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Subject: {EZ}MyInhert21 Pinged
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The attached work of fiction is intended to be entertainment for
adults in locations in which it is legal.  If it is illegal in your
location, DO NOT read.  This is a copyrighted work.   Reposting or any
other use strictly prohibited without the express, written permission
of the copyright holder, except may by posted as part of a  review or
posted to free-access, noncommercial archive sights.

Copyright 1998 by E. Z. Riter.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com

This is a mind control, multi person romance with a planned thirty
plus chapters. 

Please!  Give me your comments.


MY INHERITANCE

Chapter 21

Pinged

Andy was mortified. She began to blush, the red rising from somewhere
under the ski skin which encased her delicious body to cover her face.
She was red as a lobster.  Her lower lip quivered.  Really though, it
was a laughable situation. There Eve (I will continue to call her
that, if you don't mind) and I were, naked and obviously freshly
fucked, when Andy asked for Eve's autograph. 

"I'm sorry, Davy," she whimpered and turned to leave.  I grabbed her
ankle.  "Come back here," I said, pulling her down beside me. Andy
looked as guilty as a puppy caught pooping on the carpet.  When Eve
finally controlled her laughter, she was very nice to Andy, and signed
the autograph she requested. 

"Who is she?" Eve asked.   "Andrea Matthews," I answered.

"No. I mean, what is she to you?"

Andy's eyes were boring into me as I thought.  It was a good question.
What was Andy to me?  She was my kitten, but I could hardly explain to
someone that meant a chemically programmed sex slave.  She was my
roommate, but that sounded like we were assigned the same room by some
liberal college somewhere.  Friend? She was more than that.  Lover?
Yes.  Concubine? I am not a king.  Personal slut?  Andy was not at all
slutty unless I told her to be.  

I knew Andy remembered my proposal of marriage on the streets of San
Francisco when a movie star and I got in a bidding war for her
services as she game-played as a hooker.   Fianc‚ then?  Andy had
told me she did not need a piece of paper to belong to me, that the
proposal was enough for her.  Sweetheart?  That is what she called me.
It was a nice, old-fashioned word.

"Sweetheart," I said.  Andy liked that.  I could tell by her smile.

"Andy, do you mind your sweetheart having sex with another woman?"
Eve asked. 

"Of course not.  I understand a man needs many women while a woman is
most happy with just one man.  A good woman, like me, helps her man by
encouraging him to have sex with other women and finding them for him.
Don't you do that for your man?"

If there were any question Andy had been programmed, that statement
alone should vanquish it.  At first, Eve thought Andy was putting her
on, but, as they talked, Eve realized Andy was sincere. Still, she
decided to put it to the test.

"So, Andy, if Dave and I were to have sex right in front of you, you
would not mind?"

"Not in the least.  In fact, I would like to join in, if you don't
mind."     

That is how Eve, Andy and I ended up naked in the big bed, doing
wonderful things to each other. Picture Eve.  That should be easy
since everyone has seen her in a skimpy red swim suit.  Picture Andy.
That should be easy, too.  Envision what each of them looks like.
Then, see them together on the bed, naked, nipples touching as they
gently caress each other.  Picture yourself squeezing between them to
everyone's delight and the two of them focusing all that girl power on
you.  Nice picture, isn't it? 

I think Eve was surprised when Andy decided to take my cum from her
pussy, and more surprised when she orgasmed from it.   I was not at
all surprised by Andy's actions or Eve's response.  She was a sexual
women being pleasured by a sexual woman. 

Before she left, Eve offered to get Andy a screen test for Baywatch,
since Andy had already passed the most important test for that
organization, which is a body to die for.   Truthfully, Andy was
better looking than any of them.  I realized it was the second time
someone in show business had offered Andy a start.  

The three of us went back out into the beautiful, sunshiny day.  I
followed behind them about five paces just to watch the crowd
reaction.  The Pope and the President together would not have turned
more heads.   I had beeped Mary so I knew she and Eve's escort were at
The Left Bank, nibbling hor d'oeuvres and sipping wine.  We joined
them there.  I could tell from Eve's conversation the whole time with
me was wiped from her conscious mind.  We said our goodbyes, leaving
Eve to explain to her escort why she was too tired to do anything else
that evening.

"Well? How was she?" Mary asked. 

"Absolutely fantastic.  Almost as good as you."  Andy cleared her
throat.  "Or, Andy," I added.  She beamed.

"Ready for another one?"

"What do you mean?"

"I saw (she named the star of another series).  She is a kitten, too."

What the hell.  A guy has to do what a guy has to do.  Later, after it
was all over, I must say that one did not compare to Eve or to my
kittens.  Still, she wasn't bad.

A blizzard rolled in while I was enjoying myself with the other star.
By the time it was over during the night, we would get twenty-one
inches of new snow.  The kittens and I hit a steak house, ordered
ribeyes medium rare with potatoes and merlot.  After dinner, we
trudged back to the house.  Through the blowing snow, I could see a
strange car parked in the driveway.  As we got closer, the car doors
swung open.  

