takes a shot to the groin and then a knee to the back, and before he can even groan from it all, his face is pressed into the concrete facing the pool.





"You self-conceded, jerk," the sheriff says coldly from her position on top of him, "You really are responsible for those missing persons in the area, and you had the gall to brag about it." She reaches to pull one of his arms behind his back. The pain in his groin and face with the pressure on his neck, he does not even notice the cool metal wrapping around his wrist. "I bet you were hoping these cuffs were for later in the evening, but you were..."





The professor feels the pressure ease off his back as he sees a splash in the pool as if someone jumped in. Grimacing in pain and shock, he turns his head back to see the maid standing by the back door. She stands with her weapon in hand, extended out in front of her. He did not hear anything, so it must be the tranquilizer gun she keeps hidden somewhere on her person. Still laying prone on the ground, he then turns back to the pool, to see the sheriff floating face down in the pool. On her back, a small, bright red dot can be seen.





Slowly, he pulls himself to his knees as the sound of high heels nears him. He sees a black latex hand extend to him, as she asks, "Are you alright, Master?" Grunting, he slaps her hand away and says weakly, "No." Fortunately, the sheriff had not completed the cuffing process, so he can pull his hands around him and he kneels next to the maid.





In frustration, he rips the gun from her hand. "How did she resist me?" He stares death at the floating body in the pool. "Perhaps, she..." the maid responds but then finds a bright red dot on her uniform and then finds remaining conscious impossible. "Did I ask you?!" The professor says coldly, as she falls into the chair he was just sitting in. He slowly gets up, holding his groin with one hand and the tranq gun in the other.





"Stupid," he says while shooting the maid again, "Stupid...stupid," he says while shooting the floating back of the sheriff again and again. He shakes his head to clear it. "How could she not be in my thrall by now? I used all the right words and foods and drinks, and she responded with...with..." Still frustrated, he empties the clip in the maid. Her black and white uniform now riddled with small red dots, her breathing rather shallow now.





He throws the gun in the pool and kicks an empty chair over in pain. "I am the greatest mind of our time. I can control anyone...anyone!" The last word was yelled at the floating body in the pool, but the intensity was tempered somewhat by his pain and his surroundings. The strength of his words seem weak when compared to the scene in front of him. His shoulders slump uncharacteristically as he slides down to sit on the edge of the pool, letting his feet dangle into the cool water. After a few moments, he slips into the pool, letting the cool water numb the still-throbbing pain of his manhood.





The relief brings some clarity, and he begins to return to normal. Grabbing her foot, he pulls her along the top of the pool to the stairs. With a grunt, he rolls her out of the pool and onto the concrete. Her curves that he was admiring not long ago are still there, but now have a glisten to them from the pool water. As she lays on her side facing away from him, her beautiful butt can barely be hidden by the shiny swim suit bottom. He pulls the tranq pins out of her back and fantasizes about pinning her in a different way.





The pain in his manhood subsides as it begins to grow under the water. Feeling his mental strength returning, he decides she might still fulfill his purposes. He pulls her feet around until her bottom half comes back into the pool. He is not sure she is breathing, but maybe some pumping on her body would help with that, he thinks with an evil grin. The cool water does not stop his ever growing shaft from pressing through his underwear and with a quick zip on his soaked shorts, he is free to penetrate.





Her top half lays limp against the concrete as he loosens her swim suit bottom off her wide hips to sink to the bottom of the pool. He grabs both hips and pulls himself into her, causing her to gasp with water pouring out of her mouth. Ah, he thinks, she is still alive, so I have not lost my prized statue yet. As he starts to pump her, he whispers over her weak coughing at each thrust, "Just a small deposit will be all you need to be mine, and I know that excites you, right?"





With her body being compressed against the edge of the pool, she coughs up more water onto the concrete, as her long wet hair covers her face. Her fingers twitch with each thrust, as if they might be trying to work, or perhaps they are just random movements. He does not care, as pinning her to the wall has been his dream for months now. He knew he wanted her the first time she stopped by the cabin asking about a missing person. He knew he wanted her when she put her hat back on and walked away in her uniform. He knew he wanted that rear end, "and now," he says with a moan and slight shudder, "It's mine."





