“No thanks, I’m anxious to get there. The fastest way to the mansion, please.”

“Hey, no problem,” replied the cabbie turning back to face the narrow streets in front of him and taking off with a start. It wasn’t long before he was turning onto even narrower streets. The buildings took on a dingy color and if any people could be seen on the streets they either looked like they were going to run away like scared cats or turn and attack like cornered dogs. Either way, it wasn’t inviting.

“There it is,” the cab man finally said stopping at the base of a stair way. The stairs climbed straight up. The steepness was pondersome as Stephanie and Charles looked practically at the sky in order to see where they lead.

“There what is?” asked Charles.

“Your new home,” chuckled the cabbie still pulling drags from his cigar and pulling luggage out of the trunk.

Stephanie shifted uncomfortably. “It seems a bit ****. Are you sure?” she asked, looking cautiously around her at the cramped buildings and dark alleyways.

“Sure as sure can be,” he replied pulling the last trunk out and slamming the trunk. “And as sure as I am that you owe me 6.50 for the fare.” He approached Charles who promptly paid him by pulling the foreign currency out of his pocket and handed the cabbie what he hoped was the proper amount.

“I don’t suppose you can help me with these up the stairs?” Charles almost pleaded taking a second look upwards.

“Nothing doing,” the cabman cut him off abruptly, “this back of mine wouldn’t survive the first trip up. Not to be un-neighborly and all but you’re on your own now. Remember, though, if you get confused or lost just look up Havor at the Talon and Hoof Tavern.” He slammed his door to the cab and pulled swiftly up the alley and around the corner until they could see him no more.

A full second hadn’t gone by when a gnarled old lady lept from an alley way at them shaking some strange staff at Stephanie and screaming an odd sounding chant. Stephanie screamed and held on to Charles for safety. Charles, unsure of what was progressing paused before he pulled his wife behind him and uttered, “Shoo!”

The old woman looked up at him from under her shawl and stopped her strange ritual. “Shoo? That is your great move of protection? You think me a rat or a bug to be swatted? You really don’t know what goes on around you, do you?” Charles just stared at her trying to think of some way to respond. Before he could even stammer, she continued, “It isn’t you, though that concerns me, it’s this bitch. This lying unwholesome whore that cowers behind you.”

“Now wait just a minute, you can’t speak to my wife like that!”

“I wasn’t speaking to your wife like that, I was speaking to you. Be careful Charles Van Kempre, for this slut you call a wife will be your undoing!” and with that she lunged forward and grasped Stephanie's forehead, closed her eyes. Immediately Stephanie closed her eyes in kind, and lost all tension in her body.

Stephanie was suddenly in a room, lounging on a chaise. The room was luxurious and full of draped silken fabrics. Surrounding her were several men in various stages of undress, some of them stroking their massive cocks as they all watched her. She could not control her actions; it was as if she were both watching herself from a distance and living the experience at the same time. To her horror she discovered that not only was she naked herself, but she was in the process of pleasuring herself.

Her right hand was combing through her tight brunette pubic curls. “Ohhhhhh,” Stephanie let out, panting, feeling pleasure wash over her. Shivering, she began tracing the juicy rim of her crevice. It was wet and ready. Her cries were uncontrollable and were not faked in the least, given the large amount of secretions that were oozing from her cunt. Stephanie was not only amazed that she was doing this but that she could do it at all. Part of the curriculum she taught through the libraries talked strictly against self pleasure and she always practiced what she taught. Until now. The heat overcame her. She shifted on the chaise so that she was no longer directly facing the men but was now more on her back. It allowed her to better focus at releasing herself from her torturous state.

Her finger swirled around her engorged clit. She was working herself into a frenzy. She jiggled her excited dot gingerly, as though she was afraid it was too fragile for what she was attempting to do to it. Her crotch shot up after the first stroke, then slowly she progressed into a bucking motion against her finger.

“Ohhhhhh, Oh, God! Yes! Yes! Ohhhhhh!” Stephanie cried.

Where did this exhibitionist side of her come from? She loved the fact that she was completely exposed in all of her glory for anyone to see, for any of these men to take advantage of. She grew hotter thinking of how the show was her own body, that the entertainment to be had was her own glorious self. She was falling victim to submerged subliminal impulses.

Stephanie kept one finger on her clit while the other made its way up to an engorged nipple. She trembled again and again between the clit’s ministrations and the tweaking of the nipple as it came to complete ripeness.

A jism-loaded cock, attached to a nubian-god of a man, came near to her and she was ready for whatever it had for her…

…and she woke, standing feebly next to her husband, confused and unsure of what had just happened.

“Yes, she has had the visions. She has seen her true purpose. What she was really created for. Beware, for your futures are not your own.” The old woman turned and ran away.

Charles immediately turned to Stephanie, “Are you okay?”

“I think so,” said Stephanie, still unsure what had just happened. But also very aware of the **** wetness that ran down her leg.

We need to get you up to the house. I’ll get the luggage later.

The climb up was awful. Long and difficult plus the fact that Stephanie possessed very little power of her own. They entered the back door to the mansion and discovered much to their relief that it was also the door to the kitchen. A spacious room full of dishcloths, cool water, and a place to sit down. It also came stocked with a house manager and a butler. The house manager, whose name was Ingrid went straight to caring for Stephanie while the older butler, Yars, helped Charles retrieve the luggage.

It was a while later as they sat in the kitchen, suitcases and trunks surrounding them, that Charles realized he had yet to see the mansion that was now his home.

“Should we explore, honey?” he asked cautiously, not sure that Stephanie was ready to get to her feet.