It was my Dad, Mom and my three sisters.

"Surprise!  Merry Christmas!" they yelled.  Damn, it was good to see
them.  This Christmas was not going to be the first time I was away
from them after all. After hugging and laughing our greetings, we
unloaded all their belongings, including a pile of presents, and went
back to the steak house since they had not eaten.  

The kittens and I sipped wine as the others ate.  I suddenly realized
Mom and my sisters, Abby, Betty and Cathy, were also my kittens since
they had been programmed by Uncle Bert, who was my father but not
theirs.  I don't want to go through all that again.  You remember,
don't you?

Andy and I had visited with Mom and Dad (as I continued to call
Charles) in LA when we visited after our training with Madame Delilah.
It was then I had taken Mom into her trance and commanded her to make
sure Dad was the best fucked man in LA.  

I had never seen Dad look better. His eyes were bright, he had lost
some weight.  He was trim and fit.  More importantly, he acted as
happy as I could ever remember seeing him.   Mom looked good, too.
And, she looked more relaxed than usual.  I noticed she was wearing a
baggy sweater but it seemed to stick out more than I remembered. I
wondered.

I had not seen my sisters since Bert's funeral.  Abby and Betty, the
twins, were almost twenty.  My birthday was January 19.  Theirs was
January 20 two years later.  They were typical, bubbly, sweet young
women.  Both were very smart and pretty but not beautiful.  Looking at
them, I would have guessed they were virgins although I knew Uncle
Bert had taken care of that problem some years back.  They just had
that virgin look. 

Cathy was another story. Eighteen (her birthday was in September) and
just starting college, Cathy had an IQ of 175.  She also had a body
that almost equaled Andy's.  She was very sexual but not slutty.  She
was a classy young woman. But, that was not it.  Cathy had something
else. 

Let me see if I can describe it adequately. 

Submarines use their electronic underwater listening apparatus, sonar,
to "ping" other submarines.  That ping lets the target sub know the
"pinging" sub is there.  Surface ships are unaware. Subs not targeted
are unaware.  Only the sub being pinged hears the ping.   If you were
a Russian sub pinged by an American sub, it would make you very
cautious.   You would be on eternal alert as long as that American sub
was nearby.  Your torpedoes would be loaded and ready.

Cathy pinged men.  Ping, ping.  You could almost feel it when she
walked into a room.  She was sending signals, pinging every man she
wanted to target. They would jump, their backs would straighten. They
would look around until they saw her and identified her as the source
of the energy they were receiving. They were on alert.  And, I am sure
their torpedoes were loaded and ready to fire.

I do not know if it was smell, or something about her expression, or
mental telepathy.  I just know they knew she was there.  She would be
in the forefront of their thought until she was out of pinging range,
whatever that was. And, Cathy knew exactly where every man was and how
hard she had pinged him. 

Uncle Bert had not programmed this.  Mary did not have it and neither
did Andy.  Even Eve, who made her living transmitting sexual signals
over television signals, did not have it.  This was something in
Cathy.

As I looked around the restaurant, I could tell the men Cathy had
pinged. They were receiving signals. Dad seemed to be unaware. I
wondered if Cathy did not ping him because he was her father or if he
did not accept the ping for the same reason.  Or, maybe, some men just
did not receive any pings, assuming other women gave off the same
signals. 

Wondering if I had even been pinged by Cathy, I remembered once about
two years ago when she came in from a date. Cathy had looked
disheveled as if she had been petting heavily. She saw me sitting in
the corner reading as she walked into the den. I had felt it then, a
sharp, almost physical stabbing at if someone was sticking the point
of a toothpick against my abdomen.  Cathy had been staring at me.  It
was a very sexual stare which made my cock hard.  She had looked away
and gone to her room.  The pinging did not stop until I heard her door
close.

Ping, ping, ping.  I was feeling it now.  I looked at Cathy who was
staring directly at me with a secretive, wanton, "I want to fuck you"
look.  I felt the toothpick.  My cock twitched.  The pinging stopped
as she looked away, rejoining the conversation. As I glanced around
the table, it appeared no one else had seen our exchange except Mary.
She had that look in her eye as she watched me over her wine glass.

Dinner over, we all headed back toward the house. We sent Andy and Dad
on a detour to the small market nearby to pick up extra supplies for
the bigger crowd. I led the five kittens into my lair.  By the time
Andy and Dad got back, I had programmed Mom, Abby, Betty and Cathy
like I wanted them.

Mary and I had talked.  I knew there were programmed men. Uncle Bert
said he had programmed Dad to accept me as his son.  I asked Mary what
the commands were. 

"The initial question is: 'Do you prefer steak or pie?'" If the man
replies, 'I prefer pie if it is rich and sweet' then he is programmed.
Then, you say, "This is a sweet, juicy pie, with a full crust which is
plumb around the edges.'  He will answer, 'Where do I find it?'  You
then give him the command."

When Dad walked in, I took him into a trance.  

This was going to be my best Christmas ever.

To be continued . . . 

Please! Give me your comments.

Email address: ezriter@hotmail.com 



  



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