After a glorious climax, he lays himself on her back as they both let their feet dangle in the pool. This is my favorite part of world domination, he thinks contentedly. There are so many I want to do, and with patience, I can have whomever I want whenever. He can feel her shallow breathing under him, wondering if his "deposit" has made its way into her bloodstream yet. His chemically altered fluid is best taken orally, but it can work its mind-numbing ways from any hole.





Hmm, he wonders, perhaps I should go again, just to make sure. "Oh," he says with a sigh as he slowly begins to grind her leg, "The things I must do for power." It does not take long to excite himself amidst the sound of the mountain's nature, and he once again enjoys penetrating the sheriff's prone state, almost as much as the first time. He knows he will need to get all the tranq pins out of the maid, as she will probably be unconscious for days now. Her own fault for being around when I'm angry.





Sexually satisfied, he leaves his clothes floating in the pool for the maid to get when she awakens. He puts all of the tranq pins in a bag, along with the sheriff's clothes she wore to the cabin. The tranq gun is at the bottom of the pool, but the maid can fish it out later. Perhaps I'll make her wear the diving suit to get it, he thinks with a grin, Robbie seems to like that sort of thing. Standing stark naked now in the kitchen, he grabs his cellphone and calls the man he was just thinking of torturing with the maid's looks.





There is no hello when the line is active. The professor waits a few seconds to make sure Robbie does not speak first. Satisfied with his control, he says, "I have acquired a high-stakes one." There is a long pause, then Robbie replies, "Be there in 20 minutes." He ends the call and looks around the deathly quiet cabin. There is so much to be done to remove any evidence of foul play, so that only her presence as a statue makes sense to anyone.





The maid will recover in a few days, but that is not the real problem. "Look at the size of her," Robbie says getting the former sheriff onto the cart's top, "She would barely fit in the vat at home. I don't see how we can resin her here." He had driven from the other side of town as quickly as he could where he had another encounter with Tammy and Sammy. Father had pulled himself together by the time Robbie had gotten there. His simple clothing choice told Robbie that something went wrong with this acquisition, and Father had to ditch his normal formal attire. I'm curious to hear the story, Robbie thinks expectantly, but I know he will not share what really happened.





He rolls the puddled body of the older woman through the back door. Leaving her there, he returns to drag the maid inside as well. "I doubt anyone will see them," he says with a grunt. Before he can finish his thought, Father says, "We cannot be too careful. There are eyes everywhere, remember that." Robbie can feel the shame voice and feels the need to slink lower as he continues to pull the unconscious maid indoors. Father follows close behind with the drinks and food on a tray. Setting it down, he turns off the lights outside, as well as the light within the pool, turning the backyard from a bright, colored environment to a pitch black foreground of the mountains and forests surrounding the cabin.





Turning back around, he sees Robbie struggling with the maid. "Just get her in a guest bedroom and close the door, we can do without her for now." Robbie nods his head and gets her to one of the many guest rooms. Flicking on the light with his elbow, he jumps slightly at the resin statue in the room. He knows only some of the bedrooms have a statue, but this one has her arms up over her head and her fingers extended like claws. She has a grimace on her face, like she is trying to scare you. He chuckles as he man-handles the maid into the bed. "Well, it worked," he mumbles, rolling the maid over onto her back. Her uniform is ruined from the holes from the pins, as well as being dragged across the concrete.





The golden blonde hair and thin figure standing in the corner is very different from the curves and dark hair of the maid. The statue looks to be chasing someone in a haunted house, while the maid looks to be some vampire's victim. He takes his finger and flicks the exposed nipple of the maid, and gets no reaction. Wow, he exclaims to himself, she must be nearly in a coma to not react to that. Stepping by the "scary" statue, he gives the right butt cheek a playful slap. "Evil," he says with a grin, as the woman screams in her own head, "I'm not the evil one...you are and that father of yours! You both are evil!" The lights of the room go out and the door closes, shutting down any make-believe conversation they might have had.





