Going well beyond the human experience.

A noise escaped the naked heiress that provoked John's cock almost as well as the rest of her slutty body could. It was like a crack in her voice, matching the crack in her head as her entire nervous system reformed, shot the metaphorical lightning of pleasure across her body, and burned away all semblance of the careful, rich daughter of a politician. She ceased her retreat and now dove for John's pants, her tongue lulling and her eyes crossed and rolled to the back of her head as she pissed and came all over the already seedy-looking mattress. John marveled, wide-eyed and perhaps a bit in horror, as her body spasmed wildly, spewed all it could in all directions, and all as she desperately, uselessly pawed at his crotch to get past his pants.She couldn't even manage his belt; her body quaked with more pleasure than she had ever known, more than anyone should ever be **** to experience, and by nothing more than his idle presence. Her nerves fired pleasure into her until it was pain, and then pleasure anew, and she struggled to think past what was effectively self-electrocution by rapturous orgasms.

The old idea, of an orgasm, of pleasure, was eviscerated by this inhuman experience; she would learn, in time, that she would never be able to come without him again. "Nnnn-oooaaaaaah!" A glimmer of her willpower, and then it was gone with another wave. John rose from the bed... satisfied. She crawled drunkenly across the puddles of her fluids on the same in an effort to get closer to him, leaking from her tongue and cunt in comparable volumes. Some of John's seed, still probably slowly leaking from her cervix, was now drooling out in glops on the floor as she trailed after his calm walk. She was a ruined mess... and would be for six hours, John realized. "Stay in this room," John commanded the wretch on the floor. Realizing she had no motivation, or perhaps no presence of mind, to obey, he added, "... and if you behave, I'll come back and fuck you again."

Crying, she grabbed at her own crotch and rolled back onto her milk and cum, her body already stained with all she had poured into its misshapen sheets. "Please... you... you cuuhaaaan't leave me like thi-i-i-i-iieee!"

"You're right... I can't." John slipped on his bracers of victorious molesting, and pushed Vanessa flat on her back. Even this contact had her body bucking as her mind threatened to break, but he couldn't stop there: he hovered over her, kissed her drool-coated mouth... and rubbed two fingers across her swollen clitoris, amplified five-fold by the bracers. Her breath ceased, a soft whistle came from inside her, and his fingers bathed in the explosive **** from between her legs. Her nipples sprayed as if breasts were meant to orgasm milk at their lovers, and John caught her twitching tongue in his teeth. She couldn't manage any reaction, save bucking and screaming into his mouth as he continued to play disc jockey on her slit, each rub temporarily wiping some other key aspect of her identity: her pride, her money, her secret hatred of men.

Two minutes later, John closed the door, and his overwhelmed slut continued to spasm behind it, no longer conscious enough to notice his absence. "Holy shit," he whispered to no one. He wasn't sure what he was expecting... but hopefully she'd be able to pull herself together before the six hours were up, if only to cognitively acknowledge her submission to-

That's right... I mean, unless that had nothing to do with the bracers, if she's defeated then... then she must've submitted already! He checked his quest log... and there the quest waited for its one request. Unfulfilled. A small meter appeared under it, showing a pitiful 7% completion rate. _What the Hell does it take?! Unbelievable... to think she almost had me with just some ink on a paper, and I have to jump through so many... _An epiphany. _I... I can't Copycat it, right? Probably not, since it wasn't a skill or spell... but maybe... _He wasn't sure how he'd pull it off, but he arrived on one final plot, one that felt too much like justice to give it up. Checking his skill sheet for ideas, he noticed the upgrade to craft, a skill he had never really explored. Between all the body-shaping and portals and summons, it now stood at a measly level 2, and only thanks to a recent achievement.

Maybe... I can craft my own little contract.

He probed craft anew, checking its description and powers and found that it already listed all his available materials within arm's reach. Walking towards the kitchen, and away from the exhausted moans coming from the bedroom, the list expanded with the warped furniture, tools, plates, and other goods that he could harvest from here. But what he wanted was very particular, and for now the skill didn't seem willing to tell him what he could make until he put some things together. What could he build to level it up? He grabbed a handful of silverware, broke an already fragile-looking leg off of the table, and factored in some cash for good measure in hopes it might produce something of use. He focused on the idea of a contract, or a **** collar, or some tool of submission-

special item: hunter's crossbow. 15 damage, auto-crits if target would be slain by critical damage. 20 bolts included.

Well... that sucks. I've definitely out-grown a weapon like this, and I've never even fired one before... But he needed the experience more than the weapon, so he hit accept and watched as the barrier-harvested materials, and forty-five of his dollars, morphed into the promised weapon.

Craft lvl3, 30mp
Craft: Craft now shows possible constructions in one's proximity.

John grumbled as he tossed the junk into his inventory, and tried focusing on a series of plates and bowls that had melted into some kind of modern art piece in the cabinet. Thankful for the upgrade, he browsed the roulette of items he could make using it or anything else in his immediate surroundings. Since he had enough money to make a startling number of things, he tapped this new interface and found a filter system for the search, and watched as it shaped itself according to what he was looking for. C'mon... He thought of bindings, or a contract, or something else to help seal the deal on his new favorite sex toy. Nothing. Feeling experimental, he instead sought any magical items, though only one came up: $450, the porcelain, and a pound of moondust to create an amulet. Well now I'm just curious.

