Steps of the Ziggurat

After several hours of driving, Ziggurat made the final turn onto the private dirt road that led to his house in the foothills. Using money he had earned from a variety of financial schemes, he had purchased enough land that he almost owned half the county. Ziggurat wanted his privacy and the sheriffs not only respected it, they enforced it.

The drive cut through a thick forest before ending in a large sunny meadow. In the meadow stood Ziggurat’s manse. His home was three stories tall, though he had never made full use of the space, built of red brick, the design reminiscent of Southern plantations manors, complete with a portico before the main doors.

Ziggurat parked beneath the portico, leaving the keys in the ignition. He got out of the car, and motioned the two girls in the back to follow him. As he walked up to the doors, they opened and one of the staff exited the manse. She was dressed in a loose white button down blouse, a black pleated mini-skirt, black heels, and a black cap such as limousine drivers wear. Stopping before Ziggurat, she curtsied deeply, giving her master an eyeful of her ample bosom. The two girls giggled.

Ziggurat continued on to the doors, the two girls following him. The doors opened before him, held by two brunettes, twins, in sheer white blouses, skin-tight black pants and maid’s bonnets. The doors were shut behind them as Ziggurat led his charges deeper into the manse, ultimately arriving in the sunroom.

He sat down on a large, cushioned wicker chair. The two girls, unsure of what they were to do, stared at him, worry on their faces.

“Sit,” he commanded. The sat down before him upon the tiled floor, gazing up at him.

“Do you know who I am?” he asked.

“Daddy?” the pale redhead offered, a small smile on her face.

“No,” he frowned. “I am the Master.”

“M, master?” The blonde said, her voice quivering in fear. “Who are we? In the car, we talked. We have no names, no idea of we are.”

Ziggurat smiled. He said, “You will earn names in time. For now, you are the Children. You will learn from me. You will follow the rules and obey my commands.”

“B, but,” the redhead began.

“Silence,” Ziggurat snapped. The redhead closed her mouth quickly, stemming the question she wanted to ask.

For the next several hours, Ziggurat talked to the girls, slowly making alterations in their minds, developing the two to his whim. When he was done, Ziggurat relaxed back in the chair, sipping on a glass of lemonade brought in by one of the servants. The two girls lay back on the floor, smiling up at their Master, their legs spread and their hands busy, glistening with the reward of their ministrations. Mahogany, the redhead, stared at him, daydreaming of him ravaging her, reveling in the intense pleasure only he could give her. Before her eyes danced the nights of lust and heat.

Gwendolyn, the blonde, imagined his gentle touch, his soft lips upon her skin, the special tender moments he would share with her. She smiled, knowing that he would take care of her, and her him; that each time he would take her would be as the first. She dreamed of his gentleness and that sudden moment when they would be one.