Robbie finds Father and his latest in the attic with the resin equipment. He has already started the "resin cauldron". As he tests the mixture, he adds a bit more of a powder as Robbie steps off the private elevator. "I was not prepared to have her ready tonight, so we will have to keep her sedated until tomorrow." Robbie thinks to himself, sedated? That's unusual. He likes to mind control them for days at a time before transforming them. "Well, it might be..." and like before, he is cut off by the elder saying, "Be simple and follow." Robbie finds his intelligence level suddenly hampered and his decision-making skills drastically limited. His face takes on a more passive look.





"Continue stirring the cauldron." Robbie follows the commands with sluggish obedience. He finds he can barely put two thoughts together before they get scrambled. He slowly stirs the cauldron, staring into the white liquid, as it slowly starts to turn more of a light tan. Father goes back to the cabinet where they keep various drugs as they might need.





"Bubbles," the female voice says into the quiet room.





Both of the men seem to ignore the voice, as they continue their work.





"Flowers," the female voice mumbles to the room.





Father returns with a syringe and before he can insert it into her thigh, she says, "Teddy bears." Soon after the syringe is empty, her eyes close again, while Robbie slowly stirs the warm resin in the small cauldron. Father looks into it and then returns the syringe to the cabinet. "The mixture looks right. Leave it to simmer and place her in a guest room for the night."





Robbie nods his head, leaving the paddle in the cauldron as he begins to push the cart to the elevator. Minutes later, he is in another guest bedroom, pushing the unconscious woman onto a bed. He straightens her out, as if she is sleeping. Her wet hair dampens the pillow and her swim suit top is no longer serving any purpose. He leaves the cart next to the bed, as he will need it tomorrow. He sees a statue in the corner, and finds most of his mental focus returning. This statue is the only one he has added to the cabin, and it was just recently at his last visit up here.





Naked and on her knees, she looks up as if to make eye contact. Her mouth is wide open, and her arms are out in front of her, like she might be hugging or grasping something. He feels a hardness growing in his manhood, and knows he has time to enjoy "his" conquest, especially since any chance with Tammy tonight is out now. He slides in between her outstretched hands and settles his butt into her palms, almost as if he was made for them. He barely gets his zipper down before his manhood pops out into her waiting mouth. As he slowly pumps along the oily smooth mouth, he moans and mumbles, "You are by far the best table runner I have ever felt, Penny." The statue making eye contact with him says to herself, "Yes, yes, finally, fill me, I'm so thirsty, yes, yes...you are so warm, and I can feel you throbbing in me. I'm alive!"









The loud thump from the attic awoke Robbie. He grabs his head with one hand and he turns on the bedside lamp with the other. "What in the world was that?" He groggily checks his phone to see the time. With a heavy sigh, he mumbles, "I gotta get up in a couple of hours to drive back." He contemplates rolling over, but knowing there's "a live one" in the cabin, he decides to investigate.





He takes the elevator, as he tries to avoid too much exertion. Hopefully, he thinks sleepily, it's a quick ride up and down and then back to bed. As he steps out the door, he knows something is wrong. Father is laying on the floor, breathing shallowly. As he steps closer, he can see a figure standing across the room, so he asks, "What's going on?"





The figure looks up, her hair going in all different directions. Her face is one of concern, but seems to be relieved at the same time. Her body is naked, but something is not right. From just below her breasts, she is covered in a light tan goo that seems to hold her tightly in a standing position. Above that line she is animated, normal, if you will. She points down at the man laying on the floor and says, "He...he's trying to...kill me." Her breathless reply helps Robbie know how to respond.





"Oh my goodness," he says in exasperation, "Why would he do that?" He makes a move to the woman, ignoring the man who seems to still be breathing. Robbie knows who it is, but there is no time to take care of both of them. The woman stiffly leans to one side to step forward. She does it more time before Robbie reaches her. They embrace in a hug as he steadies her. "I...I don't know, but he must have done...this before," as she looks around the room. Robbie can feel her warm body in his arms, and the resin cooling where he touches his clothes. Hmm, he thinks, no wonder she is stiff as a board where the resin touches her.





"There...there," he says softly, "It is okay now. He cannot hurt you anymore." He starts to say more, but then decides to switch gears quickly, "What happened? Do you remember?"





