Note: This story was dynamically reformatted for online reading convenience.
 
 DISCLAIMER: Not to be read by anyone under the age of majority.  It may
help to have read Circus Tricks before this, but the two stories stand
alone.

   THE BREED Michelle Smith doesn't know where she is anymore.  She doesn't
even really know what's happening.  All she could tell you, if you asked
her, is that she can't seem to move her limbs any more.  Or see anything
except for this strange blue glow.  Or hear anything except for the man's
voice. "You have no will.  Your mind is weak and your body is fine.  You
have no will.  Your mind is weak and your body is mine.  You have no will.
Surrender control to me.  Surrender control to me..." As his voice
continues she feels an overwhelming urge to believe everything it says, to
surrender herself to him.  She wonders how this has happens as she tries to
break free of the enchantment, but to no avail; she simply can't get her
instructions to her limbs.  It's as if she's trapped inside her mind,
locked up in a room which will allow this insidious influence in but won't
allow anything to flow back out.  So she can't as much as shut her eyes. 
Or remember anything except the happenings immediately previous; short-term
retention still has not fallen to the mental assault. *** She was sitting
in a bar in Chester.  There are no haunting echoes of familiarity about the
place, so she has to assume she hadn't been there before.  Why she was
there she does not know. A man walked up to her and began a conversation,
which wasn't particularly unusual.  He was, perhaps, a little older than
most; in his late thirties, but he obviously kept himself in shape and he
carried himself with a bearing like some old-fashioned knight taken out of
armour and put into the best-tailored suit Saville Row could provide.  His
brown hair hadn't yet begun to go grey. "Lisa's told me a lot about you,
Michelle," he smiles.  The name Lisa is familiar, but she can't tell why
for the life of her. But she must be a friend, because in memory Michelle's
cheeks pulled her lips into a wide, unfeigned smile, and she nodded in
cheerful acknowledgement. "She must have, if you recognised me just from
her description," she said. He smiled dispassionately - the smile of a
landowner from a bygone age to a subordinate, practised, polished and
without content, though somehow it didn't seem condescending.  The charisma
of those long-dead aristocrats was also within him - and he shrugged. 
"Well, when she moved in I helped her sort out her stuff.  And...  well, I
dropped one of her photograph boxes.  The top came off and the pictures
spilled out.  On top was rather a raunchy picture of a group of you from...
I think she said it was Marie's hen party?" She smiled and nodded in
recognition.  "My God," she said, "and she didn't complain?" "No," he
laughed.  "Well, at first she said something about it being embarrassing,
but after a while we were laughing about it, you know how it is.  And we
went over the pictures together over some tea." "Now that I can imagine,"
she said.  There was trust in this man; his was the demeanour that inspired
such things. "But I'm wasting time, I'm afraid," he said.  The change of
course was perfect in it's simple normality.  "I contacted you about the
job, of course; since it's clear that you and Lisa can work comfortably
together.  I believe you also went to school with Chloe?" "Chloe works for
you?" "That's so, yes.  She's the cook.  It's a large house; I need a
decent complement of staff.  Sadly, Adrienne's now tied up over this murder
inquiry..." He shrugged, turning a murder investigation into a slight
inconvenience with a practiced gesture.  There's a lot of the old breed
about him; the breed that took a small island and turned it into Britain
and then turned that into the centre of a worldwide empire.  And held onto
it until the breed fell from favour. She laughed.  He continued.  "I also
employ Clara and Cassie, who you probably don't know.  Now, the situation
following Adrienne's arrest is that I really don't have enough staff. 
Since she's not allowed bail and the trial is a couple of months away, I do
need to hire someone, if only for the two months.  It's not like the old
days; one can't expect a maid to treat herself as on call throughout the
day.  The shifts are nine hours each, I'm afraid; a little longer than
usual.  You won't be expected to work through the night at any point. 
Having four maids allows for days off, extra time taken for shopping, and
various other things like that.  It's really only a security blanket; I'll
only need four of you when I'm entertaining visitors - something else that
rarely happens now.  It really isn't like the old days, I'm sorry to say."
The conversation went on in this vein for a while, and Michelle accepted
the job - temporarily, at least; the long-term situation should Adrienne be
convicted would be decided if it happened.  He offered to drive her back to
her home, and to collect her and her belongings in the morning, since the
job was live-in.  He was very careful about the expressions he chose; there
was no innuendo whatsoever, not even accidental innuendo.  When she
commented on that he glibly explained that in this day and age, employing
'maids' was bad enough. Then, as soon as she was strapped in, he turned to
face her.  He blinked and his brown eyes turned into pure black pupils. 
Which somehow seemed to pulse, emanating ripples of blue light that bored
into her eyes.  She felt her limbs grow numb, knew as her control lessened
that her hold over her body was deteriorating.  And that brought her cycle
of memories up to date. She finally felt some knowledge of her limbs come
back, just as she drowned under the light, finally surrendering to him. 
She still couldn't move her legs or arms, but she knew what was happening.
The light died away, her eyes drooped inexorably closed, and her head
slumped forward.  She succumbed. "I surrender, master." Sir Alexander
Whyte, baronet, smiled.  And he blinked.  His eyes returned to normal. 