Magical item: amulet of the moon elf. Can see in low-light as if it were day. Once per day: moonbeam.

Cripes, can't I get something to subdue this chick? He was plenty curious about what exactly a "moonbeam" would be, but now hardly seemed the time to test it. Still, he surrendered the materials and cradled in his hands an amulet of white that depicted the moon on one side and a smiling woman on the other. He wore the amulet, and noted how the shadowy parts of this warped house suddenly bloomed with unseen light.

Craft lvl4

Achievement unlocked! "I put a spell on you!"
Craft and use a magical item for the first time!
Craft gains a free level! (Craft is now lvl5.)

Craft lvl5, 30mp
Craft: Craft can now build, improve, or scrap items. Crafting tier up!

That's probably about all the advanced growth I can hope for today... He made another search through his possible magical items, finding a few more curiosities, none of which served his purpose. The "scrap" ability of craft gave him an idea, however... and once he confirmed that Vanessa was still rolling about in her own fluids behind the closed door, he marched up the steps and briefly exited his faux reality. Opening a tiny, two-inch tunnel right in front of the opened parsing door, he made a peephole into the study back at the Hawthorne Estate, placing the end-tunnel in the ceiling in an effort to avoid detection. There was no one in the room save a maid looking out the window... and nothing unusual save the unsigned NDA, still pinned to the table under that beautiful, verdant-green and gold pen, still waiting for a signature that would never come. Having no time to even wonder at the maid's senses, he closed the tunnel and re-opened it near the contract, quietly snatching it with the pen before closing the portal and re-sealing the barrier. The maid quickly turned her head... and found the table bare, with no evidence of how it was spirited away.

"Alright, craft... you must know what I want." He looked the contract over: scrapping it would yield a pound of gold dust, three vials of blood, and something called "nether vapor", which was only the third ingredient to send John reeling. What... What the Hell are these Hawthornes even about?! No no, no time right now... besides, I got a crossbow out of forks and a table leg, so really, blood out of a contract is fine... yeah, this is normal... sure... He shattered the contract with craft, sighing at how even this took 30mp, and into his inventory were deposited the mysterious objects... and on his crafting menu now appeared something more akin to what he wanted, costing the same materials he just harvested along with $1,000:

Special item: vapor contract. Binds by way of terms and conditions that are binding by the law, but still carry magical penalties. Terms and conditions success rate depends on craft skill level and character level of drafter. Success of binding victim depends on level comparison. Severity of consequence depends on familiarity with local legal systems.

Was this what the original was? Hell, I should've just signed it then, wouldn't have even... no, c'mon John, you know Vanessa didn't write it herself. Indeed, he hadn't met the attorney who probably actually drafted it, if it wasn't the mysterious matriarch herself. But another worry came up as he contemplated the contract: could he get Vanessa to submit to him with only the threat of the law? He was smarter and wiser than ever, but he was no lawyer; Hawthorne probably had an army of them ready to tear such a contract to pieces. Below the vapor contract design was another blueprint, one that consumed the same materials as the vapor contract, plus another $2,000, another pound of moondust, and the entire sack of diamonds. What the Hell could this possibly do to justify all that?!

Magical item: soul contract. Binds through pure magical ****, dominating the victim with pain and compulsion if they attempt or contemplate breaking the terms. Terms and conditions are automatically successful, with the strength determined by craft skill level and character level as compared to the victim's character level. Contract strength retroactively weakens or strengthens based on the narrowing or widening of the level gap between drafter and victim.

Most of his money, most of his materials, and for one piece of paper... and before one might even finish reading that list, John had already slammed his finger onto the craft button, watching his money and inventory tick downward as he focused on the growing ball of light and swirling darkness. As he thought of his terms, those vicious, lust and vengeance-driven terms, they appeared on metallic parchment that formed in the air. The language was not English, but the runes that glowed there still gave the reader their meaning, imbedding into their minds the full weight of the contract. This was how it prevented any from foolishly signing without knowing exactly what they were surrendering, and so made their consent unquestionable. By the time John was finished forming the terms in his mind, the result had shown in a damning document, and John's teeth shone with his pleasure at them. He appreciated them as if reading them again, though the magical means of the runes meant he only had to read it once to recall it perfectly:

I, the fool to sign at the bottom of this contract of blood and dust, shall promise the following to John Newman, the Gamer, under penalty of temporary pain, loss of freedom, and/or loss of self:

1) Complete and total submission to his will, for whatever deeds he may desire and whatever purpose he may design.

2) Respect and love to his self, for he is my treasure, and respect to all those he holds dear, for they are my equals or betters.

3) A new life of kindness, respect, integrity, and freeing all my previous victims from their unhealthy contracts.

So it is written here, witnessed by Gaia, inked by the Abyss, drafted by the Gamer, signed by me:

________