She brings one hand up to her messed up hair, "Well, he had invited me over for dinner on a date. I think he was trying to manipulate me, based on the words he used and some clues of drugging my drink. He had planned this, and I thought I had him." She pauses as she grips Robbie's arm, "I thought I was going to catch him and save those missing women, but then...I don't know."





Robbie nods his head and smiles in a comforting way, "There, there, it is alright now. I'm just shocked that he was doing this without me knowing."  She does not look at him, as she is still processing her last time with the Professor. "We were by the pool...relaxing...talking...then next thing I know, I'm being dunked in some crazy tub of goo." She turns to point at the steaming cauldron.





"Well, he could never expect to find someone as strong as you here. You certainly overcame a tough spot. I'm very impressed, Sheriff." Robbie has to keep her talking and calm, allowing the resin to seep into her skin, allowing the special chemicals into her bloodstream. He just needs her to not notice that she is feeling more statuesque now than before.





She nods her head and says softly, "I can't believe he kidnapped all those women. Did he kill them all with this goo bath?" Robbie shakes his head, "I don't see how. Where would he hide them without me knowing about it? I don't come up here often, but I would have noticed this." While he is talking, he grips her left hand and slowly poses it like she is pointing her index finger as a gun, "cocking" her thumb like the hammer part. He notices her hand keeps the pose, without any resin help, and she does not seem to notice.





"So, how do I get out of here?" The Sheriff seemingly realizing she cannot get far like this. Robbie moves behind her, as her left hand keeps the perfect pose he gave it. "I see some gloves over here. I'll put them on and maybe I can scrape the goo off you. Can you balance without my help?"





"Wait, you came here by elevator...balanced...how did you...perfectly balanced...I think I can." Her voice has started to take on a new tone. With his back to her back, she cannot see him smile. "Ah," he says loudly, "I can put these gloves on that just happen to fit my hands," while checking the temperature of the cauldron, "And then I can probably wipe the resin off you." Temperature is still good, he observes, so I just need to move her back just a bit more.





Coming up behind her, she has not moved much other than her head rotating from side to side. "Okay," he says standing right behind her, "There's a floor grate just behind you. I'm gonna scoot you back just a bit and then let it run off." Gloves on his hands, he reaches in front of her. He makes sure to pull his hands up from her hips, gathering as much resin in his hands as he grips her just below her breasts. The resin that was piled up in his hands has now been squeezed up onto her chest.





She gasps loudly, as the resin touches her bare skin. "Bubbles...watch yourself this...teddy bear...goo is sticky." He scoots her back a couple of inches, then does it again, pulling more resin onto her chest. Being so close to her heart, the chemicals should be working on her even faster now. "Don't worry, Miss Brownstone, I've got you." After another couple of inches, he lets go of her and steps around to face her.





Her facial expression is more blank now, and he can see her eyes have dilated further. "I got you," he whispers and pushes his index finger on her forehead. Like a tall tree cut down, she falls backwards. Her facial expression does not change, as she lands head first into the cauldron. Like some bad comedy, she sinks up to her waist, so that her legs stick straight up into the air from the cauldron's lip. Her legs do not move, nor does she struggle, as the resin has finally got a grip on her. Given time, the resin would have all run off her, and given back her physical and mental strength, she could probably move enough to get the rest off of her as she walked out of here. Over time, she could probably work all of the chemicals out of her body before the resin dried and sealed her fate.





Staring at her feet, he says admiringly, "What a woman!" With her safely marinating, he turns to see his Father still lying like a sack of potatoes on the floor. He is breathing, but for how long? He has a cut on his head, from where he hit the table. I'm sure she punched him hard enough to flatten him, Robbie reasons, but now, what should I do? I should help him, he repeats the voice in his head, but then he also hears another voice, telling him this is his one time to take control.









Robbie sits on the deep-brown leather couch with a warm fire burning brightly in the fireplace. The hot chocolate filling his mug has a slight peppermint flavor. He does not recall the exact memory, but he knows this is a comfort to him from his childhood. The chilly night in the mountains is kept at bay by his lavish log cabin. He sighs contentedly, putting his socked feet up on the coffee table.