"Jolly good," he said.  He reached out and slid one hand inside her shirt,
resting it over the soft curve of her breast in it's smooth bra.  Then he
slid a finger inside the bra, finding her nipple.  It was already erect. 
Interesting, he thought.  The procedure had turned her on.  Which was
particularly interesting given she'd had no awareness of any contact with
her body during her enslavement. "I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask if
you can start your employment tonight," he said.  "I realise it's an
imposition, but I really don't want to be made to wait.  You don't mind, do
you?" "Of course not, master." "Good," he said, still toying idly with her
breast.  "Well, we'll start with some sex, I think.  It's not really in
your contract, but I think it's covered by the term 'diverse services',
don't you?" Unconsciously she smiled.  "Yes, master," she said, her voice
holding real amusement at what he was implying. "Well, that's fine.  Now,
if you'll just ease yourself out of those clothes, I'll drive us back home.
Ever slept in a four-poster?" She smiled even more, eyes still closed, and
she pressed herself against him.  "No...  I'd like that." Alex put his arm
around her shoulder and stroked her cheek absently.  "Mmmm..." she murmured
absently.  He snapped his fingers.  Her eyes opened and she brought her
hands up, began undoing the buttons on her shirt.  Alex took his arm back
and concentrated on driving back to the manor house. *** Lisa opened the
door for Alex and Michelle.  Her face split open into a wide grin and she
stepped forward, flinging her arms around Michelle.  "It's good to see you
again," she said. Alex laid a gentle hand on her shoulder.  "Lisa...  you
are depriving your friend of a night spent alone with me.  Is that really
fair to her?" She released Michelle and stepped back at once, bowing her
head in contrition.  "Of course not, master.  I'm sorry.  It was just... 
seeing her again, it..." "I understand," he said, in that voice which
really did convey a sort of aloof but interested understanding.  He smiled,
politely but firmly, and led Michelle up the stairs.  Lisa watched them, a
smile on her face, and then closed the front door and left the hallway to
attend to other business. *** Michelle ushered the two visitors into Alex's
study, if such it could be called.  This was a room used for entertaining
the more special visitors, as well as for work; the manor's second huge
bed, also capable of taking four inhabitants in comfort and also a
four-poster, occupied one corner of the room. Across the room from that was
Alex's computer facility, regularly upgraded to make sure he had the best.
He could afford it; unlike many of the minor nobles of England these days,
the Whyte family had avoided death taxes and such things carefully for the
last few centuries and had appeared to have been superb negotiators and
brokers.  The reality, of course, was that if you could control what others
thought you could make a killing; if you could control your workers in the
way the Whytes always had you didn't have to pay them much; and when you
could be assured of winning at gambling for the same reason, you could
stockpile a not inconsiderable fortune over several generations, with the
result that Alex, latest of this line, didn't have to worry about much
other than keeping the estate running.  And he'd managed to...  er... 
persuade someone very able to do that for him. The rest of the room was
plushly furnished, with a deep and soft carpet - Michelle could vouch for
that personally.  You didn't even pick up much in the way of burns.
"Jonathan, good to see you," Alex said, rising and smiling.  "And this is?"
"This is WDS Jane Herbert of the local constabulary," the visitor said. 
"One of my latest conquests.  And very capable with it." "Indeed?  Well,
good for you...  So these science-project snakes work reliably, do they?"
"Yeah, you could say that." Alex smiled.  "Interesting.  I'm afraid I'm
going to have to sponsor you for membership of our club." "Your club?" "Oh,
yes.  It's a gentleman's club based in the city.  An informal association
of mind controllers.  Various devices, magical and otherwise, are in place
to prevent anyone using their powers on any of the club members, but they
don't have any effect on the staff, for obvious reasons.  Can I offer you a
drink?" "Certainly.  I'll have a whisky if you've got one." "My dear chap,"
Alex said, sounding almost offended, "of course I have whisky.  I have an
arrangement with one of the older firms; my great-grandfather had the
foresight to purchase the bottling concern they use.  A quite superb double
malt." He reached out and rang the bell.  Lisa opened the door almost
immediately. "A whisky for the guest, please, Lisa.  I'll abstain for now."
"Yes, master, of course." "As for the ladies...  would Jane enjoy a drink
from the furry cup, do you think?" "Enjoy?" Jonathan raised his eyebrows.
"What an interesting concept...  she'll be very interested if I want her to
be, of course." "You mean you don't allow them any choice over what brings
them pleasure?" "What's the point?  They're slaves." "Ah.  Here is clearly
where we differ.  You own slaves; I have servants.  Apart from their
willingness to consent to any suggestion I make, however out of character
it might have been, they are treated as people; they have the ability to
make their own judgement calls if I think that would be useful, and so
forth.  You, I imagine, have simply surrounded yourself with women moulded
into robots, with no discretion of their own.  Correct?" "Yeah.  What else
would I want to do?" "It takes all sorts.  This is, and always has been for
my family, simply a way of continuing the way of life that was at it's best
shortly before Victoria ascended to the throne, and of doing it more
cheaply.  They're still people; they just do what I want.  However, this is
a free world.  You are free to treat your servants as you wish, I suppose.
Michelle, Jane would like to pleasure you and be pleasured in return. 
Would you mind obliging?" "Of course, master." Alex smiled at Jonathan, the
ringmaster.  "You see?" TO BE CONTINUED...