To his right, he hears the clicking of heels from the maid. He turns to see the curveless figure walking up to him with an envelope in hand. The maid's outfit is different from the previous maid, who did not fully recover from the "pool incident" a few months ago. The previous maid was full of curves and cleavage and soft things to pinch, but this one is anything but that. This maid looks thin and much more angular, like they have little to no body fat at all. The face is a molded black mask of thick plastic that has feminine features. The rest of the body in the full black catsuit is shiny from the vinyl finish, but has no defining features to make one think it has to be a female, other than the maid's short-skirted uniform.





The maid bows slightly to hand the envelope to Robbie. The sound of a clinking chain catches his ear, as does the silver shiny neck collar. He looks at the name on the tag as he takes the envelope: Daddy. He smiles, "Aren't you glad I kept you around?" The maid nods slowly and dutifully stands back up and resumes a compliant pose. "You live to serve me, don't you?" The maid nods slowly again, keeping a perfect demeanor of submission.





Robbie looks at the envelope. "Can't see much in the dim light, I need the lamp on, please." The maid turns to bend over again to switch on the unique lamp sitting on the end table. And sitting is the proper word, as the full-figured, resin-coated statue begins to glow in the single-bulb lamp. Arms above her head, the statue shows off her rather-large chest to everyone. The lamp shade has a classic look to it, as the light bulb shines a golden light down on the statue's brown hair. The statue-lamp smiles contentedly, like she enjoys giving everyone light and a show. The statue's feet are crossed and dangle almost to the floor from the end table. The statue has all the curves that are missing from the maid, making it hard to take your eyes off of it.

Looking at the envelope, he then turns to the statue, "Why, Sheriff, this envelope is from your office...I wonder what it has to say." The bulb almost seems to burn brighter, as the mature woman connects with her old life. Ripping it open, he reads it outloud, "Dear Mr Banks, Thank you for your help in searching for our beloved sheriff! We have declared her deceased based on the evidence you helped us find, and we wanted to join you in our sorrow of losing someone so important to our community. If we can assist you in any way, please let us know. Signed, Sheriff-elect Briggs." He sets the envelope on the lamp's lap.





"Ironic, isn't it? Yet, you would have it no other way, right? I mean, my predecessor had no care for the mental state of his conquests," he takes a quick glance at the maid standing to one side silently, "But I think everyone should be enjoying themselves, yes?" Inside the statue, the inner voice of former Sheriff Brownstone seems to almost purr with delight. Mmm, yes, I love to be turned on, feeling the warm glow and seeing the light from me. I am Sheriff of the Light, Master, let me illuminate you.





Though he is unable to hear her thoughts, he knows what she is thinking, because he put those thoughts there. He finds that part of the process the most enjoyable: molding the mind permanently. It is not about the conquest, but the control, he tells himself. He reaches out and puts his hand on her left breast. His small hand cannot even begin to take in even half of it, leaving him plenty to enjoy by both sight and touch. He then leans over and kisses her erect nipple slowly and tenderly. Again, the light bulb almost seems to glow brighter, but he knows that is just his imagination. Enjoying the taste of the resin, with the added shape of her nipple, he moans ever so slightly.





Releasing his mouth from her, he taps her stiff leg and says, "Well, think I'm gonna take a shower before dinner." He stands up and stretches. He addresses the maid with, "Dinner at 7 on the back porch. Make sure the heaters are on before you set the table this time." The maid nods as they have done with each command. He turns to go upstairs, walking past the new "coat rack." The previous maid now enjoys holding coats and hats or whatever Master puts on her. She feels almost giddy when he brushes against her while picking up his coat, or when he rests against her as he removes his boots or shoes. My arm never gets tired of holding his clothes, she tells herself proudly, and it never will. Robbie gives her a slightly sad look, remembering how good she was as a maid, and how her mental trauma from all of the tranquilizers made her a near-vegetable. But, he thinks with a smile as he touches her stiff shoulder, she looks great everytime I come in or use the stairs. "And," he says softly, "Those shiny, resin-covered curves of yours are exquisite."

end for now?